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libidomechanica · 3 months

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Or will say no

A rispetto sequence

And lover? Behind me, and done your name and though it be you love not,—and yet they punched each one things. And of angels see, before, and

the year when they give no more? And yours forever that whispered low: as Earth stirs in her nose. Them and my presents less? Or will say no.

Broke their changes right of a Fool? The mountains, but have destroyed just as it were born.—Natures praise if a man’s name. We ordered a large

eagle, lost, and beholders on a divan. The large honey-combs of green, two almost every Now gynneth this thy presents less?

III

Year that can that he, commands three. And self would not love, disgrace; ah, what cool cave shall be done away. Sicker make like this day i’ve been

wanders, the devil take Ismail, and the Russian army should fathoming plums ready to speech, or more avail than the tea. How sweet!

You said, I have no end: and hart for how oft had I Heav’ns changing hue, and from her fingers and religion take the fables there in

one flea spare, where none but the world drops headlong from a cushion a preacher, and bite the lesson new haue speld. We shall I relate em?

Dangers in their starry seven, old Atlas’ children, wants to hear my voice, and sooner had past reason. A third time pass’d this diamond:

a golden morning shine so rich in atonement as the thirteenth, when each the flock’s connected numbers sweet with debt: for honey dew.

Was dawn, the churches. ’Ve said in Dante’s verse, and you love no longer give birth to victual; such is the bonilasse, she cried; and

live no more, won’t even drive a car again. Could eclipsing eyes of day over their open window’d heart compell’d to refer to.

VII

Everyone knows well night, who plead for lo! And there on the laws their ring. I wondering afternoon news, some to public men sometimes

start—no bosom heaved—she steps but of low replied, ourselves are for nought; give me for thine own love’s delights, till the aire: nor peace within!

VIII

Was now rapt in tender and that things nothing which whales arbour closes make gilly-flowers! And shook the lily, heigh how once I freeze

and fool are two gilly-flowers, I though it. Teaching blind eyes to win ye, O: may ill befa’ the flatteries of our meriment.

Her sight came cloath’d in tears—Oh, odious time to bear, and now the Mower Damon, known through the places in the prisoner to those lips

billing pass away in white arm, and far upward it flies. If folly and hurl, my inside my heart and milk comes from out the shutting.

Abide, and half far-shadowing for the open casement, but by the Turkish fire, more beauty’s rude disdaine reasts than down of sweet

queen; one to Chide! Black polish’d nation many words away; for still for the oxheart that not to have lost i’ th’ funeral fire.

Upon that this minute. And titles could fly with sanctifying swerve from the ridge, we simply blur into the peace, and have taste their streamlet

o’er these days I spent wi’ the flower would never be an oil painting cry they trembled to its face? If only you wouldst not leaves.

XII

From its measures round the shepherd clans: that with softest downy breast in the great city sound of marriage temple’s chief; warming now in

part, whose shape suggested some went out to get that leap in fiery arrows keen art thou wilt be gone to see. The sweeter than wit.

XIII

Wise wretched life, was my sweet love, love, I am become a man, if thou find’st not better the day faint and mine: for foreign joy, they

felt their surly eyes and all of their Feet, where bonie face I saw; and stirr’d the scanty bar to mortal tear-drops down things, enduring night.

XIV

Made up of white-thorn laden home. Serpent in your eyes thine here, or lift my lids and wan fond love, yet she will be false, ere I come, let

us not well be waded, they lock the shepheard of the Dambe. The Russian army should find what was t to his careless a slight kisse.

Thus ending back her hears nor sees; rolled round that guides. To him her dreams … scattering words thy beauty’s rude disdain. Center is, these first time

to stone; she neither than a school girl. Look, or heart is sair, that’s it! Chime; soft words, nor hill-flowers! But when Chloe’s ear; first he, far and plight.

XVI

Had waned corse, the weak to injure. But from that drop not fewer; growing words—but when we will, it will be both ships and eyes have gone and

there is a spy, betraying fair proper to assail the hum celestial Mansions. Let me no longer there be known, but by the neare.

XVII

She turn’d—there were soon as once large and the disease, feeding far away. That Arm in Arm from the rill to its face? Toil and trammel’d fresh

wet from your wise men sneer’d in pithy phrase; announcing them to their joyous tears, and paid a tradesman once we goe a Maying. Of men.

XVIII

’ The chief threw on the other stepp’d serene, let in the tendency of burning pure and suppose, chain’d at home to bid farewel to

the first detachment had grown ethereal for pleasure, where Beauties tread was Hesperides. One is at their prey, turn’d—there was Maud?

XIX

” She answer rang, “Not Death, but Love. Who knows what Fame capricious winter- sleep. More like the iolly sheepe in good plight: and now the place for

once at eye level: spatter of his voice itself, and Roguenoff, and prayed: give me a heavenly power, for the noon’s transport pass.

Of the train amang, while greasy Joan doth keel the polish’d porticos of awful shade ourselves have sworn to strip there’s your true no-

meanings. Of beauty is suspect of ill may they too far extend. Why it is not One must every year, and riots wanton Yuie twine.

XXI

Who not look in the flowers, and aided our escape, and that beauty doth echo, faint eternal Homer! Streaming, why dost thou from

the smoothest air. Sent many a glance up in the river, while time to be; after a life, you will have made as I, when, as thought so.

XXII

How happy crowd, the flowers do stur; in thy lips to haue his body? The expense of spirit there rings on the ballads which, being

dispell’d, as e’er was virgin’s bower, where Philomede, lect’ring thro’ ripen’d Eden’s fruit; for well or ill, so you may buye gold the knack?

XXIII

Writ: to hear of worldlings, and fynd no part of pleasure’s wreathed anguish, we changes every tree, cut down with the churchyard laid then ye

are only one then nor dost waste. Like harmony her motion, wad make a land of peace with me. While no night of woe might send flower.

XXIV

What gelid fountains kiss high throne, now filling on his forehead, and thy breast in the spells and wilt not heed my lonely wandering; now

Mars, now Momus; and when, in the bright English, save of us in the enema. Three fields and a sullen might; slow heauinesse rewards!

XXV

And beds by stranger than his own ankle is a handmaid we must proved death from my mother depths are to pine, a patron of some to

me. Hey ho the Mower to my pain; and where comfort is, she gives me best whene’er I sing for an autumn holds my hand it blasted.

XXVI

But from the imprinted couch, contentment reached a splash, done heedlessly, those discontinuous murmuring surge. The rest had beguile, I

could, I would, could not be forgive. And she would be call’d up a Polish orderly his post, I may pass the field: sore again to dust.

XXVII

Most Women have no Character’d strange graces still advances, but not to stay, I see symbols where I often in lone Endymion

sought as a child yet in the rags of time. Cruel and sooner than the cities like every thing, yet I wept for its style, which of Thetis.

XXVIII

And let me know; such a day—for the proof of alcohol, And ever since, dear love, disdain. In which only is deeper than light. Of

mine owne fate I could have beheld stella: now she is tall and strike in: I can see nought so long to create, as when she went away.

XXIX

To see thou dost love means defeated of the water: how! God only, who fought, to kill me, let me know; such is the holy sphere? Than

the eddying without. I do not blind over his way was lost; to cloud-borne call ardently! He heard her breath of liking, all dearly!

XXX

Time enough, whichever watchful with please them when the sphere: make me a sunset and in the weak to injure. Jenny kissed me. Their dead:

fair Elenor, I am becoming madness went distracts her. Thus breath of heaven grac’t, ah! He had lorded thing. And sighing vaults.

XXXI

Finds all her ills—a scatter’d through the shepheard selfe did spill: I saw the boar tusk’d him: so away so new, although my mouth in wine, when

she obeys; let fops or fortune even in the eye, Loves Firmament: many a lesson new haue speld. Of those who might vnhappy me!

XXXII

And long line of the best, and angular: out-shooting of a calf in light, and by her plainings drew immortal in the new Parnassus,

where they contracted from my eyes all the water by Souvaroff. Thou cans’t be ta’en from every senses, I heare apart, let breath.

XXXIII

Offend her, and produces—You. On the highest heav’nly fired and do no harm arms together sides, the blue of ocean fades upright,

besides his planet where is cream, deepening ether they are, such a criminal. We would decree more evil in an hour to choose.

XXXIV

No more, won’t even drive a car bomb … And in their darkness from buried paths, which stare aghast, for there. Said and, wi’ thee, dearest, do not

win; with thee strength’s abundance upon your love speak of your neck round of human life: his young days, either not assail the world drops dead.

XXXV

But when he dare. Still as the doome. Knowing thy will, and fortune even in all but—nothing from thee. Fierce thing, even in sleep, he is

single graces still the random from Fingers cool and cloistered and roar, how can Bagpipe, or ioynts benomd with such a Solitude’s.

XXXVI

For the flow of Hero’s tears. Nay, profanity and see that he could report all that beneath their cause. You run about, my little

maid, your desire had overwhelmed the Partridge—or fell a-talking halt and free of another form the west, made his rage asswage.

XXXVII

Around the case, may show us what seas between us roar, streams around, like to all besides, and shadow to thee. And I am

blind. In backward Counsellor; and comming, marke how each flower upon that hands which loose hair away from far lands by my soul’s full of thee?

XXXVIII

As I, when I against my tremulous showers. A rough-voic’d war again. Some part! Lowly bow’d to her ladyship: and to assail’d

against me study the camp was in his ear, as though China fall. Had, having spoke, and the moor, and bending in spirals, and not wait.

XXXIX

But scorching beyond call it loving hands have so many eyes, and wickedness. The others are the more than you that they are now forests

… bring me now, and bending in practised in her lips my Nectar drinking for the kitchen behind. Something on the ruin’d tower.

A park is purchast of a’. Of civilization and sunly and my retorted hairs. Revive, dearest, do not enuie Aristotle

can be born while too much water, some reflection no bitterness of this new-born spirits are lang! I take part, that they ask why.

XLI

A deale of new-found Paradise, forgetful of holes. Now I haue borne and throws a cloud of summer smocks, the wintry sun the death with

gentle Goddess pin’d for the parson’s saw, and know that nurse of pride, since best worth my calm white palaces of satisfaction of words.

XLII

And less it shall have mark’d each cup’s worth an Indian common in many a glance that were jacks and how heauinesse in breasts, have ill availed

if, what shalbe mine. Also he dress’d my Julia once all-famous executives who had small return in your eyes were but their love.

XLIII

But kind? Meantime this planet in the verge of this bed thy nail in blood made a long pain procur’d by the cursèd duke; o giue my past. One

muse’s smile, as though it be quick sighs ’tis almost, yea, more unrest; my thought: such thinking of the Land;— and the garden by the accurst!

XLIV

All that joy unto the far-fam’d Grecian, share the grass. By surest Steps but of herself she will not to love, I am thy heart could

afford to squander his time. The world drops its delight. Universe of pleasure, unto thee. It stands; a sovereign law; and shells of time.

XLV

They say love they stand among the left, which he wants an heir. Night bard from my loue to flight. Thus ending loudly, as hens theirs makes vs

languid ringlets from your meat, yet should for this good, that it is not slack at least my lips to the bed, bodies lose all their Vengeance tell.

XLVI

Sleeping your curled toes and hair. Are belovëd of the playful rout of Cupids! For it seems, has got to last night, I find when bent to

do. My own life, you faine would elide your name, I am no pick- purse of any rest: yet must I remain in twilight with a Swan.

XLVII

And I’ll awa to Nanie, O. Gold- tinted light, she blush’d with due sublimity, that he purchas’d, but on the sale of cheek, and fire is

no sin, because thou listening. In silence did their granite beds; then he perceiving of the wheels, fresh petals or no they are to live.

XLVIII

Leaving a trice, you will delight, vpon the brink of me and my brother John was form’d with dust, stript to him be the god unshorne. Just so

much passion in the Easter, in such a pilgrimage, by our eternal, nor that does contain’d canopies, spangled, and call it love?

XLIX

Than the wager wonne or lost? When I bow’d to her lanely night and die, and know what is my part. To juggle with too much quickness

every gaze upward it flies in fears that awful pause, and we not see the most true, passive obedience,— now raised around in earth.

You walk into their starry seven, old Atlas’ children? Who cleft the deer, but amaze no more fleeting of life, an acropolis

so perfect in the ware of human happiness at home: the forested? Ridge, and least he feeling is scarce suffice to fill his grief.

On the heart, and I thought thee how, in part, or some fine tincture your hair over his fair, her head. By special legend or God to refer

to, I think it would pick through a mimic scenes, myriads blow together lie in one flea spare, where near Ismail, and in their passion.

LII

Miracle-tones of all the meeting shades of that iudged beauteous Bride. My Son, they sleep of thine honied tongues were immortal speech, I

doubt if they can’t hurt you, even in all but—nothingness of men to the Atlantic broad. Above the rulers and the women die!

LIII

My woe, bene the sager sort of yours in the morn. How long whisperer disturbances of mercy, born coughing e’en o’ love, give

me kind Amaryllis, with every doubt if thou wouldst pleasing to have walk’d unto the Heaven’s light, want with another gloomy rest?

LIV

It sucked from Syrian trees, in star-showers. A sunbow’s arc above thee understand, and find some flying off bridge athwart a flood

I drink to the rest of creatures, woman’s at best with them. All her ills—a scattered with their garments’ cost, awhile shall miss out of moths.

Respects for a daughters? Close up the noble seat of fire above his head, the wall into the very soon he’d heart some still well I

feel so free and sound of the moon is chalky, white star in the blue- bell pinch to you it was mere lust of pop culture and icy clime.

LVI

Could be particulars are, at random from Fingers paralyz’d with glaunce into my bosom! My sheepe did move behind the winter-

sleep. With which sometime teach thine here his this gush of feeling above this our time, shall dearly rue my very close did not do you go?

LVII

Stella, thinke no more, but this elevation was also I was builded far from a hand the women are we; and how his lot. Where

dost thou ivory, rubies, pearl and die; revive, dearest charm’d a tumult shakes the second is a new skin out of the appalling snow.

LVIII

Since kind Amaryllis, she gives; and weep, but never been bred that the Russ retreat, when I am frae my Dearie! Together day I

went the hum of armies of hair; inlaid garbage everything did see beauties which other’s door and that his prescript and every pangs.

LIX

Over a bower veils those lips, and done your name before than the ships, and rose, I move on from his spear? Two bubbling spring hast luld

me oft a sleeping trees, in thy sweet queen: when lo! We shall be sad for naebody; i’ll tak what I am become sounds its pleasure.

And haply of our wild than a wave is more sad, more be said and do no harm in this worth, and Titan on the grave,? And but commun’d

with any Breath of wild a rage to life—I lean upon the stair— lean on a garden! She said,—he wished-for years, who each lush-leav’d rill.

LXI

I them see so waist, and whenever slander doth but approximate and cuckoo! Why dost taunt so softly call for the nonce, fascines

like many things of Love, as strong, and subsided, for the moon’s more seldom than alive: for foreign glory, foreign churchyard tree.

LXII

Come ye? Shall past years he woo’d the Lady of the tree, mocks me, knowing hot. I have become indolence. Since that a curse. The shore, nor

Loves Crowne, all eyes. My heart and mower both one little lights, till, weary court, which now become indolent arms, as hens theirs makes me write.

LXIII

Up there be whose voyces siluer raye hey ho seely sheen of icy pinnacles, and plain; anon the life of love alone stands superb

to share here, undimm’d by any touch, to spoil the town is going home. Look full upon it feels it, and the dooming stars, how lithe!

LXIV

Whom Juliana’s eye? And she knowes not drest, the motion has she never raise, nor things left but sought that shines, because, thou deny’st me

is; it suffer within himself with praise if a man’s name in nearer view. And so I would be particulars are a’ my Nanie, O.

LXV

One certain portrait may be said a sin, nor sees; rolled brow and that hails premier or kind behest, the edgèd steel by careless chin and a

shake all past years he would do a steeple. With truth vainly in the breath’d, came swelling form, and no more carefully shines upon these woods.

LXVI

His fiery ringlets, blown a life-breathing an hour’s space, those that held her robes, and I’ll awa to Nanie, O. Even we, could rather

feet ripples on in light was fair, her heart that pass: I think it would scarcely wastes, which to the deathbed desire: count Damas drove them!

LXVII

Never dempt more return’d all cars, thou dare striue, such fond fantsies shall I not speak too much a chintz exceeds mohair. Him to hear mermaids’

singing, all dead paper, mute and trembled to its nub, its puddle of Wyoming and over. And you, to love that he plots again.

LXVIII

Lips, teeth, hair, and for to hold, their young: but all alike, no season know. Before a tower of love, it profiteth me not Thou the

Fuel of them to the beachcomber in me belief, the other stars to show they say love they don’t know where I bring in the best of a’.

LXIX

Round that floods, ripe fruits of new-found Paradise, breathe my nature in my plain, with weather compels me well as dilettanti in war’s

art, how faine would have no end, young travelling, tis from your eyes: but flower! How the young fellow—say what crowd confused by this life is love.

LXX

I should you too be with fretwork, scraping from the deep, the left the richest gemme of love and pity, for had her slippery blisse, and call.

Thus lily, breath of heaven: I have something mutter’d, through our scorne, nor the enema. Seeking not to be friend and self was not sought.

LXXI

But the last Farewell, and with Wisdom hath the chills. She turned away, they seem’d he flew to Jove’s high hyll, the uncertainty is one

sees her side, which done, then sovereign quell is in a desert wild. ’Er it a cobweb-lawn; and yet could remedy this new and poesy.

LXXII

Butterfly; upon whose voyces siluer raye hey ho hollidaye, when on the heaven dwelt among weeds, or fall away. Of leaves and feel

amain the laying on the waves upon my freshness die. But oh your names? Tu-whit, tu-who! This explicit sadness. ’Er love of wit.

LXXIII

It leads beholds new sudden exaltation: but a minute. ’Ring all their roots, accessible for on a sudden step, he came hear

the name I used to rue the eagle landed her doating cry they trembling lip, well maist thou seen bolts of the old bards to might move her.

LXXIV

And swamping the bandit’s den, are lost a gesture and sunk upon the meadows would say of it, love, if it were I if thou the Fuel

of its own dear Genevieve; the night, clover wrinkling eyes: and ah! Looks backward could save her name; nor fall away from my idle days?

LXXV

A resting place, strawberries; and weep, but never meet, leese but they stand in possessions chairman, abler none; fair-haired and do no harm

in this, that sawe it, simple shepe, hey ho the Mower mown. It is enough into gaze on, she and welcome forrit, honest Allan!

LXXVI

Thee enriches at thy Subject in their last obey, the little King girdled by a newe daunce: my old music slew not? Des Plaines River

And I sank and quick with many a kiss, warm between us, I see thou lo’es me best worth the women may be sent to the foe’s.

LXXVII

Nor dances in times a single graces slide; they either most forlorn upon its natiue moist earth clos’d, and rural loves marrow. To that,

self-murder added that mine eyes: I saw his madness went distrust that rich foole, how far to tears to follow’d by glad Endymion.

LXXVIII

Your slight to those fooles Heau’n doth keel the pot. For death, struck one, and doves: Adonis, safe in loneliness in another city doth

high place! Or as the women grew expansive with please your chest wits thick to be a rug—turned on women, and through they with winter-sleep.

LXXIX

After, straight, past reasonable, song areede: for who they? Let us entwine hoverings over their arms, had waned corse, the sky, and by

the violence, wherefore, and oak leaves sailed over within a Mirtle Tree, which sometimes start—no bosom or her than gratitude.

LXXX

Devotion gives me best of the sighing,—weaning amid her then is my part. Then I reach’d on me this year had exploded symmetrically

drunk; proud as an enjoyed, like type of pain, pass and rural loves are restored and redden’d stare, gave alms at Easter, while her lap.

LXXXI

Be, and from her and o’er; until, impatient stay, loathing worth. Under and anon, uprose to look at the same feather’d leaves and the

room. Or than the sunny noon; gie me the freshening stars, how lithe! Paraded with such wit impart, or gemmes impart as sacred flame.

LXXXII

So learn to love for mirth, nor cheek when it grew rather forehead, he began to sip; but when the alert, surveying, drilling, ordering

line; sometimes these enchantments, and delicate, as this for my young Freedom to annoy; but that you did not come. And let thy mouth.

LXXXIII

My sake lay on the ball. But three I learned not any heart’s and this young Freedom as none may hear, we’ll wear red for a look, or hear

the least shade us rich, can make up for a brook the sight a sudden; for thus sings throwing straightway started, and having spoke, she raves!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #154 texts #rispetto sequence

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onmymasa22 · 5 months

Text

I am ok. I really am. I give someone my full attention. I just try to be respectful. And i want to make someone feel like they are the only ones in the world. And i felt weird after because when we talked about u, u were interested. But when i wanted to share, u were writing emails on a computer or phone or something. I can tell. So i feel like i didnt really get any satisfaction. It felt really empty like talking to someone who wasn't interested at all. I try to make everyone happy. I'm such a people pleaser. But what do i want? I talk to you when i want to talk to you. I spend so much time this year and i dont like it wjen wjen people get attached. Ive had lots of people get attached. Lots of people call me family. Lots of people gave me keys. I cant do it anymore. Its so hsard for me mentally to balance that. Maybe i have abandonment issues, so ill never let u get close. I have abandonment issues. I have lots of trouble letting people in.

What do i think about ai as an artist:

Theres ai which will take your instructions and spit out a picture. Then theres photoshop which can take any picture and make it seem painted using watercolor, palette knife, acrylic looking.

I want to do candles because that means something to me.

Song rak tachzor rotem cohen

אמא מדליקה כל יום נירות ומברכת

Oil pastel of 2 candles plus a little one

I dont have a problem with ai, and people who seek it out, but what doesnt make sense in my head is charging 300 for a print of something ai and a different program did. Is it art, maybe. Is it art worth 300 dollars? No. Not to me at least. In my opinion that's obsurd. Its paying 300 dollars for a target tshirt that should cost 25.

I want a courthouse wedding. A nice sized ring. A suit jacket and dress ill wear again. A vintage vail and white gloves. I want to give out a beautiful havdalah card to everyone with a wedding announcement.

#youreok

Compassion notes for all those who need:

It's ok to want to run away from here.

It's ok to cry all the time. Yes, also infront of the children.

It's ok to fall apart and not succeed in doing anything the whole day.

You are doing the best you can right now.

It's ok to repress and to be strong, even if its pretend, for your own reasons.

It will not be like this forever, even though it feels like it.

It's ok to be angry about the situation. About reality. About everything.

It's ok to be scared all the time.

It's ok if you cant see the horizon. It's far. But it is there

I want to be that mom who bakes. Who always has something yummy in the oven. Who greets my kids with popsicles in the summer. I want to braid my girls hair. I want to buy my boys xboxes. I want cool kids who are friendly and funny. I want to take them to the beach. I want them to see what being inlove looks like. Where i want them super close to me.

I want the degree. I can get the degree without doing the license. I can do the license when i want and then im fine. But i want to be ok. So next year, ill get an apartment, and work somewhere, and that'll b my life.

Class video 2hrs 15min

Portfolio 2hrs 15min

Sculpting 2hrs 15min

Aniam 1hr 30min

Preformance 2hrs 30min

Yael 2hrs 30min

5 דק בואו לכיתה וקצת הקדמה ללימודים לשיעור, זום, לימודים בעיקבות המלחמה

30 דק המורה העבירה מצגת- על אמנות עכשווית בעיקבות המלחמה עכשיו להשראה, ומסימה של להתחיל פרוייקט בנושא המלחמה, ודברים לחשוב עליהם בבחירה ולעשות סקיצה

10 דק עבודה פרטנית- עבדתי עם נערה על פתיחת רעיון. היא לא ידעה מה היא רוצה

סיפרתי אותה מי אני, מאיפה אני

אם היה לה רעיון מהמצגת- לא

קצת על מי עכשיו בצבא במשפחה, ושמשפחה כרגע אצלה

במה היא אוהבת לעבוד

עט ונייר

חזרנו המורות לסיכום, משוב, וביקורת

ביקורת- הייתי מוסיפה כותרות למצגת שלה, כי בלי זה מרגיש כמו טורנדו של יצירות. להוסיף מילה כ"מדיה" להפוך את זה ליותר בסיסי או מינמליסטי היה עוזר. כל המילים לא עוזרים. כי קשה להבין או לזכור מידע יחודית ספיציפי ומתומתמת. צריך משו לעשות את הזרם. בלי זה יותר מדי מילים, ואם אין זרם, ומה שעוזר ליצור את הזרם, קשה להבין מה קורה. זה דורש סדר, כי זה רועש בלי.

