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snowdice · 4 years

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Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 15]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. Chapters 3-7 and what I have of Chapter 8 are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

This thing is going to be 1K words with the semester I’m having. :P The plan is to do a lot of work today. I even have my dinner in a crock-pot. I’m giving a presentation on October 13th and want to basically knock out the prep today so I don’t have to have it hanging over my head. Not sure if I will achieve that, but that’s the plan! I have big goals! Wish me luck! :D

Chapter 3

Janus and Remus both appeared at the same moment a couple of feet apart in what looked like the inside of a garden shed. There was already a man waiting for them a few feet away. “Sup babes,” Remy said, just like he always did. The T-Agent looked their costumes up and down and whistled. “Now that,” he said, “almost makes me want to be one of you time jockeys.”

“They wouldn’t let me have a gun or a canister of moonshine,” Remus pouted.

Remy snorted. “Sorry, babes, but that makes my job a lot easier. If I’ve gotta fish you outta the 1920s criminal justice system, I’d rather it not be because you shot someone on accident ‘cause you don’t know how to use the safety.”

Remus groaned dramatically. “Everyone is lame.”

Remy just shook his head. “Meet back here when you’ve got the necklace,” he said. “Don’t make a move until after 11:05pm and before 11:17. That’s your window.”

“We know,” Janus said. “See you then.”

“Have fun at the party boys,” Remy said and then lowered his shades to look at Remus, “but not too much fun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Remus, already towing Janus out of the garden shed. The way had been specifically cleared for them, so they met no other people before they’d rounded the house the party was taking place and had gotten onto the driveway in front of the house.

Without missing a beat, they strolled up to the front of the house, just as a car pulled into the end of the driveway. Janus rang the doorbell, and a few moments later, a man who was clearly the butler answered the door. They handed over their invitation, and the man immediately let them in.

The party had already started when they slipped into the medium sized ballroom that had been decked out in streamers and other decorations. Janus’s nose immediately wanted to scrunch as the smell of sweat from all the dancing already going on as well as the too strong perfume meant to cover that stench wafted over him. It was by far not the worst smelling time period, but he was pretty sure some people still weren’t aware deodorant had been recently invented.

He checked his time piece which had been disguised as a fancy wristwatch for this trip. “Okay,” he said. “We have about two hours before we need to make our move. We should…”

Remus’s attention was already being dragged away by a young man who seemed to be providing guests with food. “I’m going to go ‘mingle’,” he said, winking.

“No!” Janus hissed. “Re- Richard! No!”

Yet, he was already disappearing into the horde of stinky bodies, likely to go scandalize a bunch of rich folks, and leaving Janus alone. Janus mumbled a curse under his breath that he was sure no one around him would understand even if they could make it out.

Unsure what to do with himself, he wandered over towards where the live musicians were playing jazz music, being sure to keep out of the way of the dancers. He was edging around the makeshift dancefloor, when one of said dancers must have misstepped and knocked into another one. The second man stumbled right towards Janus, arms pinwheeling. Janus reached out on instinct to catch the man as he fell.

There was a moment where the two of them just stared at each other, surprise evident on the other man’s face. He was wearing a mask that just covered the area around his eyes and the top of his nose, revealing a smattering of freckles across his cheeks that Janus imagined extended to his nose.

The mask was a light blue velvet with a flower stuck on the side near his right ear, and a trail of curled golden ribbon bobbed down around his chin. The party continued on around them, a blur of movement and sound.

“Are you alright?” Janus asked.

The man blinked up at him and then tilted his head slightly to the side as though confused, before a smile slowly grew on his face. “Oh, I’m fine Dove.”

“Dove?” Janus asked.

He giggled. “You have dove feathers on your mask,” he explained, reaching up a hand to touch one. His finger brushed the tip of Janus’s ear, “and I don’t know what else I am supposed to call you.”

“My name is Lee,” he automatically lied.

“Is it?” he asked, sounding amused. “Doesn’t seem to fit you well. I like Dove better.”

“Oh?” asked Janus. “And what’s your name so I can not call you that?”

The man chuckled. “Call me Pat.”

“Hello Pat,” Janus said.

“I thought you didn’t want to call me by my name.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Hmmm,” Pat said, finger tracing idly across Janus’s forearm which was when Janus realized with a start that he was still holding the man in his arms. He quickly went to release him, which Pat allowed with clear amusement.

Yet, instead of completely stepping away, Pat grabbed Janus’s arm. “What are you doing all the way over here by the way?” he asked. “Don’t you want to dance.”

“Oh,” Janus hesitated. “I don’t really dance.” Or at least not in the way the people around him were. He’d had basic training for this style, but it had been a while and he was a bit rusty.

“Everyone dances Dove,” Pat claimed. “At least if they know the steps and have the right partner.”

“But I don’t know the steps,” Janus said with an eyebrow raise.

He hummed. “Well, I know the dance pretty well by this point,” Pat said. “Why don’t I teach you how it goes.”

He was agreeing with the soft beseeching tone before he even realized it. Pat pulled him into the middle of the throng of people. He seemed to think, bopping his head to the music playing for a moment, before looking back at Janus. “Heard of James Johnson?”

Janus inclined his head.

“Well, have you heard his new song? Because there’s a dance that goes with it.”

He took a few steps away from Janus and started to dance. Despite his claim to know the steps, he wasn’t particularly good, but he made up for any loss of rhythm with pure enthusiasm.

Janus found himself smiling at the man, and after a few moments, joined in with the dance. Despite his lack of practice, he ended up having a better natural rhythm than Pat. Pat didn’t seem to mind that he was being outperformed, however. On the contrary, he giggled at himself the couple of times he stumbled.

When he fell into Janus’s arms for the second time that night, Janus decided he’d probably had enough dancing for the moment and pulled him off to the side to get something to drink and cool down a bit.

He watched the man take a snack and some punch from one of servers and thank him happily before turning back to Janus. Pat was easily able to keep Janus’s attention as they chatted. He was bubbly and soft, and Janus found himself enchanted as they talked.

He was explaining the steps of a different dance, a couples one. “Knowing how to perform the tango will entrance any girl you want,” Pat said, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. “Assuming you’re that type of fella.”

“As opposed to what?” Janus asked.

Pat leaned in a bit closer. Not too much, but enough that he was definitely in Janus’s space. “A different type of fella,” he said simply, before smiling and leaning back.

Janus let out a shaky exhale and took a sip of punch. He glanced over at Pat. “Tell me about yourself, Pat,” he said.

Pat hummed in contemplation. “Well, I went to France recently.”

“You did?”

“Oui, c'était amusant, mais j'ai eu des ennuis”

“What kind of trouble?” Janus asked curiously.

“Oh, the kind with a pretty boy and crepes that were way too sweet. Anyway,” he continued. “Other than that, I mostly help out my friend. He’s an inventor.”

“And how do you help him.”

He shrugged, “Running errands mostly, and making sure he gets enough sleep, because otherwise he gets distracted and forgets. And you?”

“I’m a banker,” he said, remembering his cover, but felt compelled to add, “but I like to travel as well.”

“You do look the type?”

“And how is that?”

Pat shrugged. “I can always tell a wandering spirt from the masses, and you are easy to spot.” Pat looked at him then with a secret smile on his face, and Janus felt suddenly known, like the man in front of him had known him for years even though they’d only just met. Looking at him then, he wanted suddenly for that to be fact and not a flight of fancy.

He was brought firmly back to reality in the next moment. “Lee,” a pointed and familiar voice said. Janus’s head snapped up to see Remus, staring at him. He tapped his wrist. Janus glanced at his own wrist: 10:58pm. He just barely managed not to curse.

“I,” he said looking up at Pat. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“That’s okay,” Pat said easily. “It is getting rather late.”

“Yes,” Janus agreed. “Well… goodbye.”

Pat, titled his head, a half smile on his face. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

Janus nodded, and turned away from him towards Remus. He didn’t look back as they excited the ballroom. They snuck into a small side closet for coats that wasn’t being used as it was summer.

“So,” Remus said when the door closed behind them.

“Don’t,” warned Janus.

“I’m not one to judge,” Remus said.

“Shut up.” He glanced at his watch. It was 11:02. “We’ll go in 5.”

“I have to give it to you. He was very cute.”

“We’re not talking about it.”

Remus just laughed joyfully, and Janus did his best to halt the blood rushing to his cheeks.

At 11:07, well into their window, they slipped back out of the closet, and towards the stairs as the party raged on.

Despite how Remus usually never shut up, he was able to be quiet when it counted. They snuck to the master bedroom of the home’s owners in silence. The door was already wide open by the time they got there, and Janus didn’t think anything of it. At least, he didn’t until they entered the bedroom, and there was someone already there.

He turned from the dresser he’d been standing in front of to face them, sending Janus the same smile he had down in the ballroom. Janus and Remus both froze. “Sorry, sweetie,” Pat said. “Were you here for this too?” he held up the necklace they’d been sent for. He closed his fist around the charm made out of time travel tech.

“What?” Janus said.

Pat giggled and winked. “Unfortunately, I need it a bit more than you at the moment. So, I’m gonna have to go.” Janus stepped forward, not really sure what he was intending to do, but Pat just smiled. “See you some other time, my Turtle Dove.” With a snap of his fingers and loud crack, he disappeared. The mask he’d been wearing fluttered to the ground.

Arc I: Finding Cinderella

Chapter 4

Janus was frozen in surprise for a few long moments after Pat disappeared. Which had been, admittedly, his mistake, because, while their window had technically been until 11:17pm and it was only 11:10, the loud crack that whatever Pat had been using for time travel made, garnered the attention of someone else.

“Uh oh,” Remus said, likely hearing footsteps. “Hide.”

That snapped Janus into action, but instead of hiding immediately like a sensible human being, he chose to go for the only link to the man who’d just stolen time travel tech and waltzed away, the mask.

Which was why he ended up getting arrested.

Remy tsked the moment they were all alone in the police car having come to ‘transfer Lee to another facility.’ Remus was already waiting in the front seat, and flashed Janus a smug smile. If Janus wasn’t still handcuffed, he’d slap him.

“Well,” Remy said. “At least you didn’t shoot anybody like I asked. I was joking by the way. I didn’t really want to pick you up from a 1920s police station period.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Mmm, nah, ‘cause Remus managed to not get arrested this time, so you defiantly screwed something up.”

“Oh, he defiantly wanted to screw something all right,” Remus said joyfully.

“Remus,” Janus hissed.

“What?” he asked. “I’m not the horny one for once. Well, no, that’s a lie, but it didn’t affect the job this time.”

Janus groaned and leaned his head back against the seat.

Remy pulled into a seemingly random garage around 20 minutes later. “Alright,” he said. “Here we are.” He got out of the car and then helped Janus out before uncuffing him. “Here’s your ‘watch,’” Remy handed him the timepiece that had been confiscated when he’d been arrested.

Janus put it on and activated it. “Shit,” he said.

“What?” Remus asked.

“An appointment with cultural outreach has already been downloaded to my calendar for once we get out of decon.”

“Oof. Going to baby jail,” Remy laughed. Remus was cackling.

“This,” Janus said, “was not a cultural faux pas. I did nothing that indicated that I was not from this time. I am not some rookie.”

“Don’t forget cell phones don’t exist in the 1920s,” Remus sang.

“The real question is whether or not my foot exists in your…” Remus disappeared before he could finish, a smirk on his face. Janus growled. “By Remy,” he gritted out. He selected the decontamination chamber from his queue, ignoring the appointment that came after it for now.

He knew exactly where Remus would be standing when he landed, which was why he stepped forward on reentry to ram into him.

He yelped in surprise. “Sorry,” Janus said pleasantly. “I must have also forgotten landing procedures.

Remus laughed good naturally. “Aw, come on Jay,” he said, bumping Janus back, albeit much gentler than Janus had been. “It’s not a big deal. You just go talk with some crusty old college professor who is far too interested in spoons and then everything’s fine.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he growled. “They’re treating me like I’m an idiot who accidently invented disco in the 1920s when I was conned by some free agent time traveler.”

“‘Conned,’ Remus said. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“I know where and when you live Remus,” Janus said.

Remus gave him a dopey smile as the decontamination cycle finished and the door unlocked. Janus’s wrist buzzed telling him that the coordinates to the cultural outreach office were now unlocked. Instead of pulling them up, Janus walked to the door.

“Um,” Remus said, following him. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to your appointment?” Janus just kept walking towards their office. “Uh… Jan?”

“It’s absolutely ridiculous that I have to go to cultural outreach,” Janus said. “In fact, no one can make me. If they want me to go have a discussion about the definition of ‘bushwa,’ they’re going to have to have me dragged there.”

“Mmm, I feel like The Boss won’t be too happy about that, and I have a feeling she’d be 100% down to dragging you there herself.”

“Well, then, let her,” Janus said, stalking through the door to his office. “I’m not going to…”

“Ah, Agent Picani,” the woman standing next to his desk, clearly waiting for him, said when he came through the door. “Dr. Picani was informed that there were complications with your last mission and wishes to have a conversation with you and asks that you meet him in his office at the AMO.”

“Oh, um,” Janus said, stumbling a bit before plastering on a regretful half smile. “Unfortunately, I actually have an appointment right now at Cultural Outreach. It’s mandatory and very important, and I have to go now. So, I’ll have to take a raincheck on that.”

“But-” she started, frowning.

“Remus, work on the report!” Janus said quickly as he waved his hand to bring up his timepiece display and jammed his finger at the glowing appointment card in his queue. A few moments later, Janus was at Cultural Outreach.

Cultural Outreach was not part of the TPI, though it often worked very closely with them. It was a collaboration between the government and multiple universities to help government workers, politicians, and other citizens understand and bridge cultural gaps. It had existed before time travel was invented but had expanded to also teach people who needed to time travel how to behave in unfamiliar times and cultures.

After it had to be expanded to provide for the TPI, it had been moved to Silver Mountains University. The building had once just been a museum, but it had been thoroughly renovated and there had been add-ons for office space and some classrooms. It was still a museum, however, its purpose had expanded greatly and there were many areas that were off limits to the general public.

One of these areas was the fourth floor, where Janus’s timepiece had dumped him. This was the floor that was almost exclusively for TPI agents and staff of Cultural Outreach who worked with them.

He immediately turned away from the reception area, hoping that he could escape and go sit on the university’s quad or something of the like for the next hour or so in hopes the woman his brother sent to fetch him would give up and go back to the AMO. Yet, the receptionist apparently saw him.

“Janus Picani?” he asked.

Janus grimaced and turned back towards him. “Yes,” he said.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You’re 5 minutes late for your appointment and seem disoriented.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Is your timepiece malfunctioning?”

“No.”

“Uh… okay. Well, if you sign in here, I can take you to your appointment.”

“…Fine.”

He begrudgingly stepped forward and touched the screen he’d gestured to sign with his fingerprint, and then let the man lead him down the hall.

The door they stopped at was propped open slightly, but he still paused and knocked. “Professor Eran? Your 2:30 is here.”

Janus had just a moment upon hearing the name to think that maybe there was actually some sort of intelligent design of the universe and whatever being of ultimate power had crafted it was a dick.

The door opened and Virgil Eran’s eyes immediately narrowed on him. “Janus.”

“Virgil.”

“I see you’re still late for everything.”

“I see you’re still a bastard.”

Janus saw the receptionist slowly back away in the direction they’d come.

“Why don’t you come in?” Virgil said faux pleasantly.

Janus did, because he really didn’t have much of a choice at this point unless he wanted to jump out of a window… or push someone out of a window.

Virgil turned back into his office and took a seat behind his desk. Janus unhappily followed him in and sat across from him.

He took his time pulling up whatever the TPI sent him and reading it over. “So, I see you failed your recovery mission and were arrested in 1923.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Janus said. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Virgil gave him that same suspicious look he used to give Janus whenever Janus claimed to have not eaten his hot pockets out of the freezer in the middle of the night. He’d only been lying 80% of the time. Virgil had a tendency to forget what he’d eaten in a half-conscious state at 3 o’clock in the morning.

“I shouldn’t,” Janus snapped defensively. “Nothing went wrong with anyone from the time period. An illegal time traveler screwed up the mission details.”

“Well, it is still protocol to make sure nothing slipped when agents go off script. You weren’t prepared to be in a jail cell, and it is possible that you screwed something up.”

“I didn’t screw anything up,” Janus growled.

“Alright,” Virgil said pulling up a document on his desk. “The mission started on July 27th, 1923 at 9:58pm, correct?”

“Oh, god, we’re not really going to fill out a time sheet. I don’t have time for that today.”

“It is protocol and best that the information is documented when it is still fresh in your mind. Besides, your schedule has been cleared for the rest of the workday.” The bastard was enjoying this. He knew how much Janus hated this stuff.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Janus said, “it was the damned illicit time traveler.”

“And I will be the judge of that,” Virgil said. Janus should have just bit the bullet and had coffee with his brother. “If you truly did nothing wrong, your supervisor will see that when I send this to her.”

Yet, despite the fact that Virgil clearly relished in his suffering, he was charitable enough to do most of the actual filling out of the forms. He’d read out the questions and write down what Janus said instead of making him do it himself. Janus really only had to do a quick quality check and sign it at the end.

He still was an asshole about the details, but really he’d been like that about stupid thing like the settings for the dish washer and how the pantry was organized during their college days before they’d had their falling out, so Janus wasn’t particularly surprised. When they were finally done, Virgil sent it off to get filed by the TPI.

Then, they were left staring at each other with nothing between them but almost a decade of radio silence and a whole lot of awkwardness.

“I should go,” Janus finally said, standing up.

Virgil tilted his head slightly to the side and gave him a half smile. “Don’t lock the door behind you,” he said. “Not that I’d expect you too.”

Janus took it for the clear attempt at a joke it was intended to be and puffed out a breath of amusement with a head shake. “No risk of that,” he said. Then, he turned and walked out of the office.

Chapter 5

Janus stepped back into the reception area and booted up his time piece. Instinct said to go back to the office despite the fact that it was late enough that most people had gone home, but he hesitated. Surely Emile had given up by now, but considering he’d sent someone to ambush him in his office, Janus wasn’t sure if he should trust that. He could just go home, but he already knew his mind was racing too much to sleep tonight so he’d probably just end up staring at the lake for the next 6 hours. So, he decided on the only other legitimate option he had. He pulled up Remus’s home coordinates and selected.

The home that Remus had chosen (after his long line of rejected requests) managed to somehow make no and absolute sense simultaneously to anyone who knew him. It was a small farm in the United States just west of the Mississippi in 1842 in what would be ratified as the state of Iowa in a few years. When asked why he would choose that time and place, Remus always responded with “I thought it was funny,” whatever that meant.

Unlike most time agents who simply used the identities assigned to them by the AMO as a cover, Remus actually lived his part time.

Janus was… fairly certain he was cheating a bit to get everything done, but he maintained his small farm all on his own, growing most of his own food. The neighbors he had lived very far away, but he still spoke with them far more than Janus did his own.

Janus appeared inside the small home, his eyes already shut. “Are you hear and dressed?” Janus called. Something bumped lightly into his legs.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Janus peaked his eyes open and squatted to pet the cat at his feet. “That doesn’t answer my question!” he called back to Remus.

“It’s a surprise!” Remus said.

“Remus.” Diesel Fuel the cat flopped to her side on the ground as Janus continued to pet her ears. He heard Remus’s footsteps, and saw cloth covering his legs, so risked looking up. He was currently not only dressed, but wearing an apron that Janus was fairly sure was not time appropriate judging by the fabric and cat pawprint design. He had a bit of flour on his hands, and it may have been a bit too white for the time and place, but Janus couldn’t be completely sure.

“What’re you doing here?” Remus asked.

“My day has been an endless series of frustrations,” Janus said. “So, I have come to see the only tolerable being in the history of the universe.”

Remus snorted. “Since I know that isn’t me, I’ll assume you’re talking about the cat.”

“I still don’t understand why you tolerate this creature,” Janus addressed Diesel Fuel. She blinked slowly up at him. “To be fair, he was assigned as my partner. I didn’t have much of a choice in it. You could go always run away and become feral in the woods if you’d like.”

“So could you, technically,” Remus pointed out.

“I’m thinking about it after today.”

“Would you like some bread?” Remus asked. “That’s all I’ve been making this afternoon. Some fresh should be coming out of the oven in a few minutes.”

“Do you have anything stronger made out of wheat?”

“Ew, no, but I do have vodka.”

“Vodka works.”

“Want me to mix it with something?”

“No.”

“One of those night then,” Remus said, easily. “Let me finish up the bread, so I don’t burn the kitchen down. You can go get the alcohol from the cellar while you wait if you want, or you can just flop down on the couch.”

He was going to just flop down on the couch.

He did just that as Remus disappeared back into his kitchen. The cat hopped onto his stomach, proceeding to purr loudly and kneed at chest. Janus petted the cat and listened to the noise of Remus moving around in the other room, letting his mind drift. His mind drifted to Virgil for a bit and he steadfastly did not allow it to drift to his brother. Yet, the thing that most was on his mind was the strange man who had flirted and charmed Janus all night before mercilessly screwing him over. ‘Pat’ he’d said his name was, but surely that was not his real name.

Janus sighed and scratched the cat’s ear. “He certainly wasn’t an amateur,” Janus mused to the cat. “With that amount of precision to get in before we did, he must have someone not on the ground feeding him information. Perhaps more than one.” He was part of a group of time traveling thieves perhaps or something worse. “I didn’t get a good look at his face since he was wearing a mask,” Janus said, “but I spent a lot of time with him, and I’m sure Remy swiped the mask from the police since it had been on me when I was arrested. It’s a good lead.”

He continued to pet Diesel Fuel. Eventually, Remus came back in, noticed Janus hadn’t bothered to get the alcohol and went outside to the cellar. “I’m going to find him,” Janus told Diesel Fuel. “I’ll stop whatever it is he’s doing, and I’ll bring him in.” Diesel Fuel mewed her support, and Janus patted her on top of the head.

Remus came back in with the bottle of vodka and handed it to him without a word. He sat down on the couch near Janus’s feet and patted his lap so Diesel Fuel would come over to him and allow Janus to sit up.

The bastard waited until he was approximately 3 shots in (he didn’t have a shot glass and was just taking drinks from the bottle) to ask the questions Janus really didn’t want to answer. “Are you mad at Emile?” Remus asked.

Janus groaned, trying to wash out the bitter taste of shame and grief with the sharp sting of vodka. It didn’t work. “No,” he said to Remus.

“Then why have you been avoiding him?”

“Shit, I’m here because I didn’t want to think about it. Can’t we just not.”

“Don’t want to think about what?

“It’s none of your business, Remus.”

He could feel Remus frowning at him, but Janus stared resolutely ahead. At least, he did until a foot poked his face. He slapped it away, but it did the job of getting Janus to look at Remus.

“It is my business,” Remus said, foot still in the air. “I’m your partner and your friend.”

“If I’m your friend, you’ll drop it.”

“So, you’re not mad at Emile,” Remus continued, contemplatively. “Did you do something to him, then?” Janus bit his lip and looked away. “What?” Remus asked. Janus didn’t respond. “Look, I’m sure he’ll forgive you for whatever it is. He’s a good guy. Just talk to him about it.”

“I can’t,” Janus said.

“Whatever it is, it’s probably been long enough that he forgives you. You literally just have to have a conversation, say you’re sorry, and everything will be A-OK.”

“I can’t,” Janus repeated.

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about it.”

Remus paused. “So, as far as he knows, you just cut contact with him all of a sudden for no reason and have been avoiding him ever since?”

Janus looked at his shoes. “Yeah.”

“That…” Remus said, “is not fucking fair Janus.”

“I know.”

“Then why the hell are you doing that to him? He’s like… soft and feeling-y. He’s probably really upset.”

“I know, Remus.”

“Tell him. Whatever it is.”

“I can’t.”

“Look,” Remus said. “You tell him and he either forgives you or he doesn’t. If he does, everything’s fine. If he doesn’t… well, it’s not like it would be any different from you two never being in the same room the last few years. Either way, you can’t just do this to him. He’ll probably forgive you. He’s your brother. Brothers don’t… brothers would forgive each other.”

Janus laughed softly and met Remus’s eyes. “That’s the problem,” he said. “He’d definitely forgive me.” He turned away and opened the vodka bottle again. “Now, if you’ll shut up for a few minutes, I’m going to drink until I black out.”

Chapter 6

“Really, Khalid,” Janus said, storming into his boss’s office. “A yellow?” It had been about a week since the 1920s incident, and his incident report had finally been cleared. Sure, it wasn’t a red or a black and he wasn’t facing any reprimand, but it should have been a green.

She looked up at him, clearly unconcerned. “There was an incident,” she said. “You handled it well, but there was one. Therefore, yellow.”

“It wasn’t a time travel incident! It was a rouge time traveler.”

