#because we don't want to influence each other by making faces during the initial listen

[wheels-of-despair]

Okay, but imagine Eddie calling you after he hears "Master of Puppets" for the first time. (Or maybe after rewinding the sixth time.)

*ring ring* You: Hello? Eddie: BABE YOU GOTTA HEAR THIS!!! *puts phone to speakers, blows your eardrums*

[dragon-kazansky]

Til death do us part | Helmut Zemo

Bodyguard AU! 🕶

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

Here's the part where I stir up trouble because it's me and you know this by now.

Warnings: Mentions of threats, death, and suicide. I'm sorry if that's triggering. It's just mentioned.

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 11

You hadn't returned to the Baron again last night, and he hadn't called for you either. You managed to avoid him for the rest of the day.

Today, however, was a new day, and you couldn't keep avoiding him. You put on your stoic face, kept your mind on the job, and made your way up to his office.

At breakfast you had been joined by Natasha and Clint down in the kitchen. It was clear bt the way Clint was looking at you that Natasha had brought him into the loop.

"Why did you tell him?"

"I didn't. He has eyes, too. He can see it just as clearly as anyone," she states.

Clint grins.

You glare at him.

Clint just shrugged and agreed with her. He was the only one to tell you anything alone these lines:

"I think you should open up to him. Sure, you didn't get off on the right foot, but I think he likes you. Really. Maybe give him a chance?"

You chose to ignore that statement and get on with your work. If no one else was going to take their job seriously, then you had to be extra serious for them.

His life was still in danger.

You knock on the door, taking a deep breath as you waited for his reaponce. It cane moments later.

"Enter."

If only his voice didn't send shivers down your spine everytime you heard it.

You enter his office, barely looking at him, and make your way over to where you normally stand. However, you had noticed the way his desk was organised.

Much like yesterday, there was a tea set on a tray. It was a different set to yesterday's. These cups were a pale green and each one a a small pink rose painted on either side of the cup. The teapot had a dozen little roses around the top where the lid sat.

It was a pretty set. Once again, simple, but classy.

He poured two cups again.

"Please, join me," he spoke softly.

You did not want a repeat of yesterday. You remained standing.

Noticing that you hadn't made a move, he gazes up at you with gentle brown eyes. His lips are pulled into a soft smile.

You knew you shouldn't have looked at him, but now it was too late. Those dark eyes are luring you in, and don't forget that smile.

Why did you suddenly want to kiss him?

You swallow thickly, keeping eye contact with him as he continues to look at you with a smile.

"Please."

The way he speaks is so soft. He very clearly wanted you to join him. You hesitate.

"I'm on duty, sir."

"I want you to join me."

You look at the empty seat across from him. The tea would get cold if you didn't join him. Right, yeah, that's why you're going to sit down with him, you didn't want the tea to get cold.

You move over to the chair and take a seat, not looking at the way he was smiling at you now.

A plate of cupcakes sits between you. He takes one.

You look at the sight. Seeing the Baron with his dainty tea set, a cupcake, and a bright expression on his face, he looked so happy and relaxed.

You rather liked this side to the Baron.

You pick up the cup and sip from it. Another delicious tea from his collection. You won't mention how you knew he had a collection of different flavoured tea in a box downstairs in the kitchen.

You smiled at the thought of it though.

It made you feel like you had discovered something about him. A little thing he likes that he doesn't share with anyone else.

Except you, of course.

"How many tea sets do you have?" You ask, now forgetting all about that professional head you had tried to put on earlier. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to humour him.

He smiles widely at you.

"I have six as it stands. I do like to look at others, but I only get the ones that really catch my eye."

You have no idea what was going on with Helmut. The man was beyond pleased. You had initiated a conversation with him. You wanted to talk to him. He couldn't believe it. Perhaps he hadn't offended you as much as he thought after all.

Now, he just had to keep you talking.

"Six? Goodness. Do you use them all?"

"Yes. I switch between them," he grins.

"I'd like to see the others."

"All in due time."

You smile softly.

His heart could literally beat out of his chest right now. He made you smile, and you weren't even trying to hide it.

Feeling a little more willing to be less... stuck up, you reach out and grab one of the cakes.

This pleases him further.

You both eat the cakes and drink the tea. You let yourself smile openly around him.

You were accept he wanted to spend time with you. You wondered if he would indulge you in some information.

"May I ask you something?"

He looks at you with a big gentle eyes. His lips curl in the smallest of smiles.

"Of course."

You put down your nearly empty tea cup and sit up straighter.

"Will you tell me about the group who are after you?"

His smile fades. He hadn't expected that question. To be honest he wanted to keep them as far from mind as possible, but he supposed he did owe you an explanation after everything you had been through.

"They call themselves The Agent Association. John Walker founded it when I retired from the army. He is part of the reason Sokovia has been suffering, when he brought his little gang here to try and recruit me."

"Recruit you? What did he want you for?"

"I have many skills under my belt. I believe he wanted to use me."

"And you turned him down?"

"Yes. I had just left the military. I was ready to return home and settle down. He didn't like that," Helmut's voice became sad. Something struck you and you realised that this went so much deeper than just that.

