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#am i going to draw every lyric from this song for john?

my-deer-friend · 1 month

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To the dark I said, "Pour,"

And forgot to say, "When."

From Blossoms by the inimitable Amazing Devil.

#am i going to draw every lyric from this song for john?#maybe so #john laurens #historical john laurens #amrev #my art #the amazing devil #blossoms #Spotify

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wickedlittlewordsmith · 1 year

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Honey, it feels like I’ve sent you countless amount of the same asks, but maybe tumbler just ate them. But anyways, if you allow me…

any thoughts on punk!steve’s mixtape?

I imagine that he would listen to something like The Smiths, maybe The Ramones (Poison Heart and Rock’n’Roll Highschool), maybe Blondie. Maybe even Elton John (Rocket Man because lines: "and I think it's gonna be a long, long time/'til touchdown brings me 'round again to find/I'm not the man they think I am at home” and lines from I’m Still Standing: "looking like I’m true survivor/feelin’ like a little kid" suit him perfectly). Maybe he would also listen to The Feminine Complex and The Doors or even Janis Joplin.

To be honest, I feel a little embarrassed… and I hope you don’t mind me sharing this.

And I would really appreciate to know what you’re imagining when it goes about steve’s new music preferences.

Oh man, oh man, oh man. I love being able to talk music, especially punk music.

Alright so!

Let’s start with a thing: this is all going to be specific to my take on Punk!Steve. Everyone’s got different interpretations and flavors, and admittedly I draw heavily on the SoCal punk scene of the ‘70s and ‘80s bc I’m a SoCal baby

So!

I definitely see Steve starting out with the more “mainstream” punk bands. So bands like the Sex Pistols, the Ramones, and all that jazz is how he gets his foot in the door. Eventually he branches out from there, though. Bad brain, Circle Jerks, Germs, Rhino 39, Wated Youth, Bad Religion (they’d eventually become more well-known, but I’m talking beginning of Punk!Steve), The Offspring once they’re formed, and so much more. Like, he really does enjoy the wide spectrum of punk music, but there’s a fondness for hardcore punk

He absolutely vibes with Siouxsie and the Banshees, and no one can convince me otherwise.

Also! Here’s a random fun fact: every title of the different works & the title of the series as a whole is taken from different Bad Religion lyrics, specifically their 1982 album How Could Hell Be Any Worse?

(Fun fact #2 that has nothing to do with the series and everything to do with Bad Religion: the title of that album eventually becomes a line in their song “Los Angeles is Burning,” which just so happens to be one of my all-time favorite songs and definitely my favorite Bad Religion song)

#☩│redd speaks #ibellcipem #punk steve harrington #gonna swallow you whole #lmao most of the bands I mentioned here are from socal & i'm not sorry at all #alright time to get back to writing this series

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thoughts-on-music-tm · 1 year

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Top 10 Songs of 2022!!!!

2022 is over, and that means it's time for year-end list!!! Without further ado, here are the 10 best songs of 2022!

You can find a spotify playlist with each song on it here.

Honorable Mentions: Prester John – Animal Collective Hypothermic – Goodnight, Texas God Is a Circle – Yves Tumor

10. That's Where I Am - Maggie Rogers Genre: Pop, with a hint of Indie rock Vibe: A bright and sunny morning Maggie Rogers combines a beautiful yearning with an unending hope to make the romance she describes feel almost inevitable. Every time she sings, "It all works out in the end," it starts to sound less like a prediction and more like a manifestation.

9. Curse of the Blackened Eye - Orville Peck Genre: Cowboy Country Vibe: Heartbreak is a warm sensation To me, a lot of Orville Peck's music has felt like it was more about the idea of a relationship rather than an actual experience. This song, through all his usual flamboyant cowboy aesthetic, feels incredibly personal. The deep melancholy in his voice during lines like, "It ain't the letting go, it's more about the things that you take with" create a poignant sense of self reflection. This makes it his most personal song and also his most universally relatable.

8. Go Slow – Jordana Genre: Bedroom Pop (Though any room with a nice couch will do) Vibe: Chill vibes all the way down 🐢 If self-care was a song. It's as much about avoiding responsibility as it is about realizing the stress-inducing things we're told are vital are so rarely as required as they seem. A deadline missed here or there and a day off now and then won't be the end of the world - but that break may mean the world to you.

7. That's Our Lamp – Mitski Genre: Ethereal Indie Pop Vibe: Happy memories for when it's over When I first heard The Sound by The 1975, I misheard the following lyrics "I said that I love you / What does it matter if *[I like you too]?" (The actual line is "What does it matter if I lie to you"). I thought this was an interesting lyrical idea to explore: that loving someone and liking someone are different things, and one does not necessarily imply the other. To be honest, I was a little disappointed to learn I had misheard the lyric. Then Mitski dropped That's Our Lamp, a fantastic, joyful closer to her album full of her usual brand of heartbreak, and in it is this line:

You say you love me, I believe you do But I walk down and up and down And up and down this street 'Cause you just don't like me, Not like you used to

And Mitski uses this idea to its full potential, as a beautiful way to explore an ending relationship.

6. Every Heart Is True - Little Mazarn Genre: Finely Aged Folk Vibe: A warm mug of tea on a cold day I spent a lot of this year getting into folk music; this was the song convinced me I should stay. Finding this song felt more like uncovering something that had always been there, an ethereal bit of beauty and grace nestled in a patch of freshly fallen autumn leaves 🍃. Each plucked string of the banjo, ringing chime, and ethereal word sung serves to set right the world once more.

Also, if you've never seen live folk music like this, check out a video of their live performances. One of the members plays a hand saw - like, the woodcutting tool - with a violin bow and it sounds like an acoustic theremin. You can hear it clearly at the beginning of this song, and it sounds heavenly.

5. the angel of 8th ave. - Gang of Youths Genre: Dad Alt Rock Vibe: Laying on large rocks, being warmed by the sun One musical niche I love is the recent works of older rock musicians - I’ve listened to a lot of the new Tears For Fears album and The War On Drug's album from last year recently. I find they bring a richness of wisdom that is often not present with younger musicians. Because of that, I was genuinely surprised to find out that this song was written by someone in their mid-twenties. It draws from a rich well of experience, and that brings it a depth that I rarely find in younger musicians. The song embraces the struggles of relationships between imperfect people in unfamiliar places, but it's thesis is that love is fundamentally stronger than any of that. And that's not an abstract idea - lines like "And when my old man was near to the end / You loved his broken body in the same way that I did" show the how personal and everyday acts of love are far more resilient in this song than the pain that love existed in response to.

4. Don't get the deal – beabadoobee Genre: Alt Rock Vibe: Brightly rekindled old flame Beabadoobee's effortless meshing of quiet, bedroom pop ballads with all-out alt-rock bangers make this song feel both like a peek inside a personal conversation and a joyful, public celebration. Both the acoustic duet that begins this song and driving rock jam that ends it feel so wholesome that, when she sings "It feels like we'll stop eventually / For now I guess we were meant to be" over either, it's hard to imagine her romance as anything other than meant to be.

3. The Loneliest Time - Carly Rae Jepsen ft. Rufus Wainwright Genre: Pop For The Pop Connoisseur Vibe: Light rain romance It's no secret I'm a big fan of Carly Rae Jepsen, but it took me a while to realize how much I loved this song (and I won't lie, a good part of that was the TikTok where she sings the "I'm coming back for you baby!" part to her cat over facetime). But this song is just infectious. The impeccable duet, The swooning string section, and groovy hooks at every turn!

If you haven't listened to Carly Rae Jepsen since Call Me Maybe took over the world in 2011, this is an excellent showcase of why she's so beloved amongst pop connoisseurs. Like all her music, it has some of the best songwriting and production you can find in pop music. But what I love most about this song is how incredibly endearing it is. Her and Rufus Wainwright each reminisce about their half of a relationship, each incomplete without the other. Through her charming rose-colored perspective, all the loneliness of the past few years was like reaching the moon - just a bit too soon. But that loneliness ends with each other, and not even lunar distances could separate them. And as the song ends the dance beat fades, it leaves only their voices nestled together amongst the strings. It sounds like a Californian beach sunset, captured in a song.

2. Venomous Dogma - Fantastic Negrito Genre: Blues. Gospel. Rock. And all of them done better than most artists can do one. Vibe: Righteous anger, Righteous release This song starts and album about the singer's seven-greats grandparents, a white indentured servant and an enslaved Black man during the 1750s in what would become the United States of America. He uses their story of love to discuss the history of racism in America and the various systems of racial and economic oppression that have plagued the country since. It is one of the most optimistic albums of the year. If his grandparents' love was stronger than racist laws and slavery itself, then there may be hope for us yet. As the start of that journey, this song showcases America caught between racial crisis and reconciliation. What I really love about this song is how varied it is - it opens with an excellent Gospel section, then transitions seamlessly into a gruff blues section, yelling in anger. Each of these sections has a deep, tangible respect from the genres they draw from. The histories of these genres is intertwined with America's struggle with racism, and this song's traditional-but-forward-looking take on them sets a powerful musical precedent on how the country can start to reconcile - only with both a knowledge of history and a willingness to move past it. It's easily the most immaculately crafted song of the year.

1. When You Know You Know - The Beths Genre: Indie Rock Vibe: Pure joy distilled into a love song At first look, this is the year's most effortless love song. A closer look reveals that this song focuses on the daily work required for a healthy relationship - apologies, comforting, and care - that only seem effortless in couples with both partners willing to commit themselves fully to each other. The "meant to be" this song describes isn't some destiny, it's what each person is going to repeatedly work for until it happens. It's a beautiful, mutual effort, and every bit of that - the toil and the joy - is so apparent in every part of this song.

Thanks for reading and here's to a great 2023!

#year end list #song of the year #song recommendation #music #carly rae jepsen #beabadoobee #fantastic negrito #gang of youths #mitski #orville peck #jordana #little mazarn #the beths

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cursed-elo-images · 10 months

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I’ve listened to the song I tagged in my recent post.

If anybody sees this post and hasn’t seen the post I’m referring to, and has NO idea what I’m talking about, I drew something cursed you can find on my blog and the song I’m referring to is “Confusion” by of course ELO.

It’s not one of my most favorites, but it’s a really good one.

Well, I think I just ruined the song for myself. (half jokingly)

While I said the above phrase in jest, there is some truth to it.

But first, I must mention my backstory.

The Backstory of the One and Only, cursed-elo-images Herself

My relationship with ELO started in March 2020. This was right before lockdown, and a parent of mine showed me a copy of ELO’s “greatest hits all over the world” CD, and we decided to play it in the car. I did like them, but I didn’t really listen to them much that month (really just a little bit of Elton John and some David Bowie too who are also good), but I decided to in April that month. I fell in love with them. I did however discover them in 2018 but didn’t feel like trying them out since I wasn’t into classic rock during that time besides Queen, since I listened to a few vocaloid songs. I also had “Don’t Bring Me Down” stuck in my head in late 2019, for some strange reason, but again didn’t feel like trying them out at the time, since I just liked Queen then. (Also a very good band, and I should also mention I stopped liking vocaloid music in early 2019 and Queen was what brought me back to classic rock)

Since then, I’ve listened to this band a lot, usually during the spring-summer because those seasons I find “enhance” the experience, I suppose it’s to invoke the nostalgia I felt when they first touched the neurons in my ear canals. I have went on a hiatus in 2021 though, because I temporarily replaced them with British rock band Sweet, which are arguably MORE underrated than them, but came back to ELO since… not to slander Sweet but, ELO is just more interesting and sensorily pleasing. I wasn’t really interested in the members, just the music. This lasted from 2020 to March this year. I did try to memorize the members of the band last year, but again I wasn’t really into the fandom, I just liked them as background music/shoving their music into my ears whenever I feel like it, which was a lot, but not on the same level as me immersed in David Bowie’s many personas and the fandom side of THAT.

I don’t know what got me interested in drawing ELO members or reading fandom posts about them, but here I am. I love being this way, and it gives me more people to be interested in so I take this as a win. They just have that adorkable charm to them.

Why I’m Obsessing over ELO’s Confusion

Now the context is out of the way, let’s discuss why I’m obsessing over their “Confusion” song. Like I previously mentioned, I liked the song to listen to sometimes, and to use as background music. Yes, even when I was blissfully unaware of the members and the fandom, and the future that was to come of me drawing the most bizarro cursed nonsense shlock (affectionate) regarding the band. It’s a nice song, detailing the (in my interpretation, yours might differ) confusion, shock, and sadness one feels after breaking up with their significant other. However, I, being the equally cursed weirdo that I am, decided to use that song for the dreaded (affectionate) Melvyn bread train doodle. Why? Because that was the theme of the drawing. Did I need to add the song? No, but I thought it would be funny and look cool. Then when I clicked on the Spotify link I heard a snippet of the song and I unfortunately applied the lyrics to the drawing, implying that the band lost… Melvyn’s… human(?) form and became that cursed abomination (affectionate) and have their feelings about it.

Now, instead of being at peace with their music (specifically Confusion) I am now going to think of that drawing every time I listen to it. Just great (lightheartedly sarcastic).

#personal nonsense #electric light orchestra #elos music is the best fr fr #although i also like queen and david bowie too #those three are my top three favorite bands(?)#idk david bowie isnt a band hes an artist #but bowie has been in bands before #like ziggy stardust and the spiders from mars in the early seventies and then tin machine in the late eighties-early nineties #idk if he has been in any other bands those two were just the ones i could think off the top of my head #as those two are his most notable band roles especially his early seventies band #cursed ramblings

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freyasmoments · 1 year

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Songs that Inspire Chapters

Artistic expression comes in many forms, and as varied are the muses that inspire them. A muse can be a person, a thing, or in my case, music. Writing can be challenging on days when I'm not necessarily internally feeling what I intended to express in my writing. That's where music fills in what's missing.

Sometimes, I have a select playlist of songs that have been the backdrop to some of the scenes I've written, which are relative only to a specific work. But there are some songs that are so universally emotional that through them the words just drip from my fingertips, the keyboard tattooing them onto the screen before I can even analyze the word choices I've made. And often, revising those passages isn't warranted.

These are some of the songs that have inspired some of the more emotional scenes in my writing, some of them inspiring entire chapters.

Happy New Year, enjoy.

Draw Your Swords - Angus & Julia Stone

youtube

Most intense lyrics:

"See her come down, through the clouds I feel like a fool I ain't got nothing left to give Nothing to lose

So come on Love, draw your swords Shoot me to the ground You are mine, I am yours Lets not fuck around

Cause you are, the only one Cause you are, the only one"

Arcade - Duncan Laurence

youtube

Most intense lines:

"Loving you is a losing game"

Minefields - Faouzia & John Legend

youtube

Most intense lines: Almost the whole song

"Now this might be a mistake That I’m calling you this late But these dreams I have of you ain’t real enough Started bringing up the past How the things you love don’t last Even though this isn’t fair for both of us Maybe I’m just a fool I still belong with you Anywhere you, anywhere you are These minefields that I walk through What I risk to be close to you These minefields keeping me from you What I risk to be close to you Close to you I didn’t notice what I lost Until all the lights were off And not knowing what you’re up to tortured me Now this might be a mistake We’re broken in so many ways But I’ll piece us back together slowly"

For You - Angus & Julia Stone

youtube

Most intense lines: "If I talk real slowly If I try real hard To make my point dear, That you have my heart. Here I go. I'll tell you, what you already know. If you love me, with all of your heart. If you love me, I'll make you a star in my universe. You'll never have to go to work. You'll spend everyday, shining your light my way."

You Broke Me First - Tate McRae

youtube

Most intense lines:

"I know you, you're like this When shit don't go your way you needed me to fix it And like me, I did But I ran out of every reason"

Without You - Ursine Vulpine & Annaca

youtube

Most intense lines:

"Cause I don't want the world to turn without you And I don't want the sun to burn without you"

#writing inspiration #creative writing #writing musings #music for writing #angus and julia stone #duncan laurence #without you #you broke me first #breakup songs #sad songs #love songs #indie music #minefields #loving you is a losing game #songs for writing #creative inspiration #music #writing and editing #Youtube

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learningnewways · 2 years

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Israel - Day 8

Today was the final day of our Israel guided tour. I can’t believe it’s the end already! Some days it felt like the tour would never end, thanks to John never slowing down for a second! But these past final days in Jerusalem have gone really quickly.

We always start by singing the same song on the bus each day which is quite fun and of course today was the last time! Here’s the lyrics for my memory: “Oh the suns coming up, on a bright new day, and you maybe wonder why, I’ve been feeling this way. Yeah I’m felling good, and I’m feeling alright, cause the Lord took my life and He filled it with His ever-loving light.” Pretty cheesy, I know!

We started the day by visiting the Garden Tomb, which is a site that visually represents the site of Jesus’ crucifixion and burial better than the Church of the Holy Sepulchre from yesterday. It was really helpful and made it easier to picture in real life. As John said yesterday, “we worship the person not the place.” We had communion together as a group and sung some worship songs on the garden which was really nice. One of my favourite worship songs is Build My Life by Pat Barrett and it was special to be able to sing that in Israel.

Our guide talked about how as we draw near to God, He will draw near to us. You don’t have to physically come to Israel to be closer to God, but I think there is something special about being in the land where the Bible is set, and where Jesus ministered. Although I don’t feel like I’ve had any big lightbulb or life changing moments spiritually on this trip, I’ve still learnt a lot and I think all little learnings and cool moments will add up. I think I’ll look back and see what I’ve learnt. It’s hard to see it now in the busyness of it all really.

During our communion and worship, I was reminded of how crazy my past two years has been, and I am so grateful to God for how He has brought me through it and provided for me. My life looked so different two years ago, even one year ago. I remember being so afraid and crying out to God from my lonely bed so many times, wondering if He still loved me and would use me. It still shocks me how gracious God is and how He truly does use us all the more in our failings and weakness. I have been broken down and re-moulded, I’m the clay and He is the great Potter. Now here I am, in Israel, two weeks in to my 6 month, totally God-orchestrated world trip... I still can’t quite believe how awesome God is...

Another thing I loved about today’s time at the Garden Tomb and just in general on this trip, is the realisation from the Gospels that, “He is not here, for He is risen.” It was on the wall in the Cave Church in Egypt too. And it’s true! Jesus isn’t in Israel, He’s risen! He is with me now in Israel, just like He was with me in Egypt, as He was with me in Singapore and the USA years ago, how He is with me in New Zealand, will be with me in The Gambia, and everywhere I go, every day of my life. How incredible it is to know that. Now I just need to actually believe it and not forget!

After the Garden Tomb, we went to the Israel Museum, where we saw a 1:50 scale of what Jerusalem would have looked like before it’s destruction in 70AD. It was so cool to see all the places we’d been and get a feel for the orientation as well as what it would’ve looked like in Jesus’ day. Inside the museum we saw actual sections of the Dead Sea Scrolls, which was amazing as we’d been to the place they were discovered in the Qumran caves a few days ago, so that brought it all together. I didn’t realise that they recovered parts of every single book of the Old Testament in the Dead Sea Scrolls, other than Esther... It’s pretty incredible really. And Esther is also one of only two books in the Bible not to mention the name of God, along with the Song of Songs... Interesting stuff...

We stopped for lunch, then visited a church called Christ Church, pretty cool name right! Apparently it was the first Protestant Church in the Middle East. There’s supposedly a tunnel that goes from the church site to the Temple Mount, but they aren’t going to excavate it anytime soon. We sung another few worship songs in there which was nice, old churches always have great acoustics too!

The final thing we did was the Rampart Walk, which is where you walk on the Old City walls of Jerusalem! It was so cool! We only went from the Jaffa Gate to the Damascus Gate, but it was still awesome to be up higher than the city, looking in to peoples homes, schools and businesses. I think you can walk around most of the wall, but obviously not the Temple Mount. We popped into the Muslim Quarter and walked around the shops, with some stopping to buy some spices. After that we headed back to the hotel so the group could get their bags and head to the airport.

It is strange that I’ve just spent the past eight days exploring Israel with a group of awesome people I will probably never see again... It would have been great to have a debrief night or something where everyone could share what we learnt or what our takeaways were... Once again, the schedule was too jam-packed for that unfortunately. I’m looking forward to the Kenya trip with the young adults from my church at the end of the year, as we’ll get to experience it all together and will forever have that bond and understanding of each other, which is super special.

As I mentioned before, I still need to reflect on what I’ve learnt and experienced during my time in Israel. This blog has been great to pop down some thoughts and of course to keep a record of all the activities we’ve done, but I’ll need to think more deeply about what’s been happening inside of me. Maybe that doesn’t need to be shared on the blog... Tomorrow is my mum and I’s final day in Jerusalem before we go to Jordan. We’re hoping to try get to the Temple Mount if we’re allowed and just chill out a bit more. I also have some business admin to do before we leave, so it should be a relaxed day.

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inastateofmind · 3 years

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one day / rafe cameron

a.n. YAY for my first fic!!! please be nice because i really do not know what i’m doing. hopefully it’s okay though. feedback is greatly appreciated. let me know what yall want to see next or if i’ve left out any warnings or anything like that!

pairing: non canon rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: y/n tutors sarah and is pining after rafe, little does she know, rafe is pining after her too. song fic inspired by one day by tate mcrae! i do not own any lyrics used. lyrics are italicized.

word count: 2440

warnings: unrequited love induced angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex if you squint, jealousy, kelce being kelce

“She stares at her ceiling once again with a hundred thoughts,

‘Maybe he knows who I am, probably not.’”

Y/N laid in her room quietly, Olivia Rodrigo’s “enough for you” playing faintly in the background while she stared at the ceiling above her. School had just started two weeks ago and her feelings for Kook King Rafe Cameron had only intensified since then. Working for the school’s student services, she had been assigned to tutor Sarah, which left Y/N seeing Rafe more often than her heart could physically handle. The two of them hadn’t talked much, only sharing a few passing comments to each other while she confided in his home with Sarah. The reality of their relationship was that the older Cameron sibling probably hardly knew her name, however that did not stop her from harboring feelings for him from afar for almost two years.

“She walks down the hall with her head down low, scared to meet his eyes

Even when she hears his voice she's swarmed with butterflies”

The halls of the Kook Academy were crowded with girls in short skirts and crop tops and boys in polos and khakis when the bell rang for lunch. Y/N stopped by her locker to switch out her textbooks for the second half of her day, keeping her head low as she weaved in between the crowd. “Dude, I just don’t get it. I basically used Grammarly for the whole thing and I still got a C?” She could make out Kelce’s voice in all the commotion due to the volume of his outburst. A giggle slipped out of her lips as she slipped past him, knowing the teachers in this school know when the students use programs like Kelce’s to write their papers. “Sorry, Y/L/N, is something funny?” The boy stepped towards her, causing her to finally lift her head and meet the eyes of everyone who was around. Y/N’s eyes were immediately drawn to Rafe’s, and then fallen to the hand that gripped around Kelce’s arm, making him step back from the shy girl in front of him, “Man, leave her alone.” Her eyes met Rafe’s again as he smiled at her, causing butterflies to swarm her insides as she turned and walked away, leaving Rafe victim to Kelce’s teasing of his “crush.”

“It’s impossible to get you off my mind, I think about a hundred thoughts and you are ninety-nine

I’ve understood that you will never be mine, and that’s fine — I’m just breaking inside”

“You look so hot, Y/N,” Sarah complimented, curling the last piece of her own hair while Y/N stared at herself in the mirror. Sarah had insisted she come to the annual bonfire, and in return had offered to help her get ready. “Rafe is going to die when he sees you tonight.” Y/N thought her heart stopped right then and there. She spun around quickly, staring at Sarah. “What?” Sarah laughed, fluffing her hair as she stood up. “Y/N/N, you can’t hide that from me. I figure out everything.” Y/N sighed and made her way towards the door, opening it for Sarah to lead the way. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s got a thing for you too.”

