#Are they nearly unrecognizable from how they were originally written? PROBABLY.

[msfcatlover]

Me, trying to figure out my Reverse!Robins’ Teen Titans teams, digging through wikis and seeing anything described as “ambiguous” or “never given in canon”:

[dindjarinbae]

All my Love (Din Djarin x Reader)

request from @buckythewhitewolfx :  Hi there! I love your writing! I saw that you are taking requests, so would you like to write a one shot of the mandalorian x reader where they have sex for the first time and Din is all shy, clumsy but also touch starved? You can decide the level of smut, nothing that will make you uncomfortable ❤ Thank you!

hi just a little warning, this is the first smut i’ve written in ages, so it is not the best. anyways this fic is 18+, so keep that in mind. it is part two to my previous din fic, so i’ll leave the link to part one below. anyways, i love soft din, i loved this. i am so sorry it took so long, i kept getting distracted, lol.

PART ONE

TW: brief fem!receiving oral, vaginal intercourse so it is fem!reader. this is 18+, so plese don’t read if this makes you uncomfortable.

WC: 4798

To say you were cold was an extreme understatement. You weren’t used to the coldness that came with hyperspace. It was a complete absence of heat, and while the Crest was temperature controlled, it wasn’t comfortably temperature controlled. Just enough to keep everyone on board alive. Now Din, ever so stoic, was unfazed by the cooler temperature, and the kid was tucked away in his little pod, bundled up warmly. And you? Freezing. Absolutely freezing while you sat on top of your bunk, a blanket draped around your shoulders while you shivered. The tip of your nose had turned adorably pink and the tips of your fingers as well. About twenty minutes more of the temperature making you freeze, you’d had enough. You kicked your legs over the side of the cot and you trudged your way up to the cockpit, making sure the blanket stayed with you at all times. You walked inside and stood there for a moment while the stars made streaks of light through hyperspace. Mando- or Din, you had to remind yourself- did not turn around or acknowledge your presence in any way. Typical. You huffed and brought your hand down on his chair once before moving it to clap down on the top of his helmet, but his hand was much faster and he gently caught your wrist between his fingers. “Is there something you came up here for or are you going to huff and puff like the kid?” He asked, his voice thick with annoyance, but you could tell it wasn’t real annoyance, even through the modulator. “Yes actually. It’s freezing cold and I guess I don’t know what I want you to do about it, but is there like... heat somewhere on this panel?” You asked and motioned towards the stretch of buttons in front of you. Din released your wrist and you pulled it back towards your chest, your cheeks turning pink from him this time instead of the cold hull. He shook his head and tilted it backwards just slightly. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you knew they were on you, “No. Y/n, this is an old ship. There’s not heating,” he said, and you could hear the amusement in his tone. “Extra blankets? Clothes? Jackets? Coats? Cloaks? Anything?” You asked and sat down on the co-pilot seat next to him. Din just shrugged and was quiet for a moment before he spoke again, “There’s probably a few extra blankets in the storage compartment by the door,” he finally answered before turning back towards the window. You stayed there for a moment, watching the streaks of starlight glint off of his helmet and get endlessly replaced with new dashes of light. “Do you take it off up here? When you’re alone?” You asked without thinking. This question seemed to catch him off guard by the way he stiffened and held still for a long time before he gave one nod, “When you and the kid are asleep,” he answered and relaxed once again. “Do you like having it off?” He took his time answering this before sighing, the tail-end of it just catching through his modulator, “It’s... bittersweet. What’s got you so curious tonight?” He asked, turning his head towards you. “Oh. I was just wondering I guess. Did I make you uncomfortable?” You asked, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth. Din just shook his head, taking notice of your pink nose, “Go get those blankets. If you want to come back up here, you’re welcome to. It’s warmer,” he stated and turned forward once more. Truth be told, he silently hoped you’d come back up to keep him company. He’d never admit aloud that he’d come to adore your constant talking. You nodded and shuffled out of the cockpit, only to return (to his absolute delight) a few moments later with the blankets wrapped around your body. You sunk back down into the co-pilot chair and draped some of a blanket over your head like a hood before letting out a relived sigh. Din took this opportunity to turn his chair towards you and he folded his arms over his chest while he watched you, and he did take note that the red on your cheeks was not from the cold this time, and this made him smirk just slightly under his helmet, “I take it you didn’t travel hyperspace until you came along with me.” You nodded once and kept your eyes on where his should be, “I hadn’t even been off of Naboo. I’m still not used to how cold it gets up here. How did you get used to it?” You asked softly and he gave you a shrug while he motioned towards himself. “Layers.” That was a dumb question. Of course he was fine underneath his thick layers and beskar armor. He shifted just slightly and sighed again, “You might not get used to it entirely. I guess you just figure out how to handle it. Like the blankets. Or like how the kid hunkers down in his pram. Adaptation,” He went on to explain while slowly drumming his fingers over the side of his arm. You nodded to his response and raised your eyebrows, “Did you have to adapt? To your armor, I mean.” Din could only nod to reply to your question and you leaned your head back against the seat, your eyes growing heavy. He noticed this and turned back to his original position while you let the lights of hyperspace against his helmet lull you to sleep. This was not a warm sleep. In fact, it was colder this time than you had ever remembered hyperspace being. And though you were asleep, Din could not help but take notice of you shivering just to the right of him. He looked over at you and his heart nearly swelled in his chest. Ever since he had revealed his name to you in a flowered field back on Naboo and you had spoken it then fallen asleep on his shoulder, he had steadily been falling in love with you. From watching over you as you slept, to leaving secret kisses against your head when you weren’t awake (or at least to his knowledge), he could not stop the feelings he continuously received for you. And he wanted to, he really did. Falling in love was undeniably unfavorable for a Mandalorian for the reasons that were painstakingly obvious, and to this, Din was no exception. He grew tired of watching you shiver and he also grew tired of the longing to be close to you, so he set the ship to autopilot and he stood up. He lifted you easily upwards and made his way carefully down into the hull. You stirred, but did not wake. He was grateful for that. Din laid you ever so gently onto your bunk and tucked the blankets tightly around you before he sat down on a crate opposite of your bunk. Still, you shivered and shifted to find warmth in a new position before he finally wanted to yell. He stood up and walked to a panel of buttons by the door and he pushed the vast majority of them down, every light in the hull snapping off, so nothing- and that means absolutely nothing- was visible. Din made his way back to your bedside and swallowed down the anxiety in his throat caused by the sheer magnitude of his next set of actions. He silently began to strip himself of his armor and other layers until he was just as clothed as you were underneath all those blankets. Last to go was his helmet, which he removed with shaking hands. To say he wasn’t used to this was an understatement. The most skin you had ever seen on this man was his hands or wrists. Nothing more, but certainly less. He lifted the helmet from his head and the cold air in the hull surrounded his face instantly, and he realized how cold it really was. Maybe he’d have to invest in getting a heat source of some sort equipped in the Razor Crest. He couldn’t see you, but he could hear you. And all he could think of right then was ‘poor thing’. Your breathing was mirroring your shivers and your teeth chattered every so often. He’d lay with you just to warm you up, he told himself, as if he was not convincing himself that underneath this “for warmth” ruse was not just the simple want (need?) to be as physically close to you as he could. Din finally bit back doubts and he climbed onto the bunk right behind you, sliding silently into your pile of blankets. His arms awkwardly fumbled around your torso until he found a place for them that didn’t seem so awkward. He drew you backwards into his chest and let out a relieved sigh. The sudden presence of warmth was enough to pull you from your light slumber and you gasped quietly, squirming around before calling out to him in fear that someone unidentified was pressed up against you. “Shh, shh, y/n, I’m right here. You were shivering,” Din said and tightened his arms which had circled your waist. You almost didn’t question it. And was a hard almost. You gasped again, but this time it was because the voice behind you was unfamiliar, but certainly not unrecognizable. It was Din. Of course it was Din, that much you knew. But it lacked the metallic graininess, the barely there static that stood background to his voice. He did not have his helmet on. You’d be lying if you said that it didn’t completely intimidate you, but it would also be false to say you weren’t highly intrigued at the same time, “Din... Your creed,” you stuttered lamely and he only snorted in reply. “Tell me, then. What are you worried about seeing right now?” He asked and in your flustered state, you had to take in the fact that the hull was completely dark. You sighed in shaky relief and then shook your head, “I guess nothing,” you replied. A few more moments of shock passed before you began to really appreciate the gesture, despite the risks he was taking with such a grey colored loophole. How many times had you thought of being this close to Din? The answer was far too many, and this was probably something you wouldn’t admit. Whether this was real or some cruel dream your mind spun, you decided to take full advantage of it and you grabbed his wrists and you pushed his sleeves up just slightly so that you could rest your palms against his warm skin. If Din had any reservations or any nervousness left in his body about holding you, they went out the window with the simple skin-to-skin contact. He sucked in a breath of air and pulled you towards him so that your back was flush against his firm chest. He was impossibly warm for the temperature around the two of you, and you relaxed gratefully into him. It was silent for a long while, and every so often, you’d push his sleeves up a little more absentmindedly to feel more of his skin. It was truthfully just as you had imagined many times before, the skin of a warrior. It was soft, warm, and there were dips and ridges of scars, some deep, some shallow, and each one of them was so uniquely Din. It had been almost two months since he had revealed his name to you, and you could recall from that night forward, almost every night, the near-silent hiss of his helmet being removed and then the soft, gentle kiss that was always placed in the center of your forehead. His kisses were meticulous, cautious, just as he was, and you wondered if he’d ever kissed anyone before, and of course this thought led sequentially to the thought of his lips against yours. Had he ever kissed anyone like THAT before? You rolled around in his arms a bit until you faced him and he clutched the material of your shirt, almost desperately, like he was desperate to have you close to him. You stretched your arms out in front of you and you wrapped your arms loosely around his shoulders, and you swore that you heard Din let out the quietest of gasps. Your fingers slowly moved along the back of his neck and into his hair. Oh, his hair. You don’t know what you expected of his hair, but you weren’t expecting for it to be so soft and shaggy, curling softly at the ends. He shivered under your wandering fingers and you slid them around to rest right underneath his jaw. He quickly caught your wrists and he was silent, his grip feather light. “Din... can I touch your face?” You found yourself asking, your voice sounding far away, “Has anyone ever touched your face since you were a child?” Din lifted your hands up by your wrists until they rested upon his cheeks, a light sheet of facial hair brushing against your palms, “No. Not since The Mandalorians saved me,” he answered, his voice low. His answers were concise and short, you expected nothing less of Din. Your fingers had a mind of their own and they traced along his sharp cheekbones and mapped out each little scar on his face. You moved them along his forehead and over his strong nose and you were pleasantly surprised to find a neatly trimmed mustache outlining his upper lip. Your fingers stilled at the corners of