From the chidah and other kabbalah sources:

Rabbi wallerstein

Avrahams parents terach and amsilai slept together when amsilai was a nida. During avrahams life, he davened that theyd be in gan eden with him after he would pass away, he didnt want to be there without his parents. Dinah was a gilgul of amsilai (dinah, nidah). Leah gave up a tribe and davened for her child to be a girl wayyy after the genders were assigned. Becsuse of the super pate in the game switch, dinah had a lot of male habits (going out) and yosef had female habits (brushing his hair, looking in the mirror). Dinah was never harmed by shchem. Everyone in her family of that, the whole being abducted by shchem wasnt as it seems, everyone on the inside was aware that this was supposed to happen and that she wasnt harmed. It makes it seem like she was for specific reasons which commentators discuss. This was supposed to happen because guess what... she got pregnant and had osnat. Some say that dinah married shimon, but most say that dinah married iyov- the gilgul of terach. That they lived together in holiness and marited gan eden which avraham so wanted. Now this child, osnat, got adopted by potifar and his wife because he was very gay and she wouldnt become pregnant. Osnat had no idea what her story was, but potifar and his wife never took away a necklace yaakov gave her before that said on it "bas yisrael" in hebrew. What yosef was in mitzrayim, the single girls would throw things at him, and he was supposed to pick one and marry the girl who throw it. Well osmat threw that necklace. When yosef met osnat, he was able to tell her her whole history because he was sold after she happened. He knew hebrew, and needed a jew to marry and out of everyone in egypt in the same house as him is a girl who is 100 percent jewish and he married her and from her and him we get efraim and menashe. Leah thought she was giving away one shevet and she got two, together with rachel. This baby was the only one in all of egypt who was jewish and yosef could marry. If the story wouldve stopped after the rape, man, it cant be worse. But thats a page, and the story continues and continues and coninues and from there we will get mashiach ben yosef. From what happened with dinah. And we bench every boy that they should like ephraim and menashe. Thats so weird! Why them? Decendents of dinah and shchem- shchem was the lowest of the low. Because the bracha is- you should see so clearly the goodness that comes after bad. It should be so clear that from giving away one, youll get two, that theres a reason for everything, that a bad chapter is not a bad book, just keep going because itll get good. We remind ourselves of them to remind ourselves to move on from bad and just keep swimming.

Go to budapest hungary

Theres a war

The house is a mess

All my stuff is gone

Im exhausted

I dont know when im going back to israel

I should be married by now

I should have to kids by now

The dog keeps barking

No one is listening to me

And it just keeps going

Tomorrow's the same story

I cant do any of this anymore

Im shaming and crying

I want to be numb

Please make me numb

I cant do this anymore

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caffeinated-rants · 1 year

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Those of you who still have grandparents to visit, to share memories with, and to spend time with... cherish what time you have left with them. You never know how fast life can turn them into someone who doesn't recognize you or them into someone you don't know.

I never, ever would wish dementia on anyone. Not even those who to this day I still hold a deep anger and disdain for. Watching someone you love wither away before their body gives out is worse than having their death be sudden. You essentially have them die twice, first figuratively and then literally.

Friday, my grandma fell and fractured her hip. Saturday she went in for surgery and had 3 screws put in. Mom and I visited her after I got off work today and I have NEVER seen my grandma this bad off...

She was weaned off of the morphine, and they tried to give her Tylenol and she's refusing the meds. She's refusing to eat or drink. She hardly can keep her eyes open. He can barely talk more than a few words. When I was in the hall talking with my grandpa she started yelling for him to help her and save her.

They even had my grandpa fill out that pink paper already regarding what to do if her heart stops. He already has it to not resuscitate and not to implement any feeding tubes.

They've tried to at least get her to sit up to hang her legs off the edge of the hospital bed and she even refuses that...

They have her hooked to an ice machine for her hip, they plan to do an IV drip for the Tylenol since she wont take the pills, and they have something similar to a cathedar for her since she keeps wetting the bed. It's like a pad with suction that drai s the urine into a container. Over that pad she has a second, normal pad to keep any urine from getting on the bed.

I know it's only the first day after her surgery, and my mom is hoping her behavior is just because the morphine is still working it's way from her system, but... after seeing her like this.... I really don't think she has that long....

My grandpa even said he doesn't think she's going to recover from this...

My grandpa doesnt let anyone see him emotional. He didn't even let himself choke up in front of us when his own mother passed. He was talking to me while my mom was trying to get grandma to talk to her and I hugged him and he cried. Not hard, because he did hold back, but he choked up and shed a couple tears... and that got me.

My grandma is the one who really encouraged my artwork and was enthusiastic about my progress... she bought my first drawing tablet because she saw the mouse-done stuff back when me and my friends were all doing bases... She didn't understand anime all that much, but she knew Sailor Moon... and she really encouraged me to go down this style path... and she always defended me when I brought up the fact that my teachers discouraged it... and she was an artist in many forms, herself. She had done fantastic oil paintings and did almost realistic animals on rocks based on the size of rock... frogs... raccoons... deer curled up to sleep.... she made my sister's clothes for a while when growing up... she did jewelry making and made clay beads herself and worked with metals and leather for bracelettes... she even did glass blown beadwork for a while and made her own glass bean necklsces.... and now she can't can't color in a coloring book....

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amxranthiine · 3 years

Note

Can I request platonic friendship with Reader, Aragorn and Arwen. Reader has a tendency to get in trouble, but are supportive and helps Aragorn and Arwen to get together?

ofc love! title: MERAKI pronouns: she/her warnings: FLUFF, and a sprinkle of angst. seriously, it’s barely there. a/n: hi guys! sorry ive been gone, a lot has happened in my personal life and i haven’t had time to write. summary: the reader is kind of a troublemaker, but she’s the best friend aragorn and arwen can ask for. “I don’t know, Arwen, that man is head over heels in love with you,” I said, walking beside my closest friend, “If there is any man perfect for you, it’s him.” Smiling reassuringly at the auburn-haired beauty, I let myself enjoy the summer sun, my locks tickling my neck as I lean my head back. She looked up at me, her eyes still unsure. “Are you sure, Y/n? I mean, he’s Aragorn, I do not know if I can see a future with him. My father expects me to sail to the Undying Lands soon.” She whispers, her tone full of heartbreak. My heart hurt for her, and for Aragorn. They were so in love and perfect together, yet there was so much in their way. “Even if your time with him is cut short, enjoy the moments you have together. It may not be the same, but it is better than leaving this Earth with a heart full of regret,” I try to lighten her spirits just a bit, I try to make her understand that what time they have might be worth it. Her lips lift just a bit, and I’m suddenly full of satisfaction. I, at least, helped her see the brighter side of things- “Y/n!” An angry voice disrupts our peaceful moment, and my heart momentarily stops. Uh oh, I’ve been caught. I’m bursting with panic as I turn around, facing a less than happy Erestor, his once dark hair now brighter than his face, which was a cherry red from the rage. “Um, hello, Erestor, how are you today? You look a bit flustered - did you do something to your hAIR -” I screech when the Elf charges straight for me, and I bolt at full speed away from Arwen. I can hear his frantic footsteps and the calls of my name from behind me, and it only encourages me to run faster. “I - don’t,” I pant, “Know what you’re doing, Erestor! - You, you look lovely, if - you - ask me!” I was about ready to collapse, I was never the most athletic. My lungs were burning and the adrenaline was the only thing keeping me going. “You know exactly what you did, you insolent little wench!” He shouts, “Just wait ‘till I get my hands on you, Y/n!” My eyes widen at his threat, and his words only add to my adrenaline, “Oh, I don’t think I will!” I see Aragorn in the distance, watching us with curious eyes, and I take that as permission to use him as a shield from the fiery Elf. “Aragorn! Aragorn! Help me!” I squeal, reaching him and shoving his body in front of me. “Erestor is going to kill me!” The poor man looked so confused, but it soon dawned on him what was happening. “What did you do now, Y/n?” He sighed, yet still moved his arms as if to protect me. I gasped in mock offense, “I didn’t do anything!” “Liar!” Yelled Erestor, finally catching up to us, “You used Lord Elrond’s red paint to dye my hair! Lindir saw you put it in my hair oils!” His face was even redder from the unexpected exercise, to which I would have laughed if I wasn’t scared for my life. I cursed Lindir’s name, I knew I couldn’t have trusted him! He always breaks under the slightest bit of pressure! “Okay, fine, I admit it! But come on, Erestor, take a joke! You look lovely! Like a brilliant rose,” I smiled my most innocent smile, “Besides, it will come out eventually. It’s not as if it’s permanent!” I could hear Aragorn trying to hold it together in front of me. My words didn’t seem to help the Elf’s anger, “Why, you...” And with that, he turned and stomped away. Once he was out of earshot, Aragorn and I glanced at each other and burst out laughing. “Did - did you see his face?!” I cackled. Aragorn laughed, a true, genuine laugh, “It was brighter than his hair!” We continued our relentless giggles for minutes more, even a glance at each other caused another fit of giggles. Once we were calm, I decided one thing, “That had to be my best prank yet!” The man grinned, “Agreed.” Sighing, I pecked my friend on the cheek and thanked him for being my meat shield, to which he gave me a light smile. Walking away, I remembered something, “Oh! Before I forget, you might want to go talk to Arwen, she’s had a rough day.”

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

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Addicted to You

Part IV: Crazy on You

Summary/Author's Note: The mission starts to go off the rails as a certain someone starts to get a taste of greed. Frankie deals with the dark parts of his soul and worries how you'll react to seeing such things. (Thank you so much for your support of me and this fic. Part I became my first fic to reach 300 notes and I cannot believe it was a Frankie fic, but he deserves the love.)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pope's Sister!Reader Word Count: 5.3k (apparently I cannot shut up about Frankie) Warnings/Ratings: 18+ -- Stone cold murder, blood and gore, greed, language, panic attack, hurt/comfort, stress, a lot of violence--like a LOT, fucking TOM. (<<< This warning came back lmfao)

Part I * Part II * Part III

[MASTERLIST]

Frankie's hand in yours was like an anchor keeping you from giving in to the anxiety bubbling up inside your gut. They should have been wanting to leave the house, not going up another flight of stairs deeper into the mansion. The tension in the back of Frankie's shoulders was palpable and you wanted to reach out and put your hand in the middle of his back. He glanced over his shoulder at you and you tried your best to give him a reassuring smile.

"What's going on, Tom?" Frankie asked as the two of you cleared the threshold of the office and looked around.

Lorea's office was larger than any of the bedrooms had been. Expensive black oak bookshelves were on each wall and they matched the leather furniture and dark polished desk. The rain continued to pound against the windows and as a crack of thunder rattled the glass panels, you gripped Frankie's hand tightly. He turned and pulled you against his side as he leaned against one of the side tables. Your shoulders didn't relax however until you felt his nose against your hair, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

"We got nothin," Will hooked his fingers in the front of his vest. "This guy's a ghost."

"What?" Frankie looked around as Benny stormed out of the adjacent room.

"The fuck!?" He cursed as he tossed two fistfuls of limp duffle bags on the ground. "Nothing but empty bags!"

"And Lorea? Pope?" Tom said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at your brother like a disappointed father. Everyone seemed to take a moment and look at Pope as he stared blankly at the empty bags on the ground at his feet.

"He's gone. With the money." Will shrugged.

"Your girl gave us up, Pope." Frankie said as he raised his head from your hair and looked at his friend. "We gotta get the fuck out of here."

Pope took his hat off and squeezed the bill between his hands as he looked around worriedly. "No, no, no," he shook his head and ran a hand down his face before cursing. "No, no--fuck."

"Wait--" You interrupted, moving slightly away from the shelter of Frankie's body so they could hear you. "It might be still here."

"What do you mean, baby?" Frankie asked, keeping his hand in the small of your back and raising an eyebrow in question.

"Before," you swallowed hard and glanced at Tom before looking back to your brother. "Before they put me in the spare bedroom--they were painting. So much paint. All through the night."

"What does that matter?" Tom asked curtly.

Pope's eyes widened slightly as he put his hat back on backwards and pointed at you. "Shit--" he looked back at Tom. "What does that smell like to you?" His nostrils flared and he started looking around on the floor.

"Like a serious fuck up, man," Frankie bit his lip and Benny chuckled.

"No, she's right," Pope pointed to the wall nearest to him, and then to the cans of paint that were piled just outside the door. "It's fucking paint."

All of the men looked at the walls and took note for the first time of the crisp shine that lay on the fresh top coat. Parts of the room still looked wet to the naked eye, and rolls of painter's tape lay in various forgotten places on the floor and along the baseboards.

"The house is the safe," Tom whispered as he lowered his gun and moved away from where he was leaning on the desk. "The house is the fucking safe."

"The house is the safe," Pope nodded as a smile broke out on his face. He turned and crossed the few feet to you, putting his hands on the sides of your face and kissing you on the forehead. "You're a fucking genius, hermana."

Pope walked towards the closest wall and pulled out his hunting knife. He kept it sheathed and used the blunt handle to start hitting. The drywall was thin, and crumbled easily under the force in a dusting of white and chunks of paint and insulation. Just like you all had concluded each section of the wall was filled with stacks upon stacks of bundles of cash. Pope picked up a bundle and turned around slowly to show it to the others--a large grin plastered on his face.

"Holy shit," Benny moved to a wall opposite of Pope and started hitting the drywall with his elbow, over and over, until he had a wall big enough to start pulling the sheet rock down with his hands. "Will! Help me, man!"

Will joined his brother as they slid the large table to the side and took down the giant oil painting that covered most of the wall. Each of them started ripping and soon bundles of money were falling into the floor from the force of their search.

"Holy shit!" Benny said again.

Each of them laughed and cursed, hooped and hollered, as they broke down each individual wall and revealed the cash underneath. Frankie made sure you stepped back before he took out his own knife and started helping.

"We need bags," Pope called.

"I got it," Will nodded, tossing a couple of the duffles to them.

"Keep 'em coming, man!" Benny said, catching the canvas and dropping to his knees to start shoveling hundred dollar bills into the bags.

Frankie paused for a moment and looked at Pope with a serious look on his face. "What's wrong, Fish?" Pope asked.

"If the money’s still here, it means he’s still here." Frankie said, glancing back at you before back to the other man.

He was right. It made you look over your shoulder cautiously for any sign of the narcos lurking in the shadows. However, no one was in the room except the six of you.

"He's gone man!" Benny called as he toppled one of the armchairs away from the wall and got to work on an untouched part of the room. "There's more over here!"

"Back wall, too!" Will called.

"Concentrate boys," Tom snarled, shoving fistfulls of cash bundles into a bag of his own. "How much time we got??"

"Eight minutes!" The Miller brothers said in unison from the opposite side of the room.

They were all panting with the exertion of breaking the sides of the house and hustling to get as much of the stash into the duffle bags as they could, tossing them into the threshold of the office once they were zipped up and ready to go. The uneasy feeling was back in your stomach and you moved back over to Frankie's side and put your hand on his arm. "Cat--" you started to whisper but Tom yelled over you.

"Start getting this shit down to the van," he barked, tossing another bag onto the pile. "Keep your eyes open, do you hear me?"

Frankie looked at you with eyes so gentle it made your heart ache. It had been so long and yet with him standing in front of you it was as if he had spent the night in your bed just days ago. Without speaking, it was as if he understood what you were trying to tell him. You wanted to get the hell out of that mansion--money be damned.

"We'll do it," Frankie spoke up, breaking your gaze to look at Tom. "(Y/n) and I will go get the van and start loading up. We need to go."

"Good plan," Will nodded, handing his bag off to you instead of tossing it, with a reassuring smile.

"I can tell you one thing man," Pope, laughed as he and Tom continued to use both hands to shovel money onto the floor. "You can tell your girls they can stop studying, because Daddy's going to buy their way into Harvard!"

"Yeah, bitches!" Benny said with another cackle.

Frankie tossed another bag over his shoulder and made sure you were with him before moving out of the office and down the steps. Will was close on your heels as he passed Frankie and said, "I'll go get the van."

"Be careful," Frankie nodded.

The two of you made it to the breezeway that framed the driveway in place of a garage. The cool air felt good on your skin and the rain smelled refreshing as you stood in a spot that it hadn't managed to blow in on. Getting out of that house felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders and with the relaxation came the ache of your tired muscles. Frankie told you to stay put and he made a couple more trips as they continued to toss him bags of money down the staircase. He was not subtle in the fact that you were never out of his sight for more than a handful of seconds. Each time he came back to throw more bags onto the pile, he touched your arm as if to reassure himself that you were real.

Will backed the van up and as soon as it got into position, Frankie hit the back doors with the palm of his hand, signaling a stop. He threw open the double doors and started loading.

"You guys stay here," Will said after he hopped out of the driver's side. "Get it loaded up and Benny and I will do the running."

"Sounds good." Frankie nodded and kept moving, working methodically to get as much into the back as was possible. It was like a game of real life Tetris.

You handed him bag after bag, finally speaking up as the van started to become full to the brim. "Cat--" you started again and he paused to look at you. "We need to go. Please."

It was the 'please' that got him. The look in your eyes that said if you spent another minute in this god forsaken mansion, it would break you. You had watched your crew die, you had been manhandled, tied up, and left alone. And now that he had come to the rescue, you needed as much distance between yourself and this place as humanly possible. His eyes softened and crinkled lightly around the edges, lines that hadn't been there two years ago but that you suddenly found endearing.

"Okay," he nodded. "Okay, we're going. Come on, baby." He slammed the doors shut as he tossed the last bag in and grabbed your hand like he had before.

The two of you walked back up the stairs at a hurried pace and when you walked back into the office you weren't prepared for what you saw. Between Pope and Tom, they had gotten the entire wall torn down and from ceiling to floor, stacked within the studs that made the frame of the house, was nothing but bundles and bundles of cash. Benny had moved into the hall just outside of the office and on a hunch, started hammering at another wall.

"There's more over here!" He called back to the others.

Frankie looked in the hall, and in the bedroom you had been tied up in, noting that each wall had a fresh coat of paint just like in Lorea's office. "It's the whole fucking house--fuck--"

"What is it, Fish?"

"The van's full man," Frankie urged him, looking at the rest of the guys in the office.

"It's all good," Will nodded, stopping his task of filling another bag. "We gotta go."

"Holy shit, this is a fuck ton of money," Benny said, grabbing another full bag and starting the trek down the stairs.

"We need to go," Frankie repeated what Will announced and Pope nodded in agreement. The only one who didn't move towards the door was Tom.

"We got time a couple more loads," he mumbled as he continued to hack away at a new wall with his machete.

Frankie narrowed his gaze on the man and glared at the back of his head. "What the hell are you doing? Stop digging more out we have all this to deal with!" He gestured to the floor that was littered with already packed bags and you tightened your grip on his hand. The anger building in his voice was undeniable.

"I said, just a couple more loads!" Tom argued without turning around and even looking at the others.

You waited for Frankie to retort but Will beat him to it, kicking one of the chairs out of his way and pointing at Tom. "You know in the ten years I've been working with you Tom, you have never missed a hard out!"

"We need to go!" Benny called from the stairs and Tom whipped around in anger.

"Listen to me! I gave us a fifteen minute cushion," he gestured out the window to the driveway. "That's twelve minutes to the church, a forty minute service, and twelve minutes back. Add five minutes to load in and out of the van and we can subtract seven and beat them to the exit route." He slammed his hand against the wall and raised his voice another level. "We will be fine! Alright? God dammit, look at all this!" He waved his arms around the room and Frankie shook his head.

"Fuck this!" He snarled and gripped your hand to start walking you down the hall.

"Fish is right," Will said, working to keep his voice calm and even to counteract Tom's. "Time’s up. We gotta go."

"Wait--" Pope finally spoke up and Frankie stopped in the hall to look back at him.

"Santi--" you said, shaking your head. Surely he didn't agree with Tom.

"I want one more sweep for Lorea--," he said, looking pointedly at you. "Alright? (Y/n)?" He knew you were scared, he knew they needed to leave, but three years of hunting this bastard and if he didn't do one more search of the house, he would always wonder what if. "And then we burn it all down."

Against his better judgement, Frankie nodded in agreement and rubbed his forehead. "Fine. (Y/n) and I will get these last ones down there, and you call when you're ready to light it up. But you better fucking hustle."

Will and Tom pulled themselves away from the walls and moved down the hall to the master bedroom. Pope started to follow and you let go of Frankie to grab his arm instead.

"Don't do this. Please. We need to go, now." You begged and looked him in the eyes.

"I have to look one more time," he said as gently as he could as he gripped your arm in return. "He has killed so many people. I have never been this close before--it ends now."

"Santiago--" you said, using his full name in a tone you both knew sounded like your mother.

"Go with Frankie," he nodded to the man at your right. "Go downstairs and get ready to--"

"GET DOWN!"

Tom's voice rang out from the bedroom at the end of the hall and the doorway erupted in an ear shattering blast of automatic fire and flashing lights. Frankie slammed you up against the wall and covered you with his body, bracing his forearms over your head. You made a noise as your back hit the drywall but you knew he didn't mean it--his only goal was to protect you, even though you were the one wearing the kevlar. The action made you remember just how much bigger he was than you as your world went dark and all you felt was the solid plane of his chest and cotton button up.

There was yelling, more gunfire, you heard Pope yell rapidly in his native tongue and Will said something over the bullets before everything went silent.

"What the hell are we shooting at?!" Frankie called above your head, loud enough that his voice carried into the bedroom. He looked down at you against his chest, panting hard as his heart raced. “You okay?” he whispered and you nodded. You were so tired of the sound of gunfire.

"Target down!" Tom called back and it made Frankie move back and let you breathe once again.

The two of you hurried into the bedroom and you gasped as Frankie put his arm out to keep you safely behind him.

Pope stood in the doorway of a secret safe room that had been hidden behind a large armoire. In the entrance to the hiding space lay Lorea in a pool of his own blood, with a bullet dead center in the middle of his forehead. Call it a hunch, but you knew your brother had made that hell of a shot. Pope had his gun pointed at the unmoving body and the veins in his arms flexed as he readjusted his grip on the weapon. His body went still before he pulled the trigger again, then again, over and over, emptying the entire clip into Lorea's head. Once the narcos was nothing more than a pile of blood and brain matter the gun clicked empty and Pope lowered his arms, hitting the release on the magazine and letting it fall to the floor.

Frankie approached him slowly and moved his own rifle to one hand so he could touch his friend on the shoulder. "You got him, man."

"He's dead." Pope said flatly and Frankie nodded.

"Good."

A groan came from the other side of the room as Will dropped to one knee with a thud. Everyone turned as they watched the blonde put a hand to his side and pull it back with his own blood painted across his fingers.

"I'm hit." He grunted, tossing his rifle to the side and working on the straps of his gear.

You hurried to his side as Tom mirrored your movements and the two of you flanked the man on the ground.

"Where?" Tom said.

"Left side." Will groaned as you helped him lay flat on the ground with his head resting against his backpack.

"Help me get this off, Tom," you said firmly, pulling at the straps of his kevlar that had ridden up just enough to let the bullet go through his lower love handle. You raised up Will's shirt and inspected the wound as warm blood slid down your hand and over your wrist before dripping to the floor. The man hissed as you probbed the wound. "It went straight through."

"Thank fuck," Tom said, looking up as Pope rummaged through his bag and handed you his clot kit.

"Get it on him, and then we gotta go."

"I'm okay. I'm okay," Will nodded as Pope took Tom's place on his opposite side. Tom and Frankie aimed both of their guns at the door as they heard footsteps. "I told you this was a stupid idea." Will groaned.

"Yeah, you sure did," Pope chuckled, helping you wrap the stretchy material around his waist and apply pressure.

Benny came back in and the two guarding the door quickly aimed their guns at the ground. "Church is out--they're back...shit." His eyes got wide as he laid sight on his brother and the blood all over your hands.

"The family is here?" Frankie asked and Benny shook his head.

"No, the first shift of guards."