—

The bonfire was not Y/N’s scene, to say the least. By the time her and Sarah arrived, many people were already wasted. The number of people in the small space was enough to send Y/N into fight or flight mode, but Sarah was quick to pull her into the crowd with a drink and start dancing. Several songs passed before Y/N found Rafe, who already had his eyes on her. She blushed, suddenly feeling very self conscious. Was this crop top too cropped? Has she danced too bad it’s been embarrassing? Is it obvious she doesn’t belong here? She must’ve been lost in her thoughts for some time, because next thing she knew, Rafe’s hands were resting on her hips, bringing her back to earth. “Anyone home?” He joked, tapping her hips with his fingers. She laughed lightly, her nerves flowing through her body. Rafe leaned into her ear, his breath warm against her cold skin, “You look really good.” This small compliment mixed with the alcohol coursing through her veins gave her a new found confidence. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Cameron.” Y/N swore she saw a faint blush on the notorious bad boy’s cheeks, but she would never be too sure, because as quick as their moment started, it ended. “Rafe! Beer pong let’s go!” Topper yelled from behind Rafe, a crowd cheering at the mention of Rafe’s name. The boy sighed and rolled his eyes. Y/N placed a hand on his chest, “Go,” she smiled, “You can find me later.” Rafe smiled at her before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be back.” Y/N watched as Rafe ran into the crowd chanting his name, laughing as he turned around and pretended to have Topper “crown” him as the beer pong king before beginning their game.

—

An hour had passed when Y/N had begin to feel tired of chatting up random people from school. She had consumed a few more drinks while waiting for Rafe to come find her, however he never came. She decided to take things into her own hands and find Rafe herself. Standing from the log surrounding the bonfire, she swayed slightly as she walked around the small space searching for Rafe. She didn’t see him anywhere, so she had assumed he had left on his own accord. That is, until she heard whistling from Topper and Kelce. “Okay Rafey boy!” She turned quickly to see Rafe helping a skinny blonde from their calculus class into his car. Suddenly, her shoes were the most interesting thing at the bonfire. Y/N felt stupid for ever thinking Rafe cared or was attracted to her, and she felt even more stupid for thinking he was really going to come find her. “Hey,” she turned to see Sarah smiling at her sadly. “John B’s here to take us home,” Y/N cut her off, tears pooling in her eyes. “I’m going to go back to mine actually.”

“He always walks the crowded halls and is blinded by this light

A girl who keeps her head down low and never shows her eyes”

Rafe spent most of his time at school surrounded by an entourage. However, as of recently, his main focus hasn’t been the popularity or the girls flocking his way, but more so a specific girl: Y/N. He watched her in class while she worked ahead of the teacher, he noticed how she got anxious in the crowded hallways, he loved how she opened up while she hung out with Sarah after school. He had never felt so attached to a girl before, especially one he had hardly talked to. Something about Y/N just kept drawing Rafe in, making him want to be a proper gentleman and get to know her— all the weird little things and the seemingly unimportant things too.

“He tried to talk to her but there’s no easy way

‘Cause every time he raises his voice, she runs away”

“Y/N! Hey, wait up!” Rafe yelled down the hallway, running after the girl as she beelined it to her locker. “Y/N,” She opened her locker, shoving her books into it with a sigh. “What do you want, Rafe?” His eyebrows furrowed at her tone. He didn’t understand. At the bonfire, things had been going so good. Now, he could barely get the girl to glance in his direction. “Why are you avoiding me? I thought at the bonfire…” She cut him off, slamming her locker shut. “Yeah, I thought things at the bonfire were going good too, until you left me there to go off with some girl,” She shrugged, turning and walking away before Rafe could even respond. He ran a hand through his hair out of frustration. The reality of the situation: the girl from the bonfire was truly just a friend who was far too wasted and vulnerable to get home on her own, and Rafe recognized that and offered to take her home. He couldn’t blame Y/N for thinking otherwise though, seeing as he did have quite the reputation. He glanced once more in the direction she walked off into before going to meet the younger Cameron sibling for advice.

“Oh, it’s impossible to get you off my mind

I think about a hundred thoughts and you are ninety-nine.

I’ve understood that you will never be mine and that’s fine,

I’m just breaking inside”

Rafe spent the next few afternoons in the comfort of the country club with Kelce and Topper, avoiding his home at all costs until he was sure Y/N was done tutoring Sarah. He wanted nothing more than to go home and steal the girl from his sister so they could talk things out, but he knew that would ultimately make things worse, so he kept his distance. However, the phrase “distance makes the heart grow fonder” rang true, because Y/N was the only thing on his mind. By Wednesday afternoon, he finally gave in, going straight home from school. Wednesdays for Y/N and Sarah were typically their “relaxation” day before cramming for tests on Thursday, so Rafe expected to walk into the living room to find the two of you curled up on the couch. However, the house was oddly quiet and the driveway empty. He texted Sarah, asking where they were.

“John B’s. Be back by dinner.”

John B’s?

Y/N was at John B’s?

Rafe shook his head, opening Snapchat. He looked at Sarah’s story, a picture of her, Kiara and Y/N on the HMS Pogue. He smiled at how happy she looked. The next picture was one of Sarah in John B’s lap, with Y/N in the background sporting JJ’s hat and seemingly swatting at him while he reached to take it back. Rafe’s heart dropped slightly, staring at this picture a little longer than necessary. Maybe if he would’ve stayed with her at the bonfire, that could’ve been them. Now he had basically walked the girl of his dreams into the arms of JJ Maybank.

‘Maybe it’s better this way,’ He thought.

But maybe he didn’t want better.

“One day, maybe she’ll stay and start to head over his way

And one day, she’ll look into his eyes and instead of breaking, she’ll call him ‘Mine’

One day, he’ll grab her by the waist and force them to meet face to face

One day he’ll look into her eyes and say that ‘You’re my only light’”

His phone ringing at 1 in the morning woke Rafe from his sleep, not even bothering to see who was calling before answering. “It better be important if you’re waking me up,” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Rafe, you’re too sweet sometimes, you know?” Rafe rolled his eyes, staring at the clock. “Topper, why did you call me?” His patience was wearing thin, but he knew Topper wouldn’t have called him without reason at this time of night. “I just wanted to tell you I just passed Y/N walking home by herself, I asked if she wanted me to give her a ride and she said no, but she looked pretty shaken up. I’ve still got an eye on her but I thought you might want to come,” Topper didn’t have to finish, the minute the girl’s name had fallen out of his mouth Rafe was throwing on a sweatshirt and slipping into shoes faster than he ever has before. His mind was running a million miles a minute.

Why was she out this late by herself?

Why didn’t she call someone?

Did something already happen?

Rafe grabbed his keys and sped to Topper’s shared location, slowing down once he saw his jeep ahead of him. “I’ve got her, man. Thanks.” He hung up before pulling his car off onto the side of the road. “Y/N,” Rafe spoke as he got out, loud enough that she could hear it was him and not startle her. She turned quickly, staring at him as he approached her slowly. “I just wanted to go for a walk,” she mumbled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t mean to scare anyone.” Rafe nodded. “I’m not mad at you, but it’s late,” he spoke gently. He could see on her face she was upset and he didn’t want to make it worse. Y/N was looking everywhere but at him. She was nervous, embarrassed, everything in between. “Hey,” Rafe whispered, placing his hands on her waist like he did at the bonfire. Her eyes met his and he could read her like an open book. He saw the nerves. He saw the sadness. “Let’s get you home.”

The car ride back to the Cameron household was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Rafe kept one hand on the wheel and one locked in Y/N’s, glancing over at her every few minutes to make sure she was doing okay. Back at the house, he provided her clothes to change into while he grabbed some drinks for them. Y/N sat on his bed, preparing herself for what she was about to do. It was the reason for the walk, the reason for the silence in the car. Honestly, this could be an awful time to do it, but there was no turning back now. “Okay, so I’ve got chips, cookies, water, Pepsi, mountain dew,” “Rafe.” Y/N cut him off, staring at him as she sat criss crossed on his bed. He sat everything down and stared at her, encouraging her to continue. “This could be a bad time to tell you, but I like you. I went on that walk because I needed to get you out of my head but then you showed up so clearly it didn’t work and honestly I’ve liked you for a while, and you don’t have to like me back, oh no you’re laughing,” She cut herself off at the sight of Rafe chuckling and moving towards her. “Why are you laughing?” Y/N whispered as he got close enough that he could feel his breath on her skin. “Because,” Rafe smiled, “I like you too.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #obx #rafe x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #obx imagine #obx fic #outer banks #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 3 years

Text

The Little Girl

[Gif credit to @vinylackles]

Square: Never Been Kissed ( @supernatural-jackles tell me a story bingo)

Pairing: Jensen x adopted!child!reader

Summary: The Reader is adopted by Jensen and his family after a tragic event in her life. Soon after being adopted, she begins to learn what a family really does.

Warnings: Angsty-ish, child abuse/neglect (implied?), religion is mentioned in here (if you have your own belief, that’s fine we’re all different. It’d be boring if we’re the same.), there will be feels in this both fluffy and sad. You might have happy tears, who knows. Song inspired fic, song fic since the lyrics are in this.

Word Count: 1,840

Bingo Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

a/n: Inspired by the song The Little Girl by John Montgomery. I can’t italicize the lyrics; it’d look a bit weird and mess with the flow of your reading.

a/n2: probably not what one would expect for a “never been kissed” square. But I kept hitting a block with the typical, and this one came to me. Hope ya’ll enjoy nonetheless. :3

Her parents never took her to church. Never spoke of his name, never even told her of his word.

Her parent’s weren’t really believers. Her dad drank all day, her mom did drugs. Every night her dad would go out drinking. Her mom would be passed out in the chair as Y/N sat on the couch watching TV.

They never wanted to play. Or give kisses and hugs.

And the drinking and the fighting, just got worse every night.

Behind their couch, she’d be hiding. Praying for it all to stop.

And like it always does, the bad got worse. With every slap, and every curse.

Until her dad in a drunk rage one night, used a gun on her mom. And then took his life.

Some people from the city, took the girl far away. To a new mom and a new dad.

. . .

The caseworker drove young little Y/N up to her new home.

“This family is going to be good to you.”

“Not like my old family?”

“Nothing like them, they’re new parents to one of their own kids. And once they heard your story, they wanted you.”

She sat in the back seat, smiling, wondering how it was going to be like? Who her mom and dad were?

He pulled up to the house, parking it and turning off the car. He gets out to get her things from the trunk, and he stops by her door to help her out.

She picked up her backpack, and turned to see a fancy house.

Suddenly feeling nervous, she swallowed and mustered up whatever courage she had and followed her caseworker to the house.

The caseworker rang the doorbell.

She could faintly hear a women on the other side. “She’s here.”

She sounded excited.

The door opened, she found a man, a woman and small girl standing before her.

“Hi, Chris?” the man asked.

“Yes, you must be Jensen?”

“I am, this is my wife Danneel and my four year old daughter JJ.” Jensen says, introducing his family. “This must be Y/N?”

She nods, shying behind the caseworker.

“It’s okay sweetie, you’re safe here. This is your new home?” Jensen says, getting down to her level.

“How about we have a little tour, warm up to your new family?” Chris, her caseworker suggests.

The little girl nodded, following Chris inside the house as Jensen showed her around.

That night, dinner went off without a hitch. Sure she was quiet, but she was still a bit shy. But now it was the time for her and her new little sister to go off to bed.

She gone off to her room, getting her night gown on. Heading to her bathroom that her and JJ shared. Danneel helping JJ make sure she was brushing her teeth alright, Y/N grabbed her toothbrush and began cleaning her teeth.

Danneel taking a hairbrush she brushed the girls’ hair.

She could see Y/N tense. She didn’t know what she was doing at first. Danneel continued to brush her hair, cautiously.

She could see her relax as she continued to brush.

“Your parents never did this, did they?” she asked kindly.

Y/N shaking her head as she brushed her teeth.

Danneel held back warm tears that threatened to surface.

What else have these parents not done for her? she wondered.

Once they’ve finished they went off to their respected rooms. Danneel walking JJ to her room, JJ wanting a story. Y/N headed to her room.

She was about to get herself settled when Jensen and Danneel entered.

“Busy day so far, huh?” Danneel asked.

She nods. “mm-hmm.” She hummed quietly.

“Tomorrow we can have a lazy day, all four of us, just relax and maybe even play outside a little bit. The weather’s supposed to be nice.” Jensen says.

“What do you play?” she asks innocently.

“We could do, tag, or hide and seek, or whatever JJ comes up with.” Jensen chuckles.

“Could you teach me?”

“You never played before?” Jensen asked.

She shook her head innocently.

Jensen’s jaw clenched as he fought back tears of his own.

“We’ll teach ya tomorrow. It’ll be fun.” He says with a smile.

Bending over he gives her a sweet kiss atop her head. Danneel following suit.

She laid there staring up at them with wide eyes.

“Get some sleep sweetheart, you had a busy day.” Jensen says, brushing her hair from her face.

Y/N nodded. Feeling herself grow sleepy, she let her eyes fall closed.

Jensen and Danneel smiled softly as they shut her light off, left her door open slightly letting the hall light in. And went back down to the living room.

It was getting close to Jensen and Danneel to head to bed themselves.

Just as he shut the TV off they heard a sniffle from the dark hallway. Seeing their new daughter stand in the hall, holding her blanket as she rubbed the tears from her eyes.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Danneel asked.

“What’s got you crying?” Jensen follows up, as they both got up to go to her.

“Bad dream.” She cries.

“Everything’s okay sweetheart, you’re safe.” Jensen consoles, rubbing up and down her arm.

The little girl nods but couldn’t stop crying as a slight tremble shook through her. Jensen felt it.

Jensen without hesitation picked her up, holding her close. Walked back to the couch, sitting down with her in his lap.

“What are you doing?” the little girl asked?

“You never been cuddled before?”

She shook her head against Jensen’s chest.

He only held her tighter.

“Well I’m holding you, making you feel safe. It’s something parents should do to help their kids feel safe after a nightmare, being scared, or even if their kid is having a bad day.”

She nods against him.

Danneel sat beside Jensen, sandwiching the little girl between them.

“It wouldn’t hurt to stay up just a little bit longer.” She says.

Jensen nodding as he places a comforting kiss atop their daughter’s head.

The little girl slowly adjusted to her new family. Getting kisses and hugs every night. Even getting one from her little sister.

Fourth of July with the family was a struggle for a moment. The loud noises sounding an awful lot like gun fire.

She ran inside, crying.

JJ the only one noticing. She followed her big sister into the house. Finding her behind a couch in the family room, crying.

“Sissy what’s wrong?” JJ asked.

“It’s like the night my mom and dad died. It sounds like the gun he used.”

“Your daddy used a gun?”

Y/N nodded tearfully.

“Well our daddy is not like that. Come on sissy, come back outside.” JJ tells her. encouraging her to come with her. Only to get a fearful shake of her sister’s head. And more tears.

She let out a fearful sob.

JJ took it upon herself to comfort her big sister. She got behind the couch with her, sitting in front of her, she kissed the top of her sisters head while cradling it. Having short arms she couldn’t wrap her sister in her arms not like how her dad does.

“JJ?” Jensen calls. “Y/N?”

The stifled cries from Y/N gave them away.

Jensen found the couch where she hid, to find JJ holding Y/N’s head in a hug.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sissy’s scared of the fireworks.”

Jensen having the gut feeling he knew why she was.

“Why are you scared honey?” He asks anyway.

“It sounds like his gun.” She says with her head on her knees.

Jensen’s heart sank.

“It’s okay honey, we’ll get you through this. How about you hang out inside for a bit. Okay?”

Y/N nodded.

“We can play in here, or we can watch movies in the movie room?”

“Okay.” She says. JJ and Y/N getting up to the movie room and watching movies.

The little girl made so many friends at her new school. One of her friends took her to church one Sunday for the first time.

Sitting in Sunday school, the teacher walked in.

The little girl saw a picture of Jesus on the cross.

“I know that man, up there on the cross.” She says.

“Oh?” the teacher asks.

She nods. “He was there in my old house, and he held me close to his side. As I hid there behind our couch, the night my parents died.”

She told the teacher her story. Her old mom and dad, tainted with sin, neglecting her.

“But everything is fine now. My new mom and dad, they give me kisses and hugs every day. We play almost every day. Dad plays on TV; he plays a guy who fights monsters with his brother. My dad is a hero.”

“What about your new mom?”

“She brushes my hair every night, her and dad make me feel safe. She’s dad’s sidekick.”

Some kids giggled. The teacher even chuckled.

“That’s sweet honey, how about for the first bit of class, we draw our superheroes. It could be Christ Himself, or your parents. Let’s do that and you can take it home to show everyone.”

The teacher let the kids be and draw away.

Y/N’s friend’s parent’s dropped her off back home.

“How was church honey?” Danneel asked as she waited outside for her.

“It was good, we drew our superheroes in Sunday school.” She says holding up a picture. Drawn in crayon and marker.

Jensen walked through the door outside, stepping beside Danneel wrapping an arm around her.

“How as church kiddo?”

“Good, I was telling mom I drew my superheroes.” She says.

Jensen peered over Danneel’s shoulder. Seeing the same drawing.

Of stick figures, one with Dad under it, wearing a cape with an S on it. Symbolizing Superman.

He saw another stick figure, the word Mom under it. Wore a skirt and a cape with a S on it as well.

Under the both of their stick figures, she wrote in big letters as big as they would fit on the paper, Thank you.

Jensen walked around, picking up Y/N, hugging her close. Danneel joining in the hug as she hugged her and Jensen as close as she could.

“We love you so much sweetheart, and you’re most welcome.” Jensen says, holding back the tears.

She smiled against him as her parents held her close.

At first growing up, she never knew what it was like to be loved, to be given a kiss or a hug. To be cuddled, or let alone held in a loving and cuddling way.

Now she doesn’t have to worry about another fight. She doesn’t have to worry about her dad going off drinking, when he’s always home with his family. She doesn’t have to worry about her mom doing drugs to get through the day, when her mom just needs to see her girls smile, to hear her girls laugh to make her day better.

a/n: Did you cry? Here are some virtual tissues, I cried too hun. How’d you like it, let me know! Feedback is always appreciated!

Jensen Girls:

@luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @jayankles, @jeaniespiehs20, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @mlovesstories, @moonlight-on-her-skin, @backseat-of-deans-67chevy, @salt-n-burn-em-all, @lyarr24, @akshi8278

Dean Girls:

@flamencodiva, @anotherspnfanfic, @megzdoodle, @misfit0118

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 4/11/2021

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itsapapisongo · 4 years

Text

FOR THE HOMIES | SKZ

Pairing: None, though you I don’t blame you if you spot any Ho-Yay moments.

Genre: Comedy | Crack Fic

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: Felix loves to bake. The boys enjoy the “magic grass.” One thing leads to another and—well, you can guess the rest.

Notes:

This is inspired and totally based on a post by @hanstagrams; she deserves all the credit.

Though this is a fun little one-shot, this doesn’t reflect who the boys’ (Stray Kids’) are in real life. It’s a fictional portrayal of real people and thus not the real deal.

Keep in mind this is a) based on my own experience with the “magic grass” and edibles and that b) it’s for written for shits and giggles.

I kept the cast short, meaning it’s only Felix, Chan, Minho, and Jisung. Perhaps a follow-up one-shot might include the other boys—Changbin, Hyunjin, I.N., and Seungmi—because they, too, deserve to have fun.

CLING!

Felix, humming to a song he can’t name nor remember the lyrics to, calmly puts on an oven mitt and takes out the baking tray of recently baked brownies from their dorm’s small oven. Though the piece of equipment is old and ready to be replaced it still heats up and bakes like it’s a new model.

The strong yet smell of chocolate fudge permeates the kitchen and he can’t help but smile at it. It’s somehow therapeutic after a long night of dance practices or long days of promotion. Baking is Felix’s own little thing, a way to unwind and focus on something else entirely.

“What a master baker I am,” he says to no one in particular, smirking. “Five-star Michelin, baby.”

He looks at his pride and joy: an entire batch of chocolate fudge brownies, the perfect shade of brown sprinkled with the perfect amount of chocolate chips. He places the tray on the counter, leans in, and takes a whiff. Not only do they look amazing, they smell amazing too. Waving a hand over the tray in a circular motion, as though to keep the chocolatey scent all to himself, he chuckles. With a pep on his step and the catchy but unnamed tune still being hummed, Felix turns on the ball of his feet and crosses the kitchen from the counter to the refrigerator. He opens it, peruses its contents, then takes out four banana milks, balancing them with great care in two hands.

“For the homies,” he whispers, nodding to himself.

Felix pokes his head out the kitchen and sees his friends sitting on the ground, laughing and complaining, colorful cards flying from their hands onto a ground-level table. Bangchan laughs loudly, smacking Jisung’s knee as Minho cackles, doubling over, relishing in their friend’s awful luck. Apparently he’d been forced to pick up over eight cards.

“Yeah.” Felix finds himself smiling with crinkled eyes. “For the homies.”

The chocolatey fragrance still lingers in the kitchen, oddly soothing and tantalizing. It’s stronger than before, something else entirely harmoniously mixing in with the sweetness.

If only Felix knew what it truly was.

THEN, about an hour before . . .

“How the hell did you get that?”

Jisung asks this as his eyes widen at the paper bag Minho conceals in his hoodie’s pocket. He glances over his shoulder and sees Felix and Chan working on the brownie batter, talking amongst themselves in between chuckles and smacks on their shoulders. When Jisung looks back at his hyung, Minho stares back, impassive.

“I know people,” Minho retorts with a shrug.

A beat. Jisung looks over his shoulder, eyes toward the kitchen, then leans in real close.

“Can I meet them?” he whispers.

Minho glares, flicking Jisung’s forehead. “Definitely not,” the other says, scoffing. “You’ll scare them away.”

“C’mon, hyung.”

“Nope.”

“Pretty please?”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Pretty pretty please?”

“Add another pretty and I might consider it.”

“Pretty pretty pretty—”

Another flick to the forehead. Jisung blinks, eyes toward the ceiling, a blank expression in his face. He smacks his lips and nods, as though to say I deserved that.

Minho sports a devious smirk. “I said I’d consider it not that I’d agree.”

“You’re the worst.”

“And yet you keep coming to me for cuddles.” Minho wiggles his eyebrows. He glances past Jisung’s shoulder and catches a glimpse of Felix stirring something in a mixing bowl. “Call Chan over.”

“What for?” Jisung asks, looking back and forth between Minho and the kitchen. “He’s busy.”

“Just wave him over.”

“Wave who over?”

While Minho merely blinks, Jisung gives a startled jump as Chan stands behind him. He has brownie batter in the tip of his nose, his hands smudged with chocolate and butter. His blond-dyed hair has a blue highlight across his bangs and it’s held back underneath a black bandana. His arms are exposed thanks to a white sleeveless tee. Equally amused and confused, Chan looks between his friends and demands an answer by lifting his chin.

“Something on your minds, darlings?”

“He’s got the stuff,” says Jisung through gritted teeth, pointing a finger at Minho’s hoodie. “The stuff, y’know? The magic grass.”

Chan raises an eyebrow, stifling a chuckle as Jisung nods. Minho, on the other hand, glares at Jisung.

