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ylkcheeeks · 11 months

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So I want to write this down now because I feel like this is going to be one of the anecdotes that I use to explain what I love about theater of the mind role playing.

So this is in the Matt World (it’s short for matter) setting, which was originally a one shot but we had a great time so now it’s a chill ongoing game.

Things to know are that this setting has more of an Adventure Time vibe than a LotR vibe, with Living Puopet as PC option, muppety kenku, evil spirits that need a cookie body- that sorta thing; my character is Relic, a mechanical cat bard- since he is more of an automata than puppet he’s a reskinned warforged- who of course I picked the Tocken for. He’s a lil clockwork guy! I wasn’t sure what it was exactly, from the description:

Tocken: A hanging set of carved oval bells, usually played with a pair of light wooden hammers (or open handed). They are most common in underground cultures, where the resonant tones can carry.

I tried looking it up, figuring it might be either an older instrument I just hadn’t heard of, like the shawm, or a more common instrument with a fanciful rename like

Yarting: A southern instrument from Amn and Calimshan that is a Faerûnian analog to the guitar. Numerous variations have spread across the continent.

And when I searched there clearly wasn’t a real instrument called a Tocken, so my brain retained “wood + mallets + real instrument” and I was like, ah, it’s a marimba but invented by Germanic analogue gnomes or something.

You know! Or like that worthikids short.

Just like, a little desktop size one because he’s a lil guy.

But this past couple of sessions have seen him nominated as the favorite of Princess Pastria (of the eleven Kingdom of Keeb) for the battle of the bards, which is a pretty big thumb on the scale because she/the king also announced that she will be stepping up as queen soon as she has come of age and he wants to retire, and by the way the grand prize is court bard, a job Relic was lowkey offered and he turned down. (He IS a cat.) So, you know, we got small problems commander. Theres a bunch of other intrigue going on and character growth- really good stuff- but we leave the end of the “prep for the show” session with Relic on stage about to play his first song. It is the first performance of the second day after he was allowed to skip the qualifying round as the favorite, it is the crack of dawn, there is a massive audience, most of whom clearly have been up all night enjoying the party vibe. Half the party didn’t even come back before he had to leave, so it’s just The Magnificent Mister Midnight, our rabbit wizard, backing him up in the wings.

And that’s where we wrapped so we could start the next session with my GM’s system for how audience hype will be impacted/measured. I realize something I missed on the downtime day was buying a second instrument, so asked him if I could retcon that, that’s cool, great.

So I am thinking that it should be something which would compliment the Tocken or make sense he would also play that, and I thought, I should see if I can find anything more about it, it probably is based on something I don’t know AND has a silly name. I also decide his second instrument is a hurdy-gurdy which for some reason isn’t a core instrument? Anyhow they are wrong and my clockwork boy will hurdy his gurdy if he wants to.

So I of course reread the description and realize this can’t be based on a marimba. First I look to see if someone else has already been like “this is basically a…” and while I do find other people asking what the heck a tocken is, and a few gorgeous fan created solutions, no dice on an absolute answer.

Special shout-out to this brilliant solution- it turns into a javelin!

I set about meticulously looking through Wikipedia’s incredible cataloguing of percussion instruments. I am learning about SE Asian percussion ensembles which are very cool and all sorts of marimba-adjacent instruments, it’s great. But none of it is even close to a hanging set of carved oval bells, until. I find it.

There is one melodic percussion instrument based on wooden open-ended bells, which are played on a rack. It actually seems like it is truly the only one of its kind; going down the list there are classification numbers for each instrument similar to the Arne-Thompson system for folktales, and nothing is under the same subdivision as this magnificent thing.

So I tell my GM that I have had my own instrument all wrong and what I think it was based on- it’s not an exact match- and he replies

GM: THATS WHAT YOUVE BEEN PLAYING??!?!?

GM: XXXX I HAVE BEEN PICTURING A DRUM

YC: I was picturing, like, a marimba??? (…)

GM: I am also realizing in this moment that, for the past 7 sessions of DnD, when you have said marimba I have been picturing a steelpan

And I want you all to picture that too now because that is even better than a mini marimba. Little clockwork cat busting out the tunes on one of these.

Honestly I love that image.

Anyhow we clowned on it for a bit longer and at the beginning of the next session as we moved from catch up chat into actual playing, I asked the other players what they had been picturing, because I had apparently been wrong this whole time about my instrument (I’m just going to identify them by their characters here for efficiency & privacy both). I had read off the description back in session zero and said that I thought it was like a marimba but otherwise it has mostly been “okay so Relic starts playing faster” not so much interactions which would remind anyone of the tocken’s form.

Our intrepid kenku investigative reporter rogue was also picturing a marimba… and also had thought the word “marimba” meant steel pan drum. Specifically, he pictured a couple of them on a harness like in marching band, which I love even more.

Mash those together mentally, basically.

The wizard, both most scholarly in-character and the one party member who isn’t USAmerican, was picturing a xylophone and submitted this photo to explain he meant specifically a toy xylophone.

And finally our sock puppet Paladin of The Hand Below, who is not so much with the wisdom, had been picturing basically a shamisen but with a diamond-shaped body.

And if you’re someone who doesn’t know me yet read this far, I hope you also have your own mental image and tell me about it.

The instrument I have actually been playing this whole time is a skrabalai.

Original photo by Wikipedia user Imodab, filter effect added by me because it looks cool. Call it faerie fire.

As far as I can tell the tree stump mount isn’t required per se but it is both traditional and preferable.

youtube

It’s so much better than I had been imagining! Immediate retcon that this- or a travel size rack- has been the thing this whole time.

Relic as we left him at the end of last session, apparently.

We have had all these serious stakes because of Relic’s performances- he has a +10 afterall- including getting the crown-princess’ attention, for good or ill. And all this time people have been getting down not just to a little clockwork cat, but to a little clockwork cat who hauls out a birch stump, sets up what looks like a washing board with the middle replaced with dowels, carefully takes a series of carved wooden bells out of their pouch and arranged them carefully on this rack. Then he takes out little mallets and begins to play them. And you couldn’t get that wonderful juxtaposition if there had been a visual all along, so again I say, three cheers for the theater of the mind.

Also I am now interested in what people are doing with the skrabalai in modern music, but that’s a question to dig into another day.dnd

#dnd story #storytime #dnd bard #tocken bard #catfolk #tocken instrument #multimedia extravaganza #so much homebrew #yolkcheeks talks #long post #my art #Relic the Mechanical Cat #Relic is a they/he but more he lately #Matt World #skrabalai music #skrabalai #dnd

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1337wtfomgbbq · 1 year

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Liebe auf Distanz and the bondage fic? 😇 (I'm predictable.)

Well, after the movie I watched last night left me totally devastated and before I get onto my true crime shit again (and get even more devastated) I'ma talk about something that brings me joy.

Lemme put it under a cut so it doesn't clutter up yall's feed.

The bondage fic is... pretty much exactly what the title says. It's about Jan and Bjarne trying bondage but it turns out that Jan is totally NOT fine with it. But because he is so eager to please Bjarne and has a hard time saying no he refuses to say No and Bjarne is left realizing they are making a huge mistake.

I'm still trying to figure out if it should be a short one shot or if I should allow myself to let this fic grow. That would involve stuff like Bjarne talking to the other guys to figure out if Jan had a bad experience with bondage or if he just generally doesn't like it. Before finally realizing that they can make it work, they just have to put Bjarne into bondage🤷

They don't talk that evening but Bjarne knows very well that they'll have to. The fact that Jan didn't want to tell him No, that he didn't tell him he didn't actually want this just because he didn't want to disappoint him is deeply concerning to Bjarne.

He looks down at the mop of reddish-blond hair that's being illuminated by the light of the TV. Jan had kept tossing and turning for about half an hour. Seemingly unable to decide if he wanted to be close to Bjarne or scoot away from him.

Finally Bjarne had asked, "want me to turn on the TV?" He hadn't sounded accusing or disappointed or anything, and if he did he didn't mean to, still Jan had flinched at his words, before nodding his head. So Bjarne had gotten up to turn on the TV. He had chosen a random channel, some nature documentary, and then he had returned to bed. When he lied back down he had given Jan a wide berth, a chance for his own space should he need it, without having to ask for it.

'Liebe auf Distanz', I have to laugh when thinking about this, but it was actually meant to be finished shortly after Jan and Paul went to California and met up with Lance after Christmas 2022. That's how long this has been postponed cause live has been living me.

Anyhow, this fic is basically just fluffy porn between two old rivals that are actually kinda sorta married. Ngl, I really like playing with Paul's character in this one because he seems like the type of guy that knows full well what's going on between Jan and Lance, even going so far as saying that it makes no sense to get Lance his own room because he'll just end up with Jan anyways, so why even bother. I also liked playing around with Jan and Lance's dynamic. Getting some of the more assured side of Jan out in the bedroom (just the way you liked it in the Tuscany porn fest).

A chuckle, maybe a snicker, and Lance looks up at his Jan. “Well,” he says, raising a brow at Lance. “Eins, zwei oder drei?” he asks, voice sounding strangely sing-songy; almost as if he is singing a song.

Jan tilts his head, cups Lance's cheek with one of his hands. His eyes have lost a bit of their intensity, the pupils aren't blown as wide anymore, and Lance can finally see the hazel color of the irises again.

“Drei,” Lance finally manages to get out. He still sounds so fucking wrecked. Jan smiles at him. His smile has lost a bit of it's edge too. He uses the hand that's still cupping Lance's cheek to pull him in close, and back into a kiss.

“Do you want to prep me?” he asks, whispers it right against Lance's lips. “Or should I?” For a moment all Lance can really do is pant against Jan's lips, and try to keep himself from rutting down against the leg Jan has somehow wedged in between his legs. When did his Jan become this confident during sex?

“I...” Lance stammers, swallowing thickly to try and get his tongue working. “I'll do it.” Jan nods, grins, then leans up to whisper something into his ear. “Right back pocket in my Jeans.” Lance's hips stutter to a halt and he stares down at Jan; Jan smirking back up at him.

#I'm sorry #I couldn't help but include big BIG chunks of the fics #feels like such a long time since i worked on those WIPs #especially Liebe auf Distanz I would really like to finish #I also feel like that one has the biggest shot of getting finished first #if only mr brain and I could focus our attention on it #*laugh cries *#junky writing #junky writes #If yall wanna ask #yes I'm being very self- and mia-indulgent in those fics #personal #ullrichstrong #ullriis

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frankbedbroken · 2 years

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stuff i've listened to recently, volume 1

it's been almost a full month since i've properly sat my frank ass down and listened to any full length music projects, stuff for university has been kicking my ass in that regard, so i want to try and keep myself consistently listening to new stuff weekly or biweekly by writing some stuff here. this first instance is mostly gonna be me catching up with music from this year that i wanted to listen to but couldn't get to beforehand, but in the future there's probably gonna be some stuff from my infinite backlog which will bring some more variation in terms of release date and all that. this type of post is gonna be extremely long and a chore to read, so beware.

kfc murder chicks - kfcmc (2022) industrial metal digital hardcore, industrial hip hop

this name will probably ring a bell if you remember that whole "erratas" arg thing back in like 2019, whole thing was essentially a marketing scheme for dj rozwell and this project of his, not unlike how iamamiwhoami got big back in the early 2010s, although with a bit more emphasis on internet culture and mythos, as expected from the aesthetics that the group's going for; i should probably look the whole thing up again, it's been a while since i've looked into it and i'm only going through surface level memories and all that. anyhow, kfcmc appears to be their second lp, after a string of several eps in 2021 and another one this year, and this is also my first proper encounter with a kfc murder chicks project, as my only prior experience beforehand was two loose tracks (operator and rage), and i kind of was expecting the sound from those two songs: very distorted and aggressive hip hop beats with offkilter sampling and an underlying rock and metal influence, think techno animal by way of alec empire from atari teenage riot. while there's a couple of tracks here that veer towards that sort of sound and they're very solid on their own right, namely in the second half (soylent and nuclear age are the clearest examples of this), most of this definitely hones in heavily on the metal aspects, which i'll admit it's a whole musical paradigm i'm not super knowledgeable on aside from a couple of projects here and there, but this is an approach to metal and rock that i definitely do enjoy. heavy on the guitar riffs but also very heavy on distortion and aggression, with a lot of electronic elements that i'm more accostumed to and that work very well with the industrial sound that's constituent to this album (it's worth mentioning that this is obviously not a thing unique to this album, us and them by godflesh and the rise of nightmares by the blood of heroes also take this approach and i've ended up really enjoying those projects as well, perhaps that's the lane i should go with if i want to get more into metal); several moments here stand out as very interesting to me in that regard: the glitched out drum breaks on the opener dune, the pounding midtempo bass rhythm straight out of a gesaffelstein or rezz tune and the synth breakdown with the preset from t99's anasthasia (one of my favourite old school synth sounds) in halo, and id with incredibly violent, hard hitting drum snares that you would hear in a limewax track. also there's a track called my ballz. type i love my ballz in the chat if you love your ballz. it's a short project, running at not quite half an hour with nine tracks though that's probably helpful to its replayability and all that, but yeah, pretty solid stuff, need to get onto checking some of their previous material, but i'd definitely reccommend this if you're into machine girl at their heaviest sounding, or if the blend of metal, hip hop and electronic as a whole sounds interesting to you.

favourite tracks: halo, id (feat. sam shadow), soylent

bleep bloop - frame (2022) hybrid trap deconstructed club

bleep bloop, alongside other artists like noer the boy and little snake, have this way of really pushing the envelope when it comes to production in the realm of edm trap and us dubstep (some call this blend slimepunk, others lump them together into the umbrella of "bass music", both terrible categorizations i feel but then again it's a style that is certainly hard to pin down to one specific name), being able to create very singular sounds and textures and rejecting the more conventional structures of that scene, while still maintaining that hard hitting edge. i'll admit i haven't delved much into bleep bloop's back catalog either, but i did listen to the ep he dropped back in 2021 called revenge, which features two tracks i liked quite a lot: wrapped in flame, a facemelting banger of a track with piercing synth stabs and an absolutely crushing bass drop, and do it on the dancefloor, which is a track that embraces the more aggressive and industrial side of hip hop in the vocal performance and general aesthetic, and also features really heavy production work with some sections taking cues from halftime dnb and others from digital hardcore, coming together into a track that manages to be very out there in terms of songwriting but also very hooky and catchy in my opinion. there's a lot of things being thrown in the melting pot that bleep bloop is cooking in (omg like the funny thanos picture wow), and this is also seen in this project here. very glitchy and offkilter song structures and sounds, a diverse array of influences from very different places (according to the bandcamp page, the opening track, coyote howl, takes inspiration from mike patton's fantômas project in its vocal style, while also namedropping tom waits and fiona apple as general points of reference for the vocals in general; also worth mentioning is the track i never told you my name which has a very rough and heavy reggaeton beat, not unlike some tracks off another life by amnesia scanner, alongside these macabre, whisper-like vocals in its buildup) and just a general devil-may-care attitude in regards to creating music. while this is all well and good, and certainly speaks to bleep bloop's skills as a producer, i wasn't quite as compelled as i would've liked. sure, there's definitely moments that were quite attention grabbing, the opening track is impressive as it leads from this ritualistic vocal delivery in the buildup (i would say there's some sort influence of metal, but i wouldn't be able to tell you what type exactly) to this absolutely massive and pounding beat drop, and poison sweetroll is the closest this comes to sounding bright and cheerful, think of iglooghost's sound but turned slightly awry, it works very well. that said, there's also some parts i didn't latch onto as much and didnt quite work that well for me, while the vocal approach works great in coyote howl, i don't think i never told you my name fares as well for me, it's got a very interesting beat, i'm a sucker for industrial reggaeton, but i'm not too fond of the vocal style unfortunately. it's for sure an interesting listen as a whole, anything with this sort of production is bound to turn some heads in one way or another, but i'm left feeling like i could've liked this a bit more. might grow on me with relistens, we'll have to see.

favourite tracks: coyote howl, poison sweetroll, hammer and serpent

piri & tommy - froge.mp3 (2022) liquid drum and bass uk garage, alternative r&b

when talking about the recent wave of pop/r&b/soul artists incorporating elements of drum and bass and breakbeat to their music, i feel like there's three key artists that are worth mentioning: first off is obviously pinkpantheress, who catapulted the sound to the mainstream by flipping the ever classic circles by adam f into a longing r&b juggernaut with silky smooth vocals that have become a trademark of hers as she grows exponentially more popular overtime; second is nia archives, whose sound reaches far more towards the underground as she majorly takes cues from jungle and has more influences of soul than other artists in the scene, creating a niche that satisfies those with a knack for vocally lead jungle and atmospheric drum and bass, while still keeping a lot of the traditional sounds and styles from said genres; and third is vocalist and producer duo piri & tommy, whose main appeal has been taking in the more mellow, polished and laidback sounds of liquid drum and bass with a bright and cheery pop vocal delivery that pretty much seems designed to be the sound of the summer. as such, this whole mixtape pretty much functions with this modus operandi in mind, delivering a fair amount of solid liquid tracks, but also a couple of 2-step/uk garage crossovers here and there. the most apparent highs are definitely the singles, there's a reason why both soft spot and beachin got as big as they did, they're just impeccably written songs (aside from that one line in beachin about how she "got him bussin, he makin some mayo", didnt need to hear that one) with insanely catchy hooks and melodies; other stand outs that come to mind are can we with drum programming and sounds that wouldn't be out of place in a late 90's moving shadow track, and also the opener silver lining with a more slowed down and meditative breakbeat approach. the ukg tracks are also pretty solid, player 2 is pretty remarkable with its influences of french house in that filtered synth melody and also the only track where tommy villiers brings his own vocals to the table. it's generally a very enjoyable project all around but i can't help but feel that it doesn't quite reach the highs it set up with the singles throughout the course of the album; part of this i think has to do with the production, it feels somewhat anonymous in the sense that for the most part the instrumentals aren't super memorable, they could use with some more different synths or drum samples here and there that don't make them feel like they're subordinate to the vocals. i'm aware that tommy is at least familiar with some of the more modern developments in dnb and jungle, shouting out people like t>i or sherelle in some of his mixes, so this could all be easily remedied in future developments from the duo. there's a lot of potential for greatness, and they've already been able to make some very impressive and memorable songs, so it's all a matter of seeing how they progress from here and what else can they bring to the table. it's solid, overall.

favourite tracks: beachin, silver lining, soft spot

pongo - sakidila (2022) kuduro afrobeats, kizomba

got this one through a recommendation on twitter, mostly piqued my interest because i was already familiar with one song from hers, quem manda no mic from 2019, which is an energetic and lively tune led by an incessant saxophone melody that immediately brings up urban nightlife to mind, paired against an insanely catchy and inviting vocal performance from pongo herself, and also i had seen a short clip of her performing alongside buraka som sistema in a boiler room set and it was absolutely hype, so i figured this was worth a shot. to understand the foundations this album is built upon, one has to have a slight familiarity with the current sounds and scenes of african electronic music, specifically angola, the country pongo was born in: kuduro, the main genre represented in this album, has origins tracing back to the 1990s, going through several transformations and variations in terms of sound and subject matter until its eventual spread to europe and the usa in the late 2000s, thanks to acts like the aforementioned buraka som sistema from portugal; also worth mentioning is kizomba, a genre that stems from semba (a form of non-electronic, guitar led dance music from angola) but with slower rhythms and a mostly romantic subject matter and aesthetic, in a certain way similar to the different developments of samba (which would make sense considering both genres share the same origin) and axé in brazil. kuduro and kizomba have seen several developments and offshoots in recent years, the latter one especially as it has veered into a more electronic sound and has spawned different subgenres, with the portuguese label príncipe discos serving as the epicenter for said developments. outside of angola we have the recent surge of amapiano, a subgenre of house that combines piano melodies that you would typically hear in deep house with rhythmic influences from gqom, a south african electronic offshoot with stripped back yet hard hitting production and percussion, and we also need to mention the worldwide phenomenon that has been dancehall and its derivates in the last few decades, specifically the afrobeats sound pushed by nigerian artists like wizkid and rema in the last couple of years that has been influencing several artists in the western mainstream.

this is, evidently, just scratching the surface of a whole cultural paradigm, although it might seem a bit of an excessive explanation all of a sudden, but i feel like it's at least necessary to know the basics of all these different musical styles, because they are all represented in this album in several ways. the album kicks off with more laidback afrobeats and kizomba grooves in tracks like doudou and hey linda serving as the foundation for a melodic, softer performance from pongo, in comparison to the heavier, more energetic kuduro of songs like amaduro and wegue wegue (a rework of her 2008 track with buraka som sistema of the same name) in the second half of the record; in the midst of this duality, you get some sunkissed amapiano in the form of só amor and an almost reggaetón beat with some influences of tarraxinha (a slow-tempo offshoot of kizomba) in the track pica. the modus operandi through this album seems to focus in on several different musical styles being interwoven by pongo's vocal performance, making for a consistent project that showcases the cutting edge of african electronic music and pop/r&b in a significantly enticing manner. that being said, i'm gonna admit i came into this with the wrong mindset probably, i was sort of expecting something a lot more hard-hitting and energetic, so i was a bit taken aback by the laidback, chilled out sound of the first half of the record. don't get me wrong, the tracks themselves are definitely very solid, só amor especially with its inviting amapiano grooves and a sentimental and comforting vocal performance from pongo, it's just not what i was picturing in mind considering the small snippets of her that i was familiar with. she ends up delivering stuff along those lines anyhow, with the four-track run at the end being particularly of note, with very energetic production and vocal delivery, as well as the only two vocal features on the album from titica and mosty, who hold their own very well in their respective verses. it's an overall solid experience, functioning as a sort of "state of affairs" for the african musical scene with its versatility in sound but also as a proper introduction to an artist brimming with talent and ambition and a sign of bright things to come in her future, developing and forming her sound in a myriad of possible ways. as of right now, still, it's a very well rounded, worthwhile project.

favourite tracks: wegue wegue, só amor, goolo (feat. mosty)

#im frank #music #stuff i've listened to recently #im not a particularly good writer you might've been able to tell by now lol #feel free to recommend stuff on asks!

