#usually these days if i get too much in a tether mood that i can't do much else

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen act with their writer s/o

requested by anon ^^

masterlist

seungcheol

he is begging. he is on his knees BEGGING you to pls let him buy you a new laptop because the one you use is literally on its last legs and makes ominous sputtering n whirring sounds like a dying cat stuck in a vent every time you start it up. you don't let him tho bc “no cheol the memories :(((“ cuz you've had it for years but he is nearing the end of his tether and who knows. in a few days ur laptop may mysteriously disappear forever and you'll be forced to let him buy a new one

jeonghan

he's like the pet cat you don't own who likes to slink into the room and make inquisitive noises as he watches you work. drapes himself over your shoulders and makes distressed huffs when you try to dislodge him. he's never usually noticeably clingy, but when you try to write, the clinginess always springs out and you can't go five minutes without jeonghan poking his head into the room to check up on you and see what you're up to

joshua

your biggest fan. buys every single novel you write, puts on his glasses, and reads them very seriously in one go on the very evening it's released with the lamp on beside him. he looks so serious every time, but he'll always peer at you over his glasses and then give you a big grin, telling you how much he loves it. gets you to sign a copy for him and brags to everyone he knows that he has your signed novels with special messages just for him that no one else can have

junhui

he's your personal general knowledge bank. when you're searching up obscure things and slowly losing hope on finding an answer, just ask junhui and he'll either a) know the answer or b) knows someone who knows someone else who knows someone else else who knows the answer. don't ask him how to spell words tho bc he's like. hopelessly bad. blinks at you going “what's an [insert word]” before you give up and google it yourself

hoshi

alwaysssss wants to know what you're working on right now. gets all whiny when you get possessive of your work and refuse to show him before it's finished bc come on, it's surely perfect already, why are you trying to hide it from him?? loves helping you do, like, the non writing stuff. writing out plot? nooo. building fantasy maps, figuring out political systems, getting lost on a tangent on figuring out the price of beans in the 1800s? hell yeah sign him up!!! 

wonwoo

knows all the grammar rules in the world. you can ask him stuff like “hey wonwoo can i put a comma here or no” and he'll amble over to peer over your shoulder and tell you whether you can or cannot, in fact, put a comma there. helps you curate all your writing playlists for the different moods you have. gently reminds you to get back to writing whenever you end up scrolling on instagram for too long

woozi

you're even more of a workaholic than he is when in the zone, so he gets to realise how unhealthy it is to be sat in front of a computer for hours straight with no break. you get to act as each other's “let's act like a normal human being now” reminders, depending on which of you is going through a work fixation. you guys both go on runs together in the mornings even though it kills you bc at least it gets both of yo brains kickstarted to spend a day being all creative in ur respective fields

minghao

you value his opinion above anyone else's. above your beta reader's, above your agent's, even above your editor's bc those are more like advice, not opinions. but knowing that minghao likes your work, and knowing which parts in particular he really likes, is so important to you because ultimately, you want the person you love to also love the things that you create. 

mingyu

brings up the fact that you're a writer in every conversation he has with anyone ever. “oh my god look, this menu has writing on it. speaking of writing, my s/o writes actual books as a job!!!!”. your agent made him sign a contract similar to an NDA bc he just keeps yapping about your books even when they haven't been released yet. loves the noises you make whilst you're writing. thinks it's the cutest thing ever when you make overjoyed “AHA!!” sounds when you finally realise what the plot is doing

dokyeom

more than willing to be your rubber duck and let you talk at him until u figure out your own plot holes. he could be in his room scrolling on his phone but the minute you call for him, he's leaping up and bounding over to you and pulling up a chair in an instant, more than willing to let you bounce ideas off him. sits there doing nothing but looking all pretty as you talk at him and work out the tangle you've gotten yourself into. beams and gives you a big kiss when you manage to figure it all out. 

seungkwan

he buys you a biiiig wheely whiteboard and a bunch of coloured board pens to help you plot your novels. when you get stuck, he comes over and stares at the board with his hands on his hips, very gravely considering your dilemma and what would be the best way to get you out of it. you two talk about plot holes like it's the most serious thing in the world and he just nods like a proud father once you both find a solution

vernon

at this point he's like. a professional tea and coffee and biscuits supplier due to the amount of snack runs he does for you. has walked in on you lying face down on the floor during a meltdown one too many times to bat an eye anymore. also great at helping you block out actions during scenes like. he's the perfect doll. lets you maneuver him into the weirdest positions in the world with zero complaints. he just loves helping you however he can, really. 

chan

reads through your drafts whilst you're in the middle of writing, accidentally gets hooked and is begging you every day to finish the novel bc he really wants to know what happens next. he's the best at spotting inconsistencies and plot holes in ur writing so before you even send it off to your beta reader, he gets to have his hands on the manuscript to check for any changes needed. also bc he needs to read the ending asap otherwise he'll probably combust. 

request guidelines

reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @kikohao @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @sea-moon-star @nonononranghaee @isabellah29 @mcu-incorrect @hrts4hanniehae @suraandsugar @pan-de-seungcheol @dokyeomkyeom @melodicrabbit @bananabubble

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Angry Conversations

This is a little bit of a darker conversation

This was requested by an Anon so I hope that it comes out the way you thought of!

