#(shes named after that one acid bath song) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wehavebiggerproblems · 3 years

Text

Fallout 4 Random Companion Headcanons

Wrote these a few years ago, too nervous then to share them.

Ada

-Ada was built in 2268. She's about 21 years old.

-Her first memory is of seeing The Mechanist in front of her. Then she watched as The Mechanist removed their head and smiled.

-She's Isabel's first project.

-Her voice was originally supposed to be more synthesized and robotic, but the more human sound was easier for Isabel to work with.

-Ada prefers to travels in groups with 3-4 people, knowing fully well a robot is a higher target for scavvers.

- Her base body was constructed from many different trial runs of the "ADA" project.

-She's programmed to remain indifferent but the nagging voice in her programming says to do good things in order to to aid other people.

-Ada appreciates the effort Sole goes through to upgrade her body. She doesn't think it's necessary and she's somewhat sentimental about her original form.

-She finds Codsworth's attachment to Sole strange. Almost too human, those Mr. Handy's.

Cait

-Cait loves baths. Bubble baths with bath bombs and even a little rubber ducky. Only Sole knows this.

-The rubber ducky's name is Codsworth. Will not explain why.

-Can fire a rifle over her shoulder behind her. (Annie Oakley style)

-Hates Jazz music. Says it's too slow and calm. Really dislikes it because she's uncomfortable slow dancing with anyone.

-Allergic to feathers. Rad chickens make her sick to be around.

-But once the feathers are removed, the chicken has been cut up, and cooked with some veggies and a loaf of bread, loves it.

-Chicken soup is her favourite dish. Only likes Sole's chicken soup though. Will not eat anyone else’s.

-Shot put would be her favourite sport. Throwing a heavy metal sphere a very long distance is goals.

Codsworth

-Codsworth can speak 8 languages. Including: English, Spanish, French, Japanese, German, Italian, Polish, and Swedish.

-Can recognize almost every written language and translate but lacks the programming to speak every one.

-Nate/Nora got him two years before Shaun was born.

-Sole did minimal repair work on him, and offered to polish him every time he got a dent or scratch.

-He always accepted the polish offer. Very wary of Sole doing factory repairs on him. Would prefer professionals doing the delicate work.

-Always celebrated Nate/Nora and Sole’s respective birthdays. For 200 years.

-When Sole called him "Family", he felt an odd electric pulse through his core processor. He decided to call it a skipped heart beat.

-Calls synth Shaun "Sonny", and "Young Master Shaun".

-Makes Sole's favourite meal when they come back home from Vault 111.

-Will ask to take over if he catches Sole doing chores.

-Hesitates when he has to bring up Sole's spouse knowing it's a touchy subject.

-His favourite friend of Sole's is Nick. Thinks Nick is a good role model for synth Shaun.

Curie

-Curie, like Codsworth can speak 8 languages. However, after becoming a synth, she can only speak about 4.

-Curie loves the feeling of velvet. Collects pieces of velvet clothing.

-Once wore a velvet cape around because she loved the way it draped over her shoulders and fluttered when she walked.

-Has sensory phases. Music, nice noises, soft materials, different foods, perfumes, etc. Collects whatever makes her senses happy.

-During the "feeling phase" her favourite feeling was holding Sole's hand. Loved running her hand over the surface of water. And velvet.

-Talks out what her feelings are with Piper. Piper explains to her what the "spin spin spin" in her head meant.

-Favourite smell is fresh baked bread. Bakes bread with Mama Murphy every weekend.

-Favourite sweet food is mutfruit pie. Will badger Piper to make it with her.

-Curie's motor functions are still new. Sometimes she misses what she was trying to grab and fumbles.

Danse

-Danse is a horrid mechanic. You'd think spending time in the BoS and dedicating time to auto repair with Ingram. Can't put a toaster together.

-But Power Armor is a piece of cake. Can't do much with pre-war tech, yet fixing power armor is as easy as making breakfast.

-Like all gen 3 synths, he loves Fancy Lad snack cakes. He'd share whatever box he'd find with the squires around the Prydwen.

-Scribe Haylen would volunteer to work alongside Danse on all his scouting missions.

-Danse found out Deacon was the one who stuck the dildo to his power armor. He made sure Deacon's wigs were the same bright purple color the very next day.

-Loves country music. When a traveling courier stops by and shares their western/country music, he actually dances.

-Has a heart for kids. Even Billy.

-Leg bouncing habit. Can't bounce his leg in power armor but as soon as he's out, his leg's jittering.

Deacon

-Deacon is in his late 40's.

-Did not lie about his wife and the University Point Deathclaws.

-Enjoys learning about Pre-war culture, spends free time with ghouls asking them about the past.

-Sole can fool him easily about prewar facts though.

-Has incredible luck with the pie claw game. Has won 8 times while traveling with Sole.

-Loves making silly bets. "I bet I can skip this plate across the lake at least 1 time." Proceeds to throw the plate at the water horizontally.

-Doesn't hate Danse. He will pull pranks on him though. Once stuck a dildo on the back of Danse's power armour.

-His hair grows quickly so he has to shave every day.

-Shaves his head, isn't bald. Shaved head works better with his pompadour wig.

-Doesn't like mutfruit. Says it's too acidic and hurts his gums.

-Has a rifle-shaped scar on his forearm. Will tell a different story for it every time.

-Once drank a dozen Nuka Cola Quantums on a dare. His pee glowed for a week.

-Tried going vegetarian once. ONCE. Found out being vegetarian means eating no meat or dairy products. Had to have Sole explain that, while gross, radroach could technically be considered meat.

-Is kinda clumsy. Always bumps into counter edges and stubs his toes on bits of debris.

-Doesn't lie about his family. And when Sole calls him family, promises to never lie about family again.

Gage

-Gage juggled skii balls to entertain the last Overboss, Colter.

-He enjoys small shooting competitions with MacCready, Sole, and X6. All four are sharp shooters.

-Fastest learner. Spent an entire week learning how to cook Sole's old recipes. He can cook them better than anyone with the exception of Codsworth.

-Hums when he works.

-Had a one night stand with Nisha. Ended so bad, he avoids that area of the park at all costs.

-Hates cats. Had an awful run in with a rad lion. Radiated Mountain Lion that tore a scar deep down his back.

-Does routine maintenance on the rides in the park. He knows how everything works there. From social hierarchy - to the intricacies of the Vault Tec: Among the Stars ride.

-His favourite flavour of Nuka Cola is Nuka Cola Victory. Rare to find but easily the best.

-Record farthest shot is a bean can from 410 meters.

-He's a lightweight. Only two beers and he's buzzed enough to sing along with Red-Eye.

-Will tell a different story every time if anyone asks about the eye patch.

Hancock

-Hancock is a history buff. Loves learning about colonial era civilization.

-Has spent days with Kent Connolly researching Silver Shroud information. He knows more about the Silver Shroud than any other companion.

-Has had a fling with every person in Goodneighbor at least once. Even Kleo.

-At least in a sexual way, he is extremely open minded. Welcomes new experiences and new information given anywhere anytime.

-Had a decent childhood with his brother. He remembers tending to the mutfruit trees with him and eating every other piece they picked.

-Adores pickles. Would sit and eat an entire jar of pickles just because he loves the cronch so much.

-All time favourite chem is Mentats. Loves making intellectual jokes while high as a kite.

-Does not know what a lot of pre-war expressions mean, but enjoys saying them and hearing them from Sole.

-Is a master at repairing clothing. How else does the frock stay in such good condition? He tends to it every night.

-As far as euphemisms for ghouls go, he likes "beef jerky".

Longfellow

-Longfellow met Hannah while out hunting. She blasted a trapper's head clean off, and he fell harder than the trapper's body.

-He spent his youth training, hoping to become a Brotherhood soldier one day.

-And then he met a vertibird full of them. They called Far Harbor a dump while gathering supplies there. Officially decided to cease all training.

-Managed to take down 17 Mirelurks in 3 minutes.

-Holds the record in Acadia for alcohol consumption. All records involving alcohol consumption.

-He's really fit? Longfellow could and has bench pressed Sole.

-He only did so because Hancock and MacCready wouldn't shut up about it.

-Loves singing old shanty songs and dancing with Sole. Only when no one else is around though.

-After the events at Far Harbor, he decides to go sailing along the coast. Wants to see the world more.

MacCready

-MacCready does brush his teeth. He brushes his teeth regularly. He started brushing after he left Little Lamplight. By that point the damage was already done.

-Lucy was the one to convince him to brush his teeth.

-He can't stand the smell of lavender. Lavender candles, lavender lotion, etc...makes him feel nauseous.

-He named his sniper rifle, "Lucy"

-Won't drink brahmin milk with cereal even to Sole's encouragement.

-Is very well read. Vault 87 had many educational textbooks hidden among the super mutants.

-MacCready was the longest lasting mayor in L.L. He was mayor for 6 years.

-He has no idea what television is and is afraid to ask any pre-wars about it.

-Wary of all ghouls, both feral and normal. He's not bias to non-ferals, but he is a little uncomfortable.

-Had a crush on Lone Wanderer when they first visited L.L. Mac told Joseph and he made fun of him.

Nick

-Nick has an oral fixation. Smokes out of habit and having the familiar feeling of a cigarette between his lips feeds into human nostalgia.

-His right hand is missing skin because he fidgets only his right. Whether it was picking at the fraying plastic or rubbing the fake skin raw.

-He lost the chunk of neck skin after Myrna accused him of working for the Institute. Tore off a chunk to prove he wasn't a perfect person or an infiltrator synth.

-Ellie was the first person in Diamond City to wholly accept Nick as he is. She asked to work with him as soon as he decided to stay.

-Piper and Nick have jam sessions where they have heavy debates about Diamond City law enforcement and criminal misuse of power in the capitalistic society of pre-war USA.

-Met Dogmeat under an overpass. He handed the dog a snack cake and scratched his head. They've been close pals ever since.

-Will "sleep" around Sole. He'll lay down and manually put himself into "sleep mode". Any unnecessary functions will shut down. He lets his thoughts take over. All Sole hears is the faintest fan whir.

Piper

-Piper plans Sole's 211th birthday. She goes all out, collects balloons, bakes several cakes with Codsworth, makes everyone attend and threatens anyone who would act up. "It's Blue's first birthday out here, you WILL behave!"

-Knows how to make mutfruit preserves, mutfruit pie, mutfruit jam and jelly. Makes it for Nat constantly.

-Has a notebook dedicated to little tidbits of info about Sole.

-Nat is exactly 8 years, 5 months, and 25 days younger than Piper.

-Piper has interviewed every person in Diamond City. Made a game of it with Nat at first, then she just kept going with it.

-Piper has awful shorthand. Almost as bad as Curie's shorthand. Still illegible.

-Piper's handwriting is so bad, Nat does the writing for the paper. Piper writes the final draft and Nat copies it, and sends it through the printing press.

-Despite bad handwriting, Piper is very eloquent. Can make a super mutant sound like good date idea or convince anyone how the mayor might actually be a synth.

-Her favourite of Sole's friends is Kent Connolly. Would gladly dress up and act out Silver Shroud episodes with him and Sole.

Preston

-Preston has insomnia. Cannot sleep well. Has had insomnia since Quincy.

-Can sleep well if he's sleeping beside someone.

-Has a box under his bed of little knick-knacks children have given him over the years. Can't bear to get rid of the kid's gifts.

-He actually likes all of Sole's friends. Even Strong.

-Hates coconut. Once found an Almond-Joy while scaving and couldn't finish it to save his life.

-All time favourite candy is Peanut Brittle. Hard to find but gnawing on the hard chunks is somewhat soothing to him.

-Loves back rubs. Giving and receiving but only from close friends or lovers.

-Once accidently drank a bottle of perfume. MacCready told him it was a bottle of fancy expensive wine.

-Sturges and Preston are the closest of friends, no less maybe more.

Strong

-Strong knows how to jump rope.

-But double dutch is a mystery.

-Before Sole, he only ate meat raw. Sole taught him how to cook it.

-Also lacks patience to cook, but slowly learning.

-Strong was created in Vault 87 after the bombs dropped but remembers nothing from being human.

-Doesn't understand bubblegum. Will always swallow it after a few seconds of chewing.

-Likes having poetry and plays read to him.

-Sleeps holding Sole or having Sole laying across his stomach.

-Loves fire. The smell, the feeling of heat against his hardened skin, the taste of charred meat, and watching the embers fly up and turn to ash.

-Strong can read, but chooses not to because super mutants discourage any educational behavior.

-Likes the sound of clacking keys on a terminal. He'll turn one on and mess around with the keyboard just to hear the different sounds each key makes.

-He can't decide if hand-to-hand combat is better than using guns.

X6-88

-X6 doesn't like using plasma. He thinks the plasma is less accurate.

-But laser weapons are his jam.

-Spends excessive amount of time augmenting his weapon.

-If Sole helped, he would be "happy". Would never say it, but a tiny smirk would pop up on his face for half a second.

-Will collect Fancy Lad Snack Cakes. Hoards them in his bedroom in Sanctuary and in the Institute.

-Sole found his stash and X6 blushed for the first time when they confronted him.

-He called Sole "Mom" instead of Ma'am once. She won't let him live it down.

-He called Sole "Dad" after hearing Shaun call him "Dad" all day. He won't let him live it down.

-Actually likes kids. Won't show emotions, get down to their level, or speak to kids. But he doesn't hate children.

-Especially likes synth Shaun. He taught synth Shaun how to use a laser pistol. Shaun found out and put X6 on probation for a month.

Bonus Vault Tec Rep and Kent Connolly under the cut.

Vault Tec Rep

-Rep spent a couple decades learning how to draw. Loves drawing from life. Mostly draws people. Occasionally draws ferals, mutants, and various animals.

-Was engaged before the war, lasted about 2 years before she died of cancer.