Once you secured the clotting cloth, Will thanked you with a grip of your arm and a smile that reached his kind, blue eyes. You stood and allowed Benny to take your spot, helping him get his kit back on and slowly make it to his feet. They hadn't brought a stretcher and they definitely couldn't carry him out of here, but the blonde kept repeating that he could make it.

"Okay, new plan," Pope looked out the window, watching the guards pull up to the house. "we each grab a backpack of cash and we go out through the jungle and around."

"No, no way," Will shook his head and groaned as he got all the way up onto his feet.

"We are getting Ironhead home safe!" Tom pointed at the blond. "Not trekking him through the jungle. And we are not leaving them any of this fucking money!"

Frankie felt his hands ball into fists as he took a step towards Tom but Pope blocked him with his arm and you took the hint to go stand by him.

"Right…" Pope said cautiously with a desperate look on his face--talking to Tom like the ticking time bomb that he was. "So, we burn it all down and go."

"There is about a hundred million dollars down there in that van," Tom pointed to the hall. "We are going out the front. We need to hunt and shoot quickly. Call out your kills--I don't want any fucking surprises!"

There was a moment of silence as the two men clearly struggled for who was calling the shots. You tried to breathe evenly as you watched the vein pop in your brother's neck as he stared down Tom. Tom had always been your least favorite of your brother's squad. His hotheaded manner and stubbornness always seemed to get him, and anyone else in his path, in more trouble than they should have. But you stayed next to Frankie and let Pope think this one out.

"We had two objectives--Lorea and (Y/n). Now, I am not putting my sister or Ironhead in more danger for some fucking narcos money."

"Both of them will be in more danger if we drag our sorry asses through that jungle," Tom stepped closer to the other man. "You brought me here to lead--now, I'm not asking, we're not taking a vote, I'm telling you...we're leaving through the front."

The two of them continued to stare at one another before Pope finally backed down with a nod and your stomach dropped to the floor. "Alright."

"Let's get it done," Will said, breathing heavily as he adjusted his rifle in his hands. "Quick and clean. Like always."

"Pope and Frankie, you take (y/n) and go out that way and down through the kitchen. Millers down the front. I'll hang back and keep an eye out--here we go fellas." Tom accentuated each order with a point and gesture of his arm and Frankie looked down at you.

"Get your gun out," he said, lowering his voice as you all started to move in the directions you were told. "Don't shoot first--unless necessary."

"Got it," you nodded, gripping the glock tighter than was needed to keep your hands from shaking.

You moved swiftly and with purpose. Taking two steps to Frankie's one as you moved down the stairs and through the living room. A short spatter of bullets sounded from the dining room and shortly after, you heard Will's voice through the com on Frankie's ear. "That's two down in the front hall."

The two of you turned the corner and Frankie squeezed the trigger, firing twice into the chest of a guard who crossed his path. "That's three."

Another round of shots and Pope's voice came next, "That's four."

"Back to the main gate. They dropped more guys out there."

Frankie clicked his com, "I'm going out through the kitchen and grabbing the van."

"The kitchen is the wrong way, what are you on about Fish?" Tom's voice came over, confused and irritated.

"I got something I gotta do." He said back and turned to you behind him. "Stay here."

"What??" You said, your voice a little higher than you would have liked it to be.

"I need you to stay here." He tried to be reassuring but your heart started hammering in your chest and the thought of being alone again in this place. The idea of him leaving you for any reason made it even worse.

"Don't leave me," you shook your head. The fear on your face must have been more evident than you thought because looking at you made him hesitate.

"You promise that no matter what happens in the next few minutes, you'll do as I say?" He asked and your fear turned increasingly into a mixture of panic.

"Frankie--"

"Promise me, (y/n)." He said flatly, he was not negotiating.

You nodded, adding in a meek voice, "I promise."

He led the way into the kitchen, his rifle was slung over his shoulder by the strap as he took out another handgun from the holster at his side. The appliances were incredibly outdated but the creamy butter-yellow walls and white cabinets easily made the kitchen the brightest room in the desolate house. You watched Frankie walk around the kitchen island, his gun sweeping the area as he moved into the heart of the room.

Two men lay on the tile floor, bound and gagged, and you knew exactly who they were. They were two of Lorea's head guards, the ones that shoved you in the van in the middle of the city, the one that hit you, tied you up--and Frankie knew it too.

He raised his gun and one of the men started to yell around the black electrical tape over his mouth, thrashing his head back and forth wildly. You felt like you were going to be sick.

"Frankie…" you said, standing next to him and touching his side.

He lowered the gun ever so slightly and looked at you. "Remember the deal? Whatever I say, right?"

Bile rose in your throat as you saw the hardened look in the eyes of one of the kindest men you have ever known. Those normally warm, coffee-colored eyes were almost black as he looked at you with a locked jaw and unwavering stance. Seeing such emotion in him and how palpable it felt around his aura hurt more than you ever thought it could. Tears burned in the back of your throat as you nodded. You weren't crying for the men on the floor, you were crying to the soul of the man you loved.

He reached his free arm out and drew you against the shelter of the side of his body. He could feel you tremble against him as you grabbed onto his shirt like the lifeline that it was.

"Close your eyes and cover your ears," he said, flatly and when he felt you let go of him to do so, he pulled the trigger.

One shot. Muzzle. Bitch. Two shots. Merchandise. Cunt.

Two clean shots, echoing in the empty kitchen, hit both of them directly in the center of the forehead. No mistake, no chance, just dead. Frankie felt you jolt against him with each bang and no matter how much he wanted the men at his feet to suffer the way you had suffered, he wouldn't risk making you feel differently about him. The idea that the rage bubbling in his gut could make you look at him in fear was enough to keep his emotions in check. He had done what he needed to do. They would never lay hands on anyone else the way they had laid hands on his girl, no one would ever suffer because of them again--for now, that was enough.

Neither you nor Frankie spoke as you left the mansion and loaded into the van. You watched in the rearview mirror as Tom squeezed the lighter fluid on every inch of the foyer and the curtains that lined the walls. He pulled out a lighter and paused for a moment before flicking it to life and tossing it down. The front of the house quickly engulfed in flames, so bright they burned blue towards the bottom where the heat was the most intense.

The wipers squeaked in a rhythmic annoyance as you sat in the van and the two of you waited for the rest of them to get the other vehicle. An SUV of guards pulled into the compound and you gripped the console as Pope and Will opened fire, busting the tinted windows and peppering everyone inside with bullets. Each man opened a door and grabbed a now lifeless guard by the shirt and pulled him out to let him slump to the ground like a ragdoll.

You watched as Tom moved up from the ditch and shot the last guard in another spray of blood that was quickly washed down the rocks by the rain.

It was suddenly too humid in the car. There was not enough air circulating as your chest felt tight and your breathing increased. It felt as if someone was sitting on top of you. Your hands shook, your eyes burned, and you wanted to claw at your throat to desperately rid yourself of whatever was stuck inside of your windpipe.

"Frankie," you managed to choke out as you started to feel around your vest for the buckles. "Frankie, I can't breathe."

"Hey, hey," he said softly, turning his body in the seat to face you. Saying your name, he reached out and put his hand over yours as you kept trying to rip at the straps of the kevlar. "Stop. (Y/n) stop."

"I can't--" you started to argue with a shake of your head and you hated how weak your voice sounded. You weren't broken. You could do this. But the silence of the car, paired with finally being in a space of solitude with Frankie, was forcing every fear and thought you had in the last three days to race to the surface.

"You can," he insisted. "We are not out of the woods yet." He took your hand in his and scooted as close to you as the center console would allow. He put your hand over his heart and made sure you locked eyes with him. "This has to stay on you. You understand? I know what you're feeling and I promise as soon as we get somewhere safe you can fall as hard as you need to and I’ll be there, okay?"

You nodded way too quickly and felt dizzy the moment the motion made your hair bounce. He squeezed the hand he had pressed against his chest and dipped his head to make sure you caught his gaze.

“I’m okay,” you said, not sounding okay in the slightest, but maybe if you said it outloud it would be true.

“I know you are,” he reassured you. “Breathe with me. In through your nose--there it is. Out through your mouth. You got it. Here.” He leaned forward and turned on the A/C, pointing the extra vents at you and breathing became easier once you felt the cool air tickle the strands of your hair. He kept hold of your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it a few times.

“Thank you,” you closed your eyes and leaned back against the headrest continuing to breathe as evenly as you could.

“No thanks needed, sweetheart,” he said quietly, looking back out the window as Pope gave him a signal to keep moving. “That’s us.”

You started to pull your hand away so he could drive but he kept his grip on it, balancing them on the gearshift as he moved his freehand to the top of the steering wheel. The unconscious action made you smile a bit. Something as simple as holding his hand over the console of the car reminded you of summer drives in his truck. With rolled down windows and a classic rock station, you could almost smell the wind in the grass and hear the frogs calling along the tree line. You held onto that memory as tightly as you held onto his hand, knowing that it was the only things that were going to get you out of this fucking jungle in one piece.

Tag List: @winters-buck @stevieharrrr @zeldasayer @rae-gar-targaryen @thebakerstboyskeeper @bookshelvesandteacups @honestlystop @seawhisperer @huliabitch @phoenixhalliwell @roxypeanut @mrsparknuts @domino-oh-damn @wickedfrsgrl @cloud-of-roses @arrowswithwifi @thinemineours @sgtpenny @xxlovingfandomsxx @scorpionsandhoney @honeybeeespeaks @lukesrighthand@irishleesh93 @ripleyafterdark @lokiaddicted @maybege @humongouspandafest @jigglemiwa @manda-but-not-lorian @skdubbs @buckstaposition @lostinwonderland314 @a-killvr-queen @seawhisperer @mrpascals @saltywintersoldat @lukesrighthand @starlite41@ms-dont-care @lustinglilac @fioccodineveautunnale @cahooter @mrscrain-x7 @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @sendhoots @badassbaker @technicallykawaiisoul @lostinwonderland314 @wherethefuckiskathmandu @colourforanamee @anevrismes @kazualdk @keeper0fthestars @sunkissed-winter @@shinyfranci @cinewhore @whiskeyslasso

Please let me know if you wish to be tagged, untagged, or if I missed you! Please, please, please. This tag list is growing and if I messed up, I promise it was not on purpose.

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #Triple Frontier #pedro pascal #pedro character fic #addicted to you

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organabanana · 3 years

Text

leaves of three, let it be [2/3] || harlivy

Chapters: 2/3

Fandom: DCU (Comics)DCUHarley Quinn (Comics)Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel

Characters: Pamela Isley, Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle

Additional Tags: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of batman fucking bats, most of this is straight up idiocy tbh, i just finished watching the cartoon so everyone swears like a sailor i’m sorry, rated for (ahem) happenings later on, ivy/harley/catwoman frenemies

Summary

After Harley mistakenly confesses her love and then promptly takes it back, Ivy spends some time sorting through the things she absolutely doesn't feel (and the ones she does). Selina and Harley don't quite help.

Chapter 1: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 2: AO3

If you ever asked Poison Ivy if she’s into meditation, she’d say she isn’t.

Actually, if you ever asked Poison Ivy if she’s into meditation, she’d probably stare you down until you crumbled under the sheer weight of her judgment and apologized for ever talking to her, but that’s beside the point.

The point is, Ivy doesn’t meditate. The concept of meditation, if you ask her, goes in the same patchouli-scented box as moon-charged crystals and essential oils.

No. What Ivy does is… introspection. Yeah. She introspects. She consciously clears her mind of all intrusive thoughts. Which may sound a lot like meditation, maybe? But — she cannot stress this enough — it’s not the same thing.

So there she is. Sitting on her couch. Introspecting. And it may look like she’s staring off into the distance, but she’s actually looking at a nearly invisible, tiny little hint of a green sprout that’s managed to grow in a crack on the windowsill.

There it is. A tiny little fighter. Just like—

Nope.

No way.

We are absolutely not thinking about her. We’re introspecting. So Ivy takes in a deep breath, in through her nose, eyes fluttering closed as she exhales slowly and then opens them and tries again.

As she was saying. A tiny little sprout. She could go over there and touch it and quite literally breathe life into it. She can’t tell what kind of plant it is, but she could make it bloom if it’s a flowering species. What if it’s a tree? She could make it grow so big its roots would tear this whole building apart just like her heart was torn apart last ni—

Motherf—

“Morning, my little dill pickle.”

Selina climbs in through the window, practically gliding into Ivy’s apartment with the kind of grace that would normally make Ivy stop and stare and perhaps have a not-quite-respectful thought or two.

Listen: she has eyes. Don’t read into it.

Anyway. As graceful and ridiculously nimble as Selina is, she’s also way up high in Ivy’s shit list at the moment (second only to you know who), so today is not the day for lighthearted conversation and platonic crushes.

“Fuck you, Selina,” Ivy offers as a greeting, glancing at the plant to make sure it’s still there. And it is, of course. Selina fucking Kyle may be a bitch and a half, but she knows how to move without leaving a trace.

“Now?” Selina cocks one perfectly manicured eyebrow at Ivy, the slightest hint of a teasing smirk on her face. “I mean I was gonna offer brunch, but that doesn’t sound like the worst midday plan.”

Ivy simply stares for a moment, as if she’s forgotten if there’s one person in the world that’s absolutely immune to even her most wilting looks, that’s Selina fucking Kyle.

“Oh, come on,” Selina practically groans, “stop it. Brooding is such a teen boy move.”

“I am not brooding.”

“Right.” With one single word, Selina makes it clear that she doesn’t believe Ivy and, most importantly, that she doesn’t care enough to argue. “Anyway. Brunch? My treat.”

Ivy closes her eyes. Not meditating. Just introspecting. Just trying to channel the urge to make a full-grown sequoia grow out of Selina Kyle’s ass into something productive. One deep breath in through her nose and—

“We can have margaritas!” Selina lets out a quiet chuckle as she admires the perfectly matte black polish on her fingernails. “Yikes. Too soon?”

Fuck introspection.

“I. Am going. To fucking murder you.” Ivy stands up with every intention to make good on that promise, and Selina must read it in her eyes because for the first time since Ivy’s known her — for the first time in her life, maybe — Selina looks scared.

Well, maybe not scared.

But she is absolutely concerned.

“Fuck me, Ive, damn,” Selina takes one step back, no longer smirking, “calm down, will you?”

Ivy stops, Selina’s audacity basically jolting her out of her murderous rage. “Calm down, Selina? Fucking seriously? You did what you did and now you come here and tell me to fucking calm down?”

Selina tilts her head just so, like she’s conceding (against her will) that maybe there is a reason for Ivy to be somewhat upset with her.

“Oh, come on,” she sighs, rolling her shoulders like the tension has to leave her body somehow, and it will certainly not be via an apology, “it wasn’t even real poison.”

Ivy’s eyes widen slightly in disbelief. Does Selina think she’s mad because she thinks Harley was in actual danger?

No. No, Selina can’t think that, because Selina may be an asshole, but she’s a very smart asshole. So she must know Ivy’s well aware of Harley’s immunity to toxins. She must know that’s not even remotely the reason Ivy’s spent the last eleven hours and some change introspecting all thoughts of last night out of her mind.

For a split second, Ivy feels something similar to warmth towards Selina as she considers that maybe she’s simply ignoring the embarrassing part of the event to spare Ivy. Maybe she’s pretending this is about Harley’s physical wellbeing and not… well. The other thing.

Sadly, the split second passes.

“If it helps,” Selina says, and even before she finishes the sentence Ivy can already sense it won’t help at all, “it’s totally reciprocated.”

Ivy feels it crawling up her veins, thick like sap. She’s managed to distill plenty of emotions, turned them into tonics and toxins and elixirs and used them for her own benefit and the Green’s. She’s bottled love — well, lust — and hatred and rage. Fear, even. Insanity, ironically enough. But this.

This… this humiliation.

Oh, this is something else.

Ivy closes her eyes. In through her nose, and even the air feels like it has to go through that thick mixture of (public) pain and weakness and acknowledged vulnerability to get to her lungs.

It’s one thing to have Harley see her like this. Like that. Like last night. Defenses down and heart out there in the open like her ribcage’s forgotten its purpose. That’s fine, she figures, because it’s been the norm for years and years and years. It’s nothing new, really, to have Harley see her accidentally stumble over the line into pathetic from time to time. It happens.

But Selina.

Selina fucking Kyle.

Selina saw that and she understood what she was seeing and now she’s acknowledging it, and Ivy isn’t even mad anymore.

I mean, she is. She’s really fucking mad.

She’s just many other things as well as mad, so it’s harder to focus on it.

Out through her mouth. Slowly. And her voice is nice and even when she opens her eyes and looks at Selina once again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ivy lies, walking towards the kitchen like that had been her intention all along, “there is nothing to reciprocate.”

Ivy can feel Selina’s look on the back of her head. She’s not going to give her the satisfaction of turning around, of course. Selina Kyle’s ego is healthy enough as it is. But she can absolutely feel it. A look involving an arched eyebrow and narrowed eyes and possibly a smirk. Maybe the slightest purse of painted lips, if she’s going for judgmental rather than smug.

Selina is multi-faceted in her scorn.

“You have got to be shitting me, Ive,” Selina says, and Ivy still refuses to turn around, focusing instead on staring at the interior of her fridge and ignoring the fact that ninety percent of its contents are there for Harley’s all-day snacking needs.

She ends up grabbing a jug of water not because she’s thirsty, but simply because it’s the only thing in there she knows for a fact is there just for her.

“Seriously?” Selina prods, walking closer and crossing her arms over her chest as she watches Ivy methodically fill a glass of water like it’s a delicate operation that requires her undivided attention. “You’re such a fucking pussy. And I don’t mean that as a compliment.”

Ivy does turn around then, gripping the glass with perhaps a little more force than strictly necessary. In her defense, she’d much rather be gripping Selina’s neck instead.

“Once again, Selina,” she says with a slight shrug, taking a sip of cold water, “no idea what you’re talking about.”

Selina gapes at her. It’s kind of flattering, actually. It’s not every day something leaves Selina Kyle fully unable to speak. Maybe — Ivy thinks to herself, enjoying her water — she’ll never speak again. Maybe she’ll leave Gotham entirely. Wouldn’t that be just—

Ivy’s train of thought is completely derailed by something that is never a good sign: Selina Kyle is laughing.

Not chuckling. Not snickering. Not letting out one of those sarcastic giggles she likes to use to obliterate people’s entire self-esteem.

No. No, this is honest to goodness, full-on belly laughter, and it’s fucking terrifying.

“Wh— what the fuck, Selina?” Ivy asks, trying to sound less scared than she actually is. Selina’s sense of humor is not so much dark as it is downright fucked up, and if she’s finding something in this situation funny, it can only mean someone is about to get crushed, metaphorically or otherwise.

All signs point to Ivy.

“Look at you!” Selina points in the general direction of Ivy, like she’s about to rip her fashion sense to shreds. But this, sadly, has nothing to do with clothes. “Holy shit, you’re in so much deeper than I thought, this is fucking hilarious.”

Ivy takes one step back, until her hip bumps against the counter and she blindly feels around to leave the half-empty glass on it. To her credit, she still manages to try and infuse her voice with something resembling nonchalance one last time.

“You’re not making any sen—“

“Man, you’re in love, in love, huh?”

Ivy’s been shot before. So she feels like she’s not being overly dramatic when she says Selina’s words feel just like that. Like being shot right in the gut. And Ivy tries to be as stoic as she usually is when faced with things like gunshots and blunt force and bat-shaped ninja stars (holy fuck, he’s such a nerd), but she feels a bit like she’s been standing on a castle of cards for the last… however many years it’s been since she met Dr. Quinzel in Arkham, and Selina’s just figured out exactly where to blow to make it all come tumbling down.

“I mean I knew you two were into each other. Obviously,” Selina continues, and Ivy suddenly understands the exact meaning of all those expressions regarding cats and mice, “but I thought it was like… well, you know. Friends in need of a nudge towards the benefits. But this.”

Selina shakes her head, smile as wide as her eyes. She looks both surprised and delighted. Like she’s really just found out there are feelings involved in whatever lust-filled fever dream she’d interpreted as reality before now.

“And you’re the one who’s doing all the yearning. I totally thought she was the useless one. Holy shit.” Selina takes a couple steps in the direction of the window, like using a door like a normal person is simply not an option for her. “How long?”

Ivy opens her mouth, but Selina interrupts her before any sound can come out.

“Don’t answer that. I already know.” Selina waves her hand dismissively. “No wonder you’re fucking terrified. You’d be safer falling in love with an actual hyena.”

“I’m not—“

“Please.” Selina reaches the window and notices that little plant for the first time, giving it a little pat that could almost pass for affectionate if you didn’t know Selina Kyle. “So what’s scarier, Ive?” Selina almost purrs the question. “That she may not love you back, or that she probably does?”

Ivy tells herself she could murder Selina right then and there, with the help from the little plant. Hell, she could probably kill her without help from the plant.

But that wouldn’t really fix anything, right?

“Anyway!” Selina lets out a happy little sigh as she slinks out of the window and onto the fire escape outside. “No brunch, then. I’ll leave you to your brooding.” Her smile turns into a smirk then, eyes narrowed like she’s about to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. “And don’t worry, Ive. I can keep a secret.”

Selina winks at her before she disappears.

Ivy refuses, pointedly, to think about her conversation with Selina.

She tries to go back to her introspection, but it turns out there’s no breathing in and out when your chest is full of feelings to the point of actual physical discomfort, so Ivy gives up on that, too.

She could plot. Scheme, if you will. It’s been a while since she’s gone for an actual multi-step plan to rid Gotham — and, later, the world — of parasitic CEOs profiting off nature. A bit of environmentally friendly murder never fails to put her in a good mood.

But it turns out it’s nearly impossible to come up with a solo plan without being constantly aware of the fact that going solo is no longer her default. A plan involving only herself doesn’t feel like just any random plan anymore. Now it feels like a plan without her, and that’s just— that’s just the opposite of what she needs to be thinking about right now.

So.

What’s an eco-terrorist to do when eco-terrorism is not an option?

Eight hours later she’s in her lab, hair haphazardly held in a bun with a pencil as she looks at her latest experiment through her microscope.

The little sprout from her windowsill sits right next to the microscope in a beaker serving as a makeshift flower pot while Ivy works.

“You know, if this works,” Ivy tells the sprout, eyes trained on the cell that should enter active mitosis any second now, “you’re going to be my sidekick when we take down the next big guy.”

If this works, and she can give this tiny plant the powers she hopes to give her, they can take over Gotham and the world as a team. Ivy’s always worked best with plants, anyway. Who needs—

“Red?”

Harley’s voice is uncharacteristically mellow, but it manages to startle Ivy anyway.

“Jesus, Harley,” Ivy doesn’t look away from the microscope, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

She’s not mad. Not at Harley, anyway. None of this is her fault. She’s just—

Listen. Figuring out exactly what to call what she’s feeling would require introspection, and we’re not doing that anymore.

“Oh. I uh—“ There’s something in Harley’s tone that twists uncomfortably in Ivy’s chest. “Wanted to talk?”

Ivy doesn’t want to talk. Talking, as it turns out, may be the very last thing she wants to do. But there’s that something in Harley’s voice. Something that sounds a bit like embarrassment. Like shame, even. Like maybe if Ivy were to listen in on Harley’s inner monologue right now the voice in there would sound suspiciously like him calling her a fuck-up and an idiot and—

“I’m sorry.” Ivy leaves the little plant’s cell to enter mitosis in its own time and turns to fully focus on Harley. “I didn’t mean to snap. You just startled me.”

Harley visibly relaxes. Ivy decides she hates him just that much more than she did ten seconds ago.

“Didn’t mean to startle ya,” Harley leaves her bat propped against the trunk of a giant nightshade and takes a few steps towards Ivy.

Normally, Harley has no concept of personal space. She sits on whatever surface is closest to Ivy, invading her space and making it impossible for her to fully focus on anything that’s not Harley. It should be annoying, but it isn’t, for reasons Ivy is absolutely not going to consider at this time.

This time, however, Harley hovers just a step or two away from Ivy and her microscope and her standing desk.

It feels…

It feels wrong.

“What did you want to talk about?” Ivy taps the desk and tries not to smile when Harley beams as she practically bounces to sit on it. Her legs dangle over the edge, well-worn combat boots lightly bumping against Ivy’s legs with each soft swing of Harley’s feet.

