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pndnj · 3 years

Text

Cathartic- Yellow Metal Lyrics

Heres where I am with the lyrics, I referenced @25Goldenn on twitter for some of it that I couldn’t comprehend.

*music*

0:23

Dark matter, like painted splatters, they fit better, the old saying, the way it goes, better the devil you do then you don’t know. I hit pedals and switch levers, my heart metal, I can't settle, im part trouble, they are not subtle. I fuck good so fuck cuddles, burst bubbles the thrist levels at new heights, i down doubles, and got baked til I felt high, my face puzzled, felt muddled, far strung and your floors woodent, the thought might but the fit wouldn’t. A fortnight

0:46 - 1:00

And I thought right, it’s all bark and no bite, I’m Tony Stark still embarking on a dream, took a bit of time to take darkness from the team. Seen what I saw. Heartless on the sleeve. Tried to burn my wings, so I put them in a piece on my chest , at peace no rest.

1:00-1:15

Flipped this on it’s head. Rip the script up now, flip it don’t pretend, slipping shit again, Fakers all around me, I’ve been living in pretense. Fake friends won’t make amends. There’s no need, these mean comments control the scenes. Attentionseekers, the spine is weakened

1:15-1:24

This family needs, what a family needs, and the planet bleeds, the damaged trees. It’s never leaving til we ascend so fuck the fence, and until they stop killing colour it’s fuck the feds.

1:22 - 1:44

You must be off it, I mean it, you know you ain’t never get with the judging and I used to dread growing my beard too long, never felt I belonged, but it's really long like a minute I ain’t looking to no mans for the limits, They’re feeling timid, I’m telling them who they mimic, why they don't look like a clinic …. Why they don't get no women, Still, we’re just fucking girls, Lost in the wrong world, Jurassic, now to this vermin

1:41- 1: 50

Kicking the game I’m serving, these losers are never learning, my fire is forever burning, adding it to my fuel, seems like I’m always focused on never becoming you, These locals that rob us feeling … was for a reason.

1:52-2:02

I’m seeing my new beginnings, watch out this loser’s winning, and no water is too deep to swim in Like I’m about to see a killing, I’m all the way that and living, flawless and feeling lawless, the prison now to the gimmicks, my vision is set to something,

2:03-:2:20

I’m watching you bitches plummet, no matches here for my cunning, you rappers are feeling done in, switching your genre, running and Running your jaw, stunting, pulling at straws, something I think you’re a poor effort, deaf and tone deaf and I ain’t treat you separate. Living, I’m in my element, riding it like a … never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a benadryl. Keeping it green in general

2:20- 2:46

Think that you remain irrelevant. Look at yourself with reverence, hoping to always elevate. Celibate of these thoughts, killing themselves with sedatives. In comparison to eminem, you’re feeling feminine. Impolitically correct, still dropping on my dick. And I never gave a fuck about what they say abt my shit, I’ve been moving things in my mind like it’s this mountain dew Memories have made me wonder if one day I’m after you. What’s the purpose that you do, is what you're hoping that they learn, i’d like to say i’m done but it’s getting up on my nerves

2:46 -2:55

I’m looking at my life, saying what do I deserve. It’s hard to say I know when I’m walking through the dirt. Talking while you’re nothing I can see for what it’s worth. I’m tired of feeling hurt and I’ve tried enough but nothing works.

2:55-3:40

I’m racking up excuses while I’m slacking off on work. Chit chatting is the usual, talking to this clerk, i beg you don’t include me. I might write it on my shirt so everytime they see me, the oldest know to swerve. SWERVE Life is potent, bits of fucked shit… till they took notice weren’t no hocus pocus, it was hard work that got me heard so i put in the graph like google maps but the whole earth

… around my door mat, taking over like the drones, rolling dirt up in miles like the water, and exploding like Annas hematoma. Don't need to see a slammer to know that I don't want to go man

I’m a showman. I’m just focused on the drama… like i’ve got my own insurance, show myself the pain, like i boxed it in the frame, if we’re about to talk greatness im great, the way you have to say my name like beyonce

“Say my name”

4:00-4:46

Just a bum with a cigarette, sun coming up, all my thoughts on the internet. Feeling deep, I’m just bored with the silhouette single sec, get fucked up for the thrill of it . killer streak playing Pacman. Like I came from the Philippines vanilla bean still a thing for the thrill of scene,

Theres a beam, UFO, Leave it well alone I aint moving, stood still on the peloton, telephone and its always on the dial tone, it's been a while since i’ve smiled at a milestone, seen a big pile in my mind stone, me against the world on my Jack Jones, Like I’m John Jones, With pictures in the condo, far from John Doe, in the ___, like I'm Johnny Bravo, got pravado, with a small dick sitting in golados, feeling far gone, cuz that last hit was the good shit, was that stay lit

4:48-5:02

You can never take my shit come and get me. On the top floor, cloud 9, fading, never bailing, felt amazing, inhaling, til my lungs two guns blazing. Overcome all the stunts that I pulled. A suit of just skin and then wool

5:02- 5:17

This life doesn’t give you no armour, a lot of myself can harm ya. I swear on what’s good, that I’m here till they take me. I pray that I’m wrinkled, at least over 80, and start moving like a ruler, ?damaged? Like a computer going fast, bars from the jeweler, bring the songs to the beach in hopes of finding tuna

5:18-5:36

…

5:36- 6:16

Grab a bat, lose my rag. Couple things got me mad, a couple people got me wrong and now I’m changing up the swag. Coming in and stealing it, I might take the whole bag. Feeling undefeated, I’m a beast with a reason, and imma lead the whole pack. Fearless like I’m Caesar, I’m just waiting for a chance to fill it up with diesel, and all I've been achieving is clocking miles in its region, moving like a legion.

Promise that I made to myself an allegiance. Do you still believe I’m a fool for ever leaving, staring at the ceiling, can never put a cap on achieving. I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving.

I’ve had about enough of being my own enemy, it’s time I grew up, a long way from 17. Always went against the grain, struggles in my life. Got some things to say when I stand up on a mike.

6:16-6:32

I ain’t dropping this for fame, I need this time, like therapy, it’s just to keep me sane. The truth is on my medicine, can’t put that on your plate.

Speeding into everything, bout time I fixed the brakes. Don’t say I can’t communicate , you know I conversate with you in several different ways. And I know you know it’s references, looking at your face.

6:33- 6:53

Can’t justify mistakes, like every man that made them, seems I ain't the one to blame. Lying to myself, only had so much to gain, so now I’m switching up the plate, see if that affects the place, im at on most days

I ain’t going with the usual so they looking at me strange. Confused, I can feel it all, I’m here to make a change. It’s cold at 3am outside, I’m walking with the dog, thanking god that you don’t talk at all, my mind is switching off

6:54-7:12

Driving down to find myself, cuz I’ve been getting lost, lived this selfless life and found I can give a toss. Lessons that I’ve learned I’ve tried teaching to myself. What I’ve learnt from certain people is that they’re better than myself.

So I surround myself with real ones, and you feel the plastic melt. Like burning toy soldiers that used to go up on the shelf. Recycle the ideas, conveying on the belt

7:14-7:29

.. circus, always hurting the way we felt? Embarrassed that we dreamt of bigger things and letting go of notions till we feel them in cement

Tired of only hoping, we feel broken men. Cuz the gravity is weight and has kept us to the ground, see the only people speaking with favors in their mouths

7:46-7:58

Got killer rhymes… no fillers, like godzilla, eating clouds cuz my smokes thicker, throat licker, my dope sicker, bringing people their hope like im the pope slicker, i hope you’re getting the point cuz i walk quicker

I thought my city was shit bcs I want bigger like my zipper couldn’t zip up fed up with the…my love is fickle.. Residual age has a primitive face

I see demise for your limited ways, Left it to simmer, simmer away…a fake glimmer in the haze

8:09-8:11

Feeling trapped this industry is a cage

8:34-8:50

Nobody’s speaking the truth, I’m offended by the State. Look at the state of the news, I’ve decided the argument, reciting my views, while they’ve been sat in their chairs, I’m feeling pressure to choose.

Standing here as one man, how can I do half when you’re half the person I am. If it wasn’t in your life, you didn’t choose it. It’s the funny thing about music. It’s the pain and beauty of it.

8:52-9:11

Don’t give a fuck what my suit is, it looks good so I wear it, better than the shoot that People’s wearing, changing the whole narrative for these basics and scarcity

Been facing the racists from back when i were a kiddie .born up in in 93’. been living in Bradford City..kicked me out of the schools, they had a problem with me hitting the kids that would call me p*** still sitting in the classroom chilling, and i'm angry now that I’m older I see they treat us different

9:12-9:25

got me thinking I’m the problem cuz they never dealt with those issues.

20 years later I’m still in the same boat, tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat. Came to tell you what I stand for, man I think you’re shit, a joke. How can I be civil, when they got me by the throat

9:25-9:35

Pushing my feelings down, you ain’t got it like them

‘Boy your skin is so light’, ok motherfucker take my name up on a flight. Try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white.

9:35-9:45

I don’t know how that’s acceptable, when life is more susceptible to perception, be the death of them. I’ve been looking at the sky saying where’s that day of reckoning, you had your prophets right when they say that you would speak to them.

9:45-9:55

I need justice in this life and I trust that it’s my fight, cuz when I’m writing it feels right to have them focused on the facts again. Focused on the rap again, hoping for the change, gunna put this on the map again

9:55-10:16

Writing in all caps again, the pain, it goes through me so I write the letter. All the shit that could have brought me but made me better.

I’m at home with a pain in my soul , yeh rap… cuz you know I was too real to contest it, my time was invested. Now I look at the industry, I see it infested, looking like kids who would write on nesquik.

10:17-10:29

My name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.

I ain’t never gave a fuck about these jokers and jesters. Ain’t no answers for these things, so just save us the questions, man allowed of violence, cuz my silence is deafening, your opinion stinks, somebody get him a breath mint.

10:30- 10:42

Start to understand why they think that I’m threatening, I move in certain ways, couldn’t slow me with ketamine Now they all wanna hear me, got a table at letterman. Direction changed, like I changed up the lettering. Don’t believe the age ,bcs I move like a veteran.

10:42 - 10:47

Raised on the benefit for whose benefit, they’ll never learn shit, man, if the shoe fits.

…no words coming out when you open your mouth

And to be honest, it’s insulting, offensive to my wounds that have been salting. Tryna ask me questions that they know I never answer. I’d rather sit online and reply to the fan art

11:00-11:06

Fuck a sports car, coming through when i rapped

tell you what I like, farm life and the tractor

11:06- 11:17

Fake life, 'sup online, suck a fat one. You don’t wanna buy into that, none of that son. Sitting in the garden 98’ in the Datsun, seen some hot summers but I still remember that sun.

*music*

11:51- 12:34

I make millions off of my pain, cause I know a few millions still living that way

Dealing with the hurt, they should know cause they don’t deserve it, it hit deep cause i hit the nerve. Only way that the sheep learn if the street firm, in my ways I don’t wanna change, everything just stay the same

Who you tryna convince you understand, cant maintain, let the lights dim some, get the Chow Mein, flex, get the tape, right up at night

Why these men be nice to my face, be nice, i ain’t tryna be a gangsta ruins my vibe

Rather be low-key and on my phone. Never need the trophy or the show piece

Never show peace in a North Face fleece. Show kids this like i wrote my flip

Cause the sign might fit till the start i’m sick

12:37-13:05

Now you see where I come from, the world don’t. Only achievement in this life is the Jordans. Committing petty crimes out of boredom, we can’t afford them. So I stole it, need a rolex

Go make sense, get yourself a job, It’s a poor man’s game tryna sit and pray to god, he ain’t sorting out your problems, gotta sort them out yourself

Used to tell us fables, now I’m writing them myself, Cause we raw like animals we all just need some help

Cathartic, I’m an artist, trying to put my heart in

Felt double crossed like Leo in Departed

13:05- 13:27

For the knowledge i’m not charging see I got it all free

But my hunger kept me starving like i’m feening for the feed

I just Need a reason to see me bleeding for my creed. Trick you with the words like I keep em up my sleeve. Picking where I fit, I see me sitting with the queen

I ain’t doing it unless you’re used to saying please

Let me flow a bit, before I sting 'em with the bees, They tryna kill us with disease

(Music)

13:34- 14:12

Why does it feel like they had the same notebook and the same four looks

Like the rain won't touch on their face, so sus when they lie don’t trust not a minor

Please no fuss, I just move through the game like must

Something in the way i adjust till i stick, Free falling like the ship, free fall till i bust

Remember 21 brother gave no fucks. Trying to project when they give them looks

In the projects, in the objects us

In my own way, never gave me love, shoulda never started this, broken hearted kid

Dried up the feeling till I stole the lid

Don’t wanna relish in the fame but I can’t resist

14:46-14:58

I like the way we feel, I like the way, I like the way

Ain’t no mistake, i am a being

I ain’t tryna be a leader, been selling out since Jesus

All my rhymes are for the readers, between the lines, like Father time, I fuck Mother Nature

14:58-15:40

That’s what they get, the connotations. Tell 'em I lived a life, and then I lived a life of adjacent? like its…. and played it patient.

Alone on my own spaceship, always tryna find greatness, still defying lines, but I’m fighting in my prime.

Shining light like Kylo while imma kill it all the time. Aging like I’m wine

Asian in my face, but still my race you can’t define. Focused on defiance, imma fight it while it’s life.

Started something sick and on my mind is what’s next, just became a dad so now I’m taking all the cheques. Better know I’m staying and paying like it’s debt. Imma get it done, if it’s taking all my breath, sweat, and down I ain’t messing around til I’m the best

Speaking in full sentences, shoulda thought about a strategy before you went at the stratosphere about this… rings around Saturn, this ain’t a battle, I’m sat, I’m here

15:40-16:22

Catch me doing magic, hired and sounding tragic I think you could use practice and until that you get the blacklist and pull like a … actress? Fooling them like a catfish, schooling like a legend, happy to be the reference, fusing like iridescence, leaving them all guessing, leaking out of my brain like a pipe I aint fixing, shining like a star you can see it from a distance

Aint many of me around p*** I’m just different Certain stages to this level aint here because fame is to the devil fuck a label, imma do this from the ghetto, clean up like Im Dettol

I’m the man to put a bet on, sight smart like a weapon, this is my kind of setting, i write the world I’m sat in, while these others live on hype, i see them fight in how they type, the fruit is ripe for the taking, i think i might

16:22-16:57

Let me take you away from here, Let me take you away from here, Let me take you away from here

16:58- 17:47

Eccentric things are mentioned like a kid stuck in detention tryna escape im just spitting what is written on the next page, spitting image of my dad in his young days

Born sinner when i’m livid i say fucks sake

Don’t worry i’m too cunning with no plumbing, the waterworks, i sung something that resonates, i thought it first like giving birth to the parrot perch

They see me do it and they know it works

Don’t know what’s worse: the way that you live your life or the way that you write a verse

You’ll be nervous, you don’t deserve it we’ll scratch the surface ill leave a crater, lift the dirt up to find the hurting

Can’t know for certain nothing is guaranteed, tryna be a better person than the world deserves to see cuz i see a lot of sharks still swimming in the sea

Cease and arrest what’s the reason.. And these the kinda kids we bringing up next

Distorted reality, all they needed was family, too hard to face, to see what the damage is

17:47

*i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be, a part of this, no, i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be, a part of this, *

18:04-18:38

Sometimes they ask the questions too deep to form a sentence, to disform, is this the norm, is this the sentence i feel defenseless i played the setlist, and all my sweat blood and tears, forgot to mention feeling lost, going off into different sections i feel like love wrecked it

If it’s not a drug why am i waiting for the next fix, affected, i cant believe that you left this

I guess I leave for the best wish, moving on like im fine for the lectures

We see it all from spectrums, cuz if we’re falling down we can fall down together

Staircase to heaven, mirror down the middle like 11, resentment on one side it won’t settle

18:38- 19:14

Mind fried but taking sense, they aint got a sense of themselves in the rich ends

Need to spell it out for them.. Made for them so witness

I know you feel afflicted but you always love it with me while im laughing at you, ya think you’re laughing with me

I try to (i love you) but im grown so they don’t fit me, my body thrown from the new to this old city so Im sick of sitting on my own, feeling so shitty, i’ve been on roads where its cold and the snow hitting

Its okay to be yourself, sit and talking to myself

I’ve been walking for the longest, just need a little rest, know i ain’t the strongest, I can feel it in my chest, talking about my feelings and of me, they get the best

19:14-19:59

They aint leaving, seeing breathing in my breath

Till death do us part is just seeded in my heart, like a work of art

Never winning,im just scared

Cant begin from the start, do i play a part in the rhythm of the night

I guess i’m onto something cuz the dark is feeling right

Every cloud got a lining, put my own miles in, like moralis, figured that they’re jealous, that they could just never tell us to change because the weather never made me question whether or not i’m not that level

Got rid of all the bullshit sitting in my way, most of them are full of shit i see it every day

I do hearing the same things that i do, maybe that shits hitting like haiku

How much do you pay for them to hype you

Recycle your flaws but they aint like new, leaving and conceded and full of diesel like engines that need a cleaning, the ending will be revealing. Even though we ain’t raising the facts, now we been facing.

20:01-20:52

The cactus with spikes, needing spaces. Different faces, the same story. A full body like straight body direct to your system.

Could never tell 'em we missed’ em. Not even with the thoughts, we gift them. Cuz they just take advantage, guess we are caught in a system.

My soul pouring out details of borrowed time, had enough of a fill, this is for sorrow time. I’m seeing visions of Heaven, I seen the severed line, between the gospel they speak and when theyre telling lies.

Remember telling a friend of mine, you’d sent of mine, identified like a 3rd eye. Got a habit of knowing now where the dirt lies. So benign. I ain’t sober after 9, so I fuck their minds. Why you flipping out, see another

Try to rep it from the city, fuck a chiller crew, repping for the nittys, trying to keep us down, raised on the social, don’t want to let us out of the system. Me, I insist we assist them, me alone putting shifts til I lift them

20:53-21:12

I know it’s hard, that’s why I like it, I’m fit to fight it, I’m from the North, I’m backing Tyson, it’s been decided, don’t see no light. They needing guiding, just redefining, realizing, I’m realigning, in full finance, they stay silenced.

Can’t be louder, I’m juiced up with no powder. I fix shit like a slick spanner. Gone green like Bruce Banner. So free Gaza on my banner

21:12-21:51

The real McCoy, I ain’t nothing to toy with, signifying peace like a Japanese Koi Fish. How did this happen, we’re moving backwards in our timeline, killing us with cyanide, Right up for the freedom 'til we transform like Ironhide

This is bout my feelings, the way that I move affects the fate that I’m sealing. Can’t say nothing, with that something being on the page, kept inside the pen like the bars that have been kept caged. See I always had a plan, since I was young, we had nothing man

Now it’s been a few years since I ain’t seen the fam, on foreign lands. Bout to climb Everest in the avalanche. Right into the riddles as soon as you were born. Never asking the question cuz it’s the norm. See I’m in a questionin’ session

21:52-22:03

Like the manner got a method to teaching a lesson, listen to MF Doom, he taught me like Ra’s Al Ghul. Felt like living in Gotham, the people were rotten. Still we play cartoons so it’s never forgotten.

22:03-22:15

Chilling at the top but we came from the bottom. Writing and jottin for them life by, spotting the difference

*Dreams, was growing out of me, sun promising that tomorrow it will rise, time playing games with my mind, I swear it will pass us by

Train goes on the tracks, smoke, I’m tired to hide my thoughts, so blinded in flames, Don’t know where we’re going, I have no way of knowing, only see what’s in my head

Can’t we wait a minute, so we can savour this, It’s on my brain again, these days, It on my brain again these days”

23:10-23:46

They’re hating on Palestine ways, The oh no Palace playing Prince on the Steinway, Sending out mind waves, stop them like crimewaves, Freedom fighter, Yellow Metal is my name

Like vipers, I see the sly ones, the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding what they might put in writing

We should be used to it by now, say whatever for the vote and then just choose another route, say they’d never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown

I’m just telling you the facts, if you can’t take it, the truth naked, to bare bones and my thoughts lately, spitting politics.. Done ain’t it, Shit just gets me vexed, and now I’m sitting that I think of it

23:45-23:59

Feeling on the brink of it, whatever it is, Figure out some shit at least it feels that way

talk about my feelings and I don’t feel so strange, finding solace, that’s a promise, in Metropolis but being honest, can’t write a sonnet, without some pain

24:00-24:40

Can’t fade away, away so we can savour this, been on my brain again these days

Can't find a way to be so you can savour this, been on my brain these days

Singing the song for another, singing a song for another

#zayn #yellowmetal #cathartic #feel free to correct me pls #cathartic lyrics

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

Text

The Games We Play

1. Good News, Ruined.

Word Count: 7.8K+

Author’s Note: I had a flood of inbox requests surrounding Luke Patterson x Reader, enemies to lovers/fake dating/all the good stuff, and decided it was too good not to make something bigger. this chapter was sooo fun to write, and obviously with the whole thing being in an AU universe, I get to change a bunch of shit without consequence... So thank you for reading, I hope you love it, this is my nonsense.

Warning: none.

masterlist | taglist

Parents tend to assume things of their children, the practise usually implemented by those who believe ignorance is bliss, especially when it’s easier to assume your kid is studying, or asleep in bed, or catching up on their reading list. Why worry about what your kids are up to after hours when you could share a bottle of wine and fall asleep on the living room sofa watching some shitty Hallmark movie? Enjoying the perfect ideal, even if it isn’t, in fact, real.

It was this sort of behaviour from the likes of Luke Patterson’s parents that led to him sneaking out pretty much every night of summer.

This was, of course, on top of lies about study groups and volunteering work and classical guitar lessons with his school teacher during the day, and it had been going on a lot longer than just the summer. But could anyone really blame the boy when he once again climbed out his bedroom window that last night of the summer, armed with his guitar on his back as he grabbed his bike and started off in the warm August air?

The soft breeze rushed through Luke’s hair and sent his flannel overshirt billowing behind him as he rode down his street, destined for the other side of town, to the other reality he had created without his parents’ knowledge, the world glowing under the last traces of another beautiful sunset. The reds and oranges gave way to tinges of green and the endless expanse of midnight blue the later hours welcomed, street lamps slowly flickering to life as shadows grew and Luke took a hard turn left onto an underpass, pedalling as fast as he could.

He was already late, he was usually late, but that night his mom and dad had demanded a family meal before he began his senior year, something about tradition or memory-making he had been too preoccupied to listen to. His year wasn’t going to be great because of family albums over his dad’s famous chili, though it was very good chili: no, his year was going to be great because of the people waiting for him at the end of his bike ride, and the news that waited with them.

Luke’s summer hadn’t been spent studying like he told his parents, and it hadn’t been spent the way many of his classmates enjoyed their time off school. Luke’s summer, and the majority of his Junior year before, had been spent in a garage in the LA suburbs, one that belonged to the Molinas. He had spent every spare moment there writing, practising, rehearsing, because Luke’s end goal in life was nothing like his parents had planned for him:

Luke was going to be a Rockstar, and the way to that wasn’t school. It was Julie and the Phantoms.

As he pulled up to the familiar residence about fifteen minutes later, legs aching from the high-speed ride over, Luke couldn’t help but smile. Ray and Carlos were out on the porch playing a game of cards under string lights, and it looked like Mr Molina was losing quite spectacularly to his ten-year old son.

“Hi Mr Molina!” Luke called with a wave, distracting Ray for long enough that Carlos managed to sneak a peak at his dad’s hand and plan accordingly.

“Luke, it’s Ray. Please.” Ray corrected, for the one hundredth time, but Luke was a polite kid, and while he wasn’t one for following his own parents’ rules, he was too respectful to ever start his friend’s dad by his first name. “Everyone’s in the garage, they’re waiting for you before they check the website.” Ray called over, and Luke nodded with a bright smile, waving a hurried hello and goodbye to Carlos before rushing towards the garage at the far side of the house, pulling off the straps of his guitar case and bringing it to his front.

The front pocket was stuffed full of scraps of paper, possible lyrics for new band music, which was required since they had managed to get on the YouTube trending page a few months before, and had begun playing the LA music circuit with high levels of success. The band had only been formed, properly at least, for the last year, and their sudden success was calling for them to be scooped up by a record label any day now.

That’s what the team were congregating for that night, Luke entering the converted garage, their studio, to find his bandmates huddled on the couch with their closest friends. In the couch’s centre was Reggie, Julie and Alex: to the blonde’s right was his boyfriend Willie, to Reggie’s right was his girlfriend Kayla, and Flynn paced on the other side of the coffee table, only coming to a halt as six pairs of eyes came up to find Luke fixing his hair from its windswept state after biking across the city.

“Where the Hell have you been?!” Flynn exclaimed, wide eyed and all gestures. She was a Junior like Julie, and perhaps the band’s number one fan: it made sense, she was kind of their manager. “The site is going live any minute now, and we’ve been waiting almost an hour for you to show up!” She hollered, Luke coming forward and placing a hand on her shoulder, the younger girl scowling at him as he did, but she stopped talking, allowing the boy a word in.

“My parents wanted a family meal, I got here as soon as I could.” He explained to the anxious faces, his eyes travelling down to the laptop sat on the coffee table that they all seemed rather focused on. “Is this it?” He asked, and Julie quickly nodded, turning the laptop, displaying a countdown on a website, to face Luke.

48 seconds… He had arrived in the nick of time.

“Will you read it first?” Julie asked in a quiet voice, Flynn taking the girl’s space on the couch behind her, squishing herself between Reggie and Alex. “You take bad news best…” It wasn’t actually true, but it seemed like Luke had been nominated for the task of finding out whether they had hit the jackpot, and looking at his friends’ all tucked onto the three-seater couch, Luke couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

“Alright.” He said with a curt nod, taking a seat at the opposite side of the coffee table as Julie sat herself back down, now on Flynn’s lap as the two girls hugged onto one another in fear.

23 seconds…

“This could be it…” Reggie muttered; his hand interlocked with Kayla’s. She and Willie had come along as emotional support for their boyfriends, and it was a good call: Alex was as pale as a sheet, and Reggie looked like he might vomit. “Imagine… If we’re in this competition, if we qualify… Guys, we could be signing with Fall Down.” He continued, the seconds ticking away as a silence filled the air after the bassist’s words. He was right, sure, but it was too hopeful.

The competition was country-wide, and thousands of bands had sent in their entries. It was quite literally a one in a 100,000 chance they would make it, that they would be one of the twenty bands picked for the competition.

After all, the tagline was quick to remind that ‘only the best’ would get into the Fall Down Records’ Battle of the Bands.

