#and then that song kicks in ?? i am UNWELL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jopzer · 8 months

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someone made the fatal mistake of indicating that they would like to see me explain why i put every song into the jamie tartt but it's just mitski playlist so. here's that. i cannot be held responsible for how unwell im about to get OR how long this will be LOL

i don’t smoke

so if you need to be mean be mean to me i can take it and put it inside of me

look at that little masochist.

starting off strong with the royjamie flavor on this one

but i don’t think it exclusively applies to rj, i think jamie’s sort of like. he is a dick he knows how to cope with people being dicks he understand it its easy to deal with. someone is a dick to me im going to be a dick back. short and sweet.

that mf is CONSTANTLY poking and prodding roy in s1 until that mf bites him. so that mf bites him. by s3 i think its less of “we are antagonizing each other as enemies” and more like. jamie voice you need to be a dick and i can take it.

if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room you can lean on my arm as you break my heart

this line specifically feels like the rj fight in the finale to me if we’re open and honest and vulnerable with one another

just don't leave me alone wondering where you are i am stronger than you give me credit for

we are all in agreement that jamie needs smothering. i think roy would be hyperaware of Not smothering him if they got into a relationship and i think jamie would feel a little bit like spongebob under the heat lamp

washing machine heart

baby will you kiss me already and toss your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart? baby, bang it up inside baby, though i've closed my eyes i know who you pretend i am

this is just me doing cocomelon shit to jamie tbh.

even if roy isn’t using jamie as a rebound i think maybe it would not be a stretch of imagination for jamie to Think roy is using him as a rebound

especially if contextualized with like. mom city jamie catching them holding hands in his bed and it’s keeley who pulls away not roy. delicious

nobody

and i don't want your pity i just want somebody near me guess i'm a coward i just want to feel alright

iiiii just think jamie is a sopping wet little creature. yeah he’d kick the shit out of me so so easily and he’s also a terrible asshole but have you considered he’s such a sad lonely little guy sometimes

i also do think he would feel like a coward for not wanting to be alone whether or not he would admit to that feeling

like we saw him back at city we saw him drop those mfs like a sack of potatoes we saw how desperate he was for connection when he came back to richmond

desperate for connection but also for the entirety of season one absolutely unwilling to form meaningful connections; maybe because of his dogshit Coping Mechanisms maybe because he's just on loan and knows he won't be here long maybe hes just an Asshole maybe a deadly cocktail of all of the above lol

i've been big and small and big and small and big and small again and still nobody wants me

yeah. this one feels especially violently jamie LOL

he's been hot shit. he's been richmond's best player. he's also been just one of a million top players at city. he's been the bully and he's been subject to the boys giving it back to him. he's been the center of attention he's been no one at all

and still keeley doesn't want him. roy doesn't want him. we don't really see him pursue anyone else whether or not you want to read that as rj/rjk/jk. fascinates me.

of course people want jamie we know he gets around but i'm talking Meaningful Connections here

remember my name

i need something bigger than the sky hold it in my arms and know it's mine just how many stars will i need to hang around me to finally call it heaven?

again. we see each other. jamie NEEEEEDS someone to smother him to death with love if he's not suffocating on it he doesn't want it!!

jamie surrounds himself with pretty things and pretty people and i don't think he thinks its meaningless or anything but i do think he definitely wants more and that's very evident come s3

'cause i need somebody to remember my name after all that i can do for them is done i need someone to remember me

see above point

but also. hold my hand through some willful misinterpretation of these lyrics. jamie wants to be the fucking best he wants to be a legend he wants to be listed among the greats. clearly not his sole motivation anymore during/post s3 but i do think it's still incredibly important to his character

he can't be some Guy from manchester he wants people to list "tartt" alongside pelé and maradona and what have you. i think this is critical to understanding jamie he refuses to be forgotten

cop car

i get mean when I'm nervous like a bad dog

we do dog metaphor around these parts.

but for realsies i think this is very much jamie even into s3

when he gets defensive he gets mean

like we see him definitely falter with zava, this isn't his only method of shutting down but i do think he's absolutely prone to snarling and biting when he doesn't know how to react

he gets defensive. reverts to being a dick. see: bar scene in finale

i was meant for running fast i pretended you were mine, it made me calm babe

walk with me. s3 royjamie.

or at least how jamie thinks about him if nothing else

which. you know. could help explain his lashing out at the bar.

i've loved many boys, i've loved many girls i don't think about the past, it's always there anyway

this is a cheap shot. i see a little tormented bisexual man and go is anyone gonna chew on that and then dont wait for an answer

mf does Not like dealing with his past or his traumas lol. it's always there anyway.

townie

'cause we've tried hungry and we've tried full and nothing seems enough

fuck off jamie is starving to death and he hasn't ever managed to get rid of that feeling. trust. i'm right about this.

he's fucked around and he's partied and he's done the reckless drinking and he's done the casual coke and he's done meaningful relationship but he can't get anything right.

he's been starved his whole life and he doesn't know how to fix it.

and i want a love that falls as fast as a body from the balcony, and i want a kiss like my heart is hitting the ground

we all know love and violence are inextricable for jamie. they're the same. he's still pulling those apart

i think he's very much the sort of guy who wants it fast and hard and intense and he wants to feel all consumed, wants it to feel dangerous and too much

i'm holding my breath with a baseball bat though i don't know what I'm waiting for i am not gonna be what my daddy wants me to be

i think the holding my breath but i don't know why is Very applicable to jamie's whole deal.

like just in how he copes with his various traumas most of all james

which ties in very fun with the last line. like so much of his arc is that hes Not gonna be what his daddy wants him to be. he's gonna be what his body wants him to be.

i also think this is probably how jamie is in a relationship with roy or roykeeley like he's waiting for something that isnt ever going to come with them because they arent going to hurt him in a way he doesn't Want if they are together

dunno. he fascinates me.

old friend

i haven't told anyone just like we promised have you? every time i drive through the city where you're from i squeeze a little

this verse right here is so so so very royjamie to me okay

we know jamie doesn't like people Poking around in his relationships on TOP of you know. violent homophobia in football world

secret little torrid affair between the two of them. lives in my brain

abbey

i am hungry i have been hungry i was born hungry what do i need?

come onnnnnnnn

this is so jamie it makes me want to pass out

he's so fucking hungry he's always searching for something to hold onto or tear into with his teeth. jamie and hunger are like synonyms to me.

alongside the inability to name what it is he's hungry for!

incapable of admitting that it's love! it's always been love!! most especially from the people he's refusing to accept it from!!

i am something i have been something i was born something what could i be?

jamie's whole life is built on Being Somebody; he is a young, sexy, rich, famous prem player like. he is Somebody. he's Something. he's a footballer but like

who is he beyond that?

i think perhaps mr tartt would have a little bit of trouble answering that one

valentine, texas

let's step carefully into the dark once we're in, i'll remember my way around who will i be tonight? who will i become tonight?

this one may be sort of a stretch but i think jamie very much sort of molds himself to what he knows someone will like in interpersonal relationships?

like he's very head strong very loud personality but when we see him alone with keeley and we see him alone with roy and see him alone with ted they're all Such different people

which is aided by the fact theyre all sort of in different points of his character arc

but i also think he sort of cant help himself when he's alone with someone

stay soft

you stay soft, get beaten only natural to harden up

don't think i really need to explain this one we all saw the boot scene

i am face down on my bed still not quite awake yet thinking of you i tuck my hand under my weight just tell me what you want to do tell me what you want to burn away 'cause i could be your stoker

i think this could be split into two sections but i think it functions SOOO well as one it is important

yeah i'm thinking of you in the low morning light. yeah i can be what you need i can burn away parts of both of us i can make you forget

love me more

if i keep myself at home i won't make the same mistake that I made for fifteen years i could be a new girl i will be a new girl

think this line is just very indicative of jamie's whole brainspace vis a vis his improvement and development

he wants to be someone else so bad by the time s2 comes around. ugh.

here's my hand there's the itch but i'm not supposed to scratch

he seems very much the type to deny himself things

obviously not like. fun stuff. casual stuff.

but i mean like. things that will make him seem Soft. love and what have ye.

i'm not supposed to be someone who wants something i'm not supposed to slake this thirst

be it for gay reasons or otherwise btw. i'm interpreting it bisexual style but you get the idea

i need you to love me more love enough to fill me up love enough to drown it out drown it out, drown me out

i cut some repetition and stuff for brevity's sake comma but

this verse right here. this is the real jamie of the song

fill me up. drown me out. i'm too much even for me (even if i think im gods gift to football).

