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as much as i appreciate the 2012 carrie revival i do think that by ballad-ifying a lot of the songs they kinda. killed the charm?? like, i think my ideal carrie would be a full blown gothic horror opera and that shit needs 80s guitar wails and church bells!!
Mentions: Park Gunwook - ZB1
Can you tell I love using clingy in arguments...
The silence in your apartment was always heavy, but lately, it had become suffocating. You sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, a laptop balanced on your knees, your fingers hovering over the keys as you edited a manuscript. Across the room, Ryul was hunched over his notebook, the rhythmic scratching of his pen the only sound for hours.
"Ryul?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner.
He didn't look up, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.
"How was the studio today? Did you figure out that bridge you were stuck on?"
He didn’t respond. He simply exhaled a sharp, jagged breath and flipped a page, his focus entirely elsewhere. You felt that familiar prickle of rejection in your chest, the way your heart sank whenever you reached out and hit a wall. For months, you had tried to be his muse, his sounding board, his partner. But to him, you had become part of the furniture.
When he finally emerged from his shell, it wasn't to talk to you. It was to spend his evenings with his friend’s younger sister, Min-ah. You saw the way he laughed at her texts, the way he excused himself to "take a quick call" that lasted for hours.
The first time you voiced your hurt, the explosion was catastrophic.
"You're being clingy, Y/N," he had spat, his eyes cold and his jaw tight. "It’s exhausting. Why are you so jealous of a friend? You’re acting like a child, and honestly? It’s pathetic."
The words cut deeper than any blade. You learned your lesson that night. You stopped asking about his music. You stopped asking about his day. You stopped being the girl who cared, and in doing so, you started to disappear inside yourself. You bit your tongue until you tasted copper, silencing your heart so he wouldn't call you names anymore.
The party was a blur of bass-heavy music and expensive cologne. Ryul had brought you, but within twenty minutes, he had vanished into a crowd of his industry peers, leaving you standing by the drink table like a ghost.
You were nursing a lukewarm club soda, scanning the room for him, when a man stepped into your personal space. He was tall, with a sharp jawline and eyes that seemed to look right through the superficiality of the room.
"You look like you’re waiting for a bus that isn’t coming," he said, offering a small, lopsided smile.
"Something like that," you muttered, shifting uncomfortably.
"I’m Gunwook," he said, extending a hand. "You look bored out of your mind."
"I'm Y/N. And… yeah. Just taking it all in."
"I saw you over here earlier, looking like you wanted to be anywhere else. What do you do, Y/N?"
"I’m an editor," you said, a flicker of passion returning to your voice as you talked about your work—the late nights, the thrill of polishing a raw manuscript, the satisfaction of making words sing.
Gunwook didn't check his watch. He didn't look past your shoulder to see who else was in the room. He listened. "That’s incredible," he said, his eyes genuine. "People don't realize that the story only breathes because of the person behind the pen. That takes a level of dedication most people don't have."
You felt a warmth spread through you that you hadn't felt in months. Encouraged, you asked, "And you? What keeps you busy?"
"I'm a rapper," he said. He didn't sound arrogant about it; he sounded thoughtful.
Your eyes lit up. "Wait, no way. Do you write your own lyrics? How do you balance the cadence with the emotional intent of the narrative? Do you find that the beat dictates the flow, or do you force the beat to bend to your message?"
Gunwook looked genuinely surprised, then delighted. For the next hour, he sat with you, breaking down his process. He explained the technicalities of his production, the way he layered his vocal samples, and the specific struggle of distilling a feeling into sixteen bars. For the first time in an eternity, you were being heard—and you were learning.
"This place is too loud," Gunwook said, leaning in. "Do you want to get out of here? Grab a coffee and talk about this properly?"
You hesitated. You looked toward the bar, where you saw Ryul laughing, his hand resting on the shoulder of another man, completely oblivious to your existence. A strange, cold clarity washed over you.
"I-"
"Y/N!"
You turned to see Ryul signaled for you to come over, his expression impatient.
Gunwook sighed, but he didn't retreat. "I want to keep talking to you. Give me your number."
You reached into your clutch.
No pen.
No paper.
No phone.
With a sudden, reckless surge of defiance, you pulled out your deep red lipstick.
You took his wrist, the skin cool against your touch, and traced the digits clearly against his pulse point.
Ryul’s eyes flicked over, and he froze. He didn't see the conversation; he only saw the intimacy of your hand on Gunwook’s arm and the bold red ink on his skin. His face darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes.
The weeks that followed were an emotional rollercoaster
You and Gunwook started meeting for coffee. Then, he came to your apartment. Ryul would sit in the bedroom, door slightly ajar, listening to the two of you in the living room.
"Your flow on that last track was insane, Gunwook," you’d say, your voice bright and animated. "The way you used the minor chords to emphasize the loneliness in the second verse? It was genius."
"I only wrote it because you mentioned that the structure felt off," Gunwook replied, his voice low and intimate. "You really get it, Y/N."
Ryul would sit on the edge of the bed, his knuckles white as he gripped his own notebook. He heard the laughter, the shared secrets, the way your voice became melody when you spoke to the other man. He felt replaced. He felt the cold, hard reality of what he had thrown away settling into his gut like lead.
He began to act out. He’d burst into the living room, slamming his notebook down. "Listen to this!" he’d demand, his voice desperate. He’d start spitting bars—complex, fast, filled with technical prowess—trying to show you he was better, trying to crave the admiration you were lavishing on Gunwook.
But you would just look at him, your eyes flat. "That sounds fine, Ryul," you’d say politely, before turning back to Gunwook. "Anyway, what were you saying about the mixing process?"
Ryul felt as though he were screaming underwater.
One evening, after Gunwook left, Ryul couldn't take it anymore. He stood in the hallway, blocking your path.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice shaking.
"Doing what?" you asked, your voice calm, detached.
"Ignoring me. Praising him. Acting like I don't exist."
