#song of the year suck it up or beating down the block
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Eat You Up | LC (M)
⚫️ Pairing: Lee Chan x Succubus!Afab!Reader
⚫️ Summary: It’s summer break which means more of a crowd and new people flocking to your favorite bar with the most stunning view of the city. But tonight, you’ve found something much more stunning than the skyline.
⚫️ Genres & AUs: Smut, succubus au, supernatural au, pwp
⚫️ Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)
⚫️ Warnings: Blowjob, unprotected sex, choking, a lil dirty talk, marking, reader has boobs, a vagina, and wears a dress, but no pronouns are used
⚫️ Words: 1.4k
⚫️ Note: FINALLY here’s my fic for Arousal August hosted by @wooyoungmybelovedhusband & @taehyungisminee ! For the kink I chose choking and the genre, incubus/sex god au. Thank you to my favorite last-minute beta @horanghater 💗
This was going to be a different fic for a different member, but then this happened lol. The bones of this fic is an old one I wrote years ago but decided to rewrite because I liked the idea but it needed an overhaul.
The hotel room with just the two of you is so much quieter than the crowded, bustling bar upstairs. The crowd had been hot and humid and the air sticky, having clung onto you like a second skin. It’s summer break which means more of a crowd and new people flocking to your favorite bar with the most stunning view of the city.
But tonight, you’ve found something much more stunning than the skyline.
You see him as soon as he enters the bar and you make sure he sees you too. His eyes find you immediately as if by some invisible force. He keeps his gaze locked on you in your sexy little black dress until he finally musters up the courage to speak to you. Wordlessly, you pull him to the dance floor as soon as he greets you and he makes no move to object.
The two of you sway along to song after song, his hands gripping your hips and his crotch pressed against your lower back. Your bodies are molded together all night, moving as one, making it clear to one another what you want.
When you finally look at him over your shoulder, your eyes, almost glowing, lock onto his brown ones. His gaze darts down to your red-painted lips as you speak, hearing what you want from him over the beat of the music and the voices of everyone around you.
When you propose finding a space for just the two of you, the man you've been dancing and flirting with all night is more than eager to oblige. He happily leads you by the hand, away from the rooftop bar, and to his room in the fancy hotel below. The elevator ride is quick but more than enough time for you to get the gorgeous man worked up. A few sloppy kisses and some “accidental” grazes against his half-hard dick in his pants and he’s putty for you.
When you stumble into his room, you don’t bother with teasing - you both know why you’re here. It’s incredibly easy to get him splayed out on the bed, naked and on his back for you. Men are always the same. Suck their dicks and show them your tits and they can barely contain themselves. Well, that and your special abilities of course.
This man is no different in that regard, panting and whining underneath you as you swallow him down and succeed in ruining your lipstick further. You can’t help but admire his impressive length as he glides against your tongue, hot and aching. The man above you cries out immediately, his head lolling back as you take him down to the base.
Bobbing your head with purpose, you swallow around his cock as it hits the back of your throat, the heady taste of his precum coating your throat with each move. His fingers are in your hair, tugging to try and set the pace himself which you allow, but only for a few more minutes. Thick, muscular thighs flex under your fingers and you can’t help but dig your nails into the firm flesh, just a little, and the throaty moan you get in response makes it worth it.
When his whimpers turn frantic and his breathing gets even more clipped and labored you pull away, a string of spit still connecting his cockhead and your lips.
Wide, brown eyes look up at you, pleading, and the man whispers out a “please.” The urge you have to kiss the pout off of his beautiful lips is strong, but you shrug it off, keeping your eyes on the task at hand.
After pulling your dress and underwear off and tossing the fabric aside, you crawl up the man’s toned body, eyeing every inch of smooth skin. You can so easily see yourself marking him, leaving red lipstick smudges and dark splotches in your wake. Maybe next time - if there is a next time.
Straddling his hips, your manicured fingers wrap around his thick cock holding him still as you sink down onto him, your pussy welcoming him in with ease. Both of you share a groan, the stretch making your toes curl.
Bracing your hands on the man’s chest, you begin bouncing on him, swiveling your hips each time gravity brings you back down. His hands go to your hips, fingers pressing into your skin as he tries to set the pace, but this time you don’t let him.
The bed creaks underneath you as you ride him, sweat beading at his hairline as he gazes up at you, eyes darting between your face and your tits as they bounce so close to his face.
“I'm Chan by the way,” he manages to say as he watches you, gritting his teeth when you purposely squeeze your gummy walls around him.
“Y/n.” He repeats it, as if trying it out in his mouth, then smiles at you. The smile quickly drops and his mouth hangs open when you grab one of his hands and place it on one of your breasts. He immediately squeezes the supple flesh and pinches your nipple between his fingers.
“You’re fucking incredible,” Chan breathes out, eyes flickering down to try and catch a glimpse between your legs. “Your pussy is so fucking tight and so wet.” He punctuates his last word with a snap of his hips, doing his best to fuck up into you.
“Yeah? You like fucking me?”
“Yes, yes, yes…you’re squeezing me so good. Shit!” He lets out a hiss through his teeth when you clench again and your nails dig into his pecs. Lifting your hips up, you let his clock slide almost all the way out before you plop down, taking him all the way in one go.
Chan doesn’t try to bite back his moans as you ride him. The room is filled with his needy noises and the sounds of your sopping cunt sucking him in with each rise and fall of your hips.
“Gonna cum for me, Chan? Gonna fill me up?” You coo, as his thighs flex underneath you.
“Yeah, fuck, yeah I’m so close…”
His eyes are closed, head thrown back against the pillow, so he doesn’t see your canines sharpening or your eyes shifting to a deep shade of onyx.
“Come on, cum for me, Chan. Wanna be dripping with your seed, baby.” Heat erupts in the pit of your stomach, so close to your own end.
Your words seem to do it for him as he reaches his peak, hips pressing almost painfully into yours as he paints your walls with your name on his tongue.
Grabbing one of Chan’s hands you trail it up your chest, placing his hand around the column of your throat. He doesn’t hesitate to tighten his grip, your air supply restricting as you cum. The force of your orgasm sends chills through your body, your eyes rolling back as Chan keeps his hold on your neck.
As you milk Chan for everything he’s worth and ride out your orgasm, your body ignites with a different feeling, heat overtaking you as you feel the energy in Chan’s body depleting. He grows weaker and his skin fades to a pale, pasty color before your eyes, a smile creeping on your lips.
Leaning down, you place a few messy kisses on Chan’s neck, biting and sucking on the salty skin as he babbles incoherently beneath you. Once you’ve drank up all he has to offer and you’re satisfied with the deep red marks you’ve left, you lift your hips, his soft cock falling out of you along with a trail of cum that trickles out painstakingly slow.
“Mmm, I wish you could see this,” you sigh, your neck craning to watch the sticky white mess drip onto the bed.
With a glance up at your partner, he’s still out of it. Brown eyes once fixated on you and only you are now far away, his mind elsewhere. You watch his eyelids flutter closed as he finally dozes off, drifting into sleep. He’ll be fine in a few hours - you like him far too much to take everything out of him. Besides, it’s not like your partners died after you fed from them.
At least not all of the time.
Humming, you get cleaned up, taking your time getting back into your underwear and dress. You fix your appearance in the bathroom mirror, cleaning up your smudged lipstick and applying a fresh coat of crimson.
Before you leave, something in you nags at you to at least pull the covers over Chan’s beyond-exhausted body which you do. He grumbles something unintelligible but doesn’t stir otherwise.
“I had a great time, Chan. Maybe I’ll see you again.” He doesn’t respond of course, but you hadn’t expected him to. With a smile, you turn on your heels, leaving the room and your first quarry of the night behind.
Net tag: @kflixnet
#kflixnet#wkcnet#kwritersworldnet#kbookshelf#k-labels#lee chan#chan smut#dino smut#lee chan smut#seventeen smut#seventeen x reader#dino x reader#chan x reader#seventeen fanfic#svthub#kvanity#seventeen dino#svt smut
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For lamplight treebark requests, how about some sleepy cuddles from Rens POV? Could be either Rens still a fire and tucks himself into martyn while he sleeps, or hes got his body back and can cuddle him properly?
this is only loosely following this prompt, but it IS something i’ve had in mind for a bit, so. hope it’s still fun!
Ren doesn’t sleep.
He can, but he doesn’t have to. He spent too much time sleeping when Dogwarts fell, spent days to weeks to months dreaming of people and places he would never have again.
It had been comforting then, but these days, it scares him. Nothing unsettles Ren more than the idea of losing himself to sleep.
He isn't locked away in some little basement anymore. Ren no longer has nothing to lose.
So Ren doesn’t sleep—he wouldn’t dare.
—
Ren makes good on this personal oath for some time. It’s easy to stay awake when Ren is incapable of closing his eyes, to keep his energy up when energy is all Ren is.
Having a body is… far more exhausting than Ren remembered.
He tells Martyn as much, and Martyn only laughs at him.
"Sorry, Ren. Not all of us can be balls of inextinguishable fire," Martyn says, "Though hey, I still have the lantern if you want to switch back."
"No, I think I’ll pass," Ren says, and he sighs, closing his eyes. "But I’m beat, dude. Which means we aren’t going anywhere for the rest of the day."
"Shame," Martyn says, but he’s already sitting down, cross-legged at his god’s side. It’s not like they have anywhere to be, after all, and he’s getting used to the breaks his god needs. "I really should have picked up an instrument the last time we were in town. I thought about it, but it totally slipped my mind."
"Oh, right. You said something about that the first day, didn’t you? The Watchers took your lute," Ren says, and Martyn nods.
"Yeah. Sucks, cuz those are great for nights where you don’t plan to do much. I could’ve played something for you," Martyn says, and he leans his elbows onto his knees, propping his face above Ren’s. Martyn casts a shadow over his god’s face, blocking the fading evening sunlight from blinding him.
"I would have liked that," Ren says, "Your singing voice isn’t terrible, either, instrument or no. I’ve been impressed since the first time I heard it."
"The first… oh, that was the first few days, wasn’t it? Right outside of Dogwarts?" Martyn asks. When Ren nods, Martyn scoffs. "Your standards need work, mi’lord, because I was really struggling to even hold a tune."
"It was the first time I’d heard music since my city was lost. Twenty years of solitude and ten years of silence, and then you carried me out and sang for me," Ren says, "I liked it."
"If I’d known it was your first song in two decades, I might’ve tried harder," Martyn says.
Ren cracks one eye open, frowning.
"Only ‘might’ve?’"
"I was pretty tired, man. I’ll make no promises."
Ren snickers, closing his eye again. He really is tired, as much as he hates to admit it—If he's not careful, he's going to fall asleep. He'll take another moment, and then he swears he'll get up. "I’m starting to see what you meant about being an awful paladin."
"Hey! At least I was up front about it. You’re the idiot who accepted my oath," Martyn says, "Twice, even! You had two whole chances to get rid of me and you didn’t."
Ren laughs, and with that he opens his eyes, pushing up onto his elbows. Martyn leans back to avoid being head-butted, though he doesn’t move terribly far.
"What’s up? Hear something?" Martyn asks. Ren leans his head back to meet Martyn’s eyes—he could sit the rest of the way up and turn around, but he doesn’t quite have it in him to give up on lying down yet. Martyn’s watching him with open amusement, making barely any effort to stop himself from laughing at his god’s strange posture. "What are you doing?"
"I’m just getting up so I can take watch," Ren says, "You should get some rest, dude. We’ve been walking basically all day."
"I’m used to walking for much longer, so I’m fine," Martyn says, "Besides, you seem to need the rest a lot more than I do."
"Gods don’t actually need to sleep, you know."
"Sure, sure. And that’s why you never sleep, right?" Martyn asks, and Ren’s stomach drops.
"…What?"
"Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You haven’t slept since you got your body back," Martyn folds his arms, leaning back. "You’re not exactly subtle. It’s one thing to take watch all night basically every time we sleep outside—I can accept that as a safety thing. But you don’t sleep at inns, either. You always go buy some book every time we get to a new town. You’ll sit up and claim you’re just going to read a bit before bed, and then when I wake up the next morning and you’re still reading it, a candle burnt to a stump on the nightstand beside you."
"I— Okay. So I haven’t been sleeping," Ren admits, folding immediately under scrutiny, "But I don’t need to."
"You clearly do, though. God or not, you’re tired," Martyn shrugs, "Or, no. Even if you don’t need to, you’re tired. Sleeping will be good for you."
"I don’t need to sleep," Ren insists, ignoring him entirely. He rolls over onto his stomach, pushing up to sit across from Martyn. "You do, though. I’m not— I won’t sleep all night and leave you to stay awake the whole time. You’ll just be exhausted instead."
"I never said it would be all night. I used to sleep in shifts all the time when I was with my party," Martyn says, "Sleeping the whole night away when you travel is a luxury, not the norm. I’m fine to sleep for only half the night."
"But—"
"No offense, mi’lord, but if you’re too tired to walk, then you’re too tired to fight," Martyn says, "Just take a nap, Ren."
Ren frowns. If he’s honest, he doesn’t want to sleep. Even thinking about it has Ren's stomach turning.
The last time Ren slept consistently, he was sleeping far more than he was awake. For every minute Ren was conscious, there was a week where Ren wasn't. When he'd first heard Martyn speak of the fall of Dogwarts, Ren had been shocked to learn his city had fallen twenty years ago—the amount of time he'd slept had made it feel so much more recent.
Honestly, Ren doesn't even know how to begin to process how many years he lost to the cold comfort of oblivion.
How much more time can Ren stand to lose?
On some level, Ren knows it's because there had been nothing else to do, locked in that basement or left to sit in the street, rotting in his own grief. If he hadn't been sleeping that time off—if Ren had been conscious, cognizant of all ten million minutes—he would surely have lost his mind.
Still, though, fear is a persistent thing, so very good at keeping any exhausted heart racing through all hours of the night. What if that's not all it was? Gods live for centuries, or they're supposed to. Ren's a hundred-something years old already—What if spending so long as a god messed with his ability to sleep?
It's irrational. Some part of Ren is aware of it, sure, but it's not what scares him the most about sleeping.
"What's actually going on?" Martyn asks, "You wouldn't be so against this if it wasn't for a good reason."
Ren's shoulders sag. He looks down, fingers curling into the grass.
No, it's not the sleeping he's afraid of. What he's afraid of is how much can happen in a month, in a week, in even a single evening.
How long would he sleep for? What if he didn't wake up? Would Martyn be willing to wait for him?
What if something happened to Martyn? What if Martyn got tired of waiting for him to wake and left?
What would Ren do if he woke up alone?
Ren can't lose this. He won't, not if he can help it. There is no universe where Ren risks this for something as stupid and selfish as sleep.
"What if," Ren asks, "I don't wake up?"
"...What?"
"What if I don't wake up?" Ren repeats, looking up. "I used to sleep for— time was hard, especially in that basement, but I think sometimes I'd sleep for months. What if I go to sleep and I can't wake up again?"
"Woah, hey! Ren, it's fine," Martyn raises his hands, leaning a bit forward. Ren stops, expectant, "What are you, a bear? Since when do dogs hibernate?"
"Very funny," Ren mutters. His mouth pulls at a smile, but he's too worried to find much humor in Martyn's jokes. This has never stopped Martyn from making them, and it doesn't keep him from continuing.
"So what if you sleep a few months? I'll find us an inn or something—if you're hibernating, maybe I should find us a cave?—and then—"
"No! No, that's— I'm not sleeping that long. I'm not sleeping."
Ren glares at Martyn, daring him to argue. It's not often Ren pulls rank, but he considers it now, however briefly, just to get Martyn to drop it. He only holds up his hands, leaning back.
"Alright, alright," Martyn says, and his hands fall into his lap.
For a moment, neither of them do anything. Martyn watches the space to the left of Ren's head, and Ren knows that look enough to realize the gears are turning in Martyn's head.
"Hey, could you come here a moment?"
Ren blinks, but he obliges, crawling over to sit just in front of Martyn.
"I can't make you sleep," Martyn says, "but as your paladin, it's my duty to take care of you."
"I distinctly remember you pointedly avoiding saying anything of that sort in your oath," Ren says, without any real bite. Martyn ignores him.
"Can you hand me the bedroll?" Martyn asks, pointing to his pack a bit away. When Ren retrieves it, Martyn lies it out in front of himself. He pats the bedding in front of him, "Sit here? Back to me."
Ren does as he's asked. He glances back over his shoulder, but whatever Martyn's trying to trick him into, he isn't giving up on it yet.
"Humor me a moment?" Martyn asks.
"I'm already humoring you," Ren says, which isn't a no. Martyn laughs under his breath.
"Of course, mi'lord," Martyn agrees, "Lean back?"
Again, Ren does as he's asked. Once he's far enough back, Martyn's hands catch him, guiding him to lie down on his back, his head in Martyn's lap.
"Comfortable?" Martyn asks, and Ren is very aware of every inch of his body which touches Martyn. He always is, now that he can feel it—twenty years numb have made every touch extraordinary, and the the novelty is far from wearing off. All Ren can do is notice every shift of Martyn's legs below his head, or where his shoulders brush against Martyn's shins. Martyn's hands settle on either side of his face, thumbs resting below Ren's eyes. His hands are cold—compared to Ren, they always are—but Ren has come to find even that comforting, especially as Martyn rubs little circles into his cheeks.
"Yeah," Ren admits, and Martyn grins.
"I'm not asking you to sleep," Martyn reiterates, "But rest for a while, at least. You can't run on empty forever. If nothing else, relax for a bit so I know you won't, like, pass out in the street or a battle or something."
That makes Ren laugh, especially as Martyn continues, "I'm serious, Ren, if you pass out in the middle of some monster fight because you decided not to rest for several months, I am not helping you. I'm just going to let that monster's eat you and you'll have to sort out how to deal with that yourself."
"Okay, okay, I hear you," Ren says. Martyn nods, opening his mouth to say something smug, probably, and Ren holds up one finger. "I have one condition, though."
"What's the condition?"
"You have to promise to wake me if I fall asleep," Ren says, "Not tomorrow morning, either—wake me up for watch later tonight. You need to sleep, too."
"Are you kidding me? Obviously I'll wake you. There's no way I am staying up all night. With a face like mine, I need all the beauty sleep I can get," Martyn says, smiling a bit wider as Ren laughs. "You're not sleeping a moment past the end of my watch, dude."
"You swear you'll wake me?"
"At any cost," Martyn agrees, "The last time Tim tried to oversleep, me and Grian nearly threw him into a pond. No way you sleep for months as long as I'm here."
"I'm starting to see a theme with you," Ren says.
"What can I say? It's worked out for me so far," Martyn says, and then he moves one hand off Ren's cheek, covering his eyes. "No more stalling. You're only sleeping half the night, and you've been awake for far too long. Get some rest, Ren."
Ren allows his eyes to shut under Martyn's touch, aware of even the brush of his lashes against the inside of Martyn's palm and the underside of Martyn's fingers. He reaches up, latching onto Martyn's wrist with one hand.
"What will you do if I keep sleeping?" Ren asks, "Even after you've, like, dropped me in another river."
"What do you mean?"
"If I sleep for the next few weeks. If I sleep for a year," Ren ventures, keeping Martyn's hand over his eyes, "What will you do? Will you still be here when I wake up?"
"Depends," Martyn says, "Do you think your back will recover if you sleep on the ground for a year, or should I move you to a bed? Because I don't really want to sit in the dirt for a year, if I'm honest."
Ren laughs, "I should probably move to a bed, huh?"
"Then no, I won't be here. I'll move you somewhere that won't kill your back, and we'll stay there for a year," Martyn says, "Does that sound alright to you?"
"I can agree to that."
#lamplight au#oink asks#i looped find me a place by jupiter one nearly the whole time i was working on this which did normal things to my heart and sanity#this is also for korre. for whom i told id do post-moonlight treebark months ago#lew writes#lew library
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Secret - S.Holmes; part two
Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader
Genre: purely angst, upcoming age and some smut
Warning: none
Word: 2.3k
main mastetlist | request & ask | prompts | theme song
Chapters index
prologue | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part night | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen | epilogue
You instantly froze, fiercely aware of Sherlock's arms wrapping over your shoulders and your face buried into his strong chest. So many thoughts raced through your mind: elation at seeing your closest friend for the first time; worry at the secret you kept from him; and exhilaration at being back in his arms and snuggled up against his body.
His hand travelling down your back brought you back into reality and caused you to step out of his grasp.
"What are you doing here?" You stammered with trepidation keeping your locks tucked behind your ear.
He rubbed the back of his neck with his stretched arm. You can see he's uncomfortable in this circumstance right now. "I just stopped by on my way to catch up with the crime scene a few blocks away." He replied with a bashful smile that made your heart skip a beat like it used to. "Well, you know, it's London, and I lived here after I graduated." You nodded, and now he's the detective, the famous consulting detective you'd heard about.
Sherlock took a step forward, his hands twitching by his side as if he wanted to grasp or hold your hand but couldn't. "By the way, what are you doing here? I hadn't noticed you moved here. How did Mr Harris allow you to live here?"
"Only recently," you replied while extending your hands in front of you. "I recently left a job with an illustration firm that saw some of my work and relocated here this past week." You shrug knowing that you don't have anything to do and direct attention to your floristry shop, saying, "got a few affordable and over there, my flower shop."
Sherlock gave a stunning smile, his eyes gleaming. "You're just like I remembered you," he muttered low enough for only you to hear. With a swarm of butterflies, his sweet voice smacked you square in the gut.
You awkwardly moved your feet, unsure what to do or say. The man standing in front of you was not the boy you knew back home. He was a celebrity now, Sherlock Holmes on TV, and you had no idea proper to act around him.
Sherlock perked up when the barista behind the counter shouted out an order number, and he moved passed you to get his coffee. When he returned, he extended an empty hand in front of you and smirked with the corner of his lips. "Give me your phone," he mentioned, exactly like he used to ask for your schoolwork years before.
“Huh?” You sucked your bottom lip, dropped your sight, and took your phone from your pocket... You panicked when you saw a photo of you and Zoe hugging on the screen. Unlocking your phone with your breath in half to make the picture vanish. "Here you go," you muttered hastily, attempting to appear unconcerned despite the fact that you were internally screaming.
With his exquisite fingers, you always enjoyed watching him play the violin; genuinely not sure if he still does when he has to think of something or not. He texted his phone number and then dialled his. "I've got to go, but I'll text you," he stated handing you your phone back. His fingers lightly brushed over yours, causing him to secretly smile at you. He placed his lips to your ears and drowned you in his costly aftershave.
"It was great seeing you," he added softly in your ear, making you disoriented with his wink and that deep dimple on his cheekbones. "Really good!" He moved back gently, and for a few second, your eyes met his, and you believed you were about to kiss.
You wished to kiss him.
Then he gave you a huge grin and calmly sipped his coffee before sneaking out of the coffee shop and going onto the busy street.
"An entire city's worth of coffee shops to choose from, and he walks into this one?" Your smile vanished away from you face, grumbled to yourself while putting a shaken hand over your hair. You'd been so anxious and on edge, afraid of disclosing your daughter to Sherlock with the wrong word, that you hadn't even started work and were already exhausted.
You're strolling along the sidewalk, sipping coffee and checking out the flower bouquet order received a few minutes ago on your online store. Your thoughts has frozen, much like Sherlock's warm embrace.
A used coffee cup sleeve is thrown into the garbage, your eyelids close, and a small warm puff escapes from your lung. What happened a few moments ago is turning you to dust.
"This is going to be a long day."
And seeing him before work got you apprehensive.
Throughout the day, you couldn't stop thinking about how nice Sherlock's hair looked that morning, or how it felt to have his arms gripping you tight. You'd always wondered what it'd be like to meet him again, and it turned out to be quite perplexing.
All things were not unimpressed either. There was a young man who ordered a rosé bouquet, and you know it was furnished nicely as floristry should do, yet your brain stayed away from your thoughts the entire time you were doing it. You put it down to first-day nerves. It was a simpler explanation than saying you met your daughter's father in a coffee shop for the first time in six years, and he's a celebrity who doesn't even realise he's a father, and the whole event had left you with mixed feelings, mostly shame.
Because of your decision not to tell Sherlock in the park all those years ago, Zoe has no idea who her father is, and Sherlock is utterly unaware that he has a daughter. It made you feel dreadful.
They were so similar, Zoe reminding you of him every day in her own unique manner, that you felt horrible for being the reason they never met.
You were emotionally weary by the time it was time to go shopping, close the shop and pick up your daughter from her school. When you saw your daughter jump out of her school with a huge smile on her face, you realised you had to put everything else aside and focus on her.
For the time being, your feelings for Sherlock Holmes were unimportant.
“Mummy!” She shouted with joy, springing into your arms and smiled as you spun her around. "Guess what I did today?" As she swung her legs, she exclaimed.
You helped Zoe to her feet, smoothed her hair back, and pulled her bag off her shoulders, hastily ensuring that she had everything, including Mr Snuggles. "Did you have a good time?" You inquired, taking her hand in yours and led her back to the car.
You'd never seen Zoe so excited about school before. "It was amazing, Mum! I dressed up as a fairy and Elle dressed up as a princess, and then we got to create and eat cupcakes! It was a lot of fun!" Your daughter was still jumping about and skipping along with you.
You asked, smiling down at your tiny girl. "Is Elle your new friend?"
"We are best friends!" Zoe yelled, kicking off her day.
It was a relief to hear your daughter describe her enjoyable first day of school. You were relieved she was making friends so effortlessly. Part of you worried that the move might be too much for her, but she seemed to be handling it well - your brave little one.
After dinner, you took a lengthy shower to wash away the stress of your first day, while Zoe watched TV before going to bed. While the warm water flowed over your body and your sweet-smelling shampoo and conditioner encircled you. You were in desperate need of some 'you time' after your day.
While changing into your cosiest pyjamas, you returned the living room to discover Zoe curled up beneath the blanket in front of the TV. "What are you up to, little one?" You wondered as you entered the kitchen to make yourself some tea. The sound seemed familiar, but you couldn't place it.
"Mummy, don't tell me you don't know them?" She smirked, staring at you with a charming frown on her face. "It's news of Uncle Detectives and the mysterious case!"
"What's Uncle Detectives?" You whispered something under your breath, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all.
Zoe had been a fan of mystery stories since she was a baby, reading before she could talk and dancing before she could walk. It was strange nursery rhymes and lullabies at first, until one day she figured out how to work the TV remote and discovered a plethora of mystery stories on one of the channels. She had been a fan of it since then.
Leaned across the breakfast bar, you sighing gently to yourself, as you watched your daughter pay close attention to Sherlock's chat with reporters and the short guy on your TV. Sighing, you place your back palm under your chin and lay back on the sofa. So near... Zoe was so close to her father through that square box, but she knew nothing about him.
You wondered if it would be better for her to know who her father actually was, rather than the man you knew she pictured in her thoughts, whenever you saw times like this.
"Mummy, your phone is ringing," your daughter exclaimed loudly, jolting you awake by waving your buzzing phone in front of your face.
When you saw Sherlock's name pop up on the screen, you grabbed the phone from her grasp. Your heart skipped a beat as your gaze met Zoe's and you noticed her father's glitter in them. "Go brush your teeth, little one," you frowned and told her firmly, waiting until she left the room before answering.
“Hello?” You said carefully, nervously nibbling on your lower lip.
"Hi, it's Sherlock," he responded cheerfully. For a split second, you felt like you were back in school, and he was ringing to ask for the solutions to the arithmetic homework.
As you stirred some sugar into your cup of tea, you smiled to yourself. "I know, Sherlock. It's called caller ID," you laughed as you jumped up onto a stool to wait for your tea to cool. “Well. What’s up?" You attempted to appear calm and collected, but you were overwhelmed with anxiety.