need to be smothered!!!!! fill me up!!!!! drown it out!!!!! the buzzing in my head and the want in my lungs i cant take it take it from me!!

how do other people live? i wonder how they keep it up? when today is finally done there's another day to come

mom city sadboy era right here

i wash my hair but i don't use conditioner because like. what's the point!!!

should've been me

relive all the ways you still want me i haven't given you what you need you wanted me but couldn't reach me i'm sorry it should've been me

this is jamiekeeley to me

clearly it still tugs at him like. the funeral confessions and inviting to her brazil and fisticuffing in the dirt

whether or not he still feels romantically about her in s3 i think he probably still feels Bad about what a shit he was in s1 specifically to keeley

idk. maybe this one's just me. think he's very very very squirmy about her and roy's relationship to start and then it melts into something Different you know? should've been me. sorry.

geyser

you're my number one you're the one i want and you've turned down every hand that has beckoned me to come you're my number one you're the one i want and I've turned down every hand that has beckoned me to come

royjamie to me.

that line in s3 where keeley says she hasnt seen/heard about jamie being with anyone in a really long time. the way we know roy also not really accepting offers is he.

yall know the fic that's like. the first time they hook up, roy pauses mid thrust to say "this is a one time thing. i'm still messed up over keeley." that sort of vibe

and ram jamming the "had a poster of you on my wall when i was a kid. used to think you were the best." and teaching him to ride a bike and gravitating toward roy all the time and absolutely panting and drooling for his attention any way he can get it its all just like. yeah. you're my number one. you're the one i want.

feel it bubbling from below hear it call, hear it call hear it call to me constantly and hear the harmony only when it's harming me it's not real, it's not real it's not real enough but i will be the one you need the way i can't be without you i will be the one you need i just can't be without you

snifflin and sobbin

all points from the last bit also apply to this bit tbh..

i will be the one you need. i just can't be without you. but theres a fucking volcano in my chest that's telling me to cut ties and run that'll burn us both. i can only understand it when it hurts.

blue light

somebody kiss me, i'm going crazy i'm walking 'round the house naked

how long's a man meant to be alone??

also. well. he does walk around the house naked doesn't he.

he wants so deeply too i think he thinks being loved could fix him. even if it's temporary. even if it doesn't matter. maybe this is why he fucks around so hard in s1 maybe this is why he's still so messed up about keeley after they break up maybe this is why he's o obsessed with roy. we'll never know but man do i think about it!

out there i'm a sharp knife

look me in the eyes and tell me this isn't what the prick signal thing is about

he is a sharp knife. he is cutting through opposing teams he's such a shit and he's efficient and useful and good at what he does

there's something smart to be said about this one specifically but my brain is feeling a little bit like mush

pink in the night

i glow pink in the night in my room i've been blossoming alone over you and i hear my heart breaking tonight i hear my heart breaking tonight do you hear it too?

i'm a big boy i can admit to this being self indulgent

royjamie innit tho

just love the flavor of jamie thinking its unrequited and hes a freak weirdo for being into roy (his ex's ex, his frenemy, his coach, the guy who's gone out of his way again ans again and again to make sure jamie is okay even when he does it with a headbutt and all grumbily and jamie is making it Weird by getting one ounce of affection and love and falling in love) (roy is thinking the same thing but opposite. trust.)

i could stare at your back all day i could stare at your back all day and i know i've kissed you before, but i didn't do it right can i try again, try again, try again

see this bit could actually be jamiekeeley

i never stopped pining. i know i fucked up. please can i try again try again try again i'm better i know how to love you now.

when you combine these two verses you get rjk. trust.

but i can also very much see rj going from a weird fwb thing to a relationship or at least jamie pining over him so much it makes him sick and pretending those kisses are Something. do you get me. you get me.

once more to see you

in the rearview mirror, i saw the setting sun on your neck and felt the taste of you bubble up inside me but with everybody watching us, our every move we do have reputations we keep it secret won't let them have it

SHUT UP!!!!!! ROYJAMIE ANTHEM SHUT UP!!!!!!!

shut up. are you kidding me.

not only do we know jamie is incredibly cagey about people shoving their fingers into his (personal?) love life, we know that this would be Their secret maybe always, maybe to start, no one on this big blue ball would explicitly Know about them

people guess and they guess right but this relationship is sacred its secret its Theirs

they have reputations, after all

and letting people know is opening them both up to a whole world of horrible no good very bad shit storm and and and

aguhuguhaughagaguayga

so come inside and be with me, alone with me alone, with me alone if you would let me give you pinky promise kisses then i wouldn't have to scream your name atop of every roof in the city of my heart

ok this imagery just kinda makes me nauseous move along

thursday girl

glory, glory, glory to the night that shows me what I am as i go to the party on my knees saying take it oh please

party girl isnt he

think we could talk about that as a persona/way to cope but. that might be making things a little deeper than they are. i might be in too deep about mr tartt

and tell me no tell me no tell me no tell me no somebody please tell me no

this however is not me in too deep this is just real

on hand and knee begging someone to tell him no. sometimes it's ted most of the time it's roy. what are you gonna do

a loving feeling

what do you do with a loving feeling if the loving feeling makes you all alone? what do you do with a loving feeling if they only love you when you're all alone?

can we talk about royjamie i've been dying to talk about royjamie

really into the image of jamie pining and being sooo fucking angry about it. how did i get here this is BULLSHIT!!!

i think there is an understanding that they Can't be public even if they Are in a relationship and jamie doesn't even necessarily Want people to know about them but he is fucking punching a wall about it in the privacy of his own home

^ that bit is for the last line ONLY. separate thoughts, making you all alone and loving all alone

i think this could also very very easily be rjk with the trope we all know and love: rk as an established couple and jamie knowing he's just a third to spice things up for them. whether or not he actually is is between you and your maker.

holding hands under a table meeting up in your bedroom making love to other people telling each other it's all good kisses like pink cotton candy talking to everyone but me i'm stayin' on later just in case you come up and ask to leave with me

sorry you want me to believe this is not rj? you want me to believe in my heart of hearts this isn't exactly where they start? i don't believe you. you are lying to yourself and to me.

first love/late spring

wild women don't get the blues but I find that lately i've been crying like a tall child

you saw mom city. you get it.

one word from you and i would jump off of this ledge i'm on baby tell me "don't" so i can crawl back in

he's a good listener by s3 aint he

i just think its interesting who he's listening to. okay

and i was so young when i behaved twenty five yet now i find i've grown into a tall child

i think jamie definitely had to fend for himself a lot as a youngin as the only child of a single mom who was clearly struggling

everyone is always (rightly) calling him a child in s1 but have they considered he's just a 23 y/o teenage girl

i think the "such a child." line from roy uhhh really struck him please look at his face after roy says this. i'm not even making this a royjamie verse but clearly that struck him in some sort of way

to have your childhood hero look you in the eye and belittle you so clearly and concisely in a way that very clearly stung

i dunno. fascinates me. fascinating little creature that jamie tartt.

goodbye, my danish sweetheart

there's nobody better than you it took me a while 'til i knew but you knew from the start it was us, didn't you? it just took me a while 'til i knew

jamiekeeley w, this song.

i think it's also a very rose colored glasses way to view rj

which you know what. makes it a very good rjk song doesnt it.

so, i don't blame you if you want to bury me in your memory i'm not the girl i ought to be, but maybe when you tell your friends you can tell them what you saw in me and not how i turned out to be

pure unadulterated jamiekeeley right here.

i fucked it up. i'm not who i'm supposed to be. i'm not who i was supposed to be for you. but maybe when you tell people about me and about us you can tell them who you wanted me to be because he's better than who i am.

ugh.

there's some kind of burning inside me it's kept me from falling apart and i'm sure that you've seen what it's done to my heart but it's kept me from falling apart

this is so so so so so so jamie. come ON.

there is a fire in him and he doesn't really know how to field it or when to fan it and its burning through him in s1/most of s2.

it's launched him into being one of the best in his sport but it's also ruining the good things around him

little idiot does NOT understand human connection in s1. love him bad.

you're a battler, jamie.

now here i lay as i wonder about you would you just tell me what i'm meant to do? 'cause i've waited and watered my heart 'til it grew you can see how it's blossomed for you

you know who's really really good at telling jamie what to do.