“3… 2…” Luke counted down, and as countdown finally hit zero, Luke refreshed the page.

Instead of the list Luke and his friends had expected to appear, instead he was greeted by a video, and the boy quickly pressed play, turning up the volume to let it play around the room.

“A very big hello from Fall Down HQ in Los Angeles!” The laptop spoke, and Luke looked up at six confused faces, quickly adjusting the laptop and sitting himself on the table so he could watch along with his friends. “I’m Trevor Wilson, and I’ve been given the honour of sharing the Fall Down Records’ Battle of the Bands line-up with all of you, across the world. But first, a quick reminder of the rules.

“This competition looks for the very best young artists in the US, the twenty top finalists getting a chance to join in our televised six-week competition. Each week our contestants are given a new theme to perform for, and each week three bands are eliminated by judges’ and audience vote, until the Final Four Battle it out for glory.” The video explained, but this wasn’t new information to the seen friends watching with desperate hope. “And the grand prize? The victorious band will be leaving with not only a multi-album record deal with Fall Down Records, but their very own World Tour and $1 million for each band member! I cannot make this up, and I can’t stress more when I say that the band winning this competition are going to be changing the history of music, with Fall Down Records and me, Trevor Wilson, by their side.

“Now, enough of me talking. Let’s get to what you’re all here for, the big announcement. Thanks to everyone who submitted their auditions, don’t give up hope on just yet… But viewers, I give you your top 20.” The video disappeared, the website suddenly coming to life with the full list of finalists, and Luke jumped into action to begin scrolling down as everyone leaned forward, instinctively, Luke’s finger moving as fast as it could past other acts.

Finalists came from all across the country, from all music genres: they scrolled past Idols, a country trio from Nashville; Rallico, an R&B group from New York; Everest, the folk-pop band from Montana. Luke’s finger continued to scroll, through videos and bios on each of the bands, and he counted as he went through to himself. 11, 12, 13…

“STOP!” Kayla shrieked suddenly, Luke moving his hand from the mousepad in surprise, his eyes finally focusing on the screen, the haze of scrolling quickly subsiding. He had to blink once, then twice, just to be sure, glancing back at the shocked faces of his friends beside him, making sure they were all seeing the same thing.

NUMBER 15: JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS. FROM LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA.

“Oh my God…” Alex breathed out, the first to speak as he clutched onto Willie’s hand, and one by one, the faces on the couch went from looks of worry to ones of ecstatic joy.

“Oh my God!” Julie yelped, jumping off of Flynn’s lap and flapping her hands, unsure what to do for a moment, but Reggie quickly stood up as well, and the pair embraced in a tight hug. It took a few moments for the rest of the room to process, but the moment everyone had…

Carlos and Ray heard the screaming from their cosy spot at the front of the house, whooping and yells of triumph echoing across the cul-de-sac as the kids celebrated their achievement.

The hugs and bouncing and complete inability to stay still probably lasted a solid seven minutes, and by the time Luke was coming down from the high of the news, Julie was disappearing round the corner to tell her dad and brother, Reggie was spinning Kayla in his arms, and Alex had found himself in a rather heated kiss with Willie. His eyes went back to the laptop, and he removed himself from a hug with Flynn to sit back on the couch, scrolling back up to the top of the finalist website page.

“What are you doing man?” Reggie asked, Kayla jumping off his back and taking the bassist’s hand as they walked over to Luke, the boy pressing play on the first of 19 videos, the audition tapes of the other competitors.

“We’re up against all these other groups, the competition starts in a few days… I want to see what we’re up against.” Luke explained, the words pulling Alex and Willie over to the laptop too. The five pressed play on the first video, Luke leaning over and turning the volume up as high as it would go as the first band’s music began to play. “Willie, can you go get Julie?” The raven-haired boy nodded, squeezing Alex’s hand one last time in celebration before rushing towards the Molina residence to collect Julie and Flynn.

“I can’t believe we actually managed this…” Alex scoffed in disbelief, running a hand through his hair and glancing over at his friends with the brightest of smiles. To think, the three had met at the age of 10, that all those days of mindless rehearsal led them to Julie, which led them to this?

“You guys deserve it.” Kayla commented with a smile, glancing down at her watch with a frown. “Shit, I forgot about curfew…” She muttered, pressing a kiss to Reggie’s cheek. “I need to get home; I’ll give Willie a lift too. See you tomorrow babe?” She asked Reggie, who nodded fast as Willie came back with Julie and Flynn. “Curfew, Skater Boy.” She reminded Willie; whose eyes widened before muttering a soft curse to himself.

“Right.” He sighed, waving a quick goodbye to his boyfriend and friends before slipping out the door with Kayla. Flynn watched them go, giving Julie and quick hug.

“This seems to be a band member meeting now, and I need a ride. See you tomorrow, alright?” Flynn asked, and Julie nodded, the pair sharing another hug before Flynn too disappeared through the garage doors, leaving the band to themselves.

There was a comfortable silence, as they all looked at one another, as they all came to terms with the sheer insanity of what was happening. Out of thousands upon thousands… Out of millions of applicants, Julie and her Phantoms had managed to snag a spot in the country’s biggest competition, managed to get themselves a chance at a record deal, at a world tour, at millions of dollars…

“So,” Julie said with a grin at her three best friends on the couch, the boys looking to her for their next move. “These other contestants…” She made her way over to the couch, sitting herself between Luke and Alex quite comfortably and taking charge of the laptop from Luke, who was happy to hand over control. “Why don’t we break this down?”

“Well,” Alex spoke up as he peered over Julie’s shoulder, the girl clicking on the second contestants’ audition tape, the sound of soft banjo filling the air. “If we want to win… We need to be looking for the biggest threat across the board, not just in one category.” He said, his friends looking over in slight surprise. It was undoubtable that of the guys, Alex was the smart one, but his smarts weren’t something he used very often to begin with. He coughed and ran a hand through his hair, sitting up a little straighter. “I just mean, the competition is a new theme every week, right? Well, we’re a band with a pretty wide range. I mean, Reggie with his banjo is just a start.” The blonde gestured across the couch, the compliment causing his friend to grin and wave. “If we’re optimistic here, planning the hypothetical that we make it past week one-”

“The band that’s going to be the hardest to beat is the one with range, like us.” Luke finished for his friend, clicking onto contestant number 3, the audition tapes only 90 seconds long, and gesturing to Reggie. “Get a pen and paper, we need to start writing notes.” He decided, and Reggie pouted.

“Why do I have to do it?” He asked, and Julie let out a laugh.

“Luke taking notes would be a waste of time, his handwriting is worse than a doctor’s, and Alex and I have thinking to do.” She explained simply, but it was enough for Reggie to grumble his way over to a dresser on the far side of the room they kept stocked with stationery in case inspiration struck, coming back over and sitting on the ground, getting into position to write.

“Back to contestant 1.” Julie instructed, the four beginning their first bout of research.

It was well after midnight when the band were only just reaching the end of their list. Alex was pacing as he listened to the audition tapes of their competitors over and over again, Luke and Julie both huddled over the laptop as Reggie jotted down notes.

They all should have gone to bed over an hour ago, what with their first day of school that morning, the last first day of school for the guys, but there was too much excitement, too much energy buzzing through them, and this research was the best way to channel it.

Where other subjects were not their strongest suit, everyone of the kids in that room excelled at music: not just playing it, but understanding it. This was a competition, and from what extensive knowledge they shared on Fall Down Records, this was not about looking for one-hit wonders or kids with untapped potential. It was about finding stars already in the making and pushing them forward.

This was good news for the four kids, and bad news for some of their opposition. It became clear in the first half of the tapes who was and who was not going to last long in the competition, a clear divide that didn’t seem like it would change any time soon. Alex was walking around the room that night trying to figure out just who would be going home in the weeks to come, and where Julie and the Phantoms would fall into the grand scheme of things.

“Final video.” Julie announced, the blonde looking over and deciding it would be best to sit himself down, at least for the watch through. Reggie too seemed intrigued as to who their last challenger would be. As Julie clicked her way onto the video, she was confused for a moment when presented with a black screen, wondering if she had accidentally turned her computer off.

Suddenly, a noise, unlike any Luke or Julie or the guys had heard in the last few hours of investigation. Accompanied by bongo drums and maracas, they were all expecting some sort of island breeze music, quite honestly, and Luke was about to pause and check the band’s name once more when the odd noise was suddenly replaced by a much more familiar one: an electric guitar coming in with the drums. An image finally flickered to screen, unlike the other videos of live performances across the country or awkward homemade recording sessions, this band had opted for an old, grainy video quality, a sepia coloured moving picture of hands beginning to play along on the guitar.

“All that I want is to wake up fine. Tell me that I’m alright, that I ain’t gonna die. And all that I want is a hole in the ground, you can tell me when it’s alright for me to come out.” The first few seconds were enough to leave jaws hanging, and though he would later deny it, Luke’s was on the floor.

The sound was so different, such a bizarre mix of percussion and pop and rock, with such a happy sound despite the bleak lyrics. It was impressive, to say the least, and suddenly the picture before them flashed away to reveal the band on a white stage, all dressed in block colours, and Luke scanned over the set up: they had a guy on drums who was dressed from head to toe in blue; a girl in all green on a beatmaker surrounded by the odd percussion they had heard at the song’s beginning, the funny noise revealed to be a marimba; the second guy was on guitar, though it wasn’t quite clear if he was lead or rhythm, and adorned in orange; and then finally…

“Hard Times.” The three other bands members sang, introducing the chorus for their front woman.

“Gonna make you wonder why you even try. Hard times, gonna take you down and laugh when you cry. These lives, and I still don’t know how I even survive. Hard Times, hard times.” She sang in a vision of block colour red, in a short tennis skirt and crop top beneath an oversized blazer, a pair of opaque red cat-eye sunglasses perched on the edge of her nose. The hands from the opening shots of the guitar playing had been her, the instrument a bright red that matched the outfit she wore, and Luke quickly realised that everybody’s instruments matched their clothing colour.

“Marimba…” Luke heard Reggie mutter under the music, only for them to be silenced by the chorus’ final line.

“And I gotta get to rock bottom!” The distortion on her voice as she half sang, half yelled the line was jarring and enchanting and Luke had to let out a bated breath as she continued, lifting the mic off its stand and walking to the boy in orange, passing the guitar duties over to him as she began to sing again, the camera focusing in on the girl in green’s ability on the beatmaker, her fingers dancing over the buttons as they brought in the bridge.

“Tell my friends I’m coming down. We’ll kick it when I hit the ground.” Another drastic change to this soft head voice, paired with the instrumental making it feel like, for a moment, they had all been sucked into a dream. “Tell my friends I’m coming down. We’ll kick it when I hit the ground… When I hit the ground. When I hit the ground. When I hit the ground.” The final note hung for a moment in the air, everything else going silent to let it resonate as the singer hung onto the boy in orange by the shoulder, her hand rising up to pinch his cheek before the final chorus hit.

“Hard Times.”

“Gonna make you wonder why you even try. Hard times, gonna take you down and laugh when you cry. These lives, and I still don’t know how I even survive hard times. Hard times.” The whole band sang the final chorus, their front woman spinning across the stage and singing in harmony with the girl in green, red’s voice riffing on the last notes as the beatmaker brought the snippet of music brought to a close, the screen going black as the music continued to came to a halt. “And I gotta get to rock bottom!”

And there it was… Their main competition.

Luke couldn’t drag his eyes away from the black screen, still trying to get over what he had just heard: while he was more partial to the music he made with his own band, there was undeniable star power in just that song, and four talented musicians to accompany it… Not to mention their lead singer.

He didn’t think he’d go into the contest attracted to a rival band member.

“They used… A marimba?! A marimba…” Reggie exclaimed finally, the first to talk, or rather yell, the leather jacket-clad boy jumping from his seat with his arms stretched in front of him in exasperation. The majority of their night had provided information on bands that gave them a challenge for first place, but confidence they might just grab it. And now? Now they had more than competition, but a threat to the biggest break of their lives.

“Electra Heart…” Alex read the band name out loud, frowning a little as he said it, something about the words seeming familiar. “I feel like I’ve heard of these guys before.”

“Maybe because they’re from California as well?” Julie suggested, pointing to the end of their title card as Contestant 20, stating the band were from San Diego, just two hours away from where they all sat.

“Watch out.” Reggie muttered, turning to face his friends once more and waving a hand at Luke. “Patterson’s smitten.” He muttered, the words knocking a frown on Luke’s face as he straightened up and closed over the laptop, putting the voice of the mystery girl to the back of his mind.

“First off, I’m not. And second? This is a good thing!” Luke exclaimed, though it was clear to everyone he was changing the subject. “The contest starts in two weeks, and we have the upper hand. We submitted Bright as our audition song, and it’s great, but that wasn’t even our best performance of it! We literally ran out of time to submit something better!” He reminded them all, drawing their minds back to the start of the summer. They had done their very best to piece together the audition tape, but Julie had suddenly gotten sick and they lost a week or so of their schedule. They ended up submitting a draft version, and still got in. “That is probably their top tier, and we know we can match and beat that! Right now, they’ll think they have this in the bag, when they don’t.” He got to his feet, walking over and hooking an arm around Reggie’s neck. “We’re going into this prepared, and ready to blow the show’s socks off, yeah?”

“Yeah!” His bandmates chorused, Julie standing up and prompting Alex to do the same, the four congregating in the centre of the studio. She was the first to hold out her hand.

“Legends on three.” She called; smiles shared amongst the band.

“One.” Reggie went first.

“Two.” Alex next.

“Three.” Luke finished, four hands stacked atop each other, four teammates ready to try and take on the impossible.

Sleep didn’t come to Luke that night.

He opted to cycle home despite the late hour, and clambered into bed at around 3 am while Reggie opted to stay overnight in the studio, too lazy to take himself home, not that it was an uncommon occurrence. Since Alex has started living with the Molinas, Luke and Reggie found themselves crashing more and more often.

But Luke cycled home anyway, mainly because he wanted the chance to think in private, to be alone as he planned their success now the competition slot was confirmed. It was the opportunity of their lifetime: he wasn’t going to give it up without a fight. No matter how beautiful the lead singer of Electra Heart was.

She weighed on his mind from the moment he saw her well past sunrise, and as the light flooded in through Luke’s curtains with the boy getting no sleep, he opted for a shower before his parents got up for work, and hopefully getting to avoid talking with them as much as possible until Kayla came by to pick him up, always with Julie, Alex and Reggie in tow.

That was another thing: how would he be suddenly breaking the news of his rock band on global television to his parents, who have yet to find out how he really spends his free time?

As he stood under the hot water that morning, washing away the adrenaline and sweat from the night before, he couldn’t help but hum the girl’s song: why was it so catchy? He tried to rinse it away with his fatigue and the aches in his legs from the biking to and from Julie’s, but it wasn’t budging, and neither was her face. In an act of defeat, Luke clambered out the showered, and shoved his earbuds in as he dried himself off and got dressed for the day, drowning out her voice in his head with the loudest music his phone had available.

As Luke continued about his morning, shuffling around the house as he sorted his laundry for the week and got his bag ready for classes, it was only once his dad yanked on of the earphones out of his ear that Luke figured he might have had the music too loud.

“Lucas, you play that music any louder you’ll be deaf by year’s end.” His father muttered, gesturing for his son to take a seat at the table. Luke glanced at the clock: it would be another twenty minutes before Kayla showed up in the car, and he decided it wasn’t the morning to start an argument.

“What’s up?” He asked, reaching over and grabbing an apple as his father sighed across the table, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands. Luke took a bite, the flavour and scent filling his senses, only for that damned ear-worm to return.

“Luke, your mother and I are worried…” His dad began, and Luke frowned. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, it wouldn’t be the last. His parents had been set on sending him to college, or some sort of naval academy by Christmas, and Luke had continued to adamantly refuse. His grades were still doing well, perhaps thanks to the amount he copied off of Alex, and with his plan being the band anyway, it’s not like he needed school that badly anyway. “We want you to explore your options, to at least give some thought to your future.” His dad continued, and Luke took another bite of his apple, the song rattling in his head.

“I’m just fine.” Luke assured with an insincere smile, getting up from the table and heading back towards his room to grab his school bag. Perhaps he would just walk further down the road, get picked up on the Main Street.

“Son, come on now.” His father was a quiet, stern man, so while the words alone would have been a plea, the tone twisted them to an order, and Luke stopped just before his bedroom. “There’s an open day in a few weeks, all we ask is you go to it. No commitment, just attendance.” He continued, and Luke glanced back, shrugging.

“If you’ll get off my back about it then yeah.” He conceded with a roll of his eyes, quickly opening his room door and slamming it shut behind him, ending the conversation before his father ventured into small talk.

He waited in there, picking at his apple as he hummed the song from the night before, until a horn sounded outside, Luke then scooping up his school bag and rushing out the house as fast as he could, shouting a quick ‘goodbye’ as he slipped round the front door and closed it firmly, letting out a heavy breath.

He took a moment to compose himself before starting a light jog down his front lawn’s pathway to the car waiting at the bottom of the drive, chock full of his friends. Reggie was driving, Kayla and Julie sat tucked together on the front bench of the old vintage, while the back seat of the convertible was occupied by Alex, Flynn and Nick, who waved Luke over to the space free beside him.

“You know Kayla, the more people we pack in this car, the more likely it is your dad takes his car back.” Luke commented as he jumped into his tight spot in the back, sharing a fist bump with Nick as Reggie sped off in the direction of school.

“My dad gave up rights to this car the moment I started filling the tank, Patterson.” Kayla called back, Luke smiling and letting his head loll back as they raced along the back streets towards school. He could say he never felt more at home than with his friends, in moments like this.

“Like, shit, I forgot to congratulate you.” Nick called over the chatter in the car, garnering his friend’s attention with a dimples smile and tousled hair from the wind. Despite only the year separating them, Luke thought of Nick as a little brother, and the comment made him grin and pat Nick’s shoulder.

“Congratulate me when we win Battle of the Bands.” Luke corrected, leaning closer to make sure the front seat didn’t hear his next words. “And I’ll congratulate you once you finally ask out Julie, alright?” He posed the offer, Nick’s cheeks turning bright red. Luke chuckled it away, sharing a glance with Apex from across the backseat.

When they all got thrown into the same music class three years ago, it was pretty clear to Alex and Luke that Nick likes Julie, and vice versa. They had been trying to set the pair up ever since, with minimal levels of success. But with the impossible seeming to occur everyday now, who knew what might happen?

Reggie sped through a stop sign and near drifted round the corner into the parking lot, sending everyone in the car but Kayla grabbing for stability, whether it were the dashboard of the door or the back of seats, but they didn’t hit anything, and Reggie pulled into the assigned parking space the car had kept for the last year or so, right in front of the school quad.

“I can’t believe it’s the first day of our last year…” Alex remarked as everyone gathered their things and clambered out the car. They had become a collective over the past few years, a friendship group not easily frayed or broken, and as they walked in almost a clump across the school lawn, with Julie in the lead, it was quite difficult to not notice the rest of the school’s eyes resting on them.

Word must have gotten out about their good luck.

“What are you guys going to do without us when we’re gone?” Reggie asked with a grin, his arm sling over his girlfriend’s shoulder as the pair sauntered in the group’s centre, and Flynn turned back from her place beside Julie.

“Maybe get some school work done for once.” She clapped back, earning a chorus of chuckles and tones of agreement from amongst the group.

Luke was hanging back in the rear, taking a moment just to observe his friends, a habit he had gotten into over the summer: this was the last year they would, theoretically, all be together, and Luke had no intention of wasting any of his time with them.

“Hey, uh, Luke!” A voice interrupted his thoughts, the brown-haired boy spinning on the spot to come face to face with one of his classmates. She wasn’t someone he knew very well, granted, but he still smiled and took a step towards her, laying down the infamous charm.

“What can I do you for?” He asked with a dopey grin, which later turned to a smirk when she blushed profusely at his words.

“I was just… uh… Congratulations! On the contest, everyone’s talking about it.” She paused, rummaging in her bag and pulling out a slip of paper, Luke pulling a hand out of his pocket to accept the offering. “If you ever, I don’t know, if you’re ever free and wanna go out for a coffee or something…” She trailed off, and Luke examines the name and phone number.

“Well, Sara,” He read her name out, looking up at her as he spoke. “I’ll send you a text, maybe?” He suggested, taking a few steps back when he heard the sound of Julie shouting his name.

“Uh, yeah! Cool! See you around!” Sara beamed, waving him off as Luke turned to catch up with his friends, the interaction boosting his ego a little more as he went into day.

In fact, by the time lunch had come around, Luke’s day had been rather jammed packed with words of praise and offers of phone numbers, and it seems like his band mates had been experiencing the same thing. When Luke arrived at lunch after a gruelling lesson with Mr Norbert, glad that the rest of his day would consist solely of music, he found his friends at their preferred lunch table, each with a collection of notes falling from their pockets.

“Am… Do I need to act more gay? I thought people knew I was gay.” As Luke sat down, Alex asked the question to the table, Willie’s hand rubbing his boyfriend’s shoulders.

“What do you mean?” Luke asked as he set down his tray and took a bite of his sandwich.

“Four girls… Four girls have tried to ask me out today! And I mean, how am I supposed to respond to that? Did they not know I was gay in the first place?” He questioned again, head frantically searching for an answer as the boy’s anxiety began to build, only to be wheeled by Willie’s lip pressing to Alex’s cheek.

“Join the club, guys.” Carrie spoke up from the end of the table, a vision in pink as she and Julie shared notes from a previous class. “I’ve literally been receiving Instagram DMs for years, all the Dirty Candi girls have. The amount of guys that think they can ‘make you straight’.” The girl involuntarily shivered and let out a sigh. “This is just the beginning for you four. The amount of fan mail thanks to the competition will be huge.”

The Dirty Candi girls had been a group as long as Julie and the Phantoms has, but their music was so different there was no need for competition. They all just sort of became friends instead, and when it became clear the girls wouldn’t be allowed to audition for the Battle of the Bands because of Carrie’s dad’s position at Fall Down Records, there was a mixture of sadness and relief. No hard feelings were had, and no hard feelings would happen, because the last thing the friends wanted was to be compared with one another. They were all talented.

Plus, Dirty Candi performed on Ellen, so if anything they were currently the more well-known.

“In other news.” Flynn spoke up, pulling her eyes away from her phone to address the group. “There’s a new transfer student.” She announced, and glanced over at the clock on the far side of the cafeteria. “We should all be meeting them in about half an hour.” She said decidedly.

“How do you know?” Reggie asked with a mouth full of pasta. He had a semi-circle of clutter around him as he tried to eat and copy homework all at the same time, the boy quite aware of how lucky he was to have better-prepared friends than him.

“Mrs Harrison was our free period supervisor this morning. She got a call, disappeared from class and didn’t come back for twenty minutes.” Nick spoke up on Flynn’s behalf, the girl turned back to her phone to feverishly type away at the screen. “Mrs H has to welcome all the new music students.” He added quickly, glancing across the table as Julie nodded in agreement.

“They’re a senior, or we would have seen them in classes this morning.” The band’s lead singer stacked on top of the Juniors’ theory, and Carrie quickly got her attention back to point out a mistake she had made on the maths coursework.

“New students come in every year.” Luke remarked, brushing off the fascination with a wave of his hand. “Maybe we should talk a bit more about, oh you know, the fact that we’re going to be playing to millions of people on a televised game show in a fortnight!” Luke exclaimed, earning grins from around the table as they all got that hit of realisation again. It had felt like a dream the night before.

“Well, I don’t wanna spill secrets…” Carrie started, all eyes quickly on her. “But with dad hosting the show, there are some responsibilities the Wilson family are taking on… Like an acoustic jam session for the competing bands to meet each other.” She revealed with a squeak, taking a hold of Julie’s arm with excitement. “And don’t even get me started on the Halloween bash the Record Label will be holding…” She added, and Kayla hit Carrie’s arm playfully.

“You keep this up and you’ll rig the competition, C.” Kayla reminded with a meaningful smile, and the pink-themed girl rolled her eyes, but fell quiet nonetheless.

The conversation steered away from the competition for the rest of the lunch period, the friends slowly beginning the walk to music as eyes watched them pass. It wasn’t something any of them acknowledged, well, apart from Carrie on occasion, but they were the popular kids.

It was a mixture of charm, friendliness and musical success, but they had become the ‘it’ kids of Los Feliz High. None of them particularly disliked the role they had been prescribed either: the more people they knew, the more people would hear their music, the more people they could share their passion with. And it was nice, too, sitting at the top of the food chain. They had all been at the bottom at some point in time, and knowing their influence on their peers was a positive gave them all a little bit of pride.

“Quickly, quickly!” Mrs H called from the doorway down the hall, ushering the group to hurry toward the classroom, Julie and Luke in the lead as the nine kids shuffled through the door of the band room, Mrs H closing the door behind them. Their teacher quickly checked through the window to make sure no-one was on approach.

“Mrs H, is everything ok?” Julie asked, taking a step forward, and their teacher nodded quickly.

“I have a favour to ask. We’ve got a new student joining. I didn’t want to ask with other kids listening in but.” Mrs H paused, and relief flossed the faces of her students. There wasn’t any danger, just a request they usually got. “Could you make her feel at home? I. She’s been admitted to the program without an audition, I have no clue of her ability. I just don’t want her being overwhelmed, turned away again.”

“Anything for you, Mrs Harrison.” Luke chipped in, their teacher smiling and letting out a breath.

“Thank you… Right, get yourselves seated, we can have a chat more about this competition during second period, I’ll go fetch her from the office.” Mrs H explained, rushing out the door as their classmates filed in, the room becoming a hub of activity rather quickly as kids picked up their instruments and began tuning.

“How does someone get into the music program without auditioning?” Reggie asked, though there was no malice, just naïve curiosity. Unfortunately, his friends didn’t know how to answer him. It was a question they all had on their minds as they got themselves comfy in the room’s far corner, Luke collecting his guitar and Reggie’s bass from one of the storage cupboards, the pair nodding Julie over to the piano to help them tune the guitars.

It was Julie sat herself down at the grand piano that the door suddenly swung open, Principal Brown coming into the room in a dazzling magenta pantsuit.

“Good afternoon students.” She greeted, receiving a chorus of ‘good afternoon Principal’ back. “As some of you already know, we have a new transfer student joining us for her senior year, and she will be studying alongside you all part-time at the school’s music program.” The principal prefaced, quickly gesturing outside the door for Mrs Harrison to enter along side their new classmate.

“Is that…” Julie whispered, receiving a nod from Reggie and Luke.