"You taught me how, Ryul," you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You called me clingy. You told me I was jealous. So, I stopped being those things. I stopped looking for you because I realized… you weren't there to find."
Ryul felt a crushing weight in his chest. The realization hit him with the force of a physical blow: he had starved you, and now that you had found someone who would feed your soul, he realized how much he was wasting away without the nourishment of your presence.
"I missed you," he whispered, a tear escaping before he could stop it. "I was an idiot. I was so caught up in the pressure, in the insecurity of my own work, that I shut you out because I didn't want you to see me failing. I thought if I didn't ask, I wouldn't have to admit I was stuck."
You looked at him, truly looked a#t him, for the first time in months. You saw the raw, terrifying honesty in his eyes. He wasn't the arrogant rapper anymore; he was just a man who was scared.
"You should have told me," you said, your voice softening. "I didn't need you to be perfect, Ryul. I just needed you to be my partner."
He stepped toward you, hesitant, as if afraid you would shatter. "I don't want Gunwook in this house. I don't want anyone else talking to you about your work, or your mind, or your dreams. I want that back. I want us back."
You looked at the door, then back at Ryul. The jealousy that had poisoned the air for weeks seemed to evaporate, replaced by a painful, aching yearning.
"It's going to take a long time to fix this," you said.
"I have time," he promised, his voice breaking. "I have all the time in the world. Just… let me earn it back."
He reached out, his hand hovering over your cheek. You leaned into his touch, a small, sad smile touching your lips. It wasn't fixed yet. The scars were still there, and the road to rebuilding would be long, filled with apologies and late-night talks that had nothing to do with music and everything to do with the heart.
"You're going to have to listen, Ryul," you whispered. "Not just to your own lyrics, but to me."
"I'm listening," he said, pulling you into a hug that felt like a homecoming. "I promise. I'm listening to everything."
As he held you, you realised that the silence was finally gone. And for the first time in a very long time, you felt like you were finally standing on solid ground.
A/N: In this fic everyone’s queer because I say so wlw & mlm solidarity. Didn’t feel the greatest about this chapter initially but I think it turned out okay so I hope y’all enjoy. The next one will be one of my favs so I’m excited to finish writing that :))
The weather was unexpected.
Your once sunny day turned into dreary skies and heavy rain as soon as you stepped outside the office. A day your choice of clothing had not at all predicted, which led you to getting rained on as you raced to the recording studio.
All three Huntr/x members sit in a circle, running through potential lyrics and chords. Rumi’s guitar strumming turns into a distorted melody while Mira & Zoey’s singing shifts into frustrated groaning.
“This song sucks!”
“We only have to write the best diss track ever to crush the Idol Awards, or there’ll be a demon apocalypse.” Mira flops back onto a beanbag. “No pressure at all.” She tosses a dart straight at a poster of Jinu’s face taped to a dartboard. Around it hangs more printouts of the Saja Boys members.
“Yeah! We gotta get up close and insult their stupid faces. Their stupid, smug demon faces.” Zoey flops onto the same beanbag Mira’s laying on, resting her head on Mira’s shoulder and slinging an arm around her waist. A hurried knock sounds from the production room door.
Rumi’s met with the sight of you dripping from head to toe. In your hands was a small plastic bag you had sheltered from the rain. She gasps and brings you inside, immediately reaching for a blanket to dry you off. You’re still shivering as she wraps it around you. You only wore a simple shirt and slacks. Your body needs warmth.
Rumi takes off her hoodie without thinking.
She freezes. Then remembers she picked out a turtleneck because of the weather. Chances are her patterns will stay well hidden. At the moment, it’s you she’s more concerned about as she helps you into her hoodie.
You release a sigh. “Hey guys.”
“Hi Y/N.” They reply at the same time, a little quieter version of how they greet Bobby.
“Mind telling us why you’re soaking wet?”
“I didn’t check the weather—" you sneeze, “the weather. It was sunny when I left, how was I supposed to know it was gonna rain?” You grumble.
Rumi leads you to sit on an unoccupied beanbag. Mira and Zoey get up from theirs and place it next to the one you’re on, encouraging Rumi to sit. Her eyes widened a little at that, but regardless, she took her place next to you, letting you lean against her with her arm around your shoulders. Surprisingly, Rumi’s skin is incredibly warm. Must be from all the layers she always has on you think, not noticing how red and quiet she’s become.
You hold up your hand that holds the plastic bag. “Anyways, I brought you guys mochi donuts.”
Bobby had already told you how they were absolutely buzzing to get to the studio earlier that day. Knowing how much of a workaholic Rumi is, or any of them for that matter, chances are this is probably the most food they’ve been in proximity to since lunch. You grin as each of their eyes light up, all eager to grab one.
“So, how’s the song going?” The three of them groan.
“That bad, huh?”
Mira glares at the posters, hitting one dart after another as Zoey catches you up to speed. Once Mira is out of darts, she began tearing them off the studio wall. “I’m taking these down! Just like how we’re gonna take down these boys!”
A lightbulb goes off in Rumi’s head. “Take down? Takedown! That’s the song! It's a takedown!
Zoey, whose brain is always running a mile a minute, comes up with the beginning lyrics. “So sweet, so easy on the eyes but hideous on the inside!”
Mira nods, “Nice.”
“You like it?”
Mira continues, “Whole life spreading lies, but you can’t hide.”
“Baby, nice try.”
Mira crossed her arms, impressed by Rumi’s addition. “Woah. That’s sounding good.”
“I’m about to switch up these vi–” her voice strains from a rough cough. “Sorry guys.”
“No, no, take it easy.” “Yeah, rest that voice for Idol Awards.
The rest of the day was spent working out the beginnings of the song. Their motivation lasted into the evening until their stomachs took first priority. “I’m beat.” Mira stands, cracking her stiff neck “You comin, Zoey? Rumi?” Zoey nods tiredly. She stretches her body and goes to Mira’s side. “Rumi?”