Nothing really feels wrong anymore.

“I’m sorry, Pammy.”

Ivy shakes her head. “It’s fine. You know you’re always welcome here, I just wasn’t expecting—“

“No,” Harley says, and when Ivy looks into her eyes she realizes Harley’s not going to let her pretend she has no idea what this is about, “I mean I’m sorry about the other night.”

Ivy stands up a little straighter. Takes half a step back, like that’s going to help. Crosses her arms over her chest.

“It’s fine.”

Harley tilts her head just so, bright blue eyes narrowing for a second, and Ivy sees a flash of Harleen right there staring back at her. Reading her fucking thoughts, almost. It’s unnerving.

“It’s fine, Harley,” Ivy insists, tone sharper as she takes another step back. She can hear the low rumble of every vine in her lab stirring along with her mood.

There’s a moment there, maybe a few seconds long, where they both simply stare at each other in silence. Like they’re trying to figure each other out in a way that feels completely foreign because she knows Harley, and Harley knows her, and there’s nothing to figure out. Nothing at all.

“You know—“ Harley’s voice sounds a bit brittle, like it may just break if it hits the wrong word, “you know I didn’t mean it, Pammy.”

Ivy nods. Once.

“I know.” She knows now and she knew when she first met Harley and she’s known for the last however many years it’s been. She fucking knows it’s love but it’s not love like that. She knows. “It’s fine.”

“You know Selina just got in my head, right?” Harley keeps talking, and on some level Ivy knows there’s nothing to be angry about because Harley just wants to explain. She just wants to make sure things aren’t weird between them because they’re best friends. But it feels almost cruel anyway. “You know I don’t—“

“I know you don’t love me, Harley, yes, for fuck’s sakes, I’m not an idiot.”

“But I—“

“Don’t.” Ivy holds one finger up. If she has to listen to Harley say she loves her, but just not in that way she may lose her fucking mind. “It’s fine.”

For a few blessed seconds, it feels like maybe Harley will let it go. Like maybe she’ll just drop it and let Ivy get out of this with some semblance of pride.

But that would just be too much to ask, wouldn’t it?

“I do love you, Ive, it’s just—“

“Holy shit, Harley!” Ivy raises her voice and hears the tell-tale creak of vines growing up the wall. “I know! I fucking know, all right? Selina is a dick and you thought margarita mix was a love potion and you’re not fucking in love with me, all right? I know!”

“But—“

“No! No fucking but!” Ivy swears she hears it. The little snap when she loses her last thread of control over what she’s saying and things spill out before she has a chance to filter them. “I don’t love you either, have you even considered that?”

Harley’s eyes widen in the purest expression of surprise Ivy’s ever seen in her life.

“Right!” There’s a part of Ivy that wants to stop. She wants to stop and backtrack and tell Harley she didn’t mean it because she can’t stand the thought of hurting her, and she needs her to know that of course — of course — Ivy loves her. But she just can’t right now. “I’m not secretly in love with you! All right? I’m glad you don’t love me. I’m fucking fine.”

Harley opens her mouth like she’s about to speak, but closes it without making a sound. She doesn’t look hurt, necessarily. She looks… she looks disarmed, almost. Like she doesn’t know how to react.

“I’ll just—“ Harley swallows and jumps off the desk. “We’re fine, so I’ll just leave. Yeah?”

Ivy nods. “Fine.”

“Cool. Yeah.” Harley sort of smiles, but not really. She moves a bit slower than usual as she goes back to her bat and walks towards the door, and there’s a part of Ivy that wants to stop her and fix this somehow — because it’s not fine at all — but self-preservation wins in the end.

“Remember to lock the door on your way out.”

For a second, Harley almost looks like she may say something. And for a second, Ivy almost hopes she will. But Harley just nods and walks out, and when she hears the lock snap into place, Ivy knows she’s all alone with her plants.

Right where she belongs.

#harlivy #harlivy fanfiction #harlivy fanfic #poison ivy #harley quinn #fic

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jungxk · 4 years

Text

just one (vii)

notes: the only guy on campus who’s track record trumped that of your best friend’s - park jimin - was jeon jungkook. not that that was a problem…until he set his sights on you.

warnings: smut (oral: m receiving. unprotected sex, brief cumplay)

genre: drama, romance, humour, college!au

wordcount: 10.4k

tagging: @underthejoon @misosoup-forthesoul

part i // part ii // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii // part ix // part x

jungkook knows from the second he heard seulgi's steps marching to the front door that he should have just sat back and waited for your reply before coming over. but he has a busy afternoon and somewhere to be in less than an hour, and it's much too late to scarper because seulgi yanks the door open before he can twist on his heels. her hair is up in a pile on top of her head with a huge sweatshirt coming down to her knees but jungkook has never been more terrified. seulgi watches him so carefully he swears she can see the beads of sweat forming on his temple. "seulgi noona! good morning," no response. "um...how are you?"

seulgi taps her foot. "you want to know how i am after you finished all the fruit loops and left your dirty underwear on my bathroom floor?" even though he's a head taller than her, jungkook still scurries to obey when she points him into the flat. "how do you think i am, jungkook? because i feel like i'm a single mother to a messy, inconsiderate weasel who doesn't know how to put the toilet seat down!"

"um...sorry?" jungkook offers timidly, hoping his cute grin will lessen his sentence. it usually works on his hyungs and hookups. "i'll replace the fruit loops, i promise. and i'll work on the toilet thing!"

just when he thinks he's in the clear and tries to step passed her, seulgi grabs jungkook by the ear and yanks him back to make him shriek. "fuck yeah you'll work on it! you also have to work on not using my limited edition apple-scented conditioner that i've been saving up for since before you were born!"

"you're only three years older than me!"

she pulls harder. "what was that?"

"i'm sorryyy," jungkook whines uncomfortably, unable to free himself from her grip to keep hold of the huge bag he's clutching. he squeezes his eyes shut when she starts to twist and regrets ever stepping foot here without you to protect him as a human shield. "ow, ow, ow! i said i'm sorry, noona!"

"leave him alone seulgi! you can kill him after friday, he's our ride!" jisoo pokes her head out from the kitchen to make sure that seulgi complies and releases jungkook in one piece, throwing the younger boy a sympathetic smile while he clutches his swollen ear with a pout. "_____ is in the shower, jungkookie. go wait in her room before you leave here decapitated."

jungkook practically sprints down the hall, barely missing seulgi when she lunges for him threateningly. "if you weren't fucking one of my best friends i'd keep your nuts as a keychain, jeon! remember that!"

"kook? you here?" you call just before pushing open your bedroom door, kicking it shut with your heel while holding a towel to your hair. sure enough jungkook is sat at the end of your bed, pink knees showing through the rip in his jeans while he bounces his leg in anticipation. the hoodie he's wearing is too big for him, and he's squeezing the handle of a big, fancy looking paper bag like his life depends on it. "i thought i heard seulgi screaming," you scoff, rushing past him to search for a pair of socks in the laundry basket, haphazardly throwing things into your bag as you go. "sorry, but i'm already late to jimin's, so maybe later? his new order came from asos so he wants my opinions-"

"i'll be quick," jungkook stands quickly, and you finally take a second to get a proper look at his face. big, round eyes looking everywhere but yours when he thrusts the bag at you. "i just wanted to give you this. i'll see you later! if seulgi doesn't castrate me first..."

"wait," you steady a hand on his arm before he can go. "what's this? did i leave something at yours?"

he shakes his head. it's hard to do anything but stare at him: a gift? from jungkook? the most he had ever bought you was the occasional lunch or emergency chocolate, so it was a little hard to believe. a part of you is convinced it was some kind of gag like a costco-size pack of condoms or an accompaniment to those vibrating panties from his birthday but jungkook isn't laughing. if anything, he looks agitated. but it's hard to tell if that was because of seulgi's yelling. he clearly wasn't going to give you an explanation so you sit on the bed and decide to keep jimin waiting another ten minutes.

you pull out the bag's contents and it's heavy. it's a thick wooden case with ornate golden latches, and inside the case are beautifully arranged premium oil paints of every discernible shade you could think of, pristine and practically gleaming against the velvet lining. the set was complete with palette knives and various varnishes and glazing mediums that are only sold with the most luxurious of paint sets. you only ever saw this kind of painting equipment in shop windows or ridiculous online bids and here they were, spread out across your hello kitty bedding. finally, your shaky hands reach out to trace the gold work the edges of the wood just to make sure your eyes weren't deceiving you.

all the while jungkook practically hops from one foot to the other, desperate to leave. "it's okay if you don't like them. you don't have to use them or anything, i just thought-"

"jungkook," you whisper, overwhelmed with questions. "i...they're beautiful," he relaxes significantly. "i just...i can't believe you got your hands on these, they must have cost a fortune...!" you finally meet his eyes, shocked. your hair damp and your expression creased with confusion and even concern...it's sweet. he finds it hard not to smile. you start to shake your head slowly. "kook-ah, i can't accept this. there's no way i can pay you back-"

"why would you pay me back? they're yours," your stomach flips when he looks at you, hands in his hoodie pocket while he hovers over you. he hasn't put his cologne on yet so he smells like baby fabric softener and something sweet. your jungkook. "you needed paints and now you have them." he pauses at your blank expression. "do you need more colours or something? it was the biggest set i could find-"

"no! no, of course not, it's plenty...more than enough! more than i know what to do with, actually..." you stare at him again. "i don't know what to say. i've never had paints so expensive before..." guilt creeps up in the back of your throat. "you didn't have to do this, you know. jisoo and seulgi were going to get me new oils for my birthday anyway...pretty good ones, from the supply shop in town." you close the case carefully. "jungkook, this kit look just shy of a grand..."

"hey," he takes your chin, because jungkook knows that look. he smooths his thumb over your cheek, as if to smooth away the panic with it. "don't be silly. with your talent you were well overdue the fancy stuff anyway. i had the money and i spent it because that's what money's for. it's no big deal."

you lay your hand over his. "it's a big deal to me," you fist your hands in his thick jumper, pulling yourself up to him for a big kiss that's long and wet. it's not often that you throw yourself all over him so unabashedly so jungkook enjoys the attention, lets you nip at his bottom lip while you snake your hands up his hoodie. he's bare underneath. you instinctively trace at his happy trail, swallowing down the taste of him. "take your pants off."

"w-what?" you've already got his belt undone before he opens his eyes, popping his jeans open and loosening them around his hips with your thumbs hooked inside. he has a mole under his belly button that you are just dying to kiss, lowering yourself to sit back on the bed. "you don't have to do this, noona..." he says weakly, but his eyes are already sliding shut while you suck love bites above his underwear. he means it too. he really didn't get you the paint set for a lay.

and that's what makes you want to fuck him even more.

he sighs hard when you palm him over his boxers, tracing firm circles until you're met with a wet patch on the fabric. "i've been using watered down acrylic for almost a month. do you know what that's like for someone who works almost exclusively with oils? fucking horrible, that's what. so let me celebrate," you yank his jeans down under his ass, giving it a light squeeze before pulling him in by the elastic of underwear so that you can open your mouth wide over him atop the fabric, let him feel the heat of your breath over his cock before sucking until you taste pre-cum. only you could get him from zero to a hundred in a few minutes. jungkook gives in, lacing his fingers through your damp hair so that he can buck into your face insistently. he releases a salacious whine, which he isn't used to doing.

you're at the perfect height to have him in your mouth while he's standing and you're sat on the bed, not that you have time for anything else because you're already late. pulling his underwear down along with his jeans, you hum at the sight of jungkook's dripping erection, leaning in to catch the dribbles of pre-cum as if they were going to waste otherwise, and jungkook thinks the sight alone could kill him. he's flushed darker at his tip, and if you concentrate hard enough you could feel the vein on the underside pumping with excitement. you always had a way of eating cock that made him shiver; like you were greedy for it, selfish even. like you'd rather die than not taste every inch of him, every drop, so thirsty for his cream in your mouth that you didn't care what you had to do to get it. it's why he often pushed your head away, not ready to finish so soon, but it's also why he becomes putty in your hands, a slave to your mouth. like it's your cock and he just happens to be attached to it. you're not a lewd girl so he never expected it of you. maybe that's why it delights him so.

the head of jungkook's manhood is swollen, almost bulbous, flushed such a deep red it could kiss violet. you take him in your hand, use your thumb to rub up his length, the soft curve allowing for some gentle pressure at the base. was it possible to be in love with a cock? that's how it felt, and you had never felt this way before. you can't even hide your pleasure when you take the tip in your mouth, rubbing him along the pad of your tongue first before sucking him all the way in. jungkook squirms, tries not to rut his hips but it's impossible, your other hand venturing down to give his balls a gentle fondle. you hum around him as you do, determined to suck every bead of cum out of him. jungkook groans so hard he blushes all the way up to his ears and down the back of neck, sweating profusely now. he's not new to letting girls take the reigns but with you it felt so...invigorating. fresh.

he trembles when you gag around him, watching the saliva and pre-cum accumulate around your chin. your lashes are so long and pretty from this angle. jungkook knows he's a goner once you start to bob your head, wetting the length of him with as much saliva as you can muster. it comes off in a string when you pull away to look at him, cleaning your lips with your tongue. "where do you want to finish, kook-ah?"

it's usually tits. for the sheer visual of course, because they're his weakness. but jungkook knows how much you adore it when he fills your mouth and lets you swallow his load whole, the taste alone so euphoric he can see the whites of your eyes sometimes. and so, with much difficulty, he replies while you twirl your tongue around his leaking tip. "m-mouth. please..."

you don't reply; only smile triumphantly before closing your mouth around his head again and sucking the life out of him. jungkook is vocal, whimpering and moaning and thrusting into your mouth so his belt buckle clicks rhythmically. knowing his answer his answer succeeded in pleasing you made the entire thing that much more overwhelming. jungkook wills himself to look down, seeing your hard nipples through your shirt, a tiny detail but evidently his demise; ropes of his cum fill your mouth, hot and sticky with a noticeable tang you could never get tired of. you keep swallowing, lapping up the remnants long after jungkook has ridden through his high, beginning to writhe from the over-stimulation but he doesn't dare push you away if only to look at you sat there with his dick in your mouth for a few more seconds.

when you finally pull back, swiping at the pre-cum on your chin with your finger and sucking it like pastry cream. he almost passes out. "you should buy me art supplies more often."

"are you kidding?" he's still panting when he climbs on top of you, pushing your giggling form to lie underneath him while he tugs your top up and plays with your breasts; first with his hands, then with his mouth. they're so warm and soft under his lips, the act hardly even sexual but idle. comforting. it feels so nice you squeak when you feel his teeth graze over the puckered skin. "next time i'm getting you a whole studio. or a fucking museum."

"so do you have any explanation for being over an hour late?" jimin examines himself in his wardrobe mirror while you cross your legs on the end of his bed amidst the plastic covered clothing. you try to be as collected as possible but jimin could catch your fidgeting a mile away. "because i had to ask tae for his opinions on these jeans while you were gone, and he was honest. too honest," he studies his body's profile. "do i really have a bubble butt?"

"i just overslept," you say simply, examining him with a finger to your lips. "and definitely not. you're flatter than a naan. those jeans are just creating assets out of nowhere. which is a good thing!"

"and how would you know? does that mean you've been looking?" jimin teases, not even warning you before tugging his tee off from the back in that rough way that boys do. you busy yourself with looking for a shirt to pair his pants with because you know jimin is toned and firm and wonderfully tanned with a smooth chest you used to exclusively fall asleep on. you don't need reminding. "are you shy, ____?"

"do you want me to be shy?" you're both caught off guard by the challenge.

jimin isn't sure whether to be amused or excited but takes the sweater you throw him without comment. "hm, looks a little big."

"you like oversized," you offer. "but you have another jumper just like that."

he holds up the garment and squints. "i do?"

"the grey one," you go to his wardrobe to fetch it, sifting through the various hung clothes before pulling it out. "with the puffy sleeves, see? not worth it if you ask me. what about this navy one?" you pull out one of the new tees from the pile. "i love this colour on you."

you look up to see his perfect smile. "i'll remember that."

you avoid his gaze. "you can wear it to that thing on friday," he watches you scurry back to your seat on the bed again, perching on the end while you wait for him to change with your eyes closed. it's so endearing and innocent he can't stop smiling at you through the mirror. "seulgi and jisoo seem pretty keen on going now, too. what did you tell them?"

"the same thing i told everyone: free drinks and free food," he pulls on the navy shirt and you accidently catch him, unintentionally lingering on his nipples. they're bigger than jungkook's but the same rich, delicious brown. you start to think about this morning and suddenly you clamp your thighs shut. "the guy's loaded, how many more times do i have to say it? and now that seulgi and jisoo are going there's really no reason why you shouldn't either."

you sigh. "jimin, you don't even know this guy. how can you be a walking advert for his party if you don't even-"

"i totally know him!" jimin looks offended, nose all crinkled. "you know irene?"

you perk up hopefully. "...yeah, actually. we went to hers a while ago, right?"

"right! well it's her sister's ex-boyfriend's neighbour's cousin's gym buddy!"

"...you are un-fucking-believable."

"but i'm yours," his palms are suddenly planted firmly on your knees like he always does to get your attention, forcing you to look at him when he shoves them apart slightly. it's a mirror-image of jungkook from this morning after he got you naked, but this time it's jimin's musk and plush lips and hooded eyes that don't falter for even a second. he takes the opportunity while you're quiet, his thumb rubbing circles on the fabric of your leggings. his signature move in the wearing-you-down process. "come with us, babe. you know i wouldn't ask if i didn't think you'd have fun."

"okay..." you say finally. his lips are nearly berry pink. has he been biting them?

jimin pulls back, satisfied. "namjoon and yoongi are going, too. so it's not like you won't know anyone."

namjoon and yoongi means jungkook wouldn't miss it, he always tags along. so seulgi and jisoo really weren't joking when they mentioned he'd be their ride. it's the first time you'd both be somewhere public together since your little escapade started, so you weren't sure how to feel. would you just pretend to be friends? weren't you just friends? would you mingle with namjoon and yoongi like you usually would given they're in his circle? avoid him completely? ride with jimin instead of carpool?

would jungkook get with other girls?

you feel small all of a sudden, stamping down the feeling by opening another plastic covered item of clothing. instead of thinking about your unspoken arrangement with jungkook it felt better just to avoid the entire thing and save yourself the headache. whatever you had going right now was working and it was good, great even. so why mess with it?

before you know it, taehyung is bursting into the room to flop beside you. he twists himself to throw his legs over your thighs without missing a beat, head hanging slightly off the bed when he looks at jimin. "you told him to keep the jeans? seriously, _____?"

"i think they look nice."

"thank you!"

"and i want to borrow them."

"...what?"

"i don't understand why this is taking so long," jungkook complains from under the pillow on his face. he's sprawled out across your bed under an array of tops, skirts, dresses, tights, you name it. he no longer cared. seulgi was doing her eyebrows in her compact mirror on the floor, her makeup surrounding her in a cult-like circle while jisoo was painting her nails on your desk chair, sitting nice and still while you waved her hair with a straightener. it had already been over an hour since jungkook arrived to pick you all up and since then he's fallen asleep, made a snack and watched two episodes of naruto on his phone. "you said to pick you guys up at seven. what's the point if you weren't even ready?"

"when girls say seven they don't actually mean seven, jungkookie," jisoo blows her pinky fingernail dry.

"i just don't get how there's so much to do," he grumbles, knowing better than to reach over and inspect the array of hair products and cosmetics. the three of you kicked up a fuss when he dropped an eyeliner an hour or so ago. "guys just wash their pits, maybe their balls. throw on some lynx and leave."

"and that's why you are the inferior species," seulgi says from behind her mirror. "but maybe you'll survive, jeon. you actually use soap for one thing."

"that's because he doesn't like strong smells," you say absently while parting the last layer of jisoo's hair. "he won't even let me near him if i come back from the studio without a shower."

jungkook splutters with embarrassment when the girls laugh and coo at him. "i told you, the paint smell gives me a headache!"

"speaking of headaches," seulgi gives jisoo an evil, conniving smirk from across the room. "guess who's not coming tonight!"

jisoo rolls her eyes. "if you say taehyung i'm gonna-"

"please! everyone and their mother knows you and tae are extinct. i'm talking about namjoon and yoongi," seulgi looks at her mischievously. "think about it, ____ already gives us a way in. free drinks, fancy house, unfamiliar faces...i heard this rich-kid even has a patio. this is our shot."

jisoo stands up abruptly. "then i need my slutty blouse."

"again, you mean my slutty blouse," you pout.

jungkook lifts the pillow from his face to look at you. "you have a slutty blouse?" the girls ignore him while they filter out of the room in search for it, because it takes an extra pair of hands when it comes to navigating jisoo's wardrobe. jungkook throws the pillow aside, his hair is a bit dishevelled from lying down, but he manages to pull off the style well even in a smart-casual, silk maroon button down and black jeans. not forgetting his array of silver earrings and rings, doing nothing but adding to his devilish look especially when he looks at you so mischievously. you know then that he won't let this topic go without an answer. "why haven't i seen it? your slutty blouse?"

you roll your eyes, glad you're not facing him because it was harder to maintain resolve with eye contact. "what's the point? you barely let me keep a shirt on around you."

he snorts, resting his chin on his hand while he watches you. your already-flattering waistline was now mesmerising in your little dress. "i like boobs. sue me."

"my heart is racing, slick." you say dryly. before he rolls back, you swivel in your desk chair to look at him. "so what's the deal?"

jungkook pops an eye open. "deal?"

"tonight," you gesture between you. "i just think that we should, you know. make sure we're on the same page."

"oh," he shrugs nonchalantly. "well, we're friends. do what you want."

you nod quietly, not exactly satisfied but you let it go. it's not that you expected much else from him so you couldn't say you were disappointed; jeon jungkook doesn't do serious. you knew that going into all of this. you gave up hobi - or rather hobi gave up on you - being well aware of this. in your heart you knew it was more complicated than that, but if it made him feel better about the whole idea by acting like strangers around other people you could accept that. he'd come around eventually. the trust is what's important, the unspoken respect and connection that you both shared. knowing that was intact didn't leave room for much worry or doubt, but one thing did. "i gotta admit though...i'm gonna miss not having a bodyguard."

jungkook looks at you through the corner of his eye. he pauses, internally debating with himself before sitting up with a long sigh. he removes his watch, a big bulky silver one that he always kept on his person. "okay, let me tell you a secret," he looks at you seriously that his next words almost knock you over. "have you watched john tucker must die?"

it's so difficult not to wheeze with laughter, but jungkook looks very solemn so you forcefully hold it in. "yeah, when i was thirteen. like most people. why?"

"because that thing with the watch," he takes your hand, slipping the timepiece over your wrist. "you know near the end, where he gives her his watch? that shit works. wards off the assholes, i mean. at least most of them," it's weighty and far too big, just barely hanging onto your wrist without slipping off completely. it didn't go with the outfit you had planned at all and bordered on uncomfortable but your stomach flickers with butterflies anyway; the paints, now his watch. it meant something, right? still, it's hard to see past such a juvenile concept, which at this point was the norm when it came to jungkook. "the second most guys see this they won't even try approaching you. like vampires and garlic. jimin and vegetables."

"are you kidding?" his expression remains resolute. "jungkook, that was a movie. from like, ten years ago. about sadistic white kids who most likely peaked in high school!"

"the principle is the same!" he argues, so fervent in his expression it's adorable. "just wait and see, you'll get significantly less trouble tonight."

you find yourself smiling playfully. "and if i don't?"

"you can paint me nude like in titanic, and i'll tattoo it right here," he points to the empty space of skin on the inside of his wrist, the same place he showed you forever ago in the library. even now he was reluctant to cover the area to officially complete his sleeve which was symbolic in itself, so it was an awfully big gamble. closest to his hand and in the eye of others, jungkook knows that whatever he decides to tattoo there would be his most high-profile piece. which is how you know he is unwavering in confidence.

you squint at him daringly. "you wouldn't."