his lips and you could feel the soft, warm breaths he released rhythmically. Your own breath was caught in your throat as you very slowly inched your fingertips towards his lips. Perhaps you were moving too slow or perhaps Din had his own desires in that moment, but he grabbed your wrists once again and he pulled your left hand to his lips. In the dark, you stared into blackness and you felt the warmest kiss fall upon your fingertips. HIS kiss. His lips were also not what you were expecting, but then again, what could you expect, truly? They were warm, plush, and perhaps the only unscarred part of his body. He took perfect care to make sure each fingertip was kissed with the same gentleness and amount of affection. Oh, the affection in each kiss. It made your heart flutter in your chest, and you wondered when he had time to pick up such affection for you. And Din, on the other hand, he had suspected early on that you had grown too fond of him, but he never addressed it, and until this second, he never planned to. You weren’t the hardest to read, in fact, you were practically an open book, and each emotion you had, you wore written on your face. Any and all question about being in love with you dispersed now within his mind, because right now with your touches and with each kiss he planted on your fingers, he became more convinced that he’d never be able to go without you again. Not now. He had lived almost all of his life deprived of moments like this, moments to fall in love with. Moments where he could truly be close to someone. The closest thing he’d ever had to closeness was meaningless sex for an emotionless release between jobs, and even then, he didn’t take his armor off, much less his helmet. But you invoked the strongest feelings he had ever felt for anyone, ever. When he finally had kissed each finger upon your left hand, he raised your right to his lips and replaced your left with it. You laid in awe as his lips travelled your fingers, and you waited until he finished to brush your thumb across his bottom lip, and you bit yours, wanting nothing more than to kiss him right then. But out of nerves and respect of how far he wanted to go, you waited for him to make any kind of move to indicate that he wanted to kiss you. And that didn’t take long. One second your thumb was against his lip, and the next second his nose was bumping delicately against yours, “Y/n,” Din breathed, his words falling against your parted lips, “Can I kiss you?” He asked, and it nearly took you aback. Din Djarin, a rugged bounty hunter with more scars than anyone else you knew, who could take whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it, who held himself with so much confidence, it could be considered cockiness, had a slight tremble in his voice, a flicker of unsureness. So you replied in the best way you knew how to. You pressed your lips fully against his, your hands sliding ever so stealthily into his soft, thick tangle of hair. No hesitation was shown on his part, and he returned the kiss just as soon as your lips were on his own. The kiss was sweet and clumsy, nothing like the man with the hard exterior who seemed to be good at everything he did. His nose pressed against yours as he squeezed your waist just slightly and he brushed the tip of his tongue against your bottom lip, and you eagerly parted your lips to grant his tongue access to your own. He pulled his lips away from yours all too soon, and you would have objected if it weren’t for the instantaneous relocation of his lips onto your throat. You closed your eyes and left your fingers within his hair, allowing his lips to explore each inch of the cold skin on your neck. Each kiss sent a rush of warmth through your body, and you were finding it much easier to be adequately warm now. You moved your hands out of his hair absentmindedly and slid them underneath the collar of his shirt, his lean back noticeably releasing tenseness underneath your touch. Din pulled away from your neck, and for the first time, you actually heard him try and catch his breath. The next few moments were wordless and almost blurry, but you know for sure that you were able to rid him of his shirt and he was able to rid you of yours. Both of you moved your hands along each other’s skin. Arms, chest, torso, back... anything you could reach. He seemed to be so comforted by your wandering hands, and his quiet, content sighs confirmed that. You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it, six simple words rolling anxiously off of his tongue: “i love you, i want you.” The silence after his words swirled around your head as you tried to comprehend what it was he had just said, and your lips fumbled to respond to him. When you finally chased down your voice, you reached for his hands which laid against your sides and you let out a shaky breath, “i love you, too. I want you, too,” and if there were lights on at this moment, he would’ve seen the dark pink blush that had crept up your cheeks, but thank god that he couldn’t. “Have you ever-“ he began, but you cut him off promptly. “I have. Have you?” You asked and bit down on the the tip of your tongue, not sure what to expect his answer to be. A quiet yes left his lips and you pressed your own together tightly, wondering if he had more to add to that. He didn’t. Instead, Din located the center of your chest and he brushed his fingertips downwards in an invisible line down your stomach and to the waistband of your pants. Your breath hitched embarrassingly loud in your throat and he seemed to notice this because he stilled his fingers, “Can I take these off?” He asked, his voice softer and more timid than you had ever heard it. Though this time was unfamiliar with him, it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. It was so nice to know that he wasn’t so stern all of the time, and you realized in a hurry that you wanted this side of Din all the time. You nodded in response to his question, then remembered he couldn’t see you in the pitch blackness. “Yes. Please,” you whispered, not able to help the desperate tone your voice took at the end, and you prayed silently Din didn’t notice. You fool, of course he noticed, the chuckle that left his lips confirmed that. Stupid, meticulous Mandalorian Din carefully pulled your pants down over your legs and when he pulled away from you and you heard shuffling, you imagined that he was doing the exact same. From that moment on, the entire mood shifted. The cold hull was nearly sweltering now, and you could feel a thin layer of sweat veil your face, and it only got impossibly hotter when you felt his mouth press right against the center of your chest. He began to trail slow kisses down your stomach and just down past the waistband of your underwear. He stopped there and didn’t move for a long moment. Impatience clouded your mind and you whined before reaching down to yank your underwear off. Something about him was making you desperate for friction, for touch. his touch, specifically. He seemed to find this amusing, because he let out a scoff that sounded an awful lot like a muffled laugh. You felt his nose brush up against your navel and your breath hitched in your throat just before his lips came down to make contact with your skin. This was enough for a calamitous gasp to escape your lips, and your hands fumbled around to find his hair, but he caught your wrists mid-reach, and he rested them in his hair. He liked that, you concluded. The heat of the moment blurred each second almost deliriously, and the only thing that brought you back to focus, was the warm, open mouthed, blissful kiss Din left against your clit. You attempted to throw your hips upward, but his he seemed to predict this, and as he always was two steps ahead of you, he held your hips down to the mattress with one of his hands. Excitement crackled within your stomach and you had to remind yourself to stay quiet as to not wake the sleeping child on the opposite side of the hull. Din’s hand held you down tighter and you anticipated he’d make another move. And you were correct. His lips moved downward ever so slightly to leave another hot kiss against your folds, which were increasing in wetness by the millisecond now, it seemed, and this didn’t go unnoticed by Din, who let out a groan against your core. He eased his tongue out from between his lips to lick a stripe up to your clit, when you yanked his hair, growing impatient. “Din. Please, I need you. I’m sure there will be other times for this,” you whimpered, your breath a frantic indication of your sudden desperation. He paused and you were afraid he wasn’t going to oblige, but after a moment, he was pulling away from you. The sound of clothing being taken off excited you even further, and you reached around for him giddily. Your hand caught his shoulder and you gave it a soft tug, trying to get him to come down closer to you. He (thankfully) obliged and moved down so that the two of you were chest to chest, one of his arms resting beside you to hold himself up. “When did you fall for me?” He asked, breaking the silence around you two. His question made you blink a few times and you waited a moment before answering him, “I guess when you came and saved me and the baby that one time... I don’t know. After that I just... saw you differently I suppose,” you replied quietly and reached up to find his face in the dark. You rested your hand on his cheek and brushed your thumb over his cheekbone, to which he leaned into, “What about you?” You asked, biting your lip. “The day I took you back to Naboo, in the flowers. You fell asleep on me,” he responded, quick as lightning, and that was the first immediate vocal response you’d gotten out of him almost all night. You remembered this night clearly, as it was the first time he’d kissed your head. “You know, I’ve been awake each time you’ve kissed my forehead. I stay awake for it,” you whispered softly and closed your eyes, waiting for a response that never came. At least, it wasn’t a spoken response. His lips once again captured your own and he kissed you deeply; passionately. He took this opportunity to gently lift one of your legs up over his waist and you were quick to tighten it. Everything went fast from there, and clumsily so. You messily wrapped your arms around his back and he shifted around for a moment before finding a position above you to align your hips. You clung to him tightly and twisted your fingers within his hair as he carefully eased his cock inside of you. Of course the very few times that you’d fucked anyone before had nothing on Din. The size of his length stretched you, leaving you stinging blissfully in his wake. You let out a quiet gasp and gently pulled his hair, invoking a deep groan to unfold from the center of his chest, “Din, please.. m-move,” you stuttered and he gave a gentle nod, giving in to your request. He started almost aggravatingly slow, carefully pumping inside of you fully before slowly sliding himself almost completely out before doing it again. Either he sensed your frustration or he grew frustrated himself, but whatever the case was, he quickly began to pick up speed with his thrusts, his hips jerking backwards and forwards. You moaned, quietly at first, but soon after, another one tumbled from your lips, louder. He tossed his head backwards immediately following your moan and he drove his cock into you just a little bit faster, “Fuck. Do that again,” he groaned in reference to your moan. You squeezed your eyes shut and gasped for a moment before letting out another one of those moans he seemed to adore. The more moans that left your lips seemed to encourage him to increase the speed of his thrusts, and they became harder and faster, causing your eyes to roll back. You didn’t even feel his arm move before he pressed his thumb down over your clit and rolled it in a slow circle. You sucked in a harsh mouthful of air before nearly choking out his name, and you heard him swear underneath his breath. He timed the movements on your clit with his deep thrusts and truly, just when you believed you’d plateaued in your pleasure, his cock hit a glorious spot inside of you, and you yanked at his hair, which had him grunting out a series of foreign words which you figured to be Mando’a, but you couldn’t be sure. And really at the moment, it was the last thing on your mind as you were seeing white flashes underneath your eyelids as he hit that spot, over and over and over and over until you were just barely breathing to try and hold your orgasm back. Din leaned down and pressed a sloppy kiss to your lips, and the quality of his thrusts became that of his kiss. He was close. But it was you that came first. You arched your back high off of the mattress and wailed his name into his mouth as you came around him, becoming impossibly tight around his cock. He gave a few more hard thrusts before he was releasing inside of you as well, his lips moving lazily against yours. He moved his thumb slowly over your clit as to guide you down from your orgasm. His thumb came to a stop after a while and he dropped his head down to your chest. You wrapped your arms around him and played with the hair on the back of his head, feeling warm within your post-coital intoxication. “You stay awake for my kisses?” Din asked after a while and you giggled softly, holding him just a bit tighter now. “I do. And I’ll keep doing so if I can get a few of them on my lips from now on.” “As you wish, Cyar’ika.”