Rumi doesn’t notice them standing up. Instead, she’s laser focused on the computer in her lap, her headphones plugged as she replays her vocals over and over again, listening for flaws.
Mira swats the back of her head. “Ow,” Rumi exclaims. She looks up at Mira, who was hiding a small smirk as she takes off the headphones. “I asked: Are you coming with us?”
Rumi looks between them and the computer. She chews her lip, “I think I wanna stay. My vocals aren’t right yet. I want to work on them.”
“Rumi,” Zoey sighs, “The song will still be here tomorrow. You need the rest. We don’t want you staying here for the rest of the night.”
“I can stay,” you shrug, looking between the group members. “I don’t have any plans. And I’ll make sure she quits before 12 so she doesn't overwork herself.” Rumi smiles and looks at the group with pleading eyes. They both relent and pick up their things before leaving.
Neither of you notice how fast the hours tick by. Their recording studio became the floor plan for a slumber party. Furniture was pushed around to add to the cozy atmosphere. Throughout the night, you helped Rumi mix beats, experiment with vocals, and even test out new lyrics. Rumi would always ask for your thoughts whenever she made any changes.
The mochi donuts you had ordered were dwindling down to the very last pieces. Rumi saved the last in the box for you.
“So, why’d you really stay?” Rumi finally asks.
“I always have trouble sleeping.” You confess. “Being here with you is ten times better than staring at a wall for hours.” You take a sip of water from your blue tumbler. “It’s actually why I keep giving you tea. I wanted to learn the best types to induce sleep, then ending up doing a whole deep dive on the different types.”
At the mention of sleep, Rumi can feel the exhaustion seeping through her body. She tries to fight it, but starts to nod off on the couch next to you. “Hey, don’t fall asleep on me,” you poke her side. You glance up at the clock on the wall. 11:49, you may have to call it quits before 12. Rumi nods tiredly, shaking the sleepiness out of her. Her eyes strain against the computer screen as she wills herself to be okay with the unfinished product. Just as she’s about to click save, the lights go out. Every machine in the room goes dark. In her head, Rumi’s screaming a thousand curses that would surely send Celine into an early grave.
Thunder cracks outside. You both have the same idea to get up, but the lack of light screws with your coordination. You can feel Rumi brush past you to try the light switch. Nothing. She opens the studio door that leads out into the hallway and finds it's completely pitch black. She shuts it close. “Powers completely out,” she deems.
You had forgotten where you placed your phone. But you needed its flashlight in order to see. You stumble around the room at the same time as Rumi does.
The two of you collide. Rumi loses her footing, sending the two of you to topple onto one of the couches. Your head knocks against something solid. Found it.
Despite there being no light, you can feel how close she is to you. Her breath fans against your cheek. She has one arm around your back—an attempt at breaking your fall—and one above your head to steady herself. Rumi’s never been more grateful for a power outage in her whole life.
Thank god she can’t see my face
You immediately interrupt her silent thank you by accidentally shining a blinding flash right in her eyes. She yelps, moving backwards and holding her hand against the light. “Sorry!” You apologize quickly, shining it in a different direction.
“Hm, the light’s not strong enough,” you muse. It’s not?? Rumi exclaims in her head. “We need something brighter.”
You attempt to mess with your flashlight settings. Though within an instant, the room suddenly lights up in a purple tinted glow. You look over and see Rumi standing awkwardly with her saingeom brandished. She looks between you and the blade, smiling sheepishly. “Light.” She clarifies.
You huff in amusement. Though this is a good opportunity to get a closer look at her weapon of choice. “Can I see it?” You can’t help but ask.
Rumi steps closer. Her expression becomes serious. She takes your hand and raises it, placing the hilt gently in your grasp.
Celine would have a heart attack.
You inspect it closer, waving it around carefully. “It’s very light,” you note. You look good welding her saingeom. The light makes your skin glow. Rumi briefly considers the idea of training you. An assistant manager who knew how to help them in more ways than one? The idea would be beneficial for the group. It’s definitely not the idea of sharing her technique, her craft, her time that makes her dwell on it longer than she needs to.
The lights flicker back on. You hand her back the saingeom, and she throws it off into thin air. The alarm on your phone blares at 12 o’clock exactly.
Rumi walks you out of the building. “Well, I guess this is goodbye.” You smile.
Rumi glances around. “It’s too dangerous for you to go out alone. Your place is further away. It’s late, it’s dark, and it’s still raining. You can stay with me?” She offers. Her building isn’t very far from the recording studio.
Rather than calling her driver, you can’t help but ask if you two can take the metro instead, mumbling something about unsafe drivers and slippery streets. Rumi holds out an umbrella for the both of you, giving you no choice but to squeeze close to her for the short walk to the station. Not that you minded, far from it. Her presence near you is becoming a comfort.
Although there were enough guest rooms to lose track of in the lower floors, Rumi didn’t want you to go down alone. For your safety, obviously for your safety, she leads you to the penthouse floor where the rest of Huntr/x resides.
She leads you to the couch, fetching pillows and blankets from her own room to bring to you. You accept them gratefully as she sits next to you.
“Thank you for staying with me today.” Rumi looks down at her hands. When she doesn’t hear a response, she looks over.
You were already asleep. She tries to move you down, but your head falls against her shoulder instead. Rumi blushes and remains still, not wanting to disturb you. It was so late, and Rumi was just so tired. After giving you a small once over to make sure you’re comfortable, she wants to completely pass out on the couch with you.
But her thoughts keep her awake. It’s no secret Rumi was beyond touch starved. At some point, you had curled up closer to Rumi’s body, and her arm had slipped around your waist. The sight was endearing. And with you asleep, she, for once, didn't mind the stubborn blush that always seemed to appear when you were around. Though the moment is short-lived.
No, she thinks, I can’t be having thoughts like this.
It’s not because you’re a girl. She’s known that about herself at least since her early 20s, when she started meeting other female idols in person. Because just look at them. She hasn’t told Mira or Zoey or even Bobby. Even though she knows they all would accept her, she can’t say the same for the rest of the world.