and i don't mean to make your heart blue but could we be what we're meant to be? i'm just about to beg you, please and then, when you tell your friends you can tell them what you saw in me and not the way i used to be

back to jk with this one. i personally believe it's very rjk but it's textually very jk.

i'm better than i was. please believe in me. lets try again and lets be better than we were i know how to love you now.

humpty

i broke our belongings they're all on the floor the room is now empty nothing left to throw all the eggshells are on the ground and i try, i'm trying to pick them up but they crack and crumble, it's all too much too frail for me to touch

idk if i can really justify this one much outside of my own head it's just real okay.

i think jamie knows he chronically fucked up with keeley. i think he also knows he can and will lash out with very little provocation.

he's trying to pick up what he fucked up (think early s2) but it's a fucking nightmare and he's gonna have to slog around with tweezers to pick up the pieces of what he fucked

i'm realizing this song is very roy also but of course it is they're the same guy as much as they are fundamentally different

i broke what you gave me but you kept giving more and I'm sorry for taking but I keep wanting more, more, more

see all above points and ttb for my thoughts about the black hole in jamie tartt's chest

shame

i never was very good i haven't been so good but right outside the door nobody knows they're right outside the door and they don't know how it feels so good it feels so good

right outside the door everyone knows. they know it.

i think this ones sort of up to interpretation

idk. is it sexy? is it the ache in him in knowing how awful he was for so long? is it both and neither?

my brain is turning to mush i think. too much jamie in the diet

class of 2013

mom, i'm tired can i sleep in your house tonight? mom, is it alright if i stay for a year or two?

listen. jamie does not have this brand of mommy issues. i'll own up to that.

i hear the word "mom" and enter a fugue state thinking about mom city

this one's just for me it doesn't have to make sense

liquid smooth

i'm liquid smooth, come touch me, too and feel my skin is plump and full of life i'm in my prime i'm liquid smooth, come touch me, too i'm at my highest peak, i'm ripe about to fall, capture me or at least take my picture kuzurete yuku maeni i'm pulsing, my blood is red and unafraid of living beginning to end

c'mon.

he is a fine young thing. and sneaking in the "before i fall apart?" yeah. real.

jamie thesis. i'm young and sexy i'm in my fucking PRIME touch me take a picture of me remember me remember me i'm holding on by the skin of my teeth. don't look too hard because i might start to crumble in your hands.

brand new city

i think my fate is losing its patience i think the ground is pulling me down i think my life is losing momentum i think my ways are wearing me down

i think you could narrow this moment of his down to mom city where he is just so Lost.

but i think more appropriately you could absolutely name his whole arc in late s1/early s2

this stupid life i stupid lead is causing everything to crash down around me but i don't know how else to live or act or behave

i'm jamie fucking tartt!!

but if i gave up on being pretty, i wouldn't know how to be alive

i just think this is him don't mind me

like obviously he's more than his pretty he is jamie fucking tartt and he's a shooting star at what he does. yeah, i work hard. but.

i also think being pretty and being desired is his like. number two personality trait

or at least thats what he wants us to see him as. you know??

eric

you like control, well, i do too take off my clothes and watch me move you can come closer, i'll let you hurt me how you choose

well. we've all seen how roy and jamie interact with one another haven't we.

but how long, how long can we play this way i'm tired, i'm tired of not loving you my heart, my heart wants to hold you but i know, i know, i know the rules blue light, dark room, the white of your teeth as you smile at my trembling shoulders but your skin, did you notice your skin it cries a soft weep like mine i'll sell, i'll sell my heart to you what's my, what's my, what's my price? how 'bout, how 'bout just a part of you? 'cause i want, i want, i want, i want i want, i want, i want, i want, i want

i really did try to narrow this down and not include almost uhhhh the whole rest of the song but good GOD. royjamie anthem.

jamie wants SOOOO BADLY!!!!!! but has almost certainly convinced himself it's just sex with roy!!! doesnt matter if roy is tits over tail obsessed with him (canonical) or if it actually just IS rebound sex.

this is real to me. sorry. royjamie anthem.

he wants.

door

i looked out at the dark and wondered how could I have lost it? a hopeless violence i named it love

so. i did not want to include an entire song twice in a row but this song very much tells a story you kinda gotta listen to the whole thing to get the picture

but

i think this one is VERY jamiecore.

denying himself this integral part of himself as both like. a man living in a very masculine sphere of the world on top of being a victim of abuse that canonically leans in on his masculinity

swearing to be so tough his dad could never call him soft again??

and also jamie's whole like. proximity to love and violence and presentation and consumption

idk if this is making any sense but god it IS real.

i lost this part of me and this part was love and real human connection and it is a gnawing biting clawing thing i need to love and be loved in a way that scares me and most often with teeth tearing into me. augh.

real men

real men don't need other people, and real men suck it in real men don't flinch or bleed in public oh, i think i'm a real man

look at me in my eyes and tell me this isn't Exactly jamie's thought process in s1. arguably even through his character arc to the end.

though honestly, sir all i wanna do is get naked in front of you so you can look me up and down and give me your love for being so good but little boys hold me, color me praise me, make me feel lovely for a little while so little boy, say you want me 'cause, well, i can't take it go ahead do it, do it

sorry. you want Me? a royjamie? to be normal about these verses?

especially when jamie's whole thing is fucking. making himself desirable and putting on a show. peacocking is his #1 favorite activity of all time.

and roy's whole thing is. well. roy's whole thing. watching him with his eyes glued to the little fuck even when he's sucking his teeth so so so angrily and spitting mad

i just think jamie loves an audience whether or not its good for him and roy can't do anything but watch. they're trapped. sisyphiean in nature aint it.

#beebles #jamie tartt #ted lasso #royjamie #royjamiekeeley #jamiekeeley #those ones are on a technicality but i think probably important to tag #disclaimer: this is for fun #also if anyone has thoughts or additions or anything for the love of god hmu #im so so crazy rabid insane about mr tartt #um this was very fun actually.#havent done this since i did it for all my terror playlists i forget how fun it is every time

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tojisun · 4 months

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Sun!, I would like to start by saying that I greatly admire your talent and ability to write. The way you are able to create stories, is simply fascinating. Every word you put on paper seems to have a unique intensity and depth. Your writing conveys such strong and immersive emotions that it feels like I can feel every feeling, every shiver, and every moment of tension. It's incredible how you capture these elements and convey them in such a vivid and impactful way.

One Of The Girls reminds me of the early stages of the reader's 'relationship' with toxic!biker!simon. Where the reader wants to be one of the girls and fully immerse themselves in Simon's life, even if it's just scraps of an unhealthy love (that never was).

Daylight, oh my God, it's the mid-stage, where the reader is not just with Simon because of his looks... But because she loves him, but at the same time she discovers how much he harms her, but she doesn't want to leave him, she can't, because she always goes back.

Elastic Heart is their final stage in the relationship... As you yourself said, sun, my sunshine. The reader will have a happy ending, but not with Simon. It's when she will realize that their "Relationship" was never so healthy.

So, sun!, look, my future husband, Leon Kennedy. Shhhh... Simon can't know-. But I've already moved on from toxic!biker!Simon-.

This is my husband, my current obsession, the muscles-.

oh my god mocha?? thank you so much for such kind words– im genuinely melting, giggling underneath my blanket and kicking my legs because of how thoughtful and kind this!! because of how thoughtful and kind you are!! im seriously speechless, unable to think past the giddiness rushing through me like, thank you again sweet luv <33

i am so so happy that u enjoy my works! that somehow, along my ramblings and run-ons, i was able to convey the emotions of a specific scene/fic :’> im glad that u get to enjoy interpreting it too!! (especially because biker!simon became such an endearing group project that i adore. i get so heart-achingly happy when i see ur guys’ asks n links n tags!!!)

time for the songs:

OH MY GOD??? ONE OF THE GIRLS BEING READER BEGGING SIMON FOR A SCRAP OF HIS AFFECTION – “we don’t gotta be in love / i don’t gotta be the one / i just wanna be one of the girls tonight” – OH I AM UNWELL!! and the way the song fully presents their ‘relationship’: how it’s a plea from the reader, how she tries finding love from him in something thats only physical and ephemeral, how he extends an inkling affection only to pull away and leave her with nothing. again.