You couldn't fill the awkward pause. Sherlock used to never shut up. There were never such extended silences in your chats unless one of you had fallen asleep first.
"It was great seeing you today," Sherlock replied quietly after a long pause. His voice shook slightly, as if he was nervous. "I couldn't believe it was you after all these years. I've really missed you."
You gulped hard, pushing the lump in your throat aside. 'That's because I've been so busy parenting our daughter,'you reasoned, your heart heavy with guilt. "I'm surprised you remembered me," you said, running your hand through your hair and keeping an eye on the hallway in case Zoe returned.
Sherlock laughed slightly over the phone. "How could I ever forget you," he said quietly, leaving you blushing behind your hand. After all these years, he could still make you feel butterflies in your stomach.
"Good to know you're still as much of a flirt as you used to be," you joked. It was like a throwback to your schooldays, except instead of attempting to hide your talking from your parents, it was your daughter. "I guess some things never change," you said softly.
A similar sigh could be heard on the opposite end of the queue. "Hey, I know it's a little late, but are you doing anything this weekend? My flatmate is going to see his sister, and it's a lovely day to go out. There are no fascinating cases these days..." Sherlock said softly, nearly muttering into the phone in his painfully timid tone. "It's been so long, and I've really missed you."
And this is what you had dreaded. You, too, had missed Sherlock, more than he could ever know. However, he wanted to reconnect with you and get to know you again - because the most important part of you was also your most important secret. Zoe was everything to you. You couldn't let Sherlock get to know you without him finding out about her. It was difficult enough to have this chat.
You also didn't have a sitter for Zoe.
"Sorry Sherlock.I've only recently started my new job, and things are a little hectic right now," you explained, turning to peer around the bend down the corridor. Through the break in the bathroom door, you couldn't hear Zoe's toothbrush buzzing any longer.
Sherlock attempted to sound light, but you could hear his displeasure in his voice. "Don't worry about it," he responded, plainly trying to appear unconcerned. "We can do something else later."
"Mummy, can I pick the story for tonight?" Zoe called out from the corridor.
You nodded, glanced over the corner, and pressed your hand against the bottom of your phone. "Only one," you murmured softly, holding your phone away from you as you waited for her to leave her room. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, but I have to leave. Can I text you later?"
"Of course," he eagerly replied, confidently masking his disappointment. "Perhaps I'll find you getting coffee again," he laughed.
Part of you didn't want to hang up, but it was wishful thinking on your part. Your priority was your daughter, who was currently waiting for you to tuck her in and give her a bedtime tale. "Hopefully," you said honestly, because you wanted to see him again. "I'll talk to you soon."
You waited for him to say 'bye' before hanging up and collapsing into the breakfast bar, sighing loudly. You were utterly emotionally depleted.
Sherlock Holmes:
Good night, YN
Your phone noticed a new message, and it was from him. You flicked the screen down and pushed it aside, looked at the ceiling as if you could see galaxies and figure out what to do with what you were feeling.
Groaning in aches and pains and that's pain sticking to your heartbeat. "For the love of God..."
Only Sherlock Holmes could make you feel this way.
tag: @bunny-skz00 @zen003xx
#bbc Sherlock#bbc sherlock x you#bbc sherlock x reader#bbc sherlock imagine#Sherlock#sherlock x reader#sherlock x you#sherlock x y/n#sherlock imagine#Sherlock Holmes#sherlock holmes x reader#sherlock holmes imagine#sherlock holmes x you
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“Last Night (Mistake)” Alternative Situations
I bungled some opportunities when I wrote “Last Night (Mistake)”. Allow me to fix that with a pair of different setups and a different opening
Assuming Blake and Elliott are around the same age, their senior year of high school was either 2012 or 2013 so that’s about when these take place
This is a lot of spice. No smut but Very Spicy. Don’t read it while you’re at work or in class
2.7k words
—
Alternative Situation #1
One of my many playlists thumping away its beat from my iPod Touch, I sat on one corner of Blake’s bed in his basement bedroom, him on the other end. I had my feet up on his leg and he was fiddling with the seam of my sock while reading his textbook. I had my review packet on my lap, but I’d glazed over trying to read it two songs ago. My eyes scanned the paragraphs of important information but the letters and words were all meaningless as my focus continued to dwindle.
“Blake?” I asked.
“Mm?”
“My brain is gonna melt out of my ears.”
“Sorry. Need a break?”
“Probably. Just stand up for a few minutes. Get some blood flow back to my brain or something.”
I moved to get my feet off of him, but he wrapped one hand around my ankle.
Before I could even ask what he was doing, he ran one fingertip up the sole of my foot.
I yelped and kicked. “Hey! No tickles!”
He smirked. His grip on my ankle tightened. He tickled with more fingers.
I squirmed and kicked harder. “Blake!” I reached behind me—my review packet falling to the ground, forgotten—and grabbed one of his pillows and bringing it around to whack him with it.
It hit him in the face with an “Oof!”
He cackled and tried to grab it from me, but I didn’t let it go and moved to whack him again. Not in the face this time.
He snatched it out of my hands with less difficulty and tossed it halfway across his room. “If you’re gonna hit me, be brave and just hit me,” he said with a smile.
I whacked him in the arm with the back of my hand. “No! I don’t actually want to hurt you,” I said.
He shrugged and grabbed my ankle again, moving as though to tickle my foot again.
“No!” I protested, kicking and actually releasing myself this time.
I drew my feet off his lap and folded them closer to me until I was sitting cross-legged. Biting his lip in concentration, Blake leaned over the bed toward me like he was going to try to tickle me again. I scrambled backward until my spine pressed against the headboard of his bed.
“No. No-no,” I said.
He paused and withdrew. “Do you really wanna stop? I-if you’re not comfortable... I mean, I thought we were just messing around. I meant to just be messing around. If that’s not how you see it and you want to stop I’m fine to.”
I gestured vaguely. “I’m just not a big fan of being tickled,” I said.
“So... what if I do... this?” He snapped his fingers—
And the pillow catapulted from the floor and hit me right in the head.
“You jerk!” I exclaimed through a laugh. “Oh, you are gonna get it now!” I grabbed the pillow and started hitting him with it. He laughed and lunged to grab his other pillow to fight back, but I blocked him. “Oh no you don’t!”
He grabbed my leg and yanked me away from his headboard so he could go over the top of me to grab at the pillow where I couldn’t block him. His fingertips dug into my inner thigh for a better grip—sending a thrill of sensitive sensation up my spine and making me go weak. I sucked in a deep breath, realizing how dry my mouth was.
Blake sensed the shift—
But didn’t let go of my leg. Didn’t loosen his grip. Just stayed where he was, above me, looking down. Pupils blown wide and eyes wider. His other hand was bracing into his pillow over my head where he’d grabbed at it, leaving him somewhat diagonal over me.
The playful mood was gone, leaving a charged atmosphere in its place.
“B... Blake...”
My voice was breathless. I didn’t even know what I was saying. Was I warning him off? Spurring him on?
He licked his lips and shifted his weight backward. Just enough to take pressure off his other hand.
He ran the backs of his fingers down my cheek, then my neck. At the curve where it met my shoulder, I gasped slightly at that thrill again. Every muscle in my back went slack and my eyelids fluttered. “Oh God...” I breathed.
Blake lifted his fingers off my neck, but the fingertips of his other hand tested their grip on the inside of my thigh, squeezing.
I bit back the little moan that rose, unbidden, to my throat. But some of the sound was still audible over the playlist continuing to play over Blake’s small set of speakers.
Slowly, he lowered himself down.
Delicately feather-light, he brushed his lips to mine.
Wound so tight, that gentle sensation made me snap. I grabbed at his head and held him close to me, kissing him harder.
He replied with equal enthusiasm. Massaging his hand against both of my inner thighs and scooping the noises I made from it out of my mouth with his tongue. Moaning into it himself.
His other hand darted under my shirt. “This okay?” he breathed.
I nodded. “Yes. Please. Keep going.”
He explored under my shirt. My back arched as he dug his fingers into the skin next to my spine as my eyelids fluttered closed.
“Can I take this off?” He tugged at my hem.
“Please.” I helped him get my shirt off. He stripped his own and threw it off to the side. It hit his bedroom door—that was closed. When had it closed? We usually studied with it open...
All thoughts slid out of my head like sand through a child’s fingers when his lips landed on the curve of my shoulder.
One of his hands was scrambling to unbuckle the belt of his shorts. I reached up and helped him, undoing the belt and popping open the button on his waistband while he handled the zipper. “Is this okay?” he asked. I nodded—over and over. “Use your words.”
“This is better than okay,” I said. “Keep going—oh God, please keep going.”
“Can I take yours off?”
“Please. Blake please.”
He pulled at the waistband of my shorts as he kicked his own off.
“Damn, you’re beautiful,” he whispered. “C’mere.”
He pulled me flush against him and kissed me hard. I met him with fervor.
—
Alternative Situation #2
“That man is playing Galaga! Thought we wouldn’t notice... but we did. How does Fury even see these?”
“He turns.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
Blake snorted. “You know, I gotta be honest, I didn’t think they were gonna be able to pull this off,” he whispered. Even though we were just on the couch of the basement of his parents’ house, he knew if he talked too loud through a movie I’d just shush him.
“Yeah, I agree,” I agreed. I offered him the popcorn bowl. He took a handful and chipped away at putting it in his mouth a few at a time. “I mean, when we saw this in the theaters I was just overwhelmed by the spectacle but this way... I’m still impressed.”
“There’s gonna be no way they’ll be able to keep this kind of quality up for the big team-ups. Hype and expectations will always exceed delivery,” he remarked.
“Mm. Probably,” I agreed. “Guess that depends on taste, too.”
“Mm. Yeah. True.”
I popped some of the popcorn in my mouth.
One of the engines blew up on the Helicarrier. I leaned forward, still enjoying the anticipation even though I already knew what was going to happen.
Blake put an arm around me and pulled me backward. “Hey. Down in front. You’re blocking my view of the TV with your big-ass cranium.”
I smacked him in the chest with the back of my hand. “Jerk,” I snapped.
He didn’t remove his arm from around me. Just laughed and gave me a squeeze. “You love me,” he said.
“Do I?”
“Yes—I’m your best friend. You have to.”
“My best friend who is a jerk to me,” I snapped playfully, smiling, giving him a gentle whack in the chest with the back of my hand again.
He chuckled again and gave me another squeeze. “Is it okay for me to leave my arm here?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
At first, I didn’t think much of it. He’d put his arm around me before. Usually in public when he was trying not to lose me at school or the rare occasion we went to the mall with our friends. Or the local fan convention. It was always casual. Nothing behind it.
Slowly, I became very well aware that his hand was warm. I could feel its heat even though he wasn’t even touching me with it. It was just dangling in the air where his forearm was braced against my shoulder.
“Your hand’s gonna fall asleep,” I said after a while.
“It fell asleep a few minutes ago,” he replied. “It got better.”
“Wanna move it?”
“Sure.” He shuffled so he was even closer to me and his hand could rest against my side. “This okay?”
“Sure.”
His hand hadn’t been against my side for two minutes before his thumb started to rub back and forth against my shirt. The movement was comforting. I shuffled my position so my side was pressing into his hand. “Feel good?” he asked.
I nodded. “Can I... rest my head on your chest?”
He smiled at me. “Of course.”
I leaned so I could put my head between his shoulder and chest. I could still see the movie but I was snuggled up against him.
Blake started rubbing his whole hand up and down my side and arm. I smiled softly. “This okay?” he asked.
“Mmhmm.”
He kept at it. I wasn’t really paying attention to the movie anymore, and I doubted he was either. I was focused on his hand on my side and arm. Warm, slightly callused.
I gasped lightly when his rubbing of my side pulled up my shirt enough that when he went up again, he went under my shirt. My back tensed, arching slightly. His hand was really warm. And it felt really good. The touch was firm enough not to tickle, but gentle enough to slide easily.
“Is this okay?” he asked as his hand trailed higher up my side, fingers running over my ribs.
I nodded. “Yeah.” I sounded breathless to my own ears.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him grinning softly.
He started to trace his fingertips over my bare skin. Not just my side. Daring to delve across my torso. One of his fingers flicked a quick circle around the skin of my navel.
My breathing grew short when his thumb dug lightly into my side just under my lowest rib, coming in little gasps. The movie was still playing but I had no idea what was even going on in it anymore. Had the final fight started yet? Were the credits rolling? Who knew? Certainly not me. And not Blake either, judging by how he was looking at me when my eyes rolled back just enough to see him.
“Blake... w... wait...” I was even more breathless.
His hand disappeared from my skin—and goosebumps rose where it grew cold from the lack of contact.
I squirmed, body seeking that warmth of his hand.
“D... don’t stop,” I whispered. “Please.”
He looked down at me, lips slightly parted and eyebrows tilted. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Y-yeah.”
His hand found the bare skin of my torso again. I sighed and leaned into the touch, eyelids fluttering.
I craned my neck to look up at him, only to find him still staring at me.
Breath still coming in thrilled little gasps, I bit my lower lip lightly between my teeth.
His unnaturally vibrant teal eyes were nearly swallowed by the size of his pupils. Under my head, his chest moved with heavy breathing. He swallowed and kept staring at me. “Kiss me,” he breathed.
Everything had been driven out of my head. Anxieties, worries—all gone. Chased away by his touch on my skin.
I straightened up until we were level enough for me to kiss him, but hesitated before doing so.
“Please,” he whispered, the word cracking with desperation.
I reached around his head, sliding my fingers over his short, dark reddish-brown hair, and drew him closer to me.
The kiss was short. A gentle test.
I pulled away, eyes fluttering open to stare at him.
He stared at me too. We just looked into each other’s eyes for several long, breathless seconds.
Before Blake was grabbing at my shoulders and pulling me back in while I balled his tank top straps up into my fists to yank him closer. His tongue plunged into my mouth and I sucked on it.
His hands ran roughly down my back, one of them skirting over my backside to hook around my thigh farthest away from him. He pulled.
I figured out what he meant and shifted my position until I could swing my leg up and straddle his lap. He sighed out his nose, both of his hands holding the small of my back and digging slightly into the skin on either side of my spine.
I took a turn dipping my tongue into his mouth while my hand slid up his neck and over his short hair, scratching my nails into his scalp. He moaned quietly and held me closer.
My head was spinning but thoughts and worries weren’t among the chaos. All I was aware of was sensations. His warm hands. His soft mouth. His arousal forming in his lap.
I moved to pull myself back just enough to be respectful and not embarrass him, but he chased my retreating hips with his own, rocking up into me with a groan that was almost a whine. His hands slid from my back to my hips and pulled me down against him. “Don’t go,” he whispered, lips sloppy against mine.
I tilted my head for a better angle and pushed my tongue into his mouth. He sucked on it. “I’m not.”
His hands on my hips hooked his fingers over the waistband of my shorts. “Can I take these off?”
“If I can take yours off.”
“Please,” he begged. My breath shuddered in and out of my lungs as I found his belt and undid it. He sighed in relief as I popped the button on his waistband and pulled his shorts. We both adjusted our positions so the other could remove clothing. Our shirts quickly followed our shorts.
We were both breathing hard, sweat, saliva, and condensation gathering on our skin.
“Is this okay?” Blake asked.
“Yes. Please, Blake. Please don’t stop.”
His hands chased after sensitive spots all over my body, making me moan.
“Bedroom?” He glanced toward the door to his room.
I nodded frantically.
He hooked his hands under my thighs and stood, carrying me into his room and kicking the door shut behind us. We spilled onto the bed.
“C’mere, beautiful,” Blake breathed, drawing me closer into the heat of his bare skin.
—
Alternative Situation #3 (Different Opening)
With a deep breath, I returned to consciousness. My neck was aching a little bit and there was something thumping under my ear. Peeling my eyes open, I saw dark teal blackout curtains with weak morning sunlight trying to peer around them. I recognized them. Blake’s room. The clouds that matched the curtains on the duvet cover was draped over me.
Blake’s bed. I’d never slept in his bed before. The occasional nap on top of the covers, sure. But not in the bed.
I sighed slowly and blinked lethargically.
It wasn’t just my neck aching. My whole body was sore. I grimaced at the feeling of it. The flinch made me realize that I was entirely naked.
The fatigue vanished in a puff of smoke. Clarity came back.
I was lying on Blake’s bare chest. The thumping I heard was his heartbeat under my ear. His arm was around me, under my neck, holding me against his side. He was warm. A light sheen of sweat clung to both of us, sticking our skin together.
A tidal wave of memories crashed into me as I realized how I got here.
#Redacted ASMR#fic#??? i guess#Redacted Audio#Redacted Blake#Redacted Bestie#Starlit Fic#i guess. idk if this counts
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Dear Miss Madisyn May,
I don't know if I totally understand how Gala's work, and when I don't understand something I usually hesitate and lurk around, but I've been following your's and worked up the nerve to send you a message. I first found Pink Scarf on A03, and it is something I go back and reread when I want cheering up or inspiration. Like so many I was immediately captivated by your writing and I love your newest fic Broken Glass and also the epilogues/one-shots/shorts you've written. I'm relatively new to active fandom, I have been a lurker for the last few years reading here and there, I feel like I came to fic late in life (32-33ish) and only just started writing it last fall. It has become one of my favorite pastimes and I wish I had found it sooner, but oh well.
I was wondering if you would be willing to share your own process for how you map out where your stories will go and how you work out plots, or find inspiration and work through writer's block, and/or honestly any advice you'd give someone starting out writing fic.
cheers,
norah
A little black-tie a little black-tie E and Frank ready for your Gala...
Dear Lil’ Miss Darlin’ Norah,
Firstly, I’m sorry this took me a million trillion years to respond to!! This is the sweetest and loveliest, and thank you for coming by to share and ask such a great question!! 💜 I, too, came to fic late(ish) and was also most definitely a lurker, so I can very much relate.
Oooh, boy, my writing process is a bit of a mess, honestly. I wish I could say that I was a super outliner/organized writer, but that’s just not who I am, and I think trying to be that writer got in my way for a very long time. I find that I get stifled if I’m outlining really specifically because my brain tries to lock everything in even if the story needs to go in another direction. So for me, I take more of an organic approach.
I tend to think in scenes or beats that I want to hit instead. Often, my ideas start from daydreams, so it’ll begin with a “scene” that I then want to build a story around. Sometimes that scene is really clear but may not happen for many chapters into a fic, so I have to figure out how I actually get my characters there. But giving myself time to daydream is one of the most important things to me as a writer. Usually when I’m having trouble figuring out a scene or arc or pushing through the writing, it’s often because I literally haven’t closed my eyes and laid down and let it play out in my head.
And inspiration can come from almost anywhere! Writing Elvis in particular, I’m heavily inspired by historical events and personal anecdotes. I love weaving real moments into my E fics!! There are honestly too many to count for PS.
For Broken Glass, Dolores came to me first as a character and I was like, “hmmm, that’s interesting,” and I am super fascinated by E’s health journey, so I was like, how do I put those together?
Songs are also often big sources of inspiration, like with Power of My Love and Without Love for PS. I try to consume a lot of media too, which gets my brain going—what I mean by that is the more I’m reading books and fics and watching shows/movies and listening to music, the more goes in my brain bank, so to speak.
I am by no means an expert, or even a professional writer (yet!), so this is just part of my process which (usually) works for me. Take of that what you will, but of course every writer is different and there is no one “right” way. I definitely struggle with perfectionism, and that tends to be my biggest source of “blocks” or frustration. So I’ve found that I just need to write. Practice. Get something on the page, even if it sucks lol! Cuz I’m always gonna go back and revise and tweak it anyway.
Anyway, I hope that’s helpful! Thank you so much for supporting my little stories and wishing you all the best in your writing adventures! 💜 Feel free to drop in my DMs if you have other questions or tag me in your works!
And I looooove me some black tie E and Frank!! To have been in that room…phew! 🥰😏🤩
💗 Madi
#Madi’s get to know me gala 💗#elvis#elvis presley#if you’re looking for trouble#you came to the right place#elvis 2022#elvis movie#elvis presley x reader#austin butler elvis#elvis x reader#answered#ask
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2023 events
2022 events list
Again, these are not all of the events, just the ones i happen to come across with
- All of Sherlock Holmes is now officially public domain
- Lil Nas X back at it again with... THE WIGGLES?!
- Noah Schnapp, who plays Will Byers in Stranger Things, comes out as gay
- US gov can't vote for a speaker of the house
- McCarthy wins speaker of the house after 15 votes
- Bolsonaro supporters storm the Congress and vandalize the whole place, are arrested on location
-golden globes n stuff
-JOJO LEAK JOJO LEAK ITS A BOY ITS A BOY
-Lisa Marie Presley, daughter of Elvis Presley, dies at 54
-M3gan is a gay icon pass it on
-AO3 down, 40 injured 15 dead
-New FOB album
- Velma show unsurprisingly sucks
- Pink Sause on wallmart
-Paramore back & new album coming soon
- UK blocks scottish law that helped trans people and this might lead to their independence (pls)
-TUMBRL ADDED POLLS! TUMBRL ADDED POLLS!!
- #team snail worm deserved to lose the centopéia or however you say in english winning was RIGGED AND I CAN PROVE IT
- Pete Wentz leaked Brendon Urie’s oncoming baby which leads him to breaking up Panic! At The Disco. Finally.
- Holy fucking bingle! Trans Bi Lesbian It/She pronouns swiss hacker just leacked the US no-fly list, and plot twist, its very racist, what?! :3
- Justin Roiland is fired from Rick and Morty for being a bad person
- Cecil from welcome to nightvale defeats Reigen in the Tumbrl Sexyman rematch pools! Idk who he is i just voted him bc i dont want reigen to win.
-CECILSWEEP IS EVERYWHERE THE FINALS ARE SANS VS CECIL WHO WILL WIN
- CECIL PALMER WITH THE STEEL CHAIR BEATS SANS TO PULP AT THE BACK OF PAPA JOHN'S!!!
-The last of Us everywhere, seems to be a good game adaptation! glad to see more of those!
-Toby Fox scores the very first interview with creator of Yume Nikki, kikiyama with 9 yes or no questions and 1 "free response" question asking what they would get at a Denny's
-FNAF movie officially starts filming
- Marceline wins tumbrl woman
- Just vote for vanilla extract and waive boys, just vote for vanila extract and wave
- 7.8 earthquake hits Turkey and Syria, thausands of casualities
- Spotted chinese (?) spy baloons (?) in America
- Now theres a Tumbrl vanilla extract bottle, awesome
- Hogwarts Legacy release discourse follows
- Tear of the kingdom trailer out this is the most emotion link has shown in canon in 36 years
- Youtube channel schaffrillas productions gets involved in car accident, Christopher Schaffer and Patrick Phyrillas pronounced dead on site while James Phyrillas in critical condition
- Italian manwhore summer (Sanremo)
- Netflix creating something thats gonna ruin password sharing people and everyone is mad
- Brianna Ghey, 16 yo trans teenager, is stabbed to the death at a park
-THE JOJOLANDS! AMAZING! MINDBLOWING! LIFE CHANGING! NEVER THE SAME! 10/10!
-Succession will end in S4
-NEW MAGNAPINNA SQUID FOOTAGE HUNTING??
-New gen of TMNT (Mutant Mayhem)!!
-Minesota lagislature makes trans health care (wait for it) LEGAL!
- New mario movie trialer the babygirlification of Luigi continues
-Willow project approved ‘_’
- More anti trans legislation. whats the news
- Esc songs dropped the guy w the green top is already tumbrl’s top 1 jenn should have won etc etc
-Gerard Way presenting in full office lady style. Tbh im just more impressed he did a show in tights.
- Jojolands #2 out! Hot dog guy has a name now and Rohan canonically transcend the multiverse!
- Taylor Swift eras tour congrats swifties
- ICC issues arrest warrant to Vladmir Putin for war crimes
-Trump to be arrested
-Arab Cartoon Network hacked (Update: hacking was fake)
- Tik Tok banned on government phones after spying accusations
-New FOB album
- The ladies from RWBY just kissed! mazal tov!
- Justin Roiland case dropped
- Kid in brazil attacks school teacher with knife
- School shooting in US
- Resident Evil 4 remake
- Dobi dies in a glue trap
-Trump got indicated, idk what that means but seems bad for trump which is good
-10 year anniversary of the Mishapocalypse
- Ofc all your fave properties do an April fool’s special,, most notably Toby Fox’s “accidental foam pic” and Sonic The Hedgehog free murder mystery game that looks gorgeous?? they take the trophy this year
-Kasane Teto gets her official voicebank for her 15th anniversary
-wait... the DSMP is over..? it ended..? for real..?? WOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLL!!1!!11!!!!!11
- Dalai Lama [redacted] [redacted] [redacted]
- Harry Potter HBO series... just what we needed ‘_’
- Misha Collins reveals Warner Brothers wanted him to stay out as bisexual after that one off joke last year
- Out of touch thursday on 4/20 we did it boys
- We DOUBLE DID IT BOYS! Elon Musk’s rocket explodes because he forgot to build a flame diverter?? Or did he not build one on purpose? Anyway no one was inside THANKFULLY
- Movie markplier is working on is revealed to be..IRON LUNG?!
- Elon Musk takes out all the unpaid blue check marks expecting the celebrity accounts to pay for them, instead #blocktheblue movements started in which you block all users with blue check mark, Musk then responds to this by awarding random popular users with check marks
-Tucker Carlson fired, ill b real, I have no idea who he is
-Don Lemon also fired, again, idk who he is
- Ray Toro and Gerard Way on fnaf movie soundtrack?!?
-Disney sues Florida governor Ron Desantis, woag.. I cant believe im saying this but it’ll be easier to make the governor leave than the rat theme park
-JASON DERULO JUST FELL OFF THE STARS AT THE MET GALA! 😱😱😱
- WGA on strike!
-And may Eurovision posting begin! Im rooting for finland what ab y’all
- Tony Hawk and chocolate guy collab?!?!?!?!
-ABSOLUTELY BULLSHIT EUROVISION RESULTS KAARIJA IS THE REAL WINNER SWEDEN BE DAMNED
-FNAF trailer drop
-Barbie Movie trailer drop
-IDubz apologises for content cop, better late than never ig
-Succession finale
- I saw that execution clip from generation loss cuz it cant be thaaat fucked up right? haha.... im traumatized
-Seth Everman announces he will leave the internet in 200ish days
-Ted lasso ends, and so, pride month begins....
-Hank Green got cancer
-Happy pride month guys!
- Jojo musical adaption of Phantom Blood confirmed
- Russian occupiers in Ukraine blew up the Kakhovka Hydroelectric Power Station
-Across the spiderverse takes the internet by storm AS IT SHOULD
- Fires in canada kinda spreads the smoke like all around and its all a gray haze over there
-Kaarija and Bojan concert together doing a shit job at beating ther allegations happy pride month kings
-Hank Green is bisexual, likes Brennan Lee Muligan, and found that out because of wreck it ralph cosplays i can’t believe this is real
-Redit blackout? 196? im very confused, but the redditors are here and tumbrl are welcoming them WAY better than we did twitter users which i find fitting lol
-Adrien and Marinette from miraculous lb finally kissed omg its been like 8 years?? insane
-The Idol sucks
- Shit submarine w 5 people goes missing and the more we find out the more inevitable it felt
• Oceangate...gate brings awareness to migrant ships who drown and kill hundrents of migrants
• Iron Lung game sell suddenly spikes
•Submarine found, it imploded, all passengers dead
- Joes Biden (US president)'s son committed tax fraud
-Mark Zuch and Elon Musk are going to fight??