"What happened? What did he do?"

Helmut looks at you. During the next few moments of silence he was debating on if he should share everything with you. He trusted you, it more came down to if he could bring himself to tell you what happened.

"Baron?"

He wants to tell you. He wants to share what happened to him with you. The reason he had been so cold before you came along.

"There was a woman. She was beautiful. I fell in love rather quickly with her, and she promised to wait for me. He promised I would marry her upon my return and we would live here together. I didn't know she knew Walker. As it turned out, he was in love with her too."

You were suddenly felt with dread.

"Helmut?"

That was it. That was the first time you had used his name. He stared at you, caught off-guard by the way it sounded from your lips.

You hadn't seemed to notice what you had done. Clearly you had been so comfortable with him, you had just let it slip.

He gathers himself.

"Heike. That was her name. She wasn't here when I got home. Three days and no word. I had feared she had chosen him over me, but it was a week later when I heard what had happened."

You felt uncomfortable.

"Heike had passed away. Her family hadn't known I was home, so that's why I hadn't heard anything yet. I was devastated. Two days of being locked away here in mourning with a broken heart, Walker showed up. He broke down my door, he marched up to my room, and then he proceeded to attempt to kill me."

You stare wide eyed, lips parted, mind blank.

"Walker thought I was fine reason she was dead. That she couldn't take choosing and ended her life. I wanted him to kill me. I wanted to be with her in death. He didn't do it. He dropped me and left. I didn't hear from him in years, but one day he shows up with his agents. He wanted to prove to me he had power and influence. Sokovia began to decline and it was because of him."

Helmut had taken notice of how you were leaning forward, listening intensely.

"He's trying to kill you because he thinks Heike killed herself over you?" You ask, whispering softly.

He nods.

"That's awful."

You get up and walk to his side. You place a hand on his shoulder and let it rest there.

"It wasn't your fault."

He turns his head to where he sees your hand. He looks at it. Your touch feels warm, even through his blazer.

"Wasn't it?"

"Of course it wasn't... or are you saying it was?" You ask, softly.

He shakes his head.

"I don't know. What if she had?"

"Do you want my honest opinion?" You ask, looking at him seriously.

"Please."

You kneel down beside him, hand still settled on his shoulder. You meet his eyes with your own.

"If she had ended her own life, I don't think it was over you. By the sounds of it, she was in love with you. She promised to wait."

"Then what do you think happened?"

"Walker. He's trying to kill you, very nearly had twice at this point. Maybe this goes deeper than you think. You're taking it from his word and not your own investigation. Considering all that happened, he isn't a wise form of information."

Helmut places a hand over yours and looks you in the eye. He swallows, letting your words sink in. Your kindness toward him is enough to spur enough confidence in him.

He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckle gently.

He doesn't miss the shocked expression on your face. Startled, you take your hand back and stand up, but you don't walk away.

Already, he misses your touch.

He's not sorry for what he did, even if your reaction hurt him a little.

"Walker will not bring you harm. As your bodyguard I vow to protect you and see this through. I will not stop until Walker is stopped too."

Helmut looks at you with so much longing. His heart feels full. He smiles.

And I vow to protect you. I will not let him hurt you too. Walker will not hurt the people I love again.

He just can't bring himself to say it out loud.

Zemo no longer cares if it's your duty to protect him. He will not let you get hurt by the hands of Walker again.

When the time comes, the Baron will rest and the Colonol will come out to play.

I promise.

@thesuitkovian @justfangirlthingies @belle82devart @zemosimp420 @anteroom-of-death @silverlambcaptain @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @lieutenantn @daniielbruhl @awesomesauce-abbie @latenightartist-author @lazygurl05 @rumblelibrary @nonamec0s @shura-gorl @ginger-abreu @caligrl1992 @livvyshmiv @luciadiosa @vverliebt @tatooineisdry @charistory @somethingthatsaysbubbles @apparrio @alex-the-nb @thewrongkhristol @hb8301 @the-chaotic-cow @mssennimatilda @uncomfortablebagel @fictionlandslanddreams

[jaedreaminn]

Desperate Much?

Pairings: Ten x Reader.

Theme: fluff, angst, hurt, comfort, family, sad, happy ending. (Life is still going on)

Characters: Ten, Taeyong, Mark, Donghyuck, Jeno.