[reidgraygubler]

a different type of high (spencer reid/reader) pt 4

Title: A Different Type of High (part four)

Request: no

Couple: spencer reid/gender-neutral!reader

Category: angst in the first half, some fluff in the second half

Content Warning: mentions of death, talks about parent death, relapse scare, suicidal ideation, talks about drug usage and drugs, anxiety/panic attacks, explanations of nightmares/night terrors, swearing, intrusive thoughts,

Word Count: 4,514

Summary: Reader nearly relapses because of the anniversary of her mother’s passing. 

A/N: this one does deal with some heavier topics (see CW's), so please proceed with caution. I originally had t his as on big long part, but, uh, it was too long. So it’s two parts… anyways, thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

last part  series masterlist  next part

{***}{***}{***}

I sat in the living room with my eyes on the coffee table. Several orange pill bottles sat lined up on the edge. The way the light caught the plastic caught my attention, mostly in a bad way. I was already on edge, and my day was already ruined. Any number of things could have made my day bad, but we can easily put the blame on my mother. And, I’m not just saying that because she’s an easy target. No, I’m blaming her because she died a year ago on this very day.

I was hungry, and not for the food in my fridge. No, I was hungry for the high and the nothingness. The high that was dangerous and could likely kill me. Maybe that’s what I wanted. I mean, the only person I have in life to keep me grounded was Spencer… And we’ve only known each other for a short time. What if he’s faking it all? He doesn’t really care about me. He just says he does. Saying stuff I want to hear.

My body was on autopilot as my hand moved towards the bottles. The grip I had on the lid was tight like my life depended on it. Mostly because, in that moment, my life did depend on it. That was until a slip of paper caught my eyes. An unfamiliar handwriting was scribbled across the paper, but a more familiar name was at the bottom. 

Just because I’m at work doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you! Please call me if you need help with anything! 

-Spencer

I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at the note. I have no idea when he would have written it and put it there. But it was the exact sort of pick-me-up I needed to stop me from making a stupid mistake. 

I stood up and shoved the paper and bottle of pills in my pocket before making my way to the door. My keys and a small stack of quarters sat on the side table beside the door, they ended up in my pocket. 

My feet moved themselves, and I soon appeared at the laundromat down the street. There were a few people there, and I could tell they 

hadn’t been there for very long. I just hope my phone call to Spencer wasn’t too long and they didn’t listen. Although, why would they listen to a random girl’s phone call? They don’t care, they won’t care. 

I quickly made my way towards the payphones, going to the furthest one to ensure my own privacy (again, they won’t care). I fished out the quarters as I sat down. It was kind of amazing how quickly I dialed Spencer’s number, and more impressive how fast I remembered it. It was the next number I remembered after my address.

The phone only dialed for a few seconds before he answered. I would have assumed he was busy with work or something. But, I guess, like his note said, even if he was busy, he was thinking about me. I’m pretty sure he was just saying that though.

“Hello, this is Doctor Spencer Reid,” he spoke calmly like he didn’t know what was happening. Well, that was probably because he had no idea I was on the verge of a breakdown. “Hello?”

“It’s… It’s me… Spencer, Spencer, I…” I swallowed roughly as I stared blankly at the wall in front of me. I could feel my heart beating a million miles an hour and hear the beating in my head. It was nearly deafening to me. Being alone didn’t help the anxious feeling. “Are you home?” My voice was a light whisper, and I wondered if he even heard me ask. I don’t even know why I asked if he was at home. I knew he was at work. It’s only 3 pm. Maybe I was just hoping he’d be home, and he could come over and save the day, make me feel better somehow. How though? I’m not sure. Spencer’s a fix-it type of guy, I’m sure he’ll figure something out.

“I’m still at work. But I should be home soon. Why? Is everything okay? Are you okay?” He asked, his voice heavily laced with concern. It was that moment that I realized he did care about me. 

I closed my eyes and brought my hand to rest over my mouth to muffle any sobs. “Are you okay? I need you to talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.” He asked again when I stayed silent. I let out a deep sigh and shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me.

“I, uh, I… I want…” I let out another deep sigh, hoping he’d know what I was getting at. “Please don’t make me say it,” I whispered and looked at the counter. My fingers rapidly tapped against the smooth surface. We both knew I had to say it and admit my defeat and the fact that I was sitting in the laundromat, with a bottle of whatever drug I had hidden in my bathroom. “Fuck,” I shouted before slamming the phone down on the hook. The other few people in the laundromat looked at me with caution in their eyes. 

“What?!” I looked at them before I tightly tugged my sweater around my body before storming out of the laundromat. The pill bottle in my pocket rattled with each step I took, and it was getting very difficult to move without wanting to take anything. Tears sprung from my eyes, blurring my vision the longer I was outside.

When I finally made it back to my apartment, I stormed to the bathroom. My reflection scared me. I almost didn’t recognize myself. It was a little horrifying, seeing myself as so unrecognizable. So, I stared at myself, my hand in my pocket, rattling the contents inside.

I scoffed before shaking my head. My hand came out with the bottle, and my eyes looked down at it. My thumb fidgeted with the lid, wanting to pop it off and pour the contents into my mouth. But, instead, I chucked it to the sink, the lid popping off and pills flying everywhere, before I ran to my bedroom.

I pulled the blankets over my body to hide from the world. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and face and I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it. That’s a shame too… Nearly two months clean and all I wanted to do was not exist and ruin everything.

{***}{***}{***}

I jumped awake when a very loud banging came on the front door. I looked around my room before swinging my legs off my bed and leaving the room. I dragged my body across my apartment and to the front door, where the banging hadn’t stopped.

I pulled the door open and looked up. Spencer was standing there, looking at me with a frantic expression on his face. I stared at him with wide eyes, my earlier fears and anxieties quickly returning. I had nearly forgotten about calling him too. Damn it.

“You didn’t do anything, did you? You didn’t take anything?” He asked, looking down at me. I took a deep breath and shook my head. I stepped to the side and silently invited him inside. He stepped inside and looked back at me, before looking around my home. He was probably looking for any signs of current drug use. The only real sign was in the bathroom… Where the bathroom had a grenade of pills explode all over the place. We’ll just keep him out of there… For now...

“No, no, I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I, uh... I took a nap and cried it out,”  I rubbed the underside of my nose. I pressed the door shut before turning around to look at him. He was looking at me, he still wore a panicky expression in his eyes and it made me feel sick. He doesn’t believe that I didn’t do anything. I wouldn’t believe me either.

“What happened?” Spencer finally asked as I walked up to him. He opened his arms up and allowed me to hug him. I honestly didn’t want to answer him. Everything about today was already awful, and I just wanted it to be over. “Can you tell me what happened?” He asked after a moment of silence. I let out a deep sigh after he pulled his arms away from me. He noted my deep breath and wrapped his arms back around me. 

I turned my head away from his chest so I could have a coherent sentence. Er, well, as coherent as it could get. “My… It’s the anniversary of… Of my mom's death,” I swallowed roughly. Spencer looked down at me before squeezing me harder. I pressed my face into his chest and shook my head. “And, I just…. Wanted to disappear. I don’t know…” I spoke, my words being muffled into his shirt. One of Spencer’s hands cradled the back of my head while the other held me closer to him. “I didn’t want to be alive at the moment,” I whispered. 

“Don’t say that,” he returned the whisper. His voice vibrated in his chest, and it felt good against my head. The way he squeezed me made me feel safer in the moment. “Please don’t ever say that again,” his voice cracked at the end. I bit my lips together as I started to cry. “Don’t even think like that,” his voice got even lower, probably because he was also crying and he was just trying to mask that fact.

“You don’t get to think that way either,” I looked up at him and furrowed my eyebrows. He looked at me as he remembered when he was gone for a week and how he stood in front of several people with loaded weapons. 

“This isn’t about me… It’s about you,” he whispered, bringing a hand to my face. His thumb brushed away the tears that were rolling down my cheeks, but that was basically useless because I couldn’t stop crying. But it felt good to cry, to be honest. “You’re still young and have so much to live for. Someone has to save you,” he looked down at me, his hand still holding my face. I feared that he was only doing it to make sure I was still here and alive. Which was a weird fear for me to have, and I suppose for him to have. 

“So are you, Spencer,” I whispered as I leaned into his touch more. He swallowed roughly as he kept his eyes on me. His eyes grew glossy the longer he stared at me. “You save everyone… But who saves you from yourself?” I furrowed my eyebrows. Spencer sighed deeply before hugging me again. 

“You do,” his whisper was hardly audible, so I was happy I heard his words. I wasn’t so sure what he meant by that. I mean, obviously, I was the thing that kept him sane while he was home. But, I don’t exactly know how I save him though. So, I was unsure as to why he told me that.  “It’s just been difficult for me recently. But, I’m working on getting better,” he spoke softly. And, I swear he said ‘for you’, but it was so quiet I couldn’t be sure. Even if he did say it, I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to hear it.

We stayed silent for a while, and we just stood in each other’s arms for even longer. Being in his embrace made me feel safe, and I know I said that earlier. But it’s true. I wonder if he felt the same.

“You alright?” Spencer looked up at me. I looked down at our hands and nodded. “You look like you haven’t slept in a couple of days,” he spoke, his tone was soft and gentle. I could tell that he really cared and was trying really hard not to sound mean. I didn’t mean to take it to heart the way I did, but I did.

“Not really,” I grumbled and looked down at the ground. I shrugged and quickly glanced at him. He was looking at me with an apologetic look on his face, silently telling me that he was sorry for suddenly offending me. I shrugged it off like it was nothing. It wouldn’t be the first or last time someone offended me over something so… small and unimportant. He shouldn’t be sorry, it’s my own fault. He was just asking if I was alright.

 “The last few days have been rough for me, ya know? Especially with this whole thing,” I sighed deeply and shrugged again.

“If I stay here, will you promise to get some rest,” Spencer offered, grasping both my hands. I looked at our hands with a dullness in my eyes. I was beginning to zone out because of how tired I was getting. Spencer lifted a hand and gently rubbed my shoulder. I sighed and looked down before looking up at his face.