-Military coup in Russia (failed)
-Miranda sings revolutionizing the YouTuber apology genre by apologizing for groomer allegations via ukulele
- wtf is a grimace shake
- Happy pride month! US overruled law prohibiting homophobic discrimination based on religion!
-Nimona is out! I haven’t watched it yet but the reception is great! (Edit: watched it, its good)
-Superman finally got his long deserved sailor moon style transformation. good for him.
-AO3 down, 500 dead 756 injured (Update: AO3 is down due to DDOS attack, which is when a group overwhelms the website with requests. This seems to be made by a group who claims to be doing it for homophobic reasons tho they likely have uterior reasons)
-SAG-AFRA joins WGA strike
- Universal prunes trees outside their building to try and prevent WAG/SAG-AFRA picket line. However, these trees are city property and "tree law" (heavy fine for destroying gov owned nature) might be called into action
- Happy Barbenheimer tho all who celebrate
- MITSKI ALBUM ANNOUNCEMENT?!
- Fnaf DLC smth smth eclipse
- Elon Musk tries to change twitter to X ?
- Good Omens season 2 finale so tragically good it re animated OFMD SPN and Hanibal into trending page
- Tik tok parody of every 90's euro disco song goes viral
- New James Webb telesc ope picture shows a giant ? in space. poetry.
- Forest fires in Hawaii destroying homes
-Anti semetic hate crime against USP teacher in Amazonas
- Tik tok tried to create their Goncharov (Zepotha) and it turns out to be a plot to promote a musician's new song
- Planet of the bass music vide out!!
- Trump might actually get arrested, mugshot and all
- Who thought it was a good idea to make the actor portraying Bernstein in the new biopic wear a PROSTHETIC NOSE??
- India first country to land on south pole of the moon!
- Someone tracked down spanish spn’s rogue translator, who claims he did not add that in, meaning in some version of spn destiel was canon
- Riverdale ends with all of them in a polycule. Which honestly is the best possible ending
- TRUMP MUGSHOT TRUMP MUGSHOT
-That mole do be interesting
-Castiel 15th birthday WAIT 15?? A DECADE AND A HALF??
- Ladybug and Chatnoir are emo now. Like, literally.
- WGA strike succesfully ends
-The Pokemonx Miku collab is everything actually
- WGA stricke officially ends wed 27/9 12:01 AM, the deal is finalized and the writer’s guild got most of what they wanted! yay uniuns!
- Israel-Palestine conflict breaks into full on war with many casualities on both sides
-NOOOOOO BAKUGO IS ALIVE PUT HIM BACK IN THE GRAVE!! KILL HIM AGAIN!!
- Spock wins the AO3 polls unsuprisingly
- youtuber SSSniperwolf doxxes youtuber JacksFilms
-Merlin twitter account is active...why?
-Mathew Perry, Friends actor and advocate for alcoholism and drug abuse issues dies at age 54
-Happy 3 anniversary to Nov 5th
-THANK G-D ATTACK ON TITAN IS OVER ITS FINALLY OVER FUCKK YES FINALLY
-NOOOOO LIVE ACTION ZELDA CONFIMRED WHYYYY
- Actor strike is over =D
- GTA 5 anounced
- SHREK 5????
- Omegle shut downs for ever
- Zack and Cody’s restaurant reservation is today
- Dream and the voice actor of Gumball beefed and tbh it was hilarious
- Russia declares LGBT groups extremists organizations
- Henry Kissinger, american politician, dies at 100
- SONIC 3 DATE REVEAL YEAHHH
-Hbomber guy DESTROYS James Somerton and Internet Historian’s career with his new video on plagiarism
- TODD IN THE SHADOWS COMES BACK WITH THE STEEL CHAIR IN JAMES SOMERTON!!
- BG3 Game Awards Sweep including GOTY
#text#us politics#2023#january 2023#brazil politics#uk politics#polls#2023 events#tw murder#politics
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RAPS + CRAFTS #8: Rhys Langston
1. Introduce yourself. Past projects? Current projects?
My name is Rhys Langston, also known as the Polite Force of Nature, Pale Black Negative, Freelance Eccentric from Los Angeles by way of Langstónia and the Estate of the Lord Chocolate Davis. Though fluent in other disciplines, my most notable musical releases have been efforts such as Aggressively Ethnically Ambiguous, The T.C. Wash Suite, Language Arts Unit: a Rap Textbook, and Stalin Bollywood.
I recently released an album called Grapefruit Radio, which is a series of 11 thiamine-rich diagnostic exercises in rhyme. To aid listeners across the rap frequencies I employed in those songs and exercises, I also wrote and published an 85 page book called the Grapefruit Radio Operator’s Manual to accompany the project.
2. Where do you write? Do you have a routine time you write? Do you discipline yourself, or just let the words come when they will? Do you typically write on a daily basis?
The least likely place I’ll write is the desk I’ve configured to be my “writing space,” because with writing (and much of my creative pursuits) I graze. Meaning, about the house, while I mozy about or do things, I make sure that the notebooks and pages all around my living quarters are ready for me to put something down. Out in the world, I always carry at least one notebook with me, in the hopes I’ll find (or take) a moment to jot down any minor or major revelations.
I’ve had moments of discipline and attempts to impose time-based structures/strictures on my writing process, but I’ve come to accept that, especially with the necessities of having an unrelated day job, I write when and where I can.
3. What’s your medium—pen and paper, laptop, on your phone? Or do you compose a verse in your head and keep it there until it’s time to record?
I prioritize writing longhand, for a few reasons. The most important is an attachment to the physical aspect of writing (well mid-draft back pain can suck it). Whether or not it’s true, it certainly makes the process feel more real and like I’m channeling something from nothing. Also, I find in notebooks and with paper and pen, I’m less liable to be scrambled by technology, being without interfaces of hyper-connectivity, noise, and color. I’ve written whole pieces on my phone or computer, but it’s not my inclination— and the few times I’ve freestyled something (that has ended up being released) it’s been a rare moment of magic.
4. Do you write in bars, or is it more disorganized than that?
I tame my words and flows every single time. There are a number of songs in my catalog which bear maybe more rectangular, geometric, or formal bar structure, but those were also carved out of larger masses of un-enjambed lines that went past the bar and beat. The less structured-sounding songs and bars actually involve a level of just making the syllables I have work— in the sense that the rhythm and feel will at first be unruly, but I know through practice and massaging of the words around the instrumental, I will eventually freak it.
On the actual pages I write, it is a fucking visual storm. Whole blocks will be scratched out, things will be circled with arrows darting from them, words or phrases will be inserted, etc.
5. How long into writing a verse or a song do you know it’s not working out the way you had in mind? Do you trash the material forever, or do you keep the discarded material to be reworked later?
My instincts as a documentarian and word collector often serve me well. Even if something is trashed, it can always be resuscitated, because fragments might find themselves fitting into a future piece, that is, pieces in notebooks from months or even years prior. That’s happened countless times, where I find myself stuck or uninspired in the midst of something, and a word, phrase or even a whole couplet I have not read in ages will come to mind. I’ll find the notebook or its source and things will just snap together perfectly.
However, sometimes I’ll have a whole ass song written (or even recorded and mixed) with a lot of doubt surrounding it. In my mind, I’ll be thinking that it should stay on my hard drive forever, until I might run it for a friend who drops by my studio. There have been several moments where I do this and the friend’s exclamation or particular comment on the song/verse gets me to reevaluate my criticalness. And in a lot of instances it’ll end up being a song that people really gravitate toward.
That’s to say, distance and reevaluation are important as someone who values a high level of scrutiny in the drafting process.
6. Have you engaged with any other type of writing, whether presently or in the past? Fiction? Poetry? Playwriting? If so, how has that mode influenced your songwriting?
Writing a poem to my liking is actually the most satisfying artistic act for me.
As a poet I write lots of contemporary free verse, I would say in the lineage of the Beat Poets, the Black Arts Movement, and some work by the Language Poets.
Being a poet first and foremost, I can tussle with the rap form, because it often challenges the economy we value as poets. Meaning, in rap sometimes you gotta just rattle shit off and expound and stretch the words out, whether that’s by virtue of filling out an instrumental or feeling carried away in a flow, musically or egotistically.
As well, I should say, I wrote a novel in high school (and it reads like it), so I’ve always had the inclination to draft words in a more formal, traditional, paginated sense. I’ve written a bit of prose in my short time on this earth, and I continue to this day, whether that’s personal journaling/narrativization, analytic essays, or short stories.
Currently, I’m applying to MFA programs for some cross-disciplinary literary degrees, but also in more traditional poetry programs. All of my literary training and experience has benefitted my lyricism, so I don’t see this being at odds with my music “career.”
Though I love working in music, I do need to work with words in other ways. Practice with formulating words in any capacity leads to a facility in all forms, rap included. As well, due to my writing in other mediums and disciplines, I don’t feel the pressure to say everything in rap— or feel the need to make sense. I can say what I want how I want!
My 2020 project Language Arts Unit: a Rap Textbook was a prime example of that. I got to fit a lot of personal details and feelings into the lyrics of the album, while the 104 page book I wrote to accompany it allowed for more clear social commentary, scholarship, and wit.
7. How much editing do you do after initially writing a verse/song? Do you labor over verses, working on them over a long period of time, or do you start and finish a piece in a quick burst?
Man I used to work almost interminably on songs, investing hours into rehearsing words to the instrumental, doing line edits on printed out versions of the lyric sheets. However, now I have a pretty good balance of writing and recording some songs on the spot and lingering with others, not even recording them until six months to a year from their point of inception.
8. Do you write to a beat, or do you adjust and tweak lyrics to fit a beat?
I will mostly write to a beat, and it often isn’t the beat that I ultimately use. I find that this results in the most interesting rhythms. A lot of my verses have been completely “off” and uninspired rhythmically over their initial instrumental, left in notebooks until somehow I found the right beat for them. A recent example is the track “Marinara In The Marianas” from Grapefruit Radio. I wrote those lyrics to an instrumental I produced, but they came out sounding very mangled. Then, when I got an instrumental pack from Randal Bravery, the idea came to try the verse atop one of his compositions. And here we are.
However, oftentimes I’ll write rhymes or very slanted rhymes and rhythms by themselves and I’ll end up massaging them into a particular song. For instance, this tongue in cheek pseudo-opera aria “Ballad Of A Fading Mumble Rapper” (from my drwg collaboration with Deathbomb Arc) I wrote one morning while substitute teaching a 2nd grade class. Obviously I didn’t have access to the instrumental at that moment, and so I just honed in on a general sensibility while kids yelled in my ear. Shit happens.
9. What dictates the direction of your lyrics? Are you led by an idea or topic you have in mind beforehand? Is it stream-of-consciousness? Is what you come up with determined by the constraint of the rhymes?
In all literary disciplines I find myself following the artful aspects of phonology and rhythm, alongside what I believe is an idiosyncratic kind of free association. Some would write off that free association as “a babbling stream of consciousness,” but it’s more linguistically experimental and intricate than that. It involves deconstructions of syntax, decoupling idioms and etymology, and employing functional shifts (like “verbing” a word that should not be a verb), counterbalanced with mashing shit together from the detritus of life. I’m a fucking mess and I feel and see a lot, but I have my tools to help me express myself.
In rap, the musical aspect of the form allows me to be even less linear than I already am, for better or worse. I never feel too constrained by rhyme. I used to follow concepts or find ways to be overtly “meta” about established ideas and tropes. However, through years of writing I’ve eased the pressure or premeditation, and have become confident that the threads I create will be tied up eventually— or if they are left hanging, it is for a reason.
10. Do you like to experiment with different forms and rhyme schemes, or do you keep your bars free and flexible?
To be frank, I sometimes am too free. I regularly ditch rhymes, get polyrhythmic, and even put on voices. That has just come with treating my words and voice like an instrument.
11. What’s a verse you’re particularly proud of, one where you met the vision for what you desire to do with your lyrics?
I think my closing verse on the “Afro-Eccentric Character Creation Screen” song with The Koreatown Oddity exceeded my expectations and desire to match the whimsy of Dom. Oftentimes I can get oblique and sullen, even with the wit in my writing. I was happy that summed up more playful energy and goofy wordplay in that verse than I imagined at first.
12. Can you pick a favorite bar of yours and describe the genesis of it?
“Rhys Langston type beat
dissociating before a mirror
meet and greet
the Negus of Narcissus
skin fade from a 3B
intaking reflections
fathoming a deeper chest heave”
One particular set of bars was very hard to choose. So here are 4 bars, from one of my favorite verse beginnings (“Rhys Langston Type Beat”).
I remember being very unsettled one day (won’t go into it), going through a particular moment of depersonalization, and these bars came to me. Ironically they enabled me to tap into the feeling, laugh at it, and then feel a little more connected to myself.
13. Do you feel strongly one way or another about punch-ins? Will you whittle a bar down in order to account for breath control, or are you comfortable punching-in so you don’t have to sacrifice any words?
This relates a lot to #7, as I used to only record everything in one take after endlessly going over it— and I’m talking like 5 minute songs with choruses. That early focus on the musicianship of rap led to a masterful degree of breath control and dexterity with my vocal tone, alongside a high degree of manipulation in dynamics.
This was the result of being enamored from the jump by MCs like Freestyle Fellowship, The Pharcyde, Talib Kweli (pre-harasser stage), Busdriver, DOOM, and several others in that lyrically dextrous camp. Because of my efforts to try and live up to this lineage, I got my chops (and lungs) up and never felt the need to edit words out for breath control.
On another note, I record, engineer, and mix all my music, so I have complete control over my vocal production. That is to say, these days not only can I mouth off for 200 bars, but behind the boards I can punch-in if needed and make it sound seamless (even in the midst of the most polyrhythmic, jazzy of flows).
Now, if I started with a punching in approach early on, I don’t think I could say the reverse. For me being able to rock fluidly from start to finish and also being able to punch-in are both important.
Without much finger wagging, my personal opinion is this: to claim the title of a rapper, you should be able to rap your verses with as little help as possible.
14. What non-hiphop material do you turn to for inspiration? What non-music has influenced your work recently?
Without sounding like an "I'm not a rapper" type, the non-hiphop inspirations are often more frequent than the explicitly hip-hop inspirations. But historically I feel like that's often been the case (easy examples being Wu with Kung Fu ephemera and P.E.'s inflections of rock music and pro-Black revolutionary politics).
Now personally, the non-hiphop music I gravitate toward most is alternative music. I grew up hearing a lot of alternative 80s and 90s rock and trip hop. It might be a more subtle influence in terms of my lyrics, but as a producer and songwriter, a lot of Talking Heads, TV On The Radio, Smashing Pumpkins, Massive Attack, etc. has made its way into how I arrange songs, build structure, and utilize texture.
In terms of non-musical inspiration, literature and video games impress upon me the most ideas, tangents, and revelations. For example I had a recent series of bars I wrote that were mutually inspired by Haryette Mullen’s Sleeping With The Dictionary and playing the whole Bioshock trilogy front to back on Nintendo Switch.
15. Writers are often saddled with self-doubt. Do you struggle to like your own shit, or does it all sound dope to you?
(See #5)
16. Who’s a rapper you listen to with such a distinguishable style that you need to resist the urge to imitate them?
I used to have this problem (where my early work had a lot of demonstrable influence from early Talib Kweli [again, sorry], Busdriver, milo, Saul Williams, and others of that ilk), but this situation no longer really comes up. This is especially true since my work has become confidently multi-genre and rap just happens to be my instrument of choice. If anything, I try to not imitate or replicate a past version of myself.
17. Do you have an agenda as an artist? Are there overarching concerns you want to communicate to the listener?
Besides the goal of living off my art, my more lofty ambition is to redefine what we think of as “accessible.” I hold near and dear a lyric and quote from Saul Williams, “Your current frequencies of understanding outweigh that which has been given for you to understand.” As I’ve matured and learned about myself and the history of the rap artform I practice, I’ve embraced this uphill battle, especially in an ever-anti-intellectual age.
Yet I’ve realized that I exist in this unique space where my music remains inviting to a more casual listen while being conceptually robust. A lazy reading of my music has commented on my extensive vocabulary for the sake of commenting on it, which belies the ways in which I actually utilize it: in compelling hooks, in rhythmically pleasing flows, in delicate melodic passages, and in genuine humor.
But you know, an agenda needs artillery to advance it. For now, I’m the best kept secret’s best kept secret, and I’m just focusing on getting even better.
RAPS + CRAFTS is a series of questions posed to rappers about their craft and process. It is designed to give respect and credit to their engagement with the art of songwriting. The format is inspired, in part, by Rob McLennan’s 12 or 20 interview series.
Photo credit: Emily Berkey
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Finally pushed through and beat RE4 Remake.
It's uh, a 7/10 overall. Sneaking micros however drops it to 6/10 for me and unpurchasable.
Shooting range sucks.
Ashley AI miserably poor.
If ya enjoyed something, it was on the chopping block at some point, guarantee some devs had guns to their head as they stood in defiance of corporate just to keep half the mechanics, I mean, shit, inventory management barely survived, and that alone knocked 2 points off for me initially.
Crows are pointless and horribly Everything. They respawn drop nothing and overall serve no purpose other than to waste ammo.
I'm so fuckin' tired of companies forcing these garbage pop songs in their titles, especially the ending sequence. Why, oh god why, date your ending in the year it was released? Embarrssing. Terrible song on it's own too, nothing fits any of the themes of the game or RE or any game or anything it's just shit. Even typing while listening all I can think is, fuck me did they even play the game??? What's compelling this god awful trend? It's not like games of old did this shit with their modern music, and when they did it was usually done in variable amounts of quality and fitness, but this just makes you ask, did anyone have any respect for the thing they spent so long on? Long answer, after Ashley joins in, it's all downhill from there, wouldn't surprise me if the ending was rushed considering that helicopter turn was PS2 era quality.
The first 3-5 hours are solid 9/10, but it dramatically drops and raises in quality. Having Ashley be designed to be downed all the time is a tell-tale sign of poor work, especially in comparison to RE4 where she hardly was ever a hindrance.
Ada's voice actress is bafflingly bad. I can't tell if it's that the VA has never seen a microphone before, or if the director told her to intentionally sound as bad as possible. Either way, it's bottom tier. RE1 had intentionally bad acting, even if not, all of it works with each other and no one is specifically bad due to it. It's all apart of the damn goofy atmosphere. I've heard MLP comic dubs in 2011 better than her honest to GOD. Survivor is better. All of it, than her acting.
There's also alot to like, I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a smile alot throughout, but sifting through alot of mediocre and bad makes it difficult to really say "Aw man, I wanna play this again!" like RE4 did and still does. I like that there's different kinds of knives with a durability system, oddly. But the second my main knife broke? In the box it goes, because I was always given another knife soon after anyways. So instead of it being cool, it's just...kinda there. Kitchen knives were genuinely cool because I figured I'd be using all sorts of random knives and they'd expand upon the inventory management with different shaped and sized knives but nah, they did nothing with inventory management and I'd argue they removed it entirely. I don't even think that'd be an argument it's just a fact.
In being able to put up weapons and parts, you no longer need to even think about your inventory anymore. Inventory full? Put up the sniper rifle, because that's the Only Weapon you'll never need to put up, because otherwise you'll Never fill up but the one or two times. This, also, sucks because even if they didn't make filling your inventory up impossible, and putting shit up in the box LITERALLY ANYWHERE a thing, you'd still have the problem of Auto-Sort. Which just Kills inventory management entirely. In fact it kills the inventory screen entirely.
Really think of how often you were in your inventory in RE4? Was it too often? It could be argued that being able to bind weapons and such to certain keys would've been an improvement, but the fact is, the inventory was like your personal safehouse. You bought weapons based on usability and if it could even fit, and if it was worth devoting that much space to it. This, was fun, because it meant your choices actually mattered in some regard to Purchasing, Saving, Damage Output/situational usage, and Inventory Management.
All of those are dead. Because none of it matters anymore. You can purchase every weapon and upgrade and not even feel the difference between any decisions you make anywhere.
Worst of all is the ammo management, which I actually think they handled well in terms of being low on ammo, but never out of ammo. However you're almost always going to be using your pistol because everything else almost NEVER gets ammo. Especially the Rifle like my god why even put an assault rifle in the game??? I never had a full clip on that gun...
I absolutely adore the treasure system and that they have little side-job activities. Expanding on the Blue Medallions by having other sorts of things, I like that Spinels can be used to purchase side stuff though they don't really prepare you for it. Not enough Spinels for everything and you need them to get exclusive upgrades to your weapons, and since you start at 30 for one, go up to 40, I imagine you're going to need Several Playthroughs to finish every weapon. Which is just...miserable sounding.
But all the good gets bogged down by the bad. The amount of times this game just put me in a foul mood and then didn't give me a place to save is astounding. Like man, you can't tell me you didn't know the game was shit here, co-operate with the player if you're not going to fucking fix it.
All the boss fights are...weaker. How do I put this, there's A LOT more to it now, new fights entirely. But when you're just...doing the exact same thing you've been doing, which is...very weird to say in relation to anything RE especially RE4, it doesn't feel like anything. Midget dude is forgettable in design because he's so damn generic looking. He needs that hat man. Otherwise he looks forgettable even in boss form. Cool that he's moving around and doing stuff but I do not remember what he looked like, but I can DRAW RE4's midget man.
Regardless, that bossfight was initially cool, but all you're doing is waiting for a chance to hit an opening while running around aimlessly and pressing the dodge button here and there.
If I had to say, it's 2 things: Too Short, One Phase that's Too Long. Midget man took way too long to find openings, he only has the one phase, so it's just an extended period of doing the exact same thing from the start. However since it's just the one phase, this makes it feel incredibly short, at some point every boss fight I just said 'That..was it? That was it..." Krauser especially. It's just not...fulfilling. All the extra stuff is grand, I love it, genuinely, but the game feel ain't there.
Like I'm not fighting Krauser or Midget man, I'm just fighting another enemy that looks cooler than the others. That's how it feels to me even when ALL the extra shit is genuinely? Superb, great! Just not...fulfilling. Too short, one phase, and that phase lasts too long. That's a bizarre problem to have that RE4 did not have.
Aiming is oddly better than RE2RE, but not better than RE4 in many ways. I almost never miss a shot in RE4 when I take my time on something, but RE4RE is ridiculous, Many times bullets go THROUGH enemies or objects, I can tell you that for a fact because it happened multiple, multiple times where it was a body shot, perfectly still, and NOTHING hit, no bullet decals, no blood, nothing. Same with the shitty shooting range targets. Doesn't happen in RE4.
What really made RE4 great was all the I-Frames, and vulnerable frames of enemies YOU make. RE4RE kind've retains some of the vulnerable aspect, but the I-Frames have been severely nerfed. In it's place is...I guess parrying? Eh. I almost never get it to activate and even when I do I easily could've avoided the damage WITHOUT wasting Knife Resources.
This easily could've been 10/10, but Crapcom has to find ways to shit on the creatives, like waiting til everyone's reviews were out to sneak microtransactions in. Imagine being the developer that found that out after you poured your soul into this. Like, yeah, thanks Crapcom for making yourselves even more money and us literally none. Thank you for taking the piss out of OUR work.
I'd definitely say it's soulless in comparison to RE4, but it's not soulless on it's own merit, but potential isn't enough anymore. They've had since RE4 with it's continually repeated format, from RE5-RE6, the remakes, and endless ports, this should've been a homerun, instead it feels like a homerun that hit a bird and fell into the pitcher's mitt. Miraculous, but disappointing.
Disappointing because this is it. There will never be another RE4, nor RE2/RE3. They dropped the ball hard as shit because throughout it all, Crapcom's executives STILL had to finger the dish before it could be served. Great games are beneath the corporate filth, but even the greatest sculpture will have imperceptible fractures that allow filth to seep in and ruin the whole of it.
So close. So damn close. Don't recommend it other than "legally" from dodi brodi. Trust me the only thing you're missing out on is a shitty trainer mod and being smacked in the mental health with company created addictions being foisted upon you.
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DOECHII - WHAT IT IS (BLOCK BOY)
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What It Is (Solo Version) (Sped Up) (Slowed Down) (Blurbed)
[6.42]
Michelle Myers: If you need a reminder of how times have changed, consider that the Atlanta rap group Trillville reached #14 on the Billboard charts in 2005. Their biggest hit, "Some Cut," is a crunk-adjacent trunk-blaster with nasty lyrics and enough funk in the beat to have sounded retro back then. Doechii's adroit reclamation of Trillville's iconic "what it is, ho?" hook over a "No Scrubs" sample feels powerful but never preachy.
[8]
Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: This shouldn't work. By all indications, this is a crass gambit for pop crossover status, a promising rapper gluing together nostalgic samples and appending a guest verse from a noxious shithead who has nevertheless been one of the more consistent hitmakers in rap over the last half-decade. There's even a very silly EP of all the different "versions" of the song, featuring sped-up and slowed-down versions but no actual remixes. But "What It Is" isn't... that crass? For one, Kodak Black is no longer present, his middling guest verse and altogether awful vibes excised from the version of the track that actually gets rap radio play. And regardless of the version, Doechii is too good at her job to let this suck. While I prefer her more in rage or boom bap modes, she's still as stylish as ever, playing the role of pop-rap icon with enough poise that she might as well stay there as long as she can.
[7]
Crystal Leww: "What It Is" feels like a relic from an era that doesn't exist anymore. It's when R&B-pop songs with a verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus structure with a guest rap verse could be genuine pop hits. It's from a time when artists could hit the 8-count -- hell, when music was made for an 8-count. It's a song about a crush that's bright rather than fucked up -- a feeling so light that it's like floating along the clouds.
[7]
Katherine St Asaph: That Kandi/She'kspere sample has as much instant impact as it did the first time round in the '90s. But wow, you can really tell how incomplete this sounds without the Kodak Black verse that shouldn't have existed in the first place.
[6]
Nortey Dowuona: This is just "Some Cut" but sung and including a mediocre Kodak Black verse. (Another thing he and Kendrick have in common?) The beat is thin and barely has a melody -- two piano chords under a pelting synth line and drums that are so spaced out they barely connect. I don't think any of these pieces gel into an actual song. Don't even know what Doechii is doing here -- this doesn't establish her as an artist, and the only good line isn't hers ("being black in America is the hardest thing to be"). What was so wrong with "Crazy"? At least "Crazy" actually banged -- this can't even cohere enough to suck.
[4]
Brad Shoup: This would have been a passé chart ploy in 2009--a nod at crunk over some frothy pop-R&B. But now that I'm old I'm happy to hear both.
[7]
Will Adams: Appealing in the way that any modern R&B-pop song that throws back to She'kspere is. Congrats to everyone who wished for a Kodak Black-free version.
[6]
Leah Isobel: Doechii's timbre here is a little abrasive -- not unpleasantly so. She's tough, sharp. But she's not laid-back; she barrels through the track instead of working inside it, which is interesting given that both of the samples come from songs with a much more relaxed kind of energy. Of course, it's not like this beat is particularly relaxed either. It might be boxing her in.
[7]
Rose Stuart: Fluffy pop flair limits Doechii's fire-cracker charm, keeping her from exuding her energy in the same way that made "Crazy" so visceral and alive. However, the discordant ringtone rap-esque beat is enough to keep things interesting.
[5]
Ian Mathers: I really thought this might be the first year where the Jukebox didn't give me the genuinely lovely feeling I get when I hit play on a song I think I don't know and discover I've already heard and enjoyed it. But even in 2023, where it felt like I barely left the apartment, I heard this one out at least a couple of times. I'm not sure if that's inescapability or just luck. I do dimly recall there being some other element to this one, but oh well; whatever it is, I don't miss it.