Word Count: 2k

~~~

Ten wasn't like his 'brothers'. Infact he wasn't ever their brother, he was their cousin. His dad was the one who inherited the family business and had settled with him and his mother in Thailand to branch out.

He had a happy and perfect life with both of his parents, but that was untill they both died unexpectedly in a car accident when he was eleven. And suddenly everything in his life was changing. He had to move to Korea to live with his uncle and his children, his father's buisness was now his uncle's buisness until Ten was old enough to take over. Until he could legally take over. He had to learn a different language, make new friends and start his life all over again in a very dysfunctional family.

He remembered the constant yelling between Mr.Lee and Mrs.Lee, having to sit by himself during those times when Taeyong would take his younger brothers Mark and Jeno and hide in his room, he remembered how Donghyuck would cry under the scrutinizing gaze of Mrs.Lee as she fought with Mr.Lee and the boy was stuck there not able to escape, the loss of the joys of family dinners that he was used to, the loneliness he felt. That was when he met you. You were his only friend in this country and even though he could barely talk to people you tried your best to talk to him despite the language barrier.

You were cheerful and jovial and very very clingy but he didn't mind that. You ate lunch with him and helped him with his Korean. You even made sure to stick by his side with the excuse of him being new here so he wouldn't get lost months after he arrived.

You were a blessing in disguise to him especially since it was so awkward with his cousin Taeyong at home and at school.

Time flew fast and a year had passed and he could speak and write Korean way better than before and lucky for him you were still stuck to his side.

In those trying times you were his only semblance of joy. The times in which Mark wouldn't talk at all, the times in which Taeyong would go around at the ripe age of twelve and hurt people with words so sharp that they would leave the school, when all Jeno did was look upto Taeyong and when Donghyuck started to act out getting himself in trouble so bad that he could have almost lost his life but no one cared.

It hurt Ten to watch all this happen but not being able to do anything about it because no matter how well he got along with the youger two, Taeyong would always pull his brothers away from him and take them to his room and well Donghyuck, he wouldn't talk to anyone at home.

But unfortunately all he could do was get used to this awful life, glad that you would quietly listen to him rant and then lighten his mood up with something silly.

He was mid rant one day when he spoke about how much he missed 'family dinners' that you interrupted him, "Why don't you have a dinner with your cousin's?" Ten scoffed at you and shut that idea down immediately but when he came home and saw how far apart everyone was he decided there and then that's what was needed.

So he forced Mark out of his room and away from his books, he pryed Donghyuck away from his bed, he bribed Taeyong and Jeno just followed his eldest brother and thats how he found himself at the diner table for the first time ever since his parents passed away.

"I used to eat dinner like this with my parents" he spoked but Taeyong glared at him, "I don't care"

"Look you want to be a brat be a brat but at the dinner table all feuds are forgotten and all hatred is gone, food is supposed to be consumed happy"

"What did your parents say that?" Taeyong asked, rolling his eyes.

"Nope y/n did!" Ten said with a cheeky smile, "Now c'mon dig in"

And so there started their first meal together with everyone silently serving themselves, "So we usually talk about our day at the dinner table" Ten smiled his eyes crinkling into two half moons. "I know none of you will say anything so I'll start, Teacher Park yelled at me for correcting him on his Korean today. I was so pissed" Taeyong snorted at that, "Yea that old geezer is weird"

"I know I don't like him either" Donghyuck spoke and Taeyong glared at him but Ten cleared his throat loudly and Taeyong sighed muttering an inaudible apology.

"I placed a fart cushion on his chair today" Donhyuck grinned proudly and collective snorts were heard across the table and Jeno chocked on his food as Taeyong patted the younger boys back. Mark was still eating quietly. Then Donghyuck frowned, "But he didn't like that..." He then put out his hands showing everyones his palms, "So he took me out of the classroom and hit me" Tens heart sank at the red bruises on the boys hands and Taeyong was glaring again but this time it wasn't at Donghyuck, "How dare that old rat hit a seven year old child like that" the eldest growled. But Donghyuck only smiled, "It's okay I'm used to it" he said and Tens heart broke at that statement and by the looks of it so did Taeyongs.

Something shifted between the boys that night and they all knew it. Ten came to school the next day boasting to you about the success of his first family dinner and how excited he was for the next one tomorrow.

He even told you the story Donghyuck had told him not knowing what to do and that very day you got detention for throwing your thick Oxford Dictionary at Mr.Parks face.

Ten still smiles at that memory, a tiny you standing on your bench, yelling out a swear word and launching the book right at the unsuspecting teachers face, nevertheless what you did got the principal's attention. And without making a big deal of it she started an investigation on the teacher.

You chatted excitedly the next day about how exhilarating it was for you to throw a book at that man's face and Ten smiled listening to you talk with animated gestures.

That night he was greeted by the sight of Taeyong silently treating their youngest brothers wounded hands while avoiding the younger boys adoring gaze.

And so life moved forward and Ten had new friends and family here in Korea. And of course you. At this point he wasn't sure if you were his friend or family or both. But you were you.

You were known in school as- The y/n. The y/n who had all of Ten's attention leaving zero for his admirers.

To Ten you were the y/n who made him happy, the y/n who made him laugh, the y/n with a beautiful smile, the y/n who held him as he cried, the y/n who would nag him endlessly when he didn't eat properly, the y/n who would latch pinkies with him and walk everywhere, the y/n who was exceptionally smart and savy.

His life was finally looking up, with you by his side helping him through it all. And slowly he was making new happy memories, like the day he got you all flustered for the first time, or the day Taeyong had put his foot down and finally dragged Donghyuck away from the fighting couple into his room along with Ten, the day he took you to the amusement park you wanted to go to so badly that you kissed his cheek and went running off to the roller coaster, the day Jeno who only looked upto Taeyong had asked him for help, the day he snuck out of the house at night to watch the stars with you, the day Mark spoke at the diner table for the first time, the day you tripped and fell and he got it on camera, the day Taeyong called him his brother, the day of their class picnic and many more.

But there were also bad days like they day he had his first big fight with you or the day Donghyuck had come to him crying and crying without ever telling him why or the day where both the adult Lee's decided to join the family diner and ruined it.

But even those didnt last because his fight with you ended with the two of your crying in each other's arms promising to never have a fight this big again, because the day Donghyuck cried so bitterly that it shook the entire house Taeyong, Mark and Jeno rushed in and it turned into a mini sleepover as they took care of the youngest who soon forgot why he was crying and promised to make sure he only laughs in the future. And the day that Mr. And Mrs. Lee ruined the family diner was the day all five of the boys snuck out to eat marshmallows and chocolate in the park. The initial idea was to make smores but none of them knew how to make a fire and they were all out of crackers.

Those were just a few happy moments with many more to come like the day he asked you out, or the day he and his brothers went camping together, or the day Donghyuck smiled a smile so pure as his eyes shone with genuine happiness or the day Jeno started to think for himself and made friends who were a good influence on him. And the day Mark started dating someone. (Ten genuinely thought by how quite the boy was he would have to force him to talk to people let alone date someone), the day he got his father's company back and the day he proposed to you on the banks of the Han river, under the stars with his family and closest friends there to witness the moment.

"Why are you smiling so big?" your voice interrupted his thoughts and his smiled widened even more at the sight of you. "Did you fart?" You asked him and he chuckled grabbing onto your arm and and pulling you down to sit on his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Nothing I'm just happy"

"Ten Lee I swear to god if you're on drugs then I want a divorce even before I marry you" you scolded playfully and Ten chuckled, "My only drug is you baby" he cooed and you gaged "Eww gross get a room" you said and he deadpanned.

"You're weird you know that y/n?" He asked with a small chuckle.

"Clearly you knew what you were getting into" You smiled, teeth on full display with how wide your grin was.

"Obviously"

"Oh by the way, I handled your little mishap at work today and got a few things you were supposed to do tomorrow scheduled for later and the rest got done today so your free tomorrow the entire day" you said and he smiled at you looking at you so lovingly. He doesn't remember that one moment he realised he was in love with you, maybe there wasn't just one lightbulb moment where her realised he loved you. Maybe he always knew or maybe he gradually figured it out. But that didn't matter all that matters is that he loves you and you love him.

"Ahh what would I do without you?" he asked snuggling into your neck and you chuckled, "Let's never have an answer to that question okay" you said and he nodded, you were right. You were there through evey step of the way after his life turned upside down and he's sure as hell he doesn't want to find out what it would be like without you so Ten grinned placing a small peck on you neck, "I'm gonna take you on the best date of your entire life tomorrow"

"Desperate much?"

"Y/n I'm literally engaged to you!"