“Subtlety clearly isn’t your forte,” says Minho.

“A lot of things aren’t my forte,” Jisung replies, shrugging. “And I’m still standing.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Chan sing-songs, imitating Elton John’s lilt. He pats Jisung’s shoulder and leans on it. He sneaks a glance at the kitchen before turning his attention at Minho. “We’re doing this?”

Minho nods, tapping his hoodie’s pocket. “Oh we’re doing this.”

“Nice,” Jisung exclaims, fist-bumping Chan. His smile falters as he frowns. “What are we doing again?”

“Aish.”

“OI, Lix, need another pair of hands?”

Felix turns, stirring the batter with chopsticks and skillful ease. Chan joins in the kitchen, Minho close behind him. Jisung stands in the small corridor between the kitchen and the living room, eyes wide, his mouth slightly open. He looks like he’s both amused and nervous, though he quickly looks away and disappears from view.

“Sure,” Felix replies with a shrug. “The more the merrier.”

“What can I do?” Minho asks, surveying the mess in the kitchen.

Felix looks around then passes him the mixing bowl. “Whisk this,” he says, momentarily distracted. “Chan, I need more eggs.”

“Right on it, mate.”

Minho sits on the table and begins to whisk the batter. He glances over his shoulder every now and again and when he’s certain Felix is too distracted to pay him any attention, he extracts the paper bag from his hoodie; the contents are gently placed on the table and hidden in plane sight. Felix comes by, looks over his shoulder, offers a thumbs-up, but just as quickly moves away when Chan calls him over.

It only takes Minho a second to slip the special stuff in the batter.

AN hour later, which is to say now . . .

“They’re done!” Felix exclaims from the kitchen. “What are you guys up to?”

Gathered around a table, conspiratorially looking at each other, Chan, Minho, and Jisung hold cards in front of their faces. Chan smirks at Jisung who, due to a streak of bad luck and constant betrayal by his friends, holds more than twenty cards in his hand. Minho, having played his cards well, simply looks between them and scrutinizes his hand. If all goes according to plan, he’d be able to win in the next eight to nine moves.

“We’re playing UNO,” says Chan, stifling a fit of laughter. “Oops. I meant kicking Han’s arse at UNO.”

Jisung mumbles complaint under his breath, tilting his head in annoyance. “This isn’t fair,” he whines.

Minho wiggles his eyebrows, throwing a Reverse to play his hand yet again. “Life, in general, isn’t fair,” he chuckles and pats Jisung’s knee. “But we know this, don’t we?”

Jisung looks at the Skip recently placed on the table and pouts. “Aish.”

“Lix, c’mere!” Chan shouts, red in the face from laughter. “You’re missin’ out.”

“Be there in a second,” their baker friend replies, his voice echoing loudly into the living room.

“I think he’s tasting them,” Minho whispers, eyes glued to the kitchen. He chuckles then grimaces. “Aw shit.”

Chan nods, as though to convey something obvious. “The whole point is that he tastes them.”

“With us, not on his own.” Jisung pipes up, drawing a Wild Draw 4 and setting it on the table without looking. He does this while biting his lip and snorts, concealing a giggle by clearing his throat. “Chan, it’s your turn.”

“He’ll be fine.” Chan barely reacts to Jisung’s play and adds a Wild Draw 4 of his own. He turns to Minhow and whispers, “You didn’t go overboard, right?”

Minho shrugs. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

“It’s about whether or not we can handle it—”

“Felix has never touched the special grass.” Jisung points out. His eyes widen when Minho adds a Draw 2. “So it’s going to be like that, huh?”

“We’re keeping an eye on him.” Chan’s demeanor suddenly transitions from shits and giggles to team dad in the blink of an eye. “The moment we notice he’s not feeling well, we sober him the fuck up.”

“Deal.” Minho nods.

“Operation Sober Boy is officially a thing,” Jisung adds, smiling at having passed the burden of picking up twelve cards to Chan after drawing a Draw 2 of his own.

Chan nods, pouting with an impressed expression. “That’s a mouthful but I like it,” he compliments and smiles when he sees the cards. “Yeah, no, that’s not gonna happen.”

From his hand, Chan throws a Green Draw 2. Minho stares at it. Unfazed, he draws yet another Reverse and Blue Draw 2 and slowly turns to take in Jisung’s look of utter shock. The inevitable betrayal that comes with playing UNO lingers in the air.

“You gotta be shitting me.”

“We can do this all day, Han.”

“Are you still bullying poor Jisung?”

They all turn when they see Felix join them, baking tray in hand, his every step bringing forth a mouthwatering aroma. He looks at them and smiles, his eyes crinkled with joy and his freckles distinctively present. Jisung plays his hand, drawing the last Draw 2 in his deck, and groans when Chan rebuffs him with yet another Wild Card 4. Minho chortles and responds with a Draw 2 his own.

“Aish, are you two planning this? This is an ambush!”

Felix chuckles, shaking his head. “Cut Jisung a break.”

“It’s just a bit of fun.” Chan waves Felix over, tapping the empty space to his right. “And UNO is the perfect game to build character.”

“This is a massacre,” Jisung whimpers as he begins to draw twenty-four cards. He looks at Felix and pouts, feigning tears. “Look at how they massacre your boy.”

“Hate the game, not the player.” Minho shrugs and, before anyone can correct him, he smugly adds, “If you say it’s the other way around, you’re playing wrong.”

“Let’s go with that.” Felix shrugs and sets the tray on a corner of the table. He smiles proudly. “I reckon this is my best batch yet.”

“It sure smells nice,” says Chan, his voice high-pitched. In the thickest Australian accent he can speak in, he whispers, “Chocolatey.”

“It sure does!” Minho agrees, the faint echo of laughter in his voice.

“Give me an eternity,” Jisung says, still counting cards. “I’m gonna be at this for a while.”

“Let’s eat!” Chan claps and rubs his hands together.

“Not yet, not yet.” Minho reaches out and gently gets a hold of Chan’s wrist. He looks at Jisung with mischief in his eyes. “I’m enjoying this.”

WHEN Felix said it’d been his best batch yet, the young idol and part-time baker hadn’t been wrong.

But while the boys divided an entire brownie between each other, aware that one for each of them would be a tad much, Felix, on the other hand, had an entire brownie by himself. The boys hadn’t noticed until Jisung pointed it out. Apparently Felix had been taking bites from it way before he joined them, which meant he’d started in the kitchen and finished eating it when he joined them in the living room.

The UNO cards have been put away—Minho won, leaving Jisung with forty-nine cards in his hand—and they sit in a circle, eating brownies and giving each other shit. The TV is on, though mostly for background noise, and Chan, in his infinite wisdom, makes a playlist to both set a mood and for future sessions.

Though he looks focused on the songs he’s picking, Chan is trying not to look worried or shocked. Every now and again, he glances at Felix with a worried glint in his eyes. Minho, anticipating what is soon to ensue, carefully watches Felix, smiling that smug smile of his that indicates he knows something his friend doesn’t. And then there’s Jisung, who openly stares at Felix bug-eyed, making obvious comments about the special stuff in the brownies and sporadically chuckling to himself.

Felix, for better or worse, hasn’t noticed any of this. He drinks his banana milk and carries a conversation about baking with Minho, explaining how he made the batch; he’s aware to not pat himself on the back too hard because, as much as he loves baking, he’s still a relative newbie to the whole thing. Minho nods and adds a thing or two but overall simply scrutinizes his friend’s body language.

Having an entire brownie is a recipe for a ripe high.

And just as he gives the final details, Felix feels it.

“So you just leave it for about thirty-five minutes and—” Felix zones out, his eyes widening. He blinks and blinks and blinks until he slowly turns to look upward, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His entire body relaxes to the point where he leans on his hands and stretches. “Crikey.”

Minho smirks and points at him while Jisung leans in and waves a hand over Felix’s eyes.

Chan, on the other hand, claps and sings an improvised song:

Hey hey, ho ho

Felix had some of the special dough

“Wh—what?” Felix asks, his eyes heavy. “Who’s a hoe?”

“He is,” Jisung absentmindedly replies, pointing a finger at Minho without looking. “A big one.”

Minho glares and works his jaw. “Dumb prick says what?”

Jisung is about to reply but Felix beat him to it: “What?”

Minho and Jisung exchange a glance and smile as Chan leans forward and gets Felix’s attention.

“How you feelin’, mate?”

“Loose.” Felix shakes his head. Though the gesture is gentle, to him it feels like the heaviest and slowest movement in the world. His eyesight is blurry then clears and everything seems to move in a different frequency and is presented in a strange, one-of-a-kind filter. “Very, very, very loose.”

“How are the brownies?” Jisung asks, giggling.

“They’re—have I ever mentioned how pretty you are, Minho?”

“Once or twice.” Minho winks. “But do go on.”

“See? He’s a hoe.”

“Yah!”

“But you’re my hoe.”

“You little—” Minho motions to punch Jisung’s knee but relents when Jisung blows him a kiss. He scrunches up his face in a mocking face. When Jisung looks away and lets Felix lean on him, Minho softens and can’t help but smile. “Lix, you look like you could use something to drink.”

Felix nods, giggling. “I’d love something to drink.”

Chan looks at his friend’s hand and sees the half-drunk banana milk there. He pretends to hand it over to Felix then shakes his wrist a bit. “There you are, Lix,” he says.

“Heol!” Felix’s eyes widen and he giggles a bit more, a high-pitch sound of pure joy. “You’re pretty fast there, Chan-Chan Man.”

“Sure am.” Chan snaps his fingers, motions finger-guns.

Felix smacks his lips, nods to himself. “This is definitely my best batch.”

“Does it have a name?” Jisung asks, genuinely curious.

“Super Duper Brownies!”

Minho snorts, choking on his banana milk. “Come again?”

“I would need to be hard for that to happen.” Felix giggles. “I can’t come without—”

Chan chokes on the small brownie piece he’s eating. Jisung scoffs, a hand over his mouth to cover his laughter. Minho, on the other hand, rolls his eyes in that way a diva does after hearing the lamest pick up line of the century.

“Whoa, buddy, pal, mate, easy there on the dirty talk.” Chan pats his chest then shakes Felix’s leg.

“What’s the taboo? Sex is sex is sex.”

“Shit.” Minho raises an eyebrow, amused. “He gets all philosophical when he’s high.”

“High? Who’s high?”

The boys look at each other then back at Felix. “You are,” they chorus, apprehensive amusement laced in their voices.

“Come again?” Felix leans forward, groggily blinking. “Did you just say I’m high?”

They nod.

“I haven’t smoked any magic grass.”

“Hey!” Jisung raises his hand, waiting for a high-five. “I call it that too.”

Felix absentmindedly high-fives Jisung. “You haven’t smoked any of it either. Dunno what you’re on about.”

“That’s because we didn’t smoke it.” Chan replies sheepishly.

“We ate it,” says Minho, lifting his chin and pointing at the baking tray with his eyes. “And you ate an entire brownie by yourself. You’ll be pretty fine and dandy for a while.”

“You—what—huh?” Felix blinks and scratches his head. The sensation is both new and familiar, feeling soothing to this touch. “Did you put some magic grass on the batter?”

“Not exactly magic grass.” Minho smiles with that mischievous glint in his eye. “Super duper special butter.”

“Butter?” Felix asks, but he says it in english so his Australian accent comes off very thick. It sounds like buttah instead of butter. “I think you put too much of that buttah.”

Minho nods, grimacing for a fraction of a second. “I might have gone overboard, yes.”

“Why do you say that?” Jisung looks worried.

The question is answered as Minho blinks and nods to himself, lips puckered. His eyes look glazed over as he begins to giggle. The giggle becomes a modest chuckle then hysterical laughter. Minho’s laughter is echoed and matched by Felix’s, a contagious fit of guffawing that is hard to contain. Chan and Jisung exchange a glance then look at their friends.

“It hasn’t hit me yet.” Chan raises his eyebrows and shrugs. His head suddenly feels heavy, sort of forcing him to lie down. “Wait—shit-fuck—I spoke too soon.”

Jisung chortles, shaking his way to show disappointment. “You’re weak, fellas,” he says, reaching for half a brownie. “You don’t have what it takes.”

“Han, sing us a song,” Minho requests, fighting a fit of giggles. “Can you sing opera?”

“I can certainly try,” Jisung retorts, his mouth full.

“Do or do not,” Felix chimes in, his voice high-pitched. “There is no try.”

“Hey hey, ho ho—” Chan sings, his voice cracking.

“—Felix’s Yoda, yo!” Minho finishes, snapping his fingers to a beat that is only in his head.

“Shit.”

Chan, Felix, and Minho turn to Jisung. He’s mid-munch and he looks lost in thought.

“Something in your mind, darling?” Minho asks, dragging himself toward Jisung. “Do you feel relaxed?”

“What was that about us being weak?” Chan raises an accusatory eyebrow before chortling. “You drongo, you.”

Jisung perks up. “Bongos? Where?”

Minho rubs his forehead. “This is going to be a long night.”

“Chill out, we have brownies.” Felix reaches for the baking tray, picking a bigger brownie than he expected. “We’ll be coolio.”

“Did he say ‘coolio’?” Chan asks through gritted, covering his mouth with his hand though exposing his mouth to Felix and not Minho.

“I can read your lips,” whispers Felix.

“Shit.”

“Language.” Minho snaps. “For fuck’s sake.”

Jisung snorts. “What an example you’re setting for all of us.”

“A terrible one.” Chan giggles, his eyes crinkled. Smoking grass every now and again was fun but eating it was another thing altogether. “We gotta thank Lix for this batch, though. If I had stars to give, I’d gladly give you the whole damn night sky.”

“Bro,” Felix whispers, his voice deeper than the Mariana Trench.

“Bro,” Chan whispers back, tapping Felix’s nose with his index finger.

They move closer and lean on each other, foreheads touching. They remained like this for a while until Felix sits straight and sighs a heavy sigh of relief, as though he’d been tense and is only know letting go of all the weight on his shoulders.

“I’m a great masturbator.” Felix the Idol-Baker nods and smiles, his eyes suddenly and oddly watery. “I’m such a talented masturbator.”

The boys blink.

It takes the quartet a full minute to realize the Freudian slip.

“Fuck! I meant I’m defo master baker!”

Chan sighs in relief. “Had us scared for a second there, champ.”

“But I’m also a wickedly talented mastur—”

“Have another brownie.” Jisung snatches the brownie Minho snatched from Felix and returns it to its original owner. “Before you say something you might regret.”

“Too fucking late.” Minho burps. He stands up and points at each of them. “More milk?”

“Defo, mate,” Felix and Chan chorus, high-fiving at their synergy.

Minho sighs and rolls his eyes. “Be right back.”

It will take Minho twenty minutes to return. By then, half of the tray is empty, and the boys are playing UNO again—though no one is paying much attention, even while high the inevitable betrayal that comes with playing UNO lingers in the air.

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from-home · 4 years

Text

𑁍 MARK LEE┊ 𝒔𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 / one ˎˊ˗

𑁍 summary : the one where mark lee time travels back and forth throughout the past and future with his crush, (y/n) ˎˊ˗

𑁍 pairing : mark lee x older!reader (by like three years lmao) ˎˊ˗

𑁍 word count : 6.7k ˎˊ˗

𑁍 genre : fluff, comedy (i hope??), minimal angst, time travel!au ˎˊ˗

𑁍 warnings : swearing, unrequited love (i know that shit hurts omg), my humour is ass, mark gives me slight second hand embarrassment in this, bad writing??, i gave up like halfway through this lol, first time writing a fic like this pls have mercy, it’s almost 2:30 am i'm too tired to proof read fuck ˎˊ˗

𑁍 a/n : first chapter of my first ever fic on here hehe - idk when the next chapter might come tbh but hopefully i’ll continue this series for my own enjoyment! in the meantime, uni still kicks my ass >:(( but anyway, enjoy and i hope that at least someone will find joy with this! ˎˊ˗

[ 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟬 : 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝟬 ]

when your pastor dad’s best friend was the biggest nerd in high school and became an eccentric scientist

O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,

What a beautiful Pussy you are,

You are,

You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!

If he could write like that, maybe Mark wouldn't need to be here in this boring literature class of his. Don't get him wrong, he liked writing, and he liked the way he could express his emotions through a pen and paper. But for the twenty-one-year-old boy who could barely sit still in one place without his mind wandering off into four different dimensions, it was hard to be interested in whatever the professor was rambling on about. Maybe Professor Jung was telling the story of how she met Dylan Thomas' widow's sister's friend's cousin, and how much of an artistic impact it had on her. She had told the story a good three times in the past two months - Mark kept count.

Yeah, writing was fun and all, but literature class specifically was boring and dull to him. "Oh but Mark, why take this course then?" one might ask. But one should also know that it was a necessary course if Mark wanted to earn his oh-so-coveted diploma.

Curse him for majoring in creative writing. His dad always did wonder why writers even bother writing when the bible exists.

But maybe one day, an hour and a half of John Keats would produce him some ideas for a romantic poem that he could write and gift off to his love of seven years... and counting.

(Y/N), the shiniest of all pearls and the most beautiful of all Mona Lisa's, the older woman and her beauty often left Mark stunned and helplessly in love. He first met her when he was fourteen, when she had been introduced as his seventeen-year-old tutor. She was so pretty back then, and still was now. In fact, it was as if she didn't age at all!

Someone who resembled a goddess like (Y/N) deserved only the most romantic of all romantic poems, and Mark Lee made it a mission to be the one to write it for her. He was so helplessly in love with her that he was able to channel his feelings for her into five different written forms: poems, song lyrics, an 'A for effort?' drawing of her, letters, and anonymous blog posts about how "unrequited love hurts".

Sure, those blog posts were anonymous, but as good as Mark thought he was at hiding his feelings for her, everybody in town and their ancestors' spirits knew about the big crush Mark had on her. But no one bothered to tell (Y/N) about her not-so-secret admirer and nobody bothered to let Mark know that his mysterious crush wasn’t as well-kept to himself as he thought it was.

But it was cute. Not the part where Mark slowly died on the inside as each day passed without his feelings being returned (that was pretty sad, everybody acknowledged), but the part where the adoration in his eyes were so clear for (Y/N). Legend went that he held stars in his eyes whenever his gaze rested on the older woman - like, actual stars from the galaxy. Or so the first-hand accounts go.

Mark Lee was a talented and hardworking boy, that much was a shared sentiment by everybody in town. He excelled at all subjects, mowed the lawn twice just because he thought he missed a spot, gave it his all at church every Sunday by rapping and dancing in the name of Jesus Christ until he was reduced to sweat and threatening to rip his dress shirt off - he was a jack of all trades. There were even rumours that whenever it was time for a 'Make a Wish' patient to... make a wish in heaven, he would dress up as Spiderman and visit them in the hospital to make their final dreams come true. So maybe that's why it was so endearing, his one-sided love for his noona. If there was one person who could jump over that hurdle of "just friends" and out of the friend zone, it had to be Mark, the boy who's always gave it his all in everything ever since he moved here from Canada when he was twelve. It was one thing to have this crush that you desperately wanted to be returned, but it was another to have the whole town cheering for you - it said a lot about Mark's character.

Which is why! There was no other perfect test subject for Scientist Kim, the local eccentric scientist who was obsessed with creating his "next big invention". He also happened to be the best friend of the town's pastor (weird combination, everybody knows), courtesy of their high school days and a misunderstanding over a carton of milk. The town's pastor also oh-so-coincidentally happened to be Mark's father, who had lived in Korea for all his life until he moved to Canada so his wife could give birth to baby Mark. He ended up moving back to his hometown, however, thus creating a new relationship between his best friend and son.

Now Scientist Kim - who liked to go by "Cabbage" as a homage to his idol, Charles Babbage - didn’t really care about Mark's painful one-sided love, but he knew the boy could never say no to his father's best friend from high school, so there was no one better to try out his experiments and inventions than Mark. Like, there was literally no one else at all - the whole town swore Cabbage was out of his mind and were still waiting for the day the newspaper would come out with a headline that he's been charged with involuntary manslaughter. Everybody would be disappointed, but not surprised. But such an incident hadn’t happened yet, so for now, Cabbage was still freely working hard everyday to successfully complete and unveil the invention that would propel him to "the front page of every science magazine and a Nobel Prize in Physics".

And it just so happened to be today, October 30th 2020, when Mark received a phone call from his dad's best friend in the middle of class. He was glad he kept his phone on vibrate, but god, was it distracting. To answer or not to? Why now of all times? Right, he forgot that some people don't have anything else to do with their lives other than... creating things that usually end up on fire by the end of it. You know, now that he thought back on it, the last time Mark willingly participated in Cabbage's experiment which involved some tinfoil, antennas, and laser beam machining, it left Mark's right shoe on fire - thank God he had brought a fire extinguisher over to Cabbage’s house with him.

Just that memory alone convinced Mark to ignore the call, nearly forgetting about it once it had stopped ringing if not for the fact he received another call just seconds later. "What is this, an infatuation?" Mark grumbled to himself, before glancing up at the front to see if Professor Jung was distracted enough for him to take this call without her noticing. It didn't help that he sat three rows away from the front. But she still seemed to be rambling on about how much she loved Dylan Thomas' works, and that was a sign for him to accept the call. He kept his voice to a hushed whisper, however, "Hello-"

"Mark! You have to come over!" There was no way Professor Jung did not hear that screech that came from his phone. He glanced up nervously, noticing his classmate's startled gazes on him. But his eyes wandered over to the front, and judging by how Professor Jung was now going on about Dylan Thomas' "attractive appearance", it seemed he was in the safe for now.

"Cabbage, I'm in class, so could you keep it down?" Mark hissed quietly into the phone.

"Right, right, sorry!" While he was still loud even after lowering his voice down, it was more than quiet enough for Professor Jung not to notice, thankfully. "Mark, I've just completed my latest invention. But this isn't just any invention, it's the invention of both my - and everybody's dreams!"

Mark would be mildly curious if not for the fact that Cabbage said that about every invention of his, but he figured that his dad was going to urge him to go anyway, even if Mark didn’t want to. "But he's my best friend, Mark!" Jeez, because how could he possibly say no to the power of friendship?

"Mark? Boy? You still there?" Cabbage’s voice pulled Mark out of his thoughts, and the boy could do nothing but sigh. This was just going to be like every other time - he’d be introduced to some machine that supposedly did one thing, said machine would catch on fire the next minute, and it would all result in Mark going home an hour later.

"Fine, I'll be there. After class in like, half an hour." Mark reassured the scientist, and he swore, he could hear something catching on fire in the background.

"Great!" He then heard rushed footsteps and... a fire extinguisher? "See you then!" And the call ended.

He just couldn’t wait.

When visitors would come to the humble town of Uicheon (의천), located just thirty minutes away by car from the bustling capital city, Seoul, the first thing they would notice was how much the town gave off Suburban American vibes, like walking through a town where the main characters of some random Disney high school movie lived. All single detached houses, varying in style from Country French to Cape Cod with recent contemporary and modern upgrades to those houses by residents who wanted to "spice it up".

Uicheon was a town seen by others where most of the population was upper-middle class. There was nothing wrong with that at all, and actually, the residents of Uicheon were both happy and welcoming of anybody and anyone who stepped foot into town or even took an interest in moving, no matter of their social or economic status.

If anything, the residents of Uicheon - the ones who've lived in the town for longer than ten years at least - were often worried that those who did show interest of moving in inevitably get... scared off. By one particular daunting house.