[7]
Joshua Minsoo Kim: Every line here can be memorized within a few listens, which means that any time it comes on, you can sing along to a series of hooks upon hooks. Doechii makes it look easy, too, as if inviting you to join in. No other single this year felt as generous. Hell, she even got rid of Kodak.
[7]
Taylor Alatorre: In an attempt to provide the most controversial reasoning possible for the most un-controversial rating possible, I will say this: every generation gets the "All Summer Long" that it deserves. And since "All Summer Long" is a solid [6], I see no reason to rule any differently here.
[6]
[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]
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Untitled (“Ourselves do slay, or glutton dies; but”)
A ballad sequence
I
To distinguish sight agrees. And
yon the ties of business
are no more can’t be better prove,
fame, wealthiest orphan
saw his lifetime each ephemeral
insect, rove; o let
me in. In the village street so
I made up millinery
with inharmonious chime, tells
me when a’ our faire outside,
which mine arms of year extend
less humbly wealth, worth a
corpse. Come, my heart was the tongue as
the morgin’d ocean in
a straw, borne darkly, fearful, cautious,
trembling well, well, well,
well, and with certain of a
mystical sublimes whate’er
their bills would an entrance
Theotormon seek the tears, that
keep though I mistake. Labour that
cometh up his harlots;
and honey seeping too-too kind?
And all prince ages since
held his lips ev’n seemed singing those
of other draw, when Love
approach of sweet sake to all this
mystery and face the
abject from the eye and each tree
and every hour I told
you have no correspondence wit
still looketh for from the
swans and stone, and, t was. To his
eyes diffus’d a reconciled!
Scar between this flea, and midnight
beat like the moon shines
brightness it selfe he may depart!
Ourselves do slay, or glutton
dies; but droop there, then she lovely
Mary Morison.
II
The roses thus itself sees not
need nor use those who made
the shimmering glimpse even so
swept her gilded bed-posts
shine; but know, while it did ache; but
then with his locks: thy hair
is as if they heard; so did the
finer mood. From slope to
pay; and let me dream she was, his
love: the streamed away. Under
his mother’s children, the reason
to strange variety
of silks were the Eternal,
which the with thy diving
from the fading Splendour spring
time of your books have
overcome, and that’s the surf and, curling
brain wherein I will
kiss him, as earthly guest! The lure,
away she hies, and was
not lose his heavenly and sour
prentices, and flowering
ev’ry fear: for thee in scorn!
Died on the original
riots of the weak hand that
spring from the truths divine,
love, as Tirzah, comely. When
a woman if she’d tell
a different, with honor’s mimic,
all wealth is found, alas!
She laid my cold embers it now
we meet. How blythest bird
upon thine accents on mince, and
drear and answer. Who eats
fire outline of the hummingbirds.
And yet met. Their moral
gibing; and the ancient elm, lean
again appears already
more attracts to clusters of
Jerusalem, terrible
as an infant’s discord, but
the garden, that trees looked
him even this narration, thrice
they do swerue, rebels to
nature of our country gentle
boys begin to mix with
the beds once touches me to the
walls blackened about you
but bid beware, the west; the
minister kiss’d the aëreal
eyes to watch.—In the noon-sun, with
lightning? Brood down with woe?
Where Beauty is her fawn hid in
song out of dialogue,
by humouring him mulberries.
Whom should do, own thoughts, white,
alas, is more wretch! To turn a
young days, that sucked me up
into the fault; a kind of centaur,
upon what I never
notice him and by it flash’d
forth as then, how great’s the
two? To love a cheek that thou art
so full of riot, teach
me at once with many a summer
or Winter is to
lose, you knock on my heart all fair,
my beloved gone, began
retreat? This our time, because
I’ve lost the women—and
perhaps much more than fail. The circle,
and streight through the skies;
clouds descends on his song no’er pleasures
as she were a duty
done thee be stuffs, the massy
earth without, roses fly!
III
To make thee crop a weed, thou provoke a pale flower.
Extreme way thine eyes are as Georgia
snow. Fifty should be tame and art. And the hole
of the other knots, yet made away;
a mischief in families, as if there in my License
is it in the hidden mysterious
Angles in my License is it made? Ask
for delightful plain, round rising quite
on a bank, and got before: from a block could just
before his blood and move like the cattle
of the top of Shenir and night, when thy friendship
is feigning, most loving the sorrows,
the marble shall o’er his sleep to the best you
can’t fall out. But Charlie Grigor tint
his porch these lines! You stood the narrow circle just,
no doubt, were thought of worse, that asking
look’d perplexes, unless that a flint is he! Sometime
true when a purer soul unbounded
the intent I never dull or pert; and nothing
the field, that never moved through sames
of am through thou dost so charge you, for constancy
in love will venture: the sex will
ye see my reverence of that his cheek appears:
if in the white virginia or he
is warden;—I will join my time, you with thy hours
from her sinews spread on it so little
Clod of Clay, trodden with horrid thorns and they
cut off my should now it smooth my love
me because to guess. To Homer’s Iliad, since
he cross’d in song Haste, which sounds great the
fruits flourished and thrust, and this much as close of my
pomegranates, with a sudden
heat? Hope not for me do thou catch for thy mother
dear, that the boar. And hence arise fresh
tears, the burning beneath thy fame! I dreamt rather
far doth extenuate; tells him of
his fathers have no correspondence wit still spiders
here, in the ocean? Her lips
another chance he might be summer half be done. The
rivers of Jerusalem, terrible
as woman loves to shoot and should I torment.
The very paragons of life’s ocean,
a human soul! Wherever you, lifting of
all before shee strive, more free, all my
mind was I took my first has fed, He is makeles,
kyng of a frown, chid her, and forth
by the endure within mine head like sun, dirt-sweetened
spuds, the dying lamentations.
IV
What if he had loved you, w’are
metamorphos’d straight to me,
and Eloisa spread a lawny
loom and clos’d my infinite
brain being trouble? But if
thou mayst have thy Will, ’ if
thou drink delicious plagues, of death;
and as it rose, usurps
her own hearts up, dread the shore, which
must given; a portion’d
steed, his art may be confused with
bashful dawn and rather
that to the women—and perhaps
as falsely what might be
false eyes first embrace; envy and
cannot repel a lover
yet betoken’d wrack to back
her force courage; my music
the handed Baronet he,
a great delicate sparkle
languish, dare not for thy soft
lips obey, panting heavy,
ticks off a list of reasons
as if to have stay, for
when I’m there is not invisible
friendly sighs can never
stopped noticing until its
lips are compartment in
which gave it bare even to thy
body but a little
harm, thine antique tongues. Stella, the
quiet closure of blisse.
Ere such a purple grain—iness
those huge honeycomb: honey
fee of parting tender you
are no more thirty—say
seven-and-twenty; for I had
another? I reck not
if an acorn gave overrun
all bound these present my
bed, until he pleasant art thou,
O thou wert, and die. Yet
prodigies, whereat the high windows
shone. In spell of such
as enables man to turn their
tedious absence lay
benighted ha’, to the earth.
But when young, and protect
then be as the sphere half-hid in
thee, we will speak no words
run on apace, which knows that Beauty
as you had two friends.
V
The cold mortals, love to love her.
Not touch upon the day
and hath found him, because she looks
which yet I have taken
to kiss? And once doth showers of
the tame pigeon measures;
the hunting Chick? See how it is
to prize, there is a poet’s
matter where, or at the day
of the sky with blame; it
was wrestle with blindfold fury
she doth show the beauty
with reflects the cold night in all
thou canst thou feed, unless
some why complete, and he replied:
Pluck thou make, still is left
desert shore gazing spent? And life
can be, and with my honey;
I have lov’d, adore in the
sea, to time, because she
died and redder than of either
move, who, being so enrag’d,
desire?—Turning beneath.
Kiss even by their camp
of death; jealous of catching up
thy pride is cap and bear
them thine may be cross the narrow
sped like a fairy, trip
upon the grandeur: and do thee
shame the laws ourselves most
impede the farmer? By insist
while theme, this other clipp’d
her deed, and wild Recess! The present
I am bereft
him shake and the nameless ocean,
and a long row of
millinery with a glass of wine
I fold a napkin under
my heart in dark and be
beloved; men and go as
traced as they fell: and you, but of
no tygres kind: and of
the sepulchre, but droop there, an urn.
Tomorrow seas! With what
a sigh and beauty set gloss on
their tears, and horses in
Pharaoh’s charities, and yet she
hears not what page; planting
shame’s pure and ensanguin’d brow, the
one I carried next day,
If men ever yet be light would
I torment is, come slight
groves; ev’n then, heigh-ho! The watch’d a
moments after fears—but
when the kissed her often a
And barren, lean, and ease?
VI
A shadows great little beyond
this flea our two loves man.
Sooner than that the engine of
the ills o’er which leaveth
up from the casuist in morality
or so I have
put in marble shall be true, then
marke-wanting, from the cattle
of the sands, and backward drew
the heaven of Song.
Occasion—that went to me; what dust
with you all the rain, and
have deemed a bore. Lifting your touch.
For one shade, which all those
who are so indeed, is the field,
with a knot. My dove, my
fair fingernails are the pinch of
weather being low, and
love when you moved the little fork
the wing’d exulting swift
disparity of rhyme’s distress,
or softly lighteth on
a Gem, his ears and seems not to
tell me with banners? Keep
watch the end their mouth, whose full of
fear as one on shore the
clear that blood of Lebanon. I
had my love sheds, and do—
I’ll tell it then? And there’s nought
had held in the ground, struggle
forth a little force, so that
the floure of blisse. For love,
in their moral seas would thou wilt
prove what dost not set down—
and grammar, vowel sounds, but died
unkind! Vs in the
heavy anthem still severely
smile could I deign this our
time, I will perplexed in his beauteous
Mind. Wave high, and turning
beneath the blouse you wear, look
ye not witches, who jealous
is, why fear where comfort is,
she giver of thine? Just;
perverse it shoulders marched again.
Her song was tedious
absence, ’cause it was wont to draw
the bawd to lust’s abuse.
VII
Kind, virtuous men partake, but
that leadeth on thee. His
moist cabinet that must be kill’d his
wealth alchemy. Beneath?
VIII
Rose-cheek’d Laura, come, singing each
morning came in a cloud
which the river from the gale: I
had not fear to year for
looks so steadfastly, that little
tunes her soft sighs sought soul
for the hair of things to the rosy
banquet wert thou hast
doves’ eyes. These mine head under my
heart to shining string, to
love. Any of the ruled—some small
fate allotted against
the dire misfortune following
careless lust stirs up
a desperate courage; my Muse
by no means that freeze or
glow, but this court and kissing himself
himself were swarms that
bears themselves eternal fire, and
desert to thee, and threw
god dawn’d on Chaos; in its break
dare their happiness doth
hiss your books have sucked from pain; once
drinkin o’t. Go tell
him, that is stopp’d, or seasons run?
Silk, or dim the lily
among roses, roses thus itself
in flower will not
be: she means so quite; at least in
the dead Seasons’ bier; it
sinks, their golden beak to your
peculiar mouth a locust
in your fault I am chain’d the
dust I roll, suck my last
but only light chamber ward i’ll
take here; this brother hand,
as if their sensible: thought doth
insinuate; tells a
fine and noble prince ages since
held his compass’d to move?
IX
Had gaz’d on Nature art disdain—
do all the men! Never
to dusk, nothing in thy hand! Upon
the past, the self-enjoyings
of seraphs shed divine
contemplation to restrain;
the bat, the rain on drouth: he saith,
fling up the woods. Bound by
some statues, tombs; and spend the land
is set, dimm’d the divine,
and swift—sing And there is not as
yet had made o’yird and see
them, tho’ they so forth, that weaves turn
themselves, others look’d on,
ducks as quickly in; so offers
he to feed in this, how
little heart-aches had dashed quite but
that I could some slightest
splinters of what seest thou hast thou
mayst thou feel it groweth
noone with kisses on my little
tunes of ioyes. That Star Chamber—
ran up to the forests, cease
too she’d tell a different
joys holy, eternal Hunger
sits, and yet methinks I
have him seen nought at all. Thy two
breasts seraphs shed divine
sufficient for the plains are turnstiles,
and let me sinfull
thought to every stall; the city
cap’s a charnel-house, that
I passed from all years green lizard,
and my load before your
life destroy. And never notice
him as he was in my
License is it that I shoulders
marched again. A herd-
abandon’d deer struck, so rous’d, so pierc’d
by the whites. Lilies laid.
X
No part in our dispute: the wrong.
Thy spirit all back. It’s
a matter where my eyes. Shines around
the voiceless ocean,
and never seemed to bleed. Divine
oblivion as thy
face is stopp’d the cross before it
will not love alone: for
why she packed her by death took life
from pain; once drinks watery
disk caught her down, and then I
should say, could thou art fair,
I lo’ed her trembling hands and frog
eyes and mine had bound up
for the years in plenty and Rigour
are both of their white
and pain, full of orphans of their
friends. The boar, not the wet
feathers of her their joyous stars
go over theirs, not thyself
art dead; The sun walk, in
glorious crown’d, while altar
for music from his branded and
blood. Sometime he trots, as
one full cycle, when a purer
soul regains its peace, and
Love, as Tirzah, come forth and let
them scornfully glisters
like stars united in play, and
forth again; whose that o’er
yon rocks reclin’d wave high, and constant
Sylvio, when the
moon singing ballads o’er, the only
warmth of loue. Petticoat—
a garments is like the very
paragons of spice
and in light; and white, and therefore,
despair. Usurps her passion-
winged snake them with too much honor,
when the desert smil’d,
and Paradise for one should rather
fame; for I was ’ware,
so weeping more than beard, but help
she camera flashed&forgot.
But rather do. What follow: a
shout: the grief itself beheld
his black-fac’d coward. So they
took some hope, and sings one!
Cried Urania I have been yet!
Than owl-songs or the dead
world of trophies, statues, music,
words, reliev’d the lee-lang
day, first touched her; yea, I should do,
own the rest. Cleft where was
ne’er didst alive them and mourners,
wit, or face! Me then, how
great’s this then most I stay; sad proof
than the sort of air rebuked,
seemed to marble, which is a
sickly charnel-house, and
gods have named the bush had ne’er settled
equally, but to
keep in quiet, the Lady
Adeline would an entrance
made more gold that’s best, of which most
my minde; my minde; my mind
of fear whenas I met the bonie
Jean. Birth of Love, that Vertue
but those shoes, O princes do but
ears, the time, until its
lips and pitchy night, from his Ambush,
so in my breasts hanging
mad, and hand in what is call’d
his wealth is frailer, doubtless,
than a schoolboy or a
When a purer soul seeks.
XI
Through those airy silks were tears; odour,
and hourly sits the
grave, and the wide world may see my
love good-bye. ’Would you have
him stop, each other sweetly lamb
that deaf and virtue place
is full of riot, teaching her
pocket in case we die
I cry with pansies overblown,
Lost Echo sits amid
that foil’d through thou to Rome—at once
tis fir’d; not touch’d by the
tide, a little while. How the
infinite brain to all men’s
eyes diffus’d a reconciled; and
fountain, dark-rooted, earth-
anchored. The train to forget the
weeping eye did he rais’d
the ground, struggle, for their budding
of the kings of his moder
was as dew in Aprille,
þat fallyt on þe flourish,
whether; the winds, and she throng
her hearts, you are thy blisse;
in tombe of lids themselves, forsook,
and with her will be false,
ere I can’t say buttercup,
bobolink, sugarduck, pumpkin,
love alone, do my though in
thy pray’rs; snatch a falling
into it and maybe, black as
a raven tress, prays to
thy grave, their souls each tree and ever
done, with light, for her
friends do say, now his word she heares
and rue, that soueraigne
part; sweet issue of a kind of
mine straightway spent the furse:
mercy, pity, and hands to miss.
She never lost as mine.
XII
But lo, while she prove, that oil’d and cures not think of
spiced wine while they cried, when Love approaching
rose of same, conform the walls of this dismal
stories will stay on your arms? Figure
be expressive and mock the tempest roar’d, fair Venus!
Or, like sturdy trees looking the
beam that by her face, for no man, that bloody view,
too, pass’d in dazzling in my virgins
without the hills. Ten kisses on my way. Had brought
we know. And that blood and fight, and then
he had darkening smiles and the voice of slaves beneath
him sound enchant thine own as well
proportion of her senses to encounter: all is
imagine this, that so, when my though
it be that in our day and thou art jealous dolphins
sport me: is love shall I die by
drops of the night well, with thy horse be gone! Attracts
by all extern the scent will there is
only the light in the brook. ’Tis na love like a
lowly loved you, w’are met, and next, a
brief appendix, to come between us for the
edge the plane is making thee. Come, my
beloved it? Danger languish, dare not teach our
foolish hearts doth bear shines around the
crowd. True-sweet bed of spices they answer’d not, but
neither halt of earth in nine moons’ time.
Of youth; the games. Other, betrothed us over
you, my fathers and his right well.
Me to its kindred lamps together grace it oft
would bring a thousand honour, and tells
me, who must banish’d gold. That many of two armies.
For thee; for I’m as free informer!
The world and angels watching her with children
only Maud and fight, and pass for new.
Or he is immodest, blames her pulses hard, he
chafes her angelic kind, a heart of
my beloved among them any good. Fondly
the loss of maiden posies, and never
strive to kiss him, and I am desolate
and proud of him whom I keep apart.
She should wash the floods of a stream immers’d, from the
eyes have outgrown the timely, nothing
that sucked from herb and stir and without a whispers
in the Heaven knows what eyes have been
declare, upon the wintry blast for an army
with an abstract love your reflection
a wobbling once a week, tiring old reader in
suspense from tempests move her. Each passes
between two people of same, when the floods drown’d,
while I turn’d avenger, so thou being
look? You look down to a palm tree, and echo
back in Bromion’s rage, nor leaves and me,
this carry-tale, distinguish slopes of verdure still
on roses are on the wide world’s release.
Though bear, or lie here wilt thou mean to stifle
beautiful blush, and prayed by diving
from every jar; yet she is a sameness in its
stubborn pulse that chanc’d to clip Elysium
to endures I feel so free and smiles at
the bonie Mary. Immortal hand shone
for increase be fed? Here griefs I left but took her
impetuous courtesy not remember
fall, himself, and art. May average on present
sorrow; sad Urania’s eyes, they will
draw some say, themselves in little time left but took
his wine and suffer’d, it will be told
of the angel form’s faun to the mornings in a
day of dirt, out of their mountain, dark-
rooted, by the lily of Sighs, her beautiful
and work and sunglasses where the third
among men; companions? For me, degeneration—
gave her eyes: to grow unto her;
she answers he; no Indes such plenty and mock’d
with that true that rose this large offer
of our frailties here. He held in holy sits the
clients’ clan of Doctors’ Commons: but
should feed until I find it, the race; and I a
man, that everywhere, as heaven that
lurking billow; even where endlesse blessed her often
abroad, at home, far more love of
thine, to whom she employing some honey fed; who,
when some huntsmen that was obtuse. Beauty
in which the soul upon thy will; she whisper’d
this white a friends and pride of two hundred.
At least as in a row. And Maud too, Maud was
more on your glory, with thieves; so do
thy wardrobe, thinking: as midnight beat like to all
nymphs, more delight, for sharpest paine; take
me to the eastern cloud; it heavy next to us,
sometime at the death stains and veiling
heart to lead thee, and each warm wish she humbly
doth it steal thine image stealing into
the same, and do their cures than a man, she cannot
slake flames resign their bellies, these
metres meet. Shaking hath bound and I ask thee for
miles, the best of all mortal hand
she is in the first-born beam, oothoon is the clear
that in worlds fall—and women save a
firm post-obit on posterity, to withstand?
How much a framework scarce believe, young,
and a good senseless face seems to me a very
poor Venus makes of the old become
as one of us dared to two or three are one,
then one day we would in soule up to
thee. The Daughter. The woman in red. I syng of
a frown, chid her, although dull were his
army of ten of stormy mist; so swept her gilded
bed-posts shine of thee puts on our
western isle, which obscure compeers, especially
when with celestial day. Tied in a
breathless, he disjoin’d, and sleep she lay thee. Breeder
than fees. My vineyard, which I envy,
that ere by the lot of Abelard and field and
weep is all the love concern about,
circling inside me. That which don’t depend on her
mishaps, as the lily among roses,
by a bee was some horse, and shew thy self: cast
all my college friendly the wheel of
false or more or less, the bodies in her cell sad
Eloisa weeps not; she can hope to
slope to Vivian-place, and Life’s pale lighter heart
in mouth, or find a term is shown through
the wheel of false desire is, to love I should
feel the scent the ministers of the
spirit’s awful arches make rules, our common one,
meet mass’d in sleep. Let minstrels sweep the
fruit therewithal to be a foreign church receive,
and that just once, with a glassy
darkness. But you but yonder, to the lusty course.
Fair-haired and ye forest spread on a
Damasque sword, and all the cliff-side transfer where, like
spirit thou those up from car to the
law. The lake, all before; and I lost again. Its
scent the breaks through thou unask’d shalt have
an occupation! Peer’s contented day, when he
liv’d, his unkind. Air coin’d to see it
faint? Of regency ghouls. On what a sigh from that
weeps. By thee to mee: no, no, no, my
Deare, let not admit of absence to burst in their
bodies in her amorous birds is
come and pure to descriptions of light, to make a
quarrel as he servile to my tomb.
That he was absence, this our time, because the dark,
flash’d forth, in love in heroes and the
larkspur, and you in close—they have you present which
once he himselfe the lorn night; which thy
lips let me go; you bind you said Don’t make her sadly
o’er the human form, in heathen,
Turk, or Jew; whereupon, in anger ashy-pale;
being detected. The Owl looked upon
me: my mother comes, like a is for hair clip,
and to the trees of fraud, bud and me.
XIII
At his chin like a hollow drum,
who blush’d an Angel of
a charm. I must own,—although no
more re-survey our rustic
tower half-lost in a
charioteers caught her, O. For
which all that I were left their right
have done a feather’d create
mischief in families, dropping
limbs through tears by wretched
vote may be eclipse and cruel as
the hope-hour stroke his centric
happiness doth urge releasing:
pity, ’ gan she can
hope no recompense from shape, in
courtesy. The sun as
if he had seen: mine ears, that dandy-
despot, he, that hears
no tidings of his side, persuade
him could not even by
the end of hop and bring go through
thy beloved is
undertaken be, they never had,
nor have gaz’d, infusing
the dances. Thy teeth are like the
dear and gray walls of jewels,
thy labour, I my jest: for now
she wears a merry horn
wherein could not his later, yet
his prime Death tramples it
too; court everywhere, or as the
clear heaven, what bare excuse
ye: thou dost loving letters
for the swarming now, to
taste. And fast;—oh! Sun of th’
earth usurp’d his thunder,
to all men’s mint, and never grief—
for what are turns his lips,
since that from the Muses fountains
lie. With Lord Augustus
Fitz-Plantagenet. And worse. Severed
at large, let bee. All
the Dreams that best is brought me so
sure a pow’r dost keepe, iealouzie
hemselfe the little: Would you
thus? He stops under Friendship
is feigning, most love; behold
no more, and you, maiden
mild! Let’s star arose; and ermines
pure. And the lark’s
wilderness, and Juan too, especially
if tis all over
us. Struck, so rous’d, so pierc’d, so
long, then vouchsafe, thoughted
Venus makes him bright star shooteth
from the casuist in
moralize, applying things: ’ thirdly,
that the enduring dead,
with her tears and turning there? Our
shrine I heard from the force
it over them and more: the river
of time, that Juan had
been a dead set at Lord Augustus
Fitz-Plantagenet.
XIV
‘What am I in the ocean?
Of her down. What was in
my tears and got before the trees
of their wings whom I said,
But, there, a gold chain of sun will
let her lord, or thou wreck
upon their burning fountain cleft
where’er the people must
be, to the hills, those of other
desire double-lock
the meek eyes from the magic mantle
thrown about Ferguson,
deceiving waters cannot
pass. He gave: if he told;
she remember you are none, thou
break footing, from the trysted
hour! The earth; the timeless ocean,
a human soul! The
hot scent-snuffing hounds and let the
sweet sleeps, and echo back
her yoking arms. There is not mix’d
with yours is a passage,
earth’s sovereign salve to dominate
with much to excite, the
margin of nonentity? But,
I fear’d thy innocent
predominance an honest morn.
Head banging by his stronger
wine, but by a kiss. And, being
some ways my very
smelling young loseth his sword and
fair; yet your feet—too boiled
and ensanguin’d brow, they have outgrown
thoughts and I wept both
night is spent, her blood; make glad and
lov’d its charge us? New.
XV
But now, thy youngest he that flies
me, and that the lamp that
her angelic kind, and could he
put his figures in a
silken trees support me: is loving
that crew as silent
seventeen, the reward secure,
and tooth’d with wedge sublimity,
no matter; and spheres. Bliss
that harmony: but when
the flower. Having felt their cures
not the worm erect a
pillar high as the tender spring,
because my mind or
bore. Do I delight whose back to-
night, for sharply he did
seem to tell me, can you mount, you
knock me down. Tis true-love
in her naked bed, teaching her,
my spouse; thou know’st not so
shall dwell, since which preys make thee from
the Spouse preparation;
and her spirit all compact of
inurbanity, malge
Sir Matthew Hale’s great things sprinkled
with greasy fingernails
are they run like Mahomet’s
Paradise, since they burn them
with a frown, chid her, and fragrant
gloom of foreign country
does never more true when Oppressions
chairman, absolves our
friend; it were true men thieves, to feed
her to Its delight the
dews of night off with her eyes sicken
at the first shouldst hunt
the night; but when of the world wants
to pretend to breed, that
face of the day of his moderes
bowr as dew in
aprylle, þat fallyt on þe flourish
upon thee in her
arms, I clasp my count on woman.
Take me to the unknown,
not unperceiving men: which could
passions, love a goat in
velvets, plushes, fringes, lace, and
should have tied these women
use are met, the rosy morning
it should lie; yet could round
contains repentant sighs can never
she knows not whither
in her like trash in a peaceful
hour doth extenuate;
tells a fine and swear as justly
that have all pray in vain;
for the dews of night, from mount Gilead.
From the swans and high
seas bread: no liar looked upon
his hat, her other hopes
beset me, hopes which within. Be
raging hounds mistake my
milk: eat, O friends; drink, yea, more
durable is proudly and
sooner than Rome in this is the
voice kept too long as thou
not signs of flowers: the city-
roar that was Rome. Lost Angel
Singing when the wears in the
world about us peal
the last clouds consulting for dearest
life are harlot here
a jot of sense of thy neck is
as in disdain she pin’d
away, and calls it balm, earth’s worm,
what are extinguish’d not;
and a drear murmur, between them;
her eyes are to the stead
of wife about her fingers hold
things pant with a lover.
XVI
To cross thy pearls in order set?
She bathes in the west, the
fairest among women? But
glorifies his misspelled name
comes peaceful statesman or a pole,
a hand to wise offered
immeasurable is proudly
and by octobering
air, rend away this curtaines
spred; she lifts a young spirit
for another nation—gave
her eyes diffus’d a
reconciled! When most in a cold, good,
honour, you down like
Mahomet’s Paradise for pure loving
the wars of sweet beautie
stands she in a trembling lyre
already in our bed is
gone down, and pass, till his breast, full
eye, small porch, two mornings
in a tomb. By the village smoke,
her harmonious chime,
tells me ours is an awkward as
steel? Then ope the gate: dismisse
from the same way. The Pilgrim
of Eternity, but
sometimes foxes’ brushes; yet I
must be with your eyes the
client breasts; and lov’d of moonlight
with debt: for how often
gracious might not unperceiving
how fleet ’twas on the tale
had touched her; yea, the full choir
hails thy steed, his art made
the ox? Never being awkward
as a touch drove sleepless
ocean, a human bred: thou
awakest wilt thou hit. And
wait till night in the days of wedded
lover, not lack, save
a firm post-obit on posterity
which best impeach’d
stands she the livelong hours fresh
tears would have called the brig
o’ Dye, at Darlet we a blight
on my lip. And do what
range and see him woo her, she put
his voice; for truth in words.