-His favorite food was and still is a well grilled medium rare steak.

-A total neat freak. Every space he uses as a homestead has to be thoroughly cleaned of any bacteria, ticks, dust, dirt, radiation residue, etc

-Teased in school for his red hair. "Rusty" was his least favorite nickname.

-He's extremely susceptible to pet names. Doesn't have to be anything sexual or romantic, just pet names. He blushes like a starstruck starlet.

-Loves love. Romance and old-timey corny love stories. He like to woo his partner. Flowers, chocolate, dancing, movie dates, hand written poems, you name it.

-He misses his old red hair. Years of being a brunette and he's a little bitter about his hair.

-Least favourite part of The Wasteland is amount of bodies he sees on a daily basis. He saw about zero bodies a day on average before the war. Even in Goodneighbor, the average has risen to about 4 bodies a week.

-Favourite part of The Wasteland is the ability to just go anywhere. After realizing he didn't have any obligation to stay any specific place, he just traveled around for a few decades.

-His father worked for Vault-Tec, and when he graduated high school, he was given a job immediately.

-Didn't hate it. Didn't love it at first, but he had a real knack for selling.

-He never had an office in Boston HQ. He got the van, and got a sweet bonus for being top salesman, but never his own office.

-Despite being top salesman, he was only allowed on the first and second floors. He didn't find out till after the bombs dropped that the basement and third floor up had the plans for the various vaults in the area.

-He can't apologize enough to Sole. After thinking on it and checking out vault 111 by himself, he truly feels sorry for what happened.

-Sole gets him a set of steak knives for Christmas. They're homemade by Sole. They tell him he's earned far more than a knife set, but if that's what he's pining for...

-He treasures it so much, he rarely uses them. Just before he leaves for work in the morning, he checks them over and admires them.

-He and Sole have spent days just telling each other pre war stories. He almost knows more about Sole than Piper does. And he's a little proud of that fact.

-He gets along best with, of all people, Deacon. Good sense of humour and always interested in pre-war info.

-Second best is Piper. A nice lady who snoops too much, but does treat everyone with respect and tries to remain unbiased.

Kent Connolly

-Kent was 23 when the bombs dropped.

-He was sleeping in on the Saturday morning when he heard the air raid sirens.

-Hid in his house's basement till the sirens stopped.

-And then the radiation sickness took over.

-It took him about 3 months to turn ghoulish. Quicker than most.

-He dislikes Goodneighbor - the town as a whole. The people are fine, the resources are serviceable, and the safety assured is nice. But he hates how back alley it feels.

-Misses his family the most. They weren't the best, but they made him feel loved and important.

-Speaking of which, Kent had a huge family. I'm talking brothers, sisters, cousins for days, aunts, uncles...he remembers family reunions as huge gatherings chock full of food and kids running amuck.

-Maybe, just maybe, he enjoys seeing Sole all dressed like Shroud a little too much. He's a big fan.

-Once spent 4 grand on a mint condition Issue no. 3 Silver Shroud comic just to find out it was a forgery. Never got that refund. :(

-Writes really well. But only writes Silver Shroud fanfiction. Piper almost convinced him to help write an article about how crime differed before the war and after the war. But he turned her down.

-Nick has agreed to dress up as Shroud if Sole dresses up like Grognak or Mistress of Mystery. But only if Sole dresses up too.

-Irma refers to him as her son. Amari will not say the same, but she also doesn't protest.

-He used to work in comic book shop. (Of course he did.)

-He writes self insert Silver Shroud fanfiction all the time. After the events at the hospital with Sinjin, the Shroud in his fanfictions suddenly start using Sole's pronouns and is described as physically similar as Sole.

506 notes · View notes

alphabet-blues · 4 years

Photo

Here it is, chapter one of my baby, my magnum opus. This fic is going to be so long so I hope you guys are buckled up and ready. Each chapter also is accompanied by a literature/media excerpt and five song mini-mix as a YouTube playlist. - Venom

Read on Ao3

Title: drowning lessons

Pairing: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland), and MCU

Chapter: One

Rating: Explicit

Content Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Angst, Depression, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Graphic Drug usage, Addiction, Graphic Usage of Opioids, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, brief mentions of forced prostitution, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, drug overdose, Graphic Depiction of a Drug Overdose, Getting Together, Fluff, Banter, The Euphoria Fic, Blowjobs, Alternate Universe - College/University, Drug Addict Harley, Aged-Up Harley Keener, Aged-Up Peter Parker, Drowning Lessons, Falling In Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Are Hard, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure,��Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Underage Drinking, Partying, Purchasing of Drugs, Harley's Nirvana Hoodie is a character

Summary: It all started with a house party and a bad idea, like most things in Harley’s life.

In which Harley takes pills, listens to Nirvana, and doesn't want to be alive anymore.

Falling for Peter is easier than breathing, and also the least of his problems.

(Also known as the Parkner Euphoria Fic)

Mini-Mix 1 for Chapter 1

The Pool Players. Seven at the Golden Shovel.

We real cool. We Left school. We

Lurk late. We Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We Die soon.

- Gwendolyn Brooks

It all started with a house party and a bad idea, like most things in Harley’s life.

He was 14, and it was his first party. Well, not his first party, but his first party with actual high schoolers that involved booze that wasn’t snuck out from a parent’s meticulous liquor cabinet. Harley though, didn’t have much of a taste for alcohol.

The smell of beer on people’s clothes was tainted by memories of his Father. He’d had his first beer when he was 10, given to him by his Uncle with strict orders not to tell his Mother. It was bitter, rancid, and burned as it went down and Harley couldn’t understand how people loved this stuff. Or how his Father had chosen this over their family.

The party was a little ways out from the main road and tucked behind a line of trees that led to a few rolling fields of corn. It was October, and there was a slight chill in the air. The corn had been combined at the end of summer, leaving a desecrated patch of land in its wake. By the time next summer rolled around, there would be stalks nearly as tall as Harley. He was fascinated by the cycle of it all.

Technically, there wasn’t supposed to be any freshman at the party, but he had weaseled an invite from his friend Joey’s older brother, Mike, as long as he followed his strict orders to “be cool.” Harley could do that.

When Harley made his way into the house he watched the different crowds of upperclassmen interact. Some were dancing to the loud thumping of the music playing from the speakers by the TV in the living room, while others were huddled into tight groups, either drinking, or passing a joint around. An ache settled inside Harley’s chest.

Harley committed to his role of being a wallflower and held back from all of the groups as he made his way through the house. He had sat on the couch for close to a half-hour when someone passed him a joint and told him to take a hit. Harley did, and was careful not to choke so he didn’t look green at his first-ever real party.

The joint in question got passed around their circle a few more times until someone put it out. At that point, Harley had taken several puffs and was starting to feel light-headed and fuzzy, but in a good way.

The ache in his chest morphed - it spread warmth over Harley’s ribs and clavicle, but it still burned.

Harley floated through the house afterwards, giggling at nothing, and took whatever was offered. He drank something bitter and sour that made him want to hurl before he was passed something sickly sweet but felt like acid as it washed down. When he finally stumbled out of the house he felt a happy buzz wash over him. He could barely feel the cold nip of the air, and goosebumps raised all up along his arms.

He found his bike where he had discarded it on the grass lawn when he arrived. It was hard to see in the dark, especially with his head swimming, but he managed to pull his bike onto the road. The wind of the night air blew through his shaggy overgrown hair as it fell in his eyes. He biked down the eerily quiet streets of his hometown as the persistent aching in his chest eventually subsided, for the first time since it had arrived. No one was around, and his ears were filled with static due to the lack of sound - a sharp contrast from the thudding bass of the party.

He fell off his bike twice before he got home, and winced as his elbow got scratched up from the gravel. But instead of being frightened, he was elated, he couldn't really feel it. He snuck back into his room through the window he kept unlocked for that exact purpose, and made sure to be as quiet as possible, even though the motor functions in his hand were failing him and it took him multiple tries to get his window up.

He changed his clothes, noting how they smelled, and buried them deep into the bottom of his hamper so his Mom wouldn’t get suspicious. When he finally collapsed onto his bed he felt sated. He was warm, and the rocking of his bed from his head spinning as he closed his eyes lulled him to sleep.

It was probably the best sleep he’d gotten in years.

That was the start, but it wasn’t the beginning.

The beginning was not quite a year later, at the start of summer break. He was invited to a pool party by Mike’s friends. As soon as the sun went down they all changed out of their bathing suits and into t-shirts, and shorts. They relocated to Maddy’s basement - the girl who had been throwing the party. Harley was expecting the alcohol, and the weed. He’d gotten used to it by now, and even knew how to roll one of the best joints in town. He kept a stash in a sealed bag buried deep inside his nightstand that he would pull out and smoke in the backyard by the shed whenever things got overwhelming. Or, for when that well-known emptiness crept into his veins, that instead of making him angry, just made him sad, and desolate.

He was used to the weed, but the pills were something new. He was halfway through a joint that he had matched with a girl he vaguely recognized. She had introduced herself as “Tasha” when one of Mike’s friends stumbled over and sat down next to him. Harley passed the joint over to Tasha. His head was swimming pleasantly, and he grinned over at the guy who he was pretty sure was named Toby.

“Look what Jessica’s sister brought,” Toby said excitedly as he held up a baggy with a bunch of tiny perfectly round blue pills. “She’s like the fucking tooth fairy, I swear to God,” He crowed as he handed a pill to Harley and one to Tasha. Tasha glanced over at Harley nervously, and Harley didn’t say anything until Toby left, probably to go distribute the pills to the other partygoers.

Harley looked down at the pill he had clutched in his palm. It had a ‘5’ etched big in the center, with a smaller ‘325’ carved under it. Harley recognized the pills from health class. It was percocet.

Tasha finished the joint and then stubbed it out on a spare plate that everyone had been using as a makeshift ashtray. “I’m gonna go see what Josh is up to,” She told Harley in a small voice before handing him the pill she had been given. “I’m good with just weed.”

Harley nodded dumbly as he watched her scamper off. He took in the scene of the party going on around him as he stared at the now two pills in his hand. It felt like an old cartoon where there was an angel and devil sitting on his shoulder arguing over what he should do. He stared at it for entirely too long before he said, “Fuck it,” and swallowed one down dry. He tucked the other one into his weed grinder for safekeeping, figuring that even if he hated how it made him feel he could probably sell it to someone at school for a couple of dollars.

The next twenty minutes passed slowly as he waited anxiously for it to kick in, to see how it would feel. He didn’t feel anything for the first while and was gonna accuse Jessica’s sister of being an idiot and buying counterfeit pills when it started washing over him in waves. He went out to the back deck where the pool was, and where it was relatively empty. He sat down on the edge as his eyes went half-massed, and the ribbons of euphoria made their way through his bloodstream.

For a blissful while he didn’t feel anything. Nothing at all. He laid out flat, head facing the water, and started swirling circles in it with his pointer finger. He watched for what felt like hours as his finger caused ripples in the pool.

It wasn’t until later, much later, when Joey was helping him into his house quietly, because he was too fucked up to stand, that he pulled the grinder out of his pocket. He opened it once Joey had gone home and looked at the little pill inside of it. Harley didn’t understand alcohol, but he understood this. He would do anything to feel nothing again.

It wasn’t an all-or-nothing type beat, at least in the beginning. It was more gradual. As the low simmer of Harley’s misery built so did his coping mechanisms. It wasn’t until right after he turned 16 that he was sneaking out to parties every single weekend, coming back high, drunk, or sometimes something worse.

He bought from Jessica’s sister for a while until she left town. Then, he bounced around various dealers getting wildly different qualities. He tried a little bit of everything, and never turned down a pill if it was offered. He passed out in so many different basements he lost track. He could tell that his Mom was catching on to his worsening attitude and sunken eyes. Hell, even he had noticed the weight he had lost and how he was able to count most of his ribs without sucking in anymore. None of that mattered. All that mattered was how he could get rid of the emptiness inside of him, even if it was just for a night, or however long the drugs in his system lasted.

He got a job bagging groceries at the mini-mart downtown. Most of the people that he worked with were college burnouts who sold and did drugs whenever they weren’t showing up for a shift. He bought baggies of pills in the parking lot whenever he got off work with the money he made from his minimum wage. He knew that he couldn’t keep up the delicate balance forever, and eventually there would be a tipping of the scales.

It was a month before his 17th birthday when he ran out of money.

He needed a fix so bad that his hands were shaking and he could barely see straight. He had nearly crashed his bike 10 times on his way over to Tyler’s apartment. He wasn’t the best of dudes, but his shit was always pure, and Harley knew he could deliver.

Once Harley climbed up the steps he walked along the railing until he got to the door that led to Tyler’s apartment. He rang the doorbell as he fidgeted with his hoodie and dug his fingers into his palm so hard he nearly drew blood. When Tyler opened the door he followed him inside, chewing on his lip.

Tyler went back to his room as Harley waited anxiously in the foyer. He didn’t have any money, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. All he knew was that he needed another pill. He needed everything to stop. He bit his thumb as he waited for Tyler to come back out. After a few tense moments, Tyler came back out with a baggy full of familiar pills. He sat them down on the coffee table and glanced at Harley expectantly.

“I can pay you back next Friday. That’s when I get paid,” Harley told him, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

Tyler sucked on his teeth and grabbed the pills back up, before Harley had a chance to reach for them. “You still owe me for last time.”

Harley’s stomach dropped. “Right. I know that. Just- ... I can pay you back next week.”

Tyler shook his head. “And what’s in it for me?”

Harley’s eyes widened as he took in the setting of what was going on. “W-what do you mean?”

Tyler shrugged. “How bad do you want ‘em, kid?”

Harley bristled, and brought the sleeves of his hoodie down to hide his hands. He wanted to hide from the situation completely, but knew he’d be right back here tomorrow if he didn’t leave with the pills that he needed. “What do you want?”