“Janus, you helped me make these rules,” she said impatiently.

“Which is why I know this is bullshit,” he snapped.

She rolled her eyes. “If it was anyone else, you would agree with me. While you didn’t go against protocol and had no time related incidents, the fact of the matter is, you were still distracted by this ‘rouge time traveler,’ didn’t complete your mission, and were arrested.”

“He was good,” Janus said. “You can’t fault me for that. He also could be dangerous and you’re busy handing out yellows instead of working to track him down.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We are working on tracking him down,” she said. “We have done an analysis on the mask and found fibers dating to the 2010s and some DNA. Though it isn’t exactly a high priority.”

“We have no idea who he is or what he’s planning to do. Why is that not a high priority thing?”

“At the moment?” she asked. “Because we have reports of a time bomb being activated.”

“What?” Janus asked sitting up. “When?”

“New Years Eve going into the year 3,000 in Brazil,” she said. “Which you’d know about if you’d bothered to check your integration port this morning before storming into my office.”

“It’s my mission?” Janus asked.

“The incident investigation is over and your active again despite the dreaded yellow,” she said, clearly making fun of him a bit. “So, yes, and it’s a high priority mission, so I’ll be running it.”

“Who all is going?” he asked.

“Other than the two of us, Remus, Lena, and Fred,” she told him. “We leave in three hours, so, you might want to run off to Rhi before Fred gets to her and ties her up for an hour on details.”

Janus nodded and got to his feet. He turned back at the door. “I still don’t deserve the yellow,” he hissed.

She waved him off. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Picani.”

He ground his teeth a bit about the dismissal of his worries, but his resentment was slightly soothed by the fact that she’d assigned him to go on such a high priority mission and with only senior agents.

He took the advice and grabbed Remus from the office, noting Lena hadn’t been able to wrangle Fred yet as she was still at her desk, and they both headed off to see Rhi.

A few hours later, they were all in decontamination together, decked out in truly god-awful costumes. The turn of the third millennia had been a wild event, and the best way to fit in was to look like you’d grabbed something from every century in recorded human history, dyed it in neon paint, and rolled around in a vat of glitter.

Remus had opted to stick his head in a vat of glow in the dark green paint that costuming had offered them, and it wasn’t even going to be slightly disruptive to their covertness.

In fact, costuming had frowned when Janus had insisted he not get his hair dyed and instead wore a bowler hat. They had required him to have flowers made out of glitter on it.

There were five people waiting for them when they landed 6 hours before the turn of the millennia. Three were touchdown agents, including Remy, and two were on location tech support. Usually it would be overkill to have that many people there just for support even with five agents in the field, but today the TPI needed to be cautious because they were planning on instituting a time lock.

Time bombs were dangerous things that would ripple through time if not contained. Even if it did end up going off (killing everyone in its reach), the time lock would serve to prevent most damage outside of the city and, more importantly, the year it was planted.

Janus had only been in two time locks before, and he was one of the most senior agents in the TPI, outranked only by the founder: Lia Khalid. Time locks were designed to keep all time linear in a certain fixed time and geographical area as well as prevent any time travel in and out. Once it was engaged, all forms of time travel would not work for the duration, bar the pin device. Khalid was already switching out her regular timepiece with the slightly bigger one that was designed to support the time lock.

There was a failsafe back at the TPI that could be engaged in an emergency, which was why tech support was here, but other than that, the only thing that could break the time lock was that timepiece, and it would break the moment the time lock ended.

As soon as it was on Khalid’s wrist, she looked up at them all. “Our information says the time bomb was planted in the costume of one of the ‘Millennium Birds’ who are the organizers of the different events,” she said. Janus had seen a photo of the identical costumes in the mission details. They were all robe like garments with giant fans of feathers coming from the neck that coalesced in a peak a foot above their head to hold a fake bird egg. At least they’d be easy to find. “There are 25 of them throughout the city. We need to find each of them. So, we don’t double count, you’ll need to subtly,” her eyes touched on Remus, “scan each one you find for the bomb and tag them with a tracker if it’s not on them. You can view the already tagged ones, as well as the rest of us on your timepiece even once the time lock is engaged. When you find the bomb, call it in.”

They all nodded, and Khalid looked over at one of the techies. She nodded at her and then the techie flipped a couple of switches. “Three, two, one,” the techie said. There was a slight shift in the air that most people would disregard, but Janus as a seasoned time traveler could feel the change even before his wrist buzzed. He glanced at his timepiece to see it had a big red ‘X’ across its display. He tapped it and was still able to bring up the map of the city with 10 green dots on it all clustered together in their current location.

After that, he tested the scanner on his timepiece that he would use to search for the bomb, just to make sure the time lock hadn’t messed anything up with his equipment. He glanced up to see everyone else was doing the same.

“Keep in contact,” Khalid said before everyone split up. Janus and Remus started by going North while Fredrick and Darlene were to go South. Khalid was a floater who would tag any Birds she saw but was mostly there for backup and orders.

Janus and Remus stepped into the chaos of New Years Eve before the turn of the third millennia. The streets were already swamped with people and it would only be getting worse the later it go.

“Where should we start?” Remus asked.

“Let’s go all the way North to the games area,” Janus said. “We can work our way back here.”

“Okay!” Remus said. “I wonder if they have those fun little genetically modified goldfish as prizes. I’ve always wanted to eat one and see if I end up getting whatever design was on the fish on my body.”

Janus gave him a disgusted look.

“What?! People eat fish all the time!”

Janus shook his head. “We’re not playing the games anyway. We have work to do. Important work.”

“Boo,” Remus replied. Janus chose to ignore him as he spotted one of the Millenia Birds letting people into the gaming area.

They walked over towards the entrance. Janus got in range first and moved to subtly scan the Millenia Bird, Remus doing the same the next moment. After a second, Janus’s timepiece buzzed and lit up red, meaning the bomb was within range. “Well, that was easy,” he said. “It was on the first one we found.”

“Uh…” Remus said. “Jan.” When Janus looked, he was holding up his wrist to show his green lit time piece.

“What?” Janus asked. He quickly moved to rescan the Millenia Bird, and his timepiece came up green as well. Which, meant the bomb was not in range, even though the Millenia Bird had not moved. “But…” He and Remus’s eyes met, and they quickly both started turning in a circle to look at the crowd around him. No one looked like they’d just stolen a time bomb off the Millennial Bird, but then Janus’s eyes caught on a man. He blended in perfectly to his surroundings. He was wearing the disgusting garb of the times, a large light blue piece that bubbled near his hips, and had most of his skin covered in rainbow neon paints. Yet, something about him, the curl of his hair or the way he moved, drew Janus’s eyes to him. He recognized the man immediately even in a completely different dressing style. Yet, what cinched it was the moment Janus’s eyes met his and they seemed to sparkle slightly in the afternoon sun. The next moment, the person Janus knew as Pat, turned to disappear into the crowd.

Chapter 7

“Him,” was the only thing Janus said before taking off after the figure who had just disappeared into the game area.

“What?” Remus’s voice followed after him. “Janus! What?!”

Janus did not pause, just continuing to run after Pat, hopping over two barricades as a shortcut. Janus cursed when he lost sight of the man for just a moment near the prize table filled with colorful goldfish, but he was able to spot him once again walking into one of the tents. Janus blasted into the tent. It was a game where they raced rats, and when Janus entered, Pat was cooing at one of them.

“Who’s a tiny little squishy precious baby?” he was asking one of them, wiggling his pointer finger at it.

“You,” Janus growled stepping up to him.

He turned and tilted his head at Janus with a frown. “Um, me?” he asked, pointing to his chest, all sorts of innocent, but Janus could see a spot of hidden amusement in his eyes.

“Where is it?”

His eyebrows drew together, but it was an act. It was clearly an act! “Where is what?”

“The…” he glanced around them at the people surrounding them. “Thing you just took.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Pat said with a frown.

“Oh, no,” Janus said. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fooling me twice is not an option.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Pat said. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bull. Shit.”

Just then, Remus jogged into the tent. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“It’s him,” Janus said pointing. “He took it. He has it.”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” Patton said. He looked over to Remus with a confused frown.

Remus looked at Janus. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Janus said. “It’s him. It has to be him. He’s the mask guy.”

Remus squinted at Pat. “He is?”

“Whoever you think I am, I’m not. I haven’t worn a mask all night. I just did the face paint,” he pointed to his cheeks.

Remus raised his wrist and his timepiece lit up green. He looked at Janus.

“I lost sight of him for five seconds. He must have stashed it somewhere,” Janus said. He turned on Pat. “Where did you put it?”

“…Are you,” Pat asked, his eyes going back and forth between Janus and Remus, “… the police?”

“We are, actually,” Khalid said as she stepped into the tent. Remus must have called her. She inserted herself between Janus and Pat. “Agent Khalid,” she said, offering a hand with a smile. Pat looked at it in surprise and then smiled back hesitantly as he took it. “Apologizes, one of the big game prizes was stolen by someone matching your description. Would you mind coming down to security for questioning? Just to clear it up.”

“Oh,” Patton said, hesitant. Janus expected him to refuse outright, but then he said. “Uh, sure.”

“Thank you very much, Mr…”

“Jonas,” Pat told her earnestly. “Do I need to be handcuffed?”

“No,” Khalid said. Janus frowned at her, but she ignored him. “It’s just a talk for now.” She gestured to the tent entrance. “Come with us.”

He did without argument, and Remus and Janus followed behind the both of them. Khalid did not lead them back to the base, but to a little spot that said “security” near the center of the event. Remy was already there waiting for them at a desk.

“Remy, would you please take Mr. Jonas to go sit down?” she asked.

“Sure, boss,” Remy said, standing up. He led Pat away.

Khalid turned to Janus and Remus once they were out of earshot. “What is going on?”

“It’s the mask man,” Janus said, “the one from 1923, and my scanner said the time bomb was on the Millenia Bird outside the games entrance, but then it was gone the next second, and I saw him, and then he ran away.”

“So, does he have it on him?”

“No. I lost sight of him, and he must have stored it somewhere, but I know he took it.”

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“He’s the man from 1923?” she asked.

“Yes! Remus, that’s him, right? You recognize him.”

“Well,” Remus said thoughtfully. “He was in a mask, and it was dark in the room with the necklace. Other than that, I only really saw his back, and he was wearing pants. Mr. Jonas is wearing a dress, so I can’t really tell if their asses match.”

“Okay, but I was with him for hours. I swear it’s him, and I swear he took it,” Janus just about shouted.

“We’ll question him,” Khalid placated, “and Fred and Lena will keep looking in the meantime.”

“He knows where it is,” Janus insisted. “I swear.”

“Okay,” Khalid said, before leaving to follow where Remy and Pat had gone. She stopped Janus with a hand on his shoulder. “I think Remus and I will do the interrogation.” He opened his mouth to argue. “You know the most about him, so observe from the sidelines and see if he makes any mistakes that indicate you’re right.”

“That’s just to placate me and you know it.”

“Observation’s over there,” she said pointing.

He got a thumbs up from Remus as he walked by, and Janus glared at his back before walking off to the indicated location.

He watched as Remus and Khalid entered the room, and Remy left it. Remy joined him in the observation room after leaving and leaned against the wall.

Pat was sitting at a table and watched Remus and Khalid with that same rubbish placid confusion that he had before. “So,” Khalid said, “Mr. Jonas.”

“You can call me Nick,” Pat interrupted.

“Lia,” Khalid replied. He smiled at her happily. “So, are you enjoying your day?” she asked.

“I am!” he replied. “It’s a big day. You only get to see the turn of a millennia once in your life.”

“Ah, yes,” Khalid said. “Doing anything special for it?”

“Um, not really,” he said. “Other than the party. I’m going to meet up with my roommates after dinner. Kevin doesn’t like this sort of thing, and Joe couldn’t come.”

“Your roommates,” Khalid said, considering him. “Do you live around here?”

“Uh huh,” Pat replied.

“Do you have any ID?”

“I do, want me to get it?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Pat unzipped one of the bubbles on his waist and handed her a chip. “Remus, would you mind going out and getting the ID scanner?” she asked, even though her timepiece would be able to read it.

“Ah, shit,” Remy said. “Props. What do those things even look like?”

As Remy scrambled to find something that would pass for an ID reader so “Nick” didn’t get suspicious of Khalid using her timepiece, Janus watched the two alone in the room like a hawk.

“I see you’re wearing a dress inspired by the 2770s,” Khalid noted, as Remus came to stand next to him.

“Yeah!” Pat replied. “Joe made it for me. He’s really good at fashion design!”

“Can I see?” she asked.

With a happy smile, he reached over the table to let her get a look of the sleeves. Janus saw her subtly scan the fabric, probably to make sure it was from the 2990s and not actually from the 2770s. Considering she didn’t mention it, Janus assumed it checked out.

Remy came back with some sort of device then and handed it to Remus who saluted and wandered back into the interrogation room. Khalid pretended to scan the ID in her hand. She handed it back to him without comment. “So, you said you live with your roommates: Joe and Kevin?” she asked.

“Yep!” he replied. “We’re practically like brothers.”

“Would you mind calling them?”

“Erm,” he titled his head like he was confused by the question. “Well, like I said, Joe is a bit busy, but I could definitely call Kevin.

“Here,” Khalid said, “use my phone.”

“I have my own,” he said with a frown.

“Humor me,” she requested.

“Uh, okay,” Pat agreed. He took the offered 2999 phone and dialed a number on it. Khalid reached over to put it on speaker.

“Hello?” a voice asked after a few seconds.

“Um, hey Kevin, it’s Nick.”

There was a sigh on the other end. “Hello Nick, is something wrong? Why are you calling me from someone else’s phone?”

“I’m fine, I think.” He looked up at Khalid. “Why am I calling him exactly?”

“Hello, I’m Officer Khalid,” Khalid said. “I just wanted to confirm that you are Nick Jonas’s roommate, and he does live in Manaus.”

“Yes, we live together with our other roommate,” the man replied flippantly. “Officer? Is something wrong?”

“I believe there was just a case of mistaken identity,” Khalid said.

“Bullshit there was!” Janus hissed, though she could not hear him.

“No need to worry,” Khalid continued.

“I’m good Kevin,” Pat said.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Kevin asked.

“Don’t be Paranoid, Kevin. I’ll see you Tonight for the New Years Celebration. You know I Live to Party.”

“I am hanging up now,” Kevin said.

“No! Comeback.” The line went dead. Pat handed the device back to Khalid.

She took it and smiled at him. “Give us just a couple of minutes,” she requested. He nodded easily, and she and Remus exited the interrogation room. “I… think we’re done here,” Khalid said.

“No, he’s lying,” Janus insisted, and got a dubious look in return. “I know he is! Remus!”

“The alibi is pretty solid…” Remus said, “and he doesn’t have the bomb on him.”

“Oh, come on,” Janus said. “You can’t say there is nothing fishy going on here.”

Khalid and Remus shared a look. “Janus,” Khalid said. “I respect your intuition. It is usually very good, but you have been a bit intense about the man from the 1920s, and I think that may be blinding you a bit...”

“I am not imagining this!” Janus said. “That’s him and he took it.”

“You only met him once while he was wearing a mask,” Khalid pointed out with a frown, “and you didn’t see him take the bomb, did you?”

“No, but he looked at me and I knew,” Janus argued. They both gave him a skeptical look. “Oh, come on!”

“You know that’s a little weak, Jan,” Remus said.

“Let me talk to him,” Janus requested. “Just give me five minutes to talk with him.”

Khalid raised one eyebrow. “Fine,” she agreed. “You have five minutes, but after that, you have to let it go. We can’t waste any more time.”

Chapter 8

Pat looked up as Janus stepped into the interrogation room. “Hi,” he said with an innocent smile that could cut steal.

Janus didn’t say a word as he took a seat; he just watched him intently. He leaned slightly over the table and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “So, your name is Nick this time?” Janus asked.

“Nicholas Jonas,” he said. “Always has been.”

“Stop it,” Janus said.

“Stop what?”

“Cut the crap. I know.”

Pat leaned forward, mirroring Janus as he leaned closer, interlocking his fingers and laying his chin on top of his knuckles. “What did you say your name was again?” he asked, pleasantly.

“Janus,” Janus replied.

“No, I’m Jonas,” he said, pointing to his chest.

“Not Jonas,” Janus spat. “Janus.”

“Um,” Pat said, eyes alight with amusement. The bastard. “Those are the same words.”

“No, they’re not. It’s Janus. J-A-N-U.-S.”

“Well, that’s confusing,” Pat said with a frown, but his nose was crinkling. “It’s close to my name. You should go by a nickname instead.”

“What?” Janus said. “No.”

Pat hummed. “How about Love Bug?”

“What! No!” Janus sputtered, almost flipping the table, as Pat winked at him.

“BB Good?”

“What does that even mean?!”

“Mandy.”

“No!”

“Okay, okay, how about Macy Misa.”

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Janus stared at him for a moment. “Fine. Whatever. What was I even talking about?”

“Hmm. I Believe we were talking about my name and how you think it’s not my name.”

“Right,” Janus said. “So, Nick. That was your roommate, Kevin on the phone, right? He seemed a bit unhappy with you. Any reason?”

“Nah, we’re Cool” said Pat. “That’s Just the Way We Roll.”

“Not because you’re messing up a mission right now?”

Pat’s eyes crinkled together. “A mission?” he parroted. “I’m not messing up a mission.”

“Oh, really?” Janus growled. “Because you’ve been captured by the TPI, and I know who you are and what you’ve been doing.”

“I have no idea what the TPI is,” he claimed.

“Yes, you do!” Janus said, standing up. “You obviously do! Or you wouldn’t be playing this game!”

“Game?” Pat asked. “Macy I ask you what you’re talking about.”

“This is all just a game to you isn’t it!” Janus said, slamming his hands down on the table in front of them.

“Whoa,” Pat said, putting his hands up. “Calm down. Your face is getting all red. You must be Burnin’ Up.”

“I’m not sure what, but something about what you just said pisses me off.”

“And that is five minutes,” Khalid said, bursting into the room. He felt a tug on the back of his shirt and glared back at Remus who was putting his own body between Janus and Pat.

“There was no way that was five minutes,” Janus growled.

“It was five minutes,” Khalid gritted out. “Remus, get him out of here.”

“Come on Jay,” Remus said, dragging him back towards the door.

“Remus, I swear to god.”

“Just chill, Janus,” Remus said, slamming the door closed behind them.

Janus shrugged him off. “You chill!” he snapped. “He’s playing you all for the fool.”

“Wow, Macy,” Remy drawled like an asshole. “I’ve never seen you so fired up.”

“Oh, my gosh. No one is going to believe me, and he’s going to get away with this.”

“You’re not really helping your case, babe,” Remy said.

Remus grabbed him by the shoulders again. “Here, let’s go get some water.”

“I don’t want water,” he said even as he let Remus lead him to another room to get a glass of water.

“Look,” Remus said. “I know the Mask Guy thing really sucked, but you have to look at the facts.

“I am looking at the facts,” Janus insisted, “and the facts are, he’s fucking with me.”

“You don’t know what mask guy looks like,” Remus said. “You didn’t see Nick take the time bomb, he has an ID from this time period and a roommate in this time he called on the phone, and he legitimately seems to not know what any of us are talking about.”

“Did you even listen to our conversation?” Janus asked. “He was screwing with me the entire time!”

“Janus…” Remus said.

“What?” Janus said, narrowing his eyes at Remus’s tone.

“I know you recently had a bad experience, but not everyone who flirts with you is doing it out of evil.”

Janus’s mouth hung open for a few seconds. “That’s what you got out of our conversation?”

“He called you Love Bug.”

Janus felt his face heat a bit at the reminder. “That’s not… I. I’m stealing your cat and then never speaking to you again.”

Remus laughed. “Ah,” he said. “Young lust.”

Janus elbowed him roughly in the side. “No!”

“Yes!” he crooned, pleased.

#study break stories #not writing

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sgntaeho · 4 years

Photo

❱❭ sgn task #01 ; “kiss me thru the phone"

a peak into kwon taeho’s phone;

✦ what kind of cell phone do you have? ⁠ iphone 11 pro, midnight green

✦ how often do you use your cell phone? no more and no less than the average person my age. honestly depends on how much i’m not paying attention in class or other involuntary functions

✦ what is your phone’s lock screen photo? (see above)

✦ what is your phone’s home screen photo? (see above); just trying to catch some summer vibes, ya feel?

✦ how many contacts do you have in your phone? around 400? only cause i don’t bother to clear things out. i can’t remember who half of them are, and i definitely won’t be hitting them up anytime in this lifetime

✦ do you customize contact names or enter as given names? mostly given names; unless we’re close (or you’re a memorable character), in which case you’ll get a spirit emoji or something tacked onto the end. i’m not slick with nicknames, so unless you set one for yourself, i’d rather not try

✦ what is their default ringtone? whatever the factory setting is

✦ do you have personalized ringtones for your contacts or does everyone use the default ringtone? everyone on default; too much of a hassle otherwise, and i don’t take enough calls or have my volume up for it to matter anyways

✦ how many alarms do you have set and why? i only have one actively set for the morning but have way too many saved, for nearly every time of day. i’m a weirdo who’d rather spend 30 seconds scrolling through my endless list of alarms instead of just setting a new one for the time i need. also times always set on odd numbers (xx:01, xx:09, xx:13, etc.) and never on nice times that end in xx:00, xx:15, x:30, etc. because i hate even or clean-cut numbers

✦ what are your top 3 most used apps? imessage (+ other messaging apps), instagram, spotify

✦ what are your favorite apps? reddit is my guilty pleasure and safe space. twitter is fun even though i personally don’t tweet much (or else i’d spend all day fighting people on there, and i get enough of that in real life). also spotify because i’m almost always listening to something and can’t stand being idle in silence

✦ what are your last 3 google searches or the last 3 things you’ve asked your built in ai? ⮕ "memento movie ending interpretations” ⮕ "do you get notifications if someone screenshots your instagram story” ⮕ "can i feed my cat grapes”

✦ do you delete your internet search history or use incognito mode? if so, how often, and why? i’ll use incognito; not because i feel the need to hide anything, but because i don’t want too many one-time searches polluting my ‘recommended’ results later on. that shit’s the worst

✦ do you download music or use a streaming app? if so, which one and why? self-proclaimed spotify supremacist here. they have a comprehensive stock of both korean and non-korean stuff, which is a must. plus it’s so much easier to curate playlists, jump around, and discover new music without me having to fully commit to buying and downloading something (...does this say something more about me as a person?)

✦ what are the last 3 songs you’ve listen to on your phone? ♫ ‘error’ by ash island ft. loopy ♫ ‘all day (band ver.)’ by giriboy ♫ ‘please love me’ by colde (yeah, i’m a sucker for k-hiphop/rnb)

✦ what does your photo album consist of? it’s a pretty scary and eclectic place in there. to start, i take a lot of screenshots: receipts of when my friends say stupid things, school stuff, cocktail recipes, the outright ridiculous shit my dad’s various news outlets will put out (which i subsequently flame him for whenever we actually have to talk). so. many. cat. pics — but they’re fucking cute, alright? some random fit pics and fashion inspo. to be completely frank, there are more selfies than i’d like to admit and some... highly cringe gym pics. but none of that is being sent for anyone else’s eyes, so it’s chill. totally chill... and of course, i have a lot of stuff for photography club in the cloud.

✦ what is your texting style? do you reply quickly or are you a slow texter? do you send several messages at a time or paragraphs? i’m not the type to be texting a million people at once, so if we’re talking, i’ll probably reply pretty promptly. sometimes i’ll drop off the face of the earth, but try not to take it too personally. i definitely tend to spam send multiple, shorter messages as opposed to a single longer one. chaotic thoughts, grammar, and structure alike

✦ what are the last 3 texts you’ve sent? ⮕ vince: "is this dry needling thing supposed to be hurting still? it’s been a whole ass week...” ⮕ junhyung: "stop texting me” ⮕ hyunjoo: "hey, do you know when my mom is getting back home?”

✦ who do you text the most? couldn’t really tell you for sure. i’m not the type of person who needs to live update their life over text to somebody, and i’m not particularly invested in every little thing someone else is doing either, no offense. among my guy friends, we can maintain friendships without a whole lot of constant talking. so if i’m texting someone in high volume and frequency, it’s probably because we’re arguing over something (i’m sure you aren’t even surprised by now). or, it could be a girl i’m interested in and that’s like... not so common either.

✦ what are your top 6 used emojis? 😤 🙃 🥴 👀 🤷‍♂️ 😈

✦ how often do you call others? i hate phone calls. they’re clunky af, and you always have to awkwardly go “i-- oh-- no you go ahead” because you’re always interrupting each other. quite often people call me and i purposely watch it go to voicemail and text them back some time after, because i don’t want to pick up. so really, i only call when it’s really necessary. i think facetime is better and cool for casual though, so i’ll do that with friends instead.