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mccoys-killer-queen · 5 years

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Here it is- this week’s playlist (1/31)

My attempt at a so called “radio show” where I recommend 10 songs to everyone. Take it or leave it, I’ll still do this either way lmao.

This week I gotta start off with some of my more obvious picks. There’s gonna be a lot of feel-good songs, as this is my first time doing this, and wanna start off strong. Plus, most of my all time favorites are feel-good songs.

Links to the songs are provided!

1.) I Don’t Want To Lose You- REO Speedwagon (1988) Okay, let’s get these guys out of the way first. As you all probably know by now, I’m the biggest sucker for REO on the planet, and I do believe I know I am the entirety of their fandom on this website. Some of the first music I ever remember hearing was by these guys, and even though you’re all probably sick of me talking about them, give this quick song a try to start things off. It’s super strong, and it BOPS- PERIOD. Today I had to pick up my sister and had this blasted the whole way there. This one is the leading song off of REO’s 1988 greatest hits album, and was made/included as a bonus track for it..

2.) Rockin’ Into the Night- 38 Special (1979) I feel like this list would be incomplete without including the first song I can recall ever listening to. My mother would normally drive me and my sisters to wherever she went when I was a toddler, and she’d always play her CDs in the car. One in particular that was circulated a lot was her 20th Century Masters: 38 Special disc. It was played so often that little me in the car seat behind her had it glued to the inside of my brain so early in life. I can’t say why I remember this song in particular as the “first one ever”, but I probably think it’s because of the over enunciated and consistent line of stressed syllables in the chorus. That ROCK-IN-IN-TO-THE-NIGHT just sounded like pure gibberish to a 3 year old. I guess it fascinated me somehow.

3.) Roll Away the Stone- Mott the Hoople (1973)

So far on this list, I’ve only included songs from my distant past. This song, I’ve only gotten into within the past two years (and that goes for Mott in general), so to me, it’s still a song from my very recent present. This is by far my favorite Mott song, cos it’s just so joyful, hopeful and fun (not to mention it has a nice, bright, mellow, catchy 70s vibe. Kind of half-hippie, if you will). That opening riff is undeniable. I feel like you guys will like this song apart from the others on this list- it gives off some energy that I feel will fit a lot of people I know on here. This song is definitely the odd man out on this week’s list.

4.) Sad Songs (Say So Much)- Elton John (1984) Ah, Elton. How do you pick only one song by him? I only picked this one because it was probably the only good thing that came out of my first job. I worked at a department store, and heard the same 50 songs EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. I’d never heard of this when I started working there, but in due time, it was just about the only thing I had to look forward to every day in that job besides going home. It’s a real 80′s-sounding anthem about “suffering enough to write it down” in which he and Bernie really capture the universal feeling of shoveling sad songs into your ongoing dumpster fire of sadness.

5.) Shakin’- Eddie Money (1982)

I was deeply hurt by this wonderful man’s passing in September of 2019, and still find it hard to believe. I grew up on some of Eddie’s hits and hardly ever knew it until very recent years, and, like many, I wish he had more time with us. It’s songs like this one that act like a cage and trap the memory of any wonderful time, making Eddie still very much alive. This song was definitely my summer anthem of last year, and I feel like upon listening to it, y’all will suddenly feel like it’s a hot summer evening, you’re in love, and you’re heading out for a good drive. Eddie’s music lets the good times roll, indeed.

6.) My Kinda Lover- Billy Squier (1981) I know my followers really like The Dirt, and I watched it again this week, so I had to include one of the few non-Crue songs from the movie. This song was used when Vince is singing at the pool party, and the Crue guys meet him. This is one of those songs where when I willingly listened to it for the first time, I went “wait, that’s THIS song??” Of course I’ve heard this before, but I never knew the name of it, or who it was by. It’s such a swinging, confident, bold, happy song about sticking with your lover because you just can’t see yourself doing anything else. Fucking adorable, and catchy as all fuck. Probably in my top 3 out of everything on this list. Someone on this site recently said that Billy Squier deserves more love on here- and I AGREE.

7.) Urgent- Foreigner (1981) This song doesn’t just bop, or bang, but it grooves. That sax just hits you in the best spot, the bass is just uGh- so good, and I can’t stop myself from busting a move at least a little bit whenever this comes on. Yes, this song is very horny, but it does it so so poetically, maturely, and it does it in all seriousness. This seriousness, I feel, is partly because it’s about a relationship between two people that is purely for the passion, but both parties believe that their lust for each other is always of the utmost urgency. What a topic for a song! Great song about a bad relationship.

8.) Photograph- Def Leppard (1983) Duh. Of course Leppard was gonna come in here sooner or later. And I know, I’m starting off with a cliche Leppard song, but this one also just so happens to be my second most favorite song of all time. A fast-paced, tragic anthem of being in love with a photograph because the real person is either dead or not real. Maybe it hits a little too close to home, being in the classic rock fandom and all, but you can’t deny that this song just SLAMS in every way imaginable. Booming guitars, earth-shattering drums, tragic lyrics, and every time Joe screams in this, I just fall in love even more. Not to mention the backing vocals are to DIE for.

9.) Hammer to Fall- Queen (1984) Also duh. You want a song that gives off Queen’s Big Dick Energy? Here ya go. I personally never heard of this song until I saw Bohemian Rhapsody in theaters, but boy, am I glad I did. This is one of those Queen songs where you can clearly say “boy, this ROCKS”. Definitely one of Queen’s more mature songs, but in the best of ways. They just scream it flat out for you, “What the hell we fighting for?!” For me, Roger’s drums are the best part of this one. Hits a huge crowd through lyrics as well as the huge rock and roll energy it gives off. Truly a Live Aid-worthy song.

10.) Only the Young- Journey (1985) I’m ending this list with this song because it really gets my excitement up a lot. Every time that intro hits me, I just feel like sprinting up a fucking mountain, across a huge bridge, or through a wide open space. This one really makes me feel like I’m running to something that I’m really excited about, or heading on an exciting adventure. It gives off that 80s energy of having more power to the youth of the generation, talking about how they’re a “generation waiting for dawn”, even after the “golden age” that preceded them that they’re expected to live up to. They’re also called brave because they have to live through the promises and lies that they “dare to tell”. In a time with so much hate towards the younger generations, I think it’s important to remember an empowering song like this. Get that excitement up, take pride in your young generation- “the bold and the strong”- and go sprint up a fucking mountain. This one’s also the first track off Journey’s 1988 greatest hits album.

Even if you take the time to listen to one of these songs, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed!

#half of these songs are pretty short anyhow #reo speedwagon #38 special #mott the hoople #elton john #eddie money #billy squier #foreigner #def leppard #queen #journey #classic rock #weekly playlists #raydio gaga

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inexplicifics · 2 years

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We've seen Aubry angry and happy and as a caretaker and as a lover, do you think you'd ever write Witchering Aubry? I'm so used to thinking of him as a huge hug-shaped friend I forget he's lethal too 😂

Oooh. Hm.

Aubry doesn't get to go out on the Path very often these days - Jaskier gets into enough trouble to keep him busy, anyhow - but Gweld and Serrit have promised to keep an eye on Aubry's brother, and it is good to stretch his legs once in a while.

He and Ivo and Hauk and a fresh-faced Manticore just out of training named Lew have been sent to investigate reports of some sort of monster plaguing a small village in Kovir; it would be a bit of a slog without portals, but as it is, Yennefer plops them down half a day's walk outside the village in question, and Aubry barely has time to get used to being somewhere other than Kaer Morhen before they reach the village gates. Which are firmly barred.

"Hoy there!" Hauk calls. "Want to open up, or should we hop over?"

Cranes. Aubry exchanges a look with Ivo, who sighs.

A tiny hatch in the gate opens just a crack, and then whoever is on the other side makes a squeaking sound and yells, "Open the gates! The Witchers are here! We are saved!"

Twenty years and more since Ard Carraigh, and Aubry still hasn't gotten used to being considered a savior rather than a threat just barely less terrible than the monsters he hunts. It's nice, though. Very nice indeed.

The gates swing open, and they are ushered hastily in and led to the alderman's house by a growing crowd of clearly fearful villagers - fearful of the monsters plaguing them, not the Witchers. Aubry spots one mother holding up her small child and saying, "Look, darling, Witchers! Here to protect us! See their pretty eyes?"

Aubry's blaming that on Jaskier. Nobody ever called Witcher eyes pretty before Aubry's brilliant little brother started writing songs.

The alderman, thank the gods, is a sensible sort of person, and lays out the problem clearly enough that Aubry and Ivo and Hauk all start nodding along. Aubry turns to young Lew.

"What do you think this is, lad?"

Lew swallows. He's a short, slender lad, with a glorious poof of tightly-curled hair, and his eyes show brightly against his very dark skin. This is his first year on the Path. "It sounds like a nest of graveirs, sir," he says, "but something doesn't fit."

"Good," Aubry says, nodding approval. "Take out everything which is obviously a graveir. What is left?"

Lew furrows his brow, thinking hard. "It - could be a grave hag, sir? But I didn't know they ever formed groups with graveirs."

"It's rare," Ivo rumbles. "Fuckin' nasty, before the Wolf. Good way to die badly." He shrugs. "How do we prepare, lad?"

"Necrophage oil on our silver swords," Lew says promptly. "And - ah - I think you and Aubry should be the front line, sir, with Hauk and myself as backup?"

Aubry nods and claps the lad gently on the shoulder. "Correct," he confirms. Graveirs are big enough that Aubry and Ivo's bulk will matter.

Lew looks delighted. Hauk grins at the alderman. "Point us at your cemetery, then."

The cemetery is larger than Aubry would have expected for such a small village, but then, Kovir did attempt to invade Caingorn not too many years ago. If there were soldier-conscripts from this village, and their bodies were sent home...yeah, that could lure some graveirs, especially if some of the graves weren't well dug.

They oil their swords, and Aubry and Ivo each down potions for strength and stamina, while Hauk and Lew go for speed. And then there's nothing for it but to stomp out into the cemetery, swords and Quens at the ready.

There are four graveirs and a grave hag. Fuck, if the alderman hadn't been smart enough to order the gates barred and call for help, there might not have been a village left to save.

But Ivo is a solid presence at Aubry's shoulder, and Hauk and Lew spread out on either side of them, ready to dart in and take advantage of any vulnerabilities Aubry and Ivo can create, and Aubry was made for this, as his companions were - made and trained and forged.

He wades into battle with an odd feeling of deep satisfaction: he is doing something he is good at, in order to save people who will, for a change, actually appreciate being saved.

It's a nasty, messy fight: Ivo gets knocked off his feet at one point, and only Hauk's speed with an Aard buys him the time to get back up; Aubry gets bitten high on one arm, and can feel the poison warring with his own natural resistance. But Lew gets a very good blow in, severing the grave hag's horrid tongue, and Hauk darts in and out with his blade flashing and flings Aards and Yrdens in at perfectly timed moments to stun or slow their enemies, and Aubry himself takes down three of the graveirs, separating snarling heads from hideous bodies with swift, vicious blows of his sword. Ivo takes out the other graveir, and then it's all four of them against the grave hag, and she goes down in short order. They let Lew have the killing blow.

They patch each other up, Lew dispensing Golden Orioles and White Honeys as Hauk tsks over the gash on Aubry's arm, and burn the necrophages' bodies, and then Hauk and Lew do a loop to make sure there aren't any more lurking threats, and they all head back to the village to let the alderman know they can open the gates again.

The village throws a feast, which is unexpected but pleasant. Aubry ends up with a very small child on his lap, gumming at its fist and watching him with enormous eyes, while Lew boast cheerfully to an audience of young men and women about his own age, and Hauk trounces the blacksmith in Gwent, and Ivo goes off with a buxom young lass with a distinct glint in her eye and a familiar rich undertone to her scent.

It's...good. Very good. As Aubry never thought the Path could be.

#questions answered #snippet #accidental warlord au #aubry

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somethingpoetichere · 3 years

Text

lovebug- caliban imagine

sup. fic inspired by my favorite song in THE world. not as soft mushy as it may sound I promise caliban is a nice lil sarcastic SHIT with a big ole crush. mild sabrina bashing but its funny in context and I think it’s the way family behaves. reader is a Spellman, not a witch but DOES know about the supernatural/is part of the supernatural world. here with my once in a blue moon post lol. feedback would be appreciated!

called her for the first time yesterday

finally found the missing part of me

felt so close but you were far away

left me without anything to say

Caliban was not an idiot- he knew not to underestimate the Spellman half-witch that had gone and declared herself queen of hell. So he’d taken the liberty of learning everything he could about her, noting her habits and schedule and the people she surrounded herself with.

And then he found you.

You weren’t a witch- at least, he hadn’t found your name in his diligent searching through the Book of the Beast- but you were something. That he was sure of. There was something slightly off about your presence, tinged a little glittery, though not altogether unpleasant.

No, not unpleasant at all, he mused as he watched you make your way towards your car. Tucked into a little yellow sundress, you stood out like a ray of sunshine in the wave of doom-and-gloom that hallmarked high school. The school bell rang out behind you, and Caliban felt his knees go disgustingly weak as you smiled brilliantly at Sabrina through the crowd.

It was a stupid, stupid decision that Caliban would never have made in the right state of mind, but he reasoned that pissing off Sabrina was validation enough to get your attention. He ducked into your path on purpose, taking advantage of your momentary distraction as he gently bumped into you. oops.

You collided with a solid wall, books tumbling out of your hands as strong arms reached out to steady you. You let out a surprised yelp at the collision, peeking up curiously as the wall you’d hit laughed.

Oh, well that was a sight for sore eyes.

The golden haired stranger holding you was, well, gorgeous. Bright blue eyes peered down at you as he grinned, and you felt the whole world shutter around you. You’d definitely been watching too many soap operas with your auntie, but goddamn it if you weren't positively putty.

“Hi there, stranger.” You giggled nervously, and Caliban suddenly remembered he’d had his arms around you for far too long to be acceptable. He reluctantly retreated, feeling something claw a little uncomfortably in his chest.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He apologized, moving to pick up your books as you bent down to retrieve them. He ran a hand through his hair in barely concealed bashfulness, unsure of why he felt so... unsettled, all of a sudden.

“It’s alright, my head was in the clouds.” You waved off his apology, accepting the books he offered you with a grateful smile. “Are you new here? I don’t think we’ve met.”

“He’s new here!” Sabrina’s shrill voice interrupted, training her icy glare on Caliban, who fought back a smirk. “This is Caliban- he’s from... Australia! Yeah, down under!”

“Oh, I can show you around tomorrow! I know how scary it can be to be new here.” You patted his arm sympathetically, ignoring Sabrina’s stream of indignant protests. “I was with student council all day. If you’re a senior, we probably have most of the same classes.”

Caliban had shit to do. Caliban had trials to plan and souls to torture. But you were looking at him- all warmth and sunshine, and Sabrina’s look of pure horror only sweetened the deal.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow then, sunshine.”

so worth it.

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again

Caliban didn't understand why the mortals all bemoaned high school as hell on earth. It certainly wasn't so bad once you got past the wave of body spray and the questionable cafeteria food. In fact, darting to class with a pretty girl beside him was pretty enjoyable, all things considered.

You’d spent the day introducing him to the other students, passing him silly notes in class, and had even tugged him from the lunch room to hang out with your friends in the library. He learned that you pretty much did it all- student council, cheerleader, top of your class- all while managing to somehow know the name of everyone you passed with a smile in the halls. You were silly and sweet— smart as all hell with a wit that certainly kept the clay prince on his toes.

and he was smitten.

The groan that escaped your painted lips was delightfully sinful as you slumped in the seat beside him in english class. “I hate Romeo and Juliet. How do two people fall in love in a few days anyhow? And Mrs. Willows always makes us reenact the scenes, and it’s so corny.” The blush that colored your cheeks as he looked at you in concern was something he did his best to commit to memory- cheesiness be damned, Caliban was enjoying himself far too much.

Caliban smirked, skimming through the booklet he’d been passed as the teacher droned. The prince of hell had a certain flare for the dramatics, and Sabrina’s glare burning into the back of his head only fueled his antics. He had one scene in mind, and it was the scene that was certain to kill four birds with one stone- totally make you fall in love with him, he would somehow manage to kiss you (that part was a work in progress), piss off Sabrina, and also- piss off Sabrina.

And kiss you. So maybe five parts. Damn it, Caliban was going to have to make a list.

“Partners?” He whispered softly, gently tugging at your hand as the teacher sat back down. Caliban’s eyes were alight with a tinge of mischief that you either failed to notice or were simply amused by- and your answering nod was more than a little bashful. “We can do my favorite scene.”

“If you say the first kiss scene, I’m punching the daylights out of you.” You warned, playfully nudging his knee with your own. “It will be unkind and I will not feel bad.”

“My lady wounds me.” He dramatically rested his hand above his heart. “And we absolutely have to do this scene-” He raised his hand to silence your half-hearted protests- “because Billy told the guys in calculus that he was specifically going to be pissed if we did this scene.”

Okay, so maybe he’d stretched the truth a little bit. But Caliban knew that the mention of your seedy ex-boyfriend (who you’d enlightened him about during lunch) would absolutely get you to agree to the scene. And it wasn't like he’d lied— Billy Marlin’s glare was nearly as icy as Sabrina’s. And, it wasn't like the way Billy looked at you- with something akin to possession in his eyes- totally made Caliban want to fast track the kid to damnation right then and there. Nope.

“We can meet up later today to practice? I have cheerleading practice after school, but I’m free after that!” You grinned at him, and he felt the tension ease out of his shoulders as you rested your hand on his arm. The gesture was so effortless- but to Caliban, who’d never really experienced connection like this- you reduced him to all but clay again.

“I can drive you home after practice?” Caliban offered, enjoying the yelp that Sabrina let out from the back of the classroom. He shouldered your bag as the bell sounded, noting the way your eyes softened even further at the gesture. “We don't really have cheerleaders down under, you know.”

“You’re welcome to stay and watch.” You shrugged, ignoring the way your heart thudded erratically as he walked you to the locker room. “It won’t be too long today, and Sabrina has a date with Nick after, anyways.”

it was really just too easy.

i can't get your smile out of my mind

i think about your eyes all the time

you're beautiful but you don't even try

(you don't even, don't even try)

modesty is just so hard to find

Caliban wasn’t sure if he regretted his earlier offer. Sure, the sight of you tucked into the tight cheerleading uniform (did they make them that short on purpose?) was pretty much the pinnacle of male fantasy, and the smiles and winks you’d thrown his way whenever he caught your eye during your routines were something else altogether.

