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tartxglia · 4 years

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Post-Concert Depression

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Genre: Suggestive smut, Supernatural SKZ AU

Words: 2.6k+

Summary: You catch the eye of Hyunjin, supernatural group Stray Kids’ resident demon member in the middle of a concert.

Note: Italics indicate telepathy.

The strong bass travelled through the entire venue, making your whole body vibrate in excitement as your favourite nine member supernatural boy group Stray Kids jumped, danced and sang their songs right in front of your eyes. It was one thing to see them behind a screen, and a completely different surreal experience to see them right in front of you, in real life. It was unfair how much more gorgeous they were, the things their beauty did to your heart. Perhaps it was also the supernatural side in them that made them so appealing–who were you kidding–it was most definitely one of the largest factors that made them so hot. A supernatural boy group with members ranging from fallen angels to incubi to vampires, werewolves, and even demons. This group had a wide variety and their fans went wild for it–who wouldn’t? These were nine super hot and super cute supernatural boys; imagine the things they're capable of that regular humans aren't.

Your thirst train of thoughts are interrupted by Hwang Hyunjin who jumps around the stage near your area, hyping himself and the crowd to one of Stray Kids’ older tracks YAYAYA. Hyunjin is a demon–though his angelic visuals make you think otherwise–and holds the role of lead rapper and main dancer. Oh god, dancer, you were always a sucker for dancers. The control they had over every part of their body, the fluid yet sharp movements they trained to achieve, and their hips–you could only wonder what a dancer’s hips were capable of doing to you.

Hyunjin never hesitates to flaunt his dance skills, he walks past your section slowly, his each move a result of a slow sensual body roll as he lets his body ride the rhythm of the loud music pumping through his veins. He gives your side of the standing pen lots of attention, walking past while trying to make eye-contact with as many fans as possible and sending them waves, winks, heart fluttering smiles you name it. He pauses in his track when he happens to make eye-contact with you, his next step forward immediately halting his body as he backtracks to the edge of the stage, closer to your section. He squats down at the edge, settling down as he peers forward to get a closer look. Seeing him just a couple meters ahead of you has your breath stuck in your throat and your heart skipping beats as your eyes take in all the beauty that is demon Hwang Hyunjin.

The stage lighting from the centre stage shine all the way down, hitting one side of his face and fittingly painting one half of him in a hazy bright red light. As if Hwang Hyunjin wasn’t already sexy enough with his demonic aura of confidence, his tall body proportions, the sensuality of the red light further intensifies it. The pure white choker he has on doesn’t help. The brightness of the colour otherwise associated with pureness and innocence is a stark contrast on the skin of a demon who oozes sexual confidence. The sight nearly has you whimpering, your knees already beginning to feel weak but you refuse to take your eyes away from him who is continues posing for the cameras.

You watch as his eyes stay fixed onto you, the two of you holding strong continuous eye contact, and you watch as his eyes then stray up and down your figure, taking in as much of you as he could from his position. When he connects his eyes with you once again, you see the deep pool of brown flash a bright red before reverting normal. The colour change sparks a curiosity within you, and you wonder whether it was a trick of the light–the stage was shining red light after all–but you don’t have long to theorise because of the stunt Hyunjin just pulled in front of you. This boy just brushed his hair away from his face in the most sexy way possible dn posed with a v sign in front of a crowd. It would probably be completely okay and normal if he had put up the v as a victory sign next to his face, or his eyes, anywhere but over his mouth. With his tongue sticking out in the valley of his fingers. With his hair still a mess after having run his hand through it just now, Hyunjin stares directly at you as he poses with a v. Over top of his mouth. Then sliding his tongue out his mouth and directly at the valley of his fingers for a brief second.

The sight has you in shock, your whole being frozen as you process the sexual gesture he had just made in public, in front of his fans. You look side to side, checking the faces of the other fans in the standing pen next to you, only to see them cheering him on as normal and no qualms. You’d think they’d have a more aggressive reaction to such an act. You look back up to the stage, finding Hyunjin in the same spot but now he has his mic up, singing his part of the song and letting his gaze roam around the crowd and no longer staring at you. You feel a twinge of disappointment and immediately Hyunjin’s eyes find yours again, looking down at you with hooded eyes as he rapped his section to the mic he cooly held in one hand, the other holding his hair away from his face. He smirks mid-rap but continues on still strong in his vocals, maintaining eye-contact with you once again but this time he winks. He sends you a wink and that’s all it takes for his eyes to switch back to the gleaming red you caught before. Except now, it’s constant. You don’t even know it but you’re staring at him with a gaping mouth, your eyes and mind finally registering what had been happening the past few seconds. His bright red eyes, the suggestive gesture, the lack of reaction from surrounding fans–

“What’s wrong, angel? You never experienced telepathy before?”

Hwang Hyunjin, one of the demon members of Stray Kids, was using his demon side to use telepathy on you with his blood red eyes and fangs out for only you to see. Fuck, that was really hot. His voice was husky and echoed within your mind, the deep bass of his voice reaching every corner. And the pet-name didn’t help. The demon himself, calling you an angel. If it weren’t for the barrier in front of you, you’d be on your knees already.

Following his question, Hyunjin sends you a flurry of images all passing by too quickly to grasp details but just enough to recognise the figures. Big hands with long slender fingers on bare skin, trailing up and down, tracing very curve. Pink pouty lips pressed on a neck, leaving soft wet kisses over the developing hickeys. A hand with a single band ring on one finger, and a thicker triple band ring on another dipping down past the hem of black shorts with a studded waistband–wait those were the shorts you were wearing. The realisation has you snapped out of a haze, and you come back to Hyunjin who is still pumping up the crowd in your section, still sitting squatted in front of you. Your eyes scan his hands, trying to look at his fingers for sign of any accessories and–oh my god. A single band on his pointer finger. A triple band ring on the finger next to it. Those were the exact hands you saw in the images Hyunjin projected to you. And the shorts were yours.

You can feel your cheeks flame up in embarrassment as you catch on to what Hyunjin was suggesting. Your mind is in a state of shock, a jumbled mess of thoughts the result of what he had just shown you. Were those his thoughts? Is that what he was thinking of right at this very moment? Mid-performance? Fuck, you can just feel yourself get wetter at the revelation, your pussy throbbing with need.

“Babygirl you gotta use your words or I’m gonna leave~” Hyunjin’s gravelly voice enters your mind once again. His tone teasing as he side-eyes you with a glint in his eyes. As much as you’d like to give him a reaction, you’re left speechless at what you had just experienced. What he had just shown you. Your mind being a mush, you can’t do anything else but continue gaping at him, your lips parted to form a response but only producing silence.

Hyunjin enjoys the fact that he’s left you speechless, it feeds his ego, feeds him power. He loves the stunned expression of yours, your mouth agape and lips forming in an ‘o’ that sends his mind down another sinful spiral of thoughts. For some reason you’d caught his eye among the hundreds. He didn’t know why and he didn’t care to search for the reason. He just knew that he liked you and that was enough. Wanting to play with you more, he sends another wave of his thoughts over to you. The content just as sensual and suggestive, but this time he puts a little extra bit of his power to channel the physical sensations too.

The second wave of images Hyunjin sends you is even more intense–in your opinion anyways–because this time you could feel the physical sensations matching the images. You can feel the cold of his metal ring as his hand sits underneath your shorts, the sensation sending a shiver up your spine. You can feel the elongated incisors that make his fangs that he lazily drags up the side of your neck. The feeling scares you, he could bite you at any moment and you’d just let him, but damn it was attractive. The tingles you felt as Hyunjin teasingly played with your neck. The last thing Hyunjin gives you is the sensation of your hands, running through his soft silky hair all clean and dry after the shower he took following the concert. He smells good, he smells alluring, and the strands of his hair feel like heavenly clouds, slipping through the gaps between your fingers as you tug and play with them.

You revel in the experience given to you by Hyunjin, even despite the fact that it was fabricated by pure imagination and mental stimulation alone but you'd take it. You were cut short, however, when Hyunjin suddenly cuts the telepathic link, his eyes reverting back to chocolate brown. With the lack of verbal response as he had demanded from you, he tuts in mock disappointment and gets up from his squat. Seeing him walk away sends your heart racing as you prepare to give into his demands. He walks a couple steps before stopping at the sound of your whimper. It was a miracle how he heard you despite the loud overwhelming ambient sounds, even considering his demon side and heightened senses. He turns his head with a smug expression, side-eyeing you to watch as you pout up at him with innocent doe eyes that conveyed sinful messages and desires. He seems to have gotten the message because he backtracks.

Since he was still standing up, you had to crane your neck up to look up at him as he stood over you. His long legs and thighs were in your direct line of sight and was it wrong for you to want to bite them? You trail your eyes slowly back up to make eye-contact with him, finding him already looking down at you. His expression hasn't exchanged much, but you can just tell how much he's enjoying this–seeing you at his mercy, begging for him to come back, begging for his teases. He thrives in the power that you give him and standing above you, him looking down at you and you up at him, paints the perfect representation of the power dynamic between the two of you. And holy fuck do you find it hot.

"This is exactly how it should be... You looking up at me from your place on the floor. Don't you agree, babygirl? Aren't you a demon's whore?" You shouldn't be surprised that he can tell what you're thinking, he's a demon after all, but it still doesn't stop the small jump of shock you make at the sound of his sensual voice echoing within your head once again. You make a move to respond to him, your lips parted to give him a response but you're still reeling from the shock of the situation. Hwang Hyunjin, the demon, had you in a private telepathic link with him. Showing you all his sinful thoughts of you, showing you all the promises he was capable of fulfilling.

"Y-yes," you manage to croak out through the shock. Your voice can barely be heard to yourself, but Hyunjin's heightened senses catch it with no problem.

"'Yes' what?" He's quick to demand, his tone authoritative and waiting on edge for you to hand him the reigns, give him full control over every inch of you.

"Yes, sir." You gulp away any last bit of nerves, you had signed yourself off to the devil–literally. But the burst of confidence that filled your veins was only temporary as Hyunjin sends another flash of images to you.

An image of him wrapping his long fingers around your neck, overlapping all the bruises that marked you as his possession. The pads of his fingers squeezing the sides of your neck as your mouth falls open, chasing for both air as well as a release. Eye contact is held as Hyunjin looks down at you squirming underneath him, his eyes dark and drinking in every emotion that crosses your face, the lust that swims in your own eyes. A flash of his hips slapping against you, the heat of his body against yours for one second then gone the next only to return in the second following and so it repeats. He’s grabbing your chin, making you face him head on so he can enjoy the blissful look on your face as you unravel at his mercy for satan knows how many times within the past few hours.

“Enjoy the rest of the concert, doll." Hyunjin's voice floats in among the midst of the flashes of thoughts he continues to send to you. It briefly brings you back to reality and you catch him straightening up again to head to the main stage where the rest of the members gathered. You don't have any time to feel any disappointment because he sends you another thought. This time you watch as Hyunjin sits on his ankles, kneeling down in front of you who is pressed up against a wall. He knelt for you but he was still the one holding all the power.

"Back alley, 15 minutes after the end."

Despite being the one on his knees, he still has the cockiest and smug expression in his face. His eyes hooded in a sensual gaze as he oozes a sexual energy. He loves the whiny mess that you are all because of him. He loves the look the desperation on your face as he sits so close to your pussy that you can feel his breath on your lower lips. Teasingly, he blows air directly on your naked vagina and you can only gasp, melting further into submission, into his control, giving yourself to him. Then suddenly, he jerks forward, his mouth attach to your pussy in a strong suck and a slow, long, dragging lick of his tongue on your clit.

"Don't sorry, angel. I'll make your post-concert depression go away."

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nwbeerguide · 2 years

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Tavour shares their top 20 beers if 2021

Press Release

The Highest Rated Tavour Beers of 2021

As we wrap up another delicious year in craft beer, let’s look back at beer geeks’ favorites from independent craft breweries! Here are the Top 20 highest member-rated brews featured by the app-based bottle shop Tavour in 2021:

#20. pFriem Family Brewers - Japanese Lager - Rated 4.30

Oregon’s premier brewers infused ingenuity with classic methods in this exemplary light style. Made with jasmine rice and using traditional Japanese brewing techniques, the beer pours with a lovely, frothy head.

Perle, Saaz, and Celeia Hops flourish with elegantly floral flavors. A satisfying maltiness comes through on the forefront, complimented by the rice’s hint of plum and shiso on the backend. Every taste is exceptionally crisp and surprisingly complex.

#19. Other Half Brewing Co. - Broccoli Special Reserve Imperial IPA - Rated 4.31

To craft this ultra-juicy hopbomb, the Other Half crew pummeled their full-bodied oat and wheat base with Citra, Mosaic, Simcoe, and Hallertau Blanc Hops!

As fans say, the result is “the perfect crusher for a warm day.” Each sip floods the palate with orange and grapefruit upfront, before mellowing into ripe peach and whispers of succulent pineapple. Coniferous resin comes in on the finish to punctuate it all with nice hop bitterness.

#18. Toppling Goliath Brewing Co. - Pseudo Sue American Pale Ale - Rated 4.31

Make no mistake, the hype around Pseudo Sue is very real. Fans love this hopped-up Pale Ale that drinks like a full-fledged Imperial IPA!

If you've tasted Sue's 100% Citra-hopped profile — overflowing with ridiculously tasty notes of mango, passionfruit, and drippy orange — you know this to be true.

#17. Elder Pine Brewing & Blending - Leveler Amber Ale - Rated: 4.34

August Burns Red’s album Leveler is a persevering piece of metalcore mastery, and 2021 marks 10 years since its release! So, the crew at Elder Pine brewed this malty, hoppy Red Ale in honor of that anniversary.

Leveler Red Ale is as big and bold as a breakdown at the outro — Simcoe and Columbus Hops headline citrusy flavors with piney and floral aromatics. A supporting cast of Golden Oats and Biscuit Rye add malty honey flavors that hold up the screaming guitar solo of nectarous hop juice.

#16. Side Project Brewing - Dry Hopped Grisette - Rated 4.35

To craft their luxuriously hoppy Grisette, the brewers at Side Project started with an Ale fermented with wild yeasts, and aged it in a Missouri Oak Foeder for several months. Then, they gently dry-hopped the brew with New Zealand Pacifica and Slovenian Styrian Golding Hops before naturally conditioning it in the bottle.

Each sip flows with bright farmhouse tang, lightly tart lemon, and soft pear accented by vibrant floral, zesty orange, and herbaceous spice notes introduced by the hops. An effervescent body and scintillating, dry finish make each taste that much more invigorating.

#15. Adroit Theory Brewing - All That I Have Learned [Maple Whiskey Barrel Aged Stout] (Ghost 987) - Rated 4.39

This isn’t any ol’ dark brew. Adroit aged the entire batch in William Larue Weller barrels that previously stashed rich, thick, maple syrup!

These are some of the best bourbon barrels on the market, and they lend light toffee and vanilla notes that compliment the chocolate, marshmallow, and coffee complexity already swirling in the base brew. Molasses and caramel come through from the decadent maple syrup.

#14. Anchorage Brewing - Wake the Others Imperial IPA - Rated 4.41

Anchorage amped up this behemoth with an Alaska-sized helping of Citra, Galaxy, and Mosaic Hops. This TIPA practically packs triple the flavor: tangy orange, succulent mandarin, and tart grapefruit with drops of drippy mango and luscious pineapple. And it’s all wrapped in a dangerously drinkable 10% ABV body.

#13. Great Notion Brewing - Double Berry Shake Fruited Sour - Rated 4.42

Overflowing with scrumptious fruit and creamy vanilla, the Fruited Sour style is where this rising Pacific Northwest powerhouse really dominates.

Double Berry Shake is proof! The brewers “saturated” this sumptuous Fruited Sour with local, Oregon-grown marionberries for waves of jammy juice and rich earthiness. A mild tartness from the fruit rounds out every vivid, reddish-purple sip, punctuated with the vanilla’s lusciously sweet notes. Perhaps most remarkable of all – this brew sips silky and thick like a shake, but it contains no lactose!

#12. Drekker Brewing Co. - Revenge of the Hippies Imperial NEIPA - Rated 4.45

This groovy batch of hopjuice comes loaded with Mosaic, Citra, Azacca, and — for the first time — Mosaic Spectrum hop extract for a flavor that’s way dank and mellow, man.

The hop strains bring tropical fruit flavors like pineapple, mango, and tangerine, and the hop extract gives extra groovy, piney resin taste while keeping the body oh-so-smooth.

#11. Prairie Artisan Ales - Bourbon Barrel Aged Weekend Imperial Stout - Rated 4.48

This boozy beauty tastes just like a melty, gooey, freshly-smooshed s’more, but with an extra decadent sprinkle of coconut and a drizzle of caramel. That’s because Prairie loaded it with creamy marshmallow, rich caramel, fudgy cacao nibs, and toasted coconut!

Each gulp offers mellow warmth and a sweet vanilla finish, thanks to bourbon barrel aging — no campfire required.

#10. Casey Brewing & Blending - Funky Blender Blackberry - Rated 4.50

To craft their Funky Blender beers, the brewers at Casey start with their complex wine barrel-aged Farmhouse base, and add massive amounts of locally-grown fruits!

This berry brew comes packed with an astonishing 3 lbs of blackberries per gallon for waves of jammy nectar and a late addition of Cascade Hops for complex floral and citrus notes.

#9. Cycle Brewing - Sunday (2021) Barrel Aged Barleywine - Rated 4.53

Cycle aged this exquisite Barleywine in bourbon barrels for 30 months, so each velvety sip sings with rich, whiskey-laced flavor.

It opens with the scent of decadent bruléed sugar, then wraps the tongue in notes of chocolate covered strawberries. Waves of caramelized toffee and sumptuous, roasty malt swim throughout its silky body, culminating in a clean and satisfying finish.

#8. Fremont Brewing - The Rusty Nail (2021) Barrel Aged Stout - Rated 4.54

Fremont’s dexterous brewers crafted this beast of a beverage with brewer’s licorice, smoked barley, and cassia cinnamon bark. After 15 months in 12-year-old bourbon barrels, every thick taste flourishes with luxurious layers of delicately-conjured complexity.

Each sip swells on the palate with notes of dark cocoa and spice, atop a finely-tuned whiskey profile. The 2021 vintage clocks a massive 12.3% ABV, though rich aromas of molasses, cinnamon, and vanilla cloak it well.

#7. WeldWerks Brewing Co. x Pontoon Brewing Company - Snozzberries Taste Like Froot Camp Fruited Berliner Weisse: Crazy Zombie - Rated 4.55

The brewers at Georgia’s Pontoon got together with Colorado’s WeldWerks to make this tiki treat, using “an obscene amount” of black currants, tart cherries, pineapples, papayas, almonds, vanilla, and lactose.

