#that was the only instrument he played at that time

[chlorinecake]

✰ don’t give me that look | l.at oneshot

pairing: switch! producer boyfriend! anton x sub! f. reader

🇨​​💿 ​​🇳​​🇹​​🇦​​🇮​​🇳​​🇸 ꗃ SIZE KINK, kissing, lap sitting, tit & clit play, anton records a sex-tape in the studio, unprotected sex (back shots), roughly 1.8k words … !?

a/n: for @antonitty and her delusions - hope u like it bae !!

You sat idly on the studio couch, admiring your boyfriend from afar as he silently toggled with the sound desk, mixing a few rhythms.

Crossing your legs, you eyed him up and down, taking in the view of his focused frame.

“You’re pretty good at flicking and twisting those knobs, y’know?… I wonder how nice it’d be if you used that same energy to please me…”

He let out a soft breath, eyes still trained on the soundboard as he spoke, “Babe, you know I’d rather spend time with you… I just have to produce this track sample before tomorrow…”

“And then?…”

“I’m all yours,” he finished, flashing you a promising look through his shaggy bangs.

“Fineeee,” you agreed in a sarcastic tone, slightly rolling your eyes at him, “but can you let me try something on the record first?… it might help…”

Anton quirked a brow, turning to meet your face with his own intrigued one, “You mean like… singing?”

You simply nodded in response, just before promptly getting up from the couch to sit on his lap at the music desk.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands now that you were this close to him, so he simply rested them at each arm of the spinning chair.

“You might even learn a thing or two from me if you pay attention,” you went on, knowing that he’d smile at your playful words.

“Go ahead then, superstar… blow me away,” he whispered tauntingly, keeping his thighs firm as you adjusted yourself on top of him.

With his headphones secured around his head, Anton prepared himself to hear whatever it was that you wanted to add to the track project.

Pressing the red “record” button, you let the instrumental play for a few moments as you got a feel of the beat, this one sounding more R&B compared to his usually chill rhythms.

You started by toggling in a few bass notes on the drum-pad, watching Anton’s reflection in the soundproof screen ahead for any sign of reaction.

So far, he only bobbed his head slowly, still anticipating your next move.

That’s when you picked up the mic, bringing it to your lips and letting out the most pornographic moan you could muster.

Anton’s hands flew from the chair arms to take off his headphones, reaching forward to pause the track recording as you suddenly burst into a fit of giggles.

“Babe, what the hell?” He blushed, covering his face with one hand as butterflies rushed through his stomach, the sound of your moan replaying in his mind over and over, “this is serious, y’know?”

You turned around in his lap, taking in your boyfriend’s shy demeanor as you fought to hold back the laughter growing in your chest.

“What? Was it bad? I can do better if you want me to…,” you pouted, batting your eyelashes at him as he put his hands behind his head, slightly smirking at you despite the evidently nervous red flush of his cheeks, “you can even help me...”

“Don’t give me that look, ____,” he sighed, voice sounding a bit more raspy while still maintaining its usual softness.

Was it nerves?

Was he horny?…

Either way, it didn’t matter to you because he sounded so fucking hot right now—

“What look?” you pressed with a feigned expression of innocence before very intentionally wiggling in his lap a bit.

“Like you wanna be fucked,” Anton said with a wince at your actions, letting his eyelids fall slightly while looking down at you with a clenched jaw.

You couldn’t believe those words had left his mouth so smoothly, his confidence alone causing you to squeeze your thighs together, already feeling so eager for him…

You couldn’t handle it when he behaved so switchy with you… starting off all shy before gradually becoming more and more bold.

His eyes eventually wandered back to the soundboard, so you took it as an opportunity to change the subject.

“You never told me if it was bad or not,” you started in the silence, mind just now becoming aware of Anton slowly getting harder beneath you.

“Well,” he hummed, letting his hands leave his head and slip down to your hips, “it was a solid 50-50, if I’m being honest…”

You scoffed dramatically, an offended hand flying to your chest, “How so?”

“Because… I always love the sounds you make for me, but not when you force them…”

His grip on your hips was firm now, holding you in place before just barely rocking you against his lap in skilled motions.

Despite the simplicity of his actions, your body started to feel dizzy with desire, mind fogging up as his clothed tip continued grinding beneath your core.

“Anton—”

“Shhh,” he interrupted, the feeling of his breath below your ear making you internally shiver, a feathery yet steady groan escaping his lips.

“Can I try something now?” he asked breathlessly, even though the question sounded more like a declaration than a proposal of permission.

“Mhmm,” you nodded submissively, eyes feeling heavy as the warmth amongst your bodies only grew, thanks to how stuffy the studio was.

Clicking the sound desk back on “record,” Anton slipped his headphones over your head, feeling himself get even hotter at how cute you looked in this moment, his chunky earmuffs barely fitting around your much smaller head.

By now though, Anton had easy access to your lower half, given the high-pleated-skirt you decided to wear that day.

You almost felt like half of your body escaped to another planet when Anton’s touch started to wander lower, his hands practically covering the entire expanse of your exposed thighs given how big they were.

His breath remained steady in this moment, despite how his heart kept stuttering like a broken record.

Or perhaps, a sexually excited one…

The subtle movements of your legs helped Anton to shimmy your panties down past your hips, all the way down to your ankles, and eventually the floor.

You sat with your soaking wet core atop your boyfriend’s lap now, two of his fingers soon finding your clit in slow, circular motions.

The thing was, Anton had finally let his intrusive thoughts win, having wanted to get a genuine recording of your moans for a while.

The idea always meddled in the back of his mind whenever you pranced into the studio while he was working on beats…

However, the only issue now was that you were feeling a bit shy with the recorder on again…

“C’mon baby, lemme hear you,” the boy nearly begged, words sounding a bit mumbled with the way he was kissing along your neck.

“I know you want to,” he taunted, free hand sliding up to grope your left tit while his other hand continued toying with your pussy, “no wonder you wore this slutty skirt for me today…”

His voice… it practically intoxicated you… the way it sounded so pure yet so condescending at the same time…

“F-fuck,” you stammered with a moan, furrowing your brows as his fingers applied pressure to your clit, the other hand slightly pinching your nipple as he knew just how to get you to those pretty sounds that he wanted out of you.

“Good girl~,” he whispered in a cooing manner, “but I know you can do better than that…”

He guided you to stand up on your wobbly legs, his fingers meddling with your slick as he towered behind you.

And although your ears were still muffed with his headset, you could clearly make out the sound of his belt unbuckling with tingly clinks, your pussy only pulsing with need.

Before you could even beg to be fucked, you felt one of Anton’s hands hike up your skirt, the other forcing your back to arch over the sound board as his hard length pressed between your folds.

He was way too fucking big, but part of you liked the idea of him potentially breaking you.

It wasn’t easy, but your boyfriend eventually slipped himself inside, letting his tip tease along the ridges of your heat before picking up the pace, the soft pants and occasional groans from his body sounding loud and clear thanks to the headphones you wore.

There was also something about hearing your own moans so audibly on top of his… hearing how he turned you into a whiny mess so easily…

Anton’s hazy eyes met your fucked out reflection in the glass screen ahead, your own vision wandering off to the sound wave reader on his music board.

The way it’s lines heightened with each desperate moan that left your sweaty bodies did nothing but crazy things to the knot tightening in your stomach.

“Touch me, Anton,” you practically whimpered, voice coming out in small hiccups given how hard he was pounding into you.

His hands were already so tight around your waist, but your whiny request let him know exactly where you wanted him… where you needed that extra intensity.

He went to grope your tits, lifting your body away from the sound board with ease as the sight of his flexed biceps nearly made you drool.

The pace of his hips remained fast and controlled as he continued fucking into you, the tip of his cock reaching so deep that you’re sure you felt it in your belly button.

Looking down, Anton saw that the recording had reached just over 3 minutes, despite how your pussy desperately clenched around him, a clear sign that you were close to finishing.

His mouth was full of saliva, not even remembering to swallow given how pleasure drunk he was right now.

And somehow, you caught onto this, turning your neck at an angle and guiding his plush lips to kiss you, only a few seconds passing before he inserting his tongue, grunting into your mouth.

“You sound so pretty, baby,” he said in between kissing you sloppily, right before taking his headphones off your head and tossing them on the couch, still connected to the music desk by a thin black wire, “listen…”

He whispered the last word against your lips, maintaining the most gentle look in his eyes as he kept bouncing your ass on his cock.

You meant to say something, but the weak cries of pleasure kept stalling your speech, the words becoming a jumbled mess in your head.

Anton’s strength helped to hold up your shaky body just as you felt your release gush around him, a bit of it seeping onto his thighs as he continued thrusting.

It didn’t take long for him to cum after that too, a beautiful series of moans spilling from his lips as he panted over you, letting his hand slide away to end the recording.

The screen read ‘5:18s’ before Anton reached over to save the track, leaving both of you shocked that you even finished that fast together…

Still a panting mess, your boyfriend held your hips close to his, letting his weight fall back in the spinning chair with you on top of him.

“We should totally do quickies in the studio more often,” you huffed tiredly, leaning back against Anton’s chest as he hugged you close, still inside your pussy.

“Not that I’m disagreeing with you, but maybe after I install an air conditioner in here, we can plan something,” he smiled, not even bothering to wipe the sheen of sweat from his face that inevitably kept your hot bodies clung together.

Your hand found his, fingers idly toying with the rings he wore as he adjusted himself beneath you, “I should probably let you get back to work now since I’ve distracted you enough already—”

“Let’s just stay like this for a little longer,” he interrupted, almost yawning at how comfortable he felt buried inside you in this moment, “please?”