(heaving so bad rn)

I DIDNT EXPECT DAYLIGHT TO BE PART OF THE TOXIC BIKER SERIES BUT I SEE IT SO CLEARLY!! “oh i love it and hate it at the same time” – the way she knows their arrangement is harmful to her, and the way she knows it’s laughable and pathetic how she’s always the one doing the running and waiting, but she can’t stop because when simon calls her, sometimes she thinks it’s love. AND the part that goes “hiding all of our sins from the daylight / … / you and i drink poison from the same vine” SHOWING THE WAY SIMON NEVER BRINGS HER TO HIS HOME. AND HOW SIMON, for all his tomfoolery and bitching, GRAVITATES TOWARDS HER. HOW HE COMES BACK TO HER TOO.

(im probably gonna gnaw my lip off at this point from how much im biting)

SIA AND ELASTIC HEART IS ALSO SMTHN I DIDNT EXPECT IN THE ROSTER AND YET IT MAKES SENSE HOLY SHIT. “you did not break me (but) i’m still fighting for peace” IS READER WHEN SHE MET PRICE HELLO? the way she was hesitant to trust him. hesitant to like him because she thought, ‘not again’. but then price shows her how it is to be loved. to be prioritized. to be cared for. and yeah she starts letting go of simon and starts forging a relationship with price and!!! SHE WILL BE HAPPY I PROMISE.

(i feel like a marionette. untethered and floaty because this whole.. meta? is so fucking good oh my god)

THATS LEON KENNEDY? UM. THE ARMS? THE CHEST?? THE HARNESS??? THE HAIR????

pause.

THE BIKE?????

somethings shifting in my brain hold on hold on hold on hol

#mocha172 #ask #mocha my love thank you again for such kind words #im. i cant fathom the kindness u (guys) extend to me but im so so thankful all the time #take care my love <33 #biker!simon

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voltfruits · 11 months

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aubreycore playlist for auby enjoyers

paramore - "ignorance"

the beths - "whatever"

sonic youth - "catholic block"

neko case - "middle cyclone"

mitski - "townie"

car seat headrest - "something soon"

sleater-kinney - "dig me out"

green day - "having a blast"

fiona apple - "criminal"

liz phair - "crater lake"

guided by voices - "game of pricks"

beach bunny - "promises"

hop along - "waitress"

be your own pet - "black hole"

indigo de souza - "real pain"

EMA - "butterfly knife"

the new pornographers - "letter from an occupant"

phoebe bridgers - "graceland too"

bikini kill - "rebel girl"

i'm not expecting anyone to read this far but. explanations. lol

ignorance: i think the possible time frame for omori is situated a few years before paramore's popularity really took off, but they're the patron saints of bratty emotional 00s teens and it's easy to imagine aubrey being a fan. this particular song is just brimming with righteous fury, and the lyrics are pretty obviously relevant: "I'm not the same kid from your memory, well, now I can fend for myself / don't wanna hear your sad songs, don't wanna feel your pain when you swear it's all my fault, 'cause you know we're not the same"

whatever: this is an aubybasil anthem to me!! but it's an angsty one. it's about being let down by a friend over and over until you finally snap. i can imagine aubrey belting "we're blood and water but my back is blown, your shoulders slumped saying 'you should have known I'd let you down again'" as basil guiltily cowers/whimpers before her lol

catholic block: as aubrey grows up postgame i imagine she leaves behind pure teen-angst emo in favor of more sophisticated indie rock (maybe this is just me projecting my musical hyperfixations onto her lmao), and i headcanon sonic youth as one of her eventual fav bands. the exact lyrics here are hard to pin down, but it's clearly about having a bad relationship with catholicism, so it's fitting.

middle cyclone: a lovely, vulnerable, stripped-down ballad from one of the most badass vocalists in music today. acknowledging aubrey's softer side is just important as capturing her power and anger, and no lyric is better suited for that than "i can't give up acting tough, it's all that i'm made of / i choke it back, how much i need love."

townie: i know i'm not the first person to associate this song (or mitski in general) with aubrey. it's just. ugh. so good. "i'm holding my breath with a baseball bat, though I don't know what i'm waiting for / i am not gonna be what my daddy wants me to be." fuck yeah man.

something soon: car seat headrest is my favorite band and i think aubrey would like them lots too, both for the rawness and explosiveness of their tunes and the insightful way their lyrics explore queerness, depression, and feeling trapped. "something soon" is one of the fiercest and gnarliest songs in their catalogue, and it it captures feelings of young adult desperation like nothing else. we've got lyrics that capture aubrey's more impulsive and violent tendencies ("i want to break something important / i want to kick my dad in the shins") along with a laundry list of poor, abandoned teenage grievances ("i can't talk to my folks / all my fingers are froze / only one change of clothes"). i mean, have we ever seen present day aubrey wear more than one outfit? (i am escorted off the premises for being too silly)

dig me out: sleater kinney is so aubreycore. they are THE girlboss indie punk band. my reasons for choosing this one are mostly based on vibes, it just sounds nasty and desperate and in terrible pain

having a blast: if you're a mentally unwell 16-year-old in a miserable US suburb there is a 100% chance discovering green day's dookie will change your life. i mean. "no one here is getting out alive, this time i've really lost my mind and i don't care / so close your eyes and kiss yourself goodbye, and think about the times we've spent and what they meant." church fight, anyone?

criminal: a photobomb anthem all the way through. just listen to it.

crater lake: underrated bop from the queen of 90s lofi. "and oh, all the tears in four tiny years / well, look at me, i'm frightening my friends." she even got the number of years right, bravo!

game of pricks: my favorite song right now, i've listened to it so much this week!!! it's like. the platonic ideal of a pop song. it's all melody. it's sounds so joyful and yet so melancholic. the lyrics capture a more subdued bitterness/disappointment that i think suits aubrey super well, since she isn't just a rage monster all the time. the one i really wanna draw attention to is: "i'll climb up on the house, weep to water the trees / and when you come calling me down, i'll put on my disease." idk i just. think it's touching how aubrey privately "weeps to water the trees" (uses her grief to elevate mari's memory and try to embody her after her death) but the moment she crosses paths with her past, she can't help being overtaken by the "disease" that is rage and disgust. she's trying so hard to put her pain to good use but she can't control the impulse to wreck everything instead. idk that's what that means to me

promises: beach bunny makes music that's cute and sunny but also rocks hard, which i think would appeal to aubrey. this is a song about being abandoned by an old friend/partner ("a minute you're there, a minute you cared, now you're gone / it's so unfair, keeping me from moving on") that i think functions especially well as an angsty sunburn song, knowing aubrey would confide in sunny when they were young.

waitress: this is a song about the crushing indignity of the service industry which isn't very aubreyesque LOL but i just fucking love hop along and i think aubrey would love them too. painted shut is an all time classic album and its combination of driving guitars, caterwauling vocals, and a vaguely haunted and musty atmosphere just sound the way aubrey's character feels. also i wanna single out the lyric "call you enemy 'cause i'm afraid of what you could call me" because DAMN. that is so her.

black hole: pretty self-explanatory rager about small town boredom. cheesy as hell, but it's what you need when you're 16.

real pain: this song, to me, is about aubrey trying in vain to convince herself that mari's death (and in certain endings, sunny and basil's deaths) are not her fault ("i don't believe the things i've done, i don't believe the weight i've been"). she clearly can't convince herself, though, because the song bottoms out in a storm of gut-wrenching screams like all a person's inner demons pouring out. sorry aubs :(

butterly knife: not really the closest match from a lyrical perspective, unless you count the line about pet rabbits, but i'm putting it on here because it's the best song from EMA's past life martyred saints, which is another album that sounds so much like aubrey to me. it's written from the absolute depths of mental fucked-upness, but it sounds so cool and subtle, almost ambient. it's the aural equivalent of aubrey's usual vibe; aloof, tense but subdued, keeping that storm of emotion just under the surface. just.

letter from an occupant: another all-time classic from one of my favorite bands, this is the perfect concoction of beautiful melodies, sugary guitars, and belt-your-heart-out vocal performances that i think does a good job capturing the cute-but-intimidating dichotomy of aubrey's vibe. the lyrics are mostly nonsense, but "with a shower of yeahs and whatevers, you trade me away long gone" is a wonderful line that captures aubrey's abandonment and her frustration with her old friends' apathy.

graceland too: oh god. this one. is based on my headcanon that aubrey moves out from her mother's house postgame and lives with polly and basil. i'm just gonna drop the whole first verse and try not to cry. "no longer a danger to herself or others, she made up her mind and laced up her shoes / yelled down the hall, but nobody answered, so she walked outside without an excuse / she could do anything she wants to, she could do whatever she wants to do."

rebel girl: during the time the game takes place, this is aubrey and kim's favorite song. they sing it to each other to hype themselves up. they know all the lyrics by heart. it's Their Song. listen to it and it's probably pretty clear why.