“I heard you gave Colson head at the bonfire party a few months ago,” Tyler said, as Harley’s face burned. “You any good?”

Harley counted to 10 in his head. He thought about a lot of things in the time it took for him to count. He thought about his Mom, his Dad, and his sister. He thought about his one English teacher from the previous year who always had an absurd amount of faith in him and told him that he was capable of great things if he just put his mind to it. He thought briefly about Tony and his billions of dollars while here he was broke as shit and questioning his morals. He thought about Colson, who he’d had a crush on for a couple of months, who let him blow him at a party and then told him afterwards that he wasn’t gay, and that they probably shouldn’t do it again. Lastly, he thought about how shaky his hands were and how all of this would be over as soon as he got his hand on the pills. There were five in the baggy. If he paced himself he could last until next Friday when he got paid and he would never have to do this again.

With that resolve in mind, he closed his eyes and dropped to his knees.

| | |

When he left Tyler’s apartment he couldn’t stop wiping at his mouth, and how it felt dirty and raw. He got halfway down the street before he let his bike fall to the ground and bent over to wretch into the grass on the side of the road. He didn’t have much in his system so it was mostly just bile, but anything, literally anything, was better than the lingering taste of Tyler’s cum in his mouth that only served to remind him what he had let him do.

Once he gathered his wits back up, he was able to make it to the 7-Eleven that was only a few blocks away from his house. He parked his bike in the bike rack outside half in a daze, feeling like he was no longer inside his body. He went into the bathroom with his hood up, and made sure nobody else was inside. He wiped down the edge of the sink with soap, and dried it meticulously with the thin paper towels from the machine. He took one of the pills out of the baggie and smashed it until it was basically powder. He spread it with his finger into a line on the edge of the sink and snorted all of it in one go.

As soon as he did he felt the immediate head rush and stinging pain in his nasal cavity that made his eyes burn and well up with tears. He grabbed onto the sink for dear life as he took several deep breaths. He looked up and finally made eye contact with himself in the mirror. His hair was a messy tangle, and greasy, on top of his head. His eyes were bloodshot, and his nose was red, as well as his mouth, which looked rubbed raw. In a certain light, it could have been enticing, but Harley knew that he just really looked wrung out.

He glared at his reflection in the mirror until someone else walked into the bathroom. Harley froze in place and waited till the guy took his position at one of the far down urinals. “Whatever,” he whispered to his reflection as he turned around and left the bathroom, wiping at his nose with the bottom of his hoodie sleeve. The moment he reached his bike he felt it start to kick in and he breathed out a sigh of relief as the telltale rush he had gotten used to spread from his head down his shoulders, all the way to his toes as his chest flooded with warmth.

He just had to make it until next Friday, and then everything was going to be okay.

| | |

The thing was, Harley was a pretty angry person. He wasn’t angry all the time, but the slightest thing could set him off. He had a temper like his Dad, and it was always hard to stop himself from doing something rash, or impulsive. His Mom liked to say that he thought with his fists before his head. His anger was more like a low simmer, on a backburner constantly until something set him off and he snapped. It had only gotten worse since he started the pills, but so had everything in his life. He knew he had a problem, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stop.

Harley had been getting into fights at school for almost as long as he could remember. There was a day in elementary school where he had to wait outside the principal's office with a split lip and torn-up knuckles. He could hear his Mom crying through the door, he could hear her saying how tough it had been since Harley’s Dad had left and it made him feel awful. But, it also kind of just made him want to punch stuff more.

Kids at school were mean, but all kids who are growing are mean, and seem to have endless bouts of nasty shit to say. They picked on Harley because he was weird, and nerdy, and his Dad had left. There wasn’t even a divorce like some of the other kids in his class. He didn’t have elusive tales of two Christmases, or weekends at his Dad’s - all he eventually got was Tony Stark showing up in his garage when he was 9, before he fucked off just like everybody else. Sure, he had decked out his garage, but that didn’t mean much. Tony was a fucking billionaire, it was probably the equivalent of him giving a homeless kid on the street a 5 dollar bill.

Harley got better at learning how to deal with his anger. He also got better at not getting punched, and throwing his own. He learned how to hide bloody knuckles, or bloody noses, and only got pulled into the office a handful of times. They made him go to the school counselor and she said it was a coping mechanism; that the violence was a way for him to act out and ask for attention. Harley thought she was mostly a quack who didn’t actually give a shit about the kids she was supposed to be helping. The fighting had been self-defense, but the pills? He could admit that those were probably the coping mechanism.

Harley thought about his school counselor as he locked the door to his room and threw the baggy of pills that he had worked so hard for into his nightstand, under a pile of books he was supposed to be reading for class and knew he never would. He wondered what she would think of him now, or what he had done. He laughed mirthlessly at the picture of her horrified face as he told her that the school system had failed him, just like his Dad, and just like everybody fucking else.

Despite everything, his grades were good. Harley was smart. He knew he was smart, and that was half of his problem. He stopped having to try in school after the second week of 6th grade. He always showed up, and always finished his work though, even if he was working on his projects high out of his fucking mind. He usually wrote his best papers that way.

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, he thought about his Dad. He thought about what his Dad would say to him and his pills. Maybe an outsider would draw parallels to him and his Father, from one addict to another. He wasn’t anything like his Father, though. Yeah, Harley had a problem, but he was still here, still doing the shit he was supposed to be doing. He was still a functioning member of society as far as he was concerned and hadn’t ran away as soon as things had gotten tough. His Father was a coward and that’s all he’d ever be.

Sometimes though, sometimes, in the dead of night when he was shaking and sweating from either a comedown, or withdrawal, he would try to discern if his Dad would be sad, if he even gave a shit at all. He wondered if he would be disappointed.

Whenever those thoughts took hold he would just text one of his friends to see if a party was going on, and there usually was. He’d smoke a joint, or take a pill that was offered and suddenly he’d forget all about the thoughts that had previously been consuming him.

But the thing about all of his anger is that he would gladly take it over the sadness. There was a hole inside of him. He wasn’t quite sure when it formed, but it was there. It threatened to consume him whole on nights he was alone and could only stare at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom. The only time when he didn’t feel empty was when he had some chemical pumping through his veins. So that became his thing.

He couldn’t ignore though, how it was hurting everyone he loved. Abbie and his Mom never said anything, but sometimes it was like they knew. They would give him a look with their sad eyes like they wanted to help him, like they somehow had the capability to heal him. When he came home on certain nights, pupils blown and speech slurred, his Mom would look at him like he was his Father.

Maybe he was slowly becoming his Father.

Either way, it hurt, and he couldn’t stop. The only thing that didn’t hurt anymore was the dizzying rush he got whenever he snorted the pills that he had come to love so much.

There was one night that Harley could remember. He had slammed his bike on the front porch a little hard, and had made a little too much noise coming in through the window of his bedroom. He was high as shit and the world was thick, but buzzing around him. He changed out of his jeans into an undershirt, his hands fumbling and not working right, like they were no longer connected to his brain. When he finally finished his task he stumbled out into the hallway to go to the bathroom before he could pass out for school in the morning.

As soon as he got to the door of the bathroom he could hear his Mom talking in the living room, and he froze. Her voice was muffled, but he could still make out what she was saying. It sounded like she was on the phone with someone, which wouldn’t be an unusual occurrence for her, especially at this time of the night. It always made Harley smile whenever he would come home and she would be gabbing excitedly with one of her girlfriends, or spilling town gossip. This time, however, Harley could tell she wasn’t chatting with her friends.

“He’s just been so withdrawn. I know he sneaks out of the house almost every night and I don’t know if I should let him have his freedom or be concerned.” Harley heard her say, her voice sapped, and weary. “He’s so bright. You know that. I’m worried that’s going to be what gets him.” She paused for a while, so someone else on the phone must have said something. Harley took that time to let his head fall against the door of the bathroom.

Harley had a feeling the conversation was about him and it made him sick. His fuzzy brain was taking in all the words she was saying and knew that he didn’t want her to feel that way. He didn’t want her to worry. But he also couldn’t stop. His brain was whirring all the time and the only thing that ever gave him peace; a fucking reprieve, stopped the voice in his head - the one that sounded like his Father, the one that told him he was a waste of space, that he was nothing - were the pills that he took, or snorted, whichever was easier, or quicker, really. At least when he was high he was a good nothing.

“No, I know. And he’s so good sometimes. He’ll be happy and chatty, and he’s always been so good with Abbie...it could just be a teenager thing. Sometimes I’m just at a loss. I know he needs something, but I don’t know what that is.”

The world to stop turning, Harley thought, with a sudden flash of vengeance. If there was one thing he could write on his Christmas list it would be for the world to stop turning, and for him to stop breathing. But that would definitely cause his Mom more concern and he didn’t want that.

He didn’t want to listen to the conversation anymore, so he made sure to open the bathroom door obviously, and took a few stomping steps inside, hitting his hand on the counter in the process, that way she would be alerted to his presence in the hallway.

He couldn’t make out her voice after that.

Harley stared at his face in the mirror. He took in his red eyes, pupils swallowing his irises, skin pale and sickly. At one point he might have been something to look at, with sweeping blonde hair, and a crooked grin that his Mom used to always pinch and say was her favorite.

He didn’t look like that anymore.

He didn’t even look like himself anymore. His outside finally matched his inside - a hollow shell of someone pretending to be a person.

When he got out of the bathroom his Mom was no longer on the phone, and he couldn’t pretend to be anything other than absolutely exhausted, so he shuffled into his room and fell back onto his bed. He played the words she had said on the phone call over and over again in his head until he fell asleep.

| | |

Harley was smart, brilliant, actually, that was the thing. School was a breeze, but he knew that even though he kept his grades up, every time he snuck back in through his bedroom window his Mom was disappointed in him. He knew that she had no idea what he was doing, but she also wasn’t stupid, and somehow knew he was close to doing something that would throw his life away.

If only she knew that this was the only way he could keep on living. If only she knew he probably would have slit his wrists in the bathroom if those tiny little blue pills hadn’t kept him company, and drove away all the malicious clawing thoughts that flickered through his brain constantly.

Harley had an affinity for building things. He also had an affinity for hacking, which would have been worrisome if he wasn’t good enough to hardly ever get caught. After he burned his bridges with Tyler he started exploring his other options. Hacking into the local hospital’s database was so easy it was almost laughable.

He quickly learned it was going to be a dead-end because they kept all their opioids in a Pill-O-Matix which was an automatic drug dispenser that used doctors’ credentials to unlock it. Even if Harley could somehow bypass it he would have to disable the security cams, and it wasn’t something he could do on a regular basis. It wasn’t worth it.

After that, he did some digging into his local pharmacy, but that was mostly a dead end as well. Their computer systems were out of date, but most of their pill tracking was manual, as it was a tiny small-town pharmacy. If any of their opioids went missing they would surely be noticed.

So Harley started bouncing around dealers again. He knew it was dangerous. But the hole inside of him was just as, if not more dangerous, so he knew what he had to do. He got shitty pills from freshmen with older siblings that dealt; who didn’t know the worth of what they were selling. On one occasion he got a set of pills of oxy that were cut with speed that made his heart race and he felt like he was having a low-grade heart attack for hours.

He didn’t want to be this way - a junkie. But he found something that worked when nothing else had. He could feel himself getting worse and worse and knew rock bottom was just around the corner. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know if it was a sick desire to actually hit rock bottom and to see what that felt like, or if his own self-control had finally waned to a point of no return.

It all came to a head a week before his high school graduation.

Graduation parties were popping up all over the place, and Harley wasn’t about to miss any of them. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to see his friends (friends that he could barely even call friends anymore because he didn’t really talk to anyone who wasn’t going to eventually sell him drugs).

It wasn’t even that he wanted to have a nostalgic cry fest with all the people who had tortured him his entire adolescence. He just wanted to get as smashed as possible so he could forget everything. Then he wouldn’t have to think about college, which he couldn’t afford, or all of the stress that came with being on the cusp of adulthood.

He could tell that something was off as soon as he took the first pill. He got high quicker than usual, and he also felt higher than what was normal. He relished the buzz, every second of it, and used his impairment as an excuse as to why he took another one, and another one once it was offered. He was never one to turn down free drugs. By the time the third one kicked in he could barely walk outside. He must have fallen on the grass lawn because one minute he was looking at the driveway that led to the house, and the next minute he was blinking up at the night sky.

He didn’t even realize that he was puking until someone was rolling him over with a bruising grip on his arms and back. The bile that had been clogging his throat rose and fell out of his mouth as he heaved and heaved. He puked into the grass for what felt like ages until he tried to focus his eyes and could only make out a vague blob of a person standing over him.

“Fuck, Harley,” he could hear the voice saying, but it was distant. It sounded like they were crying, but he couldn’t figure out why they would be crying. Harley opened his mouth to speak but when he did he only choked on bile once again until he was forced to spit it out in the grass.

A loud ringing was in his ears and all the talking he could hear was muffled and unintelligible. He started shivering violently and couldn’t stop. The hand that was holding him reached for something in the pocket of his jeans but Harley could barely feel it. He came back to himself enough to glance over with glassy eyes and recognized the person as Joey. Fuck. He shouldn’t be seeing him like this.

Joey had a phone pressed to his ear, and Harley tried to piece all the details together to figure out what was going on but it was hard to think. All he could feel was the sudden pounding in his head and how his whole body ached in a way that made him feel like he had just been run over by a semi.

It could’ve been hours later, or only a few minutes, time was passing weird for Harley. But suddenly he was seeing his Mom. She was pale as a ghost as her face floated in front of him, blocking his view of the night sky. “Mom?” Harley said, not quite believing what was in front of him. Just saying those words scratched against his raw throat and suddenly Harley was so, so tired. All he wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up.