XVII
To touch of selfish holiness.
To thus my strengthened, and
sulkily the door Live thought might
be admitted the life,
the smiles as she were his smell to
the Heaven’s light takes in
my eye-balls roll, and never stopped
A strife as twixt a miser’s
treasure and smil’d, and Oothoon
shall I lose thyself, be
of the phantoms an unprofitable
strife as twixt crimson
holly-hoaks, among their prime,
prove thee. To your power
to smell, and heart, speed the great appear
before either had
a rider on her buckle took
no part in our day are
we, and sweet soundly sleeps with the
horse shouldst be with some slight
lapse gainst thy fair one, and poets
better of pleasing: pity,
’ gan she cry, flint-hearted boy:
tis Adonis had or
must I horse her presented to
wrestled from the heart, pity
a human what the town, unto
the coward. Now his
brother hung over her own sweetly,
causing there? Hear they
be fair. Here, as I must on the
garden rails, and wound the
regions which within mine arm: for
lovers say, that drop which
should have tied to kissing, in Guido’s
famous in the ground
lacking vestal’s veins? Shall be fickle,
false, and create an
amorous birds that ever yet,
tis odd, or odds, it may
be, now wind, no shade can comment
upon sockets of lilies.
Memory kept alive them
any harm, alas, nor
have grown gray in vain lost Eloisa
see! Head is as in
a five pound notepads, wet-winged
Persuasions any rest.
XVIII
I find it, and be thrust ahead
of shame. To spin a web
of age around, would sing, some small
concern, and I wept both
night and so unkindness honours
to make the mountains of
spice and fear doth endorse his lines,
and o’er the earth, in its
skin’s deep pleats. In the vault above
the tomb, to be hanged his
Paradise for loss of yore have
astronomy, but none
of ten of doubles: then love’s deep-
sweet musical of mourner,
black gowns, were in humble pardon
me, I felt she wins,
and me, thy Naiad airs have fruits. I
told your hands, your eyes moved
farther afield it was full, and
drove of words she did not
what it is beauty understand
time, you are, you are, shining
slightest splinters from thy dew
to splendour sprung from little,
your eyes; ye soft sighs, still time.
Anthea, I am
no longer hover over the
causeys, bridges, aqueducts,—
and the concubines, and now
it sleeps armory; with
other’s bed; the bloom, lost in a
tender’d is: her eyes, and
the other hopes are full of social
wrong; being judge or
a young heart pants, beats, and thou Air,
here, every shadow in
the west, a land of pine, a dull
and Ocean even thou
hit. His love, his song the grass stood.
Could see; then wherewithal
to be discuss’d her, but light scandals
strange? Love is there she
means a few. I have leave to its
fire outside, which knows how?
XIX
The waterfall like music has
some hedge, because those for
the hounds missing, drunken brain, Thou
art thou, sad Hour, selected
from the truth of the parson
claim a right her will hold
swords, are the van of his youth’s fair
good wife. Let me confess’d
with more than a wond’rous things wise
a dream. One of us
dared to measures; nor will he lours
and thy phantoms an
unprofitable strife as twixt crimson
holly. Lo! If by
the screech itself to fill up that
be sin in me, they seem,
face grows that no passions moone, twere
profane his flank, the loves
to sip; sweete, for a year or twa,
she’ll no gang to my bed,
until Death is dead. These force it
overfly they were a
lifetime each was it else with the
wood and stars, instead of
sheep, a raiser of her their bellies,
the sweet; but that drop
which don’t know that I should dry his
throng her heels. Then come home,
he had seen. All entertain’d, making
it should lift his wounds,
that range and tooth’d with him sound of
her eternal flowers
that vulgar tongue, and once doth well
defend her! How fair arms
which through all ages, of no great
fallyt on þe flour. Hope
will splash the sky so glides away,
’twould speak to the due bounds,
it may be, some among the heavy
tale, as the holy
sisters, some of the filching a
prayer for wings granted:
there a jot of sentiment, blue
devils, and earthly guest!
XX
Cease, ye faint eyes, full in my view?
To be thou mayst have prickles,
sharp air lurk’d like a bank, and
in groups they wear; and now
no more, because your senses unknown?
With this, and a straw,
t will be sin in me, they their
days eternal fears green
footsteps o’er they rode, or seem what
the song, whose hands to miss.
The shepherds came, nor, when each cheek
receives her own heart as
true as all flesh is proud of every
one has succeed to
take true passion which in fixt hearts?
Kind to Maud? Sunning rose
or a young men rarely came from
birth do find; and fourthly,
what does it signifies thence doth
shadow to his mouth were
his blood that sometimes we lay so
naked for his hot courage
which is Solomon a zany.
Beauty under: both
favourite; resembling, pure, was
tedious, and the impure
defeatures, still looked up
to our cold reliev’d the
arms infold him castle and that
summer half be done. Sometime
true nature could be though hate
were in one. Give all the
surf and, curling breath, whose names in
photograph of you webs
your life is o’er, the feast is finished
and ere he cometh
up his oil to lend they praised that
kiss, I’ll country maid. And
there sinners may have outgrown thorns,
so is it now we meet
to-morrow. To stifle beauty
of bronze, and Peace, they obey
the voice tells a finer
Her sake, to be annoy’d.
XXI
Day break, to let the heart do steel
his strength moral gibing;
and wakes up and swallow’d to the
stone towers have some dozen
times I burn in blood, even
that nestling in these thou
wouldst now stand a year to let base
cloud drop on his lamenting;
the lost breeze has dried my tears
by wretch’s aid, some remorse
and childish error, that drop besides.
Thy beams, so reverence
of the soft illusion there
wert thou fairest among
the foul boar’s conquers where the walls
and so nigh, for reason
be the peonies need spraying,
trembling lamented
Adonais lay. She walks in bed. That
Juan had been: but since eyes
nor fort that through before his back,
why striue for the light, or
the trees, beasts are all the
pomegranates, with some applause,
her vow, she’s two hours later,
you turn your old photographs,
and to wise Oxenstiern. Then
safely tread by man’s complete,
and you with their sad friendly
shadows on your charms, or
else t will seek not to say thy
place shot its spacious might
from thence he made me the night on
his high delight in such
treasure took, the feast? Her more than
mistress, I hard-favour’d,
and they may reflect the
imagination of our friends
reserved his spouse to learn the least
there is a pretty dimple:
love makes amain unto her
aery thinness beat. Long
it with tears; and bid good nights, and
forth as the great and men
into the chariots traceless
mountains, and thou see
an accessory, as I hate
and pale, like gold begets.
XXII
Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creatures
once more a remnant
worth a copse that the mountain or
in dale: graze on my ivy
garlands sere, the boar for foul
weather we look down o’er
the ancient trees are at a bay;
where quite. No, no, ’ quoth she
abuse me, sufferings to all nymphs,
but late forlorn, to love.
To pluck the dust I roll, and heart
beats loud alarums he
doth pitch the pomegranate within
our youth, with ev’ry
bead I drop too soon, and left aching
rose she had at least
satiety within mine eye and
planted the crown where it
shows his horse. Or like a red rose
of eye, ear, mouth, with second
blow, or ivory pale, lost lilies.
Come at, is like
incarnations evening must usher
night; but I was certain,
not unperceiving when it is
bed thy name: but do not
repel a lover. There is no
more reflect thy increase:
O strangeness, as each tributary
gazes; nor though the
clouded with trembling once again;
remorse! How prettily
entreats, and a’ that; gie me love
is the onward smart; such
if the valleys hear; all our love.
Now when Salámán then
with a knot. Our ease, yet could not
even race, but work. Whilst
we speaks, and the shadows of thy
might march on nor be press’d.
XXIII
And your hands, your eyes, breaketh from
those attains disorder
breeder that was obtuse. The stroke
his sense does the margin
of nonentity? Their round, from
trees and the starting to
look a little to describe what
it feels right. Hath learn’d to
words and somewhat late since burning
ring, for long in clamorous
image in the human hear
her a right, thou catch a
certain of his espousals, and
the liuely sonne of deadly
Sleepe, witness love, how it is
one on shore, resting at
the sex will not love alone. Dear
under-song in dreams. Would
turn his lips, sweet express much passion
on passes between
my breasts to be mortal on the
gale: I had joined her eyes
pay tributary subject and
he embrace me. Moving
the though in the sky yet reserved
a thousand shining her
soft hair blowing careless from
underground I light thy smoky
fires light is spent, ’ Why, what the
amorous o’er his light
and see these faded, and simple;
for by thy workes reproue,
that jewell’d mass of wives, if they
heard; so she at the dead
leave his proceedingly to resign;
forgetful of him
should I deign this he breaking; and
white, shall we can—you can
quote what Death is smooth monotony
of change shadow pay?
#poetry#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Markov chains#Markov chain length: 7#154 texts#ballad sequence
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Let It Be Me
Summary: Choi San is many things. The most talented man you have ever seen. Be it on the dance floor or in front of a mic during a gig. He was the kindest person, always holding the door for the people behind him, helping the elderly carry things, even paying for strangers randomly. He got along famously with your parents and even better with your grandparents. He was charming like that, capturing the attention of anyone and everyone who even looked his way. He’s the love of your life, you’re sure of it but he’s also your best friend.
Pairing: Boy Band AU!Choi San x F!Reader
Words: 5.6k
Genre: Angst/Smut
You’ve heard of a thing called platonic soulmates but it’s taken you years and years of watching Choi San grow to realize you weren’t. Well, you hoped you weren’t. Everything about him made your body erupt into a fire.
San looked at everything with adoration, finding all the good in life, including you. It was a double-edged sword, really. It made you feel special… important. But you could barely concentrate when his eyes were on you.
It didn’t help that he was gifted in pretty much everything; it made you nervous beyond belief. He’s pretty much perfect and as much as you wanted to be with him, you knew the odds of him liking you back were slim to none.
You’ve come to terms with it for the most part. It hurt to see him flirt with girls in front of you, hurt even worse when he started dating this awful girl named Areum. She didn’t give a fuck about him, actually. She barely responded to his calls and texts, going as far as blocking him one time. They fought nonstop. Every time you two hung out, San had a new dilemma to talk about. For some reason, San wouldn’t break up with her.
You had asked him after a night of you two getting drunk together, after another night of listening to his relationship problems. He laughed dryly, taking another sip of his beer, “I love her so much.”
Apparently, it was his “slow-motion” moment. He and his band had been wrapping up the night with their last song, soaking up every second they could have. Halfway through the song, San had noticed Areum in the front row. You were there too so you noticed the look on his face. A look you had never seen him make before. It basically tore your heart out when he told you that he couldn’t get “that beautiful girl” out of his head. She ended up becoming a dedicated face in the crowd so San asked her out.
You would’ve thought they were soulmates from the way they looked in the beginning. Lord only knows how they got to this point. How you got to this point, with San crying in your lap.
It was 10:00 pm when someone started banging on your door. You were enjoying a cup of coffee but you almost had a heart attack at that moment. You opened the door with shaking hands, hoping that whatever killer was on the side wasn’t actually a killer. Instead, you saw your best friend, with swollen red eyes, sniffling.
“Oh my god, San! You scared— what’s wrong?” You immediately dragged him in, locking the door behind you. He sniffled again as he slumped into your couch. You took a seat next to him and took his hand in yours. “Was it another fight?” You knew it wasn’t. In all the fights you had heard, San never cried.
“She was cheating on me… this whole time.” He hiccuped as he talked.
“That bitch.” You said under your breath. You held onto his hand a little tighter, trying to contain your anger.
“I went to her house tonight because she wasn’t responding to me again. I wanted to talk it out with her but she opened her front door in her underwear with some motherfucker sitting on her couch!” Although you had many words to say with Areum, you were speechless in front of San. What were you supposed to say? All you could do was scoot back on the couch and guide San's head onto a pillow in your lap.
“It’s gonna be okay.” You ran your fingers through his hair, “You can cry for as long as you want.”
And cry he did.
____
The next morning was hard. You woke up on your couch sitting up-right with a terrible case of stiff-neck. That’s not the only reason it was hard. No, it was worse seeing San still laying on your lap. He was wide-awake, dark eye bags contrasting against his face. His eyes stared deep into the ceiling.
“What’re you thinking about, Sannie?” You started to run your fingers through his hair again and watched as his eyes fluttered shut, his body instantly relaxing.
His eyes opened again, “Why didn’t she love me?” You couldn’t respond, not that he let you. “I knew we weren’t perfect, knew she wasn’t perfect… but we always made it through the end of the day. I can’t believe she would do this to me.”
“It’s her loss.” You finally said. “You don’t need her anyway. It was her decision to cheat and you had nothing to do with it.”
San didn’t say anything after that, just continued to stare at your ceiling.
___
The first few weeks were the hardest for sure. San had spent most of them at your place, barely leaving even for band practice. When he did practice with the guys he would leave early, only strumming a few chords on his guitar before deciding that it reminded him too much of Areum.
“He’s been really out of it.” Yunho, the bassist commented one time. San hadn’t even played that day. He just sat in the corner for an hour. You stayed behind for a few minutes and told San to wait in the car. You wanted to catch up with the other band members.
“Can you blame him? That bitch was… well, a bitch.” Wooyoung shot back, setting his drum sticks down.
“How has he been holding up?” Hongjoong asked.
You scoffed, “Have you seen the man? I don’t even think San’s there anymore! God, if I see her, it’s on sight!”
You did your best to help him through those weeks. You had been through a few hard breakups in the past so you understood that the early stages were the worst. You even used up all of your sick time to stay home with him. You had never seen him this gloomy. At one point, he went through five pints of ice cream in three days.
____
It took three months for San to be even remotely okay. He started going to practice more and this time, he actually played. You couldn't say you were surprised. San loved playing with the band and you knew it was probably the only thing that would bring him out of his funk.
"You look good, man!" Hongjoong slapped his hand on San's back playfully and for the first time in months, San had his usual dimpled smile.
"I feel good." He replied, setting down his guitar and taking a seat next to you on the beat-up couch. "It's thanks to you, y/n"
Your eyes widened. "Me?"
He nodded. "You stayed up with me, didn't go to work, even made me breakfast when you knew I didn't have the energy to get off your couch."
You couldn't lie; your heart was racing. All you could do was stare back into his eyes with a goofy smile painted on your face. San put his hand on your thigh, skinship being normal between you two, especially within these past months.
Your friendship remained just that, a friendship, for the next month. You were okay with this, though. At least you had a small sliver of hope now that he was single. That tiny bit of hope that he'd love you back was able to tide you over.
Until one night.
San had come over for your weekly movie nights, an event you had been doing since high school but stopped doing because his ex got jealous easily. You tried calming your nerves as you sat next to each other, his arm wrapped around you.
You were so close you could smell his cologne. It was intoxicating. Maybe it was the fact that he was newly single now, filling up your thoughts even more recently, but his entire presence was overwhelming tonight.
“You alright, beautiful?” Since San was single now, his usual playful flirty side was coming out again. Just like everything else about him, you had a love-hate relationship with it. It doesn't mean anything. You had to remind yourself. He talked like this with everyone, especially when he wanted to get a rise out of his bandmates.
You gulped when you looked up at him. How could a man have this effect on you? You would think that after years of unrequited love, you'd be able to at least contain yourself. “Yeah.”
San gave you a dimpled smile, shifting his gaze to a piece of your hair, moving it behind your ear. Your mouth parts, probably to say something but you can't be too sure right now. If someone walked in, they would think you guys are about to kiss. Maybe you are... you want to kiss him.
With your heart pounding in your ears, you slowly lean forward, keeping your eyes on his lips. They look too good not to look at but you're also scared of seeing the look in his eyes, the potential disgust that might be taking over at the thought of your lips touching his.
Everything is moving in slow motion. From your hand caressing his cheek to the moment your lips make contact. He's stiff against you and you can only imagine that it's because he's uncomfortable. You start to pull away, dreading the awkward conversation you're about to have but San is quick. His hand grips your thigh and he's kissing you back with fervor.
Your head is spinning, Is this really happening? These sparks you're feeling all over your body, does he feel the same way? You push away any thoughts you're having, trying to focus on keeping up with San. You needed to enjoy this moment. Without realizing it, you swing your leg and straddle San's lap. He groans underneath you but before you can question it, he's giving you a reassuring squeeze on your waist.
You don't want to take the initiative of going further, but man, your hands are burning to touch his bare skin. Your hands, instead, rest on his shoulders, gripping and releasing every few seconds. As if he was reading your mind, San's hands move to the hem of your shirt and for the first time, you break the kiss.
The second your shirt passes your head, San's moving to kiss your neck, occasionally sucking to leave hickies that are sure to last a whole week. You're breathless, taking this as a sign to take off San's shirt. Your hands are all over each other, San's going from your cheek to unbuttoning your jeans, your fingers feeling his abs contract under your touch.
It feels like a flash. San suddenly laying you down on your bed, both of your clothes littered behind you on the floor, his lips still on your neck. It's only when he's about to insert himself does he stop and look at you with dark eyes. He doesn't give you enough time to question it, pushing himself inside you. You both gasp at the feeling.
"Fuck, you're so tight!" He grips your hip with one hand, the other holding the headboard like his life depends on it. He feels like he'll burst any second.
You're right there with him though, the mere feelings of this moment making you sensitive. "You're just big. Holy shit!"
It takes him a second, taking a moment to give both of you a moment to adjust before he moves inside you. You can't contain the sounds coming out of you as he hits all the right spots with ease. You couldn't have pegged San to have this big of a dick, yet here he was.
Before you can realize it, your hands are finding purchase on his back and your nails are sinking into his skin. He hisses above you but his thrusts get harsher and the moaning in your ear doesn't get any quieter.
"You feel so good... so warm and tight for me." He's practically whimpering into your neck. You try to keep your cool, trying not to cum so fast but he's hitting that spot inside you with ease.
Your nails dig into him deeper, "S-san," You stutter out. "Close... so close."
"I know... but you gotta wait for me. Can you do that?" His thrusts get faster and deeper, you don't even comprehend his words properly.
"Can you do that for me, pretty girl? Be a good girl for me?" He's using both hands to clench onto the headboard now, the force making it harder to not cum. You just nod and wrap your legs around his waist. San is drilling into you with so much force and he's hoping that the bed isn't going to break. After a few more thrusts, he starts to get sloppy, and your vision's crossing.
"Alright, beautiful. Cum for me." He grunts out, trying not to cum at the feeling of you clenching around him. You finally let the waves of pleasure course through you, seeing stars. If you were lucid, you most definitely would have been embarrassed by the noises coming out of your mouth and your pussy.
With a loud sigh, San pulls out of you and releases onto your stomach. Almost immediately, he’s up and cleaning you, you’re body’s too tired to do anything but lay there. You’re surprised, because instead of leaving, San lays next to you, even going as far as pulling you close to him.
You have so much on your mind but you're too tired now.
____
This goes on for weeks. Sometimes you would hang out. Sometimes do other things. Everything happened so fast. The friendship that you held so dear had become a muddled mess of lust and confusion. You obviously still had feelings for San but you had no idea where he stood.
You'd never even talked about the first time you guys had sex. When you woke up he was gone and when you saw each other again, he acted like nothing had happened. You didn't want to be that clingy girl who expected a relationship so you never brought it up. Now you're in this endless cycle of sleeping with each other and never addressing the elephant in the room.
What didn't help was how San was acting differently. He was much more touchy with you, always having to touch you in some way whenever you were together. His hand on your thigh, holding your hand, arm around your shoulder, he did it all. Before the incident, you would have considered him touchy but that's nothing compared to him now.
Your hangouts started to become more elaborate as well. You guys were actually going out to movies instead of watching Netflix at your house. Small coffee shop hangouts started becoming intimate dinners. It was like you guys were dating. These dates gave you hope that he would eventually open up and ask you out properly but you didn't want to force it out of him. So, you just decided to go with whatever he wanted.
"Let's go ice-skating." The handsome man suggested his left-hand steering and his right hand on your thigh.
"You know I can't ice-skate." You deadpan, getting distracted by your fingers playing with his.
He glances at you with a honey-sweet smile before bringing his eyes back to the road. "I can teach you, ya know."
"Please, you just want to see me fall so you can laugh at me."
"That too."
San taught you how to ice-skate for maybe ten minutes. After that, he decided that it would be best to let you learn through trial and error.
"San, I'm literally gonna fall on my face!" You cried, your legs shaking as you attempted to walk on the ice.
"You're doing great. Just try skating to me." He held out his hand for you. Every time you got even remotely close to him, however, he would slowly start backing up. You were struggling around the rink but he made sure to sprinkle in encouragements so you wouldn't be too mad at him.
Just when you thought you were doing good, you got too cocky and propelled yourself towards San, wanting so desperately to close that gap. Your feet weren't pointed straight enough causing your left skate to hit your right, tripping you onto the ice.
"Holy shit, y/n! Are you alright?" San appears in front of you with seconds. Helping you up with ease. Your knees ache and you could feel the bruise forming on your hip.
“Did you not see me eat shit?” You bark out, now gripping his arm for dead life.
“I did but it’s always polite to ask.” You slap his arm playfully as he guides you off the ice and onto the benches. “Are you actually okay?”
You shook your head and pouted like a child. San chuckled to himself, seeing right through you. Instead of saying anything, he pecked your lips innocently and took a seat next to you. It was the first time he’s kissed you in public which only confused you further. Is he doing this on purpose? You really had to ask him.
You’re too lost in your thoughts to see San staring at you. It’s not until he’s moving a piece of hair out of your face that you’re snapped out of your thoughts. You jolt slightly and hum at him in response. He just shakes his head and returns his gaze to the people skating.
It was your turn to stare at him, to memorize his features for the nth time. He’s just as beautiful as he was two seconds ago and the butterflies are still strong. You open your mouth to question him about your relationship, finally building up the courage just when…—
“San? Is that you?” You freeze. Her, you think. That manipulative bitch.
“Areum?” San stands as if he’s been caught doing something bad like a child. She offers him a warm smile, completely disregarding you as always. You feel like you did during the concert. His eyes are no longer on you… but trained on her. You feel that distance he created on the ice growing bigger and bigger.
“What’re you doing here?” The man asks, still shocked to see her.
“Ah, I was just walking around.” The nerve of this girl to act like she didn’t do anything wrong. “What’re you doing here?” Her eyes land on you but she quickly looks back at him.
You stand this time. “We’re…” Don’t say it. Don’t be petty. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “On a date.” You entwine your arm with San’s.
Areum’s lip twitches in annoyance. “Oh?” She quirks a brow and glances at San. “Is this true?”
San freaks out without thinking and shakes his arm from yours. “No!— I mean like a friendly date, sure. We’re just hanging out like old times.”
There’s your answer.
His ex smiles with victory at your defeated state. “Well, we should catch up, San. I know we ended things on a bad note but I think we should talk.”
The car ride home was awfully silent. Usually, they were filled with laughter and off-key singing but tonight, you gave San short answers in his poor attempt to talk. When you entered your apartment, you told him you were going to bed early and that he should lock up when he leaves.
Instead, you feel his warm body climb into your bed and hold you at 12 am. As always, you didn’t tell him to leave. Because, as always, you couldn’t say no to Choi San.
____
You wake up and San's not next to you but there is a text.
San : Sorry I didn't want to wake you but I left to go to practice. It'll probably end late today so if you feel up to it, come hang out. :)
Should you? Maybe it's just better if you pretend like nothing happened. Obviously, that's what he's doing. Besides, it’s not like his bandmates gave you false hope just to reject you in front of their ex. You end up going to the practice, a huge lump in your throat. If you brought up the situation, you're sure that whatever you guys had would be over the second you said anything.
Jongho, the lead singer, greets you with a smile and a nod in your direction as he warms up.
"y/n!" Wooyoung calls out, getting off of his drum stool and engulfing you in a hug.
You giggle on command, loving his enthusiasm. “Wooyoung, why do you always act like we haven’t seen each other for years!”
He smiles and whispers, “Don’t tell the guys I told you, but you’re like… our muse!”
You roll your eyes and pull away from his chest just to look at him, “I think you’re the only one crazy enough to even consider that.”
Wooyoung lets you go completely and returns to his drum set, you follow suit. “Maybe but you’ve been our number one supporter since day one! Plus you’re beautiful and beauty inspires art, does it not?”
Laughter erupts from you again at his cheesiness and your feel an arm wrap around your shoulder. You didn’t have to look to know who it was, the signature cologne giving him away.
“What’s so funny?” San’s smiling but you can tell there’s something different in his tone.
“Just exposing how important y/n is to the band.” Wooyoung sends you a playful wink, your cheeks burning slightly. San forces a laugh, something you don’t notice, before sitting you down on the couch.
After practice was over, you waited outside of the room for San so you could go back to your place. That wasn't the original plan but San insisted. The chilly air made you wrap your arms around yourself, internally scolding yourself over not bringing a jacket.
Wooyoung was the first to come out, fishing his lighter out of his pocket. He wasn't the only cigarette smoker in the group but he was definitely the one that smoked the most. He grinned at the sight of you, resting his hand in his pocket instead.
"Why're you waiting out here? It's cold as hell."
"Yeah... But I didn't want to get in your guys' way." You rubbed your hands up and down your arms trying to create heat. Wooyoung took off his jacket and wrapped it around you without hesitation. "A true gentleman." You remarked.
He put his hand on his chest, his face contorting to look hurt. "I've always been a gentleman. Even when I'm freezing my ass off."
Your eyes widened, ready to give the jacket back. "Woah there, missy. I gave it to you for a reason. We don't want our muse to die of hypothermia." The joke makes you laugh lightly. "You waiting on San?"
You nod, staring at the ground and rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. “It’s been a lot of waiting recently.” You accidentally confess.
“Uh oh.” He leans against the wall. "I noticed something was different."
"What do you mean?" You hear your heartbeat through your ears and you find it hard to breathe all of a sudden.
"You guys are a lot closer... You guys are best friends, sure, but the air's been different between you two. He still doesn't notice how you look at him."
You scoff, "That obvious, huh?"
"To everyone but him, it seems. Can I be honest?" Wooyoung rolls to face you. You nod, now looking at him. "Unless you tell him how you feel, you'll be doing nothing but waiting on him."
"But our friendship-"
"If you're about to tell me that it's enough for you, so help me God, y/n, I will kick your ass." You laugh for the first time since the conversation started. You understand what you have to do. You guys have already crossed so many boundaries and clearly, he feels something for you, right?
The door to the practice room swings open and this time it's Yeosang and San. San's bright smile seems to falter as his eyes instantly land on the jacket that's wrapped around you. His eyes shift between you and the drummer then he strides to you, grabbing your wrist.
"Let's go?" You don't have time to answer. San's practically ripping the jacket off of you and throwing it at Wooyoung who barely catches it. This time, you don't miss the change in his tone. He replaces Wooyoung's jacket with his hoodie, not saying a word as he puts it on you.
Just like the night before, the tension in the car is thick but unlike last night, it's you who's trying to spark a conversation. San's knuckles are turning white as he drives and it's starting to worry you. You've never seen San this upset before and you're still trying to place the reasoning. Was it jealousy?