“Of course, superstar,” you replied playfully, nestling into his warmth and letting your eyes fall shut as you listened to the sound of his gentle heartbeat…

✶ taglist: @squoxle, @nikisdubblchococake, @wonbinisbabygurl, @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr

✶ 🎀 ✶ check out more works like this on my RIIZE masterlist !!

[hausbabylon]

soul bounds disentwined

Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

Word count: 5,546

Warnings: A little angsty, I guess? And ofc Reader having a crush on Billy's mom not knowing if it's reciprocated.

A/N: This is inspired in Halsey's music video "Colors", if you have watched it, you can see where this is gonna go...

A/N: For plot purposes, let’s suppose Infinity War and subsequent events never happened, and instead, after the Civil War, Wanda decided to quit her life as a superhero. Part II coming soon!

Wanda Maximoff hired you -a photographer who urgently needed a fresh start- to capture the dishes that would be featured in her second cookbook. Her son, Billy Maximoff, interfered with what you two could have developed. He had feelings for you, and well, you had feelings for his mother.

According to Forbes (2023), Wanda Maximoff secured the third position among the wealthiest chefs worldwide. She is a living proof that we are all capable of rewriting our own story, even after a lifetime shaped by external influences.

Simone Carlisle (Culinary Arts Teacher): Ah, Wanda Maximoff… (pauses) let me tell you, no one prepares you for that feeling, where you find out that you contributed your seed to the plants of successes that one of your students planted in the garden of her life.

Wanda Maximoff (Chef, restaurant chain owner, and television presenter): For as long as I can remember, my decisions were a cycle of revenge and redemption... don't get me wrong, I don't regret beating the shit out of some idiots (laughs), but, with the busy life I led, the only moment I could pause my life was while I was hiding in Scotland with my ex-boyfriend Vision. I had no one expecting anything from me, no one telling me what to do, where to go, it was like a puppy without an owner.

Vision (Avenger, Wanda Maximoff’s ex-partner): Dear, was it a journey. First, I remember that she watched YouTube videos to learn guitar. As soon as she woke up, she grabbed the instrument, and she wasn't satisfied until her fingers got numb. In a very short time, she caught the hang of it, and played for the first time in a small bar. No one knew who she was, and if they did, they probably didn't care. She was just a talented player keeping them entertained. Afterwards, band members fought over who would give her their contact first to join them. I thought that would be the beginning of a very successful music career, because from what I've read, international artists started that way.

Wanda Maximoff: I said, “Vision, I’m never doing this again”.

Vision: She kept practicing, playing in the solitude of her room, of course. It was a hobby-kind-of-passion, not the type of passion she would like to dedicate most of her life to. She went through many of those to realize that her main passion was under her nose all along.

Wanda Maximoff: The courage to join in culinary classes arose from desperation (chuckles), I used to prepare recipes at home, and I needed someone else's approval… it couldn't come from someone who didn't even eat in the first place! And so the beginning of my trayectory was paved by this amazing teacher, Simone Carlisle.

Simone Carlisle: The shy girl who during the intensive course kept her head down, sitting on the back corner, nervously playing with her rings while ignoring whispers and glances from other students, is now in a big framed picture, placed in the most visible spot so that everyone who enters my academy knows that I taught this legend. She made my small business a huge deal now (laughs).

Wanda Maximoff: I never imagined that I would have my own cookbook, television program, or chain of restaurants, let alone all three at the same time! At first, I was content with cooking in a restaurant and earning a decent living, but later, I thought about the possibility of creating a YouTube channel, which subsequently permitted me to finance the publication of my book. Building on the success of my book, the opportunity of my show emerged, which in turn allowed me to open my first restaurant, and ultimately expand it into a chain of restaurants. What I want to convey is that you must trust that the love for what you do is a powerful tool. Success is subjective, so pursue your own concept of it.

Amy Lee (Evanescence’s lead singer and songwriter): It was a hard day of work. I didn’t feel like cooking but I was looking for the homiest, most comforting food possible, and Wanda Maximoff made it a reality with her restaurant located just a few blocks near me. I told my bandmate, Emma, about this amazing food restaurant, she replied, "Oh, the owner has a YouTube channel and a show, you should watch it so that you don't overcook the spaghetti" (laughs). It has been a great help to me ever since, for those are creative but accessible recipes. Plus, it’s a nice touch that she uses her magic to manipulate ingredients and utensils, while making you laugh with her witty jokes. The best way to put it is; she makes you feel like it's a close and sweet friend who is teaching you. Her human and warm approach felt and still feels like a pat on the back.

Wanda Maximoff: My favorite singer since adolescence, Amy Lee, has said something about me that fills me with happiness every time I remember it. She helped me cope, I helped her cook. We're even now.

Vision: You see, Wanda's powers went from being a source of fear in the world to being the main reason why said fear stopped as well. An impressive understanding in her abilities, still doesn't make her an expert, as she can't prevent unexpected situations.

Wanda Maximoff: I was six months pregnant. In the blink of an eye… literally.

The latest legacy of the Maximoff family, twins Billy and Tommy, were effortlessly admitted to Princeton University. The dean was left speechless, for their admission exam grades exceeded expectations.

Tony Stark (Avenger, Stark Industries): With Wanda, our initial connection was through business, the Avengers, you know? It wasn't until she asked me if I could offer her kids an internship at Stark Industries that we developed a closer bond, and man, were those kids geniuses!

Wanda Maximoff: Those kids... one day, they'll outgrow me (laughs). They were so eager to rush through life stages, and I thought, "You don't realize I would give everything to relive those joyful years," but I know better than to project my own frustrations on my sons.

Virginia "Pepper" Potts (Stark Industries): One day, I said goodbye to two fourteen-year-old boys. The next day, Happy informed me that some tall adults with raspy voices, claiming to be Billy and Tommy, wanted to come in. I immediately phoned Wanda, and she casually responded, "Oh, yeah, they can do that," as if maturing into college students overnight was a typical Tuesday occurrence for any teenager.

Thomas Maximoff, (Student at Princeton, son of Wanda Maximoff): What can I say? (chuckles) school didn't present any intellectual challenges for us, and, yes, they do admit child prodigies for... PhDs even! But, we wanted to blend in, to share the same age as our classmates.

Wanda Maximoff: I always considered it a priority to spend time with my boys, so I put a lot of my work on hold, including my second cookbook project. Now that they're focusing on college and their internship, I've had too much time, and by that I mean too much time to finish that unfinished work.

Wanda Maximoff had completed her second cookbook, in response to numerous requests from her loyal fans. Another book that promised to aid all those who seeked a different, quick, and above all, delicious meal at any time of the day. There was no doubt that it would become a global bestseller, just like her previous one.

All that was left were the illustrative photographs for the book, and the studio where you worked at was in charge of this task.

You meticulously made the first dish she cooked appear as exquisite as in real life. You employed several tools like lighting, background elements, and cutlery placement, but you never altered the food in any way, it didn't even cross your mind to do so. This didn't sit well with your boss, but it certainly pleased the redhead.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) (Photographer): I remember my boss suggested that I add components to the food to make it look more appealing. I responded that that was the equivalent of encouraging unattainable stereotypes of beauty... in food (chuckles).

Wanda Maximoff: By offering unrealistic references, people would be discouraged to notice that their result was not the same as mine, not knowing that those references have hours of strategy to make it look 'aesthetic'. I prefer to show it as it is (pauses) I think that's why I liked this girl, I didn't have to say a word and she understood everything.

Your boss was the typical man who didn't let newcomers like you progress. Although you had been working in the studio for about six months, he never allowed you to touch a camera, which was contradictory because that was the job you applied for.

You did the work he didn't want to do, like transporting, positioning and removing the equipment, and setting up the scenery. That idiot just did the angles and clicked the top right button, and then took all the credit and praise. It annoyed you, yes, but unlike him, you didn't need praise from anyone to fill your ego, you just wanted to be acknowledged for your own efforts and not to be another person’s side kick.

In the meantime, it was enough satisfaction to know that none of the praise he gets would be possible without you, and he knew it…

… and Wanda knew it.

"What do you think, Miss Maximoff?" Your boss showed Wanda the array of photographs he took of the latest dish. He proudly displayed them, awaiting for a compliment from the redhead.

"Wow, (Y/N), placing the sautéed potatoes in a separate bowl instead of alongside the food within the same dish... you were right, it gives them their own protagonism and importance as a side dish," was the first thing she said, eliciting a small blush from you. "Great work!"

"Thank you, Miss Maximoff," after hearing her words, you experimented a feeling that was somewhat unfamiliar to you. It made you feel visible, truly seen and acknowledged in a workplace that often overlooked such things. And the fact that it came from her, made it all even more so profound.

"It's just Wanda," she corrected you, as if her previous actions weren't enough, she gave you the green light to address her in a more intimate manner. Along with that, your boss was already frustrated enough at not being the center of attention for two and a half hours. It was all a dream!

"(Y/N), we're done here, remove the equipment and take it to my car. I'll be waiting for you for just five minutes," your boss ordered you. Not even a ‘please’, nothing. In his gaze was evident that desperate attempt to look intimidating, which only made him look like a tantruming child. However, when his gaze turned to the older woman, he held an incredible admiration and appreciation, almost as if they were two different people in the same body. "Miss Maximoff, it was a pleasure working with you, truly an honor. We could continue next week...”

"Do you have equipment of your own, (Y/N)?" She interrupted him in mid-sentence, and you hesitated briefly.

"Uh... yes, of course, Miss... I mean, Wanda," you replied.

You worked as a freelance photographer in your spare time, capturing people or events here and there. It was something relatively stable, but it could not be your main income, so you felt the need to work on a studio.