Now, before we get into it

If something like this has happened to you, or something similar in your life, just know that you are not alone, and there are others in life who love and care for you.

If you are in a situation like this

Please

call all the hotlines you may feel you need. Do not hesitate to reach out for help. It is okay to do so, and those who are good people, the ones you need to pay attention to, are not going to judge you

Warnings: Angst, violence and cursing, arthur being a stand up guy, drinking/alcoholism

tags: @mrsarthurmorgan7​ @kieropal​ @6kaja9​ @cantchoosejust1​ @photo1030​ 

You sighed as you placed your hands on your hips and looked at the house in front of you

It'd had been a few years since you'd been there, since you'd actually seen the place, let alone stepped foot on the front porch.

You took a deep breath, and reached over your shoulder to touch the hand that'd landed there just seconds before.

"It'll be alright Darlin'. I promise you, and 'sides, if it ain't I'm here, and your dad's just gonna have to deal with it."

You swallow and look up to your wonderful Husband.

Arthur smiles back at you, showing off those crooked pearly whites, chipped tooth and all, and you took a moment to take in his whole face.

The scar on his chin, the blue-green oceanic color of his eyes, the stubble littered across his face.

He was just so handsome, and calming, and kind, there was too much to say anything about him, too much to describe so easily.

He was your rock, for the lack of a better term. He always kept you tethered, kept you stable.

He was far too loving for what you would have expected, but that's what you loved about him so dearly.

He was so different, in comparison to your father.

You father....

He wasn't....

It was hard to describe really. How do you describe someone that you love but hate at the same time?

Your father was so different than you, his personality was almost the complete opposite to yours, it made so many...problems. Caused so many fights that you didn't actually want.

He was just...

Without grace, the easiest way to describe him was that he was simply an asshole.

Arthur had told you himself, the day after you'd introduced the two of them to each other, simply because you felt you had to.

He'd looked you in the eyes and given you a rather confused look as he spoke to you.

"You're such a kind-hearted and fun lovin' woman, I just can't see how you came outta that guys sack, he's full of nothin' but spite and shit."

Which wasn't a very kind way of explaining the way you felt or how he acted towards you, but in all fairness, it was a fairly accurate depiction.

Quietly placing Arthur's hand in your own you headed towards the door and opened it up, hoping that maybe this visit might end up a little different than the many others had been.

Usually every time you came to see him it ended in a verbal fight, the two of you never got along, but you were trying, you really were.

But in order for this to work....he had to try too, it wasn't a one way street.

Maybe you'd be lucky and he'd be in a good mood.

Unfortunately it didn't seem like that'd be the case.

The moment you opened the door you were hit with the smell of Whiskey, it was only noon.

Trying not to make your disappointment too well known to your father, wherever he was, you quietly close the door behind you and Arthur and call out a hello.

"Y/N!" You're fathers voice is as you remembered it for the majority of your childhood, slurred and slow.

With your nerves beginning to shoot up you look up to Arthur's face again, and hope that he can calm you a little.

He nods at you and smiles, gesturing for you to go into the living room where the voice had come from.

He'd been so adamant about you trying to fix things up with your father, trying to get closer to him, just as you'd been, but it seemed that he was even more pressed about it than you were.

You knew why, he'd never been close to his biological dad, but he was with his adoptive dad's, and he wanted you to have the chance to be as close to your biological father as you could, considering he never had the chance to be, and he loved you so dearly that he just couldn't give up on it yet.

With Arthur following closely behind, his hand holding yours you head into the living room where your father sit on a recliner in the corner of a room, a bottle in his hand and a few scattered on the floor near him.

"Hi dad." You muster out. "How...um..How are you?"

"Why are you talkin' to me like I'm some kinda stranger girl? I raised you didn't I? And who the hell is this guy?"

He gestures to Arthur, and even he looses that upbeat demeanor of his, confused. He's met your father a multitude of times.

Arthur's been drunk, he has, but he's never been drunk enough to forget meeting someone who'd be as important as a son-in-law.

"Dad, that's Arthur, my husband," You hold up your hand with your ring sitting snuggly on your ring finger. "We've been married for three years now, you've met him more than a few times, he's been over for dinner, was with us on Thanksgiving, and Christmas, multiple times."