“I’m having nightmares, and they’re really realistic… That’s why I’m losing sleep,” I whispered. Spencer looked at me before pulling me into a hug. “And they’re about everything. Me, my mom, you, drugs, dying, death… I don’t know,” I mumbled into his chest. I pressed my chin into his chest and looked up at him. Spencer looked down at me with a smile on his lips. We were really close to each other’s face, and I know he noticed that too. “I like when you spend the night,” I noted, changing the subject to something lighter, even though it was that much lighter. 

“Really,” he asked, raising an eyebrow and smiling lightly. I nodded and returned the smile. “Why’s that,”

“Because then I’m not lonely, and left with my thoughts,” I whispered as I stared at him. I’ve never noticed how pretty his eyes are, with their golden and greeny color. He looked at me like he saw something, but I was clueless about what he saw. “And, whenever I’m with you, I feel safe and at home, in some weird way. I’m sorry. I don’t know. The exhaustion is starting to hit me now that you pointed it out,” I sat back away from him. I pressed my hands into my face and shook my head. “I just never sleep anymore and I’m honestly used to it at this point. But I’m tired all the damn time,” 

“I’ll be here, you can rest. You don’t have to worry about anything hurting you,” he whispered before wrapping an arm around my body. I looked up at him and nodded. “Let’s lie down?” he asked softly. I nodded before going to walk to my bedroom. Before I even got the chance to step a foot away from him, Spencer picked me up and carried me. I looked at his face and furrowed my eyebrows. “I’m fully capable of walking, you know,” 

“I know,” Spencer smiled as he readjusted his hold on me. He was carrying me like a backpack, but on his front instead of his back. “But you’re tired,” he hummed as he held me tightly.

“Yeah, I am,” I looked at him with a smile. Spencer laughed at me and shook his head. Our faces were close again, closer than before. And, for some reason, I really wanted to kiss him. Which, again, is weird. He’s my best friend… And I want to fucking kiss him. It just felt like the perfect moment for us to kiss. But, I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I can’t lose the one thing that’s keeping me grounded. And he can’t lose the thing keeping him grounded.

Spencer carefully kicked my bedroom door open and walked in. He laid me down on one side of the bed before going to the other side. The blanket was pulled over both our bodies and Spencer was close to me.

“Please get some sleep,” he whispered, brushing hair away from my face. I looked up at him and nodded. “Do you want me to rub your back?” 

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” I laughed before rolling onto my stomach. “My bestest friend ever,” I hummed as he started running his hand along my back.

“Aren’t I your only friend?” Spencer joked lightly.

“Ah, not only that. My bestest friend,” I looked up at him and smiled. Spencer shook his head before brushing his fingers across my eyelids, somehow getting me to close my eyes. 

“Go to sleep,” he whispered. I giggled and nodded before moving closer to him. Spencer returned the laughter before wrapping an arm over me. 

{***}{***}{***}

I wrinkled my nose as I noticed a weight across my body. It wasn’t like an emotional weight like I’ve been so used to waking up to recently. No, there was something actually on top of me while I was asleep. So, when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t too surprised when I saw something on me. However, I was more surprised that it was another person. That’s right, Spencer stayed the night.

His arm was strewn across my torso, and his legs were entwined with mine. His head was resting on the same pillow as me. The way he slept so soundly and restfully made me mildly jealous. How come he gets to sleep so peacefully and I don’t?

I hope he was as peaceful as I thought. There was probably not a bad thing he was dreaming about. Unfortunately for me, I was freaking out because I dreamt that I watched my best friend being killed.

I laid back, pressing my head into the pillow before turning to look at Spencer. His nose twitched as he stirred lightly before hugging me tighter. I held my breath, worried that my breathing would wake up. But, it did. There was no need for worry. He must be having a good dream with all the humming and hugging he was doing. 

I looked at his face, mesmerized by the way he slept so soundly. The way his eyelashes pressed against his cheeks, and freckles dotted the bridge of his nose. His lips pouty and slightly parted. I didn’t even realize he was awake and I was staring till he said something.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling me closer before nuzzling into me more. I smiled softly as I looked up at him again. “You don’t have to go to the bathroom, do you?” he hummed as he closed his eyes again. 

“No, I don’t,” I replied back, giving up on any chances of getting up. We might be here for a while, so there’s probably no point in getting out of bed with Spencer holding me hostage. 

“Mmm, good,” he opened his eyes and looked down at me. The tired smile on his lips made me feel warm and safe as I looked at him. “How long have you been awake?” he asked, his thumb rubbing circles on my shoulder.

“Not long,” I whispered, looking right at his eyes. He looked back at me and nodded. “How did you sleep,”

“I think that was the best sleep I’ve had in a very long time,” he closed his eyes again, “Something about your bed is very comfortable,” he looked down at me and smiled. 

“Is it the bed or is it because you’re sleeping with someone to cuddle with?” I asked myself as I stared at him. “I’m happy you find my bed comfortable,” I laughed lightly. My bed is not comfortable. So I know he didn’t find it that comfortable.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, placing a hand on my cheek. I swallowed roughly as I stared at him.   

“Better than the previous night,” I shrugged a little bit. Spencer frowned as he readjusted his hold on me. “Let’s make breakfast,” I spoke out loud before sitting up, pushing his arms off me. 

“Breakfast?” 

“Yeah,” I smiled as I slipped out of bed and grasped his hand to pull him out of bed. He grumbled before standing out of the bed. I smiled at him before practically skipping out of the bedroom. “I’m sure I have something!” I spoke out loud, knowing I have nothing much for breakfast.

 I went right to the kitchen, instantly eyeing up the loaf of bread that was probably a little stale. I grabbed it and opened the fridge, happy to see a carton of eggs. And with that, I made eggs in a basket. I hope that Spencer would enjoy that. Considering it was one of the only things I knew how to make.

“Coffee?” Spencer asked as he slowly walked into the kitchen. I turned around and pulled open a cabinet. A can of Folgers was sitting on the top shelf. I pouted as I stared at the can.

“I don’t think it’s good,” I muttered as I pulled the can from the shelf. “I probably had this stupid can of grounds for an embarrassingly long time,” I spoke as I looked into the can and noted that the grounds were kinda gross and kinda clumpy, causing me to pout. “No coffee,” I muttered, tossing the can to the garbage, only to miss and go over. The can landed with a clang on the ground. 

“We can always get some later,” Spencer smiled as he bent over to pick up the can. I raised my eyebrow at him as he tossed the can to the trash, without failing.

“We?” I asked, turning to watch him lean against the counter. He shrugged and smiled.

“Why not,” he shrugged again. I smiled as I looked at him. It was only then that I realized I was burning the food.

“Oh no!” I jumped around to the stove to remove the pan from the stove. “I hope you’re okay with burnt eggs and toast,” I pouted as I looked back at Spencer. He had stepped closer to the stovetop to watch me. He looked very amused with my laughter and urgency with cooking. “Don’t laugh!” I looked up at his face.

“I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you panic over food before,” he pointed out with a smile. I looked down at the burnt food as I carefully moved it to a plate.

“I’m hungry,” I muttered before shrugging. I looked back up at Spencer and shrugged.

“That’s a good thing…” 

“Being hungry? How is that a good thing?” I scoffed and raised an eyebrow.

“You have your appetite back,” Spencer pointed out before he lifted me up to set me back down on the counter. It was so effortless as he moved me. I was impressed that he barely strained to lift me (unless, he did and I was just oblivious to it).  We were at the same level now, and I was able to look him in the eye instead of at his chest. 

“Why’d you do that?” I looked at him before looking at the counter beside me. 

“So we can have an eye to eye conversation,” he smiled at me. I rolled my eyes and looked down at the plate of two burnt eggs in a basket. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked, watching as I started picking at the food. He smiled as he stood between my legs. 

“You just did,” I smiled, trying to pretend like I wasn’t suddenly anxious. Why ask someone if you can ask a question? Why not just ask the question? That’s like #1 reason why people get anxious. 

“I want to take you to the office, so you can meet everyone,” he whispered as he grabbed some food too. I looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You want to take me… To the FBI…” I stared at Spencer. I almost relapsed yesterday and had the worst day of the year yesterday... And, he wants to take me to… The FBI to meet his friends… I could feel bile rising from my stomach. It honestly took everything in me to hold back the sick. So, I slowly lowered my hand and food back to the counter.

“Yeah, they’re my family, and you’re my family… So, that also makes them yours,” Spencer smiled at me. I dropped my shoulders as I stared at him. I really didn’t want to argue his logic there, but I understand why he said that. 

“Won’t… They’ll… Spencer, that’s… I don’t think that's a good… They’ll ask how you know me,” I whispered as I looked away from him. He rested a hand on my knee and looked at my face.

“We won’t worry about that right now,” he whispered in a reassuring tone. I stared at him and shrugged.

“What’ll we tell them? When they ask, ya know?” I looked up at him. Spencer stayed silent as he looked around my kitchen. I could only assume he was thinking really hard about what we would say and how we would lie to his family. 

“I’m not sure,” Spencer shrugged as he grasped my hands. I looked down at our hands and felt a frown forming. “I don’t know,” he whispered and shook his head. It was obvious for both of us that we would have a hard time being around his friends. Everything about telling a bunch of FBI agents that you’re addicted/was addicted to drugs can be a little (alright, a lot) intimidating. What are they going to do? The worst thing is they arrest me and fire Spencer. “Don’t overthink it,” he looked up at me. I nodded.

“I just won’t think about it,” I forced a smile before shrugging. Spencer gave me a knowing smile. “If they’re your family, Spencer, then they’re my family,” I sighed deeply as I looked down at my legs. I pulled my hands from his before rubbing my hands up and down my thighs. “And, I’d love to meet your family,” I sighed even deeper as I looked up at him. His face lit up a little bit with my words, and it genuinely made me feel happy. 

“You’ll love them,” he whispered before pulling me off the counter. I wrinkled my nose before looking up at him.

“I mean, I’ve already met Emily. And, she seemed definitely cool,” I laughed as I grabbed the plate. I looked at the two burnt pieces of bread. I tossed them into the trash and looked up at him. “I just hope everyone else is just as cool as she is, and even as cool as you,” I cocked my head as I looked up at him. He stayed silent before pulling me into a hug. “When would you even want me to go?” I asked once he released me. My stomach felt upside-down as I asked my stupid question. “Whenever you want,” he spoke softly. I looked down at the ground and nodded.