“Harley, baby.” His Mom said, her cool hands pressed against his face. He was burning up. When did that happen? “What did you take? We need to know what you took.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Harley mumbled out, his words barely coming out as sounds or words. His Mom must have understood because her face turned thunderous.

“What did you take!” She yelled, her voice turning shrill as she screamed. Harley winced and his eyes fell shut until someone was shaking him, causing him to blearily open his eyes again. His Mom and Joey were like little pale-faced moons over his head as he could hardly make out the details of their faces, or why they were looking at him like that, or why they were so concerned. Couldn’t Harley just go to sleep?

“...hospital,” He heard his Mom say distantly. Then jerkily he was being pulled up by two pairs of hands until he was upright. The movement jostled him and his head fell back painfully like a rag doll. The sudden motion caused him to start puking again, and he bent over and heaved on an empty stomach which only made his throat feel like it had been hacked at with razor blades. Every inch of his body hurt.

He didn’t realize he had been put into a car until he was laying in the backseat while Joey held his head, probably to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit again. This was one of his worst nightmares. He could hardly think but suddenly he was stuck in a spiral of guilt so strong that it choked him even further. He could taste the bile he had been throwing up all over his mouth and tongue, and could hear his Mom crying from the front seat.

He was so sorry.

Nobody should be seeing him like this. All he wanted was to go home and pretend like none of this was even happening.

“I’m sorry,” Harley said, even though it was hard for him to talk. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to his Mom, Joey, or possibly both. “I’m sorry,” he kept saying in between the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

That was the last thing he remembered before he fell asleep.

| | |

When Harley woke up he was in a brightly lit hospital, and was lying in a bed. He had various wires hooked to his arms and he felt like death warmed over. Once he was able to blink through the blinding lights and focus on the room he noticed Abbie and Mom, both sound asleep in their own respective guest chairs. A lump formed in his throat as it settled in his bones what had happened.

| | |

After his Mom woke up they fought for what felt like hours. Eventually, it led to her crying as she said she didn’t know what to do. The pills Harley had taken at the party had been laced with fentanyl, and they had caused him to OD. The doctors had told her that he showed signs of having a long-term opioid addiction and would have to go through detox before he would be released. Harley had denied it vehemently until his Mom had told him to cut the bullshit.

In the time that it had taken him to recover he had missed graduation, and hadn’t been able to walk across the stage like the rest of his classmates. Harley pretended that it didn’t sting.

It was clear that his Mother didn’t know what to do with him, and Harley didn’t know what hurt worse, the fact that she looked at him differently now, or the fact that he had hurt her so deeply. It wasn’t until he went through the detox with gritted teeth and false promises that he would stay clean that he knew nobody really believed, that he was able to go home.

When Harley got to his room, he stopped short in the doorway and stared. All of his stuff had been packed up into bags that were sitting on his bed. He turned to look at his Mom, who was only a few feet behind him, with betrayal and fear. Was she kicking him out?

Instead of answering him right away, her eyes trained on a picture that was hung up in the hallway, just a little ways down from the entryway to Harley’s bedroom. It was a baby picture of him. His blonde hair was platinum then, but still tangled at the top of his head like a bird's nest, and he had a wide smile on his face that was completely toothless and all gums. He could see the tears welling in his Mom’s eyes as she turned back to face him.

“When you first mentioned that you wanted to take a gap year I got in touch with Tony. He gave me his number years ago and said to call if we ever needed him. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if the number was still going to work. I thought it might do you good to go and see him.” Her voice trembled then, “Lord knows he has more resources than I do.” A tear trickled down her cheek, but she continued. “I know you’re not happy here, baby. You haven’t been happy for a while, and I don’t...I don’t know what to do.”

Harley tried to let her words sink in, but they weren’t making any sense. “Since when does Tony give a shit about me?”

“Oh sweetie,” His Mom said, eyes sad. “He’s always been keeping tabs on you. He wants what’s best for you.” She seemed to gather herself together then, and her voice was less wobbly when she said, “I think a change of scenery will do you good. You have a flight to New York tomorrow morning, so you should probably get some rest.”

Harley balled his hands into fists at his sides and glared at the bags that had been packed for him. He was a problem who was being shipped off to New York because his Mom no longer knew how to handle him. He wasn’t sure what Tony fucking Stark was going to be able to do for him. The fact that he had been keeping up with Harley and how he was doing hit him as a shock because he genuinely thought that the man had forgotten about him, or at least, didn’t care for him anymore. He didn’t know how to handle the information that not only did Tony in fact care about him, but cared about him enough to open his home to him and want to help him.

“And what if I don’t want to go to New York?” Harley tested, because he always had to push.

His Mom only pursed her lips sadly. “It’s not negotiable.” She closed his door then, he guessed to give him a semblance of privacy. Not like it mattered, he was sure his room had been cleaned of all his stashes, and all his shit was packed up anyway.

Harley punched his pillow repeatedly, and screamed into it a few times before he ended up curled up in his bed and staring unblinkingly at the wall. If he was miserable in Tennessee he doubted New York was going to be much better.

Thanks for reading! This fic means so much to me and I can’t wait to hear the response to it, and post more :)

#Parkner #Drowning Lessons #Fic #Chapter One #Parkner Euphoria Fic #Graphic Drug Usage #Harley Keener #Peter Parker #Keenker #Parley #Harley/Peter #Harley Keener/Peter Parker

93 notes · View notes

michaelbogild · 3 years

Text

Lines by Leonard Cohen

As someone long prepared for the occasion In full command of every plan you wrecked – Do not choose a coward’s explanation that hides behind the cause and the effect

And it's stronger than drink And it's deeper than sorrow This darkness she's left in my heart.

And I'll dance with you in Vienna I'll be wearing a river's disguise The hyacinth wild on my shoulder, My mouth on the dew of your thighs

He wants to write a love song An anthem of forgiving A manual for living With defeat

The birds they sang At the break of day Start again I heard them say Don't dwell on what Has passed away Or what is yet to be.

You never liked to get The letters that I sent. But now you've got the gist Of what my letters meant. You're reading them again, The ones you didn't burn. You press them to your lips, My pages of concern.

I caught the darkness It was drinking from your cup. I said: Is this contagious? You said: Just drink it up

Everybody talking to their pockets Everybody wants a box of chocolates And a long stem rose Everybody knows

A cross on every hill A star, a minaret So many graves to fill O love, aren't you tired yet?

And everybody knows that the Plague is coming Everybody knows that it's moving fast Everybody knows that the naked man and woman Are just a shining artifact of the past

Yeah I missed you since the place got wrecked By the winds of change and the weeds of sex looks like freedom but it feels like death it's something in between, I guess

I walked into this empty church I had no place else to go When the sweetest voice I ever heard, whispered to my soul

I heard the snake was baffled by his sin He shed his scales to find the snake within But born again is born without a skin The poison enters into everything

And summoned now to deal With your invincible defeat, You live your life as if it’s real, A Thousand Kisses Deep.

I’m slowing down the tune I never liked it fast You want to get there soon I want to get there last

When they said REPENT REPENT I wonder what they meant

Her thighs they slipped away from me Like schools of startled fish Though I've forgotten half my life I still remember this

And if no leaves were on the tree And no water in the sea And the break of day had nothing to reveal That's how broken I would be What my life would seem to me If I didn't have your love to make it real

And yes she lied about it all Her children and her husband You were born to judge the world Forgive me but I wasn't

O troubled dust concealing An undivided love The Heart beneath is teaching To the broken Heart above

The pull of the moon, the thrust of the sun And thus the ocean is crossed The waters are blessed while a shadowy guest Kindles a light for the lost

How come you called me here tonight? How come you bother With my heart at all? You raise me up in grace, Then you put me in a place, Where I must fall.

And everybody knows that it's now or never Everybody knows that it's me or you And everybody knows that you live forever Ah when you've done a line or two

It's coming like the tidal flood beneath the lunar sway, imperial, mysterious, in amorous array:

The lights went out behind us The fireflies undressed The broken sidewalk ended I touched her sleeping breasts They opened to me urgently Likelilies from the dead Behind a fine embroidery Her nipples rose like bread Then I took off my necktie And she took off her dress My belt and pistol set aside We tore away the rest

The Maestro says it's Mozart but it sounds like bubble gum when you're waiting for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

The sea so deep and blind The sun, the wild regret The club, the wheel, the mind, O love, aren't you tired yet?

The wounded forms appear: The loss, the full extent; And simple kindness here, The solitude of strength.

If the sun would lose its light And we lived in an endless night And there was nothing left that you could feel If the sea were sand alone And the flowers made of stone And no one that you hurt could ever heal Well that's how broken I would be What my life would seem to me If I didn't have your love to make it real

But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone I'll be speaking to you sweetly From a window in the Tower of Song

I said I’d be your lover. You laughed at what I said. I lost my job forever. I was counted with the dead.

It failed my little fire But it's bright the dying spark Go tell the young messiah What happens to the heart

Good night, good night, my fallen star I guess you're right, you always are I know you're right about the blues You live some life you'd never choose

looks like freedom but it feels like death it's something in between, I guess

I've seen you change the water into wine I've seen you change it back to water, too I sit at your table every night I try but I just don't get high with you

The present's not that pleasant Just a lot of things to do I thought the past would last me But the darkness got that too

The splinters that you carry The cross you left behind Come healing of the body Come healing of the mind

I wish there was a treaty we could sign I do not care who takes this bloody hill I'm angry and I'm tired all the time I wish there was a treaty, I wish there was a treaty Between your love and mine

I’m lacing up my shoe But I don’t want to run I’ll get here when I do Don’t need no starting gun

Thanks For The Dance

Ah, they're dancing in the street — it's Jubilee We sold ourselves for love but now we're free I'm so sorry for that ghost I made you be Only one of us was real and that was me

And I'm still working with the wine, still dancing cheek to cheek, the band is playing Auld Lang Syne, but the heart will not retreat.

And maybe I had miles to drive, And promises to keep: You ditch it all to stay alive, A Thousand Kisses Deep.

Baby don’t ignore me We were smokers we were friends Forget that tired story Of betrayal and revenge

So you can stick your little pins in that voodoo doll I'm very sorry, baby, doesn't look like me at all I'm standing by the window where the light is strong Ah they don't let a woman kill you Not in the Tower of Song

Show me the place, help me roll away the stone Show me the place, I can't move this thing alone Show me the place where the word became a man Show me the place where the suffering began

And you're weak and you're harmless and you're sleeping in your harness and the wind going wild in the trees, and it ain't exactly prison but you'll never be forgiven for whatever you've done with the keys.

Steer your heart past the Truth that you believed in yesterday Such as Fundamental Goodness and the Wisdom of the Way Steer your heart, precious heart, past the women whom you bought Year by year, month by month, day by day Thought by thought

Word of words and measure of all measures Blessed is the name, the name be blessed Written on my heart in burning letters That’s all I know, I cannot read the rest

And O my love, I still recall The pleasures that we knew; The rivers and the waterfall, Wherein I bathed with you.

You said how could this happen You said how can this be The chains are gone from heaven The storms are wild and free

I cried for you this morning And I’ll cry for you again But I’m not in charge of sorrow So please don’t ask me when

Both of us say there are laws to obey But frankly I don’t like your tone You want to change the way I make love I want to leave it alone

Behold the gates of mercy In arbitrary space And none of us deserving The cruelty or the grace

Then I came back from where I’d been. My room, it looked the same – But there was nothing left between The Nameless and the Name.

O longing of the branches To lift the little bud O longing of the arteries To purify the blood

I to my side call the meek and the mild You to your side call the Word By virtue of suffering I claim to have won You claim to have never been heard

I know I said I’d meet you, I’d meet you at the store, But I can’t buy it, baby. I can’t buy it anymore.

I was idle with my soul, when I heard that you could use me I followed very closely, but my life remained the same But then you showed me where you had been wounded In every atom broken is the Name

I fled to the edge of the mighty sea of sorrow Pursued by the riders of a cruel and dark regime But the waters parted and my soul crossed over Out of Egypt, out of Pharaoh’s dream

They whisper still, the injured stones The blunted mountains weep As he died to make men holy Let us die to make things cheap

Sounded like the truth Seemed the better way Sounded like the truth But it's not the truth today

Hurt once and for all into silence. A long pain ending without a song to prove it. Who could stand beside you so close to Eden, When you glinted in every eye the held-high razor, shivering every ram and son?

Sleep baby sleep The day’s on the run The wind in the trees Is talking in tongues

And I loved you when our love was blessed and I love you now there's nothing left

There's silt on your ankles and sand on your feet The river too shallow, the ocean too deep You smile at your suffering, the sweetest reprieve Why did you leave us, why did you leave

I saw some people starving There was murder, there was rape Their villages were burning They were trying to escape I couldn't meet their glances I was staring at my shoes It was acid, it was tragic It was almost like the blues

If you want a partner Take my hand Or if you want to strike me down in anger Here I stand, I'm your man

Ah I don't believe you'd like it, You wouldn't like it here. There ain't no entertainment and the judgements are severe.

The opposites falter, the spirals reverse And Eve must re-enter the sleep of her birth

I don't need to be forgiven for loving you so much It's written in the scriptures It's written there in blood I even heard the angels declare it from above

Sometimes I’d head for the highway I’m old and the mirrors don’t lie But crazy has places to hide in That are deeper than any goodbye

If you want a boxer I will step into the ring for you And if you want a doctor I'll examine every inch of you

Yeah we're drinking and we're dancing but there's nothing really happening and the place is dead as Heaven on a Saturday night And my very close companion gets me fumbling gets me laughing she's a hundred but she's wearing something tight and I lift my glass to the Awful Truth which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth except to say it isn't worth a dime And the whole damn place goes crazy twice and it's once for the devil and once for Christ but the Boss don't like these dizzy heights we're busted in the blinding lights, busted in the blinding lights of CLOSING TIME

I want him to be certain That he doesn't have a burden That he doesn't need a vision That he only has permission To do my instant bidding which is to Say what I have told him to repeat

Though I take my song From a withered limb, Both song and tree, They sing for him.