It was a beautiful town. No seriously, Uicheon had been mentioned on multiple "Top 5 beautiful towns just outside of Seoul that you should visit!" lists published on the internet. And in the beautiful small town where all the houses provide comfort and beauty, surrounded by flowers on nearly every available patch of grass like something straight out of a magazine, there stood a modern house - the only completely modern house in the town - its exterior all... black. Even the big windows were tinted black, and it was obvious that the house stuck out like a sore thumb. Sometimes, the local kids told stories of how the house was abandoned, and was home to a ghost with a vengeful spirit inside who wanted to steal your teeth. The residents of Uicheon had gotten used to the house's presence already, but it didn’t stop the mutual sentiment of "...really?" amongst them.

And currently, Mark stood in front of its black front doors, ringing the black doorbell and covering his ears as trumpets echoed from inside the house, playing to the tune of the guitar solo of Gun N' Roses' 'Sweet Child O' Mine.' Only seconds later, did the door swing open, revealing a robot, half of Mark's height. "SCANNING FACE... HELLO M-A-R-K, MARK." It greeted, well, robotically.

"Hey, Edison," Mark greeted the robot nonchalantly, walking in and shutting the door behind him, "where's Cabbage?" He asked as he took off his shoes and placed it on the nearby shoe rack.

"LOCATING THE DOCTOR..." Edison's eyes turned yellow, colour blinking repeatedly until it turned into a green light and stayed like that. "DOCTOR LOCATED - HE IS IN HIS LABORATORY DOWNSTAIRS."

Because was it really surprising that the house belonged to a guy who invented things for a living and went by the name of a vegetable in a bizarre way to honour his idol?

"Got it, I'll go meet up with him then." Mark informed, heading down the hall until he reached the black spiral staircase that led both to the third floor and bottom floor. It was really nice up there on the third floor though; Mark had been there before and it even came with a movie room! Too bad Cabbage rarely used it because he "doesn't have time for action sequences". So Mark, being the loyal lab assistant/test subject he was, headed down instead to the bottom floor, where he was greeted by a hallway that was lined up with pictures of old men on the walls. "My inspirations!" Cabbage would say. Among them were the likes of Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison (who he named his robot after, clearly), Nikola Tesla... you got the drift.

Regardless, Mark never stayed in the hall longer than he needed to - he wasn’t sure if portraits of old men who were dead by now staring at him was exactly his kind of vibe.

At the very end of the hall, all that awaited him was a grey metallic door that had some vapour seeping through the narrow space at the bottom of it. "Shit, I didn't bring a fire extinguisher today..." Mark cursed, grabbing onto the straps of his backpacks and readjusting it on his shoulders. "It's okay, Mark. He hasn't killed you before, so he can't kill you today...?" He wasn’t sure what the logic behind that thought was but you couldn’t blame him for trying to... reassure himself for whatever was about to come beyond those doors. It was funny to him; he had been the lab rat of many of Cabbage's crazy experiments and inventions, yet he kept coming back and every time he did, the jitters were always there.

Maybe it wasn’t because he was scared of death. Because he wasn’t - his father always drilled the idea into his head that God would welcome him with open arms when the time came. At the very least, if Mark died - most likely because of one of these experiments and inventions - he'd be bringing Cabbage with him. But hey, that was beyond the point.

If not the fear of death, then what? Maybe, just maybe... one of these days, one of Cabbage's revolutionary inventions would actually be successful. That for all of the craziness that's going on inside the mad scientist's head, it would finally pay off.

If only he knew when.

Mark reached for the handle and twisted it, pulling the door open and nearly coughing when a whole cloud of mist and vapour rushed at him. "Jeez, Cabbage, what are you doing this time?" Mark coughed into his arm as he took a step into the laboratory. He actually couldn't see the scientist at first, waving his hand around in hopes that he'd be able to swat away the mist and vapour. The space around him eventually did clear, though, revealing...

Nothing?

Instead of the usual grand machine that looked like it was taped together, Mark was greeted with... a clear space. The scientist was over at his desk just up a set of stairs that led to a second floor within the big room. "Cabbage!" Mark called after him, waving his hands to get his attention.

Whatever the scientist was busy doing, it was important enough to leave Mark ignored for a good five seconds. It left him pouting, though the scientist eventually did glance over at the boy, his eyes widening behind his circular glasses. "Mark, boy, there you are!" Cabbage sprang out of his seat, quickly rushing down to the boy he had called over. He held some sort of watch in his hands, like it was the most precious thing in the world. Jeez, since when did Cabbage wear Rolex? "Took you long enough! I was bouncing in my seat waiting for you to come over! But in the meantime, I was able to complete another one after confirming my calculations for the twenty-seventh time..."

One thing that nobody wanted to do was sit through Cabbage's rambling, prompting Mark to speak up. "Whoa, calm down, Cabbage. What's going on? Where's your invention?"

"Oh Mark, you're looking at it." Cabbage held out the watch and Mark raised an eyebrow.

"That small thing?" Mark narrowed his eyes at the watch in the scientist's hand. "Are you sure? Last time I came in for one of your creations, it was twice my size and almost killed me." But knowing the kind of person Cabbage was, Mark wouldn't be too surprised if this little watch managed to wreck havoc as well. How ironic it would be, for something so small to cause so much chaos.

Cabbage shook his head, meeting Mark's gaze with oddly serious eyes. "Mark, the creation I hold in my hand can - and will - change the world. If left in the wrong hands, everything could collapse. Society will crumble, the universe will be left in a never-ending stream of terror, reality will no longer exist, the concept of time will-"

"Okay, okay," Mark was left, once again, trying to calm down the frantic scientist, "Cabbage, deep breaths. Tell me, what did you create?" It couldn't be that bad that it left the older man going on some admittedly fear-inducing rant.

"A time travel machine."

One Mississippi, two Mississippi...

"Alright, I'll see you next time then, Cabbage." And almost immediately, Mark turned on his heel, prepared to just dip out of there.

"Wait, no, Mark!" The scientist called after the boy, grabbing a hold of his sleeve, "Please, hear me out!"

"Time travel, Cabbage!" Mark whirled around, disbelief painted in his features. "Do you even hear yourself right now? That's impossible! This is impossible! Listen, I'm fine with being your test subject but even I have to put my foot down somewhere when things get a bit too crazy!"

Despite Mark's reasonable concerns, Cabbage really didn't feel like letting his lab assistant slip away from the tip of his fingers, especially now of all times. "Come on, Mark! Twenty-seven times! I checked my calculations twenty-seven times! Don't let my hard work go down the drain!"

"Then do it yourself! Time travel yourself!" Mark exclaimed.

"I can't! I need you to go so I can stay behind and collect all the data while making sure you don't get stuck in the future or something!" Cabbage explained.

Unfortunately, Mark's face still showed utter disbelief. "You know, this really doesn't help your case, Cabbage!"

"Fine! We'll do this the fair way then!" Cabbage shouted, holding his fist out.

"Are you serious? Rock, paper, scissors?!" Mark cried out, covering his eyes. If there was one thing he couldn't say no to, it was rock, paper, scissors. Why? Maybe because he boasts a seven-hundred-fifty-two win record, with a mere twenty-one losses in the game. As you could probably assume, Mark was the undisputed rock, paper, scissors king in Uicheon, and only two kinds of people would dare challenge him in the game when it came to bets. Those who were bold and those who were desperate.

"I mean it, Mark! If you win, you can walk right out that door and never look back. I won't force this onto you. But if I win..." If Cabbage won, "you have to at least give this experiment a thought."

"Wait, that's it?" Mark uncovered his eyes, surprise in his voice. But hey, it wasn't a bad deal at all - in fact, the opposite. If Mark won - which he was pretty much guaranteed to - he could leave. If he didn't, he could pretend he thought it over and just say no in the end. "Well shit, say no more, Cabbage." And out Mark's fist went. “On shoot?”

"On shoot." The scientist confirmed, the two men placing their fists behind their backs.

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

Rock for Mark, and... rock for Cabbage.

"You got lucky." Mark rolled his shoulders back. "But this is it." And back their fists went behind them.

"Rock, paper, scissors... shoot!!"

Scissors for Mark, and... rock for Cabbage.

"I won..." Cabbage glanced down at his fist, mouth left agape, "I-I won! Against you!"

Yikes, better make that record seven-hundred-fifty-two wins to twenty-two losses now.

"I-I..." Mark was still in disbelief, for a totally different reason now, however. "I... I lost?" Under such circumstances too... but seriously! Time travel was a bit too much! "H-Hey, that doesn't mean I'm going to be going through with this! Remember, you said if you won, you'd let me think about it!" Mark reminded.

"Yeah, but only because I didn't think I'd actually win!" Cabbage snorted, shaking his head as he tucked the watch safely in the pocket of his white lab coat. "But I am a man of my word, so I'll give you some time to think about it. How about until the end of the day?" He suggested.

"That's a bit too soon, don't you think?" Mark frowned, not really liking the idea of being forced into a decision so quickly.

"Sorry, is that loser talk?" God, that damn Cabbage always knew how to get under Mark's skin.

"Fine, by the end of the day. But don't be surprised if my answer doesn't change." Mark warned. "Now if that's it, I'll be going." Mark huffed, turning around and heading to the door once more. This time, the scientist let him go, but not without some parting words.

"See you soon, Mark."

(Y/N) doesn't know where her life went wrong.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration and a dramatic one as well, but it didn't change the fact that instead of living out in the city and pursuing her dream as a world renown film director, she was stuck in her small hometown, working full-time at a film-rental store.

What was even the point of this store anyway? Everything was online nowadays anyway - who did the owner think he was, trying to compete with Netflix?

"One Mississippi, two Mississippi..." (Y/N) mumbled to herself from behind the counter, staring dully at the analog clock hung just above the front doors. An analog clock - what year was this again?

"(Y/N)," the voice of the store's owner, Mr. Yoon, was a less than welcoming disruption to her daily "clock-watching" (as she termed it herself), but at least it was a good way to remind her that the day was almost over, "did the kids all go home already?"

(Y/N) nodded, reaching below into the counter for a piece of paper with names and times. "Yup, Jungwoo and Sungchan just finished their shifts half an hour ago." She pointed to their names on the paper, "Signed out here."

"Great. You're in charge of closing up for today then, I have business in the city." Mr. Yoon informed, proudly readjusting his grip on the handles of his briefcase.

"Godspeed, Mr. Yoon." (Y/N) nodded, watching as the man left with a nod. And as the doors closed behind him, the female found herself alone in the store. All alone... which actually wasn't even that uncommon.

(Y/N); twenty-four years old, graduated from a local college two years ago with a degree in Film Studies with hopes of eventually entering the field of film-making and directing. She had high hopes, especially when she graduated. "To the city and A-list I go!" She could remember cheering that day in her car, diploma in hand and graduation gown still on.

But somebody must have forgotten to tell her that the university you went to mattered - and just how competitive the job market was for... pretty much every job.

Now this wasn't to say the college she attended was bad or anything, it just wasn't... one of the SKY universities. And before she knew it, when it came time for job hunting, the positions were constantly being filled out by "better candidates" and after a certain amount of "we regret to inform you"s, (Y/N) decided to go back home.

Home, in the beautiful yet small town of Uicheon. All she wanted was to make it big, live in a nice condo in Seoul and shop at luxury brands. Yet now, she found herself wearing what was possibly a ten-year-old uniform from the back storage with a name tag that was always tilted at a forty-five degree angle no matter how many times she tried to fix it.

But don't get her wrong! She hadn't given up yet - she absolutely would not! Her films might not be playing in theatres or at the Busan International Film Festival, but she still enjoyed writing up ideas and getting some of her co-workers to act out some scenes for her while she filmed eagerly with her trusty camcorder.

The Sony HDR-CX675; this bad boy cost her a good two months of saving up but God, was it worth it. Jungwoo in a wig and Sungchan throwing pens like they were daggers had never looked so good in HD until (Y/N) had gotten her hands on that beloved camcorder of hers.

"Should I film the clock or something?" She sighed, eyes wandering back over to the analog clock. At least she only had an hour left before the store closed, and she usually spent most of that time cleaning up anyway.

And so that hour began, dreadfully long until with only ten minutes to spare, the front door had opened, prompting (Y/N) to rush back to the counter from the storage room, though not without grumbling to herself quietly about what asshole comes into a store ten minutes before they close.

But it wasn't just anybody who came in - it was Mark, the boy who always complimented her hair no matter how lazy she had been to brush it that day. Still, flattery always earned some brownie points in (Y/N)’s books. So she wasn't hesitant at all when she had greeted Mark. "Hey, it's nice to see you here! Renting a movie?" She asked, resting her arms on the counter top.

"Yeah, looking for some Christian-friendly Halloween movie. For the kids at church this Sunday, since Halloween is tomorrow." Mark chuckled shaking his head.

"Let me see what I can find," (Y/N) grinned as she slipped away from the counter and to one of the shelves, "I'll be honest though, you're probably better off showing the kids some cartoon from Netflix or something."

As if Mark was going to tell her that he insisted to his dad on renting a movie, for he wanted to see and talk to the girl of his dreams who currently had her back turned to him. "Well you know us, terrible with technology." Instead, that was all he could muster up.

"I'll bet." She snickered jokingly, turning back to him with a movie now in her hand, "Toy Story of Terror sound good to you?"

"Better than showing them Scream." Mark shrugged before heading back to the counter with her. "I'll pay with debit."

"Mhm," (Y/N) nodded, taking his card and swiping it for him through the machine, "you know the usual, watch within thirty days and return it after those thirty days." She reminded him with a yawn. God forbid Mr. Yoon ever see that.

"Busy day?" Mark offered a small sympathetic smile as he took his card back as well as the movie. "I kind of get it. Cabbage called me in for one of his inventions today."

"Today?" She asked, watching as the boy across from her nodded. "What was it this time?" Everybody in town felt bad for Mark since he was the one always testing out Cabbage's inventions, but at the same time, at least it wasn't them?

"Gosh, you wouldn't believe me if I said it." He shook his head with a heavy sigh. "A time travel machine - or like, a time travel watch, I guess."

"Time travel?" The gasp from the female was expected; anybody would be surprised. "I always knew Cabbage was ambitious but definitely not to the extent of time travel!"

"Yeah, needless to say, I said no. Or like, I told him I would think about it, you know?" Mark frowned. "I just can't believe... time travel of all things."

"I'll be honest," there was a smile spreading on (Y/N)’s face, to the slight surprise of Mark, "the idea of time travel sounds so cool though. I'd love to try it out." When Mark had brought up what had happened at Cabbage's house, he didn't think (Y/N) would actually be... interested in the scientist's invention. Definitely not when it was so absurd. But she looked so cute, the way she stood up straighter and her attentive eyes as he talked about it. Gosh, he wished he could tell her that it wasn't worth the time. But her interest was clear, that much he couldn't ignore.

"Then... why don't you try it in my place?" Mark suggested hesitantly. He didn't want (Y/N) and her pretty little self anywhere near those dangerous creations, for concern of her safety. But she really seemed to be interested in this, and this... it was the least he could do.

"Alone? No thanks." She giggled softly, to the relief of the boy who had suggested it in the first place. "Maybe if someone else was with me though. Like a time travel duo!" Hold up - someone else?

"This is your chance, Mark!" His inner voice practically screamed at him. Anything for (Y/N), right? "But it's so dangerous!" His other inner voice tried deterring him from going through with what he was about to suggest. But for (Y/N)! "Then," Mark felt his heartbeat quicken, excitement and hope visible in his eyes, "you wouldn't mind if we did it together, would you?"

If his friends Johnny and Donghyuck were here, they'd definitely be cheering and slapping him on the back. It felt like he was asking her out, something he always dreamed of doing but never really having the guts to do so. Rejection was a scary thought, but as he watched the wide smile that spread onto (Y/N)’s face, he knew he had something to look forward to, even if through... this.

"Of course! it'll be fun!" Score! "Too bad only one person can go though, I assume." She frowned.

And for a second, Mark's hopes had shattered once again. But then he remembered something back at Cabbage's house, and maybe, just maybe, it wasn't over yet. "Actually, I think Cabbage mentioned making two watches." After confirming his calculations twenty-seven times. "Why don't we go together?"

"Seriously? You wouldn't mind?" Oh, what Mark wouldn't given just to see that wide smile on (Y/N)’s face every single second of the day.

And with a smile of his own, he nodded. "Of course not, noona."

Love has always been a motivation for man, ever since the beginning of humans. And as time continued on and advanced, a variety of factors had been added to that list of motivation, such as money and power. But one constant above all was always going to be love - something that had always been interpersonal.

So that was why Cabbage wasn't too particularly surprised to see Mark come back to his house later in the evening, this time, with a female companion. And judging by the look of awe on her face, it didn't take much for the scientist to connect the dots. "Mark, you came back!" Cabbage smiled down at the boy from the second floor of his basement lab. "With a friend this time?"

"Right," Mark cleared his throat, gesturing to the scientist, "(Y/N), this is Cabbage as you already know, and Cabbage, this is (Y/N), my friend."

"Hi! It's great to be here! Like, really great." (Y/N) was still enamoured by the many... things going on in the lab, though Mark couldn't blame her.

"Anyway Mark, have you given my invention a thought?" Cabbage inquired, standing up from his seat by his computer and leaning against the railing. "I assume that's why you're here, after all."

Mark nodded. "I have." He confirmed, biting down on his lip. "And I'll do it."

"You will?" The scientist's eyes widened, grin spreading on his face. "That's great!"

"But," Mark began, gaze falling over onto (Y/N) for a short second before back onto the scientist, "with conditions."

"Conditions?" Cabbage raised an eyebrow, pleasantly intrigued.

"Conditions!" (Y/N) suddenly spoke up with a grin, earning a look from the two. "Sorry, it just felt kind of intense so I wanted to ease tensions a bit." She coughed, glancing back and forth between the two. "Please, continue." She urged.

"A-Anyway yes, conditions." Mark cleared his throat before turning to the scientist once more. "I want (Y/N) to come with me. You have two watches, don't you?"

"I do." Cabbage nodded, fishing his hand into the pocket of his lab coat and bringing out two identical watches. "So far, they're the only two I have so I need to make sure that your friend will be extra careful with this."

"She will." Mark reassured without any hesitation. "I know she will, because she's (Y/N)." A man who was claiming everybody's hearts left and right - except for (Y/N)’s though, unfortunately.

Cabbage looked as if he was pondering on the thought for a bit before eventually nodding and making his way down the stairs. "Well, if Mark is vouching for you, I guess it should be okay." Cabbage nodded before gesturing for the two to follow him to the back of the lab, where large screen rested on the wall and multiple smaller monitors on both it's sides, resting on a glass desk. Below it were multiple keyboards, a few touch pads here and there with clearly different functions. It was like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. "This is where I'll be monitoring and communicating with you two while you're in whatever time period you land in." He explained, gesturing to his set up.

"What about the watches?" (Y/N) asked.

"I'm just getting to that." Cabbage nodded, reaching for the two watches once again. "Gather around, you two." He motioned for them to come closer. "It looks like a regular analog watch at first, but if you tap the clock face," he did what he had just said, the other two watching in awe as a small digital hologram had appeared in the air, just above the clock face, "it has information such as your battery life on the right hand corner, the date and time you're in, the option to video call me, and the option to switch time periods." He pointed out each detail on the hologram. "Now the problem with the switching time periods is that once you arrive somewhere, you're stuck there for, at a minimum, twenty-four hours before the voltage and particle energies recharge and allow you to travel elsewhere."

"Wait, so you're staying we might be stuck in a different time for a whole day?" Mark asked, a bit of alarm evident in his voice.

"Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find out the proper calculations to make the recharging process quicker but for the meantime... yes." The scientist sighed. "But hey, at least it's not twenty-five hours...?"

"Cabbage!" Mark groaned, running his hand down his face.

"I mean, twenty-four hours doesn't sound that bad." (Y/N) hummed. "I'd love to explore a different time period, really get to know what it was like!"

"See, at least someone's optimistic." Cabbage sent a not-so-subtle look over at Mark. "But anyway, I actually have a quest for you two."

"Ooh, a quest! I feel like I'm in a video game." (Y/N) giggled, and if it weren't for the fact that she was totally digging this right now, Mark would have just straight up left out of fear for his own safety.

"Exactly!" Cabbage nodded eagerly. "Since you two will be going to different time periods, I want you to bring back a memento of some sort from each time period."

"Anything specific?" Mark asked, wanting to make sure he was going into this with full details.

"Yes, for the purpose of analytic purposes due to their high amount of energy." Cabbage turned to the two, a suddenly serious look on his face. "A meaningful item to at least one person you encounter."

The two waited for him to say more, but nope, all he did was stare back at them. Mark ended up being the first to speak up. "Hm, I think you're missing the part where you, oh I don't know, tell us what you mean by ‘meaningful item’??"

"That will vary from person to person, Mark boy." Cabbage sighed, giving an empathetic pat on the boy's shoulder. "One person's 'meaningful item' might be a necklace that their mother gifted them, or maybe a letter from a lover for a soldier - everything in life is a variable anyway."

"Wait, then how do we know something is a meaningful item?" (Y/N) asked.

"That's where this last function of the watches come in," Cabbage turned his attention back to the watches, "this icon," he pointed to one of the icons on the hologram screen that resembled a heart, "will allow you to scan a person once you've talked to them. This only works one person at a time though, and it does drain a lot of energy from the watch battery. It'll allow you to see particles coming from objects, like sparkles. The more vivid, bigger and brighter the particles, chances are that's your person's meaningful item. So be careful with who you choose to use it on - once you scan that person, you'll have to find their meaningful item before you can use it again. Not to mention that the longer it takes for you to find the meaningful item, the more energy it drains." He warned.

"Talk about ominous, gosh." Mark sighed, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"It'll be exciting though, Mark." (Y/N) glanced over at the boy beside her, a grin spreading on her face. "We're in this together, after all!"

"Noona..." A shade of red coated Mark's cheeks as he stared down at her, eyes sparkling with adoration.

"Ahem, and me too." Cabbage interrupted, "Just, I'll be back here handling everything."

"Yes, of course, because where would we be without you, Cabbage?" Mark sighed, feeling a bit salty over the scientist's interruption during his and (Y/N)’s "moment".

"Love you too, Mark." Cabbage blew a kiss his way before handing a watch to Mark and (Y/N) each. "Are you two ready?"

"Wait, we're doing this so soon?" Mark's eyes widened, staring down at the watch in his hands with a bit of fear.

"Better sooner than later." Cabbage shrugged, helping attach the watch onto Mark's wrist and then to (Y/N)’s. "You guys will be fine, don't worry. I'm here, after all!"

"So reassuring, Cabbage." Mark grumbled, about to protest over the quick timing and suddenness of all of this if not for the sudden feeling of warmth in one of his hands. He glanced down at said hand, eyes lingering on the smaller hand that had clasped his own. And as his eyes wandered up to the hand's owner, he swore she was going to be the death of him.

"It'll be okay, Mark." (Y/N) squeezed his hand softly with a reassuring smile. "We're in this together." She repeated.

"Right..." Mark trailed off before taking a deep breath and nodding. "Together." He then glanced over at the scientist. "We're ready, Cabbage."

With an excited smile, the older man nodded before turning to his set up and taking a seat down in the chair. The sounds of his quick tapping against the keyboard keys had Mark worrying with every passing second, but as (Y/N) held his hand, he figured this wouldn't be a terrible way to die. "Adios, you two!" Cabbage called out before hitting one last button. Click!

And as a bright and large flash of light illuminated within the lab, Mark knew it had begun, especially with the way his limbs practically burned and his consciousness struggling to stay intact.

The things he'd do for love, huh?