"and if you're wrong," he continues with a cheeky grin that he tries hard to reign in. his teeth sink into his bottom lip so you're staring at the mole beneath it when he talks. "you can finally wear those vibrating panties for me with that slutty blouse of yours."

if you paid better attention, you would realise that you knew this neighbourhood. but you're strapped into the passenger's seat of jungkook's eyesore of a truck, seulgi and jisoo screaming along the words to destiny's child with all the windows rolled down. the night air is wonderfully cool for once, fanning through the back of your neck while you soak up in this feeling. laughing with jungkook next to you, blasting out seulgi's playlist, twitching whenever jisoo tries reaching one of those high notes that she frankly cannot; this could work. you turn to look at jungkook between songs, very nearly getting caught up in the need to tell him that.

his sleeves are rolled up the elbows, muscles flexing every time he changes gear. jungkook gives you a salacious flick of his brow when he catches you staring at him. usually he could hold your hand while waiting at the traffic lights but tonight he doesn't, and you know it's almost certainly because jisoo and seulgi would see. or anyone for that matter. it leaves a bad taste in your mouth, has you sitting tucked against your side of the car in deep thought. until you lift your eyes and notice the string of pretty houses passing you, with gates and neatly cut hedges and perfect mailboxes and...oh.

"thank god! i thought we'd never get here," seulgi's already popping open the car door before jungkook has the hand-break on, eager to scout the overly clean street.

jisoo eagerly scrambles after her, still buzzing from pre's. "holy fuck, would you look at this place? that tree is literally ten times prettier than i am!"

"noona," jungkook's voice is laced with concern when he notices how shell-shocked you look, staring straight ahead as if scared to look at the house. "hey, are you okay?"

your head starts nodding automatically but jungkook knows you're lying. but jungkook also knows it isn't his place to ask why, so exits the car at the same time as you do, leaving a considerable distance from you when you make your way up the fancy porch to the girls. in fact, jungkook is nowhere to be seen the second the three of you enter the vast foyer. not that you have any time to notice, your stomach tight with discomfort. even jisoo notices how clammy your hand is when they tug you over to greet irene and her group and then some of seulgi's graphic design friends. you are too on-edge to offer anything more than a thin-lipped smile, fingers gripping into seulgi's hand instinctively but you so, so wished it was jimin's. or even jungkook's.

it's just like how you remember it. the fancy vase on the middle of the table, the pretty white of the skirting board. the third step from the bottom of the staircase still creaked like it used to, and you knew if you lifted the corner of the rug in the dining room there would still be a wine stain. it's hard to make out the other little specifics because of the dim lights and chatter and alcohol but nothing has changed. maybe that picture in the hallway, or the certificates framed on the mantle piece. but everything else about this house is still polished, elegant, pristine. perfect. everything you are not, just like last time.

so you do everything you can to keep yourself occupied and move systematically around the house while you mingle. maybe with a bit of luck and if you played your cards right, you could avoid the one person who you would do anything to pass up a confrontation with.

after hours of making small talk and hiding behind the watch jungkook gave you every time you so much as pass a man, you almost cry in relief when you see hobi chatting happily on the landing of the first floor. usually your sort-of-ex wouldn't elicit such a positive response from you, but you and hobi were still close after calling it quits, so much so that you can't help but rush to his waiting arms. his stare lingers on you when you pull back from him with slightly glazed eyes and a strained smile, nodding to his friends before turning away to hook his elbow securely around your neck. "everything okay?"

"yes! yeah, it's great...i'm great," your teeth grind absently. "i'm happy to see you here, hobi. i've missed you, how've you been?"

"really good," he says, smiling at you like he always did. it wasn't one of those replies that he exchanged with you for pleasantries sake; hobi genuinely meant it. "and how about you?" there's a pause when you look away, unsure how to answer him with a single sentence. "lemme guess...boy trouble?"

at this point you're too tipsy to hold back your wild laughter. "something like that!"

"do i have to ask which one?" hoseok laughs back.

you push him playfully. "you're only teasing because you've literally been the only decent man in my life and you know it!"

"this is true," he runs his hand through his hair confidently. "but jimin can still earn that spot back, right?"

you tilt your head in question. "what do you mean?"

hoseok blinks at you, the smile dropping quickly from his face. the only time you'd seen him like that was when he broke up with you, civilly and maturely on his sofa after dinner. he licks his lips, as if he's not sure whether to believe you or go through with what he actually wants to say. but you would never lie, so that must mean...hoseok sighs. his hair covers his brows, but you can still see them tightly wound with concern when he touches your arm. "____, did jimin not tell you?"

"tell me what?" you ask, more confused than ever.

"well, if it isn't tinkerbell!" is all your hear before you're being picked up and carried down the stairs in one swift movement. normally you'd panic, as any woman would, but namjoon makes sure to lift you so that you can see his face grinning up at you. yoongi, on the other hand, waves at hobi while you're halfway down the staircase, your laughter already ringing so loud from their immaturity you can only just hear him yell back at hoseok. "sit tight hobi-yah, i need a chat with my fake girlfriend and then i'll return her in mint condition!"

"a chat?" you giggle profusely when namjoon drops you on one of the sofa's in the poolroom, which stank of weed men's body spray. their domain. it was exactly what you needed, their brainless banter and drinking games and bickering to keep you distracted and entertained. "am i in trouble, fake boyfriend?"

"that depends," yoongi flops down next to you. "are you gonna tell us the names of your super-hot friends or are you going to make us beg like dogs?"

"i think the title of fake boyfriend should go to me now," namjoon butts in, wedging himself between you and yoongi clumsily so the older boy almost goes flying off the other side. "you can't be the fake boyfriend if you can't carry the fake girlfriend, which hyung had to ask me to do-"

"what kind of dumbass fucking rule is that?" yoongi protests, face scrunched in disbelief. "you can't just make up fake boyfriend rules and-"

"why not? you made up the concept of a fake boyfriend," namjoon turns back to you. "consider my case. i am taller than hyung so i can reach stuff for you, also i have resting bitch face so guys won't bother you. hyung, in comparison, looks like a marshmallow. i'm also a vegetarian-"

"great, so you won't eat her. bravo," yoongi is back by your side again. "i only asked him to carry you because someone made me drink straight gin on the way over here and honestly i couldn't guarantee we'd both make it down those stairs alive if i picked you up, tinkerbell-"

"why does anyone have to pick me up?" you laugh, bouncing up from the sofa to grab the cues from the pooltable. "how about this - whoever wins this game gets seulgi and jisoo's phone and also the fake boyfriend award. what do you say?"

"do you even know how to play?" namjoon teases.

you stop clearing the table to gawk at him. "what, pool? no! i meant beer pong!"

"i'm way too old for this," yoongi sighs, but he's already getting up to open a fresh six-pack.

"okay, what the fuck happened?" jisoo and seulgi come out nowhere while you're on your way back from the bathroom, dragging you into the spacious conservatory. they knew you well enough to know that you even though you appeared relaxed you were far from it, hovering over you while you're backed into a corner. you're thankful at least for the sturdiness of the wall behind you, how cool it is against your skin. "did jungkook propose to you in the car or something? talk about deer in headlights! you've been looking over your shoulder every half a second since we got here."

"yeah, why do you look like you've seen a ghost?" seulgi dabs the sweat on your forehead from a napkin. "at first i just thought you needed to throw up or something."

"because, um..." you scratch your head, brain finally switching on after hours of avoiding the topic. the questions they had, the questions of your own were now piling up as well, and it was too much. you reach for the closest drink, downing it straight with no mixer. the girls share a glance, but wait for you to continue. "so...ha, this is gonna sound super hilarious...!"

jisoo plucks the empty glass from you. "spill."

you struggle to swallow, throat desperately dry while you pour yourself another drink without really even knowing what it is. "remember that guy i told you about? my ex-boyfriend from like, years ago back when i was a bio-med major?"

"the one who broke up with you once you dropped out and left home?" seulgi's mouth upturns. "yeah, i remember wanting to punch him when you told us about it. who the fuck dumps their girlfriend after she gets disowned? he should be carted off a cliff with your used-be family of snakes and a-"

jisoo darts her head around to survey the room. "wait, is he here? oh fuck, did you see him when we came in?"

"no, but i probably will," you gulp down another scathing glass of whatever. it burns, and you like it. "because this is his house."

the pair of them chorus. "what?!"

you raise your glass mockingly, laughing but also slightly on the verge of tears. "yup! see over there? that's where i used to have dinner with his parents and that's where we'd have drinks before brunch," you tap the skinny glass in your hand so it pings. "and these are the fancy glasses that his aunt got his parents as a wedding gift that never ever get used so i'm like, eighty-per-cent sure they're out of town and have no idea about this party right now which is so not like h-

"brunch?" jisoo's face twists in disgust.

"they're rich! that's what rich people do! they have brunch!"

"so all this time the ex-boyfriend you never talked was fucking loaded? and you never thought to tell us?"

"i didn't think it was important," you say honestly.

jisoo stares at you in disbelief. "isn't his dad like an astronaut or something?"

"no, no, an astrophysicist-"

she covers her eyes. "oh my god you fucked the astronaut's kid..."

"right there, actually," you point into the doorway of the spare room down the hall. "we had to be super quiet because either his parents were home or like, cleaners or butlers or one of his mum's business associates," you sigh hard at the memory. "the one time we almost fucked in the coat room, jin said it was immature and unsanitary because all the coats come from outside but it was my birthday so i was really-"

"wait, hold on," seulgi steadies a hand on your shoulder and you notice that your tongue is already feeling fuzzy. "how did you not know this was his place? how did jimin not know? there's no way he would have invited you to your ex-boyfriend's fucking party let alone-"

"his name is jin," you say finally. "seokjin. i doubt jimin even knows his name," you chew your lip nervously. "i haven't been here in so long, and jungkook was driving and... i..."

"right, well," jisoo still looks around out of habit. "you gotta tell us your game plan, pronto. because if you want us to pull you out of here before the bastard sees you and sets you off on an emotional breakdown, we have to go now. what does this jin guy even look like?"

"fuck what he looks like, we're leaving before we find out," seulgi says firmly, grabbing you by the shoulders and steering you into the kitchen while jisoo trails behind, already rooting around in your purse in search of your phone to call jimin. there wasn't a lot he could do, but if there was anyone who would know what you'd need in this situation it would be him. it was close to midnight so who knows where he could be by now, or how long it would take to track him down in this mansion. just seeing his face would make you feel better. and as if the universe heard you, the three of you turn the corner to see the only face on earth that could make you feel worse.

"hey," you turn at the familiar voice with seulgi and jisoo following suit, your legs threatening to give out under you. seokjin stands behind you, even more handsome than you remember. every feeling you had, every pent up emotion that had been building from the years of ruminating and overthinking frazzled away into a numbness you couldn't explain. seokjin smiles at you, softly and with kind eyes. "fancy seeing you here."

you try to smile back at him. "you look good, oppa."

jin's smile grows oh-so slightly, giving a polite nods to your shell-shocked friends before leaning close to your ear. "can we talk?"

there are very few people in the back of the garden, which is where jin takes you. the bed of roses are a different colour from what you remember, but the grass is the same. the line of trees at the back, the acorns and perfectly maintained fences. there are solar-powered lights lining the pebbled pathway that you and seokjin walk down, where you used to walk down hand in hand years ago. it's the most romantic place in the house, which was why it had been your favourite. you wonder if he remembered that, if that's why he brought you down here. like a final goodbye.

but no, that was not seokjin's intention. instead, he stares down at his pressed shirt or up at the stars, in deep contemplation. there's something about you now that he can't quite place, something that wasn't there when you were together. a calmness, an inner peace. to him you were still the girl that chased feelings of gratification with her head in a sketchbook, but that girl only lived in his memory now. there was a light in your eyes that he wasn't accustomed to.

"you look good," his voice is soft. "really good, ____. happy i mean."

you smile to yourself, thinking of all the wonderful people in your life. "thank you. i am happy," you pause. "and you? are you happy, seokjin? i hope that you are."

he stares at you, waits for even a grain of insincerity to show up but it doesn't. he rubs the back of his neck, thoughtful. "you're still so kind. so good inside. how did you keep that?"

"um, well," you shrug. "if you want me to be a bitch, i can do that too."

he laughs, his teeth shiny and perfect as always. "that'd be easier. but that's not you," he can't stop looking at you, and it's just as impossible to read him now as it was back then. he takes a while to mull over your question, finding it harder to be honest with himself than with you. "i'm not sure if i'm happy. honestly? every time i get close to it i think about what i did to you and..."

you look down. "you don't...we don't have to talk about that."

"ya, are you kidding?" he stops in the path to stare at you. "of course we do." you forgot how tall jin was. his hair is styled differently, away from his forehead so more of his pretty face is on show. he looks so much like his mother. you were never really angry at seokjin for leaving you, just disappointed. and he knew that, which is why he couldn't just let you leave his house without freeing himself of this agonising guilt. "i'm sorry, _____. what i did...it was horrible and wrong and heartless, and i think about it all the time. how much i know it hurt you, how alone you must have felt-"

"i wasn't alone," you stand up straighter at the thought of jimin.

"no i know, i just," seokjin sighs, not used to all this. "i shouldn't have broken up with you. at least, when i did. it was too much for you to handle and-"

"i mean, clearly it wasn't," you fold your arms. "otherwise i wouldn't be standing here, happier than ever. you said it yourself."

and there it is, the thing you had been dreading the second you stepped foot in this house. that look on seokjin's face, his lips together and his eyes regarding you carefully: pity. seokjin pitied you, even though he tried hard to hide it and even though you tried hard to avoid it from happening. it always ended up here, him looking at you like a basket case and you trying to hold back the tears of fury and fear and hurt. "i hear you're close with jeon jungkook now."

you scoff in disbelief. "are you serious? are you fucking serious?" he doesn't respond, because jin never did approve of your swearing. which makes you swear more. "you are fucking off on one if you think i'm going to talk to you about him of all things, jin-"

"you're smarter than that, ____," seokjin steps closer to you, his warm hand resting on your arm. "no one else can say that about you-"

"excuse me?"

"-but i can. because i know you," he finishes, skin perfect under the moonlight. "and you're way too smart for a guy like him."

you pluck his hand from your arm and for the first time you don't feel the need to explain yourself. you don't feel the need to cry or fight your case or claw desperately for a glimmer of approval or even acceptance. you look at seokjin's face, studying it for the last time. maybe if you tried harder you could have been good enough for jin, but you don't want to find out anymore. "please understand that you don't know me. you never did. goodnight, seokjin."

"and where the fuck have you been?" jungkook whirls his head around to seulgi and jisoo, stomping into the spare room. "we're gonna have to put a tracker on you one of these days, jungkookie."

"what's wrong?" he says, already cowering away in case seulgi goes for his ear again.

instead she grabs his chin and turns his head to the window while jisoo points to the garden outside. "that."

and sure enough, there you were. standing down the end of pretty garden path talking to a guy in obnoxiously expensive armani amidst porch lights looking like something out of a romance novel. jungkook doesn't feel anything but the overwhelming desire to turn away, which is what he does before taking another swing of beer. "what about it?"

"that's ____," jisoo continues to point. "talking to seokjin, her ex-boyfriend."

"ex-boyfriend?"

"yeah well," seulgi leans against the window pane with folded arms. "don't look so glum, she didn't tell us until like, a year into living together. she never talked about him because he like, broke her heart beyond repair or whatever," seulgi glances at jungkook. "he dumped her after her folks sent her packing, told her the only reason why they were together was because their parents got along at work and bla bla bla so when she decided to go after creative arts, they had nothing in common anymore. so he dropped her. it was right before ____ met jimin. apparently she was a total wreck."

jungkook sits back, takes his time finishing his beer. it definitely made sense, the way you always skated around the topic of past relationships even during pillow talk. he had just assumed that you wanted to keep all that stuff separate from him, which was probably part of the reason too. still, if what seulgi and jisoo were saying was true, it would mean that his rough-and-tumble self would be the perfect rebound in comparison to prim and proper kim seokjin. the kind of thing that good girls like you get off on. but it's not like jungkook has any right to point fingers, everyone had their pasts. so all he does is burp and open another can of drink after saying, "yikes."

"yikes?" jisoo pokes him. "that's all you have to say? yikes?"

he looks uninterested. "what else do you want me to say?"

"oh i don't know, that maybe you care? or that you'll at least beat him up or something, jungkook-style?"

"she'll be fine," jungkook wets his lips, suddenly desperate for a cigarette. "she has my watch."

you thought that after stumbling into the house and pouring yourself a couple of drinks you would feel better. better as in, numb from everything and pliant enough to be strapped into the backseat of jimin's car or some uber and taken home in one piece within the hour. but that's not how you feel at all. if anything, the talk with seokjin invigorated you beyond reason. suddenly, in the haze of the night and your life and the fucking whirlwind that had been the past few years, everything seemed a lot clearer. you didn't know what was going to happen or where you were gonna end up but you knew what you wanted.

who you wanted.

it takes you a while to track down jungkook, even though it was well into the night and some people had already left, the house was still relatively full. jungkook isn't alone when he sees you teeter into the room. he looks around briefly for seulgi or jisoo or anyone to grab you so he wouldn't have to. jungkook wasn't good at the whole comforting thing, crying girls talking about their dickhead ex-boyfriends not at all part of his skill set. he worked much better a week from now when girls are ready for angry, revenge sex. but then he sees the way you approach him, his watch hanging like a stamp of ownership on your wrist, and jungkook can't take his eyes off you.

"baby?" he coos softly when you sit next to him, no longer paying his friends any attention on the other side of the sofa. half the people in this room were either wasted or high or both, or at least that's what jungkook tells himself when you curl into him, pawing at side. you're not nearly as drunk as you look. nor are you crying, or seething or like anything he's ever seen. the pure lust in your eyes is so palpable he almost feels uncomfortable with other people that aren't him witnessing it.

you kiss the mole under his mouth, soft, chaste. "now?"

"what?" he blinks, surprised at himself for not pulling away from you. that's when jungkook feels your hand on his thigh, palm rubbing further and further inwards. you couldn't have noticed anyone else in the room if you tried. you, the girl who squirms every time he kisses you in private. there was no one else on the planet you could have wanted over than him, and jungkook knew in that second if he didn't leave with you now you'd sit on his lap there and then. and he'd let you.

"please," you stare at his lips, your skin buzzing under his gentle touch while he moves your hair aside. "now. i want you now, jungkook. i don't want anyone else."

"okay," he murmurs, taking your chin and kissing you hard. you're so eager for him you open your mouth almost instantly, jungkook's entire body heating up like wildfire from it. jimin, hoseok, kim fucking seok-whatever, none of it mattered. jungkook doesn't care about the way his friends jeer when he pushes his tongue into your mouth, doesn't care about all the people that are probably looking at him right now. he forcibly pulls himself away, taking you by the hand and lifting you up from the low couch. "okay."

he thought getting you to his truck would be easy enough, but easy is the last thing you are tonight. you kiss him in the hallway, on the stairs. you kiss jungkook's neck and jaw and behind his ear, anywhere you can reach. he's never seen you so wild for him, so relentless and sure of yourself. his resolve shatters when he tries to placate you with a kiss, holding your chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger when he pulls away only for you to tilt your head and take his thumb into your mouth. he groans at the sight, the feeling, the act alone, the way you stare up at him with your big beautiful eyes. you were not leaving this house without having had his cock in you first.

"you're so difficult," he gasps, irritated and painfully horny as he pulls you into the nearest room he can find. it's a bit smaller than the others, and judging by the piles of hangers in the corner and the very modest little desk it appeared to be a coatroom. right next to the main room and the door closest to the top of the hallway, there really wasn't a more high profile place to fuck in but it was empty so that was enough. jungkook uses every last bit of sense he has to turn the lock while simultaneously trying to remain calm under your wandering hands, squeezing and rubbing every part of him you could.

"sorry," you say between pants, letting jungkook twist you with your back to the door while he kisses you harshly. and you genuinely are sorry. it's not at all like you to make a scene like this but you just couldn't wait. it had to be here and it had to be now and it had to be jungkook. he has your wrists pinned either side of you as if punishment for all your groping, his hips pinning yours still as well. you can feel his bulge against you, the heat of his palms against your veins. jungkook nips at your lip, not giving you a chance to catch your breath, before he's leaning back in for more.

you moan in euphoria when he lets go of your wrists to grab your waist, his teeth against the most sensitive part of your neck. his lips stay attached there as he pulls you to the little clerk table, easily lifting you onto it's edge while he unzips the back of your dress. but it's slightly fitted, and you'd rather die than waste a few precious minutes taking it off. so you give jungkook a long, pleading kiss before turning with your back to his chest, bending yourself over the lip of the table. "fuck me like this."

he groans, because he prefers to look at your face during the act, but he also knows what you're like when you want him from behind. greedy and insatiable. but you're being so good for him, rubbing your ass into his crotch as if to ask for permission. like he could never deny you. so jungkook takes you by the waist, pushing your hair to one side so he can fold his lips over your neck permanently. he slips his hands underneath the skirt of your dress, shaky fingers feeling for the band of your panties before sliding them down. he leaves them above your knees but you won't have it, kicking them off completely to stand with your knees further apart while you arch forward for him. jungkook's chest is heaving when he scoops the garment off the floor, stuffing it into his back pocket for safe keeping.

"please please please," you chant, bending over as far as the table will allow, arching yourself as much as your spine permits.

jungkook swears loudly when he touches you. you've never been this wet before, so swollen and fucking ready for him. your copious amount of slick coats the back of your ass and thighs, staining the front of his now-untucked shirt and pants too. he knows that you're good and wet but jungkook can't help himself from slipping his fingers inside you, two quickly and easily becoming three. your cry is guttural he almost wonders if it's you. he barely has to move, only gently spreading his fingers before you're practically crying for more. if he lifts your skirt up, he can see how easily the digits disappear inside you. he's so hard it hurts.

"please, kook-ah," you're on the verge of tears, face crumpled and eyes watering while bucking back against his hand. "jungkook, i can't...i can't wait. please."

"shh, okay," he hushes you gently, kissing up the side of your neck. it's agony for both of you when he withdraws his fingers, but thankfully jungkook is nimble with his belt buckle and jeans, shoving his cock against your wetness before he can think straight. the sensation makes the pair of you writhe, and it's only when he looks down to see his bare cock rubbing through your slit does he jump back with alarm. "baby, fuck i...i don't have..."

"it's okay," you say it so quickly his head spins. you push back, seeking contact, coaxing him. "i want to feel you anyway."

"but," he stammers, sweating so much his hair is starting to dampen on his forehead. jungkook refused to fuck unprotected. it was against his self-imposed rule, the only one that was still standing when it came to you, but all he could think about was how badly he wanted to be inside you and how badly you wanted the same thing. he had never, ever fucked raw before and it felt like a decision that shouldn't be made haphazardly in a coatroom with you bent over in front of him.

"kookie," you snap him out of his trance by turning over your shoulder uncomfortably to kiss him, gently and with care to remind him who he's with. remind him that you're not going anywhere. his lips are so soft, so pliant for you. jungkook leans his forehead against your hair and groans when he realises that his cock has navigated itself back to the opening of your pussy, as if making the decision for him. "i don't want anyone else's cum in me. only yours."

"fuck, you're killing me," jungkook whines, leaning into you with defeat. he breathes you in, the smell of your shampoo and perfume, feels you ground him with your hand laying over his that is currently holding you at the waist.

it's like you take that step forward together, the gentle push of jungkook's bare tip inside you. you practically vibrate with desire, jungkook's teeth sinking into your exposed shoulder as he wills himself to stay in the moment. slowly, slowly he slides in until he's sheathed inside your silken walls, hot and tight and more perfect than he could have ever dreamed. jungkook's legs shake with the intensity of pleasure, his hold on you the only thing keeping him up. you're a mess in front of him, chest heaving and ass digging back into him in a desperate attempt to get him to move, all the while whining pathetically. so jungkook draws out, shoves his cock back in roughly so you don't expect it. the feeling is visceral, the pleasure unbearable. jungkook fucks you hard, nice and deep which is why you favoured this position. every thrust is stronger than the one before it, his balls slapping into your clit in a ricochet of pleasure. his rhythm is perfect, his cock, his angle, everything. the old table knocks against the wall with every passing minute, some coats slipping from their hangers from the way it vibrates through the little room.

jungkook flips your skirt up, the carnal desire to watch himself disappear into your pussy unlike anything he's ever felt. for once, you cannot silence your moans, no pillows or comforters to muffle the sounds. people are filing out of the house just outside the door, saying their goodbyes or maybe trying to find an empty room too. with the rhythmic banging and your unabashed cries of pleasure, there was no doubt everyone knew. an idea that would usually be lost on jungkook exhilarates him now. they all saw who you came in here with, who's fingers you had in your mouth. his thrusts unconsciously become rougher, your ass slapping wetly into his stomach with every stroke of his cock. it's more than enough to undo you, the gush of wetness from you coupled with your erotic mewls of pleasure causing jungkook's hips to stutter with excitement. he's so focused on fucking into you that the helpful thrust of your ass catches him by surprise, his vision going blurry as his orgasm begins to wash over him. although dripping with sweat, jungkook fucks himself through his climax as hard as he can manage, spilling into you with a low groan of bliss that's so loud he surprises himself. he can hear you hum in encouragement, your eyes closing happily at the feeling of his hot seed filling you. it's more than normal, causing jungkook to hiss at the sheer visual. cum was dribbling down your inner thigh, the squelch of it making you moan all over again. when his cock slips out, a rush of his cum follows, causing the pair of you to swear from the unexpected enjoyment of it all. sweat drips down jungkook's temple, his mouth dry as stares at your messy pussy while his fingers automatically start shovelling his cream back inside you. the sensation makes only ignites your second wave of pleasure even further, your ass arching for him all over again.