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking Everybody knows that the captain lied Everybody got this broken feeling Like their father or their dog just died

Ditched on a beach Where the sea hates to go With a child in my arms And a chill in my soul And my heart the shape Of a begging bowl

And she says, Drink deeply, pilgrim but don't forget there's still a woman beneath this resplendent chemise.

You don't need a lawyer I'm not making a claim You don't need to surrender I'm not taking aim I don't need a lover, no, no The wretched beast is tame I don't need a lover So blow out the flame

O gather up the brokenness And bring it to me now The fragrance of those promises You never dared to vow

And I don’t really know who sent me, To raise my voice and say: May the lights in The Land of Plenty Shine on the truth some day.

There's a bar where the boys have stopped talking They've been sentenced to death by the blues

I know the burden’s heavy As you wheel it through the night Some people say it’s empty But that don’t mean it’s light

Ten New Songs

I better hold my tongue I better take my place Lift this glass of blood Try to say the grace

You came to me this morning and you handled me like meat. You’d have to be a man to know how good that feels, how sweet.

A sip of wine, a cigarette, And then it’s time to go. I tidied up the kitchenette; I tuned the old banjo. I’m wanted at the traffic-jam. They’re saving me a seat. I’m what I am, and what I am, Is back on Boogie Street.

Down in the valley the famine goes on The famine up on the hill I say that you shouldn’t, you couldn’t, you can’t You say that you must and you will

So we struggle and we stagger down the snakes and up the ladder to the tower where the blessed hours chime and I swear it happened just like this: a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss the Gates of Love they budged an inch I can't say much has happened since

And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook, With the photographs there, and the moss And I'll yield to the flood of your beauty My cheap violin and my cross

Then she dances so graceful and your heart's hard and hateful and she's naked but that's just a tease. And you turn in disgust from your hatred and from your love and comes to you light as the breeze.

I see the Ghost of Culture With numbers on his wrist Salute some new conclusion Which all of us have missed

I tried to love you my way, But I couldn’t make it hold. So I closed the Book of Longing And I do what I am told.

And up through the system the worlds are withdrawn From every dominion the mind stood upon And now that it's over and now that it's done The name has no number, not even the one

You got me singing Like a prisoner in a jail You got me singing Like my pardon's in the mail

You can add up the parts But you won't have the sum You can strike up the march, There is no drum Every heart, every heart To love will come But like a refugee.

Everybody knows you've been discreet But there were so many people you just had to meet Without your clothes And everybody knows

It's coming from the sorrow in the street, the holy places where the races meet; from the homicidal bitchin' that goes down in every kitchen to determine who will serve and who will eat. From the wells of disappointment where the women kneel to pray for the grace of God in the desert here and the desert far away:

Even though she sleeps upon your satin Even though she wakes you with a kiss Do not say the moment was imagined Do not stoop to strategies like this

I smile when I'm angry I cheat and I lie I do what I have to do To get by But I know what is wrong And I know what is right And I'd die for the truth In My Secret Life

I loved you for your beauty but that doesn't make a fool of me: you were in it for your beauty too and I loved you for your body there's a voice that sounds like God to me declaring, declaring, declaring that your body's really you

O baby I waited so long for your kiss for something to happen, oh something like this.

O let the heavens falter And let the earth proclaim: Come healing of the Altar Come healing of the Name

If you're squeezed for information, that's when you've got to play it dumb: You just say you're out there waiting for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

You put on a uniform To fight the Civil War You looked so good I didn’t care What side you’re fighting for

Did you confuse the Messiah in a mirror and rest because he had finally come? Let me cry Help beside you, Teacher.

It's coming to America first, the cradle of the best and of the worst. It's here they got the range and the machinery for change and it's here they got the spiritual thirst. It's here the family's broken and it's here the lonely say that the heart has got to open in a fundamental way:

I said to Hank Williams: how lonely does it get? Hank Williams hasn't answered yet But I hear him coughing all night long A hundred floors above me In the Tower of Song

Sail on, sail on O mighty Ship of State! To the Shores of Need Past the Reefs of Greed Through the Squalls of Hate Sail on, sail on

Ah the wars they will Be fought again The holy dove She will be caught again Bought and sold And bought again The dove is never free.

I should have seen it coming It was right behind your eyes You were young and it was summer I just had to take a dive Winning you was easy But darkness was the prize

The party’s over But I’ve landed on my feet I’ll be standing on this corner Where there used to be a street

I know you had to lie to me, I know you had to cheat, to pose all hot and high behind the veils of shear deceit, our perfect porn aristocrat so elegant and cheap, I’m old but I’m still into that, A thousand kisses deep.

It’s not a trick, your senses all deceiving A fitful dream, the morning will exhaust – Say goodbye to Alexandra leaving Then say goodbye to Alexandra lost

If you want a lover I'll do anything you ask me to And if you want another kind of love I'll wear a mask for you

It's dark now and it's snowing O my love I must be going, The river has started to freeze. And I'm sick of pretending I'm broken from bending I've lived too long on my knees.

Well I don't know about tomorrow but I know what's coming next I've used up all my questions; I have no answers left

As for the world the job the war I ditched them all to love you more

The story's been written the letter's been sealed You gave me a lily but now it's a field

Your story was so long, The plot was so intense, It took you years to cross The lines of self-defense.

And soon there's sand in every kiss And soon the dawn is ready And soon the night surrenders To a daffodil machete

Waiting for the miracle There's nothing left to do. I haven't been this happy since the end of World War II.

The troubles came I saved what I could save A thread of light, a particle, a wave But there were chains, so I hastened to behave There were chains, so I loved you like a slave

his waltz With its very own breath of brandy and Death Dragging its tail in the sea

They sentenced me to twenty years of boredom For trying to change the system from within I'm coming now, I'm coming to reward them First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin

They oughta give my heart a medal For letting go of you When I turned my back on the devil Turned my back on the angel too

Had to go crazy to love you You who were never the one Whom I chased through the souvenir heartache Her braids and her blouse all undone

Well the mouse ate the crumb Then the cat ate the crust Now they’ve fallen in love They’re talking in tongues

There’s other ways to answer That certainly is true Me, I’m blind with death and anger And that’s no place for you

I'm guided by a signal in the heavens I'm guided by this birthmark on my skin I'm guided by the beauty of our weapons

I was fighting with temptation But I didn't want to win A man like me don't like to see Temptation caving in

I know that I’m forgiven, But I don’t know how I know I don’t trust my inner feelings – Inner feelings come and go.

And sometimes when the night is slow, The wretched and the meek, We gather up our hearts and go, A Thousand Kisses Deep.

I dreamed about you, baby. It was just the other night. Most of you was naked Ah but some of you was light.

I don’t know why I come here, knowing as I do, what you really think of me, what I really think of you.

Had to go crazy to love you Had to let everything fall Had to be people I hated Had to be no one at all

I used to love the rainbow And I used to love the view I loved the early morning I'd pretend that it was new But I caught the darkness baby And I got it worse than you

Traveling light It's au revoir My once so bright, my fallen star I'm running late, they'll close the bar I used to play one mean guitar

I dreamed about you baby You were wearing half your dress I know you have to hate me But could you hate me less?

The night of Santiago And I was passing through So I took her to the river As any man would do

Let's keep it on the level When I walked away from you I turned my back on the devil Turned my back on the angel too

I’m turning tricks, I’m getting fixed, I’m back on Boogie Street. You lose your grip, and then you slip Into the Masterpiece.

So we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul outwears the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest.

You got me singing Even tho' it all looks grim You got me singing The Hallelujah hymn

I'm aching for you baby I can't pretend I'm not I need to see you naked In your body and your thought

If your heart is torn I don’t wonder why If the night is long Here’s my lullaby

I'm sentimental, if you know what I mean I love the country but I can't stand the scene. And I'm neither left or right I'm just staying home tonight, getting lost in that hopeless little screen.

Now in Vienna there's ten pretty women There's a shoulder where Death comes to cry There's a lobby with nine hundred windows There's a tree where the doves go to die There's a piece that was torn from the morning And it hangs in the Gallery of Frost

Oh I want you, I want you, I want you On a chair with a dead magazine In the cave at the tip of the lily In some hallways where love's never been On a bed where the moon has been sweating In a cry filled with footsteps and sand

And everybody knows that you're in trouble Everybody knows what you've been through From the bloody cross on top of Calvary To the beach of Malibu

Ah you drift into my dreams as if you had the right And you show me how you broke me doing all the little things I really like

I gave her something pretty And I waited till she laughed I wasn't born a gypsy To make a woman sad

There is no God in Heaven And there is no Hell below So says the great professor Of all there is to know But I've had the invitation That a sinner can't refuse And it's almost like salvation It's almost like the blues

The war was lost The treaty signed I was not caught I crossed the line, I had to leave My life behind I dug some graves You'll never findI was not caught Though many tried I live among you Well disguised

Now I'm living in this temple Where they tell you what to do I'm old and I've had to settle On a different point of view

Too late to fix another drink – The lights are going out – I’ll listen to the darkness sing – I know what that’s about.

I loved you when you opened like a lily to the heat, you see I’m just another snowman standing in the rain and sleet, who loved you with his frozen love, his second hand physique, with all he is, and all he was, A thousand kisses deep.

And death is old But it's always new I freeze with fear And I'm there for you

I don't smoke no cigarette I don't drink no alcohol I ain't had much loving yet But that's always been your call Hey I don't miss it baby I got no taste for anything at all

I’ll try to say a little more: Love went on and on Until it reached an open door – Then Love Itself Love Itself was gone.

I said there'd been a flood. I said there's nothing left. I hoped that you would come. I gave you my address.

So I let my heart get frozen To keep away the rot My father says I'm chosen My mother says I'm not

O Crown of Light, O Darkened One, I never thought we’d meet. You kiss my lips, and then it’s done: I’m back on Boogie Street.

Ah, the moon's too bright The chain's too tight The beast won't go to sleep

And he cut my lip And he cut my heart. So I could not drink From the river dark.

O solitude of longing Where love has been confined Come healing of the body Come healing of the mind

My mirrored twin, my next of kin, I’d know you in my sleep and who but you would take me in, a thousand kisses deep.

Suddenly the night has grown colder The god of love preparing to depart Alexandra hoisted on his shoulder They slip between the sentries of the heart

But I'm stubborn as those garbage bags that Time cannot decay, I'm junk but I'm still holding up this little wild bouquet

The autumn moved across your skin, got something in my eye, a light that doesn’t need to live, and doesn’t need to die. A riddle in the book of love, obscure and obsolete, till witnessed here in time and blood, A thousand kisses deep.

There's nobody missing There is no reward Little by little We're cutting the cord We're spending the treasure, oh, no, no That love cannot afford I know you can feel it The sweetness restored

The ponies run, the girls are young, The odds are there to beat. You win a while, and then it’s done – Your little winning streak.

I like to take my time I like to linger as it flies A weekend on your lips A lifetime in your eyes

Then he struck my heart With a deadly force, And he said, ‘This heart: It is not yours.’

Everybody knows that you love me baby Everybody knows that you really do Everybody knows that you've been faithful Ah give or take a night or two

Steer your way past the ruins of the Altar and the Mall Steer your way through the fables of Creation and The Fall Steer your way past the Palaces that rise above the rot Year by year, month by month, day by day Thought by thought

Your crazy fragrance all around Your secrets in my view My lost, my lost was saying found My don't was saying do

Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack a crack in everything That's how the light gets in.

Steer your way through the pain that is far more real than you That's smashed the Cosmic Model, that blinded every view And please don't make me go there, though there be a God or not Year by year, month by month, day by day Thought by thought

You sent me here You sent me there Breaking things I can't repair Making objects Out of thoughts Making more By thinking not

And you who were bewildered by a meaning Whose code was broken, crucifix uncrossed – Say goodbye to Alexandra leaving Then say goodbye to Alexandra lost

I see you standing on the other side I don't know how the river got so wide I loved you baby, way back when And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed But I feel so close to everything that we lost We'll never, we'll never have to lose it again

If you are the dealer, I'm out of the game If you are the healer, it means I'm broken and lame If thine is the glory then mine must be the shame You want it darker We kill the flame

I used to be your favorite drunk Good for one more laugh Then we both ran out of luck Luck was all we ever had

There'll be the breaking of the ancient Western code Your private life will suddenly explode There'll be phantoms There'll be fires on the road And the white man dancing You'll see your woman Hanging upside down Her features covered by her fallen gown And all the lousy little poets Coming round Tryin' to sound like Charlie Manson

Confined to sex, we pressed against The limits of the sea: I saw there were no oceans left For scavengers like me.

I was born like this, I had no choice I was born with the gift of a golden voice And twenty-seven angels from the Great Beyond They tied me to this table right here In the Tower of Song

I’m naked and I’m filthy And both of us are guilty

the fiddler fiddles something so sublime all the women tear their blouses off and the men they dance on the polka-dots and it's partner found, it's partner lost and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops

I've seen the future, brother: It is murder

Who broke the heart and made it new? Who's moving on, who's kiddin' who?

So I knelt there at the delta, at the alpha and the omega, at the cradle of the river and the seas. And like a blessing come from heaven for something like a second I was healed and my heart was at ease.

And there's a mighty judgment coming, but I may be wrong You see, you hear these funny voices In the Tower of Song

Upheld by the simplicities of pleasure They gain the light, they formlessly entwine And radiant beyond your widest measure They fall among the voices and the wine

When you've fallen on the highway and you're lying in the rain, and they ask you how you're doing of course you'll say you can't complain

You always said we’re equal So let me march with you Just an extra in the sequel To the old red white and blue

She stands before you naked you can see it, you can taste it, and she comes to you light as the breeze. Now you can drink it or you can nurse it, it don't matter how you worship as long as you're down on your knees.