#nct fluff #mark lee fluff #mark lee #nct mark fluff #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #mark lee x reader #nct #nct 2020 #nct fics #nct x reader #nct angst #mark lee angst

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cotton-candy-in-a-thong · 3 years

Text

A realization that probably won't make sense past 6am

Okay let's do this. I'm pretty sure everyone and their mother has heard that song. You know, that super popular song that goes like "monster, how should I feel, creatures lie here, looking through the window"?

youtube

This song. This song right here. This song was freaking everywhere, especially back in the 2010s when every AMV maker in existence used this song for at least one angsty video. This shit was like the emo anthem for daddy issues galore, but let's keep this whole thing moving.

So what is this song about? Well according to Meg Frampton (y'know, the Meg in Meg and Dia), “'Monster' is about a book called East of Eden by John Steinbeck. He explains his own term 'monster' which refers to an individual having received no love as a child, which further transformed that person into a rapist or murderer, or some other unexplainable phenomenon. If a child receives no love they will end up a 'monster'" (her quote from here: https://genius.com/Meg-and-dia-monster-lyrics#about).

So when listening to this song on a nostalgia playlist, my slasher-fucker brain couldn't help but listen to the lyrics and form a connection between them and a specific character this fandom knows damn well about.

Let's get it out of the way: I'm talking about Bo Sinclair.

Now why am I drawing connections between this over-a-decade old song and a fictional slasher whose fictional breath probably smells like fictional cigarettes? Let's go over the lyrics, and Bo's life:

"His little whispers, "Love me, love me!" That's all I ask for, "Love me, love me!" He battered his tiny fists to feel something Wondered what it's like to touch and feel something"

So this lyric is referring to a clearly love-starved child who has received no real compassion and care from his own parents. The fact that the kid has tiny fists displays how young the child is. This emotional trauma is taking place at a very young age, before puberty even began for this poor boy. The lack of proper socializing with the main people who are supposed to guide him has led to him wanting more from the world, wanting more physical contact, more emotional bonding.

So anyone who has paid attention to the beginning of the movie will see how this lyric fits into Bo's childhood. His parents didn't have the patience to properly raise Bo. Instead of showing compassion and kindness, they showed him brute punishment for simply not knowing how to act. Children from abusive households often grow up to have a starved, and warped sense of what love and respect is. As Bo is emotionally starving, you can see where this leads to him searching for "compassion" through violence and sexual abuse as he grows into adulthood (as shown with Carly in the basement). "Monster, how should I feel? Creatures lie here, looking through the windows"

Okay so in my understanding of this quote, this lyric is actually in the perspective of the "monster" asking himself this question. In the story that Meg and Dia have created as the inspiration of this song: the young boy, named 'Henry' would always be sent to his mediocre little room where there was little else to do than sit and stare out the window to all the animals and people who are living their best lives. This demonstrates a large case of physical and social isolation. He can neither talk or interact with anything beyond his own home, which again, amplified the theme of a child being forced to grow up without learning how to navigate the world and its inhabitants, forcing himself to ask how he should even feel and "what's normal?".

Now, Bo was also physically held back from communicating with the world, as you can tell by his highchair restraints. However, Bo mentions in the movie that him and Vincent were sent to foster homes once their mother has died, implying that he and his brother were still children when she passed away. Bo takes extra note on this, referring to the fact that he and his brother being sent to foster homes in a negative way. Not only Bo does not take pride in his foster life, but you can see that his wrist scars are still very much prevalent in appearance. I'm gonna say it now, there's a good implication that Bo wasn't treated so well in his foster home either. This means that, for pretty much his whole life, Bo was cheated out of developing a healthy sense of emotions, and a reasonable outlook on love as well as respect, by the authority figures around him. "How should I feel?" is likely a question that Bo has asked himself somewhere in his life. He struggles, internally, while every person, animal and roadkill around him just stare into his window of subtle misery.

"That night he caged her, bruised and broke her He struggled closer, then he stole her Violet wrists and then her ankles, silent pain

Then he slowly saw their nightmares were his dreams"

So this is the big nasty. This line blatantly describes the part in Meg and Dia's story where Henry, the "monster", has snatched up a random girl to subject for sexual abuse. Remember when I said that childhood abuse can badly distort one's sense of boundaries, love, and safety? Yeah, this shows here. Henry is so fucked up from his parents' abuse growing up, that he has failed to recognize the very thick line between forcing yourself on another individual out of emotional and physical desperation (or even just control), and developing a healthy relationship with another human being.

As shown with taping Carly up in the basement, the dirty mattress, and the polaroids, Bo has fallen down the same path as Henry. Bo was prevented from learning what real love and respect is. Bo was raised with violence and venomous control, and that became that main thing he understood as an adult. As an adult, Bo took pleasure in sexually abusing people, as the movie implies. Here, his own victims' nightmares also became his dreams as he inevitably fell into a sociopathic mindset from his awful past. "Monster, how should I feel? Creatures lie here, looking through the windows"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Time will hear their voices, I'm a glass child I am Hannah's regret"

By "their voices" the lyric, in my opinion, is referring to all the people who've seen Henry for the wreck of a human being he became. The "monster" he is. One of the voices is the girl he has sexually abused. Hannah is Henry's mother. This piece is an obvious nod at the fact that Henry never had a good relationship with his own mother and is her living regret in life. Henry being a "glass child" is a metaphor for Henry being a fragile person. Henry is so fragile and desperate for validation and affection that he'll abuse someone to receive an illusion of such connection. "Mother Time" will catch onto what Henry has done, and punish him with karma.

And Bo has too, wronged quite some people. The polaroids tell all, and justice can only hope that his victims' voices will come back to haunt him. Bo is also a glass child as he's fragile about his own emotions. We see this when Bo snaps at Vincent, calling him stupid for taking initiative without him. As for being a regret...what mother could physically abuse her child and love him under the same actions?

Now, what's going to be the karma for Henry and Bo for what they did? We're about to find out. "Monster, how should I feel? Turn the sheets down, murder ears with pillow lace There's bath tubs, full of glow flies Bathed in kerosene, their words tattooed in his veins (yeah)"

So here is where the karma begins. However, there is also where Bo and Henry differentiate in how they go about their lives.

The lyric above explains that Henry is overcome by the guilt of his actions, and decides to kill himself by lighting himself on fire with chemicals in a bathtub. And there, that's the end of Henry.

As for Bo, things are different. We don't know if Bo ever felt guilt for what he did to all those people, but we do know that he never let any guilt get in the way of his intense, and yet childish thirst for control over others. Bo was so overcome with the frightening rage and the mentally of fighting to get his way, that he literally fought the forces of karma until he couldn't fight anymore (getting his ass beat to death with a bat by Carly). Whereas karma got to Henry by sheer guilt, Bo was so far into his dark lifestyle that any sense of conscience just wasn't enough to stop his implemented nature, forcing karma to take his life in the form of victims fighting back.

Bo Sinclair is a lesson on how badly abuse and isolation can fuck someone up. Bo could've turned out to be a successful mechanic, but was overcome by the enforced lifestyle of unnecessary and overdone violence. Bo could've found someone who genuinely loved him without any control as factor, but was led to believe that "my way or the highway" was the answer to cooperation and affection. Bo could've lived a long and fulfilling life along with his brothers and possible friends who could've moved into the abandoned town, but his life was cut way short because of the very things he was conditioned to utilize in any situation: anger, violence, and the excessive want to dominate whatever comes across.

The crazy thing about this is that the song barely came out too long after House of Wax (2005) premiered. The song was apparently released in 2006. Ironically, I don't know if Bo would even like this song despite how much it fits him. He'd probably be into some Marilyn Manson before he even touches a Meg and Dia CD.

Whelp, see y'all next time!

#bo sinclair #house of wax 2005 #slashers #slasher fucker #meg and dia #monster #song analysis #childhood trauma #abuse #character analysis #emo shit #angst #slasher angst #Youtube

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heartofsnark · 3 years

Text

This Is Love (Chapter Eleven): Angels of Doubt, Bearing Broken Halos

Notes; The chapter title is pretentious as fuck, but I don’t care. I’m very happy with the beginning of this chapter so I’m very excite to finally let y’all read it fully. Overall, this chapter definitely is more of the build up that this uhhhh nice little religious family mayyyyyhaps be a bit less nice than originally thought.

Word Count: 10451

Chapter Warnings: Cult Angels, Animal Death (in the context of dangerous wildlife needing to be put down), A Judge Wolf, Indoctrination, Assault, Me Awkwardly trying to write himbo Nick Rye for the first time

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here!

They don’t go to The Spread Eagle that night, staying too late making plans. But it’s all for the best in the end, Casey would be more busy in the evening and if she’s interrupting his work, he’ll be less likely to listen. It’ll be easier to talk to him tomorrow just as the bar opens, before anyone arrives and during down time. Regardless, when she comes back to the trailer park. She breaks next to the registration building, checking her mailbox in case Cassie or Joseph had wrote her back, but no such luck. Maybe it will take a while for them to even get it?

A breeze passes through as she leaves the building, that familiar flower smell itching at her nose. The trailer park has fields of those white flowers surrounding it, the delicate petals seem ghostly in the moonlight. Moonflowers, the trailer park has to be named after them, these flowers that haunt her in her dreams. A shift of movement, far back in the expanse of flowers catches her eye. Someone tending to the flowers with a hoe, but she doesn’t know anyone in the trailer park who takes care of the flowers. Surely, if they had a grounds keeper, they’d start with the trash within area; not the flowers surrounding it.

Dahlia decides to park her bike before investigating, not wanting to leave it in the open while she journeys through the flowers. She pulls out her phone once she’s parked, tucking one earbud in. If only to ease her nerves as she walks to confront the odd stranger.

“When you told me I should text your brother.

I was walking with a blunt in my hand.

Double Jameson was in the other.

I was drinking like a spiritual man.”

She stands at the edge of the field of flowers, little the scent tickle her nose, watching the…person in the distance. Their gender, or at least presentation of it, unidentifiable. She blinks her eyes, when did she start seeing spots? Her tension eases, body and mind relaxing.

“I was just talkin’ to Jesus in my hotel room.

I was just talkin’ to Jesus in my hotel room”

And she walks further through the flowers, brushing through them, fractals blurring her vision with every step. Her head swims and floats away, fuzzy as the smell surrounds her. She drags her fingers along the blossoms as she walks, grounding herself with their velvet touch, the contrast of her black painted fingernails against them.

“And I could barely stand

He said, "Get some water, man"

'Cause they don't understand

I'm not what they think I am”

As she nears them with every unsteady step, she sees them more clearly. And truly they’re a ghastly sight. Shaved head and dirty white clothes; the smell of the flowers strengthens as she nears them, turning acrid with an edge. That smell comes from them, like they’d bathed in chemicals infused with the flowers. The mask latched around their grime coated face, covering their mouth is marked with the Eden’s Gate symbol. They pay her no mind, focused on tending to the moonflowers, their eyes are glazed nearly white and milky. Like Dahlia’s eyes looked her first night in Hope County, when she dreamed of Faith despite having never met her.

“They can never ever understand me, no

What I came from, what I was before”

“Are you…okay?” She asks them, despite her own swimming vision and weak knees.

“HelpmeFaithhelpmeFaithshieldmefromsorrow.”

They grumble, not sing, the lyrics to one of Eden’s Gate’s songs. Their voice a rasp as if they can hardly breathe, each word running into the other, energy manic. The moonlight shining on gaunt cheeks and white eyes makes them look dead, a walking corpse before her. She reaches out, gingerly touching their shoulder, hoping touch can break through whatever state they’re in.

And then they scream, swing the garden hoe and bashing it against the side of Dahlia’s head. She’s knocked to the ground, head hitting rock and dirt. The creature screams out and jumps on her, trying to maul her. Vacant eyes staring down at her, her body and head too fuzzy to even give it the reaction it deserves. She should be scared, she should be terrified, but she isn’t.

Gently, she puts her hands on each side of the person’s neck, applying pressure, not enough to strangle but to hold it at slight distance. It tries to dig dirty fingers into her flesh through her jacket, screaming mangled cries of pain or anger, she can’t tell as she looks over its face. The haunting glow of moonlight on their dirty face.

“How you get to heaven with a broke halo?

How you get to heaven with a broke halo?”

“Help me, Faith,” Dahlia sings the song it used to soothe itself, “help me Faith, shield me from sorrow… From fear of tomorrow…”

And a switch has been flipped, it stops screaming. Body going lax, fingers no longer trying to tear her apart as she sings the church song, own voice overlapping the contrasting melody of her music.

“Help me Faith, help me Faith, shield me from sadness…From worry and madness…”

And it’s slipping out of her loosening hold and climbing off her, resuming it’s gardening work, as if she never existed at all. On trembling legs and with her vision still blurring, she leaves, not sure of what else to do. A part of her knows she should be more panicked, more concerned, more anything, but then she takes another inhale the floral scent around her and she can’t find the energy. It fades as she leaves the flowers and their scent behind, vision steadying as she enters her trailer, the full reality dawning on her just as she shuts the door behind her.

“What the actual fuck!?” She screams at her empty living room, because what the actual fuck did she just see? Her mouth is dry and her brain a mess as distress finally shines through the haze.

Dahlia digs her phone out, shutting off her music and doing a search. Her vision is still fuzzy with prisms of shifting colors, body still light and floaty. They were there the first time she saw Faith, they constantly itch her nose and make her eyes see things. The church compound was covered in bushels of them.

Moonflowers, she searches, and sure enough the images show the white trumpet shaped blossoms. Also called datura, angel trumpets and it’s down a rabbit hole. They’re toxic and hallucinogenic, can be harvested for either medication or poison. Scopolamine and atropine are in them; Dahlia does not even remotely know jack shit about chemistry. But a quick search shows scopolamine has been used in everything from nausea medicine to truth serum. So…she may have just hallucinated the person? From the flowers… but when she touches her forehead, where the person stuck her, blood stains her fingers. She really did get hurt…

Dahlia grabs her sketchbook, sitting down on the floor before her coffee table as she’s done so many times before, and she draws what she saw. Painstakingly she tries to recreate them, to draw the gaunt of their cheeks and the grime on their skin. To catch the white emptiness of their eyes. And she dates the drawing, scratching out the date in as neatly as she can. And on the next page she draws her first weird dream, sketching herself vomiting flowers and blood, those moonflowers. She adds the rough date she remembers it happening in the corner when she’s satisfied. Then she draws herself burnt and marred with flowers blooming from her mangled remains, hand moving of it’s own accord to match the details, shutting out the rest of the world as she works to carefully craft every line. She dates it as well and then draws the newest one, smears of ink on bare skin with flowers blooming from them.

Once each image is created with a date etched in its corner, she sits back and rakes a hand through her hair. She’s had nightmares before this, certainly, but never as frequent or vivid as these. Flowers are the recurring theme and she’s not sure why; maybe the datura are doing it? The scent of them always present, making her sleeping brain conjure odd images. She already has a list of things to do; the apple festival is the highest priority, but she still wants to know what each flower means and what on earth is working in those flower fields, what connection it has to Eden’s Gate.

She’s exhausted, graphite from her pencil smudged and sticking to her hand. But she feels more at ease having put her demons into art, having created something out of this. There’s still a lot of questions in her mind. This constant back in forth of trusting the church only to doubt them again is frustrating.

Dahlia barely manages not to fall asleep in the shower that night, exhaustion clinging heavy to her leaden muscles and pulling at her eyelids when she lays down on her couch.

The junior deputy is running on two hours of sleep, coffee, and an energy drink the next morning. But that doesn’t stop her from swinging into The Spread Eagle as soon as it opens, Pratt in tow since they’re technically on shift.

“Something wrong, deputies?” Mary May asks when they stride in, Dahlia can already see Casey through the kitchen window, prepping food for the later in the evening.

“No, we actually just wanted to talk to you and Casey about something.”

“What’s up?” Mary May raises an eyebrow and the chef’s head perks up.

Dahlia explains Debbie and Doug’s situation, that John is trying to buy them out, at the very mention of the Seed sibling’s name she can see Mary May tense. But the tension lessens, smiles on the bartender and cook’s face when the deputy mentions their plans for an apple festival.

“I know we could use more cooks selling food there and Debbie mentioned you work with the Testy Festy, Casey.”

“Plus, figured the band that plays here, might be willing to work a night or two if you talked to ‘em Mary May.”

“Look, you had me at pissing off John Seed,” Mary May says, grinning, “I’ll talk to the band and Casey, you damn well better help them out.”

“Come around here, sister,” Casey calls out, voice deep and booming as she walks around into the kitchen already warm as starts prepping food, he spares her a glance as he minces vegetables, “your destiny hangs off you like a coat, the soul of a warrior, and the heart of a hero.”

Dahlia blinks, taken aback by his unabashed and weirdly soulful compliments. She doesn’t really believe in destiny nor does she see herself as a warrior or hero, but she certainly appreciates the thought. Her heart, that of a hero apparently, warms and she smiles after another second.

“So…you’ll help?”

“It’s important for people to gather, to bond, and feel a sense of community. I’ll call Deb and Doug to offer any help I can.”

“Thank you so much!” Dahlia grins: Casey is definitely an odd duck, but he cares about the community and willing to help. So, a fantastic guy in her book.

“Happy to help, sister.”

First two people dragged into their plan, Pratt and Dahlia give some friendly goodbyes before being on their way. This is already coming together and Stray is nearly vibrating with excitement as they leave the bar.

The pair continue to do their patrol while swinging in to talk with folks about the festival. They swing by Lorna’s Truck Stop, Dahlia unable to resist snapping a picture of the giant cheesy cow statue outside of it before they walk in, door chiming. An older woman is talking to someone in a green hood, the woman with chubby cheeks and blue eyes pushing a little bag of mini pies into the hooded person’s bruised hands.

“Here you go, Jess, on the house as always.”

“Thanks,” the hooded girl responds, an awkward gruff to the words before she leaves. When Dahlia catches a sight of her, Jess has a face of mottled bruises and cuts.

“Anything I do for you, Deputies?”

“We were hoping you could help us out, Lorna,” Pratt starts.

And just like Casey and Mary May; Lorna’s all bright smiles and kind eyes, happy to help. Even pushing bags of the free small handmade pies into the deputy’s hands before they go. There is something undeniably heartwarming at everyone’s willingness to help. She crams one of the little pasties into her mouth, sugary berries on her tongue as they get back into the cruiser.

The shift passes by with ticketing traffic violations and stopping in to rope people into helping out. Hudson and Brennan sending texts letting Dahlia know that Grace has agreed to help and Adelaide will too if only so her boytoy Xander can have a smoothie stand during the festival. Riding through the valley, Dahlia sees a billboard advertising gun lubricant, Grace Armstrong’s face plastered on it, though her eyes on the board seem off. Dahlia too far away to put her finger on it, but it looks like that part of the advert has been damaged. An award-winning sniper and veteran; well loved in the community. Dahlia only saw a glimpse of her at the barbecue, talking with Hudson, but it seems clear just how important she is to the county.

Within an hour of their shift ending, Doug and Debbie have them called out to the orchard. Their smiles are bright, the middle-aged couple holding each when the deputies pull in. Pratt’s still trying to pretend to have a grumpy face but there’s still a slight smile pulling at his lips as they get out of the cruiser.

Arms are wrapping around Dahlia in a second, Debbie pulling her into a tight hug, the young deputy tenses hands hovering awkwardly at the woman’s sides.

“Thank you, so much,” Debbie says, pulling away but her hands still on Dahlia’s shoulders, “we’ve been getting calls all day, everyone wants to help us do this, thank you so much.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s no problem…just happy to help,” Dahlia flusters under the attention, proud of what she’s done, but squirming under the weight of gratitude.

“Well, we certainly appreciate it,” Doug tells her with a smile, “but we called you out ‘cause we got some flyers made, figure’d it help advertise, though word of mouth already seems to be doing us a lot of good.”

“We could definitely hand them out, see if some places are willing to hang them up too.”

“And now we’re the flyer brigade,” Pratt grumbles under his breath and Dahlia jabs her elbow into his side.

“I’ve already been coming up with everything I wanna sell at the festival, but if you two have some free time Sunday, I could use some taste testers too,” Debbie offers, with a smile, “least I can do is feed you for all your help.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Dahlia agrees readily.

“I…could probably swing by.” Pratt tries so hard to sound above it all, but free apple pie can apparently draw even him in.

“Can’t wait to see you both then!”

They wave goodbye to the couple, Dahlia packing the flyers with her into the cruiser car. The ending hours of their shift and the day is spent finding places to hang them up. Mary May posting them in The Spread Eagle, hanging in the window of the garage and general store, Whitehorse even letting it be posted up in the window of the department. Dahlia’s ride home that night takes longer as she stops at places to ask if they’d hang up the advertisement; after getting Lorna’s Truck Stop and Audrey’s Diner to put them up. Dahlia stops at the Hollyhock Saloon, bartender agreeing to hang it up in the small bar, the rookie deputy giving a quick hello to Brennan and some of the other officers gathered at his table. The 8-bit Pizza bar hangs them up without any question, happy to help, and Dahlia manages to convince Darcy to hang it up in the registration building of the trailer park before she heads in for the night. Dahlia crashes easily that night, sleep finding her as soon as she hits the couch.

The next day Stray is hit with déjà vu as they’re called out to deal with Eden’s Gate blocking another road. She’s still not sure why this is apparently a thing they do. And to her misfortune it’s not Waylon or members of the church she likes waiting behind the cement block when they pull up this time; but Theodore and Lonny. Because of course.

“Deputies,” Lonny forces a smile, “to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Well, you’re breaking the law, so there’s that,” Pratt says with a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah, heard you two gave some of our members a hard time about blocking off a road,” Theodore comments, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’ll refer you back to the fact it’s against the law,” Dahlia grumbles, “why on earth are you blocking the road anyway?”

“Got some property nearby that needs some work.”

“The church own a lot a property?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow, that was Waylon’s reasoning too.

“Soon to be even more when John secures the orchard for us,” Lonny has too wide of a grin as he looks Dahlia over, “though rumor has it some little cop is trying to get in the way.”

“Irrelevant, you’re breaking the law. Just scram and there won’t be any issues.”

“Look, h-“

“We’ll be going then, deputy,” Theodore puts a hand on Lonny’s back, reigning him in. Though the way Lonny sneers tells Dahlia that their conflict is only resolved for the moment.

Regardless, Pratt and her watch as the men yet again pack away the blocks and clear the road out. Dahlia still can’t quite figure out why on earth they’d need to or would want to block the roads. Between that and the strange person she saw in the flowers, bearing the churches symbol, things just seem to get weirder and weirder. She considers for a moment asking the church members there about the person with the shaved head, but she has a feeling asking more questions will just put her higher up on Lonny and Theodore’s shit-lists.

“Still don’t get why they keep blocking the roads,” Dahlia comments when they get back in the patrol car.

“They’re assholes, what more reason they need.” Pratt shrugs before starting the cruiser engine and Dahlia just doesn’t feel like it’s that simple.

“Well, if they do it again, we don’t really have a choice but to arrest ‘em do we?”

“Can’t let them get away with shit forever; three strikes seem fair.”

Questions still run through her mind; but there’s no way of getting answers at the moment, left to bury her curiosity as they leave back down the winding roads. Hours pass and bright blues shift to pastel pinks as the sun sets upon Hope County.

That evening at The Spread Eagle, she’s listening to Pratt and Hudson argue about something; she can’t even be sure what but she’s just amused to not be at the butt of the humor tonight. She’s cramming fries into her mouth when she feels eyes on her.