✦ who were the last 3 calls made to and why? assuming you mean traditional phone calls... ⮕ dad (well more like my dad’s assistant) — to tell him to gtfo of my school life and stop signing on to throw money at (or ‘sponsor’) things without telling me. i can already tell he’s gearing up to pitch me the ‘you should take over the company’ case again when i get home for break ⮕ older sister — just to make sure she’s alive or well or whatever. total nuisance ⮕ campus police — i just had to... test a little something about their alarm infrastructure. please don’t ask any more

✦ who do you call the most? again, i don’t like calling people — few things in life are that urgent. but my mom, i guess. she calls me a lot when she’s not shooting for something, but i think it’s just to make herself feel like she’s doing the most as a mother

✦ do you have someone blocked? if so, who and why? no. i’m not petty or proactive enough to do something like that, even to the most annoying of people... now that i think about it, i should probably block an ex or two, just so drunk me won’t even get the chance to do anything stupid. but it’s not like i’ve ever done anything like that before, so whatever.

✦ are you apart of any group chats? with whom? just what you’d expect: swim team, photography club, people in my major, friends i’ll go out with on weekends, and so forth. albeit i’m that guy who shamelessly has the group on mute, so you’re probably going to have to aggressively @ me if you want me. then there’s the family group chat, which is mostly my parents getting on my case and making sure i have family obligations marked on my calendar while my sister sits back and laughs at my pain.

✦ do you use the notes app? yep... i have a lot of thoughts, okay?

#{ tasks }#sgn:task01 #(/irrelevant title but had to pay tribute to a throwback jam lol)

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chrisevansgoodgirl · 5 years

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i just wanna be loved by you

summary: all of this shit bc the reader got a new piercing. after Thanos, obviously changed some things. Steve stayed right put where he should be and no one is dead.

warnings: like, everything. all of this is basically smut and there’s a lot of shit in here. like the usual. daddy kinks. captain kinks. mirror sex. anal sex. oral sex all over the place. choking. all of that shit. and language, there are 66 variations of the word fuck in here. and some of that angst shit bc y’all know me if you read good love.

word count: sorry 😂😂😂 more than 16,600. someone should have stopped me long ago.

relationships: steve x reader x carol mentions of: steve x reader x bucky, steve x bucky, steve x thor

a/n: i couldn’t tell you why this took me so long to post. time just got away from me 🤷🏻‍♀️. sorry i’m a disaster, sorry this is a disaster too tbh. but thanks for the enthusiasm over my initial post, it was the only reason i didn’t give up on this. i’m also not opposed to writing more for this specific trio in this world i’m writing about, so lemme know if you’ve got ideas?

Two Captains in time-out? That had to be a punch-line, right? No, it was merely your life being in love with two adult children with serious possessive tendencies and cockiness that wouldn’t prohibit either from acting on said tendencies.

They were both assholes on their best days, if you had to be honest.

They both smirked at you the exact same way when they were doing something they shouldn’t. They both came home, kissed your forehead, then your mouth, and asked how your day was. They were both so stubborn that sometimes you wanted to kick them out of the apartment and demand that they go back to the Tower for a week or two, maybe a year, but that had yet to happen. They were both reckless at times. They were both dedicated, to you, to saving the world and then some, to everything they did.

And they both loved you more than you could comprehend sometimes.

You could list their similarities for days; it seemed they were the same person sometimes, wired the same way when it came down to it, but there were also huge, glaring differences you sought out like it was a light in the dark.

To see their humanity was your greatest joy.

Carol was a little lighter, laughed easier. Who thought Steve Rogers, the Captain America, would be the dark one in a relationship? She was also more willing to budge on her beloved 90s lifestyle. She could tolerate today’s music. When you were both alone, she would set up your Spotify playlist and you would both sing Ariana Grande, Selena Gomez, Madison Beer, Rita Ora, Dua Lipa, and so on, until Steve got home. Carly Rae Jepsen a few times, but you weren’t allowed to mention that to Steve, she made you promise.

There were also karaoke bars, leather jackets, shorts skirts that were all kinds of convenient, and making out in rainy alleyways that looked skeezy enough that you wouldn’t enter had it not been for their insistence that you knew damn well how to fight. Carol liked shopping with you, especially since 90s fashion was making a comeback, and always made sure to pick up some basic things for Steve because he wasn’t going to a shopping mall—over his dead body. She kept his t-shirts stocked and had gathered a nice collection of winter sweaters for him. Though, you often stole those so maybe that was more for you than him.

Steve was more…set in what he liked, but he was thrilled that you seemed to like Billie Holiday and you showed him some Eartha Kitt so there were times when he came home, turned on the huge record player you insisted on splurging on for his birthday, and wanted to dance in the living room. That was usually when someone was having a bad day. When you didn’t want to listen to the old music, he would play Lana Del Rey for you, she was your middle ground because he liked her voice, said it was like the voices of his time, and he knew how much you loved her, so he tried.

With him, it was Brooklyn diners in the middle of the night, plaid skirts and torn tights, holding hands and kissing one another’s knuckles. He was the one you could talk into watching bad movies, he was an artist, so he didn’t hate the indie films as much as Carol did, and he knew letting you watch thrillers alone was a bad idea anyway. See: the time you watched the second Strangers movie and shot him in the arm upon his early return—which Carol had enjoyed too much. And as far as secrets went, you were never allowed to tell Carol he watched Riverdale with you.

Then there were the ways they fucked you. Both were dominant and you were theirs, their girl, their baby, their number one priority, but the different ways they wanted to take care of you were truly the biggest differences.

Steve was consuming and intense—any fucking position so long as he could see your face, mirrors were necessary in some cases. He could be rough, sometimes you swore he was trying to fuck memories of a bad mission away. You were okay with that, just grateful that you could help him that way.

Carol was loving and obstinate, she wanted you underneath her always. She wanted tangled limbs and constant kissing, she wanted you shivering and moaning her name. When she fucked you, the mission was already long gone. She used you as motivation to keep moving forward and you felt oddly powerful about that.

They both liked to watch. Steve liked to see your face as Carol went down on you. Carol liked to see you wrapped around Steve, legs and arms, nails scratching down his back, looking back at her over his shoulder.

Did that mean there was never any competition? Of course not. But there was always respect and understanding. However, that wasn’t to imply that didn’t mean that Carol didn’t tease. And that Steve wasn’t overly…reactive.

Steve had been in the doghouse one night, promised he’d call if he was going to stay out late, but he didn’t. Said he forgot because he was out with Thor and Tony—you suspected Asgardian alcohol was present but you had no proof. You were trying not to be too mean to him, but you had been worried, he was always so responsible, and you didn’t appreciate not knowing where he was.

That left him in a chair, not allowed to touch himself and not allowed to get up until Carol was done with you. She took her sweet time and well, one thing led to another, and then she wasn’t going to let you come until you called her daddy. Really, you tried to hold out, knowing Steve wouldn’t like it, but her fingers were so good.

Problem? Carol didn’t have a daddy kink. No, that was all Steve. He wanted you calling him and him alone daddy. Carol knew this, but she wanted to make him mad. Thought he deserved it for upsetting her girl. This was something you could get behind until he decided that your calling someone else daddy was a punishable offense.

You were already worn out from Carol, but Steve didn’t care. Nor did he stop until you were shivering and crying with no idea what day of the week it was, clinging to him and making claims about how much you loved him and what a good daddy he was because he made you feel so good. Truly, your words were depraved, filthy and uncaring, and they both loved hearing you get like that.

Carol thought the whole thing was hysterical. You didn’t, especially since you needed 13 hours of sleep to recover.

You had dreaded the idea of how Steve would retaliate. Steve Rogers. Mr. I Can Do This All Day. Mr. I Will Fight Anyone at Any Time, Anywhere. The same man who was 90 pounds trying to enlist in the god damn army. The same man who was always nearly on his death bed but—per Bucky—picked a fight with just about any asshole he could find. You feared Steve’s capacity for pettiness, in simple terms.

He’d lured you into a false sense of trust the next day you’d finally woken up. He was all soft kisses and gentle touches, told you how much he loved you, and didn’t say a word when Carol slipped in and started kissing you with intent. Normally, Steve took it upon himself to remind Carol of your limits, you weren’t like them and you needed your rest. That day, apparently, you didn’t. You had cast him a confused look as Carol kissed her way down your body, he merely smiled and kissed your forehead, and held you as her mouth found its way between your legs.

It had all seemed fine, you told yourself that Steve didn’t need revenge. Maybe being home more often mellowed him out. With the newer Avengers taking on the smaller missions, you got to see Steve a lot. They were hungry for this shit, Steve had had his fill of the fight but could never really turn his back on his country—even though you told him no one would think he was selfish for retiring, especially not you. But rarely was he gone for more than three days at a time. The last long one had been in October, but he still made it home in time for Halloween, your favorite holiday to spend with your captains.

On the other hand, Carol was still dedicated to her missions. She was gone more frequently, but never let you miss her for too long. Besides, with Thor traveling with the guardians, there were more hands up there that she felt comfortable spending a whole week with you and Steve. But after the incident, the next time she left, Steve found you in the bedroom reading, sprawled out on the bed. He was watching you and honestly, it scared you a little so you didn’t question it, hoping he would forget whatever he was planning.

No such luck. He’d asked, ‘do you miss her?’ You’d responded, ‘I miss you both whenever you’re gone. A piece of me is missing every time.’ He sat down on the bed next to you, eyes staring at your face and moving down. We should send her a video, ease her mind, let her know I’m taking care of you. At first, you thought he was being sweet, Steve could be so sweet. He’d started that way after he set up the camera, undressing you slowly, kissing every inch of naked skin, eating you out like his god damn life depended on it, but then he wouldn’t let you finish. That was when you knew he was up to something awful. Carol hated when he wouldn’t let you finish, vice versa, even though they both did it often!

He’d done it four or five times before the begging started. Weak and whispered pleas that you hoped Carol knew were coming from sheer desperation, not because you wanted her to see you begging. These dominant freaks liked seeing you in a lot of ways. Begging the other? Not so much.

Before you could process what was happening, Steve’s hand was around your throat, he was fucking you hard, his voice low, gravelly not Steve, baby. Not daddy, either... seconds felt like minutes before he finally made the order you couldn’t believe. Beg your captain to let you come.

Oh, it would be Steve who finally crossed the captain line.

Carol had arrived home two days earlier than expected. She found you and Steve in the bedroom, you’d just got home from work and Steve was telling you about his day at the office. It was supposed to be a night of talking, maybe a movie Steve had yet to see, he’d already fucked you in the kitchen while dinner was in the oven. But when Carol walked in, she saw you on the bed, Steve standing by the closet and taking off his shirt. She marched right up to him and then they were kissing. It was nothing short of violent, hair pulling, biting, they crashed into the wall, and you were wet in seconds. Sometimes, and you hated this, you were jealous that they could be so free with one another. They had to hold back with you, you were just human after all. You would never tell them that, though.

Carol shoved herself away from Steve and came over to you. She had you naked in seconds, two fingers inside you. I propose a competition. She turned back to Steve who was still against the wall, watching, hand around his cock. Let’s see who her real captain is. You’d said no, adamantly, then pleaded because they were not listening to you, but had you really ever stood a chance? Carol ordered a smirking Steve closer and replaced his hand with her own. Skillfully, in such a short amount of time, she touched him until he was spilling onto your chest and stomach.

Doesn’t she look beautiful covered in your cum? He stared down at you, eyes so dark and full of wicked promise, you shivered. Absolutely fucking gorgeous.

Long story short, the only orgasm you had had for three weeks was your own doing. Not to say they didn’t fuck you in that time, they were just trying to get you to call them Captain.

Steve had given in first, claiming he hated seeing you so frustrated. The real reason? You had an attitude and could definitely hurt his feelings before you hurt Carol’s—besides, Carol liked punishing you way more than Steve did. He’d slipped in while you were getting in the shower, turned you to face the mirror and fucked you, hand covering your mouth. Don’t tell Carol, she’ll never let me live it down. Afterward, you gave him a filthy kiss and told him, that’s why you’re my captain, baby. So sweet to me. He was smiling for the rest of the day, brimming with a smugness that he couldn’t brag to Carol about because he didn’t want her to know that he’d let you get him so weak.

Thing was, he had plans with the Avengers that night, so when you and Carol were in bed again, her intentions of denying you another finish devastatingly clear, you’d feigned defeat. Afterward, you gave her a slightly different version of the captain shit. That’s why you’re my captain, baby. You’re so strong. And so fucking beautiful. She had on the same winning smile as Steve.

They never needed to know.

It had only been a year of this shit, all the dramatics from Steve, all the competitiveness started by Carol that Steve could never let go of. It was exhausting sometimes, but you wouldn’t give it up for anything. You didn’t know it was possible to love anyone this much, forget two people.

But there were days when you were thankful for a little bit of space. Carol was called away by Thor, ‘just a touch base, baby, I swear’. Steve had to go to Washington DC with Sam and Nat for some boring SHIELD thing you didn’t really care about. So, of course, you were bored. They were never gone at the same time.

Even though they kept you busy, you still made time for friends. As often as you could and if they ever needed you, Carol and Steve understood friendship enough to know that that was a priority even if they wanted to be with you. They never held it against you. But when you had your choice, it was definitely Steve and Carol that won out.

This friend you decided was perfect for this outing was…open-minded. She knew about your relationships, as in plural, and was fascinated at first. But with time, she understood that it wasn’t all about sex, that you really did love both of those idiots. Still, she loved hearing the filthiest details you would give her. And that took up most of the day, a long lunch, sipping on cocktails until she turned the conversation to her newest piercings. And suggested you do the same, and well, you were drunk enough that it made sense.

Neither Steve nor Carol were vanilla in the slightest, but you were the wild one. They often forgot because you were their submissive and you loved that, but it was you. You who had the final say. You who told Steve to choke you the first time. You who told Carol to tie you to the bed the first time. The best ideas in the bedroom were all yours and you enjoyed keeping them on their toes.

It had been a while, though. See, you’d never really had time to be bored. How could you be with them around? The newness of the situation left you on a table, shirt off, a woman leaned over your breasts, you squeezing your friend’s hand like you were about to die.

Yes, for the record, nipple piercings hurt. But they were hot and you knew Carol and Steve would be appreciative. When they could be. Healing was set at 3 months, and your piercer made it clear. Mouths were full of bacteria and any kind of pressure or pulling was out of the question.

Oh well, they could get over it. Or so you thought, but you definitely overestimated them at times.

You were expecting a night alone once your friend dropped you off. You could do laundry because only Carol ever did, but she wasn’t very nice about it and had ruined several of Steve’s shirts—intentionally definitely, despite her claim to innocence—and well, Steve was just bad with the washing machine, thought it hated him.

Baby steps, he was learning to cook and was great, so you and Carol chose to force him into the kitchen instead of bothering with those boring chores. When you thought about it, you didn’t really do anything. They were sort of your homemakers while you worked and tried to finish school. And they never seemed bothered by that.

Side note: studying with these two was effective. Rewards were involved and you made sure to remember everything because the follow-up nights always had higher stakes that could result in punishment. They were proud of you though, you wouldn’t complain. Any time you accomplished anything; they would talk about it to anyone who could hear. Surely, at least one being on every planet knew you were in the honor society thanks to Carol.

But it was summer. You three had all the time in the word. And something about the heat really got to them, like they couldn’t bear to let you be clothed if the temperature was above 60. When you walked in and Carol was on the coffee table—Steve’s favorite coffee table in the world that he hated when either of you sat on or spilled things on, which was often—going through Steve’s phone and he was in the kitchen telling her to mind her own business, you were more than confused.

They shut up when they saw you walk in.

“What’s going on?” you wondered.

“Is that how you welcome us home?” Steve asked.

“Why are you two arguing?” It was better to know why because you needed to mediate and tell them which one was being crazier. More often than not, it was difficult to choose.

“He had an affair,” Carol proclaimed.

You gave her a flat look, only to receive a wide grin. “Carol, stop going through his phone. We all deserve privacy even though we live together.”

“Thank you,” Steve responded.

“But you being home early is suspicious,” you pointed out.

“Oh, don’t you start humoring her,” he warned. “Where were you?”

“Out with a friend.”

“Woman or man?” Carol inquired.

You rolled your eyes. “Does that matter?”

“Yes, gender dictates which one of us gets to pretend to be jealous. I take the men, Steve takes the women. Either way, Y/N, it always ends in great, fake-angry sex. Why end the tradition now?”

He nodded.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I’m tired tonight, guys, so instead, can we be normal and just…not?”

“You could take your clothes off,” she suggested.

“No,” you declined softly, even though you really wanted to. Carol was in a tank top, her arms and back perfectly displayed. And Steve, god, when he was in the kitchen, using his hands. Ugh. “Not tonight.”

“Why?” Steve rushed out to you, securely holding you right in front of him by your hips. “Are you okay?”

You glared. “I’m fine.”

“You never say no to sex,” Carol pointed out.

“Well, I am tonight.” You left it at that, heading to the room to change into loose, comfortable clothes. It no longer hurt, but maybe you were a little grouchy because still, your sex life was going to be affected. Why had you thought this was a good idea? Carol liked to kiss your chest everywhere as she fucked you, Steve’s hands roamed over your entire torso when you were riding him.

You sat alone on the loveseat while Steve and Carol carefully watched you instead of the episode of Parks and Rec that Carol started. You’d already watched the entire series but Steve and Carol were still in season 4. Usually, you shared the loveseat with Steve because he had this thing about having to be as humanly close to you as possible, where Carol preferred to have you on the full-length couch where you both could take up as much room as you wanted.

This time, they were on the couch. In time-out, truly. There was no better way to describe it, they would probably agree with the sentiment if asked. It was twenty minutes in when you’d really just about had enough. You turned back to them, they both acted surprised that you had caught them as if they’d been subtle in any way.

“Are you guys seriously pouting because I’m not fucking you right now?”

They responded simultaneously in two very different ways, Steve claiming, “We’re pouting because you won’t talk to us,” while Carol insisted, “we are not pouting!”

They glared at one another before looking back to you.

“Pause the show now,” you ordered.

Carol quickly obliged, looking back at you with wide, pleading eyes. You shouldn’t be so mean, all they ever wanted was for you to be as happy as humanly possible—but come on, sometimes, they were a lot.

You rolled your eyes in response as you sat up. “Okay, here’s why we can’t have sex tonight. And maybe for a few nights until they’re not sore anymore.”

“What?” they echoed, eyes widening at you.

You grabbed the bottom of your sweater and lifted it. Their eyes trailed up your body, following the clothing until it stopped moving above your breasts. They were confused for only a second as to why you had stopped, then they were just stunned utterly silent.

You sat there for a solid minute before you were getting cold and your arms were tired. You let the sweater drop, both promptly blurting out protests.

“Wait,” Carol begged, eyes still stuck in the exact same spot.

Steve was on his knees, crawling his way to you quickly. He’d had his hands pushing the sweater up before you snatched it away.

You pointed at him. “Don’t touch.”

He sat back on his heels, once more watching as you lifted the sweater for him. But he couldn’t not touch you, because he clearly had no self-control. As he reached up, Carol leaned over to smack his hand. He let it fall to your knee instead.

“You didn’t tell us you were going to do that,” Carol said.

You snorted. “No. I didn’t.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Did it hurt?” Steve pressed.

Carol rolled her eyes, scowling at him.

“Yeah.”

His eyebrows pulled together a little, his thumb started to rub a little circle into your inner thigh. “Do they still hurt?”

“A little. Should take three months to heal fully.”

His eyes finally snapped up to your face. “Three months?! You can’t expect me not to touch you until then.”

You smirked, shrugging. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Why can’t we have sex, though?” Carol inquired.

“Tonight, because you’re both uncontrollable brutes.”

They glared at your accusation.

“But if you can learn to behave, of course, we can.” You gently pushed Steve’s hands off you, let the sweater fall, and turned to the television once more.

Instead of taking that as his cue to leave, he set his chin on your hip. “Why’d you decide to do it, doll?”

“I don’t know. Just wanted to.”

“Well…when they do heal, there’s a lot we can do with them,” he declared.

You shot him a challenging look, to which he only smirked. Rolling your eyes, you brushed your fingers through his hair a couple of times. He used one hand to push up the sweater just a little, just enough to expose some skin, where he laid the smallest kiss before pulling away to return to his spot on the couch.

He was kind of cute sometimes.

And Carol? She was, too. Especially when she was pouting. Though, if you called her out on it, you would just receive more arguments about it.

Three days had gone by, and their coping methods were truly remarkable.

Steve wasn’t sleeping in the same bed as you and Carol. You were pretty insistent when you were looking for an apartment that he and Carol both have their own room in case anyone needed space. He would be present all day, upbeat just like always, and then retire to his own room the same time you and Carol went to the shared room, and you would text him until you either fell asleep or Carol demanded that you turn off the phone.

She seemed more…aggressive. She was being confrontational with Steve, which you feared because eventually, he would snap back. But you wondered if she wanted that, maybe. You could admit, sometimes it was hot to see him furious, jaw clenched, towering over you as if he was honestly going to do something about it. To anyone else? Sure. You and Carol? Never. Thing was, he didn’t fuck Carol when she made him mad. He fucked you and you wondered if that was what she was trying to push him into wanting.

Carol liked to do that. Whenever you needed to set a rule for both of them that she didn’t like, she wouldn’t break it, she would try to get Steve to break it first. And sex was fine, you knew that, the piercings didn’t even hurt anymore, but unless they could control themselves and not touch you there—which you highly doubted their capabilities of obliging—then there was a no-sex rule.

Steve had gone to lunch with Natasha and you wanted to stay in bed, Carol was eager to join you. The way she put it: Mr. Perfect wasn’t around to ruin anyone’s laziness. Your head was on her chest, her nails brushing through your hair, never failing to catch your scalp.

“I’m about to leave,” she stated.

“I know,” you muttered. Did she think you needed the reminder? You’d been dreading it since she told you the day prior and hadn’t forgotten for a second, you’d been all but clinging to her since then.

“I’m about to leave and you’re really not going to let me fuck you?”

You snorted, sitting up and sliding out of bed. “No.”

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“Stay here a second. I’ll be right back.” You disappeared from the room for a moment, returning minutes later with one of Steve’s ties.

She narrowed her eyes, about to sit up.

“No!” you whined. “Stay.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but she wouldn’t tell you no. With little more consideration, with a short huff, she settled back onto the mattress.

Beaming, you yanked the blanket off of her by the edge, tossing it away to the floor.

Again, she narrowed her eyes.

You excitedly jumped back onto the bed and crawled your way up until you reached her hands, eyes eagerly taking in every inch of her body. She was in a thin white tank top and a pair of cotton briefs. You liked seeing her like that.

You liked knowing she could kill anyone and anything on this planet, but she could still be so soft with you. You were Carol’s only weakness and being reminded by the way she looked at you, touched you, it always made your heart beat like crazy. With the tie, you wrapped her wrists, receiving an arched eyebrow from her.

“Will you stay like this for me?” you pleaded. You kissed her knuckles, the back of her palms until she looked just about wrecked and sighed a confirmation. Feeling bold and in charge for nearly the first time ever, you moved off the bed once more, this time to pull off her underwear.

You watched her face as you reached for her center. Your heart began to pound as her eyes fell shut and she let out a soft breath. She was stunning, like this particularly. She never let her guard fall unless she was with you, and you always tried to remind her that you knew that, but she was a stubborn one who wouldn’t go down without a fight. Often, she won.

But this time? You had the upper hand it seemed. She promised she would stay put. You began circling her clit with your fingers, soft and slow motions.

She pressed the back of her head further into the pillow. “Fuck, Y/N. Drop the teasing bullshit.”

“No.”

Her eyes snapped opened and you smiled at her, so sweetly she’d forgotten that you said no, to a direct order. She had that habit, sometimes, your face could make her forget all the bad things you’d done and definitely should have been punished for. She didn’t dwell, it wasn’t like you behaved too long anyway, she always had time for that later.

Carefully you got onto your knees before her.

“Get off the floor,” she directed.

You frowned. “Why?”

“Because… I don’t know. We never have you on the floor.”

“You guys are on the floor for me all of the time.”

“Exactly. You’re a princess who gets the bed.”

“I want to be on the floor,” you insisted.

“At least put a pillow under your knees.”

You snorted. “No! Now shut up so I can eat you out.” With no more arguments from her, you leaned in almost cautiously. You didn’t get to do this a lot. There was her birthday last year, Christmas two years prior, but mostly, it was when Steve was fucking you so it was never in this position.

First, you slipped your tongue inside her, desperate to taste her. She instantly gasped and you dared a glance upward. She was pulling her legs apart wider for you, wanted to give you all the space you needed to work, her bound hands now lifted above her head. You laid tiny kisses upward until you reached the top of her soaking pussy, with no further warning, you began sucking.