The girl from the video last night, the front woman for Electra Heart, stood in their music classroom’s doorway, dressed like a model off a runway, a cigarette perched behind one ear. She was wearing a pair of red plaid trousers, paired with black heels and a corset style crop top, an oversized jean jacket thrown on top, all matched to a pair of sunglasses perched on the end of her nose. Her hair was in a bun, showing off the cigarette behind her ear and a collection of piercing along the earlobe. Her nails were all painted the same colour of red as her trousers, which matched the colour on her lips, which matched the outer corners of her eyeshadow.

“Perhaps you can introduce yourself?” Principal Brown asked, she too noticing the cigarette and plucking it from the girl’s ear, throwing it in the nearby trash can. The girl seemed unfazed by her actions, eyes scanning over the room until they landed on the piano, and the band members stood around it.

Luke couldn’t help but stare back, trying his best to keep his jaw from going slack. How was she here? How did she look better in person? And why in the name of God was Luke overcome with a sense of nostalgia as they looked each other over. There was something other worldly about her, something that made Luke feel like he was younger again. It was the eyes, that raked over his body as she smirked, eyes Luke had known to be timid and frantic when they were kids…

It suddenly click in his head.

“Class.” Mrs Harrison decided to speak for the student. “The is Y/N Y/L/N.”

“No fucking way…” Alex muttered standing up from the back of the class, causing confusion amongst his and Luke’s friends. The rest of them seemed to be missing something important, but were yet to figure out what.

“Y/N, why don’t you find yourself a seat?” Mrs H suggested, Principal Brown taking her leave as Y/N sauntered towards the far corner of the classroom, not pausing for even a second as she sat herself on Luke’s chair, arms folding over her chest as Luke’s gaze on her turned from one of surprise to one of raw, unfiltered annoyance, something Julie would later describe as ‘the angriest she’s ever seen’ her friend.

The pair stared each other down for a moment, Y/N the first to move and reach out an arm, taking Alex’s nearby hand in hers as he stayed standing, shocked by the revelation.

“Seven years is a long time, isn’t it?” Her voice was smooth, trained, like molasses dripping down. It stuck in Luke’s head, the words taking hold over his brain just like her song had earlier that day. Alex pulled the girl to her feet suddenly, the pair embracing in a tight hug, staying like that for a moment as the class watched on, as their friends watched on.

When they finally pulled apart, the girl turned her attention to the frowning Luke, whose knuckles were clenched so firmly that the skin was as white as bone.

It couldn’t be. How was she here? It had to be some kind of joke.

But her eyes were the same, her smirk so familiar, and the deal was sealed when she sat herself back down and crossed one leg over another, in his chair, sending a wink his way that was anything but playful.

“Well, hello there, Skywalker.”

He had always hated that nickname...

TAGS: @siennanoelle01 @epikskool @eries45 @thesweetestsinner @fangirlangioma @moviesbooksandfandoms @ohyoureaqueenbutuncrowned @saroo-hawks @charliessunset @lana-moe-fandoms @bigdesi @avngrsinitiative @emotionalbruv @lolychu @lazydaisy19 @korydickson @futuremrsb-r-main @uglypeachh @reggieandthereggies @rogersangel @izzyhogue @writerinlearning @independentgirl @delicatelukepatterson @mybrainiswhack @uhmitstori @mon-charmante @writingforphantoms @musicconversedance @mjflower @heimdoodle @kcd15 @-episkey- @billiesburritoess @walkingonshunshine @obxmermaid @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve @kristencoontz @n0wornever @simp4madi @aliciameix @kinda-just-chillin-here @jatpfan @blueyed-one @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @ghostlyb1tch @leahstypewriter

#luke patterson #jatp au #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #luke patterson jatp #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke #jatp #julie and the phantoms #willex #luke patterson imagine #fluffy smut #fluffy angsty smut #smut #fluff #angst #julie and the phantoms alternate universe #enemies to lovers

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chimmyrockbison · 3 years

Text

MASTERLIST Updated 03/20/2021

COMPLETED AO3 FICS [Kim Taehyung/Park Jimin]

1. The Sound of Your Heart

Summary: There was something so easy about it, it was almost scary. Taehyung didn’t want to feel this way, didn’t want to feel this overwhelming fondness; but not unlike his head, his heart was hard to persuade once it had decided a path. And Taehyung was scared that it had decided on the mute new boy with pretty features and a warm smile.

Words: 144,014

2. All the King's Men

Summary: Castle servants Jimin and Taehyung find themselves involved in a game with the Crown Prince.

Words: 52,531

3. golden haze

Summary: Taehyung watches Jimin’s mouth twist into a pout, forming the word ‘fucking’ with his thick lips before he’s whipping out his translation device again. Taehyung doesn’t have time to stop him when various pornographic images pop up on his holographic screen, Jimin’s eyes widening with intrigue, his mouth falling open at the suggestive images in front of him.

(or: lonely college student taehyung harbors an alien fugitive in his apartment. nothing goes as planned.)

Words: 34,850

4. Drag'on Together (Love Is Its Own Magic)

Summary: “I swear to God, Taehyung if you stop to pick up one more rock because you think it might be some sort of rare stone, I’m leaving you here,” Jimin huffs as he tries to sound intimidating.

“Jiminnie, we both know you wouldn’t survive a minute without me, so stop with the empty threats, okay?” Taehyung replies, happily ignoring his dark-haired friend.

Jimin would argue, he would, if it wasn’t for the fact that Taehyung was right.

The time Taehyung and Jimin finds a blue rock and it turns out to be so much more.

Words: 30,554

5. even the weariest river

Summary: It's moments like this that make Taehyung panic. The open derision on each courtier's face, the scorn of his brother as he turns from his prey. The slit of Park Jimin's eyes, just barely open and dark and hateful, as Taehyung swallows and squares his shoulders and says—

"I want to claim him."

The tides of war change, and sweep Taehyung and Jimin along with them.

Words: 152,979

6. i fell in love with the pizza delivery guy (and then i blew him in the bathroom)

Summary: Send your best delivery guy. Preferably cute, preferably packing.

“You're the one who ordered me,” Taehyung says. Not exactly a question; more of a statement.

“Well, I ordered pizza; you just happen to be a delightful bonus,” Jimin clarifies, lips drawn up in a smirk that sets Taehuyung’s blood on fire in a most delectable way. “Although, had I known a pretty face like yours was working there...maybe I would have been more specific with my instructions. At least I know for next time.”

(or, Jimin orders pizza and a little something extra, and Taehyung delivers without really knowing what he's signing up for)

Words: 18,438

7. Grand Jeté

Summary: Refusing to spend another night alone, Taehyung surprises his perfectionist of a boyfriend Jimin at his dance studio with the intent of dragging him home. But their pent-up emotions from spending time apart has the visit ending with a lot of kissing and a little experimenting.

Words: 8,200

8. Already Midnight

Summary: On New Year's Eve, Taehyung is drunk. So drunk that he doesn't recognize Jimin as his boyfriend. When Jimin kisses him at midnight, Taehyung threatens to call his man- aka Jimin.

Words: 3,951

9. Worth The Risk

Summary: The rules are simple: no kissing on the lips, no petnames, no cuddling after sex, no sleepovers, no labels, and no catching feelings.

It should be simple. In fact, it would be simple, if it weren’t for one tiny thing...Taehyung is pretty sure he’s in love with Jimin. And that’s absolutely against the rules.

Words: 23,645

10. Common Ground

Summary: Taehyung is rich, a little bit bratty, a lot a bit spoiled, and failing calculus. Jimin works full time, tutors, and is a straight-A student. There's a rulebook somewhere that states very clearly that people like Jimin should never associate with people like Taehyung. But rules are meant to be broken. And opposites always, always attract.

Words: 44,136

11. This is not a dream

Summary: He would think they were ships in the night if not for the fact that every night, Jimin lays his head in Taehyung’s lap and Taehyung runs fingers without nerve endings through his hair. If they didn't have this false, teasing closeness long enough to learn every detail of each other's lives, long enough that Jimin is the person Taehyung spends the most time with by a mile.

(Jimin leaves. Two months later, he falls in love with Taehyung.)

Words: 12,370

12. Shooting Stars and Silver Moons

Summary: Yoongi and Jimin make a bet, Taehyung makes bad decisions.

(Or: "I'm kind of pissed you didn't choose me to fake date, I'm your best friend")

Words: 20,206

13. the whole world is blue

Summary: Taehyung is not going to confess. That kind of thing never ends well. The movies are wrong. It doesn't always turn out to be mutual. Real life isn't so romantic like that.

Words: 10,829

14. Swipe Right

Summary: As a best friend, Jimin will do anything for Taehyung. This includes being his fake boyfriend to ward off the unwanted attention Taehyung is receiving after using a dating app and agreeing to meet someone.

Words: 26,085

15. Define Me in Terms of You

Summary: This is either Taehyung's greatest idea, or his worst.

“So, let me get this straight. You want me to teach you how to play guitar, join a fake band and enter a competition just so that you can impress a guy you like?"

Words: 9,808

16. i just adore you asking for more

Summary: Taehyung is a successful model looking for a discreet release. Jimin is a professional dom who won’t judge his browsing history.

Words: 90,201

17. Sirius

Summary: "Dude, our entire relationship could be an Ed Sheeran album."

Words: 16,955

18. it's your heart i wanna live (& sleep) in

Summary: The first time Jimin sleeps over at Taehyung's, it's an emergency. The other times after? That's a different story.

Words: 22,658

19. kissing up on fences (and up on walls, i don't want to fall)

Summary: They’ve always been close, Taehyung and Jimin. Where one went, it would be rare to see them without the other. This is a fact Namjoon knows better than most, having coexisted with them in close quarters for such a long time.

Namjoon had not, however, for all his proclaimed wisdom and prudence, had the foresight to see that they’d become this close.

(or: the five times the other members thought they were dating, and the one time jimin starts to wonder if they really are)

Words: 8,738

20. The Usual

Summary: Alternatively titled: The Regular

Jimin will date anyone, except for boys who serve coffee.

Words: 27,935

21. i'm so sorry but it's fake love (tbh, not really)

Summary: when chaebol/commitment anti-fan park jimin learns he's being married off, he does the smartest thing in the world: hire a fake boyfriend he found on the internet (aka Craigslist's personal ads)

all he needs is just three months with said fake boyfriend to convince his parents to leave him alone. after that, he'll get back to his regular programming.

except, not really.

Words: 209,565

22. Gravity//Oxygen

Summary: He already lost his parents.

He'll be damned if he loses Jimin's smile too.

We stay together.

Always.

Taehyung is out for revenge. And he'll do anything to get it.

Words: 180,321

23. A Screenshot of Youth

Summary: There’s a sharp intake of breath, Taehyung’s grip tightening over Jimin’s with a gentle squeeze. “Jimin,” his voice is serious, and Jimin watches him, strangely endeared. “Let’s be friends.”

And it’s like this, that they begin as friends in the heat of a sweltering summer, twelve years old and too young to think much of it, hands twined together under the blanket of a setting sun.

(In which Jimin and Taehyung grow up together.)

Words: 18,496

24. i'll take the desert, you take the coast

Summary: “Everyone I know is a candlestick nearing its demise. They’re afraid of bringing meaning into their lives, of cultivating that glow. But you, prince Park Jimin, you are different. You glow with the passion of more than a thousand suns.”

Words: 30,973

25. just to get a taste

Summary: The one where Jeongguk dares Jimin and Taehyung to kiss and it unravels a lot of feelings. But mostly more kisses.

Or the one where Jimin's heart is stupid and Jimin's best friend is actually irresistible. Who'd've thunk, huh?

Words: 24,375

26. tell them it's the end

Summary: Five months after Taehyung suddenly walked out on him, Jimin finds out that Taehyung has yet to inform his family, who absolutely loved Jimin, about their split.

Jimin tries to swallow his feelings as he once again “dates” Taehyung.

Words: 13,802

27. stay with you

Summary: Taehyung wondered why he always see this blonde man, getting wasted every night. Its such a shame seeing his pretty face wasting every single night of his life in this bar.

Until he saw his eyes, and he understood why.

(Or Jimin is broken and he wanted his happiness back.)

Words: 12,875

28. ring the changes

Summary: That's the nature of one-sided confessions. Things change.

Words: 45,248

29. summer, winter, spring (i'm falling for you)

Summary: The school starts to take notice of Jimin.

Taehyung has always noticed.

Words: 41,786

30. Make Me-al

Summary: In which Jimin starts to work at Jin's restaurant and there he meets Taehyung, the new rookie waiter that kinda gets him off his nerves (the feeling is mutual). Yet, the tension between them is hotter than the ovens from the kitchen...

Words: 26,886

31. such stuff as dreams are made on

Summary: "sir no one, may i have this dance?"

or: kim taehyung, a kitchen boy, sneaks into a royal masquerade. park jimin is the prince he never expected.

Words: 38,753

#ao3fic #bangtan #bts #bts fic #jimin #taehyung #vmin #vmin fic #vmin au

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flowerbeom · 4 years

Text

Go For Broke | 04

Im Jaebeom x Older Female!Reader

Genre: Fuckboy!AU, Aspiring Songwriter!AU, Slow Burn, Angst/Humour/Smut (loads)

Warnings: Incredibly mature themes, Swearing, Explicit smut scenes.

Word Count: 2.2k

Concept: Premier fuckboy Im Jaebeom is used to getting his way. Though, he wants more, he craves more. He wants his music to be heard, he wants his music to be loved. So when he learns that the attractive woman he buys records from has an connection that’ll get him into the industry, he uses every trick in his book to get in. Seduction is his game, and he plays to win.

A/N: Apologies for the delay. A shorter chapter this time, 1. to save my sanity. 2. to give you all something for being so patient. and 3. its a slow burn right? we better burn slow.

All GIF credits for this series go to @defsenses.

→ Mood Board → Series Index - Links to the Spotify Playlists are available in Series Index

Jaebeom followed closely behind; his chest grazing the back of your shoulder every now and then as you weaved through APOLLO’s crowded corridor. When the tips of his fingers extended to touch the small of your back when you ventured off too quickly, you felt each hair on the back of your neck stand; his warmth startled you, and it wasn’t just the warmth you could feel in his fingertips.

For the tender smile Jaebeom gave you when you met on the sidewalk, his eyes were exceptionally distant. Despite the stare he held when you greeted him, his mind was far away; something, or someone else blinding him from what stood in front of him. But nevertheless, and without hesitation, you had reached forward and let your fingers brush against the back of his hand; watching his eyes dilate then contract to finally focus on you.

And for the briefest of moments, in the second it took to fill your lungs with air, you saw someone else standing in front of you. Someone else behind the dark eyes that had only ever had dark promises written in their gaze. And when he smiled, that ever sinful flash of canines, it was enough to pull in your ever fleeting resolve. You swallowed hard to make yourself remember.

No. Strings. Attached.

Dommie greeted you at the bar. Affectionately named for the glasses on Dom Perignon he’d slide towards ladies he found exceptionally appealing; he quickly adopted the name - his real name far too bland for APOLLO’s clientele. Jokes aside, the nickname was overly endearing for the tall, burly figure he sported; his name failing miserably to pair with the heavily tattooed arms that peaked out from the rolled up sleeves of his black button down. Jaebeom watched keenly when one of those arms wrapped around your waist when you leaned over the bar to press your cheek against his; the authoritative flex of his forearm not lost on Jaebeom when he caught Dommie’s sideways glance.

“Hello lovely.” Dommie crooned in a fleeting moment of eye-contact before dropping his gaze to his hands; swiftly working on some cocktail you hadn’t yet ordered.

“I haven’t seen you here on a Sunday in forever.”

You dropped your cheek onto your shoulder, smiling sheepishly - feigning apologetic notions through the flutter of your lashes.

“Aww buddy, I’m sorry. Sundays are just really hard for me.” Dommie eyeballed a measure of amaretto into the shaker held in his other hand and nodded condescendingly. “By the time I shut the store, all I can think about it sweatpants and sleep.”

You heard Jaebeom scoff behind you, then watched him bury it into a sweeping glance across the bar when you tilted your chin over your shoulder to inspect his quip.

“And obviously not a single thought gets spared for the folks you’ve left behind here.” You swatted at Dommie’s protruded bottom lip; merely scraping at his fake frown with the tip of your pinky finger.

“Hey! Eric is here all the time. Mark too.”

“And their company will forever pale in comparison to yours.” You shared a moment of patrony with the barman and broke it with a laugh.

“So?” Dommie smarted, smacking the lid down onto the shaker.

“So? You returned.

“So, what makes this Sunday so special?”

What is so special about Sundays? Jaebeom thought, tensely twisting a loose thread in his pocket between his thumb and index finger. Though what he failed to catch, through his cautious gaze circling the room and the crash and tumble of ice smashing against the sides of Dommie’s shaker was your subtle glance. Your sensual up and down inspection of his solid frame and Dommie’s upturned brow of complete agreeance when you said with confidence, “Him.”

"What can I get you?"

Jaebeom shook off his mental haze and turned to finally look the bartender in the eyes. Warmth and kindness behind the clean fade and three-day old beard; Jaebeom realised he had him all wrong. Jaebeom lifted the edge of his index finger to his chin and held a breath of contemplation. Then you knocked it out of him.

"Let me guess." Jaebeom's eyebrow cocked at your smirk; the swirling coyness of your tone engaging.

"Whiskey. Single malt." Jaebeom's eyebrow lifted higher, a grin forming deep in his cheek.

"Japanese. Neat." Jaebeom gifted you a single nod, then gifted another to Dommie who had already turned to take down the bottle of Hakushu 25 off the top shelf.

"But.." You stepped back, sliding your elbows off the counter to turn and face Jaebeom squarely. His stance stiffened, his eyes shaking as you leaned a hip against the bar; the tip of your middle finger playing with the chain of your necklace.

"Tonight, he'll take it with a cube or two of ice. It seems like he needs something to take the edge off."

The tip of Jaebeom's tongue was pressed hard against his canine, his eyes narrow on yours that did not blink once as he read you. He was impressed, but he could feel himself coming undone. And he wasn't happy about it.

The tension in the air parted straight down between you when Dommie pushed both glasses across the bartop.

"Amaretto sour.." Traded for a wink as you picked up the glass.

"...And Hakushu with the edge taken off." Jaebeom almost grizzled, but saw the glint in your eyes and decided to drop it. Play it cool, Jaebeom. Same as always. A mantra he repeated silently in his head as he followed you to the empty table that for all intents and purposes shouldn’t have been empty judging by the crowd slowly filling the room. But Jaebeom started to quickly gather by the fiery exchange you shared with the bartender and the deferential smile the waitress gave you, that that table and potentially even the entire room belonged to you.

It would have to be a fool to have missed the tense electricity that sparked between you and Jaebeom. With every knock of his knee against yours and every brush of your foot against his ankle, loaded stares were passed over the rims of glasses that emptied down your throats. And with every empty glass that left your hands, freshly poured drinks replaced them quickly with never a word said to a passing waitress or a beckoning glance towards the bar. Jaebeom could feel his authority slowly crawl away with every lick of whiskey that rolled over his tongue and with every passing stranger who stopped to greet you like an old friend; who he was coming to realise, you were.

And what annoyed him was that you weren’t even trying. After every instance of conversation interrupted by nostalgic small talk, you always turned to him and placed a gentle hand on his and apologised. With a tender and embarrassed smile as if there would be no way you could avoid it from happening again and always steered the conversation back to exactly where you left off. Your eyes always focussed either on his or his lips when he spoke and Jaebeom could feel the tendon in his neck begin to tighten and tighten every time your lips curled in a way that read bashfulness but screamed temptation.

He wanted control. He needed control. And he could feel it pulsing in his palm whenever he broke your resolve with a witty comment that made you straighten your spine and drag your tongue across your teeth but felt it slip through the gaps in his fingers whenever you parried with a sly comment of your own that made him swallow dryly on the pool of saliva that your intense stare made collect in his mouth and question why he was there in the first place.

Why? Why couldn’t he separate between using you and wanting you? Why couldn’t he sit across from you and steel his gaze away from your lips? Why couldn’t he pull his focus away from you when it dared to drift towards the singer crooning on the stage? Why couldn’t he simmer his rage at why that singer wasn’t him? And why, in the room he’d been desperately trying to get a spot to play in for months, were you seemingly the centre of it? And as he sat there, gritting his teeth and watching your vexing smile that only curled the very corner of your lips to balance the arch in your brow, he could feel his veins filling with ice; ice and all the whiskey he would never have been able to afford.

The fact that you weren’t even paying for any thing that arrived at the table at the hands of reverential bar-staff irritated him the most. Call it pride. Call it ego. Call it the delicate sensibilities that he would vehemently deny existed; Jaebeom was about ready to careen over his proverbial tipping point and let the fire of twenty-five-year-old whiskey make him forego all reason and let it speak on his behalf.

“So, why are you so goddamn important?” Said with too much ice and not enough tact, that it chilled your smile and drained all warmth from your expression. It was a bad move, even if he thought it was fueled with all the right intentions. And he knew it when he met your narrowing eyes with shaking ones and buried the grimace forming in his jaw with a swallow that he felt carve down his throat.

“Excuse me, what?” A hollow tone that echoed between his ears. You pulled back, your once engaged posture slithered from the edge of the table to push your spine into the chair; the leg you had crossed over the other twitched with simmered irritation. Jaebeom faltered.

“I--” Clearing his throat.

“I just mean..” Jaebeom inhaled.

“Everyone seems to know your name. Everyone seems to know your face. It’s like you own this place, or something.” Jaebeom forced himself to hold your stare, even if he felt it branding him.

“They treat you as much, anyway. I mean no offense.” Raising his hands in resignation. You exhaled, tongue finding the corner of your mouth and peeled your spine away from its rigid annoyance. Uncrossing your legs to switch them over in a moment of weighted silence, you offered Jaebeom an unintended olive branch when your calf smoothed across the side of his leg. You’d be lying if you didn’t enjoy seeing him twitch at the touch.

“I used to come here a lot.”

“I can see that.” Jaebeom’s tone reentered his preferred level of playful mock and quirked his eyebrows to urge you to elaborate. Having almost crashed face first into a really embarrassing story he’d never tell his friends, you were impressed that he somehow managed to salvage the situation.

Moreover, if he wasn’t able to correct his nosedive, there was no way you’d shut shop. It wouldn’t have been your fuck-up that made it impossible for him to look you in the face. Jaebeom would have to find another cafe on the other side of the city to sling mochaccinos and suggestive glances to morosely bored housewives clad in active wear with obviously no where better to be; his mess, his painful relocation. Luckily, his quick placation and coquettish grin saved him the hassle. And yet his upturned brow still begged for an answer.

“I..” Inhaling through a smirk. “I was in the family business.”

Jaebeom dropped an elbow onto the arm of his chair, sizing up a response against the way you looked at him. It was inciting calculation in your eyes; a challenge at best and a trap at worst and Jaebeom weighed risk against reward and took the bait.

“Don’t tell me you’re some kind of runaway Mafia Princess who’s disappointing Daddy by choosing to live above the underground?” One sharp exhale showed your amusement. And once again intrigued, your elbows found their previous place on the edge of the table; your clothed breasts perching softly on your forearms and Jaebeom clenched his jaw to stop himself from staring at them.

“Sadly, no.” Jaebeom remarked the glint in your eye and drank the deprecative curve of your lips. “I’m far from being that interesting.”

“No?” He questioned in a tone that fully denied any concept of you not being interesting and reached forward to lift his glass off the table.

“No.” Shaking your head but replying in a tone that completely ratified his assumption, you smoothed over the rim of your glass with the tip of your finger and counted the seconds of unbroken eye contact.

Jaebeom lifted his glass but paused to hold it close to his jaw.

“Though, I’m sure you could have someone bash my kneecaps in if you wanted to.” You edged forward, chest pushing harder against your arms and spoke softly through freshly licked lips

“Oh, quite easily.” You watched Jaebeom’s lips pull back into a smirk that revealed the tongue licking the edges of the teeth that couldn’t bite it down. So you both drank to that and not to the blood raging south through Jaebeom’s veins and definitely not to the heat growing between your thighs.

#got7 #got7 story #got7 smut #got7 humour #im jaebeom #got7 scenario #got7 imagine #got7 jaebeom #got7 jaebum #jaebeom smut #got7 fic #got7 fanfic #jaebeom story #im jaebum #defsoul #def.#GFB #go for broke #GFB 04

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seagreen-meets-grey · 5 years

Text

When Lightning Strikes Ch. 3

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won’t even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

_______________

After he left Astrid on the porch, Hiccup avoided her all night. Every time he spotted her face in the crowd, her golden hair, her blue eyes looking around as if in search, he turned around and left the room. He was still a bit shaken, his heart drumming against his ribcage. He wanted to forget those strange little moments that had occurred between him and her, wanted to wash away the guilt fermenting inside him. But as he later realized, ignoring her and spending the rest of the night with Heather had been a futile attempt at doing that. Lightning had struck him, so hard that blue and white sparks were still flickering all over his body when he woke up the next morning, disoriented and confused, not just from the alcohol.

And no matter what he did, he just couldn’t forget her.

At first, he decided to leave this night behind. Block out each memory of thunder and light, of sparks, both pleasant and unpleasant. Pretending like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Because it hadn’t. He’d gone to a party; he’d met a group of people. One of them was a girl with breathtaking beauty and a soul pulling at his heart strings. People like her existed, people with a natural spell about them. He shouldn’t worry about it too much, shouldn’t let his mind spiral further.

Because that’s what he was doing; he was spiraling into it. It had been a weird night and Astrid had momentarily confused him. His mind had jumped to conclusions too fast, his brain sending out the wrong messengers and producing feelings of guilt where there should be none. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Hadn’t cheated on Heather, hadn’t even considered considering it. He’d been drunk. Comfortable with a person he’d easily connected with. But his mind had latched onto it and was now tormenting him, because everything it told him he’d done, he’d always been afraid of doing. He never wanted to hurt anyone, never wanted to be the jerk.

He reminded himself that overthinking was one of his talents. And that, if he allowed himself to go down that road again, he’d end up falling into his own hole once more, and soon enough he’d have to make a new appointment with Dr. Mala. So he told his brain to shut up and forget that anything ever happened.

He lasted for about three weeks.

It happened while he was watching a movie with Heather. It was a lighthearted film, the protagonists clearly in love and fighting all odds to be together. After a long day at work, the movie was a welcome opportunity to unwind, so Hiccup used his girlfriend’s shoulder as a pillow and gradually drifted off towards the end of the movie. One of the protagonists had just held a speech about true love, the words sinking into Hiccup’s brain and getting lost in the haze of slumber.