 “I should let you get to work. I know you don’t like being late,” I pouted, “I’ll see you later?” 

“Of course,” Spencer smiled before hugging me again.

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series taglist: @shameleswhorehourstm, @itsametaphorbriansblog, @bxtchboy69, @sammypotato67, @seninjakitey, @thebluetint​

didn’t work: thatsonezesty13,  mediocrehamiltrash

[go-go-devil]

If You Have Ghosts: The Story of a Song

This is an informative/personal essay I wrote about the history of Roky Erickson’s well-beloved song, “If You Have Ghosts.” Honestly I should have written & posted this on the 1-year anniversary of his death back in May, but I completely forgot. This piece is mostly a study of Erickson’s original and the band Ghost’s famous cover of it, alongside some other things. I would also appreciate some feedback on this if you all don’t mind.

The information I used as a reference when describing the making of the original song comes entirely from Joe Nick Patoski’s writing on Roky Erickson’s career and the making of The Evil One (included as a booklet in recent vinyl additions of said album).

Throughout our lives there will be songs that capture us in ways that we cannot escape from. Oftentimes it’s as simple as an infectious melody that we refuse to discard from our memories, either due to it becoming attached to a pivotal part of our lives or because we cannot dislodge it no matter how hard we try. Other times it can be something that attracts us so much that we begin to covet it to the point of obsession, and it is through this attitude that the song transforms from merely a piece of music into a piece of ourselves.

“If You Have Ghosts” is one of these songs for me.

What can I say about this wonderful track that hasn’t already been said? It is fierce, yet subdued. It is both hard rocking joy incarnate and a solemn reflection of one’s self, and it says so much by saying so little. The reason for all of these seemingly contradictory phrases I’m using is because this song, unlike many others, is a shared entity that exists in multiple forms. Quite an odd way of stating that the song has been played by more than one band, but hopefully this essay will demonstrate how the meaning of the original piece can mutate into different forms while still keeping its essence intact.

There’s no better place to start than with the original, recorded in 1977 and released in 1981 by rock n’ roll legend Roky Erickson.

Originally recorded as part of a four-song demo of what would later become his first solo record, The Evil One, “If You Have Ghosts” contains many of the themes Erickson presents in his music as a whole. Those of which being: horror-themed esoteric lyrics, high-energy playing, soaring guitar riffs, and a general sense of raw, psychedelic power.

In less than 15 seconds the song has already built itself up and blasted into your eardrums, but never does the melody ever resort to sounding like a wall of noise. Each instrument weaves its sound around each other like some tripped-out embroidery design in order to create a rich tapestry in the listener’s mind. The lyrics are as catchy and repetitive as any of Roky’s songs, yet for this one he sounds less like he’s singing but instead simply proclaiming each line like it’s a definitive statement.

“If you have ghosts, you have everything”

“One never does that”

“The moon to the left of me is a part of my thoughts and a part of me is me”

“In the night, I am real”

“I don’t want my fangs too long”

Barring a few other scattershot words present in the chorus, what you’ve read above is all that you get for what this piece is trying to say. Unlike most of the other songs from the album, whose lyrics clearly convey the story/theme presented, this one does not have a lucid form to it and thus its meaning can only truly be grasped through interpretation. Personally, I always saw it as a proud declaration of one’s deviance from society, with the rip-roaring instruments serving to show how this person’s mind finally feels free enough to run wild in the night, with only the moonlight and their own invisible spirits to guild them.

But of course, all forms of speculation can never undermine Roky’s own intent when crafting this song, which, unfortunately, is not nearly as liberating as my previous presumption…

“If You Have Ghosts” as we know it is a direct product of Erickson’s mental illness. There really is no way of sugarcoating it. After being diagnosed with schizophrenia in 68’, Roky was sent to various state hospitals in 69’, where he was subjected to multiple electroshock treatments by doctors alongside being heavily sedating with Thorazine. Even after he was discharged in ’72 he never fully recovered from the abusive “therapies” he was given, resulting in decades of battling intense mood swings and heavy drug reliance as well as making it difficult for him to record many of his songs in studio.

Roky was under one of these spells whist recording the vocals for this song. He was only able to sing the chorus once, and after recording was no longer able to remember any of the lyrics. Out of all the tracks, Producer Stu Cook had to put the most effort into inserting the vocals into this song using a complex progress called wild-syncing to place multiple takes of audio alongside the instruments without using synchronization. It’s honestly a miracle that we even have this song fully formed in the first place given the circumstances of its creation.

Despite all of the hardship and effort put into creating this piece, for a long while there didn’t seem to be as much appreciation for it compared to Erickson’s other work. Partially because it was not present on certain releases of the album back in the day as well as the fact that Roky seemed to rarely play it live in concert (even on YouTube, recordings of these performances are scarce). As much as I love this version of the song, even I’m willing to admit that if I were ever forced to rank each song on The Evil One, I would probably place it somewhere in the middle. What can I say? When you make an album that great, the competition can be fierce!

For many obscure classics, the story would end there. Yet another buried treasure forever existing in the mind of one musician. But that’s not what happened, for several decades later a new band from Sweden will emerge, different in form but identical in spirit to Roky’s sound, whose frontman will breathe new life into a once forgotten masterpiece…

…Or at least that’s what I would lead into were it not for the existence of this version.

Interestingly, the first notable cover of “If You Have Ghosts” was not done by Ghost but instead by an English folk-rock group called John Wesley Harding & The Good Liars on the 1990 album Where the Pyramid Meets the Eye: A Tribute to Roky Erickson. This now-obscure album consisted of a compilation of various bands and artists covering the songs of, you guessed it, Roky Erickson. There was actually a great deal of artists present on this record, including several well-known musicians such as ZZ Top, R.E.M., and The Jesus and Mary Chain (and even Butthole Surfers too!).

I’ll be the first to admit that I am not at all familiar with John Wesley Harding or his backing band; however, I will say that this piece is a worthy follow-up to the original in it’s own right. It slows down the song to a level not unlike the many psychedelic songs that followed in 13th Floor Elevator’s wake, keeping the main melody in tack while filling in the gaps with many little flourishes as a means of expanding it into something new. I’m especially fond of the echoing effect given to the vocals, which gives the already obscure nature of the lyrics a more outwardly ethereal quality.

Anyway, on to what you’ve been waiting for!

After enduring another two decades of invisibility from the public eye, the song was once again exhumed and resurrected by an emerging metal band named Ghost for their 2013 EP If You Have Ghost. Considering Roky Erickson’s wide array of demon-inspired songs, it’s interesting how Linköping’s residential Satanic metal group chose this piece as opposed to more well-beloved hits like “Night Of The Vampire” or “Stand For The Fire Demon,” many of which work perfectly with the band’s themes of evoking retro horror films and devil worship. It almost seems like they just chose “If You Have Ghosts” solely on the basis of it having the word “Ghost” in it. However, just one listen to this cover will quickly prove otherwise.

Right off the bat, the instruments and vocals are a far cry from the original. Unlike the previous J.W.H. cover that made sure to keep the main melody in tack while adding onto it, Ghost instead chose the more daring option of altering the melody and tempo of the piece significantly. From the ominous drawing of violin and cello strings in the opening seconds to the melancholic metal sound of the guitars throughout (with the rhythm guitar being played by none other than Dave Grohl, who also produced the EP), this version slows the once fast-pace beat of the song down until it becomes almost unrecognizable save for the lyrics. Even Tobias Forge’s singing creates significant contrast with the original; his silky smooth, haunting baritone guiding a melody once held by Roky’s hard-edged yells.

And yet… the spirit still remains.

Although the sound itself has been thoroughly converted to the stylings of Ghost, they still managed to keep the fierce energy that ran through the veins of Erickson’s version, albeit with a twist.

Both songs convey a contemplative examination of one’s mind, with instrumentals and singing that amplify the power one feels from this reflection. However, Ghost’s version differs in that it amplifies the sense of isolation and longing present in the lyrics. The music notably softens at the beginning of many of the verses, particularly lines like “One never does that” or “I don’t want my fangs too long,” only to grow in power through the repetition of each line. It conveys the feeling of the singer having to grapple with these feelings before they can fully accept them.

Nowhere is this more apparent than the band’s acoustic cover of the song.

At this point, the piece has been stripped down to an entirely naked form, its themes conveyed only through the guitars of two nameless ghouls alongside Forge’s vocals (presented here in his previous stage persona, Papa Emeritus III). There is no triumphant shouting or swelling electric guitar solos here anymore, just a somber reflection gently carried by melodic strumming and mournful singing. Despite now being as far from a rockin’ tune as humanly possible, it actually manages to come closest in recapturing the sense of rawness in the original, albeit on the exact opposite scale.

I remember watching a recorded acoustic performance in Paris back in 2015 where Papa introduced “If You Have Ghosts” as being a song about “loneliness,” which is an interpretation I can definitely agree with. In fact, I would even say that with this acoustic cover brings the entire meaning of the song full-circle. Through its peeled-back, unflinching depiction of being enclosed in darkness and isolation, it serves as a perfect end-note for a song that began from such troubled origins by telling the listener that, despite all the hardships, this beautiful piece of music will never lose its everlasting spirit.

Thanks for giving us everything, Roky.

[crqstalite]

drabble, rain. [theron && tri’ama]

a little drabble i wrote over the course of two days because i finally finished shadow of revan and rise of the emperor, and i’m in loving theron shan hours. mostly, tri’ama remembering that she’ll never see him again.

written: 11.4.19. word count: 2,628

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"20. as we huddle together, the storm raging outside"

song file: chains, nick jonas.

character file: tri'ama amarillis & theron shan.