You swallow. "He's with me almost every single time I come to see you, he has been since we've dated, you've met him like a hundred times."  

You blink watching as your dad takes another swig of the drink in his hand and looks between you and Arthur, who'd gently wrapped his arm around your waist in an attempt to try and calm your nerves.

"I ain't never met him in my life." Your father spits. "He looks like he's nothin' but some kinda deadbeat. Get your damn hand off her!"

You stare at him with wide eyes and then gently place a hand on Arthur's chest.

"Stop it!" You huff. "You know Arthur, you've met him multiple times, and don't you DARE say anything like that again. Arthur is a good man, you know that, you'd remember that if you weren't so goddamn piss drunk in the middle of the day!"

"Are you talkin' back to me little girl?" Your father pushes himself off the chair and stares at you, despite being drunk he's not stumbling, and he's able to stand to his full height, just about the same as Arthur, if not an inch taller.

"Dad, I'm not gonna let you sit there and say stuff about Arthur like that, especially not when you aren't even sober enough to remember who he is! He is not a deadbeat! He's the absolute opposite of that, he's amazing, he's a fantastic man, who'd do anything to make me happy. I will not stand to hear you call him that again."

"What's he done that's better than what I've done for you?" Your father nearly yells.

"Everything!" You swallow. "He's been there, he loves me, he's nothing but a good man. He's everything I've ever wanted, ever needed in life, and you? You've done nothing but give me things to worry about!"

You take a deep breath.

"You've made me worry about you and how you're doing for the entirety of my life! An eight year old shouldn't have to sit here and worry about if her dad has alcohol poisoning, or whether you fell asleep on your back or on your side, or on your stomach."

You look him in the eyes.

"You have been nothing but an alcoholic my entire life, nothing but a deadbeat, like you seem to think Arthur is, though I see him leave for work every single morning, and come home every single night to do more chores and all the while he manages to ask how I'm doing, ask if I need something, kiss me, tell me how much he loves me, and yet, you can't even call and see how I am."

"Probably because you can't see straight enough to dial the damn number!" You finish, tears starting to brim at your eyes.

You loved your father deeply, you did, and you wanted to be there with him, you wanted to have a better relationship with him, but you would NOT let him talk about Arthur like that. You wouldn't.

"Him!?" Your father points to Arthur who gently squeezes your waist, trying to remind you that he's there for you.

"He ain't done nothin' for you, I'm the one who raised you, I'm the one who's taken care of you, I am your father, and you're gonna choose this jackass over me? Your flesh and blood?!"

"Yes!" You're nearly yelling at the top of your lungs now. "I'd choose him everyday of the week over you, he's here, he's mentally here, for me all the time, he can talk to me, he loves me and I love him, and while I love you dad, I just can't....I cannot let you treat me the way you've been treating me my whole life."

You swallow.

"You haven't been there for me my whole life. I'd come home from school and I used to have to clean up your goddamn alcohol bottles that were littered around the house because if I didn't we'd drown in the things!"

"You're such an ungrateful little brat!" He takes a step forwards and he grabs the collar of your shirt, ripping you out of Arthur's grip. "I took care of you your whole life, you had it good here you little shit, you could have been doing way worse than cleaning up my bottles!"

"I made the whole family dinner!" You spit out. "With mom gone you never made them for us because you were too drunk to do it! I didn't have a dad growing up because you weren't him!"

You watch as your father raises his other hand, and you wince, preparing for his hand to make impact on your face and when you close your eyes you hear the loud SMACK of skin against skin, but don't feel the sting against your cheek.

You open your eyes only to see Arthur's wide arm covering the area where your father had aimed.

He'd rolled up his sleeves, exposing his skin, and that slap was loud, you knew his skin was stinging.

You feel as Arthur takes you out of your father's grip and moves you behind him.

"Mr. L/N, you will not, hit Y/N, not in front of me, and not when I ain't around neither." Arthur takes a breath. "You shouldn't have even grabbed her by the collar, now you and I do have problems."

He shakes his arms out and then rolls his sleeves down, quietly buttoning the wrists.

"You can talk shit about me all day, call me a deadbeat, call me a jackass, a sonofabitch, a dickhead, a nobody, I don't give a shit. But I will not sit here and let you talk about Y/N like this."

He looks at your father, his stare unwavering, a slight grimace covering his face.

"She is a better person than you will ever be, and she practically raised herself because you've never been there. I have been tryin' and tryin' to get her to get a better relationship with you, hopefully get to be on good terms with you, because havin' her father in her life is important, but from what I've just seen?"

Arthur snorts.