It’s thick as blended fruit, delightfully creamy, and wholly juicy — like a cocktail straight out of Polynesia!

#6. Drekker Brewing Co. - Slang Du Jour Raspberry Cheesecake Fruited Sour - Rated 4.62

To create this opulent delight, the brewers say they “absolutely stuffed it with the finest real ingredients:” ripe raspberries, granola crust, velvety vanilla, real cream cheese, and a dash of silky lactose!

With every decadently thick mouthful, you’ll experience how the smoothie-experts at Drekker conjure the flavors of an expertly baked cheesecake, topped with delicate ribbons of fresh raspberry sauce and plush whipped cream.

#5. WeldWerks Brewing Co. - Blueberry Cobbler Berliner Weisse - Rated 4.64

Colorado’s WeldWerks brewed their Blueberry Cobbler with vanilla, graham crackers, milk sugar, and a whopping 1500 lbs of blueberry purée per batch!

It’s no wonder this Berliner’s so bangin’. Each nectarous sip overflows with the juice of tart, earthy blueberries and crumbly cobbler crust, balanced by the creamy sweetness of vanilla — like a scoop of cobbler topped with homemade ice cream.

#4. Fremont Brewing - Brew 5000 Barrel Aged Barleywine - Rated 4.67

This enviable English Barleywine was brewed to celebrate Fremont’s 5,000th batch of beer, so naturally, they pulled out all the stops.

A blend of specialty malts creates deep flavors of brown sugar, candied date, and toffee. Notes of raisin and plum appear next, followed quickly by a warming flood of caramelly whiskey and oaky vanilla from a full 16 months in bourbon barrels!

#3. Evil Twin Brewing NYC - To the Milky Way & Back II Imperial Milkshake IPA - Rated 4.69

With generous additions of real fruit on top of the tropical hop base, this silky lactose and vanilla-loaded galaxy is even more delectable than our wildest thoughts could conjure!

Bright strawberry and softly tangy raspberry burst upfront, followed swiftly by juicy, jammy blackberry. Let it linger all together on the tongue, and it’s reminiscent of a whipped cream-topped berry tartlet!

#2. Jester King - SPON Red Shiso and Fuyu Persimmon (2020) American Wild Ale - Rated 4.70

SPON’s journey started with a commitment to time. For 2 whole years, the 100% spontaneously fermented base beer matured in wine barrels. Later, the Texas-based farmhouse brewery added in herbaceous, bright red shiso imported from Japan and silky, juicy Fuyu persimmons from right down the road at Lightsey Farms in Mexia, TX.

The result? A beautiful blend of tart, tangy, natural flavors that combine with the tannic-like qualities from the barrels and flesh of the fruit.

#1. Anchorage Brewing - A Deal With The Devil, Double Oaked Vanilla Bean Barrel Aged Barleywine - Rated 4.89

Head brewer Gabe Fletcher and his team aged this edition of ADWTD for 7 months in top-shelf Woodford Reserve Double Oaked barrels, then transferred it to Elijah Craig bourbon barrels for an additional 6 months. Finally, they finished it on Madagascar vanilla beans.

The result is a sinfully smooth and silky elixir that tastes of caramel-drizzled crème brûlée with complex layers of oaky, bourbon toffee. A steady stream of vanilla sweetness keeps things glib and comforting, all while that blush-inducing ABV slowly creeps in.

from Northwest Beer Guide - News - The Northwest Beer Guide https://bit.ly/3dAepza

#Beer #News #Brewery

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jcmorrigan · 3 years

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001 - Tales of Zestiria?

Favorite character: It's a tough call between Maltran and Symonne, and Lunarre is trailing right behind both. I tend to call them the "Heldalf Squad," but make no mistake, Heldalf himself isn't part of it. I just like his swagalicious minions. The dry and sarcastic political manipulator, the sadistic and wordy theater nerd, and the flamboyant cannibal who hates everything. Yes. LOVE. But I have to give a shout to my boy Dezel on the hero side! Angsty/stoic characters are very hit-or-miss with me, but Dezel is the flavor I love - obvious soft spots and quirks, and slowly he builds from being antisocial to showing how big his heart is. When he stops the woman from leaping off the Guinevere tower...that's one of my favorite scenes in the entire game, because you can see when the switch flips, when he realizes that he CANNOT stay aloof any longer when there's a stranger's life on the line. He's still a grump about it but a compassionate grump.

Least Favorite character: Heldalf. His backstory is really clever, and I like the curse on him. But he himself just feels like Ganondorf but more boring. I kinda hate that he's so vanilla when his three lieutenants are in my arsenal of pet villains from the vastness of fiction. Also shout-out to Chancellor BART in the opening Ladylake act, because I distinctly remember liveblogging this to a friend, and I played Zestiria *after* Berseria (I'd loved Berseria and that's why I eventually sought out Zestiria) so here I am just comparing up the corrupt church in Ladylake to the Abbey's suave rogues gallery like "Yeah no BART has nothing on Lady Teresa Linares." Thankfully BART was never seen again.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): DezeRose, SorMik, Symonne x Coco Atarashi (The World Ends With You), Alisha Diphda x Sergei Strelka, and...I swear you have to bear with me here...Zaveid x Anna (Frozen). I also kinda wanna note a couple ships I'm on the fence about for my other favies - those being Maltran x Ebony Maw (Marvel Cinematic Universe or Marvel Ultimate Alliance) and Lunarre x Arkham (Devil May Cry).

Character I find most attractive: Dezel. It is a scientific fact that guys with pointy teeth are just hotter.

Character I would marry: Maybe Dezel, maybe Sergei. I wouldn't want to take them from those I see as their wifeys, but at the same time, they are husband goals, both of them.

Character I would be best friends with: Catch me clinging to Maltran's train and she drags me along annoyedly as I yell "PLEEEEAAASE LET ME HANG OUT WITH YOU GUYS" and Lunarre is losing it laughing while Symonne rolls her eyes

a random thought: So I toyed around with basically every accessory I picked up, and I decided to put the sideburns on Rose because fuck gender roles. Well then I just got used to seeing her with facial hair in every cutscene where her 3D model was used, and now I headcanon that she does get it. Maybe nonclassical CAH intersex? Like, I don't necessarily see her as trans (but I support everyone who hc's her as such) but moreso "a cis woman, but I grow this stupid damn facial hair like a dude and I don't get why." And this is why you shouldn't let me play with customizable accessories on RPG characters because I can and will abuse my privilege to headcanon.

An unpopular opinion: That this is actually a very good game. Listen, I think I get it - the initial marketing promised something far different. And that's disappointing. But coming back to it several years after its release, after the release of its PREQUEL, when I never had that hype building up...it actually exceeded my expectations. I held off from it for a while because I thought Eizen's fate would make me too sad, but that didn't end up the case at all. I actually had just come off playing a more recently-released triple-A game that was hyped up for years, and I completed it to my satisfaction in 20 hours. $80 for 20 hours. Zestiria gave me my money's worth in comparison; it took me about 60, and I loved just how MUCH story it had to offer me. I honestly like Rose better than Alisha anyway (Rose was one of the biggest aspects that interested me about playing it in the first place). I've also seen complaints that the characters weren't well-developed enough? Which I just kinda take to mean "They didn't angst enough." Listen. There are PLENTY of games out there if you want angst and sad stories. I don't really like sad stories in my games. I like adventures where the party is a goofy foundfam that jokes around with each other and helps each other work through shitty situations, and that's EXACTLY what I got. (And Berseria really worked on me too because it kinda started at the bottom of the angst barrel, then worked its way up through "The edgy and tortured protag has gained a party of idiots and oh noooooo she's learning friendship and happiness.") Dezel's death is one of the few game deaths that just made me SATISFIED to watch instead of depressed because of the closure he got and the themes tied into his final moments and sacrifice. I loved going on this adventure, I loved the idiots who I went on it with, and I loved seeing what Glenwood had to offer me in world design the further I explored.

my canon OTP: There's not much for canon romance in this game, come to think of it. Just subtext and some flirting. So I'm blanking on if there actually were any canon couples at all.

Non-canon OTP: DezeRose! Which maybe can be considered almost-canon based on the amount of subtext, but still. It's adorable. (And it's the exact same dynamic as EiRoku except M/F and a thousand years later. I need these four to double date...the dual-wielding goofs with their edgy, grumpy Reapers...)

most badass character: Rose! Not only able to wield the Shepherd's Armatization powers, but also to be a dang good assassin on her own, able to hold her own against Heldalf before she even had her eyes opened to seraphim! Though a shout-out goes to Edna because her armatization was my favorite to play with. There's something just satisfying about bashing the enemy in front of you with a pair of GIANT FISTS

pairing I am not a fan of: RoseAli. To be honest, it was at one point something I kinda enjoyed as a third-tier ship for Rose (Dezel first, then Lailah in second). But then...Alisha's Story. I didn't actually purchase it, thank goodness, just watched it on YouTube, and it was the most grating addition that anyone could've made to this game. First of all, I can sum up the issues with Alisha's Story by reminding everyone that it canonized a secret entrance to Camlann that was much easier to get to and wasn't protected by Muse's sacrifice. But the real thing that hurt to watch was how far down they had to knock Rose and Alisha's friendship to get them to rebuild from scratch. Rose claiming she was never Alisha's friend because she's grieving Sorey? The two of them getting into a PHYSICAL FISTFIGHT over it? Nope nope nope. That's not my Rose. Even less my Rose is that whole scene where she...you know...pounces on Alisha to dress her in the silly noblewoman's dress, and it's framed like...let's just say it's really uncomfortable to watch if you don't know the punchline is just a silly outfit. Even though Alisha's Story isn't canon in my head, it still really killed any buzz I had for RoseAli. I will also say I'm not a big fan of Eizavie - first of all, EiRoku or bust in this house, and second, I have a little bit of a hard time seeing Zaveid as mlm due to how much he goes on and on about The Ladies(TM). (Though I could see Eizen as having a tiny crush on him, though. Just like "Oh no he's hot but he's connected to Aifread's disappearance help")

character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): Mostly just in Alisha's Story. I was mad about the aforementioned Rose stuff, but also...like...they undid Lunarre's original cathartic death, they did so to team him back up with Symonne and then do a whole fakeout that they had Maltran with them too, but Maltran is just an illusion and immediately after this, Lunarre and Symonne just decide "Yeah, we're not gonna work together anymore, have a nice life." Why does Maltran need to stay dead if LUNARRE somehow survived EXPLODING? And just...look to next question for more clarification:

favourite friendship: I just want to imagine that Maltran, Lunarre, and Symonne were weird evil friends. The kind who'd take artistic selfies and caption them "Murder and mayhem with my besties!". Maybe they even had a sibling dynamic. They were all pretty dang jaded, so I like to think they sat around sometimes talking about the things in this world that did them wrong. The reasons they were drawn to Heldalf. Heldalf himself wouldn't have cared, he would've kicked them around like disposable tools, but the three of them were too entrenched in his dogma to see it. Maybe if they met up again after he was off the board...then they'd sing a different tune. Realize they're all three better than this, and now they're gonna do things THEIR way, because remember when they made a three-point attack on Glenwood and Sorey was barely able to keep up with them wrecking Lastonbell AND Pendrago AND Glaivend? Remember when Lunarre and Symonne had each other's backs the night Dezel died? Now they can do what they want on their terms! And I just - I have many MANY feelings about these three.

character I want to adopt or be adopted by: Okay silly self-insert time but the thing is, Archibald Snatcher (The Boxtrolls) and Roman Torchwick (RWBY) are my two favorite parental f/o's (and also my OTP to end all OTPs), and I have this thing about how they'd be PERFECT crime dads to Symonne in particular because she's like a little, more theatrical Neopolitan. So there's a universe in my head where Symonne is basically already my little sister, and I look out for her - well, okay, she's a seraph with powerful Artes and I am a powerless mortal so really she looks out for me because "I suppose SOMEONE has to make sure you don't die" and I am grateful to her for it.

#tales of zestiria

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katewearatops · 3 years

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beauty products that have recently made me go "okay wow okay."

e.l.f wow brow in taupe: after a few years of filling in my brows with a pencil every day, I've converted to brow mascara for a more natural look. I didn't want to shell out $16 for boy brow so I went looking for dupes and found this - it's a perrrrfect cool taupe.

8 second wonder water: I thought this would be all hype but holy crap. my hair has been a dry frizzy mess since I've been double- or triple-washing it with clarifying shampoos to lighten the purple dye and this has it almost back to normal in one use.

tj's shea butter and coconut oil hail serum: this $4 serum I randomly grabbed at checkout has also been a miracle worker on my frizz

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bates--boy · 3 years

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The first thing Naseem said when he popped his head up from the spare pillows, eyes still bleary slits as he scanned around the room from his spot on Peter’s couch was, “Oh, shit...” The second, as he followed Peter into the kitchen on unsteady legs and watched as his host made coffee and heated some frozen French toast sticks was, “Thanks for letting me crash here.” The third, as they scarfed down breakfast and Naseem flipped the phone over as it buzzed with a succession of missed call notifications and incoming text messages, was, “I just got an idea.”

COME HANG OUT WITH US!

The premiere announcement was sent out a couple days ago after Mike agreed to the proposal, right on the day that Naseem shared his bright idea post-edibles.

Five minutes ‘til they had to go live. Almost 1,500 people waiting, pooled from both Peter’s and Mike’s channels; fifty-six likes jumping to two hundred now that they were close to go-time. Peter knew he had to stop reading the analytics, had to stop nibbling on his lip else they’d be too chapped for the premiere, stop raking his fingers through his ponytail or the ends will split or clump from his hand cream. He looked past his phone and up to where Mike and Naseem were finishing the setup. Ring light glowing softly, desktop tripod standing at the ready. The camera, after being charged and tested, now connected to the laptop.

With showtime nearing, there was usually another rundown of the setlist, but it was simple enough, and they had a little scrap of paper with the outline and an estimate of the runtime at a half-hour.

And before Peter knew it, before he could realize that post-edible clarity sprouted bad ideas, that this was a bad idea, that this may very well ruin his channel, that this was nothing like Inner City Lights and oh, god, he was going to embarrass himself live and the Internet is forever-- Mike clapped and Peter jolted.

“Alright, buddy, showtime!”

So, all three settled in front of the camera, doing some last minute preening as the timer ticked off the seconds. Peter felt his mouth go dry, felt his fingers tingle.

Thirty seconds, and the air whooshed into his body.

Ten seconds, and his mind fooled himself into being the baddest bitch in the game...

3...

2...

1...

“Ay yo, ay yo, ay yo! Wassup, y’all!” Peter called out to the camera, to the chat blasting off, to the now two-K tuning in. “How are we feeling today? Is the stream running smoothly for everyone? You guys can hear us?”

The live chat filled with thumbs-up emojis and hearts.

“Aight, cool,” Mike said. He leaned back, hands going up to his head to straighten his cap then folding and wringing together on the table. “Some of y’all know me as Mickey Mic Droppa, some of y’all know Naseem from the Rap Tournament scene, and some of y’all know Pete from his own channel, Pretty Petty Petey.”

“Today,” Naseem chimed in, “we figured we’d rap with y’all. Chill out, chat, get to know y’all and vice versa.”

“Have a little concert, maybe. We’ll even have a Q and A later on, but essentially,” Mike said, “I met Pete through Naseem after their first showing of Inner City Lights.”

Naseem waved a finger in the air. “Last showing’s next week. So, definitely go see it if you haven’t yet!”

“Yeah, I definitely recommend it,” Mike stated. “And not because my best friend is in the star role. Anyways, Naseem introduced us, and we have been, I don’t know how to put it...”

“Vibing?” Peter offered.

Mike shrugged and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, vibing. But Naseem and Pete had hit me up with this livestream idea, and, you know, we had been actually talking about getting Pete into the local hip-hop scene.”

“And the Battle Royale,” Naseem added.

“Yep, the Battle Royale. But first, we want to do a test run. An experiment, if you will. So...” Mike leaned over to Peter, nudging their shoulders together. “We got a little treat for you. Ain’t that right, Pete?”

Peter hung his head and snorted. He raised his head and shook his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, yeaaaaah.”

Naseem murmured, “So, you wanna tell ‘em, or you wanna jump right in?”

Peter looked away and tilted his head to think it over. “Hm... Let’s jump right in.”

His body would have shivered from the cold stone that plunked in his gut. He had thought this part over; he prepared himself, even though it was technically cheating and the counterintuitive overthinking that Naseem advised against.

But the other two men looked at each other, shrugging with their goofy grins.

Mikey brought his hands to his mouth, and Naseem drummed his hands on the table as he said, “Introduce yourself, my guy!”

Peter, for all the sensation of vomiting, nodded along, staring off to the side lightly slapping the table so his own drumming wouldn’t drown out Naseem. He cleared his throat.

Freestyle is fun, Pete, Mike told him. Remember that.

Peter did remember that, and for some ungodly reason, he crossed his eyes and blew a raspberry.

“Whaddup, Karlstad, so glad we could meet! I’m known round these parts as Baby Pete College grad, hella rad, and yeah I said that High swinger, always ready ta go to bat I’m uhmmmm...”

Peter pulled a face, eyes darting left then right to his collaborators. Naseem jabbed his elbow into Pete’s arm, somehow without missing a beating.

“Uhmm...”

“Just think of something!” Mike stage whispered.

Peter gave an exaggerated shrugged. “Uhmmm...

“I’m uh... five-eleven Supermodel, cat daddy Waking up like this, damn Look in the mirror, sayin’ ‘that’s a baddie’

Peter felt his cheeks bloom red, but exhilaration swelling his chest. Holy shit! He thought.

Student of the sea, and life’s voyager Even out in the ocean, I grew up a forager Can’t touch the ground, I’m always in the sky Got sleepless nights and stars in my eyes Ask my Papa, he’d tell ya He raised a hella hyped hustla Prolly say, ‘Don’t step in front of the kitten Unless ya want ya ankles bleeding and bitten’ But let’s wrap this up before you get bored I’m bilingual, bisexual, but a triple force.”

“Whoo!” Mike cheered as he threw up his hands.

Naseem chuckled and ruffled Peter’s hair. “Aaaaaah, see! I knew it wouldn’t be that bad!”

“Of course, you wouldn’t think so, you taught him,” Mike teased. He started reading the chat. “Hey! Be nice! Alright, let’s get to the questions. Who’s first?”