But getting the sight out of his brain as you rambled aimlessly in the car about today’s chapters of Dante’s Inferno, while he simultaneously tried to focus on the road and definitely not the way your skirt hitched on the leather seat...

Yeah, Caliban was pretty sure he was in love.

You weren’t too far off, in all honesty. Caliban’s large hands had a firm grip on the steering wheel, and you took the time to admire further up his toned arms as he drove. His hair fell in loose, windswept waves, and his side profile looked like it was sculpted by the freaking gods. Every so often he would glance your way, his perfect lips parting to reveal his perfect teeth and perfect smile and gods-

Yeah, you had the lovebug bad.

“So how did you meet Sabrina?” You questioned innocently enough, and Caliban had to restrain the urge to spill all of the hell-related gossip to you. How Sabrina had managed to keep all of her throne-seeking from you was beyond him, but it certainly added a thrill to his pursuit of you.

“I had some administrative issues the other day and ran into her. She doesn’t like me too much, I’ve gathered.” Caliban was careful not to lie- his entanglement with you had the added perk of pissing off your dearest cousin, but it was genuine on Caliban’s end. He found he didn’t really want to lie about things.

“Sabrina is... touchy.” You offered carefully, shifting in your seat as you pointed out directions to your home. “I don’t really understand why she doesn't like you, to be honest. I was actually going to have a word with her about being nice- you’ve been so sweet, and I was the new kid too a few years back. It's hard to find your place in the established dynamic of a small town.”

Caliban doubted you’d had too much of an issue, with the way the halls seemed to light up around you, but the accompanying smile you gave him was bright enough to soothe his imagined woes. “It’s alright, I reckon she’ll get used to having me around.”

“Used to you?” You mused with a giggle, leaning on the console in a gesture that brought your face much, much closer to his own. He was overwhelmed with your floral scent- something soft and summery and altogether you.

“I plan on being around you a lot, sunshine. If you don’t mind.” He grinned, turning to face you momentarily at the stop sign. Your eyes were wide with hardly concealed surprise at his words, and he watched the realization of the close proximity of his face flicker through them.

It happened so fast that Caliban was almost certain he imagined it- but your eyes had definitely glanced at his lips. The blush that tinged your cheeks as you pulled back confirmed it, and in a moment of calculated risk, Caliban moved to rest his hand on your exposed thigh.

“No, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

If Caliban squinted, he could almost picture that he was a normal teenage boy, driving a beautiful, normal girl home from school. The sinking sun was peeking through the windows, bathing you in an ethereal glow, and - at least for right now- everything was perfect.

you were perfect.

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again

Caliban draped himself across your bed, a languid smirk on his lips as you kicked haphazardly placed piles of clothes into your closet.

“I promise I’m not usually this messy,” you apologized with a sheepish smile, shoving a mass of shoes under your bed, “okay, that's a lie. I’m always this messy, I just didn’t expect company.”

Caliban hardly minded. It was adorable how embarrassed you were, and he took the time to take in your bedroom (drawn from his reverie only by the occasional delighted shout when you found a shirt you’d thought had been sacrificed to the laundry gods, or worse, Sabrina’s room).

The first thing Caliban noticed was the books. While your clothes lay in scattered piles, all of your books were meticulously organized and lovingly tucked into shelves that took up an entire wall of the room. Sabrina may have answered that Caliban’s only hobby was torturing babies (or her, which was the same thing, really— and also, what the hell? Caliban may have enjoyed the occasional soul flaying, but only when it was well deserved!)— but Caliban loved to read.

What was one lifetime in one world, when he could learn of a thousand others in just as many universes? Immortality could grow dull, and eternity had to be spent somehow. Caliban tried not to smile as you precariously placed the book that had found its way onto your nightstand back into its place, and supposed that it might be far more enjoyable with someone else.

You seemed satisfied with your damage control, and slumped onto the bed dramatically with a groan. It was then that Caliban’s hand found a stray victim of your clothing massacre.

“Nice.” He grinned, and you peeked up from your playbook to find him dangling a pink lace bra.

Shit.

“Give me that!” You lunged, but Caliban was too fast. He quickly moved them from your reach, laughing wildly as you wrestled him desperately for the bra.

“You are the worst.” A groan escaped you, and you huffed in fake-defeat as Caliban smirked victoriously at your retreat. You leaped at the chance, tackling Caliban with all your might. While momentarily surprised, he reacted quickly and shifted so that he was now pinning you to the bed, his hair dangling wildly in your face as you both laughed.

Caliban’s face was so close that you could see the flecks of green in his eyes. For a moment, his eyes seemed to flicker to your lips, but in the seconds it took for you to find your voice again, you’d lost your nerve.

“We should get back to the scene.”

The moment was broken, and Caliban retreated with a bashful look on his face. He ran a hand through his hair and moved to sit across from you, his cheeks tinted a little red as he politely handed you back your intimates and pretended to shield his eyes when you tossed it somewhere. You’d never been so freaking embarrassed in your life, but Caliban was smiling so softly at you, like you were—

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” He motioned around with his hands dramatically, tone playful and light.

You were so dead. Caliban was freaking made for this romantic swooning nonsense that you’d tried to protest nearly the whole ride home, Billy Marlin be damned.

Giggling nervously in what you hoped seemed scene-appropriate, you tried your best to forget being a horny teenager to instead play a horny teenager. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”

Caliban’s voice lowered, a smile still tugging at his lips as he took your hands in his own. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

“Ay, pilgrim.” Your own voice softened in turn as Caliban began to trace mindless patterns on the backs of your hands with his thumbs, “lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” Caliban’s eyes were soft, and you imagined that Shakespeare had pictured the man in front of you when putting the words to paper. The words fell so naturally from his lips and he seemed engrossed in the scene— he was, for lack of a better word, enchanting.

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.” Your voice was hardly more than a breathless whisper, the proximity of your faces and the intimacy (however imagined) stealing the air from your lungs.

Caliban paused, his eyes meeting yours intently as if searching for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it as he took your face in both of his hands.

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”

It was all too much. You could hardly be blamed for kissing him as fiercely as you did.

It was like fireworks, like every cheesy romance novel and play (cough, Romeo and Juliet) claimed it would be. You’d had plenty of kisses before, but never one that melted your brain like this. You forgot all about the scene, about how not real this was supposed to be as your hands tangled in his windswept hair and he pulled you onto his lap.

It was Caliban who first pulled away, only just so that your noses were touching. He was breathing heavily, eyes blown wide— and you felt your whole face turn red as reality consumed you again. “I am so sorry, I’ll just—”

“Where do you think you’re going, Juliet?” Caliban’s hands firmly gripped your hips, preventing you from moving away. His fingers thumbed the band of your skirt, and his next words were a whisper against your lips.

“Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”

kissed her for the first time yesterday

everything i wished that it would be

suddenly i forgot how to speak

hopeless, breathless, baby can't you see?

Caliban was in love. He’d spent the next three weeks with you reciting Romeo and Juliet, sharing shakes at Dr. Cerberus, and tugging you into empty classroom and closets at every opportunity to kiss you senseless. Every moment not spent with you was at least somewhat occupied by the thought of you, and Caliban found he wasn’t the least bit upset about it.

And Sabrina was pissed.

If she’d hated him before, she positively loathed him now. It was the latest point of contention between yourself and your darling cousin, who’d you taken to threatening with various kitchen utensils and promises to tell the aunties she’d been sneaking out to make her behave. And Caliban, for his part, was perfectly polite— even though he still had every intention of taking the throne from the inexperienced witch who promised to destroy the balance of heaven and hell.

Which presented Caliban’s own latest dilemma. He was going to have to tell you eventually— and in a way that didn't make you totally hate him. He had a plan. Okay, maybe a skeletal plan. Or no plan. Yeah, Caliban was going to wing it.

After today. He just had to make it through your reenactment of Romeo and Juliet with no demonic catastrophes or maiming Blly, and then he would tell you everything.

But even that was too much to ask.

Sabrina burst through the english classroom doors, yelling in barely concealed panic that there was a BIG problem and the principal needed Caliban now.

Caliban moved to leave with an apologetic smile in your direction, which you were absolutely not having. Despite your current frustration with Sabrina, she looked downright terrified, and you were both concerned for your cousin and overwhelmed with a gut feeling that something was up.

After a few moments, you excused yourself to use the restroom.

You hauled ass to the gym, where the screaming sounded to be coming from. When you entered, you were met with the strangest sight.

The gym was filled with winged... rats? And at the center of the chaos was Sabrina and Caliban, back to back and armed with what appeared to be lacrosse sticks. Caliban’s shirt was tattered from the rats, and you took a fraction of a second to banish the completely innappropriate and untimely thoughts from your head.

“And no one thought to call me?” You shouted angrily through the swarm, snagging a baseball bat from the rack and smacking it around with reckless abandon. Caliban hooted, laughing loudly as you took your place beside them. Rats tore at your clothes, but you were more frustrated that Sabrina had called your boyfriend (or whatever he was) over you.

“Why did you get Caliban! I was right there! Is there something wrong with you? Were you dropped on the head as a child? He’s not even from here Sabrina, he has no idea what-”

“For hell’s sake, he’s not the new kid! He’s not even from Australia! He’s a stupid clay prince from hell who is trying to take my throne and raze humanity, and his stupid plague king sent these after me, and now he’s dating you!” Sabrina spat out the word dating as if it was even more disgusting than the winged vermin tearing at your clothes.

“Will someone please explain what the hell is going on here?”

You were no less frustrated when Sabrina revealed her trek to hell and the all ensuing madness she’d partaken in, but you remained calm enough to not turn the bat on her clearly empty skull.

“And you’re the clay prince of hell... challenging her throne?” You questioned with a sharp glance at Caliban, who nodded reluctantly as he swatted a rat hurtling towards you.

“Do you even have a driver’s license!” You screamed, waving your baseball bat around wildly.

“I’m a demon prince of hell made out of clay, and you’re worried about if I can legally drive?” Caliban shouted back in astonishment through the wave of shrieking rats. The lacrosse stick he’d snagged was surprisingly effective.

“I was getting to that part, thank you for reminding me!” You hissed, debating whether to smash his face in with the bat. “How about we start with how you completely lied to me, and how our whole relationship or whatever it is a lie! Were you ever going to tell me? Or was this all part of some throne grab?”

“It wasn’t a lie!” Caliban demanded hotly. “You were not a lie!”

“Really!” You whirled on him, eyes alight with anger. “Because I sure feel like one!”

The rats numbers were dwindling rapidly, and you smacked the last one heading towards you directly at Caliban’s face. It collided with a satisfying shriek, and you threw your bat down as you stormed out of the gym.

Sabrina and Caliban rushed after you, but you’d disappeared in the hall.

now i'm, yeah, oh!

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

now i'm hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again, (oh)

love bug again

You’d remained collected until you’d transported into the middle of the living room, collapsing into auntie Hilda’s arms in a puddle of tears as you told her everything. She’d muttered a stream of ancient curses about Sabrina, but beyond that merely smoothed your hair and told you that all boys were awful— especially demonic princes of hell.

“I hate him.” You glared half-heartedly into your cup of steaming peppermint tea. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid. Falling blindly in love with a stranger who had only sought you out for some elaborate game with Sabrina. Screw Caliban and his perfect hair, his perfect smile, his perfect— “I want to bash his face in.”

“No you don't, love.” Hilda smiled knowingly. “You’re angry, yes— and hurt. But you care for the boy. I’ve never seen you so happy as you’ve been these last few days. I think you ought to cool down and hear what he has to say.”

“I never want to talk to him again.” You groaned, burying your face in a pillow. “I’d rather die.”

And because the universe was truly conspiring against you, a knock sounded at the door.

“Well, best get over that quick.” Hilda warned, ignoring your stream of indignant protests as she hustled to the door.

“Caliban! Yes, do come in love. Oh, yes, we will be having a little chat later, but for now I think it’s my niece you must be speaking to.” Hilda’s cheerful voice trailed in from the foyer, and you jumped up to make a break for it.

You were halted by a familiar pair of strong arms tugging you back by the waist.

“Get off of me!” You shouted, pushing Caliban away harshly and ignoring the warmth that lingered where he’d touched you. “I want my baseball bat. Somebody get me my baseball bat! I’m going to bash your stupid pretty face in you asshole—”

“Five minutes.” Caliban pleaded desperately, “just give me a five minutes to explain, and then I’ll give you back the baseball bat to bash my face in, okay?”

You considered his offer for a moment, swallowing the sob crawling its way up your throat as you nodded reluctantly. If it made him leave faster, you’d do anything.

His shoulder sagged in barely concealed relief. “Okay. I am Caliban, Prince of Hell. I am not from Australia, clearly, and am not a transfer student. I am trying to take your cousin’s throne. She does not understand the realm of the damned— she thinks it needs to be generous, rather than a fair judgment of life. I am not her father, and I do not believe in reckless or cruel damnation. I do not wish any harm on Sabrina, and I’ve managed to keep the worst of the plague kings from her. Even if you were to reject me now, I would continue to try to protect her— you have my word.” Caliban paused as you released a breath you did not know you were holding. Your eyes finally dared to meet his, and you nodded for him to continue.

“I agreed to attend Greendale because yes, it did piss off Sabrina, but you were there.” He raised his hand to halt your protest. “You intrigued me, and I wanted to know you better. I will be fully honest that it had the added bonus of irritating your cousin, who I so delight in irritating, but my primary focus was you. You... enchanted me. I had never found myself so invested in anything before as I was in spending mundane days at high school— of all things— with you. Truthfully, it confused even me at first. And while the past you knew is false, I am real— and my feelings for you are true.”

“That is such bullshit, and you know it!” You exploded furiously, smacking his chest with untamed rage. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Who agrees to go to high school because they like a girl? Are you unhinged? Who doesn't just ask someone out if they were so interested, huh? No, you came here with your stupidly perfect little ‘oh I’m Caliban, and I’m so dreamy’ act, knowing full well that it would make me completely abandon all rationality. Well guess what, I did! I fell stupid head over heels for you, and it was all one big lie.”

Your voice broke on the last few words, anger shifting to broken sadness as you continued to pound relentlessly on his chest. “I was a lie.”

He caught your hands, holding them against his chest as he pressed you against the wall. “You weren't a lie, Spellman.”

His words were breathless whisper, his beautiful eyes pained and desperate as he gripped your hands harder. “I fell for you the moment I saw you. I enrolled in high school because you smiled at me. I learned every line of Romeo and Juliet to recite them to you. When we first met, you wondered how Romeo and Juliet could possibly fall in love after a mere few days, but I understand it now. I have never been driven so completely insane by anything or anyone like this before. The power you have over me is unmatched. I am completely and wholly yours. If you were to ask me right now to leave, to never bother you again, I would leave my heart with you and spend my eternity in endless sorrow. I would think forever of the way you smiled at me, the way you kissed me, how soft your hair felt in my hands, and how my heart raced every time you laughed. I would never forgive myself for the pain I had caused you, and you would haunt me every day, every waking moment, every dream.”

Caliban moved your hands to his lips, nearly kissing them as he pleaded to you with tears in his beautiful eyes. You were motionless, turned to stone by his heavy gaze.

“So please, don’t become my specter. If I am a stranger to you now, let me make you fall for me all over again. I would do it a thousand times, if you'd let me. I could think of no sweeter way to spend my eternity.”

When you’d thought that Shakespeare had been imagining Caliban when he wrote, you’d been wrong. There was no poetry, no book, no lyric that could possibly compare to the way he spoke to you— the way his eyes so desperately tried to convey his anguish.

You removed your hands from his, and his whole face seemed to shatter.

“You’re not a stranger,” you muttered softly, moving to take his face your hands. His face remained guarded, but he leaned instinctively into your touch. “You’re Caliban.”

When you kissed him, it was like falling in love all over again.

And you supposed you did.

“But we are having a long, long talk about everything.” You warned as you pulled back, poking his chest sharply as he nodded profusely. “And if you ever, ever lie to me again, I’ll set something worse than flying rats on you. I’ll let Sabrina have you.”

Caliban laughed wildly, picking you up and spinning you around as he kissed you over and over again in sheer relief and joy. “I love you, Spellman. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

“I just want you, clay boy.”

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fonulyn · 3 years

Note

Hello <33

I read some of your fics and loved them ❤

If it's not bothersome I'd like to ask for a prompt, but if you can't I'll understand perfectly ☺

It's about one of my headcanons between Chris and Leon, that while Chris prefers to listen to calm or acoustic music, sometimes a rock ballad, jazz and even classical music, Leon is totally the opposite and is a complete metalhead who loves deathmetal and even metalcore 😅 (by the way, he can sing with a guttural voice and Chris doesn't understand how he can sound so inhuman haha)

I was thinking about this promt since I listened "To the hellfire" by Lorna Shore (the last breakdown is so good 💗)

Once again, I love your stories 💕💕

hi there! thank you so much, i'm so glad to hear you've enjoyed the ficcage :D 💖 ah and I like the thought that Chris listens to calmer music while Leon's into metal (I am 100% projecting my own taste in music onto Leon haha :'D). I do feel they'd both listen to quite a wide range tho. also i never heard that song before, listened to it now and it's pretty cool! i admit i like my metal with cleaner vocals tbh but the melodies and the chorus are solid!

but anyhow!! here have a tiny little thing, also featuring Claire and Jill :3 (a shoutout to my brother who picked all the music for the ficlet lol)

Humming a little to himself Leon leaned against the car door, tilting his head back as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the wind on his face. It was a bright, sunny day, so hot that his thin shirt was practically glued to his skin. He wasn't the only one, not by any stretch, with four people crammed into Chris's Ford Escort that he staunchly refused to trade in for anything newer. Claire always called the car Chris' girlfriend, but Chris just shrugged it off and didn't even argue.

Not that Leon minded. He and Chris might not have been dating for more than a few months but he knew better than to feel threatened by a car, at least. Although the next time they were heading out for a road trip, he was going to suggest that they rent something with properly functioning AC and more leg room for the passengers.

Despite Chris' protests, Leon had propped his feet up on the dashboard, slouched low in his seat as he idly watched the scenery go by. Claire was sitting behind Chris, kicking his seat every time she disagreed with something he said, and their familiar bickering felt... safe. Felt normal. And this was exactly what Leon needed as his life was otherwise way too full of the undead, decidedly not normal things.

At the moment Chris and Claire were singing along to Uriah Heep's Lady in Black, and even Jill was humming a little in the backseat behind Leon. It was all so very peaceful, driving here in the middle of absolutely nowhere, watching the sun slowly start to set. They'd been on the road for hours, ever since they stopped to have lunch at a roadside diner, and another stop was definitely going to happen soon. Especially with the way Chris was starting to look a little sleepy, as he'd been driving too long.

Leon let himself be lulled half asleep by the soft notes of Miles Davis' C.T.A, only barely registering what songs were playing while he dozed. When the last notes of Pan Am Highway Blues faded into nothingness, Chris finally pulled over at a gas station that had huge signs bragging about their excellent burgers.

The burgers were excellent, admittedly, and after they'd eaten, had their bathroom breaks, and stretched their legs a little - and, sure, maybe Chris and Leon stole a few precious minutes of lazily making out while Claire and Jill were purchasing a mountain of snacks - they piled right back into the car. As late as it was, they'd agreed they'd drive through the night to get to spend more time at their actual destination.

It was chillier as the sun had gone down and Leon pulled on a hoodie, even if he chose to keep his shorts as he didn't feel like changing. As soon as he slid into the driver's seat, Chris already preemptively wrinkled his nose. "You're not going to force any more Napalm Death on me, are you?"

"Oh, don't worry," Leon hummed happily, tilting his head to see if the girls had already buckled in. Claire had an entire donut stuffed into her mouth, but she seemed to be in high spirits as she attempted a grin, anyway.

Leon turned back to Chris, even leaned in to plant a quick kiss in the corner of his mouth, before turning back towards the steering wheel and starting the car. "I've got this brand new CD and I've been dying to give it a listen..." He slipped the CD out of its case and inserted it into the player, giving Chris a sweet smile. "The album is called Exit."

"And the band is called?" Chris asked. It was clear in his expression that he was getting more than a little suspicious with the way Leon refused to show him the case. "C'mon, Leon, it's bet--"

He was cut short as someone screamed so loud it drowned out all of the sound in the car. The volume had been pumped up pretty high for Chris' smooth jazz and soft rock, so graciously Leon took it down a couple of notches. The screaming continued, the drums and ... Chris couldn't even tell apart any of the other instruments, it was all just noise to him.