#i've been working on this for a while and today seems like a good day to finally share it!!#a lot of these songs deal with anger/grief/shame/gender stuff in a way that's very aubrey to me #others just have her vibe. or sound like something she would rock out to <3 #i hope u find a song or two that you like!!#aubrey omori #volt.txt

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emtropi · 11 months

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hiiiii i just listened to the master's song from the dracula musical and ngl when renfield referred to dracula's bite as a kiss i nearly lost my whole mind

and just. the way he sang it. like he is ecstatic that drac is gonna come in through his window and "kiss" him

i am unwell!!

Dr. Seward: Who are you talking about

Renfield: that’s classified

Dr. Sewrad: alright then you don’t have to tell me if you don’t wa-

Renfield: *giggles and kicks his feet like an excited highschool girl* so there’s this guy and

#dracula #renfield

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ladyvaderpixetc · 2 months

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9 Fandom Peeps to Get to Know Better

Tagged by the ever-awesome @lolahardy 🖤

3 Ships You Like: Arthur/Eames (Inception), Thorki - or thunderfrost or whatever I next find it tagged under - (Thor/Loki Marvel), Drarry (or as they were known in my day H/D - oh & while I am here, Fuck You Joanne, you hateful, dangerously deluded, & bigoted terf)

First Ship Ever: Torn between the first ship I remember obsessing over vs the first ship I wrote so going with both - Gambit/Rogue & Mulder/Scully.

Last Song You Heard: Heroes by Peter Gabriel (Bowie)

Favorite Childhood Book: The Lives of Christopher Chant by Diana Wynne Jones, I always used to want a proper TV adaptation of it but I'm not sure they could ever actually capture Throgmorten well enough to please me XD

Currently Reading: aaaaaalllll the AE fic I have stored on comp as am desperately trying to get back in the mindset (and succeeding, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak) as well as a few old festive drarry favourites I had saved from a few Christmases back on my dodgy old kindle as am unwell and sulking my way back and forth between bed and armchair these past few weeks lol

Currently Watching: Just finished the BBC 80 Days Around the World a few years too late, rewatching Lie to Me as a timewaster until the live-action series of ATLA kicks off assuming I don't drop dead from anticipation first ;)

Currently Consuming: Water water and more water with a side of marmite rice cakes

Currently Craving: More water, more rice cakes, a fuckton of choc hobnobs, garlic cheese and crackers *sighs* sleep lol

Tagging (with no pressure!): @strangegeology @optimistic-turpitude @buckydunpun @kshdk @bananaempanada @helaheim @mosaicabstract @naryrising @stuffikindalike and anyone who fancies a crack really!

#tag game #asked and answered

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goatskickin · 4 months

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People You'd Like To Know Better

Tagged by @antisocialbunnysims THANK

Last Song: One by Fuzz (it was alright, was suggested by Apple Music after my other songs in my ‘SLÆY-LIST’)

Currently Watching: Just finished it but Lessons in Chemistry. I liked it! There’s a lot of TV out rn that is just okay and not very good. I was pleasantly surprised.

Last Movie: Blazing Saddles, because I’m on a bit of a ‘movies from before 1990’ kick. That movie is so funny! Still! Also, maybe this is just me getting older, but Gene Wilder was kind of doing it for me in this ?! (Cleavon Little was already doing that)

Currently Reading: Ancillary Mercy (a reread). Started that series again when I was viciously unwell after getting my flu shot and Covid vaccine and needed a comfort read. Also, The Artisanal Vinegar Marker’s Handbook. Because I am always up to some domestic/homesteader/doomsday prepper/witchy nonsense.

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: savory! Got some snack and cracker recipe books for Christmas. Some mixed-to-good results. Homemade crackers are both easier and fussier than you’d think to make.

Last Thing I Googled: "next bus mtv font" we know why 🫥

Current Obsession: crocheting! I’m not good at all. But one of my New Year’s resolutions was to have a hobby that involves no other people, and no screens. It’s great for zoning out. I’ve already been to the craft store 2 days in a row and had more yarn being shipped to me 😆

Currently Working On: Chapter 25 of Apocalypse C.O.W. (slowly but surely) and clothing recolors I don’t need to be doing, but am doing anyway

Tagging: @redsimmer-blog, @simmer-until-tender, @angelapleasant, @millicent-bystandr, @aondaneedles, @katsurinssims

#tag game #nonsims #non sims

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yeastymuffin · 1 month

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It is well into thursday afternoon, the curse of living in Europe i guess, but I'll still post something for the wip wednesday. Thanks for tagging me @paperstomach!! :D

I don't know which one of my mutuals are working on stuff, so if you see this, feel free to share your wips (even if it isn't wednesday) and tag me in it if you want some feedback or just a fun comment ^-^

I have two things I am working on at the moment (three if you include my thesis 🤐) so I'll post both. One being a sapphic Victorian-esque ghost story about a haunted hotel near the beach. The second being my recently revived medieval Brittana fic inspired by this piece of art by @katimanki

At the bottom, below the 'read more' link, is the first chapter of the Brittana fic. It's like 5k words so enjoy! (@unholy-fabray you seemed interested so I'm posting this for u <3)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Premise: Addie and Dolly are riding horseback on the beach. This is the first time they are being honest to eachother about what they are dealing with (Addie being mentally unwell, and Dolly caring deeply for her)

Addie shared a look of deep earnest. A heaviness settled upon hers shoulders. The weight of which her companion shared, for she halted her steed, letting the silence beg for Addie to answer the unspoken question.

“I want to be emaciated.” She said at last. “To feel the same kind of instinctual hunger the gulls feel as a need to drive them up into the sky. That way, and that way alone, could I explain why I feel the way I feel.”

A breath of silence fell between them. The gulls sailed low today, feeding on what tiny creatures hid beneath the surface of the sand. Dolly watched the birds with a naïve kind of curiosity as they spread their wings to glide up each time a wave got to shore with the intent to wipe away all that was before – the rhythm of which never seemed to tire.

“Well then, it must be so.” She spoke. Her face contorted in a stern frown. “But only long enough for you to explain it to me. Then, afterwards, when you sink away in the despair you cried out, let me raise your chin and fill you with love. Let me fill you till it comes out of your nose, and I will wipe away the snot, and hold you, and tell you all can be well. If only you let yourself feel it.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

AAAAAND THE GLEE FIC:

Long Live: chapter one

Throughout the evening the regular folk enters the taverns until a lively buzz of songs sung by drunk rumbles through the streets. Every so often, when a drunkard is kicked out for becoming too rowdy, a passerby would be able to distinctly make out the lyrics of the drinking song as the words roll of tens of stumbling tongues. Where each tavern poured their own ale, so were the songs and festive hymns hand crafted and specific to the place.

The Vulgar Elderberry, known by locals as the most disorderly and unrestrained pub of the city, where middle-aged men go to pick fights and prostitutes make a humble fortune, is as busy as usual. At every hour of the day there is a group of drunk men, but as soon as the sun goes down the benches and stools fill till the early morning sun peeks over the horizon.

Santana, who might as well be wearing Hans Christian Andersen’s red dancing shoes, is having a blast. With only a bat of her eyes a new drink finds its way to her hand. Men are at her feet with every sway of her hips or twirl of the skirt. And they are at her feet in the literal sense since she is up on her third table of the night. Drunkards are watching her from below, tongues nearly rolling out of their mouth and on the sticky surface of the table which has seen the spillage of many a beer.

On the table next to her is a blonde girl she has seen a couple times before. She does not know her name but somehow they always end up at the same tavern and decide to entertain the guests together. Though it is clear the girl does this on a regular basis, dancing into the early hours of the day, Santana thinks she is decently able to keep up in her drunken haze.

The regular bard is strumming away on a lyre, his beautiful song drowned out by the intoxicated attempts of the patrons singing along. Santana has reached the point where the loud chants do not sound loud anymore and the world is engulfed in a blanket of bliss. Yes, this means she sometimes misses a beat or nearly hits one of the guys who is sitting at her table in the face when she kicks her leg up, but hey, she is at the Elderberry. Any visitor is bound to come home with multiple bruises.