-

tri'ama doesn't like admitting weakness. whether that be in a duel, or out in the jungles of yavin iv, the emperor's wrath is never quick to give up a fight. you can believe she'd much rather die than say someone else or something else conquered her first.

but some armor doesn't always do the trick for the cool and damp nights of yavin as the coalition leaders break off from their meeting, and she can finally rub her temples without seeming annoyed with one faction or the other. she has no problem with the jedi at this very moment, nor is she particularly angry with the sith. a surprising balance, really. but, she is rather upset that the temperature dropped so quickly on the planet.

she tries to avert her eyes from where the republic allies reconvene off to the side, the red of theron's jacket taunting her, as if saying 'come over here'. shaking her head, she tries to ignore the bickering that most likely will erupt eventually between marr and lana. shivering, she figures there isn't much better to do than to go to sleep on the fury and get ready for whatever tomorrow brings.

but quinn was supposed to return from leave today, she remembers as she grits her teeth. the absence of her wedding ring and replacement with her grandmother's still weighs heavy on her mind as she frowns. so maybe not the fury tonight, not with how much it still smells like him and his cologne. there isn't much else to get up to on the outpost, and it's not like she can go forward without official orders from marr or satele. sleeping on the station seems like the best option today.

satele is so terrifyingly calm, it shivers her down to her very core as she picks up a datapad, scrolling through the current mission reports. most of which she herself had submitted, high concentration of massassi near a temple, lots of potent wildlife to keep at least one eye on at all times, and spirits wandering the caverns. nothing new or too concerning, so she's content to wander deeper into the jungle near the meeting alcove, still shivering as water soaks her hair through and plasters it into a near unrecognizable version of her previous style as it hangs down in front of her eyes.

wonderful. it was due for a wash anyways.

hiding under a low-hanging tree and pushing a particularly mischeveous blonde curl out of her face, she continues to scroll past paragraphs and paragraphs of hastily written aurebesh and she tries not to be remembered how cold she is. she's originally gone ahead and believed yavin was a jungle and would be as humid as warm as one, but clearly, she was mistaken because of the emperor's presence everything seemed to change. adding notes where required, she tries not to get too annoyed with the hurried mispellings of field agents and whatnot.

she wondered if the hand would come after her again if she badmouthed the emperor out loud instead of shouting at him every time something bad happened to her because of him. she chuckles, teeth audibly chattering. let them, she'd cut them down and then the man himself.

the light of the moon shines off the pond nearby, and she's happy to gaze into it from her perch nearby. should it not have been so cold, she would've been happy to take a dip, maybe not in the presence of the coalition forces, but swimming had always been a passion of hers. something that the incident on manaan had nearly taken from her, but she digressed. something about being eveloped by water and letting the waves take you or simply being content to sit at the bottom of a pool or pond was relaxing. nearly along the same lines of gathering fury for a fight.

oh ew, she sounded like a jedi now. maybe satele and the barsen'thor had more of an effect on her than she'd thought they had, with all their talks of rationality and actually thinking your problems through before acting. horrible ideas, really.

slicking her hair back into a messy bun, she unclips her respirator from around her jaw and breathes in the rainy air. now unfiltered, the air doesn't smell like the ocean, or really anything she's smelled before. dromound kaas is technically a jungle, but she's spent so much time in the concrete area that the smell is rather new to her. not yet comforting, but still oddly calming. the leaves of the weeping tree above her tickle her head and back as she shifts to a more comfortable position.

she's quick to hear the footsteps that are supposed to be quiet, and the even more recognizable force signature of none other than theron shan. she's sure she's not supposed to know he's coming, but she's also very sure that the man knows just how far her force powers extend, especially as the literal emperor's wrath. he is an sis agent, and her file must be a few hundred meters long and just as thick. out of the corner of her eyes, she can see he has his arms wrapped about him, his product filled hair starting to droop (she knows there's product in there, it's a lot of the same that mal-quinn used, same smell). "darth amarillis."

"what is it, shan? couldn't get on without me?" she asks, finally lifting her head as his surname crosses his lips in that deepy and husky voice of his. he rolls his eyes and she uncrosses her own arms and stands up straight.

"no, i thought i'd just seen you disappear up this way, that's all. wondered why, you usually head back to the station after missions." he answers indifferently.

"stalking me, shan?" she smirks, raising an eyebrow before he realizes what he's said. admitting to knowing her schedule is rather interesting, but he is a spy. he's trained to know these things about people. she smiles on the inside, he cared that much to learn her routine.

"you just...never come up here that's all. wanted to make sure you were alright." he's embarassed now, not meeting her eyes as he shrugs, looking everywhere but at her muscular, if not also short, frame. so confident, yet turns into a mouse when the two of them end up alone together. she'd find it funny, if she and quinn hadn't just ended the only relationship she'd ever been in.

"you don't have to apologize for being concerned, theron." her tone takes on a softer melody, trying to get him to look at her again. "it's more relaxing out here than it is on a hectic station. i didn't wish to fly all the way back to vaiken either."

"yeah, course." he says, in near agreement. she wonders whether this a point where she should press for the real reason he came over here, because if that was the case, lana probably would've wandered up here first or with him. the woman was a wonderful friend to tri'ama, and many had already mistaken them for siblings or distant family. but the nervous energy he has isn't fear, but some other anxiety of some sort. maybe the upcoming fight against revan is getting to him, she knows that's one of the few things racing through her mind.

he's a sight for sore eyes. on manaan, she was still trying to figure out all her issues with quinn, trying to figure whether grass was greener on the other side of the fence, and on rishi? after he'd been captured and interrogated, she was quick to find that she cared for the man, a lot. even if his faction had tried to kill her multiple times, and she'd killed millions of his in return. the heat of her cheeks just thinking about the kiss on rishi is nearly enough to keep from shivering.

he must've noticed because in less than a second he's shucked off his red overcoat and has tried to discreetly put it around her shoulders. the sleeveless armor is quickly forgotten as her neurons nearly stop firing and she sticks her arms through the sleeves. "cold out here, isn't it?"

"definitely." he responds. his shirt is a long sleeve, though is quickly getting soaked through by the rain. frowning, she's already got the jacket on and she is rather warm. giving it back doesn't seem like an option she wants to take right now either, but she also doesn't want to take advantage of his kind heart too much (bleh, light side talking again), so as he moves to leave, she pulls him back and instead puts her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his toned chest. he tenses, obviously, as she puts just enough fury to get her body warm again, and without the cold the blow out the flames, it's successful.

"tri'ama..." he nearly has a warning tone to his voice before visibly relaxing a bit, his heart rate slowing down back to normal as his body warms alongside her own. "you didn't need the jacket after all, did you?"

"i can't exactly generate enough myself when i'm below freezing, theron. so yes, it was necessary." she says smoothly, pulling away just enough to look up at him with a playful if not also dangerous look crossing her eyes. he's quite a bit taller than her, which is annoying enough, but not too much taller that she can't easily peck a kiss to his lips without too much trouble.

which she does, because her middle name is trouble.

he doesn't even move, shock evident before his cheeks turn a dusky pink, looking away as she grows closer again. with his face turned away, she plants another kiss onto the exposed cheek as he turns away again, another kiss on the other cheek. she finds it funny, he doesn't apparently. "would you quit that?" he says, trying to bat her away without success.

"i suppose, if that's what you want." she says, letting go of him immeditaly, he stumbles as she flips the collar of his jacket back up so she can hide her face in it. mostly, to hide her own crimson cheeks. it wasn't unusual that she'd do the same with quinn, if only to pull him away from work for just a moment or two. theron, however, is different from the imperial fanatic. flustering quinn was hard work, getting him away from his datapad was a struggle and a half, but theron? not so much.

her, even less.

the rain is pouring now as the two eventually come to their senses, tri'ama standing rigid under the leafs of the tree, only the occasional drop of rain managing to find it's way to the duo. assignment long forgotten, she tries not to show her interest too well, "after all this, where will you be, theron?"

"wherever the sis needs me." he sighs, as if really thinking about the extent of his job. she wondered what it was like, to not be force sensitive and rely on a secretive job to pay your bills and even possibly kill you in the process. the way his face is marred with bruises and scars, she withholds her hand to caress his face. she wonders where each one has come from, what the story behind each one is. "hard to predict where they send a secret agent."

"yes, of course." thunder claps in the distance as she really processes that after all this she may never see theron again. at least, not on the same side of the battlefield. "of course." she whispers at the end.

"what about you?" he finally asks, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes just barely flashing a verdant green before staring back out at the landscape. "i mean...just where are you going to be posted?"

"i'm posted wherever i choose to be posted. but with the brewing war, i suppose i'll be seeing more rain on dromound kaas than the sunny skies of anywhere else." she says pointedly as she grimaces. what if she does have to fight against theron one day? his squadron, his troops. even him, if worst comes to worst. they'd dueled before, but not to the death. never to injury.

what if one day she has to?

"you uh, really like the sun, huh?" he asks, as he furrows his brow in concern, turning towards while she'd been mentally monolouging. she must've become all jaded again without realizing it. "thought sith could just go anywhere they went, anytime they wanted to."

"i have my responsibilities to the council. once i get back it's going to be 'jedi this', 'sith that', intelligence this or that, the sis...." she trails off, realizing if she kept talking she'd give away more than a few secrets that the council had to an sis agent of the opposite faction, "getting away and working for the coalition was really vacation enough."

"hmph." he says, grunting in response. he shuffles on his feet before standing sturdily in front of her, a serious expression falling over his features, "whatever's...uh..going on between us, you know it's all over when the coalition ends, right? i just, don't want to get your hopes up..."

"i'm rather aware." she deadpans, trying to put too much more thought into it. static buzzes in her head as she considers the matter, frowning. going home to quinn with the stench of another man on her, without another person sleeping with her at night. without the little things, tri'ama wasn't sure she could survive going home to the fury without theron, even with vette, pierce and jaesa seperating the two as much as they could. she'd have to face the fact that the mistakes she and quinn had made wouldn't easily been forgotten, or fixed, "nothing lasts forever shan. as much as we wish they did." she trails off.

"yeah." there's a sense of finality behind that. period, not a comma or a semicolon, the end. "can't holocall, can't send each other anything. won't see each other ever again."

"i'm not a child theron. i was aware of the consequences when i kissed you on rishi."

"i know, i know." he responds, before she grows ever-closer to him. he isn't quick to take her in his arms, but eventually allows her to hug him back. "just, i know what happens to people who accidentally take a sith to bed."

she stifles an eyeroll and a chuckle at the comment. while she's never been one to indulge people's stereotypes about sith, she would admit to knowing quite a few part of the order who'd later killed unsatisfactory lovers, "you've never taken me to bed shan, is that a request i hear?"

"just...you're a real minx you know that?" he asks, as she smirks. pressing a kiss on his lips, he presses back surprisingly before tightening his grasp on her. he's rougher than she expected, but she can be just as rough back. when he eventually pulls away, her still in his arms, she's still smiling, something's that's unusual as the compromising position she's in now.

"if i never see you again, theron, then i'll make what i have now last as long as possible." she says, making to wander away with his jacket still around her shoulders before shucking it off. handing it back to him and picking up her datapad, she kisses him one last time before whispering something so quiet she's sure over the rain he can't hear.

however, she may have underestimated his perception because the poor man's having an aneursym over three little words that have just shaken him to his core.