Leon blinked innocently. "Rotten Sound," he answered. "The song is called Western Cancer." Then he peeled out of the parking lot, screaming at the top of his lungs along to the music.

Helpless, Chris turned to look at the backseat. The uneaten half of Claire's donut had fallen on her chest and she stared right back, utterly disbelieving. "This is worse than Death," she muttered, raising her voice over the music in hopes that Leon would hear her. "Can we please go back to Buddy Guy? ZZ Top? Even Death, c'mon!"

There was no reaction, so Chris glanced at Jill. "Help us out here."

"No," Jill answered. Nonchalantly she pushed her sunglasses up her nose, even though the sun had already gone down and there was absolutely no need for them. "Finally we get some good fucking music. Deal with it, losers."

Not even looking back, Leon reached out his hand for a high five. Jill didn't waste a second before giving him one.

With a groan, the Redfield siblings admitted defeat.

#chreon #chris redfield #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #little appearances also from #claire redfield #jill valentine #it's a ROADTRIP BABY! :'D #my fics #my chreon fics

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emf005 · 3 years

Text

Cramps

James Sirius Potter x Female! reader

Warnings: Puberty, James being the cutest thing ever, pain, couple cuss words for pizzaz(Maybe)

:readmore:

“Oi! Y/L/N!” You smiled as you saw the one and only James Sirius Potter strutting up the hallway with his band of trouble makers behind him. Most of them were his family, but a few were unrelated family members(Very Very close friends.)

“Oi! Potter!” You called back teasingly.

“Having a bad hair day today?” He smirked, looking you up and down. You rolled your eyes and touched your crappily put in braid. It may have looked like it, but you weren’t having a bad hair day. You were just crap at doing hair.

“Nope. Having a hard time coming up with insults? Am I too perfect for the James Potter to insult me?” You joked. You always took the teasing light heartedly. You listened to this song over the summer called Sarcasm. It was pretty good. But one of the lines that stood out to you were “Sticks and stones can break my bones but anything you say will only fuel my lungs”. It wasn't like you let him get to you before this, but you had only rarely hit him back with a come back. Now, you always threw one back.

“Ha! Perfect? You? Those two words shouldn’t be in a sentence together, Y/L/N.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, leaving him confused. You strode off down the hall with a swing in your hips. “Perfect is too dull of a word to describe me, Sweetheart!” You called over your shoulder with a wink. You disappeared behind the corner as you heard his friends laughing.

They knew you were light hearted about it. You were actually pretty close with a few of them. But James was competitive in everything. And for some reason he had chosen you to be his muse for picking on. You didn’t know why, nor did you actually care. You always liked a bit of banter, especially around this time of the month. And no, you weren;t a werewolf (Though you would gladly take that over having your period)

See, all periods come with their… side effects. Hormones bounce crazily off the walls and make some moody. Some get cramps. Some get both. Some break out and others(A very few minority) just have it without anything to think about. You had it worse than anyone.

Cramps. That may have been all you got, but they were so bad that walking, breathing, talking, or even moving could be impossible. You were once nearly paralyzed for a whole week and a half. You only moved to go to the bathroom. Your mom had to actually feed you. You were a very active person, you can only imagine how insane that made you.

Madame Pomfrey, your great Grandmother and god mother because that woman is a queen, always took care of you during these times and often threw things at you because you weren’t taking good enough care of yourself. You loved the woman dearly, but wow could she yell at you.

You watched James and his crew head down to the quidditch pitch for practice while you skipped down to Hagrid's. You loved to play quidditch but never wanted to play on the team. You knew you weren’t good enough for that and you would rather have just messed around with some friends.

“Hey Hagrid!” You said happily and plopped down by a pumpkin. He turned around from tending his garden and smiled at you.

“ ‘ello, Y/N. How ‘er you today?”

“Alright I guess. How about you? Any new creatures come crawling around?”

“Not yet. But I suspect they’ll show up soon.”

“Need any help?”

“You know where the tools are.” You hopped up, but not too fast because.. Well.. you know, and grabbed a pair of gloves and shoved them in your pocket in case he let you tend to the Biting thorns again. You had a knack for everything Herbology and Magical creates. You were Professor Longbottom and Hargrid’s favorite student, you knew it. I mean, you definitely were, no doubt.

About three hours later you started to get a stabbing pain in your lower stomach, losing your breath for a moment.

Shit

“Hey, Hagrid, I think I’m going to clean up before dinner. I only have a few minutes and I doubt anyone wants to be sitting next to my smelly butt.” You laughed, the stabbing getting worse.

“I’ll see ya there, Y/N! Thanks fer tha help!”

“Anytime!” You jogged away from him and a relaxing Fang so you could visit your great gran. Well, she wasn’t technically related to you. She was a close friend of your grandmother’s. They had gone to school together and been (And still were) closer than sisters. You grew up with her and she had become very over protective of you.

You waltzed into the hospital wing with a smile on your face. You were used to the stabbing pains. You had a very high pain tolerance, I mean, you had to.

“Gran!” You yelled out, not even flinching when you felt another annoying stab.

Madame Pomfrey came walking over to you with her arms crossed over her chest.

“You haven’t come to see me all week. Does this mean that you have finally come to your senses?”

“Oh, you make such a big deal out of everything. I barely have felt anything so far, and plus it's only Wednesday, perhaps I was just busy.” She gave you a knowing look. She always knew. You didn’t know how, but she always did. “Well, anyhow, I was helping Hagrid and the stabs were a bit worse than normal. Got anything that’ll just subside that?”

“I have the potion you should've been taking since the beginning of the week, young lady.”

“It's nothing major, Gran. Just something small. I don’t need the whole nine yards.” She sighed. You were the only person who she would give into.

“Fine, but don't come crying to me when you are hurting so badly that you can't move.” She was about to walk away when the doors banged open. You two looked over and saw James and his crew walking in. Madame Pomfrey sighed. “What is it now, Mr. Potter?”

“Don’t know I-”

“Fell off your broom and landed wrong while you were trying to do some wicked trick. I know. Set him on the table. I’ll be there in a-”

“I have to take a shower, Madame Pomfrey. I’ll come back later. Feel better, James! Hi guys!” You waved at them all and jogged off, ignoring your gran calling after you. Oh, yeah, another thing about you. You really didn’t like attention. You also didn’t like the fact that there was someone in more need of help than you and you were getting the help first. James needed more help than you did, you would just come back later… You thought you would.

You had planned to go back after dinner, but you didn’t. A friend asked you with help on the Divination homework. You decided to go the next day. Asked to help first years. Friday? No. Dueling club and extra studying. Before you knew it, it was Saturday and you were in so much pain. But you just kept going.

You were headed down to the quidditch pitch to watch Lysander and a few of his buddies play against Albus and Scorpius and a few of their friends. It was just a scrimmage, nothing major, but they all liked to have an audience. And since they all knew and liked you, they asked if you wanted to join. What you didn’t count on was James being there.

“Well well well. Look who we got here?” You looked over to see James, alone, walking over to you.

“Hey, James.” You said a bit weakly and short of breath.

“You alright?” You just nodded. He seemed to get more concerned. “Are you sure? You don’t look so good?” You laughed.

“Yeah well, I have my good days and my bad ones,” you joked, thinking he was teasing you again. He wasn't.

“Y/N. Stop for a second.” You did and turned to him.

“Are you sure you're alright? You look really pale and tired.”

“I’m fine. I promise.” You smiled and continued down to the pitch with him besides you. That's when the worst one you have had in a while hit you with full force, knock every ounce of wind out of you.

You collapsed and held your stomach, trying to take deep breaths like you had taught yourself to do.

“Y/N!” You felt a hand on your back and another on your arm.” What's wrong? What happened?”

“N-nothing. I’m-Ah!” You collapsed completely to your knees. The throbbing hurt so bad. It was like someone was digging a knife in you and just twirling it around.

“Obviously something. What can I do?”

“Take-take me to-to Gran. Please.”

“Gran, who's Gran?”

“Sorry. Madam Pomfrey.” He nodded and helped you up, putting an arm around you to keep you up.

“You're explaining that to me later.” You laughed, which only made it worse. “Can you walk faster? You're getting paler by the second.”

“This is… as fast… as I can… go.”

“Here,” he moved in front of you and bent down. “Get on my beck, it’ll be faster, alright?”

“James you really don’t have-”

“I want to. Come on.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and he, carefully, hoisted you up. He quickly walked to the hospital wing, being cautious as to not bump you around too much. “Madame Pomfrey!” He yelled when he banged the doors open like he always does. A dramatic entrance for a dramatic boy. You heard the oh so familiar sigh.

“What did you do this time, James?” She walked around the corner and saw you on James' back, her eyes widened in horror and she quickly moved into action. “Put her down here,” she opened up a section and he set you down carefully. She quickly ran away and started to gather stuff. James stood beside your bed and stared at you oddly.

“What?”

“What happened? You seemed fine the other day. Are you sick or-”

“I’m really fine, it's just.. Um… girl stuff?” His eyes widened in understanding (Not horror).

“OH! Oh Merlin, are you ok? What do you need, like literally anything?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“It's just cramps,” you shrugged, confused by his reactions. Normally anything under the topic of puberty or periods boys were off running. Even your own brothers.

“Not just cramps, young lady.” Your gran scolded and walked in, holding a bottle of the potion you were supposed to be taking. It really didn’t do much. And it tasted horrible. “These are getting worse as you get older.” You glanced at James.

“Ok. You don’t have to be talking about this with him here. No offence.” He just shrugged.

“You have to start taking this seriously!”

“Gran, I do! I was just busy!”

"You came in and then you left without taking it, telling me you would be back!”

“I got side tracked! And James was in more pain than I was!” Your voice was horse and it was getting harder to talk and breathe. She handed you the potion and you chugged it.

“You left because of me?” James asked. You swallowed the rest of the foul tasting liquid.

“You needed her attention. And then someone needed help on homework and it just” you coughed, making your stomach knot again. “Got out of hand.”

“Thank you for bringing her up, Mr. Potter. You can leave.”

“But-”

“She needs her rest.”

“Tell the boys I’m sorry I missed the game.” He hesitated but nodded and left. Your Gran scolded you for a few moments before she left and told you to get some sleep, which you did.

The next day your friends visited you and you ignored the pains. They weren’t as bad as yesterday’s, but they were still pretty bad.

Soon they left and that just left you sitting hour after hour. You were still awake when it was one in the morning and you heard footsteps coming towards your bed. You figured it was your gran coming to check on you so you shut your eyes and pretended to be asleep.

They set something on the table and you opened your eyes seeing James.

“James?” He was startled and jumped a bit. He looked down at you with guilt on his face.

“Sorry,” He whispered. “Did I wake you?” You sat up slowly.

“No. I’ve been up. Kind of hard to sleep.” You moved over and motioned for him to sit, which he did.

“Cause of the…”

“Cramps?”

“Yes.”

“Yep. You know, you’re a lot cooler with this stuff than a lot of boys your age are.”

“I never understood that. I mean, it's something that happens. Why do guys have to be so weird about it? Plus my little sister goes through it so…”

“That's right! Your sister’s Lily.”

“Yeah. She gets pretty bad cramps too, but not as bad as you, I think.”

“No one gets them as bad as me, which I’m grateful for.”

“So the potion doesn't really work?”

“Takes a bit of the edge off, but other than that? No.”

“I’m sorry.” You just shrugged and shifted. “Is there anything I can do to help?” You smiled.

“You’re sweet, James. But, I’m afraid not.”

“Well, I do know one thing I can do.”

“What?” He grabbed whatever he had sat on the bedside table and set it on your lap. It was a basket full of chocolates. Your eyes lit up at the sight.

“Holy Merlin! Where did you get all this?”

“I have my ways. I remember Lily said chocolate always makes her feel better so I figured it would help you too.”

“Wow. James! Thank you! Can I…”

“No. Absolutely not. I just brought it down here so that it can stare you in the face. You aren’t allowed to eat one piece of it.” You smirked at him and didn;t reach for a piece, just to see what he would do. “Oh my go, I was joking.” You laughed.

“I know I know!” You grabbed two pieces and handed one to him. He looked at it and then back up at you before taking it. You opened your piece quickly and bit into it. “Eat! Come on, you are stayen for a bit aren’t ya?”

“Why would you want me to?”

“Because you're my friend.”

“Why would you consider me that?”

“Because you helped me out a lot and you gave me food. We also talk all the time. Why? You don’t want to be friends?”

“I figured you wouldn’t want to be mine.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve bullied you countless times.”

“That was just playful banter. I've seen you bully people. You were just teasing me.” He stared down at the candy.

“But still…”

“James, listen. I want to be your friend. If you don’t want to be mine I guess that's alright, but I've always wanted to be your friend.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You seem really cool. And you are really nice. I've seen you with your siblings and your friends and have always been kinda jealous. I've never really had that," you shrugged and took another bite from your chocolate bar.

"You have all sorts of friends, though."

"Yeah but I'm kind of the replaceable friend. And then my family is a bucket load of insane. So I guess I’m sort of jealous. Like this.” you motioned to the chocolate and at him. “I have been having this happen since first year and my friends come in once to check on me unless they need help on something. I guess it's kind of childish, but-”

“No.” You looked at him, a bit shocked at his tone. “That's not childish at all! How are they your friends if you’re in pain and they don’t come to see you unless they need something?”

“James, it's not that big of a deal. I have a high pain tolerance and plus I have gran worrying over me.”

“Oh please explain that to me. You're her granddaughter?”

“Well, sort of. Great granddaughter, and honorary. Her and my grandma were as close as sisters when they went to Hogwarts and stayed that way throughout life. And when I lost my great gran and both my nans, she stepped up. Very over protective of me.” He smirked and leaned on his legs.

“I’d say. ‘Get out, Potter. I appreciate you bringing her up but I don’t want you here.” he mimicked her voice, and not too terribly. You started to laugh, making your stomach knot in protest. You groaned and fell back on your bed. “Oh! Sorry. Do you need another pillow? More blankets? Chocolate?” You smiled gratefully at him.

“No. Just gotta wait it out. Thank you though.” You smiled at him gratefully and you two talked until you fell asleep. He smiled, finding it odd how much he actually liked you. Every “conversation” he had he always enjoyed. Always enjoyed your banter in the halls and in class, but he had never actually talked to you before.

He stood up and pulled the blanket over you more so that your shoulders and arms were covered. He put the chocolate on the bedside table and brushed the wrappers off of the bed so that it wasn’t a mess when you woke up in the morning.

He then snuck out of the infirmary and back into his dorm room. James was surprised to see that his last thought before falling asleep was of you and hoping you felt better. He really hadn’t realized how much fun you were.

You weren’t in classes that day. Madame Pomfrey seemed to be punishing you and kept you in bed, bringing you meals from the great hall while you survived on James’ chocolate. You were reading over your notes when someone cleared their throat. You looked up, chocolate half in your mouth, to see James standing with a plate and his school bag.

“Hi James! Back already?” He laughed and sat down where he had sat the other day.

“You weren’t in class or the great hall. Wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“That's sweet. Thank you. I’m feeling lots better, but Gran won’t let me go to classes yet. She wants to monitor me and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He slid the plate of food and your face lit up. Sweets and meats, your favorite.

“Figured you would be hungry.”

“Starved! Yet again, thank you.”

“It's what friends do,” he said with a nod. You smiled happily. Friends. You had finally made it to friends with James Sirius Potter. “I also brought notes. In case you wanted to copy them.” He pulled his notes from his bag and handed them to you. You grabbed it and started to flip through the surprisingly clean and crisp notes. This boy took better notes than you do. That was unexpected.

“Thank you, James! I was a bit worried I was going to be overrun again.” He shrugged and stole a swipe of Mashed Potatoes off your plate. You smirked at him but didn’t say anything.

He sat and talked to you while you ate and then helped you with homework when you set your plate aside and started to work on notes.

“Here. Like this.” He moved next to you up by the head board and held your wrist, showing you the proper hand motions for DADA. You tried to focus on the correction and not your burning cheeks.

Damn hormones.

“There you go. Now try it without a helping hand.” You shoved him and laughed.

“That was terrible!” He smiled crookedly, fixing his glasses.

“Yeah, but you laughed.’ You bit your lip and shook your head.

“You, sir, are utterly ridiculous.”

“Oh, I’m sir now.” He joked, settling back by your feet. You kicked his leg lightly. “OW! OH MERLIN SHE KICKED ME! I THINK MY LEGS COMING OFF!” He fell to the ground dramatically causing you to burst out from laughter and your stomach to continue to knot up over and over, but you couldn’t stop. He was twitching dramatically on the ground like a dork.

Madam Pomfrey came over and tapped her foot agitatedly.

“This is no place for fooling around, Mr.Potter. Either stay and behave or leave.” She turned and cast you a glance before walking away. You two burst out laughing when you heard her door shut. He popped back up onto the bed.

“So, what have you been up to? I've caught you up on all you’ve missed.” You just shrugged.

“Studying. It's really all I can do. She won’t even let me stand up.”

“Well that's no fun. You haven’t even been outside?”

“Nope. Her one rule is stay in the bed. Not allowed to stand, unless it's to go to the bathroom, which has to be the one in this room.”

“Why so specific.”

“Second year I went to the restroom, on the fourth floor on the other side of the castle.” James chuckled and looked over his shoulder.

“Well, how about we make her get even more specific?”

“What did you have in mind?” He snuck over to where the wheel chairs were and rode it over. A wide grin spread across your face.

“Your carriage awaits.” You laughed and quickly hopped in. He then ran, pushing you in front of him. You two ran through the castle laughing like mad people.

“What's this?” Fred asked, a smirk on his face as he and Erinie Longbottom came out of the great hall.

“Never thought I’d see you two get along, let alone laughing.”

“Mischief is mischief.” James shrugged and stood up on the back of the wheelchair.

“Madame Pomfrey has forbidden me from walking.” You explained. “James just wanted to get me into some trouble.” Ernie looked at the wheel chair, a slow grin spreading on his face.

“Why don’t we all get into some trouble then.” He cast a spell on the wheels on the wheel chair before making three more appear. “Now, you can control it on your own and so can we.” He sat down in his and went zooming off. You, Fred, and James watched with smiles on your faces. They quickly sat into theirs and the three of you chased after Ernie. Who knew you would become such quick friends with James and that would leave you to get into a bit of mayhem with him.

You four raced down the halls but all stopped abruptly by a tapping of a foot. You all looked up to see Madame Pomfrey standing there with her arms folded across her chest. You swore under your breath.

“Madame Pomfrey!” Ernie squeaked and fell out of his chair. “Uh, we didn’t see you there?” You shook your head at the lame excuse.

“Madame Pomfrey I-”

“You, with me, now.” You sighed and rolled after her. Waving bye to the boys. They waved back and watched you go.

“So.” Fred said with a smirk on his face. “Finally come to your senses?”

“Shut up.” James muttered, feeling a bit guilty that you were the only one who got into trouble. It had been his idea after all.

“I told you that it wasn’t a smart idea to get out of your bed!” Your gran scolded as she wheeled you into the Hospital wing.

“Technically you said I wasn’t allowed to stand up unless it was to use the restroom. I was not standing up, I was sitting down. And what's the big deal? I’m fine! It's almost over anyhow!” She groaned in frustration. “Gran, I’m in 5th year. I think I can make decisions for myself now.” She looked at you for a moment before sighing.

“Alright. But, you have to promise me, when you start to get bad you will come straight-Oh!” You hugged her tight around the waist and she patted your head.

“Thank you, Gran.”

“Yes yes. And you should be careful around that Potter boy.”

“Which one?” You asked cheekily.

“Now don’t you get cheeky on my young lady. You know what I’m talking about. Don’t you go falling in love with him. I’ve actually had girls come in because they said that he broke their heart. Like his name sakes,” she shook her head and walked away leaving you thinking.

You wouldn’t get a crush on James, would you? I mean, sure he was tall and cute and a dork with an adorable personality that kind of made your heart flutter. But that didn’t mean you- You smacked your head.

“Dammit. How could I have let that happen?” You muttered to yourself. You silently cursed your gran. You had been blissfully unaware and now you were very much aware that you had a tiny crush on James Sirius Potter. This ought to go over well.