The other half of her is why. She's still a demon. A mistake, so to speak. You’d never want her. You can never be with her. From a young age, per Celine’s request, Rumi has stayed away from any potential romantic entanglements. Rumi never had a problem with it. She knows deep down no one could ever accept her until she got rid of her patterns. Otherwise she wouldn’t have sworn off love for so long.
She can’t experience love until they’re gone. Even if you know about Hunters and their sacred duties. Even after she spent an entire night realizing all the praise she gave to your appearance still applies after she found out you’re human. If anything, this should give her more motivation to turn the Honmoon gold, but really, she just feels terrible for lying to you. The exact same shame that plagues her when it comes to both Mira and Zoey is beginning to expand to you too.
In the end, Rumi reluctantly falls asleep; and underneath her top, her patterns only grow brighter.
—
It was about 2am when Zoey awoke craving something.
She yawns loudly and stretches in bed before making her way to the kitchen. The pouring rain outside her window sent her right to sleep after a small dinner with Mira. But now, she realizes, it wasn’t enough. She flicks on the light and nearly screams when she sees two dark figures on the couch. But once she sees who it is, Zoey rushes back down the hall and quietly knocks on Mira’s door until she answers.
“Zoey, why the hell—" Zoey drags Mira into the living room by her wrist and points at the two of you. She holds back a squeal, snapping a photo with the flash accidentally on. “Zoey, you’re gonna wake them up.” Mira chides, pushing her glasses back onto her face. Rumi shifts a little in her sleep. “See.”
Not wanting to disturb either of you two, they take their conversation elsewhere, talking in hushed voices. “But they look so cute together!”. Zoey walks back to the kitchen with Mira in tow. “This is proof that I’m winning the bet. I’m getting that $20 from you tomorrow. They’re gonna confess soon, I just know it.” Zoey attempts to reach for a small bag of chips at the top of the fridge.
Mira raises a brow as she leans against the counter. “You get your 20 when they actually admit to it. I know Rumi. She’s going to hold it in for a while. I don’t even think she realizes she even has feelings for her.” Mira reaches for the bag of chips above Zoey’s head with little effort, handing them to her. Zoey looks down at the bag, “Do you think we were like that?”
“Oh yeah.”
Mira tilts Zoey’s chin up with her thumb & index finger and kisses her sweetly. Her glasses fog up just a little. That same hand glides up to cup Zoey’s cheek. “I’m just glad we’re past that phase.”
“We need to tell Rumi eventually.” Zoey tries to say through Mira’s kisses. “Soon, she’s got a lot on her plate.” The two stumble back towards the bedrooms, the bag of chips forgotten on the counter.
—
The following week was spent solely on the song. And killing more demons. A task which never seemed to end as new weak spots opened around the city. In some ways, it proved to be fruitful: saving lives, discovering the beat of the song, and forming new lyrics.
Though as the Saja Boys climbed further into the limelight, their fans fell deeper and deeper under their spell; each passing day became a reminder that no matter how hard the three of them tried, they can’t save everyone. The group wasn’t oblivious to the reports. New missing persons cases were talked of in the media every day, each overshadowed by a new Saja Boys update. Billboards featuring Huntr/x were soon replaced. Weekly awards shows they used to win easily were handed over to them. With every fan they save, they’re met with those demonic faces plastered on every surface in sight.
Rumi became more conflicted. Every new addition to the song began to rub Rumi the wrong way. Her short conversation with Jinu gave her more insight than Celine has ever given her. She hated going behind Mira and Zoey’s backs to meet him, but she still had so many questions. If Jinu was once human, and was condemned because of his mistake, is it the same for the others she’s killed?
Break you into pieces in a world of pain ‘cause you’re all the same.
Her attempts to find out more only did so much.
“Are you a prisoner, too? Is Gwi-Ma making you do this?” She was saved by a concerned Mira before she could get an answer. Regardless of her questions, there was more at stake. If they wanted to win the Idol Awards, she would need his help. Rumi scribbled out a note for Derpy to send. The cover read: Save the date.
Hopefully, this will work.
—
Rumi woke up way too early for her own good the next morning. But she was on a mission. She has her hands in her pockets as she walks, mentally preparing her pitch on the way to her destination. She watches Jinu leaning back casually against the stone walls. An idea comes to mind.
Jinu scoffs. “She wants to meet and she’s late?” he flips the card in his hand. With a smirk, Rumi jumps onto the stone wall next to him without him noticing. When he sees her, he yelps and jumps back, clutching his heart. “You made me come all the way here just to jump scare me?”
“Follow me.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re finally ready to talk. Although, I still don't understand why you called this a date.”
“Date? No! Ew! What are you talking about?” He holds up the card dumbly. Save the date. “That doesn’t mean–you’re so old.” Rumi groans. “This is strictly a business meeting.”
“I figured as much, since you’re seeing that other girl.”
“What? No, we’re not–She wouldn’t be into… that’s not the point!”
“Well, are you?” “Am I what?” “Into her?” Rumi knows he’s probably fishing for information to use against her. Regardless, he’s the only person who can understand the full extent of her dilemma.
“I shouldn’t feel that way. I can’t. Not when I’m like this...even if she does know.”
“She knows?” His eyes narrow at her well hidden patterns.
“Yeah I…well, it wasn’t intentional. We saved her.” I saved her. The image of your smiling face flashes in her mind. Rumi looks up at Jinu, “But she can never know the truth about me.” Jinu is quiet.
“I don’t think you know what a business meeting really entails.” he teases.
With a smile, Rumi shakes her head, walking up the stairs of the scenic path. “What if I told you there’s another way to get your freedom?”
Jinu perks up. “Go on?”
“Help us win the idol awards. Because when we win, the Honmoon will be sealed. And that will guarantee your freedom. Gwi-Ma will be permanently cut off, and all the demons will be gone from this world. I will finally be free of these patterns. No more hiding. No more secrets.” She can’t win without his help. Rumi turns to him, “You can be on this side when the Honmoon is sealed. Away from the demon world, away from Gwi-ma. You can be free of those voices forever.”