"It ain't happenin' and I ain't gonna let you treat her like this. She ain't comin' back here, especially not without me, I ain't gonna let you hit her."

He cracks his knuckles and shakes out his wrist.

"With that bein' said, I ain't never said I couldn't hit you."

And with that he delivers a punch to your father's jaw and you listen as his knuckles connect with a satisfying thud.

You father stumbles and falls back onto the chair he'd been sitting in, and grabs his jaw, as he screams.

"You fucking Bitch! Get your goddamn dog outta here, I don't wanna see you ever again!"

You feel tears fall from your face at his words.

He was a horrible man, but you couldn't help but feel something for him, he was your father, and those words cut deep.

Really deep.

You quietly place a hand on Arthur's arm and begin to pull him towards the front door.

He obligies, seeing how upset you are, and before you know it you're no longer in the house you grew up in.

As you reach the car you realize you're sobbing and Arthur grabs your arm before you can actually open the door.

"Sweetheart, look at me."

You don't want him to see the tears, and you do your best to do the opposite of his request, looking at your feet against the gravel below them.

"Darlin'." He gently places a crooked pointer finger under your chin and nudges your head upwards to look at him. His face falls as he sees the tears staining your cheeks.

"I know, that ain't how you wanted that to go, I know. I didn't want it to go that way either."

"I just...Arthur...I..." You stop a moment, swallowing, trying to get your thoughts in order.

"Arthur, I know he's a horrible man, I know he's...I know that he isn't someone I should feel bad for losing, but......Arthur he's my father...I...he...I can't....How am I supposed to not see him ever again?"

"Aw, Princess." He leans close and kisses your forehead, before pulling you into a hug, moving his hands over your lower back.

"It ain't easy, I know. You know what my bio dad was like. It ain't easy to leave 'em behind. Even if they're dicks."

"I just...he was there my whole life Arthur. What am I supposed to do?"

"You got me Darlin'." He takes a deep breath. "You got me and you know that Hosea loves ya, and Dutch. I know they're Father-in-laws and it ain't the same, I know that, but we're here for ya, I'm always gonna love you, you know that."

"I know you will, and I you." You look up at him and quietly kiss his lips.

He pulls away after a moment and looks back to your house.

"You know if you hadn't been there I would have done more than punch him." He nearly whispers. "Only reason he ain't a pulp is cause a you."

"Thank you for protecting me." You mumble, "but please don't do something you'll regret."

"Course not, I ain't gonna do somethin' that'll land me in jail. I promise."

"Is your arm okay? I know he's got a hard swing..."

Arthur's face darkens a little at the idea that you'd felt the sting before but shakes off the feeling.

"It's fine, it'll be a little red, but I'll be alright, I'd rather it be my arm than your face, the bastard."

You nod and quietly wiped your face with your palm.

"I guess we need to get going home right? Anywhere away from here, preferably."

"Of course Darlin', anywhere, we can stop at that restaurant you like so much too before we go home."

"Thank you Arthur, sometimes I feel like I don't deserve you."

"Bullshit, if anything you deserve better, now, get that hot ass of yours in the car and let's get goin' that place'll be packed by the time we get there."

"Right."

You smile then, watching as Arthur makes his way to the drivers side door, and you really think about how lucky you are.

Your father might be a worthless piece of shit, but you got a husband who was more than what you needed in your life.

Even without a father figure to guide you, you had him.

He was kind, sweet, and patient, and he would give you the world if you let him.

Arthur was all you needed in life.

He was the perfect husband, and today's events just showed that he really was your knight in shining armor.

[cheswirls]

hhhhh i am thinking abt Tether sequel once again

[mytastessuck]

Gorillaz: Humanz

SHere it is, the comeback tour! I was so excited for this album, I sucked all the singles that came out before I could download the album. This album basically reminded me of the reasons I love Gorillaz. All of them. One particular reason a little too well...

Okay, let's get the elephant out of the room. This album is a bit controversial among the community for playing a little too hard to one of Gorillaz' strengths: showcasing cool artists. There are more than a few tracks where Damon doesn't even show up. Hell, my favorite track doesn't even have it on him. Me, I honestly don't care about that as long as I get to hear good music but for the rest of you die hard Gorillaz fans? Just think of this as a compilation album like NOW That's What I Call Alternative/Indie Hip-Hop/R&B/Electronica/Pop.

See? Rolls off the tongue. Now let's get started.

1. Intro: I Switched My Robot Off

Nice. Real ominous. Gorillaz really know how to build up a presentation. Feels like you're walking through the doors of the doors to the Shrine of the Silver Monkey. Anybody remember Legends of the Hidden Temple? Were there doors on that stage? Anyway, awesome.