Over the years you had only grown closer to James and his friends. Mostly James though. It was rare not to see you two together. You both would jam pack your schedules so you would have each other in classes. You knew he did it because of your cramps and how you didn’t really discuss it with anybody or like to bring it up. So when they got too bad and you couldn’t go to classes he would bring you your notes and help you study, like you didn;t help each other study any how. But now, now it was all going to change. You had passed your last year at Hogwarts and were now lying on your couch in pain. You had taken the potion your gran had sent you but the potion had seemed to do less and less over the years while James had done more and more.

You had a pile of letters in the corner that he had sent you. You two had sent back and forth non-stop, both of you now having your own separate apartments that were, sadly, not very close to each other. Of course, you could just apparate to the others house but you wouldn’t really do that on a daily basis, sadly.

You had sent him a letter the other day and found it weird you hadn’t gotten one in response yet, but you weren;t the most important thing in his life, sadly. As you and James had grown more attached, your crush on him had grown and grown and grown. Being away from him for so long, This was your first month, and knowing that you weren’t going back on September first to see him and your other friends was killing you. How could people live without knowing if they would ever go back to Hogwarts? It may sound cheesy and a bit cliche, but it was and forever will be your home.

There was a knock on the door as another wave hit you and now you had to stand up and pretend you were alright. You looked at your empty chocolate bag, you really should’ve stocked up after the last time.

You opened the door and leaned heavily on it as you looked up into the familiar glass covered eyes.

“James!?” He beamed happily.

“Miss me that much? We’ve only been out of school for about a month.” You chuckled and shook your head.

“You’re such a dork. What are you doing here?” He held up a abox.

“Figured you would have forgotten to restock since Hogwarts, like you always do.”

“How do you remember these things? And why would you want to?” You opened the door and let him in. He strode in and looked around your apartment. He wasn’t familiar with it yet.He set it down on the kitchen counter and jumped up onto it to look around the place, nodding in approval.

“Nice place.”

“You say that everytime you come over.” You said sarcastically as you grabbed the jacket you had thrown on the floor after work. It caused your stomach to cramp and you were stuck for a second because you were trying to breathe.

“Ok, couch, now.” James said, grabbing your arms and leading you over to the couch, setting you down and taking your jacket.

“James, you really don’t have to-”

“Yeah I do. Stay.” He left your side and went to the box. “Did you take the potion?”

“Yeah. Did nothing as usual.” You whined, he sat back down and opened the box, pulling out two candy bars and handing you one, like he always did, and keeping one for himself.

“Sorry, kid.”

“I am like a week younger than you!”

“A month and a half,” he corrected. You glared and bit into your chocolate, making him laugh and look around your apartment until his eyes landed on a moving picture you had put up. It was from the first year you two became friends. He walked over to it and took it off the wall. “You still have this?” You smiled.

“Of course! That was the first Weasley Summer I had! It was the best summer of my life!” You laughed lightly smiling at the memory of James trying to get you on a broom. And then you had crashed into four trees until you semi-got the hang of that.

“Didn’t you get a concussion from that summer?”

“Don’t know, wouldn’t let anyone check.” You laughed, your stomach cramping again, but not as bad as usual. He smiled and hung it back on the wall. He sat back down next to you.

“How've you been, though? You always sound like you're doing great in your letters.”

“It's been alright. Adult life isn’t terrible and my job’s pretty fun. I've been thinking about getting a dog.”

“Really?” He asked excitedly.

“Yep, and I was going to name it Sirius.” His face turned disappointed.

“You know, I brought you chocolate, you can at least be a bit nicer to me.” you giggled.

“I’m joking, I'm joking. But yeah. I do want a dog.”

“Get lonely up here already?”

“Definitely. How are you? You seem like you are having a good time in your letters. Var hopping every weekend.”

“You can join us. We’d love to have you hang with us.” You shrugged.

“Well, definitely not this weekend.”

“No, definitely not. Though you look like you could use a bottle of fire whiskey.”

“I need two.” He laughed and put his arm around your shoulders, you rested your head on his shoulder.

“I felt ya there.”

The rest of the night, James hung out with you. Chocolate and talking and radio and, when you were feeling up to it, he made you dance with him because he’s the biggest jerk in the world.

It was now near midnight and you two were on the couch listening to old muggle records because why not. You were half asleep on James’ chest. He was playing with your hair and humming along to the song. It was a familiar position for you two. Madame Pomfrey had once caught you two like this, though James had been the only one awake. She had looked at him and then at you back in sixth year.

“Be careful there, Mr. Potter. I do not want her getting hurt.” And then she turned and left. He had planned on telling you that morning, but the thought that he would hurt you in any way had kept him from saying anything. But now… Now he couldn't help it. The smell of your shampoo and the way you smelt like chocolate and… and he couldn't help it. This had been the most fun he had had since Hogwarts had left out. All because he was with you.

“Y/N?” He whispered, just in case you were asleep. He knew how hard it was for you to actually fall asleep when you got these cramps.

You hummed in response. Half asleep, but not completely. He took a breath.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You hummed again.

“I love you.” He didn’t get a response this time and thought you had fallen asleep. He was a bit relieved that you hadn’t heard. The other part was a bit disappointed.

“What?”

Shit.

“I-I love you.”

You sat up and looked him in the eye. He knew this look. You were trying to detect a lie, he let you look. And boy, did you take your time.

“You-You do?”

“I do. I get it if you don’t in return but I just had to-” You grabbed his collar and pressed his lips to your quickly. His eyes widened in surprise before he quickly kissed you back. You pulled apart and both of you were smiling messes.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You said, biting your lip.

“Seriously?” He pulled back from you with wide eyes. You nodded nervously. “How long?”

“The first time you helped me, I guess. And I wouldn’t have even realized it if Gran hadn’t said anything to me.”

“You’re joking.” You shook your head.” He kissed you again, taking you by surprise.

“Why? How long for you?”

“End of fifth. I was going to tell you in sixth but…”

“But what?” You looked at him. “James…”

“Your Gran scared me.”

“What did she do?” You sighed.

“Nothing!”

“James, I am too tired, what?”

“She just told me not to hurt you.” You frowned and looked at your hands.

“And you planned to?”

“No! No no no no.” He pulled your face up to his and smiled. “I was scared that I might. I got scared that I would be the reason you were in pain. I didn’t want that. I didn’t even want to think that I would be the reason for that. So, I thought it was better to not do anything but be there for you.” You stared at him for a moment and bit your lip, thinking over and being completely touched. And you believed him. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I-I was scared.” You rested your head on his shoulder to hide your face, embarrassed that your feelings had been reciprocated this whole time.

“Of what?”

You muttered something that he didn’t catch.

“Come on, I spilled my heart out to you, your turn.”

“That I’d lose the best friend I've ever had.” You muttered a bit louder. He heard this and couldn’t help the soft smile that spread across his face. He pulled you onto him and leaned against the arm of the sofa so you were on top of him. You looked at him, confused. You head was on his chest again and your eyes were fluttering shut again.

“You’re not going to lose me, Y/N.” He said with a smile. You smiled into his chest and wanted to say something but your mind was already powering down. You felt his lips press against your hair. “You won’t ever lose me. Good night, Y/N.” You murmured an incoherent goodnight, but he got the point and smiled before falling himself.

You woke up in the morning to smell the most wonderful smell you ever had smelt before… Bacon.

You groaned and sat up, a bit confused as to why you were smelling bacon. You thought it was just your mind at first and your mind wandered back to the dream you had had of James. You wished it were true. The kiss seemed so real, so perfect. You pushed yourself off the couch and your foot hit a box. Your eyes widened immediately. You opened it and saw a group of empty chocolate wrappers.

Oh no…

You turned around quickly and saw James’ back in your kitchen over the stove. Then you heard the sizzle of food cooking on your unused stove, since you were a wreck in the kitchen. ANd then you heard James’ humming. That wasn;t an illusion.

“James?” He turned around and smiled.

“About time you woke up. I thought you were dead for a little while there.” You pushed yourself off the couch and stumbled into the kitchen. “Coffee in the cup.” You looked down to a steaming cup.

“I’m not so convinced yet.” He chuckled and slid the food onto two separate plates handing one to you. “I didn’t even know that worked.” You muttered looking at the stove.

“Figured. You can’t cook to save your life.”

You threw a piece of bacon at him, which he gladly ate.

“Did you stay all night?” You asked half way through breakfast.

“I figured we should talk this morning.” You nodded and bit your lip. So it did happen.

“Right so we… kissed.”

“Yep.”

“Yeah.” The silence turned awkward.

“Ok, I’m just going to say it, then. I don’t know how much you remember but everything I said, I meant. I really do like you, Y/N.” You bit your lip and smiled.

“I-I think I remember enough to know that I have told you the same. And I-I meant it to.”

“Really?”

“Really, James. I meant it all and I really do like you alot.” You smiled. And he let out a sigh and collapsed into his chair.

“That is a huge relief.”

“Tell me about it. So what do we do now? What happens?”

“I think I'll ask you out.”

“And I obviously would say yes.”

“And then we go to a… quidditch game?”

“And I’d buy the snacks after arguing with you about money.”

“Right. And then I would completely sweep you off your feet when I book the stadium for afterwards and teach you how to ride more.”

“Of course, unless I blow you away with my mad skills.” He beamed.

“Which is very possible with the way you ride.” You laughed.

“So when would this hypothetical date take place?”

“Saturday at six?”

“I think I could be there. If you were to ask me, of course.”

“Well maybe I’m getting there.”

“Maybe you should hurry up before we spend another three years without each other.”

“Y/N, would you go out with me?”

“Yes.” You said smiling. He returned your smile with a crooked one of his own.

“Then I’ll pick you up here, and I am buying the snacks.”

“James you are no-pop-James Potter you get back here!” You yelled to the open air laughing as your best friend-boyfriend- apperated from your apartment.

You bit your lip and leaned on your hand.

You got a date with the boy you loved. And who would’ve thought it would all be because of a terrible time dealing with cramps?

#james sirius potter #hp fluff #fluff fic #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #madame pomfrey #chocolate fic #one shot

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thedaytheworldburned · 2 years

Text

‘LOSER=LOVER’ Lyric Analysis

Released with The Chaos Chapter: FIGHT OR ESCAPE, August 2021.

Ahh we made it. To the song that made my brother become a MOA.

Really? Out of all of the songs you could pick, you picked this one? The title track with the short-ass name and the lyrics that barely make sense? Sure, the choreo was great and it was well produced, and YEONJUN’S SKIRT was amazing, but this one? I ain’t one to diss people for joining a fandom too late, but ‘CROWN’ is an objectively superior song and title track (I hope you read this and feel it in your soul, @daily-aspirin).

Anyhow. Please ignore the above.

The song was unusual for TXT. It had a RIDICULOUSLY short name (boo, Hitman Bang, do better!), and didn’t follow their typical magic-youth storyline. Instead, it came straight out of the same vein as ‘20cm’ and ‘LOVESONG’ - the story of a group of boys growing up and experiencing romance for the first time.

‘20cm’ left off with the boys having a crush and doin their best to get closer to that person, and ‘LOVESONG’ left us with them in the honeymoon phase of a budding yet codependent and unhealthy relationship. Now, we are on the next leg of the journey, as they are... well, still in the honeymoon phase, but the codependency GROWS, I tell you! They are now literally tied to this person, using them as an escape from the world and its hardships, and feel worthless without them. As the lyrics of this song imply (and the lyrics of ‘Good Boy Gone Bad’ explicitly state,’ they are trying to become their partner, to crawl under their skin and be protected from their own dark thoughts and the world. But, of course, this isn’t how it works, and we can feel the underlying problems of this relationship.

But, although these things are clear to see from the lyrics as a whole (and, honestly, are informed a lot by the MV), when you look at the lyrics closer, they start to get a little... odd?

When this song first came out, I looked at the lyrics and had no clue what they were talking about. ‘Lover with a $ sign is a loser?’ What the hell is that?

And, you know, after looking through TXT’s other songs and analysing this one and everything... I still have no clue what they are going on about half of the time here. It’s more of a sentiment analysis with this one, I think, than full-on, deep lyrics. It does have the connection to FREEZE through LOVESONG and LOSE=LOVER both having symbols and numbers involved in the titles and lyrics. So, that motif is there, I guess.

So, that was a lot. Maybe we should just have a look at the actual song :|

Full lyric analysis below the line.

‘LOSER=LOVER’

The last line here is also translated as, ‘Beyond this fucked up world.’

Wow, TXT. I guess it’s like that then.

The first two lines here are also, ‘My hand clutching yours, it’s all banged up.’

The first three lines of this verse are also translated as, ‘I couldn’t win, fighting, bleeding, I’m sick of it. If I can’t have it, I fucking keep it low. Crying, crying, crying, forget it now.’

It’s pretty similar but still interesting to look at.

The second line of this verse is also, ‘Laugh out loud like you’ve gone crazy.’

I still have no clue what exactly they are trying to convey through this whole chorus bit. I’m so confused. It makes no sense in any variation/possible meaning of the lyrics I can discern.

The last three lines of this last verse are also, ‘Wings spread and broken, flyin’ to forever but can’t help falling.’

The last three lines of this verse are also, ‘even the fall is beautiful, I gladly sink to the other side of the sky.’

‘Sea’ in the last line here is also translated as ‘ocean.’ I like ‘sea’ better, but it doesn’t really make a difference in this context.

Conclusions

Okay, but how hard would it be to make the title something like ‘I escaped the world into your arms’ or ‘Together we ran away from this grey world,’ or something???? Hitman Bang? ANSWER MY QUESTION!!!

That would literally fix 99% of the song’s problems, honestly.

Is this just another representation of The Chaos Chapter? Make the titles so wacky and full of symbols and things, both to be so random, and to make poor members of the fandom like me go insane, and thus to spread the chaos even further?!?

#txt #tomorrow x together #txt theories #the chaos chapter #the chaos chapter: fight or escape #fight or escape

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antipodeanpineapplelump · 3 years

Note

Dear Starshot, I recently saw your latest artwork for #Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura and I am DYING to learn more about this AU. If you're comfortable sharing, is there anything you can disclose about it?? Is this related to the ItaShi Indiana Jones AU you mentioned before?!!?!?!?!!

Hi Birk, thank you so much for dropping by with this ask! Are you really voluntarily asking me to talk about my current obsession and fanfic baby though? Because I warn you, you may live to regret that!!!

"Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura" is now the official title of my ItaShi Indiana Jones AU. I realise it’s been over a year since I first mentioned it, and it’s still a WIP! Pretty sure that says absolutely nothing good about the speed of my writing, but a lot about how busy my life outside of fandom is. Anyhow, it’s definitely one of those AUs that’s got away on me. I was planning one story initially, but now it’s kind of turned into three (plus a cracky oneshot), and this is just the first.

I’ve planned nine chapters total so far, but the bane of my life is currently number four. It’s sitting at 16,000 words and counting. Succinct writing? I’ve certainly never heard of it… So anyway, I kind of hit a wall there and decided to take a little break to come back with fresh eyes. That’s how I ended up working on the art instead. But I’d say I’m probably about halfway through the first draft (47,000-ish words).

I recently shared the opening scene and my draft cover artwork here. Ummm… what else can I tell you? Madara is the main bad guy, and he’s definitely a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Shisui is an agent of disaster and chaos. Itachi is really… not. So their initial interactions go about as well as you could expect.

All the main characters have extensive back stories. I’m pretty sure you’re already familiar with my Machiavellian worldbuilding tendencies from reading Red Dawn, so it goes without saying I have just as many notes and plans, and as much fleshed out worldbuilding for this story too. And it will take a long time for all of that to be revealed! But the overarching theme is probably found family, which is different to anything I’ve done before.

At this risk of revealing too much, or boring you to tears, I’ll finish with another sneak peek, this time from Itachi’s POV:

When Itachi wakes, there’s nothing to suggest his day is going to be anything but routine.

He gets up at dawn as per usual, eating breakfast at the dining table alone, legs tucked beneath him on a comfortable zabuton. The solitude at this hour of day is something he prefers. It’s the only time the family home is quiet anymore—lacking the cold disapproval of his father’s increasingly judgemental lectures, the anger of his younger brother’s rebellion, or the resigned acquiescence of his mother.

By now, Fugaku should have left for work, and it’s still too early for Sasuke to be awake, given how late he’s been staying out at night. Either to irritate their father, or just avoid him entirely, he’s taken to frequenting the clubs and bars in Osaka. Mostly, he comes home. Some nights, he doesn’t.

More often than not, even when he is home his door is closed, the thumping bass line of some song or another seeping out from beneath it. Likely because he knows this angers their father even more than the leather jackets and spiked punk-rock hair style he now sports.

Part of Itachi has been glad to discover his brother possesses more of a spine than he ever has. But at the same time, Sasuke’s rejection of every last one of their father’s rules has only brought more unwanted scrutiny to Itachi’s far more minor transgressions. It’s as though, having decided his younger child is a lost cause, Fugaku now wants to be absolutely certain his eldest son and heir to the Uchiha family fortune is beyond reproach. To smother him with expectations until he emerges, a diamond from beneath the pressure.

But unbeknownst to Fugaku, Itachi has one flaw he can’t change. And it means that, no matter what, he’ll always be a failure in his father’s eyes.

Sighing, he swallows a mouthful of rice and fish, washing it down with the sweetened barley tea he favours. Pulling this month’s edition of Modern Archaeology across the table, he inspects its glossy cover and promptly chokes on his drink.

The face that smiles up from the page stokes a knot of hot irritation in his gut. Furiously, he skips to the article, skim-reading the text, despite the fact he knows it will only annoy him further.

"An up-and-coming star in the field of archaeology, particularly specialising in South-American cultures, Shisui Uchiha is an increasingly well-known fixture of the San Diego research scene. Curiously for someone so entrenched in the study of history, he is famously reticent when it comes to his own. ‘I did spend my early years in Japan,’ he confirms when pressed. ‘But I haven’t been back in a long time. The United States is my home now.’ Asked about his connection to the famous Uchiha family, he merely winks enigmatically. ‘Never heard of them,’ he says, before asking if we’d like a one-on-one tour of the dig site.

Equally at home in dusty ruins as surfing the palm-lined SoCal beaches, or scaling the cliffs of his native Joshua Tree National Park, he nonetheless shines in group settings too. At the party we attend that evening, to celebrate the opening of a new Aztec exhibit at the Museo Nacional de Antropología in Mexico City, he easily charms the crowd, finishing the night with at least half a dozen new admirers. It’s not hard to see why they like him. A conversation with Shisui is exercise in passion and obscure historical knowledge. Even so, much like the dig sites he frequents, it’s hard to say just how much of what he presents to the world runs more than surface-deep.

His motto in life? ‘Fall seven times, stand up eight,’ Shisui says with a charismatic smile. Where did he learn it? Chuckling, he brushes us off. ‘The school of hard knocks.’

Love him or hate him, one thing is certain—we haven’t seen the last of Shisui Uchiha’s brand of archaeology.”

Hate him, Itachi thinks, sipping his tea viciously enough to scald his tongue and immediately regretting it. Definitely hate. Hate how he’s reckless, impulsive, irresponsible, and doesn’t seem to take a single thing seriously. Hate that it looks like he’s never had to work hard for anything a day in his life—people only too happy to hand him whatever he wants on a silver platter, charmed by a pretty smile. Hate the fact that, despite their shared family name, he’s free to do whatever he likes. Hate the way people flock to him, falling into his orbit—and by all accounts, bed—like it’s somehow inevitable. And hate, most of all, that there’s a small part of Itachi which understands why.

Because hate or love him—and it’s definitely hate—there’s no denying that Shisui Uchiha is, objectively, a very attractive man.

Coming back to his senses and realising he’s been leaning over the magazine, frowning so hard his forehead hurts, Itachi straightens, closing his eyes and massaging the knot of tension out from between his eyebrows.

“Itachi—”

The tension sinks in even deeper. He opens his eyes. “Father.”

Fugaku takes in magazine, then his son, and Itachi really hopes his cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel. It’s stupid, but merely knowing he feels the way he does about the man on the page makes him fear being caught. As though his father might somehow divine his deepest darkest secret, just by looking. Truthfully, Itachi sometimes wonders if he might not already know, or at least suspect. But if he does, it’s clearly a truth he’s chosen not to acknowledge.

“I take it you’re prepared for our meeting this evening?” Fugaku asks, grim as ever.

Attempting a composed sip of his tea, Itachi nods. “Yes. Of course.”

Mouth a hard, unyielding line, Fugaku makes some indiscernible noise of disapproval, sweeping an appraising glance over Itachi. “Well, I suppose it’s too much to hope that anything can be done about your hair between then and now. But they’re a modern family. New money. Perhaps it won’t matter so much.”