“What makes you think the Honmoon can save a guy like me?”
“A guy who tried to help his family? You made a mistake, Jinu.”
He scoffs, “It’s not that simple.”
“But I am a mistake. Have been since the moment I was born. So, I have to believe. Because if there’s no hope for you, what hope is there for me?”
As they walk, they come across a vendor setting up shop. On a table is an assortment of different types of jewelry. She startles them when she calls them over. “A bracelet? For the beautiful girlfriend?”
“No! We’re not--!
“Oh, no, she has one already–” Rumi elbows him in the stomach, making him double over in pain. “I can see why you’re single.” Jinu grits out.
The woman only brightens and turns to Rumi. “Then a bracelet for the special woman in your life?” The woman gestures to a horizontal display stand filled to the brim with bracelets lined next to each other.
Rumi has no idea what she should get for you, but she wants it to be meaningful. You remind her of the color blue. She picks out a woven aqua blue one for you. Then, as she continues to skim, she picks out a hot pink one for Mira and a similar navy blue one for Zoey. Finally, she picks out a purple one for herself to match with everyone. Satisfied, she pays the vendor happily, who then turns to Jinu.
“And for you, young man? Anyone special in your life?”
Jinu stares down at the bracelets. He chooses 2 leather ones with small detailed engravings and pockets them after paying. Rumi doesn’t ask who they’re for. As they walk away from the vendor, he doesn’t say much until they’re out of earshot. He stops in his tracks.
“The demon realm isn’t a place for love. Up here, it’s everywhere,” he starts, “The idea is almost hopeless to believe in.
“That’s the funny thing about hope. Nobody else gets to decide how you feel it. That choice belongs to you.”
Jinu looks down at the two brackets. He gives Rumi a faint smile, then turns into mist in the blink of an eye.
—
Later that night, Derpy lays curled up on the floor next to Rumi as she goes over Takedown. Her voice has been steadily improving since the Golden release. Rumi follows through each lyric with her pen as she sings.
“When your patterns start to show it makes the hatred wanna grow out of my…” She sighs, crossing out the last few lines of the bridge.
“When your patterns start to show, I see a pain that lies below.” She starts to play with the bracelet in her hand. Not Rumi’s, but yours. She hasn’t seen you at all today, so she hasn’t yet gotten the chance to give it to you. Fiddling with it has become sort of a comfort for her. Sensing the sentiment, Derpy leans up onto its paws to inspect it. “Calm down. I’m not gonna see her yet.” Rumi scratches his nose.
A knock sounds at her door, followed by someone clearing their throat. “Rumi?” Mira calls out. Her eyes widened, Mira can’t see Derpy here. “Uh–You gotta get out of here. Come on.” she pushes his head away and scrambles to toss all the papers on her bed into a trash bin. Mira knocks once more. “Yeah! Uh, give me a minute.”
Rumi opens the door to see Mira standing with her arms crossed. “Uh…what are you doing?” She asks nonchalantly.
“Uh, nothing. Just uh…did you want to come in?” “I mean yeah, if you want me to come in, I can come in.” She looks around the room, seemingly not noticing Derpy’s paw clawing at the trashcan that fell on its side. Rumi stiffens. Panic floods through her as she tries to hide him.
Luckily, Mira’s facing away from her. “I heard you singing. You sound good.”
“Yeah, who would’ve thought? Those tonics actually work.” Rumi struggles in the background as Mira peers down the box from Dr. Han’s office. She counts out six silently. Meaning Rumi hasn’t taken any since the visit. She can’t help but wonder why Rumi is lying about that of all things. Or more specifically, what exactly is she trying to hide from Mira?
Mira turns back and picks up a sheet of their lyrics that fell on the bed, the bottom stanza crossed out. “So, why are you changing our lyrics?”
“Oh, I just…” Rumi sighs. “Do you really think this is the right song to beat Gwi-Ma? It’s so hateful.”
“Yeah, because we hate him, and we hate demons.”
“No, I know.”
“Okay, what is up with you? I could swear the other day you were talking to a demon.” Mira steps closer to Rumi, making her back up in return.
“I–“ Rumi fumbles for an excuse to explain her recent behavior.
“Look, I’m pretty good at reading people. Actually, I’m kinda an expert at it.” Rumi sits on the bed to hide Derpy’s tail as Mira speaks. “And I just can’t shake the feeling that you’re hiding something from me.”
“...Mira, I’m not keeping anything from you. I promise.” Mira sighs, internally scolding herself for coming on a bit too harsh. “Sorry, I sound nuts.” she sighs, sitting on the bed right next to Rumi. “I guess these demons are just getting to me. I can’t wait until every last one of them is destroyed and sent back to Gwi-Ma to suffer for eternity.” she chuckles to herself.
“Right, Rumi?”
“Yeah. Eternal suffering. Sounds fun…” Rumi’s tone is dry, almost…disappointed, which doesn’t go unnoticed. Mira stands, but before she can get very far Rumi catches her wrist, surprising her. “I got you something…” Rumi scoots back to her headboard and takes one of the bracelets off her nightstand.
“I got this for you, I got one for Zoey too,” she hands it to Mira, “So we can all match.” Mira clutches it in her hand like it’s something precious. She slides it on. It’s a perfect fit. Mira thanks Rumi before leaving the room.
Despite the gift, Mira can’t shake the feeling. Something is definitely wrong with Rumi, she just can’t figure out what.
Minutes later, Zoey barges in, playfully demanding hers. Rumi hands it over without a second thought. Derpy and Sussy already disappeared into the barrier of the Honmoon, so she wasn’t worried about Zoey seeing the giant blue tiger that was curled up on her bed.
