#(how is it we've been doing this four years in a row??)

[cerealmonster15]

walks into the function wearing a tshirt that says ASK ME ABOUT MY TOXIC THIRD YEARS POLYCULE HEADCANONS

this map has been stewing in my mind for years i think and i finally wrote it down in the illegible spaghetti way that i always do let's GO

lilia is not in the polycule he's just playing his own game of collecting sons. everyone is his son. he's also going to watch the drama because who doesn't love a soap opera playing out in real life he's got front row seats to the divorce vortex.

cater/trey/rook/vil are the ultimate four way polycule but also oh god theres so much going on there.

cater and trey are a ride or die duo but also trey knows cater sometimes isnt completely open with him but trey has a very passive nature to him as we've seen in book 1 and when he mentions cater's wish to himself in the starsending event... but theyre still close and care for each other a lot and i will die defending them if i have to fjdklsjfds

rook and vil oh my god rook and vil. they are so married. and so dramatic. and so. sdkfjsdkljf a little divorced because rook is also in love with the biggest rival of vils life but that is NOT enough to break their marriage. love finds a way. somehow. fdskjfjksdlg

^ i could go much more into both those duos but we simply. we dont have time we are moving along we are walking

rook and trey beloved science weirdos oh my god every time theyre on screen together theyre so funny. i love odd friendships. science marriage real.

cater canonically flirted with vil even tho it got somewhat censored in engtwst and was partially probably for clout reasons HOWEVER, to ME it's also for bisexual reasons. vil is canonically very pretty and caters like yeah 🧡🧡🧡 vil can see through when cater's being more superficial BUT ALSO they have genuine moments of getting along!!! like in events, beanfest 2 and the puppet one that's not out in eng yet. no spoilers here but there is a bit in puppet event that has me so vindicated on how they really do work well together and respect each other!!!!!!! into the polycule you go.

vil and trey,,, gestures to vil's lab coat story klsdjflksd they get along and it's cute. everybody loves trey.

even leona wants trey in the divorce polycule. no spoilers but please see playful land puppet event / leona's card vignette for that event. and also i think treys platinum birthday card story sljdflksdjf

the extreme difference between how malleus reacts to cater bothering him vs rook bothering him or even just Talking To Lilia is so funny. like he gets along with rook sometimes but in those two pe scenes hes SO aggro he wants that twink OBLITERATED he is going to KILL ROOK HUNT. but he will play tag with cater :^)

leona is the king of divorce. he is divorced to everyone he touches . he invented divorce. he's turbo divorced with vil and malleus because he and vil are just sooooooo. fsdkjfskdlg when therye on screen together it's like passive aggressive but mostly just aggressive bitching and bullying. theyre so funny. they have this energy of like "we have Tension but also i am going to kill you. i begrudgingly respect your abilities but i will only say so with layered insults." like the way vil says "so leona's got a pretty face but that's ALL he has going for him" like. multiple times. why does he keep doing that.

and then whatever he has going on with malleus is so funny. like malleus seems like hes a smug little bitch having fun with the banter [again he wants to Destroy Rook in those PE stories, but leona's blatant insults i feel like he's more teehee you stupid bitch >:)] and leona's just so pissed mad angry forever he's like no i need this dragon fucker DEAD for EXISTING !!! but i think malleus' having fun with the fellow teen experience of stupid razzing

leona and cater are giving me subtle divorced vibes in that one scene in book 2. listen. i have headcanons. ive talked about it. moving on 🚶

rook. leona. i feel i do not need to elaborate jfklsjfkljsekljfkl

idia is so funny. why are his opinions about everyone around him either "oh god hes ultra tier scary" or "he's so sparkly dazzling handsome beautiful". he does this often with no filter and it's so funny. i like that he and leona played chess for like hours or whatever in that one birthday vignette but i forget which one lol i think it was idia's union bday or something

do i have more to say. ive been thinking about them for hours and also years. i can and will talk about them forever i think they are So funny. this is just a messy summary of it all i'm barely scratching the surface i simply cannot go into full detail or this post will Never End GOODBYE!!!!

[joshdonnas]

do you have any j/d fic recs? :D

Absolutely!! This fandom is really blessed with some of the best writers I've seen, so there's a lot of really good content out there to read, but I'll list some of my favorites under the cut ☺️

FAVORITE AUTHORS 💛

I thought I'd start by listing some of my authors, I’ll also be listing some of my personal favorite fics from theirs down bellow, but any of their works are totally worth the read: 

jessbakescakes | sam_writes_fics | BeneathAnOrangeSky | thotsandfeelings | littlefoolswritings | thefinestmuffins | joshatella (shuuuliet) | hanyolo | flowersinapril | spooky_spacegirl | hufflepuffhermione | mikaylawrites

FAVORITE FICS (in no particular order) 💛

running, by andyoureturntome (work in progress, rated M): "Matt Santos is running for president. Josh and Donna are just running away. Augmented canon for seasons six and seven. Ventures into AU territory from 6x18 on." (when I say this is one of my favorite fics ever you have no idea how much I mean it. it’s honestly so good, a must read in my opinion. it’s still in progress, and it’s not updated very frequently , but it’s still so so worth it (here’s to hoping we’ll get a next chapter soon!!).

the other side of the door, by sam_writes_fics (finished, rated M): "Donna wanders out of the bathroom, baffled by how late it is for the hundredth night in a row, and she drapes her coat over a chair before moving to plug in her cell phone. The blinking light catches her attention, and she flips it open. One missed call. From Josh. Perfect. Post-ep for 7x13: The Cold." (I honestly read this one every time I watch the cold)

say you’ll never let them tear us apart, by hanyolo (finished, rated M): "what would it be like in the santos era for josh and donna to get media coverage as a couple?"

love grows (where my donnatella goes), by sam_writes_fics (finished, rated T): "the first year of the santos administration in four parts"

how i love the view when i'm beside you, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated E): "Josh and Donna on Valentine's Day; Chiefs of Staff era J/D"

cutting me open then healing me fine, by hufflepuffhermione (finished, rated T): "Josh and Donna are in the press room when it gets shot at, and the trajectory of a bullet changes the trajectory of their lives. Evidence of Things Not Seen AU."

there ain’t no need to go outside, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated E): "A lazy, rainy morning at home."

even cnn is wrong, sometimes, by BeneathAnOrangeSky (finished, rated M): "She snakes her hand between them, high instead of low, wrapping it around his bowtie. Starts to pull. And it’s this that snaps him out of it. Because Josh Lyman isn’t a press secretary and he isn’t a communications director and he isn’t Sam or Toby and he sure as hell isn’t Will, but he’s spent enough time around enough writers to appreciate the art of analogy (at the end of the night you wanna be able to pull it open like tony bennett), to recognize symmetry (donna? my tie’s falling apart), to understand that codas don’t exist merely in cello suites or stump speeches; that life makes space for sartorial bookends, too. Like bowties being tied, then untied." (utterly obsessed with the way this author writes)

gather ye rosebuds, by thefinestmuffins (finished, rated E): "A one and done smutshot, canon-divergent from 20 Hours in LA, in which Josh realizes where his rosebuds are and goes back to his hotel room to gather them."

we've been living on a fault line, by sam_writes_fics (finished, rated T): "6x02: Josh spends five days at Camp David, and every night all he thinks about is Donna."

burning slowly, my one and only, by thotsandfeelings (finished, rated T): "I can't stop thinking about you."

sacred new beginnings, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated G): " But now, he doesn’t need her anymore – or he shouldn’t, anyway. So she’ll go back to her apartment, and he’ll go back to work, and things will go back to normal, whatever the hell that means. There’s something about that idea that makes his stomach churn."

an act of charity, by thatTWWgirl (finished, rated T): "A date with the White House Deputy Chief of Staff is put up for auction at the First Lady's fundraiser, and he's not too happy about it."

domestic days, by spooky_spacegirl (finished, rated G): "One day Josh and Donna look around and realize that, somewhere along the line, they have slipped into something that can only be described as Domesticated. One-Shot collection. Post-Canon." (so so so cute, never fails to bring a smile to my face)

this is the wonder (that's keeping the stars apart), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (work in progress, rated T): "A soulmate AU".

I want It all or nothing, no more in between, by scarmophogoghs (finished, rated E): "Want to go to Hawai'i? With me? Please?” (huuuge Hawaii fit we all cheered)

stuck with nowhere to go, by littlefoolswritings (finished, rated E): "what if it was only Josh and Donna who'd been left behind by the motorcade? just the two of them?)" (I love this one my god)

a pathological avoidance thing, by yanak324 (finished, rated M): "Josh isn’t sure what to make of the lack of surprise on the President-elect’s face when he explains why he’s taking time off. He has bigger fish to fry though." (this one is from Josh's POV, and this one is from Donna's!)

when a woman loves a man (who loves a woman), by BeneathAnOrangeSky (finished, rated M): "“You’re sensitive. It’s sweet.” She bites back a smile at the image she’s evoked. Everyone thinks they know the real Josh Lyman. Bartlet’s bulldog, political wunderkind, the man behind Washington’s curtain. But they don’t know him like this. She brushes a sweaty tangle of hair from his forehead and pretends not to notice when he leans into her touch. No, this side of him is reserved just for her. His mouth opens in surprise, voice pitching up a notch, “I am n—” “Your system,” she amends. “Your system is sensitive.”"

of the united states, by violet_storms (finished, rated G): "Fifty states, fifty sentences, fifty snapshots of Josh and Donna falling in love on the campaign trail."

on the line, by hufflepuffhermione (finished, rated G): "Josh and Donna and a pathological inability to hang up the phone."

you can run (but only so far), by swancharmings (finished, rated M): "The room is quaint, if a bit tacky, one sad sprig of holly greeting them at the door. A fine representation of how she feels this Christmas."

love is the only thing, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated T): "The Moss-Lyman girls read Little Women; Josh has a lot of feelings."

it was like autumn, looking at her, by cmbing (finished, rated T): "His eyelids flutter open, gentler than usual. Blearily, he catches the alarm clock blinking a red 7:48 a.m. If this were five years ago, he would already be on his third cup of coffee. If this were five months ago, he never would have made it to bed in the first place. But it’s now—and he wraps his arm tighter around Donna’s waist."

it's paradise as long as I'm with you, by thotsandfeelings (finished, rated E): "Hawaii."

only bought this dress so you could take it off, by hanyolo (finished, rated M): "josh has a thing for donna in red (as he should)"

nothing that i wouldn't do (to make you feel my love), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "Josh re-arranges his priorities. A Gaza hospital fix-it fic." (I'm always thinking about this one)

hell was the journey but it brought me heaven, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated T): "On the drive, it starts to hit him. Leah was born on the anniversary of the Rosslyn shooting. What would this mean for him? Leah deserved a father who wouldn’t be absolutely miserable on his daughter’s birthday every year. Of course, he’d love to think that her birth could erase all of the negative feelings he’s ever had toward this day, that it could make all of the anxiety and trauma melt away. But if he couldn’t pull it together on the day she was born, the day she came into the world, what evidence does he have to support the idea that next year will be better? Or the year after that?"

there ain’t no need to go outside, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated E): "A lazy, rainy morning at home."

how to say I love you in subtext, by RhapsodyInProgress (finished, rated T): "If you know where to look and what to listen for, Josh and Donna have been telling each other how they feel for years. A series of vignettes on a theme."

annus primus, by hufflepuffhermione (finished, rated T): "The first year of the Santos administration, in twelve movements."

sit with you in the trenches, by swancharmings (finished, rated T): "”So you’ve got health and strength.” “And we’ll steal the rest?” “Bet your ass.” // Four ways they did exactly that."

oversight, by thefinestmuffins (finished, rated E): "War Crimes angst + hooking up" (a MUST read!!!)

can't call you a stranger (but i can't call you), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "King Corn. The elevator gets stuck."

for a long time, by onelargecoffeepls (finished, rated M): "Seven short glimpses into Donna falling in love with Josh based on "Love You For A Long Time" by Maggie Rogers."

this is how mythology is written (or: shards; scars; and whole again), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "The mosaic of Josh and Donna." (GOD this one!!!)

where the lovelight gleams, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated E): "Donna brings Josh home for Christmas and has some thoughts about him in a holiday sweater; takes place during Transition" (OBSESSED!!!)

the way old friends do, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated T): "Donna, Toby, Charlie, and the chaotic people they love."

the first 100 days, by BimadaBomily (finished, rated T): "100 moments in Josh/Donna's relationship during the first 100 days of the Santos Administration."

like we were in paris (we were somewhere else), by BeneathAnOrangeSky (work in progress, rated M): "Josh, Donna, and the worlds they transform together // or: an ode to Paris (Taylor's Version)" (again, the way this author writes??!!?!)

find ourselves in the winter snow, by swancharmings (finished, rated E): "It’s when he leads her to dance, holding her impossibly close and swaying gently through the upbeat tempo, that she truly doesn’t know what to expect of the evening."

please linger near the door, by cmbing (finished, rated T): "They’re definitely not dating when there is a presidential dinner and they don’t think to invite dates. Instead, they assume they’ll go with each other. Him in a black tux, her in a red dress. Their arms are interlocked as they enter the ballroom, and Donna even goads Josh into dancing with her. It’s friendly, nothing more. They’re just having sex. That’s it."

with one hello, I'll never be the same, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated T): "Josh and Donna and how 'hi' means so much more than 'hello'."

all you ever wanted from me (was sweet nothin'), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "Donna hadn’t had a nightmare about her ex since she started dating Josh, since well before she moved in with Josh after their week in Hawaii, since her life became better than it ever has been, since she became happier than she ever thought that she could be. Which is probably why she’s so shaken when the nightmare returns. Set post-series, in the Santos CoS era." (soooo sweet)

AUs 💛

i like shiny things (but i'd marry you with paper rings), by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated T): "In the aftermath of the First Lady's birthday party, Josh, Donna, and the rest of the Senior Staff deal with the fallout of Donna's realization that she's no longer a U.S. Citizen. CJ, Sam, and Toby have taken it upon themselves to get this figured out, and it’s a good thing, because Josh’s brain can only present him with one solution: Marry Donna Moss."

my days now end as they began (with thoughts of you), by flowersinapril (work in progress, rated T): "A new neighbour moves in next door to Josh and she isn't happy with how loud and chaotic he is." (can't wait for the next chapter of this one!!!)

sometimes it's like you grew up down the street, by starsontheceiling (finished, rated G): "Afterwards, he’ll say he did it without thinking and all their friends will laugh at him in disbelief, and he understands why but it’s still true."

you came like a resolution (under a starry sky), by JessBakesCakes (work in progress, rated G): "Donna, this is my brother, Josh. Josh, this is Donna. She lives across the hall"

an everlasting love, by sam_writes_fics (work in progress, rated T): "best man and maid of honor au" (has not been updated in a while but I love the idea of this pic so so much and I think about constantly)

think i missed the gun at the starting line, by ansatz (finished, rated T): "After qualifying for the Olympics in 2016, but being unable to compete due to an injury, Donna Moss is back, ready to run, and completely focused on earning a medal for Team Canada. Enter Josh Lyman, reigning Olympic champion with a heart of—you guessed it—gold. Two countries, two sports: one chance to fall in love?"

what if i told you, i feel like i know you? but we never met., by donnatellamoss (finished, rated G): "Donna Moss meets an unfamiliar face when she knocks on Sam Seaborn’s door for their English project. His name’s Josh Lyman and he’s good at bothering people."

absolutely smitten (never let you go), by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated G): "Josh feels all the air whoosh out of his lungs when he sees the teacher standing on the other side of the door. She looks at the group standing outside her door, puzzled for a moment, until her blue eyes lock with Josh’s. Her blonde hair is tucked neatly behind her ears, and pumpkin earrings dangle from her earlobes. She’s wearing a copper-colored fall sweater, adorned with leaves around the collar that match her bulletin board. Her ID badge dangles from her neck, one of those ink pens in a bright, funky color clipped to her lanyard.  “Miss Moss,” CJ says. “This is Mr. Lyman from the high school."" (always thinking about this one honestly I need more!!!)

the campaign around the corner, orphan_account (finished, rated G): "Donna Moss is working for Howard Stackhouse's presidential campaign in 1998. Josh Lyman is working for Jed Bartlet's presidential campaign in 1998. The two cannot stand each other. Little do they know the person each of them is beginning to fall in love with over email is the other." (you've got mail au!!!!!!!!!!)

everybody talks (it started with a whisper), by JessBakesCakes (work in progress, rated G): "Being the White House Press Secretary, Josh realizes, is one of the toughest jobs in the administration to begin with. But with her co-workers' propensity for going viral, CJ certainly deserves a raise. The West Wing, set 20 years later." (soooo obsessed with this one MY GOD)

darling, so it goes (some things are meant to be), by mikaylawrites (finished, rated M): "The story of rising country singers Josh Lyman and Donna Moss." (so good!!!)

ballerina, you've must have seen her, by thababes (work in progress, rated G): "It was always supposed to have been Josh and Mandy. After their successful run of Carmen, it had been expected that The Washington Ballet would stick to what worked. There was never supposed to be another audition. Company principles seemingly traveling from role to role was the usual. It had been an unusual season — schedule conflicts and last minute alternate class partners — and suddenly, everything seemed to have changed. And it had all started when he had danced with her." (I think about this one constantly)

[gretavangroupie]

Errant

Word count: 16.0k

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Fighting, Name Calling, Toxic Themes and Behavior, Allusions to Cheating, Jealousy, Anger, Gaslighting. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Oral F!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Degradation, Slight Masochism, Slight Humiliation Kink, Spanking, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex. Fluff.

A/N: Hey! Welcome back for the third installment of the four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my best pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We've had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy Josh's story! This may not be everyones cup of tea, so make sure you read the warnings! There's only one left now, and we can't wait to share Jake's story with you! See you real soon!

JOSH POV

You sit on the exam table, gently swinging your feet as the doctor scribbles on his prescription pad. The paper underneath you crinkles, your clammy hands getting stuck to it. 

“It’s looking like the perforation is healing, but I’m going to give you some antibiotics and ear drops. You’ll take the antibiotics for 10 days and the drops for 5.” He tears off the prescription and hands it to you. “Just be sure you aren’t drinking and you avoid getting any water in or around your ears.”

You scrunch up your nose when you hear the pointed reminder not to drink. 

“Thank you, doc. I’ll be on my best behavior.” You joke, hopping down from the table. Your sneakers squeak as you stick the landing. 

Navigating through the back halls of the ENT practice, you follow the signs that direct you to the check-out. It’s eerily quiet as you walk through the waiting room and out of the front doors. The sun nearly blinds you when you get outside, so you lift your hand to block it out while you search for your girlfriend’s car. 

Spotting her a few rows into the parking lot, you walk in her direction, knocking softly on the window once you’re close enough. She unlocks the door and you slip inside, the car next to her parked a little too close. She sighs, shifting from park to drive while you buckle your seatbelt.

“How was it?” she asks, her enthusiasm lacking. You look over at her as she cranes her neck to check that the way is clear before she pulls out of her parking spot.

“Well, it was fine.” You take a deep breath before continuing. “I have to take antibiotics and put in ear drops for a few days, so you might have to help me with that. I can keep taking the pain meds that the doctor I originally saw prescribed, but the pain should subside as I heal.” 

She nods, keeping the radio volume low. The only time she doesn’t sing in the car is when she’s upset, and you know the song currently playing is one of her favorites. So, you seal your fate and ask the dreaded question in every relationship.

“What’s wrong?” 

She huffs and thinks for a moment before she answers. 

“You know it’s Valentine’s day, right?” 

“Oh. Yeah, I guess it is.” You’ve never put much stock in the holiday and you didn’t think she did either. The last two years, you hadn’t ever done more than get her some flowers or chocolates delivered, mostly because you weren’t around.

“I just… I don’t know, it’s the first one we’ve been able to spend together and we’re spending the day going to the doctor and the pharmacy…”

“Oh, so you’re mad that you had to bring me to the doctor?” you ask, a little defensive now. 

“That’s not what I’m saying, Josh. I’m just saying I wish we were doing more than running errands.” She speaks curtly to you, and honestly, it’s a little condescending.

“It’s a made up holiday anyway. I’ve never bought into all the hearts and candy and bullshit. I didn’t think you did either.” You rest your head on your hand, looking out the window as she drives a little too fast down the freeway.

“It’s not about that. You’re not getting it.” she snaps, her tone whiny and frustrated.

“Listen. I had my assistant send you chocolate covered strawberries to your office. I don’t really know what else you want from me.” you bite back. You’ve had enough of this argument and want to be home already so you can take something for your pain and try to get some rest. 

“I didn’t even know that, seeing as I had to call out and use a sick day to take you to the doctor.” she says, and you feel your scalp get hot, your temper flaring.

“So you are mad you had to bring me to the doctor.” 

“I just don’t understand what a ruptured eardrum has to do with driving!” she says, her voice raising a bit. “You didn’t take your pain meds this morning so you technically would have been fine to drive… I just don’t appreciate that I had to use my PTO on Valentine’s day and all I’m doing is driving Miss Daisy.” 

“I don’t know if you realize this, but I’m in a lot of fucking pain.” you grit out, and she scoffs a laugh.

“Yeah. I’ve heard.” 

You know you’re about to lose it, so you close your eyes for a moment, gathering your composure. Unfortunately, she just keeps going.

“I thought I was going to spend my Valentine’s day getting bitten and scratched by your brother’s awful fucking cat, but now that you’re all home, I get to spend my evening dealing with you while you’re miserable and in pain, and I’m not sure which is worse.” 

“You act like I’m home on some vacation… I have a work function tomorrow even if I’m not out at the shows, so–”

“Are you kidding me?! You somehow have MORE obligations now that you’re home? I guess I’m the fool for thinking we would have more than a few hours to spend together.” She cuts the wheel and turns sharply into your driveway. You grab the handle of the door and grumble under your breath at the way she’s driving like a maniac.

“Look, it’s not like I asked to go. Jake and Danny did the last one, so now Sam and I are stuck going tomorrow. It’s supposed to be nice. It’s a fancy thing, dinner and drinks. I figured you would be my date.” 

You watch her turn off the car and think for a moment, the word “date” appealing to her a little bit, which is exactly what you had hoped.

“Come on. I missed you and I feel like shit and you’re… you’re all prickly. Can’t we just have a nice night in? I’ll make it up to you. I just want to take a nap.”

She seems to be thinking about it as she gets out of the car. You unbuckle your seatbelt and follow suit, walking around to her side and reaching for her hand. Tugging her closer, you wrap your other arm around her shoulders and kiss her on the side of her head with some force. 

“Okay, okay…” she relents, leaning in to you. 

“I love you. You’re still my Valentine, right?” you ask, nuzzling your nose into her hair and squeezing her tighter. It works up a little giggle out of her, which means you’re in the clear. 

“I guess so. You didn’t even ask me.” 

You squeeze her again, this time digging your fingertips into her sides to tickle another laugh out of her. 

“It was on the card that came with the strawberries, obviously.” you quip, peppering her cheek and neck in kisses while she continues to soften up. 

“Oh, get out of here. Go take your damn nap.” she says with a smile, turning you by the shoulders towards the house and pushing gently. 

—

HER POV

You hear the soft padding of feet upstairs and the whip of the flat sheet as your bed is remade, pulling your attention away from your computer screen as you send off emails. The sun is set now, the room cast in darkness, and you figure Josh has slept off the fatigue that was a result of his medications. You gently close your computer, setting it next to you on the couch as you hear his feet walking slowly down the stairs. You turn to lay eyes on him, looking a little worse for wear in his low slung joggers, but still glowing as usual. 

“Hey baby, you feel any better?” you ask, resting your chin on the back of the fluffy leather couch cushion. 

“No. Not really, but it’s fine.” he pauses, reaching the landing and walking up to the back of the couch. He pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the time, “You want to get ready, we can go grab dinner?” he asks, running a hand over his messy curls. 

“I would love to, but are you sure you want to?” you ask, a little surprised that he actually wants to go out. 

“Yeah, I have to eat with these antibiotics.” he says, pushing off the couch, and heading into the kitchen. “How long do you need to get ready?”

“Um, I don’t know, twenty minutes or so?” you answer, standing quickly and grabbing your phone from the coffee table. 

“Alright, I’ll be up there to change in a minute.”

You take the stairs two at a time, rounding the corner into your bedroom, and dashing into the closet. You finger through your hangers searching for the perfect outfit, the idea not occurring to you that you’d need one since he wasn’t even supposed to be home for Valentine’s day this year. 

You pull a dark burgundy top from the hanger, the thick sweater material perfect for the cold snap that has swept over Nashville this week. You pull your t-shirt over your head and put it on while reaching for a pair of dark wash jeans. After shimmying into the denim pants, you find a pair of heels, kicking off your socks and securing the buckle at your ankle. 

You make a mad dash into the bathroom, doing a quick version of your normal make up and running a curling iron through your hair. You’re spraying your wrist with his favorite perfume just as you see him walk past the bathroom door and into the closet. You can hear him changing clothes, grabbing his coat and pulling it over his arms as he steps into the bathroom and meets your gaze in the mirror. 