~~~

Lee brother's- A mini series

Previous Part: Lee Mark

Next Part: Lee Donghyuck

[pixiegrl]

and one more because I'm an emo Lashton lady "please don't leave me alone" 💜💜

Well, I couldn’t get bar fight out of my head, and you also asked for “I would love for you to write a pre-barfight piece with either the original fight or the time where Luke was alone without Ashton.” So...here it is. The angst of the breakup.

on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29267046

It all comes crashing down on a Tuesday. Tuesday is date night. It’s been a long standing tradition for Luke and Ashton since they started dating about a year ago. It’s not that they don’t spend time together the other days of the week, since they’re always over at each other’s houses for band reasons or boyfriend reasons, but they always make it a point to go out on Tuesday. They get dressed up and they go out to dinner and they have a good time. 

Well, Luke has a good time. He likes going out with Ashton, holding his hand, stealing kisses in between bites of food. Luke’s favorite thing is telling their waiter that “this is my boyfriend, we’re on a date,” and smiling when the waiter says something sweet back. Ashton however, seems to tense up as soon as they’re in public. He’s fine when they’re at home, stealing kisses from Luke, and he’s fine in the car, holding Luke’s hand over the center console. He’s even fine in the restaurants they go to, makes a point of going to the smaller ones where they’re less likely to be recognized. Luke gets it. He doesn’t want random fans interrupting their dates, doesn’t want to be harassed during private times. However, as soon as Luke says we’re on a date, Ashton clams up. His smile looks fake and he looks stiff. He thaws out eventually, holding Luke’s hand under the table and sharing bites of his food, but there’s always that initial hesitation. Luke was hoping after 12 months, Ashton would get better, but clearly, he hasn’t.

Tonight is worse. They’re going to a slightly more popular restaurant, something that they keep getting rave reviews about. Michael had gushed about the place when he took Crystal on a date last month and Calum had said something similar last week after a date with his girlfriend. Even though Luke and Ashton typically avoid those kinds of places, for fear of being recognized, the reviews had swayed them. Besides, Luke has reasoned, it’s a Tuesday night. What could happen on a Tuesday night?