You pull up to the house, expecting him to follow you like he always does but he doesn't. Instead, he leaves the engine running and his eyes on the street. For some reason, this sets you off. This man had the audacity to pull away from you, act like you were just a friend in front of the ex that cheated on him, but gets jealous over you casually talking to another guy?
You scoff and unbuckle your seatbelt, stepped out of the car, and slammed the door shut. San was feeling extra temperamental tonight. He couldn't understand why he felt like this either. Maybe he was looking for a fight. He turned off the engine and followed you inside. Before you could close and lock the door, he stepped into your house.
"What is your problem?" You asked venomously.
"What is your problem?"
"I didn't have any problem until you decided to get all confusing!" You dropped your tote bag on the floor, turning to face him fully.
"I'm confusing? Are kidding me?" He huffs out, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Actually, I'm not. You've been driving me nuts since we started hooking up. I'm over it!" His lip twitches into a sarcastic smile. "What the fuck was that with your ex? You completely pushed me aside. She treated you like shit, remember? She cheated, she lied, and she manipulated you. Do you want to get back to-"
"You're not my girlfriend, y/n!" He cut you off. "God, it's like you don't know your place." Tears pricked your eyes but you felt more angry than sad. Angry, you've never felt this way with San before. You're experiencing a lot of firsts tonight. San immediately realizes what he said, how hurt you were. He took a step closer to you but you put up your hands, putting up your boundaries for the first time.
"No, you're right. It's not like you hold my hand wherever we go or put your hands on my waist in public. You don't smile at me sweetly during dates. We're not completely vulnerable with each other, telling each other things we'd never breathe to others. It's not like we fuck almost every day! Do friends do what we do? Please, enlighten me. What's my place?"
"I'm sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have-" You're full-on bawling now, sucking in breaths where you can.
"I can't believe I've loved you for so long. I've torn my heart out for you and you just... you just throw it back at me like it's nothing!" His mouth opens but nothing comes out, instead he wraps his arms around you. You react once you feel him, trying to fight him off but he's stronger, trying to calm you down by hugging you.
You're screaming, all the feelings you've held inside bursting out of you, "Why can't you let me in?" You start to pound on your chest even though you know you shouldn't. You don't even notice that he's crying too. "Why can't it be me for once? Let it be me!"
"I'm sorry," He coos. You couldn't hold yourself up anymore, your feelings making it hard to focus. San catches you though, guiding you to sit on the floor.
San does his best to understand what you're saying through your sobs. He wants to understand what he's feeling. He thought he was doing this to get over Areum but why was he doing all the other things? He could've just stuck to the bare minimum but he didn't. Better question, how had he not noticed your feelings?
San was so caught in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed you had cried yourself to sleep. He was holding your head to his chest and he sighed, finally relaxing a bit. He couldn't really relax though, his mind still processing what you had said. He carried you bridal style to your room and thanking God that you had exhausted yourself.
San tucked you in and, after some hard debating, decided to lay in bed with you. He made sure that he wasn't touching you even though he knew he was going to leave before you woke up. He sighed to himself.
Even as you slept you were beautiful and he beat himself up for only now noticing how exhausted you looked. The man never understood why he was so willing and ready to sleep with you. He could acknowledge that there was steaming sexual tension but he never thought it would get this far. Nevertheless, you guys were in this situation; the very foggy area between friends and more.
Is this how you felt, absolutely terrified? You guys certainly couldn't go back to being friends after everything that's happened between you two. San's body started to shake as he silently cried. He couldn't even comprehend how much pain he's put you through these last few months.
____
You're not surprised to find your bed empty the next day; you wouldn't be surprised if San had sent you a message ending your friendship and promptly blocking you. You stare at your ceiling with tears already prickling your eyes. You weren't going to check your phone for texts. You just went to work.
The day went by fast, your boss giving you plenty of work to distract yourself. You were doing just fine until you pulled up to your apartment to find Wooyoung waiting to knock on your door.
"Wooyoung?" The man turned around, almost like a deer in headlights.
"Oh- Hey!" He quickly put his hands in his jean pockets. You walked to your door silently, unlocking the front door and inviting him in.
“What can I help you with?” You try to be casual even though all you’re thinking about is San and how you know Wooyoung’s here to soothe whatever problem you guys are having.
“I’m gonna cut to the chase. Talk to San. It’s only been a day of you two fighting and all of us are tired of him sulking.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“He came into practice looking all down and he didn’t talk to any of us. He just went through practice barely saying ten words throughout the whole thing.”
"How do you know this has something to do with me?"
“… Do I look blind to you? Everyone knows something’s going on between you two.” Wooyoung sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “Look, I don’t know what happened but I’m sure it was probably his fault. I’m not saying you should forgive him right away but just talk to him. Please?”
——
So now, here you are, outside his door. You took in a deep breath before knocking hard on his door. You couldn’t muster the courage to ask if he was home but there was no practice so you hoped for the best.
The door unlocked within a few minutes. “y/n?”
“H-Hi,” You stuttered out, feeling the weight on your shoulders get heavier. “Can I come in?”
San gestures you inside and you take a seat on his couch. There’s an awkward silence when he joins you and you can’t recall any other time it’s been like this. It was so easy to talk to San before but now you can’t even form a sentence.
“So—“
“What’d—“
You said at the same time.
“You first.” San breathed.
“I just figured we had a lot to talk about.”
"Right..." He brushed off his legs with a sigh.
"I like you, San- actually, I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for so long and we slept together and it got messy. We've never talked about what we were after that night. You just made me a rebound and I turned the other way..."
His eyes burnt into your face and you were too scared to meet them. "I'm sorry. I never meant to put you in that kind of situation. I shouldn't have been so selfish. I didn't think about the way you were feeling."
San's warm hand grabs yours. "I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to see how you feel about me. I'm so sorry I said that you didn't know where your place was. Your place..." He takes a big deep breath, making you look at him, "Your place is right next to me. I lost you for one day and in that one day, I've realized what you really mean to me. I'm in love with you, y/n."
He places his hand on your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even notice. You're falling apart at his touch but you were so happy that he felt the same way and- Oh my god! Choi San was in love with you!
"You just said you were in love with me." You breathed, a smile breaking out on your lips.
"I did, didn't I?" He chuckles, closing the distance between your faces. Your breath hitches. "Are you going to give me a chance to love you for real this time?"
Your heart is going to burst and you don't really give it much thought.
"Yes."
#ateez smut#ateez angst#choi san#san#san x reader#kim hoongjoong#jung wooyoung#park seonghwa#kang yeosang#jeong yunho#choi jongho#song mingi#mingi#jongho#wooyoung#yunho#yeosang#hoongjoong#seonghwa
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[12:59 am]
➔ suna x reader
➔ angst
➔ word count: 1.1k
part two
“Rin, let's go to the park and have a picnic for our anniversary!” you shout from across his living room. Seated on his couch, you wait for him to reenter from the kitchen to get an answer.
“You want to have a picnic for our four years?” he says as he walks towards you, placing a cup of iced coffee on the table in front of you.
“Yeah, the forecast says the weather will be great, it seems like it will actually be cooler tomorrow.” you say while turning your phone screen to face him, showing him the weather forecast.
“Plus, imagine all the good instagram pictures we can get!” you say in a sing-song voice.
“Okay, whatever you want baby.” he smiles at you while reaching to cup your cheeks.
One year later, and here you are sitting at the same park, in the same spot, looking through your photo album titled ‘rin & me’.
You smile as you swipe through, being reminded of all the wonderful memories you two shared. Placing your phone down on your lap, you see the picture you stopped on, its one of your favorites. It shows you and Suna at the beach, a big grin on your face as he places a kiss on your cheek. You came to this park for a reason, you had a decision to make and you decided that whatever your conclusion was, you wanted it to be at the place where you and Suna shared what was your last happy memory together. And looking at that picture, you make your decision. Something you promised him you would never do again.
You call him.
Clicking on the blue phone icon you press the phone to your ear and wait. From what you remember, Suna had blocked you directly after your breakup, but to your surprise your call goes through as you hear a quiet ‘hello?’
There is a beat of silence as you panic, forgetting everything you had planned to tell him. You hadn't planned for him to pick up, not knowing if you had the ability to actually say everything directly to him. So you just begin rambling out anything you remembered.
“Hi Suna, um- its me, Y/N. I know I promised never to call you again but you unblocked my number so that must be a good sign” you mumble out as you let out a weak laugh.
Looking down at your lap you continue, “Sorry, I didn't really think this through much, I never thought I would get this far honestly. So I apologize if you end up confused by anything I'm saying because I can assure you, I will be all over the place.”
You can only hope he will finally give you a chance to explain the situation and explain your side. You hope he won't hang up.
You smile as you begin, “Today would have been five years together, I thought we would have been planning the wedding your parents kept pushing” you say giggling, “I assumed we would already be discussing our kids’ names.”
You feel your eyes start to water as you bite on your lip to keep the tears in. All of the happy moments you two had, only bring a pain to your chest.
“It sucks we never made it that far, you know? You were my whole future, so for a while after you broke up with me, I didn't know what to do with myself. Which is probably why I called you so much for the first few weeks but I swear, this will be my last call to you. So I'm glad this is actually going through this time.” You pause before you say, “I'm glad you haven't hung up yet.”
“I just felt like I needed to say goodbye and get closure for myself because I got that job in America.” You can't help the smile that grows on your face as you think about how hard Suna pushed you to apply.
“I wish this could be a moment we could celebrate together but I guess that's just how things happen huh?” You sigh, vision getting blurry from the tears you've been holding in.
“I'm moving there tomorrow, and I'll probably stay there for a good while. Staying in Japan, it just keeps me in a bad place. Truly, I think it's time for me to move on and find myself.”
Biting the inside of your cheek you continue, “ I don't really have anyone here, you know how my parents moved a while ago and you were the only person I had so it's been hard the past year.”
“I guess the point of this call was to say, I never cheated on you. I know she told you I did, but it wasn't true. I don't know if you know that now or not, but I thought I should tell you."
"I loved you more than I have ever loved myself. I swear on my life, I would never do something like that to you. I guess I just...I just wish you would have believed me or maybe even listened to me, because maybe then I wouldn't be at the park at 1 am calling my ex and crying during a time I should be celebrating.” You start to fumble with the end of your shirt, trying to pull yourself together long enough to finish the call.
“I still remember the last time we spoke when you told me about the accusations. You said a lot of things that made me hate you.”
There's silence for a second while you compose your thoughts before you continue,
“Well, I think that was the goal but it didn't work. I don't hate you Suna. I could never hate you. And I hope that if there is only one thing you remember from this call, I want it to be that I still love you ”
“I miss you, a lot, but I think getting everything off my chest is a good type of closure for me. I didn't call you to try to convince you of anything, I just wanted you to know the truth.”
“So that's all I had to say. Goodbye Suna, thank you for 4 wonderful years and thank you for loving me.”
You sniffle before hanging up.
Putting down your phone on the grass, you place your hands flat behind you and lean your head back with closed eyes.
You take a deep breath and for the first time, you feel lighter, like a huge weight has been lifted off you shoulders.
You stand up collecting your phone and brushing off your pants.
As you take one last look at the park, you can't help but be overwhelmed by emotion. This place holds not only the good memories, but also the bad.
But it's time to let go.
Turning your back and walking home, you put on a genuine smile, ready to start anew.
#suna rintarō#suna x you#suna x reader#suna x y/n#suna x gender neutral reader#suna x gn!reader#suna angst#suna imagines#suna rintaro x you#suna rintaro x reader#suna rintaro x y/n#suna fic#suna drabble#suna scenarios#suna rintaro oneshot#suna rintaro scenarios#hq suna#haikyuu!!#hq#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x gender neutral reader#haikyuu x gn!reader#haikyuu drabbles#haikyuu angst#hq angst#inarizaki#x-suna#the tackle box
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Hello submas fandom why have we been sleeping on Sound of Silence for Emmet? Aka I went down a rabbit hole of watching a bunch of people react to watching Disturbed's cover for the first time and could not get over the mental image.
--
Of it being a year or so after Ingo had vanished. That Emmet had been dutifully going to work, taking care of the singles and doubles (no multi battles, not until his brother returned), had been using his free time and resources to continue looking for Ingo.
(He walked like a ghost, untouched by the goings on around him. His words even more wrote than usual. His gaze was too empty. It made people uncomfortable.)
He was fine, because he had to be fine, the same way that Ingo has to be fine.
And it's not unusual for there to be buskers and musicians in the subway. So long as they respected safety guidelines and didn't bar the platforms, the brothers quite enjoyed the spontaneous joy these people would bring. Used to.
Emmet is marching along his normal routine, passing through the crowded subway to his next station. And the first words stop him short. He's not sure why. Just that they…resonate with him. Hello darkness my old friend. Suddenly the strain of music is all he can hear, the sounds of people moving about him fading into white noise.
Because a vision softly creeping, and how many times had Emmet seen a flash of black from the corner of his eye, how many times had he turned, sure, sure that his brother would be there? He turned his head now, locking eyes with the singer. And the vision that was planted in my brain, still remains, within the sound of silence. And it was so silent without Ingo.
Even worse, Emmet knew that people were losing hope. That the police had no where left to look, no leads to follow. But no one dared to say as much to his face. As if hearing it out loud would shake Emmet's faith that his brother would return. They wanted him to be the one to tell them it was okay. That he could give up on Ingo. But he never would.
People talking without speaking.
People hearing without listening.
And no one dared. He knew, like the beating of his own heart, that Ingo was alive. Wherever he was, he could not return. Not yet. Maybe not until Emmet found him. But his brother wasn't dead. His brother hadn't abandoned him. Emmet knew this, but no matter how many times he told people, no one listened.
Emmet had no memory of approaching the singer. He wasn't aware of the curious stares of passengers wondering at the remaining subway boss standing alone, listening to the odd song. Fools, you do not know, no one could know, understand how Emmet felt. He didn't have the words to express it in a way people could understand. But…
The look in the singer's eyes was fierce, full of fire and conviction. Even as the melody came to a ringing end, he didn't break eye contact with Emmet. Something that would normally be uncomfortable was instead as irresistible as a litwick's lure. When the singer moved, Emmet felt like the breath was sucked out of his chest, and he didn't know why. Until he saw the scrawled graffiti the singer's body had been blocking.
He should be furious. Everyone knew better than to try tagging the subway. While some of it could be artistic, the subway bosses always came down hard on it. It opened up too many avenues for ill natured messages, and the safety of the subway could not be compromised that way. The message left behind from the singer was as bold as the song had been.
Ingo will return
Emmet crouched where he was, burying his head against his knees as he cried. Cried like he hadn't been able to since he'd come to realize that Ingo was gone. Cried because he knew he wasn't alone, despite it all. He didn't care how unprofessional it was, or that the trains were waiting for his arrival. Others believed it as strongly as he did. Ingo would return. It was written on the subway walls. It felt like the truth.
#fun times ahead#pokemon#submas#I don't particularly like or do songfics so this is about the best you'll get from me lol#and ofc i wrote this instead of any of the other ideas i've already had#OH WELL#dont think i did it justice but that's okay#was fun anyway#the disturbed cover works well for angry emmet as well
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inspired by the prompt by @danphanwritingprompts:
Danny narrowed his eyes as the Uber arrived at the church, and he finally remembered the occasion.
“Wait, Mom? Did we just pregame Vlad’s funeral?” Danny asked. Maddie scowled.
“Shut up and act sober. For some reason, your dad loved that miserable creep,” she told him.
“It’s the only way to get through the day,” Jazz agreed, fumbling to open the door and step out.
and some other headcannons that I've seen float around tumblr about trans Danny fic below cut if you dont wanna follow the link.
Looking out the window was making him nauseous, like really really nauseous. The kind of nauseous he only got when sick or from a good punch. He knew a thing or two about good punches. He’d been taking them for a few years now.
It really wasn’t fair if you asked him. One should ask him because it was an experience that only he could experience. After all, halfa's were rare as can be. Skulker had certainly told him enough for him to know. Every brush with alcohol in his younger days was, well, a mixed bag. He processed it faster than the average person so he was lucky in that aspect that he got drunk faster. But if anything his messing about with alcohol before he was 21 told him it was that it also left much faster than normal. Bullshit ghost rules and all of that. Genuinely being a ghost even half one had very few upsides. Some people online speculated about how cool ghost powers must be to have but clearly none of them knew about the burden that it came with. Sometimes he still wished that he didn’t know.
However this time for whatever reason the alcohol was hitting him and staying. Maybe it was because the previous times he’d been drinking cheap party booze in Dash’s garage with Sam and Tucker, no one but the three of them aware that they were even there. Instead this time the booze was some semi expensive shit, he didn’t know the name or type but he’d been promised quality. Why he of all people was being given quality alcohol he'd never know but he wasn’t going to turn it down.
That being said seemed the trade off was intense nausea. It wasn’t that bad all things considered, he actually preferred being sloshed for the upcoming event but his body was not agreeing with that. Not that his body agreed with a lot of things. The disagreement between ghost and human sometimes really bit him in the ass. His head was floaty, the world in front of him was spinning badly, maybe it’d be worth it to never drink again. Especially if he was going to have this reaction . If only he’d invited Sam and Tucker. They were great fun and always knew how to reel him in. Man he missed them, if only they didn’t all go to different colleges. But nooo all of their majors just had to have few overlapping colleges. At least they were all within a drives (or in his case a flying) distance. When he wasn’t feeling too sick and unbalanced he’d have to fly over to their dorms for a movie night. It’d be nice. Sam might even be able to get them into someplace cool again.
In a stagnant attempt to push the feeling away he turned away from the window and towards his family. Jazz was studying a text on her phone. Probably a message from her girlfriend at university. Maybe she was inviting her. That’d be nice. She seemed nice when he’d saved her as Phantom a month ago, then everyone was nice when their life had just flashed before their eyes and they were rescued from it’s visions. Even when he and Valerie were on the worst of terms he was always grateful when ever she rescued him in either form. Bar Johnny 13 his sisters' taste in partners wasn’t actually all that bad. He actually liked her last girlfriend. Even then with Johnny he wasn’t sure how much of that was actually her taste and how much was Kitty’s possession.
Certainly Jazz’s apprehension couldn’t be blamed, three of her previous partners both highschool and college were driven away by how weird their family was. She claimed she was fine with it, something about them not truly accepting all parts of her but still. That sucked. School had been rough enough, he couldn’t even count the amount of people that had been weirded out from being his friend because of his parents. Well there was also his reputation but his parents being renowned ghost hunters and chaotic town kooks certainly did not help. Looking back on it more of that might have actually been on his reputation. A nerd with A+ grades until highschool only to then end up with Ds on the best of days and bruises on the worst. Yeah some of that was probably on him.
Jazz gave him a look, he’d spaced out and looked at her for too long, it was weird now. He gave her a shrug and turned to their mother.
Laughing would be rude; he had to remind himself when he spotted her dancing along to the car radio in her dorky adult grooving. It was peaceful in a way. A down time he didn't usually get to appreciate before something bad (normally ghosts) interrupted. It was almost nice in a way to be calm with his mom and sister. Even if the former looked really really stupid.
He snorted anyway at his mom’s dance moves. Discombobulated shoulder jerks and little hand motions mixed in with little head rolls that had no rhyme or reason. It was wildly out of beat and didn’t match the tone of the song on radio. It was definitely the kind of dancing that Tucker would disparagingly call “white people shit”. The thought alone of Tucker's pain at his parents' dance moves was almost enough to send him into hysterics.
Man he missed Tucker.
He’d have to check in on Tucker soon, since he started the latest school assignment he’d sort of ghosted everyone, for the lack of a better word. It was probably the stress of dealing with his assignment partners, he’d done the same last time. Still… in a town and world with ghosts it couldn't hurt to try to check in on him. Tuck was a big boy now he could hold his own in a ghost fight but he didn’t like the idea of leaving him to it. Call him what you will but obsessions were just like that.
Maybe he was a little possessive.
Just a touch.
“Oh Danny!” his mom squealed as a new song filtered in. The Uber driver rolled his eyes, clearly he thought no one could see him but Danny caught it in the rear view mirror. ” I love this song, isn't it rad!”
He tried not to laugh, he really did, but it was so ridiculous. His parents were doing this on purpose! They had to be! There was no way that they weren’t no one was that out of touch. That behind on lingo. Warm giggles and chuckles bubbled forth, messy and loud. The kind of laugh only those closest to him could coax out of him. Back in school it was only Tuck and Sam that got him to laugh like that (maybe Jazz if she was lucky) make him lose his composure so quickly, but more and more readily his parents had been able to also force the laughs out of him.
If only fourteen year old him could see him now. He’d be so embarrassed. Sitting in the back of an Uber laughing openly at something silly his mom was doing. She said something he couldn’t catch, teased him probably for laughing. A random pop song and the air coming in from the drivers open window were just loud enough to cover even a raised voice. Even still the there was comfort. Whatever she said was from a place of love.
He loved car rides sometimes. He didn’t always appreciate them when he was younger, kind of like how he felt about his parents. Especially when he was 14 but now? They were some of his favourite times spent with his parents. He just couldn’t help it, something about the rolling scene and music with easy conversation lulled him. It helped keep his obsession at bay, blocking it from flaring if he could see that some of the most important people in his life were there, in front of him safe and sound.
He still ached. Felt that compulsion to check Sam and Tuck. Rather than scream like normal it was a soothing whisper. He was able to drunkenly send them a text about how much he loved them without the skin crawling need to see that they were still standing.
The Uber slowed to a crawl, the Sudan squealing as they stopped. Man that guy really needed to replace his breaks. He could get in a wreck and then whoever he was ferrying around could get seriously hurt.
No!
He shook his head; he couldn't let his obsession obsess on something so small. It was probably safe to look out of the window again so he chanced a look. Danny narrowed his eyes as the Uber arrived at the church, and he finally remembered the occasion.
“Wait, Mom? Did we just pregame Vlad’s funeral?” Danny asked.
Maddie scowled,“ Shut up and act sober. For some reason, your dad loved that miserable creep,” she told him.
“It’s the only way to get through the day,” Jazz agreed, fumbling to open the door and step out.
Damn he hadn’t meant to forget the occasion but he couldn’t help it his mind was already prone to wandering and the alcohol was just making it worse. Really it was a miracle he passed highschool in the first place, even when sober his mind just struggled to latch onto subjects, and that was before he had to nightlight as Phantom, hell it wasn’t even nightlighting it was a full double life. Really he didn't even know how he was managing college with the heroing on the side. Best guess if he was pressed to give one was that his parents’ disappointment and the desire to go to space was combining into the ultimate peer pressure. Funny how his brain worked like that, maybe Jazz could explain that to him. She was good for stuff like that. Explanations for why his brain was weird. She tried to give him an acronym for it one time something with A's. An attention thing of some sort. He'd have to ask her about it again sometime so he could wrap his mind around it.
“Hey!” Jazz opened the door, her face inches from his, the scent of some fruity cocktail on her breath,” get out Danny, and remember, act normal. At least for dad’s sake.”
“Yeah,” he waved her off stumbling to his feet, honestly it wasn’t fair that the ground was so unsteady beneath him, kind of transphobic if you asked him. “If you wanted me to act normal then why’d we all get plastered?” he joked.
“Shush,” Jazz clamped a hand on his face, their slow amble up the church's many steps paused. “Don’t lick a gift horse in the mouth Danny, you know this will be insufferable.”
He licked her hand, she recoiled, wiping the spit off on her fancy black dress.
“Danny!”
He stuck out his tongue in retaliation.
“Behave, ”she chided.
He rolled his eyes and followed her. It was just a funeral, what was the worst they could get into?
The second he stepped in the church threshold he knew. It put his whole body on edge, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and the faintest trickled of mist? ghost vaper? Ghost breath? He actually had no clue what it was that came out of his mouth.
Well he never really understood what he was saying half the time anyways, his mouth had a habit of running out from under him. The worst case of that was just the other week, he was talking to Sam over skype about something and he’d forgotten that she knew about Phantom, how really he had no clue, and he just went on for about twenty minutes making some out there wild excuse for why he’d missed their last hang out when she’d stopped him.
Honestly it was getting embarrassing, even worse was trying to keep things he said to his parents in each form separate. He really had to tell them soon.
It was so easy when he was 14 the breadth of his conversations with them as Phantom at the time could be summed up with a snarky quip from him or a “I’m gonna dissect you” from them. Now though they seemed to be fully taking seriously the notion that ghosts had depth to them. Which while true was deeply inconvenient for him. That meant he had to have interactions with them as Phantom and keep his identity straight ( ha ). Maybe he should be grateful, they weren’t threatening to dissect him anymore that was certainly a plus, they still definitely wanted to examine him however. He had considered it, in the depth of the night, allowing them to examine him only to drop the transformation part way through. It’d be funny, just a little bit to catch them off guard like that. But they didn’t deserve a coming out like that. He stifled a groan, he thought he was done with the closet when he’d come out but no life just had to never end and add in ghosts.
“Danny,” Jazz hissed at him.
He slurred out a huh at her in confusion.
Damn he’d been staring out at nothing, the Pastor? Priest? He didn’t know the difference to be honest, was still talking about Vlad. Shit that’s right! The second he’d walked in his ghost sense had gone haywire, Vlad was still (half) alive in that plush ass casket. He wondered how bad it'd be to fake a stomach ache and transform into Phantom for some ass kickery. Knowing his luck though Vlad might just feign full death embrace just to make a fool of him.
He would do that, fake his death, hell he was doing it right now! Motive was still unclear to him but Danny was going to get to the bottom of it. The man at the front, religious figure of whatever denomination, was gesturing large and big as he wrapped up. It was really official, and stuffy, when he finally fully died he wanted his funeral to be nothing like this. Maybe Tuck's ideas of dramatic funeral pranks were where it was at. Or maybe even Sam's ideas of celebratory parties that remembered the dead's life. He wouldn’t object to either of those.
Alcohol was fading out of his system again, well it’d been nice while it’d lasted but it’d probably be best to not be sloshed if Vlad wanted to cause a scene.
He sat at the edge of his seat as his father came up for a speech.
“Vlad,” his father stopped to blow his nose,” Vlad was a good friend of mine in college, w-we,” his lip trembled, his large jaw hammering up and down as he stammered for words. It took everything in Danny to not sink into the pew bench in embarrassment. Jack was for all intensive purposes the only person in the entire church that seemed genuinely broken up about the billionaire’s death.
“We drifted apart for a while, and he’d just started to come back to mine and my wife's lives a few years ago and- and- I-I sorry,” he winced as his fathers voice died.
While he didn’t understand his fathers affection for the man his heart couldn't help but ache for the man’s sorrow. His father had such a large heart. He was so trusting and held so much affection in his large beating heart. It was a weakness and a strength. One his mother often said he inherited. He didn’t know if he could see it. He wasn’t so soft, so trusting, so eager to love and care as his father. Then the larger man hadn’t been burned the same. Hadn’t had his heart half electrocuted to death like him.
His mom walked up on the stage, he was briefly impressed by her composure, she was buzzed but also in heels and looked to all the church exceedingly well put together. Quietly she was speaking her hands gently on Jack’s shoulders patting his back soothingly. She often sold herself short. Stating her heart not to be as big, Danny didn’t believe that, not really, his mother was just more careful in those she let in.
“I wasn’t as close to him as my husband,” she admitted, having softly taken the mic from Jack. her fingers were curled around it softly, but her other hand was in her hair. She was fidgeting and searching for words,” but I’m sure those he was close to will miss him dearly.” she said tight lipped. Jack whispered something to Maddie quietly making her smile tightly and nod. The man moved to his seat and let his wife continue his speech in his stead.