"Perfect... I'll be contacting only you so we can work on the rest of the illustrations for the book," she stated.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N): I couldn't believe what I heard! The first thing I did was begging to whatever force there is that this wasn't a dream. It was overwhelming, the feeling of fear and ecstasy… Wanda wanted ME to work with her.

She recognized something in you within three and a half hours that others failed to see in six months. This was it. This was the big break you had been waiting for, the opportunity to show your skills and make your mark.

That being said, you never saw your boss, or stepped foot in that studio after that.

In the days that followed, you poured your heart and soul into preparing for the upcoming shoots.

You studied Wanda's previous cookbooks, familiarizing yourself with her style, her preferences. You even watched her program and her interviews, initially with the excuse of seeing those mesmerizing eyes and delighting yourself with her beauty, but you actually learned a lot of cooking techniques that you were excited to cook when it was such an annoying task for you to do.

When the day of the shoot finally arrived, you were ready. You set up your equipment with a confidence you had never felt before. You positioned the reflectors so that the natural light would bounce where you needed it, and set the scene to make the food appealing and motivating. Wanda watched you work, her eyes filled with admiration and respect.

You smiled at her as you turned on your camera, “So, what do you do with all this food after I photograph it?” You questioned curiously.

"I pack it, multiply it with my powers, and give it to the homeless," she explained. "It's something I often do, in fact, but I prefer to keep good deeds a secret, and not brag about it," she added. “I would appreciate it if you don’t say anything.”

"I figured that about you," you smiled sympathetically.

"You figured?"

“You have always used your skills to help," you elaborated, and noticed she slightly scrunched her nose, as a way of disagreeing. "Yes, even when you were working for Hydra, Tony Stark was destroying territories left and right, and you were seeking justice, doing what you felt was right," you added, noticing how her face showed an expression of realization. "And now, you focus on helping people who struggle with thinking of a simple but good meal in the midst of a hectic routine, and not so much on showing off how good you are at cooking exotic dishes. So yes, I assumed you would also help those who can't even afford a meal, too.”

Wanda's gaze was lost in the white marble of her kitchen floor, and you knew you gave her a new perspective on the wrongs she had done in her past. She meant well all along, and ultimately, that's what mattered. She was a great person in the present, and that's what mattered.

"So, you're the photographer in question," a tall, curly-haired guy stepped into the kitchen doorway, interrupting the train of thought of the woman in front of you.

You laughed at the expression on her face as reality hit her again.

"Oh, yes. Sweetheart, this is (Y/N)," she introduced you to who you already knew was her son. "And (Y/N), this is my son Billy."

"Nice to meet you, Billy," you replied, approaching him to offer your hand to shake.

"The pleasure is all mine," he emphasized the last words, as he accepted your hand. "My mom didn't mention that you were so beautiful."

Wanda cleared her throat, and proceeded to look at him with surprise in her eyes. In a I-can’t-believe-you-said-that way.

You couldn't help but laugh again at how expressive she was without noticing it.

But in their perspective, from how you looked the other direction and chuckled softly, you seemed to snicker at Billy's flattery, which couldn't be further from the truth. He was corny and predictable, but most importantly, he was not Wanda Maximoff.

"Oh, forgive him, he still doesn't know how to control those sky-high hormones," Wanda said, grabbing Billy's shoulders from behind to guide him out of the kitchen.

You noticed that she was already shorter than her son by a few centimetres. This was nostalgic for any mother, but how must Wanda have felt watching it happen overnight? You were curious.

"No problem," you replied, and headed for the counter to begin photographing.

Billy entered the kitchen again, standing next to you, but not close enough to invade your space, which you thanked internally.

"Do you mind if I watch you work, (Y/N)?" Billy requested, and you smiled politely.

"Billy! Don't you have an internship to go to?" Wanda interfered before you could answer.

"Pepper and Tony organized a party at the tower," he replied victoriously.

"College homework?"

"Piece of cake. I finished it an hour ago."

“How about you enjoy your free time and go bowling with your brother?”

“He’s busy playing Fortnite online,” he shrugged.

Wanda rolled her eyes, "Behave yourself. That's the only condition."

"It's okay, Wanda," you reassured her. Each stage in a child's life is gradual, and parents usually have many years to learn about what each stage entails. It was understandable that Wanda didn't know what to do now that her children were suddenly old enough to drink and get into adult trouble.

"So, (Y/N), how long ago did you start this whole photography gig?" The taller guy spoke up, once you took your first picture.

"I've been doing it since I was thirteen," you replied, still capturing the image in before you at different angles. "Dedicating myself to this? As soon as I turned eighteen. I had a decent portfolio."

"I don't doubt it," he agreed.

You gave him a slight thankful smile, and walked over to Wanda, who was setting up the second dish to be photographed.

"What do you think?"You asked her, and it wasn't until she turned to look at the camera that you noticed that this is the closest you've ever been to her. You could smell her fragrance and hear her breathing. Your mind was screaming at you to move away, for you had no right to display such trust yet, on the contrary, your body needed to be as close as possible... to feel her.

You had never touched her, not even when she greeted you this afternoon. She simply opened her door and let you enter.

"Excellent. The blueberries next to the gluten-free blueberry pancakes are wet,” she commented. “Did you do it to provide a sense of freshness?" She inquired, looking into your eyes this time, and... the charm of her green eyes was incomparable.

Throughout life, you've seen different shades of green, but hers were unique. They seemed to have a whole story to tell, as if she gave them that power. Her eyes glowed with an emerald hue that mesmerized anyone who met her gaze, and you were no exception.

“Exactly, that’s what I did,” you confirmed, and you felt your cheeks burning, which you immediately hid by looking down and walking back to the counter.

The only interactions you had with Wanda were to get her to approve your photographs, since her son didn’t allow you both a second to talk. He didn’t cease to ask you all sorts of questions, and to keep the conversation going, you responded with brief 'and you?'s so that he still felt heard and had the space to reveal details about himself.

It was all natural for you. Your work was also based on creating a liveliness in the environment where you performed, plus you got more genuine reactions from people if you made them laugh and feel comfortable. However, you always ended up talking with whoever was willing to, even if you were not there to capture them.

In fact, you were enjoying the conversation with such a charismatic guy. At first, it felt overwhelming, but just by letting the topics flow, you ended up laughing and feeling more at ease with him. In any case, you would be meeting him more than once in the eight weeks that remained before the project was completed.

Once you had finished photographing the ten dishes for the week, you turned off your camera and put it back in its case.

You were too happy with the results. This was all done by you alone, and you would be recognized for it. Never again would your boss's name appear under the pictures that were all your doing. The moment Wanda sends your photographs to the publisher, your name would appear in the book credits, and so a new story would begin.

And Wanda... oh, Wanda made it so clear that she loved your work, and paid so much attention to detail. Not only did she praise you, but she made it a point to let you know that she had indeed noticed the details that to the average eye would go unnoticed. You didn't know if you were really developing a crush, or if it was just the fact that she was an older woman that satisfied that need for attention that you rarely got... or it could be both.

When you were working on your own, you didn't feel exhausted and drained despite the long working hours, unlike when you were in the studio. You were very grateful that Wanda had given you another opportunity like that, and you were confident that it could become a regular thing.

"Wow, seeing all these dishes without having eaten lunch has really made me hungry," you laughed, proceeding to remove the reflectors from the kitchen’s window. The sky was still clear. You started at a perfect timing to take advantage of natural light.

"You haven't eaten? Look at the time! I thought you had eaten before you came!" She exclaimed. The redhead actually looked concerned. "Do you have any idea of the damage you're doing to your body? You need energy for this kind of work."

"Hey, I wanted to make a joke and you ruined it with your lecture," you protested.

Wanda sighed, and shook her head disapprovingly, which made your heart crumble a little.

“I… I’ll get some food on the way home,” you corrected yourself.

"How about you stay for dinner? I was going to make it, Tommy won't be long before he comes back to the real world and notices he's hungry," she offered kindly.

"Oh! Or I can take you out for dinner somewhere nice!" Billy proposed, smiling at you with anticipation.

To be brutally honest, you wanted to throw yourself at him and choke him so no other words would come out of his mouth. You knew Billy was just a guy with a silly crush, excited to show you how interested he was in you. He wasn't trying to do any harm. But, hell, wasn't it enough for him to be the center of your attention all afternoon?

"I'm really looking forward to trying something made by your mom," you declined in the politest way possible. "Many people would kill for that honor!"

Wanda let out a laugh, and her expression also seemed to change as she heard your decision to stay.

But, oh, Billy, Billy, Billy... as persevering as his mother.

"Awww! Next week she'll cook you something, right mom?" he insisted, and even though the redhead tried hard to keep her smile, her eyes changed.

"Sure, I'll cook whatever you want," Wanda sighed. "Go with Billy, and continue your conversation... alone," the way she said that last word was as if she had felt like the third wheel all afternoon, as if she was a hindrance to whatever was starting between you and Billy.

"You owe me," you said to Wanda, letting her know implicitly that you were looking forward to your meeting next week, not this dinner with Billy.

Billy led you to the garage of his house, and opened the passenger door of a black car. You thanked him politely and got in, allowing him to close the door for you. The car was completely spotless, and had a new car smell, but not because it was new, maybe because that was the fragrance he asked for at the car wash. For yours, you always opted for lavender… which made you wonder, what fragance did Wanda like for her car?

"Any preferences?" Billy asked once he hoped in the driver’s seat, pointing towards the car radio. It was noticeable he was doing his best to make this comfortable for you.

"A little bit of everything, how about rock like... Evanescence?" you proposed.