“Wow, uh, you know it’s freezing out, right? Actually, colder than freezing.” he says, adjusting his sleeves. 

“Yeah, I’ll grab my coat from the closet down stairs, no big deal.” you answer, walking towards him and shutting off the bathroom light. 

“You sure you want to wear heels?” he asks, as he ushers you downstairs, a lilt in his voice.

You open the coat closet, grabbing your jacket and pulling it over your arms. “Yeah, why not?”

He throws his hands up, “Just asking…”

You grab your purse from the kitchen counter, following his lead out to the car. He makes a point to open your car door, shutting it behind you before skittering across the front of the car to join you. 

With the turn of his keys, his Jeep roars to life, his fingers quickly pressing the buttons to turn on the heat. He puts the car in reverse, backing up enough to turn around in the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath his tires. He lays his hand over top of yours on your thigh, clasping your hand in his. He licks over his lips and turns to look at you. 

“Hey,” he pauses, waiting until he has your attention. You let your eyes meet his, before he refocuses on the road. “I’m sorry about earlier… I just have a short fuse when I’m in pain. Thank you for taking me today, and thanks for taking care of me.”

“Oh, it’s– it’s okay, I know you don’t feel good. Don’t worry about it, baby. We’re here now, right?” you say, offering him a lopsided smile.

He pats your thigh as he drives down the road, leading you into town as he mouths the words to the songs playing through the speakers. Your heart flutters as you look at him, your head tilting back to rest on the headrest, just happy to be with him, and happy that he changed his mind about doing something tonight. 

You’re quickly pulled from your daydreams as he whips the car into the parking lot of Phil’s Tavern, a local spot that is not exactly known for its phenomenal cuisine, sitting a whopping 5 minutes away from your home. You sit up a little straighter, making sure you’re seeing this right, and that he really is parking the car. 

“Phil’s…” you question, turning to look at him. 

“...Yeah? Did you want something else…?” he asks, as if annoyed you’d question his decision.

“You said– You– I thought we were going to dinner, not picking up sandwiches from the fucking neighborhood bar?!” you shout. 

“I’m not getting a sandwich. I’m getting soup. You can get whatever you want.” he says, pulling his keys from the ignition, and opening his door. 

A huff leaves your mouth as your jaw hangs slack, watching in shock as he shuts the door behind himself and makes his way to yours. He opens yours and offers you a hand to step down, but you’re still sitting in shock that this is his idea of a romantic Valentine’s day date. 

“Josh…” you admonish, looking down at your heels and sweater. 

“What? I asked you if you wanted to wear that and you said yes!” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah! I didn’t think we were going to fucking Phil’s, Josh! It’s Valentine’s Day! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there aren’t a lot of cars in the parking lot?!”

He clicks his tongue, and looks around. “Perfect, then we have the place to ourselves.”

Your eyes close on their own and you take a deep breath to keep yourself from having a meltdown. You grab your purse from the floorboard and grab his hand, stepping out of the car and snatching it away from him as soon as your feet hit the gravel.

He shuts the door behind you and locks the car, the two of you walking quickly into the dimly lit bar and grill. You walk up to the counter to order, watching as the bartender throws back a shot with the guys at the end of the bar. You catch his attention and he rushes over to the order counter pulling a pen out of his pocket. “What can I get ‘cha?”

“Hey man, can we uh– I’ll take the soup of the day, whatever it is is fine.” 

“It’s ahh, it’s Chicken Tortilla.” he answers. 

“Yeah, that’s great, thanks.” he answers, pulling his wallet from his pocket. “Babe?” he murmurs, wanting you to order. 

“Okay, I’ll do a Cuban, extra pickles.” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He nods, “Outta Cuban bread, sorry sweets.” 

“Okay I’ll do the Italian then.” you concede, watching him scribble it down on the notepad.

“You want that hot or cold?” he asks. 

“Hot.”

“Think our press is down, but I can check.” he says, turning to shout towards the kitchen.

“It’s down, is cold fine?” he asks, him and Josh both staring at you. 

“Fuck.” you mutter under your breath. “Yes, fine.”

“$17.97.” he says, ringing the service bell for the staff. Josh swipes his card through the card reader and puts it back into his wallet, placing it back in his pocket before thanking the man at the counter. 

“Oh shit, I didn’t tell him it’s to go. You don’t care if we take it home, right? It’s a little loud in here.” he doesn't give you a chance to answer before stepping back up to the window.

You pull your phone from your purse, opening Instagram to mindlessly scroll while you wait for your food, seeing story after story of the dates your friends are on, fueling your rage all the more. You didn’t care that you weren’t at a fancy restaurant. You didn’t care that you were having a sandwich. You cared that he seemingly didn’t care about how you were feeling. That it was just any other old day to him, simply because he didn’t subscribe to the holiday. But that didn’t mean you didn’t. You tried to see the bright side, that he was home, and that you were at least together, even if he was in a sour mood.

He steps back over to you, pulling his own phone from his pocket and sending a few texts. You can’t help but notice how carefree he is, completely unbothered and oblivious to how you’re feeling as you stand right next to him.  

“You wanna watch a movie or something when we get back?” he asks, putting his phone in his jacket pocket. 

“What movie?” you ask, raising a brow.

“I don’t know, a documentary? We can find something, I’ll probably fall asleep watching it anyways.”

You huff out a laugh, “Of course. Yeah, whatever you want Josh.”

“What’s your deal tonight, Y/N, Jesus…”

You feel your blood boiling beneath your skin and just as you are about to unleash, the order bell rings and a brown paper bag is placed on the counter. Josh steps up and grabs it, pulling his car keys from his pocket and heading for the door, leaving you to follow behind him.

—

He pulls into the driveway rapidly, rocks flying as he throws the car into park. Shutting off the engine he pulls his keys from the ignition and grabs the brown paper bag from the center console. “Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll start the fireplace.”

You huff as you step out of the car, making your way up the walkway, pulling the sleeves of your coat over your hands. He unlocks the front door and places the to-go bag on the kitchen counter on his way to the living room.  

You take off your coat and hang it in the closet, pulling your foot up to release the buckles of your heels, letting you drop back down to your normal height. You can hear him mumbling in the living room, clearly having a hard time getting the fire lit. You walk into the kitchen grabbing a bottle of red wine off the top of the fridge, and searching around the junk drawer for the corkscrew. It’s no time at all before you’re popping the cork out of the bottle and pouring the Merlot into a bulbous green colored wine glass. 

He joins you in the kitchen, washing his hands in the sink before looking over at you, starting to take the first sip of your wine. “Really? You’re serious…”

“Serious, what? About this glass of wine? Yeah, I am.” you quip, swallowing down the first sip.

“You’re really gonna drink my favorite wine, right in front of me when you know I can’t have any? What are you playing at tonight, Y/N?” he seethes, pulling his plastic container of soup from the bag.

“What am I playing at? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that just because you can’t drink, meant that I had to follow suit! My mistake!” you shout, setting the glass down on the marble countertop maybe a little more forcefully than you should have. 

He shakes his head trying to rid the nasty thoughts you know are swirling around up there as he pulls a spoon from the utensil drawer. “Whatever, I’m gonna take this to the couch.”

You grab a plate from the cabinet in front of you, unwrapping your sandwich and placing it on the plate. You look over and see him tinkering with the TV remote, no doubt queueing up something the two of you have watched, studied, and rewatched a hundred times. You grab your wine glass and your plate and join him in the living room, setting your items on the coffee table before sitting at the opposite end of the couch. 

The tension in the air is thick, neither of you wanting to say anything for fear of it turning into yet another argument. So instead, he presses play on the remote, and as suspected, ‘Kubrick by Kubrick’ begins to play for the 77th time in this household.

“Josh, really…” you whine, your shoulders slumping in defeat. 

“I don’t want to get too invested in anything, I’m gonna pass out as soon as I finish this soup.” he answers, turning up the volume to effectively silence you.  

“Can’t we watch something, I don’t know… With a plot? With a shred of romance? That we haven’t seen a hundred times?” you barter, talking over the intro music.

“Can’t you just let me enjoy being home for once?” he snaps, pressing pause on the remote.

Your eyes dial in on his, and almost poetically, you’re positive he can see the reflection of the flames in the fireplace dancing across your infuriated eyes.

“For once…” you breathe, biting your tongue.  “Sure, sure. You uh– you just enjoy yourself, okay? I would hate to ruin your time at home with my presence.” you say, standing up from the couch with your wine glass in hand, leaving your sandwich laying there as you bound up the stairs. 

Before you even reach the top you hear the music blare back to life, and the slurping of the soup from his spoon. If you had a bedroom door you would slam it but fucking of course, you don’t.

You place your wine glass on your nightstand before walking into your closet ridding yourself of the wasted outfit. You pull a slinky black satin slip from your pajama drawer, dropping it over your bare body before padding back out to the bedroom to close the curtains. 

You draw back the fluffy flax colored duvet, thinking of nothing but positively melting into your olive green linen sheets; a Christmas splurge the two of you decided you couldn’t live without. Sinking down into the feather pillows you let out a sigh, finding yourself exactly where you expected to be tonight, before you ever knew Josh was coming home for a few days.

You settle in with your glass of wine and your kindle, reading love stories of men, who at this point, you were sure didn’t really exist. An hour or so later, when the wine was long gone, and the house had grown quiet you heard the front door lock, and the flick of the light switches downstairs. You switched off your lamp, hoping to avoid any further conversation for the night, placing your tablet on the nightstand and pulling the sheets up over your shoulders. 

His footfall is light as he pads up the wooden stairs, rounding the corner hesitantly as he catches sight of you in the bed. He slides his hand down the wall as he enters the room, walking quietly into the bathroom and shutting the door. You can hear the sink running and the sound of him tossing his clothes into the hamper as you close your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep.

It’s not long until you hear the door open and feel the dip in the bed as he slides in behind you, a  gentle sigh leaving his lips as he sinks into the sheets. You feel the brush of his knuckles as they glide up your spine. “I know you’re not asleep, my love…”

Knowing you’re caught, you turn softly to your back, “No, you don’t know. I could have been.”

A soft smile forms on his lips, a few misplaced curls falling over his forehead, “Not true. I know you fall asleep with your arms over your head every single night. And in the middle of the bed. You never sleep on your side of the bed.”

“Well maybe I want to tonight.” you quip, rolling back to your side and repositioning the sheets.

“Come on baby, don’t be like that.” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist. He pulls you towards him, his obviously nude body conforming to yours. You can feel him, hard against your back and you push away from him. 

“Josh…” you scold. 

“What, baby…” he asks, running his hand along the curve of your waist. “I miss you…”

“You didn’t an hour ago!” you sneer.

“Yes I did! I miss you all the time! Every single day I’m away from you. That’s why you moved in, remember? So I could spend every day with you when I’m home?” he pauses, “Every night like this?”

“Josh, I just– Tonight was… Well the entire day, really, was rough. I’m not exactly in a romantic mood at the moment.” you answer.

“Well that’s okay, you can just blow me instead.” he says, more of a demand than a question, his lips brushing against your shoulder. 

“Oh can I?! How generous of you to offer that to me! What a privilege!” you mock. “You really have earned it, I can’t believe I didn’t think of this myself!” you scorn, reaching for his hand and shoving it towards his dick. “Try that instead!”

“Goddamn you’re being such a bitch!” he seethes, throwing the duvet off of himself and snatching his phone from the nightstand. 

“Yeah! Happy Valentine’s day to you too, Josh!” you spit one last time as you watch him pull on a pair of boxers. He smooths his hand over his face and runs his tongue under his lips, looking at you one more time before stomping his way down the stairs. 

—

JOSH POV

It took you approximately fourteen seconds after you said it to know you fucked up. It took you two more seconds to realize there was no coming back from it, at least that’s what you deduced as you tossed and turned on the living room couch all night. You spent those sleepless hours racking your brain for ways you could fix this. You were a dick, admittedly, in pain or not, and she in no way deserved the way you treated her.

You pulled your sore body up from the couch, tossing the throw blanket over the arm as you made your way up the stairs. She was still sleeping, sprawled across the middle of the bed with your pillow hugged to her face. You wished you could take back what you said. You wished you had taken her somewhere nicer than Phil’s. You should have known that when you saw her in heels and smelled your favorite perfume. She dressed up for you. But you couldn’t see past your own selfish needs. You only cared about yourself and what you wanted. 

You kicked yourself the entire time you spent under the spray of the shower, knowing that of the three sporadic days you would spend at home with her, you’d let one go completely to shit. Then tonight, you’d spend the whole night schmoozing with label executives, where she would willingly stand in your shadow until it was time to go home. 

Unless…

A smile spread across your face as you formulated your plan, and as you shut off the water and wrapped a towel around your waist you hoped and prayed it would work. 

—

You rap your knuckles against the old wooden front door, peeking through the glass to see if there is any movement inside. It’s nearly noon and you know he’s in there, but whether or not he’s awake is the question. You shove your hands into your pockets, the cold air whipping through the porch a little too harshly for your liking. 

You hear his footsteps bounding down the stairs and you see him appear through the glass, a strange look on his face as he opens the door. 

“If you’re on my doorstep, you want something that a text wouldn’t cover.” he says, raising a brow.

“Can I not come visit my twin?” you ask, pushing past him into his warm house.

“No, I think your last words to me when we left the airport were ‘Fuck off, don’t call me, I’ll see you in three days’, but I could be mistaken.” he says, shutting the front door. 

“Listen…” you counter, flopping yourself down onto his couch with a huff.

He stands across the living room with his hands on his hips and a small smile on his lips. There’s something different about him, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Almost like a little bit of life has been breathed into him. 

“Why do you look different…” you ask, the intrusive thought pushing through.

“I don’t.” he says, putting his hands on his hips. His eyes flick up to the window behind you, before looking back at you. 

You cut your eyes at him, you can tell he’s not telling the truth but you let it go because you have more important issues to deal with. 

“I need a favor.” you say, cutting right to the chase. 

He raises his eyebrows signaling for you to continue. 

“I need you to go to this event tonight in my place, I–”

“No.” he shouts, cutting you off. 

“Jake, please. Y/N and I got in a huge fight and I have to make it up to her and I can’t if I have to go to this fucking thing tonight.” you explain, giving him the shortened version. 

“No. Actually, my answer is not only no, but fuck no.” Jake stood with his arms crossed across his chest. You let your head flop back onto his couch, a groan leaving your chest. 

“You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t fucking dire.” You plead. “I fucked up, and I have to make it right. Please Jake…”

“Jesus Christ, it’s Thanksgiving all over again. You know Josh, if you and Y/N didn’t fight like this every other day, I might be more willing to consider it. One day you’re gonna fuck around and lose her for good.” he says, shaking his head and rubbing his hand over his chin. “Hold on, you two fought on Valentine’s day? Fuckin’ poetic. What did you do, buy the wrong flowers? The wrong chocolates?”

“No, I… Didn’t get her flowers.” you mumble, hoping he didn’t hear you. 

“Okay, so no flowers. Did you take her out to dinner or something?” he asks, tilting his head.

“No, I mean, well, kind of.” you mumble again. “Didn’t really think about it.”

“Where did you take her Josh.” he demands, crossing his arms again. 

“We went to Phil’s…And got…To-go…” you answer, realizing again as you say it out loud how bad it sounds. 

“The fucking sandwich place Josh, you’re kidding me…” he spits, starting to pace around the room. 

“Don’t act all high and mighty Jacob, you sat home alone...” you retort, knowing this isn’t helping your case.

He lifts his finger to you, pointing at you with a scowl, “Fuck you. Also, it sounds like she was justified. Didn’t she take you to the doctor yesterday? Hasn’t she been catering to your ass since we’ve been back?”

“Yeah.” you answer. 

“And you didn’t plan a single thing at all…” he confirms. 

“Correct.” you say, over enunciating the ‘T’.

“Asshole.”

“Okay, so you agree, I fucked up and need to fix this.” you say, gesturing with your hands. “So go to the event tonight in my place and let me smooth things over with Y/N tonight.”

“Sorry, but I can’t. I have plans.” he answers, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Plans?! With who? You don’t leave your house!” you shout, seeing a blur of black fur and claws tear across the living room. “Jesus, I always forget you have that thing.”

“Yeah, I’m not keeping it.” he says, shaking his head. “And it’s none of your business. You’re going to that event. The label doesn’t care if you’re in a fight with your girlfriend. They are expecting you, and you are who they’re gonna get. Plus, Sam will be there so you don’t have to do all the talking. Take her with you, lay it on thick, and take her home. Things will blow over like they always do and you’ll be back to your 2AM facetime gushy bullshit in no time.”

“Fuck…” you sigh, laying down across his couch. “I just don’t think it’s gonna go that way. This was a bigger fight than usual.” you say, feeling your phone vibrating in your pocket. You pull it out to see your timer flashing, indicating it is time for your next dose of antibiotics. 

You reach into your other pocket, pulling out the loose pill, and grabbing the glass of water you assume to be Jake’s from the coffee table. You swallow down the pill as he watches in contempt, checking the time on his phone. 

“Do you need anything else?” he asks, pacing around his living room. 

“No. Guess fuckin’ not. What are you getting into today?” you ask, relaxing back into the cushions. 

“I have… some errands to run. And a few other things.” he says, dismissively. 

“Errands and a few other things? Who the fuck are you…” you ask, stretching your legs out on to the coffee table.

“I was about to take a shower, are you staying or going?” he asks, and as you lay your head back on the couch your eyes start to feel heavy.

“Just gonna rest my eyes for a minute.” you answer, getting more comfortable. 

“Goddamnit, Josh… Okay, but you’re leaving when I do.”

—

The sound of the front door closing is what wakes you, and as you come to you see Jake standing in front of you with grocery bags, clearly back from his errands. 

“Well, good morning.” he says, his tone a little snipped. 

“Shit, what time is it?” you ask, pulling your phone from your pocket and checking the time. Fuck. 

“Yeah, time for you to go the fuck home and get ready.” he says, making his way into the kitchen. 

“Alright, I’m outta here, good luck with your… plans…” you smirk, making your way to the door. 

“Don’t need luck, but sounds like you do. Fix it, Josh.” he says, pushing you out the front door and slamming it behind you. 

—

HER POV

As you leave the house, you think back on how many hours it’s been since you spoke to Josh. He popped into the bedroom when he got home and let you know that you had to leave by 6 to get to the event on time, but you don’t really count that as a conversation. You hadn’t actually exchanged words since your argument before bed. 

The two of you sit in complete silence as he drives, the radio turned down so low it’s barely audible. You hold your jacket close around you, unable to shake the chill from the awful cold snap plaguing Nashville. 

As you arrive, Josh quickly gets out of his Jeep, jogging around to your door to open it and offer you a hand to step out. You accept it, begrudgingly, and steady yourself on the asphalt. You opted for smaller heels tonight, a little scorned from the night before. You look at him and see his slightly forced smile under the streetlight. He’s in his favorite brown suit, his hair in perfect curls, three tiny, metallic dots painted on the apples of his cheeks. He looks sinfully good, and if you weren’t so upset with him, you’d kiss him square on the lips.

“I know you don’t want to be here. Just… at least try to smile in the pictures, okay?” He says, a hopeful lilt to his voice. 

You give him a little side-eye before starting to walk towards the front doors of the venue. He catches up with you after locking the car, his hand landing on your upper back as he ushers you into the front door he’s holding open for you.

The two of you wait in line for the coat check, your eyes scanning the lobby for anyone you may know. You don’t recognize anyone, so you shuffle ahead in line and keep your coat pulled tight around you. Once you’re a bit further up in line, almost to the front, you hear a familiar voice. 

“Heeeeey guys!” 

Sam’s arms wrap around both of you from behind, pulling you into a forced group hug. He unintentionally cuts the entire coat check line to stand with you and Josh.

“Hi Sammy,” you mumble, giving him a halfhearted smile. He looks to Josh, who forces a grin, his nose scrunching up in a way that makes it clear to Sam that the two of you aren’t getting along. It’s nothing new to Sam, so he shrugs it off. 

The line moves again and you’re finally at the front. A friendly young girl is standing behind the podium at the entry to the closet, a few guys running back and forth to take coats and put them in their assigned spots. She offers the three of you a smile as she looks down and tears a tab in half. 

“Can I take your coat, sir?” she asks Josh as you start to shrug your own off your shoulders.

“Ohoho, trying to get me out of my clothes, young lady? I just walked in the door!” he says, like he’s some sort of comedian. You roll your eyes so hard you think they may fall out of your head and fold your coat over your arm. She laughs, her cheeks turning pink as she accepts your coat instead. She dutifully hands the coat to the boy behind her, then offers the other half of the ticket up, between you and Josh for either to grab it.

“And now you’re trying to give me your number?” he jokes with a charismatic grin, seeing the number 107 on your ticket. She lets out a shameless giggle at that one and you can’t help but shake your head and walk away, uninterested in hearing any more of his god awful jokes. You arrived in a terrible mood and he’s already managed to make your night worse.

Passing through the entrance to the cocktail hour, you grab a glass of champagne and thank the server. Taking a big sip, you look behind you and see Sam and Josh approaching, Josh talking animatedly with his hands to Sam, but Sam is looking straight ahead. At you. 

His eyes scan over your figure- you’re in a champagne satin mini-dress. The cowl neckline is loose, but the waist pulls in due to the lace-up back. The shimmery color is brought to life under the light right above where you’re standing. Sam isn’t listening to a single word Josh is saying, just nodding and staring at you from a distance as his steps slow. 

It’s then that you cook up a terrible idea, if not the worst you’ve ever had. If Josh wants to treat you like he doesn’t care about you and put more romantic energy into the coat check girl than he’s shown you in days, you may as well give him a taste of his own medicine. Right?

Sam eventually pulls his eyes away from your body, nodding cluelessly at Josh. He can’t help it and looks back at you again, but this time, Josh’s gaze follows his. You sip your champagne, ignoring the way Josh’s eyebrows raise in surprise as his neck cranes forward slightly. You can read his lips as he says, “Jesus Christ.” and look away without giving him a reaction. 

The two of them make their way over to the high top cocktail table you’ve claimed as your own. Josh clears his throat and musters up the courage to speak to you. His voice sounds like it might crack. 

“I’ve never seen that dress. Where’d you get it?” he asks, giving you another once-over now that he’s closer.

“You sent it to me while you were in Paris for my birthday.” you answer dryly. “Or was that your assistant too?” 

He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, realizing he’s just dug himself a little bit deeper. 

“Come to think of it, Josh, have you ever bought me a gift yourself? Or do you just send the people that work for you on errands to ship me fancy baubles to keep me quiet and occupied while you’re away?” 

He steps a little closer to you, lowering his voice. 

“Do we have to do this here?” he pleads. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember. You look beautiful. Okay? Let me go get you a drink. What do you want?” 

You cut your eyes to Sam, who seems to be trying to occupy himself by staring up at the ceiling. Letting out a big sigh, you mumble back a tired, “Champagne,” to Josh. 

He nods and walks off, heading for the bar. In the meantime, you look at Sam, who’s giving you a nervous smile. 

“Sorry. It’s been… a rough few days.” You confess. “This ear thing has turned him into a jackass.” 

“Oh, yeah. He complained the whole way home.” Sam says, commiserating. 

“So it’s not just me?!” You laugh, Sam joining you. 

“No no. Not just you.”

You notice Josh is on his way back and decide to test the waters. Reaching forward, you step closer to Sam and adjust the collar of his shirt under his suit jacket, your touch lingering as you let your hand brush down the front of his chest before tugging his jacket into place and pulling your hands back to yourself. You’re in close proximity, so you look up at him with a little bat of your eyelashes. 

“Oh. Thank you!” He says, a little caught off guard, but he’s Sam, and he’s friendly, and you know he’s going to let you get away with it. 

Josh appears and somehow squeezes his arm between you and Sam, placing your champagne on the table. He’s noticed the mischievous glint in your eye and it’s game on. 

The event starts to pick up, more and more people roping Josh into conversations. It’s obvious that he’s the more recognizable of the two brothers there tonight, so you find yourself left standing with Sam on more than a few occasions. 

“Did you trim your hair?” You ask him, reaching out to twirl the end of his shiny brown locks around your finger. He chuckles softly, feeling a little bashful. Josh is at your side but deep in conversation with a man you’ve never seen in your life.

“Yeeaaaaah, I did, it was getting a little unruly. Just trying to keep it healthy. I’m surprised you noticed.” 

“Of course I noticed, Sammy. Some people may not notice you. But I always do.” Your voice is syrupy sweet. You feel a nudge from the other side of you and Josh is clearly eavesdropping, his brain working overtime as he nods at the gentleman talking his ear off while also listening to you and Sam. Sam doesn’t notice and gives you a soft laugh, shrugging. His cheeks are tinted a little pink. He’s too easy. 

“Why don’t we go find our table for dinner, hm?” Josh suggests, cutting his conversation short, which is just not in his character. You finish your last sip of champagne and leave your glass on the table. 