She shuddered, her hips jerking upward toward you, blurting out curses the entire time.

You offered her reprieve only by letting up and dropping your tongue back down to tease her entrance. You ignored her clit until she was settled against the bed once more, hips relaxed and back flat on the mattress. You wanted to keep her there for at least a couple of minutes. She always did that to you and the end result was always mind-numbing.

Only problem was, the fourth time you intended to pull away, her tied hands fisted in your hair. “No, I need to come. Don’t stop.”

You weren’t exactly in a position to argue, so you continued, fueled by her moans and the way she massaged your scalp. Besides, all teasing aside, you wanted to make her come. Sometimes, life was so fucked up and it seemed like you couldn’t do anything right. But with your mouth on Carol’s pussy or Steve’s cock, the way they looked at you, at least you knew you could do one thing.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N!” she gasped.

Bliss was Carol finishing on your tongue. You didn’t want to let a drop of her go to waste and that became clear in how frantically your mouth moved over her. Her taste was intoxicating, the same as her scent, and soon, she wasn’t the only one moaning.

Carol’s favorite thing to do, Steve’s favorite thing to watch her do, overstimulate you. You just wanted to show her what it was like. Her hips bucked, you simply placed your hands around her, keeping your lips firmly attached to that spot.

Carol Danvers whimpered. But then you heard a rip and you were thrown down on the bed and before you could blink, her body was over yours.

“Carol!” you complained. “I love that tie on Steve.”

“Come on, you and I both know he looks much better naked.”

Obviously, but still rude.

She noticed your frown by the wrinkle in your forehead first. She kissed you there then your lips. “That was amazing, baby girl, it was, I just couldn’t stand not touching you.”

To amend for ruining your plans, she rolled over. You were on top but had fucked her enough times not to confuse that with being in control. She started with your shorts and you helped kicked them down when she could no longer reach them.

“Don’t tell Steve about this,” you warned. Leaning up, you pulled your shirt off.

Smirking, she let her eyes roam your torso. “Damn, missed those.”

You rolled your eyes. “It wasn’t that long.”

“Still too long,” she assured.

Settling over her, your mouth found hers. There was a new sensitivity in your breasts, maybe a little pain but with partners like Carol and Steve, that was always promised—they were rough, but they knew what you could take.

She spread her legs wide, fingers dug into your hips to pull your aching core flush against hers. She rolled her hips up every time she dragged you down further. And because she wasn’t allowed to touch that part of you that she loved to, it was open for you.

You started with her neck, small gentle kisses everywhere, so different from how hard she was moving against you. Your mouth trailed down between her breasts as far as you could reach before you veered off right and licked over her peaked nipple.

She shuddered harshly, nails digging firmly into your skin.

You smirked up at her. “Like that?” She let you pretend you were taking control, but you weren’t, and the only proof you needed was how breathy your voice was and the broken moans that followed.

“Do it again,” she directed.

You did so to the left side.

Her hand tangled in your hair and she jerked your head back, leaning up to kiss you roughly. She was the one to pull away, your hair still held tight in her grip, and brought your mouth back to her breasts. As she worked you both toward your ends, you kissed, licked, and bit all the skin you could reach, and she never once let go of your hair. Not when you were coming, nor when she was because she just wanted to watch you and you to watch her.

Her hips began to slow, you mistook that as her letting you rest. Instead, she rolled over, grinding down on you harder.

You immediately tried to push her hips back but she was much stronger than you. “Baby, wait—”

“Don’t play. You know you want another one.”

“Let me have a break,” you scoffed.

She took your hair again, tugged your head back a little, and firmly said, “No.” Then she was kissing you again, body still moving with yours.

She didn’t let up until you were covered in sweat and your arms were so sore you couldn’t even grip the sheets. You felt like you were just lying there, completely at her mercy, which was undoubtedly what Carol had wanted.

Some time ago, you had marked up her back with your nails. Carol and Steve were strong, thick skin and all, so whenever you left a scratch on them, they took it as a testament to their skills. You thought they were ridiculous, but you were enjoying yourself so you kept your mouth shut.

After her final orgasm, aided by your writhing body in response to the overstimulation, she stopped moving. She was set over you, balancing on her forearms as she attempted to catch her breath. You were a lost cause, surely this could count as a week’s workout—but you doubted Steve would agree with that.

She brushed her hands over your face, pushing your damp hair out of your eyes.

“I love you,” you told her. You did and you hated that she had to go. Every time they left, they were taking a piece of you and in all honesty, you didn’t trust them with it. They were both selfless, reckless, fast-acting creatures. Ironically, back in the day, when they were “wooing” you—as elegantly stated by a drunk Laura Barton, who was much more understanding of this whole thing than anyone else—you had been attracted to it.

Oh, how foolish you were.

She smiled. “I know, baby, and I love you.”

Steve had made dinner, well, that was what you were supposed to tell Carol if she asked. In reality, he baked cookies and you guys ate them at the common dinner time. Then you cuddled up in bed together for a peaceful night in.

He was propped up on the pillows and you were using his stomach as a pillow. This was the closest and most intimate you two had been since your piercing, but with Carol gone, he had no choice. You certainly weren’t going to sleep alone. But he was trying to behave, no wandering hands, no lingering kisses.

It had been silent for almost thirty minutes. He was reading whatever book Nat had recommended to him and you were watching dog videos. You had no idea what it was lately, but you seriously wanted a puppy. It seemed like all of your friends had one. It wasn’t fair, you deserved one.

But Steve and Carol had agreed—no. They’d given you the reasons, and you could admit they made sense at the time. But now? As you watched two dogs hugging? No! They made no sense at all, they were just cruel.

You glanced up slyly, spotting Steve’s eyes still gliding across his tablet. Sometimes, you had to be careful with the way you approached Steve. See, he didn’t appreciate you playing him, but it had been so long since you touched him…maybe he wouldn’t complain.

Setting your phone aside, you reached up to take his hand from the tablet. He didn’t glance at you as you kissed his palm, then his fingertips. He didn’t even bat an eye when you set his hand over your neck.

Because he couldn’t deny you for long, his thumb and forefinger started to press down firmly, rubbing in tiny circular motions.

Beaming, you let your eyes shut. “Daddy?”

He stopped abruptly. “Oh, god, what do you want?”

You quickly sat up as he began to pull away, catching his forearm so you could return his hand to your neck. That was the best way to do this, to let him think he had the power. But he didn’t, you just couldn’t get a dog if one of them didn’t say yes. It was a democracy in the apartment, that was rule number one.

You took his tablet, set it to the bedside table, and clung to his side. “Just listen for a second.”

“You’re only doing this because Carol isn’t here,” he pointed out.

Possibly true. You set your hand to the center of his chest and let it drag down his gray muscle shirt to his red and blue plaid boxers. Your hand slipped under the waistband to circle his cock.

His whole body tensed and his eyes fell shut. “Y/N.”

You leaned in, lips gently touching his. He met your kiss, something you let him return for several slow seconds until you bit his bottom lip and pumped your hand once, twice—

He was on top of you, his hands tight around your wrists which he had pinned to the bed on either side of your head. Your underwear had gone somewhere but you hadn’t felt him get rid of them, that was how frantic and fast his movements were. All you were left in was one of his oversized shirts, his favorite way to have you on lazy days.

“If you want something, baby girl, just ask.”

“I do want something,” you finally confirmed.

“And what is that?”

Sighing, you told him, “I want a dog.”

“Oh, god, Y/N,” he complained.

“Come on! Please? You know you do, too!”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

“Why not?” you demanded.

“Because I already hate having to share you with Carol. I’m not doing the same with a dog, no. You can have anything else you want, my love, but not that.”

“Please?” you begged.

“No.”

Before he could start to pull away, your legs circled his hips where you proceeded to pull yourself up to grind over his erection. Really? You’d touched him for maybe three seconds and he was that hard; men were too easy.

“Y/N, stop,” he warned.

“Please?” you tried again. “We can get two so they’re never lonely. I’ll still have time to spend with you, but when you’re away, I won’t be bored.” And because you were terrible, you added, “Or lonely.”

He sighed. “Come on, don’t.”

“Please, please, please, please—”

“Stop—”

“Please? If you do this for me, I’ll do something for you.”

He slowly narrowed his eyes.

“Remember a few nights ago?” you pressed. “When you told me that you had had thoughts about Bucky—”

“Okay, no, you asked if I would fuck a man.”

“You said Bucky.”

“I said, if yes, then Bucky.”

“Don’t you ever wonder what he would be like with us? You don’t want to watch him fuck me? I want to watch him suck your cock, I bet he’s good at it. I bet he can swallow a lot, don’t you?”

His eyes fell shut again as he took a deep breath in.

“Imagine fucking him while he’s eating my pussy. You wanna see that? I’ll ask him if he wants to join us the next time Carol’s back. What do you think?”

“I think you’re incorrigible.”

You smiled. “Worried he might be better at it?”

“You know my mouth is the best mouth you’ve ever had.”

See, there was one thing you did know. Steve and Carol? Total assholes. Once upon a time, Steve walked in on Carol going down on you. He claimed he just wanted you taken care of, that he was helping, but it sounded a lot like critiquing. Long story short, they wanted you to tell them who was better. Alternatively, they would get on their knees at the foot of the bed and devour you until you finished. You’d lost count and eventually, consciousness. Even that didn’t end the debate.

I made her come first, Carol had pointed out. Steve had retorted, I made her come last. She’d huffed. Well...I made her lose consciousness. He’d rolled his eyes. That’s because she was so tired of waiting for me to come back. I made her cry. Carol ended it then, throwing her hands in the air as she stormed out. She was just happy it was almost over!

You shrugged a shoulder. “Never had Bucky’s.”

“You’ll never have mine again if you keep pushing it.”

“I’ve also never asked him for a dog, bet he’d say yes.”

“You’re seriously about to do this, baby girl? You want to throw a tantrum all for this?”

“The simple fact is: if you loved me, you wouldn’t be telling me no.”

“We live in an apartment, Y/N. It’s impractical.”

“You are boring,” you sighed. “I want to try Bucky…that mental arm, metal fingers.”

Sighing, he grabbed the shirt on your body and tore it out of the way.

“Steve!” You really hated when he tore clothing so emotionlessly. Especially his since you all three wore his shirts.

He grabbed a handful of hair, lifting your head from the pillow. “Call me Steve again and you won’t be able to sit for a week, understand?”

Fuck everything you wanted because this, this was what it was always about. The things Steve could do to you, the way he made you feel. And there were so many damn facets to that. Sometimes he was loving and gentle and stared into your eyes as he pushed into you, sometimes he held you down by your hair and demanded that you call him captain, sometimes he fucked you mercilessly, relentless in pace and force, but spoke soft all while cooing to you that you were beautiful, you were his, he loved you more than anything.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He arched an eyebrow at you.

“Yes, daddy,” you amended.

“Good girl. You wet?”

You nodded, trying to clear your throat without all the noise of it. “I am, Daddy.”

He placed his fingertips between your breasts, eyeing the piercings for a moment, then let them brush down. You shivered as he descended, whining when he stopped just above your pussy. “Because you were thinking about Bucky?”

“No, Daddy.”

“Then what? What exactly has you so damn wet?”

You squeezed your thighs together a little. “Well...you, when you said if I called you Steve again...”

“Oh, that,” he scoffed. “Want me to bend you over my knee and spank your ass until you’re crying?”

“If you want to, Daddy.”

“I should fuck you and not let you come,” he asserted. “Talking about my best friend the way you were.”

Now you had to start sucking up, you hated it when he did that. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I just like making you mad sometimes because I like when you fuck me the way you do when you’re mad. I like it when you pull my hair and call me baby girl. I like when you choke me. I like when you let me watch in the mirror.”

He smirked. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “But I really do want to see him sucking your cock.”

“That so?”

“Can we fuck him, Daddy? If he wants to? Can I ask him?”

“We’ll talk to Carol about it.”

You beamed. “I want to watch you fuck him as hard as you fuck me.”

“I’ve never been with a man like that. From…you know, that angle.”

“Never?” That was surprising.

He shook his head. “Kissed Thor once. He likes having his hair pulled. Second most beautiful whimper I’d ever heard, after yours, of course.”

You hummed. “Need to see you fuck him, too.”

He smirked.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Met you before I had the chance.”

You lifted your eyebrows. “You haven’t fucked anyone else since you met me?”

“Didn’t want to mess up. I’ve always felt like there was just a line of people waiting for it, waiting to take my place with you.”

“That line could have a million people and it wouldn’t matter, you know that, right? There’s no one on this earth that I love more than you and Carol. Please don’t ever think someone could replace you.”

“I’m sorry. That’s just the way I am, but you show us both just how much you love us.”

You smiled. “Good. Never want you assholes to doubt it.”

He scoffed.

“So, you’ve never...?”

His eyebrows rose curiously, but no more than a second later, dropped with realization. “Nope.”

“Well, fuck me like that,” you suggested. “Right now.”

“Baby,” he scoffed. “Have you ever?”

You shook your head. “No, sometimes Carol uses her fingers.”

He stared over your naked body, stopping at your breasts. “Can I touch them?”

The piercings, you realized. “Fine, just be gentle.”

He sat up on his knees, resting at your side. The pad of his thumb pressed down of your nipple, you had to hold back a shiver. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d be able to feel the bar.”

“Do you like them? You haven’t said anything.”

“I like them.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

You frowned. He knew what you were asking.

“Heard you fucked Carol last night.”

“She was leaving. No one told you that you couldn’t join us.”

“You don’t trust me,” he accused, but he had this look in his eye. A little dangerous spark. “You thought you would take your shirt off and I wouldn’t be able to control myself—”

“I didn’t think that.”

He echoed with a brief tsk. “I can be good, I’ll prove it.” His lip pressed to the underside of your left breast, you shuddered at how small and innocent it was. Steve was too good at pretending he wasn’t pure evil.

Steve loved your breasts, paying them attention was how he fucked you. When you were on top of him, when he was behind you, he pinched and pulled mercilessly at your nipples because he knew you liked the pain.

This time, he trailed tiny kisses along to the opposite one. He moved completely around your nipple, even as he began to suck the tiniest bruises into your skin. Instantly, you knew what this was.

Steve Rogers was one hell of a tease and you were in for it. Steve and Carol could get jealous, they had their boundaries and you were okay with that. For Steve, he hated when you showed Carol a little more trust, and sometimes you did. Not at all because you trusted her more but sometimes, Steve was so passionate and emotional and he couldn’t change that, and you would never want him to. However, it did affect his actions. This was small, but Steve loved your body wholly, mindlessly, intensely. You didn’t have much faith in his ability to behave in this particular scenario.

Carol, on the other hand, hated when you spoke to Steve more about your day, your problems, your feelings. You knew Steve would always listen and enjoy the fuck out of it, but Carol wanted to hear as well. Steve gave advice that you couldn’t live without. It was always so smart yet still unfathomably human. Carol alternatively was a different person and sometimes didn’t have the solution, she dealt with people less than Steve, but you didn’t ever mean to cut her out.

All you could do was try to keep this equal and healthy. You had to pay a lot of attention because both of them had the bad habit of getting silent on you. Despite wanting to hear your problems, they never wanted to share their own. The fact that Steve was even mentioning this either meant that he really did prioritize being a tease over everything else or that he was very upset about it.

Your mistake left you under Steve, his mouth attached to your skin until you were shaking and squirming under him. Your thighs were so slick, you could feel the sheet beneath you getting damp. He could do this forever. You knew from experience. You’d have to apologize if you wanted him to give you what you want...or you could tease back.

You touched his arms, he loved when you just stared at him, especially his arms and chest. You looked over him, just pressing your palms and fingers to his skin. You let your hands trail down to his stomach where you got lost in all the muscle there. Your hand played with the waistband of his boxers, but his hand snapped down to catch yours. “Daddy?”

“Don’t try it, Y/N. You’ve been a brat since Carol left. Apologize and maybe I’ll let you come.”

You bit your lip in consideration. You really did just want him to get you off. The conversation about Thor and Bucky still lingered because you knew how good Steve’s cock was. You were almost jealous at the thought of someone else getting to feel that pleasure if he was so willing to deny you. But you were smart. You knew how to spin this. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Let me make it up to you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How?”

For the better part of an hour, you were on your knees, and either your hands or forearms when you just weren’t strong enough to hold yourself up. Steve had been rubbing your clit almost the entire time, just building you up only to let you come back down before you got what you really wanted. You weren’t sure what his play was, but you knew it’d be good.

You were the one that had climbed out of bed—and didn’t react to his smirk when he saw the wet spot you left behind. Steve liked fucking in the mirror. You had several all around the room, but you had yet to try this. You grabbed the mirror you used during your morning routine whenever Steve or Carol needed the bathroom. It was just outside the closet next to your makeup box, full-length, not too wide.

You took it all the way to the bed and set it on the floor. He arched an eyebrow as you situated yourself over it, hands and knees. He had the perfect view of your cunt and he instantly realized it. He was on the floor in seconds, nearing you from behind.

Since the change of position, he hadn’t fucked you. He only rubbed your clit, tiny circles that weren’t going to do much for you. Which he knew. But you wanted something else, and you knew, beyond frustrating you, he was prepping you. Not too skillfully, he wasn’t some seasoned professional, but he was trying to work on getting you ready as his own nerves took hold of him.

Steve liked trying things in the bedroom. Like, really liked. But he still only worried about you, about what you got out of it, he just didn’t want to hurt you. Carol rolled her eyes at a lot of his sentiments; you were sad to admit that you couldn’t sometimes. He was adorable and he loved you, and for that, you could get over an overprotective lover.

“Are you sure you want to try this?”

You could be possessive too. Simple fact was, he wasn’t fucking anyone like this until he fucked you. “I’m sure, Steve.”

His cock was at your entrance and your eyes flit down to the mirror so you could see him pushing into you. It was always such a sight to see you take all of him, how even though you were sure you were full and he was only halfway in, that you could take more.

He pulled out slowly, positioning himself higher. No one, of the three of you, ever seemed particularly into trying this so you didn’t have a library of lube or toys to get you relaxed. It was just you and Steve and there was something deeply intimate about that.

Truly, this was just you wanting to have this first experience with him. It was yours and his, a combined first. You guys never had those—because, as you liked to tell Steve, he was a whore during his stint in the war. Did you believe that? No. Did you like to pretend to be upset about chorus girls with names he couldn’t remember? Yes, especially if he tried to buy you off with shoes, lingerie, or jewelry.

From his kneeled position behind you, he leaned over to kiss your shoulder. “Just tell me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

He cautiously pressed the head of his cock down, eyes flitting between your face in the mirror to where he was working.

You forced yourself to stay still even though he was moving too slowly. If you reacted too much, he would call it a night and instead just bring up the fact that you tried to bribe him using sex with Bucky for a dog. It was a little extreme, even for you.

You settled down on your forearms, bracing yourself. “Steve, I’m fine.” Your breath caught as you felt him dip inside you. It didn’t hurt, not really, but it didn’t feel pleasurable exactly. For a moment, you feared you might just not be able to get anything out of it, some people didn’t.

But as he continued, you felt that spark. This was good, really fucking good, and it was Steve. He was there, holding you, fucking you, and you were overwhelmed with how close you two were, not just physically. This was all about trust and love.

“You’re not allowed to fuck Bucky,” you decided.

He froze. “What?”

“You’re mine.”

His chuckle was breathy. “I am, doll, and you’re mine.”

You glanced down to the mirror, he was mostly in. You felt full and stretched and exhausted, but you were hungry for Steve. You always would be. You didn’t want to stop, not until you both reached your ends.

You pushed your hips back, whimpering impatiently. “More, Daddy.”

Steve gripped your hips and began a steady pace, soft and slow. Well, that was what the mirror told you. Your body, however, felt differently. It was too much and too fast, and your arms were shaking now.

Your hand reached back to catch him by the hip. “Steve, slower, baby. Please, just a little slower.”

“Am I hurting you?”

“No,” you blurted out. “No, no. It feels so fucking good, really good…I just can’t stay up.”

“I’ve got you, doll.” He stopped moving to rub his hands over your hips. His right arm slid up, over your stomach, between your breasts, where it settled around your neck. You rested on his arm completely, bringing your hands to his forearm. His opposite arm locked across your hips, and then he was moving again, a merciless pace that had you screaming in seconds.

His hold was bruising, your knees were dragging against the hardwood floor, an uncomfortable scrape that you knew you were regret in the morning. Yet, you still loved every part of this. He was fucking you with the same kind of determination that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

The quiet, gentle sounds that spilled from his lips were in your ear, the only noises you cared about in that moment. In sheer desperation, you reached back with one hand to grab his hair, anything to keep you there.

When he was close, he let his hand dip down to touch your clit. You were lost in Steve immediately, all pleasure and love, and everything was so intense. You felt him come inside you, you felt it begin to drip as he continued pounding his hips into your ass to ride out his finish, you were hyperaware of every sensation.

Steve was still hard inside you, still wanting more, a fact you distantly knew. You, on the other hand, felt utterly drowned. By him. This. Your body shook, so harshly he felt the need to set you down on the floor.

He didn’t leave you there for long, he sat down next to the mirror and scooped you up onto his lap. Arms wrapped tightly around you, he ran his fingers through your hair and whispered a bunch of things that just weren’t making sense in your mind.

When you had come down enough for him, he wrapped your arms around his neck and stood, carrying you to the bed. He dropped you onto the mattress, settling his waist in your parted legs.

You dragged him down by his hair, lips hungrily seeking his out.

He kissed you for a long time but kept it innocent. Even as you dragged your soaking pussy against his stomach, anything for friction. Your ankles were hooked around his ass, you scratched him, pulled his hair, the entire time, he just kissed you.

You weren’t complaining, you just weren’t sure what was going to follow. He was flush against you and you couldn’t reach his cock, which was probably intentional on his part. You broke away, impatient and wanting answers, but the way he was looking at you made you forget how to speak.

Smiling, he set a kiss to your forehead.

“What?” you sighed, upset that even after all this time he could still make you blush so simply.

He shrugged. “Nothin’.”

“Stop looking at me like that,” you muttered.

He scoffed. “Gotta get you in a bath, baby.”

“Are you going to join me?”

He did, thankfully. You were curled up in a warm bath, arms circled around his neck and laying on his chest. He was the one that took it further, his hand sliding up your thigh until he pressed down on your clit once more.

You let your head fall back against the edge of the tub, sighing. “Steve, baby.”

“You liked what we just did?”

You opened your eyes, smiling. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

You reached into the water, taking him in your hand. Your strokes were slow, teasing because you knew that was the best way to get Steve riled up and unsuspecting. You rolled over, your chest pressed to his.

“Careful, baby,” he warned.

You could have rolled your eyes because of course, he would start to take this whole piercing thing—which you were more than willing to admit was nothing more than teasing them—more seriously than you, but honestly, everything about Steve was getting to you at that moment. Every god damn thing was something you couldn’t not love completely.

You settled over his lap, lining his cock up at your entrance. Easily, he sunk in completely and your hands shot out to grip the edges of the tub. “God.”

He sat up, licking a stripe from your clavicle up to your jaw. He bit down gently and you rolled your hips sharply in retaliation. “Fuck.”

“You’ll ask her, Daddy? You’ll ask Carol for me?”

“About…Bucky?”

Not quite, but to say no would be to remind him that word even existed. “Guess, if you want.”

“Sure, doll.”

“And you’ll talk to her about getting a dog?”

He sighed but you knew you’d won. “Well, you are a wild and insatiable creature. Maybe getting you a dog would get me some rest.”

You smiled sweetly. “Two, maybe?”

“You’re something else, you know that?”

“Please. I want it to have a friend.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he muttered.

You grinned. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re a brat.”

Instead of verbally responding, you kissed him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging at his hair. He sat up straighter, hands settling on your hips so he could lift you as he rose to his knees.

“Careful, don’t get the floor wet,” you warned.

He didn’t care, he laid you down against the bottom of the tub. Your head was propped up on the sloped surface of the bottom end. You still held him, possibly the only reason you didn’t slip under the water completely.

He reached for the edge of the tub, using the leverage to thrust into you. Distantly, you heard the water spilling onto the tiled floor, but you couldn’t really care at that moment.

You never complained when they were gone. You couldn’t bring yourself to. They were out saving lives and you couldn’t be prouder. It wasn’t as if they wanted to be away from you and expressing that you missed them also just made them feel bad.

It was something you tried to avoid entirely, but everyone once in a while, the missions were too long. Carol hadn’t given a time limit but with three extensions and 20 mornings without her, you were starting to get antsy. You felt like she wouldn’t agree to a mission that long. She wouldn’t say no to anything that was asked of her after she was out there, but if she’d known that she wasn’t going to see you for twenty days, she wouldn’t have taken it.