"Ah, my mom loves them," he commented, and your eyes lit up at that statement.

"You're kidding..."

"Yeah, since her teenage years," he confirmed. "Evanescence, In This Moment, Epica, Lacuna Coil..." he listed, trying to remember them all.

You made a mental note to put on that music on your next meeting with Wanda. It wouldn't be hard, as you loved all the bands he mentioned, which was wonderful.

You couldn't wait to show her the latest bands, ask her her favorite songs, and have a topic of conversation that would allow you to bound...

"So, ready?" he spoke, noticing that you were lost in thought.

"Yeah, sure," you nodded, putting on your seatbelt.

The dinner was... better than you expected. In fact, it was amazing.

You didn't really have anything in common with Billy, but the way you both listened to each other, and always found a middle ground despite going your separate ways, made the experience with him extremely pleasant.

The only difference was that, as you each went home, he thought about seeing you again, and you thought about seeing his mother again.

And so, after a week, you found yourself in front of the door of Wanda's house, with your camera hanging from your neck, your equipment already waiting on the pavement next to your parked car, and as a bonus, a speaker you brought along to play music while you worked.

Alone, at last...

When the door opened, you found the redhead wearing a casual outfit consisting of dark blue jeans and a black half-tucked in blouse. Oh, and her face, how you missed that face.

"Hey..." You greeted her, with palpable enthusiasm.

"Hi," she replied, and noticed the speaker in your hand, arching her eyebrow. "I found out last week that you and I have a lot of bands in common."

Wanda let out a gasp of surprise, "Oh, please do come in!"

You laughed briefly, and as you were about to enter your equipment to take it towards the kitchen, Wanda snapped her fingers, and it disappeared.

"Wanda, what the hell?" You exclaimed, looking at her with your widened eyes, had she just disappeared all your belongings?

"Relax, they're in the kitchen."

"That skill of yours would’ve come in handy last week too," you commented, walking into her house.

"It was fun watching you run in and out," she shrugged. "But today you earned it, because of the music."

"I see, I have to earn it?!" You exclaimed, feigning indignation. Really, she could have pulverized your expensive equipment in front of you, and you'd still thank her.

Once both of you entered the kitchen, your reflectors were already in the same position as always. And on the other side, the ten dishes were already hot and ready to be photographed.

"And what would I possibly have to do next week to earn that help from you?" you asked, resuming the topic you had discussed earlier.

"Mmmm..." she muttered, in a way that almost made you weak in the knees. She watched you from head to toe making you feel exposed to her as if she had ripped your clothes to shreds and left you standing there, naked and at her mercy. But you were still completely covered. "... I think you've earned it,” your reaction alone was enough reward to her.

“Thanks, I guess,” you cleared your throat.

You picked up the speaker, and turned it on, placing it in a place in the kitchen where it would not interfere. Your hands were shaking, and you could have sworn that Wanda was watching you with amusement, while you avoided her gaze at all costs.

You grabbed your phone, and played the playlist you had prepared for this moment. "A Star-Crossed Wasteland" by In This Moment was the first to come on.

"Oh, I love that song like you have no idea," Wanda exclaimed, closing her eyes and frowning as she passionately listened to that intro. "That album, in general..."

"It's in my top three," you commented.

"Hell yeah! Now we're talking!" She exclaimed, raising her hand offering you a high-five.

"I'm not that old school," you shook your head, chuckling.

Wanda rolled her eyes, and took your wrist, giving herself a high five with your hand.

"Good girl," she praised you, and you swallowed dryly. At the words, and at the fact that this was the first time you'd ever touched her. "What's your top three?" she asked, acting so nonchalantly after flustering the hell out of you.

“Tell me yours first,” you proposed. You couldn’t even think of your favorite three albums of one of your favorite bands.

"Black Widow, GODMODE, and A Star-Crossed Wasteland, she answered, almost without thinking. It amused you to imagine she'd spent her whole life for someone to ask her that question. "And yours?"

"Black Widow is my favorite, too," you agreed. "Blood, and A Star-Crossed Wasteland."

"Oh, two in common and in the same position," she pointed out, smiling. "If the new album hadn't been so good, it would agree with Blood, too…”

For the rest of the evening, the focus was on your favorite bands, as they played in the background.

You finished faster than last week, as Wanda was willing to use her powers for you to just arrange the background and take the pictures, instead of searching in every corner of the kitchen - you only had to ask, and it appeared.

“Alright, we're done...” she concluded, excited. “Now, let me pack this food and put it in the fridge,” and with a snap of her fingers, it was already packed and subsequently perfectly placed inside the fridge.

“Impressive,” you exclaimed, not ceasing to show your admiration, just like every time she used her powers. If you didn't look so cute, Wanda would have grown irritated at you a long time ago.

“Now, I owe you a dinner,” she said. She never told you, but she was so eager to finish quickly because that way, when her sons returned from the internship, you and her would have spent a significant time together.

The food Wanda made for you was... you didn’t even believe that the accurate word to describe it even existed.

The sensations you experimented had you mindlessly closing your eyes, trying to memorize this magnificent meal, absorbing it all in. You had tried a lot of different restaurants and foods, but none like this, oh they wished they were even close to what you tasted.

This was more than just eating. It was a demonstration of peak exquisite cuisine. This was about more than just sating hunger. It was about the delight of tasting food prepared with passion.

And... just as Wanda was leading you out of the door, you noticed that it opened, and you met who you knew was Tommy.

"Oh, finally I have the pleasure to meet the famous (Y/N)," was the first thing he said. So Wanda... "Billy hasn't shut up about you."

You forced a smile, "That's... nice," you hesitated. "I have a feeling he's going to be a great friend, and I hope you are too."

Tommy noted the intent of your response but decided to reply, "Of course," with a small chuckle. "In fact, you should come play tennis with us next Saturday."

"Oh, I don't know how to..."

"I'll teach you," Wanda quickly interjected, and that hope in her eyes made your decision easier in an instant.

"Well... will you send me the address?" I asked.

"Rest assured."

When you said goodbye to Wanda and Tommy, Billy was climbing the steps to the doorway, and he smiled broadly at you.

"Hi, (Y/N)!" He exclaimed happily. "Have you eaten yet? If not, we can go eat something and catch up."

Oh, how kind he was...

"Thank you, your mom and I already had dinner."

It was Saturday, and you were walking around the room in your apartment. Your best friend, Kate, was already starting to get dizzy.

"Kate! It's a country club!" You exclaimed, for probably the twentieth time. "People there probably eat pizza with silverware, and know the use of all ten thousand kinds of forks. I won't fit in..."

"It's just a tennis game! I'd understand if it was golf, but tennis?! You'll be fine!" She groaned.

"I look ridiculous..." you shook your head, looking at yourself in the mirror. "I mean, what is this cap? And why all white? Am I getting baptized or something?"

"Hey! Do you want to fit in? This is the outfit," she countered. "You look hot, surely Wanda will drool over you when she sees those legs," she cheered you up

"Surely it will be Billy," you sighed, disappointed.

"Wanda too, from what you've told me..."

"No, this is one of the situations where I'm misinterpreting a hint of validation from an older, beautiful woman," you quickly denied. "And as always, my best friend is encouraging my delusions."

"Really? Name one situation."

"That Italian woman who I photographed with her family for several Christmas sessions?"

"Ha! She looked at you funny."

"Yeah, that's why she turned down my invitation to dinner when I finally found the courage, saying I knew she had a husband and kids."

"Uhm... she refused just because she had a husband and kids, not because she didn't like you!" She quickly justified, and you couldn't help but laugh, forgetting for a moment the nerves that were eating at you.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I’ve been thinking about ways Killer might’ve been instrumental in furthering Nightmare’s goals of widespread negativity, and I think he probably encouraged Nightmare to engage a lot more with mortals in Universes that aren’t aware of the Multiverse as a whole.

Universes that don’t know either Killer’s or Nightmare’s reputations or faces, but also don’t know anything about the Star Sanses, or Dream or Ink.

Reminding Nightmare that human mortals have their uses, and their souls are often stronger than most of monsterkind, reminding the Boss that cases like himself, Dream, Ink, Error, and even Killer are basically outliers. Not typically considered the norm.

I think Killer probably came up with the idea of creating cells inside those universes, secretly training and manipulating both human and monster agents to serve Nightmare’s goals, regardless if any of them are fully aware of that or not. Targeting any dumb or desperate fool, especially those who have any political power or authority over a certain place like a country or an army.

Encouraging wars, gang wars, revolts, territory spats, and acts of mass terror in these universes that could give Nightmare all the negativity he needs without anyone being all the wiser.

With everyone being too busy pointing guns and fingers at eachother to notice that they’re being used for something bigger. And Killer will keep the guns of war going by discretely turning everyone against their own groups, spreading rumors and propaganda.

Assuming Killer targets people who aren’t exactly important to that universe’s script, he may even be able to evade Ink’s attention for some time.

So while the Star Sanses might think that Nightmare only has himself, Killer, and possibly also Horror, Dust, and Cross/XChara doing his bidding.

He actually secretly has both deals & agreements with certain Multiverse-Aware universes—supply Nightmare and his Gang with resources & they’ll leave you alone—but thanks to Killer’s idea, he also has billions of regular Joes working for him and they aren’t even aware of it.

And, of course, Killer would be the one out recruiting people. And I think that the information about the operative cells would likely stay classified strictly between Nightmare and Killer, even if Horror and Dust are very likely suspicious.

But if any of them try to confront Killer about it he of course plays the fool, acting loud and annoying so all they’ll want by the end of the questioning is for him to just shut up and go away and they’ll completely forget what they were even asking in the first place.