“You heard him. C’mon, Sammy boy.” 

You reach for his arm, linking it with yours. Josh gives you a look, but you usher him forward with a dismissive gesture. He glowers at you before walking toward the seating chart to see that the three of you are at table six. Sam follows along, his hand in his pocket as you hold on to his forearm. 

You settle into the chair between Sam and Josh. You opt for the chicken when the caterers come around, and both Sam and Josh go for the fish. There are a few speeches that go on before your plates arrive, so you sit politely and listen, Josh’s back to you as the speakers present. Since Sam is behind you, there are a few points where you turn around to laugh with him about something the presenter says. Josh stays facing forward, effectively blocking the two of you out. 

As your plates are delivered, everyone starts to eat, the table occasionally chattering, but it’s mostly quiet as some music plays. 

“How’s the chicken?” Josh asks, trying to make small talk. You take a bite, nodding. 

“Really good. And the fish?” You ask politely, but you don’t really care. 

“Delicious. Do you want a bite?” He asks, gesturing to his plate with his utensils. 

“Oh, no. No thanks.” You reply, turning away. He shrugs and goes back to eating his dinner, sipping his water.

“Do you wanna try a bite of the chicken, Sammy?” You ask, raising your eyebrows. You give him a soft smile as he nods, swallowing his bite.

Cutting a piece, you lift your fork towards Sam and he instinctively opens his mouth. Your other hand comes up under his chin to make sure he doesn’t get any sauce on his jacket. He accepts the bite from your fork and chews, nodding. 

“Oh, that’s really good. I should have gotten that.” He says, talking with his mouth full. It’s then that the stranger next to Sam interjects. 

“How long have you two been together?” She says, a nosey but well meaning woman. Josh nearly chokes on his dinner, pulling his cloth napkin up to his mouth as he coughs. It’s such a distraction that you don’t hear what Sam says to her. 

Once Josh stops coughing, he looks at you with a subtle anger behind his eyes. 

“Can you stop? I get it. You made your point.” Josh grumbles through gritted teeth. You feign innocence, blinking at him with bullshit doe eyes. 

“What point, Josh?” 

“You’re flirting with my brother so blatantly that strangers think you’re dating. What the fuck am I supposed to do, just sit here and let it happen?” 

Sam, realizing tensions are high, starts to stand up. 

“I’m gonna go get some air…” he says, departing from the table like it’s on fire. 

“I’m not flirting with him. I’m just being nice to him. You remember what that is, right? Being nice?” You say with an attitude, tilting your head as you wait for an answer. 

“Cut it out.” He tenses his jaw and his mouth barely moves as he scolds you like you’re some kind of dog. 

“Fuck you, Josh.” You’re not putting up with it for another second, so you push away from the table, grab your drink, and head in the direction Sam went. 

As you sneak through the crowds and the bar lines, you check to see if Josh is following you, but he’s still seated at the table. You see Sam through the glass doors, standing under a tent that’s doing little to nothing to stop the wind, smoking a cigarette. Gently pressing against the push bar, you slip outside and approach him tentatively. 

It’s quiet between the two of you as he gives you a smile that’s more of a grimace, though you know him and know that it’s not his intention. 

“Two wrongs don’t make a right, you know that, right?” He says, giving you a knowing smirk as he exhales some smoke. You sigh, kicking at a pebble beneath your feet. You hold your glass of champagne with both hands, your thumb nervously running along the side of it. 

“I feel like I do. But sometimes I can’t help myself.” You peer up at him, a coy smile spreading across your face. He lets out a laugh, shaking his head. 

“You two are a match made in hell,” he starts, bringing the cigarette back to his lips. “But I can’t imagine him with anyone else.” 

You roll your eyes. Lately you’ve been feeling like Josh doesn’t even want to be with you anymore, but it’s not like you would have time to even discuss splitting up in person, since he’s hardly around long enough. Instead of divulging any of that to Sam, you lift your head and step closer. 

“Can I have a drag of that?” You ask, giving him a mischievous smirk. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You know how he is.” Sam says, well aware that the only thing Josh thinks it’s okay to smoke is not cigarettes. 

“Just one.” You bargain, looking out at the parking lot for a moment, then up at him with doe eyes. He can’t help but smile at you in return. 

“Don’t even touch it. He’ll smell it on your hands.” He jokes, turning it around in his fingers and holding it towards you. You tilt up your chin, smiling sweetly before he moves it closer to your pouty, glossy lips. Your eyes close gently and you start to inhale. 

Within seconds, it’s pulled from your lips, and all you hear is Sam’s thick Michigan accent as he whines, “OWWWW!” your eyes shooting open. 

“I will break every bone in your fuckin’ hand if you don’t get the fuck out of here right now, Samuel.” Josh threatens, suddenly outside with the two of you on the patio. Sam grabs the cigarette from his restrained hand with his free one, dropping it to the ground and stepping on it with wide eyes. 

Josh pushes his arm towards him as he lets it go and Sam nearly trips over himself, mumbling a startled, “Jesus Christ.” before adjusting his suit jacket and heading for the door.  

“And you.” Josh is positively seething, as he steps up to you. “What am I going to do with you, hm?”

You nervously step backwards, leaning onto the railing behind you as he cages you in. “Josh, I’m–”

“Oh, it’s a little late for that, don't you think? I fucking warned you, Y/N.” His hand grips into your elbow, yanking your forward and dragging you behind him as you make your way back inside the building. “Get your fucking coat and meet me at the front door.” he says, releasing you as you enter back into the large crowd. 

You walk back over to your table, collecting your bag and your champagne before rushing over towards the coat check. You hand the same girl your ticket stub, and you anxiously sip your champagne as you wait. You may have pushed him too far this time. Seconds later she returns with your coat, and you take it with a smile, pulling it over your arms and making your way to the front door. 

Josh is waiting, chewing a piece of gum a little harsher than necessary. His jaw is hard set and his cheeks are pink and you know this does not bode well for you. As you approach him he offers a small wave and a smile to someone behind you, before letting his eyes drift back to yours, full of fury, the tension returning to his body. 

“Oh, so you can listen.” he says, yanking the large glass door open, both of you being hit with the cold outside air. You step out the door and begin the walk to the car, clutching your jacket close to your body. Your teeth chatter as the wind hits you, your whole body shivering. 

“What, are you cold in that slutty little dress?” he asks, walking a little too quickly for you to keep up with him. “Seemed just fine on the patio with Sam. Suck it up and keep walking.”

He turns his head looking back at you as you try to drink down the rest of your champagne. He reaches for the glass, ripping it from your hand and tossing it into the bushes. You hear the glass shatter and you’re a little taken aback. You’ve never seen him this mad before, and you hate that you kinda like it. 

“Josh!” you shout, you cheeks heating at his aggressiveness, and you think the alcohol in your system is to blame for that. 

“What has gotten into you, Y/N?! You think– You think you can just go around acting like a little slut at my work events? With my fucking brother? Do you know how that looks!?” he shouts, as you round the corner, steadily approaching the car. He is still chewing the gum too hard, hoping it will relieve some of the tension pulsing through his body.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Josh, I think the pain meds are making you crazy.” you scoff, completely brushing off his accusations, even though he is completely right. 

“Oh, fuck offff…It’s not the pain meds, it’s you! You’re making me fucking crazy! Running around like a little trollop just to make me irate for sport!” he yells, his midwestern accent peeking out in his anger. 

He reaches for the door handle, yanking it open to let you step in, regardless of how angry he currently is. As you position yourself in the seat you turn to look at him, ready to deliver another snarky comment but as you open your mouth he cuts his eyes and slams the car door closed. You huff and fasten your seatbelt as he joins you on the other side. 

He starts the car and peels out of the parking spot, spinning the tires as he pulls out onto the main road. Your hands grasp at the door handle for stability, his expression unwavering as he continues to blow down the backstreets of downtown Nashville. 

“Josh, I–”

“No. Silence. Don’t say another fucking word until I speak to you first. Got it?” he snaps, the fury is thick in his voice. 

You cross your arms over your chest, debating whether or not to taunt him further. As if he can hear your thoughts he turns to you, speaking through clenched teeth. 

“Not. A. Fucking. Word.”

The rest of the drive home was spent in silence, and you could tell he was compiling his list of your transgressions. You knew that the second the front door shut behind you he was going to unleash every bit of it on you, and to be quite honest, you couldn’t wait.

Once he tears recklessly up the driveway, he kills the engine and the headlights. Throwing open the door, he slams it behind him and makes his way around to the passenger side. Despite his burning anger, he’s still insistent on opening your door for you. He offers you a hand and when you take it, you feel how warm he is to the touch. Hopping down to the ground, he lets you steady yourself, then tugs your hand so you’re forced to walk in front of him. He lets go once he knows you’ve gotten the hint and start off wobbling through the gravel in your heels like a baby deer as he locks the car. 

You wait next to the front door, knowing Josh has his keys and you opted to leave yours at home to save space in your clutch. He ignores you, his jaw still working overtime on the probably stale gum in his mouth, turning the key in the lock and pushing into the house. He leaves the door open for you to follow him in, so you do, shutting it gently as you slip off your heels. 

He tosses his keys onto the dining table and you watch as they slide to a halt as he rids himself of his suit coat, tossing it over the back of a chair. You make a move towards the closet, ready to hang your own coat but as you walk he steps in front of you, snatching the thick black fabric from your hands to throw it over the same chair. He stares at you with a hardened jaw, his face and ears red as he prepares for his onslaught, and as a small grin turns up the corner of your lips you see his anger tip the scales to catastrophic. 

“I don’t know why you’re so worked up, Josh. If I didn’t know any better I would say you’re acting a bit jealous. Or threatened, maybe?” you pause, tapping your finger to your chin. “Yeah, I think threatened is the right word. Are you nervous little Sammy is gonna steal your spotlight and your girl?”

“Steal my spotlight?” he responds, scoffing. It’s clear you hit a nerve there. “You need to learn when to keep your mouth shut. Especially when it comes to things you know nothing about.”

“I know how many people were bumping elbows with him tonight, talking about his upcoming projects, barely even asking about the album. He’s got his own career now.” you double down, narrowing your eyes at him, twisting the knife. He steps closer to you, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath. You know he’s about to lay into you for that.

“You should be grateful I even let you tag along to these fucking things.” he snaps, his voice raising. “You know, there’s a hell of a lot you should be grateful for, now that I think of it. Do you know how easy it would be for me to find a nice, quiet girl who waits patiently for me to come home and doesn’t spend every waking moment reminding me of my shortcomings?” 

You don’t like the direction he’s taking this, and you’re realizing you may have pushed him a little too far. 

“I could go down the line and pick any one I wanted, but I still come home to you. And this is what I have to put up with?” 

“So do it then! Go ahead and take your pick!” you shout, throwing your hands in the air. His cheeks grow red, and his eyes narrow. 

“But you won’t, will you Josh... Because you know that not a single one of them will stick around once they find out how you really are. When they find themselves home alone night after night. When you don’t speak to them for days at a time when you’re writing or on the road. When you miss their birthday… and every major holiday for that matter. When they find out that your idea of love and romance is having your assistant buy hush gifts you can’t be bothered to choose yourself. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s the one texting me from your phone, too!”

He slams his fist down on the dining table, his keys rattling against the wood. “That is not true, and you know it!”

“But it is, and you know who puts up with it? Me, because I love you. And I can promise that you’ll be hard pressed to find someone else who is willing to deal with all of that.”

“Dare me?” he challenges, wincing slightly as the pressure builds in his ear. 

“I don’t know Josh, is that what you want? Wouldn’t say I’d be surprised with how you’ve been acting lately.” you say, pushing away from the kitchen table and walking further into the house. 

“How I’ve been acting lately?” he scoffs, following after you, hot on your heels.

“Yeah! Like I’m such a burden to bear. Like you’d rather I wasn’t here. I’m practically your glorified assistant, or arm candy when you feel like dragging me along.”

You start to climb the stairs toward your bedroom, needing to get out of your dress and away from him. Unfortunately, Josh isn’t one to ever let you have the last word, and he starts bounding up the staircase after you.

“Is that what this is about? You’re still mad you had to bring me to the doctor? God forbid I ask you to do something besides complain and spend my money. I needed your help, because if you haven’t noticed, something pretty serious happened to me, but for some reason you won’t stop giving me a hard fucking time about it!” That comment about the money stops you in your tracks, leaving you glaring down at him on the step below you. 

“It’s not about your money and it’s not about me having to help you. It’s about you not giving a shit about how I feel and blowing me off when I try to tell you. All I want is for you to care! Have we grown so far apart that seeing me upset doesn’t even phase you anymore?”

Josh runs his tongue over his teeth as he tries to conjure up a response. He steps up so he’s on the landing with you, a little bit of silence settling over you both.

“And you thought…” he starts, looking out the window behind you for a moment, then back to your eyes. “You thought the way to get me to care… was to behave like a little slut?”

The energy suddenly shifts between you. You know that in the silence, he must have had a realization that he’s not meeting your needs. You feel your mouth go a little dry and you take a step backwards, reaching to hold on to the railing. 

“I–”

“You know what I think…” he says, moving closer, caging you in with his arms. “I think that I’ve been gone too long…” his breath is hot on your cheeks. “I think you’re due for an attitude adjustment.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you grip into the bannister. You swallow nervously, as his hand moves to meet your satin covered waist. “Yeah, I think I need to remind you just how good you have it, don’t I sweetheart?”

The words are there, swirling through your head but as his eyes peer into yours, nothing seems to come out. 

“S’matter, baby? Nothin’ to say suddenly? No smart ass remarks? I’m right, aren’t I? You need me to fuck some sense into you?” he growls, his fingers gripping into the curve of your waist. He nods his head in the direction of your bedroom, a crooked smirk on his face. 

“Go ahead and take off your earrings, baby. Get out of that unbecoming little dress and wait for me on the bed.” he says softly, rubbing a thumb over the apple of your cheek before walking off and locking himself in the bathroom. 

The cocktail of emotions your brain is floating in has you dizzy. You want to be angry at him, but you’re starting to feel a little embarrassed as you think back on how you acted at dinner. Part of you wants to cry, his harsh words hitting you where he knew it would hurt, but another is so turned on by the way he just flipped the switch on the entire emotionally charged exchange.

You shuffle into your shared bedroom, sitting gingerly at your vanity and taking off all of your jewelry. As you take off your rings, you stare at the earrings and necklace in your porcelain dish, remembering when he had gifted each piece to you. Maybe it’s not that he doesn’t care how long or how often he’s away…he just doesn’t know how to make it better. So he sends you trinkets from wherever he visits, reminding you that you’re on his mind. Your heart lurches as you realize that maybe all he wanted while he was away from home was a quiet dinner with you, his love, at Phil’s, and that’s why he didn’t take you out to an expensive steakhouse where you would undoubtedly sit awkwardly across from each other and make conversation. He wanted comfort. He wanted what he knows no other woman can give him. 

You hear the water start to run, which zaps you back into the moment. Standing from the velvet upholstered stool, you head for the walk-in closet and try to reach for the zipper on your dress. You can’t exactly get to it, stretching to try and pinch the zipper between your fingers. The bathroom door opens and you whip your head around, knowing he’s going to come looking for you. 

It’s only seconds before you feel his warm hands gliding across your hips, no doubt knowing you need his help with the zipper. Perhaps that’s why he purchased the dress to begin with. Knowing he would be the one to help you take it off. He moves your hair, laying it all to one side of your neck before pressing his lips to your skin. His fingers pinch the small zipper as he slides it down, letting the silk dress flutter down around your ankles. 

“Tell me you know that I love you.” he breathes, his lips brushing against your neck.

“I know you love me.” you answer, breathless as your chest heaves. 

His hands slide around to your bare stomach, pulling your body back until you’re flush with his own. “Now, tell me you’ll remember that.”

“I’ll remember.” you whisper, feeling him long and hard as he rests against your back. 

He grabs your hips and spins you around to face him, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “Good, because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

A gasp leaves your chest as your eyes meet his, dark and blown out. He drags his thumb over your lips, smearing the remnants of your pink lipstick across your chin. “Now get on the bed like I told you the first time.”

Reluctantly pulling away from him, you make your way back into the bedroom, kneeling on the bed, sitting on your heels. You nervously cover your chest with your hands, the room feeling a little cold all of the sudden. He steps into the room, his hand lingering on the doorframe. 

“Move your hands,” he says, his voice quiet but stern. “You wanted the entire dinner table to see them. Why can’t I?”

Your cheeks burn red as you lower your hands to your lap. He approaches, his eyes scanning every inch of you like he’s appraising you.

“He didn’t touch you, did he?” he asks, pushing your hair behind your ear. “My brother?” 

You quickly start to shake your head. Maybe a little too quickly. You watch him with careful eyes as he lets his hand gently graze your throat, then move further down, the gears in his head turning.

“I bet you wanted him to, though…” he adds, pinching at your nipple teasingly, wanting a reaction. You take in a sharp breath between your teeth.

“No.” you say defensively.

“You like Sam because he’s so sweet. He cares. That’s what you want, right? Someone to wipe away your tears when you cry about meaningless shit? You know that’s his specialty.” 

“I don’t like Sam. I just wanted–”

“Save it.” Josh snaps, grabbing harshly at your cheeks to shut you up. He stares at you for a moment before placing a gentle kiss to your squished lips. He pulls away quickly, but doesn’t release his grip on your cheeks.

“If you want to act like a little whore, I’m going to treat you like one. If I want to hear you speak, I’ll tell you.”

He pushes you backwards as he releases his hand, landing you in the pile of soft feather pillows behind you. He stands up from the bed, shimmying off his boxers before crawling back onto the bed in front of you. His eyes meet yours and for a second there is a softness there, almost as if he is asking if you’re okay with this. You offer him a subtle nod before he lowers his head and begins to drag his nose up the length of your leg.

“Did you have fun tonight, flitting around the place, drink in hand, practically begging to be fucked in the bathroom? Hm? Is that what you wanted?” he asks, pressing a hot kiss to the inside of your thigh. 

You squirm beneath him as the filthy words leave his angelic lips. “Did you want him to take you away and fuck your stupid little brains out? Answer me.”

“No.” you reply, desperate to feel his lips on your body. “I… I wanted…” you stammer, your bravery leaving you with every shaky breath. He places an open mouthed kiss to your mound, but freezes once your words trail off.

“You never stop talking, but now you’re at a loss for words? Fucking say it, Y/N.” 

“I wanted you!” you cry out, your head falling back onto your pillow, a heavy sigh leaving your chest. He squeezes the softness of your thigh before he speaks.

“And you really thought that would work?” he asks, nipping at your soft skin, chuckling quietly. “You’re dumber than I thought.”  

You feel your skin grow hot at his words, your hips jerking upwards on their own accord.

“You like that, don’t you? You like it when I call you my stupid little girl?” he asks, sucking a mark into your thigh. “My dumb little brat?”

A whine leaves your chest as you feel his tongue slowly start to slide through your folds. 

He pulls away from you, “Ah, ah… Be quiet, remember? I know it’s hard for you to do as you’re told, but if I have to remind you again you aren’t going to like what happens.”

You stifle your moan and move your hips as his hands hold you in place, his tongue reconnecting with your core as he makes slow, languid laps against you. “Did I leave this pretty pussy too long? Does she miss me and need my attention?” 

He moves his hands to let his thumbs spread you further, swirling his tongue over your clit. “I think she misses me so bad that it’s got you acting crazy, my love.” His lips suction against you, sucking you into his mouth with a lewd slurp. His hands slide up to your hips, pulling you closer to his face. His tongue grazes your entrance, dipping in just long enough to tease you. He presses a kiss to your clit before pulling away again. 

“You must be crazy if you think my brother could do even half of what I do to you. No one, no one, treats this pussy like I do. Worships this pussy like I do.”

“Josh…” you whine, the word leaving your lips before you could stop it. 

You feel a sharp flick to your clit and you cry out, your body jumping in response.

“I told you that you wouldn’t like it.” he says, pressing a kiss to your sensitive clit, as if to soothe the pain he inflicted. You feel a rush of warmth at your core, your body responding positively to his actions. 

“Oh, baby, fuck…” he groans, sliding his fingers thorough the wetness. “But you do like it. You love it.” He pauses, locking eyes with you. “Answer me.”

“I–Yes…” you breathe, feeling his smile against your core. 

“My dirty, sweet, baby likes a little pain with her pleasure.” he growls, sliding a finger inside of you. You clench around it, desperate for more. “Yeah? More? You want two or three?” he asks, his eyes flicking to yours. 

“T-Three.” you beg, breathless as you feel him slide in two more. 

His lips find your clit again, suckling the sensitive nub into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it again and again as his fingers work you from the inside. The pressure is growing and you know you’re close. He must feel you fluttering around him, so he pulls his fingers and mouth away from you quicker than you can blink. 

“Nu-uh. Not until I say so, and I do believe I’d like to get mine first tonight... You know, for my troubles.”

A huff leaves your chest as you look at him, sitting back up to rest on his heels. 

“You know baby, I think I’m feelin’ a little reckless tonight...I’m thinkin’ maybe we skip the condom, what do you say?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, Josh always having been completely adamant that you use protection. Always. Despite being on birth control. You can count the number of times you’ve gone without a condom on one hand over the three years you’ve been together. 

“Are–Are you sure?” you ask.

“Yeah, I think you need the full effect… need to really feel me so you can remember your place. Remember why you count down the days until I come home.” he says, fisting his base. 

“Although,” he says thoughtfully before pausing. “… if I’m going to fuck you like a whore, I’m gonna have to wear one. Standard procedure, you understand…” he mumbles, reaching over to his nightstand and pulling a silver foil package from the drawer. You feel your heart drop as he rips it out of the package and effectively rips the opportunity away from you. A quiet, disappointed whine leaves your throat.

He clicks his tongue as he watches your face drop, “Aw, what is it? Did you want my cock?” he asks, a smug grin on his face. “If you behaved yourself I probably would have given you what you wanted. It’s a shame, really.”

“Please…” you whine, hoping he doesn’t notice the tears in the corners of your eyes. 

“Oh she’s begging for it. God, you really are so sweet when you want to be.” he says, rolling the condom over his cock. 

“Josh come on, please!” it’s a pathetic whine as it leaves your mouth, but you don’t care.

His hand collides with the side of your hip, a loud smack ringing through the room. “Don’t be a little brat. You’ll take what you’re given.”

A whimper leaves your lips as the sting sets in. “That hu—”

“What? Hurt? That’s typically the point, love.” Your hips jerk up towards him, his abs peeking through as he leans towards you. “Now, do you understand?”

You nod your head as he lowers his, pressing his lips to yours. His perfect heart shaped lips capture yours, his tongue pressing into your mouth with fervor. Your hands come up to wrap around his waist, his skin soft and smooth beneath your hands. You feel his muscles tense under your touch as he ruts his hips, dragging himself against you, the sound of the latex audible as you try to angle yourself so he’ll slip inside you.

“So impatient…” he chides, sucking his teeth as he hovers his lips just above yours. He decides to take mercy on you, letting himself start to slide inside with ease. You cup his cheek, kissing him tenderly, a silent thank you. You feel the heat building in your abdomen again, half the battle won after the way he edged you previously. 

“Does that feel good, sweet thing?” he asks, pushing in to the hilt before slowly pulling out again. “You gonna settle down now that you’re feeling nice and full?” he asks, and you respond with a shake of your head. “No?” he questions, surprised. He fucks into you slowly, deeply. You feel every inch of him that you’ve missed… but it’s not the same.

“No…I wanted you to take it off…” you whine. He shakes his head, a little chuckle leaving him.

“You’re in no place to make demands. I’m gonna get mine, toss it in the trash, and leave you wishing it was dripping down your thigh. And if you’re smart, you’ll say thank you.”

You feel yourself clench around him at his cruel words, making him smirk. So he carries on, picking up his pace as he grips into the softness of your thighs.

“But you’re not, are you?” he taunts, lowering his head to kiss and suck at your collarbone. “Can’t be if you pretended to be interested in my idiot brother. You’re mine. What do I have to do to get it to stick in that little brain of yours?” 

You whisper his name, closing your eyes as your cheeks turn pink, his insults both embarrassing you and bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

“I told you I’m getting mine first. Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns, his palm landing on the pillow next to your head as he rests his weight and increases his range of motion. As he moves faster, his thrusts become more brutal as he starts to knock the wind out of you. It’s getting harder to keep yourself from losing it, your thighs starting to quiver.

He feels it, because he always does, but you can tell by the look on his face he doesn’t want to stop. He curses breathlessly and pulls out, his hand leaving your hip and moving down to stroke himself, but he lets out a grunt and pushes up to sit on his heels, looking down at himself.

“...Fuck.”

He wraps his arm under your thigh and tugs you closer, urgently, and sheathes himself inside so quickly you cry out.

“Oh, baby. You feel like fucking velvet.” he moans, his head falling back, his moans bouncing off the ceiling. When he pulls back, something feels… different. “Looks like you got what you wanted after all…”

He sits back again and pulls out of you, resting his hands on his thighs as he takes a deep breath like he needs to get himself under control. Sitting up on your elbows, you look down at him between your thighs to see the condom has not just broken, but torn. It’s more than halfway down his shaft, which explains why he felt so slick and warm inside you.