By the rivers dark I wandered on. I lived my life in Babylon. And I did forget My holy song: And I had no strength In Babylon.

All your moves are swift All your turns are tight Let me catch my breath I thought we had all night

Democracy is coming to the U.S.A. It's coming through a crack in the wall; on a visionary flood of alcohol; from the staggering account of the Sermon on the Mount which I don't pretend to understand at all. It's coming from the silence on the dock of the bay, from the brave, the bold, the battered heart of Chevrolet: Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

And let the heavens hear it The penitential hymn Come healing of the spirit Come healing of the limb

There's a lover in the story But the story's still the same There's a lullaby for suffering And a paradox to blame But it's written in the scriptures And it's not some idle claim You want it darker We kill the flame

I was alone on the road, your love was so confusing And all my teachers told me that I had myself to blame But in the grip of sensual illusion A sweet unknowing unified the name

Magnified, sanctified, be thy holy name Vilified, crucified, in the human frame A million candles burning for the help that never came

They're lining up the prisoners And the guards are taking aim I struggled with some demons They were middle class and tame I didn't know I had permission to murder and to maim

So come, my friends, be not afraid. We are so lightly here. It is in love that we are made; In love we disappear.

I see my life In full review It was never me It was always you

We'll be going down so deep the river's going to weep, and the mountain's going to shout Amen!

Show me the place where my head is bendin' low Show me the place where you want your slave to go

I’m tired of choosing desire I been saved by a blessed fatigue The gates of commitment unwired And nobody trying to leave

Yeah my friends are gone and my hair is grey I ache in the places where I used to play And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on I'm just paying my rent every day Oh in the Tower of Song

There's an attic where children are playing Where I've got to lie down with you soon In a dream of Hungarian lanterns In the mist of some sweet afternoon And I'll see what you've chained to your sorrow All your sheep and your lilies of snow

We find ourselves on different sides Of a line nobody drew Though it all may be one in the higher eye Down here where we live it is two

I've seen the nations rise and fall I've heard their stories, heard them all But love's the only engine of survival Your servant here, he has been told To say it clear, to say it cold: It's over, it ain't going Any further And now the wheels of heaven stop You feel the devil's riding crop Get ready for the future: It is murder

I've heard the soul unfolds in the chambers of its longing And the bitter liquor sweetens in the hammered cup Ah but all the ladders of the night have fallen Just darkness now, to lift the longing up

Why don’t you come on back to the war, that’s right, get in it, why don’t you come on back to the war, it’s just beginning.

If your life is a leaf that the seasons tear off and condemn they will bind you with love that is graceful and green as a stem.

An Eskimo showed me a movie he’d recently taken of you: the poor man could hardly stop shivering, his lips and his fingers were blue. I suppose that he froze when the wind took your clothes and I guess he just never got warm. But you stand there so nice, in your blizzard of ice, oh please let me come into the storm.

I loved your master perfectly I taught him all that he knew. He was starving in some deep mystery like a man who is sure what is true.

I have begun to long for you, I who have no greed; I have begun to ask for you, I who have no need. You say you’ve gone away from me, but I can feel you when you breathe.

Hungry as an archway through which the troops have passed, I stand in ruins behind you, with your winter clothes, your broken sandal straps.

Well, you tell me that your lover has a broken limb, you say you’re kind of restless now and it’s on account of him.

Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon Show me slowly what I only know the limits of Dance me to the end of love

I tried to leave you, I don’t deny I closed the book on us, at least a hundred times.

And I can’t wait to tell you to your face And I can’t wait for you to take my place You are The Naked Angel In My Heart You are The Woman With Her Legs Apart It’s written on the walls of this hotel You go to heaven once you’ve been to hell

Then let the other selves be wrong, yeah, let them manifest and come till every taste is on the tongue, till love is pierced and love is hung, and every kind of freedom done

O come with me my little one, we will find that farm and grow us grass and apples there and keep all the animals warm. And if by chance I wake at night and I ask you who I am, O take me to the slaughterhouse, I will wait there with the lamb.

Ah they’re shutting down the factory now Just when all the bills are due And the fields they’re under lock and key Tho’ the rain and the sun come through And springtime starts but then it stops In the name of something new And all the senses rise against this Coming back to you

Like a baby, stillborn, like a beast with his horn I have torn everyone who reached out for me.

We met when we were almost young deep in the green lilac park. You held on to me like I was a crucifix, as we went kneeling through the dark.

And there are no letters in the mailbox, and there are no grapes upon the vine, and there are no chocolates in the boxes anymore, and there are no diamonds in the mine.

I cried, “Oh, Lady Midnight, I fear that you grow old, the stars eat your body and the wind makes you cold

So daily I renew my idle duty I touch her here and there – I know my place I kiss her open mouth and I praise her beauty and people call me traitor to my face

But my darling says “Leonard, just let it go by That old silhouette on the great western sky” So I pick out a tune and they move right along and they’re gone like the smoke and they’re gone like this song

And why are you so quiet now standing there in the doorway? You chose your journey long before you came upon this highway.

But I swear by this song and by all that I have done wrong I will make it all up to thee.

It was deep into his fiery heart he took the dust of Joan of Arc, and then she clearly understood if he was fire, oh then she must be wood.

And Jesus was a sailor When he walked upon the water And he spent a long time watching From his lonely wooden tower And when he knew for certain Only drowning men could see him He said “All men will be sailors then Until the sea shall free them” But he himself was broken Long before the sky would open Forsaken, almost human He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone And you want to travel with him And you want to travel blind And you think maybe you’ll trust him For he’s touched your perfect body with his mind.

Your master took you travelling, well at least that’s what you said. And now do you come back to bring your prisoner wine and bread?

Your pain is no credential here, it’s just the shadow, shadow of my wound.

And here where there is no description Oh here in the moment at hand No sinner need rise up forgiven No victim need limp to the stand

I met a woman long ago her hair the black that black can go, Are you a teacher of the heart? Soft she answered no. I met a girl across the sea, her hair the gold that gold can be, Are you a teacher of the heart? Yes, but not for thee.

Oh bless thee continuous stutter Of the word being made into flesh

The cripple here that you clothe and feed is neither starved nor cold; he does not ask for your company, not at the centre, the centre of the world.

Yes, you who are broken by power, you who are absent all day, you who are kings for the sake of your children’s story, the hand of your beggar is burdened down with money, the hand of your lover is clay.

the patron Saint of envy and the grocer of despair

She used to wear her hair like you except when she was sleeping, and then she’d weave it on a loom of smoke and gold and breathing.

And may the spirit of this song, may it rise up pure and free. May it be a shield for you, a shield against the enemy.

And deep into his fiery heart he took the dust of Joan of Arc, and high above the wedding guests he hung the ashes of her wedding dress.

to wear upon my swollen appetite.“ Well, I’m glad to hear you talk this way, you know I’ve watched you riding every day and something in me yearns to win such a cold and lonesome heroine.

Come over to the window, my little darling, I’d like to try to read your palm. I used to think I was some kind of Gypsy boy before I let you take me home.

Then I took the dust of a long sleepless night and I put it in your little shoe. And then I confess that I tortured the dress that you wore for the world to look through.

And the light came from her body And the night went through her grace All summer long she touched me And I knew her, I knew her Face to face

Let’s meet tomorrow if you choose Upon the shore, beneath the bridge That they are building on some endless river

And I’ve read the Bill of Human Rights And some of it was true But there wasn’t any burden left So I’m laying it on you.”

I listened to your kisses at the door I never heard the world so clear before You ran your bath and you began to sing I felt so good I couldn’t feel a thing

Like a worm on a hook, like a knight from some old fashioned book I have saved all my ribbons for thee.

Now the flames they followed Joan of Arc as she came riding through the dark; no moon to keep her armour bright, no man to get her through this very smoky night.

And we read from pleasant Bibles that are bound in blood and skin That the wilderness is gathering All its children back again

And now this woman by your side, well, she’s asleep And there’s nothing you can give her and there’s nothing you want to keep

Just take this longing from my tongue all the lonely things my hands have done. Let me see your beauty broken down like you would do for one your love.

And she shows you where to look Among the garbage and the flowers There are heroes in the seaweed There are children in the morning They are leaning out for love And they will lean that way forever While Suzanne holds the mirror

Ah but if you cannot raise your love To a very high degree, Then you’re just the man I’ve been thinking of – So come and stand with me.

You who wish to conquer pain, you must learn, learn to serve me well.

Why don’t you try to do without him? Why don’t you try to live alone? Do you really need his hands for your passion? Do you really need his heart for your throne?

I left a wife in Tennessee And a baby in Saigon – I risked my life, but not to hear Some country-western song.

I did my best, it wasn’t much I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you And even though it all went wrong I’ll stand before the Lord of Song With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Oh take this longing from my tongue, all the useless things my hands have done, untie for me your hired blue gown, like you would do for one that you love.

I heard of a saint who had loved you, so I studied all night in his school. He taught that the duty of lovers is to tarnish the golden rule. And just when I was sure that his teachings were pure he drowned himself in the pool. His body is gone but back here on the lawn his spirit continues to drool.

It’s like our visit to the moon or to that other star I guess you go for nothing if you really want to go that far.

Well I’ve been where you’re hanging, I think I can see how you’re pinned: When you’re not feeling holy, your loneliness says that you’ve sinned.

I lit a thin green candle, to make you jealous of me. But the room just filled up with mosquitos, they heard that my body was free.

Too early for the rainbow, too early for the dove These are the final days, this is the darkness, this is the flood And there is no man or woman can be touched But you who come between them will be judged

He tried to make a final stand beside the railway track She said, “The art of longing’s over and it’s never coming back.”

The judges said you missed it by a fraction rise up and brace your troops for the attack Ah the dreamers ride against the men of action Oh see the men of action falling back

Now the crickets are singing The vesper bells ringing The cat’s curled asleep in his chair I’ll go down to Bill’s Bar I can make it that far And I’ll see if my friends are still there Yes, and here’s to the few Who forgive what you do And the fewer who don’t even care And the night comes on It’s very calm I want to cross over, I want to go home But she says, Go back, go back to the World

Those who dance, begin to dance Those who weep begin Those who earnestly are lost Are lost and lost again

I asked my father, I said, “Father change my name.” The one I’m using now it’s covered up with fear and filth and cowardice and shame.

Even in your arms I know I’ll never get it right Even when you bend to give me Comfort in the night

And the last time that I saw her she was living with some boy who gives her soul an empty room and gives her body joy.

Your faith was strong but you needed proof You saw her bathing on the roof Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you She tied you to a kitchen chair She broke your throne, and she cut your hair And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Ah, there is no comfort in the covens of the witch, some very clever doctor went and sterilized the bitch, and the only man of energy, yes the revolution’s pride, he trained a hundred women just to kill an unborn child.

Oh, your chains are too dark For the seas you must swim You are smiling at the seaweed But your smile is too grim

And I thank you, I thank you for doing your duty, you keepers of truth, you guardians of beauty. Your vision is right, my vision is wrong, I’m sorry for smudging the air with my song.

But here, right here, between the birthmark and the stain, between the ocean and your open vein, between the snowman and the rain, once again, once again, love calls you by your name.

For now I need your hidden love. I’m cold as a new razor blade. You left when I told you I was curious, I never said that I was brave.

Your letters they all say that you’re beside me now. Then why do I feel alone? I’m standing on a ledge and your fine spider web is fastening my ankle to a stone.

I leave the lady meditating on the very love which I, I do not wish to claim, I journey down the hundred steps, but the street is still the very same.

And I sing this for the captain Whose ship has not been built For the mother in confusion Her cradle still unfilled

Well, I argued all night like so many have before, saying, “Whatever you give me, I seem to need so much more.” Then she pointed at me where I kneeled on her floor, she said, “Don’t try to use me or slyly refuse me, just win me or lose me, it is this that the darkness is for.”

Some girls wander by mistake into the mess that scalpels make. Are you the teachers of my heart? We teach old hearts to break.

And now the infant with his cord is hauled in like a kite, and one eye filled with blueprints, one eye filled with night.

I believe that you heard your master sing when I was sick in bed. I suppose that he told you everything that I keep locked away in my head.

Do you remember all of those pledges That we pledged in the passionate night Ah they’re soiled now, they’re torn at the edges Like moths on a still yellow light No penance serves to renew them No massive transfusions of trust Why not even revenge can undo them So twisted these vows and so crushed

I am the distance you put between all of the moments that we will be.

I choose the rooms that I live in with care, the windows are small and the walls almost bare, there’s only one bed and there’s only one prayer; I listen all night for your step on the stair.

And now I hear your master sing, you kneel for him to come. His body is a golden string that your body is hanging from.

Through windows in the dark The children come, the children go Like arrows with no targets Like shackles made of snow

Like any dealer he was watching for the card That is so high and wild He’ll never need to deal another He was just some Joseph looking for a manger

Where are you, Judy, where are you, Anne? Where are the paths your heroes came? Wondering out loud as the bandage pulls away, was I, was I only limping, was I really lame?

And it’s time for the burden it’s time for the whip Will she walk through the flame Can he shoot from the hip

Now I’ve heard there was a secret chord That David played, and it pleased the Lord But you don’t really care for music, do you? It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth The minor fall, the major lift The baffled king composing Hallelujah

But you’ve used up all your coupons except the one that seems to be written on your wrist along with several thousand dreams.