Fingers tightening into the flesh of his thigh, Itachi has to remind himself to breathe. “I will do my best to make a good impression,” he says, inclining his head towards his father, penitence for his innumerable shortcomings—not least of all the choice to grow his hair out. It’s a small act of rebellion compared to Sasuke’s effort, but one his father seems determined to curtail as promptly as possible.

Poker face easing ever so slightly, Fugaku’s brows trend downwards, though their slant is still severe. “I know. You are my son, after all. And it is high time you were married with a family of your own. Perhaps then you will see the value in giving up these frivolous academic pursuits, and taking your rightful place at the head of the family business.”

He might as well build a box and stuff Itachi into it. Mold him to fit his own vision of the future. But Itachi has long since learnt that what he wishes he could have from life, and what he can have, are two very different things. So, just like his infrequent clandestine trips to the less desirable areas of Osaka’s nightlife, this too, he realises he will have to sacrifice. Duty before self.

“Yes Father, I’m certain you’re right,” he says, bowing once more as Fugaku leaves for work, closing the front door behind him with a click that reeks of finality.

As his footsteps crunch away on the gravel path outside, Itachi can’t help clenching his fists, until long after his knuckles turn white.

Theoretically, it’s a good match. From a family of good standing, his potential bride is quiet and well spoken—the perfect future housewife and mother. Their marriage would kill two birds with one stone, giving her father the son he never had, and Itachi—and therefore by extension Fugaku—control of their biggest competitor’s business.

All it requires is for Itachi spend the rest of his life pretending to be something he’s not.

The weight of it burns tight in his throat, threatening to break free on a rising tide of bile. He longs to cast off his gilded shackles, take a leaf from Sasuke’s book and do something completely crazy.

With a sigh, he rises from the table, collecting his dishes and depositing them circumspectly into the sink. Another day of work awaits.

#Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura #birkastan2018 #asks #my writing #WIP #sorry for talking so much #I'm sure I've mentioned it before #but I'm just an enormous nerd #who loves talking about my nerdy interests #thank you for this ask!

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tnystrk-exe · 3 years

Text

we both know how this song ends 5

Jack Daniels x Reader

Masterpost

Previous Chapter

Warnings: drugging and sexual assault

Chapter Five

Dinner was sizzling on the stove. You had set Jack to make the biscuit dough for the cobbler as you cooked. Grabbing the berries, you tossed them all together into a bowl, cornstarch and lemon juice quick to join them.

Jack was humming a gentle tune. It had been a serene day. The two of you had skipped out on school. It wouldn’t be anything interesting today. Most people didn’t go to school homecoming day anyway, he had said. Instead you grabbed everything you needed for tonight and made Jack stop by the grocery store to make the senior Daniels surprise dinner.

“Sweetheart, I could get used to this,” Jack sighed contently, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“Oh?” You gave him a soft smile.

“Mhm.” He stole a stray strawberry from the container, “Want one?” You scoffed lightly at him, but opened your mouth expectantly all the same. He traced it along your bottom lip before feeding it to you, eyes trained on the scene. “Give me a taste…” Jack’s hand traced along your jaw before pulling you in for a kiss.

You moaned softly, letting him take over. Happy to let him take what he had wanted. Only breaking away from the kiss when you finally decided breathing was vital, taking in short quick breaths. Not one to leave him hanging, you pressed a couple kisses along his jaw. He stopped you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before resting his own against it.

A brief moment of bravery struck. “I could get used to this too.” Those weren’t the exact words others would say, but they were weighty enough for you.

Jack gave you a pleased smile. “I’m glad, baby.”

You had to move away from him, taking the stakes off the skillet before they had a chance to burn. Jack scooped the berries into a pan and added his dough to the top of it. Settled back into your task, it had been quick work to finish up dinner. The timing was immaculate. As Jack spooned the mashed potatoes into a bowl and you finished the cornbread, both the older Daniels walked into the home.

“That smells delicious!” Mrs. Daniels exclaimed, “You didn’t have to do that, YN.”

You gave her a hug, “It’s the least I could do. Jack and I were bored anyway. Besides, my buddy pal over there was practically begging for the cobbler all week.”

“And you made it didn’t you, Bug?” Mr. Daniels said smugly, ruffling your hair fondly.

Jack smiled at the three of you. He was happy you got along with his parents. It was always a noticeable change when they were around. Maybe they just gave you a taste of what you had missed he had decided. At least he had hoped they did. He wrapped an arm around you proud he had waited to bring such a great person to bring home to them.

“We should get ready for our date.” He hummed as his parents went to get cleaned up. “Can’t wait to see you all dolled up.”

“And I can't wait to see you in a classy pair of jeans,” you teased him. “C’mon I should start fixing up my face anyway.”

“And you’ll absolutely love the way they look on me,” he responded unfazed. All the same he grabbed your hand and led you up the stairs. “There’s nothing that could make you prettier.”

You grabbed your makeup bag and sat in front of his standing mirror. Jack turned on the music, opting to just lay on his bed and relax. All he really had to do is a clean up shave anyhow. Maybe a quick nap wouldn’t be too bad either. He didn’t know how long you’d take or want to bother you as you worked.

After a while, you straddled his thighs, excited to show him your work. His soft snores filled up the room. “Jack,” you half whined, bouncing lightly as you did, “Wake up.”

“‘M up, babygirl. I’m up. ” he sighed sleepily as he placed his hands on your hips to still you. Taking a good look at you, he smiled, his thumbs rubbing circles against your hips. “You look so beautiful, sugar. How’d I get so lucky?”

“You’re really cute trying to butter me up.”

“Cute enough for a kiss?”

“And there’s your motive.” You shifted closer to press a chaste kiss to his lips, already moving to get off of him. “You can have a better kiss if you go get dressed for me.”

“Uh uh. You’re not getting away that easy.” Jack moved, easily pinning you underneath himself. He pushed a strand of hair away from your face. “May I?”

“Always the gentleman,” you breathed out jokingly.

You caught him in a kiss. Your heart was already pounding away in your chest, it had never taken much with him. He trailed a hand along your thigh before hooking your leg over his waist. Taking your time, you kissed along his neck before sucking a possessive mark onto his favorite spot, your hands working on the buttons of his shirt pushing it off the second it came loose. Jack let out a too loud groan, enjoying the feel of your lips on him. Gladly making it known that you were a weak spot for him too.

“Now,” you pushed him off a bit, keeping your hands pressed against his chest so he wouldn’t try to steal a kiss from you, “Go get dressed.” You had stressed each word with a kiss along his jaw.

He hung his head against your chest, leaving a kiss there. “You’re one to talk about motives.” With a sigh he got off of you. Grabbing his clothes from the closet, he spared himself a quick glance in the mirror. “Baby…” he chuckled, “Was all this really necessary?”

You laughed, getting a good look of how your lipstick had smeared onto him. “I could definitely get used to that. It’s a cute look on you.”

“Remind me to take you on more dates,” he commented before he walked out of the room, making sure to shut the door behind himself. “Mom! Jesus Christ!” You heard him startle.

A sigh. “You’re not allowed alone in the rooms anymore. Especially when your dad and I are home.”

“That’s fair,” you heard him reply, almost picturing his bright blush, “Anything else?”

“Go get that lipstick off of your neck.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You fell back against his bed, pretty sure you could feel physical pain through the embarrassment. A knock sounded against the door.

“YN, dear? Do you need help with anything?”

“Uh, no. I just need to get dressed,” you winced at the wording, “Thank you. I’ll be right down.”

“If you need anything, just call for me.”

Hearing her walk away, you stood up and started stripping down. You took the time to make quick adjustments to the makeup Jack had ruined. Sure you may have had a hand in that, but it felt better to place the blame on him. Your eye caught sight of the Polaroid on his dresser.

Biting your lip you weighed the options. You knew he wouldn’t share it around if you did so happen to take a picture. He was easy to trust like that.

Why the fuck not?

You grabbed his Polaroid and set it on to a self timer. The sensual pose you had been going for broken as you laughed at the ridiculousness of it. Grabbing the photo you looked at the fading in picture. It didn’t look too bad. If you were honest he’d probably like this version better anyhow. He was a softie. Going to the closet you hid it in the pocket of his favorite shirt, figuring he’d find it soon enough.

“Hey, babydoll, have you seen my tie?” Jack asked, walking into the room. He was unaware of the situation, preoccupied with fastening his shirt buttons.

A quick look in the closet, you saw it hanging on the rod. You grabbed the tie and handed it over. He finally looked up, his eyes widening when he noticed your current state. You didn’t miss his eyes doing a quick once over before he looked away, bright blush covering his now freshly shaved cheeks. Not the mustache though, you doubted you’d ever see him without it unless you gave him an extremely good reason.

“Fuck… I’m sorry. I honestly wasn’t trying to catch you…”

“It’s okay. I trust you, sunshine. While you’re here, you may as well wait up and help me zip up my dress. It’s the least you could do after giving yourself a free show,” you teased him.

“Y’know, I shouldn’t feel too terrible. Let’s say I had taken you on a swimmin’ date instead…” He trailed off, letting you fill in the blanks, back at ease seeing you hadn’t been upset.

“Uh huh, keep telling yourself you would have gotten a look at the goods anyway. Learn to knock, perv.”

You pulled on the simple cocktail dress. The navy blue of it matched up with Jack’s tie well enough. It was a dress you had had for a while, but it was pretty enough to pass through the event. You turned your back to Jack. He moved your hair to the side, fingers trailing against the lacy fabric, before obliging and zipping up your dress.

“You realize you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen?” He asked, looking at you through the mirror, resting his chin on your shoulder, “Stop rolling your eyes when I’m trying to be sweet on you.”

“I know, I am,” you turned in his arms, facing him, “let me help you with that.” You took his tie from off his shoulder and placed it on his neck. “May mess it up a bit, it’s been a while.”

“You know how to?” He asked, letting you do it for him.

“Dad taught me a couple things. Said it was a useful skill if I had a son, but mostly he was just lazy as all hell. That man hated ties.” You pulled the knot toward his throat, catching his slight wince, “Too tight?”

“Just a little,” he loosened it slightly. Jack pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Wouldn’t know what to do without ya.” He stepped past you as you started to fuss with your hair, reaching up into the closet.

You snorted quietly when you realized what it was. “I can’t believe I’m dating a cowboy with a formal occasion hat and boots.”

“Get used to it baby, eventually we’ll get you to my level too.” Jack sat his hat on your head, “See? That’s fucking hot.”

You laughed, “Why don’t we snap a picture then?”

“I’d love that, sweet girl.” He kissed your cheek, looking at the already set up camera, “That’s weird. I don’t usually misplace things.”

You ignored his cocked brow, resetting the timer. “Welp, there’s a first time for everything.”

“Hm, I guess there is…” He didn’t push it, instead opting to pull you in close for the picture.

“Bubba! Bug! Y’all gonna spend all night up there?” Mr. Daniels called out. “We’re getting impatient here.”

You held out his suit jacket for him to slip on. “C’mon cowboy, lot more of those where that came from,” you said, putting the hat on his head, careful not to mess up his hair.

The two of you walked down the stairs hand in hand. Mr. Daniels was already snapping pictures the second you stepped into view.

“Don’t the two of you look precious!” Mrs. Daniels gushed excitedly. “Too bad your mother isn’t here to see the two of you.”

“Mare,” he shook his head slightly. “You two clean up nice. Good going, kids. Matching and everything.”

“Already had the dress,” you informed, hoping to glaze over the mom bit, “We took more time finding Jack’s tie than anything. I do think he looks extremely handsome.”

Jack blushed brightly. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

Bess looked over lazily from the couch, unimpressed with the commotion.

His parents fussed over pictures excitedly. From what you had gathered, Jack had decided to skip past all the other dances. No particular reason, but he had just preferred going out with his friends instead. Which made Jack asking you to go all that much sweeter to you.

“Okay, okay. You took enough pictures. There’s enough proof we went on a date now,” Jack complained, “Anymore with you two and we won’t make it to the dance at all.”

“Just a few more,” his mom persuaded.

“Mare, why don’t we go take these to the store to get them developed? We already wasted a whole roll on them.”

“Sounds great!” Jack went to hug his mom, “You’ll get some more of us when prom rolls around.”

She sighed, but nodded, “Fine, go have some fun.”

Jack turned, winking at you as he did. “We will!”

You followed Jack out the door. “Really bold of you to assume we’ll have our prom pictures together. Never thought I had other plans?” you asked, messing with him.

“Aw, baby, you got plans to break my heart?”

“Who knows what could happen, Sunshine.”

Jack wrapped his arm around your waist, “Ain’t nothing gonna happen to us. Won’t let it. You’re gonna stick by my side way past prom.”

You shook your head, smiling all the same. “Why are you so sweet on me?”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm,” he leaned on his truck, still keeping you close, “I don’t know, sweetheart. You just genuinely make everything better. Just knowing I get to see you on those no good days makes me push through. You’re so kind and genuine even after… everything. As cheesy as it sounds, I kinda do like the idea of getting to wake up to you everyday.”

You blushed brightly, not really expecting that answer. “Everyday?”

“As many as we can fit in darlin’. Wouldn’t be so bad would it? Waking up to my ugly mug.”

“It may take some convincing.”

“I’m plenty patient.”

You couldn’t help the smile, pleased at how he took it in stride. Anyone else would have been upset at hearing that. “How are you always so sure, Daniels?”

“Can’t help it. I know the job I’m gonna work and I know exactly who I want with me. I’m on this ride as long as it takes.”

“C’mon. We’re going to be late sweet talker.”

He opened your door for you, stealing himself a kiss before you could get in the cab. “I mean it, YN.”

All you could manage was a nod. As good as he made you feel, it was still scary. Trust was hard. Commitment is a nightmare. Even if this was going well, you had to keep yourself straight. It had only been a couple months. You were both in your first real relationship, which meant it had to have a touch too sweet and just a bit too perfect. And those rose colored glasses may have skewed the both of you.

But Jack was never pushy. He never pulled away from the too jagged edges, even when they did cut into him. Never put off by the few times you pushed him away. He’d give you your time, let you breathe and you loved that.

You loved that.

The thought alone sent a shiver down your spine. The idea of love and Jack always did. Glancing his way, you knew he was nervous, judging by the way his finger rapt against the steering wheel. Nothing else betrayed him except for that. If you had to guess, how forward he always was with his words always left him somewhat scared that they’d make you run off.

“Jack.”

“Hmm, yeah babygirl?”

“You know how much I care about you right? Even if I do choke saying sweet things back at you.”

The tapping stopped. He gave you a bright smile, “‘Course I do. You let me know with the little things. Those are better than any words.”

Crossing the bench, you leaned your head on his shoulder. “I don’t know when, but I promise one day I’ll be able to.” It was easier to say looking at the passing by trees.

“We’re going at your pace, darlin’. Just knowing is enough.”

“You just come from something so perfect. Sometimes I’m afraid you’ll think I don’t fit into the picture. It’s stupid because you’re so on your sleeve about everything, but I can’t help it sometimes. We’re just so different.”

“But those differences will make us all that much better,” he rebutted in his usual optimistic manner, “I wouldn’t have you any other way. Or this for that matter. It’s good. I’m happy with you.”

“This is such a heavy topic for our first date,” you acknowledged the ridiculousness of the situation. “I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t apologize. It’s something you’re worried about and we should talk about these kinds of things. Besides, we’ve basically been dating since the first week of school,” he joked, “Look, we’ve been going at this for nearly two months now. Still new, but definitely over the awkward parts. Don’t worry about it.”

“We can talk about things you’re worried about too, you know.”

He sighed, “Honey, you know exactly what it is I’m worried about. Like you say, it’s a couple of months now. I can promise you, I’m not worried about us at all. It’s just that.”

“I’ll be okay,” you promised, “With the gig after school and everything. I’m gonna have a decent stockpile. I’ve been thinking about getting out of there soon enough.”

He squeezed your thigh, his thumb tracing pattern on your skin, “Yeah, I know. The faster you’re out of there, the easier I get to sleep at night. It’s hard not knowing if you’re safe.”

“We’re never safe, Jack,” you sighed, “You don’t have to worry every second we’re apart. I don’t want to be something like that for you.”

“You’re not just that,” he waved off the idea, “But you wouldn’t like it much if I was in your position instead.”

“And then you’d understand that I don’t want to feel like a burden.”

He parked the truck. “Honey, you’re not a burden. If anything, I’m gonna be the burden with how bad I dance.”

“As if. You’re good at nearly everything you do.”

“Nearly?”

“I’m obviously the better kisser in this dynamic.”

“Oh, obviously,” he mocked back, “Get out of my truck.”

You complied, he was quick to join you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze when he took it in his, already leading you toward the dance hall.

“Come on, admit it.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’d like that anyway.”

“I would!”

You laughed at his eagerness, “Who knows where this night could lead, cowboy.”

“Wait, what? Rea-“

“YN!” Georgia squealed excitedly, “You look so pretty! Is that your boyfriend?”

“Georgie!” You hugged her, “He won’t be anymore if you wanna give me a shot. You look jaw dropping.”

“Let me see how it plays out with Sammy. If it’s a dead end I’ll give you a call.”

“I’ll wait up,” you sent a playful wink her way.

“Yeah, I brought you a drink just like you like and I brought some fruit punch for YN,” you heard Vanessa’s sickeningly sweet voice behind you. “Why don’t you have a taste? If it’s not right I’ll make you another.”

“I should get going before Sammy misses me, maybe you’ll save me a dance lover girl.”

“I’ll do that,” you laughed.

You turned to see Jack gulping down a cup. “Yeah, see. It’s perfect thanks.”

“I’m going to go get you another one.”

“No, it’s okay.” His response fell in deaf ears as she turned to go make him another. “That’s the grossest thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Got yourself a barmaid?”

“The best I could do seeing you get all friendly with Georgia,” he drank the other cup trying to chase away the taste, “I wasn’t thinking about competition.”

You pulled him by the tie, toward the dance floor. “There’s no competition when I’ve only got eyes for you.”

“Aw, doll, that’s sweet.” He kissed your cheek. “Check this.”

You jumped along to the music, watching him dance. “Oh no,” you laughed, “You’re already a dad. That’s horrible. I love it.”

He smiled brightly at you, “Knew you would.”

The two of you danced happily, enjoying each other’s company. Jack had a lot of potential as a dancer, but your doubts rose when he broke out with the sprinkler. Eventually you ended up in a mixed up of your friend groups. Laughter and snuck in drinks passed all around. Which meant Jack had to struggle down a couple more of Vanessa’s concoctions, too polite to turn them down despite hating the taste.

“I’m cashing in my dances!” Georgia shouted over the music, stealing you away from Jack. “I’ll bring her back after a few.”

It hadn’t been long. Maybe two songs at most. Still, you just couldn’t seem to find Jack. You doubted he had gone far the dance hall was only so big.

“Hey Mikey, have you seen the cowboy?”

“Jack? I saw him with Vanessa. Seemed kinda out of it.”

“I saw them go outside,” Julie cut in.

“What?” You hurried to go see what was happening.

“Jackie boy’s in trouble.”

The group laughed.

Outside you looked toward the car lot. No one but a pack of stoners. Rounding the building, you called out for Jack.

“Can’t,” you heard him slur, “Don't want to.”

“It doesn’t matter to me.”

You could have sworn you heard the sound of a belt unbuckling. “Hey!” You ran, “What the hell are you doing to him.” Rounding the corner, you caught her with a hand stuffed down his pants.

Jack didn’t seem all there but he was definitely distressed. “No baby, please. I didn’t…”

Anger bubbled in your chest. It took over and you pushed Vanessa to the ground already aiming punches at her. There wasn’t much of a fight, she was too much coward to do anything. Even in his state and what had happened, he still attempted to pull you away.

“I never want to see you near him again. You get near him again and that’s it for you.” You only complied because you knew you needed to get him to the truck before he turned to completely dead weight. “You’re a fucking piece of filth.” You called out after her as she ran away.

“Baby, I didn’t want her to. I didn’t ask her to do anything,” he rambled, needing you to believe him.

“Hey, I know. I know. Let’s get you to the truck.” You readjusted his pants and belt to save him the embarrassment if anyone had seen him.

He slumped against you, dragging his feet. You should have taken better care of him. Jack would have kept an eye out for you, he always did. Instead you just assumed he was having fun, glazing over the signs that he wasn’t okay. Avoiding the group, he wouldn’t want people to see him like this, he was too proud, you finally got him to the truck.