Suddenly, Heather moved, the motion of her shoulder waking him. As he rubbed his eyes and slowly came back to the here and now, he had to blink a few times when he expected Heather’s hair to be silken and blonde, her eyes to be sparkling blue. For the fraction of a second, upon realizing he was looking at black and green, he felt something akin to disappointment, and that was all he needed to fully come to again.

“I’m going to bed,” he exclaimed, absentmindedly wishing Heather a good night and almost missing her response.

“Want me to come too, or can I watch this first?”

Hiccup shrugged and yawned. “One of us has to know how it ends, right?” The movie was almost over, anyway. And then she could come to bed, snuggle up to him and remind him that his tired mind was simply messing with him again.

But as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was gone, dreaming of dragons with snake eyes that wanted him to touch the treasure, eyes gleaming in anticipation of what was going to happen if he did.

_______________

It had been five weeks and four days that he’d met Astrid when he saw her again.

The day started like every of the last 39 days. When Hiccup got out of bed, Heather was already in the kitchen, pouring coffee into his mug as soon as he came from the bathroom. She was already dressed, grabbing her jacket from where it was hanging over a chair at the kitchen table.

“Morning,” she greeted him in a hurry, planted a kiss on his cheek that made his stomach churn with guilt, and flung her purse over her shoulder.

“Morning,” Hiccup yawned, running a still sleepy hand through his bed hair and letting himself fall onto his usual chair.

“Milk is almost empty,” Heather said as she put on her shoes, not waiting for a reply before she opened the door. “See you tonight. Love you!”

She was gone before Hiccup could answer, the sound of her heels disappearing down the hallway until he faintly heard the door to the stairway fall closed.

“Yeah…” he mumbled, slowly spinning the mug on the tabletop. It was a Star Wars-themed mug with the inscription Come to the dark side. We have coffee! that Heather had given him last Christmas. He stared at it with bleary eyes, still trying to escape the nightmare that had gripped him in his sleep with cold hands, after he had finally managed to fall asleep. Once again, he’d been lying wide awake late into the night, tossing and turning, Heather’s even breaths right next to him deafening to his ears.

He sipped at his coffee, the still hot liquid burning the tip of his tongue, like it so often did. This time, Hiccup didn’t even flinch. He deserved this.

Not exactly hungry, he used up the rest of the milk for his cereal and half-heartedly ate a few spoons full. He put the empty mug and almost full bowl in the sink, not bothering to clean anything. He didn’t have the energy; he’d lost it all to the nightmares.

“Maybe it’s just a phase,” he mumbled to himself as he headed to work. He continued to chant his mantra under his breath the entire morning, it’s just a phase, it’s just a phase, just a phase, ignoring the concerned glances from his co-worker. Fishlegs was his friend. He could see that something was bothering Hiccup. It was only a matter of time until he would finally confront him about it.

Fishlegs’ eyes were boring into the side of his skull. They burned through his skin, crossed the blood underneath, knocked on the thick bone that was his head. Just a phase didn’t open. Hiccup almost laughed as his mind put pictures to his thoughts. Fishlegs’ eyes were wearing khaki pants. Maybe Astrid would find it funny.

Hiccup groaned and let his head fall onto his desk with a painful thump, his forehead landing directly on his pencil. “Ow,” he made.

“Hiccup, are…” Fishlegs appeared in his peripheral vision, rolling closer on his chair. “Are you alright?”

Still with his face planted on his sketches, Hiccup sighed. “I’m in deep shit.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” his friend asked tentatively. Hiccup didn’t answer for a minute. He closed his eyes. His nose was uncomfortable on the hard surface. The pencil would surely leave a mark on his forehead.

“You know how I was at Heather’s brother’s birthday party a few weeks ago?” he asked, finally sitting up and facing the other man. He saw his eyes flick to his forehead for a split second.

“Yes, you told me about that. Or rather, you complained about the guy.”

“Well, I…” he hesitated, eyeing Fishlegs warily. How would he react? Would he judge him? Hiccup contemplated to simply wave it off, blaming his mood on something else, but when he tried to think of anything, his mind blanked, apart from the one image that has constantly been there for weeks. Blue eyes, like the sky, deep as an ocean. “I met someone.”

“What do you mean, you met someone?”

“I met a… a girl.”

Fishlegs’ face fell. “Ooh, I don’t like where this is going.”

“No, no!” Hiccup quickly put his hands up in a reassuring manner. “I didn’t cheat on Heather; I would never do that!”

Fishlegs still didn’t look happy, raising a brow and leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

“The judgmental energy isn’t helping me, Fish,” Hiccup said, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, okay, I’m not judging. I want to help you, so tell me what happened.” He still didn’t look convinced. Hiccup chose to concentrate on his pencil instead, rolling it between his fingers as he talked.

“Her name is Astrid. She’s the fiancée of one of Dagur’s best friends. Heather’s annoying brother,” he added at Fishlegs’ questioning look. “We had fun, drinking and playing stupid games.”

“And nothing happened?” When Hiccup didn’t answer, he made that concerned face again, voice rising a few levels. “You just said that nothing happened between you!”

“And nothing did! It’s just…” He sighed and tossed the pencil back on his desk. It rolled over the scattered sketches and was stopped in its path by his empty coffee mug with a short echoing clink. Occasional drops of rain that became more frequent by the minute were drumming against the window, for a while the only sound in the room. When Hiccup spoke again, his voice was quiet, the guilt seeping through, rasping at the edges. “I can’t stop thinking about her. I don’t know why; I only spent a couple hours with her. It’s unlike anything I ever felt for anyone, including Heather – and it’s terrifying me.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to think about other women at all when you’re in a relationship,” Fishlegs stated, and another sharp pang of guilt shot through Hiccup’s chest.

“I know, I know. Maybe I’m just obsessing over it too much. But…” His voice became even quieter and Fishlegs had to concentrate on hearing what he said. “When I look at Heather, there’s… nothing. Familiarity, perhaps. But whenever I try to do something romantic or… you know, intimate… to bring back the spark, it’s not her who’s on my mind. Even if she’s right in front of me.” He sunk back into his chair, shoulders slumped, a deep frown on his face.

“Did you talk to Heather about it?”

Hiccup shook his head. “I don’t want to unnecessarily hurt her. Besides, I keep telling myself that I’m simply overthinking again. Maybe it’s just a phase that I’ll get over.”

“You know,” Fishlegs started carefully, “I don’t think such phases should come up at all.”

The statement rolled around in Hiccup’s stomach, razor-sharp thorns slashing his guts. He knew that his friend was right. But the mental defenses he had put up against the guilt wouldn’t crumble, the armor of the idea that it was a phase that would go by warding off sobering reality.

“I need some air.” He stood up and grabbed his jacket. The rain had turned into a consistent drizzle, the line were dark clouds met bright blue sky visible in the distance.

“Do you want some company? We could take our lunch break early.” Fishlegs half got out of his chair before Hiccup shook his head.

“No, I- I need…” He turned away, opening the door. “I need some time. I’ll figure something out.” And with that, he left, feeling the thoughtful eyes of his friend on his back until he turned around a corner at the end of the hallway. He took the stairs, darted out the front door of the building and kept walking, didn’t slow down, let his feet take him somewhere, anywhere, as long as they didn’t stop. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right.

He stared at his shadow, cast by the occasional ray of sunlight breaking through the blanket of clouds that followed him wherever he went. Left, right, left, right, left, right. His shadow led the way, the rest of his body followed. His surroundings shifted into a blur, his limbs moving on autopilot.

Fishlegs was right. He shouldn’t be thinking of another woman while he was in a relationship. It wasn’t fair to either of them, neither Heather nor himself. Oh, this was all so messed up! Why couldn’t he just erase all memories of Astrid and bring everything back to how it was? But the longer he entertained that notion, the clearer it became that he didn’t want that.

The rain didn’t let up, the air around him humid and warm. His hair was starting to get soggy, small droplets of rain trickling down his neck. He should have brought an umbrella. But a tiny part of him, a dark part he had banished to a corner of himself, couldn’t stop thinking that he deserved this – getting slowly soaked in drizzle, impossibly humid air making his clothes cling to his body, agonizing over his feelings.

When he looked up the next time, he had to reorient himself for a minute. He was standing somewhere in the middle of Berk’s famously long shopping street, an ice cream parlor to his right and a bookstore to his left. The lunchtime rush brought more and more people to the streets, creating long lines in front of bakeries and pizza places, a sea of umbrellas flooding the entire pedestrian zone.

Following his growling stomach, Hiccup strolled over to the next food cart serving crêpe. As soon as he swallowed his first bite, he didn’t feel quite as though he was drenched in his own misery anymore. Standing under a canopy, munching on his lunch, he observed the buzzing crowd. There were groups of people, friends, co-workers, mothers pushing strollers, people on their phone, people with shopping bags. He wondered if any of them had ever fallen for a person while they were dating another. How would they handle it? Did they simply get over it and move on? Did they end the relationship and got involved with the other person?

Not that that was an option for him. Astrid wasn’t just off-limits for him because he was with Heather; she was also engaged to another man, and happily so, judging by her dynamic with Eret at the party. The what-if, though, was flashing through his mind despite the armor that was supposed to protect him from the guilt that immediately reared its atrocious head again.

He really needed to sort this out, needed to–

His heart stopped. He was overcome by a feeling akin to the brief moment of shock when missing a step on hazardous stairs. Then his heartbeat accelerated, pounding in his veins, drowning out the voices and noises around him. Memories of tingling electricity spread in his toes and fingertips, the sound of phantom thunder resounding in his ears. His vision narrowed, eyes seeing only her. Astrid.

There she was, her own ray of sunshine, standing out from the crowd. Her expression was bright, the sound of her laughter resonating with the warm feeling that immediately spread in his chest. He couldn’t move, could only look at her, just like the first time he saw her. She had a bag flung over her shoulder, holding a marine blue umbrella in her other hand. Her attention was devoted to the man walking beside her, tall and strong and everything that Hiccup wasn’t.

All of a sudden, something in her expression changed. She came to a halt, angering an older man that had been walking right behind her and hurried past her after throwing her an annoyed look. Eret was already a few paces ahead of her when he noticed she wasn’t next to him anymore. Then, ever so slowly, she turned around, a confused scowl adorning her features. As soon as she locked eyes with him, the bright smile returned, and she waved.

Still too stunned to greet her back, he at least remembered the food in his hands and realized he was close to dropping it. Shoving the last piece of crêpe between his teeth, he tried not to panic as she came over, fiancé in tow.

“Hey, Hiccup!” she yelled, skipping a few small puddles and embracing him in a greeting hug. “So good to see you!” She smelled of something flowery and he tried to not inhale deeply.

He realized he’d never seen her in broad daylight before, where the sun breaking through the clouds illuminated her long hair so that it shone golden. The blue of her eyes seemed even deeper, and he discovered the faint wall of freckles that covered the bridge of her nose.

“Hi, Astrid. Hey, Astrid. Hi, Astrid. Hey. Hi, Astrid,” he stuttered, his efforts to keep calm evaporating into thin air. He mentally facepalmed. Smooth, Hiccup. But she didn’t seem to care, giving him a playful punch on the arm.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s it going?”

You have no idea, he thought. “I’m fine, same old, same old…” He tried to not look her in the eyes, which was hard; his attention kept circling back to the miniature skies inside them.

“Hey, man,” Eret greeted him when he caught up to them, and Hiccup gave him a polite nod. He hadn’t really talked to the man much back at the party.

“Eret and I are out looking for wedding dresses and suits. I’m not much of a dress type but some of them were seriously beautiful.” He could imagine. The next second, he rather tried not to. Not while he wasn’t the one in the matching suit. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m not the type for pretty dresses, either, and I don’t have the physique for it.”

“Ha, ha,” she tried to sound unimpressed, but the twinkle in her eye betrayed her. It made his stomach flutter and he kept fighting against the smile that broke out over his face as soon as he let it.

“I’m on a break from work. Clearing my had a bit.”

“Right,” Astrid’s face lit up in interest, “I never asked you what you do.”

“Well, currently, I’m illustrating book covers and the occasional children’s book for Dragon’s Books. It’s not what I always saw myself doing while growing up, but it’s actually not that bad.”

“Sounds neat. Anything I might have read that you illustrated?”

He shrugged. “Don’t think so. I haven’t been with them so long yet so I’m getting all the nameless works for now.”

“Try me.” She put her hands on her hips and leaned slightly forward, a challenging spark in her eyes.

“Have you heard of The Phantom of the Arena?”

She thought for a minute. “Sounds like The Phantom of the Opera.”

“It’s inspired by it.”

“Is it good?”

“Oh yes, you should read it!” The flutter in his stomach increased. He wanted to talk to her about books for hours.

She turned to Eret who Hiccup had completely forgotten was still standing there. His secret hope about geeking out with Astrid fell. “Let’s go to that bookstore at the corner!”

Eret shrugged with one shoulder, looking down at his watch. Hiccup noticed it was a Jaeger, displaying another difference between himself and Eret: wealth. While Hiccup’s dad kept telling him to just take his money, he wanted to earn it himself.

“If we wanna do that, we need to go now before we have to head back.”

Astrid turned back to Hiccup with an excited smile and hugged him goodbye. He tried not to hold onto her for longer than was appropriate. “It was great seeing you, Hiccup.” With that, she left.

He watched her go, arm in arm with Eret. His heart was still pounding so hard in his chest, he was sure it was visible through his shirt, like in a cartoon. His skin was tingling where she had put her hands when she hugged him. The prickling hadn’t stopped, little jolts of lightning flashing through his nerves.

For the rest of the day, he kept thinking back to every second of that short conversation with Astrid. Every smile, every look, every word they shared. It was a miracle he got any of his work done. Fishlegs tried to talk to him about his love life issues again every few minutes, but Hiccup was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t answer. After a few failed attempts, his friend gave up.

He spent the entire bus ride home staring out the window, so lost in his predicament that he missed his stop and had to get out at the next one. The rain had let up, the early evening sun warming his neck as he walked the extra mile home.

It was scary how he didn’t even know Astrid past the few hours they spent together at a party and the few minutes today, but he’s never felt such a strong connection to anyone. He didn’t even know how that even made sense, because it couldn’t, could it? Everything about her kept drawing him in, from her mesmerizing eyes to the strong and self-confident woman that she was. He wanted to talk to her about things that he loved, wanted to hear about her opinions, her interests. Get to know her, be near her, be with her.

There didn’t seem to be a logical reason for all this, nothing he could figure out, like a puzzle or a mechanism. He couldn’t control it, couldn’t just fix this with a sleepless night worth of tinkering. He had to listen to his gut, or to his heart if he wanted to be romantic, and then hope that he didn’t destroy the scaffolding.

When he turned his key in the apartment door, his stomach was twisted in knots again, nerves tugging at his lungs. He closed the door behind him and threw his keys onto the small table next to the coat rack. As slow as possible, he took off his shoes, dreading the moment he had to face his girlfriend.

The clacking of fingernails on a keyboard sounded from the living room. Taking a deep breath, he hesitantly approached it. Heather was sitting on the couch, scrolling through something on her laptop, smiling at him when she saw him.

“Hey, how was your day?”

“It- it was fine.” He just stood there in the doorway, rigid, still wearing his jacket.

She looked back at her screen and suddenly, everything became utterly clear. The knot in his stomach was still there, but he knew that he had to do this, that this was what he wanted. He didn’t know if it was the right decision in general, but it felt right, determination replacing the feeling of guilt.

“I’m looking for cheap flights,” Heather said without taking her eyes off the screen. “We could go to Spain or Greece, maybe Rome. Just the two of us. Couple’s vacation, long overdue!” She finally looked up at him again. “What do you think?”

“I think…” He took a deep breath and stood up straight, voice as serious as his frown. “We need to talk.”

#httyd #hiccstrid #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #eret #heather #modern au #ff #fic #fanfic #maja writes #when lightning strikes #a bit of angst with a dash of drama #or the other way around

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experimentalmadness · 4 years

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Cin Vhetin Ch. 11: Escape Plan

Synopsis: Din Djarin is hunted by a new mercenary, when they are forced to work together they slowly realize they are stronger together than apart.

Chapter Summary: Din Djarin and the Child are captured by the Imperials, can Cara Dun and the merc responsible help them escape in time?

Pairing: Din x OC/Reader (however you prefer to read it)

Masterlist: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Ao3 Link

Zethu came to in a haze of pain. It bled outward from the wound in her stomach flowing into every limb and bone. Groaning, she sat up. Her eyes were pounding, her head was a cut open drum. Rolling over onto all fours, she retched up bile. .

Her hands shook as her vision returned, the mist of red left her eyes as the bright greens and purples of the forest around her soothed the ache in her head. The sky was clear, with only the lightest of clouds slowly tracking its way above the canopy. In the distance Zethu heard branches crack in the breeze and alien wildlife chittering and squawking.

Traitor.

She retched again. She’d been called that many times in her life. Once after her parents had died and she had chosen to survive another winter by reporting delinquent workers to the Arkanian overseers, and again when she stood over the smoking corpse of Atan’s brother in the escape freighter. She had deserved it all. But Din…

She rose to her feet, one hand pressed against her stomach. The wound was not a deep one, but it bled persistently. Wincing, she picked her way out of the forest. Every part of her was drained, and aching. Like it had been back on Coruscant after the Adascorp spies gave chase. She broke into a hobbling run as the outpost came into view.

Stumbling up the long ramp to the upper landing bay, Zethu paused to catch her breath, leaning out over the railing. Her chest was tight, a riot of emotions all struggling through her blood, clamoring through her head like a million sharp voices drilling through her eyes. She shut them tight. Only a few times in childhood could she remember these spasms. Her little episodes, her mother had called it. When the world was too vast, too open, and yet there was no room for her.

Pulling through the old breathing exercises she always fell back on in times like these Zethu opened her eyes once again. If everything had been an overwhelming haze of emotions, color, and sound, now it was all in a narrow focus. She was surprised none of the Crimson Dawn guards stopped her when she entered the landing bay. She eyed them with a snarl, hands itching to throw a punch.

Anger was good. Anger deadened the pain in her limbs and gave her a spring to her step. And if it made the guards shift away from her as she approached the Razor Crest—well, that was only a marvelous side benefit. No one stopped her from entering the ship. She fully expected alarms to sound, blasters primed and aimed, but it never came.

The ship was empty and silent as the doors closed behind her.

You are more than just a merc, Zethu Desh.

Served the Mandalorian right for judging her. The bag of credits felt heavy around her belt and Zethu unclipped them, weighing them in her hand. There was enough to keep her in fuel and supplies for months, with some extra to upgrade her weapons—maybe even to get a new helmet.

She could even sell the ship. After all she was still alive. It was bad fortune that brought the rest of the imps down on their heads, but she had survived. Good intentions didn’t matter, she thought, feeling another wave of nausea steal over her. It didn’t matter that for one foolish second there was one person in the whole of the galaxy that thought she was better. And that she, for an even shorter moment, had believed them.

Zethu dropped the credits and slammed her fist into the durasteel plated wall. Her knuckles crunched, but didn’t break. “Damnit,” she hissed, leaning hard against the side of the ship.

What were the rest of the Imperials going to do to that little kid? She hit the wall, lighter this time but with no less rage. Just block it out of your mind! It’s not your responsibility! How many people had she killed for credits? But one man and his little brat get taken and suddenly it was the end of the kriffing universe.

She stalked off, feeling as if she could pull the ladder clean off its hinges as she made her way to the cockpit. It was so impossibly empty in here! Zethu mussed her silver hair, nails racking against her scalp. She took a seat at the pilot’s chair and turned the engines on. Her hand shook as it hovered over the accelerator. Damnit, it’s not my fault! So the job didn’t go right, so what?

She just had to get off this planet. That was all. Punching it she careened out of the outpost with reckless anger and made a risky altitude climb. She just had to see the stars. Had to get out into the clear, cold, hard focus of space.

Your parents would be ashamed!

Arkaninan bootlicker!

Traitor!

Turncoat!

Offshoot scum!

Zethu screamed in frustration as she broke through the atmosphere, breathing hard in the dark silence now all around her. Distant stars winked at her through the viewport, quiet, with no voices, and no judgement.

The Outer Rim would be a good place to start on ducking the Dominion again. No doubt Gideon would have helpfully given their ships a last known location. She’d avoided them all her life, this would not be any different. See, this is what you get for going soft! She chided herself, you could have been flying pretty with the Dominion off your tail for good.

Maybe she ought to fly out somewhere into the Unknown Regions. Hell, maybe even try her luck with wild space, just pilot out to some planet and pray it was hapitable. Zethu fell back against the chair, pinching the bridge of a still-bruised nose. Looking down she pulled out one of the vibroblades on her belt, turning it slowly in her hand. Why had the Mandalorian given her this?

“I must be out of my mind…”

Before she could talk herself out of it, Zethu punched in the coordinates to Nevarro and made the jump to lightspeed.

***

This was risky. No, worse, it was stupid, the absolute most insane thing she had ever done in her entire life. Zethu made a furious pace across the Nevarro city’s main square, or what passed for one. She remembered the way to the cantina from her last eventful visit and threw open the doors.

“Is there a Cara Dune here?”

All eyes were on her, not something she relished. The place was crawling with hunters and mercs of every race and species. “What you all go deaf?” Zethu strode in. “I asked where the hell Cara Dune was!”

“Who’s asking?”

Zethu would have recognized the tough looking soldier anywhere. Cara calmly sipped from a cracked mug at a corner booth. There was an older man opposite her, one Zethu did not recognize. He seemed nervous, glancing first at her, then at Cara. He had every right to be. Trying to ignore the stares she had accrued, Zethu marched right over to the booth.

“I’m not here for a fight,” she said as the man reached directly for the small blaster at his belt.

“Damn, Din really did a number on you,” Cara laughed into her drink. “Had to roll you in so many bacta patches after I knocked you out, thought you’d suffocate and save us all a lot of trouble. So, how was Coruscant?”

“You got a ship?” Zethu pressed her palms into the table, leaning forward. Cara was right, she probably did look a mess. Hair disheveled and unwashed, bruises still mottling all over her face and neck, shirt—fortunately hidden under the jacket—stained with blood.

“Wha—”

“How many weapons do you think you could get in...an hour? Less?”

Cara put down her drink. “What happened on Coruscant?”

“Imperials. They came and—”

Zethu never had the chance to finish. Cara was up on her feet and pinning her face down onto the table so fast Zethu had no chance to stop it. She gritted her teeth as Cara snapped her arm back over her opposite shoulder at an unnatural angle. “I knew he was an idiot for trusting you. Ok, merc, here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to tell me where the hell Din and the kid are or I’ll break every bone in your body.”

“I don’t know!” Zethu grunted, groaning at a higher pitch as Cara wrenched her elbow up higher. “I came here to ask for your help!”

“Uh huh, sure.”

“No, it’s the truth, it’s the truth!” Zethu was up on the tips of her feet to try and get the pressure off her arm. “Imperials took him after we made the drop on Numidian. I was...I was going to cancel my contract! Crimson Dawn sold us both out, it wasn’t me! I’m trying—” she coughed, “I’m trying to help save them!”

“Cara, perhaps you should let her go before you snap her arm off,” the older man interjected.

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen this one fight. Crazy as a vorn tiger.”

“Look!” Zethu struggled in Cara’s grip. “You can kick my ass all you want to later, but right now I got an ex-Imperial prison ship to storm, but it’s kinda hard to do that on my own so I thought you might wanna help your friend.”

With one last vicious shove Cara released her hold on Zethu’s arm. “Alright. Start talking.”

Wincing and rotating the abused limb, Zethu straightened up. “Thanks. And I was telling the truth before. I don’t know where the ship went once it left Numidian. But I can tell you where I was first contacted by the imps. It was near the Lasan System. Lots of crazy stuff that close to Wild Space, but that’s where the first signal came in. I don’t know if that’s where they’d take Din, but it’s all I got. I swear.”

Cara still looked as if she was about ready to murder her. “Why would you come back to us for help?”

“Temporary insanity.”

“And you think the two of you could bust through a secret Imperial outpost?” the older man interjected. “You’re gonna need a hell of a lot more firepower.”

“Well, Greef, you got any suggestions?” Cara asked.

“As a matter of fact…”

***

They hauled the last of the crate of fuel cells and blasters that Greef Karga had supplied into the Razor Crest. Zethu was still on edge and she hadn’t yet ruled out the fact that her mind had completely snapped somewhere between here and Numidian. Cara Dune was still eyeing her like she intended to throw her into deep space as soon as they left orbit. Honestly she didn’t blame her. Suffocating in a vacuum would feel a damn sight better than how she felt now.

Heading up to the cockpit, Zethu went up to the pilot’s controls by habit only to find herself shoved roughly to one side by Cara.

“No way you’re flying this thing. I trust you about as far as I can throw you—”

“Which I’m sure would be pretty far actually,” Zethu quipped.

“Sit down, shut up, keep your hands where I can see them at all times.”

She did so, folding up reluctantly in the passenger seat behind Cara. This was the second time she was leaving her Lancer behind. Somehow she doubted she’d be back for it. “You know if I wanted to sell you out, too, I wouldn’t have come in person.”

Cara took them out to space and Zethu tried not to think about the million other things she could have been doing if she had just walked away from all this. “I warned Din you’d renege the truce—”

“I told you, the only deal I tried to renege on was the one I had with the imps!” Zethu snarled. “You really think I’d go through all this trouble otherwise? What do you think I stand to gain here?”

“You’re a merc.”

“And a damn good one!” Zethu pressed her fist against her knee. “I keep my word. I don’t break contracts. So, I don’t particularly like this anymore than you do.”

She grimaced as they shot to lightspeed, heading out for the Lasan system. “Why do it then?” Cara asked, turning about in the pilot’s chair to stare at her.

Zethu didn’t have an answer for her. Her knuckles pressed against her lips as she leaned one arm atop her leg. She couldn’t meet Cara’s gaze.

You’re more than just a merc, Zethu Desh.

“I don’t know,” she said softly, looking out the viewport at the blur of hyperspace.

Much to her surprise the ex-soldiers began to laugh. Zethu snapped her gaze back to her. “Yeah, Din kinda has that effect on people. Doesn’t say much, but makes you want to be...better. Right?”

Zethu didn’t want to think about this anymore. It hurt her head. “Just fly the ship.”

“Have a plan for the imps? If we find them?”

“Same as most of my plans: kill them before they kill us.”

They came out of hyperspace with that familiar lurch. This far out on the edge of the known galaxy the return to regular space brought no relief. It was disorienting with few planets or local stars to mark the map. “None of the Star Destroyers I was expecting,” Cara said, staring at the empty expanse.

“Like I said, it was just a guess.”