“That’d be her right there,” Mary May says, pointed out at Dahlia as she talks to a man the young officer has only seen in passing. Shaggy dark hair under a cap and beard on his face, though the last time she saw him he’d been wearing glasses. She thinks it’s Nick, only having seen a glance of him at his own barbecue.

“If I’m in some sort of trouble, I’d like fair warning, Mary May.” Dahlia comments, unsure why anyone would be trying to find her in a crowd. The blonde’s smile eases her nerves as she comes across the bar, the man walking Dahlia’s way.

“No trouble, Deputy, Nick here was just wanting to know which one of you started the apple festival. He’s going fly a banner ad around for Debbie and Doug.”

“Oh, that’s awesome.”

“I just wanted to find out who was helping them out, Nick Rye,” he introduces himself, sticking his hand out for her to shake.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“I’ve been crop dusting for Doug and Debbie for years, last thing anyone needs is for John to get his hands on that place.”

“That seems to be most people’s sentiment.”

“Told ya just about everyone is sick of his shit,” Mary May says with a shake of her head, “it’s about time he doesn’t get what he wants.”

“That son of a bitch has been hounding me and Kim for months now, trying to buy our place.” Nick’s jaw clenches, irritation coming off him in waves.

“I know Kim damn near broke his nose for it.”

“Wait what?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow; how often does John harass people?

“Listen to this,” Nick gesture emphatically, now sitting down next to Dahlia, “asshole shows up to the house while I’m gone, trying to bully Kim into selling the damn place, while she’s pregnant. What kind of sick fuck shows up at a man’s house while he’s gone and tries to strongarm his wife into signing the place over. Fuckers lucky I wasn’t home.”

“You not being home was kind of the point of when he showed up.,” Mary May reminds him, “besides, no offense, but even ready to pop I think I trust Kim’s right hook protected her more than yours ever could.”

“Now, that’s just mean,” Nick says with a slight pout to his face, reminding Dahlia of a tall puppy dog.

“It’s okay Nick, anything you lack in strength you make up for in…” Mary May seems to have to search for the next word, normally brains would be the natural contrast, “well, you just keep being you.”

“Never really thought about being anyone else; well except maybe an eagle, but I don’t think that counts.”

“No, it doesn’t really count, Nick,” Mary May says with a slight laugh.

Dahlia stifles her own laugh raising an eyebrow at the ridiculous turn of the conversation. Nick is sweet and willing to help out with the festival, so she won’t spend too much time questioning his desire to be an eagle. It’s not long before Pratt and Hudson fall into conversation with the pilot; allowing Dahlia to comfortably settle into the background as the night winds down.

It’s not even the noon the following day before things around Hope County manage to pick up pace. Sirens and lights flashing as Pratt rushes them up north towards the mountain; there’s a palpable tension. Crisis situations are rare; most days filled with handing out traffic tickets and dealing with roadblocks. Hell, the county is boring enough that the sheriff would allow them to actively work on a festival during shift hours. So, a call requesting EMS, all deputies and units, and the F.A.N.G Center; is definitely out of the normal.

They see the gathering of people as they pull up, Whitehorse is talking with workers in F.A.N.G Center shirts, Hudson and other officers gathered around and EMS workers carrying someone into the back of an ambulance.

“Pratt, Rookie; over here now!” The sheriff calls out for them and they rush over.

“What’s going on?” Pratt is the one to ask.

“Wolf, possibly rabid, but we don’t know. It attacked a pair of hikers. We tried to tranq it but nothing is bringing it down, we gotta find it and put it down before it hurts anyone else.” The F.A.N.G Center employee explains to them.

“No way to get around killing it?” Dahlia asks, she understands it can’t always be avoided, but she would prefer not to.

“We hit that damn thing with enough tranq to take down an elephant and it still tried to maul us before running off; tried to get it with a snare pole and it broke it. We can’t rehabilitate an animal we can’t get near and if we let it go; it’ll hurt someone else.”

“You heard the man, alright,” Whitehorse’s voice booms as he starts addressing everyone, commanding attention “we got a wolf to find, grown wolf, white fur and aggressive. I want everyone to stay in groups; we have tranquilizers, snare poles, and what’s used to put ‘em down. We want to try to do it as humanely as possible but protect yourselves and keep an ear to your radio. We need to make sure the trails are safe and can’t let anyone else get bit; move out!”

The deputies are given tranquilizer guns, the snare poles, and syringes filled with pentobarbital. Though, given what they’ve been told, she’s not completely sure how effective any of it will be. If the wolf has enough tranquilizers to take down an elephant in it already and is still moving; as well as having previously broken one of the snare poles, then how on earth is any of this suppose to work?

But she doesn’t voice these concerns as she follows after Pratt, Hudson, and another police officer tagging along so they can maintain a decent sized group per Whitehorse’s instructions.

The mountains are beautiful, she thought that when she’s gone hiking before, but even during this tense situation she finds herself amazed by how gorgeous it is. Bright green summer grass and towering trees as far as the eye can see. Mountains that reach up to kiss the bright blue sky.

Dahlia stays at the back of the group, letting Pratt and Hudson lead as she keeps her ears and eyes peeled for anything suspicious. The sneer pole is across her shoulders, her wrists on top and holding it there as she walks. She half listens to Pratt and Hudson talk; something about people making up werewolf rumors because the wolves have been acting wilder and wilder lately. She’s reminded of her meal at the Grill Steak, that man who warned a group of people about wolves. He claimed they were trained by Eden’s Gate; but those still just sound like conspiracy theories.

Tension crawls up Stray’s spine, skin forming goosebumps at the sensation of being watched, then the sound of snapping branches coming from forests that surround the trail she walks along. She moves without thinking, leaving the trail and her group behind, following where she heard the noise.

Branches and brush scratch at her arms as she ventures deeper into the wooded area; then she sees his back. Jacob Seed, why does there always seem to be a member of their family just around the corner when trouble happens?

“Something you need,” he says, not bothering to turn and face her, examining his red rifle.

“You shouldn’t be out here.”

“I shouldn’t be,” he spares her a glance over his shoulder, blue eyes rife with condescension, “last time I checked it’s a free country, ain’t it?”

“That’s not what I mean. There’s a wolf running around; possibly rabid. It’s not safe for you to be out here alone.”

And he laughs; dry and deep, the sound making her raise her eyebrows. Why is the idea of being mauled by a rabid wolf so funny to him?

“You worrying about me?” He asks, finally turning to face her in full, shifting the bright red gun to the holster on his back.

“I mean, yes? My job is keeping the public safe and you are a member of the public.”

“Pfff, you’re just a pup,” he says walking past her, “be better off watching out for yourself.”

His hand is large and rough as it ruffles her hair while he walks by; his palm and fingers nearly encompassing the entire top of her head. His hand is probably bigger than her face she realizes, heat flushing up her face though she’s not sure of why. He’s so condescending and patronizing and fucking giant; the last point isn’t entirely relevant but it’s still true.

“I’m a deputy, don’t patronize me.” She says, reaching up to grab his hand from her head, capturing it in her own. His rough scarred hand is nearly double the size of her own; warm calloused skin against her own.

“You having fun there?” He asks, when she doesn’t let go of his hand right away, instead pressing her small hand back against his palm, comparing the immense size difference. He really could probably wrap one hand around her entire head.

“Your hands are so big, wow.”

“’Preciate it pup.”

And he laughs again, still dry and brief in it’s sound, pulling his giant hand from her smaller one before he leaves. She glares at his back; corded muscle shifting beneath his black tee shirt. Despite her pout, she can understand why he’d see her unable to defend herself in comparison to him. She’s been confident in her physical abilities for a while; but she imagines a man like Jacob isn’t scared of anything.

“Rook, where the hell are you?” Pratt’s voice crackles over her radio as Jacob walks off.

“There was a hunter out here, I was warning him about the wolf,” Dahlia explains herself, she wasn’t suppose to leave the group per Whitehorse’s orders, but no one could blame her for warning a civilian. There’s something odd about thinking of Jacob as just a hunter or civilian; though she’s not quite sure why.

“We’re in the woods near the Visitor’s Center, get over here, you pain in the ass.”

The radio crackles out and Dahlia gets on her way; she knows the Visitor’s Center is south of where she is. Though she has no sense of direction, so that has little bearing on her ability to find it. She hikes down, feeling that’s the closest approximation to south that she can get, sticking a little closer to the woods than the paths. She prefers the shade and atmosphere of being surrounded by the trees.

But the further she travels down, the sparser the trees grow, exposing Dahlia to the sun. Green grass and branches crushing underfoot as she stumbles down the terrain. She can just imagine Pratt and Hudson’s frustration, but warning someone about a rabid wolf is certainly understandable.

A drawn-out howl echoes through the woods, making the deputy freeze. Sunlight is warm on her face and stinging at her eyes as she turns towards the sound. A spire of craggy rocks coming off the mountain; the silhouette of a wolf howling with the sun behind it. She uses her hand to shield from the sunlight, straining to see more detail. Seven distinct darts stick from the wolves back; tranquilizers.

Dahlia quickly tugs her uniform shirt off from over her black tank top, wrapping the fabric around her forearm. Not quite the cushioned guard they use for training police dogs, but it will provide some barrier between it’s bite and her skin. Worse case scenario, she’ll be taking rabies shots once everything is done. She holds the syringe of pentobarbital in one hand, she has her firearm too if that’s unable to bring the wolf down, but she prefers to let it go peacefully if she can.

She stays crouched down as she approaches the peaked edge of the mountain, craggy rock building up to a spire, levels to climb up to reach the clearing where the wolf sits. Dahlia stays low as she climbs, moving as quietly as she can, using a blue grappling hook handle to help lift herself up to the final level. There’s a gap in the clearing; a log showing a passage between craggy rock to craggy rock; boulders surrounded by grass. She can see the wolf, but it’s yet to noticed her, another howl echoing out as it cries out to the sky.

It’s beautiful and she’s all at once ashamed that it has to be put down. Matted white fur with a black nose and lips; it’s eyes are luminously silver, like moonlight. Red is mottled across it’s face, red frothing around it’s mouth, as well as a brighter crimson stroked across it’s brow and down it’s nose. Across it’s furred shoulder blade and spine are seven different tranquilizer darts that were shot at it, how has it not passed out? It doesn’t see her not right away, then it’s nostrils twitch and it’s lips pull back to snarl, red tinged drool dripping down it’s maw. Then it’s gaze is on her, growling and baring it’s teeth.

And then it pounces.

She puts up her cloth wrapped forearm, the force of it’s body hitting hers knocks her onto her back. It’s teeth snap into the fabric, as it tries to chew through her arm, the edges of fangs just grazing the flesh beneath. One large paw presses against her wrist, attempting to pin her limb down so it can rip the meat off her bones.

Dahlia pulls back the plunger on the syringe before slamming the needle into the thick of the wolves neck, sinking through fur and flesh before she pushes the chemical through. The wolf snarls through it’s bite on it, then she watches that shine in it’s silver eyes die. It’s mouth goes slack and then it’s body falls limp on top of her.

The deputy pushes the wolves dead weight off of her, getting up onto her feet, she touches the torn shirt wrapped around her forearm. Drool and blood has stained the green, small damage done to her skin under. It stings but nothing she can’t deal with; the idea of getting rabies shots worries her more. She crouches over the wolf and looks at it’s face, the red around it’s mouth is darker, rusted and clearly blood. But the brighter more purposeful crimson looks like paint.

She remembers the warnings she overheard in the Grill Steak before; someone warning conservationists about wolves owned by Eden’s Gate. Though, he called them a cult. It’s not for sure or a real connection; conspiracy theories and paint. But, who could have gotten close enough to paint the wolf’s face? Who would want to?

“Rookie,” Pratt’s voice crackles over her radio.

“Pratt…”

“Rook, if you’re not here in five minutes, I’m gonna kick your ass,” Hudson threatens in the background.

“Please, she’d probably like that.”

Dahlia’s face flushes at Pratt’s teasing, she can’t say he’s completely wrong, but that’s not the point. She hefts the wolf’s corpse up onto her shoulder, carrying it’s heavy weight, the head of the furry creature beside her head. It’s fur is soft and thick despite the matted nature. She’s not big on hunting culture, but the wolf would make a nice rug.

“I got the wolf,” she says into her radio, holding it in one hand while the other keeps the carcass steady on her shoulder as she carefully makes her way down the craggy rocks.

“What?”

“I got the wolf,” she repeats to Pratt’s flat question.

“What? Wh-where the fuck are you?.”

“I’m on a big ass like spirally mountain thing.”

“That tells us literally nothing,” Hudson informs her.

“Uhhhh,” Dahlia looks over the edge, of the elevated mountainside, “I think I see a helipad nearby?”

“Fuck, I know where you are, stay put. Okay, do not approach the wolf.”

“Uhhh, I think you misunderstood me.”

“What do you mean?” Pratt asks and she can just imagine his raised eyebrow.

“I mean, I got the wolf, I already put it down. We can call off the search, but, uh, I think we have bigger issues.”

“Did you get hurt again?”

“Hey,” she objects to his tone, “you make it sound like I’m always getting hurt.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“No, I did not get…seriously hurt.”

“Oh lord,” Hudson grumbles in the background.

“Look, that’s not the issue, alright. Just get up here and let Whitehorse know what’s going on, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Dahlia finds a steady rock in the clearing to pull herself up onto as she waits, since apparently Hudson and Pratt have figured out where she is. She tries to look for anything else on the wolf that could indicate it being owned; but nothing. Dahlia does find herself wondering why it’s fur is white? Aren’t white wolves usually those in snowy climates, for camouflage?

She doubts she’ll receive any answers, so she tries to quiet her mind. The sun warms her skin where she sits on the rock, white wolf still up on her shoulder, ripped uniform shirt still wrapped around her forearm. It all forms an odd picture, she’s certain.

It’s less than an hour or so before she hears the rustle of footsteps; Hudson and Pratt along with the other officer walking up the way to her. Pratt just stops a second and shakes his head, Hudson is rolling her eyes.

“Hello,” Dahlia says with a soft wave.

“What the actual fuck, Rook?”

And she cracks up; unable to help but laugh at the absolute absurdity of the situation and Hudson’s flat response. She may have already hit the highlight of her career here.

“Stop laughing; it’s not funny, you could have gotten seriously hurt!” Pratt tries to scold her but he’s laughing through his words, the oddity of it all must be hitting him as well. Dahlia presses a hand to mouth to try and stifle her laughter as Hudson gets her radio out.

The senior deputy radios Whitehorse, letting him know they’ve gotten the wolf. He tells them where to meet him with the body, so the veterinarian and F.A.N.G Center workers can examine it. Dahlia will be reliant on actually listening and following obediently behind the older deputies.

“C’mon, Rookie, let go.”

“Alright.” Dahlia hops down from her rock and starts to follow after them down the mountain.

“You need help packing that?” Pratt offers, probably because the wolf is nearly the length of her entire body.

“Nah.”

“You just feel cool packing the wolf on your back, don’t you?” Hudson is the one to call her out, raising her eyebrow with a soft smirk on her lips, looking entirely too pretty.

“Uhhh….”

“God, you’re a dork.”

“I can’t really argue with that,” Dahlia admits with a red face and shrug of her shoulders, happy to see Pratt and Hudson smiling at her dorkiness.

“What happened with the hunter you were warning?” Pratt asks after a beat of silence as they keep walking, helping her over a craggy step with a hand on her hip to keep her steady as the weight of the wolf limits her movements.

“Uh, asshole just patronized me and left. I don’t know why I still talk to him, he’s always a dick,” she says, rolling her eyes when she thinks about Jacob calling her a pup. He likes to comment on her being a puppy a lot.

“Someone you knew?” Hudson asks, offering a hand to help Dahlia get over a large branch in the way of the path. The ease at which the two older deputies silently help her, makes a soft smile pull at Dahlia’s lips. Silently grateful for them as she answers their questions.

“Jacob Seed.”

“Seriously?’

“What?”

“You don’t find it a little fuckin’ weird how the Seeds are always around you?”

“I mean, they’re not around me anymore than anyone else.”

“They really fucking are; you went to the barbecue, John jumped at the chance to rope you into that.”

“Churches like new blood, it’s n-“

“You’ve apparently talked to Jacob more than once; I didn’t even know he could talk,” Hudson says rolling her eyes, “all he ever does at anyone outside the church is glare.”

“She’s talked to Faith a lot too, apparently.”

“I still don’t even know where she fucking came from.”

“I’m still not fully convinced she isn’t a ghost,” Pratt tells Hudson.

“She’s not a ghost,” Dahlia says with a roll of her eyes.

“And you would know, because they cling to you like leeches, right?”

“Shut up.”

“You know what I think it is,” Hudson says after a moment, “you put up with Joseph’s creepy ass speeches and they realized you’d put up with anything.”

“He’s not….that…creepy…” Dahlia says with zero conviction, because, well. He’s definitely off, but despite all the weird little red flags, he did help her and Cassie. So, he can’t be all bad. Even if his brother is taking people’s shit…and well…she still doesn’t know what the hell was up with the shaved head person.

“You can’t even say that with a straight face.”

“Look, we’ve had run ins with him before, he’s the weirdest creepiest person in this whole damn county and that is saying something,” Hudson shudders, “I’d take Zip lecturing me on being a government shill for nine hours over Joseph even looking at me for even a second.”

“His stare is weirdly intense…”

“All of them are weird; John’s skeevy, Jacob looks like he skins people alive in his spare time…Faith’s kinda cute, but at what cost,” Pratt tells her and eh, Faith’s not really her type. The Church Mouse is pretty, but a bit too delicate for the young deputy to really get those weird stomach feelings she gets around women like Hudson or Mary May.

“Really, I didn’t think you liked women who are taller than you?” Hudson asks.

“Faith is like barely taller than me,” Dahlia says with a snort, watching the pure look of offense on Pratt’s face, how could she be taller than Pratt?

“How short do you think I am, Joey?’

“What?” Hudson raises an eyebrow, confused by their confusion, “ heard she was like six foot something with black hair.”

“She’s like this tall,” Pratt puts his hand maybe two inches above Dahlia’s head, “and blonde.”

“Kinda blonde,” Dahlia corrects, thinking of the youngest Seed siblings dirty blonde hair that fades to a slightly light color at the ends. It toes the line between brown and blonde fairly well.

“Whatever.”

“Someone told me she was taller than John, I know they did, am I losing my mind?” Hudson tries to think for a moment; gears visibly turning behind her green eyes.

“Did you ever really have it?” Pratt taunts her.

“Keep it up, asshole, see what fuckin’ happens.”

The trio makes it down to where the sheriff asked, a parking place within the northern area of the county with little gas pumps but not much else. The F.A.N.G Center employees and the veterinarian with a stethoscope around his neck waiting for them as they make their way over. A worker with the center helps get the stiffening wolf off of Dahlia’s back, putting it into the back of a van so they can take it to be examined.

“Good work, Deputies,” Whitehorse congratulates them and Dahlia grins at the praise.

“To be completely fair,” Hudson interjects, “it was Rook who was able to get him.”

“Hey, we helped…move the body…” Pratt jokes, in their own ways they’re both ensuring Dahlia gets her due credit and she can’t help but smile.

“Well, outstanding work, Rookie.”

“Thanks, but uh, I’m kind worried about something.”

“What’s that?’ The sheriff asks, the attention of him, the veterinarian, and center workers all falling on Dahlia.

“The wolf has paint on it’s face, like a cross or something…which kinda makes me think someone owned it or…something?’

“Yeah, that’s definitely not all blood.” A worker looking over the wolf’s face in the van confirms.

“There’s nothing else on it, but we definitely will have to keep that in mind.”

“But, uh, what happens from here?” Dahlia asks.

“I’ll test to see if it’s rabid or if anything else might be the cause for the aggression,” the veterinarian, his name tag she finally catches says Dr. Charles Lindsay, “I’ll let the hospital know and if needed, the hiker will get treated for rabies.”

“Ah, uhh, is there any possible way you could let us know at the same time…well let me know…?”

“Why…?”

“I may have been slightly bit.”

“Slightly?” Pratt is the one to yell out, incredulous at Dahlia’s description of her injury.

“Just a little bit,” She brings two fingers close together in front of her for added effect.

“Jesus fuck, can you just not get hurt for like a week?”

“No, clearly not.”

“Pratt, take her out to the clinic,” Whitehorse says with a heavy sigh and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t need a doctor.”

“Yes, you do. Even if the bite ain’t too bad, you never know if it’s infected. Not only could the wolf be carrying something, but it had someone else’s blood in it’s mouth. This isn’t optional, Rookie, you’re going to the clinic and that’s an order.”

Dahlia can’t and won’t argue with the sheriff on that. Instead shrinking slightly at the realization that her own disregard for her own safety has gotten her scolded despite her accomplishment. She doesn’t think about risks to herself; she needed the wolf put down to save others and if the worst case scenario is her own well-being being sacrificed, that’s worth it to help others, isn’t it?

“C’mon, Wolf-Bait lets get going,” Pratt says, giving her a light smack on the shoulder to follow him.

“I’m coming, asshole.”

She follows behind Pratt, back to the cruiser where they parked at the beginning of this day. The sun has long since set, the moon now bright and high in the sky as she climbs into the passenger side seat. Unable to stop herself from pouting slightly that she’s being forced to go to the clinic again. Even if she understands why.

“Hey,” Pratt gets her attention as he starts up the cruiser engine, “if it makes you feel any better. I’ll be happy to put you out of your misery if it turns out to be a werewolf.”

“Fuck you!” She yells out through a laugh; his dumb joke bringing a smile back to her face as they go off to the clinic.

She’s at the clinic late that night, her injury doesn’t need stitches just some bandaging, some bloodwork and tests done to account for anything that could be wrong. Then she’s sent home with antibiotics; the entire time Pratt making jokes about werewolves and silver bullets like a nerd. All that’s left is crashing for the night and eventually hearing if she has rabies.

Dahlia sleeps easily that night; thanks to her adrenaline crashing down. She sleeps in the night morning, Saturday never being such a blissful treat for her as she manages to not wake up until around noon.

The young deputy takes her time when she gets up, eating cereal and grabbing a shower. Faith mentioned her being able to see Cassie at the convent this weekend spending a day together, so that’s her plan on top of doing the rounds on roping folks into the Apple Festival.

The Convent isn’t far from the trailer park, two buildings seated before the edge of a cliff with craggy staggered mountain range covered in trees beside it. So many mountains and cliffs within the county. The larger of the buildings has dark roofing, a smaller white church with white latticing canopies between them. Like the material used to construct a gazebo and fields upon fields of the white moonflowers.

Before Dahlia can step too far onto the property, a woman with long baby blonde hair with flower tattoos spiraling up her arms and the sin of GREED across her chest runs up to stop her.

“Hello, is there something I can help you with?”

“Yeah, I was here to see Cassie.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, but our sister Cassandra is busy today.”

“Sister?” Dahlia asks, blood running cold for a moment. She can’t seriously mean…Cassie wasn’t interested in joining, she just needed shelter.

“Well yes, she’s opened her heart to the Father, a child of Eden’s Gate now.”

“Interesting…” Dahlia clenches her jaw, “Faith said that I could come see her today.”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s not possible, she’s been busy with finding salvation. She’s with herald John, giving her confession, she can’t possibly be bothered right now.”

“I-”

“Deputy~!” Faith’s sing song voice rings out and Dahlia can’t help but still feel angry, they were supposed to help Cassie, not convert her. The youngest Seed sibling rushes over, nearly floating with the ethereal energy only she can manage. Her white floral dress of the day has a halter neckline and flowers are woven into her braided hair.