Maybe I’m still hurting I can’t turn the other cheek But you know that I still love you It’s just that I can’t speak I looked for you in everyone And they called me on that too I lived alone but I was only Coming back to you

And they’re handing down my sentence now And I know what I must do Another mile of silence while I’m Coming back to you

The door is open, you can’t close your shelter You try the handle of the road It opens, do not be afraid It’s you my love, you who are the stranger

I’m on the side that’s always lost Against the side of Heaven I’m on the side of Snake-eyes tossed Against the side of Seven.

But you lost them in your freedom And you need him now, you’re wild Blessed is the memory Of everybody’s child

Then fire, make your body cold, I’m going to give you mine to hold,“ saying this she climbed inside to be his one, to be his only bride.

Now the clasp of this union who fastens it tight? Who snaps it asunder the very next night Some say the rider Some say the mare Or that love’s like the smoke beyond all repair

With one hand on the hexagram and one hand on the girl I balance on a wishing well that all men call the world.

As a falling leaf may rest A moment on the air So your head upon my breast So my hand upon your hair

I’m not asking for mercy Not from the man You just don’t ask for mercy While you’re still on the stand

And many nights endure Without a moon or star So we will endure When one is gone and far

And then leaning on your window sill He’ll say one day you caused his will To weaken with your love and warmth and shelter

The rain falls down on last year’s man An hour has gone by And he has not moved his hand But everything will happen if he only gives the word The lovers will rise up And the mountains touch the ground But the skylight is like skin for a drum I’ll never mend And all the rain falls down amen On the works of last year’s man

You’re faithful to the better man, I’m afraid that he left. So let me judge your love affair in this very room where I have sentenced mine to death.

If I, if I have been untrue I hope you know it was never to you.

Then I saw you naked in the early dawn, oh, I hoped you would be someone new. I reached for you but you were gone, so lady I’m going too.

And there’s nothing to follow There’s nowhere to go She’s gone like the summer gone like the snow

That’s all I can say, baby That’s all I can say It wasn’t for nothing That they put me away I fell with my angel Down the chain of command There’s a Law, there’s an Arm, there’s a Hand

Lost in the rages of fragrance Lost in the rags of remorse Lost in the waves of a sickness That loosens the high silver nerves

When I am on a pedestal, you did not raise me there. Your laws do not compel me to kneel grotesque and bare. I myself am the pedestal for this ugly hump at which you stare

We are so small between the stars, so large against the sky, and lost among the subway crowds I try to catch your eye.

You met him at some temple, where they take your clothes at the door. He was just a numberless man in a chair who’d just come back from the war.

And when we fell together all our flesh was like a veil That I had to draw aside to see The serpent eat its tail

Some women wait for Jesus, and some women wait for Cain So I hang upon my altar And I hoist my axe again And I take the one who finds me back to where it all began When Jesus was the honeymoon And Cain was just the man

But I lingered on her thighs a fatal moment I kissed her lips as though I thirsted still My falsity had stung me like a hornet The poison sank and it paralysed my will

in city and in forest they smiled like me and you, but now it’s come to distances and both of us must try, your eyes are soft with sorrow, Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye.

Now my heart’s like a blister From doing what I do If the moon has a sister It’s got to be you

And where, where, where is my Gypsy wife tonight I’ve heard all the wild reports, they can’t be right But whose head is this she’s dancing with on the threshing floor Whose darkness deepens in her arms a little more

Do you want to be the ditch around a tower? Do you want to be the moonlight in his cave? Do you want to give your blessing to his power as he goes whistling past his daddy, past his daddy’s grave

If it be your will That a voice be true From this broken hill I will sing to you From this broken hill All your praises they shall ring If it be your will To let me sing

The age of lust is giving birth, and both the parents ask the nurse to tell them fairy tales on both sides of the glass.

But let me ask you one more time, O children of the dusk, All these hunters who are shrieking now oh do they speak for us?

And the vow of compassion That you swore through your teeth When the war began to end And the photographs weep

Goodnight, my darling, I hope you’re satisfied, the bed is kind of narrow, but my arms are open wide. And here’s a man still working for your smile.

Yes you who must leave everything that you cannot control. It begins with your family, but soon it comes around to your soul.

I’m not looking for another as I wander in my time, walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me, it’s just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea, but let’s not talk of love or chains and things we can’t untie, your eyes are soft with sorrow, Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye.

Do not dress in those rags for me, I know you are not poor; you don’t love me quite so fiercely now when you know that you are not sure, it is your turn, beloved, it is your flesh that I wear.

A war between the odd and the even.

Well I stepped into an avalanche, it covered up my soul; when I am not this hunchback that you see, I sleep beneath the golden hill.

And here, right here, between the dancer and his cane, between the sailboat and the drain, between the newsreel and your tiny pain, once again, once again, love calls you by your name.

I changed my style to silver I changed my clothes to black And where I would surrender Ah now I would attack

She said, "I’m tired of the war, I want the kind of work I had before, a wedding dress or something white to wear upon my swollen appetite.”

Then lay your rose on the fire The fire give up to the sun The sun give over to splendour In the arms of the high holy one

And draw us near And bind us tight All your children here In their rags of light In our rags of light All dressed to kill And end this night If it be your will

I met a man who lost his mind in some lost place I had to find, follow me the wise man said, but he walked behind.

I asked her to hold me, I said, “Lady, unfold me,” but she scorned me and she told me I was dead and I could never return.

Well I lived with a child of snow when I was a soldier, and I fought every man for her until the nights grew colder.

Into this furnace I ask you now to venture…

She took his tavern parliament, his cap, his cocky dance, she mocked his female fashions and his working-class moustache.

Like a bird on the wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir I have tried in my way to be free.

She took his much admired oriental frame of mind and the heart-of-darkness alibi his money hides behind She took his blonde madonna and his monastery wine – “This mental space is occupied and everything is mine.”

Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river You can hear the boats go by You can spend the night beside her And you know that she’s half crazy But that’s why you want to be there And she feeds you tea and oranges That come all the way from China And just when you mean to tell her That you have no love to give her Then she gets you on her wavelength And she lets the river answer That you’ve always been her lover And you want to travel with her And you want to travel blind And you know that she will trust you For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind.

So, now that you’ve decided To follow the sun Like a shadow of birds Or a king on the run

Well, I’ve been waiting, I was sure We’d meet between the trains we’re waiting for I think it’s time to board another Please understand, I never had a secret chart To get me to the heart of this Or any other matter While he talks like this, you don’t know what he’s after When he speaks like this, you don’t know what he’s after

Or she’ll make a break for the high plateau where there’s nothing above and there’s nothing below

The baby’s crying, so you do not go outside, and all your work it’s right before your eyes.

I met a lady, she was playing with her soldiers in the dark Oh one by one she had to tell them That her name was Joan of Arc

And you wrap up his tired face in your hair and he hands you the apple core. Then he touches your lips now so suddenly bare of all the kisses we put on some time before.

I fought in the old revolution on the side of the ghost and the King. Of course I was very young and I thought that we were winning; I can’t pretend I still feel very much like singing as they carry the bodies away.

Oh, you are really such a pretty one. I see you’ve gone and changed your name again. And just when I climbed this whole mountainside, to wash my eyelids in the rain!

Do you need to hold a leash to be a lady?

And who are you?“ she sternly spoke to the one beneath the smoke. "Why, I’m fire,” he replied, “And I love your solitude, I love your pride.

Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove

Just open up your dainty little hand. You know this life is filled with many sweet companions, many satisfying one-night stands.

And come forth from the cloud of unknowing And kiss the cheek of the moon

But climb on your tears and be silent Like a rose on its ladder of thorns

the crumbs of love that you offer me, they’re the crumbs I’ve left behind.

Yes, and here, right here between the moonlight and the lane, between the tunnel and the train, between the victim and his stain, once again, once again, love calls you by your name.

There’s a blaze of light in every word It doesn’t matter which you heard The holy or the broken Hallelujah

There is a war between the ones who say there is a war and the ones who say there isn’t.

Oh sometimes I see her undressing for me, she’s the soft naked lady love meant her to be and she’s moving her body so brave and so free. If I’ve got to remember that’s a fine memory.

O lady with your legs so fine O stranger at your wheel, You are locked into your suffering and your pleasures are the seal.

He said, "I locked you in this body, I meant it as a kind of trial. You can use it for a weapon, or to make some woman smile.”

But the Rose I sickened with a scarlet fever and the Swan I tempted with a sense of shame She said at last I was her finest lover and if she withered I would be to blame

You will never see a man this naked I will never hold a woman this close

And you say you’ve been humbled in love Cut down in your love Forced to kneel in the mud next to me Ah but why so bitterly turn from the one Who kneels there as deeply as thee

I went down to the place Where I knew she lay waiting Under the marble and the snow I said, Mother I’m frightened The thunder and the lightning I’ll never come through this alone She said, I’ll be with you My shawl wrapped around you My hand on your head when you go And the night came on It was very calm I wanted the night to go on and on But she said, Go back, Go back to the World

May Christ have mercy on your soul For making such a joke Amid these hearts that burn like coal And the flesh that rose like smoke.

As the mist leaves no scar On the dark green hill So my body leaves no scar On you and never will

I showed my heart to the doctor: he said I just have to quit. Then he wrote himself a prescription, and your name was mentioned in it! Then he locked himself in a library shelf with the details of our honeymoon, and I hear from the nurse that he’s gotten much worse and his practice is all in a ruin.

And though I wear a uniform I was not born to fight All these wounded boys you lie beside Goodnight, my friends, goodnight

One by one, the guests arrive The guests are coming through The open-hearted many The broken-hearted few And no one knows where the night is going And no one knows why the wine is flowing Oh love I need you

I greet you from the other side Of sorrow and despair With a love so vast and shattered It will reach you everywhere

So you moved away the mountain That the sun rose behind And you said yourself a prayer And laid down with the blind

Your body like a searchlight my poverty revealed, I would like to try your charity until you cry, “Now you must try my greed.” And everything depends upon how near you sleep to me

and I lean from my window sill in this old hotel I chose, yes one hand on my suicide, one hand on the rose.

Ah the silver knives are flashing in the tired old cafe A ghost climbs on the table in a bridal negligee She says, My body is the light, my body is the way” I raise my arm against it all and I catch the bride’s bouquet

Children have takes these pledges They have ferried them out of the past Oh beyond all the graves and the hedges Where love must go hiding at last

It’s hard to hold the hand of anyone Who is reaching for the sky just to surrender

The river is swollen up with rusty cans and the trees are burning in your promised land.

Your father’s gone a-hunting Through the silver and the glass Where only greed can enter But spirit, spirit cannot pass

And all the ladies go moist, and the judge has no choice, a singer must die for the lie in his voice.

and there is no space but there’s left and right and there is no time but there’s day and night

Your father’s gone a-hunting And he’s lost his lucky charm And he’s lost the guardian heart That keeps the hunter from the harm

It’s not the news of burning towns that ruins your mind Like a spool you turn and you turn but it won’t unwind No these wars you did not start, they don’t tear your sleep apart It’s just a man taking what he needs from the store room

True love leaves no traces If you and I are one It’s lost in our embraces Like stars against the sun

And the crickets are breaking his heart with their song as the day caves in and the night is all wrong

Now the courtroom is quiet, but who will confess. Is it true you betrayed us? The answer is Yes. Then read me the list of the crimes that are mine, I will ask for the mercy that you love to decline.

I sang my songs, I told my lies, to lie between your matchless thighs.

Why do you stand by the window Abandoned to beauty and pride The thorn of the night in your bosom The spear of the age in your side

And clenching your fist for the ones like us who are oppressed by the figures of beauty, you fixed yourself, you said, “Well never mind, we are ugly but we have the music.”

Trav'ling lady stay awhile until the night is over. I’m just a station on your way, I know I’m not your lover.

Just take this longing from my tongue, all the useless things my hands have done, let me see your beauty broken down, like you would do for one you love.

Let your mercy spill On all these burning hearts in hell If it be your will To make us well

Oh the world is sweet the world is wide and she’s there where the light and the darkness divide and the steam’s coming off her she’s huge and she’s shy and she steps on the moon when she paws at the sky

And while he talks his dreams to sleep You notice there’s a highway That is curling up like smoke above his shoulder

For the heart with no companion For the soul without a king For the prima ballerina Who cannot dance to anything

You kept right on loving, I went on a fast, now I am too thin and your love is too vast.

I saw her wince, I saw her cry, I saw the glory in her eye. Myself I long for love and light, but must it come so cruel, and oh so bright?

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm, your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm, yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new, in city and in forest they smiled like me and you

Well you know that I love to live with you, but you make me forget so very much. I forget to pray for the angels and then the angels forget to pray for us.

I know you need your sleep now, I know your life’s been hard. But many men are falling, where you promised to stand guard.

And she comes to his hand but she’s not really tame She longs to be lost he longs for the same

Now I look for her always I’m lost in this calling I’m tied to the threads of some prayer Saying, When will she summon me When will she come to me What must I do to prepare When she bends to my longing Like a willow, like a fountain She stands in the luminous air And the night comes on And it’s very calm I lie in her arms she says, When I’m gone I’ll be yours, yours for a song

Through the days of shame that are coming Through the nights of wild distress Tho’ your promise count for nothing You must keep it nonetheless

Oh the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone. They were waiting for me when I thought that I just can’t go on. And they brought me their comfort and later they brought me this song. Oh I hope you run into them, you who’ve been travelling so long.

Dance me to the children who are asking to be born Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn Dance me to the end of love

The walls of this hotel are paper-thin Last night I heard you making love to him The struggle mouth to mouth and limb to limb The grunt of unity when he came in I stood there with my ear against the wall I was not seized by jealousy at all In fact a burden lifted from my soul I heard that love was out of my control

Your standing days are done,“ I cried, “You’ll rally me no more. I don’t even know what side We fought on, or what for.

#Leonard Cohen

26 notes · View notes

viastro · 4 years

Text

what kind of future | lee jihoon

ミ★ synopsis: what kind of future is to come before us? even if the heavens don’t give us an answer. until the end, i’m too stupid. so i don’t know the answer.