When they get to the restaurant, it’s crowded. Not in the way it would be if it was a weekend, but enough that Ashton drops Luke’s hand and puts space between them. Luke’s heart drops at that. They’ve been holding hands since Ashton picked Luke up from his house, greeted him at the door with a kiss. Now, Ashton barely looks in Luke’s direction as he talks to the hostess, like he’s worried that if they so much as acknowledge each other, a neon sign proclaiming that they’re together will go off.

The hostess leads them back to the table and they sit across from each other. Luke thinks it’s silly when people on dates sit next to each other and he’s said so many times. Luke reaches across the table, reaching out a hand for Ashton. Ashton takes it, interlocking their fingers and squeezing. The waiter comes up, asks what they want to order, eyebrows raised when she seems to recognize them. Ashton drops Luke’s hand, straightening up, and placing his order. Luke’s heart drops. It’s fucking date night and it’s been weird since they walked in and he was hoping sitting down would make it better, but it didn’t and now he’s not even going to get anything from his boyfriend because Ashton’s worried about being in public.

It’s been an ongoing argument since the first month they dated. Anything Luke tries to broach the topic, hesitantly brings up the idea about coming out, telling the world outside of their family and the band that they’re dating, Ashton shuts him down. It’s an old, played out explanation that Ashton’s worried about their image, about what people will think, about the insults and the names and what the industry will think of them. Luke’s tired of it. He’s tired of feeling like a secret, like Ashton’s ashamed of him, of them, of his own sexuality. Usually Luke can brush it off during a date but for some reason, he can’t shake it tonight, watching how stiff Ashton is during their meal, half listening to Luke’s jokes. It’s only once they’re out of the restaurant that Ashton eases up, taking Luke’s hand again, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Luke relaxes, eases into the touch, fond.

Then, they run into some fans on the street. It takes them both by surprise, the girls coming up to them, gushing about the band, asking for a photo. Luke doesn’t mind, always happy to interact with people who love their music. Ashton agrees, smile stiff and body language hesitant, like he’s worried they saw the kiss, them holding hands, like they’re going to run and tell the world that Luke Hemmings and Ashton Irwin were making out in the middle of the street. It leaves a sour taste in Luke’s mouth, puts a cloud on the rest of their date, that follows them all the way to the car and back to Luke’s house. The drive is filled with stiff silence, awkward tension. They’re walking on a tightrope, neither of them wanting to be the first to break it, snap the rope and bring it all up.

They’ve barely made it through the door to Luke’s place, shut it behind them before Luke finally opens his mouth and breaks the silence.

“Ashton, do you not want to keep dating?”

“What gave you that idea?” Ashton says, pausing in his movement to hang up his coat, looking over at Luke. Luke twists his ring around his finger, shrugging as Ashton finishes, turning fully to face Luke.

“It’s just...it’s been a year. We’ve been together for a year and you still don’t want to come out. Which, I respect and I understand that it’s your decision, but I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling like a dirty secret, like a skeleton in your closet.”

“That’s not what I think of this relationship.”

“It doesn’t feel like that. Tonight was date night and you spent the whole time putting as much space between the two of us as you could.”

“I like my privacy Luke, you know that.”

“And I like my privacy too, but there’s a fine line between privacy and literally hiding the fact that you’re bisexual and that we’re dating,” Luke says. He’s trying to keep his voice level, hoping that Ashton will understand what it is that Luke’s saying, what it is that he’s asking of Ashton.

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to say that it’s been a year. It’s been a year and we’re happy and I want to be able to tell the world that. We don’t have to post every little thing about our personal lives, but fuck Ash, I want to be able to hold your hand in public and not have you flinch away.”

“I love you Luke, but I don’t know that I want to come out,” Ashton says, hesitant and slow. Luke’s heart stops.

“What?”

“I don’t want to come out. I don’t want the whole world to suddenly start judging us based on that. I don’t want people to look at our music and the only thing they can talk about is how we’re dating. I don’t want that to influence how often our music is played on the radio, or who listens to our music. I want to keep the two things separate.”

“What the fuck?” Luke asks, shock and anger bleeding into this tone.

“We’ve talked about this before.”

“No we haven’t. You’ve mentioned wanting to be private, but you’ve never hinted at the fact you just don’t want to come out. That you’d rather keep us a secret forever than let our relationship taint the music.”

“You’re twisting my words,” Ashton says, voice rising, hands clenched at his sides.

“If you don’t want to be out, why don’t we just break up then?”

“Luke, that’s not what I want, you know that’s not what I want.”

“How can I know? You won’t even talk to me. You just keep saying how you don’t want to come out, don’t want anyone to know about us. Like you’re ashamed of us. I want to plan a future with you and you won’t even hold my hand in public,” Luke’s shaking now, can barely hold on. If Ashton won’t talk to him, he just wants him to go.

“Luke, please. It’s not about being ashamed of you at all. I just...I don’t want to have our sexuality or our relationship cloud people’s judgement of our music. I don’t want it to be the only thing people think about when they see us.” 

“Ashton, I want to talk about a future with you without you constantly second guessing us.” 

Ashton pauses, glancing away from Luke. Luke feels cold, ice in his veins. Ashton’s silence is deafening, Luke’s heart sinking.