#droid noodles ( writing )#life thus far ( story )

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blankdblank · 3 years

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Hobbit Soulmate Pt 37

“You’re doing it again,” Tracy said once in the set with you for your next scene post lunch you’d mostly read through while Lee continued to bask in the hype of the news of how his film was doing numbers wise. Head turned your eyes fell on her and she said, “You are sulking. Are you sleeping?”

“Ya,”

Inching closer she asked in a try to be playful tone to ease out a smile from you, “Your teddy bear miss a phone call?”

“No, Richard called and messaged twice yesterday.” Her brows arched up through a smirk and you sighed, “He hid something in the closet. Spent weeks making sure I didn’t ‘know’ anything was there under his clothes and he left and now the cubby is empty.”

Her hand planted on your arm, “Oh, like a second phone? Or something?”

“Lee said he saw him at a jewelers in town while I was in New York for my table reads.”

“Oh,” she said with tone perking up.

“And I don’t even expect gifts, but he’s gone for months away from me and he left me a sweater and I’m trying not to pout at not getting the gift he’s so terrible at hiding that he has for me, but,” after a quick sigh you said, “A gift would have been nice.”

That had Tracy giving you a hug, an action luring Lee’s gaze from across the set to you and your moment of allowing your sunken expression read across your face, “Honey bunny, maybe it’s a welcome home to England present for when you see him again. I knew he was up to something, he is terrible at hiding things from you, even my sharing I was taking you for a manicure he was ready to explode for our weekend out while he was off on those night shoots.”

“I’ll be fine, and I’ll stop sulking.” She chuckled again and rubbed your back walking with you across the fake bar for your first marks and where she could find her drink covered tray prepped and ready to go.

“If my teddy bear left the country with the chance of more than a sweater I’d be sulking too. Don’t you feel bad, besides, I don’t think I’ve seen you with more than those studs in your ears since I’ve known you. You need some bling girl.”

“I really do,” you said twisting the ring on your left ring finger of metal flowers for this role feeling the necklace cold against your skin shifting under the collar of your furry collard coat once again.

All over the news the footage of the Oscars was being replayed, namely the clip from Adrien’s award for Lead male when he forced a kiss upon Halle Berry making you bury your face in your hands. “Didn’t even ask,” Lee muttered at your shift to plop your covered face on his thigh.

On your other side Tracy said, “And you have to work with that asshole. I look forward to the press of you bashing his face in.”

Lee said, “You and me both,” rubbing your back.

Tracy, “I still don’t like him, and you have to kiss him? I wouldn’t kiss him.”

Turning your head you looked to the replay and sighed, “Certainly don’t want to, but it’s just the one scene if I can’t talk Peter out of it.”

The press certainly didn’t help and while given the equivalent of a wag of the finger Adrien celebrated the win as the youngest male to ever receive it for Lead Male. Three days after his ride of that press wave and interview circuit the truth came crashing down to news of who was hired to play Ann Darrow. One sigh was his response to the question from a photographer on his path out and about for what he thought of the news only doubling down the urge to break down the actor’s resolve to loathe your being part of the franchise at his side.

“Fifteen bucks, you are telling me you bought those for fifteen bucks?!” Chris all but shouted when his brother displayed the rings upon their arrival at his home from the airport.

Richard just had to show someone and figured Chris would be the best ally in this as he had helped him patch things up with you every time he flubbed things. “I bought the cabinet I found them in, and,”

“Oh I heard that part. Still don’t get how the pair of you can luck into that. These are incredible, I mean she certainly deserves this ring. Just leaving the question,”

“Don’t ask me when, Joe loves the ring and knows I have it, I just have no bloody clue when I could possibly hand it over. And I’ve had it for weeks with her out in Canada and the only time I could actually get it on her finger was when she was asleep. How the hell am I supposed to find some mysterious ‘perfect’ way to ask her when she’s conscious to marry me?! You know me!”

Chris nodded and said, “You got a point,” turning his head, “I idea list, that’s what we can do!” Crossing the room to fetch a notepad and pen.

Five episodes on Ultimate Force to the infidelity casual Cold Feet role the slump of one kiss after another not feeling right or orders to strip and redress again and again for those not you only deepened for Richard while growing ready for his next role. A tv mini series called Between the Sheets, another unfaithful role and one with the biggest drama and to his impression depth to the character also doubled for his most sexual. From a faked blow job to his several love scenes with the lead female to whom his character was married worry seemed to bubble up concerning what impressions would be once it aired. All the way from his parents to you and friends who might think it was the wrong choice of roles. Calls to you however seemed to bolster his hopes you might like it and not be jealous or upset of his behavior with another.

“Today was odd,” he sighed through the line on his phone call to you.

“Oh I think whatever it was it will be amazing.” You teased back mid swipe of your sponge over the dish you were cleaning with phone pressed to your shoulder.

“My co-star raked her nails across my butt cheeks, at least the sex scenes and my arrest are over with, now I just have my breakdown scene where I reveal my infidelity.”

“I’m beginning to think there’s a pattern growing in your roles, dying and dirty deeds.”

Lowly he chuckled, “Well I do play a good villain.”

“Oh psh, you wouldn’t hurt a paper swan.” Making his smile creep wider imagining your smile and what you might be wearing, “I am glad you will have tons of work coming out so we can have some more parties for you. I do love celebrating you Richy Bear.”

“I love you,” he hummed smile locked wider at the nickname knowing the smirk you always had when you said it. “Can’t wait for you to be back here. How’s the show?”

“Uh, tad bit insensitive and a touch racist but it’s certainly unique for a resume. Spring scenes should be better, even have that kid from Disney, Spenser something, has a spot on the show. I get to pin him to a wall.”

“Sounds like fun, I know it will be fantastic with you in it.”

“Either way I just can’t wait for it to be out already. It’s the waiting that will end me, ’05 is when it’s coming out, same as Kong but a few months earlier, over a year, Lee waited nearly three for his film.”

“We’ll just have to keep you distracted then won’t we?”

“Oh really now? And just how will you do that?” You asked drying your hands at the end of the dishes heading to your couch to lounge for the rest of the call feeling his smirk through the line.

Another month hadn’t seemed to help things on that front with questions still lingering on how you could morph from one lead role to the next. Re-using your playful purple low dipping dress alone on Valentines Day you sat in the town car sent for you with hands interlocked on your lap waiting for this film to just be over. Eyes shut you forced yourself to relax in this communication lull of a supposed to be romantic holiday where you still had no bling to show off.

Brad and JLo fresh off their engagement alongside Jennifer Garner with a hopeful relationship on the horizon only made things worse on your painfully throbbing heart. Colin Farrell however seemed to save the day for you latching onto your bare side for the whole of the carpet at your reaching his location and even in the flash of the $1 Million triple pink diamond engagement ring on JLo’s finger made you grateful for the instant carpet buddy eager to catch up with you and hear about what you were up to in Canada after having seen your film twice now. Alone however your seat was bumped back to the row of extras who shared your curiosity on how little you would be fleeting across the screen of this film. Loud and boisterous at the club they had chosen for the after party the crowd helped in your slip out of the venue to hail a cab home to yet another empty apartment. Stretched out across your bed to wait for the time to leave and catch your flight to England where a late romantic morning bagel might help to make up for how you feel right now.

Right off your feet into a tight hug you were lifted. Still in your dress with Richard’s sweater and your coat over the dress hinting that you had to leave the party to make your flight in a rush down to the tall heels you had to take off for most of the day long flight. Already outside the cameras snapped away ready to spread that assumption when, post loving kiss, Richard took hold of your suitcase and duffel bag murmuring sweetly, “You bought a second bag.”

“Yes, seems I have picked up more clothes recently, and the shoes I got with the Jens didn’t help either.”

“I am just glad you have more things, I wasn’t fond of all your things fitting in one bag alone.” Leaning in he pressed another kiss to your forehead, “Let’s get you home, got a nice breakfast planned for you and day of relaxing before our table read tomorrow.”

Waiting on the set table a stuffed rhino sat beside a candle holder, around its head in a crown of sorts rested a silver bracelet with five round emeralds. “Happy late Valentines, they were out of roses,” he hummed lifting the bracelet that around the wrist he raised to lovingly secure it. Awkwardly a grin split across your face in the press of his lips to your palm and knuckles afterwards.

“It’s really beautiful, perfect gift, thank you, and I love the rhino too.” Spreading his own smile as you added, “My dad tell you I love emeralds?”

“Might have mentioned it,” he hummed back, “Sadly it was that one or some large joined bangle type design a bit too flashy I think for subway wearing for you to feel safe.”

“You would be right in that, bangles drive me a bit crazy too, have to wear some for the show. Thank you, really,” you said crashing into his chest for a tight hug he melted into holding you close to your murmur of, “Don’t know how you managed to keep this a secret so long.”

To himself he chuckled easing his arms more across your back, “Nearly killed me. I hate secrets from you.” His smile easing out more at your shift closer to his chest unaware of the much bigger jeweled secret hidden in his house Chris had aided in finding the least conspicuous place to put the rings. Time apart was shared in the joint task of fixing up a breakfast cuddled through and after. Lunch again was alone however supper happened to be part of a potluck ambush from the Armitage brood here to welcome you back again and plan out more time together.

Back in sweaters, boots and jeans you and Richard were off for the day. Hand in hand through the building you were directed to you arrived at the desk outside the appointed room where a smiling aid showed you both inside the lounge filled with couches and armchairs facing inwards towards the rug coated area in the center clearly for acting out the scenes if need be with named binders on each cushion. Tucked in one of the loveseats you and Richard were assigned your spots nearest to the director and with her darting off to fetch you some tea the binders were lifted to allow you to settle in. With a bashful grin between you at being the only ones here so far. “I think we might be a bit too early.”

“No such thing,” he hummed smiling at you then to the door as it opened again.

Through it Anna Martin, playing Bessy Higgins came through the door with a relieved sigh, “Not too late then, got stuck in that roundabout, vans wouldn’t let me over, Anna,” she said crossing the room with hand extended shaking Richard’s hand first in his quicker pop up then yours.

“Richard,”

“Jaqi, hi.” Releasing her hand to say, “Bessie, right?”

“Yes, I could have sworn you were British, but I must have seen you with several accents in your work.”

Richard chuckled, “Halfway at least by our math.”

“I do spend a good bit of the year here had tons of time to pick up the accents.”

Kay Lyon was next beside Brendan Coyle, playing Mary and Nicholas Higgins with the latter muttering about the same roundabout then joined in on the introductions. Brian Protheroe was next for Mr Bell followed by the two Thorntons finishing up Richard’s on screen family, Sinéad Cusack and Joy Joyner. Tim Pigott-Smith, Pauline Quirke, Lesley Manville, Rupert Evans filled in your family, Richard, Dixon, Maria and Frederick for the Hale household. For the Lennox brood Travis Oliver, John Light and Emma Ferguson were to be the captain, Henry and Edith. Jane Booker for Mrs Shaw led in the Boucher brood played by William Houston, Caroline Pegg and Spencer Wild. Seats filled one by one and with tea handed out the Director smiled taking their seat beginning their welcoming speech to open the first scene when the work was to get going.

One week this room was your daily stop with the floors below used to help each of you with your first fittings for your outfits through the show. Hair and makeup tests were next and surprised by the stretch of your curls a lovely few choices to pick from the team loved with ample spots for your unruliest of curls to slip out and dangle around your head gracefully helping with the scenes you would be playing exhaustion. Playful twists at Richard’s side fluffed and twirled your skirts luring the blushing grin from the top hat wearing brooder formerly scowling in focus while apart from you. Clearly the brooding surly side to John he had down, for everyone else it was how Richard looked at you adoringly between speaking to others that melted doubts on how convincing the blossoming love would show on screen.

Broken hearts came first, amid the drama of the brewing strike ready to bubble over courting another woman and pained glares came from Richard. Curt interactions and gruff inquiries and responses out of John to Margaret while he meant to uncover why she was not choosing to share her troubles with him. This was post betrayal when he deemed her to have been free with showing affections to some mystery man you’d yet to film yet, starting right in the pain of it all to bubble out to both the beginning and end while the country turned greener again when Spring came back around. Some might have imagined it to be rough to split from that harsh contrast, those who did not notice each teasing smile or face from you tearing a chuckle filled smile from Richard between the blush inducing pecks you stole on toe top pecks on his nose with each hushed argument.

The darkest of scowls came on the day the strike would break and if you hadn’t stayed close to show how much of a teddy bear Richard was the other men, especially Boucher who ‘threw’ the stone to knock Margaret unconscious in front of the mob in her try to save John from the harm’s way she pushed him into. Five takes of the brewing stress came with ease after the first try to see Richard not jump the rail and rush to throttle the actor. A rubber stone by a staff member above on a camera platform who lined up the toss to hit the spot a hidden makeup artist would sneak out once you’d done the collapse take enough times to play out the sprawled position for the streak of blood along your hairline. A task filled with hushed giggles from you until action was called again for Richard to lift you up and carry you inside again.

From this the next week would be scenes apart to meet up at the wardrobe building on the way to supper. The depression of the winter months and hardships of the funeral scenes bubbled to just one. In the midst of filming the scenes of the Hales arrival to Milton giggles slipped out between jokes traded between you and the female cast members who had been buried and still showed up to work still. Hints of green on the first flowering bushes outside had Richard smiling knowing that the romantic ending was coming up along with that devastating refusal or marriage for John he hoped to be the only time he would get a refusal to a proposal from you. He never had the thought pop into his head before, there wasn’t a reason for you to refuse to marry him. True it’d just been a slightly teasing glimmer in the distance with close friends and relatives but forever was his goal and to his own mind he had made that apparent. Now the question had bubbled up again of how.

Brendan smirking in your latest break between sets inched over in the gentle blow you gave to the steaming tea helping to warm you up on the nippy end to winter. “You are actually adorable you know.” Having caught Richard’s stolen kiss on his way to head to his office for more scenes post street interaction with you.

Smiling up at him you said mid giggle, “Thank you, you are quite adorable yourself.”

Deeply he chuckled to himself and said, “I have to admit I was a bit intrigued to see how things would go between the pair of you with all that press around you and that brunette out in Canada.”

“Oh,” you said lowering your mug to let it cool accepting help from one of the aids taking your shawl to shake the fake cotton off the back of it, “That’s Lee, my best friend from Drama School, out in Canada we’re on a show together picking back up in the end of Spring.”

Anna who’d snuck up said, “That’s good to hear, you do make a perfect couple. Some guys I know would be up in arms over a flub like that.”

That had you giggle after another blow on your tea, “Well he knows Lee, we’re all good friends so I think that’s part of it. Plus he is a tad amused that he’s been called my Boy Toy,” making the pair chuckle as you giggled again, “We’ve gotten used to long distance and I suppose it really comes down to trust issues for guys, hell even one of the women on set, another of my former classmates who I’m rumored with. All just fluff, even they get giggles out of it.”

Brendan asked, “Boy Toy? They really looked at him and picked that?”

“Exactly his amusement. At least he didn’t take it as a demotion from Partner, just let them make up their own stories.”

On his own the title had been used by Brendan between takes with his scenes with Richard luring a blushing laugh from the lanky man meant to be towering over him helping to ease the tension from their scene, one of many of their battles of wills. By far helping to improve a friendship of sorts with one of his scene partners he spent the longest with aside from his fake family.

It was a Monday, like any other, but the big day had come, the day John’s heart and trust would shatter in Margaret and be seen with another man at night un-chaperoned in a loving embrace. The start of a trio of night shifts on the set had come and let Richard sneak in his plan. “Be right at the car, forgot my notepad.”

“Ok,” you said stepping out of the front door with his keys in hand, “I’ll start the car,” wiping your eyes still half asleep nothing seemed to be off in Richard’s double back to grab something, just what he needed. Post peek out the curtain on the window by the door he turned shifting the coat tucked in his arm hurrying to the spare bed. Off the top shelf high above where you could reach he pulled the two now wrapped ring boxes with notes on them. The one with the note for you he left in the center of the table with the second he settled in the cupboard above the fridge you wouldn’t bump into. Off the counter he grabbed the notepad tucking that under his arm to go and join your no doubt napping self already waiting for him in the car.

Betrayal was swiftly followed by refusal, in the brighter gray of the morning once the proposal turned argument with him storming right out of the set was the beginning and end of your shift. Ready to be out of your corset tears were close coming to blurring your vision for how emotional these scenes were and what you had to draw from to get to the reactions required. Out from the men’s wardrobe room eyes had shifted over Richard at his own anxious shuffling his way through getting dressed again and out to the hall to meet up to head home.

Awkward silence seemed to fall over the car between stops to pick up lunch from a fancier eatery than you frequented paired with a bottle of wine from there to go with the dinner. All the scents of the meal had you glancing over at Richard who glanced back with a flash of a wide smile then looked away again. “I think it went well today.” You squeaked out and he looked back with another smile.

“Everyone loved it. Yes, I think we really did the argument and the suspicion behind Frederick fleeing justice. Now we just have to do the hiding period where John can’t come inside only heightening things before the trips away to film the whole convention portion.”

“Ya, then we just have to kill off Mr Hale and do the whole Southern scenes before the big reunion scene at the station. Then I think it’s just more meddling from Mr Bell, right?”

“Yes, and your face off with John’s mother at the empty mill after my goodbye from Nicholas.” Again he looked you over asking, “You are enjoying this film?”

“Oh ya, no question about it. I mean I do miss the actual mental play by play from the book, especially John’s,” making him smirk at your hand tapping his arm, “You do impeccable with subtle things it’s just, I love the words it makes him so much more adorably soppy compared to his rough shell.”

“I get that,” he hummed back patting his hand on your knee not ready to take your hand to give away his thundering pulse. “I do love Margaret’s words over her own swooning. Plus I do miss the private moment where he clings to her after being struck in the head.”

A twinge more of the awkward was gone at his hand moving from the shifter to stroke his fingertips across your knee drawing shapes to distract himself ready to no longer have to live without the weight of that ring on his finger. This would be bold, insisting on wearing his ring as well for his own engagement ring and most likely could explode on the news when the press would catch onto the matching rings and assume that you had already run off and eloped. Which could be more likely in the next slew of auditions and the magazine spread you were to film that Peter had set up to your schedule for the cast of King Kong with another for you and Richard around the Beast of Bards film and its progress so far in theaters. But that all came after his having to ask the question.

You did as you always did, taking the bag of food while he grabbed the wine, sturdier hands when it came to glass he followed you inside. With a smirk he failed to hold back right across his face hidden by his turn to lock the door saying practically in a hum, “If you’ll set out the food I’ll pop the wine.”