At a dark corner of the bar she sees someone dressed in a dark cloak and a blue tunic. The guest has had two mugs of beer at most and has been looking at her intensely all night. Santana, being a glutton for attention and praise, dances harder for every guy staring at her but tonight she has been dancing for this visitor and this visitor alone. Sharp eyes ogle her from under the hood, face inexpressive no matter how suggestive her dancing gets.

If anyone is sober enough to pay attention to the relatively tall visitor in blue, they would notice how out of place the person is. Not only does the person look too old to still be dressed as a squire, the light blue fabric of the tunic is too expensive for any commoner to wear to a pub like this. A night without a fight is rare, and though people like to show off their riches and power in any social setting, the average response to vanity in the Vulgar Elderberry is a punch to the throat. To wear a light blue dyed linen tunic is asking for trouble.

Santana’s eye fucking gets interrupted when she feels a slosh of beer hit her feet. Still dancing, she looks down at the two guys who just toasted too zealous for the state of their motor control. Their spilled toast is all over the table. She shouts a string of curse words at them and not so subtly stomps in the pool of beer, trying to splash them back.

Too drunk or turned on – or both – to care, the men wipe the drops of beer from their face and out of their beards. Two pairs of lust filled eyes look at her, not registering the thundercloud that is forming above Santana’s head. The bald one barks at her like a dog, which encourages another fellow at her table to howl at her. All night, men have whistled and jeered at her but now most guests are unable to remember how much they had to drink. The last bit of Santana’s rationale takes over. Too much exhilaration will lead to men grabbing her for a dance and trying to suck her tongue out of her mouth, which is the last thing she wants.

Helplessly, she looks over at her blonde friend as she twirls, which may not be the best thing to do as she is certain she would trip if asked to walk in a straight line. Still, Santana never said her rationale was logical or the most efficient. After a couple twirls, she finally meets the eyes of her friend who frowns at her, asking what is wrong. Santana nods to her feet where one of the men is trying to grab at her dress to smell it. The girl nods, having understood the cry for help, then looks at her own crowd of drunk men and smiles teasingly.

“Me and my friend here are kind of getting bored.” The girl shouts. Santana is barely able to make out what is trying to say despite their close proximity. The men at her feet perk up, ready to serve this nymph anything as long as it gets her to keep dancing for them.

One guy jumps up on the bench and props one of his feet on the table. He extends an arm and reaches out for the girl. She places her hand in his outstretched hand. He grabs it tenderly and kisses it. Despite the softness of the kiss, which feels out of place seeing the tavern they are in, it is the lewdest thing Santana has seen all evening. She gawks at the sight. There might as well have been two people going at it doggy style on the table next to her.

“Two ale for these lovely broads who have been entertaining us all evening.” The guy screams at the bar.

“It’s on the house!” the bartender yells back as he puts two large mugs on the dark oak surface of the bar. An ocean of hands reaches out to bring the mugs to their destination.

A hand grabs Santana’s lower arm. Ready to fight off a man who cannot keep his hands to himself, Santana spins around to face her assailant, fist in the air ready to punch a bloody nose. To her surprise, it is the girl. She is leaning dangerously far forward and beckons for Santana to join her on her table. Assisted by a steady tug, she jumps over to the table. Delighted when her shoes do not stick to the table top, a luxury her old table did not have.

The girl does not let go of her. Repositioning her hand instead and intertwines their fingers together, her other hand finds Santana’s waist. The blonde turns her head and screams something at the bard. Santana is too drunk to hear it, overwhelmed by the sudden close proximity and the intense brown eyes the girl has.

“Dance with me.” She says. And Santana does.

Never before has she danced a peasant partner dance. After a minute of stepping on toes and legs tangling in skirts, she understands the rhythm of the dance. She smiles brightly at her partner when she figures it out. The girl grins back, all shiny teeth and pink lips.

Beneath her, the men’s clapping slowly increases. Santana dances like it is the only thing she has ever done in her life. Her body moves on its own, keeping up with the pace that grows faster by the second.

They hop and twirl and shimmy. Without looking away from the girl, Santana knows her whirling her red dress and the orange dress of her partner creates for an impressive sight. Two flames growing brighter and brighter in an endless waltz until they burn up together.

They dance on and on. The muscles in her legs are screaming at her to stop, but Santana cannot help it. If this is where she dies, dancing on a table in a disgustingly dirty tavern, so be it. May the heavens find her exhausted soul and realise that for once she enjoyed what she was doing with every fibre of her being.

One of the gods must have heard her death wish, as in the next second one of Santana’s feet slips off the table and she nearly tumbles into the lap of a sweaty, overweight guy. The only thing keeping her on her podium is the blonde girl who instantly drags her back on her feet.

The delirium of her aching body is taking over, or perhaps she is a lot more drunk than she thought she was. An all-consuming laughter bubbles up from her stomach and leaves her body. She looks like a maniac, but she cannot find the energy to care. There is no one here able to scold her for her unruly behaviour. The chest pressed against hers starts moving in shocks. The girl, too, is laughing hysterically.

She needs a full minute to get her laughter under control. Suddenly, as the last hiccups of her giggle die down, she realises she is still clinging to the girl who is sweaty and hot under her grip. A droplet of sweat rolls down the girl’s neck and pools behind her collarbone. Aware of the heaving chest pressed against hers, and the inappropriate intimacy Santana lets go. Albeit hesitantly.

The girl smiles at her, bright eyed, then turns to the men at their feet. “Where are those beers? I feel hot!” She knows exactly how to play a crowd.

“Yes you are!” A guy screams from a couple tables over.

A large mug filled to the brim is pressed in Santana’s hand by the girl. Her head is spinning. If she drinks this and keeps on dancing, she will sleep in the gutter tonight. Having sweat off half of her body weight, Santana takes a big gulp of her beer. She cringes when the lukewarm liquid fills her mouth, having expected the beer to be cold.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” A guy with a sophisticated moustache chants. He must be a notary of some sorts during the day.

The blonde nudges Santana with her hip and lifts her mug suggestively. Not really caring much for her future self, Santana lifts her own mug with a devilish grin. They toast clumsily, spilling a fair amount as the mugs hit and start chugging.

From across the room, Santana makes eye contact with the peculiar visitor as she chugs her beer. Wanton from dancing, Santana decides to do something she has never done before. With her free hand, she undoes two buttons of her dress, showing off her cleavage. Nearly finished with her beer, she pulls the mug away from her mouth ‘accidentally’ spilling the remainder which drips down her chin and disappears between her breasts.

The cheers of the crowd beneath her leave her cold. Still, Santana bites away her smugness. She caught the visitor biting her lip and fumbling with the belt, hands restless from seeing Santana act all licentious. The victorious smile on her face is hard to supress so she turns to her still nameless friend and focuses her attention on her.

Her heart is running in circles behind her ribcage and kicking up a storm. A heat is growing from deep within and burns her up from the inside. It is dizzying. Santana feels like she can puke at any moment.

The girl says something.

“What?” Santana asks confused.

“It’s Quinn.” The girl repeats. Santana blinks. She does not remember asking the girl for her name, but she must have. Whilst she struggled to keep the content in her stomach inside, her body must have taken over and made small talk. Like when her mind goes away to that special place where she can run away on the back of a horse and ride into the sunset, while her body is talking about the current affairs of the kingdom with some stuck up duke.

“Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?” Quinn asks. Her eyes warm with worry. Santana wishes she can take her home. Quinn seems like a person you can be truly honest with, who would not judge you for the demons in your head.

Santana shakes her thoughts away. She forces herself to take a couple deep breaths. “Yeah, I’m good. The dancing wore me out.” She says. “I’m San- Rosario. Rosario San Cruz I think we’ve met before.”

“Quinn Fabray.” Quinn grabs her hand and spins her around. The soft fabric of Santana’s red dress undulates in graceful waves as she twirls. “We have. I remember because I never had a dance partner that’s able to keep up with me the way you do.”

“Why thank you.” Santana says demure, instinctively bowing elegantly as she takes the compliment. As Santana comes back up she bites her tongue to keep from smiling too hard. Though it’s too late. This Quinn girl has already brought out her cheek dimples. Santana hates them. She is usually pretty good at showing off a certain emotion when really she is feeling something else, but when her cheek dimples show, everyone can see she is truly happy in and out. Information which she prefers not to give away.