“I don’t feel good,” he choked.

“I know, sunshine. I’m sorry. I’ll get you somewhere safe,” you kissed the side of his head before helping him into the truck.

You didn’t really know how to handle the situation. It was a first. Much less did you expect Jack of all people to be in this situation. Honestly, you saw a different outcome for this night. When you jumped back in the truck, you reached into his suit pocket and grabbed his keys.

“Oh,” you took in how tired and rough he looked, “Come here, honey.” You helped him lay down across the bench, his head resting on your thigh. His hat was missing, you made a note to get him a new one.

Obviously, taking him home was out. His parents would probably think he’s out of it drunk, you couldn’t deal with giving them that disappointment of finding out what happened not from him. Your house was laughable. That left the cheap motel across the street from the mom and pop shop. It was the best you could do.

When you parked in the lot, Jack seemed very dazed. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

He nodded weakly.

You got out of the truck and dealt with the motel worker. She handed over a key, looking too tired and overworked to even think about doing more than the transaction.

“Ground rules. Don’t be too loud, if you’re caught selling anything at all I’m calling the cops, and you’re out by 1 p.m. tomorrow.”

“Got it,” you waved her off. Before you made it back to Jack, you unlocked the room door. It would make things easier in the long run. “Hey, handsome, let's get you in the room.”

He groaned, but sat up. “You trust me? Right? You know I didn’t ask her to touch me?”

“Look,” you gave him a chaste kiss, “I trust you more than anyone. She’s not a good person. You don’t have to worry about me thinking anything bad about you. Now, help me get you inside so we can get you through this.”

Jack stood on shaky legs, letting you lead him to the room. When you got in, Jack immediately slumped down into the bed. “I’ll pay for it. My fault.”

“This isn’t your fault. You trusted her and she abused that. We take care of each other, right?” You sat down beside him. “How are you feeling?”

“Keep coming in and out. Nauseous to hell and back. Everything feels so...lagged behind. It feels like a horrible high.”

“Would you mind if I ran to the store? I could grab us a couple of waters, maybe some pills. I don’t know. Something to help. Be useful some.”

“I’ll be alright. I do think I’m going to sit in the bathroom.”

With that, you ran across the street to the store. The older man gave you a disgruntled look for coming in on closing time, but otherwise said nothing. Grabbing a basket, you made your way down the aisles as quick as you could. Sodas, waters, pain pills for him to take in the morning, a couple of snacks, a set of toothbrushes and toothpaste, and some shirts and shorts for both of you to change into. Once that was over and done with, you went back to the motel, leaving the items on the small table.

Jack was gagging in the bathroom, the sound of him being sick loud in the small room. You went over, water bottle in hand. Setting it on the sink counter, you crouched beside him, rubbing his back soothingly. When he was done, he looked at you, tears streaking his face.

“Why would she do that to me?”

“She’s not a good person,” you didn’t know what else to say. You grabbed the towel off the rack, using it to clean up his mouth. “I should've watched out for you more. I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, laying his head on your shoulder. “Not your fault. We thought it was gonna be a fun night.”

You held him close, just wanting to keep him as safe as you could. All you knew in that moment was you couldn’t handle the idea of someone hurting him again. He was too kind and caring to ever deserve to be hurt. “It was fun,” you said, your hand carding through his hair soothingly, “Between your bad dancing and horrible jokes, I love being with you.”

“Don’t do that,” he mumbled.

“Do what?”

“Please. Please,” he stressed the word, “don’t say that you love me tonight. When I think about the first time… Don't wanna think about it being like this.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “Let’s get you changed then. Get you more comfortable to ride this out.”

You helped him stand back up. Taking him back into the room, you grabbed the clothes from the bag. It was quick work so slide off his suit jacket. Undoing his shirt buttons, you ignored the vomit your hands came across. The care you had for him overcoming the grossness of it. You casted the shirt aside before kneeling down in front of him.

“Help me a bit here sunshine, need to get your boots off.” Jack put a hand on the wall, leaning against it so he wouldn’t fall as he balanced on one foot. You pulled them off quickly. “Is this okay?” You asked him, motioning to his pants.

“You’re okay, darlin’. You know that.”

“Didn’t want to push you, sweetheart.”

Once the both of you were dressed out of your date clothes, you had set a trash can nearby before Jack pulled you on to the bed with him. The tv droned quietly. Jack was resting against your chest. Neither of you would have thought your night would end like this.

#Jack Daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader

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funsizearsonist · 4 years

Text

Bleeding Ink (Luke angst)

Summary: Luke’s songwriting takes a hit when he gets hurt. He thought emotions made a song better, but he got the proportions wrong. or “Maybe have a little song with those feelings”

Category: Angst

Fandom: Julie and the Phantoms

Paring: N/A

Word Count: 1,559

Warnings/Includes: Like 1 swear, some mentions of an argument, and some descriptions of ~sadness~

A/N: I hope you like this! I'm still very new at writing fanfiction so as always, constructive criticism and any feedback in general are much appreciated!! Hope you like it!!

Mandatory Thanking of the Betas: Thank u for supporting me on this @theolivekiddo!! I probably wouldn’t have posted it if not for you because I have no confidence and I thought it was ~bad~ :P I’m still not so sure it’s good but u convinced me to post it so that’s something I guess

AO3 link here

Please don’t repost my work without my permission, in part or whole. My work can also be found on AO3 under the same username. Thank you!

Jatp taglist: @n0wornever, @calamitykaty, @unsaidmegan, @morganayennefertyrell, @link-102, @crybabyddl, @willex-owns-my-heart (I’m hoping it’s ok to tag y’all bc u said in a post here that you’d like to be added to taglists but I can take you off anytime, just send me an ask :))

Taglist for everything <3: @theolivekiddo

Bleeding Ink

Luke wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone, but he’s not quite the carefree troublemaker people think. The band knew, of course. He never had to tell them, they just knew. Probably because they were his family, they knew pretty much everything about each other. And now Julie knows, too. That’s about everyone he can come up with, besides Willie and maybe Flynn, that he actually knows now, so it looks like his secret is safe. The issue is the carefree part. Because Luke may be a hell of a troublemaker but he cares a lot.

He cares about his family, even through their ups and downs. He cares about his friends, his band; they’re pretty much a family to him too. And he cares, so so much, about music. Music has been there his whole life. Mostly rock, his favorite, but he can appreciate pretty much any kind of music. He’s listened to music throughout his whole life. It made him feel better when he was sad, widened his grins when he was happy, and kept all the in-betweens interesting.

He only loved music more when he started writing it. Luke started writing music late in middle school, but he would probably kill you if you knew. He always thought it was good he started early to get it all out of the way. It wasn’t really music yet, just putting down words without having anything to say. He still thinks they were less of lyrics and more like pages of word vomit. The old notebooks from that first year or so are probably still lying around somewhere, but Luke would rather look forward than back at all of that. He puts meaning into his music now, and Luke thinks it’s only ever gotten better, especially working with Julie. Except for a short period in the middle where it definitely got worse.

The thing is, Luke puts emotion into every one of his songs. He thinks you can’t have truly good music without putting at least a little bit of heart in it; and Luke cares so much about all of his music he can’t honestly help it. Writing music has helped him understand his feelings, and it’s his biggest way of expressing them. Usually though, he doesn’t really need music as an outlet or anything. He loves playing the songs he’s worked on, all the emotions that go with them. The electric energy in Now or Never, the reassurance and connection in Bright, the determination and fearlessness in Stand Tall, all of his songs had pieces of himself in them. But he writes them because he wants to, not because he needs to get anything out. Most of the time, at least.

There was only really one instance in Luke’s life where that wasn’t the case. Where he was so overwhelmed with emotion that he had to get it out onto a page before he could move on. Dying and coming back as ghosts, making friends with the girl who brought you back and being able to play music again, only to find your only surviving bandmate stole your old songs, and the whole Caleb thing probably should have done it. The thing is, Luke (and Alex and Reggie) got put through that rollercoaster so fast that he could barely make out emotions from the jumbled blur, much less put them into music. Before he could even say “What the hell is going on here?!” Luke was writing new songs. For their new band with Julie, no less. And he had pretty much gotten past all that drama already, somehow. It probably had something to do with Julie. After all, “No music is worth making, Julie, if we’re not making it with you.”

The time that really got to Luke, was actually part of how he ended up playing up music anyhow. It all started when his mother got him a guitar for his birthday, happy to support his interest in music. Perhaps she didn’t understand quite how deep the interest ran, because she might never have gotten it if she had. He was immediately captivated by it, and within a week Luke had the basics pretty much down already. It didn’t take him long to get even better, and to decide to form a band with some friends. He went home that night, blood pumping fast with excitement, and told his mom the news. It didn’t go over quite as well as he thought.

His mother had already become a bit apprehensive about how much Luke had come to like the guitar, but she had decided not to say anything as she thought it was just a harmless hobby. But then Luke came home and told her he was in a band, and all the fears rushed to surface and spilled over. She never should have had that much of a reaction or been so harsh, but it was all because she cares about Luke. She is his mother after all. And he had already been falling a bit behind on schoolwork, spending all his free time working out new songs with his guitar. That would only get worse if he joined a band, not even considering his future and the bandmates he wanted to play with, and where they wanted to play music, and all sorts of other concerns that came out when Luke told her about the new band.

It really hit Luke hard that his mother was instantly full of criticisms. Couldn’t she just be happy for him? He came home all excited and she instantly twisted it into hurt and anger, which turned their discussion into more of a fight, or at least certainly didn’t help matters. He’s not quite sure anymore exactly what was said that night, but he got the memo- “You can’t ditch everything for a band when you live in this household” - so he lashed back with some venom of his own, and left. It didn’t even take a whole night for him to regret it.

Biking away with basically only his guitar, the thing that mattered most to him but his mother hated most. Luke only took a good few minutes of furious pedaling to realize that he had no idea where he was going, and he was exhausted. All the fight drained out of him, all the adrenaline faded away, he was just hurt. No more energy to be angry, all the white noise of yelling in the argument cleared from his head, and he couldn’t believe his mother said all that to him. He was so excited to come home and tell his family about his new band, just earlier that evening. It already seemed like so long ago. He felt a little bad about the things he said back to his mom already too, but it was still very clear to him that they were in retaliation. If his mother hadn’t exploded at him for chasing his passion, it never would have happened. He ends up deciding to crash at the Molina’s place. After all Rose did say they could use the garage whenever they wanted. Luke was already almost drowning in this dread about everything that happened, and he was still too tired to really realize it. He just decided to knock out.

It hit him full force in the morning. Luke woke up in an unfamiliar room, confused for about half a second, before getting hit by a tidal wave of “oh, shit.”

Fighting with his family is what really managed to upset him. Nothing in Luke’s life had ever hit him that hard before. That’s when his songwriting really hit a low point for a bit. He wrote Unsaid Emily once he had gotten himself together as a way to conclude his feelings on the matter, and a way to say “I’m sorry” to his mom without actually saying it right to her. He wrote the song to summarize everything he had to say about what happened, but he tried to leave most of the emotion out of it. He learned his lesson about not putting his feelings about it all into song.

In the few weeks before that, his writing was closer to the state they were in middle school. Except this time instead of having nothing to say, he had too much he needed to get out, and he didn’t know how to make it into proper lyrics. He poured too much emotion into them. Instead of being a wave of energy over a crowd, they’d be more like a tsunami, too overpowering. Luke was just writing them for himself at that point, even the band wouldn’t see those songs, much less a stage.

The one thing he could come up with to say on it, looking back, is that’s the thing about being hurt. You have too much to hold inside of you so you bleed your soul out onto paper in ink, but instead of making it beautiful, it just makes the pages dark. All the feelings are just as ugly when you put them down on paper, and once they’re no longer caught in your chest, you don’t want to have anything to do with them. But their ink still stains your hands, and you know they may be gone but you can never forget them.

End A/N: I wrote this all at like 3 AM so I wasn't really focused on the quality of the writing and more so the narrative, hope u don't mind that. It doesn't really?? Have a point?? I don't think I was going somewhere with it I just wanted to express my thought on how Luke would be doing. Let me know what you thought! If this wasn't written in the dead of night how could it have been better? What parts did you like about it? If you don’t want to give feedback, that’s fine. Just please reblog or maybe comment if you enjoyed it, don’t just leave a like. Thanks for reading!

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms fics #jatp fanfic #jatp fic #luke-centric jatp fic #jatp luke angst #luke fic #jatp luke fic #luke patterson #luke patterson jatp #funsizefics

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godsofhumanity · 4 years

Note

I have a question for yaa. How do you imagine the Greek gods? There have been many interpretations of them but i would like to know which one you prefer, or maybe if you have your own designs in mind

ooh yes my favourite type of question!! i’ll just do my favourite from the greek pantheon, but if there’s a specific god you want, shoot me an ask :)

ZEUS | pretty much the same as olympus guardian. zeus, imo, is quick to anger and when he gets angry, he really brings the storm in. he is, of course, a lover at heart, probably considers himself a romantic but hera would say he’s tacky. lots of dad jokes and puns!! likes adventure, likes pranks and has a proper sense for justice. for physical appearances, he’s always been a blonde to me, but i like the idea of him having silver/white hair, and of course, blue eyes. very muscular. old man zeus has a long, fluffy beard.

POSEIDON | only gets angry about serious things, usually pretty chill. also love jokes and puns. a bit artsy and very creative. he’s probably good at sculpting. sings sailor songs to everyone’s annoyance. a romantic. likes adventure, but not as reckless as zeus. for physical appearances, i imagine him to have dark brown hair, might have like, the softest green highlights to imitate seaweed. tanned skin, taller than zeus, and muscular.

HADES | reserved, but not shy. extremely sensible, would be the voice of reason on an adventure. content to stay at home, doesn’t get involved in drama and doesn’t care for it either. flowers and poetry kinda romantic, but only for persephone of course. can be intimidating when he wishes. for physical appearances, black hair, long. he’s either clean shaven or fully bearded- there’s no in-between. not as muscular as zeus, but still built. you would not want to pick a fight with him.

HERA | quick temper. her tantrums last about 20 minutes max. can get extremely petty when provoked. very regal, very royal. dominating presence, no one forgets that she’s a queen. also kind, and motherly when she’s not angry. genuine and forgiving. moved by acts of compassion and devotion. for physical appearances, she’s always had dark brown hair for me. it’s either long or cut to her ears. very wavy. green-blue eyes. always wears a crown, always dresses elegantly. is on the cover of vogue.

APOLLO | egotistical, charming. good at everything. chaotic romantic like his dad. will express small fits of rage through angry lyre-playing or poetry. pure rage will definitely present itself in the form of some massive, violent destruction. very confident of himself, but also encouraging of others, and good at compliments. plays pranks, loves parties. for physical appearances: blonde, long haired, half tied up, the rest flows in the wind. tanned, and well-built, but more athletic than muscular. would run around olympus without clothes if zeus hadn’t made some specific rules.

ARTEMIS | reserved, sensible. can get chaotic, but is mostly calm. loves adventure, and challenges. cannot resist competition. will oversee pranks, but probably doesn’t engage in them much. kind and generous. slow anger, but you should definitely run if you piss her off. makes flower crowns that apollo wears. for physical appearances, midnight blue hair, in a ponytail. wears a head band with a moon on it. blue/purple eyes. slender with muscles. athletic.

ATHENA | loves competitions, hates losing. never takes off her armour. unbeatable at battleship. dishes out roasts without hesitating. leader-type figure. the kind that says “you can dig your own grave” but still accompanies you anyways because she feels responsible anyhow. strong sense of justice, doesn’t really approve of pranks. for physical appearances, tanned skin, tallest goddess. athletic build, could rip a log with two hands.

ARES | looks threatening, actually just a muscular teddy bear. likes challenges, but acknowledges defeat without feeling humiliated or the need for revenge. kind, compassionate. looks in the mirror and gives himself a pep talk before going to battle. strong sense of justice. for physical appearances, very muscular, tanned skin. red hair either long or short. clean shaven almost always. kind smile.

HERMES | playful, almost childish. loves pranks, tricks and small gadgets. the type that has a fridge full of magnets from places that he’s been. finds himself getting blamed for things that aren’t his fault. instigator of fights. for physical appearances, short in height, light brown hair in a messy, short cut.

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ask-them-bois · 4 years

Text

Ancient Sounds 3/5

AS.pt.1 AS.pt.2

TW: Major Character Death

“Bluegill? You a’ight?” Rufuss called softly, knocking on the door gently.

Bluegill coughed again and cleared his throat, then wiped his bloody hands on a tissue. He dropped it down the side of the bed, out of sight, as Rufuss opened the door.

“Yessir, I’m alright.” He rumbled, forcing a smile. Rufuss blinked at him, the younger indigo’s earfins drooping.

“You ain’t lookin’ too good, partner.” Rufuss murmured, walking over to Bluegill’s bed and sitting on the edge beside him. Lil’ Lady, who lay at Bluegill’s feet, grumbled at the bed dipping.

“Prolly not, but I never intended ta win beauty contests wit’ this mug.” Bluegill chuckled, before he sighed. “I’m an ol’ troll, Rufuss. I think my body’s just ‘bout had enough.”

“You’re not that old!” Rufuss protested.

Bluegill gave him a pointed look. “I’m nearin’ forty-six sweeps, kiddo. That’s ‘bout average fer our blood, even with the seadweller part.” His fins twitched as he lay back against the mountain of pillows behind him.

Rufuss blinked at him, before he nodded, reaching up and pulling his hat off. “I ain’t wantin’ you to go.” He said quietly, running a hand through his own hair. Bluegill smiled softly, a wrinkled hand patting Rufuss’ broad shoulder.

“I know, partner, but you’ll do fine without me. You were doin’ great b’fore. You did somethin’ real special here, ya know? Thanks fer takin’ care o’ the old ranch fer me.”

Rufuss blinked at him and sniffled, nodding. “Thank ya kindly, sir. Do ya- do ya want me to… get someone? One o’ them purples, for… for last rites or somethin’?”

Bluegill laughed. “No, Mister Rufuss, I think I’ll be just fine. There’s only one purple I give a damn ‘bout.” He dug in the pocket of his long johns and pulled out an old, tattered photograph. He smiled at softly, the wrinkles on his face doubling, before he held it out to Rufuss. “Looksee.”

Rufuss took the photo and turned it over. The picture was old, faded, and yellow on the edges. It was a photo of a young Hounding, somewhere around six sweeps, his teeth bared and his eyes scrunched up as he tried to smile. His face and overalls were covered in dirt, his hair cut very short. He was leaning on the pasture fence, his head turned towards the camera.

“… Do ya want me ta get Mr. Hounding?” Rufuss asked, passing the photo back.

“No, sir. I don’t think it’d do much good. He ain’t wantin’ nothing ta do with me anyhow.” Bluegill tucked the photo back into his pocket and pat his chest gently. He looked down at Lil’ Lady. “All I wantcha ta do is take care o’ my ol’ gal when I’m gone. Her an’ Sweetpea.”

Rufuss looked down at the ancient basset hound, who raised her head and gazed at her master with big, sorrowful eyes, before she heaved herself to her feet. She waddled over to Bluegill’s side and flopped against him. “I don’ think she wants ya to go, either.” Rufuss frowned.

“Ah… prolly not, but she’ll join me ‘gain eventually.” Bluegill smiled softly, patting the fat bark-beast’s belly. His smile faltered after a moment. “There is, actually, one more thing I’d like you ta do fer me.” He said quietly. Rufuss looked up.

“What is it?”

“Bury me in the pasture, will ya? On the hill. ‘S where I was buried last time, an’ I quite liked it. Had a nice view o’ the sea and the sunset.”

Rufuss felt a lump rise in his throat. “Don’ be talkin’ like that.” He croaked.

“Mm. It’s all I got ta talk about now. Promise me, Ru. On th’ hill near the stables.”

Rufuss shook his head, reaching up to rub his eyes. “I- I promise, sir.” He rasped between his fingers.

Bluegill regarded his descendant fondly. “Don’ cry fer me, cowboy. Not yet. This is how I wanted ta go the first time ‘round. I ain’t got no regrets, an’ I know my ranch is in good hands.”

“I… I won’t-” Rufuss paused, wiping his eyes again, “I won’t letcha down, sir.”