Zethu pushed down the fear that was creeping up her throat. She had no leads, nowhere to go, nowhere to look. It wasn’t like she could stroll back into Republic controlled space and just ask where they thought the Imperial remnants might be hiding. If she couldn’t find Din or the child, no one ever would. The fear and panic coiled right under her ribcage, burning so hot Zethu fought to think.

She gave her head a small shake, feeling that heat shift into a physical point of pain and light in the back of her head. She blinked rapidly. There was a tether unraveling from somewhere within to...Zethu raised her eyes to the viewport. She was getting one of these feelings again, the ones she could never ignore. But this one felt different, it was outside of herself. And it was terrifying.

“They’re in this system,” Zethu said with a quiet confidence. Where that came from she had no idea. Cara was looking over at her like she had lost her mind for good.

“And just how do you know that?”

“Instincts. They’re never wrong. Look, I can’t explain it, sometimes I get a good feeling about something. And right now all my instincts say to chart a course out there,” she pointed at the brightest object in view. “They’re here. And we have to hurry.”

#The Mandalorian #Mandalorian x oc #Din Djarin x oc #Din x oc #Cin Vhetin

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jollyviscreal666 · 5 years

Text

The Chef

I had refrained from entering the formulas to the CIA operatives and sending them out. I knew that there would be no suitable outcomes prior to a transaction such as this. Sure they could threaten me, charge me with international fraud and national product alteration. They could do so many more things more powerful, but they won’t. Not when I have the recipes. They are currently hidden, and only I know their whereabouts. It makes them so frustrated, but they have to play my game if they ever want my formulas and recipes. They will play. I know they will. There is no other way. I made sure of it.

Let’s take a gander at some of my backstory. I am Keith Benson, and I am a chef. I have more than just talent when it comes to cooking. I AM cooking talent, if you will. Most prefer to just simply say ‘best cook in the world’. I hate to boast, but there are no faults in that fact. Plain and simple.

When I prepare a meal, the sweltering sound of the pan leaves customers’ mouths watering in agonizing anticipation. They are salves to the presence of my cooking, and that’s only the sound. Imagine what goes through their heads when the aroma of my preparations enters their nostrils. The essence of ecstasy is immensely immersive when it comes to my preparations, and that’s only the preparation. Stage 1 if you will. Stage 2 is when the plate is placed in front of the guests or patrons. It’s that good. Everyone said so. I’ve never met anyone who said different.

One can only imagine what goes through the mind of the individuals who now are only moments away from satisfying the agony. It’s almost as if a layer of ecstasy has been ceased as it had existed. I’m only speaking from experience based on the input of former patrons and costumers. Stage 3 is the best by far. The accounts vary by person. There is nothing more I love than pleasing those who wish to have their stomach filled. The customers are the bread and butter. That is why I do everything to utilize my talents fully. There’s no feeling in the world better than watching someone fall in love with your very own dish.

I became very famous. Everyone wanted a bite. They’d pay hundreds for a full dish. No joke. I felt like my life was just a huge glop of ecstasy. Nothing ever slowed down. My rates were always high and I was very admired in the community. Everywhere I went, people followed. I became sort of a celebrity. I’ve been cooking ever since I was 8 years old. I realized about 2 years later that it was what I wanted to do in life. From then on, nothing but recipe after recipe, combinations after combinations, collaboration against collaboration.

When I was 13, I made my first cake from scratch. Surprisingly in an unlikely manner, my family fell in love with it. They commented on how accurate I was with the texture and flavor inputs of the cake when I set it all up. How could I forget that? It’s one of my greatest memories. I entered contests throughout junior high, and I won ¾. People were impressed.

I decided to buckle down and pursue my passion. I used the same idea, but based it on other foods. Most were successful at first. People thought I was talented at first, but they didn’t see me do equations and measurements accordingly with my baking and cooking tools. From there I met a famous chef who shared his secrets with me. This was after I graduated from college. He was French. At that point, I’d had baked, broiled, and fried over 1 million food meals. From there, I used my natural talent, and created my own recipes to food using what I’ve learned from master chefs, TO become THE master chef. Implying I’ve also had my own tricks as well.

Life was as I perceived it would be prior to my success. Unfortunately, that didn’t last very long. Everything took a turn when suddenly I realized I’ve been cooking up and baking the same ingredient combinations for the past 10 years. I’ve tried everything. I perfected everything. Regarding meat, the most famously known, essential food condiment, I’ve tried literally everything. Everything from hippo meat to indigenous African beetle meat. Hey, being the world’s master chef has its quantities. Even dog and cat meat.

That’s when the thought crossed my mind. I’ve never tried human meat. I’ve actually never tried human meat. It can’t be that bad. You can’t judge until you try it. For some unknown reason, I was particularly excited about the idea. Maybe it’s because I was somewhat depressed and I needed something new to fill my desires. Having nowhere to try it, nor no one to participate, I cut off my own finger. It was my first finger next to my thumb on my left hand. It hurt like hell but it was well worth it.

It was incredibly delicious for some reason, and all I did was fry it and broil it. The flesh was easy to peel off and the meat itself was freshly done. I consumed it and made the decision to adjoin the meat alongside my other famous recipe inventions. It increased the flavor of many of my swilling recipes. I added what I knew would make the best difference. I knew that human parts are actually good candidates for texture accumulation alongside flavor enhancers. I knew I could always take it a step ahead and the essence of the human larder could be used to enhance everything edible. Including the essence of my welfare prior to my soul in the universe.

I was once again filled with happiness and hope, believing I’ve found what I was missing in my life. Excitedly, I called two of the most prolific critiques in the food industry. They too showed moods of enthusiasm. Perhaps they longed for another one of my dishes. Well I had something for them, alright. I must refrain from telling you how I’d prepared these amazing meals. They’re watching me closely. All I can say is, I was in the mood to make quite an impression and I didn’t have a whole lot of time to do it. I cut my whole left hand off. I wasn’t prepared for the pain, almost impossible to block out no matter how many times I implied to myself that it was for a good cause. I had six hours to prepare the meal.

The procedure made me pass out twice, but I held my ground. I drilled a hole in the wall and inserted two inputs that connected to large looped bolts where I tied the thick Indian ropes. I connected them to other smaller bolts after inserting the smaller bolts into the large sturdy ropes. I tied the thinner smaller but more powerful ropes around my ankles, very tightly. I knew I was going to have to use a heated saw to cut it off, but I thought I could easily handle it after what I was about to do.

I drilled four more smaller holes to put a metal restraint with metal straps to hold down my arm. I had nothing to use but a premium butcher knife to cut my hand off. I put a spoon in my mouth to bite down when the pain started. 8 efficiently executed slashes in, the tip of the spoon was separated from the rest of the body. It hurt that bad. I looked for something else to bite down on immediately. I almost used my other arm. The head of the spoon was swallowed. I took no notice in it whatsoever. I still don’t know how I managed, but I just fainted a couple of seconds after my struggle.

The amount of blood spilled on the floor was apparently incredible, looking back on it. I woke up in a haze. Nearly a minute later, my pain receptors turned on again. I wailed in agony. I wanted to quit. I stood there for an hour hesitant to what my final decision would be. What I really wanted was to pass out again. So I luckily found another spare butcher knife (not as big as the one I was using) and used the handle to bite down on.

I resumed my task. I just focused on slicing through as hard and efficiently as possible. I tried so hard. I tried so hard to avoid coming to a stop. I had sweat covering me. I almost got in 5 slices. Almost. I passed out at the end of the fourth. This time for 4 hours instead of 2.

Realizing I only had about 30 minutes, I decided to quit. I needed to get to the hospital. I felt incredibly weak, as if something had drained all my body’s life support. I had overestimated myself. I dialed 911 and called for an ambulance. I told them my arm had gotten stuck in the mechanical absorbing meat grinding flattener. I quickly decided to put my nearly detached hand in the receiving area of the machine. 8 more slices would’ve done it. I had to drill holes and do the powerful rope attaching deal, but it worked out. I thought I’d lost so much blood there was none left. I was wrong. I believe the machine even took some of my skin above where I’d jammed the blade, about 4 inches.

I was taken to the hospital. I hid my hand in the freezer room. I was given a mechanical robotic prosthetic hand thanks to my income. I prepared the meal using the meat flattener/grinder. Then I used my special combinations which made the meat so much better. I named the dish “La Vaggia Della eta” because of its Italian style. I served it with my famous buttered fettuccine. Of course they fell in love and mentioned that I’d never failed to amaze them. They said it was the best meal they’ve ever tasted, no less by my hands!

I added my other famous meat recipes, but the most important ingredient to my success was the human meat. It gave it that special texture-like taste that you’d always swear you taste in a variation of a product, but to a much bigger scale!

I took to hiring hitmen on the deep web to kill random individuals I became acquainted with, and bring them to me. I prepared the meals monthly, then weekly, and finally, daily. I experimented with every organ, every tissue layer of the human anatomy. People were impressed that I could whip up such successful meals after so many years of the same stuff. And the best part was, it was good!! I went from millionaire to billionaire.

I even established my own corporation. I was head of it, of course. We sold nearly 8.9 billion products. Critics claimed that the products should be given the same respect and treatment as coca-cola itself. It was that good. I had 8 years of success and joy. Then came the final chapter of my life.

The elite health inspectors and chefs couldn’t help but to go digging. They loved my new dishes and products, but they needed to know how the hell I’d made it so good to get where I was now. Everything that good has to be discovered . I just wish they’d found out later. They hired a couple of scientists supposedly who worked for the FDA. It took them 4 months to find out what my special ingredient was. They were too busy eating my dishes on break rather than focusing full time on their study. They eventually found traces of skin cells and human gene extract in my products.

I can only imagine what went through their heads. I’m not as crazy as you think. When you think about it, the idea of delicacies is to indulge oneself by survival standards in the most comfortable way possible. If you need something in a dire situation (in my case sentimentally personal) then you have every right to try to hone it.

Before they officially took me to prison, I told them that my recipes could not be used without the human meat. They demanded the locations to avoid them getting into the wrong hands. I denied them the locations. I’d truthfully swallowed the bottle containing the recipes.

They also needed the recipes to put on record to sentence and condemn me. They needed evidence according to law. So I forced them to play my sick game. I had bottles with substitute recipes. I made the floor slippery with large amounts of canola oil. After spotting it, in frantic haste they ran to claim it. It was taped to the meat flattener/grinder. Of course the one in front slipped and his hand got caught in it. It began to suck him in. While being inserted into the machine, he managed to rip the taped recipe from the machine. The other FBI officer took it. He didn’t even bother to look at his partner as he became hamburger meat and flattened.

They threatened to torture me once more agents arrived. I was forced to tell them that I’d swallowed the actual recipes. They gave me the death penalty. Death by lethal injection. What a surprise. 2 months before my supposed death date, I requested one final meal. Myself. The authorities, not caring one way or the other, decided to grant my request, thanks to those who supported me 9-25 years ago. I’m scheduled for lethal injection in 2 days. Better get to work. Haven’t eaten in weeks. Have a good life. And as always, bon apetit.

Police notes: Clearly mentally insane, the subject’s last request was granted. Surprisingly, agents Ross and Foster stuck around to see him bleed out. According to them, they were surprised as to how long he’d lasted prior to his self mutilation. According to them, a small incision was made to reach his internal organs without bleeding out completely. The managed to amputate and consume his limbs in a matter of days. The most surprising, yet most disturbing of all was the absence of his eyes along with the smile on his corpse.

–

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gwentoryfics · 5 years

Text

Hot for Teacher, Part 3.

REPOSTED FROM MY ORIGINAL BLOG, GWENTORY.

Genre | College Student x College Professor Smut AU

Pairing | Hongseok x Reader x Hyunggu (Kino)

Words | 3.6k

Summary | You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.

Warnings | EXPLICIT SMUT. Seriously, this is just straight-up filth. Multiple orgasms. Oral sex (male receiving). Fingering. Penetrative sex. Lots of swearing.

Parts | 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • More Coming Soon AO3 | 1 • 2

Playlist | Spotify • Youtube

Note | This is shorter than most updates will be, but it felt appropriate to leave this as a mostly smut-only update. Enjoy, my sweet little peaches.

“I hope you’re not too tired. After all, we’re just getting started.”

Hongseok carefully unfastened his belt, standing between your legs at the foot of the bed, devastatingly sexy as he towered over you. Lust sparked through you like static, igniting every inch of your skin and showering you in tingles. How could it even be possible to be so attracted to another person?

He softly smoothed your hair before tipping your chin up with his knuckle. “How are you feeling?”

“Absolutely... phenomenal.” Bleary-eyed, you touched his wrist, easing out of your orgasm-induced haze. You couldn’t help but notice the scent of your arousal on his fingers as you lifted his hand to your lips, taking his pointer finger into your mouth and sucking gently. It tasted of absolute sin.

Hongseok’s breath was strained as he watched you defile his finger. “Do you need a break?”

You shook your head slowly side to side. It was sweet that he wanted to check in, make sure that the pace was good for you. But you weren’t at all concerned - the last thing you needed (or wanted) was a break. All you needed (and wanted) was him. Without a doubt, he was it.

Popping his finger out of your mouth, you reached for his pants, boldly running your knuckles along his hardened length and taking note of the wetness that covered it - definitely your fault, since you had been grinding on him without panties. You desperately needed to get this man naked, to see for yourself exactly what he had been hiding, to taste him as he had tasted you. Flicking your eyes up to meet his, you grinned slyly. “I want to return the favor.”

He stepped out of his shoes with a matching smile. “Please do.”

Nimbly, your fingers unfastened his pants, and the fabric crumpled at his ankles. His hardened cock pulled tightly against his black boxer briefs, which clung snugly to him. He looked gorgeous with his muscular thighs and chiseled torso… and that bulge! It was all too good to be true; you simply couldn’t believe that he was a real human being.

You traced over the dips and peaks of his muscles until you could no longer avoid the draw of his cock. Gently brushing over his erection, you eagerly cupped his length, awed by the size of him. For only a moment, you fretted that he might be too big. You bit your lower lip in anticipation. You couldn’t wait to find out just how well he would fit.

Meeting his eyes, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his briefs, tugging them down and finally releasing him. He watched with a seductive smile that made your whole body feel hot.

Lust poured through you as you took in his naked form, his full, thick cock commanding your attention. You reached out to touch it, spreading the leaking precum over his red, swollen tip. He was so solid in your palm, and you wondered if it was painful. But judging by the look on his face, each stroke of your hand brought nothing but pleasure.

Unexpectedly, he cupped your face and leaned down to kiss you, as if his lips had been separated from yours for far too long and he could no longer stand it. Your drunken heart eagerly accepted him as your mouths melded together, and you imagined that must be how it felt whenever a soul has met its mate.

His lips tasted of you, of something sweet and tangy and utterly filthy in the most spectacular way. They spoke to you of the way he loved pleasing you and made promises to drive you wild for the rest of the night.

Eagerly, you pressed your tongue past his lips, wanting to reciprocate every ounce of desire in the kiss. He hummed quietly as you continued to stroke him, so soft you almost didn’t notice.

Without separating from your mouth, Hongseok sat next to you on the bed’s edge. You moaned when he bit down on your bottom lip, his hand tangling in your hair and tugging gently. Everything he did was perfect and sent shivers racing through your limbs.

You could have kissed him all night, but the throbbing cock in your hand was begging for your mouth’s attention. With one last kiss you finally pulled away from him, flashing a coy smile before lowering your mouth to his cock.

Your tongue traveled his length from base to tip, lapping up his salty, musky precum. But as much as you would love to tease him, you couldn’t stop yourself from taking his cock into your mouth without hesitation, squeezing the base with your hand as you sucked deeply.

Hongseok groaned beautifully as you worked him, swirling your tongue and taking him in as far as you could. Each sound he made struck you deep in your core; you were so excited that he was vocal in bed because you lived for those filthy noises. Every hiss and moan showed you just how much he was enjoying himself.

When your hand moved to cup his balls, you felt his fingers brush down your spine. It was almost enough to make you shiver - his touch was so delicate. His hand traveled down over the curve of your ass, pausing just long enough to give it a good, hard squeeze. You thought he might spank you - and you thought you might want him to - but his fingers slipped between your legs and easily pressed past your dripping entrance.

It was only two fingers, but your walls hugged them tightly. You felt so full, and each in-and-out pulse threatened to distract you from the pleasure you were supposed to be delivering. It really wasn’t fair how easily he could occupy your whole mind, direct your thoughts exactly where he wanted them. You couldn’t let him get away with that.

Releasing him from your mouth for only a moment, you peek up at him and say, “Think you’re clever, hm?”

Hongseok bit down on his bottom lip as he eyed you. “I’m just addicted.”

“To my pussy?”

“To you.”

Your heart stuttered. “Me?”

He hummed, fingers slowing as he looked at you sweetly. “How you smell, how you taste, how you feel… all of your reactions when I touch you.”

At that, you couldn’t help but smile. That was exactly how you felt about him. “How are you so perfect?”

Hongseok brushed your hair back, sounding entirely genuine as he responded, “You’re one to talk.”

You smirked and tried to remain cool. It was all so surreal - the girth of him in your hand, the pumping of his fingers inside of you, the sweet honey in his gaze. How unbelievably lucky you were.

Enthusiastically, you wrapped your lips around his throbbing cock. You were going to take very good care of this angel of a man you somehow managed to get your hands on. You sucked harder, bobbed your head faster, trying to get his heart racing.

Sure enough, his fingers stalled within you as he groaned. He pushed your hair off to the side for a better view, murmuring your name as he watched. “Fuck, _____… that’s… so fucking good…”

It thrilled you to know that you could overpower him, if only for a moment. That the pleasure you gave him could actually overwhelm him to the point that he could only sit back and watch. Even if it didn’t last long.

The fingers inside of you were soon replaced by Hongseok’s thumb, and his fingers found a new purpose. They skillfully targeted your clit, and the tight circling motion pulled the air from your lungs in a sharp moan, forcing you to release his cock in order to breathe. He powerfully took control, rushing you headfirst towards another orgasm. Halfheartedly, you gripped his cock in your hand, but there was nothing more you could do.

You completely shattered under his touch, succumbing to pleasure as electric waves rushed through you. His name fell from your lips in a desperate plea as you chased the edges of your orgasm, body tensing deliciously with every last pulse.

Hongseok watched warmly as you dissolved into a quivering mess, flushed to your fingertips with the heat of your climax. He lifted your gaze with a knuckle under your chin, and you swore your heart skipped a beat when you met his eyes.

“____,” Hongseok spoke your name so beautifully that you nearly teared up. “You are incredible.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips, and you moved further up the bed as one. You reclined among the pillows as Hongseok hovered over you.

“You’re so sensitive.” His fingers caressed your neck, and his hand drifted down over your breasts and torso, making you hum pleasantly. “And all of your little noises…”

Hongseok kissed you again, tongue slipping past your lips. Arching your back, you craved the feeling of his chest against yours - but he would not come near. He just continued to tease, his rough fingers exploring your skin.

“I want…” he spoke slowly against your lips. “...to hear every little sound you make.” He squeezed your nipple between his fingers, causing you to gasp pleasurably. “Christ, that’s perfect.”

You nipped at his bottom lip, getting impatient. “I want to feel all of you inside me. See what kind of noises I’ll make then.”

His eyes flashed as he released you, holding up a finger as if to say wait. Faster than he had moved all night, he hopped from the bed and dug through his bag, returning to the bed with a condom packet in hand.

“Oh,” you giggled, suddenly remembering through your wine-fogged mind the importance of protection. “I forgot about that.”

“Thankfully I’m just sober enough to remember,” Hongseok smiled at you sweetly as he rolled the condom on. And then he was back on top of you, but this time your hips met. His length nestled between your folds as he started grinding slowly against you, dragging himself through your slick arousal and pressing into your clit with each thrust.

You spread your fingers through his hair as you pulled him in for another kiss, moaning against his mouth from the friction of his cock.

“_____,” Hongseok groaned, pressing harder against you, his breath hot on your cheek. “I want to be inside you.”

You gasped desperately for air as you begged, “Yes, please, I want it! Please, I want- oh my god…”

He angled his hips, and suddenly his cock was pressing past your entrance, stretching you wide as you took all of him in. You could practically feel him all the way up in your stomach and it was absolutely delicious.

“Jesus, fuck you’re so big,” you panted, eyes pinching shut as you tried to relax your walls around him.

“Are you okay?” He started to pull back, a touch of concern in his voice.

“Yes, no, I’m great, you feel amazing, it’s so- oh!”

He thrusted into you, burying himself deep. Nuzzling into your neck, his teeth grazed your skin and his hips started up at a sensual pace. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

You couldn’t find words to respond - every single one of your brain cells was preoccupied by how absolutely incredible his cock felt as he screwed you. So you just moaned gratefully, well aware of the pleasure that sound alone would bring him.

The small hotel room was filled with the symphony of your breathy moans mixing with his, the murmuring of your names on each others’ lips, and the slick sound of his undulating hips drilling into you. You could barely hear the music playing in the background, far too focused on the sinful stretch of your pussy.

Hongseok hastily snapped into you, lips pressing sloppy kisses to your neck and shoulder. Every sensation left you dizzy, and you knew beyond any shred of doubt that you had made the right choice in coming to his room. Your body had never felt so alive.

Flames crackled under your skin as he slowly chipped away at your remaining sanity. And when he bit into the skin under your jaw, you clenched tightly around him, short nails digging into his back.

“Oh fuck…” The words shuddered out from Hongseok, and his thrusting slowed. “How are you so tight?”

You released him, and then clenched down again, this time with purpose.

He made a slightly strangled sound before chuckling darkly and lifting up from you, meeting your eyes. “If you keep that up, I’m going to have to absolutely ruin you, sweetheart.”

Your skin burned at the pet name. No one had ever called you that before. It sent a wave of something seductively hot through you, and you knew what you had to do. You lifted an eyebrow just barely as you bore down on him with all your might, challenging him. “Do your worst.”

Hongseok’s expression darkened, as though he didn’t appreciate your teasing. But before you could think to take it back, he crashed his lips into yours and rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him.

He was absolutely ruthless as he pounded up into you, gripping your hips tightly and biting down on your lower lip. The pleasure that ripped through your body was nothing short of all-consuming, and you whimpered pathetically when one of his hands dared to slip between your bodies in search of your clit. His movements were rushed, sloppy, yet it still managed to send you racing toward the edge of another orgasm.

You gasped weakly, unable to return his kisses as he fucked you senseless, increasingly strung-out and hyper-sensitive with every swipe of his fingers. And when his other hand pinched fiercely at your nipple, you knew you were done for.

“How’s it feel, sweetheart?” Hongseok’s heavy lidded gaze lingered on your lips, silky voice touched with a growl.

“So… so good…” You managed to mumble. Your pulse pounded deafeningly in your ears. “Soo-ooooh Christ, Hongseok!”

He twisted your nipple roughly, painfully, and it was unbearably pleasurable. Your brow knitted as you felt yourself hurtling towards the finish line, and he twisted it again, this time rolling your clit between two fingers and tugging.

Ecstasy blossomed through your veins like wildfire as you shattered, your cries surely loud enough to wake anyone sleeping in the next room over. Never in your life had you felt anything so powerful, so blissful, so fucking incredible. You trembled wickedly, riding out each wave.

As you calmed, you met Hongseok’s eyes, and you almost didn’t comprehend his words when he said, “You’re beautiful.”

Your whole brain had gone to mush, and you could do nothing but smile down at him like a fool. Exhausted, you collapsed on top of him.

Hongseok caressed your back, his breath warm on your ear. “We can stop if you want. You must be worn out and hyper-sensitive by now.” But his cock remained hard inside of you, and that was all the encouragement you needed to keep going, sensitivity be damned.

Words started coming back to you, and you propped yourself up on your elbows. “No. I want to make you come, too.”

“Don’t push yourself.”

“I’m okay.” You smiled, and it was the truth. The only thing you were concerned about at that point was his pleasure. “Promise.”

With that, you rolled your hips, savoring the way Hongseok’s brow pinched with pleasure. He looked so damn sexy beneath you, his chest glistening with sweat and his lips parted. You wished you could take a picture of him just like that and hold onto that moment forever.

Sitting up, you started bouncing on top of him, absolutely loving the friction of his cock sliding in and out of you. Faintly, you wondered how it might feel without the condom, but you weren’t drunk enough to ask him to take it off.

“That’s perfect, just like that.” Hongseok encouraged you, his hands traveling up to your breasts. He toyed with your nipples as you rode him, and you whimpered playfully. “Shit, I love that.”

You murmured his name, and you could tell he was close. The muscles of his abdomen visibly contracted over and over, and his hands settled on your hips to help you keep your pace. Your legs were growing tired from repeatedly lifting and dropping, but you didn’t let that stop you from chasing his climax.

“_____,” his eyes pinched shut, his voice breathy as he warned you, “I’m gonna come…”

“Do it,” you cooed. “Come for me, Hongseok.”

At your command, he moaned beautifully and reached his high, hands gripping your hips tightly as he spilled into the condom. You would never forget the gorgeous way his brow creased and his lips fell open in ecstasy. There wasn’t a sight more beautiful than that.

Eventually you climbed off of him, your body completely spent and remarkably empty without him filling you up. You collapsed onto the bed next to him, lazily throwing an arm over his torso.

“That was… incredible.” You sighed blissfully, and he smiled sweetly at you.

“Incredible,” he echoed, wincing as he pulled off the condom. He tied it off and tossed it onto the bedside table before rolling onto his side, facing you. “You are so gorgeous that I might actually believe in love at first sight.”

You laughed in surprise at his unexpectedly sweet words. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Maybe a little too much.” He chuckled, shrugging.

“Me, too.” You confessed, inhibitions definitely still fuzzy. “Let’s be drunk and in love, then.”

“Deal.”

Hongseok pulled you tightly against him as he pressed a passionate kiss to your lips, which you powerfully reciprocated. This man, who you knew absolutely nothing about and you would never see again after tonight, somehow made you feel so special. He kissed you until your lips felt raw, until the heart pounding fiercely in your chest was so, so full.

And then, it was time to leave.

You knew that night couldn’t last forever. The longer you stayed, the more the magic would wear off and the more sober you’d get. And if you were sober, that meant you’d also be awkward, and you’d end up screwing everything up. It was better to just keep everything as perfect as it was and get out before things got weird.

You excused yourself to use the restroom, taking your dress in with you. You cleaned yourself up, put on your clothes, and prepared yourself to leave. When you came out into the bedroom again, Hongseok was still shirtless, but he wore a pair of low-hanging grey joggers that showed off that torturously delicious V between his hips.

“Heading out?” Hongseok stood on the opposite side of the room, tying off the waistband of his joggers.

You couldn’t tell by his tone if he was disappointed or just making conversation. Maybe the alcohol was finally wearing off, because you suddenly started to feel self-conscious. “Yeah, I better get going. But I had fun.”