“Oh…” you say softly, your lips parting. You stare at him above you, his chest rising and falling, his eyes heavy as they lock onto yours. He lifts one hand, motioning you forward with two fingers, and you know exactly what he wants. 

“On your knees.”

You don’t hesitate to roll onto your side and stand from the bed, dropping to your knees with your hands in your lap. He watches as you go, waiting until you’re in position to stand himself and approach, raking his hand through your hair almost affectionately. You keep your eyes on him, the way he’s hard and straining against the useless condom.

“Does being on your knees hurt, little slut? Or is that right where you belong?” he asks, resting the tip of his cock against your lips. “Open.” 

You stick out your tongue, dragging it against the bottom of his tip.

“More.” he demands, pushing his hips forward. You open your mouth wider as you move to reach up and touch him, but he immediately tells you, “No.”

Your eyes look up at him, brows furrowing in curiosity as you question silently whether or not he’s going to take the condom off.

It’s sudden and shocking when he answers your question, grabbing the back of your head and shoving himself in deep. You feel him against your tongue, tasting the lube and feeling the latex on the front end of your tongue. 

He starts to thrust so quickly, you reach for his thighs to try and push him back. He doesn’t seem to care, almost relishing in your struggle, his fist tightening in your hair. As a gag works its way up your throat, he pulls you off of him, gasping for air, saliva dripping down your chin and neck. 

“How’s it taste, baby?” he asks, tugging your hair, making you look up at him through bleary eyes, trying to catch your breath. As you open your mouth to answer, he fists himself, shoving himself back into your mouth. You gag immediately and he pulls out, your mouth open as you try to breathe. He doesn’t let you, though, grabbing your jaw and spitting directly into your open mouth. 

“You better think twice before you complain.” 

You snap your jaw shut, swallowing thickly, your eyes popping back open to look up at him in shock. He gives you a crooked smile, pleased with the way he’s managed to throw you off. It only encourages him as you look up at him with wide eyes and try to catch your breath. He quirks a single brow, then runs his tongue over his teeth. 

“Nothing to say?” he asks, challenging you. You shake your head once.

He pushes the head of himself back inside your mouth, then spits again, making you flinch as it lands on your cheek. You squeeze your eyes closed, intending to hollow out your cheeks and suck, but he pulls himself out with a pop and drags his cock through the spit on your face, chuckling. 

“You’re starting to smarten up.” he mumbles. “Little brat.”

He taps the tip of his cock harshly against your lips and you can see the wheels spinning in his head as he plans his next move. “Back on the bed, all fours.” he says, snapping his fingers and pointing to the center of the bed.

You immediately pull yourself from your aching knees and scramble onto the bed, positioning yourself on all fours, just as instructed. You feel the bed dip behind you and you turn your head, seeing the remnants of the condom still intact around him. He makes no effort to remove it, wearing it like a trophy as his hands find your hips. His left hand slides up the curve of your back before pressing a palm to your spine, a silent order to arch a little further. 

“You’re trembling. You want it so bad don’t you…” he growls, his tip brushing against your entrance. “Want to feel my nice warm cock inside you…Nothing but me and you…You’d like that wouldn’t you, baby…”

“Yes.” you breathe, almost a whisper.

“I shouldn’t…I should put a new one on right now.” he says, the clench of his jaw audible. 

He thrusts himself inside of you, the barrier of latex gone between the two of you, letting you feel every ripple and vein of his perfect cock inside of you. It nearly takes your breath away as his hips slam into you. A groan leaves his chest as his hands grip into your hips, and you can feel his hot breath on your back.

His hips crash violently into yours, his pillow soft tip grazing your cervix with every stroke. He’s struggling to keep his composure, it's evident with his erratic breathing and the stuttering of his hips. 

You clench around him, a whimper falling from his lips in response, briefly breaking the facade he’s chosen for the evening. “Fuck, Y/N… I– I fucking hate you. You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

A pang shoots through your chest, you feel the tension in your stomach start to build as you flutter around him. “I hate that I can’t live without you. I hate how much I love you. You–I can’t deny you anything…Not ever…” he pauses, his chest heaving. “Can’t you see that?”

“Josh…” you beg through panting breaths. 

“Not yet, you’re gonna wait. Wait until I say, yeah? Can you wait like my good girl?” he says, struggling to stave off his own release. 

“I– I can’t…” you whine. 

“You will.” he demands, punctuating his sentence with his hips. “Fuck, you feel so good, swear to god I’m gonna– fuck…”

“Josh please, please!” you beg, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

“My little slut begging to cum, oh you’re a fucking vision… My angel…” he pauses, sliding his hand around your waist and pinching your nipple between his fingers. You tighten around him and you hear him hiss in response. “Oh goddamn, you’re not a fucking angel though, are you… You’re straight from hell.”

His hips start to falter, and you can tell he’s close. You turn your head to look at him, his hair wild and sweaty against his temples, his jaw hanging slack as he watches himself fuck you. His eyes flick up to meet yours, they are dark and his pupils are wide as a slight smile turns his lips. 

“I know I said I was going to get mine first, but you’ve been such a good girl for me. Go on, cum baby. Cum right on my cock, wanna feel you give yourself to me.” he says, nodding his head. 

His permission throws you right up into the sky, your release washing over you so forcefully that your arms give out below you, sending you tumbling into the sheets. His hands hold you up as he continues to fuck you through it, curses and praise falling from his swollen pink lips. 

As if your bliss fueled his own, you feel him pull your hips back firmly against him, a groan exploding from his chest once he can’t hold on any longer. You feel his cock twitching, his release beginning to spill inside of you as your name falls from his lips. You clench around him and he rapidly pulls out of you, fisting his cock as his cum continues to spill, painting hot white streams across your back. 

The room is quiet, just the sounds of the two of you attempting to catch your breath. His hand slides up over the curve of your ass, his fingertips catching a drip of his cum before it falls to the sheets below you. His hand reaches around smearing his fingers across your lips, and you can hear him snickering as he leaves his release behind. “A much better shade on you, darling.”

With a smack of your ass you feel him step off of the bed, padding towards the bathroom. “Stay there, don’t move. I don’t want a mess on the sheets.”

You stay put, frozen as you lean down on your elbows and rest your chin in your palm. He comes back out of the bathroom a moment later in his robe and saunters to the stairs. You hear his footsteps slowly descending the steps, the occasional squeak indicating how far away he is. 

You figure he’s heading to get you a towel from the dryer, so you just sigh and bide your time, feeling the wetness on your back start to get a little cold as the air moves through the room. In the silence, you hear a cabinet opening… then a cup being placed on the counter. Your lips part in shock as you realize he’s downstairs making a drink while he leaves you here, messy and exposed. The cherry on top of the punishment he’s dealt you this evening.

It’s a good, long while before he comes back up the stairs, again, at a leisurely pace. He softly pads across the room, then steps into your line of sight, putting a mug down on the nightstand. He made himself a cup of tea? 

You sigh, looking at him flatly, a little tired of the game at this point. He steps into the bathroom again, this time reemerging with a warm, wet towel. He approaches the bed and kneels over you, gently wiping you clean as silence settles over you both.

“I made you some tea. In case I was a little rough on your throat.” he says quietly. “I figured I owe you a drink after throwing yours into the bushes.” His tone conveys that he’s remorseful, his voice back to its unique, charming timbre. “Listen, I didn’t mean to get so… worked up. You were right when you said I was threatened by Sam, and I just kind of lost control.” 

You hum softly, resting your head on the pillow and looking at him over your shoulder, your eyes soft and tired.

“I’m sorry I pushed you that far…” you say quietly, your voice hoarse. He tosses the towel towards the hamper, standing from the bed. He leans down and places a kiss to your temple as you lay all the way down, just as your back starts to hurt.

You hear him opening your dresser drawer and soon enough he’s back at your side, placing a set of silky, cream colored pajamas and a pair of underwear near your head. He kneels at your bedside, resting his head on the bed to look at you where you lay.

“I picked these out for you when we were in Glasgow. There was this little boutique near the hotel that caught my eye. It was after dinner one night and I tried to call you but the time difference was making a mess of things…I couldn’t get ahold of you and I was just feeling lonely… so I took a walk and decided to pop in. I saw them and thought of you immediately. Thought of how they’d feel when I got back home and in bed with you.” he confesses, petting your hair the whole time he speaks. There’s almost a sadness to this story that makes guilt bubble up in your chest. You accused him of never calling, rarely thinking of you, and sending his assistant off to buy you meaningless gifts. The thought of him hand picking it for you while he was feeling lonely thousands of miles away breaks your heart.  

“I’m sorry I said all that stuff. About the gifts. That was admittedly pretty awful of me.” you squeak out, feeling ashamed of the way you acted and who you painted him to be. “I’ve been really hard on you.”

“Hard on me?” he asks, a breathy laugh rumbling through him.

“I just… I haven’t been really considerate about your ear and the stress you’re under and I think I’ve been feeling neglected in a way, so instead of trying to fix it, it was just easier to put all of the blame on you and lose sight of the sacrifices you make for me every day. For us.” 

He shakes his head, unwilling to let you accept all the blame. “I haven’t exactly made things easy on you…” he says, his voice a little small. “I think–no, I know I can do more. I will do more. I fucked up yesterday baby, and I’m sorry. I should have planned something nice. You deserve that. And I’m sorry about tonight, fuck, I’m just sorry for all of it. I love you and I need you and I’m just really, really sorry.”

He stands from his place on the side of the bed, watching you as you slide into your silky pajamas. He tosses his robe to your vanity chair and joins you on the other side of the bed, pulling back the linen sheets and sliding in next to you. 

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I was a brat, and I’m sorry I used Sam to get under your skin. I just– I wanted your attention…and I know it was stupid and immature… I just needed to know you still cared, even just a little bit. I wanted to see it.” you pause, looking into his dark brown eyes. 

“And last night, you just wanted a night in and I was…less than agreeable. I wish we could do it over. You just wanted your comfort food and your favorite movie, home alone with me…but I couldn’t see that. I know you’re hurting. I know you’re doing your best and I’m sorry I was ungrateful. I’m happy that you were even home. I’m happy I can take care of you while you’re here.” you say, moving closer to him in the middle of the bed. “I missed you last night…”

He props himself up on his elbow, his cheeks still a little pink from earlier, and in the dim light of the lamp he is glowing. “I missed you too baby, I knew I fucked up before I even got out of the room. I should have never said that to you. Not ever. Can you forgive me?” he asks, letting his free hand slide across the sheets and grab yours. 

“Can you forgive me?” you ask, letting your glassy eyes meet his.

“Baby…” the word is a breath from his lips. You reach for him as he wraps his arms around you. You cradle his head in the crook of your neck as he breathes you in and you know all is forgiven between the two of you. You scratch his scalp and pet his velvety shaved sides, holding him close enough that you can feel his heart beating. 

“Can I make you that soup you like tomorrow? With the kale and the carrots…” you ask, a whisper against his temple. You feel him nod, a small hum leaving his chest. 

“And I still have that sourdough starter that Jake gave us… I can make some bread with it? Does that sound good?” you ask, feeling his grip on you tighten. 

“Oh my god, that starter. Have you been feeding it like he said!? I completely forgot!” he gasps.

You laugh hard enough that it shakes your chest, “Of course I have. He would be so sad if I let it die.”

You feel his body relax against you again, “Do you know how much I love you?” he asks, turning his head to face you. 

You feel your skin blush as he looks at you, his eyes full of adoration. “A lot?”

“More than that.” he smiles, his cheek dimple peeking out just a touch. You can hardly stop yourself from pressing your lips to it, your favorite thing. 

“I love you, alot.” you reply, peppering his face with kisses. 

“But there is something that I want to talk to you about…” he says, his voice growing a little more serious. 

“W-what?” you ask nervously, pulling away just a little. 

“I know you’ve been so excited about coming to Spain in a few weeks…And I’ve really been looking forward to it too…” he starts, and you feel your heart drop. Is it canceled? Does he not want you to come?

“Yeah…” you breathe, anxious to hear what he’s about to say.

“So, you know it’s been a long time since we’ve toured over there, and our normal coordinator isn’t able to make it, so we are using a secondary coordinator…It really throws a wrench into everything. Things are going to be really shaky those first few days with the jet lag and all of that. I just– I know that it’s gonna be super crazy, and I feel like we probably won’t be able to spend much time together while we get the tour stuff sorted out.” he pauses, and you feel your eyes well with tears. “I just don’t want you to come and feel ignored...”

“So I’m not–” 

His face softens as he brings his hand up to cup your cheek, “So, I went ahead and booked us flights to go a whole week early, just me and you. Found us a quiet little place on the water right outside of Barcelona. It has a big open porch and a giant bed. It’s so beautiful and I know you’re going to love it. We can do whatever you want, just you and I.” He kisses your forehead before he continues. 

“And before you ask, yes, your boss already knows. I wanted to surprise you when we left, but I figured you would be suspicious that the rest of the guys wouldn’t be with us in the airport. I was planning to tell you tonight when we got home, but we saw what happened…” he smiles, his eyes positively sparkling. “So, how does that sound, my love? Will you come with me?”

Tears rush to your eyes. You were so prepared to be disappointed again that they were already on their way and this sealed the deal.

“That sounds so perfect,” you manage to squeak out as he wipes away an errant tear sliding down towards your pillow. When he pulls you in for a tender kiss, you can feel him smiling against your lips. “My coworkers are going to kill me for going on a two week vacation during tax season…”

“I’m sure they’ll be okay.” he says, brushing it off with a soft laugh. “They probably ate your strawberries yesterday, so you can call it even.” You suck your teeth at that, lips parting in shock.

“They better not have! I’m out for one day and the wolves descend?”

“I’m sure they’ll be there waiting for you Monday.” He soothes, pulling the sheets and comforter up higher over the both of you, pulling you in close as his little spoon. “But just in case… Maybe we can get some melting chocolate at the store tomorrow and make our own for dessert?” he mumbles softly. 

“Oh, I’d love that…” you say, pleasantly surprised at his effort already. He holds you tight, nuzzling into your hair. His hands are soft and warm as they sneak up under the silky pajamas, a comforting touch after so many nights spent in this bed alone.

“It’s a date, my love.” 

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[ineffably-human]

Okay, so: the hypnosis!

Nandor's actually the one who wasn't great at it in the past, yes, whatever. I'm fine with those kind of details being all over the place, personally. Even though it's weird.

What's intriguing me more is that this is clearly a runner. We've heard it mentioned two episodes in a row that they're starting to overly rely on hypnosis as a means of dealing with their slip-ups, specifically when they accidentally reveal themselves as vampires. There's the question of it impacting the minds of the humans around them, in the long-term.

Combine that with:

Sean (their biggest link to the normal human world, whose brain is already fucked up from hypnosis) appearing more frequently.

The vampires going out into the world more in all four of the episodes critics have had access to - and more after that, if the episode titles and summaries so far are any indication.

Nandor does a verbal faux pas on a newscast, we have seen clips with all of them on the newscast as newscasters, is this for a mass hypnosis? (The second one after Nandor's at the basketball game, that was a lot of extras for a simple gag!) A mass coverup?

Colin is going to be running for public office, what's less secretive than that?

They're going to a Pride Parade, what's a better way to juxtapose secrecy than that?

Increased emphasis on the documentary crew. Does the neighborhood notice they've had a film crew around them for fiveish years now? What do they think it's for? Who's supposed to see this documentary anyway?

Guillermo still has another episode with his family coming up, the family that were hypnotized into forgetting major things that are still a part of his personal truth, things that would be a huge risk to the vampires if they came to light...

Between Guillermo's personal secrets and this increased emphasis on the vampires out in the world, not to mention the whole thing with Derek as a metaphor for infidelity, I think secrets and lies are the theme this season. The way change/transformation was a theme in season 4, and power and protection were the themes of season 3.

The 'lies' part of things can also involve self-delusion, that's how Nadja's piece can fold into it. Nandor and Guillermo's feelings about each other work there, too. (I think they know Guillermo has a little crush on Nandor, but neither of them realize just how much and maybe don't even believe it's still ongoing.)

And I think this is a great time to bring it up, because this season is about Guillermo maybe becoming a vampire at last - and I think the secrecy is part of what draws Guillermo to being a vampire. It's like a contradiction that's a feature, not a bug. He's spent a long time hiding major facets of who he is to everyone around him, and being a vampire means living openly, freely, while simultaneously being part of a secret species.

Hell, he's the one who gives us the thesis statement at the end of the season's first episode:

"Being a vampire is no different than being a human. We're all just doing what it takes to survive. We go on about our day. Blend in. Act like everyone else. But the truth is, we're all just hiding in plain sight."

I think the vampires are going to get into a situation that hypnosis can't get them out of, maybe something involving the documentary crew and the footage they've collected as well. Something that fully threatens to expose them, impact their safety, with no way of turning back.

Maybe it's something where only Guillermo, as the bridge between human and vampire he's always been, can save them. After all, what is he right now, if not stuck in-between?

[enjoythesilentworld]

💜💜

X Me    (“Simon, my back really hurts after rowing practice. You think you can give me a massage?”)

hello anon <3 so, at this point we've learned that i'm incapable of drabbles. i hope this little 1.5k ficlet lives up to your expectations with that beautiful quote you've provided xx

also, i wondered how i was going to do this prompt without making it very horny. and, well, it's definitely horny, but also has some fluff sprinkled in! (very fade-to-black M-rating)

A not-so-short, but straight to the finally-falling-into-each-other, friends to lovers AU.

~

“Simon, my back really hurts after rowing practice. You think you can give me a massage?”

Simon lifted his gaze from where he’d been hunched over his laptop and found Wille standing in the entryway to their apartment. He was slightly sweaty and frowning, uncomfortably rolling his shoulders, but Simon could see the slight smirk hidden in his features, the challenge.

Things had begun to shift between them lately. Simon first met Wille in the freshman dorms on the first day he’d arrived at university. Nearly four years later, after many late night study sessions and trips to coffee shops and video game competitions, they were best friends and still lived together. The thing that had shifted was the fact that, since one month ago, both of them were finally single at the same time.

Either one or both of them had been in some kind of relationship for the past few years, and about a week after Wille ended his last fling, things began to change. He and Wille had always been more touchy than a typical friendship, but it was never weird for them. There was a certain blurry, invisible line they never crossed, but Simon never saw it as anything other than platonic. That was, until they were both single and suddenly the way Wille brushed past him in the kitchen with a hand to the small of Simon’s back or the way Simon sometimes curled up into Wille’s side on the couch had a very different undertone. Then, there was the time two weeks ago when they’d both gotten a little drunk at a party and danced together, a little too close to be casual. Or that other time one week ago when they’d gone out to dinner with friends and sat pressed up against each other in a booth and Wille put a hand on Simon’s thigh, a little too high to be friendly.

It was like they were playing a game, amping up the tension that had been building between them for— Honestly, for the last four years. If, on that first night in their shared dorm room, Wille hadn’t disappeared to go to some party with a cousin of his and hadn’t come back in the morning covered in hickies, things probably would’ve started between them much earlier.

Simon already felt like he was going to burst at the seams, and so it was really very cruel of Wille to return from rowing practice looking like that, asking Simon to do that, and doing a real terrible job of hiding the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“What?” Simon asked, feigning cluelessness.

Wille took a few steps forward and dropped his bag on the floor. With a dry mouth, Simon watched him interlace his fingers behind his back, the damp, almost see-through material of his T-shirt stretching as he did.

“I think I might’ve pulled something,” Wille said, voice strained as he lifted his clasped hands, traps and upper biceps flexing with the movement. He pouted at Simon. “Please?”

Simon swallowed and kept his eyes locked on Wille’s, even as the man reached down and picked up the hem of his shirt, using it to wipe his sweaty brow. In his peripheral, Simon could still see the revealed expanse of skin.

He managed to keep his tone relatively casual, eyes flitting back down to his laptop, as he said, “Yeah, sure. But only if you take a shower first. I can smell you from here.”

“You’re the best,” Wille grinned and saluted Simon before heading to the bathroom.

The moment he heard the shower turn on, Simon stopped pretending to click away on his laptop and dropped his head into his hands, exhaling a long, suffering sigh.

It would be fine. Simon would pull himself together and give his roommate, who he was maybe-not-just-friends with, a massage and it would all be fine. He would not lose this game they’d started.

Because he needed to do something with his hands, and because he’d abandoned all hope of focusing on his essay any longer, Simon went to the kitchen and quickly made a smoothie for Wille. He knew that, after a rough practice, Wille was always too tired to make real food and would just end up having chips, which was not a very good post-workout meal.

The shower shut off just as Simon was cleaning out the blender. He whirled around when he heard the bathroom door swing open.

“Where do you want me?” Wille asked from the doorway, still damp, hair dripping, and nothing but a towel around his waist. His smirk softened to an adoring smile when he saw Simon approaching him, holding out the smoothie. “Oh— You made that for me?”  

“Yes. You need real nutrients, Wille. That’s probably why you hurt yourself.”

Wille snorted and took the smoothie, giving Simon a quick peck on the cheek. His smell, fresh and soapy but still so Wille, overwhelmed Simon’s senses.

“God,” Wille moaned, licking his lips. “This is delicious. Maybe I should start neglecting my health more often. I swear your smoothies are better than mine.”

He would not lose this game.

Simon rolled his eyes and knocked his shoulder into Wille’s as he brushed past. It left a damp mark on his shirt.

“Come on. It’ll be easiest if you lie down,” Simon said, letting himself into Wille’s room. “Do you have—”

“I’ve got this?”

Wille had followed after him and was holding out a half-empty bottle of massage oil.

“Right. Perfect,” Simon murmured, taking the bottle from him.

Wille took another big sip of his smoothie, then deposited the cup on the nightstand and lay down across the bed. His feet dangled off the edge. He sighed happily and shifted a bit, back muscles flexing, and half buried his face in the pillows.

Tentatively, Simon knelt on the edge of the bed. “Where?”

“Between my shoulder blades,” Wille said, voice muffled. Simon’s eyes tracked the bulging of his triceps, the rippling of his obliques, as he bent an arm at an awkward angle to gesture at the area.

He nodded then, realizing Wille had shut his eyes and couldn’t see him, stuttered, “O— Okay.”

With slow, careful hands, he pumped out a bit of the oil onto his hands and lathered it together between them to warm it up, then leaned forward and spread it gently across the expanse of Wille’s broad back.

He would not lose this game.

To keep his head, Simon focused on the feeling of the knots under his fingertips. There were a few along the bottom edges of his shoulder blades, and he also noticed that one side of the muscles along his spine were slightly more raised than the other. He ran a firm thumb over a spot of tightness and Wille punched out an exhalation.

Simon froze. “Did that hurt?”

“Yes,” Wille chuckled tightly. “But it’s nice.”

When Simon didn’t move, Wille added, “It’s okay, Simon. You can press harder. It feels really good. Honestly, a bit of pain makes it better.”

So he wouldn’t have to think about the double meaning of those words, about a very different context in which Wille could be saying them, Simon started again.

He would not lose this game.

He worked the heel of his hand over the tighter spots, pausing occasionally to add more oil. Starting near the base of his spine, then smoothing it up, up, up to right below his neck, then out across the top of his shoulder.

“Thank you for doing this.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I am,” Wille said softly, “really grateful for you. I’m really glad you’re in my life.”

Simon smiled down at the side of Wille’s head, the way his face smushed into the pillows, the way his eyebrows drew together and he bit his lip as Simon worked over a particularly tight spot.

Voice tight, he mumbled, “I just love you, Simon.”

“I love you, Wille.” His hands slipped slightly, and he felt his cheeks flame with the words. It felt different than all the other times they’d said it. To hide how much his heart had soared at the exchange, he sassed, “Except you owe me after this,” then dug his thumb deep into a knot.

“Whatever you—fuck.” Wille’s fond words broke off into a heated moan and he arched slightly into Simon’s touch. “Fuck that feels so good, Simon.”

The tender moment was definitely lost, and the sounds shot straight to Simon’s groin. His resolve was crumbling.

“There?” Simon asked quietly, rubbing his thumb over the same spot.

“Th—yes. Right there. Shit.”

Wille stopped biting his lip, stopped muffling his groans, as Simon worked over the taut muscles. Right where Wille had indicated, then slowly moving down his back, over smooth, oiled, beautiful skin.

His fingers hesitated at the edge of the bath towel that still covered Wille’s lower half.

“Simon,” Wille breathed, tone almost pleading.

“Can I take this off?” he asked quietly, thumbing across the fluffy fabric.

“Please.”

Simon was plenty happy to lose this game.

[cierraonline]

the way ur so obviously hurt by the pazzi asks it's hilarious 😂😭😭

girl boo

Anyways I know this week has been hard for most of us due to the election results. But I just want to say as women we are powerful, fearless, and adaptable. We are not going to let this man and his clan break us because we believe in a future where every tear we have now is going to be the strength that helped us fight later on. Like Kamala said just because we didn't win this battle, doesn't mean the fight is over. We know who our opponent will be JD Vance once Trump is over and we know who our victorian will be Kamala Harris. So until these four years are over be safe, stay strong, and don't give up.