Quinn takes Santana’s mug with one hand and holds her other hand up invitingly. “May I have another dance with you, Rosario?” She says with an accent mocking the highbrow and royals.

“But of course you may.” Santana grabs the hand, responding in the same accent.

Quinn regards her, then pecks a kiss to each of the mugs and throws them behind her without looking, like a bride throwing her bouquet. Men dive after the mugs, deeming them worth more than jewellery. Not even a peregrine falcon diving after its prey is as fast.

The bard is playing a joyful song, Quinn sings along softly as she leads Santana. Santana cannot fully commit to the dance however, she keeps one eye on the men fighting over the mug - not trusting it will simply blow over. The tension she had tried escaping by going here has returned. The tiny demon running around in her skull is pulling on all the strings, creating doom scenarios of what could happen. Ranging from a simple barfight to a dragon ripping the roof of the tavern and burning them all alive.

“Stop thinking.” Quinn points out sharply. “This is the third time you’ve stepped on my foot and your eyes keep darting to the side. I know for a fact you’re not distracted by a handsome knight.”

Santana frowns at what Quinn might be implying. “What? I totally like knights.”

“Yeah, who doesn’t?” Quinn lets go of her for a second to do her own little freestyle whilst she stares at the guy whose hand she kissed earlier. “But I don’t see them here. Just enjoy the moment. Worries are for tomorrow.”

Quinn’s hands find her body again and she leads them into a high tempo waltz. Santana gets twirled around again, seemingly Quinn’s favourite move, and lets her thoughts fly away from her as she spins around.

In anticipation of the dip Quinn leads her into she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Arms stretched out dramatically, she fully trusts the hands around her waist to not drop her. Her long, dark hair nearly brushes the table top. Her flair for the dramatics is appreciated as whistles and shouts fill the air, shortly drowning out the music.

Then she is pulled back up, rougher than she expected. A yelp escapes her mouth as she crashes into Quinn. Instinctively, her feet position themselves so she is ready to waltz away but the lead does not come. Quinn is looking at something behind her then hisses in her ear. “Duck.”

Before Santana can ask what is going on, firm hands grab her shoulders and she is pushed downwards. With a thud she falls on her ass on the table top. Tears jump in her eyes at the sharp pain that shoots up her spine. Her skin will be bruised for a week. One foot is in the lap of a passed out drunk guy. Carefully, she tries to remove her foot and crawl of the table. A heavy body crashes into her and nimbly slides off the table.

“There is no time to be nice.” Quinn chides. Rudely, she drags Santana to her feet and checks her over. By then, Santana realises the side of the table they are on is empty, aside for the passed out guy. The gears in her head are turning as she looks around. People are chanting, not the regular songs, but cheering and howling. Instead of the low notes of a mostly male choir, deep aggravated grunts fill the air.

The chanting, together with the groups forming between the tables click in Santana’s head. There are fights happening. Multiple.

“I knew the mugs were going to cause trouble.” Santana says to no one in particular as she looks at the fight at the opposite side of the table. A shoe flies through the air and hits a guy who had previously nursed his beer unbothered. Agitated from the beer that spilled all over his tunic he grabs the shoe and throws it back, hitting a different bystander in the face. The bystander makes a face that can only be described as an toad blown up with anger, and stalks towards the guy with heavy steps, nearly stumbling over a nearby bench.

“Good for you genius. We have to go.” Quinn snipes. Her hand locks around Santana’s forearm. With difficulty, Santana keeps up with the swift pace with which Quinn moves through the maze of tables and drunk, fighting barbarians. The closer they get to the exit, the rowdier things become.

The tavern has been filled to the brim the whole evening. Multiple fights are breaking out and escalating. In the chaos of fallen benches, mugs flying through the air and people being pushed over or stumbling away in a drunken stupor, it is hard for two women to fight their way through the crowd. Quinn pushes herself in the slowly moving stream of exiting people, attempting to pull Santana with her.

“Wait!” Santana shouts at Quinn. “I’m missing someone.”

“Forget it.” Quinn shouts back over her shoulder. “We need to leave now or a guy unruly from fighting thinks he needs a victory prize.”

Santana looks back but her vision gets blocked by two tall guys behind her, seemingly brothers. All around her are sweaty bodies. The air smells of barf and wet, dirty clothes. Her arms are pressed to her body. If people are not careful she will be crushed like grain in a mill. The only thing that is keeping her from fully panicking is the death grip Quinn has on her.

All of a sudden the pushing from behind stops, but before she can look behind her to see what happened, a strong arm wraps around her waist. She is yanked out of Quinn’s grip and dragged backwards. She screams in surprise, then a second animalistic scream leaves her throat fuelled by pure anxiety.

Quinn was right. A burly guy who has had too much to drink thinks he owns the world and anyone in it. In order to truly feel like the king he is, he needs his little princess to entertain him. And he has decided Santana will be that princess.

Her whole body stiffens. She is a drawn bow ready to let go. This is yet another guy who thinks she is only good for one thing. His audacity is as big as a dragon and his regard for the thoughts and feelings of others is as true as the existence of gnomes – just a fable. He is a dirty pig, just like the rest of the scum that fills this tavern each night. In a blind fit of rage, she turns around and punches the guy square in the face. Then adds another punch at the nose, for good measure.

Instantaneously, the person lets go of her and grabs at their face. Then throws the hood they are wearing off their face. Two angry and confused blue eyes stare back at her.

“Santana, what the hell?”

“Oh my god Britt I’m so sorry.” Shocked, Santana clasps two hands over her mouth.

Brittany, her self-acclaimed bodyguard and partner in crime, is standing in front of her. Blood seeps from her nose and between her fingers down her chin, dripping on her sky blue tunic. It will suck to wash the blood out later.

“What did I tell you? If something happens. You find me and we take the back exit.” Brittany’s tone is razor sharp despite her the slightly nasal tone from pinching her nose. It cuts through Santana’s heartstrings. Never before has her friend ever been this angry with her, and Santana has gotten entangled in big messes.

Santana nods quietly. Even her mother’s tyrannical scolding has never hurt as much as this. She grabs Brittany’s clean, outstretched hand and lets herself be lead outside. Whether Brittany has threatened the bartender or has found a way to pull some strings Santana does not know. Regardless, they exit through a hatch in the basement through which the beer barrels are transported.

The side street is quiet. There is a light drizzle but Santana refuses to wear the cloak Brittany offers her. She tells herself it is because Brittany will need it later on, as she will face the elements face first as they ride back home on their horse, not because she feels ashamed therefore refusing any comfort.

Brittany holds her close as they walk to the stable. The bleeding has stopped, but she sports a dark red moustache on her upper lip. More smears of blood cover her chin, cheeks and hand. Santana’s ears are buzzing and the ground sways like the sea. She hopes she will not have to puke later the evening, or worse, wake up in the middle of the night and having to find a tub to puke in. Besides her obvious drunk ailment, she is aware of her exhaustion. She just wants to cling to Brittany as she rides, maybe cry a little, and lay in bed.

They do not share a single word until they reach the stable. By that time, her intensely beating heart as calmed down, and the rush and fear from the last few moments in the tavern feel like a dream. In spite of that, Santana still knows it really happened. With every step she takes, she is reminded through a growing bruise on her ass. She sighs as Brittany pulls her pockets inside out for a pair of keys.

“I’m sorry.” Punching Brittany square in the face is not something she ever thought she would do. The shame and hurt inside her do not subside. On the contrary, they keep growing. Santana knows she did something very, very wrong.

Brittany sticks the key in the lock and pushes open the heavy stable door. “I should be sorry. For stealing these keys of the stableboy. He probably got into a lot of trouble for losing these.” Brittany jingles the keys. She grabs a burning oil lamp that hangs on a nearby hook and turns it up, leading them to Fleetwood.

The gelding is chewing his hay loudly. Being the glutton he is, he attempts to take a couple last bites as Brittany pulls him from the stable. Santana watches with her arms crossed as Brittany tightens the girth. She is swaying lightly on her feet, too intoxicated to stand still. They left Fleetwood in his tack with the knowledge they would be back within a couple hours and wanting to leave as soon as possible - maybe even fleeing from a scene.

“After you, my lady.” Brittany bows elegantly as she lets Santana get on first.

A bit unstable, Santana climbs on the back of the tall, grey dappled horse. She has climbed on many a steed with a dress, but alcohol is a consistent humbler and makes even the greats question their skill if they consume enough. Once she sits secure with both her legs on one side Brittany leads the horse outside by the reins and locks the stable again. She then pushes the keys through a gap between two planks of the door.