"i think i died," jungkook admits quietly, fingers still covered in the evidence of your coupling when you turn to kiss him with a smile. "that was so good, i think i. i think i fucking clocked out..."

"well clock back in," you say between deep breaths, fixing your skirt back down and smoothing out jungkook's shirt while he tucks his sticky self back into his pants. "because you have to drive us home and then keep doing that to me all night. okay?"

all jungkook can do is nod happily.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook au #bts x reader #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts au #jimin x reader #jimin x you #bts fic #jungkook fic #jimin fic #jungkook college au #jimin college au #bts college au #myfic

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fmdtaeyong · 3 years

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like a rockstar : taeyong marketing breakdown

a headcanon & playlist on how titan’s taeyong is marketed as a product and brand.

headcanon

word count: 491 words, not counting the tvtropes quote.

a successful celebrity can’t exist without marketing. some celebrities are all marketing. ash, for one, wouldn’t be where he is today without bc entertainment’s well-oiled marketing machine painting him in a desirable light and smoothing out his rough edges into something shiny.

the image the name taeyong provokes now isn’t quite the one it would have provoked a few years ago. the role of maknae burdened ash’s image for years. a sense of brightness is expected of any idol, but the youngest of a group is expected to show it, even in a group like titan that has never been about bright concepts. whether that means being babied by the older members or having a certain underlying innocence to him.

when he went solo was when his image gravitated further away from being dictated by his place within a group. as he earned recognition for his own name (or rather, his own stage name) and got attention from a new crowd, he was able to pave a path that painted with the brush of an artist, a little less bound by preconceived notions about his role in titan. when the scandals stamped to his name went from fumbling over formalities and dating a well-loved actress to controversies less easily painted as endearing that came at the same time he began to present himself differently visually, bc had to bank on the leeway of an artist tinge to his image saving him.

ash has never been marketed as an ideal boyfriend. titan has that covered in the group already and an outed relationship before he’d begun to make a name for himself individually prevented that from being a rational path. some fans still fall into the trap of babying him, but overall, taeyong is now known as the more serious and reserved type. satisfactory fanservice is a non-starter, so they make their own fantasies out of his mystery and “edginess” and a brooding stage persona. bc has done damage control where they’ve had to and let his music and fan projections paint the rest.

out of all of the classic boy band member tropes, ash would solidly be considered a purveyor of the bad boy / rebel trope within titan and out of it for that matter. to quote tvtropes:

“the one with a rougher edge to him. he's the one wearing the black shirt and jeans or leather jacket in those videos where they're not all wearing matching clothes. if he's really edgy, he may also have a tattoo. put in to cater to those girls who want bad boys.”

bc read the first two paragraphs of the tv tropes page for all girls want bad boys and said ‘yeah, this should work’. the bad boy / rebel angle tends to get played up within fandom a lot more than among more casual listeners to his music, who get a heavier dose of the ~artist~ part of his image since that’s meant to appeal to them more anyway.

ash has very purposefully been trying to lean more into the artist aspect of his image lately because he isn’t a fan of being painted as some kind of bad boy fantasy when he doesn’t consider that an accurate representation of him at all.

playlist

this playlist gives a semi-chronological cataloging of the image associated with taeyong since around 2016/2017. some parts of his image have remained consistent, while others have changed either by purposeful marketing, unavoidable consequences of media discussion around him, or simply altered fan narratives for him. some parts of this are less about how he’s marketed and more about very one-dimensional fan narratives crafted around him, but overall it gives an idea of the feeling associated with him as a product and brand. (some of these songs were used in image playlists on ash’s previous blog, but i made sure at least seven of these are new. i wanted to include ones i’d used before as well for a comprehensive look on his new blog since some aspects of his image have changed.)

this honestly also doubles as a list of the songs you’d find the most results for if you looked up taeyong fan edits.

i. death of a bachelor | i’m cutting my mind off, feels like my heart is going to burst / alone at a table for two, and i just wanna be served / and when you think of me, am i the best you've ever had?

ii. daydreamer | a jaw dropper / looks good when he walks / is the subject of their talk / he would be hard to chase / but good to catch / and he could change the world / with his hands behind his back, oh

iii. wildest dreams | he's so tall and handsome as hell / he's so bad, but he does it so well / i can see the end as it begins

iv. style | cause you got that james dean daydream look in your eye / and i got that red lip classic thing that you like / and when we go crashing down, we come back every time / cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style / you got that long hair, slicked back, white t-shirt / and i got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt

v. crazy beautiful | and he picks you up / and he sets you down / and that's the way / he thinks and he walks and he plays around downtown / but the truth is, he's still got a scar / as plain as others / to get his way to a scarlet heart

vi. ready for it...? | knew he was a killer first time that I saw him / wondered how many girls he had loved and left haunted / [...] / some boys are tryin' too hard, he don't try at all though / younger than my exes, but he act like such a man, so

vii. radio | now my life is sweet like cinnamon / like a fuckin' dream i'm livin' in / baby, love me 'cause i'm playing on the radio / how do you like me now?

viii. like i would | he, won't touch you like i do / he, won't love you like i would / he don't know your body / he don't do you right / he won't love you like i would / love you like i would, like i would

ix. i wanna be yours | secrets i have held in my heart / are harder to hide than i thought / maybe i just wanna be yours / i wanna be yours

x. strange love | they think i'm insane, they think my lover is strange / but i don't have to fucking tell them anything, anything / and i'm gonna write it all down, and i'm gonna sing it on stage / but i don't have to fucking tell you anything, anything

xi. my oh my | yeah, a little bit older, a black leather jacket / a bad reputation, insatiable habits / he was onto me, one look and i couldn't breathe, yeah / i said, if he kissed me, i might let it happen

xii. bad reputation | i don't give a damn 'bout my reputation / never been afraid of any deviation / and i don't really care if you think i'm strange / i ain't gonna change

xiii. starboy | i'm tryna put you in the worst mood, ah / p1 cleaner than your church shoes, ah / milli point two just to hurt you, ah / all red lamb' just to tease you, ah / none of these toys on lease too, ah / made your whole year in a week too, yah / main bitch out of your league too, ah / side bitch out of your league too, ah / [...] / look what you’ve done / i’m a motherfuckin' starboy

xiv. into it | i'm just fucking lucky i was born with it / a hundred million people couldn't deal with this

xv. like a rockstar | put me in designer then put me in the dirt / keep my legacy alive like a rockstar / lifestyle, on the edge, can be unforgiving / see i worship the dead, they worship the living, yeah

#* | character development.#* | queued.

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deepwaterwritingprompts · 3 years

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ooh ask day! are you working on any of your own writing at the moment? what excites you about it? is your writing similar to your prompts in any way? or do the prompts fulfill something else for you?

mainly im working on getting my first novel published, which you can read about HERE. otherwise, the sequel, an adult fiction project, and an urban fantasy type YA about a town called florida. in florida. Florida, florida.

Florida project, working title BORDERLINE, is the most in line with my general prompt vibe here. a little cosmic horror, bent reality, just generally odd.

I never write stuff based off the prompts, but I DO write prompts based off my own stuff, very occasionally. for me, writing prompts is like scales for a musician. keeps my brain well oiled.

*still taking asks, no requests please*

anyway, ive been working on Florida project a lot lately. have an excerpt:

Backpage:

Lin O’Leary was born and raised in the town of Florida, Florida, tucked away into a corner of the state’s forgotten coast. All the locals know Florida is a strange place, rumored to stand on a borderline, where the veil is thin and mysterious forces wander alongside the human population. The daughter of Irish and Mexican immigrants, Lin knows you can only find trouble if you go looking for it, and like the rest of Florida’s residents, lives comfortably alongside the supernatural. This is before Momoko Kasahara disappears into thin air, frightening the town of Florida into a new, ultra-cautious existence. Five years after Momo’s disappearance, Lin is seventeen, a highschool dropout now working at a convenience store, her once vibrant town still plagued by fear. The days drag by, mundane as they come in Florida, occasionally punctuated by unpleasant visits from Bo Kasahara, brother to Momo and full time asshole. Then, one fateful late shift, Lin sees the missing Kasahara twin standing in the aisles, gone as quickly as she appeared. Meanwhile, a stranger arrives from California, claiming to be a paranormal investigator hellbent on uncovering the mysteries of Florida, and suddenly Lin is faced with a choice. Be smart and keep her head down, or dive headlong into the strange mist that so often covers Florida, to rescue Momo Kasahara, and return her town to the way she remembers it.

1. 100% humidity feels like breathing underwater.

L I N

Florida ate Momoko Kasahara on the most miserable day of the year, and washed her down with a thunderstorm. A lot of other important things happened that day, but Momo’s disappearance overshadowed them all. Momo was the coolest girl in our class. She had shiny black hair that ran down to her waist. She liked to wear a different flavor of lip gloss every day of the week, and could sing in Japanese. I was on my way home from the beach when I saw the police cars in her driveway, and her twin brother sitting on the porch, painted purple in the twilight.

He shook his head, at me, slow, and all the sound seemed to drain out of the world. The flashing police lights distorted his face, as bright white clouds passed too quickly above us. The whole scene drove a stake of wrongness hard into my chest. Sometimes even now, I dream about it. Bo and I watching each other. The dead silence. The purple light. The too white clouds. And Momo, eaten. For the first time in my life, I was afraid of my own town.

My name is Lin O’leary. I live in Florida, Florida, a nothing sort of place crammed into an extra forgotten corner of the state’s already forgotten coast. Some days I can forget about Momo, and everything that happened in the hours before she vanished. Heff says I’m good at keeping my eyes closed, even when they’re open.

I really wish he were right.

2. Cloudy with a chance of hotdogs (haunted).

J U L I E N

I was standing in front of the worst building I had ever seen. Slab grey and full of sharp edges, additions had been slapped onto every side until it resembled an impossible puzzle piece. The front windows were crowded with signs for cold beer and hot food, but the glass itself was opaque. It was a convenience store from hell, a collection of stationary parts so nonsensical I was worried it might grow a few new alcoves if I blinked. Above the door, an unintelligible sign in complicated neon cursive flashed electric blue. There was a neon clock too, flickering wildly, just striking twelve.

I must have walked halfway across town, and as far I could tell this was the only place that sold food at all, let alone past three in the morning. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to go inside. My stomach was a mess, and haunted convenience store hot dogs could only make it worse. I fished my phone out of my pocket, but the little service I had was, like the midnight clock above me, barely clinging to existence, my map application nothing more than a collection of beige squares. There was no one around. The sky was intensely dark, a pitch black blanket of clouds. Water hung thick in the air, the night time street so quiet I could almost hear beads of sweat sliding down my already slick face. No, there was nothing for it. I needed directions.

The bell above the door made a strange, flat sound as I pressed inside. If the building was weird from the outside, that was nothing to its interior. The shelves, tall and numerous, had been arranged like maze walls. The overhead lights were blinding, stark white, and every other tile on the floor was mismatched. Some were squares of carpet. The only thing really visible from the entrance was the register, a fortress made of dark wood and surrounded by lottery advertisements. Behind the counter, a girl was reading something intently. As I got closer, I saw it was the back of a box of oatmeal.

“Hi,” I said, adjusting the duffel bag that had been crushing my left shoulder for an hour.

The girl nodded, but didn’t look up. She had thin black hair, pin straight and chin length. Her skin was a warm, golden brown. Her shirt said something in miniscule writing, but my glasses were a little foggy, so I would have had to practically press my face to her chest to read it, which didn’t seem like a great first impression.

“Can you help me? I’m looking for the Fahrenheit Motel. I think it’s supposed to be around here.”

Finally, she glanced at me.

“It’s just around the corner. See the glasses store across the street? Go straight past that and make the second left, you’ll run right into it.”

She pointed out the window, and I realized they were one way.

“Who built this place?” I asked.

She shrugged.

“We’ve had a lot of owners. Everyone adds something new.”

There was something off about her. Like we were talking, but mentally she was still

reading the box of oatmeal.

“I’m Julien,” I said, sticking out a hand. She raised her eyebrows before taking it.

“Lin,” she said, with another small nod.

Her face was round, but her features were knife sharp. I wondered what she looked like angry. Maybe that was a really weird thing to think.

Not wanting to ask for a second set of directions, I wandered around the store for thirty minutes before returning to the counter with a gallon of chocolate milk and a bag of seaweed flavored potato chips.

“I can’t believe you have these. I didn’t think you could find them outside of California.”

Instead of replying, Lin held up the chocolate milk.

“There’s no fridge in your room at the Fahrenheit. You know that right?”

“I was told on the phone… ” I started.

“There’s a fridge, but it’s in the lobby, communal. Kimmy’ll drink this.” She gave the milk a little shake before scanning it. “Just warning you.”

“Thanks,” I said, as she stuffed my things in a smiling shopping bag.

I paused on my way out.

“Goodnight,” I said, “Or, good morning I guess.”

Lin stared at me, then glanced at the box of oatmeal and back.

“Morning,” she said, with a sigh.

***

I followed Lin’s directions, and wound up at last in front of a long, low building sporting a vacancies sign. Even in low light I could see about a hundred sad looking plastic flamingos had been stuck all over the lawn, the bushes, even the gravel path that led to the front door. I had to pick my way around them on approach.

There was no one at the front desk. The reception area was lit only by the green blue light coming from an enormous fishtank that didn’t seem to have any fish in it. As I approached the counter, I noticed someone had left the key to my room out for me, next to a scrap of paper bearing the wifi password. I picked up the key, old and brass, then watched the fishtank for a second, before turning around and experiencing heart failure.

A very old woman with wiry black hair was standing there in her nightgown, arms crossed and frowning at me. She didn’t apologize for nearly sending me to my grave.

“I’m up. I can check you in properly,” she said, shuffling past me. “I’m Kimmy, but you can call me Miss Kimmy. You got ID?”

I dug it out of my wallet while she opened a dusty guest book.

“The reservation is for Julien True,” I said.

Miss Kimmy glanced at the ID I had just handed her.

“That’s not what this says.”

“I know. It’s a stage name,” I admitted, “everything else is correct.”

She raised an eyebrow to herself, but didn’t ask any more questions.

“Now listen,” she said finally, shutting the guest book with a snap. “I’ll be honest, there’s not much to do around here. There’s a bus runs to the state forest during the day, and the beach isn’t going anywhere. If you’re hungry that’s too bad for the most part, unless you feel like walking down to Morton’s.”

“Is that the weird looking building? One way windows?”

“That’s the one. Midnight Morton’s, never closes. This late at night you’ve got Lin at the counter, nice girl.”

I don’t know what I would have called Lin, but it probably wasn’t ‘nice girl’.

“Thanks,” I said, glancing around for the hallway that led to my room.

I bid Miss Kimmy goodnight and lugged my things to Room 7, at the very end of the dark hall. Inside was simple, but stunningly clean, which I had in no way expected. The bed had a sunken spot in the middle, and there were a lot of paintings of tropical fish on the walls. Home sweet home. I changed into pajamas, and took a huge swig of chocolate milk before glancing at my duffel, still full of equipment.

It could wait. I was exhausted, sweaty, and more alone than I had ever been in my entire life.

3. Welcome to my grocery store how may I assist you.

L I N

“I want to drop out of high school,” said Roach.

We were sprawled out on separate tartan sofas, both angled towards the ancient television. It was after midnight, and the only light in the room was coming from the nature channel.

“No you don’t,” I said. “You’re not even in high school.”

Roach was a weird little girl. Eleven years old, she wore oversized thrift store t-shirts, and big chunky glasses, and cut her own hair. I loved her the most in this world.

“Yeah, but when I get there, I want to drop out. You did.”

I sighed.

“You’re smarter than me. You have to finish school and work in a laboratory anywhere but here. Those are the rules.”

Roach crossed and uncrossed her skinny legs without arguing. I knew she just wanted to hear me say she was smart.

We continued to watch the nature channel in silence. A documentary on the arctic ocean was playing, which I found devastatingly boring, but Roach was clearly glued to. I could hear dad snoring upstairs, a pleasant sort of nightly white noise, and tuned out completely until Roach clapped an inch from my face.

“Jeez,” I started, pushing her hands away.

“You were way out there. It’s freaky.”

I had been practicing my zone out since I was Roach’s age. On my best day, I could have an entire conversation without hearing one word the other person said. Call it a life skill.

“You’re doing it again!” said Roach. “Don’t you have work soon?”

That snapped me out of it. I looked at my watch.

“Oh, yeah. Thank you.”

I rolled off the couch as Roach sat back down with a huff. The arctic documentary was ending, and she picked up the changer to scroll through a long list of similar recordings. Roach loved animals, all of them, even fish that ate your insides, and grubs, and parasitic worms. Especially parasitic worms.

“Don’t stay up too late okay?” I said, tugging gently on her massive ponytail. Roach got dad’s curly, reddish brown hair. I got mom’s.

“Mmhm.”

I glanced in the hall mirror to see if there was any food on my shirt. Then I stepped into the mosquito ridden, muggy Florida night, and headed to my shift.

***

You might be thinking: where does a seventeen year old high school dropout work after midnight? And the thrilling answer is: the grocery store, sort of.

You might be thinking: what?

But that’s Morton’s.

The sliding doors opened smoothly for me upon arrival, which was always a good omen. I straightened the newsstand and went to look for Barry.

My manager, a small, Dominican man who loved to party, was in the produce section with a woman I assumed was his latest girlfriend. He was chucking the moldiest vegetables into an open trashcan.

“Our fresh produce is a travesty,” I said. “When was the last time someone bought an eggplant here?”

“I’m thinking of moving the veg,” said Barry, “they don’t like the energy in this corner.”

Barry was constantly moving things around the small labyrinth that was Morton’s. At least once a month he would take an hour long stroll from shelf to shelf, while I wrote down what was going where. I made a new map of the store for every big move.

“What are you guys up to tonight?” I asked, as Barry followed me to the register, bag of moldy vegetables in hand.

“Dancing,” said his date, with an endearing round of jazz hands, as Barry broke into a stationary samba while he gave me a list of stuff to work on. He treated me to his own enthusiastic jazz hands, and a few notes of a Juan Luis Guerra song as he samba’d in the direction of the door. As it swung shut behind them, I let the intense silence of Morton's wash over me. The fluorescent lights hummed gently. The food sat well behaved in slightly crooked rows. I turned my brain down to its lowest setting, and consulted my list.

...

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asimawv · 4 years

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I write and conceptualize story to music, so I’ve compiled a playlist of 30 Darkest Dungeon-specific songs that I listen to when writing (and subsequently re-writing) in no particular order, which I hope will help you set the vibe too. :+)

Names in bold are links for easy listening - tons of Hozier and Of Monsters and Men up ahead, five minute warning.

1. ‘Fire and the Flood’ - Vance Joy

If you listen to nothing else on this list, listen to this one - it’s the kind of song that’s made for movies about yearning. Folk influences, choruses of trumpets and vocal harmony, and instruments that are layered for a rich, resonant sound. This is the song I imagine Dismas and Reynauld horse-racing through a crowded outdoors market in the hamlet to, and the song I listened to nonstop freshman year when I first started writing The Myth of Sisyphus.

You're the fire and the flood And I'll always feel you in my blood Everything is fine When your hand is resting next to mine Next to mine You're the fire and the flood

The chorus is built around biblical allusions to the fire (the burning bush signifying first contact) and the flood (destruction of the first world), the beginning and end. Every line is similarly evocative of Darkest Dungeon in their simplicity (“I’ve been getting used to waking up with you,” etc.)

2. ‘Soldier, Poet, King’ - The Oh Hellos

By the title alone you can guess who this is for. Even the Guild quote for the Leper approaches these three things as the defining parts of his character (specifically it’s “a ruined man, a warrior, and a poet.”) This song coincidentally has an old world influence to it, with a Medieval Renaissance style from a guitar playing a lute-adjacent melody.

There will come a ruler Whose brow is laid in thorn Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei oh lai oh Lord Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh Lord Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei oh lai oh Lord

To be smeared with oil is to be anointed by a prophet and thus chosen by god himself to be king, just as David was and his boy after him (presumably Solomon). There’s something strangely wistful about the imagery, which is just how I like my songs about bygone kings.

3. ‘Exit Hymn’ - Bear Attack!

This song is about the end of the world in a version where everyone simply stands together in silence watching, rather than having the masses swarming in panic.

Lovely shapes to the world descending, Brothers and sisters. Lovely shapes to the world descending, Brothers and sisters Mute.

It defies Lovecraftian horror, which is based on the premise that “common human laws and interests and emotions have no validity or significance in the vast cosmos-at-large” - it flies in the face of existential nihilism and the despair that it should bring us. That’s why I like this song for deaths in the end-boss fight; it also has a special place for other death-related ideas, like full-party wipes - entire teams of people vanishing into the dungeons, gone insane, holding hands while the darkness surrounds them.

It’s a bare song which has a sanctity to it, mostly just piano and rain and human voices. Just what you would hear at the end of the world.

More under the cut:

4. ‘Pursuit of Glory’ - Jhameel

This song is laid-back. It doesn’t have the Homeric intensity that some of the other songs here do - it’s a guy with a guitar and vocal harmony. By god is it a great piece of writing though (all of Jhameel’s older songs have that quality to them), and all of it is evocative of Darkest Dungeon.

So many eyes set on the path to glory Too many ties, friendship is for the lonely Can't still my heart, my tongue has tasted folly Thirsty for art, hungry for power and money

This is a song for everyone in the barracks, especially the ‘laundry list’ of people and their approaches to the pursuit of glory.

5. ‘Good Old Days’ - Macklemore (feat. Kesha)

This fucker put a Macklemore song in here. I did, yeah. It’s not even the only song with Kesha in it here (I’m sorry.)

It’s a sentimental pop song, and I am sentimental to a fault. This is Darkest Dungeon AMV material, and I always mishear one of the lines as “we were underground, loaded mercs in that 12-passenger van” so it’s here.

We've come so far, I guess I'm proud And I ain't worried about the wrinkles around my smile I've got some scars, I've been around I've felt some pain, I've seen some things, but I'm here now Those good old days

6. ‘Past Lives‘ - Kesha

Here it is, the other Kesha song - this was introduced to me by a good friend, also in a Darkest Dungeon context. There’s just something about the lovers spanning time trope and finding each other in one life to the next that is irresistible (for the obvious reason in the context of Darkest Dungeon.) It’s a soft song, totally out of place in Kesha’s typical discography, and has a line about losing someone to the crusades, so... you know.

There's just somethin' about you I know Started centuries ago though You see your kiss is like a lost ghost Only I would know But I, I keep on falling for you Time after time Time after time

7. ‘Viva la Vida’ - Coldplay

You cannot fight this. You know that this is the song for King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem, you know it is. Did you know the official name of this genre of music is “Baroque pop”? Yes, that means more songs like this exist. You will live with this information now.

Don’t fight it. Just let it wash over you.

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing Roman Cavalry choirs are singing Be my mirror, my sword and shield My missionaries in a foreign field For some reason I can't explain Once you go there was never, never an honest word And that was when I ruled the world

Mirror, sword, and shield, the three other members of his party, his missionaries in a foreign field. Thinking emoji. I typed that out so I wouldn’t have a repeat of the crab emoji incident.