(Not Dust though. Cuz while I get the vibes that Horror and Cross just wouldn’t want to deal with Killer, I think the similarities Dust sees between Killer and the anomaly only prompts Dust to pay closer attention to Killer’s actions and less his words.)

I think Nightmare’s Gang can be pretty cool if the rest of the Multiverse sees them as mostly a group of ragtag criminals causing mayhem and negativity wherever they go, but it’s just a front for a more numbered, highly structured and functioning organization with bigger, long term plans.

You could walk past a member of Nightmare’s organization and you wouldn’t even know it. The member themself may not even be fully aware of what they involved themself in.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 52: The Maestro's Correction

Prev > Masterlist

tw: mind control, body control, burns, hand whump, whipping, blindness, abuse, blood drinking

October 1925

Alexander stood and bowed low as the Maestro entered the music room, trailed by Oliver in eerily perfect synchronization. "Good evening, sire. I hope you are well."

"I also hope I am well. That depends largely on your hospitality, I'm afraid," he said. "Let us begin by examining your new acquisition in more detail."

"Certainly, sire."

No, no, no -- it took all of Oliver's self-control to not fight as the Maestro sat down on the padded bench and forced him into a submissive kneel. The hook and eye on his dress was undone, and Oliver's dread rose. What did he mean by examining in more detail…?

It was somewhat of a relief when those stony eyes focused on the brand on his chest. "Slipshod. The edges are clearly uneven. The symbol will hardly be readable." The Maestro looked up. "It's obviously your work, Alexander. If you had coerced Lily into fulfilling your obligation, as you were no doubt tempted to do, it wouldn't be in such a sorry state."

"Yes, sire."

"Your thrall is permanently marred, the results of your task an abject disappointment, and all you have to say in response is 'yes, sire'," said the Maestro, his tone like a knife pressed against Alexander's neck. "When I attended the ballet, your thrall informed me that you are allowing him a great deal of freedom, as well, are you not?"

"Yes, sire."

Oliver couldn't turn around, but he could hear the despondence in Alexander's voice. This had been his fault, hadn't it? He should have covered for his master. But Alexander had warned him in no uncertain terms to be honest. What was the correct action? Was there even a correct action?

"Because your thrall is otherwise so obedient, I feel inclined to only impose a light punishment this time."

"Thank you, sire."

The Maestro indicated a fat candle sitting on the end table, its flames providing the only cheer and warmth in the room. "Place your hand in the candle's flame until I am satisifed."

"Yes, sire."

"No!" The choked cry came from Oliver's mouth before he could stop himself. He wrenched his head out of the Maestro's grasp just enough to see Alexander's shock, his hand hovering dangerously near the flames.

"Oh?" Oliver's head was snapped back to look in the Maestro's eyes, filled with a cold fury. "You disagree with my judgement?"

"No, no, sir, I don't --"

The Maestro slapped him across the face hard. "You disagree with my judgement and then you lie to compound it," he said, rage in every note of his musical voice. "You do this out of loyalty, no doubt. My misguided children seek companionship among humankind, and value loyalty over obedience. A flaw I have not yet burned out of them."

Oliver trembled as the Maestro took his right hand. The vampire's hands were colder than ice and smooth as porcelain. He ran his finger's down Oliver's palm in a way that might have been tender in other circumstances. "Do you play any instruments, child?"

He was thinking of burning Oliver's hands, wasn't he? Oliver desperately wished he could answer yes to that question, in the hopes that he would be spared, but the blossoming bruise on his cheek warned him otherwise. "No, sir."

"Are you clever with your hands?"

Oliver thought back to the many evenings he'd spent repairing the bindings of antique books and mending his worn clothes. "I believe so, sir."

"I see." The Maestro turned over Oliver's hands in his own. "Human hands can be permanently damaged. A shame, truly. Mutilating your hands before you've been given the opportunity to prove yourself useful would be a waste at this time, as would any corrective action that spills excessive blood."

Oliver wasn't sure if he should be relieved by that. "…Thank you, sir?"

"You have an obedient soul. I'm not wrong about such matters," said the Maestro. "It is your master's lack of discipline that is to blame for your insubordination. Therefore, I will not punish you."

"You won't, sir?" Oliver would have found this mercy difficult to believe even if he didn't notice Alexander tensing.

"You don't want to watch your master's punishment, do you?"

"No, sir."

"Then look into my eyes, child. Deep, deep into my eyes."

He didn't have a choice, as the Maestro's power drew his gaze upwards and locked it there before he fully realized what was happening.

"Deeper. Lose yourself."

There was a disconcerted ticking noise in Oliver's head, as though his ear were pressed to a clock, and he realized in terror that he was being enthralled, the power like chains wrapping around his mind. Despite Alexander's many warnings and his own resolve to be obedient and avoid trouble, Oliver couldn't help the urge to pull against it. It was bad enough to have to give over his body. The idea of this cruel vampire invading his mind was too much to bear.

But it was already too late. Oliver was already trapped in his eyes. As the ticking of the clock gradually slowed like a mechanical toy winding down, his thoughts slowed too, his vision engulfed by the cold oblivion of the Maestro's gaze.

"Close your eyes down. Tight. As tight as they can."

"Yes, sir." Oliver's eyes obediently shut, sparing him the weight of that gaze, but doing nothing to free his mind.

"I am placing lead weights on each one. Weights that are far too heavy to allow you to open your eyes on your own." A cold finger tapped each of Oliver's eyelids. "Only I can move these weights. You will not open your eyes again until I allow it."

"Yes, sir."

"Wake."

That crisp snap sounded next to Oliver's ear, and he felt the chains on his mind lift, but he did not open his eyes. Could not. Oliver couldn't help but be confused. The Maestro had full control of his body. Why go through the trouble just to make him shut his eyes?

There was one obvious, awful possibility: because he did not intend for Oliver to open his eyes ever again.

"Now that that's settled, you may take your punishment, Alexander," the Maestro said.

Oliver was forced back into a kneeling position and the Maestro placed one hand atop his head. He heard several steps across the wood floor, and then absolute silence.

Was his master actually burning his hand in the candle's flame? There was no sound at all, no cries of pain from Alexander, not even the sound of breathing. The only thing tethering Oliver to the world was that hand on top of his head. As much as Oliver would hate to see or hear his master in pain, the deathly silence and darkness and suspense made it so much worse.

And just as Oliver thought he couldn't take it any more, he smelled what he desperately hoped was not the scent of charred flesh. His spirit cried out to do something, anything, to help his master, but blinded and bound as he was, there was nothing he could do.

"Enough," said the Maestro, after what seemed like an eternity. "I grow weary of watching you disappoint me. Alexander, play."

Play? Alexander's sire couldn't possibly expect him to play an instrument with a ruined hand. Yet Oliver could hear Alexander sit down at the piano bench and begin to play a piece which obviously involved a great deal of intricate fingerwork. Perhaps his hand was not that damaged after all -- but the smell in the air said otherwise.

He didn't have long to sit and enjoy the music (as much as he could under the circumstances) because the Maestro stood and pulled Oliver up, leading him in a dance. Oliver couldn't see and didn't know the steps, but he didn't have to, as his body was once again puppeted without his input, gliding across the room with a grace that was not his own, his trembling hand trapped in that cold porcelain grasp.

"One," intoned the Maestro. "Two." Several beats of music. "Three."

Oliver didn't know what it meant. Swirling around the music room with his eyes shut tight, his anxiety was reaching a fever pitch, making it difficult for him to relax enough to allow his body to sink into the control.

"Four. Five."

He was counting the mistakes, Oliver realized. Every moment his concentration broke, his body was fighting just the smallest bit against the unwanted intrusion. Each time that happened, he would slightly miss a step, or pull against the Maestro's grip.

"Eleven. Twelve."

He couldn't focus. He couldn't follow. He couldn't stop his treacherous body from rebelling against being made the plaything of the implacable vampire in front of him. And the number was climbing.

"Twenty-two." The Maestro released his grip on Oliver, who reeled backwards. "You may stop now, Alexander. Do you see now what I was talking about? He has obedience, but lacks discipline."

"Yes, sire." Alexander sounded as dead inside as he was metaphysically.

"Try not to spill blood unnecessarily when you administer the punishment. I finally find myself with an appetite."

"Yes, sire."

Oliver didn't have to wait long to know what the punishment was. Once more, he was kneeling, and he felt a sharp blow from a thin implement sting his back. It was followed by another, and another, and although Oliver was being kept from movement, he couldn't help but cry. The anticipation of each blow was as bad as the pain, and his back felt like it was on fire.

"That's twenty-two, sire."

"Your hand was light," said the Maestro. "No matter. You had three mistakes in your playing."

He heard Alexander kneeling beside him. The blows the Maestro delivered to Alexander's back rang out through the music room, unmistakable.

"Now that that unfortunate business has been taken care of," said the Maestro as casually as though he'd been discussing an unpleasant chore, "I will take my meal."

Oliver felt every muscle in his body tense, despite the control holding him. It was wrong, wrong, wrong for anyone but his master to drink his blood, but everything about this evening had been wrong.

And it was made even worse by the fact that Oliver couldn't see what the Maestro was doing, when the bite was coming for him. All he could feel was a hand on his head and a thick vampiric aura enveloping his mind. It felt strangely empty. Not like desire or hunger or pleasure, like Oliver had always felt with his master. No, the Maestro's aura was purely about control and practicality, freezing him in position so that he could be fed from. Oliver couldn't even tilt his neck as he'd been trained.