XXXXXX

Europe Special Part Two

Chapter four: europe special part two

warning:  none

masterlist link | previous chapter | next chapter

"We're in Croatia!" Aliyah cheers, her face lighting up with excitement for a brand-new day of exploring.

"Boss Lady, take a picture with me!" KK dashes over to where Sasha is standing with Azzi and Nika, grinning.

"You're going to be doing this all day, aren’t you?" Sasha says, looking down at the slightly shorter girl bouncing around with boundless enthusiasm—a quality she'd come to expect from the lively freshman.

"Yup!" KK suddenly hops onto the team leader's back, holding her phone out to capture their reflection in the elevator’s mirror.

"Kamorea?" Sasha asks, a hint of exasperation in her voice.

"Yes, bestie?" KK beams, still perched on the 5'10" young woman's back.

"Get off me," Sasha deadpans, wanting to stand up straight—and mostly not wanting KK to be clinging onto her back a second longer.

"I’m kinda comfortable, you know?" KK adjusts her arms around Sasha's neck. "I feel like this is bringing us closer, strengthening our bond—"

"Now."

"Yup, okay." KK jumps off without hesitation.

XXX

"I love to travel and study people. Each year we've come here, it’s been different." – Geno Auriemma, Head Coach

"Paige, where are we going?" Nika asks her best friend and teammate as the camera follows behind them.

"We’re about to go ziplining!" Paige replies, and they finish their little announcement with a playful spy pose, fingers pressed to their lips.

"That was corny," the camera pans to Sasha, laughing at her friends' dorkiness.

"So corny," KK chimes in.

"KK?" Sasha turns toward her.

"Yeah, bestie?"

"Back away from me," Sasha says, nudging her forward.

XXX

We start to see who takes on the leadership role and who wants to stay a follower. – Geno Auriemma, Head Coach

"It’s time to be honest with ourselves!" Sasha addresses the team, gathered in a huddle. "We... no, wait. Not we—you all suck at rebounding. You’ve been bad at it every year. Aren't you tired of it? Failing to rebound means you have to work harder at every other position on the court."

I don’t like the toughness of this team. I don’t. The only player here with real grit on the court is Sasha, but that's because she’s a perfectionist and thrives on competition. – Geno Auriemma, Head Coach

XXX

"Why are you crying, Q?" Sasha asks, walking over to a freshman on the bench, who’s quietly tearing up from a minor injury. "This isn’t high school. This is college and professional-level ball. Hits are harder, the game’s faster. You need to handle playing in these conditions because this is how it’s going to be from now on."

"Do I think they’re a good group? Yes. Do I think they get along? Yes. But that was the same as last year. Something has to change for us to have a different ending." – Chris Dailey, Associate Head Coach

Everyone who knows me knows I just want to play. It’s not about games in August and Europe; it’s about the national championship in April. – Paige Bueckers, Guard

XXX

"I refuse to go another year where the same five players are on the court for 40 minutes with no breaks while two or three rows of players sit on the bench," Sasha declares, looking firmly at her teammates and the coaching staff. "That’s why we got rid of some players. Our starters can’t slow down halfway through. Not anymore!”

There’s gotta be something worth all this that we’ve been through.– Nika Muhl, Point Guard

This is who we are. This is who I am. And because of that, our team will get an identity. – Geno Auriemma, Head Coach

XXX

"Geno says coaching is about teaching you all something meaningful. So, let’s go over our three priorities," Sasha stands in the middle of the huddle. "Nika, what’s the first focus?"

"Pick up," Nika responds, spot-on.

"Ayanna, the next one?"

"Guard your player."

"KK, the last factor?"

"When the ball is in your hand, you shoot," KK answers confidently—yet incorrectly.

"Inez, correct KK’s mistake," Sasha shakes her head, prompting.

"Shoot, pass, drive," Inez replies with the correct answer.

"KK, repeat it," Sasha turns back to the freshman.

"Shoot, pass, drive."

"Again."

"Shoot, pass, drive."

"When the ball is in your hand, what do you do?"

"Shoot, pass, drive."

“Each game we play over the next 12 days, we’ll be assessing and making corrections. For this game, I’ll be evaluating quick plays, and corrections will be given. If you can’t follow them, don’t expect to play in the next game," Sasha announces with authority.

On the sidelines, the coach and player duo of Sasha and Geno watch the action, analyzing players’ strengths and weaknesses. Right now, Nika has the ball, with three opponents close on her heels. Realizing she can’t make the shot with them so close, the Croatian player passes the ball to Aubrey, positioned nearby.

"Get a layup," Geno commands, and Aubrey successfully makes the shot. In the next play, Q manages a steal and has a clear path to the net. Sasha counts the seconds as she races across the court, measuring her speed.

"Good, Q!" The team cheers as the freshman scores.

"We need to get her moving faster, or at least able to take the shot from the two-point line," Sasha remarks to Geno, who nods in agreement.

"We’ll use this preseason to push them from a high school to a college level," Geno says, spotting a chaotic play forming on one side of the court. "Drive it!" he shouts, as Ashlynn Shade, one of the guards, hesitates with the ball. She quickly passes it to Aaliyah, who moves closer to relieve the pressure, but the opposing team intercepts, scoring a three-pointer.

"Ashlynn, go ask KK what we do when the ball’s in our hands!" Sasha calls to the player as she walks off the court. "I don’t know what that was out there, but I don’t want to see it again."

We have a lot of work to do. Some things were good—I think our transition offense was strong. The freshmen’s effort level is good. – Chris Dailey, Associate Head Coach

"Thank you, freshmen!" Sasha claps, acknowledging their quick plays, ball control, and long-range shots.

"It was so cool—our first game as Huskies!" Ashlynn says excitedly in an interview, with Quadence Samuels beside her.

"I know," Quadence responds. 

"It was exciting."

"I didn’t… I mean, I did and didn’t expect to play because I’m a freshman, and Sasha is intense. But when she called my name, I thought, 'Okay, here we go,'" Quadence adds with a laugh.

XXX

"Aubrey needs to work on ankle strength; if her knee shifted just a little to the left, her ankle would’ve snapped," Sasha observes as Aubrey completes a layup.

"Hey, Q, bring Aubrey over," Geno instructs the freshman.

"By March, Q needs to be a skilled, confident player. Right now, her instincts are strong," Geno remarks, watching her progress.

The freshmen who joined us in June stand out—they’re fearless. They don’t hesitate; they play, and they keep going. They want to learn, and that fearlessness is refreshing. – Chris Dailey, Associate Head Coach

XXX

"This is KK, a freshman," Caroline Ducharme, a guard, introduces her teammate with an arm around her. "She’s from Ohio."

"But..." KK shyly smiles.

"But she came from Wisconsin." On the court, KK skillfully makes a layup.

"What took you so long to make that layup?" Geno laughs, congratulating her.

"Sorry," KK apologizes, a bashful smile on her face as she walks to the bench.

"Jump by bending your knees, not by putting weight on your ankles," Sasha instructs as KK passes by.

Every freshman class is different, and these three have a solid understanding of what’s expected of them. They’re gym rats—they love it. I was here Saturday afternoon, and it was just Sasha and Quadence, throwing shots and looking to Sasha for tips. They love to play, they’re competitive, and they’ll add so much because now no one has to play 40 minutes. Watching them is just fun. – Geno Auriemma, Head Coach

I don’t think there’s a way to describe the feeling when I was cleared. The first rush was pure joy, and then this overwhelming sense of satisfaction for working as hard as I have over the past 12 months. It’s changed me, made me grow up in so many ways. I’ve been counting down the days until I could play again. It’s gone by so fast, and yet it hasn’t. Finally hearing those words, it meant everything. Throughout the season, there was so much turbulence—a real roller coaster. Having to sit on the sidelines, watching and only being able to say things without actually being able to do them, is the worst feeling as a teammate and partner. You just want to play, help your team, support them when they’re struggling. Sitting out is one of the most painful things for an athlete. I just wanted to play in the NCAA tournament. – Paige Bueckers, Forward

Knowing Paige and how much she wants to play, I think it was a mature decision on her part. At her level, both on and off the court, there are always people trying to influence her. It’s my job to make sure the right people are in her ear, that she knows who has her best interests at heart versus those with their own agendas. – Geno Auriemma, Head Coach

"Go put on your knee brace," Sasha stops Paige from stepping onto the court.

"My knee’s fine, baby," Paige replies, unsure why she needs to put on the protective gear.

"Put it on, or you don’t step on the court," Sasha insists, turning her attention fully to her wife.

"But there’s nothi—"

"Now." Sasha’s tone is firm, brooking no argument.

"Yes, honey." Paige submits, heading to the bench where her knee brace is waiting.

"Are you going to do an interview for the special?" Geno asks, gesturing to the camera.

"Nope," Sasha shakes her head.

"Why not?"

"I don’t feel like talking about my basketball journey," Sasha shook her head. "It’s nothing but pain, misery, and pretending everything is okay. Meanwhile, inside, I’m wondering why I even get out of bed." With that, she walked away, heading back onto the court.

Sasha and I have been side by side since she was a little girl—she's honestly like my fourth kid. I've watched her through every milestone in life and basketball, and her journey hasn't been a pretty story. When I first met her, she wasn’t even let on the court—no one believed in her. But the moment she and her mother walked up to me, asking for permission to play in a youth boys' AAU game, I saw something special in her. With Diana, I had four years to create something magical. But with Sasha, we built something never seen before. By the time she hit double digits in age, she was already labeled an All-American. But to get there, she had to take some hard punches. There were plenty of times I was sure she was ready to quit the game for good. But one day, the tears stopped, and it was like a new fire was born in her. She got faster, smarter, and stronger, and I don’t think anyone was ready for it—I sure wasn’t. For those first few months, it was as if Sasha was teaching me as much as I was teaching her. Since then, we’ve never been apart. Her parents trusted me completely with her, and she’s lived with me and my family since she was eight, only going home for the holidays. Together, we’ve achieved what some players don’t reach until a decade into their careers. But it’s come with a heavy burden. – Geno Auriemma, Head Coach

"Some of the coaching staff say Sasha James is the heart of the team. No. She’s the heart of the women’s league." – Chris Dailey, Associate Head Coach

taglist @allaboutnayeli @zendayasredbottoms @tacoboutstuff @jules19sstuff @siyuziii @danc1ngqu33n @christiniawcb @riddlette13 @thebignunfun @xxloveralways14 @lordfarquad-k @rhearipley-69 @danversrailme @amberg1998 @zzzz-zzz1 @htttpcasti @lidiyabest @wwelovergirl @lesbianpoetess @jamiemundy7773 @pixelorange06 @steampunkprincess147 @brbblog123 @h3artss44le @harajukub4rb1e @billiesrighthand

[black-arcana]

HALESTORM Is '70' Or '80 Percent' Done Making New Album: 'We're Excited About It'

In a new interview with PK of Louisville, Kentucky's ALT 105.1 radio station, HALESTORM frontwoman Lzzy Hale spoke about the progress of the recording sessions for the band's follow-up to 2022's "Back From The Dead" album. Lzzy said (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): "We've had three separate sessions in the studio with — we're making a record with [producer] Dave Cobb. And he's actually a huge closet metal fan, and so he's really excited. And so we're making this great music, but we're constantly touring. So we've had, like, three different sessions in the studio. We're probably — what? — 70, 80, maybe, percent there. We have a studio in our house and so I'm doing a lot of the finishing touches on vocals and sewing everything up, doing solos and all that. And then we get back in in December to just say, 'Okay, this is good.' And then, yeah. And then there we are. So we're excited about it. We really are."

Cobb has shared in nine Grammy wins, including four for "Best Americana Album" and three for "Best Country Album". He's also been named "Producer Of The Year" by the Country Music Awards, the Americana Music Association (twice) and the Music Row Awards, and has been a Grammy nominee in the category.

Lzzy previously talked about working with Cobb earlier this month in an interview with "The Morning After With Nic & Big J" on the 100.3 The X Rocks radio station. She said: "It's been a really crazy whirlwind making [the new album]. We ended up going in with Dave Cobb, the producer. And it's something completely different than what we've ever had. We literally rolled in with all of our baggage, all of our songs, our riffs, the whole thing, and he's, like, 'No, we're not gonna do any of that. We're just gonna start.' And I'm, like, 'What? There's no plan? What's happening.' And it's kind of beautiful 'cause all of us are very ADHD, and we're locked together in this house in Savannah, Georgia, which, if you've ever been to Savannah, Georgia, there's no scene. It's a spooky historic town with a lot of Spanish moss. And we're locked — literally I'm saying locked, because we locked the doors — we're locked in this house full of every piece of equipment you could ever need. It's all set up. The board is there — everything — and we're all unsupervised. Which I can't tell you the last time that has happened making an album — probably since the first record, [when] we were all living in an apartment together. So, all of our inner children are screaming and we're all just getting into the sandbox and playing, 'Hey, I brought some LEGOs. You brought a rocket. Let's see if we can get it to space.' And so all of this stuff has really been coming together in such a weird and organic way, to the point that it's very much peeling back the onion of what is HALESTORM.

"My brother [HALESTORM drummer Arejay Hale] and I have had many moments while making this record where we look at each other and we're, like, 'This reminds me of when we were 14.' It's just wild," Lzzy added. "So, I'm very excited for everyone to hear it and I'm excited for it to be done. And so hopefully we wrap it up in December and get get it the hell out — out of my house. [Laughs]"

Elaborating on the songwriting process this time around and how it was different to some of HALESTORM's previous records, Lzzy said: "I think that the big lesson in the front of the race here that has been answered is that usually the weirdest ideas are the best. And sometimes it's the things that you don't think are very good that everyone collectively is, like, 'No, that's actually great.' And I think that that's been the beautiful thing is that the four of us, even though… I mean, my brother's 37 — he's the young gun, but we're all in our early forties — and we've been doing this a long time together. And so to have that kind of reconnection to who you are as people and as friends and really having that kind of come out in the music and it not be this kind of assembly line, like, 'Okay, Lzzy wrote 12 songs. We all really like 'em. Let's record 'em.' Or, 'Hey, we have this collection. And we have a month to be in the studio. Let's just go and bang it out.' We've really kind of taken the time to really let the music tell us what to do and honestly let our weird brains tell us what to do, because we're all terrible adults [laughs], and I think that we were never meant to be. So it's been nice to just kind of have the freedom to do whatever the hell we want and then worry about the consequences later. [Laughs]"

This past July, Arejay was asked by The VORTX Podcast with host Ethan Jackson about HALESTORM's decision to work with Cobb this time around. Arejay said: "It's always good for a band to, if you want your sound to evolve, bring in some fresh minds into it. And the cool thing about Dave is that he's a total hard rock and metalhead at heart. A lot of his most successful projects have been a lot of country, a lot of alternative — I mean, he's all over the spectrum — so when works with us, you can tell… There's a really great mutual respect between [us], 'cause we've been doing this long enough and he's been doing it for so long. We've been a huge fan of his as well, so there's a lot of mutual respect between the two of us, and you can feel it in the room."

Asked if he and his HALESTORM bandmates set a date for themselves for when they want to be done with a record, Arejay said: "It used to be a lot more stringent in the early days. 'Cause when you're trying to get the band off the ground, you really wanna kind of keep that momentum going. But our last couple of records have been a little bit more laid back, which is nice. It kind of gives it room to breathe. It gives us time to like really assess where we wanna go. And definitely COVID changed everything."

On the topic of whether the HALESTORM members do more work remotely now or if they still all get together in the studio and collaborate on ideas in one room, Arejay said: "Oh, it's so much more effective for us to be in the same room. I think it kind of forces you to just… I guess we work well under pressure, 'cause, going back to your last question… We definitely feel the pressure to get the album out at a certain time, but what really cranks up the pressure is the fact that we're leaving Nashville and going to Savannah for only a set period of time, 'cause Dave [only has certain] windows [of availability]. And it really forces us to just dig into your gut and just pull things out. And when we're all together in the room and Joe [Hottinger, HALESTORM guitarist] starts playing around with the riff and I start jamming with them, things just come out, things just happen. There's a magic there."

In June, Lzzy told Decker of the rock station Razor 94.7/104.7 (WZOR) that she and her HALESTORM bandmates initially "got a lot of pushback" from their team about the prospect of working with Cobb. She recalled: "We were saying, 'Oh, wouldn't it be cool to do a record with Dave Cobb? Because that would be something that nobody would really expect from us. And I bet you he would come up with some crazy ideas. Don't know the guy, but let's figure it out.' And everybody on our team was, like, 'No, no, he's too busy. That's not you. He's got this stuff going. He's got, like, nine Grammys with Chris Stapleton. That's not your scene.' And so we kept pushing back. We're, like, 'No, no, no. Just ask him. Just ask him. We can handle rejection, but just ask him.' And so finally, our A&R guy at our label is, like, 'Fine, I'll reach out. Whatever. Just stop bugging me.' And so he reached out, and then he called me, like, the next day. He's, like, 'Hey, I heard back from Dave Cobb. And guess what? Not only does he absolutely know who you are, but he's been wanting to make a record with you for, like, seven years. And he has a plan already of how he wants to do it.' And we're, like, 'What? This is sick.' So anyway, we went to go test the waters, and we go into the studio. And look, I write every day. When I die, there's gonna be so much that everyone has to sift through, just gibberish songs, all that. So I always have, like, a bank with me, like, 'Here's riffs, here's songs, here's subject titles, here's poetry.' And he was, like, 'No, no, no. We're not gonna do anything that you already have. Nothing.' I'm, like, 'Uh. What?' And he's, like, 'No, we're just gonna start.' Everyone's sitting in a circle and we're, like, gonna kumbaya. So everyone got an instrument, like, 'All right. So what are we feeling today?' I'm, like, 'Is this a therapy session?' And we ended up — it's crazy, 'cause then we'll like grab on to something 'cause of that pressure of, like, 'Well, I was thinking about this as this is happening.' 'Cool. Let's go there.' And so he has this amazing instincts that are very, like, you can't see it when you're in it. And then, as soon as we start like putting stuff together, we kind of zoom out and, like, 'Oh, wait a minute. This is so wild and awesome and exactly what we do.' So it's very strange. But we're all very free. And then the other thing is that while we're writing it, we're recording it at the same time. So these tracks are, like, us discovering the song for the first time as well as we're performing them. There are some things that we're performing them all at the same time. There's one track in particular that we completely forgot to put the click track on, and we did like three takes like that, and then we're, like, 'Oh, wait. We don't even have a click going.' Arejay said something, like, 'Were we supposed to have like a click track so we all are on time together?' And everyone's, like, 'We didn't even notice it was gone.' And so we did another take with the click. We're, like, 'No, we like that other one better.' So there's stuff like that. A lot of weird surprises. There's a lot of space. And we're really excited because we're not going country or anything like that, or Americana. This is such a new — it's got so much teeth, and it's so different than what we just did with 'Back From The Dead', but in this almost weightier, heavier way. And the lyrics are — I'm tackling subjects I've never tackled before because I'm having the freedom to do so. So I'm very excited."

HALESTORM and I PREVAIL recently embarked on summer 2024 co-headlining tour. Produced by Live Nation, the trek kicked off on July 9 in Raleigh and ran through August 17 in Las Vegas. HOLLYWOOD UNDEAD and FIT FOR A KING served as support. The tour was also the catalyst and the creative spark for HALESTORM and I PREVAIL's collaborative track "Can U See Me In The Dark?", which was released in June.

"Back From The Dead" has tallied over 100 million streams worldwide. Rolling Stone called the title track "a biting but cathartic howler about overcoming all obstacles," and that song as well as "The Steeple" marked their fifth and sixth number ones at rock radio, respectively. Associated Press said the album "will definitely be in the running for best hard rock/metal album of the year." Their previous album, "Vicious", earned the band their second Grammy nomination, for "Best Hard Rock Performance" for the song "Uncomfortable", the band's fourth #1 at rock radio, and led Loudwire to name HALESTORM "Rock Artist Of The Decade" in 2019.

Fronted by Lzzy with Arejay, guitarist Joe Hottinger and bass player Josh Smith, HALESTORM's music has earned multiple platinum and gold certifications from the RIAA, and the band has earned a reputation as a powerful live music force, headlining sold-out shows and topping festival bills around the world, and sharing the stage with icons including HEAVEN & HELL, Alice Cooper, Joan Jett and JUDAS PRIEST. Additionally, Lzzy was named the first female brand ambassador for Gibson and served as host of AXS TV's "A Year In Music".

[thewickerking]

hey. what?

well. For context everyone im assuming this ask is referring to this post and my tags below

im assuming because of the. The.

Many. Prev tags on it lmao but anyways here's more context. ill try to keep specific elements vague cause i don't want to doxx my grandma and by extension myself. But yeah let's go

my grandma (maternal) ran away from home in her teens (not sure the exact year/age but 70s ish) to join the circus and worked there for an amount of time doing ticket sales and miscellaneous jobs that aren't performance based

she met a guy also working there and they dated. this guy joined a satanic cult after joining the circus (? I think. Mightve been the other way around) and performed ritualistic sacrifice within the cult/with his murder victims. he was not in charge of the cult but was an active member and serial killer across around 4 states, maybe more (evidence was found for about 4 states iirc)

anyways he got caught for evidence of multiple murders but confessed to upwards of 20 (they couldn't find evidence of this so its unclear if he was exaggerating or if there simply wasn't enough irrefutable evidence) and went to prison while my grandma was pregnant and she was also arrested as an accomplice and had her kid in prison. She was 18 at the time. Idk how long she spent in prison but it was long enough to have her son taken away

her son (first of her four children, was my oldest uncle on my moms side) has adopted parents who changed his first and last name and didn't let him know about his biological parents (and were also extremely abusive) and so my mother and her siblings and her mom did unsuccessful research to find him over the years and he found our family a few years before he turned 30 (my moms ten years younger than him btw) and we've been in contact since and he was my personal favorite of my moms siblings

Oh also the serial killer got sentenced to life without parole and is currently on death row. My uncle died last year from unrelated circumstance (I posted about it some last year if anyone remembers) and my mom adopted 2 of 3 of his kids (3rd was a legal adult already) and then they got kidnapped and their kidnappers won the custody battle against my mom so. Yeah

Oh also worth noting my mom is the youngest of the four. my grandma had four kids with different men so im not related to the serial killer but he is in my family tree? Anyways yeah different fathers. My grandma remembers the serial killer and my moms father (my abuelito ♡ love him) but doesn't remember the fathers of the middle children (my aunt and uncle). So they're my moms half siblings technically and nobody knows if the middle children have other half siblings on their dads' sides 🤷‍♂️ but my mom has a half sister on her dad's side! She's 2 years younger than me bc my abuelito got married to his ex wife later in life but they're not together anymore (?) Not sure. They broke up idk if they legally divorced but they live in different countries and don't talk to each other. So.

Id love to meet her someday! But I don't know if thats feasible. She lives in Mexico and only speaks spanish so it would certainly be difficult. But I want to.... she almost immigrated to the United States like. 6 years ago?? My mom paid for documents to be legally translated and stuff but stuff happened and it didn't go through.she also tried to kill her mom once. But she's doing better. That's all a long story. We have a picture of her in our house from when she was little!

Ok thats very tangent-y. I have a lot of family stories. But also if anyone was curious this post below was also about my maternal grandmother

shes a white woman who likes to weaponise having "friends" in nepal when people are mean to her. She's a character. if ppl are curious abt any of this i will answer btw i love talking abt my family they're deranged

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my brother to turn down the volume? And WIBTA for assuming his internet history and trying to get him to stop visiting certain sites?

So it's like this- my (24ftnb (closeted)) hearing is incredibly oversensitive. Like, I can hear someone chewing with their mouth open from 100 paces. However, I'm usually good about not reacting to noises that frustrate me. Not always- sometimes I have to text a meme I made to one of my brothers (22m, 20m, 12m) that's an edit of the "I (do this thing), but I don't want to" meme. The one with the guy who looks up in the second panel with red eyes. "I hear everything, but I don't want to," y'know?

In the past, the predecessor to this meme was simply crawling out of bed to stand in my brothers' doorframe to tell 22m (younger at the time, obviously) to stop singing loudly at 2 am. (It never worked until our parents got involved, and even then sometimes not for the entire night.) Times have changed, I no longer sleep across the hall from all three, but we're all still stuck in the same house, and it's now 20m who's keeping me awake.

Most of the time, he's watching a show he enjoys or playing a video game in the basement. And humming along. Which sounds perfectly fine, and I'm glad he can find some time to indulge in his interests. Whenever I ask him to maybe indulge at a volume that doesn't carry through the vents and directly to my room, though, he gets angry and tells me it's an "anon problem, not a [him] problem." Which. Whatever. I'll deal with itchy earplugs if I need to when at home. They're usually enough to silence the little things, though louder stuff always manages to get through.