She hadn’t called too many times. Just three. And this last time, when you tried to ask questions, she refused to answer. She told you to get in bed, take off your clothes, get yourself off, and definitely take pictures for her. You did because you missed her, but afterward, when she still wouldn’t tell you anything, it just made you mad.

She talked to Steve a few more times, but that was how they were. You always made them want to come back, so when they were strong, they would speak to you. When they were weak, they spoke to one another. It was something that made you indescribably happy, that they could trust one another so much, that they could at least see eye-to-eye on one thing. You.

Steve was in the office more frequently as of late and it was starting to worry you. Was it for the same mission? He didn’t speak of it, of course.

You were curled up in bed 23 nights later when you decided to ask, when you’d finally built up enough courage. “Are you going to have to leave soon?”

“No,” he answered adamantly. But it wasn’t an answer of knowledge, he was just promising that they couldn’t make him leave. Even if they asked, he wouldn’t go. You knew he believed that, it wasn’t that he was lying, but Steve couldn’t say no.

You didn’t want him to, that wasn’t the issue. The problem was that they hadn’t been on a mission together since Thanos, and that had been two years prior. Nothing so big had come up that would require both captains. One and maybe an Asgardian was the usual routine. But you knew Thor was already with Carol this time. You’d just about convinced yourself that nothing that bad would ever happen again, and for two entire, peaceful years, that theory had been supported.

That night, the nightmares started again. You’d had terrible ones after the snap, even after they’d defeated Thanos. Those five years were scarring for everyone, wounds that could be reopened easily, yet only closed with a lot of effort and time.

You woke Steve that night, unintentionally, sobbing before you’d even fully woken up and realized what had been happening in your dream. Before, it was Thanos. Ultron, even, sometimes, but you’d already written that off as missing Wanda so terribly. This time, it was a hooded, faceless creature. It was all shadows, a looming threat in them, a growling army you couldn’t see save for glowing eyes that always changed colors whenever you would look in a different direction.

Steve held you, told you it was just a dream, promised he was there and he wasn’t going anywhere. Your shaking hands were tearing at his clothing and your own through it all, you begged him to fuck you. Hard. Make it hurt. Distract you from the other pain you felt then, the pain you feared reliving, the pain you’d seen in the world, the pain you’d seen on his face, Carol’s, Nat’s every damn time you’d looked at them.

You were nothing when it came down to it. You knew they loved you, but the world was what made them happy. They needed the people safe and free, at the end of the day, that was what did it for Steve and Carol. You couldn’t help them; you were simply their prize at the end of a day’s work. You weren’t strong, you couldn’t help them save the world and there was definitely nothing you could do if a threat remotely as terrible as Thanos was coming.

You couldn’t do it, not again. You couldn’t watch them hurt that much; the thought alone caused the return of the despair you’d felt before everyone had been brought back. But this was all shit you weren’t going to tell Steve. Not then and not when he would undoubtedly ask about it in the morning.

He held you tight and fucked you liked you’d wanted, until you were crying for different reasons, until your body was spent and you needed to rest again.

He did want to talk in the morning but you were dismissive about the whole thing. You didn’t want to talk about this ever again, nothing like it. They were probably unaware of just how trying that time had been for you. That was more than fine, the last thing you wanted to do was add to what they already had to deal with.

You preferred suffering alone and in silence, that was your consolation, the idea of no one having to worry about you. You just wanted to help anyone that you could. Those five years, you’d perfected a mask of acceptance that you definitely didn’t feel ever. You were hope whenever Steve and Carol needed it.

You knew you wouldn’t make it out a second time. You could call Tony, he didn’t believe in sugar-coating things. Fury had you credited as the reason Carol and Steve were the efficient machines they were for SHIELD, because you made them happy, you kept them human, so he would do just about anything you asked if you gave him the same pleading look you gave them.

But you didn’t call anyone, because you were scared.

That night, Steve was in the kitchen making macaroni and cheese. He was at the counter grating cheese when you got home, offering you a gentle smile. “Wanna give me a hand, doll?”

You loved cooking with him. He never allowed it to be a dull event or a clean event, but you would take any distraction you could get. You tied your hair back, changed into one of his shirts, and joined him.

Twenty minutes in, you stood by the stove, eyeing the boiling pasta, a cookie sheet held in front of you like a shield because Steve thought it was appropriate to throw cheese at you. Why? Because you wouldn’t tell him which of your coworkers had asked you out for coffee. You’d only mentioned it because the tension from the morning’s conversation still lingered and you knew Steve wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to be possessive.

“Look, I’m going to the store to go buy some Girl Scout cookies—”

“Steven, you have a problem!”

“The only problem I have, doll, is that you finished my thin mints last night and Buck was over here this morning in my samoas.”

“Bucky was here?” Steve usually went to the tower to see his best friend. Save for when they needed privacy, usually for their brooding conversations about what was right and wrong, when their idealism didn’t match the opinions of the rest of the team.

“Yeah, why?”

“So, you’re allowed to get jealous over some coworker asking me out, but you spent all day with a man you’ve been fantasizing about?”

“I have not—okay, you brought it up in the first place!”

“You have a crush on him,” you accused.

He walked over to you, reaching back to lower the stove temperature, and grabbed your hip to pull you closer. “I’ll be honest, I always kinda had a crush on Buck. He was...everything I wanted to be, strong, attractive—”

You groaned. “My goodness, Rogers, I would have been on your dick back then, too—”

He placed his hand over your mouth. “Buck was the first person to love me for who I was, you know? He didn’t need me to be...more.”

You settled then, waiting for him to remove his hand. “I get it.”

“Maybe it was all friendship on his part and that’s more important to me than anything. Buck is my best friend and I don’t need anything else; I don’t want anything else. You’re my girl and he’s my best friend, that’s the way it should be, the way I want it, the way that makes me happiest. I just...also wouldn’t mind kissing him sometimes.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just go get your cookies.”

He smirked, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be back, don’t let the pasta stay much longer.”

You were straining the pasta when you heard a vibrating phone behind you. Yours was in your pocket, and you knew it was wrong but you also immediately knew you were going to go through Steve’s phone. Just the texts from Tony or Fury, if there were any. If not, then you’d close it and talk to Steve about putting a passcode on it because why hasn’t he?

But the text was from Carol. This was wrong, really wrong, you weren’t just invading his privacy but hers as well. They were allowed to have their secrets, you had yours with them. But fear was ugly and made you act it.

Steve had started the conversation by asking how much longer she expected to be. Carol said she wasn’t sure but told him that he may need to join her, along with the rest of the Avengers, even the extended team. Neither said why nor even spoke of the situation at hand. Steve almost flat out refused by saying the both of them couldn’t be gone, someone had to stay with you. Carol then accused him of taking advantage of her absence. Then Steve informed her about the nightmare. Carol asked a billion and one questions, none of which Steve could answer because you hadn’t told him anything. Carol said she wanted to come home, it wasn’t a plan, she just stated a fact.

Steve then made the offer to switch places with her. She could come home and he would take over the mission. Because, according to him, Carol was better at talking to you when you were like this. She just understood you more, those were his words. She didn’t hesitate to take him up on that offer and said she would be home later that night.

You were instantly furious. That meant Steve was leaving. That night. And he’d not said a word to you about it the entire time.

When the door opened, you had no desire to be discreet about the phone in your hands.

“What are you doing?”

Your eyes lifted from his phone screen to him. “You just weren’t going to tell me?”

“Come on, Y/N,” he sighed, shutting the door. “I don’t want to do this.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Stop, we’re going to have dinner—”

“You’re such an ass. Carol’s just better at talking to me? Seriously?! Have you ever met Carol?” Neither you nor she was the best at talking things through or healthy emotional expression. That was Steve’s department, in fact, it was one of the things that solidified his relationship with Carol on a much deeper level than how it had started. They didn’t always get along, but Steve was always there for her.

“You wanted her to come home, I know that.”

“That didn’t mean I wanted you to leave!”

“I go on missions; this has never changed. What’s the problem?”

“That you want to leave!” There was no way around that, were you really not supposed to be offended?

“I’m just trying to make sure that you are okay—”

“By leaving?!”

He sighed slowly. “Calm down—”

“Fuck you, Steve.”

He stared at you with wide eyes. You rarely spoke to him that way, so angry and resigned. You stormed off to your room and he didn’t follow you. He didn’t say another word. It was clear that he had nothing to say and you weren’t okay with that.

You had to have walked the width of your room over thirty times before you settled on the bed. He would hear that you were calm now and come in to talk, or so you thought. But again, nothing, you sat staring at the door until you fell asleep.

What woke you was the door opening. Your eyes shot open, and you jumped up, fully expecting to see an apologetic super-soldier. Instead, Carol was there, offering you a small smile. Steve was gone without a word and for the rest of the night, angry sobs wracked your body until you fell asleep once more. Carol held you, whispering apologies and promises that he would return soon, that he would be okay.

She didn’t understand why you felt the way you did. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him gone, you felt the pain just the same when Carol was gone. You were so angry at Steve because it was like he was shuffling you off, like you were a task to be completed and he couldn’t even do it himself. And at the end of all of this, he ruined your reunion with Carol. You shouldn’t be wasting your first night together again crying over Steve.

Second, he just left. He didn’t say a damn word. Anything could happen, he could die out there, but nothing? He didn’t say goodbye and he took away your right to say goodbye to him. You didn’t get to exchange ‘I love you’. That was not how you left things after fights so you were confused and hurt, it was more than just you being upset that he was gone.

You didn’t speak to Steve, even Carol pleaded with you to just tell him how you were doing. She said she could hear it in his voice, how much he missed you, how much he needed to talk to you. He wanted you to justify his actions and you simply refused. Besides, according to him and Carol, he would be back soon. So, what was the harm? When he walked out the door without a word, he’d given you the green light to be petty. This was on him, not on you.

But that didn’t mean things at home were fine even when you weren’t discussing him. It was so clear that Carol was on his side and you hated how short-sighted she was being about it all. She just knew she was home and that you should have been happy about that. And it wasn’t like you weren’t. You could admit, a lot of times, even though you loved Steve and you loved Carol, whole-heartedly, most of the time, it was

Thirteen nights later, as you and Carol were in bed, he crawled his way in behind you. His arms wrapped tight around your waist as he settled against the mattress.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, the moonlight not providing much, but at least you could see his eyes. Unfortunately, you could also make out an angry red mark on his cheek—you would assess his damage later, in the morning.

“Steve,” you breathed, eyes shutting as you set your forehead to his.

“Told you I’d be back soon, baby.”

And you reveled in his presence for several silent moments. Sure, he claimed it, Carol claimed it, and you trusted and believed in them probably more than you should, but after the snap, you couldn’t just believe that. Those five years took your ability for mental peace, sometimes, nothing could settle you down, nothing could make you believe that things were going to be okay. You were terrified even after Steve and Carol were settled into bed with you—how long will this last?

You always worried it wouldn’t be long enough. And, at the end of it all, the snap was undone. They fixed it, but for those five years, things weren’t okay. Could you spend five years without Steve? Or Carol? No, forget the idea of both. You wouldn’t even waste your time trying. So, yes, they were strong, durable, superior. And yes, you knew that. But in no way were you ever going to be happy about them going on a mission.

You opened your eyes. “It’s done?”

“It’s done,” he promised. “Couldn’t spend another second away from you.”

You were a crumbling building when his lips touched yours. Slowly, pieces of you—anger, resentment, fear—fell away, but then all at once, you were crashing down on him. You tore his pants out of your way almost violently, pressing your back against his chest as you settled your leg back over his hip.

His fingertips slid up your thigh until he met the hem of your long shirt. You could feel goosebumps rise on your thighs and arms. He jerked the clothing out of the way and lined up with your entrance.

“Tell me you love me,” you directed.

He grabbed your chin, forcing your head back so he could see both of your eyes. As he pushed in, your gazes were locked, just like he always wanted. “I do, I love you.”

Your lips met his, it was sloppy and brief, breathy and full of so much shit you both knew wasn’t going to get said. You bit down on his bottom lip and pulled indelicately as you turned out of the kiss.

He grabbed your hip bone, held you in place, and thrust in hard. Your scream could have woken the dead, including Carol if she hadn’t already been awake and watching—truly, it was crazy what she could sleep through sometimes.

Once your head hit the pillow and your eyes met hers, she leaned in and kissed you. Until Steve curled his hand under her chin and jerked you back to him. Open-mouthed, your bodies still moving together, you just stared into one another’s eyes, breathing each other in.

But then Carol placed a hand to your cheek and turned you back to her. At first, her lips were gentle on yours, just a small, playful press. But soon enough, she was greedy and aggressive, and you were practically choking on this overwhelming sense of completion. You never needed anything else. Steve and Carol forever, safe and with you.

Steve picked up this steady pace that was already building you up for a mind-blowing finish. Sex after missions or any sort of absence was always a completely different experience. There was little to no foreplay and your bodies were just ready for one another, everything was intense and passionate.

He stole you away again, this time kissing you. He growled into your parted lips as his hips continued snapping as if you were his latest fucking mission. This was something you had the privilege to be a part of from time to time. You would just lay there and they would fight over you so primally. They grabbed you with rough hands, forced you to look at them and only them, made you say things they wanted to hear, and you loved every second of it.

You pulled back when you knew you were close, when you were barely kissing back because you were moaning and whimpering. Setting your head on the pillow once more, you practically sobbed, “Carol.”

She set her hand to your cheek, her free hand pushing down her underwear. Shh, baby girl, it’s okay.”

You reached for her, instantly dipping your fingers into her soaking pussy. As you searched for that special spot, that spot that made her weak, made her look at you like you were her whole world, her eyes fluttered shut.

“Fuck,” she huffed.

You took your hand back to lick your skin, whining because god, you wanted to taste her so badly.

She shushed you again and grabbed your wrist, dragging your touch back down to her center.

“Make her come, baby girl,” Steve whispered. “Then you can get your tongue inside her.”

“Turn on the light,” she choked out.

Steve reached up, fumbling with the switch of the lamp on his bedside table.

Carol’s eye immediately dropped down where your cunt was on display, perfectly because your leg was still over Steve’s hip. “Feel good, sweetheart?”

You nodded quickly.

“I love watching his cock fill your gorgeous pussy.” She reached over, touching where you and Steve were connected, then offered her hand to him. “How does she taste, Steve?”

He sucked on her skin with no hesitation, groaning. “So fucking good.”

“Wanna feel her come?” Carol questioned, moving her touch to rub fast, tight circles over your clit. “Fuck her harder, our girl deserves it.”

Steve anticipated your next move, catching your thigh before you could pull it down. Carol’s fingers, Steve’s cock, you weren’t going to last long. The pressure was gathering, you were so high off them, and you knew you were about to fall over the edge they had you walking on.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

You turned back, hand coming up to touch his face.

“You been good? You think I should fuck you harder?”

“Yes,” you blurted out, and of course, he did just that. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.” You pressed your fingertips to his cheekbones, reveling in him. He was beautiful, flawless like he was carved from marble. Some days you just couldn’t believe that he was yours.

He scoffed, cheeks flushing a light pink.

Looking back at Carol, you were stunned in the same way. Her eyes were addictive, her sharp jaw, they made you so damn weak. And her body, god, her perfect body that fit over yours so perfectly. “Carol, let me see you.”

She smiled. “You wanna see, baby? See what?”

She knew, you could tell in the humor on her face. Your hand never stopped moving, but it was under her underwear, and you wanted to see.

“Wanna see your fing?”

“Yes.”

Smirking, she used the hand that wasn’t touching you to push the lace shorts down her legs. As soon as she kicked the scrap of material off, you slipped two fingers into her. It made you impossibly wetter watching her take, feeling her clench around them.

She threw her head back. “Fuck!” Her hips jerked forward, grinding her clit against the heel of your palm.

You looked back at Steve again. “I’m so close.”

His hands gripped your hip painfully tight, thrusting even more forcefully. “Come on, baby, I need to feel you.”

You kissed him, long and slow, and he eagerly swallowed the small noises you made. “Steve, I love you.”

“I know,” he assured.

“But if you ever leave me like that again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Before you could even blink, you were on your back and he was on top of you. He was fucking you with such careless determination that you had to place your hands flat on the headboard to make sure he didn’t shove you into it. Carol, ever so helpful, reached for your neck, squeezing just the way she knew you liked.

In mere seconds, you snapped. Your back arched dangerously as your orgasm washed over you. Your cries filled the room, your legs curled around him, desperately trying to keep him closer, to keep him going. You choked out his name, her name, pleas for neither to stop, and they knew they were sick because of how much they liked the sound of you being choked.

Steve’s hands were everywhere, over your hips, under your back, over your breasts, your ass, and they settled after trailing up your bowed back and stopping to curl under your shoulders. He held you there, perfectly in place, as he chased his own end with no gentleness at all.

Feeling him finish inside you after so long was almost overwhelming. It had been so long since the last time, several days before he left since you were just so damn worried about Carol, too worried to just be sitting at home and fucking Steve.

The room settled quickly then. You were still under Steve, chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath. He was doing the same, only with the added noise of his hands rubbing the outside of your thighs.

Carol’s laugh was dark and abrupt. “Are you really going to let her speak to you like that, take that tone, try that damn attitude while you’re fucking her so nice? Personally, I think punishment is in order.”

Steve’s eyes darkened so notably you couldn’t suppress the shiver that shot down your spine. “There’s an idea,” he muttered.

“I’m tired,” you blurted out. Truly, Steve and Carol as a team? They could singularly win awards for teasing. Together? You were scared.

“Oh?” Steve echoed. “You would prefer to do this tomorrow then?”

“No,” you muttered. It was just better to get it out of the way. Besides, they’d already let you come. Tomorrow, if you waited, it would be unbearable by the time they finally gave you something.

He glanced at Carol. “Need some help?”

“Sure.” She spread her legs for him and he reached over, fingers pressing down against her clit. “Mm…you may be the most annoying person I’ve ever met, but damn, you know how to use your fingers, Rogers.”

Jealousy took hold of you almost instantly, you tried to push Steve’s hand away, but his free hand caught both of your wrists.

“No,” he snapped. “No touching.”

You frowned.

“Only good girls get to touch, you get to watch.”

Your eyes desperately flit to Carol when she gasped. Seeing her fall apart was something else, you knew Steve could tell you liked it since he was still inside you and your pussy clenched around him. Her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, her gorgeous chest heaving, she was fucking gorgeous.

Steve thrust his fingers into your opened mouth and you noisily licked them clean. He pressed in deeper, smirking when you gagged. “Want me to tell you how tonight is going to go, doll?”

You hummed in confirmation.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth. “First, you’re going to eat her out until she’s done with you, then I’m going to bend you over my knee, then she’s going to do the same. Then we’re both going to fuck you, and you’re not going to come. Understood?”

You tried to keep the disappointment out of your tone as you answered, “Yes, Daddy.”

You were lying in bed with Carol, laid completely on top of her but where she was propped up on the headboard, you were laying your head on her chest.

“I don’t understand,” you decided.

“Yes, you do, you just don’t like it.”

“Well, yeah. It’s not fair. People have dogs in apartments all the time. People here have dogs!”

“Y/N, no.”

“But I want—”

The bedroom door was thrown open then, in a typically dramatic Steve Rogers way, and in he waltzed with a grin. “How are my first favorite and twenty-third favorite girls today?”

Both you and Carol gave him an odd look.

“You seriously counted?” you wondered.

“Nat was curious, didn’t want me liking anyone more than her.” He stopped at the foot of the bed and pulled his shirt over his head.

“Um, what the hell are you doing?” Carol asked.

Instead of answering, he leaned over and took your shoulders so he could lift you off Carol and drop you back down before him. “It’s a very special day.”

“It’s a Thursday,” you countered.

And instead of taking your shirt off like a normal person, he tore it down the center and whipped the fabric out of his way.

“Steve!”

“Three months ago, today, baby girl,” was his only explanation. He dropped down to his knees on your right side, leaning over your body. His mouth closed around your nipple and you shivered, back arching.

You tangled your fingers in his hair. “Steve.”

He began to pull away, until his teeth caught the bar and he yanked harshly.

You felt heat pool between your legs as your chest stuttered with your shaking breath. It hurt, it really hurt, and you liked it. You kept your eyes on his, completely swept up in the intensity there, and led his hand to your core. You should have been embarrassed by how easily two of his fingers slid into you, but his echoing groan against your skin silenced that thought.

He turned up, releasing your skin from his teeth to check on Carol. “I’m sorry, did you need a written invitation?”

She rolled her eyes and joined him on your opposite side. She kissed your chest, your left breast, then sucked your nipple between her lips.

Once again, you watched the entire time, biting down on your lip. Your hand searched for hers and you pulled it down to Steve’s, guiding two of her fingers in right next to his. You felt impossibly full, which you knew was ridiculous because Steve was bigger than four fingers, but this was unfathomable.

This was how you always wanted it, Steve and Carol, as equal as it could get. You weren’t expecting to get off this way, but you liked feeling them both. It made your heart heavy and your headlight, this was bliss with the people you loved more than anyone else.

Steve ducked his head down, lapping at your clit with his tongue.

You whimpered, hips jerking. “Steve—”

He shushed you. “One second, baby, one second.” His tongue ran through your folds for several moments, all with the goal of making you whine and squirm.

Carol held you down by the hip bone, continuing to tease your piercing with her tongue and teeth.

Once you didn’t feel Steve’s tongue on you, you propped yourself up on your elbows. You watched him take his thumb in his mouth and your body tensed with the excited anticipation.

Easily, he pressed his thumb into your asshole.

“God.” You let your head fall back—so, maybe you were going to get off this way.

Carol’s opposite hand reached over to take place at your clit, and that was when Steve returned his mouth to your breast. You were drowning in sensations, pleasurable sensations that caused sparks, goosebumps, and numbed your mind with nothing but lust, and you had no idea what was causing what.

Finally, their fingers began to move. There was no way they were going to synch them up in any cohesively pleasurable way. You felt that Steve’s larger fingers reached further, you felt them knock Carol’s out of the way several times, unintentionally, otherwise, things would have already taken a turn. You could feel that Carol sometimes scratched Steve with her nails—which weren’t horribly long, but in a confined space, could do some damage—because his fingers would stop. Oh well, maybe you could let them practice.

Regardless, she was touching your clit and he was smoothly pumping his thumb in and out of you. You were edging toward a finish despite the lack of strategy in their fingers. Don’t forget the sensitive nipples, they were mean and teased you with teeth, not an ounce of concern they had before.

When you finished, it was hard, and your hands had tangled in their hair. You were pulling and you didn’t care that that might have triggered some desire for power-play. You wanted them there, right there with you, but that was all you had to hold on to.

Carol rushed to get onto the bed as Steve stood and began taking his pants off. She bent down, tongue running through your pussy, all so she could get up on her knees and kiss him. They moaned at the taste of you and you felt your cheeks flushing.

How was this even your life?

Steve shoved his jeans down and Carol instantly took his cock in her mouth. Head falling back, he groaned loudly.

When you no longer felt like your head was spinning, you joined Carol. She slipped away to allow you to take Steve in your mouth.

He cursed under his breath, so quick and quiet that you couldn’t even make it out. He curled a hand under your chin held you in place, fucking your face with slow, deep thrusts. Every time he felt you swallow around him, he swore he was going to finish.

Carol moved your hair out of the way, brushing her fingers along your cheek, kissing the side of your face she could reach.

“Lay down on your back, baby girl,” Steve directed.

You obliged, waiting as Carol situated herself over you and placed her mouth back on Steve. She settled her pussy right on yours and began to roll her hips, your hands immediately pressing to her back. “Oh, god, Carol,” you gasped.

She pulled off of Steve briefly, merely to smirk at you, then give you a short, rough kiss. But just as soon, she was back to work on him.

From your opportune position under Steve, you had access to his balls and you took advantage of that. Moaning around him, gasping, licking, it was driving him crazy, he told you as much in barely coherent words.

Carol knew when he was close and pulled off of him. She kept her pelvis pressed to yours, but sat up away from Steve, at this angle she reached you much better. She continued coaxing you both towards your finish, only her hand was around Steve now.

You finished first, with Carol, your hand shooting up to grab his thigh as if it would keep you grounded. Steve followed quickly after, painting your skin with his cum, long ropes of white that started at your chest and reached down your stomach.

Steve stepped away, knowing neither of you would have stopped touching him had he not. But you could still tease, your eyes flit up to meet his, your hand pressed to your marked skin and you coated your fingers in his cum. Never breaking eye contact, you licked as much of his cum as you could get your hands on.

He shoved your hand away from your mouth and kissed you, open-mouthed, all tongue and teeth, and heavy panting and moaning. He pulled away, chest heaving quickly. “Come here, baby girl.”

You always moved too slow for these lusting super-people, so their sentiments of ‘come here’ were always just warnings. He picked up, put you back down, only this time with your cunt inches away from his cock.