At least a feeding wouldn't be so bad, compared to everything that had happened so far, Oliver reasoned. Miss Lily had instilled in him the craving to provide for a vampire, and the feedings he'd experienced so far had been pleasant, even euphoric. He'd been dreading it previously, but now it actually be a relief.

At least, it seemed like a relief until the Maestro's slender fangs sunk into the flesh of his neck.

Oliver gasped in surprise and pain. It hurt, agony radiating from the bite, and the sensation of teeth in his muscles was deeply violating, not to mention the uncomfortable suction of his blood being consumed. His world narrowed down to nothing but the awful, aching wound, his body spasming with the need to escape from the predator, frozen in place by unnatural means.

It hurt, of course it hurt. He should have known better than to think this might be a relief. Alexander always put him under a gentle spell of sleep and submission and pleasure as he fed, a spell that kept Oliver from feeling any of the pain that would naturally accompany his neck being bitten. Of course the Maestro would not do that, would instead relish his suffering.

As his master's sire drank his blood, his thoughts began to overpower Oliver's own, and he found…

Nothingness.

A pitch black sky with no stars or moon or clouds. An empty field devoid of life as far as the eye could see. A bitter chill sapping the strength and cheer from his very marrow.

Order. Solitude. Misery.

The inky sky rushed to meet him, to swallow him in oblivion, and Oliver thought he might be dying.

"Oliver?"

He was floating back up through the darkness, tethered by his master's voice.

"Oliver? Oliver, please wake up."

"I'm awake, sir," he said, trying to open his eyes and finding that he couldn't, the memories of what had transpired rushing back to him. He couldn't open his eyes at all, the imaginary lead weights keeping them firmly shut. He could tell that he was laid out on the padded bench, cradled gently in what he hoped was his master's arms. His back hurt and his cheek stung and the wound on his neck was intensely uncomfortable… but he was alive. "I can't…" he said, panic rising. "I can't open my eyes, sir. Is he still here? Is it over?"

"He's gone. He probably won't trouble us for some time," Alexander said. "You were brilliant, Oliver. A picture perfect thrall. I wish you didn't have to go through any of that, but you handled it all so well."

Praise from his master cut through some of Oliver's fear and pain. "Will I be able to open my eyes again, sir?"

"Yes, you will, I promise. Hypnotic commands usually fade away on their own if they're not reinforced."

"How long will that take, sir?" said Oliver. Despite the welcome reassurance that this wouldn't be forever, his mind was already filling with anxiety over how he would be able to live. How could he find his way around the expansive manor while blinded? How long would he have to go without reading?

"Well… my sire's very powerful, as I'm sure you know, and you're…"

"Weak, sir?"

"I wasn't going to say weak. You take to enthrallment very well, which has nothing to do with mental weakness, believe it or not. And it's a trait I find endearing, but unfortunately in this case it might be a problem. It could last a month, maybe more…"

Oliver's heart clenched at the idea of weeks in the dark. How could he even take care of himself? Would he be able to cook or bathe? Would he need his master to help him do all of those things? Would Alexander help him?

"…but don't worry!" said Alexander hastily, running a hand through Oliver's hair. "I'll take you to see Lily first thing tomorrow night. She can usually undo things like that, especially considering the grip she has on your mind already."

Oliver never thought he'd be so grateful for Miss Lily. "Thank you, sir. I hope it isn't too much trouble."

"It's no trouble at all. You endured all of this for me. Helping undo my sire's damage is the least I can do. Speaking of which, I've already bandaged your neck, but I should tend to the wounds on your back and make sure they aren't too serious. I could get some ice from the icebox for your face, as well."

"But what about your hand, sir? Did you actually…"

"Yes. It will heal on its own, and I can clean and bandage it later. You don't need to concern yourself with it. I wish to tend to you."

Blinded and in pain, Oliver couldn't bring himself to argue with that. "Thank you, sir."

"I can't easily undo my sire's work, but I can help ease your pain with my song. Would you like that?"

"Yes, very much, sir."

His master began to sing, and his voice was like a lifeline in the dark, soothing and relaxing him and making him feel like everything would be okay, even if it very much wasn't.

Prev > Masterlist

Thanks for reading. Next week: happier days with Fitz.

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[queenpiranhadon]

Hey hey

I wanted to request a dad aizawa x singer daughter :))

She is his only and biological daughter and wanted since she was little to become a singer and musician but never told Aizawa becase she thought he would told her to become a hero, and one day he finds her singing and playing an dificult instrumen.

Thankss

A/N: HIII IM SORRY THIS MIGHT BE KINDA BAD BC I HAVENT HAD A HEART TO HEART WITH MY DAD IN A WHILE LOLLL Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): reader uses she/her pronouns, slight cursing, inaccurate Japanese translations lol, violin terms bc I'm a violinist :), reader's biological mom is dead, Aizawa became a dad at 19 - he's like 34 in this jsyk, reader's 15-16 yrs old, mentions of being disowned, fluff, mentions of depression and death, Kae makes a really bad pun, hime means princess in Japanese

Pairing(s): Shota Aizawa x daughter f!reader (PLATONIC)

Link to the song in this fic~

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴍᴀᴛꜱᴜʀɪ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

“Goddamnit!” you groan, as you fiddle with your violin. (LMAO PUN!! sorry) 

Your fingers ached, as you tried to nail down the pizzicato run at the top of the page. However, your fingers refused to move with the fluency they used you, and you felt the calluses starting to develop on the surface of your fingertips. 

Self-teaching yourself to play the violin was a pain in the ass, but you were determined to go to a performing arts school once you graduated junior high. 

The only problem? 

Your father was Shota Aizawa, underground pro hero Eraser Head, and was not only a pro, but also a teacher at UA High School- one of the top schools for pro heroes in training. 

You loved your father to the ends of the earth, as he did you, considering your small family only consisted of the two of you, your mother having died during childbirth. Aizawa, only 19 at the time, struggled with the loss of his lover, but you helped him get through it. 

You were his pride and joy, the perfect combination of his love and himself, his precious daughter. 

Nothing you could do could make him hate you. 

And you knew that, but your insecurities were bigger. 

What if he wanted you to become a pro hero like him? 

In all honesty, you didn’t see that future for yourself. It was an honorable job, one that you knew was very important, and a job many children wished to have in the future, and yet, that was never your dream. 

Pro heroes went out every day, fighting with their lives on the line, patrols constantly, dealing with paparazzi, not to mention the

paperwork

. 

It wasn’t that you weren’t ambitionless, no, certainly not, but it wasn’t something you found passion in. 

But to be fair, if you were successful in your career path, there would sure be a lot of paparazzi either way. 

You were set on following a path into the performing arts, but it was always a little disheartening whenever you heard your Uncle Hizashi or Auntie Nemuri go “Awww Y/N! You’re going to be an amazing pro hero when you’re older, so kind and so determined” 

You knew they meant well, but still. 

Sighing you set down your violin, gently setting it down in your case and safely securing you bow in before tucking it underneath your bed. That’s where most of your instrumental arsenal lived, all compact and tucked away, awaiting your every musical whim. 

You worked tirelessly to earn enough money for each of your instruments for the past two years, combing through online marketplaces and sales to find decently priced quality instruments. 

Grabbing your keyboard and setting it up, your fingers find their way to ivory keys that played a sequence you knew well. 

The notes left your fingers immediately, music filling your bedroom walls as a stream of tunes flow like a waterfall, smooth and connected, and yet, somehow still intense in its own way. 

Music is a form of communication, you always thought. The right notes paired together convey moods, thoughts, feelings. It always amazed you how something as simple as sequential pitches could convey something words never could. 

Ai shika kanjitaku mo nai (I don't want to feel anything but love) you sang, letting yourself get lost in the music. 

Mou nan no wakehedate mo na (There's no difference anymore)

Matomete kakatte kinasai (Please call all at once)

Ima nara subete uketomeru kara (I'll accept everything now)

~

You finish the song with a resounding chord, the room eerily quiet without any music flowing through it, until a slow clap breaks the silence. 

“Well, what do we have here?” 

You jump in surprise, scrambling away from the keyboard to see your father standing in the doorway of your room, the look on his face unreadable. 

You turn bright red and feel your heart sink. 

You never told your father about your dreams and aspirations for the future- what would be say now? 

You steel yourself, taking in a deep breath. 

Calm down, Y/N. He wouldn’t disown you because you don’t want to be a pro. And plus, it’s my life! I should have a say in what I want to do. You think to yourself. 

“Dad, I don’t want to be a pro hero...” you mumble out, refusing to look at him. “I want to be a musician, or a singer! I really like music and it just...really makes me happy.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you think with a sinking heart that he’s furious, but then a chuckle is heard, almost deafening in the silent room. 

“Oh, thank god.” he exhales in relief, leaving you staring at him, dumbfounded. 

“Y-You’re not mad...?” you ask, extremely confused. 

“Oh no, of course not hime - don't even think that. I'm so sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me anything. ” he says, and you’re put at ease. “Everyday, pro heroes go through pain and hardships to try to save the people of this world.” 

He sighs “Many pros lose their sanity and fall into an abyss of depression and despair because it’s too much for them. “he looks at you, his eyes genuine and sincere. “I don’t want that life for you.” 

You hug him, and his arms wrap around you comfortingly. 

“I love you dad.” 

“I love you too, hime.” 

Then he pulls away with a sly grin on his face. “So, you gonna show me what you’ve been working on?” 

Your face flushes and you shove his arm playfully. 

“Dad!” 

[animezinglife]

I think most who know me around here have figured out I have no interest in the "ship war," and aside from simply not wanting to invest my energy in anything of the sort, that lack of interest comes from a willingness to simply see how everything plays out in the books.