Behind you he crept smiling wider on your path to the table, inside the kitchen he set the wine bag down leaving his coat beside it to sneak the cupboard open to grab the wrapped box he palmed. His eyes fixed on your back for full view of the pause you took eyeing the box on the center of the table beside the candleholder you didn’t notice he’d put out the night before along with the special table setting. Carefully the bag was set down and to the box you moved lifting the indigo ribbon wrapped box with white paper coated in blue floral outlines and a note. ‘Give me to Richy Bear.’ A heart was drawn beside the words and lifting the box that adorable puzzled smirk he loved spread across your face.

Nice and confused into the kitchen you walked finding him looking you over, smile split free as you held out the box, “This is for you?”

“Thank you, trade you, my Dearest Love.” He said accepting his box for the one in his hand identically wrapped. ‘I pick the wine, you chose the spoons, My Dearest Love.’

Watching him your eyes narrowed with hold of the puzzling box while he eased the ribbon off his to pull the side of the paper off. His smile wide in his glance up to say, “Don’t wait for me,” back to the box in your hands your eyes dropped and with your free hand the end of the ribbon was undone to set aside with the note left on the counter. Out of the side of the folded paper you eyed the box inside keeping the lid side upright unwrapping the rest of the paper set aside too.

Upon opening his wrapping paper Richard blinked eyeing the message that was meant to be on your box alone Chris must have written across both. ‘Marry Me?’ Lifting the lid he flashed your way he hummed out in a means to pretend this was planned, “Of course I’ll marry you!” Instantly your eyes shot up and the distance was closed while you read the lid he was holding. Eyes eased shut for a lingering kiss that in the thunder of your heart almost had your knees give out.

In the pull back his eyes dropped to your box reading the same message that your free hand moved to take the lid off in his silent hint, the smile inducing rock inside found you gently reaching in with your fingers to ease it out. A task taken slower in noticing the top lifting up while he dangled his pouch from around his thumb. Richard smiled taking the box away to let you hold the geode box you eased open revealing a velvet pouch.

You must have skipped a second because in the view of the box Richard appeared in your view now on his knee with hands tenderly folded around your wrist making shapes in your skin asking, “Will you go on this adventure with me?”

“I love adventures,” you wisped out making his smile split wider.

“Well then open the pouch.” He hummed with eyes following your hand in his timid rise hoping he was doing this all perfect for you to look back on for years to come in claiming the geode box when you lifted the pouch.

Wide eyed you gawked at the ring, “You did not buy this!”

Your eyes met his and he shook his head, “Nope, you did.”

“Oh really? And how did I do that?” You asked with an instant playful challenging smirk to his deepening smile.

“I didn’t hunt down the old owner of that cabinet over some pens and a music box.” He drew out his ring showing you that one while sharing, “Hercule thought he lost these rings in that house fire. The geode box was inside that cabinet and that contract I told you about was about these rings. They were scuffed up and I took them to get cleaned and appraised.”

“Rich, how much is this ring?”

“No less than you deserve.” Your lips parted and he smiled saying, “They both have spoon engraved inside.” Again your smile split awkwardly out across your face.

“That’s why you wrote that note on mine, like their story.”

“Exactly,” he wet his lips and reached for the ring on your palm along with your left hand, purring, “You don’t want to wear it?”

“Rich you didn’t have to buy me a ring.”

“Yes I did, I wanted a ring! Be rude not to get you one to match.”

“Will it even fit? It’s huge.”

“It fits, you nearly didn’t give it back when I tried it on your finger.” He said easing it back onto your finger with eyes shining brightly as he did to your gasp.

“Where was I when that happened?”

“Sleeping,” he chuckled leaning in to kiss you again, just melting around you at the loop of your arms around his neck for the celebratory embrace lasting even after the kiss had ended, for a close eyed hug to cling to one another.

“I would have woken up if you put this on me.”

That made him chuckle into your shoulder, “You almost did, rolled over burying your hand into the pillow. You like it?” He murmured inching back to see your face.

“I love it, it’s still huge though.” In front of you he dangled his pouch that you smirked in accepting, “This is your ring?”

He nodded and said, “Which I plan on wearing.”

“Today?” You asked with a smile and he nodded.

“Right here, right now and every day from here out. You bought it for me and I intend on boasting endlessly.” Once out of the pouch this ring widened your eyes as well and he lifted his hand saying, “They’re absurdly big compared to what I could have afforded until Bard is out of theaters. But you have to admit, fifteen bucks for these second hand suits us.” Up his finger the ring slid and came to rest and he said, “If you must know, both are 24 karat white gold. My center emerald is seven carats and the onyx and diamonds are a half a carat each. While your emerald is eight carats and the diamonds and smaller emeralds are one carat each. That’s all I’m telling you about them, other than the jewelers I went to said when you want we could go there to design your wedding band, on which I was clueless.” He looked you over in your moment of pause, “What are you thinking for bands?”

“Well, my cousin we went to her wedding,” which he nodded at remembering the ceremony at the courthouse and party on the family land while you were filming Elektra before her husband shipped out so he could leave her charge of his property that wouldn’t go to his family. “She picked one of those eternity bands with hearts, I did like that design.”

His grin eased out again, “That sounds beautiful.”

“Though hers was nearly three grand,”

“Don’t you worry about the price. I have money saved up, money is not an issue.” His hands eased on your hips to draw you closer to his chest, “I know getting through school was so difficult, I’ve been scraping by too for a decade before I had even met you finding what I loved. I will always do my best to ensure that we have a solid financial footing, and I do know you are getting paid crazy amounts of money for your roles. Even if I never get another check like off of Bards, I will be here, and I will never use that as any sort of,” he sighed and said after wetting his lips. “I am so proud of you, and where some men may feel they have to be the bread winner even if you out earn me I will never let that get between us. And I will do all I can to make you not feel like you can’t depend on me to help fund our lives.”

“I never thought that. I would never.”

“I know, but it may come up for others, I couldn’t afford this ring on my own if not for having found it, but I do hope one day comfortably I might be able to afford one half as much as this without worry on bills around it once this Bard money is gone. So you pick the band you want and we’ll get it for you. If it helps your dad loves the rings.”

“How did you show him?”

“Sent him a picture when I got them cleaned. And I bet you he’s shown them around.”

“No wonder his voice has been squeaking, you made him wait months! And where the hell did you get that geode box?”

He chuckled again, “They were both in the geode box, they were scuffed up from it when I found it, so that’s why I left yours in the pouch. I’m gonna open the wine.”

“Right,” you said breaking your smile up at him, “Food,” you said turning back to setting the table for the start of the rest of the romantic evening until it was bedtime. Calls to family put a lot of people out of their joint misery and kicking the plans into a slow grind for what and when you might want a ceremony to be. And in cleaning up came the start of an adorable habit where you would tap his side or arm to say with a smile, “We’re getting married,” or “Fiancé,” always splitting a massive smile across his face in his move to scoop you up for a loving kiss and tons of cuddles.

That evening for another shoot however you stood looking at your ring through cooking before heading out, “We wear them to work, right? I mean we have those lockers, they seem pretty sturdy with cameras.”

“Other actors wear jewelry to work, we will be safe wearing them.”

The fact proven to be true from the sight of the new rings security took mental notes to mark you among the cast working with jewelry to have that locker room under surveillance ensuring that it remained off limits to those not assigned there. Cameras stationed outside the studio however with view of the parking garage on the way in and out honed in on the new sparkle on your finger mirrored by his in a wave to them upped the shadows on the path out the morning after.

Pt 38

Hobbit – Soulmate - @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @rhaenaatargaryen, @anastasialovers

X all Rich. A - @abiwim, @deepestfirefun, @thestorybookmistress

X Lee P - @tigereyesf

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455

#Pouting #Premier #Time Apart #Sharing of Plans #North and South Filming #Time in England #Living Together Again #The Proposal #Richard Armitage x Reader OC

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grimelords · 4 years

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I have been unbelievably busy for all of 2020 so far. Starting a new job and crunching to finish an old one, it's been very good but it has also meant that I haven't had the downtime I'd have liked in order to write long screeds about when drums sound good in songs so my December and January playlists unfortunately never got finished. They will exist as 'lost' playlists in the grimelords canon where you will simply have to listen to them and have your own thoughts about the songs instead of having your judgement clouded by me saying things like 'this sounds nice' and 'I love when the guitar goes woo-eee'.

You can listen to them here:

December https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4crPEVSPwftPpWl14xUrXF

January https://open.spotify.com/playlist/25MP7onYLCwWRYBIi0u3yc

As far as this, my February playlist goes: It's great! It's two and a half hours. The songs sounds nice and the guitars go woo-eee. I was worried I wouldn't be able to listen to as much music with my new job but it turns out I'm listening to more than ever which is extremely nice. Please enjoy, and if you'd like to subscribe to this playlist please do so here: https://tinyletter.com/grimelords

Listen to this playlist here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ZraEZOeS6qvVxfnz3AJS9

Ballad Of The Skeletons - Allen Ginsberg, Paul McCartney, Phillip Glass and Lenny Kaye: I had a dim childhood memory of this 1996 Hottest 100 funny skeleton song that my sister randomly brought up this month and was was shocked to find out that somewhere deep in my brain the part where the electric chair skeleton says “hey what’s cooking???” was still stored. I was also shocked to find out that the funny skeleton song I remembered from when I was a kid was actually a collaboration between Allen Ginsberg, Paul McCartney and Phillip Glass and was an unexpected hit on MTV and Triple J in 1996 for an as yet unknown reason.

I Can Go With You - Sam Burton: This song came up in my Discover Weekly, and I was so excited to listen to more of this 70s singer songwriter I've never heard of before who has no doubt had a long and illustrious career and was shocked to find out that not only is this song from 2020, it is also the first and so far only release by Sam Burton and his debut album is coming out sometime this year. I love how plain it is, and the first time I heard it it made no impression on me until a couple of hours later when I realised I was humming the melody to myself. It has this decepitive simplicity to it, and it sounds like a song you've always known which is really about as good a compliment as you can give a song. I also love this statement from him: “I was writing a song a day for 30 days as a personal challenge to myself. I Can Go With You came near of that practice and I considered it a throwaway at the time. After recording most of the album I still needed a couple more songs and decided to throw it on and we recorded it live followed by two others. When I listened back it ended up being one of the tracks I was happiest with on the record.” I love when artists are asked about songs and they have no divine inspiration to relate, just a process of daily work where they're like "well, I wrote it, like I always do. Did the chords and the words and everthing just like normal. I write hundreds of these things and this one came out pretty good. I don't know what else to tell you."

Wild Dogs - Colter Wall: This is a song by Billy Don Burns who you can probably expect to see on this playlist next month, and who as I understand it is one of these 'real' country guys that have been around for a million years and only ever had success when other people sang their songs. So it's very nice of Colter Wall to continue that tradition for him. I love the way this song takes the metaphor to a place of almost uncomfortable literalism, a tryst metamophising into something private, bloody and feral. The subtle way the lap steel whines slowly along in the background before stepping out and taking centre stage once the song picks up steam near the end is a marvel too.

Tom's Diner - Suzanne Vega: I had a live version of this randomly recommended to me by youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DkYPge6ZKSQ and it made me see this song that I'd always been sort of aware of in a new light and really properly appreciate it for the first time. Somehow I'd never noticed the last verse where it moves from literalism to memories, and of course that's sort of the moment that ties the whole song together. What I really appreciate about the acapella arrangement is that it feels like this is a song that's existed a million times before but she's the first person to actually write it down and record it. Everyone's made up a little dishwashing song or a little walking song, reciting some to-do list in your head. It's an entire genre that exists under people's breath for a few minutes and gets immediately forgotten.

If You Don't Know Now, You Never Will - Drugdealer: I could have sworn this was a Tobias Jesso Jr song. I really just assumed it was until I looked at the credits. It's such a nice song though and I'm glad this sort of 70s californian vibe is making a quiet comeback because it is just uniformly pleasant and it's nice to hear these sorts of arrangements, with the accenting violin runs and things like that. All the extra decorations and ornamentations that have sort of disappeared.

Crimson Tide - Destroyer: I absolutely love this new Destroyer album because it just feels like such pure uncut Destroyer. I’ve always thought of him as a sort of 400 year old vampire lounge singer who is just amusing himself at this point and so the cover art has really confirmed my suspicions on that front. The lyrics through this whole album are so good, the sort of stream of consciousness strangeness like ‘when lightning strikes twice the funeral goes completely insane’ that takes a on such gravity because he sings it with complete deadpan seriousness.

Truth (feat Alicia Keys and The Last Artful, Dodger) - Mark Ronson: I didn't really give this album a chance when it came out but ever since I found out Alicia Keys is good now (Time Machine) I've been looking for more good Alica Keys work and found one here. The Last Artful, Dodger is one of the worst artist names I think I've ever heard but she absolutely kills it on the way she says biiiiitch so I'll forgive it.

Surf & Turf - Boldy James + The Alchemist: Alchemist's production on this whole album is so incredible. He really just lets Boldy go and doesn't get in his way like good production should. Especially on the opening verse where Boldy James sticks with that loping flow for so long in 3s over 4 that matches that arpeggios in the beat, it's just a perfect harmony of rapper and producer.

Fat Mac - Duke Deuce: Misogyny in rap is a real issue that nobody seems really allowed to talk about because it's obviously very complicated, and this song some real classic 'stay in the kitchen' type woman hating in it and is basically incredibly callous and cruel throughout. However this beat is hot and there is also a part about a third of the way through where he says "fuck her till that pussy fart" and then makes a big fart noise, so.

Set It Up (feat. Trina) - Kamaiyah: I only found out about Kamaiyah's fantastic 2016 album A Good Night In The Ghetto about two weeks before her new one came out so I've been on a real Kamaiyah hype for a little while now. She's just fantastic. I love this song because I love the part where Trina seemingly out of the blue threatens to piss in my mouth. The first time I heard it I said 'wow!' out loud.

Come As You Are - Greg Phillinganes: There's something going on with the pop math in this song that I just can't put my finger on. It feels for all intents and purposes like this should be a hit. The melody is great. The big synth voice is great, it's got extremely fatty bass. It's great! But something about the structure of it is just off, it's got too many sections or something. Which kind of makes me love it more really.

Devotion - Pure Bathing Culture: What surprised me the most about this song is the secret shredding happening throughout. It feels like a sort of clean and cool guitar that hasn’t existed in the wild since the Lethal Weapon soundtrack and it adds such an energy to this already completely wonderful song.

Paper Cup - Real Estate + Sylvan Esso: The production on this song is just so beautiful. The violin melody and the pillow soft synths really add such an extra dimension to it. The tone on everything really. The guitar in the solo. Every time I listen to this song I just want to listen to it again because it goes down so smooth.

Mark Zuckerberg - Nap Eyes: I’m a very big fan of the way this song transitions from a sort of TMBG novelty song halfway through into a lonely and beautiful thing instead. It’s like he got distracted and wandered off in the middle of his set but the camera followed him. I also haven’t heard a lyric in a long time that made me bark laugh so instantly as “And what does he do with all that sand? He collects sand right? I think I read that somewhere. Seems innocent enough.”

Viking Hair - Dry Cleaning: I fell in love with this band immediately on hearing this song. The way the spoken lyrics sit in a place of almost coherence, dipping between mysterious phrases and earnest admissions feels like Life Without Buildings for a new generation. I love the feeling of a huge crush at the centre of this song that comes through achingy in every single word, even when she's talking about abandoned refrigerators.

LeBron James - Do Nothing: This is my number one song this month I think. I've listened to it every single day and I cannot wait to see what this band does once they've got more than a couple of songs out. It's my absolute favourite kind of lyrics: the kind that sounds like you just wrote down every one-sided phone conversation you overheard on the bus and then the music is some halfway point between Black Midi and Franz Ferdinand. What else do you need!

Can I Receive The Contact? - The Spirit Of The Beehive: The Spirit Of The Beehive's album is one of the best I heard this month. The way the production incorporates sound collage and samples without diluting the immediacy of the songwriting is really something special that feels hard to pull off in a rock context but sounds effortless through this whole album. The way this shifts at the end into the odd time section is so great and really the way the whole album flows like one long track is just amazing. Please listen, I'm obsessed.

An Air Conditioned Man - Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever: There is so much space in Rolling Blackouts songs. They just go and go, sitting in this great jam space without feeling shaggy. The tempo across the album stays pretty consistently at this breezy, upbeat, driving speed that makes it feel like as soon as one song ends the next one just picks up exactly where it left off. It almost feels like a studio confines them and they'd be better off just recording their album live at a show where every song can go for 8 minutes like it wants to.

Leak -Truth, yesnoyesnoyes- - Boris: I got to see Boris and Merzbow this month, which was a great treat for me but it was also at a seated theatre venue which was a very strange choice. Sitting down and clapping politely as Merzbow pressed the screaming button feels odd, like being at an 1800s World's Fair show about the wonders of electricity or quite literally like being the guy in the chair getting blown away by the speakers in the Maxell ads. I bought earplugs for the show but ended up pulling them out for the last three songs or so to properly experience it, and it was fucking great. Something I was thinking about after the show is that it's interesting how Boris mostly have clean vocals, and really approach metal as an idea from and angle that's more shoegaze than Slayer. Aside from the immense volume, there isn't a lot about their music that I would describe as agressive, even most of what Merzbow added to the set was just extra feedback frequency noise, not atonal agression. I don't mean this in a trve kvlt way, more like it's interesting how they've taken the aesthetics of metal and refined them into pure amplifer worship, in their words, by either playing straight drone, or just playing normal hard rock at inhuman volumes. Boris are very good is what I'm saying, and I can't wait to listen to more of their extremely large discography.

Nameless Streets - Defeater: I've never really listened to much hardcore and I'm not really sure why. I've listened to Defeater's first two albums to death though so maybe it's time to branch out. What I love about this song, and this band in general is the vocal delivery. In a lot of agressive music from metal to screamo, because the agression and emotion is always sitting at a 10 the nuance can get lost and it becomes a sort of white noise, but Defeater have a nice way of backing off musically and vocally here and there to let the hard hits really hit hard. The outro to this song is also some absolutely world class snare work, building a tension bed in the simplest way thats relieved when the rest of the band comes crashing back in.

Boys In Town - Divinyls: I love the true desperation in this song. The trapped in a small town, surrounded by fuckers stress that gives way in the second half to just screaming "get me out of here!!". I am also interested in the evolution of the phrase 'too much, too young' and would like to know whether this song is referencing the song by The Specials, and if the Defeater song on this playlist is referencing this song or The Specials song, or if all three came up with it independently. It's a simply enough phrase, I suppose they could have. Who cares, really.