10/10

2. Ascension

Holy hell, Vince really knocks it out of the park on this one. Different beat, nice flow, social commentary...He was not fucking around on this track. Damon's barely on the track but Vince makes up for it with his existential rhymes and chorus back-up. Man, Gorillaz has gotta take advantage of gospel more often.

9/10

3. Strobelite

That didn't take long, did it? Anyway, this is my favorite song on the album. Peven has an incredible voice, the music psychically compels you to dance and...that's it. Sometimes, well usually with me, you just need to go with Simple Yet Awesome. Have a good voice and a good beat. This song has both and I'm pretty sure that one day, a scientist will hear this song and will be inspired by it to cure diabetes.

100/10

4. Saturn Barz

Ah, the lead single from the album. Remember the 360 house, everyone? Yeah, you remember. Glad to have Gorillaz welcome back Reggae into their line-up with Popcaan manning the helms. He and Damon tag-team the eardrums with the power of dread as the instrumentation makes you feel like you're in a haunted house. Welcome back, guys.

25/10

5. Momentz

WELCOME BACK, GUYS! De La Soul returns to say some real shit about time and how you should, respect and stuff. Seriously, awesome track. Kicks so much ass and you can even dance to it as you wonder if this MOMENT will be one of the last times when you feel really happy. Nice...

9/10

6. Interlude: The Non-Conformist Oath

Hey, Steve Martin! I like to imagine a bunch of assholes listening to this and...just not getting it. Not us though. We get it. We're smart. Smarter than those guys...

10/10

7. Submission

This song had to grow on me but years after I got the album and after I learned to appreciate Danny Brown a little more like all humans should, this song became one of my favorites off the album. Don't worry Kelela, he doesn't carry the whole song. Her voice is so beautiful that it can calm a charging rhino or a coked-up Connor McGregor. These make the song a lot classier than it had any right being.

90/10

8. Charger

She's beauty, she's Grace...she's also Jones. Man, I haven't heard from this woman since Corporate Cannibal and she has clearly been keeping up practice. God, how can a woman's laughter both scare and arouse me? Damon's no slouch on this track either, singing about the monster that keeps us all tethered: the charger. I kid, I kid. Hey, did Damon really get a boner on stage when he sung this or are you guys messing with me? Message me if you know.

9/10

9. Interlude: Elevator Going Up

On a recent trip, I tried to go up the elevator but it was card-activated so a desk lady had to help me. That's it.

8/10

10. Andromeda

Damon has to do the heavy lifting here and his muscles have not completely wasted away from lack of use. He tells us to take in our heart and you know what? I did. I took this song directly in my heart...and my playlist.

50/10

11. Busted And Blue

Yeah, this song is a bummer. A good bummer. It's Broken's younger brother who joined the army to make his parents proud after he couldn't get into university like his older brother who managed to form a separate family with his squad and began to think that maybe he was good enough after all before his squad gets bombed and, as he lies legless dying painfully on the ground, a blue butterfly land directly on his outstretched busted hand...

Directed by Mervyn LeRoy

10/10

12. Interlude: Talk Radio

You ever wonder how we get voices in machines? I know you think it's a complicated process but I know a dude who picked up the radio in his electric fan once. Think about it.

8/10

13. Carnival

Again, this song had to grow on me but one day, while I was thinking about Gamzee for a godforsaken reason, I thought "Geez, he talks about the Dark Carnival and the Dark Carnival isn't even some of ICP's best days. What's a good song about a carnival?" Anyway, Anthony can spin a person's mind and mind around just by singing. He's wild.

80/10

14. Let Me Out

Hey, wouldn't it be funny if Mavis was Vince's mother? She's not but that would be funny as well as cool. Her and Pusha T bang on the walls of this track as they rant about the politics at the time of this song. Yeah, they're talking about Trump. That car horn can't protect you forever, you orange bastard.

9/10

15. Interlude: Penthouse

Dear Penthouse: Hi. Does anyone check in on you, just you? I'm here to say I think you're important and you provide a necessary outlet for men to brag about being perverts. At least before the Youtube comment section existed.

Thanks for everything,

mytastessuck

8/10

16. Sex Murder Party

Ooooo, this track puts me in a funky mood. Like, there's a part but there's sex there...and MURDER. So you know it's an awesome party. Kick-ass, right? I know it's kick-ass. Keep dancing, people.

11/10

17. She's My Collar

Pretty sexy song. Gotta love people vauging about being used in a song. That's why we love Offspring, that's why we love Damon on his knees onstage. Hey, there was a post that said Noodle wrote this song about her girlfriend. That was an excellent post. Well done.

9/10

18. Interlude: The Elephant

I SAID GET OUT OF HERE, YOU BASTARD!