Now, though, we're visiting family, and the four of us are sharing a hotel room while our parents take a second. (Yes, yes, I know, three 20-somethings still living with our parents. Our parents put the "rent" into "parent" for each of us once we hit 18, so it's not like we're "freeloading." The economy's in shambles, so this is the best we've got rn.)

And 20m started watching episodes of a show he likes on the room's TV almost immediately after dinnertime, continuing until about 11:30 PM, when I eventually suggested that he watch one more before turning it off or switching to his phone. Something that wouldn't get loud enough to half-wake 12m for the fourth time in a row. I was careful not to mention my own annoyance at being unable to sleep.

Apparently the appropriate response was "I don't want to hear that from you."

Now, this is where that other question I asked comes in, and why I felt the need to specify that I'm closeted ftnb. See, 20m has previously talked about sigma males being better than alpha males, has told me to "use your ethos!" and acted like I was an idiot for not catching on that he meant "use your brain," and repeatedly interrupts conversations where our mother, 12m, and/or I are speaking to completely veer it off-course to whatever he wants to talk about. Additionally, he is incredibly controlling of 12m and has been for nearly all of 12m's lifetime. At the same time, whenever I try to point this out to someone, I am not believed and am considered to be overreacting, thin-skinned, or oversensitive. If 20m is around to see me do so, he snaps at me for "butting in."

Honestly, it feels like he might be browsing incel subreddits or something, but I don't know any specifics beyond how his mentality's changed over the years. All I know is that it feels like he is so much less likely these days to treat my suggestions as equal to his own when I'm not being a yes-man. Yes-person?

Now, I'll straight-up admit that I am not an objective observer. It's very possible that I'm in the wrong about all this, as far as I can tell, but these are the facts as I see them, and nobody's told me otherwise while also elaborating on what the truth would be in such a case.

So…AITA for asking my brother to turn down the volume? And WIBTA for both assuming he's browsing sites that are eroding his ability to interact with other people, and for planning to find a way to get him to stop?

What are these acronyms?

[garricks4thwingqueen]

Would you please write a story where Garrick’s baby sister is injured at Resson or in the battle of Basgiath and he’s pleading with her to stay alive?

Safe Bodhi X Tavis younger sister reader

Request: Would you please write a story where Garrick’s baby sister is injured at Resson or in the battle of Basgiath and he’s pleading with her to stay alive? 

A/N: I absolutely loved the idea of this request but I did tweak the idea a little bit with using the battle of Samara as I feel that sometimes Resson as I felt like I’ve been using both Resson and Basgiath battles a lot. Hope you still enjoy it! 

Synopsis: Reader is Garrick Tavis’s younger twin sister who is also madly in love with her boyfriend Bodhi Durran. This is set in Bodhi’s third year in Basgiath as he is battling the ropes of newly appointed wing leader and worries of his girlfriend being out on her first assignment even though he knows she is safe with her brother and his cousin. 

Word Count: 1340

Trigger Warnings: Unconscious reader, swearing

            Bodhi’s POV 

   Bodhi slumped against the wall next to Imogen in the top row in the auditorium in preparation for another useless battle brief class. Useless as in a since he knew that Professor Devera and Markham never talked about the real issues or what was really the real important battle in his and the other marked ones eyes; the wyvern and the venin. 

  Imogen let out a low chuckle next to him. “Rough night Durran?” “Couldn’t really sleep. Honestly, I haven't slept that much in the past weeks. Won’t until I get her first letter.” “Bodhi Y/N is going to be fine. She’s strong and she’s also with Garrick; if anyone were to hurt her he’d do his crazy protective twin thing and don’t forget they're both with Xaden.” “Imogen I know-” 

  “There was an attack on one of our easternmost outposts last night.” Professor Devera said starting this morning's discussion. “I want to start by taking questions from our first years.”

  “Shit.” I mumbled under my breath as I watched the first year's hands shoot up. “Mairi.” Professor Devera said, pointing to her. “What outpost?” Sloane asked.  

  “Good question to start but not enough to gain necessary information. The outpost was Samara.” “You.” Professor Devera asked, pointing to another first year that had their hand up.  “How many casualties?” 

    I missed the answer as I watched a frantic Violet Sorrengial rush out of the auditorium and instantly sprinting to follow her knowing she was talking to Tairn whether or not if he could connect with Sgaeyl this far out I wasn’t sure.   

   I meet her when she finally stopped out on the flight field next to Tairn.  

                              24 hours ago in Samara Garrick’s Pov 

  I really don’t know what happened in the last four hours starting from the initial attack on the outpost when Y/N were on watch in one of the towers.  All I knew now I was by my sister's bed side in one of the infamy tents. I knew I could probably use a shower, I knew I probably stunk.

    But I didn’t care, all I cared about was the rise and fall of my sister's chest. “Y/N please wake up. I can’t lose you, my twin sister. We've been through everything. And Bodhi please don’t make me tell Bodhi I’ve lost you.” 

   I felt a soft strong hand on my shoulder.  “You smell like ass but I’m gonna let that slide right now.” Xaden chuckled. “Thanks?” “She’s going to be fine, Gare.” “And if the hell she doesn’t wake up?” “This is my fault Xaden! I turned my back around once last night and she took a venin dagger to the ribs.”  “All because I turned my head last fucking second. Bodhi is going to fucking kill me.” 

  I heard Xaden sighed behind me “no one is killing anyone around here or at Basgiath.” he said, fixing a stray piece of Y//N’s hair behind her ear. “Go shower, go take care of yourself for an hour Tavis.”  “I can’t what if she wakes up when I’m gone?”   “Then I’ll tell her you went to go wash your stinky ass up. I won’t leave her alone.”  “And I won’t let him.” 

    “Oh Violet, hey didn’t even see you there.”  I sighed, taking one more look at my still unconscious sister and stood up squeezing her hand and placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be back, I'm just going to shower. Xaden and Violet are here.” I whispered standing up. “Thanks.” I placed a soft hand on Xaden’s shoulder as he pulled me in for a hug. “Don’t even mention it Y/N would probably much prefer it if you didn’t smell like dragon’s ass when she wakes up.” 

  “If she wakes.” I mumbled. “She’s going to wake up. You aren’t losing her, Bodhi isn’t losing her. None of us will be losing her.” 

                                                    Y/N POV 

  You felt something warm and heavy drape over your shoulders as you took in the familiar scent of Bodhi? That got you to jolt awake. Bodhi couldn’t be here; it wasn't safe for him to be here, especially not now; not with what happened yesterday, you thought to yourself. You went to sit up but groaned as your whole body felt heavy and you felt a strong but gently hand guide you back down. 

    “Easy Y/N/” “Xaden?” You asked as you were still coming to your senses. “Yeah.” He smiled softly as you took a glass of water from Violet. Tugging the jacket around your chest and that’s when you noticed the patches and realized that’s where the strong scent of Bodhi came from. Even though it was just his jacket and his scent of cedar and cinnamon it still calmed you like a warm hug. 

    You began to slightly panic once you realized your brother wasn’t in the room. “Garrick, Bodhi?” You asked frantically. Xaden placed another hand on your shoulder guiding you back down. “Fine both perfectly fine.” “Garrick went to shower and Bodhi gave me his flight jacket when I ran out of battle brief this morning before flying out here to come check on Xaden.” Violet said.  

  You tugged his jacket around your once more again feeling like you were wrapped in one of his hugs even though he wasn't here physically.  

   “Oh thank fucking Malek your alive.” You heard your brother sigh very loudly as he came back into the room. “I heard you smelled like dragon ass.” You teased accepting the almost bone crushing hug from your brother.  

  “I’m so glad you're awake Y/N. I thought I was losing you.” “You're never gonna lose me Gare, I promise.” You said softly. “This was my fault.” He mumbled into your shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault Garrick Tavis.” “It was I turned my body half an inch and then you- it all happened so fast. In one moment you were next to me and then the next I was begging Malek to not take you.” 

  You heard the concern and pain in your brother’s voice and wished that there was anything you could do to take it away. But deep down you know stubborn the Tavis bloodline was, hell you were one yourself and you knew that guilt of putting you in a position that almost cost you your life was going to haunt your brother for a long time. You could tell him it wasn’t his fault a million times over again and he still would continue to take the blame even though you were just as much at fault if not more. 

  For now you decided that it was a lost argument with your brother. “I love you Gare your the best big brother a girl could ever ask for. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere I promise.” “I know you're here. Thank god you're here. I wasn't looking forward to seeing Bodhi again and telling him if-.” 

 “If what Tavis?” Your heart purely melted at the voice that cut off your brother's words mid sentence. You almost had a river of tears sliding down your cheeks as you lifted your head off your brother's shoulders and your eyes confirmed the voice you had thought you had heard. 

 “Bodhi.” You mumbled through tears. “Ssssh Y/N.” He said sitting on the other side of the infamy bed pulling that side close to you as Garrick still sat on the other. “You're ok. I love you gods, I love you.” He said softly, placing soft kisses all over you. “I love you so much Bodhi and you Garrick even though you're my sometimes really annoying older brother I love you.” “Gee thanks Y/N, I love you too.” Garrick chuckled as you yawned. 

     “Get some rest my sweet girl your safe, we’ll be right here.” And safe is what you knew you were as you let your eyes close against Bodhi’s chest and let your body continue to get the rest it so desperately screamed for.

[umgeorge]

pole-sitter george russell is interviewed after qualifying, britain - july 6, 2024 (transcript under the cut)

Interviewer: "George, what a time you're having of it. Second grand prix victory last time out in Austria, first of the season. Now pole in front of your home fans, at your home race. How's it feel?" George: "Aww, incredible. Really lost for words. Couldn't have dreamt of this at the start of this year, and it was such a difficult session. Q1 I was almost knocked out, Q2 I was almost knocked out, and I had so much pressure going into Q3. I dunno. I've not felt like this in a long time, in terms of my nerves and the pressure I was feeling on myself, but as soon as I started the lap I was like, yeah, I think this is gonna be a good lap, and both were really, really great, and… Feeling alright now." Interviewer: "Where on earth did that pace come from?" George: "I dunno. I really don't know. The car was just so hooked up. It was really, really difficult out there, with the wind. I was keeping a really close eye on what it was doing and trying to bring it back slightly where it was a bit stronger wind, turn it up a little bit more when I had the headwind, and I think that helped me quite a lot. But, I mean, for Lewis and I to be on the front row together… Yeah, I mean, it's just absolutely awesome, and we've been in the top three, the two of us, for the last four races now, as soon as we brought these upgrades. Second pole position in the last three races, I wanna say, is it now? So I dunno, the car's feeling pretty awesome." Interviewer: "Can you get the win tomorrow?" George: "Yeah, for sure. I think weather's gonna be the biggest factor, but we're going for it."

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Light on the Darkside - Chapter Thirty + Epilogue.

Well, we've reached the end, besties. Thanks to the few of you who stuck with it, it means the world to me. I hated having to say goodbye to James and Ella, as well as the rest of the characters, too, but all good things must come to an end and I hope you'll agree that I gave them a fitting send off.

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty One Twenty Two Twenty Three Twenty Four Twenty Five Twenty Six Twenty Seven Twenty Eight Twenty Nine

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 5,460

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

Two years later 

“Nah bro, can’t do it.” 

“But why, though?” 

Kitt gesticulated wildly across the garage, to where four out of five members of Nocturnal Descent all sat in a row, each trying their hardest not to laugh. “Because that’s one hell of a fucking audience! Playing to our other mates is one thing, but them? Nah.” 

Snedders was the first to speak. “Aw, Kitt man. How long you known us all for now, eh? What do you think we’re gonna do, sit here and piss laughing? Nah. Just run through and we’ll give you honest feedback.” 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” the lad continued, Lyra rolling her eyes. 

“Mate, come on,” she spoke, reaching to ruffle his hair lovingly, ending up with a palm full of styling wax she wiped onto her jeans. “It’s my dad and my uncles, not a load of twats who are gonna boo us.”  

“I expected better of you, son!” Gaz chimed in, scratching his beard. “Just play one song, it’s cool. You play in front of me and Jim all the bloody time when we jam together. Don’t be fucking scared of Sneds and Steve.” 

“Come on, mate,” the latter spoke, leaning forward in his seat. “Ain’t no one here gonna be a dick.” 

And that was the root of Kitt’s issue, the fact that the band he and Lyra had started two years before had just played their first gig, and it hadn’t gone well. So poorly, in fact, that they’d completed their set to a chorus of booing within the school hall at the end of year talent show they’d partook in.  

He fiddled with his bass a little, making a panicked noise in the back of his throat, their rhythm guitarist Molly snorting into her mic. 

“Oh, fucking hell, Kitt!” she spluttered, “making me feel all nervous and stuff now too, y’know!” A glare followed. “Wanker!” 

“Go fuck yourself!” he muttered, grinning thereafter and running when she raced behind Lyra to kick his thigh. The guys before them snorted laughing, loving their energy. Kitt’s nerves still lingered. 

He reasoned with himself that indeed, the guys were right, though. If anyone was going to give them a fair shot, it was the four professional musicians before them, all of them he’d known for the last four years. They were also more along the lines of the target demographic for Dominion of Decay, rather than a hall full of kids more into whatever was currently climbing the charts. He nodded, taking a breath, Lyra turning to Enzo, their drummer to count them in.  

James couldn’t keep the smile from his face as Lyra began playing the opening bars of Sacrifice, the song he’d helped her write. God, she was so fucking talented, and yes it didn’t hurt any having a father so musically accomplished, but the way she played came from practising for hours and hours. He still maintained she was better than he’d been at her age, a thought he’d had since she was twelve and really begun showing her talent.  

Looking to his side, he saw Steve elevating his head, mouthing ‘chin up!’ to her while pointing at his own, knowing of course the placement of her head would further open her throat, letting out the bellowing scream he’d had a hand in teaching her how to perfect.  

“They’re fucking good, ain’t they?” he spoke, leaning close to James, his smile broadening.  

“Shitting brilliant, is what they are,” he agreed, tapping his foot along to the blistering beat. “And that ain't biased at all. I tell 'em when they suck, but fucking hell, they’ve come on so bloody well in the last two years, innit.” 

They truly had, too. It was the exact focus Lyra had needed, something to really sink her teeth into while dealing with her PMDD. Whenever she didn’t feel right, she picked up her guitar and played her heart out, wrote the kind of lyrics that blew her dad away, and fastidiously studied music in order to improve.  

That, being put on medication, and her ongoing therapy sessions with Sadie (although now on a bi-weekly basis) all helped her deal with her mental illness in a way that had become entirely manageable, and left a much happier and mentally settled teenage girl in the wake of the one who’d struggled to make sense of it all. 

It went without saying that her parents were beyond proud of her, her dad especially. 

“Right, I’ll start with critiques first, but trust me I ain’t got many,” James spoke after the song had finished. “Molly, you ain’t keeping time, darlin’. It’s slight, but it’s there. If you practice slowly and build better muscle memory, then increase speed, you’ll get it. Try recording a few rehearsals so you can play it back and train your ear to pick it up, too.  

“Other than that, you were great. Just don’t get so wrapped up in the technicalities of playing, because you’re proper top grade at it, but you’re focusing too hard on it and slowing yourself down, ain’t keeping up with Lyra or Enzo. And Lyra, the way you play is why you cost me a shitting fortune in strings! You ain’t gotta brutalise your guitar, baba. Let the amp do the work for you.” 

“And keep your chin up!” Steve then added. “If you keep on looking down, you’ll close your throat and damage your vocal cords more trying to get them screams out. Remember when I told ya, the power behind it comes from the pit of your guts, like. Then you’re just letting your larynx go soft to let the sound pass, and tightening it again when the pitch is higher, but you can’t do that unless...” 

“Unless my throat is open," she finished for him a little sheepishly, rolling her eyes at herself. “Got it. Thanks, Steve.” 

He winked, smiling fondly. “Anytime, kid.” 

Gaz and Snedders then weighed in, giving Kitt and Enzo some invaluable advice, the latter even advising the young drummer to keep up with his fitness in order to handle the rigors of the job better. Drumming was certainly a workout in itself, especially if you played as hard and fast as Snedders did. 

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite, Sneds!” Gaz guffawed, pointing at him. “You had a gut the size of the West fucking Midlands for the first ten years in the band, with your kebab and beer diet!” 

“Oi, less of that!” he barked, pointing a finger at him. “It’s because I’m a formerly fat bastard that I can give that advice. Can’t say that about me any longer though, can ya? Dickhead.” It was true, in the years that had passed from the hedonism and extremely poor diet of his youth, Snedders had become a gym convert, who through the tenacity of Nell, his long-suffering wife, now actually ate a diet consisting of vegetables, too.  

They all sat together for a little while longer, James and Steve fetching a tray of tea and snacks at they sat with the teens, jamming, talking and laughing a lot. It would have been great if Dan was with them too, but he no longer lived local to the Warwickshire area, moving to north Wales, where his new wife was from. It meant he could only come down for practices well in advance, rather than such impromptu sessions like this, the guys offering to do Lyra a favour in letting her band run through for some feedback.  

Gaz and Steve had to get moving after an hour, both having commitments with their families, Snedders sticking around since Nell was, to quote him, enjoying a day of having the house to herself. ��

“Uncle Sneds!" Freya screamed with delight upon seeing him enter the kitchen with her dad, hurtling through from the lounge to be lifted into his arms.  

“Aw, alright, little destroyer of worlds!" he beamed, kissing her cheek. "How you doing?" 

“I’m still the night! Fear me!” 

Oh, she was brilliant. “Don’t worry, bubs. If there’s one person I am truly terrified of in this world, it ain’t your auntie Nell. It’s you.” 

The child beamed, lifting her chin in triumph. “As I suspected!” 

She might have grown out of her wild toddler years, but still, she was a riotous five. There was definitely a spark within that her adoring parents thought would forever be present in Freya, and they wouldn’t diminish it for the world.  

Except maybe when she preceded her antics with the announcement of ‘Hi, I’m Johnny Knoxville, and welcome to Jackass!’ The last time had resulted in her taking a swan dive off the sofa, right to her dad’s midsection as he’d lain on the floor, trying to get his bad back to adjust. The arrival of Freya to his abdomen had certainly not helped. 

“Right then, Lyra,” Snedders then spoke, placing Freya down again to hurtle off in the direction of the back garden. “Where’d you want me?”  

Music was her main passion in life, but also, the eldest of the Kingston girls had taken a very keen interest in all things hair for a number of years. She regularly re-tightened Snedders dreads for him when they grew out at the roots, trimmed her dad’s hair, and as of late even did her mum’s roots for her. It was also why Freya currently sported a bright pink semi-permanent shade on her hair, with it being the school holidays, and nagging her sister to death to dye it for her after being given the okay from their parents. 

“At the island, I’ll just go grab my comb and clips,” she spoke, leaving the room as Zara entered, blowing her nose before moving to grab her dad’s hands and climb up his legs. 

“Getting a bit too big for this, innit,” he spoke, hauling her up into his arms and kissing her cheek. “How you feeling now?” 

Her reply? A very wet sneeze. Right down his ear. Snedders guffawed. James crinkled nose and eye rolled. That’d be another cold he’d be picking up courtesy of his germ-riddled offspring. And he had a tour to finish four days from then. Great. It was all part and parcel of dad duty, though.  

“Rubbish.” she confirmed, cuddling into him more. While she received some comfort, eventually going back to her place on the sofa under a blanket, Snedders sat and went through the pain of dread re-tightening. Each lock was wound around on itself where it had grown out, then backcombed and wound again until a new section of dreadlock was formed. He detested the process, but would rather sit in the Kingston abode with his mate and the kids he thought of as his legitimate nieces than a salon.  

Also, it was much cheaper. He paid Lyra fifty quid for it, a sum she was more than content with. Although she often stated she’d do it for free, he wouldn’t hear of it.  

“I still can’t believe it, you know,” he spoke, sipping his tea. “Only feels like five minutes ago when I was helping with the nighttime feeds and changing your shitty bum when you were this tiny, howling baby.” 

Yes, in her first few months of life prior to James and Ella getting their own flat, her uncles had indeed pitched in with helping her parents raise her. Snedders would hear her stir, amble into James and Ella’s bedroom, shoo them back into bed and let them know he had it covered before preparing a bottle for her. He’d then lie there on the sofa with her on his chest until she quietened, chatting away to her about all sorts while her exhausted parents caught up on sleep. 

“So, is this what you wanna do now you’ve left school, get into hair and all that?” he asked, Lyra twisting more of his hair tighter before combing it to death. 

“It’s my backup, yeah,” she began, turning the dread in her fingers. “The band is my dream, though, so that’s what I’m going after. Then I have this to fall back on. Hairdressing college is only two years, so I’ll be done and qualified by the time I’m eighteen.” 

He could barely believe she’d be sixteen in just nine weeks. Time truly had flown. “Aw, good plan, James mini.”  

She smiled, laughing a little. He’d always called her that, on account she truly was the female version of her father. The man himself re-entered the kitchen, hauling along with him handfuls of bags, Ella following him in after doing the weekly shop at their local Sainsbury’s, pausing to kiss Snedders on the cheek.  

“Not getting too many fleas in my kitchen, are you, Sneds?” she joked, receiving a smack to her leg. 

“Oi, less of that, Ells! I have enough shit talking about my bloody hair to contend with from your old man over there!”  

James immediately turned, pointing a finger. “Less of the old, you twat. You’ll be pushing fifty well before me!”  

“Yeah, but I wear it better,” he grinned, James guffawing before giving him a little further banter, moving to the kettle. 

“Do you and your fleas want another tea?” 

“Best thing to come out of your mouth so far this morning.” He often said that when James was being a dickhead. At least his tea making skills remained as top notch as ever. Much time might’ve passed, but fundamentally, they were still the same lads who’d shared a flat together back in the mid to late nineties. It still only felt like five minutes ago.  

Once his hair was all tidy, Lyra snipping the fluffy strands that had come loose from the dreads as well until they all lay smooth, Snedders passed over two twenty-pound notes and a ten, giving her and her family a big hug each before leaving.  

“That’s going right into the band fund,” she spoke, reaching for the old cookie jar off the top shelf next to the cooker, where she kept her saved cash. Even though her dad had a set up dedicated to rough recording in the garage, it wasn’t as good as an actual studio, she and her friends currently putting money aside each so they could pool together to get some demo tracks laid down at a proper recording studio. “Want some help putting the shopping away, mum?” 

“Please, my little love.” Ella smiled, handing her the bag containing the many and varied items that went to restocking the snacks cupboard. Taking it, she noticed the immediate grabby hands her dad made, rooting around and taking out the spicy coated peanuts to throw across the kitchen to him.  

“Cheers, monster. Right, I’m going out to get the cars washed and vacuumed. I’ll take the destroyer of worlds with me, keep her busy for a bit, innit.” 

With the eldest and youngest Kingston out on the drive, the middle one still absconded to the sofa beneath her blanket, Lyra and Ella made short work of unpacking all the food before taking a seat at the island, drinking tea and snacking on toast.  

“So, where is it you and dad are going tonight, then?” she asked, crunching her way through a thick, well-buttered crust. 

“Out for dinner first, and then to a bar we used to go to all the time called The Gallows.” she spoke, smiling with nostalgia. Since he’d been in America on tour for their actual anniversary, they were having their night out that weekend, before he’d be off again the following Wednesday to embark on the far east leg of the world tour.  

Their wedding anniversary and the date they got together while still in Moor Acres was the same day, 15th June, 1997, marrying seven years later on that same date. Twenty years. Ella could still barely believe it. Just a few days prior, while driving back from a clinic where she’d had sessions, she found herself close by to the very place she’d met her husband, pulling over at the side of the road which bordered the grounds of Moor Acres.  

From her vantage point, she’d been able to make out the gigantic oak tree there in the grounds, the place where she and James had often sat together to escape the regimental environment of the facility, spending some quiet time getting to know one another. There, much like the mighty oak itself, they’d laid the roots of what would grow into one hell of a strong relationship.   

James himself too, had been her oak tree, even when he’d been the furthest thing from mentally strong. He’d gotten her through one of the toughest times, if not the toughest time of her life, entering that facility a broken, emaciated young woman, only to begin flourishing after finding him. She’d leaned on him and he’d supported her, helped her see that food was not her enemy, but the mental picture she had of herself very much was.  

Most of all, he’d made her feel the very thing she didn’t. Beautiful. He still did, too.  

“Be still, my raging male hormones,” he told her later as she got ready, her choice of black leather leggings, her favourite leopard print high heels and a white spaghetti strap top very pleasing to his eye, her long, blonde hair all wavy and free-flowing. “Shitting hell, little. You look top grade sexy.” 

As did he, wearing a deep grey shirt and black jeans. Her husband never needed much to look utterly mouth-watering. “Thank you. Here, do my necklace up for me. I can’t with my nails.”  

Taking the little fine chain with the simple lone diamond star upon it, he fastened it around her neck, kissing her cheek. An hour later, and they were walking through Nuneaton, taking the high street that held so many memories for them of a life gone by, pausing outside one location in particular.  