Body By Crystal - Spike Fuck: Come on a journey with me and imagine a world where Alex Cameron makes good music. That's Spike Fuck! The sort of burned out, past their prime singer desperate for a hit in any sense type of character - except actually put together with some heart and emotion and not an 80s comic book writer's understanding of human lows. I cannot wait to hear more from Spike Fuck.

Rogue Wave - Aesop Rock: It is something of a marvel how consistently high quality Aesop Rock's work is. For all his verbosity and expansive vocabulary he seems to never veer into white guy rap god flexing for the sake of it. Even a song like this that's 3 minutes of dense verses with nothing resembling a hook doesnt feel exhausting, it just feels like a series of extremely pleasing words and images like "take it where the warlocks lock horns, soda pop, popcorn / top notch gore set to Bach over fog horns" that makes my brain go "nice".

Momentary Bliss (feat. Slowthai and Slaves) - Gorillaz: I love the strange rollout Gorillaz are doing for this album, building the tracklist one song at a time. It's a nice way to force close listening, especially in songs with odd structures like this. I love hearing how different prouction changes Slowthai's approach; on this and Deal Wiv It that he did with Mura Masa it feels a lot brighter than anything on Nothing Great About Britain and there's a playfulness in his flow that comes through accordingly. Gorillaz are always moving around musically but I love how much of a live band feel this has compared to the more studioy sound that killed their last album for me.

We Will Always Love You (feat. Blood Orange) - The Avalanches: I am so excited at the possibility of a new Avalanches album already, and this is the perfect song to have as a lead single because it functions more like a teaser. Like 'would you like an hour more of this kind of beautiful, loving dream?'

Tar Sequence - Lalo Schifrin: I found out a little while ago that the local news theme when I was growing up was actually this song from the score to Cool Hand Luke, and according to a bunch of other guys in the youtube comments it was the local news theme for a lot of stations across America as well. The scene is of a prison road gang working under the blazing sun, and I'm sure someone could write a thinkpiece about the soundtrack to the nightly news, and really the platonic ideal of news themes in general stemming from the score to a scene about prison labour. But not me! I'm just going to write this little post and say we all owe Lalo Schifrin our lives for inventing the sonic pallette of kung fu AND the news, which is an incredible achievement whichever way you slice it.

When You - Tha Pope: It's a little bit of a shame that footwork is 'over' now but I suppose that's the way of things. The intro to this song is an absolute all timer for me. The delay soaked tag, the extended organ lick and then a total gear shift into this shrieking vocal sample that sounds like something has gone wrong but is revealed in actuality to be the centre of the whole track. I absolutely love Pope's little adlib at the start, and halfway through when he brings it back - it injects some real humanity into this cacophonous, volatile song and lets you know someone's done this on purpose, they've not just turned every dial to 10 and pressed play.

Jonny/Jonny (Reprise) - Faye Webster: I am absolutely in love with the tone of Faye Webster's voice and especially the way she slowly slides up to the note at the end of every line in the verse. This is a song that belongs to the great genre of songs that sound like they were entirely written and performed while laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling. The reprise here comes back at the end of the album and I love it so much. It feels like a Sex And The City monologue set to music, an underexplored genre I'd definitely like to hear more of.

Holes - Matt Berninger: Matt Berninger of The National covered Mercury Rev's Holes for a series of charity 7"s that Planned Parenthood are doingand I really love his take on it. It's a difficult song to cover because it is so beloved, and I think he does really well to not smooth out the arrangement into any sort of easy listening version. The rumbling piano and the extra vocals that mirror the original saw sound near the end are just wonderful. The part that always breaks my heart in this song is the "bands" line at the end and he really does it perfectly without being overdramatic.

Ta Aro - Nadia Reid: I love the way this song is just soaked in tension and potential energy. She has a beautiful way of holding a note just past the edge of her breath, like when she sings 'glory hallelujah' or 'I am stronger' and in the wordless refrain that just draws me in. Then the way it all closes in on itself and shadows close in at the end while it swells to this beautiful thunderstorm of sound. Just great.

Purify - Neurosis: Someone had a tweet a while ago that was like 'listen to a new album every day in February and write about it' and I thought 'fuck it why not' and started doing that. I kept a little note in my phone of every album I listened to that I'd never heard before, and I ranked them out of 5 so I could remember which ones I liked. I ended up listening to 49 new albums which surprised me, and it was surprisingly easy to do as well so I've decided to keep doing it in March as well. Highly recommended. A nice side effect of constantly searching for new things to listen to is it's given me a chance to hear bands that I've always heard about and know the name of but never actually listened to for one reason or another, which is how I got to Neurosis. It's nice to hear this kind of industrial 90s metal that I'd only ever previously heard in Tool from another angle, and it is especially nice to hear bagpipes in a drone metal context - a thought I'd had independently about a week before hearing this album and was glad to have willed into existence before me.

Shallow Sun - Real Estate: Time! I love a song about aging that mentions specific years and ages so you can count along on your fingers. '25 in 2010... so he was 24 when they put out in their first album.. 39 in 24.. so he's... 35 now.. and i'm 28... which means I'm... 3 albums behind..'

Quand Vas Tu Retrer - Melody's Echo Chamber: I'll listen to any song in 5/4. It is simply groovy. This song is so beautifully textured it feels like you can just get completely lost in the sound while the groove moves it along.

Living Through Another Cuba - XTC: I think I've posted this song on one of these playlists before but fuck it, the more time passes the more I think this might be one of the best songs ever written and a complete and total encapsulation of the cold war mood. The absolute maniac resigned powerlessnes on full display, screaming and shouting about pullings fins from an atom bomb and the absolute certainty that even if the world isn't destroyed this time it'll all come around again soon enough anyway.

Time - U.S. Girls: I am a huge proponent of the long song at the end of the record as a concept, and really I believe every song should be the long song at the end of the record if at all possible. This amount of colour in this jam is just incedible, it never gets weighed down or waylaid it just keeps moving though an ever shifting kaleidoscope and I absolutely love it. It also reminds me of Los Bitchos who were on one of my secret lost playlists from December so it's nice to have their vibe represented here at least. This song also interestingly ties into a thought I was having this week about the limits of music wherein time is the only immutable constant. In all of life music is an inescapable constant of course, but in music especially compared to visual art or written art, time is an inexorable force. You simply cannot bend time in music, a song or performance will always have a duration that will define it, short or long, which cannot be muted or played with in the same way that rhythm or tonality can. 4'33" is a good example of that, being devoid of everything except time. When there is nothing, there is still time. Canyons of time.

Bad Magic - Weyes Blood: I got to see Weyes Blood a couple of weeks ago and I feel extremely blessed that I did. She's just amazing. She played this song solo as her last encore, and she's in a sort of interesting position of blowing up majorly on her fourth album so people (myself included) weren't overly familiar with her older stuff. So when she said 'this is a song called Bad Magic' everyone clapped politely and one woman right up the back screamed "oh my GOD??" which is the kind of personal, just for her, singular experience I'm always here for. Hearing this song for the first time in that setting has really made me fall in love with it. The thing that's always alienated me a little abot Weyes Blood's earlier work, and the thing she changed so dramatically on Titanic Rising is the structuring of her songs. Titanic Rising embraces pop songwriting so wonderfully where her earlier work was so much shaggier and harder to access as a result - but in this song I love it. This song is meandering and long and wanders around in circles and I'm here for every second of it.

Listen to this playlist here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ZraEZOeS6qvVxfnz3AJS9

#playlists

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beerselfie · 4 years

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#Repost @beer.aroundsd ・・・ #sandiegobeerweek is upon us! Off to a great start, picked up @purebrewing newest specialty can releases. • • Triple Dry Hyped Murky Triple IPA w/ Nelson, Citra, & Mosaic Hops, 10.3% ABV (in glass) Pure will never cease to amaze me how they make high abv beverages so crushable, a juicy explosion in a glass. • • Autumn Gold Murky IPA w/ Citra Cryo, El Dorado, & Southern Cross Hops, 6.5% ABV. • • So many things happening in the beer community this week, it’s gonna be busy one catching up with all the releases 😅 cheers everyone! (at San Diego, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CHR2MQvrlEL/?igshid=n5zycs3u6n2h

#repost #sandiegobeerweek

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nadiafm · 4 years

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( camila morrone, cisfemale ) hey ! have you seen NADIA PEREZ around ? they work as a ICE SKATING INSTRUCTOR at big bear resort, but they must be off their shift by now. well, if you do see them can you let me know ? they’re 21 years old & they’ve been working here for 11 MONTHS. they tend to be +AMOROUS & +CONVIVIAL, but can also be -LICENTIOUS & -WARY. the other employees have labeled them THE ROMANTIC. thanks a lot ! gold hoops , floral mini dresses , pink lipgloss , overly dramatic eyeshadow , freckles specked across your nose , mascara running down your cheeks , tequila shots chased with salt and lime , lana del rey blasting in your headphones , mirror selfies , golden hour , glitter and rhinestones , blue raspberry dum dums , piled up books you keep forgetting to read.

hey y’all !! i’m so excited for this wow. i’m sam, i’m 22, and i live in pst !! i’m a sucker for cooking shows and dogs and candles. but more importantly...this is my freaking baby nadia, an absolute idiot with a heart of gold ! i already know this intro is going to be too long but bare with me i will include a tldr at the bottom i promise. also hmu on discord to plot ! capricornmom#1278

here is nadia’s pinterest & here is her playlist

aesthetics : gold hoops , floral mini dresses , pink lipgloss , overly dramatic eyeshadow , freckles specked across your nose , mascara running down your cheeks , tequila shots chased with salt and lime , lana del rey blasting in your headphones , mirror selfies , golden hour , glitter and rhinestones , blue raspberry dum dums , piled up books you keep forgetting to read

character parallels : jackie burkhart ( that 70′s show ) rachel green ( friends ) , cassie howard ( euphoria ) , brooke davis ( one tree hill ) , bianca stratford ( 10 things i hate about you ) , april ( palo alto ) , erica vandross ( flower ) , gigi & triple a ( booksmart ) , snooki ( jersey shore ) , jessica day ( new girl )

full name : nadia paloma perez

birthday : july 23, 1998

zodiac : cancer sun , pisces moon , pisces rising . god help this emotional ass girl

nationality : american

religion : roman catholic

sexual & romantic orientation : bisexual , biromantic

hometown : aventura , florida ( 20 minutes outside of miami )

languages spoken : english ( fluent ) , spanish ( fluent ) , french ( still learning , takes it in school , somewhat conversational )

likes : candy ( sour punch straws , lollipops ) , watching soccer games ( messi stan till she dies ) , rex orange county , writing , magazines , making empanadas with her abuela , romantic comedies ( her fav is how to lose a guy in 10 days ) , tequila sodas , sex , lana del rey , chipotle burritos , iced chai lattes with almond milk from starbucks , gossip girl , craft beer , margaret atwood

dislikes : quinoa , nuts in things like salad or cookies , star wars , watching golf , oatmeal , church , screamo music , california ( a grudge ) , spoiled rich kids , condescending business majors , quentin tarantino ( and his avid fans )

BACKGROUND

Born and raised in South Florida, a little aways from Miami ! Her mother, Paloma, was an Adventura native while her father, Santiago, was an immigrant from Argentina. Her parents met in college when Paloma was studying abroad in Argentina. They fell in love, rather quickly, and the rest was history. They had planned on moving back to America together, but Santiago’s visa was denied. So, after only four months of knowing each other and 2.5 months of dating, they got married.

Turns out sometimes you should know your partner better before getting married !! shocker right. It wasn’t so bad at first, though. They were young and in love and their honeymoon phase seemed to last forever, until it didn’t.

By the time Nadia was born, they’d already begun to realize each other’s faults and flaws. Santiago was a good looking guy, and with his thick Argentine accent, he tended to come off as overly friendly and at times overtly flirty. Paloma was jealous and needy. It never seemed to mesh well when she thought her husband was flirting with every other mom in the neighborhood.

So, for the majority of Nadia’s childhood, all she remembered from her parent’s marriage was them fighting. She had a close relationship with the both of them, though, and she was particularly close with her father. He was her biggest supporter !! Always hyping her up. He was the one signing her up for sports like soccer (they’re a huge soccer family, the only time her parents weren’t fighting was during Argentina games), gymnastics, dance, and ice skating. Her favorite was soccer, and her for most of her adolescent years, her dad coached her team. They formed a really close bond because of it.

The marriage was sort of non exinsistant at this point, but in some sort of last attempt to salvage any love they might have had for each other, Santiago and Paloma had a baby. It was more Paloma’s idea than anything. Santiago, at that point, was only sticking around for Paloma. She was seven when her little sister was born, Caterina, and Nadia absolutely adored her. They may have been seven years a part, but they were the best of friends.

When Nadia was twelve, she woke up with a note on her bed side table. It was from her father, and it read: “Nads, I’m so sorry I couldn’t say goodbye to your face. I wish I was stronger. I am so proud of you and I promise I will be in touch. Te amo. Papa” He hadn’t left anybody else a note, and not even a word to her mother. As close as she was to her mother and sister, she couldn’t help but blame them for her father leaving. Still, she was pretty certain she’d hear from him soon. That he’d come back once he cleared his head. Only, he didn’t.

Word spread pretty fast around school about what had happened. Suddenly, Nadia was a charity case. PTA moms were coming up to her and offering to bring her lunch or dinner, if she needed it. She was the girl who’s dad left them high and dry. It didn’t help that on top of that, her body was going through changes much more rapidly than any of her friends. She already had gotten her period, and by the time she was in seventh grade she was wearing a D cup bra. So in addition to the sudden spotlight as the girl without a dad, boys started treating her differently. Boys that had never talked to her previously suddenly wanted to be her friend. In eighth grade, Hayden Walker rolled up a small piece of paper and shot it like a basketball into her cleavage. He high-fived his friends after and thanked her for the backboard.

So middle school was rough. And while Nadia had had one or two boyfriends during that time, she’d never gone past kissing them. That’s not how the rumors went, though. That was the part that hurt the most. The things people said, especially the things girls said about her. Girls she thought were her friends.

At the end of eighth grade, during the summer before high school, she got a text from her dad. The first one in 2 years! She’d idolized him her whole life, so obviously she was ready to forgive him as soon as she heard from him. He told her he was living in California and Nadia was like, I’m sold! Let’s go! Only her mother was like...are you fucking insane you are not going to California to visit that man. Long story short, she found a cheap cross country bus ticket and essentially ran away from home to see her dad! He was shocked she had come at all, despite his text message leading her to believe he wanted to see her. Apparently it was more of a courtesy text, a text so he could let go of the guilt of leaving an entire family behind. Because in the two years he’d been gone, he managed to start a new one. He had a new wife, and two newborn twins.

Nadia was pretty furious, but she stayed the summer anyways. She had full intentions of starting high school in California and not going home to Florida. Things were tense at her father’s, though. Her “step mother” obviously didn’t like having her around, and though her bond with her father was slowly rekindling, there was still a sort of distance between them. But they were trying to make it work, at the very least.

Then came the end of the summer. Nadia had made a few friends around the neighborhood, and was invited to an end of summer kickback with a bunch of high schoolers. Naturally, she lied about her age at the party. She was 14, but told everyone she was 16, and everyone seemed to overlook her baby face thanks to her ass and tits. At the end of the night, a boy drove her home, and the two ended up hooking up in the car. Apparently she had misjudged how much her father actually cared, because he’d waited up for her to come home, and after seeing car headlights out front, he’d stormed outside to find her in the car with a high school boy, half naked. After allowing her to gather her bearings, he essentially humiliated her right there on the front lawn, screaming about how irresponsible she was amongst other things. The majority of the conversation has since been blacked out from her mind, but she’ll never forget the look on her dad’s face when he said, “you’re nothing, you’re just like your mother, and i don’t want you anywhere near my family.” whew !! ya girl was hurt.

So, obviously, she was back on the way to mom’s ! Honestly at that point her mom wasn’t even mad at her for leaving she was just thankful she was back.

GODDD okay this is getting long so I need to wrap this up. I haven’t even gotten to personality KJSHG Okay let’s wrap up high school in one bullet point. Basically she sub consciously searched for every man’s approval because she lacked the approval she needed from her father! This meant lots of boyfriends and never saying no. In her four years of high school, she was maybe single for a total of like ... seven months. not seven consecutive months lmao, 7 months in between relationships.

one of those boys was connor perch, her first official boyfriend freshman year ! they were really sweet n young and nadia really thought she was in love. but then she gave him a blowjob and this mf recorded it ! and nadia found out after the fact, asked him to delete it, he said it was just for himself to look at, only to find out he’d sent it to his friends a few days later. so that basically set the precedent for how she’d be treated the next four years of high school ! she tried to act like it didn’t bother her but dang. high schoolers can be very mean !

oh my god i seriously have to wrap up okay this will be quick. basically when she was a senior in high school she went on a ski trip to big bear and met a boy named ethan, who she like fell in love with so fast like literally a week give it a rest girl. he was from Colorado but when she left they kept in touch and basically talked every day for the rest of the school year and throughout the summer. She’d decided to apply to Boulder University to be closer to him because this time it really felt like the real thing ! SURPRISE AGAIN ! She got to school and found out he had a girlfriend. She was really mf heartbroken over that. But did she learn her lesson? No. Does she still fall in love with anyone who looks in her direction? Yes.

Okay and lastly she has been working all sorts of jobs throughout college because her mom is helping her pay for tuition and rent so she’s gotta cover spending money ! She ended up getting a job at Big Bear Resort during her last winter break as an ice skating instructor because she used to do ice skating back in the day. Now she works at Big Bear during her school breaks and on some weekends !

TLDR/Tidbits

Hopeless romantic with major daddy issues

Will overanalyze every interaction she has with anyone because she thinks they might like her

EXTREMELY GULLIBLE

Probably will have a crush if you are even remotely nice to her

Really dumb but means well. Literally no common sense. Complete bimbo

Cries A LOT. Complete crybaby. Happy or sad she’s probably crying

Heart of gold!! She really always means well even when she fucks up so bad I SWEAR her heart was in the right place

Can outdrink anyone. She would drink a 6ft5in, 200 pound man under the table any day

Tequila is her choice of drink, but vodka is for her #sadgirlhours

Obsessed with Rosalía, Lana Del Rey, & Rex Orange County. And also 2010 bangers. Anything she can shake her ass to !