“i love you.”

[lockandk3yfiction]

Title: In Harmony

Date: March 13, 2018

Commission for @gytech

Rated: K

Pairing: Levy McGarden x Lisanna Strauss

Word Count: 2311

Summary:  The fall of night does not deter Levy from completing a job she had taken with open arms and the drive to complete it. With or without sleep, she'll be sure to accomplish her goals. That must make her lucky to have Lisanna by her side to keep her company.

(Read on AO3/FFN)

Request Closed. Commissions Open.

Books aligned the walls miles high, oak wood dusted in years of knowledge and forgotten memories. The guilds library rested underground, besides the basement but in larger volume, many more tables and an old couch with space to fit seven people. Sitting in one corner of the room, a pile of leather bound books over the table, was Levy Mcgarden, her blue hair held back by an orange bandana. Her stomach rumbled, her fingers tapping the pen in her hand atop the table, Levy’s lips worried in study.

The night had just begun, the dark sky barely showing between the high windows of which poked out at ground level of the outside building. Stomping of footsteps were many in harmony as the guild doors closed, mages and visitors alike disbanded to their own homes to enjoy the sanctity of a well needed rest. Levy hadn’t the opportunity though, not with her estimation of time for how long it would take her to decipher the message left from the hand of an older woman in need of translating a letter her late husband had given her on his death bed.

The woman told Levy tales of how her and her husband use to write each other translated messages for secret meetings. How they would use long lost languages in attempt to hide their love from their families that did not approve of such a relationship. So many years had passed since the last messages they had gave each other, however, and soon enough, she had forgotten the language they used as well. It was young love in a time that some could not be trusted and so Levy understood very well of the significance translating such message could be to the woman. She accepted the job on steady feet, fingers tingling with anticipation and a gentle but excited smile, telling the older woman she would translate this very last message between lovers as quickly as she could.

So she slaved over the paper before her, red markings written over the original text in places she believed to have partly translated already. Without a hint of the language used though, Levy was caught searching through several amounts of old writing, some dating back to the age of dragons. Levy’s frustration rose as another character on the sheet did not match those in the leather books she had open. Her lips pursed, brows narrowed whilst a tired whine escaped her and her stomach began to rumble again.

“Levy! You’re not giving up?”

A creaking noise announced that the library door was opening, a new guest entering. Along with the familiar voice of Lisanna Strauss was the alluring scent of what could only be a tasteful treat. Lo and behold, what Levy see’s in Lisanna’s hands as she looks up is a tray of freshly baked bread, bowl of beef stew and two glasses, one of ice cold tea and another of long lasting heated warm coffee for the night.

“I knew you’d still be here!” Lisanna chimed, her chin tilting with her ever sweet smile, blinding enough to challenge the moons rays. “I thought you may need some dinner since I haven’t seen you upstairs for a while.”

“Ah, thank you!” Levy made space on the desk as Lisanna strode toward her, moved aside books she had used from one pile to the floor, setting them aside to replace on their rightful shelf after her job. Lisanna was careful as she bent to place the meal down, strands of her white hair falling in front of her sight. She hadn’t seemed to mind though, her fingers brushing the loose strands back behind her ear, her lips curved upward with her usual friendliness.

“How long are you planning on staying here?”

“The whole night.” Those three words came out mindlessly, without thought as Levy chewed on her lip, attention still drawn to her task at hand. Lisanna simply blinked at her, her hands clasped together, mouth down turned in worry. She took a breath, mouth opening to continue on the conversation before Levy realized her mistake, dropping the pen in her hand in favor of waving her arms in placation. “I-I mean… only if that’s okay with y-you! I wouldn’t want to impose! It must be getting late! Of course, y-you’d want to go home too!”

A soft chuckle interrupted Levy’s humorous babbling, the sound turning to giggles and then full on laughter with Lisanna holding her stomach in tears. Levy must have been a sight to behold, flustered beyond normal. Levy didn’t let her guard down often, never made a mess of herself without any one else’s help but here she was struggling to keep her composure in the early night. Lisanna quieted down, her cheerfulness full of sweet understanding and charity.

“It’s fine, Levy. Just make sure to take breaks. We don’t need our script mage falling asleep on the job.” Lisanna shook her index finger in the air, smiling once again before she turned back to the main hall, needing to clean up and lock the entrance.

Levy sighed, her shoulders slumping, palms falling flat on the wood table, back arched with her head down. She contemplated her task once more, listed out the many translations she has already tried, went over in her mind each character used and their country of origin. Levy promised she would give the woman positive feedback and she wasn’t going to put this aside or wait. The rumbling of her stomach roared again, her organs shivering and aching for a bite, a demand Levy could not hold off any longer with her arm reaching out to part the bread she had.

Hours had gone by, the clock tower ringing three past midnight, yet Levy was undeterred, the gears in her mind working overtime. She would pace the library, search the collection of books row by row, read with gale-force reading glasses to speed up the process of distinguishing difference in communicative culture. She studied like a literature student would if they came from a wealthy family and were enrolled into a school of higher learning, underfed and overworked. Though she would of course nibble on the food brought to her earlier by Lisanna, albeit slow and disinterested.

Eventually her legs tired, her head drooping as she read page by page of western languages, stretching from the new tongue of Alvarez to the long forgotten cultures of Alakitasia. Connections were starting to be made, new information scratched out on parchment, the message rewritten over and over again with alternate characters. Still something was missing, a piece of unrecognizable lettering that could not of come from either Fiore, Alvarez or any of the other neighboring countries.

A disgruntled noise was trapped between Levy’s tightly shut lips, her eyes tired, her limbs crooked and aching in all the wrong places. She hadn't moved positions in nearly forty-five minutes, her bum planted on the worn cushions of the libraries couch, her legs trapped under a low coffee table, body hunched over in unsuitable curves. She groaned, reaching for the barely touched mug of coffee Lisanna had provided her long ago. As soon as the rim met her lips, the dark liquid flooded her mouth and an unwarranted taste made its way to the back of her throat. Levy lurched forward, her mug almost spilling as she tore it away from herself, the bland taste of cold caffeine dancing upon her tongue in stumbled choreography. The concoction woke her though, if only for a little while longer, her half lidded eyes slipping back toward the papers before her.

The library door creaked open once again, the pitter-patter of feet matching the heavy rain outside. The room was nearly dressed in pitch black now, the candle lamps flickering on their dying wax, the temperature dropping with the late hours. The open door shed more light than the ill invisible moon and candles alone, provided illumination beyond the brick walls. The footsteps edge closer, Levy not raising a brow at the dip in the couch beside her, not noticing how the old mug was replaced with a new one and yet the blanket hung over her shoulders weighed a light load.

"How is it going..?" A soft voice resounded from beside Levy, gentle hands squeezing at her knee reassuringly. Peeking up, Levy was met with Lisanna's patient eyes, her welcoming stare and caring persona. She truly was the little sister of the guild, someone with a big heart and loving attitude, a face well known and well cared for. Levy smiled back, fatigue dampening her resolve, causing bags to form under her eyes.

"I almost have this message translated. I just need a little more time and a look at that hidden meanings analogue." With that said, Levy reached out over the counter, knocked down the used mug, the lukewarm beverage spilling on the floor with Levy letting out an undignified squeak and Lisanna rushing to wipe the floor with the sleeve of her coat.

"Ah! It's fine, Levy! Just keep doing what you're doing."

Levy couldn't help the guilt that ate at her, the knowledge that Lisanna was losing sleep and doing extra chores because of her. There was little Levy could do now about it, would probably succeed in creating a bigger problem if she stepped in to help. Levy sighed, her lips pursed, fingers idly playing with the corners of the analogues sheets, wrinkling them and then smoothing the edges. If there was anything best for Levy to do, it would be to finish this job and stray from Lisanna's way.

With new found motivation, Levy puffed out her cheeks, bent over the coffee table and scribbled out each word with precise translation, every definition matching the original meanings, characters rearranged in complete sentence structure. Not a thing would be lost to Levy's eye, no translation mistaken for she was going to get this right. Coffee and sleep deprivation egged her on, had her working faster even without the gale-force reading glasses as she was spurred on by a need to satisfy those relying on her. The old woman had a wish that needed granted, Lisanna a bedtime that was well past due and herself a calling to close her eyes.

Lisanna sat back down on the couch, an arm’s length away from Levy as she looked over the small girls shoulder at the work already accomplished. She took notice of all the crossed out definitions, the marked off languages, some of which she couldn't pronounce. Lisanna marveled at Levy's intelligence, her ability to do so much in such a small amount of the time and ferocity at which she worked. It was as if she left no stone unturned, every possible connection sought after and put into effort to solve. Lisanna chanced a view of Levy's face, her hair tangled from scratching at her scalp, tongue jut out to lick her pink lips or replaced by white teeth that chewed. Her skin was paler than usual, no doubt an effect of the long stressful hours studying.

A yawned escaped Levy's lips, her hand rising to cover the action, eyes crinkling. She hadn't had much more to do now, the last of her studies starting to match with the other, translations, definitions and meanings interlocking into one fluid message. Levy's eyes grew, a smile developing on her face as the pieces began to connect. Ink smeared as she brushed the pen back and forth on parchment, stains appearing on her knuckles and wrist, a clean cut note written in a language Levy could now decipher. She marked every character, circled the correct translations, opened up the leather bound book on indigenous lands and created a finished product.

"Done!" Levy cheered, her arms out stretched with the finished message in hand. What a lovely piece of work it was, holding so many simple meanings, significant moments that may have listed out the way two young hearts fell in love. Levy's cheeks dusted pink just reading it over, her brown irises deepening in understanding, swallowing up written emotion. One thing still pulled at Levy though, desire and warmth, things that she desperately needed.

Lisanna hadn't a chance to read the message before the lump of a body fell onto her shoulder, the flutter of a sheet gliding toward the ground. Blue blurred her vision, her chest pushed back as the weight continue to fall its way into her lap. Lisanna sat still, her eyes blinking as she watched Levy sleep, curled up into her lap, hand tugging at the fabric of her pants. Lisanna yet out a sigh, sweat dropping from her brow, lips wobbly in an awkward smile. Levy deserved the rest though and Lisanna truly didn't mind, her own self tired from waiting so long, checking in on Levy every so often. She pet the shorter girl’s hair, combed loose strands away from her cheeks and gazed down at Levy with such content.