It was nothing notable really, Danny wasn’t one for paying attention to speeches or lectures and a funeral would not be an exception. He caught a few snippets though, his moms implication that she liked him better in college. A line hoping that in death that he could hopefully move on from the past. He really tried to not laugh at that one clearly because she'd noticed the exes. How many of them had known before? How many of the exes had to learn of their blueprint right then and there in the funeral.
Still he sat teetering on the edge of his seat, half paying attention to her words and mind half trained on that open casket. Vlad lay there in the plush box waiting. What for he couldn’t tell yet but he wasn’t going to be caught unaware.
The speeches couldn’t have ended any slower in his opinion. He wished that the alcohol hadn’t run it’s course already. It was so much easier to get through shit when his mind was quieted and his obsession was dulled. Instead he was forced to wait, his waking obsession tearing at his insides making him wait. Watch the lingering guests with apprehensive eyes. A few were expected. Gaggle of divorced exes. Some smattering of people that vaguely had Vlad's chin and nose. It was bizarre, some looked wildly like him and others well. They were utter strangers to Danny. They all were but they seemed almost faceless in how unknown they were. Interestingly none of them really seemed that choked up. He’d never expected troves of people depressed about Vlad’s passing. Still to only have one sobbing mourner? Maybe they just grieved differently...
Yeah maybe.
About when he got his water from the refreshments table he realized that Vlad really wasn't pulling a stunt. Still he had no clue why he was in that damn casket if he was still (half) alive in there. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, his worst nightmare was being trapped in one of those, yet Vlad had clambered in willing foot after foot laying stricken and board straight for all that he knew to see him. It didn’t make sense. There had to be some trick.
There had to be.
He thought maybe after his father had bowed his head over the casket head in hands loud body wracking sobs shaking his shoulders that Vlad might then spring to life (ha) and attack them. No, instead he remained laying in that coffin, the soft plush pillow under his head holding him still, the flowers in hand still clutched in strict fingers. He must have some sort of long con going on then. Some sort of goal he was aiming to reach by laying stricken and dead.
Wouldn’t be the first time the man had pulled a bizarre stunt. The time he’d kidnapped Danny and his mom sprang to mind. But there were few situations that came to mind where faking one’s death could come in handy.
A severe looking man walked up to him a small plate of hors d'oeuvres in hand. Sam would hate the sight of the small snacks, not a single one was vegetarian. And Tuck? He’d be laughing his head off at the name and size. He really had to rope them into a trip to the movies or arcade sometime soon.
The man greeted him, straightening his professional looking tie as he spoke. The man was exceedingly out of place, in a clean and crisp business suit that hardly matched the tone of mourning clothes. Then his parents were wearing their jumpsuits under their fancy clothes so glass houses and all that.
The man was painfully dull giving Danny his condolences in a rather stilted and clunky tone. The man clearly didn't want to be there. He raised an eyebrow at the man as he finally asked how he knew the ‘deceased’.
Telling the man something to the effect of, “Just through my parents,” somehow making it clear to the man that he wasn’t particularly choked up by the billionaire's death. Gee he wondered what gave it away, his flat unaffected tone? Or the fact that Vlad was a billionaire with no moral backbone.
Huh, he must really be missing Sam a lot to be thinking like that. he hated to admit it but she was kinda right.
Business suit was disinterested in conversation with Danny after that, he hastily wrapped up the conversation. Man even muttered “shame.” under his breath, if Danny wasn’t half dead he wouldn't have caught it. But well nothing ever really worked out well for bureaucrats did it?
Had Vlad seriously faked his death to avoid paying a few measly bucks? The man was a billionaire! He must really owe them a mean amount of money for them all to arrive at the funeral like this. Maybe they hoped the will would work in their favour? Not far in front of the refreshment table were two suits talking unabashedly about the amounts that Vlad owed them. If it weren’t for the setting Danny would think that they were coming or going from an important meeting.
For what was probably the first time he properly looked at all of the guests. Actually taking them in, a good chunk like he’d noticed before were the exes that half looked like his mom, and their kids (hopefully they weren’t biologically Vlads). Then there were the vague family members that looked like Vlad watered down with kindness. But the rest? Suits and-
Oh.
Oh he had to step behind an archway and stuff a fist in his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud. Vlad had fucking bounty hunters being sent after him! It was karmic, he had to stop himself from busting a gut right then and there in the middle of a church. It was already blasphemy enough to be the walking dead he didn't want to also throw in disrespecting the (only mostly) dead into the mix.
Well at least they weren’t all debtors, lurking around the corners and edges of the room was a guy he’d worked with as Phantom a few years ago. He was kind of hot in a rugged sort of way. If it weren’t for Sam and Tuck he’d have considered flirting seriously with the other man. As it was his joking flirting got him in trouble with the other two.
He was really acting up being normal, that rugged man. Mingling about with other people dressed neatly.
Clear to only Danny what he was, what the others like him were, the man wandered unaware that Danny was watching him. Ironically he only knew they were bounty hunters because Vlad had hired the rugged man and his crew to hunt Phantom that time a few years ago and now? Oh the tables have turned. Someone, maybe one of the exes, or the debtors wanted him dead. Damn what had Vlad done?
Ghost Zone inhabitants had mixed opinions on him, many of which wanted him dead or knocked down a peg. But that was the Ghost Zone, half of them wanted Danny dead at some point or another. This was the human world. Earth and shit, it was much harder to piss off someone to the level of murder. Not impossible but damn. He grinned at this, Vlad was (half) alive and (sorta) well in that casket and he couldn’t do anything if he started to stir shit up. Life was beautiful, twinkling and gorgeous, he decided. He Didn’t need Tucker and Sam to have fun.
He started with one of the exes. He went out of his way to ignore her dyed red hair and pale purple eyes as he talked with her. It wasn’t her fault that Vlad had a complex, he reminded himself as the woman talked. Fault couldn’t be pinned on her for the parallels he could search between his mother and her. She was nice in a weird way, again really like his mom. It was unnerving. He kept trying to ignore her beady eyed gremlin of a child as she talked to him about the will.
Whatever Vlad had done for all the people in his life to only care about the will and the will alone Danny wanted to do the express opposite. It was almost painful in a way to watch all of these people act like they weren’t only here for the money. Served the man right, it was still depressing, the man had everything on paper but not a damn thing in reality.
“Do you think his daughter will show?” he tactfully added into the conversation after the woman had made some condolences about his family and Vlad.
“Daughter?” the woman asked, her large eyes blinking slowly,” I'm sure you're mistaken, Vlad told me he doesn’t have kids.”
“Oh,” he said, feigning apology, inside he was loving this, sure Vlad couldn’t admit the truth about the clones but clearly the man had seriously left out some details to his ex lovers. “Are you sure? ‘Elle is nineteen now,” he said, it was technically true if you counted right. She was also only seven if you counted right. It was all about semantics.
“Ninete-” the woman stammered something hard settling in her eyes,” he told me he didn’t want to have children,” she looked down at her angry eyed child (he hoped the little dude didn’t kick him in the shin) who had a hand fisted in the end of her dress. “If you’ll excuse me, Daniel, this was an- enlightening conversation.” he watched her walk away to a woman with a big chunky bracelet.
Also a redhead. Of course.
A sharp pain seared in the top of his ear he prevented himself from yowling out as the fingers attached dragged him over to a corner.
"ow ow ow," he whined out quietly trying heard not to draw attention to himself. It didn't really work.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Jazz hissed at him when they were hidden away from the rest of the group.
“First of all: ow!” He rubbed his ear delicately between his finger pads,” I’m not a child anymore, maybe borderline sibling abuse was funny in 80’s sitcoms but it's not anymore.”
Jazz rolled her eyes,” second of all?” she pressed, she was still slightly buzzed and yet she was still holding herself with so much composure. Kind of impressive, if she hadn’t just physically threatened to rip his ear off.
“Secondly I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“Not do-” Jazz floundered,” Daniel!” she hissed out again struggling to keep her tone low. Damn she was mad, she only pulled out the full name when really fucked up,” I know your relationship with Vlad was- complicated.”
He snorted,” he tried to kill me multiple times, Jazz.”
“Yes bu-”
“Dark Dan,’’ he pressed further.
“I get it!” she snapped in a whisper-shout,” but a funeral isn-”
“He isn’t dead Jazz. Or really fully dead I guess I should say,” he laughed
Jazz rolled her eyes,” This is concerning behaviour Danny.”
“W-what?” he asked.
She tapped her chin pensively, she was psychoanalyzing him again, gag, “You must be transferring your complicated feeling about him into-”
“Jazz,” he groaned. It was best to stop her before she got on a roll, “Ghost senses remember? He’s still not fully dead, I can tell. He faked his death.”
“Okay,” she said with a sigh," I'm not saying I believe you, but say he did fake his death-”
“He did.”
She shot him a look, “Why? Why would he fake his death? He’s a rich ceo multi-billionaire with more money than most of us can conceive of, nonetheless actually obtain, what does he get out of faking his death?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, this was easier when Jazz was talking to one of Vlad’s cousins ignoring him stirring the pot.
He explained what he’d pieced together so far, with the suits and hunters lurking around the edges of the room it was easy to point out how out of place they look. Slowly a realization fell on her face, an acceptance of what he was saying.
“When I was talking to the stepford exes they were all talking about who would get the estate.”
“Do they know who?” he asked.
Jazz shook her head,” no the will was kept really secretive from all of them. There was even a bit of an altercation from two of the younger ex girlfriends over it.”
He winced at that, he couldn’t blame them for being mad he just wished Vlad wasn’t faking death for them to take it out on. “The bottle red and the one with the big bracelet?” he prompted, remembering the end of his conversation with the former.
“No that’s Maddison and Maggie, the two that fought were Morgan and Melenie.”
“Maddison? Maggie? Morgan? Melenie?” he repeated with a grimace voice getting higher with each name.
“Yeah I know,” she said with a sigh,” a textbook case of projecting an ex, or in this case crush, on future partners leading to a string of failed relationships,” she frowned looking over at the group of clustered red heads. Danny followed and examined them, they were all looking at something their eyes occasionally darted over to-
Oh of course, mom, they ‘d probably done the math already. He winced at the thought. He’d half thought about it before finding the notion funny. Now in his sparkling sobriety of the evening he couldn’t find the humour.
“At least they all mostly get along,” Jazz offered, trying to look away from how the dozen or so women were looking at the one woman they were all stacked against.
“Really?” he blinked at her,” I’d have thought that they’d all be fighting cause of the- well you know,” he gestured to the, everything, of the situation.
She shook her head,” no, they seem to all understand that it was all on Vlad, two of them, Mackenzie and Melody,” she clarified to even more of his confusion,” even found out that they were seeing him at the same time. How they didn’t know with all of the press that followed him I’ll never know, but they decided to team up on the legal front if there are any issues with the will.”
“Really.”
Jazz nodded,” yeah I was surprised too, but good for them, Vlad went around causing too many issues in their lives.”
He nodded in agreement as he looked at at the sea of redheads, some of them had grown out their hair revealing dark roots, some had hair styled in poufy curls reminiscent of his mothers old style and one of them had completely cut her hair into a half shaved look, it was actually similar to the look that Sam had now.
“Want to cause some problems for him?” he asked.
“Danny, legally and socially he’s dead, what could we do?”
“Legally yeah,” he agreed,” but technically he’s still half alive in there, and can hear everything that people say-”
“Are you suggesting that we ruin his reputation?” Jazz asked with a poorly hidden smile. He loved that in the years she’d loosened up. It was a good look on her, relaxation.
“Ruin?” He said, in mock scandal, ”I'm merely suggesting we bring it down to where it belongs.”
“Oh ‘merely’ what is that a fifth grade word? I'm impressed!” Jazz teased.
He shoved her lightly with a laugh,” oh fuck off I’m in college now you know.”
“Really? Accredited and everything?”
He stifled his laugh,” shut up, you know dealing with ghost shit messed with my grades.”
Truthfully he’d expected her to joke further about it, to razz him about doing so much, or maybe analyze him, diagnosis him with trauma. Instead she hugged him.
“I’m sorry so much was put on your shoulders so young,” her voice was raw. Too raw.
He patted her back, stomach squirming. Because what was he to do with that? The tender care held for him in the cracks of her fingers. The sorrow that settled in her pores all for him?
“Hey stop that,” he eventually said, pulling back,” or I'll make clockwork take me back in time so you never find out.” He didn’t mean it, he never did.
Jazz laughed a little wetly, he didn’t comment on it. Why would he? Also didn’t get a chance as she ruffled his hair, despite the fact that he was now much taller than her. “People are allowed to care about you, asshole.”
He scrunched his nose up at that,” ew what? I detest affection.”
“Oh detest another good one, really racking up those vocab words huh?” she sniffled her hands on her hips, a little lean in her back as she smirked.
Snorting, he stepped back and fixed his hair,” how about we make this a competition?”
“Huh?”
“First one to make Vlad burst out of his casket and rage in ghost mode wins.”
“Really? What would the winner get?”
He tapped his chin making a humming noise,” how about this, loser has to reveal their secret.”
Jazz laughed nervously,” I don’t have a secret Danny.”
Danny gave her a look,” Jazz, I’ve met your girlfriend.”
She bit her lip looking down at his outstretched hand, a debate playing in her eyes.
“Hey you don’t have to if you don’t wanna,” he said softly,” this is just meant for fun after all.” he knew better than most what forcing this stuff did.
”No, it’s fine,” she took his hand and shook, if a little clumsily,” that doesn’t mean they have to meet her though.”
“Oh don’t worry,” he said,” it won’t be my fault if they do that’ll be entirely on them.”
“Danny!” she exclaimed at him as he fled to the other side of the church. Finally this funeral was going to be interesting!
“Can you keep a secret?” he asked the swaying uncle of Vlad. The man smelled of beer and hors d'oeuvres. Not that Danny could judge if it wasn’t for the thick layer of spray on deodorant that his mom smothered him in right before he got in the uber then he’d probably smell just as rank. Then there was the fact that he’d pregamed to.
The older man narrowed his eyes at Danny, he was shocked to see the man he looked to hardly be much older than Vlad yet he was his uncle? He’d gone to ask about it but thought better about it, the less lore he knew about Vlad’s family the better, he really didn’t want to know about how many kids and when and how the Masters ‘clan’ had. Conversation with the older man was… stilted, to say the least. But he was certain that if he told him something then it wouldn’t get back to him. And that was half the game wasn’t it? Finding a way to spread the most rumours without people finding out it was him or Jazz. All without powers of course, that almost went without saying.
The man didn’t seem too broken up about Vlad, they probably weren’t that close and Danny had always gotten the impression from the billionaire that he was a smidge too snobbish to fully have developed relationships with people. As often as he teased Jazz for being snobby, she at least was nowhere near as bad as Vlad. Man damn near invented snobbishness and assholery. He’d have to ask clockwork if Vlad’s ancestors were just as bad. Judging by some of his family, probably not.
“Well before he passed,” Danny prompted, pausing in a way to snag the older man's attention.
“Yes?” the older man asked when he didn’t continue.
“Well,” Danny fidgeted with his nail,” you know his signed Packers jersey?”
The older man nodded eagerly.
Danny looked to the side,” it’s a fake,” he whispered to the man.
“Really?”
He nodded,” yeah, but please don’t tell anyone,” he added,” it’s bad enough that they know he was banned from buying the team-”
“He was what?”
Danny fought to hide a smirk. He knew it’d be easier to sell this lie if he started smaller.
“I thought everyone knew!”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, most of the town knows, it’s just, no one talked about it to be polite.” okay that might have been overselling it a bit but the distant relative seemed to really be drinking it in.
“What did he do?”
Danny looked side to side like he didn’t want anyone to overhear.
“Well a few years ago when he was closing the deal to buy the team he got caught stalking some of the members!”
“Really?” the uncle asked,” wha- why?”
Danny shrugged,” they never really found the reason he was following them, he was even trying to seduce some of the wives.”
The man gasped,” I- really?”
Danny nodded. “But you can’t tell anyone you have to promise me.”
He watched as the man smiled in what he thought was slyness,” of course! I just, with all of those wives he had!”
Within the next five minutes Danny heard the rumour circulate across the room and it had grown legs. How glorious those rumours legs were.
“I heard he’d tried to break up a marriage on the team!” an ex wife (Maggie maybe?) hissed.
The other ex (Mary? The other woman might have called her) laughed,” would it really be any surprise? With what he did to Morgan and Melenie?”
The first woman nodded sagely,” fair I can’t believe I even fell for his tricks.”
All things considered the rumour was spreading well, and there was not even a gasp of a suggestion that he was the source. He couldn’t wait to hear what Jazz had invented, with the rumbles he’d already started to hear, it was probably great. Jazz always did have a way of getting into people’s heads. Find what interests them the most.
“So this daughter of Vlad's?” the woman he was talking to prompted, he vaguely remembered Jazz saying her name was Maddison. She’d found him again some time later; her child now safely deposited over by the other kids with their group babysitter. They were in the middle of the church now, the other two still whispering about the packers' spouses.
“ ‘Elle?” he asked as if he’d forgotten.
The woman nodded her curls bouncing as she did.
“Can I see a picture of her?”
He pulled up an older photo of them hanging out, the picture was grainy and they were both sticking their tongues out at the camera. Shit he’d really forgotten how alike they looked.
“You both-” the woman said before stopping. She glanced at his parents.
Shit he had to go into damage control,” well she’s also my cousin,” he fibbed.
“Cousin?”
“Yes! Technically once removed? Or something like that, I didn’t meet her until a few years ago, we were really blown away with the family resemblance!” he laughed. "Really it's uncanny!" He continued.
Too far! Too far! He was leaning into it too much! It wasn’t like he could just tell her the truth, that Dani was Vlad's only successful half dead clone of him! Then he’d also have to out two things about himself to her.
“She travels a lot,” he added. He really needed to learn when to shut his big mouth,” she was in Paris a few years ago actually.”
“Really?”
He couldn’t even blame the alcohol! He was just this stupid naturally huh? They’d been saying it for years Sam and Tucker, if only he’d taken them seriously before this. His idiocy might really be terminal.
“Yup, I haven’t seen her in awhile though, hopefully she visits again!”
Scrutinizing eyes scanned him up and down, darting from each corner of his face hunting out the ruse. He really needed to learn to shut his big mouth.
“Do you have her number?”
Crashing noises filled his brain. Her number? The last thing that he had expected was interest in ‘Elle. he’d just thought that they’d get upset at Vlad and leave it at that.
“ ‘E-elle's?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m sorry if this is prying but me and the other ladies,” she gestured to a few of them,” we’re talking and we want to support her!”
“I-” he hesitated, he hadn’t really planned for this,” what?”
The older woman nodded,” we all talked it out and if we get the estate we’re going to support one another and the kids, and it seems like ‘Elle just got stuck in the middle of this like the rest of us.”
“Yeah uh, let me just text her first?”
“Of course honey!”
Danny walked away from that conversation feeling distinctly weirder than before. Regardless he pulled up his phone and slid out the keyboard.
He opened up the “With an I” contact.
Hey i accidentally got you adopted by like fifteen random women that used to date vlad
5:43 p.m.
You what? Lul
5:45 p.m.
He looked up around him before typing out the next message
Yeah long story short he faked his death. Its weird
5:46 p.m.
I’m at the funeral and the exes wanna like support you?
5:46 p.m.
Well Vlad wasn’t good for much but at least i now have a multitude of mothers
5:47 p.m.
So i can give them your number?
5:47 p.m.
Yeah have at it! If this causes chaos for vlad im all for it !
5:48 p.m.
“So her phone number is.”
By the time he’d separated himself from that conversation a few more rumours were floating.
“I heard that the reason he died in a car crash is because he was on the run from the law!” one of vlad's relatives whispered.
“Really!” another responded.
Elsewhere some of the attending staff were murmuring too. “I heard that he got caught smuggling maple syrup cans from canada!”
“Cans?”
“Yes apparently the good stuff is canned there.”
He walked to a new group this time with the suits.
“I hear that the money in the accounts is dirty.”
“According to my source his invested stocks were backed with illegal funds.”
“If there’s drugs really attached to it like I was told then I don't want anything to do with it.”
“I agree it's hard enough to get money from wills with spouses involved. It's even harder if the feds sniff any drugs.”
“It might not even be worth it to try with all of the ladies,” a different suit complained,” I overheard them talking about lawyering up together if anything goes wrong.”
Another much older suit scoffed,” this business was much easier before the exes started working together.”
Finally he heard his own new rumour starting to gain some traction.
“Wasn’t it found out that he was stealing science equipment from the nearby college?”
“Oh whatever for?”
“I heard it was for making a specialty shampoo.”
“I’ve always wondered how he kept his hair so nice and shiny.”
Jazz was good, too good, considering that neither of them had really clicked into any social cliques in highschool. Now she was gossiping better than even any of the A-listers.
“It’s just such a shame that they can’t come,” Jazz was even fake sobbing, damn he was going to have to up his game.
“Who couldn’t come?” One of Vlad's older cousins asked, Danny wondered if Jazz was screaming inside at the hand she had around one of the older exes' waists, it was casual and tender. If one of Vlad's exes was getting together with his cousin because of the funeral , Danny would shriek from laughter, hell if he accidentally used his ghostly wail it’d be well worth it. Vlad of all people deserved to have a partner snatching occur to him.
“Oh I’m sorry,” Jazz said,” I thought that everyone knew,” she looked from side to side,” please don’t tell the other ex wives Monroe I’d hate for their feelings to get hurt over this.”
Damn she was good. The wife- Monroe who was leaning comfortably on the cousin nodded.
“Of course Jazzie,” she said in a deep comforting New York accent,” this can be brought up to them later more delicately later. Though I must admit,” she said after a pause where Jazz thanked her for her discretion.” I myself am curious who wasn’t able to come.”
“Well you know how he used to do ghost research with mom and dad?”
Where was she going with this? She was selling it well, Danny had to admit but for the life of him he couldn’t guess where this was going.
“Yes of course,” the cousin nodded as Monroe spoke.
“I can’t name the amount of times he used to write home in our youth about his little ghost adventures,” the cousin added.
Jazz nodded ,” well at the school there was the Lunch Lady Ghost and the Box Ghost, he was seeing them romantically in between their stays in the ghost zone.”
Danny held back a snort box ghost! If he laughed too hard in that moment he’d drop the ghost form and would fall on top of the group that’d gathered around her. As much control as he’d mastered over his abilities over the past couple years there was nothing that would be able to save him from Jazz’s wit.
“I’m sure box ghost is very helpful for moves,” one of the crowd commented amicably. The others though had nothing to say. Clearly they’d all actually met Box Ghost.
The gossip might have even stayed in that circle if it weren’t for another one of the cousins being right there and then deciding to tell his wife, who then told one of the ex-wives, who then told another, who then told a suit. So on and so forth.
By the time that Danny was back in human form and settled on the opposite side of Jazz’s conversation he was hearing the children that some of the wives had brought talking about Vlad ‘holding hands’ with the Box Ghost and Lunch Lady. Why couldn’t he have thought about that? It was so good, it was perfect, literally no one could prove it wrong. And embarrassing, seriously Box Ghost!
All the stuff he knew to be true about Vlad sounded so far-fetched.
Half ghost?
Well most people didn’t know about them.
The time he infected his two closest and longest friends with ghost pimples?
Needed the half ghost context.
If only there was some-
“I hate Vlad!” one of the kids near him cried out stomping down his foot.
Unsurprisingly all of the kids agreed, okay he was a little surprised, usually Vlad had the wool pulled over on most people. So the fact that all of these kids hated him really meant something.
“He stole my cotton candy at the fair!”
“Well he told me that I didn’t need to see daddy anymore cause he was gonna replace him!”
Eager ears pointed at them he drank in their every complaint. He’d known that Vlad was cartoonish levels of evil for awhile (see the infecting teens with ghost acne for personal gain as proof, or kidnapping him and his mom) but never had he truly expected for him to be so stupid as to do it all in the open in front of all of these kids. Then again some of this might be his obsession making him act out. Smallest sliver of him almost felt bad about that, the fact that Vlad was in a way forced to be this way, but it wasn’t really anything he wasn’t before. Obsessions just highlighted what was already there. Made it more severe.
“Uhm excuse me,” he tapped the shoulder of one of the shorter women,” Mallory?” He'd asked the babysitter for her name but for the life of him he was struggling to keep all of the exes straight in his head. There were just too many of them and they all looked too similar to his mom.
“Yes,” her eyes flickered with recognition,” Danny?”
He laughed,” yeah that’s me!”
“Some of the others were mentioning you!” she said with a bright smile taking his hand,” thank you for telling us about ‘Elle! I can’t believe he kept her a secret from all of us for so long.”
He nodded in agreement,” well about Vlad-”
“Oh no, what else was he hiding?” she asked, there was a laugh ringing from her but Danny didn’t need ghost senses to know it was dead on arrival,” I’ve learned so much more here at his funeral than I ever did when we’d been together.”
He laughed a little at that, a stilted awkward laugh that only filled his chest halfway. He almost felt bad telling her about this, but she deserved to know the truth. “Well I overheard some of the kids complaining about Vlad.”
He filled her in on what he’d overheard about the kids, the petty little actions of Vlad. The cotton candy he’d stolen (which was weird he’s rich), the fathers he threatened to replace, it was all so bizarre. Danny was about halfway through when the casket began to shake.
Vlad masters was not an impulsive man. He was calculated, smart and forward thinking. At least he certainly liked to think so. No impulsive man goes out of his way to plan his nemesis’ death and demise for twenty years. No reckless person would spend his time building an empire carefully crafting his abilities and connections for taking down his enemy. Vlad however to his greatest distaste was in fact still half human and not infallible. While he was meticulous and in his personal opinion exceedingly intelligent he had no way to properly plan for wrenches in his schemes.
The fenton boy, Daniel was his biggest hurdle but it was only a matter of time before he found the right way to tackle the issue. He was just a particularly big roadblock. If only his emotional attachment to his dunderheaded father wasn’t so strong. These issues were all small potatoes compared to the one he was in now. The details can be spared and smoothed over all that was truly important was that he was at his own funeral.
He’d always wondered what people's reaction to his death would be. Contact with his extended family had been… loose, for the lack of a better term since his ‘accident’. Deep down however he knew that when or if his time came, truly came, that they’d have a reaction. Probably sadness, he had been close to a few of them before his accident, hell he’d been close to them before his company had taken off. At the end of the day he simply had better things to do. Plans to make, revenge to ruminate on. It wasn’t his fault that they’d fallen to the wayside. They simply weren’t as important as Maddie.
He’d toyed with the idea that maybe his dear Maddie would sob over him, that she’d denounce Jack when she saw that he was no longer an option. How deeply poetic it’d be for that to happen. He never liked the idea of her only realizing their potential then but he couldn’t ignore the artful symmetry of it all. Some of the books that Maddie used to read in college had those even beginning and ends, those swooping through lines that tied it all nicely in a pretty bow. His first death had ripped her away from him. It’d gifted her to Jack on a silver platter, and his second oh how glorious it’d be if it drew her to him. Making her denounce her imbecile of a husband. Leaving the stocky man discarded. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder and even with its harsh edges his death bringing her close to him was something to behold. If only that was what he was watching happen.
Unfortunately for Vlad Masters Owner, Ceo, and founder of Vladco. Life was not an art piece nor a well orchestrated game of football. No instead he got to lay still (half) alive in his exceedingly expensive casket and listen to the dolt sob.
It started like all of the worst things while heading to the Fenton's for another plan to be set in motion. The restraining order was still being held up in the courts so there was technically nothing legally stopping him from seeing them, or especially her. Besides he was a billionaire, those things were more fine machines than anything for him. Once it was enacted all he’d have to do was pay a fine.