She pretty much used to exclusively wear mini dresses because when she realized everyone was just gonna sexualize her anyway, she was like FUCK IT, i’ll show my ass n titties n legs. Except it’s fucking like negative degrees in Colorado so she can’t do that ! Bummer. (she’ll still probably find ways to wear mini dresses)

Obsessed with makeup!! She loves doing adventurous things with eyeshadows and lipsticks like ok euphoria

Kinda crazy. Major crackhead vibes especially when she’s drunk! She loves going out, she’ll go out on a Tuesday, she just likes to have fun ok and dance on tables and make out with cute people

She’ll have a one night stand but just know for HER she’ll probably get attached. I’m so sorry it won’t last that long but she’ll pine for at least a week

ok that is all i’m so sorry for this shit show of an intro but here is a messy list of wc !

#bigbearintro #literally so pointlessly long but

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gerudospiriit · 4 years

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One of the Lucky Ones

A Chrimbus Prezzie for @royallunatiic that I adored writing for her! <3

Basically a thing about Vegeta I’ve been entertaining in the back of my mind for several months. It’s a lot of things and very centralized in Vegeta’s head and feelings and oof. It focuses on canon and non-canon moments and kinda explores themes with Vegeta’s character I feel get overlooked inside and outside of canon material. It is also based on a mix Lau’s (royallunatiic’s) hcs and my own. I wouldn’t call it a retelling but more of a change in perspective that delves into darker themes surrounding Vegeta.

As a fair warning for others that might choose to read: this fic includes violence, gore, abuse, harsh language, some sexual content, mentions of depression, and probably things that people who hold canon as the Holy Grail will not like. It is a very rose colored glasses off kind of read. There is probably something in this that everyone won’t like but that’s the beauty of things, isn’t it? And this IS about Vegeta so :3

Also, side note, some of the formatting got lost between here and google docs and im too lazy to go through and try to fix that, so unfortunately some italic emphasis within the bulk of it will be lost, rip.

Most importantly, I hope this lives up to the hype, Lau! <3

Vegeta raised a white-gloved hand to his scouter, options flashing across red glass until he settled on the general’s name and scouter number. “Nappa, what is our estimated time of arrival?”

Several seconds of silence passed, the prince’s temper flaring a centigrade more with each impatient tap of his foot on the pod’s floor. Just as he clenched his jaw and prepared to snap at the other Saiyan and more forcefully request the information he sought, his scouter beeped followed by the unmistakable grumble of the man who served to raise him in lieu of a biological parent.

“Let’s see…” Vegeta rolled his eyes when he heard Nappa yawn. How the large Saiyan stayed comfortable crammed into the tiny space pods even with the help of the pod’s assisted stasis setting baffled him. Less than half the other man’s size, Vegeta struggled to rest for any proper amount of time no matter his level of exhaustion or the length of the trip. Nothing a usual plague of similarly themed nightmares helped. Years of getting used to it was the usual spiel the general gave when the prince cared enough to question him. “Twelve hours, give or take. Twelve hours before we get to take revenge for Raditz and destroy that damn mud ball.”

Vegeta grunted in response. He could have laughed at their cover to keep anyone listening in on their conversations from knowing their true objective. Neither Saiyan cared to avenge their fallen comrade, Saiyan or not. Raditz foolishly set off to find his weakling of a brother and got himself killed. If such lowly warriors could best him, he was a waste of space and resources. Good riddance; Vegeta had no time for coddling the third class fool, anyway. They had Dragonballs to secure and immortality only suited the strong. To overthrow and kill an all-powerful tyrant, he would only suffer the company of the very greatest warriors.

“Very well. Rest up, Nappa. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

“Don’t tell me these Earthling’s got you scared,” the general scoffed, the creak of leather sounding as he shifted in his seat. “Raditz’s power level didn’t hold a candle to ours. We’ll blow ‘em all away, no trouble, a year of training or not. And without Kakarot, it will be a cinch. In and out, just like we planned.”

Vegeta snarled. “Watch your tongue, Nappa. I’d sooner fear Cui than a lowly Earthling.” He hoped the bastard heard that. Or that Frieza did and would relay the message to amuse himself with the soldier’s rage. “They are at least clever enough to gang up on Raditz. I would hate to see you meet your end over stupidity.”

“Fat chance.”

If Nappa had anything else to say, Vegeta missed it. He had switched his scouter off to take his own advice. Or try. His anticipation to achieve immortality, to finally avenge his people and end Frieza once and for all. Kept his mind from shutting down. To take back what was promised to him, what was rightfully his. For his own, personal revenge for the abuse and embarrassment he endured under his rule. As little more than a slave. Jaw tense at the memories, he closed his eyes.

His nerves went into overdrive as the door slid shut behind him, the fur of his tail standing on end at his waist. A request for an audience with Frieza never bode well in past experiences. It usually meant a beating or other form of degradation in front of his cronies or for his own sick amusement. And with the weight of his planet and his race perishing still heavy on his heart and mind...what more could Frieza say or do to him?

Before he could kneel or greet the tyrant, Frieza turned from his locked view of the passing stars to the young Saiyan rooted a few feet in front of the door, trying his best to keep the hollowness he felt in his chest from his gaze. In front of Nappa and Raditz, he had tried to remain aloof. Stunned by the suddenness with a hint of anger at cruel fate and be the strong leader he now had no choice but to be to them. They answered to him, not his father. Not any more.

“Ah, Vegeta! Such shocking news!” Frieza threw his free hand in the air to complement the dramatic flare in his voice. He set the glass of wine he clutched in the other on the nearest surface and floated toward him, reptilian feet meeting tile before the Saiyan. “My condolences, of course. An asteroid of all things wipes out the Saiyan race!”

Vegeta swallowed, gloved fingers curling into his palms and his tail tightening around his waist. He did not need to be aware of Frieza’s general distaste for his people to hear the mocking undertone dripping from every word. The misfortune of his race was a cause for celebration to the tyrant.

“We will move forward,” he responded robotically, straightening his posture and meeting Frieza’s wicked, crimson eyes. His mouth went dry when he saw the humor dancing in them. “We will continue to serve as we always have.”

The emperor of the universe placed his hands behind his back, contemplating. Searching for ways to toy with the boy like a predator who had cornered its prey. “Spoken like a true prince with so much responsibility suddenly on his shoulders.” He sighed, the latter portion of his tail idly striking the tiled floor. “Such a shame to lose so many monk--I mean, soldiers. Their lives are irreplaceable.”

Rage burned hotter in his hollowed out body. It danced on his tongue and clawed at his jaw, desperately trying to pry his mouth open to retort or spit in his face or simply scream. Anything but the fear-soaked silence that pervaded. What did he have to lose? Everything he had been promised--his kingdom, his people, his planet--had all been obliterated. Dying now would grant him mercy. But the fighter in him, the angry, scorned warrior, screamed louder. He screamed for blood. For vengeance. He was young, but he didn’t believe that asteroid story. It stank worse than Nappa after a long day of training in the wastes back home. And this performance, this farcical show of compassion, only fueled such suspicions.

“Come now. Don’t look so glum, Vegeta. After all...” Frieza rested a clawed hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Tight. “You’re one of the lucky ones.”

No, no, no.

This had to be another nightmare.

Vegeta clung to the last dregs of consciousness his weakened state would allow in order to type the coordinates--any coordinates--to what he hoped would land him at a base to get patched up. His hand shook over the buttons, and his vision doubled and tripled while trying to make sense of the screen. Blood trickled down his forehead and off the tip of his nose. Every inch of him screamed in agony. A few more seconds of focus...that's all he needed….

He fell back once he thought he counted enough characters punched in, gritting his teeth as the careless motion jolted a new bolt of pain through his body. Obsidian eyes hooded, he watched the stars, asteroids, and planets whizz by in a blur through slitted gaze. He felt his consciousness fading, his mind replaying the bad dream Earth had turned to in a jumbled chronology of events. The fight with Kakarot, how the third class stood up to his every attack. That damn brat and his bald friend and the fat one interfering. Cutting off his damn tail. Squeezing the life out of that clown in his Oozaru form. Saibamen and the joy of watching those worms struggle against them and Nappa when they wouldn't give them the Dragonballs. The brat transforming. Nappa's blood on his hands for his failure. The bald one sparing him.

Spared. Not victorious. Not immortal. Broken. Beaten. Bloody. And spared by a worthless third rate warrior and his weakling friends. The great Prince Vegeta bested by a troupe of circus performers. He could have laughed at the absurdity of it all if he had the breath and fortitude for it. Pride damaged, a small part of him hoped his battered brain had typed the coordinates in wrong. Dump him off on some random planet to die alone with what little dignity he had left. Let his race perish once and for all with him. Kakarot was no Saiyan. He did not deserve the warrior blood that roared in his veins. He was an Earthling. He barely knew what it meant to be a Saiyan. The hardships he had faced. How it felt to lose everything.

Kakarot. His bloody fingers twitched as the name of that fool spun around his mind in a taunting sing-song like some sick nursery rhyme. Yet. He didn't know that feeling yet. Sparing him was the biggest mistake those Earthlings could make. He would make Kakarot suffer. He would kill each of his friends one by one in front of him. Slow. Grueling. Starting with the fat one that robbed him of his tail. Then, he would kill Kakarot. No. He would spare Kakarot. Beat him to a gurgling mess of blood and broken bones and destroy his planet with him on it. Yes, that would do nicely.

First things first: immortality. Namek. Frieza. Then, Kakarot.

Quaking hand rose to his scouter. He sent out a distress signal. Just in case.

He convinced Nappa to let him out of his sight with relative ease and bored Raditz with some excuse about checking out the moons of the planet for vegetation types to keep him from tagging along to leave the planet they were ordered to recon alone and undisturbed. The assignment was close to the coordinates of his home planet, committed to memory in his youth. After nearly a decade, the close proximity tugged at an emotion he couldn't place. Deeper than curiosity but darker than nostalgia. A need to put to rest his doubt and disbelief, and affirm it had not all been a cruel joke Frieza played on him all these years.

Though, as his pod flew ever closer to his destination, a dim hope flickered in the buried part of him that still mourned and despaired over the fall of his race. For that reason, he kept his eyes closed, the vision of his home planet painted on the inside of his eyelids. Until the pod slowed, and the change in motion coerced the Saiyan Prince's eyes open to see…

To see nothing. Nothing but stars and space dust.

He didn't know how long he stared, or how many times he cancelled his pod's attempts to reroute him to a place for a proper landing when the current coordinates yielded nothing solid. His chest tightened, his throat and eyes burned as he rested a gloved hand on the red glass of the pod. Tears poured from his obsidian eyes as his fingers curled into his palm and he banged his fist against the window. Gone. All gone. He had known it all along, hadn't he? What did he really expect to find out here?

He buried his face in his hands with a shuddering breath, sliding them back into his hair before letting them fall limply at his side. He couldn't deny it now; Planet Vegeta had been obliterated along with everyone on it. Reduced to no more than space matter idly drifting among the stars. In that moment, even his memories of his youth seemed to join them as any attempt to recall them left him numb.

Another request to reroute to the nearest planet echoed too loudly in his ears. Vegeta spared the empty vacuum where his home once lay one last glance before inputting the coordinates to the planet he and the others had been assigned.

Vegeta switched off the ship’s gravity controls soon after touchdown on the long forgotten planet he had chosen for training. The gradual shift from 450 times the Earth’s gravity back to normal levels welcome after hours of pushing through the training drills. He gripped the console to steady himself and hunched over as he caught his breath, sweat dripping from his visage and pooling between switches and buttons. Every muscle, every fiber of his body ached from the strain of training at the high level of gravity. So much so that just a twitch of his fingers depleted far more energy than anything should. He slammed his fist down on the control panel and straightened up. He had no time to rest. He had to push himself, push through the pain and strain and keep going. He was running out of time. He needed to become a Super Saiyan no matter the cost.

Measured steps carried him to the bag he had packed. He rummaged around and pulled out a fresh set of armor. He tore off the sweat drenched rags his training reduced the current set to and tossed it aside, replacing it with the clean suit and chest armor. He ignored the toll the simple action took on him and yanked his boots and gloves on. He punched the button and released the door hatch to descend onto the planet’s surface. Away from the distractions of Earth, the planet that had become his chosen prison. He had to stay close to his prey, keep his enemies close. Make this unexpected resurrection count.

His second chance at life had begun with sucking in dirt before rising out of a shallow grave. Followed by witnessing a third-class warrior fill the slot in his race's history meant for him. Vegeta had stared up into a tumultuous sky as the very planet beneath his boots breathed its last breaths, erupting and quaking as a greater power threatened its very core. Awestruck, the Saiyan prince watched legend become reality. Kakarot had achieved what most wrote off as legend, aglow in gold, hair and eyes changed from dark hues to light: a Super Saiyan in the flesh. And he faced off with Frieza. Would soon kill Frieza. Both milestones he promised himself and only fit for the last living Saiyan royal. The clown snatched his birthright and vengeance for all he and his people suffered under Frieza from him in the span of hours.

The realization only settled after the whirlwind of astonishment, initial pride in the irony of a Saiyan ending Frieza, and momentary swell of invincibility with the idea of being back on top with Kakarot and Frieza both dead suddenly switched direction and whipped him into the nearest wall. The damned fool survived after all, according to those bumbling Earthlings. His mood tanked, and something akin to panic intertwined with his rage: what now? Where did he go from here?

Immortality didn't strike his fancy anymore when living forever seemed worse than death, the easy way of winning. He could cross Frieza off; he couldn't kill a dead man. That left Kakarot and his friends. He could kill the latter whenever he chose, the only one posing a possible challenge being the Namekian. But what use was that when he could not stand up to Kakarot's retaliation? The fool had thrown his whole plan off kilter! Stole everything promised to him and made him look like a fool! The Saiyan Prince would not--could not--be bested by this low class a third time. Kakarot would die by his hand, that would not change. But he needed to train first, achieve Super Saiyan and do it better.

And so he trained. Day and night until he flirted with death. Haunted by the image of Super Saiyan Kakarot battling Frieza on a dying planet. The memory of sensing that power for the first time seemed stamped on his ki perception, a power that threatened to bring him to his knees. Bitterness, vengeance, and rage surged him onward, a man possessed. Driven by an ever present need to take his place as the most powerful being in the universe.

And yet, despite all that, he remained unchanged. Stronger, certainly. But he still lacked the key to transformation, and that only ignited his fury further. What did that buffoon have that he lacked? How? The singular word bounced around his brain like the simulated ki blasts of his training program. What was the secret? Time ticked down until these androids meant to doom them all arrived. He refused to die to some mechanical monstrosities, not before he got his chance to prove once and for all that he was the superior warrior.

They would serve as a testament to his strength. His ascension to legendary status. But he had to get there first.

The sky above him raged in a violent storm, lightning streaking the dark at intervals of mere milliseconds. The air around him surged with power, a reflection of the intense wrath that blazed within him. The ground shook from the force of the accompanying thunder, rattled his very being to the core. He felt awakened, his previous exhaustion forgotten as a new wave of invigoration overpowered it.

So his training began. Unencumbered. Uninhibited. Free of the petty distractions that interrupted him on Earth. Until the meteors threatened his ship. Fine. A new training exercise. He zipped through the shower, punching and blasting his way through the chunks of space rock with precision and finesse. The warm up, he found, when a meteor half the size of the planet entered the atmosphere, parting the clouds in a fiery cascade. The Saiyan prince soared upward, confident when his previous employment required him to destroy entire planets on a whim. He pulled his arm back, energy building in his palm before he shot it toward the meteor. Though, instead of resulting in an explosion, the behemoth swallowed the light, only spraying a few chunks of matter from its surface. Another blast. A barrage of them. Still it inched closer to his only means to escape this planet. His training had left him too drained. This damn rock was going to strand him there on that empty planet. No! He wouldn’t let that happen!

Mustering every last ounce of energy he could, he pulled both hands up to his head, the back of his right hand pressed into his left palm. Purple energy built around him and in his hands. “Galick Gun, fire!” With all he had left, he shot the violet energy through his hands toward the encroaching meteor, energy bursting from his palms and striking it at near point blank range. The explosion shot him straight toward the planets surface, his used up body crashing through rock formation after rock formation before slamming into the ground.

Immense pain and the ringing in his ears were all he could register as he lay prostrate in the wide crater for countless minutes. He cracked his eyes open, squinting at the lightning streaked sky above him. He needed to move, to ensure his efforts yielded success. He pushed up with his elbows, snarling as pain ripped through him, and he shifted to his knees and dragged himself to the edge of the crater. He stretched his hand out on level ground and hoisted his upper half from the hole; it was all he could manage. The Prince of all Saiyan’s reduced to crawling, clawing his way out of a crater. Too weak to best a meteor and stay on his feet. How fucking pathetic.

Vegeta beat his bruised and bloody fist on the stone ground, the guttural growl growing in volume with each pound to echo the thunder rolling around him. How many more times did he have to fail? He failed his own race, and then couldn’t even take proper revenge for their murder. He failed Nappa and Raditz, no matter how damn weak they were. At this point, what made him any better? Kakarot bested him, too. Isn’t that why he killed Nappa? Because the bumbling idiot couldn’t even kill an Earth-raised, third rate Saiyan? Even a damn kid from the future had surpassed him! The Prince of all Saiyans! He who had been promised the universe and then some by his damnable father! What did he have to show for it? For all the pain and abuse and training? Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. He had been reduced to buying his time on a planet he should have just destroyed upon landing, surrounded by the very idiots that began his streak of shitty luck!

What had Frieza told him? “You’re one of the lucky ones.” Ha! At that moment, he would bet the universe got off on shooting him down and kicking him in the ribs.

He bowed his head as tears of rage and shame filled his eyes, though his gut boiled fiercely. He forced himself onto his feet, stumbling a step before regaining his balance. Nothing. The word echoed in his ears, roaring in the thunder as it answered the lightning. He had nothing left. Had lost it all long ago, but he refused to admit it to himself. And suddenly...everything that had driven him the past three years meant nothing. He didn’t care about Kakarot or killing him or surpassing him. He didn’t care if he left this planet. He didn’t even care if he lived. How long had he walked on borrowed time? His second chance at life was a damn joke, a literal accident, extra time for the universe to taunt him for his failings.

Vegeta’s heart pounded in his ears, beating on his sternum like a war drum. The rest of the world fell silent around him as his rage exploded. Pure power rushed through his body and he tilted his head back to bellow his fury into the void of space above. Blinding light flared from his form and burst with a planet-quaking boom.

Consciousness flooded back like a sea’s tide, the area around him now illuminated in a golden glow. A glow that originated from him. He raised his hands and flexed them before balling them into fists. Such power. It felt incredible. Endless. Roiling throughout every ounce of his being. His shoulders shook as laughter rumbled in his chest and finally burst from his mouth. He took to the air and shot through the angry sky, admiring his speed. He destroyed mountains as he whizzed by them, each target bigger than the last. If he didn’t need the ship, he would have destroyed the planet itself just to see how easy his new power made it.