8/10

19. Hallelujah Money

Ah, the technical first single. Remember when they said that they weren't going to put this song on the album? Anyway, this is exactly the song we needed after The Incident occurred. Benjamin manages to calm down an entire populace while Damon just fearfully wonders what our future will be like...and he's in the UK. This song is one long terrifying lullaby to an entire country...until the end, anyway.

75/10

20. We Got The Power

A great way to remind listeners that no matter what's happening, no matter who's in charge, we have the power change everything. An excellent message for people who were still recovering from The Incident.

10/10

21. Interlude: New World

Okay, the bonus tracks. Should be nothing special here, right? Just some B-sides and I've never shown favoritism towards B-sides, right?

8/10

22. The Apprentice

A nice song from the same Rag n' Bone Man who brought us "Human". Zebra manages to lay down some nice rhymes as Ray BLK backs them both up with the force of her voice. These guys should form a team with how well they work together. Oh, they should make a virtual band! All they need to do is find an artist...

9/10

23. Halfway To The Halfway House

A very nice song if a bit overshadowed by the others on the album. Still, Peven can't be beat when it comes to crooning and he raises a song from a solid C to a B.

8/10

24. Out of Body

This song had to grow on me also but when it did...lord, this song is weird. Hypnotic suggestions, telephone tones, the song starts then Zebra jumps in to help then who is this person?! Why are people applauding?! Who are you people?! Why are there so many crows gathering outside my house?!

60/10

25. Ticker Tape

Well well well, look who's back. Damon returns with his old friend Kali to join the accuser of the vain Carly Simon to beg us to stay on the album. Sorry Damon, but I got places to do and people to go. There's nothing you can do to convince me to stick around after how long this album already is.

9/10

26. Circle of Friendz

Huh. Seems like a riot is going on. Weird for Gorillaz to get this real. What, this guy is just going to keep saying Circle of Friendz again and again? Is this supposed to affect me? Get real. It'll take a lot more than a nice voice and implications to...

To...

...

...Maybe I should listen to the album again.

11/10

Album score: 25/10

Damn, that took a while. Shouldn't be the case next week when we cover The Now Now. See you then!

[kbstories]

And with this third chapter, the fic is complete!

Only Lost The Night

Tags: Recovery, First Kiss, Fishing (non-graphic)

No additional spoilers apply.

>>Read on AO3

<<First Chapter

<<Second Chapter

The coffee comes out of the pot piping hot, quickly warming his mug and filling the morning air with its scent.

Arthur downs it in big gulps, wincing as it burns down his throat. The bad taste in his mouth is gone, though, and his queasy stomach settles with something to digest. The cold sweat he wakes up in every morning, or the tremor in his hands, well – recovery, as it turns out, is one tough son of a bitch, much more so when your alcohol supply is out of reach.

A sigh worms its way out his mouth, clouding white in front of him. There's precious little for him to do in camp – he can barely raise his left arm higher than chest height without pulling some wound or other – and most of the gang's inner workings come along well without his input.

This must be the longest Arthur's been off duty in... a while. It's disorienting, to say the least.

It doesn't help that, additionally to Miss Grimshaw's care – a duty she caries out with a gruff undertone in her voice but an indulgent glint in her eyes –, Charles has been watching him like a hawk, grumbling about his hard work going to waste otherwise.

Arthur would be the first to admit that drinking himself into a stupor a week into his mandatory bedrest was not his brightest moment. It definitely beat sitting on his ass all day long, doing fuck-all to earn his keep.

At this rate, he'll end up going to the dogs like Uncle. Isn't that a fun thought to entertain?

Even now he can feel the man's gaze on him, all the way across camp. Arthur raises his mug in the general direction of Charles's usual post, and plants himself on one of the logs surrounding the camp fire. See, I can be good, too.

A lazy salute is his meagre reward. Arthur shakes his head, only noticing the smile on his own face when he goes to light a cigarette. Drawing deep, he exhales slowly, finding himself enjoying the bite of nicotine on his tongue instead of merely going through the motions.

Maybe he can ask Hosea for one of them crime novels he's been so involved with lately. How was the author called again? Arthur flicks the excess ash to the ground, chasing the name on the tip of his tongue. Nope, gone. Never been his strongest suit, books, but Jack's seems interested too as of late, and with how things have been, the boy deserves some hero's tale or other to dream of.

… not one of Hosea's, then. God knows the kid sees enough blood and death as is.

Gaze lost in the fire and with nowhere else to go, Arthur's thoughts drift like smoke in the wind. To Jack, and how somewhere in this mess, he became Uncle Arthur to him. About that boy Kieran, so desperate for somewhere to belong it's painful to watch at times, and John, who had it all and disappeared who-knows-where all the same. Dutch and Hosea and that ever-shifting dream they keep chasing.