“I know, kiddo.” Bluegill murmured, snuggling deeper into his blankets “You ain’t ever done it before. A man couldn’ ask fer a better descendant, ya know that? I’m plum-dumb proud o’ ya.”

Rufuss choked back a sob, forcing a smile. “Thank ya, sir.”

Bluegill turned his head to look at him, a tired smile on his face. “There it is. That ol’ Rufuss Wacoba smile. Don’t you ever stop smilin’, Ru, you hear me? This planet is pretty shit sometimes; all ya can do is keep on smiling, an’ look forward ta the next sunset.”

“Yes, sir.” Rufuss nodded, swallowing thickly. Bluegill huffed, pleased, and turned to look up at the ceiling before he closed his eyes. There was a moment’s silence before he spoke again.

“Could I ask one more thing of ya?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Go get my guitar, will ya? I wanna hear one more song. Ain’t right fer a man ta go in silence.”

Rufuss choked on a hiccup as he got up and left the room. Bluegill opened his eyes and looked over when he heard his footsteps retreat. He saw the younger indigo’s hat, left on the side, and picked it up. He slid it over his own brow, to cover his face.

“Mm. Don’t be tellin’ on me now, Lil’ Lady, but wasn’t all that truthful wit’ that boy. I got one regret left, after all. I ain’t gonna get ta see where this all ends. But I think I’m okay wit’ that. I’m tired.” He sighed. “I know Ru’s gonna be just fine. … Arrach, too. Make that another regret. Wish I coulda seen my kid one more time.” Lil’ Lady whined softly, pressing her snout into his arm. He pet her head again, before knitting his fingers over his chest.

The door opened again and Rufuss entered once more, a black and blue guitar in hand. His face was blue, eyes puffy from holding everything in. “What song do ya want ta hear?” He asked quietly.

“Hm… “Devil Child, Come Home.” That was always my favorite.” Bluegill replied, his voice very quiet now. His hand trembled as he tugged on the hat in salute. “See ya at the next sunset, Rufuss. Don’t you ever change fer no troll.”

Rufuss sat on the edge of the bed, eyes watering, and plucked a few chords. “It was an honor ta meet you, sir.”

Taking a deep breath, he pulled a pick out of his breast pocket and began to strum. After a few seconds, he began to sing.

His voice, by some miracle, didn’t crack or waver, and he sang. He sang his blood-pumper out, sang one of the most soulful songs Bluegill had ever composed. He sang about the moons, about the ranch, about the night an old rancher’s life changed. He sang of a demon with pitchforks for horns and bloody knuckles, and how that demon saved the rancher’s life. He sang of how that demon grew up, how that demon exchanged his fists for an ax, and how he left, leaving the old rancher alone. He sang of the rancher’s plea, for the demon to come home.

He sang of the rancher’s final words, of the rancher knowing the demon would take his soul when they saw each other again. Still, the rancher prayed for the demon to come back. Finally, he sang of the smile the rancher wore as he saw the demon appear on the horizon, and he sang of the rancher walking into the night to meet him, to welcome the demon home.

Rufuss strummed the last few cords, and let them fade into silence. He peeled open his eyes, his freckled cheeks wet and sticky, and turned to look.

He didn’t need to see it to know Bluegill’s chest no longer rose and fell. Lil’ Lady had her head on the old troll’s shoulder, eyes closed as she rested with her master for the last time. Rufuss set the guitar aside and smiled weakly.

“See ya at the next sunset, Mr. Bluegill.” He croaked.

Rising to his feet, he stumbled out of the respiteblock, and down the hall to his own. He sat heavily on his own bed, and finally let himself have a good, long, cowboy cry. His grief pooled in his hands and dripped through his fingers, splattering his already mud-splattered jeans.

Hours later, when his throat was raw and eyes were dry, he wiped his face and got back up. He wandered downstairs, to the mealblock, and got a glass of sweet tea. Sweetpea, Bluegill’s bark-beast grub, was on the couch, methodically gnawing a chew bone.

Rufuss pat her head, then wandered out onto the porch and sat in the rocking chair, staring out over the pasture. Part of him wanted to slink back inside, into his coon, to hide. But the other part of him knew there was still work to be done.

“Bluegill said cowfolk don’t leave jobs half finished.” He said to himself, bouncing his toes slowly to rock back and forth. Sniffling, he looked out over the ranch that was, once more, all his.

He could see the hill Bluegill had requested; it stood a few yards from the break, where the ground sloped down onto the beach. It’d do just fine, he thought.

Lost in his lapse of grief, the beeping of his palmhusk made him jump. He fumbled and pulled it out, to see a message from Gehero.

-GardeningWarrior began trolling OceanicBuckaroo!-

GW: 8. Hi, Rufuss. Is h3…? .8

OB: YeAh. A few hOurS AgO.

GW: 8. I’m so sorry. At l3ast you kn3w it was coming. .8

OB: ThAt dOn’t mAke it hurt LeSS.

GW: 8. I know. I’m sorry. Do you want m3 to com3 ov3r? .8

OB: NAh, it’S ALright, G. I’LL be OkAy. I’m juSt… thinkin’ mAybe I ShOuLd teLL Mr. UrfAth. BLuegiLL didn’ wAnt me tA teLL him he wAS gOin’, but I StiLL think he ShOuLd knOw he’S gOne.

GW: 8. I could go with you, if you want. .8

OB: I thOught he hAted yOu, thOugh?

GW: 8. Y3s, but you’r3 my fri3nd, Rufuss. I’m willing to fac3 him for you. .8

OB: YOu’re tOO kind, G. I’d AppreciAte it highLy if yOu’d AccOmpAny me.

GW: 8. Th3n it’s s3ttl3d. I can m33t you th3r3 now, if you’r3… r3ady. .8

Rufuss took a deep breath and drained his glass of tea, before he set it aside and stood up.

OB: Lemme fetch my hAt An’ bOOtS, An’ I’ll heAd yer wAy.

-OceanicBuckaroo ceased trolling GardeningWarrior!-

An hour later, Rufuss spotted Gehero standing by the gates to Hounding’s hive, twisting his claws through his hair anxiously. Rufuss sped up his pace, reaching up to tip his hat.

“Howdy, partner.” He called. Gehero looked up and smiled softly.

“Howdy, my friend.” He said, bowing slightly. The boys stepped forward and embraced one another, before pulling back. “How… how are you?” Gehero asked softly.

Rufuss smiled softly. “I’m hurtin’, G, but I’ll be alright.” He said honestly. Gehero nodded in understanding.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“At the moment, nah, but thank ya kindly fer askin’.” He said, before turning to the gate. “Let’s…” he took a deep breath, “Let’s go see Mr. Urfath.” He said, ready to get it over with. He tried the gate, and it pushed open easily for him.

“They’re not locked.” Gehero noted, sounding puzzled.

“Maybe he forgot. I left th’ paddock gates open a few weeks ago, plum forgot ‘bout it until one o’ the kelpies was standin’ on the porch.” Rufuss shrugged with a weak chuckle.

“Hounding doesn’t forget these kinds of things.” Gehero frowned. Shaking his head, though, he followed Rufuss up the marble steps of the large, dark hive. Lights shone through the windows, spilling onto the lawnring.

Rufuss swallowed thickly and walked up to the door, rapping his knuckles loudly against the black wood. There was a moment’s pause, before the giant door opened.

To both boys’ surprise, it was Ashhur who answered, the mutant red seadweller looking just as surprised as them.

“Why you here?” He asked, tipping his head.

“We need to see Houndin’.” Rufuss explained, tipping his hat in greeting.

“Master Urfath is business.” Ashhur informed him, before he frowned. He made several clicks and hums to himself. “Busy.” He corrected himself.

“This is important, though. Please, Ashhur.” Gehero stepped up. Ashhur glanced at him, all four eyes searching the purpleblood’s face, before he relented.

“Okay.” He stepped aside and motioned them in.

Thanking the redblood, Rufuss stepped inside and looked around; the mansion hive was decked in black and purple hues, with the barest splashes of red to give the place a gothic feel. The foyer alone was unnerving, the walls covered in mounted troll horns, skulls, and weapons.

Ashhur motioned for them to follow as he shut the door and headed towards the living block, his golden tattoos glimmering in the chandelier light; he was dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts, his multitude of fins on display.

“Master!” The seadweller called, “More visitors!”

The three of them entered the humongous living block, and both Rufuss and Gehero came to a stop.

Sat across from one another were Hounding and Oliver. Hounding sat in a throne-sized lounge chair, a faygo in hand and an amused expression on his face. Oliver sat snuggly on the lounge plank, his legs ankles crossed and cane laying across his lap, a soda of his own clasped in his claws.

Hounding looked up as they entered, his expression immediately darkening. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He snarled, setting his soda down.

Oliver turned her head in their direction, sniffing the air. “Purple and indigo… Oh! You two must be Gehero and Rufuss. Hello, darlings.” She purred, wiggling her fingers at them.

“Uh… Howdy.” Rufuss greeted her, tipping his hat. He swallowed nervously and stepped forward, looking up at Hounding. “Mr. Urfath, sir, I… I know you ain’t too fond o’ me, or- or Gehero fer that matter, but I got somethin’ ta tell ya.”

“Spit it out, then.” Hounding rumbled, scowling.

Rufuss took a shaky breath and hung his head. “Bluegill is dead.”

The silence that dropped was nearly deafening. Rufuss dared himself to raise his eyes, and saw Hounding staring at him, the purpleblood’s face suddenly blank, betraying his surprise.

“… How.”

“Just… age, sir.”

“When.”

“A few hours ago, sir.”

Hounding was silent for a long moment, before he took a deep breath and sat up. “Fine. Get out.” He said shortly.

“I- sir-?”

“I said,” Hounding spoke over him loudly, lips peeling back to bare his tusks, “get. Out.”

Rufuss opened his mouth to speak again, but thought better of it. He nodded and tipped his hat.

“Yes, sir. Have- have a good evenin’. Sorry fer your loss.” He turned away, taking Gehero’s hand and leading him out of the hive in silence. Rufuss only looked back when they were at the gate, and was surprised to see Ashhur and Oliver had followed them.

“Well, that was… anti-climactic.” Oliver hummed, looking both bored and disappointed.

“What were you doing with Hounding?” Gehero asked the olive, running his claws through his hair again.

“Oh, I just popped in for a hive visit, is all. He’s a friend of a friend of my morail. I just had a few questions for him.” Oliver shrugged, waving a hand dismissively.

Gehero frowned at that, working his jaw back and forth, before he turned to Rufuss. “What do we do now?”

Rufuss looked around, then up at the hive, then adjusted his pants and sighed. “I’m goin’ home. I got a body ta bury and critters who need dinner.” He said.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Gehero offered. Rufuss shook his head.

“No, it’s okay. You got critters o’ your own who probably want dinner. I… wanna be alone fer a while anyway.” He said, forcing a smile.

“… Alright. Troll me if you need anything.” Gehero told him. Rufuss nodded, tipping his hat to the three of them.

“Will do. See ya at the next sunset, folks.” He smiled, turned on his heel, and moseyed away.

Gehero watched him go, before he turned to Ashhur and Oliver. “… What about you, Ashhur?” He asked.

The mutant shrugged, the fins on his shoulders rippling. “I go back eventually. Master Urfath kicks me out… lots of times. I can go back later.”

“Well… it’s not safe for you to be out here uncovered.” Gehero reached down and undid his robe, slipping it off and holding it out. “Here. You can come stay at my hive for a while, if you’d like.”

Ashhur’s eyes all blinked at different intervals, and he nodded. He took the robe and slipped it on. “Okay.”

Beside them, Oliver hummed. “I suppose I should head home, too… Although, Gehero, darling, I was hoping to talk to you.”

Gehero turned to the oliveblood. “About what?”

“Well, word is that you… recently left your dear church.”

“I… I did, yes.”

“You must be feeling a little lost right now, right?”

“Um.”

“In need of a support system? Looking for a community to support you?” Oliver pressed, stepping forward.

Gehero stepped back, unnerved. “I- I have my meow-beasts-” He began.

“Yes, yes, your precious meow-beasts, I know. I’m more of a feather-beast person myself. Anyways, I know a community that can help you.”

Gehero perked up slightly. “You- you do?”

“I do, darling! A fun little club I host; a lovely group of trolls from all sides of the spectrum, many of which are going through their own hard times. We even have a silly name and we all get matching tattoos, and oh, it’s just a lovely, fun time.” Oliver purred.

Gehero’s face fell. “Oh. You mean the Black Hand.”

“Oh! You’ve heard of us, then?” Oliver beamed.

“Yes, Musrio warned me about you. I’m sorry, but I’m not looking into joining cults at the moment.” He said flatly. Oliver’s lips twitched in the faintest frown, before she was once again smiling.

“Ah, well, the offer still stands, my love.” She turned away, waving over her shoulder. “Good evening, my dears!”

Over her shoulder, she heard Gehero say, “Come with me, Ashhur.” She waited until the sounds of their footsteps faded away, before she let her smile drop. Digging in his purse, Oliver pulled out his palmhusk and earbuds, pulling up Trollian.

-SightlessFirebird began Trolling HeavymetalMeowbeast!-

SF: BB~. I have news~.

HM: OH??? ABOUT HIEROPHANT????

SF: Yes, my love~. I was just at the Hounding’s hive, when none other than Ru7uss and Gehero came in, and announced Bluegill had died~! Tragic thing, that~. Ah well, I suppose that’s just another number down on Musrio’s side, though~. Old troll passed in his own bed~.

HM: OH DAMN. WHAT ABOUT HOUNDING, THOUGH??? DID HE GIVE YOU ANYTHING USEFUL???

SF: He did~! An old trinket of Hierophant’s I think will come in handy~. I think it’s about time we had another meeting, BB~.

SF: It’s time 7or you to come home~.

HM: !!!!!!!

-SightlessFirebird ceased Trolling HeavymetalMeowbeast!-

#ancient sounds #story time #long post #very long post #bluegill #rufuss wacoba #gehero urfath #the hounding #oliver maddel #ashhur jaybez #tw character death #so long space cowboy

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

Text

Chunky Bracelets

I was gonna only do half of this today but then I finished it.

Summary: Icy reflects on her past; decidedly, it is better to do the victimizing than be the victim.

Self-harm mentions.

Sometimes the face reflected in the glass isn’t the one she wants. Sometimes the face in the mirror seems unnatural, like it shouldn’t be. And maybe that’s because it is. It was different some time ago...a long time ago now.

Icy rummages through her drawer and finds her favorite eyeshadow, her mascara, and her eyeliner. She draws it on thick and winged, accents her lashes, and adds a soft tint to her lips. Sometimes she chooses black or a deep navy blue, but today she is feeling for something lighter. Something like first frost on the grass. She fixes her hair into it’s high ponytail and accents it with diamonds, some faux and some real.

Her work is done. She is nothing like she was back then.

And she should be glad for it. There was nothing to like about her back then. Not her weird interests, not her awkward personality, and certainly not her looks--the way she dressed, her unkept, unwashed hair. Those ridiculous glasses and those painful braces.

She taps her eyeliner pencil against her chin; she could probably make it work now. The outfit anyhow. She thinks that her style of dress wouldn’t have been so terrible had it not clashed with whatever the hell had been going on with her face and personality.

Chunky studded bracelets clamped over blue and black arm warmers that fit too loosely around her arms paired with a ridiculously oversized muscle tank top--she can’t remember which band logo it had boasted. Ripped skinny jeans--they would have been anyhow if they weren’t so baggy on her--tucked into studded combat boots.

Yes, she could make that work now. But they didn’t sit well with braces, and glasses, and tangled hair. They were worn even worse on someone who stuttered through every conversation. Someone who rambled on about stupid things like snowglobe collections, famous brooms used by famous witches, and bands that no one else cared about.

She runs the comb through her hair until it is silky and immaculate. Until she has worked any trace of that person out with the knots. She doesn’t think about that person often. She tries to think none of her at all. Even still, after so long, and even in private solitude, it brings color to her pale cheeks.

Icy had been such an easy target, she doesn’t blame the lot of them. She wasn’t their favorite; their favorite was a short chubby girl with awful hand-eye coordination and a habit of stumbling over her own feet. But she was a good second.

They had many names for her but mostly she was a poser. A wannabe. An abomination to the punk-rock scene.

And her lyrics were just as absurd. Solstice had made that clear enough when she snagged her notebook and read them all out loud.

“Sing for us, Icy!” She shouted. “We want a concert!”

She did. She isn’t sure what she thought she would accomplish. Maybe she thought that she would have been a phenomenal singer, that she would have showed them all. And maybe she would have if she hadn’t been red-faced and anxious. Her song was shaky and off key.

She never sang again. Never wanted to.

For a time she unclasped the studded bracelets and swapped her skinny jeans for plain blue jeans. She traded her tank tops for oversized plaid sweaters in a soft baby blue. Somehow that made things worse. And of course that did. She was no longer a wannabe but a full blown dork. She supposes that at least the style had fit the person.

She picks through her closet for something to wear. She isn’t sure if she wants to go for the pastel goth aesthetics or something darker, something old school--batcave maybe. But then she’d have to break out the hairspray and style it all over again.

She transferred schools after that year. When they started throwing things at her and crafting little ornaments to hang in her hair she had requested the transfer. Her requests went ignored until she got careless--until her sleeve fell back and they found the scars.

She runs her fingers over them. Where they would be if she hadn’t tattooed over them. If she can’t see them, then they aren’t there. If they aren’t there then she never had a reason to put them there. If she never had a reason to put them there then she was never anything but suave and cool, smooth and confident.

The school that she was transferred to was smaller. Private. It wasn’t even in her home realm. She tried many styles then; one week she was preppy, the next she tried for something more sporty, and the week after that was whatever everyone else was wearing. And then she settled on simply being a punk-rock poser again. At least that took little effort and acting. There is something poetic about that, she knows.

She settles for pastel goth today, it goes well with her hair. She holds the dress against her body. Her elegant, slender body. There is a soft shimmer to her skin. Her skin has always had a shimmer to it. She studies the mirror again. Her cheeks are sculpted just as elegantly, her eyes are framed with makeup instead of glasses. Her hair falls over her shoulder in long, groomed waves. She has a pretty face. She likes to think that it is well earned.

She has earned her right to look down on the frizzy-haired and the bespectacled. She has earned her right to mock fareries that are too fat for their wings and witches that are skinnier than their broomsticks. She has earned her right to torment those who need to get themselves together.

She is glamorous. She has status. She has earned her right… And yet she feels hollow. Fake.

It is a nagging and persistent itch that is ever present each time she opens her mouth to let one of those loathsome pixies know that they are weak. She is fake. It is all a lie.

She tugs her dress on and steps out into the hallway.

“Oh perfect, you’re just on time!” Stormy greets.

“We were just reminding Mirta that she doesn’t belong here.” Darcy adds.

The girl is cornered. Icy rolls her eyes. The girl makes it too easy. Laughably easy. She is wearing Lucy’s arm warmers. She squeezes her eyes shut and covers her ears with her hands. Her fingernails are painted in an alternating red and black.

“She doesn’t need the reminder, she already knows.” Icy shrugs. “Don’t you, Mirta?”

“Y-yes.”

Icy rolls her eyes. “Then what are you doing here? This is a school for witches not, whatever the hell you are.”

“She’s a fairy in a witch’s clothing.” Stormy remarks.

“A poser.” Darcy comments, quirking a perfectly penciled brow.

A poser… Icy folds her arms over her chest.

She doesn’t think much of it throughout the day. She doesn’t think of it at all, really. Not until she makes it back to the dorm. And then she doesn’t stop thinking about it.

And the more she thinks about it, the more she thinks that she had made a mistake. She isn’t sure which kind or when exactly she had made it. But when she stands in front of the mirror and scrubs her eye makeup away, she is damn near certain that she has.

Sometimes when she stares for too long at her bare face she sees an awkward girl with glasses and braces and messy hair. And sometimes when she stares for much too long, she misses that person. That kinder person. That lanky girl with the arm warmers, studded bracelets, and oversized shirt. That stupid girl who--rather poorly--played the guitar in a stupid garage band.

“Hey.” Darcy leans in the door frame. “We’re going to the bar. You coming?”

“Let me reapply my makeup.”

“We still have to get ready too.” Stormy shrugs.

Icy wanders back to her closet. To the very back of it; he tugs on the arm warmers, clamps on those chunky studded bracelets. For old time’s sake, she tells herself.

#Winx #Winx Club #Winx Icy #Trix Icy #Fanfiction

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