Once Rumi’s left alone, she looks down at the lyrics on the page, a conflicted expression on her face. Rumi can’t help but feel that her relationship with the others is beginning to strain. It won’t be long until they find out what she is.
as you lie there -> i wasn't sure on the first listen but then it shot up my rankings the second time around, plus it's just SO paul and the fact he chose this as the opener is very funny. need to make a playlist of all of paul's weird horny songs.
lost horizon -> like the lyrics but it's not massively standing out to me yet
days we left behind -> I usually move on from the singles pretty quickly once I've got the whole album but not this time, I don't see this leaving my top three tbh! it's so pretty and so nostalgic without being too sad and i love love love paul's voice
ripples in a pond -> I LOVE LOVE SONGS!!! the chorus has immediately stuck in my head, the 'let's carry on making ripples in a pond / and we'll see how far it goes' line is so catchy. really really love this one.
mountain top -> this is EVERYTHING i wanted it to be and more. the lucy in the sky comparison had me so excited already and yeah. it feels like sgt pepper's era beatles and solo 2020s paul in one song, it's a bit silly (in the BEST way) and the ending instrumental feels like falling down a rabbit hole. another top three for me!!! (oh also nancy on a song!!!!)
down south -> this is just exactly what it needed to be. i love the very simple guitar and the storytelling, the fact it's so pared back matching that feeling of them just starting out and making do with what they've got. also presumably the easiest one to learn to play so that's what i'll be figuring out this weekend for sure!
we two -> ohhh boy. just a really solid paul track and definitely some stuff to pull apart lyrics-wise.
come inside -> SO FUN! loving the sequencing on this album and this is perfect side B opener (patiently waiting for my LP to arrive, please mister postman!!!!!)
never know -> oh yeah. this is the best song on the album. gorgeous song writing and this along with mountain top are the two songs i wanna peel apart and inspect every layer and hear every detail of so i know exactly what's in both of them. beautiful, beautiful production and i love songs where paul uses vocals as additional instruments. also god the lyrics. i love a 'feels quite upbeat but the lyrics are gonna hurt you' moment.
home to us -> so this really didn't do much for me as a single BUT somehow in the context of the whole album i've actually decided i adore this song
life can be hard -> probably one of the weaker songs for me BUT it's very cutesy and i'm not mad it's on here
first star of the night -> this is a hug in a song and i needed it. there's barely anything to it and yet it's made me so emotional. this man.
salesman saint -> THE BRASS BAND!!!! honestly that alone is enough for me we don't get enough trumpets in songs anymore quite frankly
momma gets by -> the orchestral arrangement on this is so beautiful!!!! and there are parts of the song that almost musical theatre-y to me?? interesting end to the album, he'd usually pick the mood up after a track like this so it quite nice to see him just let this one close.
overall i'm just over the moon, skipping round my flat and peering out the window for my record and whatever else it was i decided to spend too much money on !!!!
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"Ladder" - a Toulon era Valvert song. Out on Tumblr now and will be on all streaming platforms next Friday (pre-save here)!
@lesmisshippingshowdown
Music, lyrics, production, & cover art by me :) Lyrics & instrument info below the cut!
Listen to my other music: Spotify | Apple Music | YouTube | Deezer
Lyrics: (60 lines)
On the other side of where I came from,
On the right side of the bars.
Every chain is still a mirror,
If I dare to look too hard.
‘Cause the ladder from misfortune
Climbs more righteous every rung,
So every step is a sacred promise -
I won’t look down, I’ll just go on.
Everything that rises up from entropy
Takes refuge in the law,
So I memorized my code of honor
and wore it like a coat of arms.
And they told me I got lucky -
Just one slip, you’re too far gone.
‘Cause potential is absolute
Like black and white, or right and wrong.
They said beware, they said be grateful,
If you stray you’re lost forever,
Boy, just pray the past is all you’re hiding from.
But in my secret sparks of darkness,
There’s a flaw that keeps me lawless,
I can follow every rule except for one.
Every cloud that blurs your judgment
Pulls a star down from the sky,
So I shield from my periphery
Temptation and desire.
But if they push through the surface,
Past the point of no return,
You’re gonna brand my wooden heart
That cannot melt, but it can burn.
But I’ve been good and I’ve been careful,
Kept in line, straight as an arrow,
Should have known I couldn’t stay too green too long.
Cause in my secret sparks of darkness,
You’re the flaw that keeps me lawless
I can follow every rule except for one.
I was confidently merciless,
Steadfast in my obedience
A bloodhound with a compass
How I never strayed until…
You came like a magnet,
A landslide of a man
With strength to pull me from the ladder,
Make me yours to ruin.
You were the fire below the surface,
So unruly and unclean,
Now you’re the fate that breaks the floodgates,
Laughing wildly from my dreams.
A siren call, a force of nature,
Lone divergence in my tunnel vision.
Point me towards a dead end,
Off the tracks and off this ladder,
Where I'll fall or climb courageous,
Keep you buried,
Keep you nameless,
Like you’re not my Achilles heel or fatal flaw.
And when you go, I’ll say “good riddance”
To the shame that keeps me prisoner
And pray that when you go,
That you’ll stay gone…
Instruments: (mostly for LMSS mods, but everyone else feel free to bear witness to the chaos)
Uhhh hi LMSS mods. I am...so sorry about this lol. I have absolutely no idea how you're planning to score this and I fear this may test the limits of scoring complexity lmao. But I can assure you that all of the weirdness I'm about to describe was done out of nitpicky music production perfectionism and not an attempt at point-maxxing. If you have any questions or if there is any math I can do to make your job easier, PLEASE lmk because this is uhhhhhh...
Okay here goes:
Total time: 4 minutes, 34 seconds
So technically there are 17 tracks playing in the song. (1 drum track, 2 bass tracks, 4 guitar tracks, 2 vocal tracks, and 8 synthesizers).
All 4 guitar tracks are playing the same part, but they have different amounts of distortion and 2 of them are panned all the way to the right and the other 2 are panned all the way to the left.
The main vocal track is active throughout the whole song, but it's doubled in the choruses and bridge to add texture.