“Faith…”

“I’m so sorry; I heard, I know you were excited to spend time with me and Cassie today, but I’m afraid things just became too busy with her deciding to join us here.”

“Yeah…what the fuck?”

“Excuse me?” Faith says, her pretty little smile fading for a moment.

“Cassie needed shelter, not Jesus, so I reiterate…what the fuck?” Dahlia gestures wildly, anger tinging her words. Her blood pressure rising and heat crawling up under her skin like pins and needles.

“Cassie is an adult, she made a choice to join us. Surely, you can’t deny her that freedom, deputy?” Faith’s face pulls into a pout, making Dahlia feel unreasonable all at once, but Cassie was never interested in the religion aspect.

“Yes, she’s an adult, but she was vulnerable, and I don’t think leaping into a religion when you’re in a shitty place is the best move. I-I wanna talk to her myself.”

“Well, I’m afraid that can’t happen, not today. But, maybe next weekend or you could write a letter of course.”

“She still hasn’t responded to my last letter…”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Faith puts a hand on Dahlia’s shoulder, meant to be comforting but the deputy flinches away, “as I said, it’s been impossibly busy, she’s been studying our beliefs and methods of joining. It’s a long process at times, very time consuming, but I assure you…Cassie opening her heart to the Father doesn’t mean it’s been closed to you.”

“Yeah, sure, just too busy.”

“Well, you’ve certainly been busy too, haven’t you?” She tilts her head delicately to the side, still smiling.

“I have?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow.

“Mmm hmm, John’s already learned of you helping put together an apple festival.”

“Oh, yeah, Debbie and Doug wanna save that place so why not, I figure.”

“Yes, we’ve been hearing all about it, John’s not exactly thrilled.”

“Nothing personal to it…”

“I figured, I’m not upset, I promise,” Faith offers a soft smile, “the orchard will end up in the rightful hands no matter what. John just worries a lot about getting land for our church, after all we’re growing by the day and need space for our people.”

“And Debbie and Doug worry a lot about keeping their livelihood, ya know?”

“Like, I said, I have no ill will over it, I’m just interested to see you’re so full of surprises.”

“I am?”

“Mmm hmm,” she giggles, but offers no more information, like she knows a secret that Dahlia doesn’t. But before Dahlia can ask another question, a sight among the convent makes her breath catch in her throat.

Shaved head men and women; tending to fields of those flowers, masks across their face. So, they’re definitely with Eden’s Gate as if she really had to question. They work silently, tending to the fields of moonflowers in their white sweaters.

“Who are they?” Dahlia asks, giving Faith a pointed look. The girl’s eyes move back and forth from the deputy to the workers.

“Oh, those are our angels,” she answers, grinning, “they’re high ranking members of our church, so devoted to The Father they’ve taken vows of silence and dedicate their lives to helping The Project. Amazing, aren’t they?”

“Vows of silence, huh?” Dahlia says, more to herself than Faith. Then why did they mumble lyrics and scream out…why would they attack Dahlia? Is Faith lying to her, she’s got to be, right?

“You know, deputy, if you’re so interested in The Project, The Father would still happily let you join our family.”

“Hmmm, I’m sure, didn’t realize there was a huge process to it though…” Dahlia comments, hoping Faith will elaborate, what the hell kind of hoops did Cassie jump through? Confession, is all she really knows.

“Well, “ Faith grabs both of Dahlia’s hands in her own, smiling, “we ask for our new family members to prove they see the truth of our faith, to prove their dedication, rid themselves of their sins and make sacrifices in order to truly cut their ties with sin.”

“That’s-“

“Faith, there’s a call from the conservatory!” Someone calls out and Dahlia’s words die on her lips; the notion that Faith’s description is vague and generally unhelpful.

“I’ll be right there, see you later deputy, hopefully we can meet with Cassie next weekend.” Faith waves her goodbye and then leaves.

Stray straightens her jacket before leaving the convent, a flood of unanswered questions and doubts in her mind. Everyday something new worries her about Eden’s Gate. If Faith’s lying…that’s fucking bullshit. She doesn’t want to imagine that Faith would lie to her face like that. But, why would their oh so special angels, even the name makes her roll her eyes, be screaming and murmuring despite vows of silences? Why would they attack her?

The rest of her Saturday is spent speaking to people about the Apple Festival, roping Chad from the Grill Steak into it. At least, she believes she did, she’s not completely sure of anything he says. His dialect unintelligible, so she just upped her cajun dialect until she barely knew what she was saying either. Its good busy work, getting places to hang up advertisements, though her heart and mind are somewhere else the entire time. She’s thankful that most people are just genuinely invested in helping; because she certainly isn’t getting by on her charisma.

Her night is spent with trying to distract herself, but thoughts always coming back to the weirdness of Eden’s Gate, to her doubts. Wondering what exactly led to Cassie’s conversion… She’s being silly, she tells herself time and time again, but something just doesn’t feel right lately. Maybe she’s overeating; seeing connections and red flags where none exists. But, the case remains that no tv, manga, music, or drawing can distract her that night.

There’s still a slight cloud looming over Dahlia when she arrives at the orchard Sunday, ready to taste Debbie’s baked apple goods. The sun is high in sky and the smell of apples lifts her mood slightly; but she finds herself still distracted as she parks her bike.

“Deputy!” Debbie greets her and Dahlia gives the warmest smile she can muster. The older woman’s smile helping lift some of that cloud.

“Hey.”

“Staci’s already here, c’mon, we’ll sit in the market stall,” Debbie gushes bring Dahlia over to the picnic tables that are under the covering; where they first talked about the festival.

Pratt is already there; the smell of baked sugar and apples hits Dahlia’s nose before she even sees the array of food Debbie’s put out. Apple pie, apple dumplings, apple scones, and she’s sure that’s just the beginning.

“Hey dumbass,” Pratt greets her around a mouthful of apple pie as she sits down next to him.

“You couldn’t wait like five minutes?”

“Nope.”

“Ass.”

The deputy’s feedback is predominantly noises of happiness; neither really food critics but happy to be shoving it in their mouths. The gloomy cloud is starting to lift by the time they’ve finished off a pie; cinnamon, sugar, and apples warm on her tongue. Apple dumplings settle warm in her stomach and she forgets why she was ever upset. The scones are munched down next; cream sticking to her fingers and lips as she eats.

“God you’re a mess,” Pratt taunts and she sputters a laugh when she turns to face him.

“You have food in your beard, asshole.”

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath and starts wiping at his face.

The stuff their faces for a long while longer; strudel, apple cake, apple cobbler, candy apples, and fritters. Pratt leans back from the table, pressing a hand to his face after a while.

“You alright?” Dahlia asks, raising her eyebrow.

“Debbie is gonna have to roll me out of here at this rate; are you not fuckin’ full yet?”

“…No…” She pauses, before shoving more cobbler and whip cream in her mouth. Debbie and Dough are off rushing to get more goodies.

“Jesus fuck, Rook.”

“You’re just a baby.”

“Shut up,” he leans back away from the table and runs a hand back into his hair, “hey, Rook?”

“Hmm?”

“You ever gonna shoot your shot with Joey?”

“What?!” She chokes on her food, just barely stopping it from flying out of her mouth, where the actual fuck did that come from?

“Your little crush on her, you ever gonna do something about it?”

“Like what?”

“Ask her out, you know, like people do.”

“Yeah…why the fuck would I do that?” She cannot grasp his logic here.

“I don’t know how to explain to you that when people have crushes; they ask the person out.”

“I don’t know how to explain to you that that would be really fucking stupid.”

“Why?”

“Because I already know the answer, there’s no way she’d say yes, and frankly if she did I’d be concerned.”

“Concerned?”

“Yeah, who in their right fuckin’ mind would say yes to me?!”

“So, you wanna act weird around her forever and never deal with it?”

“That was the plan.”

“I’m just saying the sooner you rip the band-aid off, the quicker you can act like a normal person around her.”

Dahlia sighs, she doesn’t want to act like a freak around Hudson for the rest of her life or for her little crush or whatever to get the way of life. Pratt knows more about this crap than her, because everyone does. So, if he’s saying this would help, maybe it would? But, her brain still is struggling.

“But I already know she’s gonna say no, you know she’s gonna say no, literally anyone with a functioning braincell knows she’d say no. So, why would hearing her say no make a difference?”

“Its like closure and shit; I think it’d help.”

“Ugh, just sounds like an excuse to make an idiot out of myself.”

“Compared to the genius you usually are?”

“Fuck off.”

She swallows down a mouthful of strudel before the conversation can continue, but Pratt’s words stick with her. It’s not as if she needed any more on her mind, but she got it anyway. The two continue taste testing for Debbie, though the subject of Hudson never comes up. She’s not sure why Pratt is suddenly so keen on helping her work through her little crush, a friendly gesture, she figures. Maybe her life would be a little easier if she could stop turning into a red-faced mess around the oldest deputy.

It’s late when they finally finish tasting everything; Dahlia giving friendly goodbyes to Pratt and the couple before she goes back home. Her weekend coming to a close with her falling asleep with a stomach full of baked apples.

She’s woken up to her phone ringing; instead of her alarm. Dahlia already knows well that despite shift hours, the nature of their work and the higher level of being deputy means that being called out at odd hours is expected. But her blood runs cold when she sees sheriff Whitehorse is the one calling, something is wrong.

“Sheriff?” She answers, sitting up on the couch.

“Rook; I already called Pratt and Hudson, I want you all at the clinic now! It’s an emergency!”

And that’s all she gets before the call ends. She throws on a uniform and runs out the door, jumping on her motorcycle. Mind racing with each passing second. The hurried and frantic tone in Whitehorse’s voice flaring anxiety inside of her. A million possibilities shooting through her mind as she rides towards the clinic; is it about the wolf? Has there been a murder? Is someone she knows hurt? Could it be an officer?

She’s practically tripping over herself as she climbs off her bike, running into the clinic. The staff is a mess, nurses rushing frantically to attend to someone. Words of transferring, stabilizing, blood transfusion. Something is wrong. Each word swims around her head, but she doesn’t know who they’re talking about. Then she sees Whitehorse, Hudson, and Pratt at the front desk. The three living closer than her.

“What’s wrong?” Dahlia asks running over; all three’s expressions are tense. Pratt shaking his leg, Hudson digging her nails into her arms until her knuckles turn white, and Whitehorse looking a moment away from collapsing.

“It’s Pastor Jerome,” Whitehorse tells her, “someone attacked him.”

“Left for fucking dead,” Hudson interjects, a crack in her voice that Dahlia’s never heard before.

“They’re trying to stabilize him long enough to transfer him to a hospital in Missoula. We need to make sure it stays secure, no telling if whoever did this won’t try to do something again, and we need to be there to ask questions once he’s out of the woods. I don’t want this slipping through the cracks, Jerome’s a good man and he damn well deserves our best effort.”

“Got it,” Dahlia nods in agreement to the sheriffs words.

Images of the man in the priest collar coming to mind. She’s seen him in passing, never a conversation between the two. But she saw him speak with Whitehorse; Pratt implied that both him and Hudson went to Jerome’s church as kids. He means something to them all and that’s clear in just how serious it’s being taken; obvious in how shaken up they all seem to be.

She stands next to Pratt, squeezing his shoulder in an attempt to comfort, wishing she could offer more. He tries to give her a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, too worried about the pastor.

Why would anyone attack him? His church is modest, nearly dying out from everything she’s been told, it wouldn’t make sense to rob him. Hope County has some less than accepting residents; but the idea of a potential hate crime is a hard pill to swallow…

All Dahlia can do is wait with her coworkers, listening to the frantic yells of nurses struggling to save a man’s life. Heart in her throat, anxiety telling her that any second this will become a murder investigation as she watches the hands on a clock ticking away…

#far cry 5 #fc5 #jacob seed #staci pratt #faith seed #uhhh they're the most prevalent this chapter

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doomedandstoned · 3 years

Text

Chatting with Austin’s Shitbag

~Doomed & Stoned Interviews~

By Shawn Gibson

In his never ending quest to find the filthiest bands from around the world, Shawn Gibson brings us face-to-face, virtually speaking, with frontman Keith Young from Austin, Texas trio SHITBAG. The band dishes out a harsh blend of crust, grindcore, hardcore, and sludge, a sound you may already be acquanted with if you've heard their new EP Burden on Transylvanian Recordings. (Editor)

SHITBAG - BURDEN by SHITBAG

So why are you a Shitbag? What's the name all about?

I guess when I came up with the name, the thought was that Shitbag was a person I didn't want to be and I lived in fear of becoming. It's a catchy two syllable band name. (laughs)

Oh very catchy!

Half of it's just taking the piss right?

Oh yeah.

People think it's great or they think it's really fucking stupid.

I love the name Shitbag. It grabs your attention. It is so fitting for your style of music, the sludge-grind duo.

Definitely. The idea was to get a very dirty sound from the start. The name stuck with me. You can tell from some of our earlier releases to hone the sound but you can see that it's falling into place. I think we were zeroing in on the sound on the album we put out last year.

Which was 'Furnace,' right?

Correct.

Your latest release 'Burden' is out now.

Yes, that's now through Transylvanian Records.

Awesome, they are a good label! I have definitely heard of them and have some of their artists' music. So is 'Burden' your third release?

I guess it's our fourth, if you count the first EP. We don't really push that one out anymore.

Furnace by Shitbag

'Furnace' is a really good album! I think I bought all your digital albums on Bandcamp.

Oh, thank you.

I definitely fell in love with the sound! "Emasculator" is a great sludge song from the record Can you tell me a little about that one?

It is about castration. The riff was a fun thing I kind of threw out there. I told Eli our drummer this is in 4/4 and he said" it is absolutely not, I can try to play along to it anyways." As usual, he did. the different pieces kind of fell into place. The bass guitar always stuck out to me on that one. The speed of the song and the mix we got on those recordings allows the bass to shine through I think. Also, I think that might be one of my favorite vocal performances off of Furnace as well.

Who all is in the band and what roles do they have?

So I play guitar and vocals. Eli Deitz plays drums and Eric Prescott plays bass.

I would say 'Burden' sounds heavier than 'Furnace.' Can you tell me about your guitars and the set up you use for writing and recording?

Oh, sure!

What are you using to get that Shitbag sound?

So first off I think it's worth noting that we recorded Burden at a different location and we had more power at our fingertips. The guitars definitely did get beefed up. For the first two releases I had been playing a Randall RH 150 with a Randall 150 amp head. It gets this really nasty distortion right out of the box, you don't need a distortion pedal, which is pretty convenient. It wasn't reliable at high volumes. That was becoming a problem more and more playing alongside Eric, as he was playing an "O-R something" Orange head and also running that through an HM2 and some fuzz stuff in front of it, as well. He gets a very loud, snarling bass tone.

He's covering the low end, but there's an intersection where the guitars and bass compete when we are playing live. So I needed something that I could crank up just to keep up. The Randall wasn't cutting it. May of last year I purchased a Sunn Coliseum 880. That was great but I needed to beef up my cabinet setup. Before I had been playing out of a Laney 4x12 with two different Celestion speakers and an old Marshall 2x15. The Celestion speakers are just not cut out for running something like a Coliseum880. At 4 ohms I think it's already at 230 watts.

Oh, wow!

That is when I moved up to a Worshipper 4x12. It's an Intown establishment, and some good friends of mine run it. They got me a new cabinet in 8 to 12 weeks. Kinda crazy to think about from what I heard from Dillon at Worshipper they had good business during the pandemic.

That is great! I love to hear that everyone's keeping up the practicing at home.

Yeah, It definitely has a silver lining. I got a 4x 12 and I'm trying to remember what speakers are in it. My technical knowledge of that stuff is a little limited, I'll be honest. I went with Dillon's recommendation. I told him what I was using currently, this is what I want out of it. I already have a 2x15 cabinet so I don't need a whole shit ton of low end power coming out of the 4x12. He kind of went with something that had the right profile and could handle 320 watts. After that was the matter of finding a distortion pedal, because Sunn Coliseums don't really have a built in distortion the way a Randall does. For a while I was a really great distortion pedal that does all kinds of great stuff the Earthquaker device's grey channel.

It has six different clipping presets, clipping diodes, and you can do just about everything from straight up gain to kind of a fuzzy effect to full-on Moss clipping diode, which does the whole balls to the wall heavy metal thing. Great diversity on that pedal but it wasn't quite hitting the right spots. I went to a Boss HM2 and was very reluctant to do so because I know everyone does those. I ran that with a Graph equalizer like I would any distortion pedal. I made it not sound like I'm playing in tuned riffs. That's my equipment set up and how it evolved from Furnace to Burden.

Awesome, thank you. Something that attracted me to Shitbag's music is the sludge is the jelly and the grind is the peanut butter that makes this great Shitbag sandwich. There are moments in your music that it is as thick as swamp mud, then the next it's firing out like bullets out of an AR-15!

Hell, yeah!

Cordycep by Shitbag

With that being said you have a song like "New Day" that's grind as fuck, clocking in at a minute long, just blasting through! Then you have songs like "Rogue Furnace" that's right up the sludge/doom alley clocking in at 15-minutes, 20-seconds. Shitbag has a really great balance between different styles in your music.

Well, thank you!

What bands influenced Shitbag's music?

Yeah, so I think the time I was getting into sludge and doom in my college days and I came across Primitive Man.

Oh, yeah!

I grew up listening to death metal and shit like that.

Me too!

The way they threw that together with just oppressive doom sound. It was something I had never heard before. I instantly heard that and said"this is the future." I don't want to shit on anything but Black Sabbath has been around 50 years and that sound has been around 50 years.

Newer and current bands are still using that sound, yeah.

Maybe I shouldn't disparage it, right? Even the stuff I'm drawing influence from is 30 years old now. Maybe I shouldn't say it that way. I think it's a matter of pervasiveness rather than how old something is. There are a lot of bands in the sludge/doom canon that are like, "Black Sabbath, hell yeah!"

You can find lots of music that was coming out of the death and grindcore scene in the '80s, '90s, and 2000s that had very slow, lurching oppressive moods. To me, it's not so much a matter of the notes that are being played or the rhythms, it's the atmosphere. So yes Primitive Man, God Flesh, they are a big one. I'm a big fan of Assuck, Dystopia, and Grief. Then a lot of older death metal shit, too. Napalm Death, Eric and Eli loved Entombed. Full Of Hell is tight as shit, too!

Yes they are! By chance have you heard of Clinging To The Trees Of A Forest Fire?

Oh yeah, yeah.

I thought you might, being they were before Primitive Man. Great shit, as well!

Every band of theirs that the members of Primitive Man have been in that I have checked out, I have been very much into.

Vermin Womb, Many Blessings...

John put out an album with a death metal band called Black Curse last year that I thought was fucking phenominal!

I'll have to check that out! I like just about everything across the board, personally.

You are mentioning that we're striking this blend, we are not even playing the same genre through the whole EP. It's kind of like there's moments where it's one thing then there's moments where it's another. I think the more important thing is that it sounds like a cohesive thing. I hope we manage to do that.

You do! Shitbag has it's own sound that is unique to you guys!

Well, thank you!

I stumbled upon Shitbag's music on Bandcamp on Fathers Day. I saw the song title "Fathers and Sons" off of Burden and thought, "That's no coincidence -- I need to check this band out!" I was wondering if you can tell me a little about that track?

The song is about grappling with father and son relationships that are, I don't want to say estranged but you know trying at times. That was something that was a really big deal for me over the past year and a half, cause my mother passed away at the end of 2019.

I am sorry to hear that!

Thank you. When you have a death in the family like that, there is a lot of time for reflection that comes about. That's where the concept came about. I would not say that it's entirely autobiographical, there is definitely some exaggeration in there. We had the music for the song written and we couldn't figure what to write the lyrics about. I was just spitballing ideas and concepts to Eli. That was the one he said, "Yeah, I'm not really a fan of this draught but this is the concept to go with. Keep going with this."

Historically, I think I have been a weak lyricist. I would not call myself good by any means. We definitely made that part of the writing more collaborative process. Like the music has always been with us. We ironed out the words with each other so it felt a lot better. We came out with something more polished.

I understand completely.

A little graciousness opens yourself up. I think it's true with lyrics, as well. You probably don't have people say that to you very often, I imagine. I think it's especially true with lyrics when you're trying to make something that's personal and vulnerable. Having someone say, "Hey I would word that differently!" YOU MOTHERFUCKER!

Exactly. (laughs)

Take a step back from the initial knee-jerk response and just let it sit. You can really go places with that. I think lyrics are different just because people are not accustomed to making themselves vulnerable in that way.

What bands from Austin and surrounding areas that are heavy and you love to see them play or play with?

Let's see... Zyclops, really fucking great! There's bands like Glassing, Inhalants, Portrayal Of Guilt.

Yep, familiar with them.

There's a band called Godshell, they are new. I saw them play at a house show in North Austin in a living room full of people younger than myself. A crowd that was young enough to make me feel old. They played an outstanding fucking show! Those guys are rad live! There's also Metal Abortion, who is a pretty fun noise core band that Shitbag has played with a couple times. They put on a hell of a show and they have some crazy fucking records, too!

We have had the pleasure of playing many great shows with Desist on account of Shitbag and Desist being the two "Austin sludge" bands. Lucas is an outstanding vocalist and an even better human being. I don't know if Desist has been active through the pandemic but word is they have shit in the works. Another band forming a major constellation in the Austin shit-verse is the crusty blackened thrash outfit Vacha. Every show we've played with them was a fucking barn buner. I have nothing but love for all those dudes! Special shout out to Carlos for his God-like endurance behind the kit.

What makes Shitbag laugh? What's funny to you guys?

Oh, man. Eli and I have decided that a good way to get around when I bring a riff and don't know the time signature, is that we count everything in one. There 's no more time signature.That's a fairly recent joke. There are times at practice instead of playing a Shitbag riff with the distortion and everything balls out, I will go to the clean channel and push on the wah pedal and play with a funky staccato thing.

Hell yeah!

I think everyone else finds it annoying.

I have always enjoyed when the one guy in the band during practice either gets funky or jazzy, one of the two.

There is also something that Eli does that is fucking histarical. He never warns me he's going to do it. We will be in the middle of a song in the intense parts of the song he slips in the ba-dum tiss like a joke was told. When he nails it it's really a special thing.

Well, Keith that is all I have for you. Thank you again for your time!

Thank you very much, Shawn! The cassettes are available through Transylvania Recordings and Bandcamp. They are up for pre-order. I am not sure when those pre-orders will be in. There are some delays.

Several bands and labels having a tough time with vinyl getting pressed and shipping, too.

If you order the cassette you will get it eventually. I hope there is new music to announce in the near future.

We hope so, too!

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#D&S Interviews #Shitbag #Austin #Texas #doom patrol #sludge #metal #punk rock #Shawn Gibson #Transylvanian Recordings

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mellomedia · 3 years

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Youth Culture

For Media & Society’s first blog post, our class watched Euphoria, Mid90s, Mean Girls, Kids, and The Breakfast Club. If you haven’t figured out the theme yet, it’s youth culture. Most of these films were set in the 80s and 90s before this current generation. This is the first generation where our lives are saturated by mobile technology and social media (Divecha, 2017). But no matter what generation, youth culture has many common behaviors, or misbehaviors.