If you've followed me for a while, you know I obviously favor Elucien while still loving Azriel and thinking he'll be a wonderful partner/mate to someone in the near future. I talk about my preference for Elucien through long-term compatibility, potential, and through the lens of the writing itself.

When we talk about either pairing, I would apply the same logic to the significance of Elain's choice if the roles were switched in the story.

If it was Azriel who ended up having a mating bond snap with Elain and Elain was into Lucien, I would still have the same expectation that she get to know the former before making a life-altering decision.

SJM has built up the combination of mating bonds and love as the golden standard within the ACOTAR world and has alluded to the pain that lingers if it's rejected--how it never fully goes away.

Again, this isn't real life. Elain would not owe that experience to Azriel, nor would she owe him her time and effort.

But the author who chose to write that bond into the story does owe the readers when it comes to addressing it.

Let's say it's Azriel she won't give the time of day.

Azriel who's asleep upstairs while she brushes fingers with Lucien and almost kisses him.

Azriel who gives her thoughtful gifts that she does everything to avoid acknowledging.

Let's say she ignored every attempt Az made to get to know her and never even tried when we're told repeatedly he's feeling the hurt, pain, and longing caused by that bond.

We know Az: know how fearless, brave, and sweet he is, and how fiercely he protects his family and the people he cares about. Az has wonderful qualities that have been built up over several books.

If Elain rejected him without ever learning of those qualities, I would be extremely disappointed in the complete lack of story between them. The snapping of something that important and instrumental in their lives only for her to make a decision with next to no information or having faced her own internal conflict about the bond.

We want the happy ending for Azriel, whose love for Mor was never returned, had a traumatic, dark past, and who wants to experience what it means to have the most elevated form of partnership.

Of love.

That's the key about this argument: we want Elain to make a decision when she has all of the information to do so, not less than half and hiding from the rest. That is where she grows; where her love for either one of them becomes fulfilling.

This is my same argument with Lucien as well, just with his own backstory and characteristics plugged in. I want her to get to know him and to make her choice with all the information at her disposal.

It's not and never will be a desire for the other male or Elain herself to suffer or go without love. Unless he just completely goes off-the-rails and out-of-character, you'll never hear me putting down Azriel or pitting him against Lucien, and vice versa. I'm not at all anti-Elriel--my preference just leans the other way, and I think Az has his own powerful bond and love story just waiting to play out.

My only request is if Elain rejects her mating bond with Lucien, then they both end up being freed of it entirely so that neither has to suffer. They've been through more than enough and deserve a happily-ever-after.

Azriel does, too.

My suspicion given the context clues is that a bond might snap into place between Az and Gwyn (and I love the idea of them together), but that's another post for another time.

[alanaisalive]

Back in high school, my brother liked going to high school football games, but he did not like paying to get into them, so he used to go to the school before the game and get on the bus with the band. The director definitely knew he wasn't in the marching band and didn't care. One time someone in the band called him out and asked him what instrument he played, and he said, "piano."

[deus-ex-mona]

a n y w a y s listen to nagisa’s new song it’ll change your life

[thelostgirl21]

One of my favorite parts of the Radskier romance?

The emotional maturity and healthy relationship expectations of Prince King Radovid when it comes to Jaskier.

Romantic infatuation needs to be nurtured to be given a chance to grow to turn into actual romantic love.

And when someone has developed an emotionally intimate (and potentially queerplatonic) relationship with another person for over 20 years; and built themselves a family also involving that closest friend's romantic partner (Yennefer) and his Child of Suprise (Ciri), you should expect that romantic interest of yours to make that family their #1 priority.

You should find their ability to deeply commit to the ones they already love, and not suddenly lose interest in them as soon as they find someone shiny and new, as a very good sign.

Because it's extremely likely that - should the romantic infatuation you now experience evolve into genuine love - they won't grow tired of you, and/or lose interest in your relationship easily.

You'll become a part of their found family, too.

Sincerely, when I met the man I've now been with for 17 years, if he'd dropped his weekly D&D game nights with the friends he'd had since he was a kid to freaking date me, I'm pretty sure I would have broken things up with him right on the spot!

Actually, one of the first things we did, when we started dating, was meet each other's closest friends, to see if we'd be a good fit in each other's lives.

You often learn so much more about a romantic interest by watching how caring and devoted they are to those they've already emotionally bonded with, than by interacting with them all on your own.

Yes, you also need to take the time to build some intimacy; but your life together as a couple, if you ever reach that stage, is going to be filled with people sharing both your hearts and your time!

There's a difference between that romantic crush of yours making the effort to integrate you into their own lives, and making time for you so you can get to truly know each other and build a connection; and them suddenly neglecting their platonic and/or alterous relationships and no longer making them a priority in their lives because "Hey, look! I've got a romantic interest now!"

If they are neglecting the people they love because you suddenly showed up, I'd consider it deeply, deeply worrying.

17 years later, my partner still plays D&D once a week (and the boys are awesome friends to us both), I have my own personal tribe (my dance troupe) that I'm deeply close to, and one of the girls came to live with us for 2 weeks Sunday night, because she broke up with her boyfriend recently, needs a place to stay, I freaking love her to death, and we're family.

When I asked my partner if he was fine with her staying over and sharing our home, there was no hesitation on his part in saying "Yes".

We care for and support our family, regardless of who our friends are the closest to.

Because, obviously, there is no need for a romantic partner to grow as emotionally close and intimate to some of your best friends as you are. Ex: They don't need to know all of their secrets, listen to them for hours, and hold them in their arms to provide emotional support when they are going through a hard time the same way you would.

But there needs to be respect and support of those relationships. They need to allow you space and time for you to listen to them for hours, and hold them in your arms to provide emotional support when they are going through a tough time.

And vice versa.

When you are helping someone you love through a tough time, the last thing you need is to be worried about your romantic partner being jealous and resentful over the time you are giving others.

And sometimes, you find yourself connecting more strongly with some of their own friends on certain matters, and suddenly becoming their confidante, too. For example, my romantic partner is a monoamorous heteroromantic heterosexual, and I'm an ambiamorous panromantic demisexual pansexual.

When one of his best friends started questioning if he might be polyamorous, and needed someone to talk with to help him figure out his feelings and how best to approach the subject with his romantic partner, my partner immediately went "It's not that I don't want to support you or listen to you, it's just that I've a feeling you should be talking to my girlfriend about this. She'll be more likely to have some intimate understanding of what you're going through, and she's been professionally trained in counseling."

He's got great respect and acceptance of queer identities (wouldn't be in a romantic relationship with me if he didn't), but he gets utterly lost in them and all the definitions and concepts.

I, however, love discussing and exploring them. So, that best friend and I got to learn a lot about each other during our talks, discovered a lot of shared interests, and grew very close.

Actually, we realized that we were extremely alike in many ways, and that Frédérick (my partner) just might have a "type" of person he's more likely to build an emotional connection with, platonically or otherwise.

I'm also aunt and godmother to wonderful children I've got absolutely no blood relations to.

Found families matter at the very least as much, if not sometimes even more, than romantic partners.

And I believe that the way Jaskier is speaking about the people he loves, the lengths and the risks he is willing to go to in order to protect them, is deeply appealing to Radovid.

In Radovid's world, relationships are commodities to be used to gain influence or power.

You "love" what serves you and makes you more politically relevant and influential, and you can potentially drop them as soon as you find something (i.e. someone) that can bring you more influence or be more useful.

He's been forced to live in a toxic, dangerous, and downright deadly environment, filled with relationships based on lies and deceit, where he had no purpose, and was deeply unhappy.

And I think that he wants to have a chance to build a family of his own based on genuine emotional connections, and/or would be delighted to be given a chance to become part of Jaskier's own found family.

He asked "does the Witcher know how lucky he is to have you?" with a sense of wonder for what it must be like to have someone love you the way Jaskier loves, and to be free to love that person back.

Besides his affection for his brother, perhaps, there was nothing holding Radovid back from leaving the castle and the only life he'd ever known behind.

And truth is, I can't even say how healthy his relationship with his brother truly was.

Most of the time, Radovid was pretty much cheering Vizimir from the sidelines and feeding into his narcissism... But, at least, his brother being King gave him an illusion of safety, I think, until the "Hedwig incident" drove home that no one - not even the freaking Queen herself - was safe with Dijkstra and Philippa around.

In terms of his own emotional, psychological, and even physical well-being, Radovid had everything to gain by getting out of there and following Jaskier.

He could thus afford to "leave everything behind" to follow someone he'd met like 5 times in total in his life. In this context, Radovid truly was choosing himself as much as he was choosing Jaskier.

But Jaskier? He's got a family having made a permanent home in his heart, people that he loves, people that rely on him, and emotional connections that he'd give everything to protect.

And so, Radovid chose to help Jaskier keep his own heart safe, by offering to go help him find and protect his family. He wants to be there with and for him.

Radovid very much seems to understand that Jaskier's family means everything to him. He gets it. That's likely one of the reasons why he finds him so special and attractive in the first place.

Jaskier having a family to go to, and having built bonds of love and loyalty, is what makes it worth it for Radovid to leave everything behind for a potential partner that is healthy enough not to.

Jaskier's a freaking keeper, and that prince is smart enough to know one when he finds one!

And, by showing his full respect and support of Jaskier's other close relationships, Radovid is demonstrating that he'd likely be a good romantic partner to him as well.

Someone that would love all of him, including the parts of Jaskier that Radovid would have to share with others.

Perhaps that's why if it weren't for the writers themselves being a potential threat to their relationship, I could definitely see it work.