“Ashton, you do think about a future for us?” 

“I just...we’re so young Luke. I don’t want to give you promises and words that might not be true in the future. I don’t want to hang everything on where we are at 25.” 

“But you’ll hang everything on starting a band at 16. You’ll hang everything on that. You’ll tell me to my face that you don’t think we can last when we’ve known each other for 10 years.” 

“We’ve only been dating for a year. I don’t want to lock you into something so soon.” 

“You mean, you don’t wanna fuck up the band by coming out and dumping me later,” Luke says, tone clipped.

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it,” Ashton snaps back, brows furrowed and anger bleeding into his tone. 

“No I don’t Ashton! You’re suddenly telling me all this shit about how you don’t think we’re going to last or have a future together. What’s the fucking point of us dating if you know you’re going to break up with me in the future?” Luke snaps. He can’t believe he’s thought about a future with Ashton only to hear that Ashton doesn’t think they’re long-term enough.  

“I’m not having this fucking conversation with you right now. You’re being unreasonable.” 

“I don’t think I’m being unreasonable by asking you to be open about your sexuality and us. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable by asking if you want a future. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable by asking my boyfriend to stop acting like he’s ashamed of me.” 

“Well, you’re being pretty fucking rude and I’m not talking with you right now.”

“Then go! If you don’t give a shit, if you don’t want to try, then just fucking go!” Luke screams. He’s blinded by rage, flare in his chest at the idea that Ashton doesn’t even want to listen to him, doesn’t even want to try. 

Luke’s words hang in the air, the implication in them clear. Luke’s just about declared a break-up without saying the words. There’s a beat, where Luke and Ashton stare at each other, surprise mirrored on their faces. 

“Is that what you really want?” Ashton asks, hard edge in his voice, face stony.

No. “Yes. If you won’t listen to me, to anything I have to say, then I don’t see how this relationship can keep going,” Luke says. He’s shaking, begging for Ashton to prove him wrong, for Ashton to stop for a moment and just talk to him. The words hang in the air, the finality of the statement. 

There’s a moment where Luke thinks maybe Ashton will be the reasonable one, that he’ll call Luke out on his attitude and how he’s acting and say they’ll talk about it later, that he’ll come over and kiss Luke because you can’t go to bed angry, and everything will be fine. Instead, Ashton nods, face unreadable. Luke’s heart drops. 

“Right then. Guess I’ll just...head home,” Ashton says. Ashton turns around, heading towards the door. Luke stays rooted to his spot, hands shaking. He’s scared that if he moves, his legs will give out and he’ll fall to the floor. The idea that a year of dating, a lifetime of friendship, is ending right here as Ashton grabs his jacket off the hook, gets his hand on the doorknob.

“Please don’t leave me alone,” Luke whispers, sorrow opening up in his chest, empty broken feeling. Hoping that maybe if Ashton will hear him this one last time, he’ll stay. Ashton stills, hand on the doorknob and Luke thinks for a moment that maybe, maybe Ashton will turn around, apologize, that it was all a misunderstanding and they can be together, that Ashton won’t leave Luke. Instead Ashton turns the knob. 

“I’ll be back to get my things,” he mumbles, words distant and broken as he walks out the door, shuts it behind him. Luke collapses, shaking with tears and the overwhelming idea of what’s just happened. He wraps his arms around himself, sobbing, begging for Ashton to come back through the door and say he’s sorry and pull Luke into a hug, for Luke to get up the courage to call him, apologize, beg him to come back. 

Neither of those happen. Luke’s left alone, on the floor of his living room, crying salty wet tears until his body is wrung dry and he can’t do much more than sniffle, broken and alone, trapped in misery of his own making. 

***

Luke wakes up, jolted awake by yet another nightmare. He reaches out, chest tight, breath shallow, trying to grasp for Ashton. 

The bed is empty next to him. Luke groans, rolling over, mouth wrapped around the syllables of Ashton’s name before his head catches up with the rest of him, heart stopping when he realizes that Ashton isn’t there. Ashton’s not there and he won’t be ever again because they’ve broken up. It’s been four days and they’re not together anymore. 

Luke collapses onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The room is basking in the light glow from the moonlight. Luke doesn’t dare touch his phone or look at his clock, knows that if he does it will relieve that it’s far too early for him to be awake. 

It keeps happening. Luke can’t sleep anymore. The bed is too empty, vast and barren without Ashton. Luke can’t fall asleep without Ashton pressed behind him it seems. Luke hates that he’s grown so accustomed to Ashton’s presence that it’s interrupted his ability to do something as basic as sleeping. He just can’t fucking sleep. He keeps closing his eyes or laying on his back, exhausted, but unable to actually shut his body off. Everything is too big, too loud. Things he never noticed before, like the sound of the air kicking on or how bright the nightlight in the bathroom is, keep him up. The shittiest thing is that even once he falls asleep, he’s jolted awake by some form of a nightmare. It slips through his fingers as soon as he wakes up, unable to place the panic in his veins and the pounding of his heart. All it’s doing is cutting down on his already short sleep cycle. He barely sleeps through the night and what little he can nap during the day is usually interrupted by the simple fact that he’s awakened by something else. 