Landing near the ship (still intact, surprisingly), he powered down, acutely aware of the toll it took on him. He would have to fix that, master the form and improve upon it. It felt surreal, like he would wake up at any moment. But he knew better. He knew he only had nightmares.

He had truly done it. He had become a Super Saiyan.

“Well, I guess there really is a first time for everything.”

Vegeta didn’t care if the bartender’s comment was meant for him or merely the young woman musing aloud; he kept his attention on the drink sitting in the open space within his crossed arms on the polished wood. He could still hear the vapid giggling of the two women as they trotted to the elevator at the back of the room, clinging on the arms of his charmed comrades. It was nothing new to the prince, especially on obvious busy work like this meant to keep them out of Frieza’s line of sight for a little while. Until he needed them again. Everyone knew years of mining and drilling by the Cold’s forces had sucked this planet dry of any valuable resources. The inhabitants ranged from an occasional surprising street fighter to abysmally weak, and very few even knew how to control Ki. The bulk of Frieza’s force there had already evacuated, sent on more fruitful endeavors for the empire. At best, this planet would be made a base, and the inhabitants would have to continue to live with Frieza’s soldiers. But, this far out, Vegeta wasn’t that optimistic.

A misstep had earned them this pointless assignment on the edges of Frieza’s claim to the universe, and they were given three days to complete a full recon and report, not counting travel time. Peeved and annoyed with the gall Frieza had to assign them busy work, even Vegeta agreed that, after finishing up the assignment in just over a day, they could use the remainder of their second day to use as they saw fit and send the report in on the morning of their third day. For Raditz and Nappa, that typically meant booze, food, and fucking whoever would have them. For Vegeta, he would likely find a space to train at his leisure.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a group of three or more men not break out into a fight over my sisters’ company. Unless you’re just not into women...I suppose I shouldn’t assume…”

Obsidian eyes finally slid over to the woman, and, in comparison to her siblings, he understood why she would not appeal to the masses as easily as her sisters. Shorter and more plainly dressed in a shabby-looking, moss green jacket (the bar blocked the rest of his view of her outfit), she appeared to prefer avoiding attention rather than grabbing it. Two, beaded braids framed her face while the rest of her tawny hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, the same braids appearing intermittently throughout. She lacked the nearing gaudy makeup her sisters donned, and freckles dotted her lightly sun-kissed cheeks and the bridge of her slightly misshapen nose. A preference for the outdoors, perhaps, if not natural. The long ears inherent of her race jutted out from the side of her face, and he noticed the rose color dusting their tips.

“Your sisters aren’t my type,” he said finally, in hopes of shutting her up. She seemed to be the type to talk more when nervous. If she didn’t continue to ramble, he could at least take some solace in the fact that her voice held a more mellow timbre than the near screech of her sisters’. He picked up his drink and took a hearty gulp. Supposedly the strongest they had, but he knew he would need to drink these all day to even earn a buzz.

He heard her hum and he thought she might take the hint and busy herself with cleaning the counter or glasses. Something other than making small talk with him. Wishful thinking.

“I would ask what your type is, then, but I’m going to assume you won’t answer that.” He offered her a grunt in response, though he couldn’t stop himself from casting her another glance, as if her unasked question reflexively piqued his curiosity to check if she fit such a bill (not that he really knew his type, anyway; he didn’t care to figure it out, but he always knew what wasn’t). The only features he would consider striking in her face were her eyes, an unusual shade of shimmering silver he could not recall ever witnessing. “You’re Frieza’s soldiers, right? You and your friends?”

He fixed her with a glare, insulted, but unsure of how to correct her first: the Prince of all Saiyans answered to no one unless he wanted to and he would never refer to Nappa or Raditz as a friend. However, in an attempt to avoid more pointless conversation and seem interested in talking to her, he replied with a growled, “Yes,” and drained his glass.

“So, you can fight, then?”

Vegeta slid the glass across the bar toward her--which she expertly caught, much to his surprise considering the suddenness and speed--and rose to his feet. A stupid question, and he was sure she knew it. He pulled the neck of his armor out to fish out his pay chip, intent on paying for his drink and making a hasty exit, and slapped it down on the bar.

The woman retrieved his chip, but made no immediate move to run it. “Um, this is going to sound like an odd question but would you spar with me? I need the practice…” Silver eyes darted to the tapping of his fingers on the wood, and she rushed to the terminal behind her. She returned and offered the chip back to him. However, when he reached out for it, she snatched it out of his reach. She didn’t flinch when he growled; she expected an answer.

The Saiyan prince lifted a hand to his scouter, but it hung in midair. A habit to check a prospective opponent’s power level. He lowered it again. His tongue wrapped around a haughty rejection, but held it firmly in his mouth. Such a strange request when none that he surveyed on the planet could touch even the lowliest of Frieza’s men, and most showed no signs of any fighting prowess besides. He doubted she was much different, but his boredom and curiosity convinced him to humor her. If she had the guts to challenge him, he could grant her the satisfaction of understanding just how grave her mistake was.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Her eyes widened; she obviously expected him to refuse. A show of sharp canines in an annoyed snarl reanimated her. She slapped the chip back into his waiting palm and darted toward a door off the bar, tearing the apron from her waist and shrugging out of her jacket as she went. Vegeta tucked his pay chip away as she shouted into the next room that she was going out. She slammed the door before whoever was behind it could protest and joined him on the other side of the bar. Unencumbered by the bar and her jacket, he saw that she wore a baggy pair of pants that matched her jacket in color and a pair of boots common in style on the planet. The white shirt turned out to be a tank top that clung to her body and bore a strip of her midriff, accentuating toned arms and abdomen. Heat rose in his cheeks when his mind registered that she was...shaplier in the chest area than the jacket allowed onlookers to guess. He turned on his heel quickly to preserve his pride and class.

“Great! I know a place not far from here. Nice and open and people don’t usually hang around there.” The woman followed him outside and, before he could ask if she could fly, her feet left the dust-riddled street and she took off. He huffed and flew after her, catching up with ease. She could use ki. That at least meant this spar might scratch the surface of interesting, at least.

“I am surprised you can leave your bar unattended on a whim, even in a backwater town like that one. Is business truly that slow?”

“My parents will handle it,” she responded shortly, her attention set in front of her. “They own the place, anyway. They’re lucky I give enough of a shit about my sisters to stick around, help out, and protect them, and they know that. They sure as hell never do it. Besides, they probably think I’m off to earn money, anyway, so of course they’re not going to question it.”

Vegeta had his suspicions about the two women when they fluttered over to the trio upon entering. His icy demeanor spurned them immediately, but Nappa and Raditz welcomed their flirtations without qualm. He heard their whispers and the exchange of terms through their giggles; he had tagged along to enough brothels to understand their inner workings, no matter how low key and whether he participated or not. However, he could not recall any where parents pimped out their children. Such vile beings this universe hosted…

They touched down in an open field, the patches of green within the nearly dried up landscape the most he had seen in miles. “Do you plan to charge me for this spar then, woman?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest. A slight smirk curled his lips. “Do you charge per punch landed? Extra for using ki?”

Her brows lowered and corners of her lips dipped downward as she stretched an arm over her chest. “You like to hear yourself talk after all, don’t you?” She snorted and switched limbs. “Obviously, I knock out or kill those who agree to spar with me and rob them blind. Requires much less calculation.”

He might have believed her if he hadn’t caught the quiver of her lips in a flash of a smile. “Ha! Well, I think you’ll find I’m much more difficult to take down. But, if you can, I’ll give you every bit of currency I have to my name.”

“Great, I’ve been eyeing a new pair of boots.”

She sprang forward before the last word could register meaning in the Saiyan’s mind, punches and kicks flying in a flurry of speed he did not expect. He dodged them without issue, his arms remaining folded, and allowed his focus to gauge her skill level. Quick. Unpolished but confident and strong swings, suggesting she taught herself to some degree and had enough success. The ever lessening presence of her smirk further suggested the latter; she was not used to having this much trouble.

Finally, Vegeta allowed an easily dodged uppercut to connect with the underside of his chin, a test of her strength, how hard she could hit. His head snapped back, the point of contact smarting and his teeth ringing from the impact. He expected her to celebrate her small victory, but she proved him wrong. A sweep of her leg sent him skidding several feet from where he stood. He only just recovered before she attacked again. Fine, she proved clever enough. Though a piss poor strategy like wearing her opponent out wouldn’t work on him.

He ducked beneath a fist aimed for his face and caught her ankle as she attempted to follow up with a kick. He responded to her surprised gasp with a rumbling chuckle of his own. “Not bad. But I’m not just some urchin you picked a fight with off the street.”

Vegeta tugged the woman forward, taking advantage of her lack of balance, and sidestepped. He shoved and elbow hard into her spine and sent her sprawling face first into the dust. “Hmph, if that’s all you have to offer, fly home. I don’t waste time with weaklings.”

She pushed off her hands and twisted at the waist to shoot a wave of lavender ki straight for his face. He bent back to avoid it, the heat brushing past his face before he heard it explode in the cliff face behind them. His smirk widened when he found her back on her feet and charging him again. He dodged and blocked her blows once more, but he noted the significant boost in her speed and strength. Good, she was taking this seriously now. He had given her an immediate understanding of what kind of opponent she dealt with, and she rose with that challenge. Respectable, even if her power level only ranked among the middle levels of Frieza’s ranks.

Their spar continued on much the same way: Vegeta allowed her to punch, kick, and toss ki blasts his way to her heart’s content, then he would return a few blows and knock her away. Each time, she came back stronger, faster, more determined to level the playing field no matter how wide the gap between them or the blood and bruises on her body from his strikes. An admirable warrior in her own right. She impressed him, as far as the denizens of this doomed planet went.

As the daylight began to fade, the sky dyed various hues of burning orange, he noticed each time she fell, she took a few seconds longer to rise up again. Finally, a kick to her side sent her sailing sideways and skidding along the ground. Her body slammed into the bottom of the cliff, and she laid motionless for several seconds. Just when he thought he had knocked her unconscious or her body had finally given out, he heard her groan and flip over from her side to her back, a grin on her face.

“Alright, that’s it. I give in.” She forced herself to a sitting position, expression contorting in pain with every miniscule motion. “You win. But you knew you would this whole time, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did.” He cocked his head to either side, stretching the tendons in his neck. Their spar hadn’t been the most productive for him, but it hadn’t bored him either. A rarity, even with those meant to be on his skill level. “You surprised me. I would have never guessed anyone on this planet could even come close to the level you’ve achieved.”

She shifted to face him and swept her forearm over her face to rid it of sweat, blood, and grime. “It was actually a Saiyan that inspired me to learn to fight, even if I had to teach myself. I was little, but I watched a Saiyan woman fight off another of Frieza’s soldiers when he wouldn’t leave her alone. It was eye-opening when I was taught all along that women didn’t fight. Not respectable ones at least.” She shrugged a shoulder and rolled it for a stretch and Vegeta grunted; too many societies he had come into contact with believed similarly. He found it pathetic and ridiculous. “I couldn’t turn down the chance to fight one, to test myself. It’s been ages since I’ve seen another Saiyan…”

“That’s because we’re the last three.” The admission tumbled from his lips before he could stop them, and he scowled. He usually did not correct anyone ignorant of his people’s fate, kept his comments to himself when some merchant or whore wondered aloud about the last time they did business with a Saiyan. And yet, this woman had him yapping about something so personal without even trying. Must be the lack of food. When had he eaten last? That morning?

The woman’s face fell. “O-oh...I-I’m--”

“Save it.” Vegeta stomped over to her and stuck out his hand, the suddenness causing her to flinch back. She took it and he pulled her to her feet, a little rougher than he initially intended, though, if it bothered her, she said nothing. He released her hand. “Where is the best place for food here? Everything I’ve tried here tastes like molten garbage.”

“Well, there’s really not much left, as I’m sure you noticed.” She dusted herself off and pulled the strap of her tank top back into its proper place. “But...you’re welcome to stay at my place for the night. If you want. It’s quieter than the hotel, that’s for sure, more comfortable, too. Many of the rooms there haven’t been cleaned in quite a while, if you want the honest truth. My parents have yet to hire new help after skimping on paying the last batch of employees, my sisters refuse to help with that sort of work, and…”

She trailed off when she noticed his pointed look, how she hadn’t answered his question. She swallowed. “And I can cook. So you’ll get food, peace, and comfort. The offer’s open so take it if you want.”

Vegeta watched her take to the sky and mulled over the offer. With how she seemed determined to chat with him, he questioned the validity of her claim to quiet. The growl of his stomach voted in favor, proposing that almost anything could beat the trash he and his cohorts had wolfed down the day before. Comfort...his mind lingered on that word, twisting it into a more lewd definition. Images of her toned, nude body beneath him among a tangle of sheets, glistening in sweat as her moans filled the air…

White energy surrounded him and he shot into the sky after her. Fine. What did he have to lose anyway? Unless Frieza felt some sort of sentimental value toward this planet and those who roamed on it, she would likely be killed in the near future anyway. A shame, considering her potential. It was too bad there weren’t more like her. Enough to make her planet a worthwhile gem among the tyrant’s endless trove…

He wondered if she knew that...understood what his and his lackeys’ stay here likely meant for her and her home…

"We're getting married, Vegeta. That's final."

He swore the damn woman had an alarm on every door he frequented, from his bedroom in the guest wing to the gravity room. Perhaps on his bed, too, as he had just convinced himself to roll out of it, dress, and hole himself up in the gravity chamber to train until his body begged him to stop. He had just pulled the door open and there she stood, scowling and balancing her brat on her hip. The kid seemed unfazed by the aggravation in her voice, more intent on sucking his thumb.

Vegeta gripped the doorframe, the only thing to keep him from shoving her out of the way and continuing on his way. He had spent months away after Cell's defeat, once more a man lost and unsure of his purpose. His pride in tatters when even Kakarot's brat had surpassed him. Those days remained a blur in his memory as he worked through his rage until it fizzled out and he had nothing left to fuel him. Hollowed out, unfeeling, unmotivated. One moment he wanted to steal the woman's father's ship, blast off into space and challenge every powerful warrior he could find to validate his own strength. Take over the Cold empire as he was meant to. In the end, that all felt pointless. A set up for another string of unfortunate failures. Thus, he settled on the only thing that felt familiar, the only thing that brought even the remotest sense of contentment for him: training. Even if it meant suffering the woman and her worthless friends.

"Hello! Earth to Vegeta! Did you hear a word I said?" Bulma swapped the half asleep child to her other hip. "I know you decided to disappear on me and your child for months, but surely that didn't affect your hearing!"

He wished it had, her shrill shrieks unfriendly to sensitive ears and already threatening a pounding headache. "I heard you, woman," he growled, making to shove forward only for her to shift in front of him. Marriage to a weak Earth woman who could not even fight...he could hear his ancestors laughing in Hell. The only attributes she possessed he would consider remotely worthwhile were her decent looks and intellect when it came to technology. Nothing marriageable about her to a true Saiyan. Not to mention her obvious desire for Kakarot no matter how she tried to hide it. In his time there, he found Earth's ideals, especially those surrounding marriage and mating, starkly differed from those of Saiyans. And not for the better. They craved companionship and what they called love as the highest goals in their lives. They would set aside everything for it, change themselves for it, no matter how long or hard they worked to achieve whatever goals they had before. Saiyans rarely married, even his parents married as a mere show of power, the Saiyan King with their most powerful, accomplished, and terrifying general. They mated when they chose, and if a brat resulted from it, it didn't always mean they stuck around as a pair. Here he found, that was taboo. Unacceptable and improper.

"And just why do you think I would want to marry the likes of you?" he asked, hoping a thinly veiled insult would upset her and send her crying to her parents or that beta male she still fucked around with.

His words only deepened her glare and she stood her ground. "Are you kidding me?" She pointed at the brat, now babbling and tugging on the neckline of her shirt. "You knocked me up, you creep! It's the right thing to do, and you owe me and Trunks at least that!"

"Because you weren't throwing yourself at me the moment the damn Namek dragon sent us all back to Earth." He could insult her, belittle her, nearly kill her friends, treat her like utter trash and order her around like a damn servant day in and day out and she still flirted and tried to bed him. The meaner he was, the hornier it made her. Of course he caved eventually; he had needs, too. He hadn't even thought of impregnating her, his bestial instincts begging him for release in more carnal avenues and blinding him to the possibility in the moment. He stupidly forgot their races were even genetically compatible. She wanted to fuck, he needed release; the answer was simple at the time. "I don't owe you shit, woman, now get the hell out of my way before I force you out of the way."

"After I let you live, eat, and train here for free, you really think you don't owe me anything? I don't think you've ever even said thank you!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes. He had had enough of her shit for another few months. He shoved forward only to be blocked again. His temper flared, hackles rising in warning.

Bulma merely scoffed. "You need to man up, Vegeta. Own up to your 'mistakes'," she huffed and yanked a strand of her hair out of the child's clutches before he could stick it in his mouth. "I'm going to be straight with you since no one else--not even yourself--will. Your entitled, cocky prince act was cute at first, but it got old real quick. Your outbursts and temper tantrums are childish. Newsflash, Vegeta! You're not even a prince anymore! Your planet and people are gone, and the few left would never bow to you! You're not royalty, and no one will ever treat you like it! Get over it and stop acting like a baby. You have a child now, I'm going to be your wife, and you're going to learn to live here like a responsible, normal person!"

Had she spewed this drivel a few months, a few years ago, he might have blasted her where she stood for her disrespect. The emptiness inside him kept him from caring about her stupid opinions, her expectations of him, the grains of truth in her prattle. He did not care if she thought him a "real man." He did not even care that she insulted his title, his bloodline, or attacked a sensitive subject she could not begin to understand the gravity of. But the attack on his pride as a Saiyan, to order him to conform to her idealistic model of normalcy and perform the part of the happy husband and father, roles he didn't care to fill with the likes of her...that threatened to put her through the wall she stood in front of.

"That's rich coming from a spoiled brat like you," he snarled. She didn't know shit about him and she didn't try either. Why the hell would he want to bond himself with a woman like her? His dark eyes found her blue ones, the darkness in him bubbling to the surface. "Say one more word to me today and I'll rip your voice box from your throat."

This time, Bulma stepped back, her spine meeting the wall as she swallowed. He could smell her fear, no matter how little her stubborn frown wavered. He huffed and moved past her, stomping toward the glass doors at the end of the hall that would lead him onto the manicured lawn still drenched in the morning dew.

"How typical! Hear something you don't like and you throw a fit! Solve all your problems with violence like the ape you are!"