It is as if they were never there.

Santana is staring at the stars when she feels the saddle underneath her shake. Brittany climbs on behind her. She watches as Brittany makes her red dress disappear by pulling the dark cloak over her legs, protecting her from the cold of the night. A warm hand splays over her stomach, pressing her into the squire’s body. Unconsciously, Santana chooses to believe Brittany wants to feel her close, and that it’s not an act to keep her from slipping off the horse’s back.

With the slightest pressure of Brittany’s feet, Fleetwood takes off in the direction of the castle. His heavy hooves echo through the narrow city streets, a nuisance to anyone who is not vast asleep. Santana cannot muster up enough energy to care, both her body and mind exhausted from drinking and dancing.

“I danced the whole night.” Santana mumbles as soon as they reach the edge of the city. Fleetwood steps sound muffled on the dirt. The words fall off her tongue with difficulty, the muscle too ungainly to pronounce words properly.

Brittany nudges her cheek with her nose. She hums. “That you did.”

“And, I made a friend.”

“You always make friends. You’re very charming.”

“Yeah but, she’s a real friend.” Santana turns to face Brittany, since she is sitting sideways on the horse she does not have to turn much. Nonetheless, the hand around her waist clings on tighter, making sure she does not fall off. “Like… We talked. We had a connection.”

“Sounds amazing.” Brittany deadpans, her focus on the dark trail ahead as she encourages Fleetwood to counter.

“You don’t have to hold on so tight.” The grip of the hand on her hip is bordering on painful. “I’m drunk. Not dumb. I can sit on a horse.” The grip slackens, albeit a little bit.

By the time they reach the castle, Santana is sure she is not imagining the tension between her and her best friend. Normally, Brittany would guide Fleetwood in an easy canter once they leave town until they reach the open field. From there, they would watch the lights on the castle walls grow bigger, Fleetwood walking at his own pace.

Brittany would reminisce about funny figures she saw at the bar or how she won the rigged game of dice. Santana would giggle, perhaps even laugh vehemently in that way only Brittany can make her laugh. She would ask how she did it, how does one cheat the cheater. Brittany would stay silent, and smile a smug smile that makes Santana melt like cream on a warm cake. In those moments, with her head nestled underneath Brittany’s chin as she listens and the light of the stars guiding them home, Santana feels normal.

Any sane person would argue it is extremely dangerous, two girls on a horse in the middle of an open field at night. Raiders or anyone who is uncivilised enough to attack random people could easily sneak up on them and overpower them. Perhaps it is exactly that, the fear of being raided, something any peasant on a trip fears, is what makes her feel normal. Between the castle walls, there is always one pair of eyes on her at least. Where the most vile thing that can happen is someone dropping her new gown on the floor. There, the things she fears most being Miss Corcoran’s lectures about taxes or her father finding out about her nightly escapades, which don’t seem so bad when compared to being held at knifepoint in the dark.

Besides the couple sentences they spoke at the beginning of the ride, they have not talked at all. Brittany forced Fleetwood to canter home without taking a rest, making no effort to enjoy the nighttime through laughs.

Santana feels like an intruder as she watches Brittany remove the tack and makes Fleetwood comfortable for the night. She lingers in the walkway between the stables and pretends to be busy with one of Fleetwood’s neighbours. When the horse retreats her head and there is nothing around Santana can distract herself with. She mumbles an apology.

“What?” Brittany sticks her head out of the stable she is in.

“I’m sorry.” Santana repeats, supressing her usual jeering. She never repeats an apology. She barely even apologises for things in the first place. So, if Brittany can simply accept her apology that angry feeling in the pit of her stomach will go away and they can both sleep soundly.

For a moment they just stare at each other. Brittany’s face is blank, but Santana knows she is thinking. She can tell by the way Brittany keeps tapping the handle of the bucket she is holding with her index finger. She is bothered.

Brittany sighs deeply, closing her eyes for a moment. “It’s okay. It just… hurts.” She flashes a forced smile.

They confronted the problem, talked about it, and Santana apologised. Perhaps not in that order, but it doesn’t matter. Things are a-okay again, starting now. There is totally no reason for tension anymore, Santana decides.

“Yeah.” Santana lets out a shaky breath. “Let me at least clean you up.”

As response she gets a smirk that blooms into a toothy grin. And now Santana knows things truly are okay again.

Quietly Brittany shuts the door that leads to the kitchen. Santana lights up a discarded oil lamp and searches for some rags in drawers. Which, despite the light of the lamp, is hindered by darkness. She grabs the empty air next to a handle on multiple occasions. Once she finds a clean rag, she dips the cloth in a vat of water that stands off to the side and walks back over to Brittany who perched herself on the table. Next to Brittany is a tray covered by clean cloths, the surface of which billowed by the pastries underneath.

“Do you really think they’ll miss one or two?”

“Mercedes worked really hard on them. They’re for the feast tomorrow.” Santana puts the oil lamp on the table and brings up the damp cloth to brush of the dried blood. “Or tonight, I guess.”

“Another one of those stupid dinner parties? Didn’t you have one a couple days ago?” Brittany scrunches her face. The cold cloth uncomfortable against her skin.

“I did.” Santana responds factually. “My parents are inviting all the princes from neighbouring kingdoms and hope I like one. That way no more stupid knights die from Sapphian. Apparently she already has 110 documented deaths since she first appeared, not counting the peasants she kills when she raids the nearby towns. Half of those deaths are our own knights.”

“Never come between a dragon and her treasure.” Brittany says solemnly, then grins.

“You’re so weird.” Santana scoffs, feigning annoyance.

Brittany wraps her legs around Santana’s waist and pulls her close, locking her feet together at the ankles. “You love it.” She teases.

Santana hums in agreement. She ignores whatever Brittany is doing with her hair. She assumes the squire is braiding the strand of hair, judging by the repetitive tugging on the left side of her forehead. When she deems Brittany clean, she grabs a dry part of the rag and wipes off the damp skin.

Brittany pulls a face of disgust and lifts her head backwards, away from the dusty cloth, and wipes her lips with the back of her hand. “It’s good. You know I hate that.”

“You prefer staying wet?”

Instantly, she regrets her word choice. Brittany bursts out laughing. Santana punches her lightly in the stomach, directly in a patch of dried blood. She wipes her knuckles clean, an annoyed frown on her face.

“The gods punish immediately.” Brittany smirks. She sits back, leaning on her elbows. She has this smug twinkle in her eyes that messes with Santana’s head. She hates it, and Brittany is very much aware of that. The legs around her hips tense up, squeezing slightly in a teasing manner.

Brittany stares at her for a while. The light of the lamp reflects in the corner of her eyes and highlights a few loose strands of hair. This observation jogs Santana’s memory. She looks down to see a tiny, messily braided tuft of hair. She picks it up to get a closer look.

“You know Tina is going to brush it out in the morning, right?”

Brittany shrugs. “’s our little secret.”

For a few seconds Santana simply stares at her. “I am way too drunk for riddles right now.”

“I meant,” Brittany sits up and reaches over towards the tray of pastries and grabs two, “that only we know who ate these.” She bites into her enthusiastically, spilling crumbs all over the table and her lap. She presses the other one to Santana’s lips, waiting for her to bite it.

Santana gives her one of her ‘are you serious’ stares but bites when Brittany keeps pressing. She moans obscenely when the flavours of the icing and the berry filling blend in her mouth. She stuffs the rest of the pastry in her mouth.

“These are so good.”

“Told you we should try them.”

Santana rolls her eyes. Not knowing what to do with her hands, she plants them on Brittany’s warm thighs. “You always want a bite of everything when there is food available. You’re always hungry.”

“Yeah, but these are Mercedes’ pastries, so they make me like, extra hungry.” Brittany waggles her eyebrows.

“Weirdo.” Santana says through a yawn. She wants to touch the tip of Brittany’s nose lovingly but instead presses her finger into the cheek beside it. She frowns, annoyed with her own failure to perform a simple task. Brittany watches her for a moment, then jerks into action.

“Let’s get you to bed, my lady.” She says solemnly. Her feet untangle and drop to the side, finally freeing Santana from her leg trap.

As they sneak to Santana’s room, Santana anticipates getting her cuddle on; The only thing that will help her survive the tedious dinner tomorrow.

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