“I'd hate to think how much the rent costs there now, since they did it all up," James spoke, both of them looking up at the lounge window of his old flat. It looked much different to how it had when they’d lived there, that was for certain. “All the meals of either toast with that nasty, cheap bread or rice, just so we could make the rent.” 

“And sleeping under two duvets in winter so we could save on heating the place a bit," she chirped, remembering it well. “No matter how hard it was at times, though, I still remember it fondly. It was my first proper home as a somewhat responsible adult.  So many memories.” 

“Like when we took Andrea back there for the first time and she wouldn't come out the fucking stairwell,” he chuckled, still able to see her there loitering in his mind's eye, too afraid to go into the flat and meet Steve properly.  

“Or the first time I came back here with you after watching the band play,” she spoke, hugging his arm tightly.  

He’d never forget that night, finding her again after being separated for two months. Winding his arm around her, he rested his head to hers, remembering a lesser pleasant memory of the flat. “It could have ended here for me, if it weren’t for Steve.” He gulped a little, still feeling an icy bite of fear even twenty years on over how close to death he’d come. “I owe him everything, man. Did the biggest solid to me, acting as quickly as he did. Poor lad was terrified, but he held it together to save me. Shit, don’t even wanna think about if I’d done it when he’d been asleep.” 

Turning to him, Ella reached for his face, stroking his cheeks. “Then don’t.” Pulling him down to her level, she kissed him softly, humming happily. “I’m so proud of how far you’ve come, you know. Every day, you make me feel like the luckiest bleedin’ woman in the world for having met you. Love you, my sexy church burner.” 

He laughed then, shaking his head, kissing her forehead. “Love you too, little.” 

They took one last look up at the flat before continuing their walk, a literal walk down memory lane, Ella pointing out what had once been the flower shop she’d worked at, Bloomin’ Lovely now long gone, replaced by a milkshake and dessert bar. They passed by the curry house she’d had a freak out at back in their fledgling stages of being together, the bank next door gone, a wine bar in its place, continuing on until they got to the Italian restaurant they were eating at.  

One penne with vodka sauce and one carbonara later, and they were on the move again, the end of the high street their destination, able to hear the music blaring from The Gallows from a good few hundred yards away. 

“Did you hear Lyra earlier, while we were bringing the shopping in, telling Snedders about her plans?” she spoke, thumb swirling over his knuckles as they walked hand in hand.  

“I did,” he confirmed, smiling with pride. “That’s a good kid we’ve got ourselves there, innit? Got her head screwed on right.” 

“Well, she’s following in some pretty amazing footsteps, isn’t she?” Ella smiled, giving him a little shove. “I think I always knew she would, you know. Good freakin’ god, she’s made me so proud, seeing how she’s come through all her troubles. I mean yes, she can still be a bleedin’ nightmare, but she’s our nightmare.” 

“Can’t fucking wait to see where her life takes her, same for the other two and all.” He paused then, chuckling. “As long as we can keep the chaos of the night off of any government watch lists, we’ll be doing alright.” 

She threw her head back, her laughter radiant, agreeing fully with her husband. After seeing where their lives had taken them, remembering it as they walked the streets they’d tread in their formative years, neither truly could wait to see the future that now lay before their three daughters.  

If they knew one thing for sure, it would likely be as chaotic as it was wonderful. They were Kingston's, after all... 

Epilogue 

August 12th, 2024 

He couldn’t deny how alien it felt for him, to be the one standing stage side while somebody he had a familial connection with played upon it, but there he was. And he couldn’t be prouder. It was the first major festival appearance since their signing with a record label a year before for the four-piece death metal band from Warwickshire, Dominion of Decay taking to the stage to a rousing cheer.  

“I can’t bleedin’ believe it!” Ella cried while clapping her hands above her head, feeling her eyes fill with very proud tears. “That's our baby up there!"  

Except at just turned twenty-three, Dominion of Decay’s lead guitarist and vocalist wasn’t a baby any longer. She’d always be such to them, though. Taking to the microphone, Lyra began to play the opening bars of the song Absolute Chaos, the audience having a very fitting reaction. Especially when she opened her mouth and let out the kind of ear splitting howl she’d become famed for.  

“That’s my girl.” James spoke with pride, beaming as he watched. 

“Nah, but it was her uncle Steve here who taught her to wail like a good’un!” the man himself spoke, watching with equally huge pride at his side. “The ability to shred the shit outta a guitar while she’s doing it, though, that’s all you, sunshine.” 

He grinned, nodding. “Innit.” Truly, pride was an understatement. He was absolutely overjoyed for her that her band was doing well, following very much in his footsteps, albeit in differing subgenres of the metal scene. She wasn’t the only person on stage he was proud of either, laughing as Kitt caught his eye, grinning insanely as his fingers pulled at the strings of his bass guitar, his bald head already gleaming with sweat. 

The young, bulked up man covered in almost as many tattoos now as James had been unsure if he’d even be able to play, still partially recovering from the kind of surgery that had put him out of commission with just about everything for months. At twenty-three, it was still considered a very young age to go through gender reassignment surgery, especially going the NHS route, who had flatly refused.  

So, after saving from his job and using the large wedge of inheritance that had originally been earmarked for university from his grandmother as well as securing a bank loan, he’d spent it on something he saw much more valuable to him. Just a year after going in for top surgery, he’d gotten his bottom surgery done at a specialist clinic out in Portugal, taking Lyra with him for support and so he had somebody to help look after him post-surgery.  

Lyra herself would never forget her best friend’s words as he’d groggily come round from the anaesthetic. ‘Dude, I’ve got a peen. Fuck yes!” He was thrilled, but still didn’t quite put the same amount of energy as usual into his performance that day, save doing his new boy bits any kind of nefarious damage.  

Of course, though, he pulled an array of faces for the camera in Ella’s hands as she ran up and down the photography pit, on duty as ever, just like she would be later in the day when Nocturnal Descent took to the stage. As she clicked away, her heart could have burst, seeing her first born up there following in her dad’s footsteps. It still felt like only a few years ago when she’d stood in the bathroom of their old flat, holding a positive pregnancy test, her eyes almost out on stalks.  

Sometimes, Ella struggled to believe it was her life, how being locked up in facility for the mentally ill had led to everything she now had. She often thought about it, how she could have just simply left James over in the corner to be rude and moody by himself, that day she’d pulled up a chair and spoken to him, first coined him the nickname church burner.  

Church burner, BFG, baby, James, Jim, husband, dad, War. He bore many names, his favourite of that list happening because of her. He still couldn’t believe it, that they’d been together for almost three decades, their twenty-seven-year long relationship still just as fun, loving and devoted as it ever was. They’d blinked, and gone from their early twenties to forty-nine and fifty, with a twenty-three-year-old, a seventeen-year-old, and a thirteen-year-old. And yes. Freya was still the destroyer of worlds. Or rather her mother, who she almost landed on after crowd surfing over the barrier. 

“Oi, that’s my kid. Don’t be rough with her or I’ll set her dad on you.” Ella warned one of the security guys, who had yanked her from the top of the crowd. They weren’t known for being particularly welcoming of crowd surfers. The security guy in question dropped Freya at her feet, about to question who said dad was when he saw the looming presence of James over to the side of the stage. Another thing well known on the scene; don’t fuck with War’s kids. 

“Nah, I’m fine, mum!” A sweaty, dishevelled Freya dismissed her with, throwing up the horns to her sister. “Going back in for a dance!” What she meant by dance was being hurled around in the moshpit. Any other parents would have worried, but not James and Ella. Freya Kingston could more than handle herself, even at thirteen. Plus, she had her uncle Snedders in there with her. Ella actually managed to pick her out in the crowd a short time later, sitting upon said uncle’s shoulders, screaming her head off, having a fantastic time. 

She was, if nothing else, her father’s daughter.  

Clicking off a few more pictures, Ella returned to James’s side, having a massive arm draped around her shoulders and a kiss dropped to her cheek. “We did well, didn’t we? Got two batshit metal heads and one future scientist who hates all of this.” 

She laughed softly, moving to lean back in his embrace instead, her gaze moving over to the other side of the stage, where a supportive but begrudging Zara stood, ear defenders on, with her little group of friends. She was too cool to stand with mum and dad, but happily settled for her uncle Gaz, auntie Hester, and their two sons, Charlie and Jonah.  

Little miss too cool had just started the second year of her A levels, working hard so she could eventually go to university and there take her BA in chemistry, wanting to go into the field of pharmaceutical development when she was older. It was borne of a fascination with how drugs worked on the body and mind, the delicacies of the compounds and their chemical structures, something that she’d shown great interest in back when Lyra had begun taking medication for her PMDD. 

In the years that had followed, and just like Michael had pledged to her father, Lyra had noticed her moods beginning to even out a lot more, her fluctuations now solely controlled by the contraceptive pill, which worked wonders. She, just like her dad, had found a balance through her mental illness, never again dropping to the level that had aged him ten years in ten minutes, her brush with suicide remaining just that, a one-off brush. 

Again, for how well she’d come through it, her parents were nothing but proud, both hugging her tightly as soon as she came off stage, telling her how well she did.  

“Thank you! I love you guys!” she croaked, her voice a little hoarse after spending the preceding half an hour screaming. Lamentably, they didn’t get much time with her that day, the band’s roadies packing everything up at speed, ready to depart. They had a ferry to board, ready to continue the European leg of their tour, supporting another bigger band. Life on the road; James knew it well. 

Kissing them goodbye, she jumped back on the bus, the pair then hugged tightly by Kitt. 

“Laters, mama and papa Kingston!” He’d been calling them that for years, something they welcomed. He would always be like another kid to them both.  

Watching the bus roll out of the backstage area, Ella thumbed a tear away. God, how she missed her, but equally was so thrilled to see her doing such an amazing job in her career, having the time of her life while she was doing it. 

“Oi, no tears, Mrs. K,” James spoke, giving her a little shove with his elbow. “We’ve finally got one of ’em out of the house! It’s quieter, innit?” 

“Baby, for as long as Freya lives there, it’ll never be quiet."  

As if summoned, there was suddenly a flurry of movement, Snedders racing past them. 

“Control your crotch fruit, Jim! Bloody insane!” 

“Uncle Sneds! Stop, look! If I spray it on a lighter, it makes a flame thrower!” Freya cried, her eyes alight with what could be constituted as slightly psychotic mischief. 

James grabbed the can of deodorant from her grasp, the lighter too. “No it don’t, right honourable princess of darkness. Pack it in.”  

She pouted, but still tore after Snedders, James throwing the almost empty can of deodorant into a nearby bin and pocketing the lighter.  

“Quite apt, really, for the daughter of a man with the nickname church burner.”  

He rolled his eyes, pretending to throttle her. “Except I wouldn’t put it past her not to actually do that at some point. I swear, she’s on a government watch list somewhere already.” 

Ella erupted with laughter at that, watching as her youngest finally calmed down, being piggybacked by a very out of breath Snedders instead, turning to her husband with a radiant smile. “You said something similar a few years ago, and I’ve never forgotten it. She’s mental, but in the best possible way. Wouldn’t change her for the world.” 

He leaned down and kissed her, his beloved wife cuddling him tight, realising that truly, there could be no exchange for the world at all, because she already had it. They both did, in the amazing life they had built for themselves, the children they’d brought into it, and lastly but by no means least, in one another. It hadn’t always been easy, but by god, it had been worth it.  

If only those two broken down, sick kids at Moor Acres could have seen where their lives would take them back in nineteen ninety-seven. They wouldn’t have hesitated at all in rushing towards their happiness, not even for a second.  

The End.  

[aois-amaterasu-painting]

Black B- PASS- Special Issue - The GazettE - NINTH Reference book - (part 2 - song comments & lyrics translations)

1. 99.999

Uruha: "This time, since it's our ninth album, we wanted to make it a culmination of everything we've done so far. We wanted the SE (sound effects) to convey that as well, so we incorporated sounds from the SEs used in the past eight albums in a way that's noticeable. It was quite a challenge to collect all the past SEs, cut out recognizable parts from each, like 'DISORDER' from the album 'DISORDER', and blend them in without breaking the harmony. Overall, we aimed for an industrial sound that might be harsh to the ears when listening casually but would really elevate the mood during live performances."

2. Falling

Ruki: "We had already decided to make a music video for this song, so I had a specific tempo in mind from the start. The song was created with the visuals in mind. I told the video production team that I wanted to show a car crashing and being destroyed, and we developed the story from there. Initially, the plan was for a burning car to fall, but that was deemed difficult. We only make a music video once every three years, so I thought it would be fine to go all out this time (laughs). So I expressed my hope for the highest possible budget from the start. In reality, the costs were more about the three days spent filming rather than the car itself. Watching the car burn, I wondered, 'What are we even filming here?' (laughs)."

.

Falling: lyrics translation

Since how long Do you know how long it’s been? Together, let’s leap into the depths of chaos now so we can become intertwined Falling down Deep in to the dark

Distorted screams unraveling the past; I’m losing my Mind I covered my weary eyes Stuck in my head the ghosts of my past haunt me and drive me mad Where did I come from?

In those swirling depths, my thoughts may be an escalating contradiction but In those swirling depths, my thoughts are the cherished shadow of my former self

Scream if you can’t handle the crushing weight of rejection Suffer now that you’ve seen what you were like back when you’d lost yourself

We just believe in ourselves to die I know you were the same Together, embracing the same pain we’ll break It’s all right if we smash to pieces and scatter To be reborn again I’m gonna fall

Distorted screams unraveling the past; I’m losing my Mind I covered my weary eyes Stuck in my head  this shrill, noisy racket

Inside me Something’s changing I see an ending Take it all in I’m gonna fall

I watch the sadness slowly disappear

We just believe in ourselves to die I know you were the same Together, embracing the same pain: it’s only temporary Don’t forget that this is not the end So come on, let’s open our eyes and fall

We just believe in ourselves to die

Sometimes it’s okay to be broken

...

3. NINTH ODD SMELL

Ruki: "This song was created around the same time as 'Falling', so they feel like two parts of a whole. This song went through four transformations before it was completed, and the fourth version felt just right. I wanted a really good guitar riff. It combines elements that evoke Nickelback, the generation of Skid Row, and our own generation's nu-metal influences. Next, we added visual kei elements. I think it will work well live, and it feels like a song that truly represents the recent sound of the GazettE."

.

NINTH ODD SMELL: lyrics translation

This soul can never die

First 「disorder」 is an ignorant blade Heresy raising its middle finger in rebellion

Reverberation running rampant heading towards the ninth stair of desire Second 「nil」 the future that tore through the darkness Nameless lights

The grim precursor soon becomes Stacked up, wriggling Rubbish

Draped in crimson despair crawling from the murky depths A tower of fear and doubt looks down upon the world

Poison gripping your voice as the days jumble around you Your heart painfully being sliced to shreds Exhilarating in the feeling of destruction Filled with strange distortions You fight your way to the 13th stair So embrace the black black black darkness

[Die] We fucking never die This soul can never die We fucking never die Can’t never die

Both hands spread wide take one finger away Moving towards the end But, still partially entangled, you’re held back from flying

And now here, joined together It's figure has taken shape Ninth: “The proof that we lived”

Until it melts and scatters Melting my rusted heart Our clamoring voices may reach their breaking point But we won’t stop as long as we can impact you So take it, take it, take it, take it

[Die] We fucking never die This soul can never die We fucking never die Can’t ever LIE [Die] We fucking never die This soul can never die We fucking never die I won’t ever lie

Worship the idol Inside me

...

4. GUSH

Reita: "The song has a rough feel and isn't the type to exert pressure. I think it's necessary to have a song like this on an album—neither too intense nor too quiet, but something that gets your body moving. It's similar to 'INSIDE BEAST' in that it's not particularly difficult and serves as a good warm-up at the start of a live show. The chorus also warms up the vocal cords. I imagine it being more suited for the early part of a live performance rather than later."

.

GUSH: lyrics translation

The thing that’s reflected in my eyes is A widescreen puppet But I wonder if you’re actually something more You’ve adapted to feeling out of place By wearing the world’s view of Normal Spouting out whatever you think they want to hear

Gush over  you made good use of your eyes Gush over  since you’re being judged by their rules Gush over  when you turn to face them, they’re dazzled Gush over [they offer you] mindless wild applause

This high-end [life] is lively Compared to the one you had before But the impressive illusion is crumbling The uninspired solution of most of the world is just to Buzz Swarming to gather the sweet nectar [you provide]

Gush over  you turned and lavished them with your Vogue performance Gush over  they’d devour it even if it wasn’t allowed Gush over  with an adoring look in their eyes Gush over  [offering] mindless wild applause

Today you’re adrift, alone, in a swamp that can’t be completely disguised Your celebrity is only the illusion of breaking free and escaping to beauty

Your crumbling illusion is Dope

Gush over  you turned and lavished them with your Vogue performance Gush over  they’d devour it even if it wasn’t allowed Gush over  with an adoring look in their eyes Gush over  [offering] mindless wild applause Gush over  you made good use of your eyes Gush over  since you’re judged by their rules Gush over  when you turn to face them, they’re dazzled Gush over  [they offer you] mindless wild applause

Today you’re still alone in the swamp that can’t be completely disguised Despite that, you still seem like a decent person No matter what popular opinion may say

...

5. THE MORTAL

Uruha: "When I created this song, I was inspired by the theme of AI and a mechanical worldview, giving it a bit of a sci-fi feel. Choosing the sounds was smooth. We included inorganic voice-like sounds throughout, adding a subliminal sense of lifelessness to complete the track."

.

THE MORTAL: lyrics translation

She’s gone Cross a red line A quiet night That moment is pushed away What did you live for?

Lie on the color of sin Indistinct impurities sink to the bottom

She’s gone Cross a red line The remnants left in those hands

Laughing with innocent dead bodies and circling lies The hollowed personality, sculpted in superficiality Ugliness, ferocity, insanity, farce All around, the sound of bells Fills the air with contradiction and fades away

In hell Endless sorrow Unceasing pain that cannot be shed [One final] breath as I die, sinking down There is no answer

[She’s gone]

The day even laughter was stolen

In hell Endless sorrow Unceasing pain that cannot be shed [One final] breath as I die, sinking down There is no answer

...

6. Utsusemi (虚蜩; "Emptiness")

Aoi: "Utsusemi comes before Sonokoe wa moroku, serving as a bridge. It's not a transitional track, but it carries meaning in that context. This album must have been challenging for Ruki to create. Considering that, he placed Utsusemi in the best spot. Initially, I felt this song left a faint impression. We couldn't listen to the album in its final order until the very end. I kept wondering about Utsusemi, but when I finally listened to the album in sequence, it made sense."

.

Utsusemi: lyrics translation

I can't go back anymore No matter how many times the sun sets Even if I am burned by the dawn There is nothing left but this vow

If my wishes overflow, it hurts Can you make me forget somehow? Will I always remember nights like these?

Embracing sadness, in a dream-like state Scattered by the wind Even my reason to live I look for the pieces that I can’t pick up There’re only traces of you

Even if by enduring these wounds I knew I could see “the future” I still wouldn’t be able to smile I’m wasting away remembering My heart is unable to escape I’m simply blank Wordlessly they begin to fall These tears of guilt that flow I say farewell to you At the depths of the revolving lantern Every time I remember, I want to disappear

Alone, when the evening cicadas cease their cries And so I watch the reddening sky Trapped in a cage my love can’t reach [you]

Embracing sorrow, dissipating Even the endured days Barely resonate With the distant voice that encircles pain

Don't cry, it's over now The cicada shell that fell upon the sand was profoundly sad So very much like me

...

7. Sonokoe wa moroku (その声は脆く; "That Voice Is Brittle")

Aoi: "This song feels like it captures the delicate aspects of the GazettE. While the GazettE is often associated with intensity and rawness, there's also a delicate side to us. Creating a ballad best-of album reminded us of the beauty of these kinds of songs. Everyone carefully crafted their instrument approaches and the atmosphere of the sounds. It's a song that aims to captivate without being overly forceful, maintaining the unique feel of the GazettE."

.

Sonokoe wa moroku: lyrics translation

I’ve lost sight of “someday” Alone to the bitter end Weakness and sadness fill my heart Always more fragile than anyone else’s

Hey is there an end When will the grief disappear? If it hadn’t been for the promise we made that I couldn’t keep Maybe I could smile

What’s the use I can’t find it Who am [I trying] for I’m broken I’m just drowning in my dreams I can’t even see myself now

Pain piles on I’m pretending when I say that I’m not lonely I can’t hide the feeling of desolation and close my eyes Your words just…

Hey Is there an end When will the grief disappear If it hadn’t been for the promise we made that I couldn’t keep Maybe I could smile

“I want to be strong” My hope is that tomorrow will bloom with you

Hey Is there an end Sorrow isn’t eternal May the fragility I can’t hide Be just like this song

Pain piles on Worn out Too many years to count When I remember I want to be able to smile again

...

8. BABYLON'S TABOO

Uruha: "I want people to experience the world we created. I used various methods to bring my envisioned image to life. In the album, this song holds a similar position to '13STAIRS[-]1' from the past. It's a song that gradually builds up but retains a dark atmosphere. I'm satisfied that I could express my own unique 'darkness' rather than typical gothic or horror vibes."

.

BABYLON’S TABOO: lyrics translation

Spill it all Laughing at the forsaken in the vicinity What those eyes saw Was a feast discarding the weak

Sinister persecution Babylon’s Taboo Oppressed and uncertain, they remain bystanders. 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」* Are you testing me?

「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」 Sinister persecution Babylon’s Taboo Oppressed and uncertain, they remain bystanders. 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」 Are you testing me? 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」

The glaring fiction and lies, Flickering in pitch black beauty. Reflecting murkiness, even the depths of the depths Fate I accept

This is Babylon’s taboo

Observing black eyes I can’t forget this humiliation Black eyes looking down [on you] I fucking can’t forget this day

In vain Even sanity has become uncertain This is a curse In vain Even releasing hatred feels uncertain. My curse

The glaring fiction and lies, Flickering in pitch black beauty. Reflecting murkiness, even the depths of the depths Fate I accept This is Babylon’s taboo

Observing black eyes I can’t forget this humiliation Black eyes looking down [on you] I fucking can’t forget this day

Sinister persecution Babylon’s Taboo Oppressed and uncertain, they remain bystanders. 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」 Are you testing me?

「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」 Sinister persecution Babylon’s Taboo Oppressed and uncertain, they remain bystanders. 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」 Are you testing me? 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」  My curse

*In the "Child's Play" series, the phrase "Ade Du Damballa" is a voodoo chant meaning "Give me the power, I beg of you!" It is used for the supernatural transfer of a soul into a doll, transforming an innocent doll into the malevolent Chucky. This chant is central to the series' theme of combining human evil with the guise of a child's toy, driving its horror narrative. Damballa is a loa in Haitian Vodou, although "Ade Du Damballa" chant is fictional.

...

9. Uragiru bero (裏切る舌; "Traitorous Tongue")

Kai: "I think people of our generation will feel a sense of nostalgia when they listen to this song. It touches on a nostalgic feel that we've experienced. I'm curious how the younger generation, who might not be familiar with this nostalgia, will perceive it. Will they find it new? As for 'reverse diving' (a concert move), 'headbanging' has been mainstream, but I wonder how many young people understand 'reverse diving' these days."

.

Traitorous Tongue: lyrics translation

Daft’Back stabber’

I was drowning [in a sea of] viciousness stretching as far as the eye can see The last trick was the smile you saw that day

That face contorting into a twisted, grotesque expression is just…

[Daft’Back stabber’]

Am I still smiling? Tangled in a web of spite I fall into the trap of writing and rewriting, over and over again

[Daft’Back stabber’]

Are they all [just] an imitation of God? I don’t even have a tongue to bite off

Even when I wish for death, my dream doesn’t die my immense dream

I can’t hide the fact that [my dream] is just one big naïve joke

So we fall because of our mistakes, [but] 「We won’t die」

I can’t envision perfection based on my inexperience Even now, [nothing but] dull superficialities fall from Your tongue that just keeps on wagging Cultivated by your offenses

[Daft’Back stabber’]

Am I still smiling? Tangled in a web of spite I fall into the trap of writing and rewriting, over and over again

[Daft’Back stabber’]

Are they all [just] an imitation of God? I don’t even have a tongue to bite off

Even when I wish for death, my dream doesn’t die my immense dream Before long the remnants of time will reduce you to a crazy mess of loneliness, choking on your own tears

So we fall because of our mistakes, [but] 「We won’t die」

...

10. TWO OF A KIND

Kai: "To me, this is the most GazettE-like song on the album. It embodies the essence of the GazettE after absorbing various influences. The way the key changes and the overall structure is surprising and has a quirky feel. The part where the A-melody features a four-on-the-floor rhythm is a playful touch that feels very GazettE. Other bands might take a different direction, but this playfulness is our style."

.