“Glad to hear it,” he grabbed something small off of his desk as he approached you, a smirk on his face. It would honestly be so easy for him to convince you to stay if he wanted to. “So did I.”

He pulled you in for a short kiss, and you savored every brief second of it.

When you parted, he took your hand in his, placing the boutonniere from his suit jacket into your palm. You looked up at him curiously, and he winked. “A little something to remember me by.”

You smiled, clutching the flowers. “How thoughtful.”

“How are you getting home? Are you okay to drive?”

“Oh, I’m actually staying here tonight with my cousin.” You wondered briefly if you should have just pretended like you were actually leaving the building, but then decided there was no point in lying. “I should probably make sure she hasn’t gone to town on the minibar.”

“Good call.” He chuckled, picking up your shoes and walking you towards the door. “I’m really glad you stopped by, _____.”

“Me too, Hongseok.” You pressed one last kiss to his lips and murmured a faint goodbye, and then you were on the other side of the door and it was all over.

You didn’t regret a single thing.

“I’m gonna run down to the convenience store for some chips and sour Skittles. Do you need anything?” Your roommate, Nailah, peeks her head into your shared bedroom. You’re perched by the window, looking out on the city and trying to gather the inspiration and motivation required to do your homework.

Now that she’s brought it to your attention, you realize you are actually getting the munchies. Regardless, you raise a critical eyebrow. “You’re going to spoil our dinner.”

“Oh come on, you know we both have bottomless stomachs.” She rolls her eyes, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her bomber jacket.

You laugh - she’s definitely right about that. Conceding, you ask her, “Could you grab me some Pop Tarts? Like, brown sugar or cookie dough or something. Literally anything that’s not a fruit flavor.”

“No prob,” she salutes you. “Be back in a few.”

“Thanks, roomie!” You call after her when she disappears, and then your ringing phone captures your attention. You retrieve it from your bed and swipe to answer, even though you don’t recognize the unfamiliar number on the screen. “Hello?”

“Hi, I’m calling on behalf of the Lake Shore Music Department reception. May I speak with _____?”

“Hi, yes, I’m _____.”

“Great. I found your note, and I was able to get my hands on those copies you wanted. They’re here for you whenever you’re available to come pick them up.”

You stand up a little straighter. You had forgotten about the excuse cards you requested last week! “Awesome! I’ll be right there. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

Hanging up, you grabbed your jacket and slipped on some shoes. It was time to stick it to a certain Professor Asswipe.

Post Script | Thank you for reading! Part 4 will be posted Sunday at 8pm.

Update | Read Part 4 here!

THIS IS REPOSTED FROM MY ORIGINAL BLOG, GWENTORY. All future content (including HFT Part 4 and onward) will only be posted on GWENTORYFICS. Thank you!

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doomedandstoned · 5 years

Text

THE ROADBURN DIARIES

~By Willem Verhappen~

Photographs by Sally Townsend

Preface

When Billy asked me to review Roadburn Festival 2019 for Doomed & Stoned, I was a bit hesitant. Live reviews have never been my specialty and I prefer to enjoy shows instead of being critical. However, when he suggested a diary-style review, I got the idea to do just that; write a diary.

I went all out and paid a whopping two Euros and some change to buy a notebook. After four days of Roadburn, it will probably be as wrecked as I expect to be, but hopefully it will still be readable. [In hindsight it was money well spent, as the notebook survived Roadburn without too much damage.] Whether its pages will be literary gold or the drunken ravings of a madman, only time will tell. The truth will probably be somewhere in the middle. [The fact that I had not been feeling well all week and decided to drive to Tilburg by car each day probably helped me not fucking this up, though.]

Day 1

14:30 -- Ticket booth

The sun is out, Crypt Trip's Haze County was blasting through my car speakers on the way here and the queue to get my wristband went smooth. That's about as good a start as it can get. Sadly, my first dilemma of the day is already coming up: See Myrkur perform her Folkesange set or Bismuth. For now I'll just sit and wait in the sun for my friends T and S to arrive.

Tanya Byrne of Bismuth

16:30 -- Studio Tilburg

We compromised. We started Roadburn with Bismuth engulfing us in the epic 'The Slow Dying Of The Great Barrier Reef' in the Hall of Fame. Sadly the band had some technical issues which fucked up the dynamics in the beginning, but otherwise it was an intense experience.

before the end of the Bismuth set, we moved on to the main stage. On the way there, we ran into some friends who decided to join us to see Myrkur. The Scandinavian folk songs were moving and well performed, but not what we needed, so we set our sights for Vile Creature, who were preparing to destroy the Patronaat.

Vic of Vile Creature

Arriving outside, we noticed that we weren't the only ones. The queue to the Patronaat was leading pretty much up to the Cul de Sac. Since the weather was still nice, we decided to go for a beer in the sun instead.

19:05 -- Veemarktstraat

Molasses was something I had been looking forward to, since it was for a large part a The Devil's Blood reunion. Their set was in general an honest and loving tribute to TDB leader Selim Lemouchi. At some points though, the band seemed possessed by Selim himself. I desperately hope they will release this as a live record. [Later, at the merch I discovered that the band had already recorded an EP. That satisfies me for now, but I still need a live record!]

Farida Lemouchi of Molasses

After that intense show, it was time to get some food. I decided to go for some Vietnamese street food. A good choice, but I should have been more careful with the sambal. I love that stuff, but a full bite at once was a bit much.

19:30 -- Green Room balcony

Luckily, I was just in time to hear the last, hauntingly beautiful song of Lingua Ignota. I had a hard time getting in and when I managed to get in, I couldn't get closer than the back of the balcony. Only when the show was over, I could see that she sat behind her keyboard in the middle of the Green Room. An eccentric choice that befits the woman.

Kristen Hayter of Lingua Ignota

21:20 -- Ladybird Skatepark

Emma Ruth Rundle was more Doomed & Stoned appropriate than I expected. Last time she did a solo show, but this time she brought her full band. Her songs were sometimes dark and doomy, sometimes rocking, but always unique.

Emma Ruth Rundle

But the best kept secret of today are certainly the heavy psych astronauts of Mythic Sunship. Even though it's not crowded, they know how to throw a party on a skatepark. [Mythic Sunship was the first band to be programmed on the Skatepark, but during the weekend more bands were scheduled to perform on this special location. More on that later.]

22:45 -- Koepelhal

I'm not sure why a band like Midnight is performing at Roadburn, since it's pretty much the odd one out this year, but I'm not complaining. I really enjoyed their filthy, sexually laden mix of Venom and Motörhead sleaze. And judging from the large crowd that gathered in the Koepelhal, I wasn't the only one.

00:40 -- Main Stage

Post rock is a hit or miss for me, but the combination of guitars and classical instruments often brings a smile to my face. The latter convinced me to watch MONO perform their Hymn to the Immortal Wind record, supported by the Jo Quail Quartet. I'm happy I did this, since the show was pure aural bliss. Rarely have I heard such a natural mix of metallic guitars and classical instruments. Although it certainly wasn't boring, the floating melodies did make me a bit sleepy.

2:xx -- Eindhoven

I guess I went full circle today. I started with Crypt Trip and ended with them as well. After MONO, these Texan rockers were exactly what I needed. Their country infused hard rock really got my energy levels back to par. Then again, anyone who can stand still during a Crypt Trip show, must be dead. It was also very nice to see my Doomed & Stoned colleague Calvin again. Roadburn is off to a good start.

Day 2

15:25 -- 013

T, S and I started our second day at Roadburn queuing up for Gold. I lost sight of the Dutch band after being disappointed by their second record, when they traded in their occult rock for a more post rock sound. Today, however, I was not disappointed at all. Their pounding post black/punk/rock really grabbed me by the balls. Charismatic frontwoman Milena Eva and her accomplices are back on my radar.

I'm currently enjoying one of the three sets of Seven That Spells. Between all the avant garde stuff, it's nice to see some proper heavy psych/stoner rock. Very well executed!

Milena Eva of Gold

17:00 -- Ladybird Skatepark

Between all the good stuff, Triptykon was my most anticipated concert of the festival. As I said, I'm a sucker for metal mixed with classical music, so I wouldn't want to miss the Swiss band performing with the renowned Metropole Orkest, the world's leading pop orchestra. Today they are playing something heavier, namely the requiem penned by Tom G. Warrior. The first and third parts date back to the Celtic Frost days, namely Into The Pandemonium (1987) and Monotheist (2006). The piece never had a middle section, until now.

Tom Gabriel Warrior and Vanja Slajh of Triptykon

The show wasn't perfect. There were some flaws here and there and at certain moments it felt like the orchestra was overtaking the band. Altogether it was an impressive performance, but somewhere I feel like there could have been more. Still a highlight, though.

I'm currently enjoying some surprise sludgy goodness of Vile Creature, while the queue for the Hall of Fame is reaching new lengths while A.A.Williams is performing there as part of the Holy Roar x Roadburn showcase.

19:55 -- Studio Tilburg

After getting my eardrums destroyed by Vile Creature, it was time for a beer with friends. Consequently, that meant I missed Conjurer, but I did manage to see the last half hour of Anna Von Hausswolff on the main stage. On record I find her music very calming, but live the tiny lady and her band deliver a massive tidal wave of sound. 'The Mysterious Vanishing of Electra' was even more impressive than on record.

22:20 - Koepelhal

After enjoying watching Calvin struggle with a massive burger from the Studio café and between the neck snapping sets of Svalbard and Pijn (both part of the Holy Roar showcase), I conquered my first queue at the Koepelhal. This was for the collaboration between artist in residence Thou and Emma Ruth Rundle. It was well worth the effort. This noisy matrimony sounded exactly as you'd expect from the two factors.

Bryan Funck of Thou

3:xx -- Eindhoven

After Pijn's set, it was straight off to the Patronaat to grab a good spot for another show I highly anticipated. That turned out to be a good decision, since I heard afterwards that the queue for Messa turned out to be huge.

My love for these Italians stems from their ability to make old school doom sound fresh again. The band manages this through the incorporations of jazz elements, as well as sporadic black metal outbursts. Today, the band brought along a saxophone player, which truly added an extra dimension to their music.

Day 3

17:20 -- 013

Today we started off with Have A Nice Life. The new wave was enjoyable, but we had other priorities, for Wolvennest was about to perform their latest effort, Void, in its entirety. The Belgian band went all out for this show, bringing several guest musicians, as well as brand new visuals. Musically, Wolvennest definitely made a step up from their debut, WLVNNST. Their black metal with psychedelic and doom influences pleased the many people who came to witness this ritual. The only negative comment one could have, is that the altar looked very small on the large main stage.

Henrik Palm is no stranger to most Roadburners. The Swede used to be a member of In Solitude and Ghost. You can clearly hear this in his solo work, but his eclectic rockers always feel unique. I remain with only one question. Why the early Judas Priest videos?

19:20 -- Ladybird Skatepark

I'm not much of a fan of most of the bands from the Exile on Mainstream roster, but Treedeon I had to see. These Germans make for some noisy, primitive doom, which is right up my alley. There are some clear Conan vibes here, but the double vocals make it just a tad more brutal.

23:15 -- Koepelhal

I always enjoy good times with good people, so I was happy to join a small Doomed & Stoned meetup with Calvin and Sally [whose photos add some color to this article]. Contrary to my instincts, I left my friends behind to make it in time for what is probably the highlight of this year’s Roadburn. Coming near the 013 was like walking into a coffee shop (the Dutch kind), with the smell of weed greeting you from far away. Not surprising, since it wouldn't be long before the almighty Sleep would perform their classic record Holy Mountain in one go. When I arrived, some 20 odd minutes before the show, the hall was already crowded, with people queuing up, not more than five minutes later.

It was quite the magical experience to hear one of my all-time favorite records being performed live. The first notes of 'Dragonaut' already gave me goosebumps and headbanging became a priority for nearly two hours. Sleep performing 'The Clarity' and a part of 'Dopesmoker' surely was an extra treat.

Al Cisneros of Sleep

4:xx -- Eindhoven

Doolhof was a typical case of the right band at wrong time. The drone outfit, with Aaron Turner of Old Man Gloom and Sumac fame in its ranks, sounded highly intense and mesmerizing, but after Sleep, I was looking for something more energetic.

Luckily, I received a push message after the Sleep show, saying that Thou would perform a special set at the Skatepark. There had been rumours that the band would perform a set of Misfits covers somewhere during the weekend and this was it. A couple hundred people had shown up and the band was going through classics like 'Die, Die My Darling' and 'Hybrid Moments' like the audience was going through beers.

This set was absolute mayhem with the crowd moving as one mass and there was pretty much constant crowd surfing. The band was joined by Emma Ruth Rundle on a couple of songs, and for their final song, 'Last Caress', they were joined by Converge/Old Man Gloom's Nate Newton and Gilead Media chief Adam Bartlett. The former even went stage diving. If anyone was doubting why Thou is the artist in residence this year, they get it now.

Recharged by the insane show I had just witnessed, it was time for some after-partying in the basement of the 013 until the lights came on.

Day 4

Up until a few years ago the Roadburn Sunday was more of an after party, or Afterburner as it was called, but in recent years it changed into a full day. This year, all stages but the Koepelhal have bands playing, but thankfully my schedule is far less busy than the previous days.

17:30 - Main Stage

The intensity of three days of Roadburn appears to have had an effect not only on me, but on most of the visitors. That's why T and I decided to take it easy. This meant we missed Lucy in Blue because we arrived in Tilburg at 3pm. Since for the first time this weekend, temperatures reached comfortable levels, we decided to enjoy the sun a little before diving into another day of musical adventure.

my first band of the day was Supersonic Blues, a last minute addition to the program. The young band from The Hague had the honor to play the now infamous Ladybird Skatepark. Their heavy blues rock wasn't that special, but it surely was a welcome energizer for the rest of the day.

The first highlight of the day was TankZilla, a newcomer from my hometown Eindhoven, who got to warm up the Hall of Fame. Even though this was their second gig ever, the two members are anything but new to the scene. Singer/guitar player Peter van Elderen has enjoyed success for over twenty years with Peter Pan Speedrock, but also has more stoner credits with bands like Repomen and Four Headed Dog and drummer Marcin Hurkmans is known for his work with rockers Wolfskop. Although there's just two guys on stage, they manage to produce some fat-sounding stoner rock with the signature riffs and lyrics of van Elderen. Today saw the release of their first 7", but this show leaves me hungry for more!

20:45 -- 013 Lobby

With an hour to kill, I decided to walk to the 013 to check out a few songs from today's Thou set. Even though it was their fourth set this weekend, the main stage was packed with people wanting to see the artist in residence one more time. And rightfully so. Even after four days of playing, the last time being only 16 hours before, the band played another energetic set of nasty doom.

Mitch Wells of Thou

This made it somewhat difficult for me to leave early, but I had been looking forward to my second chance of seeing Bismuth ever since it was announced this morning. The Skatepark has become my favorite venue and the acoustics are perfect for the intensity of "The Slow Dying of the Great Barrier Reef". This time not troubled by technical difficulties, the UK duo's perfect performance of 'The Slow Dying of the Great Barrier Reef' is one of my absolute highlights of the festival.

Fuel is important on days like these, so I decided to skip the beginning of Old Man Gloom to grab a delicious pancake filled with spinach and goats cheese, walnuts and honey. By the time I reach the crowded main stage, the OMG set is almost over, but judging from the enthusiastic crowd, the New Mexico sludge machine managed to deliver.

Aaron Turner of Old Man Gloom

2:xx -- Eindhoven

Roadburn is over, but not before we were treated to another two-hour set of Sleep. This time the sonic titans performed their most recent effort, The Sciences, in its entirety, with the addition of "Leagues Beneath", "Dragonaut" and another section of "Dopesmoker". Sadly, the band was troubled by technical difficulties, to the great annoyance of Matt Pike, who even had to switch amps mid-set. This prevented the show from being the legendary event it could have been.

Matt Pike of Sleep

After Sleep, the time had come to slowly start Brexiting (saying you are leaving, but staying as long as you can).Saying goodbye to friends, both old and new, is always difficult, but it was fun to hear all the great stories everyone lived this weekend and see the joy in everyone's tired eyes. And just like Great Britain, we stayed until we were kicked out, leaving Tilburg behind with many new memories.

☀

#D&S Concert Review #Festival Scrapbook 2019 #Roadburn #Roadburn Festival #Festival #Willem Verhappen #Photography #Sally Townsend #Doom #Sludge #Metal #Doomed & Stoned

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webcricket · 6 years

Text

Looking Glass

Chapter 2 - Welcome to Bunkerland

Pairing: CastielXAU!Reader

Word Count: 1643

Summary: A summer hiatus series. The reader is a refugee from the apocalypse AU where angels pursue humans with righteous wrath under the rule of the archangel Michael. Against all odds, the reader awakens in a world where the apocalypse never happened and not everyone is who they seem to be. Does her heart truly long to save her world, or does it belong now to the last person she ever expected to give it to?

Miss a chapter? Have a Masterlist Link!

Humming contentment, inhabiting the sluggish middle-ground between sleep and sentience, you loll to one side of the bed. Knees curling to your chest, you nuzzle your chin deeper into the pillow and slide a hand beneath the cushion to cuddle it closer. The cotton fabric is cool and crisp to the touch. The clean floral hint of the dryer sheet with which it tumbled – and recently, judging by the fresh fragrance – tickles your nose. Poised at the brim of awareness, consciousness gently cascading over your somnolent senses, untroubled comfort blankets you for another blissful moment before wakeful alarm courses through your languid frame.

Fighting the reflex to flail off the sheets and flee, balling the pillow in your fists, you force yourself to freeze and formulate a plan. You still the dissenting shudder of your body as your heart sprints and adrenaline floods your veins and urges you contrariwise – every double beat a deafening drum to rise and run in your ears. You drink in a deep calming breath through your nose, reciting the mantra to stop and think over the wail of your pulse. Reaching into your memory to try to figure out what happened, you contort bodily and choke back a scream. Thinking hurts.

Mind a dense haze of smoke, brain a smoldering black coal that flares in a painful fiery burst when you try to recall any detail of the who, what, where, when, why, or how of being here, you default, instead, to basic survival instinct. You have an indistinct sense that wherever this place is, it’s very unlike the last place. You feel that you’re safe; some piece of you, however – a bit of coding programmed into your DNA – knows it’s not safe to trust safe anymore because nowhere is really safe from . . . You gasp at the galvanizing flash of lighting striking down the attempt at thought. Not thinking is hard.

Enough. Your eyelids separate into the slimmest of slits necessary to admit light in order to inventory the immediate surroundings: Bedside lamp, bulb illuminated and radiating a warm glow. Digital red numbers on an alarm clock indicating a time of 5:37PM. Glass of perfectly clear water, three-quarters full. Sheet of paper, thick enough to stand on the folded edge, a message scribbled across in bold black ink.

You clamp your lashes shut and take a slow and measured inhalation. Holding the air in your lungs until they begin to burn, you listen. You perceive only the rapid tinny race of your bounding heart. Identifying no imminent peril, you pop open both eyes and blow out the hot torrent of checked breath, panting afterward in relief. Swinging your legs over the side of the mattress, attention sweeping the bare walls, single wooden door, and beige-brown color palette of the windowless utilitarian room, your focus settles once more on the piece of paper on the nightstand.

You pluck it up to examine the note evidently intended for you as there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here. It reads: Back soon – make yourself at home. It’s a concise welcome, but does nothing whatsoever to clear up the confusion of where you are or how you came to be here. Your temples throb as you tread dangerously near a rising recollection. Rubbing at the ache, you notice ink bleeding through from the other side and flip the sheet: Stay put – don’t break anything. The handwriting is as different as the vaguely threatening sentiment and equally meaningless to you.

Tossing aside the paper, you hop to the floor. You suck in a quick shot of air to shallowly expand your ribcage and peer down at the external state of matters stretching from your neck to toes. It isn’t the oversized fleece-lined sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder, extending well beyond your fingertips and shrouding you to your thighs that shocks you. Nor is it the wide-legged plaid pajama pants rolled up to your ankles that come as a surprise.

You tentatively shift your weight from one leg to the other and jump again. Your bare feet land with a quiet and painless thud on the tile. The pleased smile – small as it is – has no time to brush its subtle curve onto your mouth before a cinch of blazing embers ensnares your skull. Knees buckling, you sink shrieking to the floor as you realize your left leg isn’t the shattered limb you remember. You badly broke the leg when you lost your footing on a rugged mountain pass leading to a camp in Dayton, Ohio and the rumored promise of safety there. Safety. Through the crippling agony, specifics of the incident of failing to outrun a band of angels and your subsequent capture return to you.

When you recover your faculties, tears puddle on the porcelain where your forehead presses to the cold tile. Tongue swiping your lips, you taste the salt streaking your cheeks. Rocking onto your heels, you clasp your fingers around your wrists in turn and run the pads of them over the smooth skin. Like your fractured limb they, too, are unmarked by the tight binds that secured you to the chair in the cabin where . . . You flatten your palms to the floor in front of you to keep from crumpling at the emergent memory of him.

Castiel – the other angels called him Castiel, a seraphim sadist, strangely sentimental. He’s the one who set your brain ablaze. He wanted information about where the refugees were gathering and why. And he especially wanted to know the whereabouts of someone named Jack. He lit brush fires in your mind as if to smoke the information out. You don’t know jack, about any Jack, but you were willing to die before divulging anything to that divine douchebag.

You dare to think, perhaps, you are dead. Sitting upright, you glance around the room with that viewpoint. Imagining yourself in Heaven instills no solace. Heaven is chock full of angels and you’d rather be in Hell. You’ve heard it’s pretty decent digs since the apocalypse went down and all the demons went topside. You don’t expect anyone in power much cares where human souls end up nowadays.

From this vantage point, headache abating, you spot a square of pink in the center of the door you missed before. Standing up, you cross the room and squint at the writing: Kitchen is to the right if you want something to eat. It’s the same friendly scroll as the note bidding you to make yourself at home. Your stomach rumbles with enthusiasm. There’s a second square tucked below the first with a warning: Don’t drink all the beer.

“Seriously?” you snicker aloud. “Somebody’s in a bitchy mood.” You imagine it was quite the row these chuckleheads with warring memos had before they deigned to leave you here alone, wherever the heck here actually is.

Turning the doorknob, you step into the hall to make your way to the kitchen. Your eyes dart to each steady bulb of light illuminating the way. You find it curious there is no loud whirring roar of a generator providing the electricity. Until now, you believed electricity of this sort, available at the whim of a finger flicking a switch, was an extinct species – mere magical fodder for children’s bedtime stories.

You pause before a gaping door and peer into what must be the kitchen based on the stainless steel storage stretching along the walls. This room, you note, like the one you awoke in, is also windowless and tidy in efficiency. Throat itchy with thirst and thinking of the untouched glass of water you left bedside, you swallow dryly and cross over to the sink. Purely for your own amusement, since it also doesn’t exist anymore in a convenient manner, you twist on the hot water tap and cup your hands beneath the spout. Steamy liquid warmth instantly flows over and fills your upturned palms. Snorting a laugh, you dip your head to the basin to splash your skin with the soothing spray.

It’s with your face ducked under the faucet, letting the warmth pour across your foolishly grinning features, fully submerged in this fantasy come to life, fingers clasped to the sink edge to keep from falling in, that you fail to hear the gravelly voice resounding on approach in the hall over the rush of the water.

“Sam! Dean? I’m back. I have good news and bad news. The good news is, I was able to enter Heaven and the other angels didn’t murder me as we anticipated they would. The bad news is, they didn’t murder me because there are only a handful of us left and-” Cas swallows the remainder of his report as he leans over the kitchen threshold to study the peculiar scene.

Although he healed your physical injuries after Dean dragged you through the rift, he hadn’t expected you to wake given the sustained suffering of your mind. Even an angel cannot always undo the work of angels. He’s glad to see he was wrong. Determining his silent stare could be considered rude, he clears his throat, steps into the room, and announces his presence. “Hello?”

Through the blear of water wetting your lashes, you see a figure – a man, judging from the broadness of his shoulders – drifting toward you from the doorway. “Sorry, I-” You recoil from the sink, apologizing out of awkwardness. Slick fingers scrambling to turn off the faucet, you simultaneously grope along the counter for something to wipe your eyes.

“Here.” The raspy word is followed by a cloth laid against your arm.

“Thanks.” You dab the cotton to your face. “I-” When you look up from the towel, the man’s eyes lock on yours, both of them blue. The hue – an unmistakable shade seared into your memory – instills you with horror.

Next: Ch. 3 - The Quote Unquote Situation

#castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel series #castiel x y/n #castiel reader insert #spn x reader #spn reader insert #castielxreader #castielxyou #reader x castiel #you x castiel #cas x reader #cas x you #castiel fanfiction #spn fanfiction #castiel angst #castiel fluff #cricket writes cas

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nanaswhispers · 7 years

Text

Wandering Souls, part 2

Hey! Sorry for the long delay and for this long absence on Tumblr, life happened unfortunately!

This was supposed to just be a far-off continuation of the first drabble when I originally planned for it during KAUWEEK, but it took a life of its own, so there will be at least one more part to end the story!

I don’t usually like posting trigger warnings since it’s kind of a sort of spoilers but in this chapter there are mentions of rape and quite graphic violence, so be warned!

Hope you enjoy reading it!

PART 1 - PART 3

The arrival at Fort William was not without pain. The deep anguish of knowing they were all dead. Him too. The sorrow of imagining their blood dripping like the usual rain of the Highlands on the blades of grass and soil they fought to their deaths for.

Caroline had been shoved violently on a plow that had been used until then to produce wheat in the yards of the castle, and feed the people that lived in it. People that were no longer.

Her injury made her head delirious just as it left her body a broken and heaving mass.

The journey to the prison was a haze where cries, lamentations, foul odors and an endless gray sky meshed together in her mind.

She woke up an indeterminable amount of time later, still woozy and with pain in every single atom making her.

She allowed herself a few moments (or maybe more than just a few) to take in what just happened, at least on a rational level, and cry tears she hid from the other bodies overcrowding the prison cell they have been shoved in.

Some of them were just sitting there with foggy eyes and heavy limbs, numb from shock and pain.

Some were heaving dry, bellies already emptied on the ground, trying to expel the emotional agony out through physical pain.

Some were quivering messes, overtaken by gut wrenching, harrowing sobs.

Some were having panic attacks, the shortage of oxygen, the lack of rational thoughts and the uncontrolled movements were all clear signs if you knew how to read them, and her own unfortunate experience with them made her an unwilling expert.