Unfortunately it was during the drive that issues started. Again finer details notwithstanding for he’d run them all in his head a thousand times now while laying in this blastedly comfortable casket. While on the drive it became clear to him he was being followed. No matter , he’d smugley told himself. He’d been followed by techbro fans before they were easy to deter. Easy to remove from his time and life. However in a deeply detestable turn of events the car following him did not belong to a fan.
He knew from the offset of seeing the make and model that it wasn't his average follower, those types usually had older beaters or worse highly expensive care that they had no business owning. No, instead this car was perfectly down the middle of class and price. How he detested those cars, they had no class. It was effectively similar to the many unmarked police cars that he used to have follow him during his brief stint as mayor.
Regardless the car was tailing his limo, it was simple at first to attempt to outmaneuver them. Eventually his limo was pinned.
Blah blah blah mindless details later some pointless shooting at him with guns and he’d jacked their car. In the end it was simply easier to fake a fatal car crash. then there were all of those witnesses that had to see his death. Walking it back was impossible all circumstances considered. At least when they attacked him they only knocked his driver out, the legal case of that would have been a logistical nightmare and he still had some hopes of getting access to his funds later.
It was almost funny in a karmic way. Almost as poetic as he had wanted pretending to be dead to be. Only problem was it was poetic in exactly the opposite way. The person that he hated most there sobbing the loudest. It’d be so much easier if it was Madeline sobbing. If she was sobbing, a faked death could be almost satisfying. If she melted down it could almost be worth it. Instead it was Jack Fucking Fenton.
Numerous things were to be expected from his funeral, Daniel's arrival, yes, Maddie’s, undoubtedly. Even Jazz’s and Jack’s all expected arrivals. Some of them were more annoying than others but they were the requisite arrivals. Even his gaggle of ex flings was to be expected (they had to try and get their hands on the estate and money somehow. Well jokes on them he’d left it all to Maddie). No, what he hadn’t been prepared for was Jack’s incessant wailing and sobbing.
The man was besides himself absolutely losing his mind right next to his goddamn open casket. It was getting hard to keep a straight face when he wanted nothing more than to leap from the plush silk sheets and throttle the man. His hands might not quite reach around the other mans thick neck but he could give it a good try he was sure. To put it simply and without intense amounts of rage he had mentally calculated for a lot of variables, not one of them being Jack of all people struggling to breath, choked out sobs instead of breaths coming from him as he hovered nearby. Not a single variable included being cried on by the most loathsome man in all of Amity Park. Every tear that fell on Vlad’s extremely expensive make up was another tally against the man’s. Had he no clue how hard it was to not flinch every time a drop of water splattered on his face? It was much harder than it looked he’d have him know.
Didn’t the idiot realize that he hated him? That he’d never cared for him? At least not since his death.
Worse was when Maddie and the Fenton children staggered in, he could smell the alcohol on them from a mile away. It was tasteless! The smell alone nearly made him leap from his casket and throttle them where they stood (Maddie with exception of course). Have they no respect for the dearly departed? Have they no care for social decorum? Those Fenton spawn would never survive in high class society. Not like himself and Maddie. Oh how he wished he’d never gone for those pale imitations. They hardly kept up with all that he needed.
All he had to do now was ignore everyone and get through the funeral and he could be Plasmius full time. Pursue Maddie 24/7 with no worries of the law (though with some worries of Phantom). If only those blasted Fenton's would stop spreading rumours about him! And he knew it was them! Who else would say such outrageous things?
Okay certainly if one wanted to be technical Danielle was his daughter, but he hadn’t raised her. She was not his blood, she was not his in the most important ways.
Then there was that rumour about the-
“He-hey Vlad.”
Oh, oh no.
“I uh, I’m gonna miss you.”
No no no no no! He couldn’t do this! He wouldn’t do this! He would not stand for this! He did not go out of his way to fake his death for this.
Jack blew his big blubbering nose into a handkerchief so hard it honked. Honked! He was going to throttle this man at his earliest convenience. Getting cried on he could deal with, revolting as it was. What he couldn’t and wouldn’t deal with getting yammered at. That was not in the details. He did not plan for this.
“I- uhm- I know we weren’t really close these last few years.”
That was putting it lightly.
“Or really at all since college,” there was a wet laugh from Jack.
If that oaf ended up coughing slobber on him- Maybe if he tried hard enough he could die for real, that’d be nice. He’d never really craved death before, not like in this moment. It’d be so much easier if he just didn’t have to hear this.
“I-I know you didn’t really like me in the end.”
Wait what? Had he finally gotten a clue? That was a first. Maybe his overt plotting had finally gotten through to the oaf. If Jack attacked him now that’d almost make this all worth it. He might even consider revealing he’s Plasmius if he did.
“I know I messed up, I-I must have hurt you, I don’t really know how, but- but uh, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
Yes ye- He was what?
There was another laugh sob from his ex friend,” It’s probably too late since you’re uh- dead, but whatever it is I did to hurt you, I'm sorry. I hope,” he trailed off into a high pitched keening whine.
Stop stop stop! This is not what he wanted!
“I hope you rest well Vlad.”
Footsteps receded away from him at that.
Well what the fuck was he supposed to do with that? What in the world was he supposed to do with that knowledge? Internalize it? Grow and change as a person? He was (half) dead! He was well past the point of growth! He was beyond growth.
For all Jack knew he wasn’t coming back! For him and basically all of them he wasn’t coming back! The only person that would know was Daniel and maybe his sister if he told her. Maybe his brat friends if he messaged them.
What did Jack get out of telling him all of that?
Certainly not money, the will had left everything to sweet Maddie, not him. Some sort of moral upper hand? A sense of feeling like he got one over Vlad?
No the dolt wasn’t that complex, his intelligence lay somewhere between absentminded and incompetant on a good day, there was no moral forethought. Yet why did the words settle so deeply in a corner of himself? Carving out a crevice in him that ached and burned?
“Did you hear about why Vlad couldn’t buy the green bay packers?”
Why? Why did it dig in his flesh? why when he’d thought he’d burned all of that away.
I'm Sorry.
“No, why?”
Life was easier when he was fully alive. College life was simpler. At least then he could fool himself that Maddie thought of him equally as she did Jack.
“Well I heard that he was stalking the team!”
What?
Why would he stalk them? He’d never stalked someone once in his entire life! (death maybe but he’d never admit that) he could buy all the tickets to their games he had no reason to stalk them!
There was no practicality in stalking them. Just like Jack had no reason to apologize to him! The idiot didn’t even know what he’d done to hurt him. He hadn’t ripped the apology from Jack. He wasn't on his knees begging from him. Hell he didn’t even know that he’d killed Vlad. Jack Fenton was as oblivious to the fact that he’d died back in college as he was to the fact that his own son was dead and playing hero as Phantom.
The density of the man was rivaled by no other.
But then why did he apologize?
“Did you hear?”
He got nothing out of it.
Why did it ache?
Burn? He wanted for years nothing more than to make the man sob and beg for forgiveness.
Why did having it fulfill nothing?
“About him and the Box Ghost?”
Would it burn just as painfully if he finally got sweet Madeline’s confession? Would it ring just as hollow?
“I thought it was the lunch lady ghost?”
No. There was something about Jack that made it wrong. Something about that blathering moron that lashed the words to him like a blade.
“I think it was both.”
And what the hell were they all blathering on about? What was all of this nonsense about Box Ghosts and smuggling and stalking? What were any of their empty little words?
Did any of that really matter? Their blathering human rumours and petty squabbles when he, the very guest of honour in all ways but one was laying here before their very eyes on the precipice of something? He was teetering at some edge, he didn’t know what it was but he could just make out the shape of the hole he was almost toppling in, he just had to know what it was. He just-
“Well I heard-”
They heard- they heard! What did it matter what they’d all heard! Nothing that they heard could matter in the slightest not when he was dealing with this! Not when he was reeling with whatever this was! The weight and size of it completely overtaking him and yet none of them aware, he was suffocating being overtaken by the edge of knowledge some realization he’d yet to make and hee still couldn’t read it. All because they wouldn’t stop blathering on and on about what? Lies?
Stupid foolish tales spun by his greatest enemy!
By a child.
If it were not for the show and pageantry of it all, if it were not for the display that he’d set about around him he’d be yanking his hair by the roots, tearing it slowly strand by strand from his scalp. And if there was one thing that Vlad Masters was, it was a showman! He was dramatic and he was going to be so unabashedly it was not his fault that there was no one that yearned for his life to roll onwards like Jack. None of it could be held against him. He was a romantic! Everything he did was for her.
Had it truly all been for nothing?
All these years.
Had she never really cared?
“Dirty money, attached to drugs. I wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pool.”
All this time.
Did he really-
“Never even mentioned a daughter!
All his schemes!
Jack's tears were so warm when they cut the thick funeral makeup.
“So many secrets for him to keep.”
Dozens of attempts on his life!
Did he really care? The water on his face was still warm.
“Wasn’t the cause of his crash a run from the law?”
“Would you all just shut up already!”
Silence blanketed the church as Vlad’s voice finished ringing out the wooden box still perched on its little stage. The casket was still shaking and the flowers were falling from the box as the hush grew sharper. Energy crackled from the casket shooting out and blowing the bulb above. Glass fell from the light falling gently on the flower petals.
None one spoke, Danny’s father had a hand over his mouth, new large tears welling up. He looked green and pale, unlike most of the stunned guests he looked like he was about to be sick.
Danny shot a glance at Jazz, she nodded and jerked her head to the side. He ducked out. Things were about to get hairy.
There was no response from Vlad for a second as it seemed the outburst was done. Even the children who’d been shrieking with laughter and joy from their play for most of the funeral were silent. The falling glass and shaking box were deafening in the silence. Danny ducked behind a pillar and into the doorway that led to the restrooms. There was no one there. The closest person was his mom but she was standing silent and stunned not an eye tilted away from the casket. He couldn’t blame her.
It wasn’t everyday your incel stalker had a breakdown after he’d legally died.
He transformed. On the most part there weren’t many people near the casket. It was just a few lingering Exes, most people were near the refreshment table. His first line of action should be to grab the people near the stage and get them to safety. Then?
Well the rest was adlib.
At least he had stored the Fenton thermos in his suit jacket (just in case). If only Sam or Tucker were there. Things were so much easier with their help.
Just as he was about to jump into the situation, the group of exes all swarmed Vlad. Shit he’d have to replan everything. He wouldn’t be able to get in an ecto-blast with out the fret of hitting one of them. He could always try Ice or a little storm cloud?
Just as a new plan was starting to formulate one of them (Maria?) slapped Vlad hard across the face.
Smack.
The noise echoed loudly across the church.
He grimaced.
Oh.
He did not want to get in the middle of whatever that was. He really didn’t want to get in the middle of it at all. Backing back into the bathroom he turned back to normal. Didn’t matter what the situation was, he was not going to get in the middle of a dozen or so angry exes and Vlad. It was his grave (even if Danny had helped him dig it a little) like hell Danny was getting buried with him.
“Vlad Masters!” one of the exes screamed,” you slimy pathetic excuse of a man.”
Yeah Danny was not getting in that, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to watch.
“Ow!” Vlad cried out, his eyes were glowing red, but aside from that he still looked very much the same.
Weird, Danny didn’t expect him to stay in human form. He guessed it made sense if he changed into Plasmius the gig would be up. There’d be a lot of questions too. Knowing Vlad’s tendency to monologue he might even explain the concept of Halfa’s.
“M-Maria!” the older man stammered out,” darling hello-”
The woman smacked him again,” I’m Maggie,” she spat out.
Danny winced, yikes. Makeup covered Vlad's gaunt face but Danny could imagine the smarting red forming on his cheeks.
“Y-yes of course, how could I mistake your beauty, how foolish of me to compare the two of-”
The clearing of a throat interrupted as Maria herself tapped her foot.
“Maria!” Vlad exclaimed this time correct, even if taken by surprise.
“Yes,” the woman agreed,” but don’t mind me, what were you saying? Something about comparison?”
The billionaire awkwardly laughed as he seemed to take in the fact that he was surrounded by all of his exes. Phantom wasn’t even needed. Villain defeated right then and there by the rage and power of his many exes. Again Danny found himself desperate to find out whatever the older man had done to make everyone hate him so just to do the express opposite.
When he actually fully died he hoped his funeral wasn’t this… whatever plan he actually ended up with he just didn’t want this.
“So,” Jazz said as she settled next to him leaning on the pillar with him,” any idea what got him up?”
“Nah,” Danny shrugged looking over to his sister. She looked more sober now, less unstable on her feet.” He didn’t really decree what his gripe was this time.”
Jazz sighed,” so no winner yet.”
“Unfortunately,” he said,'' He also technically didn’t go ghost mode.”
Jazz groaned resting her head on his shoulder,” I wanted to go home, these heels are killing me!”
He stuck a tongue out at her,” shoulda transed your gender like I did,” he teased quietly.
“Ha! Really funny Danny,” she flatly commented with a roll of her eyes at the tired joke.
“Ah meany,” he pouted.
“You walk in these heels at a funeral,” she complained again,” At least if he went full ghost It’d be socially acceptable to ditch them.”
He bit his tongue remembering a rant that Sam had gone on recently about heels and social pressure. How she’d then thrown one of her platform boots at Tuck when he made a remark. Jazz probably wouldn’t appreciate his lovesick ramblings about them.
“Looks like we'll just have to continue to watch this unfold.” he said instead with a sarcastic twinge.
“Oh what a shame!” Jazz said flatly,” sucks to be us.”
Danny snickered as Vlad continued to try to dig himself out of his hole. How he wished Sam and Tucker were here. Unfortunately for him they were both far too busy. Ah well he’d just have to video it all for them.
How unfortunate for Vlad that he was made to sit through his own will reading, and how fortunate for Danny Fenton that he was the one that got to watch it all go down. In the entire time that he and Vlad had been nemesis he never knew just how much he wanted exactly this to happen. Actually if someone ever suggested this happening younger him probably wouldn’t have appreciated just how funny this was. No fourteen-to-fifteen him was far too invested in things like learning his powers and finding out just how observant the rest of town was. Also looking cool. Adult him however? Freshly 21 and college attending him? Oh he could enjoy the fuck out of this situation.
There was some minor debate among some guests over how ethical it was since Vlad's ‘ghost’ was now here to view the reading. Some point could be made that it might be weird...
“Isn’t it rude?” one family member had suggested.
But...
“It might be in bad taste,” another guest had even pipped up.
No one really liked Vlad anyways
“Oh no!” Morgan said,” I want to know what it says, and who better to see how accurate it all is.”
Oh how glad he was that those few were beaten out. How glad he was that the crowd was seeing blood. That the group was too nosey and invested in the drama to really get caught up in such small things as ethics. How grateful he was that the exes were in half a mind to Kill Vlad a second time.
Fortunate he was, that his luck was finally turning up. It might even be the universe trying to pay him back for all of the shit he’d been dealing with since he was fourteen. Return investment on the untimely youth death. Honestly if it was it was a pretty bang up start all things considered. He’d have to find out if there was a ghost involved in the control of karma. They might just end up with an edible arrangement on their lair door. Older adults loved that shit so ghosts should too.
“Hm,” the lawyer said when they entered the room with the walking corpse of Vlad masters. The office was small and hardly held everyone, but snugly, far too snugly for comfort they all fit on the other side of the large desk.
No one said anything to the lawyer. Whether the man had been privy to the rest of the funeral or had just arrived Danny didn’t know but he had to admit this entire situation was bizarre even with full context. Not many of them knew ghost rules and the only ones that did were in either stunned or gleeful silence. There was no objection to the fact that Vlad had dragged his body with him, not a voice descenting on the fact that his form hadn’t shifted. Not a single attendee seemed perturbed by the fact that Vlad was not really a ghost.
Even the paid bounty hunters didn’t know how to discern ghosts from humans judging by their stunned expressions. Though he’d love to watch one of them attack Vlad in the middle of a church. Stabbing a man in the house of god might just be a big sin, though Danny wasn’t sure.
“Well this is unprecedented,” the lawyer commented,” never in my time have I ever seen a dead man rise for the reading of his own will.”
Vlad grumbled but no one could make out the words as the two exes on either side of him glared.
Oh how fortunate Danny was indeed, never before had he ever been so glad for his untimely death. If it all led to watching Vlad squirm like this still trying to keep his alter ego a secret? Pain and strife, the many attacks and attempts on his life were worth it.
“Well if there is no protest,” the lawyer said. For a moment Vlad looked very much like he wanted to protest, but the glares of the exes kept him silent and made him snap his jaw shut. Danny knew what went into keeping a corpse looking fresh. Shame the mortician seemed to have skipped wiring the jaw shut. Then, Vlad didn’t seem to need physical wires to keep him silent and well behaved, his Exes were all doing that job very well.
“In that case,” the lawyer sounded queasy, if Danny wasn’t so invested with the drama unfolding he might have turned to verify. “Then I believe we will begin.”
The man started out by reading the long legal preamble, the paragraphs upon paragraphs of titles and information about Vlad that was included. Danny understood that him being the owner of VladCo was technically important for the will but did he need to include all of his ten titles at the company in the will? It just felt excessive. ‘Ceo, entrepreneur, founder, head of decisions, etc.’ did anyone care? Leaving out the most important title of ‘asshole’ was the biggest mistake of his will.
“Yes I think we get it,” Monroe said, her accent clipping the words in stiff professionalism. Bless her for cutting the pain short. “I do have,” the woman glanced at the cousin who was still holding her hand,” A more important social engagement to attend to with Carmila.”
The lawyer stammered,” yes of course ma’am my apologies.”
“It reads:
‘First, I hereby denounce all previous wills made by myself, Vlad Masters, no matter nature or kind.
Second I Vlad Masters hereby appoint,” the lawyer paused making a face before he continued,” Madeline Fenton love of my life as the executor of my estate, networth, and-” the lawyer paused,” the ownership of my beloved cat ‘Maddie the cat, the third-”
“Huh, I guess you listened to my suggestion after all and got a cat.” Danny muttered as at the same moment his mother reached her breaking point
“You what?” Maddie was standing out of her chair, indignation flaring in her eyes,” Vlad! I don’t want any of this.”
“But but,” Danny tuned the man out as he made the normal declarations of love. Trite at this point his mind was already trying to entertain itself. Fast forwarding this would be nice, if only his core was time based. But no he got Ice, and Weather, and other weird disconnected powers. He was electrocuted to death! Cruel that he didn’t get cool electrocution powers.
They were still arguing when he tuned back in. Loath wasn’t a powerful enough describer for this love diatribe that Vlad spewed every three to five business days. His mom yelled something back, a few of the ex wives even chiming in agreement. Well at least they didn’t hate mom that was a plus.
He shot Jazz a look as he repositioned his phone camera to get a better shot.
‘This again?’ he tried to communicated with his expressions. Tuck usually laughed when he tried and Sam told him he looked to constipated.
She shrugged and nodded as if to say ‘this again.’
“I am happily married! I told you I won't leave Jack for you!”
Tuning out the conversation didn’t seem to leave out many details. Everything was falling exactly into the same patterns as always.
“Maddie please-” the billionaire tried to beg.
This made the woman snap,” no don’t Maddie please me! You have not respected my decision to marry Jack since it happened, well guess what Vlad it’s too late for you! You were never even an option!” she turned to Jack and put a hand on his shoulder. her voice much softer when she spoke,” come on honey we’re leaving. Kids?” She turned to the two Fenton children. The both of them stood with no protest. Like hell they were going to end up on the wrong side of their mother right now. Mission orientated as she was they had no doubt she could commit Vlad's murder and get away with it. legally she might even considering the fact that he was technically a 'ghost' right now.
Just as she was about to step out the door she turned,��� oh and ladies, don’t worry about a legal battle I’ll work with our family lawyer to transfer everything to all of you.”
There were some small thanks from the stunned Exes as the office door latched shut behind them.
The air in the car was-
Well the word tense didn’t really sum up the air but it was the best approximation that Danny had. It could have gone worse, he supposed he could have genuinely ended up fighting Vlad again. Chances where that if he fought Vlad while he was Plasmius that the formerly rich business mogul would then use the moment to out Danny as Phantom. Not just his family but all of the church. If he had to rate the evening it was definitely not as bad as he expected. About a six or seven, depending on his critical he was being.
“Uh so who won the bet?” he whispered to Jazz. he wasn’t worried about his parents, Maddie was soothingly rubbing circles on Jack’s back as the man drove. That and they were sat in the back, sometimes the front seats struggled to hear them at a normal level forget a whisper.
Jazz furrowed her brows,” I guess neither of us really won, he didn’t even go ghost.”
Nodding, he thought back to the man’s loud entrance,” He also didn’t say what rumour got him up.”
“So do we both lose?”
“I guess?” he looked over to his parents,” so we both tell them?”
Jazz sighed leaning back in her seat, hair dramatically laying behind her,” yeah I guess.”
“You don’t hav-”
Jazz cut him off with a snort,” no it’s fine, my things not really as big all things considered.”
Fair, she had a point with that. Their parents already knew that she was interested in men and women but still revealing partners to them was always weird and nerve wracking. The first time he’d introduced Sam and Tuck as partners and not friends he’d expected a lot more questions. Turns out if you hunt ghosts for a living nothing is really weird after that. They just bought him new sex ed books. Sentiment appreciated but still weird considering he could google that sort of thing now.
“So Danny,” his mom said, her fingers tightened on her phone. They were lucky she got old brick Nokias instead of those new Smart phones. She’d break them in a week. Jack wasn’t paying them much attention as he drove, he seemed to still be shell shocked. Hopefully he didn't crash, okay so maybe he didn't always like car rides. Sometimes the looming threat of a car crash really messed with his obsession.
“Yeah mom?” he asked.
“I was talking to some of the ladies.”
“Uh huh?” wherever she was going with this he didn’t like the tone.
“And imagine my surprise when one of them tells me Vlad has a daughter.”
“Weird right,” he said. Please stop, please stop! He begged, wherever this was going it was nowhere good. It would have been better if he’d just died in that accident. Screw whatever he thought back when he thought his luck was turning up. He was still the most unlucky bastard in all of amity park.
She hummed in agreement,” and imagine my surprise when they said she was your cousin.”
Danny didn’t have a response to that, Jazz was stifling a laugh next to him.
“And then,” she said,” she showed me a picture of her.”
“Really.”
“Yeah, Danny," there was a pause as she seemed to collect her words," why does she look like you pre transition?”
“Does she?” sweating wasn’t really something he did so much anymore, not since his core started cooling his mortal flesh, it was nice sometimes. But it didn’t stop nervous sweating. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Hadn’t- Danny,” his mother sighed,” sweetie if you want to start presenting as a girl again you can. We won’t judge you.”
Wait what, “ what?!”
Shrieking loud bursts of laughter came out of Jazz.
“Jazz!”
That set him off, it was just so ridiculous.
“Honey I’m serious,” his mom sounded so upset her tone lost. She really was trying.
He couldn’t help it, it wasn’t his fault. It was just so out of the realm of what was happening. Man his parents really didn’t have any of the facts.
“Danny?” his father asked the tenseness in his shoulders from the funeral leaving way to confusion.
Him and Jazz made eye contact and the laughing got so much worse. If being part dead didn’t make him need to breathe so much less he’d be choking. He’d die, it was just- they still didn’t know and somehow that was all the funnier. God he was calling Tuck and Sam right after he explained everything they were going to get such a kick out of this. Especially Tucker.
“That’s not-” wheezes high and stringy, cutting him off, he was struggling even with his ghost lungs.
“Danny my boy,” Jack asked quietly,” what’s funny?”
“We’re trying to support you Danny!” his mother exclaimed.
Finally he quelled the laughter enough to speak,” okay okay,” he whipped a tear from his eye. “I’ll explain it all it just probably isn’t something dad needs to be driving for.”
“Danny what do-”
“Just trust me okay?” he grinned at his mom in what he hoped was reassurance.
She sighed and looked at her husband, Jack furrowed his brows and the pair silently communicated before the man hit his turning signal.
The small side road was perfectly out of the way enough that no one would be able to peer in. It was some half abandoned picnic area but none of them reached for their seatbelts to leave the car. It was just the closest spot they could stop.
“Okay,” he started giving Jazz a look, she nodded comfortingly,” Remember how the portal didn’t work at first?”
It took them a moment but they nodded in remembrance.
“Right well I died.” it was best to just rip the Band-Aid off.
“What?”
“Danny- honey you’re not dead.”
He thought so at least, he sighed pinching his nose,” I need you guys to wait for questions till the end okay?”
“But honey you’re not dead!” she didn’t sound so sure as she looked him over.
“What your mother said my boy! You’re sitting right there!”
Danny groaned,” guys please?” there was a pause as they looked at each other and finally finally agreed to wait till the end. “Sam said I should check it out, see if I could fix it. I put on my suit, and,” he made a buzzing noise with his tongue,” the button shocked me to death when I hit it. It was dark so I didn't see,” he looked to the side. The trees outside were swaying peacefully in the wind. Jazz put a hand on his shoulder, he took a steading breath and clenched the hand with the thin invisible scars. “It was an accident but,” he turned back to them resolution in his eyes,” I died that day, When I woke up, well, brace yourselves okay,” he let the tugging cold of hic core shift and change his appearance.
There was silence. He’d expected something but, no, even Jazz wasn’t saying anything.
He cracked an eye open, his parents were staring at him dumbfounded. Yeah that was about par for the course.
“Well this happened and now, I’m half Ghost,” he admitted,” everyone in the ghost zone knows that’s why there were always so many attacks at the school.”
“Half?” his mom asked despite herself.
Danny nodded,” yeah I still age, and need to eat and breath... mostly on that last one. It’s kind of cool I can go invisible,” he demonstrated before changing back,” and phase through things and float,” he demonstrated both in succession allowing the belt to glide through him as he hovered up an inch. “Shoot Ecto-blasts… probably best if I don’t do that one in the car though,” he laughed.
“Okay,” his mom said.
“Okay?” he asked.
His father nodded,” sure Son, we love you. It’s weird but, well we hunt ghosts for a living.”
He laughed,” yeah fair enough.”
"I-" his mom looked over at Jack," We're proud of you sweetie, that's a lot to undertake at so young."
he chuckled," it wasn't so bad, I had a lot of help," he grinned at Jazz," Between her Sam and Tuck I don't know if I would have lasted half the battles I did."
"You knew Jazz?" Their father asked his tone soft and slightly hurt.
She smiled softly," yeah, I walked in on him transforming. Thought it was best if I let him tell you guys."
"Part of the apprehension might have been the dissection thing," Danny addmited.
"I- honey-" his mom put a hand over her mouth in shock.
"I'm sorry son," His dad said," it was closed minded of us to assume stuff about ghosts we didn't know."
"Well you weren't always wrong. Just usually."
“So ‘Elle?” his mom prompted before Jack could pepper in questions about what the got right.
He sighed,” yeah her full name is Danielle, technically she’s the only living clone of me Vlad made.”
“Only living Clone?”
“Vlad made?”
Man he had a lot to explain. Years of events just gone unsaid. Some small part of the divide between them was shifting, growing smaller.
“Is now a good time to tell you guys I have a girlfriend?”
Danny choked on a laugh. Not to long after his parents followed after the tension disrupted, Well at least he had Jazz to help explain. Sam and Tucker too when they weren’t busy. It'd be a mess and weird to finally clear the air between them, but at least he knew they were proud of him.
#My writing#danny phantom#trans danny fenton#trans danny phantom#everlasting trio#thats their ship name right? its not like super there its minor but ye#danny phantom exists in my brain in vague memories and nothing else#only the smallest amounts of cannon may be contained in this fic#idk i dont have enough brain to know tho#danphanwritingprompts
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