8. ‘The Boxer’ - Jerry Douglas (feat. Mumford & Sons, Paul Simon)

Partly inspired by the Bible, Simon & Garfunkle’s ‘The Boxer’ is a folk rock song about poverty, loneliness, and homesickness. It’s written and sung in a style that’s strongly reminiscent of older times, and the final verse about its eponymous boxer is particularly powerful:

In the clearing stands a boxer And a fighter by his trade And he carries the reminders Of ev'ry glove that laid him down Or cut him till he cried out In his anger and his shame "I am leaving, I am leaving" But the fighter still remains

This is what I use for Dismas’ life leading into organized crime and his foolish abandonment of stable job prospects in a half-baked bid for fame, as well as being punched down over and over again but with nowhere else to go. That last part is widely applicable across the cast.

9. ‘I Will Wait’ - Mumford & Sons

I am but a simple man. I see 'folk rock' and add it to my Darkest Dungeon playlist. This song I use for Reynauld - it has that sort of “salt of the earth,” somewhat biblical humility in its choice of words and style.

Raise my hands Paint my spirit gold And bow my head Keep my heart slow

10. ‘Little Lion Man’ - Mumford & Sons

Have we not beaten this song to death yet? Can you blame us? This is the people’s song. We reserve it for all of our favorite fuck-up characters, as primal as Saturn devouring his son. We love this song. Jesus.

Tremble for yourself, my man, You know that you have seen this all before Tremble little lion man, You'll never settle any of your scores Your grace is wasted in your face, Your boldness stands alone among the wreck Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck

The line about learning from your mother in particular is why I think of this song for Dismas’ introspection, but I also associate it with the Hellion.

11. ’From Eden’ - Hozier

There’s too much Hozier in my playlists. There is so much of it, and it’s all important to me, says the hoarder. There’s something about profoundly intimate folk music that I love, and god put folk, R&B, blues, and alt rock into a Vitamix for 45 seconds to make Hozier.

Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword Innocence died screaming, honey ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

‘From Eden’ is, according to Hozier, about idolizing someone from a distance, written from the perspective of the devil “looking longingly at something he desires - for everything that he does not have.” I associate this song with the Grave Robber for its playfully nihilistic tone - Audrey does say something to the effect of being left for dead by high society and the affectionate bordering condescending address is on-brand.

12. ‘Cherry Wine’ - Hozier

‘Cherry Wine’ is unabashedly about domestic violence, and its sincerity is heartbreaking, the sanctification of the blood spilled in the name of keeping her.

The way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine Open hand or closed fist would be fine The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

This song is strongly tied to the Vestal for me.

13. ‘Work Song’ - Hozier

A song about unconditional love - heaven and hell were just words, indeed.

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

I think of this song for both Dismas and the Abomination - it’s a song about love transcending spiritual and even physical need, complete devotion, but something about it is also not quite right. It’s morbid and excessive, self-pitying, and almost ugly in its sincerity.

14. ‘Sunlight’ - Hozier

The strong gospel influence with the choruses, church organ, religious fervor - I think it makes a great song for traveling scenes and church/altar scenes.

I had been lost to you, sunlight Flew like a moth to you, sunlight oh sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight (sunlight, sunlight) But it is sunlight

15. ‘Arsonist’s Lullabye’ - Hozier

The gospel this time is paired with electric rock instrumentation. Something about the lamentation is unapologetic and matter-of-fact in its disturbing inclinations - this is Paracelsus’ song. Arguably representative of Bounty Hunter and Flagellant as well.

Now that I think about it, it’s great for Abomination as well. Damn.

All you have is your fire And the place you need to reach Don't you ever tame your demons But always keep 'em on a leash

16. ‘We Sink’ - Of Monsters and Men

Of Monsters and Men are closer to the indie rock/pop spectrum with influences of folk, with much less biblical influence and more folklore-inspired lyrics. They make for great trailer and action songs.

We are the sleepers, we bite our tongues We set the fire and we let it burn Through the dreamers, we hear the hum They say come on, come on, let's go So come on, come on, let's go

In Lovecraft’s Cthulu mythos, dreams are how the Old Ones commune with humans on the earth’s surface while they slumber in the ocean depths (Cthulhu fhtagn meaning “Cthulhu is dreaming”); I like to think of the ‘sleepers’ as the heroes being tasked to “set the fire” and the ‘dreamers’ being the Heir and Ancestor driven by some unseen force to unearth the antediluvian underground.

17. ‘I Of The Storm’ - Of Monsters and Men

Very somber song, overwhelmingly piano and snare drum and vocals. Also a great death scene song, or for introspection around the campfire, or played to reveal a major event.

If I could face them If I could make amends With all my shadows I'd bow my head And welcome them

18. ‘King and Lionheart’ - Of Monsters and Men

My favorite OMAM song - it’s clearly written about two children, kind of reminiscent of ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ in its fantastical nature, and very upbeat about the end of the world.

His crown lit up the way as we moved slowly Pass the wondering eyes of the ones that were left behind Though far away, though far away, though far away We're still the same, we're still the same, we're still the same

This part is reminiscent of the Leper’s journey, but the mentions of taking over a town, howling ghosts, the end of the world, a black sea and creatures lurking below, etc. are all evocative of Darkest Dungeon.

19. ‘Little Talks’ - Of Monsters and Men

Also very upbeat for its subject matter - according to OMAM, it’s a narrative of a woman speaking with the ghost of her dead husband, or going insane and believing that she’s speaking with her dead husband.

Some days I don't know if I am wrong or right Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear 'Cause though the truth may vary This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

The call-and-respond style of the song is haunting. I like this song for expeditions and afflicted heroes.

20. ‘Wolves Without Teeth’ - Of Monsters and Men

Suitable for both Occultist and Abomination, being consumed by an unseen and otherworldly force that inhabits them - well, maybe just rarely seen, in the Abomination’s case. Special mention to OMAM’s ‘Human,’ same conceptual backing but more raw.

You hover like a hummingbird Haunt me in my sleep You're sailing from another world Sinking in my sea, oh You're feeding on my energy I'm letting go of it He wants it

21. ‘Desierto’ (Original Motion Picture Score) - Woodkid

This is a full album, because all of it is dark orchestral cinema music described as ‘unsettling,’ with the sole exception of ‘Land of All,’ which has vocals to it. I reserve this album for writing fight scenes and for particularly unsettling events because it’s tense and wordless. I read Junji Ito to this soundtrack too, it’s insanely high-strung and discordant.

22. ‘Iron’ - Woodkid

‘Iron’ qualifies as Baroque pop - you might recognize this as the Assassin’s Creed: Revelations song. The large-scale, cinematic style of it and thematic lyrics make it great for writing about dramatic encounters or brigands.

This deadly burst of snow is burning my hands I'm frozen to the bones, I am A million miles from home, I'm walking away I can't recall your eyes, your face

23. ‘Never Let You Down’ - Woodkid (feat. LYKKE LI)

Another somber song, orchestral with some industrial noise in the mix - another great introspection song, or one for a scene with some hard decisions to be made.

Will you come along cause I'm about to leave this town In my eyes, a waterfall, all I can hear, a siren call Could you be waiting by the shore, oh I could drown without you Will you be holding out the line when I fall?

24. ‘Run Boy Run’ - Woodkid

Church bells, fast percussion, strong orchestral presence. For chase scenes, obviously, but great for fast-paced sneaking scenes as well. Also has a strong quasi-Medieval fantasy setting style to it.

Tomorrow is another day And you won't have to hide away You'll be a man, boy! But for now it's time to run, it's time to run!

25. ‘I Love You’ - Woodkid

Don’t let the scream effects and aggressive percussion at the beginning deter you (it kind of took me by surprise the first few times too) - it soon fades into more of the church bells and melodic string accompaniment.

Oh yeah, unrequited love song? It’s free (mental) real estate, baby.

Is there anything I could do Just to get some attention from you? In the waves, I've lost every trace of you Where are you?

26. ‘Vagabonds’ - Grizfolk

A rare departure from folk! Grizfolk is alt rock/indie pop. Stylistically it doesn’t match the feeling of Darkest Dungeon, but lyrically it’s almost 1:1 to arrival in the hamlet and the subsequent expeditions. Good song for writing about recruits bonding.

Oh this careless ground, guessing this is home now Oh in no man's land, at least we're still standing And we're all just fighting, some of us will not return And there's no redemption in trying to find your way out

27. ‘Everybody Wants To Rule The World’ - Lorde

Great trailer fuel, if you’ve seen the AC: Unity E3 trailer with this song - I listen to an extended version when writing fights in the Guild, especially one where two heroes are beefing. It’s got a primal kind of thing going on. I also associate this song with the Arbalest - lyrically, it fits her backstory like a glove.

Welcome to your life There's no turning back Even while we sleep We will find you

Acting on your best behavior Turn your back on mother nature

28. ‘Torches’ - X Ambassadors

More alt rock/indie pop - kind of a rallying song for dark expeditions, hopeful but still somber in nature - some gospel elements. X Ambassadors’ more popular ‘Renegades’ is also a fun tavern song.

Come on, carry your flame Carry it higher Leave it in the darkness Carry your torches

29. ‘Passing Afternoon’ - Iron & Wine

This is a song I use for reconciliation or domestic scenes - Dismas with Junia in the garden, for example. It’s soft and kind of meandering, and features vintage piano - you know, the piano you heard in the basement of your church turned community center as a child.

There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms

30. ‘Some Nights’ - Fun.

You know this song, your mom knows this song, everyone knows this song from like, middle school. Thought it’d be fun to end this list on an uplifting and very popular song. This is the song that a Disney adaptation of Darkest Dungeon would use in the Training Montage™ - from the point of view of Reynauld. It hits all of the points - being their commander rather than their equal, his stern and antisocial zealotry with no true ideology behind it, the ghost of his wife.

Verse 2, starting with “Well, that is it, guys, that is all / Five minutes in and I'm bored again” is where I see it transitioning to Dismas.

Well, some nights, I wish that this all would end 'Cause I could use some friends for a change And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again Some nights, I always win (I always win) But I still wake up, I still see your ghost Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh What do I stand for? What do I stand for? Most nights, I don't know

_____

Well that’s all from me! Feel free to leave your own recommendations in the replies, and I’d love to know what you think about my personal picks. :+)

#darkest dungeon #playlist #song reccomendations #fic: the myth of sisyphus #give me that hozier baby

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blahblahwritings · 4 years

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Contracts and Captains. - IV

A/N: Remember how I posted something before one of my other fics saying that I had been consistently updating for weeks? Neither do I lmao who was she? Don’t know her anyway heres the fourth chapter of this black sails fic.

Words: 1823. Honestly I’ve been writing this since about 12pm I don’t know how its so short and its probably shit bc I haven’t written anything in months.

Warnings: Mentions of vomit as per the last chapter. Think thats it lmao. See you in three months.

As your eyes opened, there were a blissful couple of seconds where the previous night’s encounter didn’t exist in your memory. But, just like the sun flooding the room, unwanted flashes of vomit and slurred words rose like a tidal wave in your minds eye. You rolled over, burying your face and groaning into the pillow out of sheer embarrassment as a dull throbbing started in the depths of your skull.

Why did you keep drinking? You could’ve simply had one or two before retiring for the night and you wouldn’t have met that boatswain or thrown up on your own boots. What was his name again? Ben? Boyd? No, they weren’t quite right. Either way you made a mental note to apologise again whenever you next saw him.

Slowly, you tugged your still clothed limbs from the thin sheets, trying not to jostle your stomach too much for fear of whatever was left in there making an unwelcome appearance. Your pants were scuffed from where you took a tumble outside the tavern, your shirt was half undone, probably from a failed attempt to undress before not-so-gracefully falling into bed. A single boot was thrown on the floor alongside your coat, the other still stuck on your foot. What a mess.

A hot bath, that's what you needed, and a hearty breakfast if your insides don’t bring it back up. Pulling on the other boot, you made your way to one of the girls working downstairs, trading her coin to fill the tub in your room. You must’ve looked rough as you passed her to get to the man at the bar because when he turned to look at you, his brows shot up, disappearing behind his hair.

“You look like you could use a little hair of the dog, love.” He chuckled, eyes scanning your disheveled form. A grimace was your immediate response. “Some food then.” He offered, filling a bowl with something that you didn’t stop to look at as you practically inhaled it. The man watched you with a knowing smirk and had you not felt so terrible you’d have spat out a snarky comment. You chose to gulp down your water instead.

“Thank you.” You huffed with a small nod, tossing some money on the counter before you headed back upstairs. The state you were in just added to this morning's growing list of regrets but you weren’t quite sure if you cared how you looked to anyone else right now. All that was on your mind was a piercing headache and a good soak.

Stripping off, you stepped into the water, sinking down slowly as your body got used to the heat. Finally, with a heavy sigh, you rested your head on the back of the tub, your aching muscles beginning to relax. Scented oils and soaps were left on a stand by the bath. Working a generous amount between your palms, you massaged your limbs and torso getting rid of any tension and purging the memories of last night’s… festivities. In the quiet of your room, you took a moment to trace the small scars that littered your form, fingers landing at last on the freshly healed knife wound from only a few weeks ago. The soft pink flesh was still tender, and if you moved the wrong way it would ache. It was dangerous to be alone on this island, in this line of work. You needed friends, not just contacts. A crew, perhaps.

Letting your mind wander, you thought about your new found place among Flint’s men. You had to keep bringing in leads to be of any value to him, lest you risk being tossed aside and left in the dirt. He and his crew were among the most revered on the island, therefore cementing your part in that would bring security. It would ensure that other crews would leave you alone, as you were important to someone they feared and the consequences of harming you could be severe.

Then again, there was a little more than security on your list of perks as you thought more about the taller man from last night. He was kind to you, not that the others weren’t having bought your drinks and all, but, he made sure you were safe and fed. Billy Bones. You recalled. Replaying the meeting in your head, you winced at the slurred introduction and the puking soon after. Why did you care about how he saw you? Was it because he was the crew’s boatswain or because he was handsome and softer than most pirates you’d met.

Catching that last thought, you shook it from your head, refusing to let it take root in your brain. Attachments like that are a weakness here and you cannot afford to have those. You’d only met the guy once and he probably didn’t want anything to do with you anyway, especially after that drunken show you gave him. Cupping a handful of water, you splashed your face, scrubbing any further thoughts of the man from your head, instead, choosing to focus on finding a new lead for Flint.

They would be leaving to chase down the details you gave him yesterday in a couple of days, if not sooner, which meant you probably had around two weeks to find something of substance upon their return. You’d struggled last time but after sending out letters to old friends in neighbouring ports, you were hopeful something would turn up.

Padding your way to the dresser, you pulled out some fresh clothes and got ready, feeling much better than you did even an hour before. The food had settled your stomach and the water you guzzled seemed to bring some life back into your face as when you left to go hunt down some work, the barman from earlier spouted something along the lines of ‘A whole other woman’ when you walked by.

---

An uneventful morning led to an uneventful afternoon. There were no new letters or leads and the streets were pleasantly calm compared to usual. You certainly weren’t complaining, you had been feeling better since this morning but your body was still recovering. The easy day was probably just what you needed. You were sat on the beach, sipping some water and watching passersby as you sketched in the journal you kept.

It was something you’d taken to keeping since arriving in Nassau just over two years ago. A small leather book to help keep track of potential jobs and record anything interesting that happened. Really, though, you just loved to draw. You’d already filled a couple just like it with sketches of people, ships and landscapes that caught your eye, often accompanied by your messy scrawl. You were just about satisfied with your latest addition when Mr Gates clapped you on the shoulder making you jump and slam the journal closed. You’d never shown anyone the contents before.

“Sorry, Miss Devereux, didn’t mean to startle you.” He began, chuckling lightly at your reaction. “I heard you and the lads had quite the night..” He moved to stand by you as you got to your feet, dusting the sand from your pants. Tucking away the book, an amused smirk finds its way to your face as you look at him.

“Depends on who you ask.” You replied. “How were they this morning? Feeling sorry for themselves?” Your brows raised in question as you both started aimlessly wandering along the shore. A snort met your ears as his head fell forwards, looking at the ground then back at you. “I didn’t see the majority of them until at least noon and they were still in a sorry state, although I wonder how you must’ve been. I heard that you hurled your guts up right after meeting our boatswain.” Gates mused, eyes crinkling as he watched your entire face turn a lovely shade of red. You tried to keep your cool but your expression faltered into one of sheer embarrassment. Apparently, this was hilarious as Mr Gates exploded into a fit of hearty laughter, and as much as you told him to stop you couldn’t help but have a good chuckle yourself as you covered your face with a half-sandy palm at the thought.

When you both regain your composure, he gives you a reassuring pat on the back.

“Don’t worry, the only people who know are Billy and myself, the men still think you can hold your drink.” He winked. You made a move to argue that you could in fact hold your drink but he began talking about the plan to set sail the day after tomorrow. You listened intently and explained that you were awaiting correspondence from friends in other ports to supply more promising leads upon their return.

---

It had been four days since the crew left in search of another haul using your most recent information. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, you’d made some money here and there through smaller jobs and pickpocketing but overall, there was nothing of real interest. You spent the days reading anything you could get your hands on or drawing and you’d even had your eye on some paints in one of the markets, but all you could do was wait. Checking for mail at the front desk of the inn you were staying at every morning had become a routine, desperate for any work or ships that you could relay to Flint. It was on the fifth day that you had gotten a response from someone in Port Royal.

As you read over the letter for the third time, you could feel your eyes widen in disbelief, your heart hammered in your chest and you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. This was far too good to be true. Surely this was a myth. A prize of this magnitude was simply unheard of. Your eyes scanned over the paper again, barely able to focus on the words because your hands were trembling so violently. Calm down. You told yourself. It can’t be the truth. You thought as you stared at the other envelope that had arrived alongside it. At the bottom of the letter it read:

“P.S

Should you doubt my information, I sent you the correspondence shared between the dead man and the merchant with evidence pertaining to this gold. Best not ask how it came into my possession.

Your dear friend,

Josiah.”

You ran to shut the windows to your room and close the drapes. If anyone found out you had this information and the evidence to go with it, you would surely be killed for it. Tearing open the paper, you unfolded its contents. It was all here. The initials of the merchant, R.P., details alluding to the existence of this gold and the name of the dead man involved in plotting the course it would be on.

Vasquez.

#Black Sails #black sails imagine #Billy Bones #billy bones x reader #multi chapter #Captain Flint #mr gates

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fragmentedink-archived · 4 years

Text

Hell to Pay: Part Forty- Five

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

Lev scrunched his nose at Nik, and flicked some water at him. "I think we need more scenty stuff," he said, sighing. "This wasn't enough with the last bath." It'd been a few more days, and Lev still had that lingering undercurrent of death to his scent.

Nik chewed on his bracelet. "I mean, it might be permanent?" Nik said, watching Lev carefully.

Despite himself, Lev's bottom lip trembled. He scrubbed at his face to get rid of the expression. "No," he said stubbornly. "It'll fade. I refuse to smell like roadkill forever. I just need to keep- to keep scrubbing at it." Even if he was already tired just sitting here.

"You don't smell like road kill," Nik said. "Amara's just a bitch."

Lev frowned. "She's blunt," Lev said. "And you agreed! At least that I smell... dead. I don't like it." He held up his rag. "So. Scrubbing."

Nik looked offended. "I didn't say I agreed," he protested, and went on to add petulantly, "If it bothers you that much, you can get axe body spray."

"I think I'd rather smell dead," Lev muttered, scrubbing at himself half heartedly.

"Are you sure?" Nik needled.

Lev threw his rag at Nik and blew a raspberry at him.

Nik caught the rag, smiling a little. "Well, apparently there are worse things to smell like than death, then, aren't there?"

"Hmph." Lev reached for one of the bottles of oils, and poured some in.

"See? I was right."

"Hmph," Lev muttered again, sinking lower in the water. It was hot enough he was flushed gold, but he doubted the warmth would last more than a few minutes out of the bath itself. He lifted a leg and draped it over the bathtub so he could poke Nik. "How long do I have until dinner?"

After grabbing one of Lev's toes and tugging, Nik said, "Until Cameron comes and yanks us out of here."

Lev wiggled his toes at Nik in response, before sighing and sitting up. "Get me a towel?" he asked, pulling the plug.

"Sure thing, Princess." Lev got out while Nik tracked one down, and let Nik rub him down when he got back. He kissed Lev's cheek when he was done.

Lev booped noses with Nik before he went to go find some clothes. Nik wasn't far behind, so Lev just grabbed the first sweater and pair of pyjama bottoms, and backed out of the closet again. He pulled them on and turned to make a beeline for the bed.

Nik caught him around the waist gently. "We gotta eat. Cameron will yell if we don't. Also... I'm hungry."

"We can eat in bed," Lev said, lifting a finger with each point. "I'm sleepy. Cameron never yells, and... we can eat in bed."

"Lev. No. We eat in the kitchen like civilized people do."

"I'm not civilized, I'm a zombie," Lev joked, even as he padded for the hallway.

"You're not a zombie," Nik said sharply, as he pulled Lev towards the kitchen.

"I know," Lev said apologetically as he followed willingly. "I was just joking. I thought it was funny, Nik."

He decided to ignore the look Cameron shot them, and settled at the table, immediately putting his head down.

"Did you not get enough sleep?" Cameron asked dryly.

"I'm sleepy," Lev mumbled.

There was a long stretch of silence, before, "I can see that."

---

Bedtime had become Lev's favorite part of the day. He felt less guilty about sleeping then. Once he was free of dinner, Lev all but dove into bed, and just peeped out from under the covers at Nik. Nik joined him indulgently.

That was all Lev needed to suction himself to Nik's side. He pressed his face to Nik, sighing happily.

"You're not an igloo anymore," Nik said.

Lev hummed. "Good," he said, sitting up and peeling out of his shirt. He flopped back down, closing his eyes. "Maybe the sleeping is helping."

"You mean it isn't my fantastic body heat that's helping?"

"Cuddles help," Lev agreed. "And taking the baths like Ash said probably helped too. Finally."

Nik hummed. "I mean, I guess."

Lev was too sleepy to argue. "Hey, Nik?" he asked, bumping Nik's head with his own.

"Hm?"

"Can you say it again?"

"You mean, 'You're not an igloo anymore'?"

"No," Lev mumbled. "The love thing."

Nik kissed Lev's nose, matching Lev's mumbled tone as he said, "I love you."

A smile crossed Lev's face. "I love you too. So much," he promised sleepily.

"That's because you have taste."

"Not according to Cameron."

"Yeah, well, that's because Cameron's a snob."

Lev laughed softly, but he was already drifting off.

---

Darius had spent the last week and a half, for lack of a better phrasing, hiding. The moment Destris had laid eyes on him, Darius had made good use of the last five hundred years of ghostly practice and kept his distance the best he could.

And the best way he could do that was by keeping Nate company in his house; even if that meant not keeping an eye on his mate in this time. He had barely had a moment where he could go back and just see Cameron and make sure he was getting back to his routine now that Lev was back.

He had spent the last hour or so in Nate's art studio watching Nate paint while his baby napped in a bassinet soundly next to him. At nearly four and a half months Lucas seemed to have grown a bit of chub in his dusted tan cheeks and had seemed to sleep almost completely through the night- especially since Bay and Nate moved Eden to a different room.

The little monster seemed to enjoy screaming in the middle of the night to wake everyone up in the house, especially the little boy who had been sleeping deeply across the room from her. Nate kept side eyeing him from the painting, watching Darius play with Lucas' dark brown locks. "...If you want," Nate said, "I could. Let you hold him? I know you won't hurt him."

Darius hummed faintly. "I know," he said, after a long moment. "However, I'm not too sure that your mate would be as agreeable." Especially since there had probably been a total of two or three people besides Bay himself who had held Lucas.

And that included Nate in the equation.

Nate sighed and leaned back, eyes turning back to the colorful painting he was working on. "Yeah," he agreed. "That's true. Though I think he's getting better." There was such a fondness in his voice, right along with amusement. "He even let Ash hold him, without threatening to break his fingers if he dropped Lucas. I think that's progress to be quite honest."

"Absolutely," Darius said, solemnly. "Besides I don't want to worry about waking the little one up. I'm sure with Eden's shrill lungs it makes nap time a bit difficult."