Often when I watch a film or read a comic book, I wonder if I relate to the story or anyone in it. I looked for anything in common I might have with one of the characters in the five films we watched. I can identify with Ray from Mid90s the most. I’m not a die-hard skateboarder like Ray. In fact I can’t skateboard at all, but I dedicate all my time and energy into art and animation. While we have different interests, I can relate to Ray’s passion for something he enjoys and the energy he puts into it. Ray is the top skateboarder in his group and practiced every day. All my spare time is spent drawing and taking online animation courses. My goal is to always do better than what I did yesterday. Words to describe Ray would be the same way I describe myself: down to earth, not concerned with fitting in, my own person, caring, always willing to help, and a very loyal friend. When Stevie joins the skateboard crew in the film Mid90s, he finally digs up some money to buy Ruben’s old, used skateboard. Stevie gets injured while attempting an insane jump over a hole in a roof and breaks his skateboard. Ray sees how much Stevie is trying to fit in, no matter how many falls he takes, he gets back up. Ray has a big heart and builds Stevie a new skateboard. As I mentioned, I’m not a skateboarder, but I enjoy trying to make people smile with my art. I enjoy drawing a cartoon of a friend to help them to get out of a funk or just listen to whatever it is they are going through.

These films all share a few common themes. One theme is belonging. I admit I looked up the term “fitting in” and it was compared to belonging. Fitting in is defined as to be like other people in a group – what they wear, how they act, how they look. (Pace, 2018) Belonging is a basic human need – it is about acceptance – being where you want to be and being where you are wanted (Pace, 2018). A few examples are Stevie (Mid90s) wants to be accepted into the skateboard crew; Brian (The Breakfast Club) brings a flare gun to school as a suicide attempt because he didn't feel he was good enough; and Cady (Mean Girls) is the new girl trying to get accepted by The Plastics.

My freshman year in high school definitely falls into the theme of belonging. I struggled with speech and have a learning disorder. And at the time I had zero confidence in socializing. I’d walk over to a group of kids in the cafeteria just to try to get involved in the conversation, but I couldn’t form sentences quick enough to jump in. I would be the weird kid just standing there. One day my speech therapist asked me what I wanted to improve and I told her I wanted to gain confidence in socializing. She told me the best way to do this would be to just try to talk to more people. Well in high school that worked with some kids, but not all. I’ll never forget one day in the cafeteria I was trying to find a place to sit and eat lunch. I saw an empty chair at a table where a ‘friend’ was sitting. The group was taking turns roasting one another. At one point another kid challenged me. I was doing fine until he said, “You know people are only nice to you because they don’t want to hurt your feelings.” That hurt like hell. He was referring to my speech impairment. I got up from the table and walked away. And that ‘friend’ at the table didn’t defend me at all. One girl came running over to make sure I was alright. I was pissed and hurt. I was not alright. Just so you don’t think I went off the deep end and had a miserable high school experience, I actually gained a great friend in high school that day. Alex, who was a senior, saw me leave track practice early. My head just wasn’t into track, so I went to sit in the empty cafeteria hoping to clear my head. He asked how things were going and I told him what happened that day. He told me, “It’s not easy finding out who your real friends are. But don’t change for anyone and don’t try to be like anyone else. Just be you.” I’ll never forget how he took the time to talk to me. After his advice, I could care less about belonging.

Another common theme between all five films is rebellion. When they aren’t skateboarding, most of the characters in Mid90s spend their time partying, drinking, and doing drugs. In The Breakfast Club, each character is in detention because they rebelled in some way. Why else would they be in detention? Every character in Kids was a rebel, actually more like a criminal. I bet the writer of the film was too.

A third theme is “bro” culture. “Bro” culture is defined as people who are bullies but at the end of the day they have your back, like a brother (Sloothunter42, 2018). Two great examples of “bros” are John (The Breakfast Club) and Ian (Mid90s). Throughout The Breakfast Club, John constantly insults the other kids in detention. He even insults the principal. The group escapes detention to wander the hallways. When the principal sees them, John saves the group by telling them to go back to the library while he distracts the principal. This link shows you the scene I’m explaining: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Iq7MRlHg5I (Hughes, 1985). Not something you would have expected from a bully, but you would from a “bro.” In Mid90s, Stevie’s brother, Ian, beats the crap out of him every chance he gets. But when Stevie is laying in a hospital bed after a car accident, his brother is there by his side. He even shares his precious orange juice.

Now onto one of my favorite things in life, music! I put together a playlist that relates to my adolescent experience. In no particular order, here are 10 songs and what each means to me. But let me point out that some song lyrics mean something to me, while with other songs it was the energy it gives off. I’m all about positive energy. First song is “Mr. Blue Sky” by Electric Light Orchestra. I first heard this song during the movie Guardians of the Galaxy. This song kept me motivated and positive during high school. If I was having a bad day, this was my ‘go to’ song. I also listened to it every day on my way to school. Next is “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley, a.k.a. CeeLo Green. This song reminds me of my mind, imagination, and the stuff I think about. I always have a trillion things going on in my head. I guess that explains my poor focus skills and super procrastination. “Inner Ninja” by Classified is another upbeat song. A few lines that always stuck in my head are, “I find my inner strength and I re-up; Here we go, I know I've never been the smartest or wisest; But I realize what it takes; Never dwell in the dark cause the sun always rises.” My junior year of high school I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. It has and still is life-changing and as much as I don’t let it change who I am, I’m human. But as the song says, don’t dwell on the negative, look for the positive. I always remind myself of the positive. “Through the Fire and Flames” by DragonForce always fueled my brain when I was tired of doing homework or studying. To me the lyrics mean to keep moving forward no matter how difficult. Just look at what your goal is and don’t give up. Plus this song has one hell of a guitar solo that is very motivating. Michael Jackson is one of my favorite artists and “Man in the Mirror” reminds me how important it is to try to do good in the world and make a positive change. Regardless of culture, color, religion, and disability, we are all capable of making good changes in the world. I tried this on a much smaller scale in high school by volunteering at the food pantry and community events. “Clint Eastwood” by Gorillaz is one of many songs by this group that I like. It’s not so much the words I relate to, but I love the animation in their music videos. I remember the first time I saw one of their videos I thought how cool and mysterious it was that we only see the singers as cartoons. We are never shown who they really are. I like the fact that it’s different. Different is good in my world. “Intergalactic” by Beastie Boys reminds me of breakdancing and dancing in general. I love to dance and looked forward to every prom and homecoming dance at high school. “Without Me” by Eminem reminds me that no matter how much people criticize you, you can be very successful at what you enjoy doing. The last song on my list is “Take Me Out” by Franz Ferdinand. To be honest, I just like the beat of the song and it’s one of those songs I listened to over and over in high school.

So that wraps up my Youth Culture blog. I hope it gave you a better understanding of how I relate to the assigned films. But let me make one thing clear, I do not relate to anything in the film Kids. Not one thing.

Below is my self portrait of what goes through my mind.

Artwork by: Marcello Laudato

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #348

“nothing will be free / nothing will be done / black out the sun”

Do you have any famous relatives? My third or so cousin is the author of Not Without My Daughter, but she's not like a smash hit or anything that most people know. I really do recommend the book, though. It's a long read, but a beautiful, true story. Do you care about celebrity gossip? Nah. Have you ever failed a science course in high school? No; I was very good at science. What’s your favorite breakfast food? Cinnamon rolls. Does your house have a basement? No. No house I've ever lived in has had one. Do you like Hot Topic? Well duh. Do you think imagination is valuable? VERY! Just imagine how many incredible things wouldn't exist without it. What was your reaction to your first time falling in love? Unspeakably happy, and I felt like I was building a future with someone. I felt like I had purpose, which I should mention to anyone reading is a mindset to NEVER adopt. No one gives you purpose; you're born with it. How much weight can you lift at once? Ha, not a lot. When you have your own house someday, what color Christmas tree do you want and how will you decorate it? I want a black one with faux snow on the branches, then maybe red ornaments. Kinda look like blood dripping off. Sounds metal. Name three YouTube channels you’ve been loving lately. Lately, John Wolfe, The Dark Den, and Aim To Head Mix. Have you ever bought a designer purse? No. Do you wear jewelry often? No. What color was your senior prom dress? Black. Are you colorblind? No. Name the people you know who are colorblind. Jason's older brother is colorblind to two colors, but idr which. Would you ever consider a career in writing? I'd love to. What was your first favorite color? Red. What do you think about horror movies? I love them. If you love them, what’s your favorite? I really enjoy The Crazies and both The Blair Witch Project movies. Oh, and of course Silent Hill. Got any cool Christmas presents picked out for family or friends yet? I don't have the money to get anyone presents... and while I sometimes get ideas about something I could make someone, then it wouldn't be fair to the rest of my family if I don't make them something, too. What’s your favorite word and why? I really like the sound of "serendipity," as well as its meaning. It's just a pretty, nice word. Do you like to do craft projects? If so, what’s the coolest thing you made? Not really... I think the coolest thing I made was when I put the clay heart I made in Art into a shadowbox, and a poem I wrote was in the background. It was a gift for Jason. I remember working really hard on the whole process and being really happy with it. I don't want to know what he's done with it since. What’s one occupation you think gets paid too much and doesn’t deserve to? I don't know. What’s something you are currently saving money for to buy? Everyone knows about Venus' terrarium by now... Do you smoke/vape? If so, what brand do you smoke/what device do you use? No. Ever done drugs? No. Tell me one of your worst habits. Catastrophizing. I take a tiny seed of something potentially bad, and in seconds it's a damn redwood tree. And I do mean "in seconds." What’s a weird quirk you have that no one else you know does? I don't know, I don't have any particularly unique ones, I think. If you game, what type of headset do you use? I just use earbuds. Do you think you would be a good therapist? You know, it's funny, I've actually pictured myself as one a few times, given my level of understanding and empathy for people, as well as how deeply I want to see others succeed and spread the word that recovery from things like depression is very possible. I've never truly entertained the thought, though, given I'm quite sure I legally couldn't be given my suicidal past and mental illnesses. There is also NO way I could listen to so many people's suffering and manage to stay healthy myself, so, no therapist position for me, thanks. Have you ever been to a Chinatown? No. Do you prefer chunky or creamy peanut butter? Creamy, 100%. Do you stop to pick up heads-up pennies? No. Do your pets have collars? Describe them: Roman has an adorable navy one with a bowtie. Do you have any friends that speak any languages you don’t understand? Old friends, sure. What is something you want to begin learning? I want to improve my ability to perform what in therapy is called "opposite action," where you do the opposite of what your depression (or other conditions) make you want to do. It always helps me feel good, like when I draw even when I don't initially feel like it, but it's rough to really force yourself to do it. What is a food you find comforting when you are sad? Ice cream is my comfort food. What is a quote you find comfort in? There are really a lot, but none come to mind immediately, gah. What is one Tumblr blog you really appreciate? I actually haven't been on my main Tumblr in months, but oh my god there is a Markiplier blog called "lady-raziel" and she is FUCKING HYSTERICAL. The meme quality is A+. What is a comfort movie/show for you? When I actually liked watching movies, I enjoyed watching Silent Hill when I was down. That whole franchise just makes me so happy. What is a recent creative project that you are proud of? That I'm PROUD of, idk. I'm not that happy with the last drawing I made, and I haven't done any serious writing lately that I find noteworthy. What is a video game that you find comforting? Shadow of the Colossus is probably #1. I find it so relaxing while equally epic as fuck. The soundtrack is to die for, and after playing it a billion times, it's pretty easy for me to kinda breeze through and just enjoy myself. Do you know how to bake bread? If so, what is something you’ve baked recently? No. Would you rather live in the mountains, city, beach, or the forest? THE MOUNTAINS!!! Particularly in the woods IN the mountains! Are you closer to your mother’s or father’s side of the family? Mom's. I don't even remember anyone from Dad's. Have you ever been in a “perfect relationship”? I thought so. Have you ever lost a fingernail or toenail? No. Were you a Disney or Nickelodeon kid? I preferred Disney. Have you ever been inside a jail/prison? No, and I don't plan on it. Have you ever dated a guy with a beard, mustache, or goatee? Jason had a goatee usually. He'd go clean-shaven sometimes. Did you ever name your stuffed animals? I named every single one I got as a kid. Now I don't, really, unless they're really special. What’s the name of the person who cuts your hair? I'd rather not share, given her name is very unique. Do you like cheeseburgers? Yes, they're one of my favorite foods. Do you have a Flickr? Yes, but I don't use it anymore. Did you ever want to be a fashion designer? No. Do you drink milk? Yeah, I love milk. Where was your FB display pic taken? My room. Have you ever burnt your tongue like REALLY bad? If so, what on? Yeah; white rice. My dumb ass didn't realize it had JUST come off the stove. My tongue hurt literally for weeks. Have you ever gotten your legs waxed? No. Do you own any CLOTHES from Victoria’s Secret? Er, are undergarments not clothes? But I know what you mean. No. What are your grandfathers’ names? William and... I can't remember Dad's dad's name. Have you ever seen a snake in real life? Well yeah. Are you against seances? I don't know if I believe in them being effective, but either way, they seem like a bad idea. Even risking luring a negative energy/spirit to you is something I'd stay away from. Do you own any superhero shirts? No, just Harley Quinn ones, some with the Joker on them, too. I need to toss 'em though because I am like, violently against romanticizing their abusive relationship. I used to just like them as a story character couple, but I got to a place where it just seemed... wrong to "glorify" it by wearing merch and stuff. What band has the best guitar solos? Metallica, durrrr. Who is the biggest jerk you’ve ever met? Can you believe that would be my former best friend? Have you ever swerved off the road to avoid hitting an animal? I've never had an animal in my path. Have you ever grown your own herbs? No. Do you like kissing in public? If you're my serious s/o, I could care less, so long as it's a simple peck. I'm not making out in front of people. Do you think someone has feelings for you? I don't know. Do you want to be in a relationship this year? I don't know. I'm lonely and love feels amazing, but I need to get my life on track before I can be a good partner to someone and not just dead weight. Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you? Huh, funny, he's the one that walked away. How long can you just kiss until your hands start to wander? Uhhh that would depend on how serious we are, where we are, and just what mood I'm in. What’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you? ugh What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone? also ugh What’s your dirtiest secret? TMI AHEAD. Probably receiving oral while bare-ass naked on the chaise in the living room while we were home alone. Or having sex in my sister’s bed. Oops. Would you ever get lyrics tattooed on yourself? Yeah. I already do, anyway, and I plan on getting another. Can you photoshop images well? I'm decent at it. Where did you last drive to? Mom and I went to go get our Covid vaccines today. What’s the first verse of the last song you listened to? "I don't know what we're supposed to be, but I know we lost it along the way to something better, something so much more than pleasure that we seek, so blind inside to fill these holes left by these lies that we tell to ourselves as we manufacture our own hell." What do you hear right now? The aforementioned song: "BLACKOUT" by 3TEETH. What was the last thing you laughed about? This is so fucking immature lmao but when we were driving earlier, we passed a gas station that had a sign that was advertising Coke, but due to space limitations, it abbreviated to "2 liter Cok" and I cackled like a child. Mom laughed harder than I did. Do you know any gay people personally? Ye. What was the last thing that startled you? I think it was a car hoonking at somebody the other day. What was the last thing to make you even remotely sad? Today's been a kind of rough PTSD day thanks to Facebook. My old high school friend had her beautiful daughter, a childhood friend just got married the other day, another friend is due to have her baby in just a couple weeks... It's just weird but even more painful to know it was the life I once fantasized about with a guy that just dropped me and made a break for it. I hate admitting that there's this deep, deep bitterness in me about it, like he took my life away from me, even though that's of course very unfair to say. I don't want to talk about this anymore, so moving on with my day.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''blackout'' by 3teeth

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the-darklings · 4 years

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—WE WERE A FIRE WITH NO SMOKE;

pairing: santino x reader (V) x (+john)

wc: 1.4k+

an: HAPPY NEW YEARS YA FILTHY ANIMALS!!! A little surprise something-something to tide you all over and flex my writing muscles to see how I’m getting on after 4-day detox from writing. I’m honestly exhausted and short on sleep which made me half-delirious and this little drabble wayyy too h*rny but here we are. Also, the title/lyrics for this piece comes from Troye Sivan’s “DKLA” and I highly recommend you listen to it while reading.

warnings: some bad words and a lot of sexual tension 👀

timeline: post chapter 1 of COA, pre-Tokyo (not their first meeting).

Santino D’Antonio does not know nor understand subtlety.

No—that’s not quite right. His “business” instincts are sharper than most of your blades and that’s just facts. He can effortlessly weave between disarming charm and rage that spills blood in a blink of an eye. He’s a good mobster. Truly Italy’s—Camorra’s—finest. But he’s irritatingly arrogant in his insistence that the world revolves around him and his needs alone. Even quicker in betraying those he doesn’t like and cutting loose ends with people who so much as question his authority.

Egoistical. Inpatient. Spoiled. Bloodthirsty. Willing to step over anyone to get his way.

There isn’t much to like. Certainly nothing worthy of trust.

But he pays good money. And—despite what he may think—he’s easy to read. He wants what everyone in the underworld wants. More power, more pleasure, more money. But most importantly, to be the next Camorra head.

He’s powerful. And not the kind of powerful you need as your enemy so it’s easier to play nice. You know that the reason you got off as easy as you did with that threat to his life was simply because he wants to sleep with you. Because he sees you as a challenge, a conquest, something interesting and out of his immediate reach.

He’s handsome, that much is true. He’s beyond rich and has influence everywhere because he’s Camorra. Because he’s a D’Antonio. He’s all sly, seductive suggestions and eyes so bright they devour.

There’s only one problem.

He’s not John.

John who is a comforting shadow for you to curl into. Who is a steady, ever-present by your side. John is—

John is the only person you trust—the only one you could ever trust in this world of liars and backstabbers. Your mind drifts towards him constantly and never more so then when you work with D’Antonio. They’re as different as day and night.

John is a comforting embrace of the dark, quiet and patient. Deadly and terrifying to others but never you.

Santino D’Antonio is an open flame. He devours, he burns, and rages. He leaves only blood and damage in his wake.

John you love.

D’Antonio on the other hand…

“Target has his eyes on us,” you speak directly into his ear over the sound of blaring music, and tighten your arms around his neck. Noting the way you’re being watched, you hiss a soft, “Pull me closer.”

He doesn’t need to be told again.

His already wandering, lingering, greedy hands and eyes explore further. Your eyes meet for a moment; his hungry and hooded, while his fingers sink into the swell of your hip, massaging the skin there before pushing your hips together. You sway with him, pressing against him—into him—one hand snaking up the hot skin of his neck and into his hair. The styled curls crumble under your unyielding grip and you pull him even closer, your foreheads almost touching and breaths mingling.

Wrapped my thoughts around your mind

Wrapped your body around mine.

You have to be convincing, you remind yourself.

You have to appear as nothing more than another whore on D’Antonio’s arm.

You have to be a nobody, a shadow, a shell without purpose other than this man’s pleasure.

You think about John with every press and brush of your skin.

Think of John’s hands on you and John’s obsidian eyes caressing you like you’re lovers moments away from kissing each other.

You take my breath away, you know I'm bound to choke

When I close my eyes. I still see your ghost.

But Santino D’Antonio doesn’t touch you like John does.

He caresses, and claims, and consumes with a startling amount of intensity. You feel that fire of his singeing your edges, dangerous and seductive in its overpowering heat.

His fingers are sunk into you, not enough to hurt but enough to feel held, guided, desired and the music becomes nothing more than a pulse.

His hot, wet breath burns against the hollow of your throat and you feel him mumbling something into your skin. It could be a prayer or damnation or both but all you know is that it sears into your skin. A mark, a show, of his raw desire for you. It tingles and tickles, kicking your heartbeat up a notch and your grip on his curls constricts; a warning, a question—

You don’t even like him. In fact, you only tolerate him because he’s willing to throw money at you for jobs that can help you get your freedom from Tarasov faster.

But human bodies are so simple. The draw on a purely physical level is there despite your lacklustre opinion of the man himself.

He doesn’t make it any easier when his eyes lift to you, his stare almost a physical weight of heated want. A man starved; a man who is staring at your mouth like it’s the only thing that can save him right now. Like he needs it, craves it, above everything else.

If half the stories about his sexual exploits are true, then it’s a look many have crumbled under. Truth be told, looking at him right now, you can’t blame them. There is, admittedly, something so raw about Santino D’Antonio that you can’t help but wonder what kind of lover he is.

So what do I do now?

I don't keep love around.

But Santino D’Antonio is nothing in your heart. Your heart is John’s in its awful, worn entirety and you won’t trade that in for meaningless sex no matter how good D’Antonio might be.

The tempo of the song changes again and he tugs you closer, his hand coming to rest against the curve of your neck. His cool Camorra ring grazes your skin lightly, and your head tilts to the side exposing your neck to him. He leans into it, his lips ghosting over your pulse, hungry and eager as he inhales deeply over the thrum of music. But across the sturdy line of his shoulder, you watch your mark intently.

“D’Antonio, he’s moving—”

“Santino,” he breathes hotly into your ear, his arm around your waist tightening. “Call me Santino.”

It stills something inside you for a second.

The heavy, naked need that lowers and wrecks his voice just so.

It’s an honour. An heir allowing you to address them by their first name, considering that you hold no real power or title of your own. But something about how he asks for it leaves you cold, caught completely off guard.

It feels like too much.

There is a boundary you will never step over with him.

Some arrogant Italian princeling who only wants your body for quick gratification.

“Should I pursue?”

He stills. His breath still fans against your neck but his expression is serious when his head lifts. His fingers trace up your bare arm, slow and sensual, and he grins slightly, coolly. Neon lights dance over his features and wonder what you both look like, tangled in each other and suddenly still in a sea of movement.

“Bring him to me.”

You do.

No loose ends.

The man you only know as Flynn Hill dies with your poison eroding his veins from inside out. In the darkness of the alleyway, Santino D’Antonio looms over him, smiling and satisfied, his appearance once again immaculate.

“Everything has a price,” he says coldly in Italian with a clinical tilt of his head and a small scoff when the man stills. “Pathetic.”

He turns dismissively, shrugs on his overcoat, and glances towards you. His eyes sweep over you, up and down, unhurried and hungry as always.

“Coming, cara mia?”

Cara mia?

You turn to face him, and repeat his earlier gesture by looking him up and down. His gaze sharpens at the challenge, and you don’t miss the way he straightens slightly.

Just like you thought—he doesn’t know subtlety. It could smack him in the face and he still won’t know it.

“The drinks are on you and I’m not cheap,” you hesitate for a beat, considering the man in front of you as well as his pack of guards scattered around you. “Santino.”

You sidestep him, heading back towards the club but hear the man chuckle in delight behind you.

“Everything has a price,” he repeats softly as he falls to your side promptly. Close, a bit too close. “But it’s one I am happy to pay in this instance, cara mia.”

You bite back an irritated sigh. Let him have this. He no doubt thinks this is a victory.

That night is the first time he uses those words and that nickname.

It’s far from last.

. . .

an: well this literally had one read through as an edit so if this is awful and full of mistakes.....guess that’s tomorrow kat’s problem lol. just wanted to see how I get on with writing again (and surprise you lot <33 thank you for supporting this series so much oh god oof).

This piece dips back a bit more into my old style (description heavy and more internal) but writing V who is like “this man clearly wants to bang but it’s a no from me, thanks” is so funny. If I wasn’t half dead I would have tried to write this as more snarky (as V indeed was back in Chapter 1-2) but that actually requires brainpower and wit so nahhhh.

also, let’s make 2020 ours. no more putting up with anything!!! let’s go!!!! this year we all channel V and become stronger and fight through our problems no matter how long it takes us.

#santino d'antonio x reader #john wick x reader #santino d'antonio #john wick #john wick imagine #john wick fic #fic: children of ares #s: i can wait

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