Of all the people in his life, Jaskier approached that relationship essentially telling Radovid: "This is who I am an what matters to me... The idea of fully settling down at court gives me urticaria; but I'd be willing to do it, at least for a time, if that kept my little niece and her adoptive parents - the people I love more than anything in the word - safe from threats. I'm not always in the mood for songs, or especially "entertaining" to have around. I've been broken hearted and hurt before, and have developed certain trust issues when it comes to relationships... I'm deeply loyal and devoted to those that have gained my trust and have grown very emotionally intimate with... I might lash out to protect my heart, but reassess in light of new evidence that the other person was hurting, too, and trying to keep their own head above water (or downright on their shoulders). I can forgive mistakes and still love regardless... Oh, and from that whole scene you witnessed with Vespula when we first met, I'm assuming that you've already deduced I sort of have a strong, adventurous approach to my sexuality, and am not exactly the monoamorous kind. Should we ever form a romantic couple, I can't guarantee I won't also have other sexual encounters with some of my dearest friends, but also potentially strangers."

And Radovid's like "Yup! That's the man for me, and I'd love to follow you out there in the world if you'll have me!"

So, it's hard for me not to feel at least a bit optimistic.

And, while Radovid obviously can no longer do that (follow him into the world, that is... At least, for now...), I think he might have a realistic enough approach to life and relationships that, should Jaskier try to offer him creative solutions to make it work as best they can in a world filled with uncertainties, he might be able to listen to his ideas, offer solutions of his own, and adapt.

They're two brilliantly empathetic queer boys in love... They've got it!

If they aim for anything conventional or traditional, they're screwed (and not in the fun way)!

If they make their own rules, and design the relationship to fit the way they love rather than how others would want them to love (i.e. pay no heed to what others say to sing, by going with their own needs instead) there's a world of possibilities for them to explore together.

They could have enough together, and be enough for each other.

And, from the way Radovid's been listening to everything Jaskier's been saying (and singing) since they met, and showing a concern for his own safety, well-being and happiness, given the opportunity, he just might be the one to surprise Jaskier and show some very creative thinking of his own.

Because when Radovid decided that what suited him in life was to help Jaskier protect his family, he immediately went into problem solving mode, was very effective, and showed resourcefulness (forget about baths! I need you to take my cloak and everything I have with fur to turn them into money that might help us on our journey).

He's like Jaskier's own Jaskier, in a sense.

"Look, I'm growing very attached to that guy, and if keeping his family safe is such a huge part of who he is, then I'm going with him to look after him!"

Can you imagine if Radovid had successfully gotten out of that castle, though?

You have Geralt ready to declare war on anyone that stands between him and his daughter.

Jaskier coming along to help rescue Ciri and look after Geralt.

And Radovid coming along to help rescue Ciri and look after Jaskier.

Geralt: This is Jaskier, my emotional support bard... and Radovid, my emotional support bard's emotional support Prince.

This is like Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster's intern, having her own intern.

Next thing you know...

Seriously though, each part of the season had such different vibes...

Season 3, part 1: Finally! Jaskier's been adopted into a forever home, and he's got people looking after him and openly appreciating him now! Was about time!

Season 3, part 2: JFC! Not again! *Heavy sigh* Can someone please, please adopt that ridiculous puppy of a Prince?! He needs a forever home and people to look after him, too!

So really, when it comes to how Radovid appears to be handling relationships, that freaking sense of entitlement and self-importance that would have him become a villain absolutely isn't there.

Book Radovid was a 13-year-old boy that was deeply upset that no one noticed him and his mother, and showed them the respect he believed they were owed!

He couldn't wait to show the world what he could do!

He was portrayed as an immature entitled brat to begin with!

This version of Radovid is the exact opposite.

He's like "Look, I'm just useless to the crown and terrible at politics, spying and being a prince... I just want to follow my heart and get out of here!"

He doesn't want the world to see or notice him, he's constantly hiding himself in window alcoves, corners, and trying to make himself as small as he can, for frak's sake!

He even introduced himself to Jaskier going "Ah, Radovid... Comma Prince", putting his Royal identity last.

At first, I thought it was done for humorous purposes, but it's quite telling, actually.

Being "Prince" is like some ball and chain he's been dragging behind him, weighting him down, rather than a source of pride and personal worth.

Having him magically turning into a villain would make absolutely no sense...

I'm not saying they won't do it. But the character's psychological foundations are miles away from the infamous "dark triad".

Will he allow Philippa and Dijkstra to do terrible things in his name? Perhaps. Stockholm syndrome might kick in, and he might find himself emotionally bonding with them to survive and make sense of a world that would otherwise drive him mad.

As someone that's been trauma bonded to a malignant narcissistic mother for almost 3 decades, I know how powerful Stockholm syndrome can be as a psychological protective mechanism.

But I can't fathom Radovid being inherently cruel or tyrannical.

Convincing himself that Dijkstra and Philippa really "like him" and are looking out for him and the Kingdom's best interests because of being unable to face how hopelessly fucked he is? Sure!

Now that he's been violently thrown into the spotlight and deprived of his usual safety mechanisms, Dijkstra and Philippa might capitalize on this by brainwashing him into perceiving them as "misunderstood", and the only people that have ever truly cared about him and/or respected him.

Survival instincts can be a bitch to fight at times and totally cloud your mind. The absence of cruelty becomes read as "kindness", and your ability to comply with their expectations becomes perceived as a way to "control" what happens to you. And thus, you wind up feeling like you have power over the actions of your abusers (the real threat) through your ability to constantly pacify them.

So yeah, if you want to use Stockholm syndrome to make him go against his very nature, and fall prey to the mind controlling skills of two very dangerous people, with very high sociopathic tendencies?

Yeah, that could realistically happen. And Jaskier would become the most dangerous adversary they would ever be facing in the whole freaking Continent.

Every platonic, alterous, or romantic friend or love interest of mine, that my mother didn't approve of and couldn't fully seduce and control, too, she would make sure to drive away.

My mother only ever tolerated the friends and lovers that fed her own ego and reinforced the level of influence she had on my environment and myself.

And it usually worked. I would be adopting her P.O.V. on my relationships, and breaking up with significant others to avoid risking to lose her approval.

Until I met someone that made me feel so unconditionally loved, respected, and emotionally safe - someone that was capable of loving me the way I was, resolve conflicts without seeking to dominate or control me, and always strove for "win-win" scenarios and balance between my needs and his - that her attempts to play the victim and "expose him as the true threat" to my happiness and well-being utterly failed.

Stockholm syndrome / trauma bonding can be broken by someone showing you that you'll have people that love you, support you, will believe you, and will be there to fight by your side should you be brave enough to oppose your aggressor(s) and attempt to break free from their control.

Your mind will start noticing their violence, and let you realise you've never been safe with them when you stop subconsciously believing that you have no way of ever truly escaping their influence, and the situation is hopeless.

So yeah, if Radovid believes everyone in the castle is under Dijkstra and Philippa's control, and there's no one he can trust to follow any order that would go against their will, he might comply, do what they want, and instinctively create a narrative in his mind that would give them the role of allies and protectors.

But Jaskier's one of the most influencial voices of the Continent. "Blood Origin" (that I absolutely loved, by the way... Don't know what so many people seemed to have against it...), was all about showing the power of stories, and the way they could be used to bring Empires down.

Jaskier could likely break their hold on Radovid, and put the power back in his hands, if it ever came down to it.

So, having Radovid become "dangerous" to others, by adopting Dijkstra and Philippa's P. O. V. without being psychologically able to fight their influence on his own until someone makes him snap out of it, and offers him better alternatives?

It's believable.

But him inherently being a genocidal maniac at his core? That would make zero sense. He's way too empathetic and caring about the emotional well-being of others for that.

Jaskier: "I need to find my family."

Radovid: "Here, let me give up my claim to the throne, sell my valuables, and come help you rescue those you love because you need my help, and I want to be there with you."

Yes... That's... That's what sociopaths do... And they weep over their dead guards' bodies while hiding in corners, especially when they're alone and have no one to put a show for.

That's how people start burning witches at the stake. Makes sense...

[thekidsare-not-alright]

it's funny when people are trying to put pete down by insulting his bass skills or whatever and they're like "he didn't even write fob's most iconic bassline!!!" (which I'm assuming is dance dance ig idk) and it's like. buddy, pal, friendofmine. sibling dearest. I'll do you one better: I can't name a bassline he has written.

great news! it doesn't matter. I'm not suggesting he's a good bassist either, because I've never really seen anything that really supports that idea. but he's not in the band to be the world's best bass player. it's a means to an end. he's a fantastic lyricist, he's a good frontman, and the three other members of fob wouldn't want to be in the band without him. I think that's all you could ever truly ask of him. nice try though

[lana-maeve-occasionally-reads]

the orchestral music to quitting music to rock music pipeline is so real

[waugh-bao]

“I’m probably the most drummer-influenced guitar player around. Over the years, Charlie and I developed a style between us, and a lot of it has to do with the fact that for many, many years I couldn't hear us onstage at all. The chicks are screaming and the band has no P.A.

So we developed a way of playing where it didn't matter if we heard the voice or the bass-it was just Charlie and me. I'd be forced right up against Charlie's kit with my amp right next to him. My playing would have been totally different if I hadn't gone through that with Charlie. I developed more and more of the rhythm things and licks because he was really all I was playing to.”-Keith Richards, 1989

[jackfromthefairytale]

snowblood is outright the metalcore song of all time I don't know what it is about that song specifically but it has everything

[splinteredthoughts]

Just watched Monster in Paris for the first time in a very long time and OUGH

I

I just-

B

Bug

[4giorno]

i think while varis's main instrument is the violin, his go to instrument for downtime is the lyre