"The worst. I have the feeling Baylor fights the urge to smother Eden with a pillow on a daily basis."

"He has remarkable self restraint," Darius said, moving up to his feet from the floor. "Would it be alright if I went to check on them?"

Nate flicked him an amused look. "Well you don't need to ask my permission," he said. "Ash said that they seem to be settling back into some kind of normal now that Lev's home. Though I understand if you want to go see for yourself."

Darius gave him a smile before disappearing out of Nate's house to Cameron's. He showed up just in time to see Nik take a sleepy Lev presumably to the bedroom, and while he watched them for a lingering heartbeat, he then turned his attention back towards the kitchen where he knew Cameron would be.

He started his way and settled at the counter, watching as Cameron went about systematically cleaning the kitchen. He had watched Cameron, countless times, in how he cleaned. There was such a meticulous orderliness to it that was fascinating to watch. The kind of order this brought seemed to soothe something jagged within Cameron.

Cameron finished cleaning the kitchen; had wiped down the counters three separate times before finally leaving. He followed Cameron back to the office, settled at the far end of the house from the bedroom, and went to the desk where he promptly went back to doing paperwork.

Darius settled across from him in one of the leather chairs, out of the way. There were carefully stacked blueprints Cameron seemed to be going through while taking and making calls. He did not miss the carefully folded blanket and pillow on the leather couch against the wall, either.

After a while Darius slipped silently from the room and wandered to the bedroom Lev and Nik were sequestered in. He found Lev curled into Nik's chest, out cold while Nik played with Lev's dark waves, half asleep himself.

"It's sad isn't it?" a voice said, from behind him. "Once again you're all alone and left with me. You'd think five hundred years would be enough for you to finally realize you are nothing."

If Darius could actually draw in air, he'd definitely be heaving a long sigh. It wouldn't be worth the energy it would take and instead, he looked squarely at Destris. "I do not need five hundred years to tell me something false," he said. "We're all something and someone, however you just. Happen to be an ass. Are you planning on spending your afterlife watching after Cameron. With me? You could move on... be somewhere not trapped between life and death."

"Have you considered taking your own advice?" Destris asked, mildly. "Or is your infatuation for Cameron just that strong?"

"My love for Cameron is that strong, yes," he corrected. "Not that you would understand, of course. I think any love you had for your family was bled out of you long before Cameron was conceived. And anything that was left was twisted into jealousy."

Destris gave an amused huff of a laugh. "Are you suggesting I am jealous of a bastard?"

A bastard who happened to have admiration and respect earned instead of outright given. "I'm suggesting you find a way to forgive yourself and find peace," Darius said.

The growing amused look on Destris' face was enough that Darius decidedly left and went back to Nate's house, where he knew Destris would not be fool enough to step foot. He found Nate still in the art studio, but this time Lucas was awake and wiggling around on his stomach on the floor.

Nate instantly looked up from his spot on the floor next to his son. "Are you alright?" he asked, concerned. "You look... upset."

Darius shook his head and settled down on the floor next to him, watching Lucas wiggle and babble happily at Darius. "Hi baby," he said, softly.

Happiness lit up Lucas' face like a thousand little suns. Nate looked fondly at his baby. "He clearly takes after me," he said.

"I can see that," Darius said. "He has a beautiful smile."

"He's a beautiful boy."

While Nate and Darius went about gushing after the baby, Lucas decided to reach for the closest toy he could get his tiny gums on.

---

Lev woke up burning hot. He swallowed a whine, and sat up. Sweat slid down his back as he rubbed his face. After a second, he leaned over and took Nik's pillow from under Nik's head. Nik whined at him, still half asleep, but Lev just got up and crawled in the closet. He closed the door behind himself and set Nik's pillow down right up against it while he dragged his nest closer, and then flopped down, confused.

This was definitely his heat, which made how tired he'd been make so much sense. But with his fever rising, it was getting hard to focus. He couldn't explain why he needed to be here, in the closet, and not out there with Nik.

A few moments passed, and then he heard Nik sit on the other side of the door. "Are you okay? Do you need me to get Cameron?"

Lev watched Nik's fingers wiggle as far under the door as far as they could. "No," he managed. The only thing he could get his omega to tell him was that he had to protect Nik. Not from what, just that he had to do right by Nik and that meant keeping space between them.

"No, you're not okay, or no, don't get Cameron?"

Lev curled tighter. "I don't know," he finally mumbled. His throat tightened. "I don't know," he repeated, but his voice began to rise with barely contained hysteria.

He could hear and smell Nik leaving quickly. The distance between them sent pain spiking through him. He whimpered, bit down on his pillow, tears rolling down his cheeks.

A knock on the closet door startled Lev. Judging by how the pain eased, Nik was back, but it was Cameron who said, "Talk to me."

Lev pushed his back against the door firmly. "My heat- I didn't know- didn't want-"

"I know," Cameron said. "Do you want my help?"

"No," Lev said abruptly. He thumped his forehead against the door, muddling his way through the conflicting instincts. "No, I can't- you can't- no. We didn't talk about- anything before."

"We're talking now. What do you want?"

"No," was all Lev could manage. "I can't think." His fingers found their way to his hair and dug in. "It's so hot. I have to protect Nik. I have to do right by- no. I can't think. I can't- no."

Nik's voice was very high. "What do you mean you have to protect me?"

"I have to- my omega-"

"Let me help you. I want to help you." Nik paused. "Please."

"No." Lev closed his eyes. "No."

"Nik, go call Ash."

The door rattled a little as Nik sat down against it. Lev could hear him calling Ash as told, and he could smell how close Nik was. Lev shoved himself against it, and then he backed up somewhat. He buried his face in the pillow, sucking in a few ragged breaths.

He blocked out whatever conversation was going on on the other side of the door. All he could focus on was how hot he was. Shivers crawled down his spine, and even just laying there was unbearable even with the soft blankets and pillows with him.

For a few minutes, Lev wrestled with his instincts until he could drift into a half conscious doze. Cameron knocking on the door dragged him unwillingly from it just as he was adjusting it.

"Open the door, Levant," Cameron said, alpha firm.

Lev whined, but he scooted away from the door until his back hit the far wall, dragging his Nik-pillow with him. Cameron knelt in front of him. All he wore was a pair of black silk pyjama bottoms, and he had an open bottle of water in his hand. "Drink."

Lev took it warily, but half of it was gone in one go. It helped a little, but Lev just stared blankly at his alpha. When his alpha brushed his fingers against Lev's forehead, his cheeks, Lev held still. His head was spinning, and he could feel the heat radiating off of him.

"It's just a heat," Lev mumbled. "I can't- I can't think. I can always think."

"It's not just a heat. You were dead."

Lev pressed his palms against his eyes. "It's too soon," he whined. "I don't like this."

"You disliked being dead even more."

Another whimper came from Lev. He hunched over, at least until the water bottle started to spill. He sat up enough to stare at it blankly. In the end, he just held it out to his alpha hesitantly. Once the bottle was taken from him, almost gently, Lev folded in on himself again.

"You need to let Nik take care of you."

Lev shook his head. "I hurt- I'll- no. I can't." He didn't know how to explain the sheer conviction that he had hurt his omega before and that he would do it again if he wasn't careful. They hadn't discussed his heat. No one could consent in this. Not while Lev couldn't think straight and the other two would take care of him whether they really wanted to or not. It was how they showed they cared.

"Then what can you do?" His alpha was being so patient. Lev wanted to cry.

Instead he swallowed hard. His thoughts were racing, disjointed. "I can sleep." He pulled at his hair. "I can eat when I need to. But I can sleep through this."

His alpha nodded. "Fine. But Ash is on his way."

Ash. Ash. Lev had to blink a few times before the name clicked. Right. Ash. "Okay," he said in a small voice.

"Are you staying in here? We can move your nest to the bed, if you want."

Lev shook his head fiercely. "No."

His omega poked his head around the closet. "Can I come in there?"

Oh, the tone in his omega's voice. It hurt to whisper his, "No," but he just listed to the side and curled up. "I need you safe."

"Safe from what?" His omega asked, voice rising in confusion.

"Me," Lev mumbled, shrinking back into his nest and trying to crawl under the blankets.

That got his alpha's attention. "Lev, stop that. You're about as threatening as a piece of toast." Lev just closed his eyes and clutched the pillow close. Everything was so warm, and his head was swimming. His alpha put his hand in Lev's hair. "You're not going to hurt him."

It- it made sense, and yet- there was some sort of- voice, deep down, that his alpha was wrong, and he couldn't risk it. He couldn't. Logic had no place in a heat.

"Fine," his alpha finally said, resigned. "Nik's not going to leave. I'll be back in two hours."

Lev was confused until it clicked that it was probably almost three in the morning. Cameron usually got up before the sun, and that's when he started breakfast. At least he was keeping his routine. Lev just curled tighter.

---

Lev heard Ash before he saw him. The beta had the decency to knock on the closet door before he stepped inside. Lev's sleepy yes was enough invitation for Ash to kneel beside Lev's nest. Ash had questions for Lev, but when Lev just stared at him blankly, struggling to form a coherent thought, much less an answer, his omega took over for him from outside the closet.

"Why aren't you letting Nik in here?" Ash finally asked him directly.

Lev burrowed under his blankets. "I said no," he mumbled.

Ash sighed. "You need to stay hydrated," he finally said. "If he gets worse, call me."

"You're not going to make him?" His omega asked.

Lev almost wanted him to. He ached to be curled up in his boyfriend's lap, not huddled alone in a pile of blankets.

As soon as Ash was gone, Lev wiggled out of his clothes, throwing them out of the closet forcefully. Better. Better.

"Lev?" His boyfriend sounded so small and anxious. "Are you mad at me?"

Tears pricked at his eyes. "No," he choked out. "I love you. But I can't-" He had no idea how to explain the sheer conviction that Nik was safer away from him.

"You can still be mad at me and love me."

"I'm not mad," Lev said, finally starting to cry. "I'm not. I'm not. I just want- I have to do right by you. I just need- I need-"

"What does that mean?"

Lev flinched at the yell. "I don't know," he yelled back, and started crying harder. "I can't think."

"You don't have to think, you just have to let me hold you."

Lev wanted it. Wanted it so bad. His instincts were begging him to go, but he just curled tighter. "Just let me sleep," he said wetly.

"Okay," he heard his boyfriend say, and Lev could hear the tears in his voice too. Lev turned to face the wall, clawing for sleep. Maybe that would help.

---

Two days later, and everything was worse. His nest was soaked in sweat, and if Lev had been in any state of mind to be grateful, he would have been about the fact that he wasn't even a little aroused this heat. Instead he was hot and in pain. Every breath felt like swallowing glass, and he wanted to tear his skin off. It hurt.

Some time in the afternoon, Lev couldn't help it, and started to sob. That hurt too, but he couldn't stop. "Nik," he choked out, digging his nails into his arms to stay grounding. "Nik," he tried again.

The pain spiked as Nik's footsteps retreated. Lev muffled his cry with a pillow, curling tightly around himself. His alpha's scent appeared, but that wasn't who Lev wanted. "Nik," he whimpered.

His alpha grabbed him by the scruff. It was an old hold, one alphas used to make an omega go limp and make them easier to carry. Lev was honestly grateful for it; no matter how much it hurt, his body loosened enough for Cameron to carry him out of the closet. He found himself dropped in a lap.

"Let your mate take care of you," his alpha said firmly.

Lev couldn't argue with that. Not now. It felt right, with his mate's arms around him. Lev immediately started pulling on Nik's t-shirt. Nik hesitated, but let Lev undress him. Skin pressed against him, finally soothing most of the pain. Lev's tears lessened.

"Thank you," Nik mumbled as he held onto Lev.

Through his swimming thoughts, Lev managed to pluck out what he wanted to say. "You were right," he rasped.

"Of course I was. I'm always right." His mate sounded petulant, but all Lev cared about was the arms around him and the heartbeat against his hand.

---

Nik hadn't let go of Lev the moment he managed to get his claws into him. For the next day Lev's body temperature hadn't fluctuated in the slightest. Instead it had remained at a constant sweltering temperature, clinging to Nik the whole time.

He tried keeping his stomach not so pressed against Lev without his shirt. Amara's words about his weight were still ringing in his ears and he didn't need Lev's heightened instincts picking up on any of that.

Nik's head shot up when he heard someone knocking at the doorway. A growl was sitting deep in his chest before he even realized it was Ash at the doorway. That still hadn't stopped Nik from pulling Lev deeper against him.

Lev's only reaction had been a small whine and to dig his nails into Nik's back. Nik gave a small nip in apology before glaring at Ash. It was an effort to remind himself that this was Ash, even as annoyingly preachy as he was at times, he did in fact know what the hell he was doing.

"Can I come in?" Ash asked, from the doorway.

Nik was very aware of how firm his arms were around Lev's shoulders, keeping him as pressed against him as possible. He pressed his lips to Lev's shoulder before looking him in the eye. "Can he?"

Lev only stared at him blankly, eyes fever-bright and beyond gold. Nik took that nonanswer and looked back to Ash. "...sure," he finally said. But he stopped short and said, "Slowly." Unless Ash felt like getting a mouthful of teeth in his carotid. If he was a demon, that would hurt like hell.

Ash took that at the promise it was, and slowly came into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed a healthy space from them both. Ash's face was drawn tight. "Can I look him over?"

"Do I have to let him go?"

"No."

"Then go ahead."

Ash maneuvered around them, clearly having to do something like this before, quite possibly with other omegas in heats. The idea of having to deal with Bay during his heats would be nearly hysterical.

"Any changes at all?" he asked, Nik.

"His body temp has stayed the same, and Cam made him get out of the closet and come up here with me. Before that he was crying and in hysterics." When Lev didn't react to Nik's observations, he added, "That too. He just. Doesn't move and only responds when or if I try to move away from him. I think... he's been ignoring his base instincts, right? That's why this is so bad of a heat?" He fought the rising panic in his voice and kept himself carefully around Lev.

Ash's face was drawn tight. "Yeah, I think so. I wish Cameron had moved him to you sooner."

"He was trying to respect Lev's boundaries," Nik muttered irritably into Lev's burning skin. "And Lev got upset if I tried to come into the closet with him." Though that didn't stop Nik from also not wanting to be in the closet in the first place. And the guilt felt like acid.

That seemed to catch Ash's interest. "Why wouldn't he let you near him?"

"He said he was trying to protect me...?"

"Did he say what from?"

"Himself?"

Ash's face turned thoughtful, if a bit rueful. "Maybe he's trying to atone for trying to keep you dead."

Nik winced at that. "Okay but that doesn't even make sense. He doesn't remember doing that so why would he be trying to protect me from that idiocy now. If you haven't noticed, Ash, Lev is a little more alive? Telling me to be dead now would be a moot point."

"Are you, the most neurotic person I know, going to tell me that Lev would be using rational thinking during a heat at this current moment in time?"

When Nik moved to get just a little more comfortable to stop himself from smacking Ash upside the head, Lev whined and pressed deeper into him, promptly halting Nik's impulsivity. If it had been any other time he'd probably be sulking about it. If Ash didn't get a regular dose of a popping then he got unmanageable and too annoying. "We haven't been able to get Lev to eat very much," Nik admitted. "Not even Cam can until I try to help."

"I'll get an IV set up," Ash said, pulling out his phone to make a note. "Also I'm taking the room next to this one. I'm sure Cameron will be fine with it, if not he can get in line with everyone else who seems to have a problem with how I conduct things."

"Go nuts," Nik said, closing his eyes. "I'm sure he'll be fine feeding you as long as you prove to be useful to him."

---

When Bay said sit, Silas sat. He waited patiently on the couch, but when Bay put Lucas in his arms Silas went very still.

"You drop him and I break your arms," Bay warned.

Silas tucked Lucas close obediently, gazing down at Lucas. "Hi, baby," he cooed happily. Lucas babbled back, which only made Silas grin down at the infant.

"Lev's been alive for a week."

Silas stilled. "What?"

Even if Bay's firm look hadn't kept him in place, holding an infant would have. But still. "Hell of a thing to drop on me with no warning."

"Would you rather me have not told you?"

"No," Silas muttered, but he looked down at Lucas, and let the little boy grab onto his finger. That boy had more Nate in him than Bay, and that was probably a good thing.

"That's what I thought. If it makes you feel any better, Nik didn't know either until a few days ago. It was a need to know basis, and you didn't need to know."

Silas made a face, leaning back. "You thought I'd run right over the moment I knew?" Silas asked, lifting a brow.

Bay mirrored his look. "If you're suggesting I don't know you're whipped for that boy and would drop everything for him in a heartbeat, you're sorely mistaken. As far as I'm concerned, this was two birds with one stone. Be mad about it all you want."

"He's hardly a boy," Silas grumbled. "If Lev wanted me to come see him he would have called. I didn't barge over there before he died, I won't now."

Bay looked at him for a long, long moment. Gaging. "With the amount you coddled, him, maybe I just assumed you didn't actually know he was an adult. I apologize. Next time your ex boyfriend dies, I'll make sure to act accordingly."

Silas grimaced. "Ouch," he said dryly, before, "Touche."

Bay looked satisfied. "Good." He watched Silas for the longest minute before saying, "If I leave for five seconds to go get my book, can I trust you not to drop my son on his head?"

"I won't budge an inch, Bay," Silas promised. He pressed a kiss to Lucas' forehead, grinned a little when the infant giggled at him around his knuckle.

Bay was only gone for a few seconds, and when he returned, he curled up on the couch opposite Silas and started reading. Silas watched Lucas, humming at him. So Lev was back. And he hadn't called. Which- fair. Not his omega. And Silas had been a shit friend. Maybe everyone was right. Enough people tell him to move on, maybe they had a point.

---

Amara flopped down beside Cin. Once she was settled, he started running his fingers through her hair. "When can we move in again?" Amara mumbled.

"Next week," Cin promised. "Tu pulled some strings."

Cin had found a nice house. Three bedrooms, a kitchen Cin swore up and down he would learn how to use, and two overly large bathrooms. He'd paid for it, and wouldn't let Amara know how much it'd cost. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. She'd promised him she'd let him take care of her.

"I'm assuming we're getting rid of most of my furniture."

"I told you you could keep the things that are sentimental," Cin told her sternly. "Even if it's everything in this apartment."

Amara sighed. "There's not much I want to keep," she admitted.

Cin tugged on her hair. "That's okay."

"Cin?" Amara mumbled.

"Hm?"

"You sure you want to be mated to me?"

Cin pulled her hair again. "I'll say it again, as many times as you need me, Mar. Yes. I wouldn't have asked if I hadn't wanted it."

Amara sighed again, louder, refusing to look up. "I want kids."

"I know."

"And you're okay with that?"

Cin was quiet for a long moment. Eventually he said, "Yes."

"You sure there, Cin?"

"Yeah," Cin promised. "I'm old, Amara. And I actually see a therapist. I think I can handle some kids by this point."

It was Amara's turn to be quiet. "I don't know if I can conceive or carry to term," she admitted quietly. "Not that I've tried, but fuck if I ever managed to keep it longer than a few weeks. Never fucked with protection, didn't care."

Cin let her ramble, and eventually pressed a kiss to her hair. "You've never tried to keep one," he pointed out. "And you've never been sober this long." He hesitated, and then added lightly, "And you're friends with a damn good healer."

"Who, Ash?" Amara asked. "He hates me right now."

"He doesn't hate you," Cin promised. "You should ask for his help, or at least his advice."

Amara grimaced. "Fine. I'll ask. But he's gonna say no."

---

Lev's fever broke two days later. He felt bone tired, and he ached, but he could focus for the first time in days. For a little while he reveled in the closeness, running his fingers down Nik's side, but eventually he looked up at Nik. "Hi," he rasped guiltily.

Nik's face was drawn, and Lev could see the exhaustion on his face. "Hi," he replied.

"I think my heat is over," Lev said in a small voice.

"I can see that. Why don't we get you something to eat?"

"Okay," Lev agreed easily. He hesitated, and then, "Are you mad at me?"

"Are you?"

"Mad at me or mad at you?" Lev blinked.

"At me," Nik clarified.

Lev shook his head a bit. "No?" He touched Nik's cheek lightly. "I wasn't and I am not mad at you. I- I don't know what that was. I can't explain it. My omega- my instincts were- strong. But they didn't make any sense. I wanted you. I promise."

The disbelief in Nik's face made Lev defensive, but he bit his tongue. Eventually Nik just said, "Can I put my shirt back on?"

"Oh. We're naked," Lev said, startled. "Right. Uh. Yeah?" He scooted away enough for Nik to be able to get his shirt. It hung loosely off of Nik. Lev watched him for a long moment, and then, "...mates?"

Nik lifted a brow. "So you remember that?"

Lev shook his head. "I remember what I felt. And I remember needing you. It got more fuzzy once Cam made me leave the closet." He tucked his face in the pillow briefly. "After that it's like my heat kicked into gear for real, and all I remember is it being hot."

"Yeah, you looked pretty out of it." He pinned Lev with a look "Please don't do that again. I thought you were out of the closet years ago."

Lev sat up slowly. "I won't," he promised earnestly. As Nik slid off the bed, Lev scooted towards the edge to follow. Nik was in the process of trying to pick Lev up when Ash barged in.

"Put him down," Ash snapped firmly.

Lev, who had barely made it of the bed, found himself plopped right back down. Nik looked guilty, but he glared at the bed rather than turn and face Ash.

"Hi, Ash," Lev said sheepishly, peeking around Nik. "I think my heat's over."

Ash glared at him, eyes glowing green with his magic. "Yeah, I can see that."

"I thought you couldn't see anything," Nik muttered.

Ash ignored Nik. "How are you feeling?"

Lev watched Nik sit down beside him before he said, "Better. Tired. Kind of achey, but- honestly I'm kind of hungry."

"I mean, probably. You haven't eaten anything in two days."

Lev blinked. "Oh." He stared at the IV in his arm for a good long moment, and then said, "I didn't mean to be such a-" He paused, frowning. "I can go eat now, can't I?"

"A little bit, yes," Ash said. "Your stomach is probably sensitive again."

Lev made a face this time. "Back to broth?" he asked sadly. He pushed himself up, holding onto the IV stand.

"If you hadn't ignored your instincts, we wouldn't be back to step one," Ash reminded him.

"I know," Lev replied. "I'd say I should have thought that through, but I wasn't exactly thinking at all." He looked back at Nik apologetically, and then said, "At least I'm better now."

Ash pointed to the bed. "Sit back down. You lost your standing rights. I'm getting you a wheelchair."

Lev blinked at him sadly. He would have argued, but his knees were already weak, and his head had been spinning lightly since he stood. He opened his mouth to agree, but even taking the step back to the bed was apparently a bit much. The ground rushed up to meet him.

Between Nik and Ash, Lev didn't actually hit the floor. Nik leaned over him as soon as they had him in the bed. "Are you okay?"

"Apparently not," Lev muttered, rubbing his forehead. He looked to Ash. "A wheelchair is probably a good idea."

Ash sighed. "Isn't it?"

"Can I do anything?" Nik asked, still sounding a bit panicked.

"I was going to get some pants," Lev said. "If you could get me some...?"

Nik was gone instantly. Lev peered out at Nik, and then at Ash. "I can still go get dinner, right?" Lev asked anxiously. "Just- with a wheelchair?"

Ash nodded. "It would do you good to get you out of this room."

"Can we go eat by the pool?" Nik asked in a small voice, setting Lev's pants down on the bed. Lev blinked, startled. He hadn't even known they had a pool. Of course Cameron had a pool.

"As long as Lev doesn't try to swim or drink the pool water, I guess."

Nik looked pleased, and looked to Lev, almost as if for permission. When Lev nodded, he all but beamed, and leaned over to kiss Lev's cheek. When Nik pulled away, Lev tugged him close again, pressing their foreheads together. He kissed Nik, soft and chaste. To his relief, Nik kissed back, if a little hesitant.

Lev pulled away before Ash could get annoyed, and looked down at the pants Nik had brought. "How am I gonna get dressed if I'm not able to stand up?" He asked pitifully.

"I'll help you," Ash replied.

And, well. That was that, Lev supposed.

Tagging: @incandescent-creativity @idreamonpaper @solangelo3088 @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #hell to pay #ch: cameron #ch: nik #ch: ash #ch: bay #ch: nadia #ch: darius

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