And then *sigh* there are the synthesizers. Technically there are 8 of them, but they're playing 3 different parts. Basically I had to layer multiple synthesizers playing the same part to get the sound that I wanted. So there's one group of 3 playing the buzzy synth part, another group of 3 that's meant to sound like a lead guitar, and then a group of 2 arpeggiators playing the high sparkly part.
The 2 bass tracks are playing 2 different things and the drums are just the drums.
So yeah. Uh. I'm so sorry. Please do whatever you think is fair and if there's any way I can make it easier, feel free to DM :)
I s2g if you add the layers of these comic pages together, it's over 350 layers. THIS is why I don't do full color for my comics lmaooo- ANYWAY EVERYONE HERE HAS AN AU APPARENTLY, SO THIS IS A BRIEF GLIMPSE INTO MINE. I don't know what to call it yet but I'm thinking of calling it "famous prophets" because 1. I like that car seat headrest song, 2. it's about shamura who is prophetic, 3. it's about trying to outrun fate with the Power of Love (and failing. Like the song!!!). It takes place when all the bishops were teens/kids during the age of hundreds of gods at war, and were trying to survive as a family.
I'm really excited to work on stuff for it but it's all gonna be drawn out of order. Maybe I'll write a full explanation of what it's gonna be about when I have a better idea...I want to channel my eldest sibling angst in a productive way, and maybe establish a QPP between shamura and a completely random npc everyone forgets about <3 also kallamar is trans too cause I said so. I'll do a comic about it eventually. Instead of an absence of gender he has TOO much gender. It simply cannot be contained.
I like that nonbinary genders are normalized in cult of the lamb to the point where nobody singles anyone out for being a they/them, it's not like "THIS IS MY SIBLING SHAMURA. THEY ARE NONBINARY AND USE THEY/THEM. ALRIGHT BACK TO KILLING YOU", it's just like "don't you fucking dare make my poor sibling wake up from their nap to kick your ass. Cause they deserve better than this."
But at the same time I like having the freedom to be more specific, and say "shamura is voidpunk and their gender is best described as the feeling that overtakes you during the first snow of the year, when everything outside is deathly quiet". This comic is actually derived from the time I was walking through a forest that's been torn down for a few years, and came out to my little sister as trans. I must've been like 13 or 14 and she didn't really get it as a 10 year old, but it was better than my mom FREAKING OUT about me coming out. So it was a nice little bonding moment between just the two of us. I don't have a good memory so I don't recall how it went unfortunately...
Now, the climate is a little different. My sis tried out transmasculinity for maybe 5-6 years before feeling happier as a woman, my mom is trying to be Based and flaunt her Woke trans children, and my dad remembered "oh yeah trans natives have existed before colonization. Maybe me being transphobic is a product of my culture being erased" and has gotten better about calling me the right thing. I have a mustache (thanks pcos!!) and wear skirts and am not a repressed "tomboy" teenager anymore. But I can't help but wonder what would've happened if I could've been like shamura and just...been nonbinary without people being fucking weird about it. Or been born as a badass war god who will tear you to shreds before you can perceive my birth sex. I know they're fictional but they are my ultimate gender envy GRRRRR BARK BARK BARK
Here is the secret image for this post- I listen to mostly EDM when I draw cause it keeps the energy up, but as I was finishing up shamura's poetry part, I was like THESE ARE JUST KMFDM LYRICS so I made this
Warnings: Fluff overload, swearing, romantic tension, est. relationship, sex jokes / references to sex
WC: 1.5k
🎵 Water - TYLA
🎵 Water (Remix) - TYLA, Travis Scott
THE STUDIO & THE TRACK
The studio was dimly lit, warm with the scent of fresh coffee and the faint buzz of excitement. You tapped your foot nervously as Lando leaned back on the couch, headphones over his ears, eyes closed.
He was listening to Water - the track you hadn't let anyone hear yet. Besides your producer who helped.
Your manager still hadn't heard it.
Only him.
You watched him intently as the beat pulsed through the room, slow and sultry, like honey melting in heat. The melody dripped, cool and crystalline, over lyrics that were raw - confessional. The kind that made your chest hurt a little because they were about him.
The chorus hit, and your nerves skyrocketed.
Make me sweat
Make me hotter
Make me lose my breath
Make me water
Make me sweat
Make me hotter
Make me lose my breath
Make me water
The track faded out with layered harmonies, synths trailing like ripples.
He took the headphones off slowly, staring at you in silence.
You swallowed. "So..?"
Lando blinked once. "You wrote that about me, didn't you?"
Your silence was the answer.
He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head, lips curling into that stupidly soft smile you loved. "That was... insane. Like, actually insane. You're gonna destroy the internet with that."
"You really liked it?"
He leaned forward, voice low. "I felt it, Y/N. Every single word."
You grinned, cheeks burning.
"Release it, ASAP."
THE DROP
Water hit streaming platforms at midnight, and within hours, it had flooded social media. Fans were losing their minds over the sultry production, the intimacy of the lyrics, and of course - your obvious muse.
Lando posted a blurry selfie with you from the studio, captioned:
Guess who this one’s about? 🥶💧 @ yourusername
The comments exploded.
The music video came next. Pearlescent lighting, slow motion, insane choreography. Lando's favourite scene was the one where your pouring water on yourself and shaking your ass. Of course it was.
He watched the premiere on YouTube Live, secretly sitting on your couch, a proud grin on his face as fans spammed the chat.
"This is her best song yet!"
"THE VOCALS??"
"Pretty sure she's singing about Lando.. 👀"
"The visuals are giving goddess."
You turned to him after the stream ended.
"Okay," you whispered, "this is going better than I expected."
"You mean you didn't expect to break the internet?"
THE DM
It happened two days later. You just got home from lunch with Lando, scrolling through your instagram DM's reading out the funny ones. You stopped in the middle of the hallway nearly spitting out your water.
"Lando.."
"Mmm?"