You turned your head up, finding Carol watching as he readied his cock for you. “I wanna taste, baby.”

She smirked. “Okay, baby, just give me a second.” She wanted to see the show more than anything, Steve sinking into you.

You looked at him, nodding. “Steve, please.”

Hands curling around your waist, he pulled you down onto his length.

You screamed his name, hands dropping to his forearms. You loved holding his forearms when he fucked you, just watching his arms in general, the way his muscles moved, the veins. You could go on for days.

Carol finally rose to her knees, moving closer to you until she could pitch a knee over onto the opposite side of you. Her pussy was completely open, only available to your mouth, and you were shaking with anticipation.

She never did this, she liked to baby you. She liked to let you eat her out while she was on her back, but she was never on top of you. You liked this idea, and you sure as hell liked the view. You lifted your hands to grab her hips, yanking her down.

She caught the headboard with a chuckle. “Careful, baby.”

You said nothing, you just licked her soaking flesh.

“Oh, shit,” she hissed, her hips jerking a little.

But your mouth quickly followed, hungrily searching for her clit. You knew when you found it because she grabbed your hair and yanked.

“Oh, oh, god, baby,” she blurted out, grinding her pussy down on your mouth.

Steve was fucking you so hard you were worried you wouldn’t be able to walk for the next few days. He liked the show of you two, he always had no matter how much he tried to pretend that Carol got on his nerves.

In the end, when you were all spent and cuddled up together on the bed, you were fast asleep. The two captains? Forget it. Forget the idea of love and peace, forget silence and comfort. All of that was just second place to their unfounded competition.

“I’m just saying, I made her come more times tonight,” Carol whispered.

“I made her come more times the night I got back.”

“We weren’t supposed to let her come!” she reminded in a hiss.

“Yeah, and she still accidentally did. Twice.”

“Because she’s not scared of you the way she’s scared of—”

“Go to bed,”’ you whined. “Assholes.”

They exchanged a brief look with one another before they began peppering kisses on the side of your face all over, your shoulder, your neck, your hand and arm when they pulled them up.

“Stop it!” you laughed. “We can’t go again, let me sleep!”

But of course, that just started a new disagreement. Carol and Steve took cuddling very seriously and they needed to know who you intended to face for the night, who you wanted to hold you. These arrangements, claimed Carol, needed to be made before she could sleep a wink.

You grabbed your pillow and pressed it over your head to drown out their half-hearted argument.

requested to be tagged:

@thisismycomfortspot

#steve rogers x reader x carol danvers #carol danvers x reader x steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #carol danvers x reader #steve rogers smut #carol danvers smut #idk how to tag this 🤷🏻‍♀️#my writing

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kimabutch · 5 years

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Jam Like Critical Role FAQ

Since this project has been going on for eight months now and I get a fair number of questions about it, I thought I’d make an FAQ! I’m going to also try to make this a page on my blog, so it’s always accessible. If you have any questions you think I should add, let me know!

What is “Jam Like Critical Role”?

Short answer: it’s a collaborative playlist of songs that remind people of Critical Role, organized by @disasterhumans and me.

Long answer: in February 2019, people started sending me songs that reminded them of Critical Role. They didn’t stop. I offered a little bit of my own commentary on each song, or sometimes just my excitement. Eventually I made a Spotify playlist titled “Jam Like Critical Role” (or JLCR for short) so that I could listen to all the songs together. Then @disasterhumans divided the songs up into smaller playlists, organized by character. And then ze made a masterlist. And then a spreadsheet. At about the 1000 song mark, I commissioned the fantabulous @diamancris to make a Spotify icon for the playlist.

Jam Like Critical Role is almost entirely made up of songs that people have sent into this blog, but has a few songs that other people have posted about on their blogs and that I’ve reblogged. I generally only do that when I’m absolutely certain that the person won’t mind the song being on JLCR.

Are you still taking song asks?

Yes, and I don’t plan on stopping! If I ever do have to stop for whatever reason (knock on wood), I’ll indicate it clearly on my blog and at the bottom of each answered ask.

How do I send in a song ask? / Can I send in a song ask through DMs?

Pretty much any way you want! Just send me an ask with the song, the artist, and who/what you’re sending it for. You can give me any amount of commentary that you’d like — I love reading what you have to say! But it’s also okay if you don’t have much to say about it.

Sure! I will say that I’m a little worse about realizing that someone’s DM’d me, but if you want to DM me the songs, I will always try my best.

I’m so sorry for sending in so many songs! / Can I send in multiple songs?

Don’t be sorry! I appreciate every song that gets sent in, and I love it when people send multiple songs. I just ask that you put them each in separate asks, because it makes them a little easier for me to answer!

Can I send in an entire playlist?

Of course! With playlists, I’ll usually just pick out my favourite lyrics from each song, as opposed to analyzing them, but I love hearing other people’s playlists and would love for them to be part of JLCR.

How many song asks do you have in your inbox? / How many songs do you get every day? / How long will it take you to answer my song ask?

As of mid-September, I have about 450-500 song asks in my inbox — it’s a little hard to count. The number of songs I get per day varies wildly depending on how many songs I’ve answered that day and what day of the week it is. There have been rare occasions where I get 50+ song asks in a day, but there are also some days where I get none at all.

To answer all the ones that I currently have in my inbox will probably take me 3-4 months, but I can’t say for certain. It really depends on how busy my life is at any given moment — sometimes I don’t answer asks for a week or two at a time. Sometimes I get through 100+ asks in a week. It’s hard to predict.

I’m not sure whether this has been sent in, but...

You can check if a song’s been sent in by looking at the spreadsheet or the masterlist that @disasterhumans lovingly and wondrously maintains. Ze’s indicated that the spreadsheet is more reliable for searching and is more often updated, but the masterlist does contain links to the posts, if you want to find those.

I don’t mind when I get a song that’s already been sent in, but I always feel a little bad when someone has to wait 3 months for me to answer your ask only for me to tell you that it’s already been sent in.

Did you get my song ask? / Do you answer every song ask that’s sent in? / Do you ever reject songs because you don’t like them?

I answer and appreciate every song ask, and won’t ignore yours if it’s in my inbox (although, again, sometimes tumblr eats asks.) Sometimes I won’t put it on the actual playlist if it contains a slur, but I’ll still answer the ask. I can honestly say I’ve enjoyed something out of every song I’ve received.

If you’re ever unsure whether I’ve received your ask, you can send me another ask or a PM, and I’ll tell you! Tumblr has been known to occasionally eat your asks.

Can I send in instrumental tracks? Classical music? Songs about places or events?

Yes, yes, yes, and yes!

Something’s up with the spreadsheet/masterlist/breakout playlists!

Please direct questions about any of those to @disasterhumans — I don’t have the skill nor the time to maintain them! If you have a question about the playlist itself (“Jam Like Critical Role”), you can direct those to me!

#critical role #cr music #jlcr faq

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wilstudies · 5 years

Text

Get a grade 9 in a language GCSE!

Please note:

1. These tips are almost entirely applicable to any AQA language at GCSE. 2. Modern Foreign Languages at GCSE Level is anywhere from A2 to B1 (dependant on the tier and grade) on the CEFR scale, but, there is no official equivalent.

In November 2018, whilst in Year 10, my teacher saw that I was excelling in French, with my extensive knowledge of tenses and idioms. So, she proposed that I’d do the January mocks, alongside Year 11, despite not knowing more than half of the subject content. Then we’d see where I’d go from there.

I followed the AQA exam board, higher paper. Specification. You can find the Kerboodle textbook I used, here.

Here’s what I did:

Throughout the year, I was also studying the Year 10 content (Theme 1 - Identity and culture) in class.

In my own time, each month I’d cover one or two units, completing the more challenging activities on each page of the textbook. Luckily, each unit was only 4 double-page spreads long.

In January I completed my mocks. This was the first time I had ever sat in an exam hall, so it was really daunting to be doing it with a bunch of kids who were older than me, even though I knew I had enough knowledge. Overall, I got a secure grade 8, in my mocks, despite not knowing half of the course content.

I also did “pre-exam mocks”, two weeks before each exam. These consisted of specimen papers which are notoriously harder, so my results looked almost exactly the same as past papers, which was upsetting as I couldn’t see that I’d actually improved. But practice is practice!

MY ACTUAL GCSE RESULT:

With a lot of work. I managed to achieve a grade 9 (the top mark, higher than an A*), which was insane. I’m so, so proud of myself, and grateful for all of the teachers that supported me!!!

^Edit from 25/08/2019.

LISTENING

In my opinion, listening is based purely on practice and knowing the exam technique that works for you.

To practice:

frenchpod101 intermediate listening comprehension

Going through every specimen track and listening activity I could find - pausing it after each sentence, saying it once in French, then translating it into English. I’d do this in the shower, on the way to school, wherever.

Know your vocab!

My exam technique:

In the 5 minutes reading time: underline keywords and themes in the questions. This time goes very quickly, but I’d also try to jot down a few synonyms in the French section too.

Multiple choice questions: the process of elimination; key vocab; negative and positive tonality and opinion words - watch out for negative structures!

Completing the sentences: note down words said in French or translate each sentence into English in your head, then remember it when it comes to writing it down.

French section: fill each sentence with key French words that you hear. Don’t worry about accents, unless it helps you determine the word.

Remember each track plays twice.

READING

The January Mock: I didn’t know much of the course content, so I struggled with the translation. I also circled and placed a question mark near any words I didn’t know, as it was a mock and my teacher would be able to note down any translations for me. I think what boosted my grade, to a 9 for this paper, was knowledge of grammar.

T/F/NM questions are usually a gamble. Just look for explicit information and know your negative formations.

Texts change their minds often: look out for counter-arguments and opposing exclamations

Use the method of elimination for multiple choice: rule out if there’s no mention. Be wary that a text can mention an option, but say it wasn’t that.

Texts often refer to things mentioned prior.

If you know a certain type of texts are your kryptonite (it was the classical stories with dialogue, for me), then download as many of that genre as you can. Understand the way speech and dialogue works, and the structure, before you tackle the vocab.

Many say skim read and don’t read the whole thing, but I found it easier to translate big chunks in my head as I went along and lightly annotate each text, which just comes with practice.

WRITING

Top tip: don’t go any more than 10% over word limits!!!!!!! Teachers say they have to mark all of it - no they don’t. If you do double the word limit, your last few bullet points could come after the cut-off point, cutting off access to half of the marks!!!

90 WORD - 99 words maximum! About 20-25 words per bullet point.

150 WORD - 165 words maximum! About 75 words per bullet point.

Which brings me to mention, that you must cover every bullet point: those are your content marks, which cover about half the marks of each question.

90 WORD Question (16 marks)

Content - 10 marks: Making sure your writing covers each bullet point enough.

Quality of Language - 6 marks: Using interesting vocabulary, such as “malheureusement”.

Stick to about one page.

If you’re giving an opinion, great, just stop there. If you explain it too much, you risk going over your word limit.

150 WORD Question (32 marks)

Content - 15 marks: Every. Bullet. Point. Detailed.

Range of Language - 12 marks: get in those adjectives, idioms and grammatical structures!

Accuracy - 5 marks: correct basic tense conjugations (present, past, future simple/future proche)

In order to hit all of these I came up with a mnemonic checklist, and it scored me full marks in a specimen paper I did for my teacher! And I made it into a cute phone background, so I’d start to remember it, I still can now, hehe! You can find it here. If that doesn’t work, then download it here.

SPEAKING

Know your question words! (x)

For the roleplay and photocard, my teacher printed off me a load of practice cards in bulk and annotated two or three every day, using the planning techniques mentioned below.

Roleplay - 2 minutes; can be any theme.

When planning, try to avoid writing out answers, but just keywords and gaps for you to fill in with pronouns or articles etc.

Keep it brief, one sentence per bullet point, but cover each part of each bullet point.

Photo card - 3 minutes (aim to speak for at least 2).

Plan with a small spider-diagram of nouns, opinions, anecdotes etc. for each known question.

Use one or two prepped anecdotes for the prepared questions - e.g. where you went last year, who with, what you did.

For the unknown questions, keep it short and sweet and fill up any time with opinions and reasoning.

General conversation - 5-7 minutes.

Lie and make up stories! Be creative and use the words and structures you know.

I was a little extra and I prepared every theme as flashcards. You can’t get away with only revising your chosen theme!

I made flashcards that could cover several types of questions: I had bullet points of topics and keywords on one side and a sample paragraph on the other.

Pretty sure I made about 80 flashcards oops.

I also went through the mark scheme and see which areas I could secure marks in and which areas I needed to improve.

VOCAB

Learning vocab is SO important!

I started by making spreadsheets of jumbled word lists from the specification and doing a colour-coded match up.

You can access a pdf of all of the vocab grids here. There might be the odd word missing due to copy-pasting errors, but if so, don’t stress, just look it up in a dictionary and note it down - sorry in advance!!!

Then with the vocab that I had to look up in a dictionary, I added to a Quizlet and wrestled it into my noggin.

You can find the Quizlet here.

Remember that:

sauf - except

puisque - since

presque - almost

GRAMMAR

To me, learning tenses was like learning formulae for maths. So find a way to learn rules like that, if it’s easier for you.

e.g. Conditional Tense = subject + (future/conditional stem + imperfect ending)*

*note that future stems are the same as conditional stems.

Know your DRMRSPVANDERTRAMP verbs, and their past participles. These verbs go with ÊTRE and always agree with the subject.

Know your auxiliary and irregular verbs.

MUST KNOW: avoir, être, aller, faire, vouloir

HELPFUL: devoir, pouvoir, vivre, boire, voir, dire, savoir

OTHERS: mettre, prendre, venir, écrire, lire, recevoir

I learnt these by making flashcards, and then brain dumping them on paper over and over again until they stuck - my teacher thought I was insane, madly scribbling away.

Memorise some key structures that can be used in writing and speaking.

If you want 7+ structures, find them here.

MISC TIPS

Always write notes about improvements and errors in practice papers and mocks.

Find a native french internet friend.

In my opinion, music, movies and TV shows aren’t great for revision. However, if you begin to understand them, they are a great confidence boost.

I highly recommend the Skam France series, which you can find with and without les sous-titres (subtitles) here.

And here’s my french music playlist on Spotify.

MORE ASSISTANCE

I’m happy to offer my assistance to anybody who needs it, pop me a dm or an ask if you think others will find it useful too.

Here’s some ways I could help:

Finding some resources about a certain topic (videos, worksheets, mindmaps) - I have them all backed up hehe

Sending you some of my past answers

Sending you pdf of my general conversation/irregular verb table flashcards

Marking practice answers

Talking to you in french

Etc. etc.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog to help any others that might find this useful. If any of the links are faulty, please pop me a dm, and I’ll get them sorted asap!! 🥐

-Wil x

#french #gcse #langblr #studyblr #study #gcses #french language #lovelybluepanda #wilstudies #studies #etudier #francais #emmastudies #a level #b2 #b1 #cefr #masterpost #masterlist #advice #a2

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onestowatch · 4 years

Text

Raissa Is the DIY Artist With Dreams of Doing it All [Q&A]

They say if you want something done right, do it yourself. Raissa has taken this idea and run with it.

The 22-year-old is taking the music world by storm with her unabashed lyricism and unique creative direction. She proudly writes and produces all of her music, along with directing her music videos. In a landscape that can feel increasingly oversaturated, Raissa arrives like a breath of fresh air.

Raissa’s music is perfect for when you are deep in your feels but cannot quite put your emotions into words. She wears her heart on her sleeve and doesn’t shy away from being vulnerable in her songwriting. She is unapologetically herself and willing to bare it all in her lyricism. Whether it’s her self-love anthem “Angel Energy” or her untraditional love song “Bullying Boys,” Raissa is able to perfectly balance R&B musical elements with her soft and delicate vocals.

We caught up with Raissa to chat about finding inspiration in Lady Gaga’s theatrical stage presence and Joni Mitchell’s lyricism, staying wholly true to your vision, and the honesty found in writing and producing all her music.

youtube

Ones to Watch: What inspired you to start making music?

I come from a family of people who, even though they don’t work in music, have always been really big supporters of the arts, so I always grew up around a lot of music. Like when a David Bowie album would come out, we would go and buy it, like my parents have always been big lovers of music. It was very natural for me to start writing music at a really young age. I always felt like I was meant to be an entertainer and music was the one thing that felt easiest to make on my own time. It wasn’t a conscious decision to do it, it just kind of happened.

You mentioned David Bowie, what other artists influenced your musical style?

Prince and Bowie are definitely two huge inspirations. I’ve always been attracted to artists that are very theatrical and are playing a character. There’s a huge juxtaposition of the vulnerability in the music that they write and the theatre in how it’s presented like when you see them in concert or in a music video. Lady Gaga is another artist. I’m a massive fan. She made me feel like, from a young age, that there was room for me creatively to make music, especially as a girl. My songwriting background is more influenced by folk and singer-songwriter music like Leonard Cohen and Joni Mitchell. They made me want to write songs and see the importance of lyrics.

Of all the different places that you grew up, what made you settle down in London?

I came here for school. I got into a good school here, so I decided to go, it wasn’t so much that I really wanted to come to London. I was also looking at schools in the US, but your tuition is just a bit out of control (laughs). I grew up in Kuala Lumpur and I knew that I really wanted to leave, it didn’t really matter where I went.

You’ve gained quite the following in a very short period of time. Do you feel more pressure when you’re making music knowing so many people are listening now?

I actually feel less pressure. All I can really do is make people pay attention and be honest in my music. I feel like my fanbase is young, they’re really excited, and they have a real respect and love for artists. They come from such a place of love and excitement that it pushes me to do better and makes me really happy to be doing what I’m doing.

It’s so cool to see so many artists blow up purely because their fans love and support them. What specifically do you think is drawing people to your music?

I hear from a lot of people that my music makes them feel really empowered to be sensitive and vulnerable, which is always exactly what I’ve wanted to do with my work. There’s a strength in not always being strong and in being kind and hopeful and loving. I’m also just 1000% myself in everything that I do, and people really respond when they can tell an artist cares about their work. And nothing I ever do is cynical – that’s a really important rule for me. And I think that’s probably attractive for young people, too. Like they don’t have to feel silly for liking certain things.

Yeah it sometimes feels like there’s growing pressure to not get excited about things.

1000%. Like something’s either not intellectual enough or too ditzy or too pop or not pop enough. And it’s just like, yo, we are just here to have a good time (laughs).

So, I know you touched on it earlier, but can you take us through your creative process? What does making a song look like?

It really depends. I’ll be on the bus or in a car, and I’ll write a verse or chorus, or sometimes an entire song before I really know what the song sounds like. And then I’ll get into the studio and get on keys or on guitar and figure out the melody and work around that. I like to start with guitar or keys and then build the production around it later. And I like working in small spaces, usually just me and one of the producers that I’ve worked with a lot.

youtube

Would you be open to working with other writers and producers in the future?

I’m not opposed to anything. I just finished up my EP and am about halfway through my album, and there have been no writers involved whatsoever except for myself. I’m super attached to my songwriting and can’t see myself ever singing someone else’s words. My music is like me standing up in front of people and just talking to them, and if someone else wrote what I’m saying, am I really the one talking to the crowd or is it someone else?

And the lyrics are why people connect to your music so much.

Yeah, I’ve seen so many people posting my lyrics or quoting songs in their Instagram captions. People get really attached to the images that I’ve written, which is such a great reaction. There was one girl who posted a video of herself dancing to “Bullying Boys” and I called my manager like screaming because you could tell she was just so excited and happy, and I know exactly how that feels. I used to be that girl dancing in front of my mirror.

What was directing your music videos like?

My manager called me and asked if I would be able to make a video for my song. I’ve always loved drawing and painting and learned how to use different creative software pretty quickly. I knew I wanted to condense a bunch of visual images I loved so I just figured out how to make that happen. I ordered a green screen on Amazon, taped it to the wall, and shot myself against it. It all felt very natural. I did my own makeup, picked out my own outfits, and made my own gloves. It was super fun! It’s made explaining my creative ideas to people much easier, too. If I’m ever in a creative meeting, I can show everyone exactly what I want and make mock-ups myself.

That’s so empowering too. You can do it yourself and get the exact vision you want.

Yes, for sure. There’s so much value in your point of view and not compromising on it. I think its way more powerful to do a lower-quality project that’s completely true to your perspective than making something super high resolution that has no soul to it.

So, what can we expect from you for the rest of 2020?

An EP and an album! They’re one big story that fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. The EP is coming next month and titled Hero Girl. Every song will have its own piece of visual content. I honestly think it’s the best work that I’ve made to date. Not that there’s a ton to compare it to yet (laughs). And a merch drop along with the EP! I’m working on the design of it right now.

Final question, who are your Ones To Watch?

Mia Gladstone, Brevin Kim, and myself, why not! (laughs)

youtube

#raissa #interview #R&B #pop #indie #indie pop

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thebandcampdiaries · 5 years

Video

youtube

Chris Turczak - Friends.

A spontaneous indie song with a quintessential college rock feel.

Chris Turczak is a singer and songwriter based in Chicago, IL.

His music blurs the lines between alternative rock and indie music, with a focus on fresh melodies and insightful rhythmic ideas. His most recent studio release, “Friends,” is incredibly insightful and well-produced. The introduction is absolutely breathtaking, with a classic early 2000s college rock vibe. The guitars are anthemic and melodic, with many layers that add some textures to the sound. In particular, one of my favorite “tricks” is to overdub acoustic guitars to double up on the electric rhythms, adding more texture and definition to the sound. The vocals are really spontaneous and earnest, tipping the hat off to artists such as American Football, (which for whatever reason, I keep misspelling as “American Foodball” these days, in a completely random note), as well as Dads, only to mention a couple.

Like the aforementioned artists, Chris took the time to craft the song’s arrangement to perfection. The track follows a relatively straight-forward structure in its composition, but what makes it special is definitely the fact that each section has some distinctive sonic elements making it special. The verses are more laid back and intimate, allowing the roominess of the vocals to stand out. The choruses spark a huge wall of sound, bringing so much melody to the table.

Although this song has some alternative leanings, it also makes me think of other pop-rock acts like The Fray, especially when the chorus kicks in. What I love the most about “Friends” is the fact that Chris was able to create a sound that’s fresh and broadly appealing, while retaining the integrity commonly associated with alternative rock, and the willingness to find some exciting sounds. In fact, there is a very human quality to Chris’ vocal performance and instrumental. As opposed to burying his singing under many layers of studio trickery and post-production, there’s a sense of authenticity, which really makes the song easier to relate to.

For any fan of melodic alternative rock, this one is going to be an absolute no-brainer.

Find out more about Chris Turczak and listen to “Friends.” The song is currently available on Spotify, where you can listen to it in its entirety!

https://open.spotify.com/track/0zinOgQsi3HUEVksTUrLmV

http://www.facebook.com/christurczakmusic

Recommended if you like: American Football, This Town Needs Guns, Dead Rituals, DIIV.

#indie #rock #alternative #alt rock

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summerb4jc · 5 years

Note

11, 12, 13, and 15 for your fic, please!

As per usual with this sort of thing, I got carried away and this is very long, I am THE OPPOSITE OF HEMMINGWAY. but lo! My answers:

11. What do you like best about this fic?

Ok so, The Private Letters of Christine Daae is currently my only fic, based on a web series of the same name that I made my senior year of college. I put a lot of thought and work into how to modernize the story of Phantom while keeping it Leroux-accurate, and I had tons of details that I wasn’t able to use in my single-camera, vlog style series.

I love that I can fully flesh out the world of the story as I saw it in my mind, I like revisiting the New York I’ve created in my head for this story. In the novel, Christine says “I heard him for three months before I saw him.” So I love exploring how these two characters would fall into this situation, especially in a more skeptical 2014-2015 (when the web series aired) as opposed to the late 1800’s.

12. What do you like least about this fic?

The self-doubt, I guess? I feel like I’m getting a late start to the fanfic game, and this is my first fic, so it comes with the territory I suppose. I am enjoying myself immensely (seriously, this is my favorite writing project right now), BUT! there’s definitely a part of me that can’t help but see this as too wordy, too rough, too etc., etc. etc. If I spend too much time focusing on wishing I had more comments/faves my brain goes “HAHA! See! Perhaps you are not good at this!” BUT!!!! I know it’s important to remember that I’m writing this for me, I’m learning a lot, and that is what I am trying to measure the experience by that rather than comments/faves.

ALSO! I am finding that it is very easy for me to get caught up in the details. Like, Christine will be in her dressing room, right? And I want her to go to the stage. I could just cut to the stage. Just jump right too it. But do I do that? No. No! I find my self detailing journeys down hallways that serve no purpose other than to get us from point A to point A.1 when I really just want to get to B. Seriously. In my last chapter I had to try and restrain myself from explaining, step by shadowed step, how Erik got from the manager’s office to his box and I was like “SUMMER. HE HAS BEEN SLITHERING THROUGH THE WALLS FOR THREE PARAGRAPHS. GET! TO! THE! BOX!” How do I stop doing this? I do not know. I have not learned.