Vegeta halted halfway to the door. Every muscle in his body tensed as a war for control raged inside him. His mind had converted Bulma's voice to Frieza's, the slur and similar ones echoing in his skull joined by the cruel laughter that often accompanied it. One fist slammed into the wall beside him while the other clutched his head. He had to move. Get out of that damn hallway and away from the damn woman. He could hear the brat screaming from somewhere far away, his mother trying to hush him and throwing another insult his way.

He willed his feet to walk. Once outside, he shot into the sky. Away from Capsule Corp. Away from the city. He would not suffer her shit another second that day.

Glass and bone crunched beneath his boot, fresh blood further staining once ivory leather. The screams and groans of pain had subsided, the only sounds around him the crackle of flames and the occasional whistle of the wind. The scent of death and burning flesh filled his nostrils, fueling the adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

He kicked a corpse aside--a soldier, if the armor meant anything--and tapped the button on his scouter with bloodied fingertips to perform a scan of the area. See if any unlucky fools escaped his initial razing of the planet. He had the whole assignment to himself. Nappa had protested; the planet had been in rebellion for quite some time and housed unexpectedly powerful warriors in great numbers. How even the strongest warriors could fall when outnumbered. Vegeta ignored him and threatened to toss him out an airlock if he tried to follow without his say so. It would be a worthy test of his strength, an uninhibited and untethered display of his power, if the reports had any merit.

As it turned out, they didn’t. Not that he could see.

His scouter beeped three times as it picked up a reading, the yellow characters flashing on the red glass indicating it originated behind him. Close, weakened if ever strong. Attuned ears picked up the slow approach with one foot landing heavier on the pavement than the other, a poor attempt at stealth. One left. And here he thought he had been thorough…

“You damn monster,” the lone survivor croaked behind him. Vegeta opened his eyes enough to note the surge in his power level on his scouter, a light behind him lengthening his shadow. So, he would fight to his last breath.

The Saiyan turned on his heel to face his heckler, tongue lashing out to lick gore--his or someone else’s, he didn’t know or care--from his face. The local had definitely been caught in the crossfire, armor cracked and broken, his body littered with bruises and painted with blood. He put all his weight on his right leg, the left hanging limply beside it. He held a ball of ki in his hand, though the light guttered with the fading of his energy.

“How very original,” Vegeta drawled. Terrifying speed placed him directly in front of the dying soldier. He gripped his wrist and snapped it back in a sickening crack, sending the attack meant for him jetting into space. The man howled in pain, widening the smirk the Saiyan wore.

“Y-you’re no better than him...than Frieza!”

His smirk fell into a tight frown, and his grip tightened. “You’re right.” Vegeta raised his hand level with the soldier’s face. “I’m much, much worse.”

Vegeta fired the blast at Kakarot. Point-blank range and putting him on guard with no chance for immediate retaliation. He had to be if he wanted to protect all those people spectating in the stands behind him. He watched as the force behind the energy forced him back, back, back. Until he finally had to relent and fly out of its path. Yellow light soared into the crowd and exploded through the cement structure, a path of ruin left in its wake through the city beyond. Screams of terror and anguish filled the air, a symphony to the Saiyan’s ears.

Finally. Finally he would get what he wanted, what he craved for all these years: revenge. To best Kakarot and once and for all reclaim his rightful place as the most powerful Saiyan in existence. Babadi’s magic did no more than reach into the depths of his mind, his soul, and resurrect Vegeta. Tearing the man once feared the universe over, the savage and ruthless destroyer, from the shallow, unmarked grave he himself had shoved him into. For comfort. For ease. For conformity on this wretched planet. The fingers of the wizard’s black magic plucked the pesky attachments he developed from his mind like overzealous weeds. Vegeta, the Prince of all Saiyans was whole once more, beaten down pride and burning rage reignited and flaring hotter than any star.

They called his decision to succumb to Babidi’s mind control weakness. Slavery. No. The wizard had no more control of him than anyone else should have these past years. He felt more powerful than he ever had. He raised his hand again and shot another blast into the crowd. This. This was what he wanted. He would not let anyone or anything stand in the way of his battle with Kakarot. Not the Kai. Not Gohan. Not this Buu creature or Babidi. They settled this today. He would reclaim his honor, his destiny.

He would stand in Kakarot’s shadow no longer.

Vegeta struggled against the powerful arms that restrained him, tail lashing in fury as he fought with fists, feet, and teeth against Frieza’s goons. He could hear Nappa bringing up the rear, pleading the young Saiyan’s case with Frieza: he was young and hadn’t learned to respect his betters, his mourning made him mouthier, that he would handle punishment himself and ensure it never happened again, anything other than locking him away like that, to lock him up in there instead. They both knew his words fell flat in the tyrant’s ears; Vegeta had finally crossed the line and told the emperor just what he thought of him and Frieza did not tolerate insubordination.

The soldiers tossed the young Saiyan to the back of the dark room. He roared and darted forward, only to collide with the cold metal of the door slamming in his face. He only just registered the pain it caused, already launching himself for the door again, intent on busting it open. He screamed and rammed into the door, bellowed for Nappa to let him out this instant. Deep down he knew his protests were swallowed by the darkness that encompassed him in the small space, but it didn’t stop him from yelling until his throat was raw. From bashing his full weight into the door until his small frame went numb.

Furious, he bounded back. Ki built in his palms and he shot every ounce of energy he had toward the door. The blast rebounded straight back and struck him in the chest. The force knocked the wind from his lungs and smashed him into the wall behind him. His body slid to the ground and he laid still. Limp, too weak to move.

It was too easy to lose track of time in that pitch black cell, and he did not know how long he lay there. Light filtered into the room as the door cracked open. Freedom! He willed himself to fly toward it as a tray with a paltry sum of food was set on the cold floor along with a glass of water. Vegeta nearly grasped the edge of the door but, once more, it slammed in his face and nearly took his fingers with it. He growled, his throat screeching in protest at the guttural sound. He felt along the edges of the door--or what he thought were the edges of the door--for any kind of hand hold. A way to grip it and force it open. Sealed tight, as expected. He kicked the tray into the wall in his stubborn frustration.

He counted six meals. Six failed attempts at escaping. Sometimes, he woke up from his slumber, and when he felt around the cell, he found the food waiting for him. Missed opportunities. The meals barely kept him alive and awarded him no energy. He slept more often than not, plagued by dreams of spending the rest of his life there. The deaths of his parents and people burning up in the wake of an exploding planet. Nappa and Raditz being tortured in his absence...He always woke up in a tighter ball after such nightmares, tail squeezing him in makeshift protection…

Light flared and burned his eyes, causing him to hiss and tuck his face into his chest and arms. Large hands slipped beneath him and scooped him up. His tail bristled in warning and his body stiffened, all senses on high alert. The restraints held fast, the familiar scent of the Saiyan general filling his nose and calming him. Nappa carried him out of the cell, and Vegeta buried his face in his armor, fighting the tears of anguish that threatened to fall.

Before long, he was deposited onto his bed. The young Saiyan prince squirmed beneath the blanket and faced the wall in his bunk, knees tucked to his chest. He heard Raditz shift above him but his light snoring remained uninterrupted. He held his blankets tight around him, clutching them like a lifeline and laid perfectly still. He still felt tired, drained, but his eyes remained wide open and set on the wall. He never knew he could miss a bed or a pillow so much. Or the sound of Raditz snoring. Or light.

After a long while, hours perhaps, he heard Nappa sigh; he had forgotten the general remained in the room at all. “I’m sorry, kiddo...so damn sorry.” He spoke in nearly a whisper, his typically strong and boisterous voice close to shaking. “I wish I could protect you like your parents wanted...like you deserve.”

Vegeta’s grip tightened on the blanket that failed to warm him. He felt cold. Always so cold. “Feeling sorry for yourself won’t do you any good, Nappa,” he mumbled, a half-hearted reprimand in comparison to his usual temper. He turned to face Nappa, staring him down with a blank expression and hollow eyes. “Mother, father...everyone else is dead. We survived, and we’ll keep doing it...no matter what it takes.”

He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. “We’re the lucky ones.”

Upbeat dance music filtered up to the balcony on a light summer breeze to the balcony on the other side of Capsule Corp. where Vegeta had taken refuge from the ongoing celebration. No one noticed his exit, and he had no qualms with that. While most left him to his own devices, he tired of the idle conversation, the laughter and music. Thus, he snatched up a cooler of beer and took off to the other side of the building, settling in at a table on one of the balconies.

He tipped the bottle back and drained the rest of its contents. He threw it into the air, toward the setting sun, and blasted it into nothing. Since Majin Buu’s defeat, he felt as if he floated through space and time, a phantom going through the motions of a routine that felt more pointless by the day. Not even training held his interest long and, more often than not, he found himself flying around the planet aimlessly but pretending to have a purpose.

Kakarot had once more proven himself the better warrior and killed Buu. He swallowed his pride and accepted it, accepted the fact that he would forever be second place. In the moment, he thought acceptance would free him and perhaps it had at the time. But as time passed and he returned to life on Earth playing the role of husband for show and father and took up his training regimen...a weight bore down on him, growing heavier each day. He grew restless and craved direction, purpose. How long had he chased that dream of revenge? Of surpassing Kakarot and anyone else who challenged his birthright as the most powerful Saiyan--no, being--in existence? After losing Raditz and Nappa, being humiliated on Earth and Namek...he had clung to the only things he truly understood: rage, pride, and vengeance.

Vegeta reached down to fish out another beer from the icy confines of the cooler. He flicked the cap off with his thumb and pressed it to his lips, draining half the bottle in a single gulp. He considered the idea of taking the spaceship and wandering the universe that always lingered at the back of his mind. Search for warriors to train with, test his limits and break them and the monotony. The desire to conquer and claim what his father promised him had faded to a fever dream. He lacked the patience it required these days. As usual, he squashed the idea before it could spur him into action.

Maybe someday he would find something that sparked the fire in him again, gave him purpose. Or he would spend the rest of his days in inanity, performing a part in a play he neither tried out for or wanted. Waiting for the next tragedy to befall the Earth or universe so he could feel alive for a day or two or until the threat was exterminated, likely by Kakarot. And then the cycle would repeat: he would train to get stronger, a new threat arises, Kakarot proves he’s more powerful. Maddening. Unfulfilling. Reality.

He let his head fall back and watched the whisps of clouds lazily sail through the darkening sky. What had Frieza told him when he found out about the destruction of his planet and people? That he was one of the lucky ones. Lucky...by Earthling standards, many had told him that for one reason or another: you have a hot, rich “wife” and don’t need to work, a place to live and food to eat, a healthy son, the fact that he was alive to live the next day. Nothing that truly mattered to him; an ideal Earth life did not appeal to his Saiyan warrior mentality. In fact, he could not think of a single moment in his life where he would consider himself lucky, even with Frieza dead and unable to be the source of his despair.

Raised voices and laughter from inside shifted his attention to the glass doors. Kakarot had finally showed up. His friends surrounded him like flies on shit, grinning and laughing with the buffoon like he had been there all day. Even his shrew of a wife who had complained about his absence all afternoon to anyone who would listen smiled in welcome. Kakarot...the damn bastard. He drank the last of his beer and stood up.

Vegeta had lost everything else--his title, his race, his birthright--but, as he stared down his longtime rival from behind a pane of glass, he knew he could cling to one, single truth: he was a warrior. Always would be. And he would never stop pushing and breaking his limits his way.

#royallunatiic #vegeta #fanfic #fanfiction #db fanfiction #dbz fanfiction

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roswellroamer · 4 years

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Day 3. February 1, 2020. Christchurch to Mt. Cook Village. 355km.

After a solid night's rest at our nicely appointed 3 level apartment in the Merivale neighborhood, the task of figuring out the best way to load all the gear/clothes on the bike was the first challenge of the day. With the large rolling duffel left at the bike shop I was pretty confident that everything would fit, but since I would be in a tough spot if it didn't, there was some trepidation as I bought my first pannier liner (borrowed from the Multistrada) down to the bike. The Duc has different sized panniers as one side's volume is cut nearly in half to accommodate and the Italian emphasis on aesthetics. The BMW has frame mounted and equally sized rectangular Givi plastic panniers. Our rental company informed us yesterday that although these bags have a triple clip closures and were supposed to be waterproof, they weren't "New Zealand rain-proof" as the southern and western portions of this island have rainfall measured in feet not inches! 🌧 I brought down the wider bag hoping that it would fit. Murphy once again intervened and it seemed a couple inches too wide. I decided to zip up the expansion section with some side of my body mass the same clothes were smashed a couple inches. Alas, still no go on the bag. So, a retreat to the third floor to rejigger everything. Let's just say I was glad I brought a 70l dry bag for the bike's tail. I needed it once I had to remove some items from my side/pannier. Anyway as I secured my heavier than expected tail bag with my trusty Rok Straps and slipped onto Papanui Road headed for the Southern Alps, I didn't pop a wheelie and felt that logistics weren't now just in need of some tweaking. A system to organize and pack is key to making the daily cycles of unpacking, loading, unloading, repacking an easy and stress-free task. The 70l bag gave me a large margin of error so I did overpack knowing I had this extra room if needed.

Saturday AM brought us little traffic as we rode along the other side of Hagley Park into the Westfield Riccarton area of CHC. A few other bikes were on the road and within 15-20' we started increasing our speed (in accordance with the posted limits, mostly 😉) as we left CHC and development behind. We rode past some of those horse racing tracks and saw a few jockeys wheeling around on their sulkies. For an hour or more we headed west and a bit south enmeshed in a patchwork of farmland. Flat, broken up by Irish style hedges and trees that were manicured and coerced into natural fence lines blocking wind effectively while creating visual barriers. Some small towns and without breakfast (not like me) I was tempted to call for a stop but we were aiming for Fairlie, where a few folks had impressed upon us the need to sample the pie 🥧 in Fairlie. Now when I hear pie, I'm thinking fruit. Usually cherry or apple. But the pies of note on our radar were of the meat variety! I didn't want to ruin my appetite. After a couple hours something changed. We made a turn in the road that wasn't a left or right, but an undulation. Wait, was that a hillside up ahead? All of a sudden we were in the foothills. Gone the flat farms of sheep, cows and agriculture. Now we were winding on increasingly common twisties. As we gained elevation the ambient temp dropped from around 22°C all the way down to 13.5°C (about 56°, still not really cold). We did end up stopping for a light bite in Geraldine at the Running Duck. I had a Coconut Ice (smoothie) and a heated raisin danish. A Ducati monster was parked there and he was stretching out in a chaise type lounger soaking up the sun. Bubba the elephant allowed the local server to locate us outside as most tables were full with travelers. We had taken the inland road which was recommended as more scenic and less traffic. At Geraldine we joined the main commercial road conducting summer crowds up to the Alps and Mt. Cook. A fuel stop there after the danish and off to Fairlie. We chose the Fairlie Bakery and despite the hype, were not disappointed with the buttered chicken and mushroom pie. 😋 We had passed some more interesting farms that included emu, caribou, deer, alpaca along with the more common farm animals. We were now traversing and crossing glacial runoff/moraine. The distinctive turquoise color of the glacial water is visually magnetic. 👀 It is caused by the silt or "rock flour" the water carries and is very distinctive.

Next on the Day 3 hit parade were two stunning glacial lakes. Lake Tekapo and the oft photographed stone Church of the Good Shepherd prompted a photo stop along with a hundred Chinese tourists. It sits near the road overlooking the colorful lake with a view of Mt. Cook aka "Aoraki" in Maori towering to 12,218'. Loads of small RV's everywhere too! #rvlife Riding past Tekapo on to Lake Pukaki which was equally turquoise. Afternoon had brought us a high, thin overcast which kept us from capturing the water's full visual splendor. It is still over 50kms from Pukaki to the end of the road here in Mt. Cook village as you wind up the valley and the glacial run-off becomes a river feeding the lake. There are a number of sizable glaciers here. We are going to tour glaciers by boat later on the ride at Milford Sound so we'll just enjoy the blue glacier ice from the valley floor today. There are a number of well marked trails through the unique alpine environment here as the whole area is a national park. Some trails through woods, others pass over hills to provide panoramic views of the Hooker and Tasman glaciers (the matter is the longest in NZ). Lodging here is limited and we opted to stay at the very nice Hermitage resort. Upon check-in we were informed the room wasn't ready. A bit of persuasion involving the manager whom we requested promptly solved the 1 1/2 hour previously proclaimed delay for a room not yet ready and a corner room with a spectacular view was provided. 😊 We're gonna explore the area for a bit now and hardly think the pics will do today justice but I'll attach 10 to follow. The weather has held off and so far no rain. Tomorrow is supposed to be different but we'll see if the meteorologists are again proven to be inaccurate. We walked through a heavily wooded seemingly tropical path on the way to a dinner which was accompanied by some dense bushes, trees and stairs. A bit of interesting history regarding Aoraki. Sir Edmund Hillary, a Kiwi born in Auckland who is best known for being the first man to climb Everest, cut his teeth on this mountain. 6 years prior to his successful assault on Everest with Tenzing Norgay he was learning the skills needed for the Himalayas right here. https://teara.govt.nz/en/photograph/28327/hillary-and-ayres-on-aorakimt-cook-1947 Mt. Cook has claimed over 80 lives this past century.

#newzealand #advrider #motoadventure #mtcook

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tartxglia · 5 years

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Post-Concert Depression - Hwang Hyunjin

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 2,629

Requested: kinda on twt

“What’s wrong, angel? You never experienced telepathy before?”

"This is exactly how it should be... You looking up at me from your place on the floor. Don't you agree, babygirl? Are you a demon's whore?" You shouldn't be surprised that he can tell what you're thinking, he's a demon after all, but it still doesn't stop the small jump of shock you make at the sound of his sensual voice echoing within your head once again. You make a move to respond to him, your lips parted to give him a response but you're still reeling from the shock of the situation. Hwang Hyunjin, the demon, had you in a private telepathic link with him. Showing you all his sinful thoughts of you, showing you all the promises he was capable of fulfilling.

"Y-yes," you manage to croak out through the shock. Your voice can barely be heard to yourself, but Hyunjin's heightened senses catch it with no problem.

"'Yes' what?" He's quick to demand, his tone authoritative and waiting on edge for you to hand him the reigns, give him full control over every inch of you.

"Back alley, 15 minutes after the end."

"Don't sorry, angel. I'll make your post-concert depression go away."

#kpop smut #stray kids smut #supernatural skz au #supernatural skz #demon hyunjin #demon hyunjin au #hyunjin smut #hwang Hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin fanfic #stray kids fanfic #demon stray kids au #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader smut #hwang hyunjin x reader smut

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