Still, she forced herself to gather her wit back. Now wasn’t the time to succumb. When she got out, she told herself, and she will, for she had sworn a death, but not now. Now she couldn’t focus on anything else but getting out. (If she kills him in the meantime, only bonus points!)

The pain in her back and side enticed her to examine the extend of the injuries she suffered.

Her head felt heavy and not as clear as usual. So, concussion most probably. (That bastard!)

Her knees were bruised, certainly caused by the loving care of the soldier she did not kill.

What worried her the most was the deep slice that extended from just under her shoulder blade to her ribs. It was still bleeding even if the edges were starting to scab (how much time did she spend unconscious exactly?), and judging by not only the depth but also the width of the cut, it would probably keep on oozing for quite the time. At this point healing was more of a utopia than a plausible outcome.

Plus the sanitary condition certainly wouldn’t help her heal: people were pressed together, there was a shortage of fresh air, body fluids and excrements could be seen every few feet, and rats were using them as a playground.

Caroline gagged. Uggggh, she missed the 21st century really bad right now.

The blood loss would soon make her weak and sleepy, and with her concussion, sleep could mean death.

Fuck! If she didn’t hurry to get the fuck out of there, she will either die from blood loss of infection. She was so not excited by those prospects.

She needed to get out. Pronto. For that, she needed information: how long they’ve been here and how much time it took to travel, the guards rotations if there had been any since their arrival, etc…

A quick perusal of the room didn’t give her much hope that she’ll get the intel she needed, but, still, she needed to try. So, she turned her head a little to the side, saw one of the young servant girls that from time to time came to assist her at Castle Leoch, her weak blonde hair, usually tied tightly on the back of her neck and hidden by her white hat thingy, was disheveled and some bald patches could be seen.

Her neck was bruised, the shape of a hand distinctly purple and blue on her white throat.

Her clothes were torn and in shambles.

Her legs bent and supporting her entire (trembling) body because she couldn’t sit.

Caroline would have cried for her had she been able to at the moment. Her general state clearly indicated rape, even centuries apart all the signs were the same. Usually, she would have been assaulted already with images and sounds drawn from her memory of the loving care Damon put her through, but she not only was preoccupied by more pressing matters, she also forced herself to numb her emotions down, remain clinical until she got out of this fucking place.

She forced herself to remember the poor girl’s name, and after an embarrassingly long moment she recalled it.

“Fiona?”

Hadn’t the lass been already out of her mind by fear and trauma, and had it been different circumstances, Caroline would have been gentler, maybe she would have even hugged her (if she herself had been able to move of course). As it is, the arms already around herself tightening their grip as if it would save her from further harm, the tears coursing down her cheeks and the frantic movements of her frightened eyes made Caroline feel guilty for startling her and jostling her after what she went through. She knew what that felt like: the loss of power, the vulnerability, the pain, and worse of all the shame. She didn’t want to scare her, nor demand anything of her, Fiona already suffered enough. But, she didn’t have a choice. Not if she wanted her revenge, not if she wanted to live.

So, after what she hoped was a soft and reassuring smile she couldn’t guarantee the poor girl even registered, she addressed her.

“Fiona, may I ask if you know how much time we have spent at the prison?”

Her answer was a choked sob and pained whine that tore a little bit more into Caroline’s already beaten heart. Still, she gathered her resolved and persisted in the endeavor.

“Fiona, please.”

But it was useless, the young woman was barely cognizant, who knew if she even was aware of what was happening around her and who was there.

As she was just about to reiterate her attempt, even if it would prove to be unsuccessful and she had to switch to another prisoner, the door of the corridor leading to the common cell rattled with the sound of keys. A few moments after, three guards, wearing the red coats symbolic of the Majesty’s garrisons, approached the iron door that contained them.

“Move you Scottish shites!” one of them shouted at the same time he shoved the elderly amassed just behind the door when he swung it open forcefully.

One of his companions passed before him, clearing the passage by pushing and kicking away the already squished prisoners. He made his way towards the section where she was and she understood at that moment Lockwood had summoned her for one of his games he loved to play. Physical or emotional, the method didn’t matter to him, only his personal joy at toying with his victims. As long as they suffered, she guessed.

“Miss Forbes. Stand.” the soldier-guard leered disdainfully at her, the way one would look at the lowest of the low.

She did. But it was hard. Her bruised kneecaps protested the strain, dizziness took hold and she could feel how her movements tore up even more her wound.

He grabbed her just as she found a semblance of equilibrium. Her feet almost dragged behind her because of the pace he took.

The steps of the stone staircase were the worst. She had summoned every bit of dignity she had to not appear as weak and rattled as she was, but the damp, slippery and too high steps made it a hard task. Her feet kept sliding as if she was on an ice rink, her already painful knees were hitting the edge of the next step and that fucking guard just continued on his merry way while at the same time stretching the skin of her injured back by pulling on her arm.

Unwillingly, a small, pain filled moan escaped her tightly shut mouth.

Nonetheless, Caroline took notice of the path they took. Every corner, every corridor, every window. She had to situate herself in order to have a plan that would have the slightest chance to work.

Right at that instant, she could have kissed Enzo for bringing her at the prison to visit, even if she had pouted and argued against it for three full days. In the future, the walls and windows weren’t in the state they were in right now (although it was still just as cold and creepy as it seemed in the 21st century…) but still, the layout hadn’t changed through the decades that went past. The walls hadn’t moved and the passages hadn’t disappeared. Caroline could pinpoint approximately where she was in the giant building.

The satisfaction her knowledge brought her helped stand proud even when the other soldiers they passed on their way leered at her, insulted her and mimicked sexual acts they would like to do to her. (Men were pigs in every age it seemed!)

Finally, after quite the long trek, and she strongly suspected they didn’t take the shortest route for whatever reason, they arrived to a shut door. It was just as bare and heavy as every other one she saw on the way. The only detail that signified the room’s importance on it was a small knocker. She guessed there wasn’t really any need for that in the rest of the prison.

The guard that held her since they took her from the common cell knocked on the wood and Caroline took a deep breath, one that hurt her in the state her body was in, but she needed it to ground herself as much as she could before entering the “Wolf’s den” (apparently that was the origin for the entire family’s obsession with the animals since, you know, they had a cool, rich, powerful ancestor that took it as his nickname…Caroline rolled her eyes internally).

The sight that greeted her after the guard shoved her through the passage was one eerily similar to the last time she had been alone in a room with Theodore Lockwood.

Him playing “distractedly” with his letter opener, that seemed way too sharp considering it’s aimed purpose, his filthy boots on the sturdy wood of his polished and gleaming desk, and his eyes sliding up to her that revealed the true emotions he harbored. What a great showman.

Suddenly the image of Tyler doing almost the same thing in his office superposed itself onto the present one. How he insulted her in a passive way while he had onlookers he felt insecure of. How he always did those little productions, just as his ancestor apparently, whenever something didn’t go as he planned or he felt even the slightest bit threatened.

So, when Theodore expected her to cower and instead Caroline threw at him a disdainful smirk Klaus would have been utterly proud of, it wouldn’t be enough to say his previous aura of playfulness disappeared and left the place to open scorn and hate. She was fine with that. At least she knew what she was walking into.

“I had hoped your state of being and the time, however brief, spent in the prison’s most “visited” cell would have made you realize how to behave in front of people far superior to you. It was my mistake, indeed, to expect of a bug to have a brain.”

Caroline truly, truly couldn’t help it, she laughed.

And she was thankful for it, no matter the reasons or consequences of it. It was cathartic. Everything that happened before that had led her to a spiral of pain and sadness hadn’t gone away, per se, but, suddenly it seemed a little bit more bearable. And it had been piling up for so long she couldn’t quite remember the last time she felt so light.

The brief bout of joy it brought her helped her clear her head. And it made her laugh even more because Lockwood was unaware that by insulting her he only strengthened her and the resolve she had to bring him to his end.

She was so enraptured in what would have looked like a bout of insanity to any onlookers, that she didn’t even register him standing up from his chair and quickly coming up to her. Well, she did when he grabbed her arm and almost tore it out of its socket, succeeding in pulling on the wound that sliced her open.

Just as she let out a grunt of pain, he slammed her on the wooden desk. The papers and sparse decorations he harbored on it flew like flies while she trashed around, trying to lessen the strength of his grip on her. She felt panic creep up on her even if she vehemently fought against it.

Her efforts tripled when she felt one of his hands that previously smashed her left hand against the furniture slide down, and once it reached her ankle, went without permission under her garments.

His nails scratched her everywhere, his fingers pressed hard on her tender flesh, so hard it would leave innumerable bruises on her pale skin. He tried to open her legs not only with the hand under her dress but also with one of thighs incessantly pining one of hers down.

Caroline was frantic. She used every little ounce of strength she had left in her mauled body to try to push him off her.

Her hands pushed. Her knees hit flanks. Her boot clad feet kicked. Her head butted. Her teeth bit.

While she was trying to fight him off, wishing that any kind of help would miraculously come to her, she was bombarded with hazy images of Damon raping her after he drugged her at Bonnie’s birthday party. How roughly his hands grabbed her body. How his lips and fingertips left her bruised for weeks. How she bled when he shoved himself into her dry, unprepared, unaroused vagina.

She resisted the tears, even if her eyes begged her to release them, not wanting to appear weak in front of such a joke of a man. A coward that couldn’t bear the slightest bit of resistance. A weakling pushing his authority and throwing tantrums when it didn’t go his way. A wimp taking advantage of her weakened state to take her against her will.

Her anger and rage took hold of her even more like a powerful wave of divine fury crashing into its impertinent subjects.

She raised herself as much as she could and with her teeth, sharp and strong, she tore off his ear, or at least a significant part of it.

Caroline had never known until then how much blood went through those floppy things attached to their heads. It was like a small geyser of red raining on her.

Lockwood cried out and lost his hold of her hand when his went by reflex to what should have been still attached to him. (How much she wished at that moment she could have separated his dick instead of his ear from his body!)

That brief moment was his downfall.

She grabbed the sharp and thin blade that was his letter opener, the one he had played with only seconds ago really, trying to intimidate her with it. And, with a force she wasn’t aware she still had in her, pushed the pointy end into his jugular.

The skin gave easily, she hadn’t expected it. She felt how smoothly it slid into the artery, how it even went further, right into one of the bones of his upper spinal cord.

His eyes slid up to hers, shocked. Aghast with the realization a weak woman killed him. That he failed in asserting his dominance over her.

She could see the knowledge it was the end for him creep into his rapidly fading gaze.

A choked gurgle of a mouth filled with blood escaped him, a last and unnecessary protest at the face of fate.

Caroline had never thought of herself before as a bloodthirsty or even cruel person. But at that moment the only thing she could feel was triumph. Her face was split by a victorious smile, one that would be the last thing Theodore Lockwood would ever see. One that would accompany him into the abysses of Death.

His now soulless carcass was still hunched over her, and with the leg that had been trapped under his she pushed him to the ground like the piece of trash he had been in life.

She took a small moment to breathe, and revel in her accomplishment, no matter how vile and heinous one would think it was, she was proud. And grateful. To her mother, the bad-ass woman that taught her basic anatomy even as she was more enraptured by romantic novels, the one that forced her to learn how to grip anything that could help her in order to have maximum effect.

“Thanks, Mom.” her quiet voice addressed her, hoping that in some bizarre way she was able to see her, a small tear of mourning escaping her eye just as a soft small smile reached her lips. Gone too soon but not without an impact.

It was precisely the thoughts of her mother, and the lessons she had taught her, that pulled her back in the situation she was in. Lockwood had sent away the guards, true, but her small window of opportunity would soon close in on her if she didn’t get the fuck out of the room quickly.

Quickly, she glanced at the entire room and the corpse that previously inhabited it. She saw a platter of food; she grabbed the bannock and hard cheese and put it in the pocket of her dress while munching on the few greens that were there (she needed the vitamins!) and drank all the wine.

Then, she saw the weapon that saved her life, put it in her boot. She also took the pistol with the belt accompanying it that had previously been hanging on the side of the chair.

Finally, she took the blanket that was thrown haphazardly over the hanging rack, probably there for the cold Highlands nights, and she covered her shoulders with it, tying it on her back after crisscrossing it over her chest.

In another life, another time, Caroline Forbes, however practical she was, would most certainly have been grossed out by the idea of taking a man’s, a man she killed, personal belongings and food, but life in this time and the circumstances she was in, taught her that to survive she couldn’t bother herself with such frivolities. So she didn’t.

Just as she was about to get out of this cursed room, she saw a flask peeking from one of his red coat’s pocket, and impulsively, she took it.

She breathed in and out, remembering the mantra (“It’s okay, you can do it, you’re Caroline fucking Forbes, don’t be a wuss!”) she used before every exam, every major hurdle in her life, she even used it before entering the morgue to identify her mother’s corpse, so this was nothing. She steeled herself and took hold of the door’s handle.

Now, let’s get the fuck out.

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klarolineauweek #kinda #drabble continuation #outlander au #part 2

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ngfics · 4 years

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Natural Instinct - overview

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Posts . 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 .

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Jana Sable (SIOC) and the premise of her story.

Realizes pretty soon what kind of world she’s in (when she's three and Roger is Executed). Wants to stay far away from plot, pirates and marines. Jana knows too much about future events and is terrified of anybody finding out.

It doesn't matter to her if it’s pirates or marines, her new family and entire world may be in danger depending on who gets their hands on her memories.

Mostly she fears a mind reader - in the world of one piece that is a possibility so to prevent any such from discovering her origins she reads and learns a lot so that any mind reader would find justifications for things she knows in her head and not immediately connect it to her knowing the future and being from another world.

SIOC has only read up until the end of Dressrosa, has not read Luffy winning and so does not know of Pudding’s powers, but suspects such things exist.

Most of the time, due to her being of mental age she feels as if she can judge situations and people fairly easily. She is only right half the time.

She draws from what she knows of the world, which tells her to be wary of everybody, but as this is tiring her vigilance wanes, or rather, she doesn't want to be so paranoid and distrustful of people.

She decides to give people benefit of doubt.

This is a mistake as she starts to lose security in her own insight after her estimations of people's characters are proven wrong at either her expense, or expense of people close to her.

Leading her to being even more paranoid and even more reclusive than she was before.

Marines hold a grudge against her family because her grandmother had a pirates child and refused to be ashamed of that.

So they keep an eye on them and harass them to ‘prevent them form becoming criminals’.

Her family worries about her continued paranoia and isolation, this changes when she gets a dog named Luca who can discern people's intentions.

It is with him that she starts to go out again.

Luca is rather perceptive for a dog, perceptive of people's nature. Jana notices and takes her cues from him. While Jana did know how to fight a little from what her father's builder co-workers taught her (so that she can navigate the larger city and stay safe) she mostly concentrates on speed and evasion.

This didn't help her when Marines actually caught her and broke her arm, but it did make her father give her some more self-defense training.

When Jana is 13, her sister Sara gets into a serious relationship with a Marine Van Gillian who is both a good man, and good Marine. Disappointed in his fellow Marines and dismayed at not being able to do much; he teaches Jana Marine martial arts, submission holds and pressure points that he himself learned.

In his mind this was for her defense and he was the one to bring Sara (then his wife) news of Jana missing and then later becoming a pirate. His marriage with Sara protects the remaining Sable family, who no longer hold the name.

Jana's mother dies when she's 16, in an accident while visiting their architect father. It is a building accident in which a part of the building collapses, a building that her father built.

It is a little before this tragedy that Jana nudged Van into teaching her Rokushiki, her desire to learn is amplified with the incident and she manages to gain some capability in both Soru and Geppou by the time she's 18

Her mother’s death sends her father into depression which results in him merely going with the motions until in two years (when Jana is 18) he dies from an illness and wasting away.

Her older sisters are 22 at the time and already working as a jewelry maker and a cook, living in the city, her younger sisters are 16 and still living with them (one studying mechanics, apprenticed to a mechanic in the city; another apprenticed under a seamstress)

All of them spend as much of time as they can away from the inn, it brings bad memories. Jana stays to take care of their grandmother and the inn, with their grandmother taking over the business.

Sisters mostly talk over DenDen mushi, their relationship much easier on Jana now that they're all a bit older.

During the next 7 years Jana stays and works with her grandmother and endures Marine patrols that come by every three days or so.

Her grandmother and her routinely house pirates, even if just to spite the Marines who can never prove it.

These pirates are not all that famous; and while some are worse and some are better Jana can usually tell. This is in fact how she trains up her Observation Haki and intuition; with Luca as standby to check her hunches and a myriad of pirates and marines visiting.

When Jana is 20, there is a pirate attack in the larger city while she is there.

Jana uses her hard acquired skills to defend herself and civilians. Marines come in the aftermath where she's killed a couple of pirates, and protected a few kids and merchants, this makes them let up on her.

Marine harassment lessens and their patrols become more laid back.

They are even more lax if they're Van's friends; those marines are usually nice and only do these checks because they're supposed to. They also try to do something about those marines who like to harass them (these are usually ultimate justice types or marines who don't like Van).

Jana gets to know a handful of Marines this way, but nobody plot-important

Van and Sara married during this time, after 7 years of dating and living together (married when Jana was 20 and Sara 24)

They have a son a year after Jana joins Heart Pirates (when Jana is 26 and Sara 30)

Selena married when she was 25 (Sara 25 and Jana 21) to a fellow cook in a shotgun wedding in an after-party haze; but the two had been in love for years having a bit of a rivalry through their respective mentor cooks, though it leaned more and more towards love as years went by.

When Jana is 23 and Vana and Julie 21, the two have a double marriage. Its a marriage of twins marrying twins. Julie, a mechanic, marrying a florist (Johan Devitt) and Vana, a seamstress, marrying his twin a painter (Eugene Devitt).

Jana in the meantime forms a friendship with a local butcher's daughter who is her listening ear and a gentle friend. Her name is Marie.

Luca the dog dies when Jana is 24, at 20 years of age. Passes away painlessly in his sleep. Jana had been expecting it for years so she manages to stave off depression.

Jana had been amassing animal friends from all over the island.Little birds, cats, stray dogs all tend to stop by the inn for a quick meal, tail wag, petting, but none stay for long.

It is this that makes her spend even more time with her grandmother because she feels that once the woman passes away that she will have no direction.

Her connection to Marie is the only thing grounding her in some sort of a routine and purpose. She is slightly unsettled, but still very protective of her sisters who now have their own lives and don't call as much as they used to.

She doesn't want to risk anybody finding anything out from her and threatening her family and considers moving away to a remote house/apartment/hut once her grandmother passes away-thinks of selling the inn and just leaving for somewhere she won't be bothered.

It is not long afterwards, when she's 25, that Heart Pirates show up.

Jana isn't quite sure what to think of them, uncertain if her information and impressions are useful at all. So when they reach the inn she looks to nearby cats and dogs first. And relaxes.

These animals are well attuned to human intent, that is enough for a first impression.

Her paranoia and age make her a master of observation of gestures, subtle movements, tics, voice intonation. All of this is done mostly unconsciously and she is always uncertain if she is correct. She needs her beta check, her dog.

Heart Pirates have to stay for a week, so the Log Pose can set and in that time each of them gains a place in her heart.Jana finds that she fits well in with them. They seem to like her, consider her somewhat of a friend.

Heart Pirates are pretty unhappy with the way Marines treat her and her grandmother, but can do nothing lest they cause more trouble for the two. Jana and her grandmother brush their concerns off, this Marine behavior is not unusual.

Jana doesn't expect to like the Heart Pirates as much as she does. She liked them as characters, they were interesting, funny and somewhat mysterious.

Now, meeting them as people, both sides are surprised at how well they just click.

Some Heart Pirates are not okay with the thought of just leaving her in her situation with the Marines and are planning to ask the captain to extend an invitation to her.

Then the incident Happens (on the last day of Heart Pirates stay)

Somehow Marines learn that pirates were there while Jana is out actually helping the pirates find shops they were looking for. She hears from a neighbor that ran to find her that the inn was actually being burnt down.

Jana runs back immediately. After a brief contemplation Heart Pirates follow. By the time they arrive Jana is already in a life or death battle with a Marine; some of the stray dogs are attacking other Marines with viciousness they haven’t displayed before.

Marines end up being incapacitated or dead and Jana is quietly devastated at her grandmother's death and the burned down inn.

She doesn't cry, she hasn't cried in a long time.

She is just tired.

Jana asks the pirates if they mind helping her dig a grave, they agree without any prompting from Law. After all is done and she's trying to see if something can be salvaged from the fire, he asks her about her plans.

His crew is immediately all ears, they have a feeling as to where this is going.

Law was given a good look into Jana's intuitive abilities, seen her get a measure of people with nary a glance; he has a feeling there is something there and feels like betting on it.

Jana says she'll probably go to one of her sisters and live with them; she has no idea what she'll do as she always planned to continue holding the inn.

And, as an even older woman than she appears, she feels guilty mooching off even if the situation cannot be helped. She's feeling a bit hopeless about her future. (Her sisters all married to lose the family name)

Then Law says that she could come with them if she liked.

Jana is actually surprised, tries to dissuade him, because really is she honestly pirate material?

Law counters that by saying he doesn't know, (which startles her because she thought him prideful, but realizes that she hasn't seen it and that that was a preconception) asks her if she wants to find out.

And because she can see something there, some opportunity for something, maybe discovering herself, her own motivations.

Wanting not to be tired or scared of living anymore, she agrees.

Unfortunately she has to leave her dogs. While the pirates are getting supplies as quick as they can, she goes to the woman who warned her about the marines and leaves her the four dogs after saying goodbye to them.

The woman is kind and had known her since she was a child, the woman quickly packs her some clothes and necessities realizing that the young woman was leaving.

They part with a hug and goodbye, the older woman later following Jana's career as a pirate, always reading out-loud to the four dogs

Through her time with the Heart Pirates they teach her how to trust herself more and how to speak up when she has a possible solution. How to get involved with people and with the world again.

Some get angry in the beginning at how she amends with 'but I might be wrong about that' at all times, finding it annoying, but her near hysteria when she is wrong stops them from saying anything about it again.

Law tells her later to have more faith in others if she cannot have faith in herself. Telling her that they always know things might go wrong and that if she's wrong the responsibility isn't hers alone.

They will pull through together, that is the point of having and being a part of the crew. He actually knows just what to say.

She is shortest in the crew at 168cm

Her violin, the one given to her grandmother by her grandfather was burned along with the house so once Heart Pirates learn she's a violinist and a musician they buy her a violin for her birthday (it's white and black with the bow being yellow)

In one case there is a point where she has to protect an injured crew-member who tells her to just go and leave him - which she refuses - and manages to get them both out.

Possibly loosing her sight, and wearing a face mask from then onward concentrating her Haki to tell people and places apart, using echolocation as well or something like that.

Iris Sable (Grandmother)

Deceased Grandfather (was a pirate of the Rumbar Pirates, did not marry grandmother) - Jana looks a lot like him

Antonia Sable (Deceased Mother)

Mikael Sable (Deceased Father - suicide).

Vana Devitt (nee Sable) - sister, seamstress - Johan Devitt - Brother in Law

Julie Devitt (nee Sable) - sister, mechanic - Eugenia Devitt - Sister in Law

Sara Gillian (nee Sable) - sister, jewelry maker

Van Gillian (Marine, brother in Law) - Janus GIllian (nephew)

Selena Cane (nee Sable) - sister, cook

Hector Cane (brother in law) - Hilda & Hattie Cane (nieces, twins)

Jana’s Skills:

eye for detail

speed (due to running away from kids and Marines) and parkour as well as body submission holds (which have been lifted from Marine martial arts), flexibility, but not great power, relies mostly on avoiding hits, hitting pressure points and submission holds

Intuition (can distinguish if a person is lying) (with increasing effectiveness, regardless of how good of a liar they are) (can distinguish if a person means harm to her or those close to her - killing intent), can read body language and facial expressions expertly, good with animals due to intuition.

Observation Haki (intent, direction) - if she loses her sight she can force her Haki into the floor to get an outline of her surroundings and people (a la Toph)

good with makeup and clothes as well as impersonation (this makes a great spy)

has a singing voice (her grandmother liked it when she sang, reminding her of grandfather), play a violin (only thing left of grandfather and another piece grandmpther shared with her)

Jana’s Flaws: insecurity in her own capabilities, paranoia, prone to sarcastic and snide remarks, intentionally miscommunicates

Likes: Books about everything and anything, writing songs from past life, rewriting them to suit this world.

Tropes:

Genre Savwy (knows she's in a 'fictional' world), Jack-of-all-trades (can apply most of her various bits and pieces of knowledge), Weak, but Skilled, Fragile Speedster(all speed, evasion and some self defense tricks), Sneaky Guy (scouts ahead, info gathering), Communications Officer/Mission Control (provides field info and intel), Hit-and-Run Tactics (pressure points and submission holds if necessary, but mostly tripping enemies), Damsel out of Distress (rescues herself in occasions she's captured), Combat Clairvoyance (Observation Haki), Specs of Awesome, Tranquil Fury (when actually pissed off), has a Canine Companion(Luca), True Companions (with Heart Pirates), Platonic Life Partners (with Law), Deadpan Snarker (sometimes when things are 'illogical'), Living Lie Detector (due to combination of Haki, good instincts and desperation), Good is not Soft (does not shy away from outright murder as she has a great division of us vs. them), Humble Goal (at first to just stay in that little village forever, peacefully, then to be unremarkable and forgettable while staying safe and keeping everybody else safe due to knowledge, after meeting Heart Pirates it becomes just staying by their side as long as she lives)

Quote: "Apparently I've been too kind." (to go with Good is not Soft)

Heart Pirates notes:

Everybody knows basic mechanics (just enough to know if something isn't working as it should, if more knowledgeable then also what to do until they can get a mechanic)

Everybody knows basic medicine (at least to patch up minor wounds in a pinch, what to do in case of this or that and some symptom causes)

Heart Pirates members:

(this is likely to change with canon, but I’ll just add these guys on, cause why not?)

Trafalgar D. Water Law(cannon) - captain, doctor

Bepo(cannon) - navigator, martial arts - Shachi(cannon) - martial arts, mechanic - Penguin(cannon) - martial arts, mechanic - Jean bart (cannon) - strength, navigation - Bandana guy (sorta cannon/fanon) - called Bandana in Fanon - Wakame(fannon I think/ and maga in auction house) - Sven(OC) - navigator, tailor - Matthew(OC) - mechanic - Daniel(OC) - mechanic - Peter(OC) - medic - Marcus(OC) - cook, fighting with knives - Arthur(OC) - medic,chemist - Fran(OC) - cook

Jana(SIOC) - speed, observation haki (enhanced with emphaty), evasion, espionage, communications monitoring, musician - wears a Bucket Hat (white and black striped at first - black 2YL)

Posts . 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 .