You turned your phone towards him.
@ travisscott - yo this water track is crazyyy. let me remix it. call me.
Lando's eyes widened. "Travis Scott?"
"Yeah."
"No fucking way.."
"Yes way."
WATER REMIX - TYLA, TRAVIS SCOTT
You hit the studio in LA three days later. Travis was electric - brimming with ideas, pacing around with headphones on and humming bars to himself. He stripped the beat back, added a darker bassline, and dropped his verse.
When you're low, keep you hot like flame
Can make your whole life change
She's a palm body, yeah, but the wrist plain
Eliantte with a bustdown chain
The way that thing move, girl, that waist change
I'm lovin' how it bounce like it got springs
I know a couple things we can exchange
The track slapped harder than anything you’d ever made.
When you sent it to Lando, he replied in three words:
Lando 🧡😻
HOLY FUCKING SHIT.
You laughed, heart soaring.
SURPRISE RELEASE
You teased the remix with a TikTok. Travis' voice dropping in after your hook.
The internet exploded.
Fans dissected every second - As they do - theorizing a surprise drop, screaming about the collab no one saw coming.
And then, at midnight, the remix dropped without warning.
#1 on all streaming platforms in less than 12 hours.
Travis posted a BTS reel of you two vibing in the studio, Lando commenting:
@ Lando: She's a cheat code
↳ @ yourusername: Only for you 😉
PILLOW TALK AND PLAYLISTS
Later that night, you were lying in bed, your head on Lando's chest, your phone buzzing with congratulations, label texts, and Travis reposting the music video teaser.
Lando was scrolling too, he finally set his phone doen and looked at you.
"You really made a global hit about me, huh?"
You smirked. "Maybe. Or maybe it was about... Carlos."
He rolled his eyes and tickled your side, making you squeal.
"Okay, okay! It was you."
He kissed your forehead, the softest whisper against your skin.
"I'm proud of you. Like, crazy proud."
You pressed your lips to his collarbone. "Thank you baby."
And with that, you both drifted to sleep, your song echoing in the background - now playing on radios, playlists, and hearts around the world.
GRAMMY EVE
You stood backstage at the Crypto.com Arena, legs encased in sheer, shimmery fabric, makeup set, mic in hand. Travis had just finished rehearsing his part and was chilling side-stage in a hoodie and diamond chain.
Lando leaned against the dressing room door, arms crossed, watching you like you were the only thing in the world.
"You're nervous," he said softly.
You exhaled a shaky laugh. "I'm basically about to sing about us having sex in front of fucking taylor swift. Of course I'm nervous."
Lando crossed the room and gently took your shaking hands in his.
"You've done this a hundred times before. But now you're doing it with the whole world watching. And that's exactly where you belong."
You smiled, grounding yourself in the way he looked at you - steady, read, yours.
"I love you," you whispered.
He grinned. "I know. I'm water, remember?"
LIVE FROM THE GRAMMYS
The arena lights dimmed.
A massive LED screen rippled to life behind you, showing swirling, dark ocean waves. A distorted heartbeat pulsed through the speakers - slow, intense.
You stood in the center of the stage, alone, dressed in a liquid-silver gown that moved like silk and seafoam. A single spotlight lit you like moonbeam.
You sang the first line, your voice haunting:
Make me sweat
Make me hotter
The music swelled - cool synths, bass-heavy, smooth and hypnotic. Behind you, water visuals surged and crashed, a visual tidal wave synced to the beat.
Then the chorus hit - and the crowd erupted.
Can you blow my mind?
Set off my whole body
Smoke curled across the stage as Travis Scott rose from a platform behind you, the beat switching to the remix version. The spotlight switched from you to him. He launched into his verse with energy so infectious, even Taylor Swift nodded along.
When you're low, keep you hot like flame
Can make your whole life change
Spotlight back on you. Your vocals soared over Travis’ final lines, intertwining in perfect harmony. You and the backup dancers danced the same choreo as in the music video.
The last note echoed through the arena.
Silence.
And then - thunderous applause.
The camera cut to the audience: Beyoncé standing. Billie Eilish clapping with both hands above her head. And Lando? Standing too, eyes glassy, smile stretching to the back of his head.
You performed some of you other songs like Jump, Push to Start and Truth or Dare with some choreography.
THE AFTERGLOW
Backstage was chaos - publicists, press, security everywhere.
You barely made it to the green room before Lando got to you first, sweeping you into his arms.
"That was unreal," he murmured against your hair. "I've never seen you like that."
You smiled into his chest. "You mean confident? Bold? A little terrifying?"
"I mean unstoppable." He pulled back, hands cupping your face. "I swear I forgot to breathe for most of that."
A knock at the door.
It was Travis. "Yo. That was a fuckin’ movie out there. You snapped. We Grammy-gold now, baby."
You laughed, bumping fists. "Remix magic."
AND THE GRAMMY GOES TO...
Later that night, your category was called.
"And the GRAMMY for Best Pop Duo/Group Performance goes to…"
A beat of silence. A drumroll.
“Y/N and Travis Scott – Water (Remix)!”
You froze.
Lando yelled before you could even move: "YESSSS!!"
You and Travis made your way up the stage, the applause deafening. Your speech was a blur - thanking your fans, Travis, your team.
Then you paused, locking eyes with Lando in the crowd.
"And to the one who inspired every word of that song… thank you. For being my calm, my chaos, and my favourite storm."
He covered his face for a second, cheeks flushed, then blew you a kiss.
GOLD AND GLITTER
The Grammy sat on your vanity now, next to a photo of you and Lando at the afterparty - your lipgloss smudged, his tie undone, both of you beaming.
You curled up next to him on the hotel couch, trophy in your lap.
"Did you think we’d be here?" you asked.
Lando shrugged, resting his head against yours. "I knew you were going to change the world the minute I heard that demo in the studio."
You laughed. “You were the first person to ever hear Water.”
"And I always will be," he murmured. "Every version of it."