Soon Lisanna had dozed away to dream land herself, torso slumped over the couch, Levy's head still pillowed over Lisanna's lap. Soft snores mixed with the outdoor rain, bodies curled up to keep their selves warm and translated message laid out unceremoniously on the libraries floor.

What others believed to be abnormal, never ever was.

For our hearts wanted who are hearts wanted. No matter how blind our eyes.

We sought for each other’s comfort, snuggled up in silent moments in which only we inhabited.

Our love was plain. Was never extravagant or open for all to see.

We simply were and simply are.

From my first intake of breath to my very last and far long after, you were my pen and I your notebook to be written in.

With all the dearest love, my wife, I shall see you on the other side in harmony.

[merryfae]

Yall mind if I rant: The Sequel Nobody Wanted

The newest comic got me to question my stance on Korra/sami yet again (the dashes here exist to keep it out of the tags, just in case that’s still a problem). The short version of this is that my stance really hasn’t changed. (Also, just a headsup, I haven’t read my old anti k/s post in a long time, but it’s probably full of logical fallacies and the lot, so…what I’m getting at here is please don’t judge me based on what I’ve written in the past). 

I remember when I loved LOK. Book 1, I was able to look past the flaws, because the tension, characters, and atmosphere was so good. Book 2, the flaws became harder to overlook, but the Avatar Wan episode was definitely an experience. Book 3 was an entirely solid outing, though I missed some of that original atmosphere from Book 1. And then Book 4. I was so excited for the finale, because Book 4, despite its flaws, had been pretty great. But through the majority of the finale I was thinking to myself, “is that it?” Like, don’t get me wrong, there were some good fight scenes between Korra and Kuvira, and Mako’s sacrifice was pretty powerful, but most of it was underwhelming. It felt less like a wrap up of the show, and more like a wrap up of that season. Nothing from past seasons really tied together with the exception of the spirit portal. Plot elements from past seasons that could have been integrated into the show were dropped altogether. I don’t know. It was disappointing. 

So I was already in a bad mood, and the entire ending with Korra//sami kind of killed it even more for me. Because representation is important, no doubt. I push for it a lot myself. But not when it impedes the storytelling. The storytelling of LOK? Didn’t warrant it. This is coming from someone who, at the start of Book 3, loved the idea of Korra/sami. Their interaction in the car? Adorable. Asami sparring with Korra? Great. But there was nothing in future episodes to build up to a romantic conclusion. There was a scene where Korra blushed when receiving a complement from Asami. That’s the only scene between Korra and Asami that implied romantic intent. That and Mako’s whole, “What is with you two???” thing when they all go out for lunch, but goodness, if that wasn’t the most forced, inconsequential conflict I’ve seen in this series. I mean, if you have to tell the audience that there’s something going on between these characters instead of showing us, maybe there’s a reason a portion of your audience didn’t latch on to your intent. 

The problem with every scene where Asami and Korra interact (aside from the fact that they don’t bond over internal, character-building struggles, and instead just solve external problems together) is that most scenes are just Asami supporting Korra emotionally. Which, okay, for another character, that could imply romance. However, Asami’s character is already naturally caring and nurturing. She was already a character who was entirely supportive of the rest of the cast, so it’s no stretch of the imagination by any means to view her supporting Korra with tea or her offering intimate support when Korra is devastated in the Book 3 finale as inherently platonic. And, given that she was a support figure already, Korra sending her letters that the others “wouldn’t understand” can likewise read as platonic. This would be different if a character like, say, Opal interacted with Korra in similar ways after her introduction, a character who did not exist to offer unconditional support to our main leads already throughout the show, and whom Korra alternatively exhibits support for in Book 3 (or maybe I just really like their air bending scene together. I don’t know. Don’t hold me to that one). And that covers basically all of Korra and Asami’s interactions – Asami offering Korra support, and Korra accepting (usually) that support. That is, aside from those short (very short) but sweet moments at the beginning of Book 3. Plus, Book 4 takes place after a years-long gap as well, so the fact that we’re only shown them interacting once outside of the finale in Book 4 really speaks volumes. Which is not to mention that, aside from that last scene they have together, they hardly interact in the finale at all. I wanted to like this ship. I really, really did. But not when the writing didn’t add up. 

And then there’s the fact that Bryke’s claims that Korra/sami was intended from the beginning are obviously false. I mean, they’re on record saying that after Book 2, relationship drama had come to an end, and they were ready to focus on friendship. If I remember correctly, the voice actors had to be called back in after the finale had already been finished in order to include that last scene with Korra and Asami. It was literally last minute. 

It certainly doesn’t help that I dislike basically every ship in LOK. I never liked B/opal either. I didn’t like M/asmi, and Ma/korra didn’t have the best development itself. Honestly, I don’t think Bryke are good at writing romance period. But I’m angrier about Korra/sami, because not only is it a relationship involving the show’s main character, but it’s the central focus of the scene that ended the entire show. Say what you want about Kat/aang, but at least that ship was planned and introduced beyond minimal amounts of subtext from day one. It was a consistent part of the story. And alternatively, if LOK had ended with Ma/korra like it did in Book 1, I wouldn’t be necessarily pleased with it, but at least there was a textual history there between the two. 

And I hear the arguments about how Bryke couldn’t include textual evidence of Korra/sami because it was a ship between two women. Okay, point taken. I mean, they did admit that they didn’t even bother asking Nick until last minute, but I digress. But jeez, you could at least develop their relationship a bit, couldn’t you? Again, the only conflicts these two face together are external ones. Korra and Asami fight a gang. Asami carries Korra away from danger while Mako and Bolin fight off baddies. Korra and Asami escape/crash/rebuild an airship. In none of these scenes together do they have any meaningful interactions. Maybe you could count Korra grinning at Asami for two seconds while they rebuild the airship. Maybe. But they don’t bond over anything or talk about anything except what’s happening to them at the hands of outside forces (or essentially, what’s relevant to the plot). Hence why Asami’s offer of unconditional support of Korra in the Book 3 finale rings a little hollow. It’s just Asami doing what she’s been doing the whole time, albeit with a more emotional framing. 

And all this could all lead me to explaining why I didn’t like the conclusion of Korra’s character arc, or why I didn’t like how Asami was essentially a plot device until Book 3, and even then, she wasn’t given any real development. (In fact, I’m actually kind of bitter that the show didn’t write Asami better. Her entire character basically revolved around A) the love triangle nonsense or B) her father/company). But if I were to go in depth with that, it’d take another thousand or so words, and I’m amazed I even had the drive to write this whole thing in the first place. In short, the show really is a mess. 

Now, I’m only writing all this because I’ve seen panels from the comic. The first few panels I saw, I figured I shouldn’t judge too harshly. I didn’t see enough of the actual comic to draw a conclusion. But with the new ones out, it’s safe to say that the comic seems relatively out of character for both Korra and Asami. Seriously, maybe one sentence in there sounded like it could come from Korra. I implore you all to switch the dialogue and pretend Korra is saying Asami’s lines, and Asami is saying Korra’s. Do you feel the character-charged dialogue? Me neither. And anywho, I’m a bit frustrated people are hailing Korra/sami as the epitome of representation when it’s really…not. It’s hard seeing Korra develop into a nearly unrecognizable character for me, because she was the saving grace of the show from day one. 

Korra/sami isn’t the only ship that’s frustrated me like this. I downright despise several forced ships in fictional media, especially when it’s detrimental to a character’s development. I didn’t like J/ashi from Samurai Jack. Krist/anna or Kristoff/anna or whatever the heck it’s called from Frozen was pretty awful. Several Marvel movies (of which I am a fan) have awful romance subplots (Sta/ron and Bruce/nat are the biggest offenders). At the end of the day, Korra/sami isn’t the biggest offender. It does offer quality bi representation between two WOC. But that doesn’t mean we have to like it. Go ahead and enjoy your ooc comics folks. Who knows. Maybe it’ll actually be good. 

[asitwasdarling]

Harry Styles: Live On Tour

October 14, 2017. The day i stood at the back of the room while watching my role model and my whole world play the last show of the American Leg of his first Tour.

May 4, 2017. The day I stood, in the aisles of the grocery store, hoping and praying that I’d get tickets. I was at work and through some strategic planning, I managed to go on break right before the tickets went on sale. I even had my code written down on a sticky note. I help my iPod, with a shitty internet connection, in one hand and my ancient flip phone in the other. It was only a stroke of luck, but when I saw the screen saying my purchase had been approved for one ticket, I was in shock.

In the weeks that followed i woke up everyday wondering what on earth i did in my previous existence, to be able to catch ticket to a concert of the man i held up in such high esteem.

The night of the show i had so many feelings. That of Pride, Joy, Overwhelm... in short i had no words.

The opening notes of Ever Since New York: a scream i didn’t think i could produce was ripped out of my lungs, i felt out of breath... lightheaded.

Carolina: I was overwhelmed. I had no words. How was I even hanging on.

Two Ghosts: my heart grew 60 sizes. i felt so proud and happy.

Sweet Creature: I’d give anything to relive the last couple seconds of this song. Hearing so many other people singing “You’ll bring me home” is honestly breathtaking. truly he brought us home

Only Angel: What were my feelings during this song, watching him dancing around with a pride flag. my heart was full

Stockholm Syndrome: honestly had i not been a 1D fan i probably would have assumed it was one of his unreleased, but i am. I loved the Intro so much i’d honestly use it as my ringtone.

What Makes You Beautiful: the beginning notes made the song almost unrecognizable but i knew every word and was willing to lose my voice over it.

From The Dining Table: my first thought: WHO HURT HIM. My second thought: HAVE I LOST MY MIND. I love this song so much. i love it even better live.

Meet Me In The Hallway: I was sooooooo soft during this song.

Kiwi: SHE WENT OFF. I nearly died trying to sing this song. my throat was giving out on me. And that bass! wow.

Woman: Don’t get me started on how he pulled that man on stage. I WAS DYING IN THE BACK OF THE ROOM!!

Just A Little Bit Of Your Heart: I love this song so much whether Harry is the one singing it or Ariana. I’ve always loved Ari’s version but hearing it sung by the original songwriter gives it a whole new emotional connection. I was in tears.

Sign Of The Times: I love this song with my whole heart. I’d die for this song. I’d die for the note-change at the end. I’d die for the instrumentals, period. And this song is just as beautiful live as it is in studio.

I was found deceased after the night ended.