Fic Masterlist

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thegoforthblog · 4 years

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Waiting For Rain

One of my favorite series of all time is the Sarah, Plain and Tall series. I don’t care how many times I’ve seen them, its never enough. So when I was suddenly placed on call from work I thought it was the perfect time to watch some familiar friends. You see, I’ve watched these movies so many times I felt like I knew the characters. I know every scene and almost every line. There was nothing about the movies that I hadn’t analyzed or pondered… or so I thought.

It wasn’t until watching the second part of Sarah, Plain and Tall, the movie Skylark, that things started to get a bit deep. Here was a movie I had seen probably about 50 times (I know…judge not!!!) that was now breaking through the fog of my mundane day off. I had thought that this was going to be another one of those rainy days sipping tea watching Sarah blow Jacobs mind about being a strong woman. But today was actually the day that God decided to shake up my understanding of struggle, pain and the act of waiting.

I’m not like most. In fact I have been told that I am a bit nerdy and over-thinking. But one thing I pride myself on is the belief that if God wants to talk to you, he’ll use anything and anybody to do it. This train of thought has never harmed me and the older I get the more aware I am of God’s presence in even the smallest things, small things like lazy movie day. To help you understand what I mean, let me give you a brief summary of the movie.

Skylark follows the lives of Jacob, Sarah, Anna and Caleb Witting on their farm in Kansas. The story shapes as the Witting family experiences a great drought. The family finds it hard to cope. Jacob, born in Kansas, has seen droughts come and go and knew that it would pass at some point. Sarah, born in Maine found it to be insufferable. The community bands together with the resources they have in order to make it a tad more bearable. In the end however, they too fade away. The drought becomes so bad that pillars in the community start leaving. The promise was, “They’d be back”. But Jacob had been around long enough to know that they wouldn’t.

After standing by her man; losing the barn to a fire,being reduced to water rations and fighting off wild animals trying to steal that water, Sarah finally has enough. She breaks down under the pressure of reduced circumstances. Jacob seeing her distress, lets her go to her home state with the children. He refuses to go because “his name was written in this land” and that he could not part from it. He stayed and waited for rain.

Jacob had seen droughts before. He has also seen townies brave the seasons and finally give up. But while others were fleeing, he stayed. While others looked at the damage done in wildfires and washed their hands thinking that it was too much to handle, Jacob rebuilt. While others cursed the land as God Forsaken, he said his name was written it. This might have sounded completely mad except for the fact that Jacob was thinking clearly. He wasn’t thinking with his heart but with his mind. He remembered a key concept; the drought could NOT last forever.

How many times have we gotten so caught up in our emotions we forget to think rational? How many times have our emotions ruled us right into making the wrong decisions? Sometimes we want to win so bad at whatever is hurting us that we allow our emotions to make moves we normally wouldn’t make with a clear frame of mind. In the heat of the moment we feel that this pain, this sorrow will last forever. Our hurts tell us that we must do something to stop it, anything. Just like the towns people, they fled. The emotions brought forth by their circumstances was the only thing they could see. Like a cloudy haze dropped before them, everything was filtered through their feelings.

Even Sarah (my girl to the end) couldn’t weather it out. She was a fighter, and that’s how she handled things in life. She’d would roll up her sleeves and take the bull by the horns. But sometimes “fight” isn’t enough. Even she got tired. Sometimes the struggle isn’t always about how much fight you have or how good you are at it. Sometimes fight leaves you burnt out. Nothing is worse than a burnt out fighter. The fighter that has been known for besting even the greatest storms would find themselves outmatched and disillusioned. Why? Because this time it was out of her control. The fighter in her could not bend this one to her will. She simply had to wait.

In the movie, before they left, Caleb put out a glass on the porch. He wanted to measure the rain. One evening when Jacob was frustrated he was about to remove the glass. Sarah admonished him and he placed it back. Of all the times I’ve seen this movie I’ve never paid this part too much attention. But now I can say I felt him. See I am the type of person that hates second rate things. If I’ve got to do the work of the struggle I want nothing less than my reward. Jacob wasn’t about to settle for a few drops in a glass. He wanted it all. He had staked his life on it. He had waited it out. He was not about to be put to shame (Psalm 25:3, Isaiah 54:4, Joel 2:26). If you trust in God trust his timing.

God will not let your waiting be in vain. He saw every time you hoped and every time you prayed against what your eyes saw. You, like Jacob, stand in the midst of a dry field. You both look to the sky and watch the heat storms, the idle clouds and impotent thunder and lightening roll across the sky. You both whisper, “ it can’t last forever”. Know that it wont last forever. But sometimes the battle requires you to wait. You have to recall all the times God has pulled you out. They are your testimony, your lifeline for this battle. This cannot be your first drought! This is just another testing. God sees your need, there is nothing his eye doesn’t capture. But like Jacob waiting in the field, there is nothing you can do but stand. Don’t falter. Don’t phone it in. Don’t look at the destruction around you. Look straight up at the sky from where the rain comes.

Scriptures for more reading and understanding:

Afraid of waiting- Psalm 25:3,Psalm 69:6, Isaiah 54:4, Joel 2:26

Waiting on God- Micah 7:7, Psalms 69:3, Isaiah 64:4, Psalms 27:14, Psalms 37:

#godisgreat #godlovesyou #follow jesus #jesuschrist #faithonpurpose #faithquotes #faith #trusting in god #trust in jesus #waiting on god #christianblogger

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blackcoffee-floweringsoul · 5 years

Text

Cycles

January

& she looked at him, wide eyed and innocent,

like he held the answers to why her heart bled every time she fell in love

his eyes looked everywhere but into hers.

because he knew - very well -

that he was the reason for her tears when she cried waterfalls at night, wondering why she wasn’t enough for love.

If only she could see

She was much more than enough; Yet she emptied her love into those undeserving, as if she had infinite love for everyone but herself

she was beautiful… not just in the way she dressed but in the way her thoughts came together when she poured ink on her journal, trying to piece together heartbreak, the kind that dulled the gold sparks in her emerald green eyes when she spoke of her passions, of her father, of the last book she read.

She felt every ounce of goodness, of kindness, of compassion on this earth until her bones were shaking with the existential understanding of what it meant to be human.

And in that intrinsic wisdom, he was never the answer to her roots of humanity.

February

Coffee- Tinted Breath

he took me to breakfast on a Wednesday at a quiet little cafe in the middle of town but

he orders his coffee the same way you did

two cream, one sugar.

and his kisses tasted like yours

As my head swirls in a cream- colored mess of forgotten jokes and unspoken memories I faintly hear a whistling in the background- my tea kettle is boiling.

March

Found: My First Love

If you look hard enough, you will find him.

he is tucked in the folded corners of my favorite novel, he is in the bottom of the wine bottle that I finished in the bath

he is curled up in my covers, and stuck to my teeth he is crawling on my skin and dripping in the sweat down the back of my neck

you won’t find him in my smile, or in my laughter, or in the sun

but i promise if you look hard enough you’ll find him: For he is the one.

April

maybe i hold onto the way i loved you because i like who i was back then better

May

I am 15 years young. A cool rain drenches me on a warm spring night. The sky tells me it should be dark, but the lights on the stage are projecting at just the right angle to illuminate the beautiful details of your face: the lopsided grin, the brown, all-knowing eyes - you are all I see. There are thousands of people in this stadium, but at this moment there was just two: you and I. My body gravitates towards you like you are the Earth and I am your Moon. Through an endless crowd of screaming souls, you take my hand and lead me away, until we find an empty space (Row 15 - Section 9.) You begin to spin me, to the rhythm of the bass player on stage, and suddenly the crows goes quiet. It is like the seconds before an ocean waves crashes the shore. The entire stadium watches us in silence; two young lovers moving together with such fluidity and ease that its hard to distinguish where his star dust separated from mine in the creation of the universe.

This is the moment my mind falls on when rain drops hit me or that song plays on the radio. That moment will always be ours.

June

kisses aren’t meant to hurt.

they’re supposed to wake sleeping princesses, or melt into a delicious chocolate puddles, or ease the pain of the scrape you got when you fell of your bike.

kisses aren’t meant to hurt.

but when you grabbed my hair with your red stained teeth and sucked on my neck like my blood gave you life, the black and blue you left said otherwise.

July

this year i learned that even kind people can be toxic.

when you have a soul filled with aching wanderlust, bursting with emotion,

mediocre doesn’t satiate you.

your lips will always be parched, no matter how many times he kisses you, no matter how many times you say you love him.

he is kind, but he is not enough for you.

and maybe you’re too much for him.he might dehydrate you, but you might drown him.

August

Dear Brian, its always been you.

Dear Kyle, you kept the gum you were chewing the night of our first kiss in your dresser drawer for six years. You still adore my scent with trembling lips.

Dear Peter, im sorry for biting your lip. i am still learning how to be a woman.

Dear Ryan, im sorry I used you as duct tape, but your heart kept mine from breaking countless times.

Dear Brian, its always been you.

Dear Nick, i only liked you because you reminded me of him

Dear Brandon, I wrote my college essay on the night you took me to watch stardust disintegrate and planets spin from millions of miles away

Dear Chris, I though I loved you because you walked me home

Dear Brian, its always been you.

Dear Austin, we were at church camp. the only one I was getting on my knees for was Jesus

Dear Andres, fuck you

Dear Ethan, thank you for loving me enough to let me go.

Dear Ethan, im sorry for fucking your best friend,

Dear Colin, I only kissed you to make him jealous. it worked.

Dear Brian, its always been you

Dear Anthony, i cared more about your little brother’s dreams than your own

Dear Cole, I hate that you tried to save yourself inside of me

Dear Lucas, I enjoyed hurting you

Dear Zack, we will only ever be friends

Dear Shane, I don’t care how many times we prayed together those hands don’t belong in my pants

Dear Tommy, I never thought I could connect intimately with a drug dealer

Dear Kyle, I hope you learn to love yourself

Dear Brian, its always been you

Dear Qazi, you didn’t love me

Dear Oliver, you could’ve loved me

Dear Brian, but its always you

September

I still fuck my ex because it makes me feel unforgettable

the high I get knowing he still yearns for my naked body, knowing I can give it to him without reaching deep beneath ribcage and offering my heart as well

he might not remember the spring afternoon we spent laughing with frosting in our hair

but he will never forget the way I taste

the sweetest: that, I promise you.

October

in a drunken haze I pulled my black Honda into his driveway, I found him waiting for me, letting his perfect hair fall flat in the pouring rain. He pulls me inside and tells me its too cold for pretty girls like me out there, but instead of getting me a towel he takes me clothes right off my body and throws them in the dryer. Laying there naked on his kitchen table, surrounded by Italian liquor bottles and home made tomato sauce, he makes love to me. When he comes he screams in Italian, and for a moment I forget where I am. He is my little Italian getaway, his bed my escape.

November

Kate, my new, young, bright, flower-loving, effervescent therapist, told me I need to work on setting boundaries, letting go, and loving myself. She assigned me homework for this week: to write down ten things I love about myself. They have to encompass my internal and external features and qualities and must come from a place of self-love. So, here are 10 things that I truly do love about myself, body and soul.

1) I think that I have really pretty green eyes. I think that my eyes are unique, and that they really are a glimpse into the best parts of my soul.

2) I love that I have an innate ability to connect with and make friends with all walks of life. I am able to find friendship in all types of people, from stoners to geeks to athletes; I do not judge anyone and love people for who they are.

3) I love that I am a soon to be nurse; I think that I fit the role of a nurse well, and I can really see myself being a successful nurse, changing people’s lives for the better. I am proud of my profession

4) I love my heart. I think that no matter how many times people hurt me, and no matter how many times I am disappointed, I remain positive that there is good in the world and that people are innately good.

5) I like my smile. I think that my smile radiates positivity and that it shows my kindness.

6) I like my writing. I think that they way I put words on a page, especially when its about my own emotions and how I feel about things is articulate and I have a way of making sentences flow into analogies that make sense to me.

7) I love that I ask questions. I think that this is something that allows me to bond with people, and I know that my asking questions and being genuine with others is something that I should love about myself because it makes people feel welcome.

8) I love my butt :) I am confident about it

9) I love that I am curious about all aspects of life. I am a life long learner and this is something that I never want to lose.

10) I love my eyelashes; they are long and beautiful.

December

there are days when you have to celebrate the small victories

like not texting him on his 22nd birthday

like staying home with your best friends even when your heart is crawling out of your chest, inching its way to the bar he drinks at on Tuesdays

like taking the long way home so you don’t see him walking back from main street with a new girl in his arms

every small victory, no matter how small,

self love, self love, self love

they say it takes two weeks to create a habit

like not texting him on his 22nd birthday

like not spending the night in a man’s bed on his 22nd birthday

or drinking until I forget its his 22nd birthday

like choosing myself for once, on his 22nd birthday

a small victory.

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thereluctantinquisitor · 7 years

Text

Varlen!!! On Ice

DORIANMANCE WEEK -::- DAY 2 -::- Yuri!!! On Ice AU

Pavellan. Dorian Pavus x Varlen Lavellan (approx 2.8k words, most under the cut) <3

Varlen gritted his teeth, hands gripping the wall of the rink, his long hair falling in tousled disarray to either side of his head. He breathed hard, exhausted. Frustrated. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing that he had more to offer than, according to the judges, a few toe-loops and a ‘winning smile’.

A winning smile.

He snorted derisively, reaching up to rub his eyes with cold fingers. Actually winning for once would be pretty nice, too. Hell, at this point, he’d just settle for beating his personal best. But he knew the truth; it shared the same sinking feeling as sitting in the kiss-and-cry at the last Grand Prix Final. That utter disaster. He was in a slump. No, not even just a slump. A complete stall. He wasn’t necessarily getting any worse, but he had stopped improving. And he needed to improve. He needed to push past that chest-clenching anxiety that flared up every time he stepped out in front of a sea of cameras and unfamiliar faces.

He was running out of time.

But just wanting something? Well, that wasn’t enough. He just… couldn’t. It was too hard to force himself out of his own head. Sure, he could berate and curse his shortcomings until he reduced himself to tears, but it never made any real difference. Never helped. On the few times where he’d found the courage to go to his friends with his problems, they just tried to console him. Lied with kind smiles and said that he was good. That it would pass. That everyone had slumps and he just had to believe in himself. But it had been over two years and nothing had passed. Nothing had changed. He was hopeless. Useless.

Stuck.

“Again, Varlen!”

Blinking back a frustrated haze, Varlen nodded tightly, straightening and releasing the wall. He kept his head down as he skated back out to the centre of the rink, each sweeping movement weighed down by a kind of numb acceptance. He was a failure. Before, his issues had only really surfaced in competition, not in training. But now, even in a place that was more a home to him than his own house, he found his mind absent. His concentration muddled. His body uncooperative. His skates weren’t an extension of himself anymore. They were just two bits of metal strapped to his feet, awkward and unwieldy.

All of a sudden, standing alone at the heart of the ice, Varlen wanted nothing more than to rip them off.

The music had started. Varlen jerked in surprise, reacting with a kind of explosive panic when he realised he had missed his cue completely. He moved, rushing through the first steps of the routine, ice scraping beneath his skates, arms awkward and anything but graceful. Anything but seductive. Certainly not eros. What was he even doing? He was a pretender, carving his lie into the ice with each sweeping step. He couldn’t fool himself, but he could probably trick everyone else with a few sharp looks and a proper outfit.

Well, almost everyone else…

Just as Varlen caught up to the music and his steps fell into time, it stopped. The entire rink was suddenly plunged into silence, nothing but the hush sound of metal on ice to fill the emptiness left behind. Self-consciously, Varlen came to a stop and turned towards the edge of the rink, a lump forming in his throat.

Dorian Pavus stood there, a curled finger resting beneath his bottom lip, wearing an expression both attentive and perplexed. With his signature dark hair and piercing grey eyes, Varlen often felt convinced that he could see right through him, down to his most hidden parts. Parts of himself that he’d shoved away time and time again because he just wasn’t ready to deal with them. When Dorian first showed up and declared himself Varlen’s new coach, it had been like a strange, fantastic dream. Only this time, Varlen didn’t wake up from it to the meagre sight of a poster on the wall. No, Dorian was right there, standing just outside the rink, watching him skate. Coaching him.

And all Varlen could seem to do was screw up.

A wall of shame crashed into him and it suddenly took everything he had not to give in to the pressure building behind his eyes. Dorian made a beckoning gesture with two fingers, aloof yet expectant as he strolled up to lean on the barrier. Steeling his jaw, Varlen forced his body to comply with the request, making his way back towards the edge of the rink. With every step he took, a familiar dread mounted inside him, leaving him sweating despite the cold. Dorian didn’t look pleased. Well, he also didn’t look displeased, necessarily, but who really cared? Whatever he thought Varlen was when he flew all the way from Tevinter… well, he had been wrong. Varlen had made that clear whether he wanted to or not. Dorian Pavus, the man Varlen had chased his entire career – the man he admired above all others – had bet blindly and lost. Varlen knew what would happen next. He would look him in the eye, apologetic but firm, and tell him in no uncertain terms that he was going back to Tevint—

“Something on your mind, Varlen?”

Varlen jolted, looking up, blinking back the traitorous fog and hoping desperately that Dorian hadn’t noticed. That quartz-grey stare met his own and held it, leaving his knees as weak as… well, the rest of him.

“N-No, I’m…” Varlen trailed off, biting his tongue, frustrated with himself. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a long, steadying breath. Settling his nerves – Creators, the man still made him so nervous – he searched found his voice again. “It’s nothing. I’m fine, really. Maybe I just… ate something funny.”

When he reopened his eyes, Varlen was greeted by a rather sceptical expression from his new coach. Dorian regarded him, eyebrow raised, his hands resting on the outer wall of the rink. Every now and then, he thrummed his fingers against it, the hollow rhythm punctuating the heavy silence. For a few moments, Varlen was suddenly back in the kiss-and-cry at the last Grand Prix. Back to feeling alone. On display. Judged. Ashamed. It was all his fault. Again. There was no one else to blame. He was everything that was wrong with him.

Throat tightening, he let his gaze slip away from Dorian’s, drifting down to the churned up ice that gathered around the blades of his skates. He came all the way from Tevinter for you, Varlen thought bitterly. And this is how you thank him? He made you a routine – The Dorian Pavus made you a routine – and you can’t even focus in training?

Why?

“Perhaps you have worked hard enough for today, yes?”

Varlen glanced back up, eyes going wide as a familiar panic clawed against his chest. No!

“N-No, it’s okay! I’m not tired or anything. I’ll do better! I just need to get my head right, that’s all. Focus more. Then I’ll—”

His torrent of excuses was cut off by a single movement from Dorian; the raising of a solitary finger. Yet, the action was not disapproving. If anything, he seemed almost… understanding. But… no. Varlen discarded the notion for all of its ridiculousness. How could he possibly understand what it’s like? To be good at something, but only some of the time, and never when it counts.

How could he possibly know how infuriating it was?

“I have not been a coach for long, as you well know,” Dorian continued slowly, lowering his finger, his expression softening as he spoke. “As such, I fear I am somewhat, well… set in my ways. A slave to my own routine, if you like. That is… not how one goes about nurturing the talents of another, now is it?”

The most surprising part of Dorian’s quiet confession was that he seemed to be genuinely asking for Varlen’s opinion. Blinking, stunned, Varlen took a moment to process the initial question, then longer again to realise that Dorian was actually waiting for an answer.

“I, ah… don’t really know, to be honest,” Varlen admitted, swallowing. Was that the right thing to say? “I’ve never coached anyone before either. Well, I mean, little kids coming for skating parties and stuff, but never anyone for competition. I-I’ve been mostly busy trying to compete myself, so I’m not really sure I’m the best person to ask… for advice… on that…”

As he awkwardly trailed off again, a deep, intrinsic part of Varlen cringed so hard it practically a physical cramp. He let his words drift into silence, and genuinely found himself wondering if there was a specific place on Dorian’s head that he could whack to wipe the man’s memory. Dorian Pavus. Standing right there, watching him with a look of almost fond amusement in his eyes. Varlen felt his face start to burn. Stop it, he scolded himself silently, hands clenching at his sides. Get a grip! If you don’t want him to leave, prove that you’re worth staying for!

“Well, it appears we will both just have to be patient with one another, now won’t we?”

Varlen glanced up as Dorian sighed, releasing the soft breath into the air. Then, without a moments pause… he smiled. It was encouraging, yet also self-deprecating; the way one smiled when two people both made an awkward, obvious mistake in the same room and had no choice but to acknowledge it. Despite the nauseous feeling in his stomach, Varlen found himself start to smile back. Weakly, yes, but it was something. A piece of him lifted with it and even his breathing, although still tight, came just a little bit easier the longer he held the expression. The longer he shared it.

Suddenly, Dorian extended his hand out across the rink barrier, palm facing upwards, fingers reaching towards Varlen, loose and inviting.

“A break, then,” he declared, a spark of playfulness in his eyes as he nodded towards his hand meaningfully. “I believe we have both earned a momentary reprieve, wouldn’t you agree?”

Varlen stared at that offered hand, his mouth opening and closing for a few seconds as he struggled to find the right words. Did he go? But he’d done terribly! He needed to train… right?

“But… but I…”

“The ice will still be here when we return, Varlen,” Dorian urged gently, those lips still curved into an inviting smile. “That I can promise you quite comfortably. You know, I’ve always wanted to see some of the sights this far south. Of course, the Imperium has its share of fascinating scenery, but it all becomes rather… tedious after a while. There are only so many gold trellises and marble arches one can gawk at.” He sighed then leaned forward, lowering his voice into a conspiratorially playful murmur. “It’s time I tried something new, I think.”

Meeting that intense stare, Varlen couldn’t bring himself to respond right away. Dorian’s eyes sparkled with a kind of unashamed liveliness, yet behind it all there was… something. Strength mingled with hesitance. It was as though a piece of Dorian – the man who stopped the world in its tracks every time he set foot on the ice – was just waiting for the inevitable slap of rejection.

How? Varlen thought, stunned into silence before that offered hand. How can someone like him possibly feel that way? He’s incredible. He’s … he’s perfect!

… Isn’t he?

Slowly, Varlen reached out and slipped his hand into Dorian’s, and was surprised to see a brief flash of relief spark in the man’s eyes. A thread of tension released from his shoulders and he relaxed into an easy chuckle, his elegant fingers carefully curling around Varlen’s hand.

“There. Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” The corner of Dorian’s mouth quirked up into his usual charming half-smile and Varlen, despite his thundering heart, caught a piece of it and shone it back. Together, they moved towards the gate, Dorian walking with his usual straight-backed grace, Varlen matching his pace on the ice. It was… strange. They were connected, linked by the warmth of their hands, yet somehow still so separate. In a way, it was an exact mirror of how Varlen felt about Dorian. Yes, they were both competitive skaters, but there was such a world of difference between them. When Dorian skated, the ice was his canvas, his skates the brush, his movement the perfect strokes that painted the story. But Varlen…?

Well, Varlen just walked.

They reached the gate and Dorian helped Varlen step over the lip of the barrier, reaching out to steady him as he navigated the transition from ice to ground. Of course, Varlen didn’t really need the assistance, but with the way his arms and legs trembled he’d be lying if he said it was entirely unwelcome. Both feet once again on the regular ground, Varlen released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and forced himself to look up. With his skates on, Dorian was at least a couple of inches shorter than him, yet his presence filled the room all the way to the ceiling. Yet, when he smiled up at him and nodded towards the door with an air of quiet anticipation, Varlen couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly and smile back.

Dorian turned as if to make his way to the exit of the rink. However, despite his better judgement, Varlen tightened his grip on the man’s hand, his heart racing at his own audacity.

What am I doing?!

“Wait,” he said, a strange thrill bubbling up in his chest as Dorian turned back and arched a curious brow at him. “I’ve got just the place I want to take you. It’s not too far, so we can walk from here. The weather’s good, so you should bring your camera! I mean, if you want to.”

Surprised, Dorian blinked, then broke out into an amused laugh. There was a distinct, warm fondness about the smile he flashed at Varlen only a moment later. It caught Varlen completely off-guard. It always did.

“Marvellous,” he said, then let out a contemplative hum as his gaze flicked downwards. “But perhaps you should consider removing those first, yes? I imagine it would be much more comfortable.”

Varlen stared for a moment, then felt his face grow hot once again. Damn it, my skates! Of course!

“O-Oh yeah, right! That’s uh… probably a good idea, isn’t it?” His words melted into a nervous laugh as he glanced towards the bench, but a wave of uncertainty suddenly washed over him and he hesitated. However, as if sensing the cause of his sudden and somewhat irrational concern, Dorian squeezed his hand, drawing Varlen’s attention back to him. Back to that friendly, easy smile.

“I won’t go running off without you. That would be far less fun,” he said, his tone light-hearted, but his eyes somehow… intent. Meaningful as he caught Varlen’s gaze and held it. “You have my word.”

Varlen swallowed, heart thumping, but nodded. For some reason, and he wasn’t sure exactly what it was… well, he believed him. Reluctantly, Varlen withdrew his hand from Dorian’s and awkwardly hurried towards the bench.

“I’m really sorry. If he walk fast, we can make it in about ten minutes. I’ll just take a minute, then we can go straight there.”

From behind him, Varlen heard the sound of Dorian chuckle. He had such a wonderful laugh. Without even meaning to, Varlen found a smile once again forming on his face, chasing away some of the lines of worry that he knew had gathered there like heavy clouds before a storm.

This… was good. They were good. Learning. Together. Maybe it could work; whatever it was that they were doing, that is. It felt right, somehow, even if they got a few things wrong along the way.

As Varlen bent forward to unlace his skates with unsteady fingers, Dorian spoke again. Absently, he said four simple, innocuous words. Words that really shouldn’t mean anything. Yet, they did to Varlen. The moment they left Dorian’s lips, they grabbed something inside his chest and held it tight, like buried treasure hidden in the sand that had finally been found. Four simple words…

“I’ll wait for you.”

For the first time in a long time, a pang realisation flared inside Varlen. It was like that short, weightless moment before he hit the ice when he fell, only it didn’t hurt. There was no pain. Curved forward, his fingers frozen mid-way through unlacing his skates, he closed his eyes and let himself give in to the feeling. Allowed himself to feel certain about something without convincing himself that he was wrong to do so.

“I know.”

#dragon age #pavellan #dorian pavus #dorian x lavellan #dorianmance week #varlen lavellan #crossover au #yuri on ice #yuri on ice au #reluctant writes #day 2 #<3 #dragon age fanfiction #there we go! second AU down #I actually quite liked this one #(totally not just because I loved yuri on ice or anything... that would be crazy!)#>.>

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