13. What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

Ooh, fun question! Ok, when I write I use my Spotify playlist Ink For My Pen, which is mostly instrumental music and soundtracks that don’t distract me. (Memoirs of A Geisha, Stranger Things, Ghost Story, and more!) I also listened to Faust while writing about Faust to help get the feel of what Christine was rehearsing.

So, since this is such an introspective story (lots of our girl Christine dealing with Emotions™️) I would say the soundtrack from A Ghost Story is a good fit OR! Whatever moody music you like to listen to when imagining yourself in a Sad Rain Scene OR! Faust, during the Faust scenes.

15. What did you learn from writing this fic?

SO MUCH! Oh my gosh! I started this whole story as a way to practice writing, as well as get myself writing more consistently.

There’s something freeing in expanding or retelling a story I already know, and I feel much less pressure than when I’m working on my original stories. Last year I finished my first rough draft of my first novel. I was over the moon! BUT! My word, reading through that bad boy is like fighting my way through an autumn forest. All branches, no leaves. Here is an excerpt from when I was trying to meet a Symbolic Word Count of 50,000 words:

Yes, those are all actually in my first draft, and MUCH more of the same. The story itself (my baby, but I’m not blind) feels like a mobile, separate pieces all connected with string.

Writing this fic has let me just write, for fun, no pressure to be the next great American Novel, no NaNoWriMo word count to hit. I’m just telling a story. By giving myself this freedom, I’m learning to write better.

My first novel is chopped up in little pieces, different narrators, different writing styles, etc. I had a really hard time just writing “normally” (i.e. a consistent point of view for more than 1 chapter with either a first person or third person narrator) and I jumped around a bunch. Some sections are prose poetry, there are letters, text messages, I even put an old college essay in there at one point...

In this fic, since I knew the story so well, writing “normally” has been a breeze. The more I do it, the easier it is, and the more confident I feel in my writing. It’s even helping me figure out how to beef up my second draft of my novel!

More than that, it’s teaching me to love writing. I’ve always really enjoyed it, even wanted to be a writer when I was in middle school, but I moved onto other interests (art and film) for a while. TPLoCD is so much fun for me, and I get so invested when I work on it that I lose track of time. Just a few weeks ago I accidentally stayed up until 4am writing! That had never happened before!

I love it, and I’m so glad I started writing it. Oh! And the word count for the story? 40,000!!!! and I’m only a quarter of the way through!!!! Like I said! Way too wordy, and once I finish I definitely want to pare it down to something reasonable, but the fact that I am so close to 50,000! And I wasn’t even thinking about it! I was just having fun! It blew my mind!

Anyway, @majora-the-trekking-hobbit thank you for the ask, it was a lot of fun to answer!

#majora-the-trekking-hobbit #the private letters of christine daae #phantom of the opera #fan fiction #The Octopus’ Inbox #true facts about the octopus in that i am the octopus

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spiltcandycoatedpunkblood · 5 years

Text

had some enlightening moments sorting out my money and music today, just, some things happened as i was buying some clothes and spending time at the library and the park (in such nice weather too, that really helped me) which resulted in some sort of mental reshuffle of my priorities and my desires in life. where i’m at, and where i want to be at. what i really wanted, deep down inside, to spend my money on, to spend my time on, to listen to. it’s little things like that that made me think about the bigger picture.

it’s daunting on a larger scale, but i could feel something turning inside my head, especially when i went out and refreshed myself, went out and really thought about it. it’s comforting when sorting out the little things can make you feel differently about the bigger things, because of what it’s really all about. trying to undo all this logic that enables maladaptive behaviours and coping mechanisms has become easier since becoming more receptive to the idea of changing and adapting to how i’d prefer to be and how i can be better.

just really sitting down to think about what appears to be small and trivial on the surface can be so indicative of internalised thought patterns that have been suffocating what would honestly work so much better for not only me as a human being, but also as who i am individually. there’s just so much of what i never really wanted or needed in the first place inside of me, and it’s just been a case of gradually opening up to the idea of who i really am and what i really deserve as opposed to covering up with guilt and shame and letting other people decide what i should do and who i should be instead. which only benefits everyone else but me.

it’s a good case of gradually regaining control of my individual self from years of unknowingly relinquishing it to others. i may have said earlier today that only using up cash i have on me is a better idea now that i feel more open to change, but i learnt a lot later on on what i really wanted, whether in life generally or specifically to spend my money on. after buying some shirts that i did really like but then learning that after using my mobile to buy some regretful cravings, that i made the right choice with conviction about desiring what i truly wanted and separated it from the idea of temporary cravings which i ultimately did not want and which i realised soon after doing so.

of course, it was complicated by how much i organised my music on my phone and what i was trying to get rid of to download this app which turned out to be both much simpler and more enlightening than i thought, with the expectation that deleting my Spotify data would put me back to the beginning (of which i was actually prepared to do - in the process of a mental reshuffle, this was mirrored by a desire to do a total reshuffle of the app so i listened to music i all round enjoyed rather than have a whole bunch that i more endured rather than anything), which actually didn’t, and still ended up giving me a whole load more space. my phone is awful when it comes to the level of data that exists on it, so it quite a surprising weight off of my shoulders.

it’s just amazing the level of parallel these small things in life have with the bigger picture of life - since i have become more receptive to ideas and change and adaptation, i have understood how what has seemed so small and trivial has allowed me to think about what really matters and who i really want to be. and the combination of things that happened today were not simply a collection of good and bad choices, but things that worked together to allow me to know who i am and decide for myself what i really want out of life now that i’m open to it.

#it's nice not being so hard on yourself #it's been a gradual process #i'm so happy to have kept going no matter how fast or slow #recovery #healing #growth #internalisation #maladaptive coping mechanisms #coping mechanisms #just because they're maladaptive doesn't suddenly make it a bad choice if i choose it #it's the whole labelling of 'good' and 'bad' choices that isn't helpful #it's a case of understanding yourself and not constantly blaming yourself #i've not coped in ways that i would consider healthy #but it is not automatically 'bad'#just like labelling food that is unhealthy and therefore you make a 'bad' choice by having it #you live and you learn #we may relapse but eventually we get back up #individuality

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ambitionsource · 5 years

Photo

AMBITION Season 1 ♫ “Stripped” [ 1.06 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows)

NOTHING BUT THE BEAT – In Lucas’s absence, Shawn and Angela give the techies a break by declaring all numbers acoustic for the duration of the week. Farkle can’t get a grip on the assignment. Zay fights a creeping sense of isolation.

45 Minutes (7.5K words) || No warnings apply.

[ ← Extra, Extra ] [ S1 Synopsis ] [ Black, The Color Of Techies Scorned → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

A brand new week. ANGELA MOORE is standing in front of the seats, looking up at her stage with a certain sense of apprehension. But she claps us in anyway. Five, six, seven, eight…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Puttin’ On the Ritz” as performed by Young Frankenstein Original Cast || Performed by AAA Sophomores

FARKLE MINKUS kicks off the number performing in the Victor Frankenstein role, and MAYA HART and ZAY BABINEAUX soon joining him for the first third. It seems like a perfectly normal performance, and there’s nothing ambitious or off-putting about it. In fact, with their combined stage presence and star power, it’s a rather enjoyable little number.

That is, until the dance break.

When the dance break kicks off and all of the performers filter onto the stage (Wyatt noticeably absent, of course), the number kicks up a notch. The dancing is intense, for one, but the strain that truly begins to show is how hard the techies are working to keep up with the overzealous staging requirements.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Yes, it’s the first full week of Lucas’s suspension, and his absence is being felt throughout the entire techie brigade. ISADORA DE LA CRUZ is in Lucas’s usual seat with headset on, trying to keep everything from falling apart, but considering she had a rather difficult week herself not so long ago, she’s not in top form and seconds away from a break down. She snaps commands into the headset instead, definitely not spreading an aura of confidence.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

While the tap dancing continues, the techies are running around frantically backstage in an effort to keep the production aspects of the number afloat. ASHER GARCIA gets so overwhelmed and out of breath that he faints, DYLAN ORLANDO barely managing to catch him in his arms. JADE BEAMON has had to step up and work as a stagehand, but it’s totally out of her comfort zone so she’s not much help.

NATE MARTINEZ and DAVE WILLIAMS are in charge of moving a rather large set piece at the end of the number, but several circumstances prevent the transition from being ready in time. Instead, as the tapping comes to a thrilling conclusion, Dave ends up tripping on a section of curtain rope and brings the whole back curtain tumbling down.

It startles the performers, all of them shrieking and jumping out of the way. They hadn’t even noticed how much the techies were struggling. Angela claps, reluctantly, before insisting they all disband for a break.

Angela: Davis, you’re not injured are you?

[ Nate and Jade have dug Dave out of the mountain of curtain. He’s dazed, but gives her a thumbs up. ]

Angela: Oh, good. Because our insurance definitely wouldn’t have covered that.

Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Angela and SHAWN HUNTER are eating lunch together, managing a much better rapport than they’ve displayed the last few episodes. It is clear they are taking their agreement to put their feud aside seriously, and both quite willingly. If anything, they seem perfectly content to spend a lunch hour in each other’s company.

Shawn nods along as Angela describes the train wreck they just watched unfold, and he claims he’s not surprised. Given everything that happened last week and the current absences, they’re going to be a bit off-kilter.

Shawn: I know he doesn’t come off this way, but Lucas is more of a leader than you’d expect. If anything, he does a good job of keeping everybody in line. It’s not a shock to me that the train is sliding off the track without that discipline.

Angela: Even with Isadora?

Shawn: Isadora is brilliant, but she’s got her own shit to deal with after last week. Thrusting the entire operation of the crew on her shoulders maybe isn’t the best idea right now, regardless of how capable she typically is.

Angela doesn’t have any arguments against that. She accepts it, instead attempting to problem solve how they’re going to handle the next week if circumstances are going to remain out of the ordinary. Shawn states that his main goal is just to keep his kids from falling apart any more than they already have, so if the performers could cut them some slack that would be great.

This actually seems to give Angela an idea. She nods along, promising him that she thinks she can do him one better. When they exchange a look and Angela gives him a knowing, mischievous smirk, it’s evident that there’s definite romantic tension between them reignited again. Wonder if that’s gonna go anywhere…

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Zay is sitting at the usual table with CHARLIE GARDNER, YINDRA AMINO, and NIGEL CHEY. Only now, Maya has joined their ranks as well. The group of them gab on and on about their afterschool plans, how they spent the weekend, etc., Zay mostly just half-listening and not exactly contributing to the conversation.

When Maya lobs the question of afterschool plans towards him, he sort of shrugs it off and doesn’t have much to offer. He claims he has a lot of rehearsing to do, and they don’t question it because after all, Zay is the most popular student in their class. Of course, he’s a busy, busy man.

Zay is like ha ha, yeah, and don’t you forget it… but as the conversation drifts to another topic, his smile sort of fades as he focuses back on his food.

INT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

Rather than sitting at the usual table, RILEY MATTHEWS is seated outside in the lunch courtyard with Isadora. It’s the same table where Lucas and Riley escaped to get fresh air in the previous episode, and apparently where the techies prefer to sit when it’s not frigid outside. In this case, it allows them some distance from the scene of the crime of last episode.

Riley attempts to get a read on how Isadora is feeling, but it’s difficult to tread without coming off like she’s treating her differently. Isadora is like could you chill, I’m fine, I will be fine, which Riley takes as her cue to tone down the concern a little bit. She also has other curiosities on her mind, so she shifts gears to that instead.

Riley: So, um… have you talked to Lucas? How is he handling the suspension?

Isadora: I don’t know. We haven’t talked much.

Riley: Is everything okay? Between you two?

Isadora: No, yeah, we’re fine. It’s just that when he’s not around, like right there in front of you… I don’t know. He can be hard to get a hold of.

Riley does not like the sound of that, but she doesn’t question it further. Isadora changes the subject, the two of them continuing to pick at their lunch.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Returning back to class, Shawn and Angela stand together on the stage and announced their weekly assignment. Performers will be choosing acoustic songs only for the duration of the week. This is to stretch their natural ability and wean them off the reliance on props and spectacle, but also to give the techies a bit of a breather.

The performers, particularly the divas, are not happy about this decision. If they’re not being flashy, what is their purpose? Farkle tries to plead for help.

Farkle: This is an outrage. It’s a joke. Ms. Moore…

Angela: I’m with Hunter on this one. [ off Farkle’s disgusted reaction ] We all could do with a little refocusing, and it’ll be easier for everyone involved.

Maya: For the whole week?

Angela: The techies are short-staffed –

Farkle, in disbelief: They’re missing one person!

Dave: It feels like more. :(

The mandate has been delivered, and despite Farkle’s greatest protests, it doesn’t seem like it’s going to change. Zay, like usual, finds all of their whining and moaning over the whole thing to be ridiculous.

Zay: You’ve all become so reliant on razzle-dazzle you’ve forgotten how to actually perform. Or maybe you just never had it in the first place.

Farkle: Oh, like you’re so much better. You’re no more prepared than the rest of us.

Zay: You think so, huh? It’s fine, I can show you the ropes.

Zay hops up onto the stage, pointing to Charlie in the audience. He beckons him up with him, directing him towards the piano as his acoustic accompaniment. Charlie’s surprised, but not opposed to the singling out, and happily jumps up to help.

Zay: [ over his shoulder, to Charlie ] You’ll keep up.

Charlie: [ bemused, but also kind of charmed ]

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Perfect Places (Acoustic)” as performed by Eden Mary || Performed by Zay Babineaux (feat. Charlie Gardner)

The performance is simplistic and stripped down, but just as engaging as ever. Zay oozes natural stage presence, and his vocals with Charlie’s piano skills aren’t a bad match. As the performance goes on, Charlie glances up numerous times from the keys to smile at him from behind.

Angela sort of dances along, evidently pleased that someone seems to be taking well to the assignment. The other performers seem to be coming around as well, save for Farkle. He’s grumpy throughout, obviously not thrilled with this new development.

INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Shawn is joining JACK HUNTER for dinner, keeping up with their usual monthly half-brother meal. The two of them discuss what’s going on with their respective ends of the school, Shawn explaining their acoustic mandate of the week while Jack updates him on the progress he’s making of trying to figure out who is running AAA Confessions – which is to say, little progress.

Shawn empathizes, as part of the reason the Insta is so successful is because of the anonymous and hands-off way it operates. They didn’t have anything like this when they were teenagers. Especially because regardless of who is running the account, they’re not the ones making every post – anyone who submits a post is liable in some regard.

Still, they’re not without potential suspects. After rattling off some student names they narrow down to their three prime kids with motive – Farkle, Maya, and Lucas.

Shawn rules out Farkle, stating that while he’s definitely insane, he doesn’t have the time to spare doing something like that when he’s so obsessed with being front and center all the time. He hardly sees him on his phone. They also both agree that Maya isn’t all that likely a culprit either, as she wants the opportunities at AAA more than anything and would never do something so stupid that could jeopardize everything (hence, her squeaky clean appearance).

Lucas is a little trickier to unpack. Even Shawn, his biggest defender, can’t deny that he has blatant motive just because of how much he resents being at the school. Not to mention, the techies are rarely featured. Still, Shawn points out that Lucas would never throw Isadora under the bus like with what happened last week.

Jack doesn’t take much arguing, as he doesn’t believe it’s Lucas. Shawn is admittedly a bit surprised by this, but as always, Jack has clearly thought things through.

Jack: It’s not that I don’t see the motive, believe me, I see enough of it every day. But I’ve also been reprimanding him for almost two years now, and this kind of behavior… it’s just not his mode of operation. He acts the way kids at our school did growing up, you know – reckless, hotheaded, choice actions –

Shawn: You can say you’re talking about me, dear brother of mine. It’s okay. I can take the shade.

Jack: [ ignoring him ] This Instagram stuff, it’s too methodical. Too much maintenance involved. Not to mention, there’s no way Lucas cares enough about his fellow students to orchestrate something like this.

Jack goes on to highlight the situation from the week prior, highlighting that Shawn is right – considering the reasons he started the fight with Wyatt, he has a difficult time believing he would do something so cruel to Isadora. Even if it’s a convenient cover.

Jack: I’m not saying he isn’t a troublemaker – it would be impossible to say such a bold-faced fallacy. [ off Shawn’s expression ] But I don’t know, the whole situation with Miss De La Cruz and how things have been this past year… I feel like I’m not getting the full picture. Like there might be more under the surface in this case that I haven’t considered.

Shawn isn’t going to argue with that – he’s been there himself. And while they both feel pretty confident ruling him out as an AAAC suspect, that just puts Jack back at square one and empty-handed.

Jack switches gears instead, turning the conversation to Angela. He’s definitely noticed the new tension that has blossomed between them. Shawn claims that things are better as far as work, but Jack isn’t asking about work. He questions whether Shawn wants to go down this road again with someone as talented (and flighty) as Moore, but he deflects and claims nothing is going to happen anyway. She’s a star, and he’s a deadbeat. That’s all there is to it.

Jack doesn’t look convinced, taking a pointed bite of his food.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - NIGHT

Speaking of Instagram, that’s what Zay is focusing on as he lazes around at home. He scrolls through his feed, looking at all the photos of his classmates being social and seemingly having the time of their lives as Instagram is wont to put forth. And there he is, sprawled on his living room couch and hanging out with his family.

He’s evidently just finished lamenting the situation to his mother, DONNA BABINEAUX. His sister JADA BABINEAUX (20), sophomore at the Fashion Institute of Technology, is also there to chime in with sarcasm and jaded twenty-year-old wisdom.

Aside from Zay’s isolation, Donna comments on one of the other factors that might be contributing to his feelings of isolation with disbelief.

Donna: I have a hard time believing that there is not one other boy at that school who deviated from the straight and narrow path of sexuality.

Zay: Unfortunately, the ones that have are either taken or idiots. Or both.

Jada: What about that kid with the weird name? The obnoxious Jewish one who wears blazers even on casual Friday.

Zay: Farkle? You want me to befriend Farkle?

Jada: I’m just saying, anyone that dedicated to a suit jacket and the career of Rachel Berry can’t be straight.

Her wisdom doesn’t stop there.

Jada: Don’t worry. Once you get to college, everyone is so concerned with labeling themselves and exploring their identities that you won’t even be able to keep up with all the eligible men suddenly in your reach.

Zay: Charming.

But all that isn’t really what Zay is stuck on anyway. The romance stuff, he can wait on – but it’s getting real isolating up at the top. Considering he’s the most popular student in his grade, in theory, he should be blowing up with requests to hang out. And yet.

Donna suggests that Zay reach out to some of his friends outside of AAA. Limiting himself to the same artistic crop of people might be doing more harm than good – maybe he’s just got a little cabin fever. He shrugs the suggestion off, but there might be merit to the idea. He contemplates as he continues to scroll through that daunting, isolating Insta feed…

INT. MATTHEWS’ APARTMENT - NIGHT

The Matthews family doesn’t operate with nearly the same comfort as the Babineaux clan. Their family dinner is quiet, heavy with a weird kind of tension. CORY MATTHEWS and TOPANGA MATTHEWS won’t even look at each other, which AUGGIE MATTHEWS doesn’t notice but Riley clocks immediately.

She tentatively explains that she probably won’t be around much this week, as she’s going to be hanging out with friends from school. Cory seems concerned by this, wondering who the friend is and when she thinks she will be home – operating with more protectiveness than maybe necessary. Topanga, on the other hand, abruptly cuts him off and tells Riley to have fun.

The look Cory shoots her is yet another red flag. Riley is dying of curiosity (and dread), but she opts to avoid whatever may be coming around the bend for her and just follow Topanga’s directive. She focuses back on her food. As the ukulele of “Riptide” floats in…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Riptide” as performed by Vance Joy || Performed by Charlie Gardner (feat. Nick Yogi & Dave Williams)

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Charlie performs an upbeat and energetic rendition of the chart topper as his assignment, Dave providing the ukulele backing and Yogi backing him on harmonies. It’s a nice upturn compared to the heavy acoustic that permeates most of the episode. As he dances around with the microphone stand, a montage launches us through the rest of the students attempting to figure out what their performances are going to be.

Farkle is struggling the most with the assignment. He runs through dozens of concepts, creating mood boards for each of them – all too complicated or flashy to qualify for a stripped down week. Angela continuously vetoes them. He’s going to lose his mind.

Shawn meets with the techies on the stage while the performers are in the black box, seated with them on the floor. He explains that given the nature of this week and the absence of their usual work, it has been requested that each of them perform a number as well. This earns a predictable uproar, but Shawn attempts to placate their panic by assuring them that they will only have to perform for one another, not the performers.

When they’re still not convinced, Shawn points out that the stakes are subterranean levels of low and they just need to get it out of the way. As they’re dismissed, Dave shakes his head.

Dave: You all are damn lucky Lucas isn’t here. That man would never stand for this.

A fair point, but then Lucas is not there is he? So the assignment stands.

INT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

Isadora gives this update to Riley, who is far more enthused by the possibilities than she is. She immediately offers to help her practice, guaranteeing her they’ll find the perfect number for her to perform. She basically clears her entire schedule. It’s obvious that Isadora appreciates the help, but is pointedly uncertain over how she feels about this new challenge.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

The bell rings, releasing students for the day. Angela spots Shawn through the exiting crowds and jogs to catch up to him, snagging him by the arm and pulling him into a conversation. She suggests that the two of them get together to discuss what the rest of the semester is going to look like, considering if they’re going to be working together and bridging their divides it’s going to take a lot more collaborating.

Shawn is surprised, but agrees and offers to come to her place that evening. Angela enthusiastically confirms, allowing him to walk away from her. The expression on her face as she watches him go says it all – she’s very excited about this academic get-together. Oh, Miss Moore…

EXT. FOSTER HOME - DAY

Isadora leads the way up the steps of her elegant and well-kept foster home. Riley is stunned as she follows her, obviously not expecting such a nice place in Brooklyn to be the home of Isadora De La Cruz. What she was expecting, she wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t this.

As Riley comments on the beauty of the place, Isadora shrugs it off. She clearly holds limited warmth towards the mini-mansion.

INT. FOSTER HOME - KITCHEN - DAY

Riley is distracted by the other foster kids coming and going as Isadora gets the both of them a snack. While they’re there, KAREN VAN HERSCHING (50s) enters with one of the babies, ADRIEN WOODS (3) in tow. She’s shocked to see Isadora with a new friend, more than happy to greet Riley who seems like a sweet and normal girl.

Karen: It’s so nice to meet you. Isadora doesn’t bring many of her friends around. The one we’ve met, he’s… [ searching for the polite phrasing ] well, he’s interesting.

Riley: I’m familiar with his work, yes.

After Karen asks them a dozen times if they need anything and not to hesitate to ask, Isadora escapes the conversation and leads Riley upstairs.

INT. FOSTER HOME - ISADORA’S ROOM - DAY

Riley again tries to discuss the foster situation now that she’s seen it for herself, but Isadora is an expert at deflection on this particular topic. She continues to sidestep and refocus on the assignment until Riley relents, allowing them to shift the conversation. She jumps on the mention of Lucas, obviously following up on a subject they were chatting about earlier.

Riley: Oh yeah, did Lucas respond about us stopping by?

Isadora: [ nonchalantly ] Oh, yeah. He said no.

Riley: … oh. Okay. Cool.

It’s okay, Riley. Chin up. It’s not you, it’s him. Believe me.

EXT. BABINEAUX HOME - DAY

Zay is finishing his commute home, walking down his street with his headphones on. Outside his house, he hesitates on an older text message with one of his friends from middle school. It’s been a couple weeks since they last texted.

After a moment, he types out a text asking if they want to hang out. He almost hits send, but can’t bring himself to do it. He locks his phone, walking up the rest of the steps to his front door.

Then, he changes his mind. He huffs, pulling up the message again and hitting send in a beat of frenzy. Within moments the friend responds, happily agreeing and beginning to make plans.

Zay exhales in relief, already feeling a little bit less alone. He smiles, stepping into his house.

INT. CHUBBIE’S DINER - DAY

Maya enters the old-fashioned diner, a familiar haunt for the students of AAA. At a nearby table, KATY HART finishes up gabbing with a regular customer. As she heads back, she exchanges a smile with Maya who hops up onto a stool at the counter.

She doesn’t waste a second to update her mother on their current assignment, asking for advice considering Katy was the one who pointed out to her that not every performance has to be a flashy showstopper. How would she go about tackling this assignment? Katy thinks on it, humming to herself as she wipes down the counter.