TWO OF A KIND: lyrics translation

The scenes replay through my mind Blending into you, who is so much like me Negative feelings that I can’t wipe out Emerge clearly, as if resurrected The scenes replay through my mind Blending into you, who is so much like me Negative feelings that I can’t wipe out Keep repeating as if resurrected

Filthy, ugly me is still falling so violently This filthy, ugly voice is still falling so violently

Will these wounds from youth, forgotten yet remembered, Heal when we open our hearts to each other?

I already understand that ‘what’s right’ is meaningless Two of a kind souls, knowing the same pain Seemingly destined, they intertwined

Within our hands, wherever we go A clear tomorrow awaits, unclouded Each time we share our scars, the future we see Seems to sway and dance

This pain is given by fate

The scenes replay through my mind Blending into you, who is so much like me Negative feelings that I can’t wipe out Emerge clearly, as if resurrected The scenes replay through my mind Blending into you, who is so much like me Negative feelings that I can’t wipe out Keep repeating as if resurrected

Filthy, ugly me is still falling so violently This filthy, ugly voice is still falling so violently

You exist for the cycle of rebirth, my only source of light Two of a kind souls, knowing the same pain Seemingly destined, they intertwined

Within our hands, wherever we go A clear tomorrow awaits, unclouded Each time we share our scars, the future we see Seems to sway and dance

We may be naïve But our hearts are joined as one Never to be corrupted

...

11. ABHOR GOD

Reita: "This is a notable song (refer to the band interview for more details). I think it will be the easiest song to get into during live performances, reaching the peak of excitement at the end. Whether we can share this feeling with fans will only be known after performing live, but I hope we can somehow make it happen (laughs). There were many keywords—fun, easy to get into, a bit intense, not too dark, and not too exhausting for the ears. It was a challenge, but we finished the song the night before recording the drums."

.

ABHOR GOD: lyrics translation

It seems this Light is being stolen away from me The Glow reveals the secrets written here Good bye Before regret begins to spread even more Let’s raise a toast [to the] Goat

Maze, God, Devil, My life As I’m crawling up from the bottom My song of victory rings out

Kill off My lust my pride My anxiety over and over again [My lust my pride My anxiety yeah]

[Come on]

I strung up my quivering, trembling nightmares TOO FAST TO LIVE, TOO YOUNG TO DIE I swear by the beat bursting my eardrums that I can still do it TOO FAST TO DIE

[Malformed] Malformed imperfect world

Kill off My lust my pride My anxiety over and over again [My lust my pride My anxiety yeah]

[Come on]

I strung up my quivering, trembling nightmares TOO FAST TO LIVE, TOO YOUNG TO DIE I swear by the beat bursting my eardrums  that I can still do it It won’t end I even strung up my quivering, trembling God TOO FAST TO LIVE, TOO YOUNG TO DIE I swear by the beat now [fading] to embers that I can still do it TOO FAST TO DIE

My song of victory rings out: My life It’s my life

...

12. UNFINISHED

Ruki: "I love melodic songs, so this came naturally. However, it was only possible after 'DOGMA'. If we had been asked to release this after 'SHIVER', it would have been impossible. I restrained myself from making the structure too complex. The members advised against key changes and abrupt drops, which I tend to do. It was initially bright but gradually turned minor (laughs). It's a straightforward song, making it a bit challenging, repeating the chorus, and avoiding the impression of laziness. But this approach was due to the influence of 'DOGMA'."

.

UNFINISHED: lyrics translation

These shaky words I’ve crossed out so many times Will never be enough to fill my broken days So I engraved into my heart The value of your confidence and Your complete faith in me

You always put up with my tears And at the same time walked alongside me

I will take your precious hand And show you something more than dreams Together, we’ll take my silent wish into the future You have my word

I gather together [and treasure] these passing days And pour out all the love I have So keep believing in me completely I’ll stitch into my heart The reason for your faith in me

During that time when I ran away You were the light that shined on the path I took I can’t even tell you in words How many times you’ve saved this heart

I will take your precious hand And show you something more than dreams Together, we’ll take my silent wish into the future You have my word

Countless times I held tight to my hopes I want to show you the future

I take that hand and now we begin to walk

Until we finally reach eternity My fervent wish is to keep heading towards the future with you That will never change Since you are the reason I’m alive

All scans are from The Archive (rad-is-more) Interview translation is ChatGPT. Lyrics translations are Defective Tragedy Blog but I changed The Mortal, Utsusemi and Two of a Kind lyrics translations quite a bit. Babylon's taboo was a nightmare because I know the lyrics are wrong on the DT blog but idk how to actually translate it properly, but I used these blogs translations also ( 1 , 2 ), basicly I was looking at 6 different translations picking the best lines .... but the only thing I'm certain of is the dorodoro line... However after hours of breaking my brain trying to solve this I got an epiphany that these lyrics are about the black eyes that reflect both the black murky depths of his soul as well as observing the society at large... something like that

[human-allergy]

Daily Lives of Jujutsu High Students

Time set in around 2006-2007.
This story tells the daily lives and youthful troubles of four students from a certain year at Tokyo Jujutsu High.

Various x F. Reader!

Other chapters: 01

02 - Online Chatting Requires Caution

Although the curriculum at Tokyo Jujutsu High is different from other schools, it covers basic subjects such as Japanese, mathematics, science, and social studies to ensure students' comprehensive development. With the rapid development of information technology, the use of computers has also increased. In order to prevent students from becoming too disconnected from the non-sorcerer world, the school has recently added a new subject - Computer Class!

However, only a few students take this class seriously. Most students use computer class time to play games. Unfortunately, this has led to many students downloading pirated games from illegal websites, resulting in a large number of infected computers at the school. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call the computer room a den of viruses.

"Darn it!" You mutter as you stare at the blue screen of the computer. "This one got infected too!"

"Forget about playing World of Warcraft," Gojo, sitting next to you, says. "I heard there's something popular these days that everyone is playing."

You turn your head and look at Gojo curiously. "What is it?"

"It's a random chat room," Gojo explains. "You can go in and have random video chats with people from other countries."

"Really? Let's give it a try then!"

Without hesitation, Gojo types a string of English letters into the search engine, and the computer quickly loads a website with a simple design. The website's name is written in large letters in the upper left corner, and there are two button options below it.

"You can choose to use text or video," Gojo says.

"It would be too embarrassing to start with video on the first try. Let's go with text," you say.

Gojo slides the mouse and clicks on the button labeled "TEXT."

With a click on the "TEXT" button, the page turns into a chat interface. There's a message box at the top with the words "Matching now..." displayed. Within a few seconds, a new pop-up message appears saying, "Start chatting!"

Excitedly, you pat Gojo on the shoulder and exclaim, "Oh, we've got a match!"

Gojo, with a disdainful snort, says, "You're getting excited so easily. You really are an inexperienced bumpkin."

Ignoring Gojo's sarcasm, you focus your attention on the computer screen. Another message pops up in the chat interface, displaying the username of the matched person.

Florida Man:Hi

"Oi, oi!" You point at the chat box, looking at Gojo in panic. "He said hi! What should we do?!"

"Calm yourself, Just reply to him!" Gojo says dismissively.

"Um, then..."

You type a sentence on the keyboard, a versatile English phrase that you've been using from elementary school to now, guaranteed to be appropriate in any situation:

You: Hello, nice to meet you and you^_^?

The system immediately displays the message, "The other person has left the chat room."

"Damn, are you a grade schooler?!" Gojo curses.

"Well, how else should I respond?!" you retort, displeased.

"Let me handle it. You're still too inexperienced."

With that, Gojo starts a new match with another chat partner.

You: Hi^_^!

The dark urge: Hello~

The dark urge: mf?

As you and Gojo look at the newly popped-up chat box, both of you have a puzzled expression on your faces.

"What does 'mf' mean?" Gojo asks.

You ponder for a moment, then suddenly have an epiphany. "I know! It's probably short for 'male or female.'"

"Oh! You're quite smart!" Gojo compliments.

You run your hand through your hair and raise your nose, saying, "Duh."

Then you start typing on the keyboard again.

You: f

The dark urge: m34 horny?

"'Horny'? What does that mean?" This time it's your turn to ask.

"Hold on, let me get someone who's good at English." As soon as Gojo finishes speaking, he pulls Geto, who was sitting in the front row, engrossed in watching a pirated version of "Naruto," to the back of the classroom.

"What idiotic thing are you two up to again?" Geto says, while being pushed by Gojo towards the computer.

"Suguru, can you help us translate this message into Japanese?" you point at the English message that both you and Gojo couldn't understand.

"You guys are really troublesome," even though Geto complains, he still looks at the text in the chat box. "Oh, this means—'Do you want to get naughty?'"

Just as Geto finishes speaking, the chat room immediately receives a barrage of messages all at once.

The dark urge: I wanna f___ u so damn hard kitten

The dark urge: i wanna lick u so hard that you start peeing uncontrollably babygurl

The dark urge:*babygirl

The dark urge: let me see ur p___

"Wait, what is he saying?" You feel a sense of shock as the messages keep coming in.

The dark urge: wanna s___ my hard disco stick?

The dark urge: horny?

The dark urge: horny?

"Oi! Is this person insane?" Gojo also appears astonished.

However, Geto remains unfazed and calmly translates every word and phrase from the stranger's messages into Japanese. "He's saying he wants to f___ you hard, then wants to lick you until you start losing control, and he wants to see your ___, and then asks you to look at his ___."

"So disgusting, so disgusting, so disgusting!" You cross your arms in front of your chest, feeling as if you've been sexually harassed by the online user. Goosebumps immediately form on your arms, and your mind feels like it's being bitten and itchy, as if by countless ants.

Gojo keeps clicking the refresh and match buttons while frowning, saying, "Next one, next one!"

Geto simply shrugged, seemingly unfazed. "You should expect to encounter weirdos like this when you play these chat matching games."

"That's not an excuse for harassing others online!" you replied without hesitation.

The next few matches were almost all starting with the phrase "Horny?" In fact, as soon as you told them you were male, they would immediately leave the chat room. It felt like a complete adult chat room, as if all the horny foreigners had gathered in one place.

After two days of browsing this website with Gojo, you both learned a lot of English words and phrases that kids your age shouldn't be learning. Your English vocabulary skyrocketed.

"Yo, yo, check it out! Satoru, wanna s___ my d___? Mine d___ is huge!" you imitated the tone of an American hip-hop artist on TV.

"Ayo, Y/n, you wanna [censored] with me? Just [censored] my [censored]," Gojo responded in the same tone.

Listening to your conversation, Geto sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Are these two the future pillars of the Jujutsu world? I'm starting to worry about the future of Jujutsu world."

"Maybe it would be better for me to go to medical school?" Ieiri muttered, unusually serious. "If the Jujutsu world collapses, I can still become a doctor."

Nanami frowned as he listened to your and Gojo's nonsense. "What on earth have these two gotten into?"

As soon as you saw your junior, Nanami, you smiled and reached out your hand to him. "Nanamin! Let's have [censored] with us!"

Gojo also took off his sunglasses, revealing his blue eyes that resembled the clear sky and white clouds. He extended an inviting gesture towards Nanami and said in a slightly exaggerated accent, "Yesu, yesu, Nanami, let us [censored] your [censored]!"

For the next week, Nanami would immediately have a dark expression and run away whenever he saw you and Gojo.

After realizing that chatting about explicit content in the chat room was boring, you and Gojo came up with a new game.

"Hey, how about we wait for a chat and directly give them our English assignments?" you suggested.

"That's a good idea!" Gojo clapped his hands. "So, you do have a brain hidden under that skull of yours."

"Shut up, or I'll cut off your [Censored]." you threatened.

You thought Gojo would be scared after hearing your words, as that area is of great importance to men, almost as much as their life. However, Gojo not only wasn't scared, but he even blushed and said shyly, "Oh, if you want to see it, just say it directly, no need to be so subtle."

Your mind couldn't come up with any other words. You really weren't good at dealing with Gojo.

Instead of wasting precious time in computer class playing around with Gojo, you quickly posted the English assignment question in the chat room.

John: m 22

You: Which of the following is the correct definition of the word "ephemeral"?

A) Long-lasting

B) Temporary

C) Permanent

D) Reliable

John: B

Impressed by the swift response from the user named John, you exclaimed, "This foreigner's English is really impressive!"

"Idiot, what did you expect? He's a foreigner, of course his English is good," Gojo said.

"So let's quickly give few more questions to him!" you exclaimed excitedly, holding your English assignment in your hand.

As a result, the two of you used the chat room as a tool for completing your assignments, and the foreigner on the other side genuinely explained the questions in English.

"What should we do? He seems like a smart and handsome guy," you daydreamed, imagining a man with a handsome face, flowing golden hair, and a smooth British accent.

"Get real, Y/n," Geto's cold voice mercilessly shattered your imaginary image of the handsome man. "How could someone like that play in a random chat room?"

"No, you're totally wrong, Suguru," you immediately retorted. "Even a beauty like me is playing in this kind of random chat room."

Geto and Gojo looked at you with disdainful expressions.

"You are too full of yourself." Gojo said.

Just as you were about to say something, a new message appeared in the chat room.

John: So that's all?

You: Yeah! Thanks ;-)

John: It's not a big deal.

John: Cam?

"Cam?" Gojo paused for a moment. "Does that mean video chat?"

"Quick! I want to see what that person looks like!" you eagerly said.

"But...is it okay to—"

You interrupted Gojo's words and impatiently shouted, "Let me see my future husband already!"

Reluctantly, Gojo opened the video chat, but what appeared on the screen was the other person's genitals, and they were in an erect state.

"There you go!" Gojo frowned, pointing at the bright red and erect disco stick. "I told you, these people are abnormal! They're nothing but sex-starved beasts!"

You silently stared at the computer screen and after a while, said with a serious expression, "Seems pretty big."

"It is indeed quite big, estimated to be around 8 inches. The first time must be painful," Ieiri commented, appearing out of nowhere.

Gojo snorted disdainfully. "But it's still far inferior to mine."

"Really?" You remained skeptical and to confirm whether Gojo was really as impressive as he claimed, you looked at Geto and asked, "Suguru, is what he said true?"

Geto's face twitched. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because you and Satoru are close male friends. Don't guys usually compare each other's [censored]?" you asked, tilting your head.

"That's absolutely not true!" Geto shouted in frustration. "And where the hell did you hear about such things anyway?"

"Oi, you brats."

At that moment, a voice that didn't belong to any of the four of you spoke up.

You and the others mechanically turned your heads to see Yaga Masamichi, your homeroom teacher, standing behind you four, glaring at you four with anger.

"The computer teacher reported to me that you're often not paying attention in class, so I came to see what's going on. Turns out, you're all using the computers for these kinds of websites during class! Each of you will write a reflective essay of no less than a thousand words for me. It must be submitted by Friday, and if it's late, you'll have to add five hundred words! Understand?"

Under the absolute authority of your homeroom teacher, you four dared not rebel and could only nod obediently.

From that day on, you were haunted by the shadow of these chatting rooms. Whether it was the reflective essays that Yaga-sensei relentlessly returned or John's massive cannon, every time you thought about it, you felt like peeing yourself.

※※※

Epilogue:

Many years later, even though you had long graduated from Jujutsu High, and many of your friends had already carried away by the flowing river of time over the past decade, you, the old classmates, still kept in touch and occasionally gathered for meals.

Tonight, you all met at an izakaya as usual. The attendees included you, Gojo, Ieiri, Nanami, Ijichi, and Utahime and Mei Mei, who were several years ahead of you.

Since Gojo didn't like to drink and Ijichi had to drive, only you, Ieiri, Nanami, Utahime, and Mei Mei ordered alcohol, while the other two opted for non-alcoholic beverages.

You looked at the melon soda, french fries, and fried chicken in front of Gojo and couldn't help but mock, "Satoru, this won't do. What if your future father-in-law is a heavy drinker? You'll have to drink then, right? Practice your tolerance now and finish this bottle of vodka in one gulp!"

You raised the transparent glass bottle in your hand and placed it in front of Gojo, who then returned the bottle to you. "Instead of worrying about my future father-in-law, why don't you worry about yourself first?" he said. "Isn't your mom pressuring you? Miss still single at 27 years old."

As soon as this topic came up, you let out a groan and covered your head with both hands. "Ah, please don't mention it anymore! My mom recently forced me into a blind date!" Then you released your hands and looked at Nanami, who was sipping whiskey, with a serious expression. "Nanamin, why don't we get married?"

"No, thank you," Nanami refused without hesitation.

Laughter immediately erupted from the table, with Gojo being the loudest of them all.

"Of course, Nanami mercilessly rejecting you again!" Gojo exclaimed loudly, as if afraid others wouldn't hear.

"You're not doing much better than me either! Isn't your mom pressuring you to get married? Saying it's time to continue the Gojo lineage and produce another Six Eyes successor. I heard all of this from my mom," you glared angrily at Gojo, then turned to Utahime sitting next to you and deliberately spoke in a dejected tone, "Forget about Satoru, but why are you laughing too, Utahime?"

Utahime wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye and chuckled, saying, "Sorry, sorry. No matter how many times I hear it, it's still funny."

"Sigh, go ahead and laugh. You won't be laughing when I marry some old, greasy geezer," you said.

"You don't have to be so despairing, Y/n," Mei Mei said. "Marrying an old geezer has its benefits. After all, the old geezer will die soon, and then you'll inherit his fortune."

"I think the same," Ieiri, who had already finished a large glass of beer, nodded.

"But I want someone who's handsome, whose parents died early, and who has a family fortune," you said.

Gojo laughed again. "Aren't you describing Batman?"

"Haha, very funny," you replied sarcastically.

"Let me tell you guys," Utahime said, "I actually met a cute guy on a dating app recently."

"Huh? A dating app? Isn't that for sex or something?"

Upon hearing your blunt remark, Nanami and Ijichi, who were drinking at the time, both choked and coughed several times.

"But I still prefer getting to know people proactively," you said with a smile. "The connection between people is still more important, hahaha!"

"Y/n is right," Gojo crossed his arms and nodded. "I also prefer genuine connections, ahahaha!"

That night, as soon as you returned home, you immediately registered an account on the dating app and matched with a guy. You started chatting.

You: Hi there, I'm from Tokyo 😊😊

Infinity: Hi👋🏻 I'm also in Tokyo, what a coincidence~

You: Really? What are your interests?

Infinity: I like reading books in my free time, and I also play the violin when I have the chance.

You: Violin? That's impressive~ 🤭

You: So, what do you like to eat?

Infinity: I have a sweet tooth, I drink my bubble tea with full sugar, and I put eight cubes of sugar in my coffee. I'm also the Japan's second-best fan of buttered potatoes. I don't smoke or drink. I sleep at 11 p.m. and make sure to get less than 8 hours of sleep every day. Before bed, I always have a glass of warm milk and do 20 minutes of stretching. Once I get into bed, I immediately suffer from insomnia. I stay up all night until morning, but I never carry fatigue and stress into the next day. Doctors say I'm perfectly normal.

You: Wait a minute.

You: Horny?

Infinity: GOD DAMN

These are the conversations you and Gojo had with strangers on that chat website during your computer class:

[pokerninja2]

Did you see that Mario & Luigi RETURNS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A friend on twitter said it best in how it's so wild that the Mario RPGs can just be... back. At this point I long accepted Mario & Luigi was stuck in limbo and Paper Mario was gonna continue down its hit-or-miss experimentation. I've been in heated debates over the years (a fact I'm not all that proud of) but I've largely grown and matured since then. I think me and many others reached that fifth stage of grief once Origami King was out and the dust settled. And then three directs in a row, a new Mario RPG appears right on my doorstep - in the span of a year too!

I think remaking TTYD is still a bigger surprise, if only because it was always that "not gonna happen" pipe dream for the longest time, but Brothership is just as big of a deal because it's an entirely new game that seems to be putting the course-correction we've seen them taking with the RPGs to full effect. It's clear that whatever rules and regulations the big suits put on these games have weakened over time.

And in addition to SMRPG, Paper Mario, and M&L getting their big new releases, we even got a new RPG series out of the deal with Mario + Rabbids! Some may not count it, for either being a crossover, or being more tactics than RPG, but I certainly do. Kingdom Battle and Sparks of Hope definitely helped keep me occupied during that big drought, and they mean just as much to me as any of these other games. It's great that all four of them are gonna be able to thrive together

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 30: The First Toss

The problem with Mat chapters is going to be that almost all the fan art is very much about how his endgame wardrobe and not at all about his book 3 stuff. I try not to have spoilers for the end of the series in the part before the "Keep Reading", so I am forced to use increasingly dubious images. That's your spoiler warning.

This chapter has the dice icon because it's a Mat chapter and because boy howdy is he going to gamble. Or at least play dice. It might not be gambling when you can't lose.

She put her hands on his head and sent cold chills through him. It was the One Power, he decided, not simply being touched by an Aes Sedai.

Well he's probably right but also it's probably that the Aes Sedai have shitty, emergency weaves at this point whereas in the AoL if they didn't just pull out a tricorder ter'angreal they probably still could do it without you feeling a thing.

As she turned from him, her eyes fell on the quarterstaff he had brought from the practice yard, propped in the corner of the room. “You do not need to protect yourself from us, Mat. You are as safe here as you could be anywhere. Almost certainly safer.”

Anaiya is a pretty good judge of Mat's character (as Mat himself acknowledges obliquely in the narration) for not thinking that the quarterstaff is a mere trophy of beating the shit out of the princes.

If you can’t hide what you are going to do, do it so everybody thinks you are a fool. Then they stand around waiting to see you fall on your face.

And Mat wonders why everyone thinks he's a fool.

With as light a heart as he could remember having in years, or so it seemed, he began to hum “We’re Over the Border Again,” heading toward the harbor where vessels would be sailing down to Tear and all the villages along the Erinin between. He would not be going so far as that, of course.

Wrong!

He had always won more than he lost, as far as he could remember, and there had been times with Hurin, and in Shienar, when six or eight tosses in a row won for him. Tonight, every toss won. Every toss.

Mat didn't need to absolutely dominate the field in previous games of chance, so he was just naturally lucky as some people probably are. Now though, fate's on a schedule so every lucky break that comes Mat's way is about getting him to Tear.

Somewhere during the night, the dark sailor—Raab, he had said his name was—staggered away, exhausted but with a full purse; he had decided to put his wagers on Mat.

Raab never shows up again, but I assume he's got a bright future ahead of him thanks to the winnings. Mat's ta'veren nature pulls people about in his own fashion.

Mat was scarcely aware of moving before he had the bulky man by the collar, hauling him to his feet, slamming him back against the wall. “Don’t you say that!” he snarled. “Don’t you ever say that!”

Mat's supposed to be free of the dagger, but since this is quite a strange outburst at an expression I'm pretty sure we've seen him acknowledge before, I think there's still some after effects.

He remembered playing at dice back home with a sharp-eyed, skinny man who worked for a merchant come down from Baerlon to buy tabac. He remembered the strapping his father had given him, too, on learning Mat owed the man a silver mark and four pence.

I'm not entirely sure how much money is worth in this series but I suspect that this is a value that Mr. Cauthon *can* pay readily enough but will really feel all year.

Maybe it was something the Aes Sedai did. Something they did Healing me. By accident, maybe. That could be it. Better that the other. Those bloody Aes Sedai must have done it to me.

I don't think Mat really believes this for a second, considering how against Healing he's going to be for the rest of the series.

“Way past time. Or one of them will come pick me up with her fingers and stick me in her pouch.”

I expect that all the Aes Sedai except the most bookish or pillowish are long asleep at this point Mat.

In an instant he ducked into the shadowy corner where one building stuck out further than the next.

Mat observes he's lucky to avoid these thieves, but it's several lucky breaks when you think about it: the friendly architecture here, the guy who scared him earlier getting him on his guard, the "strange things" moving around at night (what might those be?)

Three more times he climbed, each time gaining one story. The slightly sloping, tiled roofs ran some distance at that level, and there was a breeze at that height, prickling the hair on the back of his neck with its chill and almost making him think he was being followed.

The wind is *trying* to warn Mat, but he doesn't listen. This is probably why he gets the dice in head later.

Mat grabbed at the hand as the knife darted toward his throat. He barely caught the fellow’s wrist with his fingers, and then the quarterstaff between them tangled itself in his legs, tripping him to fall back against the railing, to fall half over it pulling the other man on top of him.

Note how what seems to be bad luck is exactly the thing that sets Mat up for the lucky kill.

He expected the other man to be dead—not many could survive a thirty-foot fall to cobblestones with another’s weight on top of him—but what he had not expected was to see the fellow’s dagger driven to the hilt into his own heart. Such an ordinary-looking man to have tried to kill him. Mat did not think he would even have noticed him in a crowded room.

Lanfear must have been super extra pissed that he tried to talk to her, huh?

He realized he was standing over a dead man with a dagger in his chest, just waiting for someone to come along and run shouting for city guards with the Flame of Tar Valon on their chests.

Again we see a ta'veren pushed into a position where he has to act the way the Pattern wants him to because literally every other avenue is closed off. Mat needs a safe haven so he has to stop at the conveniently nearby inn.

Next time: Thom Merillin returns in yet another coincidental encounter!