So Luke’s barely sleeping and he’s barely doing anything else. He hasn’t left his house in four days, probably hasn’t showered in at least two, and he can’t place when he last ate. Luke hates how apparent it’s become that he needs Ashton to do basic human things. Without Ashton to remind him of time passing or routines or meal times, Luke finds that he’s losing track of what he needs to do. Dinner is less appealing when there’s no one to make it with, to share it with. Showers don’t matter when you have no one to see. Sleep apparently is pointless without another body there with him. Luke hasn’t had nightmares like this since he was 16. Now they’ve overwhelmed even his most basic body function. It’s the first time in a long time Luke’s been truly alone. 

Luke rolls over again onto his side, curling up into a ball and squeezing his eyes shut. Whether he’s trying to will himself to sleep or stop the tears from coming, Luke’s not sure. Luke can’t believe how much he’s cried in the last few days. He certainly isn’t drinking enough water for how many tears his body seems to be making. Everytime Luke thinks he’s finally done crying, a new wave of tears overtakes him. Luke’s miserable, missing Ashton, and made even more miserable by the fact that it’s his own fault. If he hadn’t started the stupid fight, told Ashton to leave, he wouldn’t be having this problem right now. If Luke could just work up the courage to call Ashton, to apologize for what he said, beg Ashton to come back, he wouldn’t be having this problem. But Luke is stupid and stubborn and he doesn’t want to admit to anyone that he’s having this problem. Not Michael or Calum or his mum or god forbid, have Ashton find out. Luke doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s a stupid 24 year old who can’t survive without his fucking boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend his brain supplies, sending Luke into a fresh spiral of tears, burying his face into the pillow as he sobs.

Luke hears noise at his bedroom door, looking up to see Petunia wandering, snuffling her way around the room. Luke holds a hand out to her, cooing until she makes me way over. Luke knows she misses Ashton, confused by the missing body that’s usually in their space, complaining about getting in his way, while also feeding her snacks. Sometimes, Luke thinks Petunia likes Ashton more than him. 

Petunia comes to the edge of the bed, putting her paws up on the bed and sticking her nose in Luke’s face, sniffing. Luke sits up, picking her up and getting her onto the bed with him. She pats at the bed, trying to smooth down the covers into a position that she likes before settling in. Luke curls himself around her, burning his face into her fur, trying to muffle his own tears.

“Please don’t leave me alone,” he whispers into Petunia’s fur. She snuffles, unaware of what’s going on around her, how much her owner’s life has been altered. Luke knows it’s silly, asking his dog to not leave him, but he’s hoping maybe if he says it enough, that maybe he’ll stop missing him. That maybe the hole in his heart will repair itself and he can stop being so broken. Maybe everything will be alright (Or maybe, the voice in his head says, that maybe if he says it enough, Ashton will come back. Maybe Ashton will come back and he won’t be so alone). Either way, Luke thinks as his body gives up and he drifts to sleep, it’s late night, empty promises to himself that everything will be different in the morning.

[happymetalgirl]

Pissgrave - Posthumous Humiliation

In 2015, Philadelphia’s Pissgrave took the death metal underground by storm through the sheer filth and vile gore of their debut LP, Suicide Euphoria, whose cover alone (which consisted of a realistic photograph of human bones, feces and other liquefied remains either rotting or being dissolved in a bathtub) caught even the most seasoned death metal fans off guard, and the band’s new album’s cover photograph is somehow even more visceral. While I always include the cover art to albums I discuss, and I have included the cover to this album as well, I have chosen to move it to the bottom of this post because it is especially realistic (it is a photograph, after all) so as to not traumatize those who might be traumatized by the sight of real life gore. Chances are, if you’re into death meal and you’re reading about Pissgrave, though, you’re pretty numb to blood and guts and the gore here is probably just another of hundreds, if not thousands of abominable album covers you’ve seen. But you never know. Regardless, I did want to spend some time talking about the artwork associated with this album because it does kind of necessitate a discussion about its use of gore and real human suffering.