Katy: To be honest, I’ve always preferred singing duets. Sharing a song with a friend is always better than singing alone, especially if you can’t hide behind smoke and mirrors.

Maya absorbs this, allowing Katy the affectionate gesture of pushing some hair from her face. Then she offers her a smile.

INT. ANGELA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Shawn shows up to Angela’s as promised, a bit awkward as she eagerly leads him inside and shows him around but not all that opposed to being there. Although there is lingering hesitation with one another, both of them are putting forth their best efforts to meet in the middle and find common ground. So the gathering is friendly above all else.

Perhaps, in some ways, a little more friendly than colleagues would allow for. Although they’re there to work, Angela does pull out a bottle of wine about halfway through the evening, so it’s pretty clear that this meeting isn’t going to maintain a sense of professionalism. After a couple of drinks they’re laughing and joking around, gossiping about their students and fellow employees and ruminating on how wild their jobs seem to be for a couple of educators.

Shawn claims that he’s hardly an educator, and Angela vehemently disagrees with him. A pitch too passionately, with the alcohol talking. She points out how far he’s come in cleaning up his act, how he’s able to strike a great balance of stern yet supportive, and more than anything how much those geeky tech kids look up to him. It’s clear he cares about them, is more dedicated to them than maybe anything he’s ever known in his life.

The passion drifts into a moment, the two of them holding eye contact as Angela loses her train of thought. Thankfully, the music player switching songs provides them a distraction.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Dreams” as performed by Lissie || Performed by Angela Moore

The Fleetwood Mac classic prompts Angela to get up from her seat, proclaiming how much she loves the song. Shawn states that he remembers, as they listened to it all the time when they were dating back in college. Angela begins an impromptu sing-along, essentially taking over the number. She dances around the living room, Shawn watching in amusement and lowkey mesmerized.

About halfway through, she pulls Shawn into the dance, too. It’s a sloppy, loose pas de deux, harkening back to the simplicity of being young and in love and dancing around drunk in college like the future was theirs to control.

As the song begins to fade, Shawn and Angela descend into laughter… which then turns into a kiss. Then, somehow, another one. And another. Clearly, Shawn was wrong about the two of them never happening again.

As they conduct their business…

INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT

Zay hangs out with his friends from middle school, the group of them out to eat. While there’s a clear rapport between all of them and it’s evident they’re pals, Zay continues to struggle to feel seen. He doesn’t really fit in with his former friends anymore – they all like him, of course, but they don’t really get him. There’s not many spaces for him to add to the conversation.

He’s not dramatic enough for the divas at AAA, but he’s not grounded enough in the mundane for his former friends. He’s a nowhere man, and it’s starting to get to him.

INT. RILEY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Riley and Isadora are hidden away in her room, practicing scales on her keyboard. She is eager to help Isadora find confidence in her voice, but Isadora is still reluctant. Although they’re growing a solid friendship, she’s not comfortable enough around her to take the assignment seriously. She may have a piqued interest in performing, but it’s not strong enough to override her self-consciousness.

Isadora messes up another scale and grows frustrated, giving up. Riley tries to encourage her but she’s not having it, instead going into a mini-rant about how she might actually fail. She might fail something for the first time in her life, as if nothing else could go wrong this month.

Before Riley can put a positive spin on things, their conversation is interrupted by Cory and Topanga reentering the apartment. Their voices are raised and the discussion is obviously an argument. Cory sounds particularly distressed. Riley’s eyes widen, glancing towards the door.

They wait for the argument to dull to intense whispers, disappearing behind the closed door across the hall. Isadora watches Riley, realizing that her life might be far from rainbows and optimistic spins. Embarrassed, Riley agrees that maybe it’s time to call it a night and states that Isadora should probably get ready to go.

EXT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT

The group of friends heads out, still gabbing and planning their next move. Zay sort of lingers behind, a bit zoned out. When one of his friends catches his attention and asks if he wants to come along to the movies with them, he sort of shrugs it off and makes up a lie that he needs to head home. Early morning tomorrow with rehearsals. A couple of others try to convince him to come, but he’s just not feeling it. They all bid him goodnight, stating they should do this again.

Zay watches them go, just as easy going as before. Unmoved, with or without him. Zay exhales, stuffing his hands in his pockets and heading in the opposite direction.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Mr. Brightside” as performed by Run River North || Performed by Zay Babineaux (feat. AAA Sophomores)

A soft guitar rift floats us into the number, Zay singing quietly as he meanders his way back home through the city. The performance is truly stripped, the visuals of the city at night acting more as the star as Zay walks through them. The shots pan through twinkling lights, street art in splashes of color on the brick behind him muted in the night, passing amongst groups of friends and couples enjoying each other’s company and feeling much like the subject of the song – an observer, yet pointedly removed.

As the song continues on, the voices of the rest of the cast ease in although they may or may not be pictured. Drifting away from Zay…

INT. FOSTER HOME - ISADORA’S ROOM - NIGHT

Isadora is in her room, headphones on and listening to scales and the notes from the song she’s thinking about performing. She’s trying her hardest to block out everything else and focus, but her foster siblings are being distracting enough. It’s clear she’s growing more and more nervous about the assignment.

INT. FARKLE’S ROOM - NIGHT

Farkle is in a frenzy, brainstorming more ideas for the assignment but scrapping all of them. He crumples up another page of sheet music and tosses it to the side of the bed, flopping backwards onto his bed and hiding his head in his arms.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley has finished getting ready for bed, passing by the door to her parents’ bedroom. She thinks about knocking, but ultimately decides against it. She’s not sure she wants to know what has conferred on the other side.

She walks away, avoiding the problem for another day.

INT. ANGELA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Shawn is getting ready to head out, pulling his shirt back on over his head and reaching for his jacket. Angela comes up from behind him, in her robe, pulling him around to face her. In the serenity of the night, something allows them to be softer than usual.

She takes his face in her hands, pulling him into a soft kiss. Both of them smile lightly, exchanging another one before Shawn starts to leave.

EXT. SUBWAY STATION - NIGHT

Zay has made it to his subway stop, rounding out the song. It’s soft, melancholy, permeating the New York evening. Then, he descends the stairs to the tracks below, disappearing in the crowd.

EXT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

Isadora approaches an unfamiliar doorstep the next afternoon after school, stepping up and hitting the buzzer pointedly. It’s not the greatest neighborhood, and she looks a couple of times over her shoulder. Somewhere in the building above, a baby cries. A TV runs. A cramped, overcrowded apartment building with residents who can barely afford to live there.

After a long moment, the door swings open. LUCAS FRIAR is standing there, frowning at Isadora. She doesn’t say anything, the two of them having a tacit exchange. It’s clear he doesn’t want her there, and yet she’s there anyway. She’s Dora, and he’s not going to turn her away.

After a moment he rolls his eyes, stepping back and nodding for her to come in. She does so, marching past him. He shuts the door behind her.

INT/EXT. LUCAS’S BEDROOM / LUCAS’S FIRE ESCAPE - DAY

Lucas and Isadora are cooped up on his tiny fire escape, just big enough for the two of them to sit in if she stays cross-legged and he stretches his feet into the window. Through the pane, a cramped and uncomfortable bedroom is visible. It’s a mess as typical of any teenage boy, but also because there’s simply so much stuffed into a tiny space, and clearly not all of it is his. His bed is a mattress stacked on unshelved books and crammed into the corner.

It’s a paradox, feeling overused yet distinctly abandoned. The small refuge of a person who hates to be there.

His parents are nowhere in sight. Isadora asks him how suspension is treating him, which he shrugs off and doesn’t really answer. She gets a good look at him – aside from the bruises still healing from the fight at school, he doesn’t look much different. Not in any noticeable way.

For some reason, this prompts the question of his parents and how they took the punishment.

Lucas: Mama didn’t really care. She didn’t ask a lot of questions. Just double-checked that I could still go back, eventually.

Isadora: … and your dad?

Lucas: In Texas on business. So he doesn’t know. Think mama wants to keep it that way. So nothing. [ A beat. Then, matter-of-factly. ] For now.

Isadora searches for a change of subject. She explains what he’s missed since he’s been gone, which he seems unimpressed with. He doesn’t react much until she notes the assignment for the week and the fact that the techies have to perform too.

Lucas: What? They can’t do that, they can’t make you perform.

Isadora: Somehow, everyone knew that’s exactly what you would say.

Lucas hesitates then huffs, slouching back against the bars of the fire escape and crossing his arms. Sucks to be so predictable.

Isadora claims that’s the main reason that she’s there. She’s running out of time to figure out the assignment, but she’s totally stuck and can’t concentrate. She thinks that he can help her, to which Lucas is wholly skeptical. But Isadora knows exactly how, getting to her feet and stepping back in through his window.

Lucas: What – what are you doing?

Isadora: [ digging through the chaos, on a mission ] I know it’s in here somewhere…

Isadora exhales an exclamation of victory, retrieving an acoustic guitar from the depths of the storage closet / bedroom. No, our eyes are not deceiving us – it’s old, a little banged up, but definitely a working guitar. In Lucas James Friar’s bedroom.

Lucas groans in disdain and Isadora heads back out towards him, already refusing and reminding her that he hasn’t touched that thing in years. He probably doesn’t even know how to use it anymore. She should put it back. Actually, she should smash it and burn the remains. He’s not playing it. He’s not going to do it.

Isadora ignores him, coming back to stand in front of him. She holds it out to him, raising her eyebrows pointedly. Another tacit exchange, holding each other’s glares.

She wins, as she always does. Lucas grunts out a “fine,” taking the axe from her and adjusting his position so he can situate with it.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Breathin’” as performed by Adam Christopher || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz (feat. Lucas Friar)

Lucas launches into the rough opening notes of “Breathin’,” simplistic on guitar. It’s clear he’s rusty, but he definitely did once know how to play the guitar and still retains some of that ability. Boy, if the gent isn’t an enigma…

Finally in a setting where she focus, Isadora starts the first verse of the Ariana ode to conquering anxiety. It’s a little breathy at first, a little nervous, but Isadora was correct in her instinct that being with someone she trusts without question would help her push through her hesitancy. When she gets to the first chorus, she locks eyes with Lucas and the two of them exchange smiles. Not a bad way to spend a suspended afternoon.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Dylan takes over the guitar as the performance transitions to the auditorium, Isadora giving her required rendition in front of the techies. Riley is also present, as an invited guest of the singer. The group watches, soft and proud, as Isadora gives a great performance. It’s clear now that this girl can sing, even if she opts not to. What potential that has…

The techies give her resounding applause, Asher and Dave giving a standing ovation. Shawn thanks her and then dismisses the group. Riley gets up and approaches her, congratulating her on a job well done and stating she’s glad she was able to work through the hesitation she was having. Isadora notes offhandedly that she had Lucas help her.

After a moment, Riley ventures gently if Isadora was thinking about him while performing it. Isadora confirms the notion, not thinking much of it. While Riley can certainly empathize, it’s evident that her curiosity as to what exactly the relationship is between Lucas and Isadora is becoming insatiable. She’s always been a little nosy, and for some reason she just continues to find herself more invested in the stakes of what this dynamic might be… just, for some unidentifiable reason…

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

The performers are dismissing from their class, everyone gathering their things and heading out. As Farkle stresses to Angela in the background, Charlie and Zay start to reassemble the desks and help clean up. After Farkle storms out, Angela thanks them for tidying up before heading out herself.

Charlie observes how solemn Zay is, pointing out that he sure started out the week with a lot of confidence to look so deflated now. He brushes him off, but when Charlie doesn’t budge and continues to eye him expectantly, Zay finds himself wanting to talk about it. It’s nice for someone to actually be paying him attention.

It’s surprisingly easy to discuss with Charlie. He essentially explains his weird sense of isolation, how even though he is purportedly the most popular student in their grade he feels like everyone is at arm’s length. Riley enters mid-conversation, hanging back as to not interrupt but clearly listening on how it unfolds.

Charlie expresses sympathy and claims he knows the sensation. Zay sort of scoffs, but Charlie really accurately paints a picture of what he’s talking about.

Charlie: No, really. That feeling where you know you should be living the life, everything is in place for you to reap the rewards, but you just feel… like you’re not really there. Like you’re outside of your own experience and so everything is intangible. Disjointed.

Zay: … yeah. Yeah, I guess that’s it.

Charlie: Like I said, I get it.

Case in point, Charlie doesn’t have any solutions that will easily fix the problem. But he does state that Zay could’ve asked him to hang out, and he would’ve said yes.

Charlie: I know I’m not as cool as you or Maya, but I think on a good day I can be fun. Especially if you’re desperate. [ off Zay’s chuckle ] You know, since someone taught me how.

Charlie gives him a playful nudge on the shoulder, patting him on the back before heading out. He locks eyes with Riley as they pass one another, exchanging a smile and nod with her. As she steps in, Zay asks her how much she overheard to which she admits most of it. He’s like eavesdrop much, to which she shrugs sheepishly but doesn’t refute. This is just Riley, you gotta get used to it Zayby.

She asks why Zay didn’t tell her he was feeling all of those things, to which he claims he didn’t want to inconvenience her or anyone else. She argues that they’re friends, so his discomfort or loneliness is never going to be an inconvenience to her, especially if she’s in a position to help.

Riley: You were the first person to show me kindness in this hellscape. You were my first actual friend.

Zay: I hope that’s not first actual friend ever.

Riley: I know I’ve been sort of… I’ve been distracted by some other things lately. I’m sorry if I left you behind in the process. I’m going to try and be a better friend, but you have to promise me that you’re going to help me do that. Total honesty.

Zay is charmed, so he agrees. The two of them exchange a hug, Riley brightening and claiming that she already needs his help if he’s willing to give it. She hasn’t completed her assignment yet this week, after all, and she sure could use a duet partner for the song she’s thinking of…

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “FourFiveSeconds” as performed by Rihanna, Kanye West, and Paul McCartney || Performed by Zay Babineaux & Riley Matthews

Riley and Zay perform a fun and loose rendition of the pop hit, Riley on guitar while the two of them harmonize. They’re up on stools in the front of the classroom, the rest of the performers seated amongst the desks and jamming along. It’s sweet, and watching the two of them sing together and make each other lowkey laugh while performing is the most endearing. Now there is a friendship worth stanning.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Class is wrapping up for the day, only one more day in the week for the assignment. Farkle still hasn’t figured it out, running one more frantic idea by Angela who is growing frustrated with how he seems unable to grasp the assignment. She points out that he knows he’s talented, they both do, so why can’t that be enough? Why can’t he let go of the spectacle?

Farkle can’t seem to articulate the reason either, but it’s something deep-seated in that spastic brain of his. So he snaps instead, mouthing off in typical diva fashion. Angela essentially warns him that he better get it together because he’s only got a day left, to which Farkle stomps off yet again. Shawn approaches.

Shawn: Does he realize that each time he tornadoes out of here like that, it loses its impact?

Angela gives him a look. The rapport between them is sharp as usual but a bit awkward, uncertain given how they reconnected and where they stand now. Are they back together? Was it just a one-time thing? It was good for both of them, they both confirm, but going down this rabbit hole again… they don’t know what to think.

And who has time to think, with Lucas and Wyatt both coming back to school next week which is guaranteed to create a whole new host of issues. Who knows what could happen… but still, neither of them purport to regret the choice they made the other night. So it seems they will see what the future holds.

Tentatively, Shawn leans forward and gives her a kiss on the cheek. She smiles, turning away from him as he saunters off. Whatever the future holds, please let it be good…

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley returns home, entering the apartment tentatively and not certain what she might find. She’s been out and avoiding it all day, but she had to come home eventually.

Topanga isn’t home, however. Cory is, sitting at the table and nursing a hot chocolate. He looks totally drained, and it’s clear from a glance that something has changed. All that charged up tension that has permeated their home for so long has shifted, but not necessarily in a good way.

Riley approaches, broaching the topic of what happened with caution. After beating around the bush and apologizing for likely embarrassing her in front of her friends (which she brushes off), Cory drops the bomb – Topanga officially filed the papers for a divorce.

Riley is completely floored. Much like Cory, she figured that even if things were uneven or rocky, they would be able to work them out. They always had in the past, after all. They’re Cory and Topanga. And yet, this is the reality they live in.

It’s difficult for Riley to wrap her head around. She shakes her head wordlessly, too stunned to cry or lash out or do much of anything. Although Cory continues to ramble in an effort to make sense of it all, Riley has zoned out, totally lost in her own head. Her whole world was just thrown out of whack. And boy, if the control freak isn’t going to leap out in compensation…

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Speaking of control freaks, Farkle is frazzled as he attempts to piece together an assignment last minute. He’s been cooped up in there most of the day, skipping half his classes and spiraling himself into a corner.

Maya enters, watching as he makes a mess of another moodboard that is inherently too flashy to get approved. She pokes fun at him which he’s decidedly not in the mood for, almost downright manic. His hair is practically flying off his forehead from how many times he’s run his hands through it in frustration.

Instead, Maya changes tact and claims she can help him. When he asks what bright ideas she could possibly deliver in this final hour, Maya knocks over his mood board and lets it hit the ground. He’s overthinking everything, she states, and that is what is going to make him fail. Zay was right at the beginning of the week when he said that performing should be about just letting go and freeing themselves, at least at the core. The more pizazz he puts on it, the more he’s just trying to control something that maybe just needs to be.

Farkle is defensive, exclaiming in a huff that when you’re in a house with five other siblings and two tycoon parents you have to be flashy to get your fair share of attention, or even just the scraps. Maya grants him that truth, empathizing although her own experience is different. She points out that in this case, he’s not doing this for anyone else though (well, except Angela). And in this case, they can help each other out.

Maya: Look, let me handle the arrangement, alright? All you have to do is sit there, use that golden albeit screechy tenor of yours, and look pretty. Although you’ll probably need a comb first…

[ She reaches up to ruffle his hair. He swats her hand away, eyeing her suspiciously. ]

Farkle: Why are you helping me? We don’t do that.

Maya: Well, I still owe you for the tutoring. And I don’t know… I’ve been told performing is more fun with a friend.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Happy Days Are Here Again / Get Happy” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Maya Hart & Farkle Minkus

So, are they friends? Their cozy and endearing closing rendition of the Glee mash-up says maybe so… it’s a warm ending to an episode that certainly set up lots to unpack as we venture into the second half of the season. Your cares and troubles are gone, there’ll be no more from now on…

Yeah, right.

END OF EPISODE.

#S1 #episodes #106

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theparaminds · 5 years

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Have you ever awoken from a dream only to feel as though reality is weak in comparison to your own mind’s landscape? Maybe you realized that living and feeling like a dream is the goal to it all. That’s what, overall, Instupendo understands and holds close, that dreams are an extension, and an improvement, upon reality. And with his music, he opens the door to our fleeting mental dimensions.

His production doesn’t depend on making you cry or over think. Instead, it only pushes you to feel less, while becoming a state of higher being. All starting in the ears, the sonics numb the fingers and toes while disintegrating anxiety, replacing it with nirvana. Through Instupendo’s music, every breath feels as fresh as an August morning void of care or concern.

In the few minutes his songs exist, a new world is built. It is one of the freedom and honesty that cannot exist within reality, but only in our mind’s eye. We are taken deeper into the depths of our creation and individuality. In truth, Instupendo is a guide to a universe beautiful and pure, one untouched by the fear and uncertainty omnipresent daily, in times desperate for artistic relief.

Our first question as always, how’s your day going and how have you been?:

My day’s going pretty smoothly. I’m currently nursing an iced coffee at my kitchen table with some candles lit. Besides that, I can finally step out without a coat for the first time in months so you could say I’m doing alright.

To really kick things off at the beginning, in your eyes, what was the moment where you got your first inkling towards music and art in general, and how did you realize it was something you wanted to pursue?

I was surrounded by all kinds of music growing up, everything from my sisters’ 2002s RnB CDs to Björk to Etta James. I first really started to develop my own taste in music in middle school, when I was getting into bass music. As a 12-year-old it was exciting to hear sounds that were like something out of a video game. I realized pretty quickly that I had access to all the tools my favorite artists had, and I immediately jumped into making terrible electronic music. Music as a career was a thought that didn’t come until I was halfway through high school and it was becoming an actual possibility for me. I’m still trying to figure out what “music as a career” means though.

At that time, and as you were growing up, what did the art and sound mean to you and how did it shape your adolescence and development as an individual?

Creating music gave me a place to experiment and excel in a way that felt fun and productive, it was an escape from the mundane parts of adolescence. It actually helped me to survive high school, both because it was a nice way to kick back at a time when I didn’t entirely fit in, but also because I was able to get school credit for writing and putting out my last two releases.

As well through that period of discovery and development, who was your single greatest hero in life and what about them made you look up to who they are?

From 12-15, it could have been Skream, Phonat, KOAN Sound, any of those guys. The whole bass community was embracing the rapidly advancing world of music tech, and it was so inspiring to me to hear so many artists make music, unlike anything I’d ever heard before. They’re not as influential on my music as some others these days, but they were definitely beacons of light for a younger me.

How would you compare the challenges you were facing artistically back in those earlier days compared to yourself now as an older, more mature, and more established artist? Or are they similar and constant in your artistic life?

Most of the challenges I was facing early on had to do with my lack of technical understanding of electronic music clashing with my desire to make everything from scratch. I still have that problem sometimes, but I’m more versed in how music technology works now. One of the biggest changes I made over the past year was switching from FL Studio to Ableton, which felt necessary since I was moving towards a different style of production and live performance. Artistically though, I’ve never really had many setbacks, pretty much everything I do can be done from a bedroom.

And as another comparison, what would you say the biggest difference is between that original artistic vision to the one you hold today? What is the message you’re attempting to put forth with the new sounds you’re creating as opposed to those of yesterday?

I think the biggest shift my creative vision has gone through over time is the shift towards intention. Now that I’ve been around a bit longer and heard some more music than 13 years old me, I have more context for where my music belongs in the general stratosphere of sound. The instrumental music I was making prior to this release probably came off as pretty aimless, but I’ve always tried to tell stories of a gentle yet complex life with my music… adding the vocal layer helped reveal a different facet to these stories.

It goes without saying that the release of Cinderella today is very different due to the addition of vocals from yourself. How did you come to the point of comfort with this side of yourself and how do you feel it adds to the story you’re hoping to tell?

I never really decided, “okay, time to sing”, it was just something that I kind of walked into. Experimenting with vocal processing over the course of nearly a year eventually landed me on both a point of comfort with my voice and a direction for my music I was happy with. Ultimately, I found that I had something to say that I couldn’t accomplish purely through instrumentals. I want my music to reach people like me.

With the song itself, what drew you towards the concept of a Cinderella and what does it reflect within your life and what you’ve felt while creating and writing it?

‘Cinderella’ is about the feeling of being “a princess” around someone -- that you’re both protected and respected -- like nothing else in the whole world. I’m still pretty new to these feelings, but I wanted to write something that tried described this.

As you continue down the more lyrical path, where do you believe more of your lyrical inspiration will come from? Do you see yourself as one who uses past experience or more so personal feelings and anxieties to create the words you do?

At the moment, inspiration comes from both past and current experiences, and the feelings that result from them. It’s easier to tell a story that I know by heart.

If you could take one film and completely strip it of all its music and then replace it with some that you create either for it or insert what you have already made, what film would you choose and why do you believe your style matches and resonates with it?

I don’t know how closely the film resonates with my style, but I would have loved to compose the soundtrack for “Your Name”. The sentiment conveyed in that movie dances right on the fine line of not taking itself seriously and seriously melancholy, which is right where I want my music to fall. I love films with tender orchestral soundtracks, but I often wonder what they’d sound like if they were backed with softer electronic scoring? Maybe one day I can make it happen.

Looking forward into this year, what are the most important goals for you to hit and what plans do you have in terms of your creative output? Or are you someone who more so goes with the flow?

I’m generally the kind that just floats with the currents, but I do have goals. Since this project is a big step for me, I’m trying to see how far I can get it out there. Aside from that I’m really just trying to write music with my friends, and make new friends. Music is most enjoyable for me when I’m working with artists who are pushing the envelope.

And beyond the future itself, what do you hope that the Instupendo legacy and core message continues to be? What is it that you hope to be remembered and known for beyond your own time?

Above all, I want my music to be something that people will look back at with soft-hearted thoughts, something that can be shared with the next generation of listeners. What people associate my music with though? That’s up to them. I just hope it’s something gentle and sweet.

Do you have anyone to shout out? The floor is yours...

My work ethic recently has been hugely inspired by chef Jiro Ono, I hope to one day have complete control over my focus the same way he does. So shout out to him I guess.

LISTEN TO ‘CINDERELLA’

Follow on Instagram and Twitter

Listen on Spotify and Soundcloud

Words and Interview by Guy Mizrahi

Photos by Michael Tian

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snowdice · 4 years

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Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 14]

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

I have like 4-5 hours of busy work to do today. So, pls keep me entertained.