And yet his fingers itch for... something more, something to touch, to hold on to, like a pen or a gun or–

A genuine connection, to tether his very being to something bigger than himself. What if, Arthur thinks.

What if, what if.

He blows another puff into the sky and watches it disappear into nothingness.

*

“Okay. Hunting. Nothin' fancy, just a doe or two. Need practice with that bow, right? Takes a lifetime to master, an' all that–”

“No.”

“Oh for... One ride. To– to the general store in Rhodes, or, uh, to the tree line and back. A glimpse at the fields.”

Charles hitches his elbow on his knee, hand under his chin. “No”, he repeats, the low, serious timbre of his voice crumbling with veiled amusement. A searching gaze is leveled on Arthur, the kind to reveal every weakness hiding under his skin.

“Is that what it takes, Morgan? Two weeks in camp?”

“Ain't beggin' yet”, Arthur mumbles under his breath and throws Charles an unhappy look – Charles, who is currently sitting cross-legged on his saddle stand, confident as a king and entitled like one, too. Behind him, Dyani sniffs Charles's hair and pushes it around with her nose, rubbing his shoulder in the process.

It took Arthur weeks of constant work (and treats) to get the hang of the Andalusian's fickle temper and here they are, chummy like old friends. Traitors, the lot of them. Arthur's shoulders slump in defeat.

“Fine, have it your way.”

The statement isn't immediately followed by action, however. The mere thought of wasting more hours walking a line into the dirt, watching people come and go and feeling their sympathetic eyes on him is revolting to an almost physical degree. Arthur stares at his cot, just a few feet away, and can't bring himself to move.

“Arthur.”

Just his name, without pity. He closes his eyes and rubs his neck, staring at his boots as he struggles to find the right words.

“Just feelin' useless, is all. Can't do nothin' for weeks now an' with the O'Driscolls and whoever else breathin' down our necks... Ain't the man I am, Charles. To sit around an' wait for things to happen.”

A rustle of movement makes him glance up. Charles hops to his feet, easy as anything, and Arthur barely registers he's throwing something until he's grabbed it. A fishing rod? Arthur tilts his head with a frown.

“But you–”

“Teach me”, Charles says simply, and all Arthur can do is shut his mouth and nod, trying (and failing) to ignore how warm his chest feels.

*

Little by little, the smooth lines of graphite connect, fill in blank space, spill over the shadowed fold between the pages and beyond.

The gentle rocking of the boat, the rhythmic lapping of water against lacquered wood, the sting of a wound, still healing – it all fades into the background, there but muted as his attention is bracketed by the edges of his journal.

With the sun warming his back, Arthur draws.

In front of him sits Charles, leaning back just as he is, feet propped up against the boat's curved hull. Rod and line in place, his eyes are alert and search the surface of the lake for any movement, the very picture of endless patience. The breeze plays with a loose strand of his hair before he reaches up and tucks it away.

Charles fishes, and Arthur draws... him.

(Arthur's sketch of Charles by @ISpitznagel)

His shoulder doesn't allow him to sit as he usually does, legs folded close to his chest and journal balanced on his knees, angled away so nobody can see what he's working on. The members of the gang quickly learned that whoever tries is more likely to catch a fist to the jaw than a glimpse at his sketches. What is to others a collection of landscapes and animals and the odd person, to Arthur, well...

Things in his life don't have the best relationship with permanence, as it were. He'd rather commit what he can to paper before they inevitably disappear too.

Charles asks later, “What do you think of when you draw?”, when the light has grown too weak to keep going and Arthur reached for his pack of cigs to occupy his hands instead. Arthur, who drew in his lap instead of on his knees and knows that Charles saw.

He finds he doesn't mind one bit.

“Depends”, he mutters, stretching his legs out as far as the narrow boat allows, bumping against Charles's hip. “Sometimes nothin', sometimes somethin' I can't put words to just yet. Just keepin' track of things, in my own way. Makes 'em less unfathomable, if I may borrow one of them fancy terms.”

Charles snorts, “You may”, his grin there and gone in a flash. He's set aside the fishing rod – with the bucket they brought along filled to the brim with fish, there wouldn't be anywhere to put them anyways –, merely watching Arthur smoke now.

“Never was much the artistic type, myself. Looks all a bit like magic to me.”

Arthur grins back, offering him a cig of his own. Charles shrugs and takes one out of the box, leaning close to the match Arthur lights for him; his face is momentarily lit by its flaring tip, his eyes reflecting the embers' glow.

Their fingers brush and Arthur hums, exhales another smoke-filled breath into the night sky.

“Well I'd show you how, Charles, but if you take to it as quickly as fishin', what unique skills would that leave me with?”