I don’t know exactly how the band or their management came into possession of the photograph gracing the cover of this new album, but regardless of how ethically the band obtained it, using it as an album cover came with some responsibility that I’m not quite sure was upheld as well as it could have been. While the modus operandi of death metal has largely been to revel in violence and gore in a campy or perhaps profound manner, this album cover only seems to serve to outdo the edginess of other death metal covers and that of the band’s debut. Being that this is not the usual fictional depiction of death and suffering of most death metal covers, but rather an actual depiction of the aftermath of a real life ended violently in some manner, it comes off as tasteless and indeed disrespectful to whoever this person was and the people connected to him. Yes, it sure does help the album live up to its title because it’s putting this person’s death and their mutilated body on display for entertainment. Sure, it perhaps beckons pondering of the way we view death and shy away from its gritty details and how we see certain deaths as unnatural, but aside from the song titles and the flowery album descriptions associated with it, the band and their management do nothing but revel in how bold of a move the use if the cover is. There are no lyrics to explain what the band are trying to accomplish with the album cover, so with only the titles and the album’s descriptions, there’s nothing really making this album cover anything more artistically than what it is literally, a mutilated, dead face. I do think that it’s possible that if the photograph was obtained ethically that there could indeed have been some justifiable artistic premise for its use as the cover, but Pissgrave seem content to leave it at simply “celebration of pure torment and misery”, which is essentially just death metal syntactical white noise without anything else to supplement it to give it more profound meaning (ironic given the name of the label releasing this). In other words, the band don’t really do anything with it, it’s just trying to be shocking, and again, in this genre, it really isn’t even all that shocking, just try-hard. Yes, in death metal exuding brutality and comfortability with the darkness of death is a big part of establishing credibility within it, but that doesn't mean that every artistic move for brutality's sake is justified. It wasn't excusable when Mayhem did it with Dead's suicide for Dawn of the Black Hearts in 1995, and it's not beyond reproach for Pissgrave and Posthumous Humiliation now. And criticizing it is part of keeping the genre's artistic boundaries within a healthy margin of the boundaries of ethics, so as to minimize and avoid as much as possible the types of atrocities that made early 2nd wave Norwegian black metal scene so deservedly notoriously condemned (yes, a lot of those main figures were very fucked in the head and even if they produced some great art, the means and the lives they lived to do so were not always justified). I'm not trying to say this is on the level of activity that Varg's murder of Euronymous or even the entire NSBM scene is; I'm just trying to say that even though death metal strives to push artistic boundaries and use gore for art, there are still boundaries worth respecting because it is still an art. If anything, perhaps the silver lining of the tactless use of this photograph is a reminder to those involved in making dark art to be tactful with the use of sensitive material such as this. Anyway, with that out of the way, on to the music of this album, because I sure do enjoy it.

Posthumous Humiliation is hardly any different from its predecessor stylistically; it's a chaotic, storm of gratuitous drum fills, blast beats, atop downward spiraling tremolo guitar work akin to that of Portal's Ion, and harsh growled vocals sounding as though they're coming through a pillow or a static-y air control radio. The description the band/label give the album is indeed accurate; it's a deep indulgence in all of the sonic depravity that death metal is built on and continues to build on. However, from the moment I heard the first single and opening track, the furiously ripping “Euthanasia”, I knew it was going to be an at least somewhat more accomplished album musically. The dizzying lead guitar work, tinged with black metal tritone dissonance, was a lot more vibrant and confident, much less hurried than what was on Suicide Euphoria, as well as being more prominent and less buried beneath the barrage of sound the rhythm section drums up.

While it's possible to go into the nitty gritty details of the appeal of each song on here, this is the kind of album whose entire sonic style is either too ridiculously gross, guttural, or incomprehensible to be your style, or it's exactly the spice you need among all the polished death metal in your listening rotation.

There is variety to be found amid the merciless madness of Posthumous Humiliation, faster and slower aspects of the instrumentation to juxtapose each other amid the dense, debris-filled winds of the album's ethos as a whole, and indeed plenty of time during which everything is being fired at full power at full speed. While initial listens will definitely hide a lot of the nuance this album does have and make most of the album come off as one big sickening death metal mess, closer, repeated listens show what each of the individual songs do have to offer that the others don't and what justifies their separation into different tracks as opposed to being lumped into a homogeneous single 43-minute piece.

The second song, "Canticles of Ripping Flesh", is a faster, more straightforward death metal tune with a lot of early Cannibal Corpse influence behind it that the band works rather well with, and the songs "Into the Deceased" and "Posthumous Humiliation" take faster, old-school death amd thrash metal approaches and twist them through warped modern sadism and black metal nihilism with the wall of sound the band conjures. Meanwhile songs like "Emaciated" and album's third, "Funeral Inversion", show some of the band's versatility as the latter rides lower drum tempos (albeit supplemented by plenty of double-bass) over slightly down-tuned guitars in a more subtly menacing manner, which the subsequent, ominous "Catacombs of Putrid Chambers" expands on with it s ride cymbal-driven and classic-thrash-chugger-inspired palm-muted groove of its attack.

The closing track, “Rusted Wind”, with its less-supplemented, slowed down guitar lead outro is a bit underwhelming, but it doesn’t completely undo the stormy, gory vibe the album builds up beforehand. Overall, though, Posthumous Humiliation is the satisfyingly disgusting follow-up Suicide Euphoria deserved. It's not by any means a tremendous leap in quality that accomplishes much of anything new for Pissgrave, but it's a good way foe the band to prove that Suicide Euphoria was neither a fluke, nor a flash in the pan, and that their creative well is still flowing with indulgent death metal depravity. While the underuse of the cover photograph does shed some blemish on the artistic motive of this album, I am willing to give the band the benefit of the doubt that it was just a miscalculated move to up their aesthetic that stepped outside the bounds of tastefulness (and hopefully not good ethics) by accident.

Mezmerizingly gross/10

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Close your eyes for a second as you’re scrolling past this if realistic gore doesn’t sit well with you.

.

.

.

.

.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.