Charles shrugs. “I can think of some”, he counters easily, another step in this dance of theirs that they slip into on nights like these. Teasing words wrapped around tender spots and soft-spoken secrets. Arthur takes the compliment for what it is, shaking his head fondly.

They smoke. Arthur tells Charles of the time he went fishing with Jack, months ago now; how hard it had been for the kid to focus on the fish, and less so on picking flowers.

“Seems the creative sort, you know? Better to let 'em make things. Kid's too young for all this crap we keep puttin' him through.”

“Does Marston know, though?” Charles sighs. “Some days it seems to me like you're more of a father to that boy than he is.”

Arthur frowns, rubs at his chest and that dull ache that, years later, is still there.

“Well, in some ways... Can't up and leave for a year an' expect things to remain the same, I guess. But John cares, or at least I think he does.” A pause. “'cause that's the thing, ain't it? Dutch taught us to give a shit 'bout family an' whatnot but, John an' I, we ain't got the same charisma he does. 's one of those things that's easier said than done.”

For a while, Charles says nothing. Just sits and smokes, looking into the distance. Turning some thought or other in his head, Arthur assumes. Eventually: “Guess you're right. Just doesn't feel good, seeing a kid on the run. Too much of that, as of late.”

“Ain't that the truth”, Arthur nods, righting himself to shake off some of the somber mood weighing on his shoulders. Smirking, he nudges Charles's knee with his own. “Just glad he stuck by that when them O'Driscolls got me. Didn't know I was even worthy of the best damn rescue squad we got.”

Charles's eyes snap to his then, narrowing a fraction. “Huh?”

“Dutch, I mean. An' you.”

“Oh.” That peculiar expression vanishes, Charles's face all-too-neutral. “Guess so”, he repeats, and Arthur draws back a little.

“Did I, uh–“ Glancing down, Arthur fiddles with the burned-out stub, staining his fingers with ash. “Didn't mean no offense, Charles. Been complainin' a lot but I wouldn't be here at all without you. Just wanted to let you know, 'm takin' none of that for granted.”

Suddenly Charles's hand is there, giving Arthur's a gentle squeeze. “Hey. That's not what I meant. Was just somewhere else, there.”

Automatically, Arthur squeezes back.

“Point still stands. Thank you.”

A quiet chuckle reels him back in, as it always does these days, “I'd do it again in a heartbeat, you know that”, and Arthur can't not look up at those words, searching his expression for– What, exactly?

What if, what if. The distance is gone, Charles's gaze warming further as Arthur's thumb brushes over the scarred back of his hand, feeling the calm rhythm of his pulse against his.

“What are we doing, Charles?”

The question is soft, said without any idea where it's headed: a road untraveled, missing from every map yet waiting to be explored.

Charles blinks, taken off guard. He opens his mouth, hesitates, admits, “Whatever you want us to”, sounding just as vulnerable as Arthur feels.

A split-second decision: Arthur tugs, Charles follows, catching himself against the boat. “Arthur”, he whispers, close enough Arthur can feel his breath on his face.

Arthur rasps, “Tell me to stop”, but Charles never does; he leans in, interlacing their fingers in the same moment their lips meet, tentatively – Arthur's eyes flutter shut, his fingers find the collar of Charles's shirt blindly, pull him ever-closer as he melts into it.

They barely part between one kiss and the next; Arthur murmurs Charles's name with the little breath he can catch, and “Fuck”, as Charles's tongue pushes into his mouth and he tastes smoke. His blood sings, throbbing in his veins in a dizzying rush, all the more prominent when Charles's thigh slides between his, caging him in–

The white-hot flash of pain comes so unexpected Arthur gasps, twisting his shoulder away from the pressure. Charles flinches, leans back, “Shit, sorry”, he pants out, mouth spit-slick and eyes wide.

Arthur can barely hear it over how loud his heart is, drumming away in his chest– “'m okay”, he says because Charles looks like he needs to hear it, but he doesn't let go, not yet.

“Come back. Please?”

Charles sways like he's drunk, nods – presses his forehead against Arthur's, noses brushing, but his tone is cautious, now. “We– This is not wise. You need time to heal.”

Arthur laughs, more than a little husky. “Do I look like I care about wise right now? Fuck, Charles.”

Charles's voice isn't faring much better; he hums a low “mmhm” before he kisses Arthur again, fleetingly. “Fuck me, indeed. I swear I had pure intentions with this.”

“You hate fishing. Dunno why you tried to convince me otherwise.”

“... I do, sorry.”

They share a smile, and Arthur shakes his head, tracing the curve of Charles's lips with his thumb.

“I don't mind. I prefer the alternative, too.”

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