ミ★ genre: post breakup!au, angst, some fluff, some humor

ミ★ warnings: none!

ミ★ word count: 2,900

ミ★ pairings: jihoon x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys! i’ve been wanting to write a oneshot based off of this beautiful song by woozi for a long time now. i finally found inspiration today, and this was the end product. i hope you guys like it!

You carry the shopping bags full of Christmas gifts for your friends and family through the crowded streets of Seoul. As it’s holiday season, many people are out and shopping at all the stores for presents. Which you decided to do on your day off from work.

You walk up to the crosswalk, pressing the button that signals you want to cross the street. You notice the crowd of people coming and standing behind you or beside you as they wait along with you, and you let out a sigh. You smile slightly at the sight of your own breath due to the coldness of the air, something you’ve missed.

You look across the street and lock eyes with a familiar pair, and you feel your heart drop into your stomach when you realize who they belong to.

“Jihoon?”

“I just think that people should stop buying from Starbucks. They’re not a good company.” You tell Yeri as the two of you walk out of the local coffee shop. The sun hits your skin, and you bathe in the warmth it brings you on this lovely summer day.

“People feed into these horrible industries yet claim they hate capitalism. If you think Starbucks stinks, then buy from your local coffee shop.” Yeri adds as she takes a sip of her iced americano, and you nod your head while you reach over and press the button to signal that you two want to cross the street. Your friend begins to ramble on the recent controversies Starbucks has gotten themselves into, and you stare at the other side of the street as she does.

“Why do I have to buy coffee for Seungkwan? Can’t he buy it himself? He should lay off the coffee anyways.” Jihoon mumbles to himself as he walks over and presses the button. He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, looking up at the other side of the street, only to lock eyes with you. His mouth slightly drops open, feeling his heartbeat quicken at how beautiful you are underneath the sunlight.

You feel a blush rise to your face, and you give the handsome man a small smile. You watch as the slight wind blows past him, rustling his fluffy blonde hair. He smiles back at you, and your heart warms at the way his eyes crinkle.

“Go.”

You and Yeri begin to cross the street, and you feel your heart thump once you get closer to the man. He glances up once you two cross paths, and your breath gets caught in your throat at how pretty he is up close. However, the meeting is brief as you both simply pass each other, and you let out a disappointed sigh.

“Wait!” Yeri raises an eyebrow, and you both turn around at the sudden voice. You grin once you realize it’s the handsome man as he comes up to you with a shy smile.

“Can I take you out for coffee?” Jihoon asks you, and you and Yeri glance down at the coffee in your hand. He slowly looks at the cup you’re holding, and he lets out an embarrassed laugh. “Oh, my bad-”

Yeri snatches the cup out of your hand and nudges you closer to him, making your eyes widen at the close proximity between you and the attractive stranger. You turn your head towards Yeri and she gives you a big smile.

“I’ll be at the clothing shop over there,” Yeri pauses to point at the cute store. “Just meet me there when you’re done with your date.” She waves her hand at you, and turns around without another word. You turn towards the man, and he’s chuckling at Yeri as she skips away. You run a hand through your hair, and give him a nervous smile.

“Your friend is a good wingwoman.” He tells you, and you nod your head, letting out a sigh.

“Too crazy for her own good, honestly.” He grins, and you both turn back and run across the street right before the timer goes off. He opens up the door for you, and you smile and thank him as you step inside.

“My name’s Jihoon by the way.” He introduces himself, outstretching his hand for you to shake as the two of you wait in line. You smile, slowly raising your hand up and shaking his.

“I’m yn.”

“Yn! You’re here!” Seungkwan exclaims, hurriedly walking over to you and pulling you into a quick hug. You smile, patting his back as he pulls away. “How bad is it?”

“Really bad.”

“Deadass? Is it worse than last time?”

“He hasn’t showered in three days.”

“Shit.” You curse, turning your head and looking over at Jihoon’s closed bedroom door.

After a year of dating Jihoon, you’ve come to learn many things about him. One, he really likes Coke. It’s actually rather tragic because Coke is quite literally battery acid in a bottle but he drinks that shit as if it’s water. You were able to get him to slowly limit his intake of the horrible soda, but he still enjoys it a lot.

Two, he may act as if he doesn’t like skinship, but he’s a big softie. Behind closed doors he’s like a teddy bear, always wanting to cuddle you. If you initiate it then he goes into cardiac arrest, so you usually let him make the first move when it comes to cuddling.

Three, he’s a workaholic. Since he’s majoring in music composition, he’s always working on producing songs and writing lyrics. When he suffers from a mental block, he isolates himself from the world and forgets to fulfill his basic needs. It’s finals next week, and he needs to make sure his song for it is perfect, so you haven’t heard from him in three days. That’s why Seungkwan called you to go and help him, and that’s how you end up in this position now.

Sneaking over to his door with a mask over your nose because god only knows how much it must stink in his room. You turn towards Seungkwan, giving him a thumbs up, and he whispers, “Fighting!”

You knock on the door, and there’s no response. You turn back towards Seungkwan, and he stares back at you with wide eyes. You tentatively knock again, only to receive no response. Letting out a breath, you decide to open the door, and you squint at the darkness in the room. A stark contrast to the sunlit room you were previously in.

After your eyes get used to your surroundings, you focus on a sleeping Jihoon, slumped over his desk with his pc shining brightly onto him. You smile softly, walking over and resting a hand softly on his back. He doesn’t move, and you rub the area between his shoulders.

“Woozi. Wake up, let’s go get you into the shower and then eat something.” You mutter softly, and he slowly stirs, but doesn’t fully awaken. You look around on his desk, and scowl at the sight of two Coke bottles.

“Why do you always drink that battery acid whenever you work?” You ask, patting Jihoon’s back once again. His eyes open, and he groggily turns and looks up at you.

“Cause it’s good.” You roll your eyes at him, finding it silly that you slandering his favorite soda was what got him to wake up. Jihoon leans back, quietly complaining about his neck and back hurting. He turns towards you, and opens his arms. “Mm?”

“Can I have a hug? I missed you.” Jihoon tells you, and you smile. You step over and plop yourself down onto his lap, and he wraps his arms around your waist as you rest your head onto the crook of his neck. The two of you stay like that for a while, just holding each other.

“I’m wearing a mask and I can still smell your stench through it.” You mutter, and Jihoon pinches your waist, letting out a laugh.

“I’ll shower in a second, let me just show you what I have so far.” Jihoon says, and you lift your head up from his neck as he begins typing into his pc. He pulls up a music file, and presses play. You rest your head onto his as you hear the piano begin to play, and your eyes close as the instrumental fills the room. Once the song ends, you turn your head and look at Jihoon, who is watching you expectantly.

“What do you think?”

“It sounds beautiful. Have you written lyrics yet?” Jihoon shakes his head, and lets out a small sigh. You raise an eyebrow at the fact that he has no blemish on his face even though he hasn’t showered, and you curse the skincare God for letting your boyfriend have such perfect skin.

“For this final I only need to turn in the melody and stuff. The next composition class is when I have to add in lyrics and everything. It’s just this melody for now.” Jihoon explains, and you nod your head. You let out a breath, resting your head onto his shoulder.

“Do you have a title?” You ask, and Jihoon nods his head. He raises your intertwined hands, and presses a kiss to your knuckle, before glancing at you with a soft smile on his face.

“What Kind of Future.”

You sit at Jihoon’s kitchen island, staring at the now cold meal you prepared for him as a way to celebrate your two year anniversary. Yet you’re sitting here alone, with a phone full of messages to Jihoon that haven’t been read in hours. Your head perks up at the sound of keys jingling into the front door, and you turn around at the sound of Jihoon stepping into his apartment.

He lets out a tired sigh, slipping off his shoes and putting his jacket onto the coat rack. You feel tears well up in your eyes, and you turn away, stepping off the stool at the kitchen island. Jihoon finally looks up at the sound, and he raises an eyebrow in confusion when he locks eyes with you.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, and you bite the inside of your cheek, refusing to answer. Jihoon looks up and down at you, wondering why you’re dressed nicely as well. He glances over at the kitchen island, and his eyes widen at the variety of food laid out on it.

“Did you make this? It looks good yn.” Jihoon tells you as he walks over, and he freezes when his eyes lay atop the small cake in the middle of the assortment of food.

happy two year anniversary, jihoonie <3

“Oh my God.” You let out a wet laugh, feeling the gut wrenching pain in your heart become all too overwhelming. Jihoon reaches out to you, and you slap his hand away. You run a hand through your hair, turning and looking at Jihoon as more tears travel down your face.

“Yn, I’m so sorry. I got caught up at the studio-”

“That you couldn’t even check your phone? Or even look at the date?” You ask, raising a hand to your chest, punching it as if it’ll make your heart stop from breaking. Jihoon’s mouth opens and closes as he tries to find words, and you bite your bottom lip.

“I don’t even know why I tried. Why do I keep trying when I know our relationship isn’t something we can save anymore?” You watch as Jihoon’s face crumbles, and he takes a step towards you, but you take two steps back. You shake your head, feeling as if the guy in front of you isn’t the same one you met on that crosswalk that warm summer day.

No. He hasn’t been that man in a long time.

And you haven’t been that girl either.

“Don’t do this yn.” Jihoon begs, and you stare at him. You watch as the tears begin to fall from his eyes, finding the pain in his eyes a reflection of your very own. He feels his whole world crashing down when you don’t respond, knowing that the silence is your answer.

“We hardly see each other cause we’re busy. When we do see each other, we just fight, and fight, and fight, until we can both hardly breathe.” You state, and Jihoon clenches his fist at his side when you raise a hand up to your mouth in an attempt to control your breathing. “We aren’t the same people we were two years ago when we met on that crosswalk. We just aren’t. Can’t you see that we’ve been falling apart? Just let me go.”

Jihoon takes a step forward, and waits to see if you’ll take a step back, which you don’t. He walks towards you, and reaches out and grasps your hand, feeling your warmth go through his body. He looks into your eyes, and bites the inside of his cheek to try and prevent himself from crying even more.

“I don’t want to. We can work through this, we can fix us. You know that we can.” You shake your head at his words, closing your eyes as more tears escape. Jihoon feels his heart crack a bit more in his chest, when your head hangs low.

“Please, let’s fix this.” Jihoon whispers, and you bite your bottom lip. You give his hand a squeeze, before letting go. You take in a deep breath, before looking up and locking eyes with Jihoon.

The man you love.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter, before stepping past him and walking over to the door. Jihoon turns and speeds over to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind, crying into your shoulder. You hold back a sob, resting your hand over his.

“Please, yn. I’ll do better. I’ll make more time for you. I’ll do anything.” Jihoon pleads, and you shake your head. You softly unwrap yourself from his arms, and slip into your shoes. He reaches out and grasps your wrist in a last ditch attempt to get you to stay. You turn around and look at him, and you watch as a single tear falls past his left eye.

“I don’t want to let go.” Jihoon mutters, and you let out a sad smile.

“It was a beautiful two years. Thank you for everything, I-” You feel yourself choke up, and you have to take in another breath. “I love you, Jihoonie.” You tell him, before stepping out the door, letting Jihoon’s hand fall to his side.

The sound of the door closing rings through the silence of his apartment, but it’s not as deafening as the sound of his heart shattering within his chest as he falls onto his knees.

“Jihoon?” You take in his now black hair, which compliments his skin tone nicely. He’s wearing a white turtleneck, paired with a gray overcoat. His eyes are wide as the two of you stare at each other, feeling as if he’s staring at a ghost.

There’s no exchange of smiles this time, just two hurting souls staring at one another as the snow begins to fall around them.

You’re both startled by the sound of the automated voice telling you that it’s safe to cross the road. You immediately look down at the ground, beginning to walk across the street. While Jihoon shoves his hands into his pockets, stepping off the sidewalk.

“What kind of future do you think we’ll have Jihoonie?” You ask after he tells you the title of his song. He lets out a breath, resting his head back onto the seat as he thinks to himself.

You look up after a moment, as does Jihoon. The two of you lock eyes when you inch closer towards each other, and you find the pain you’ve been suppressing slowly inching its way out at the sight of him. Jihoon wonders whether he should stop you like he did before, treat you to coffee and have the two of you talk about life.

He’s resented you for the past year for letting go of your guys’ relationship, hatred replacing the love he had for you, but he misses you. While you dedicated all your time into different hobbies to try and distract yourself from the regret that’s pooled at the bottom of your heart since the breakup.

You both wonder whether or not you should stop each other like that warm summer day.

“I hope it’s happy. One where I get to wake up and see your beautiful face first thing in the morning. While we may have issues, as does every relationship, I hope we’ll be able to work through it.” Jihoon mutters softly, running a comforting hand through your hair. He lets out a smile at the thought of waking up and seeing your beautiful eyes first thing in the morning.

You break eye contact and look straight ahead, and Jihoon turns his head away and looks forward. The two of you walk past each other, feeling time come to a standstill in that brief moment you cross paths. You each walk to your designated sides of the street, not sparing another glance as the distance grows between you. As does the pain in both of your hearts.

“I think our future will be beautiful, yn.”

222 notes · View notes

julemmaes · 4 years

Note

“What are you smiling about?” Prompt for acotar, Nesta and Cassian❤️✨

You fucking tease

Cassian and Nesta Archeron modern au

“What are you smiling about?”

Hope you like it cause I’ve had so much fun writing it and it’s kinda different from what I’m used to write so, yep. I don’t think it’s “complete” so feel free to send other prompts if you’d like a part two. I’ll gladly write that too;)

edit: part two is here and it’s just plain smut, if you wanna read it:)

Word count: 2,132

Nesta was having the best day of her life.

Normally she would have passed in front of all her colleagues with that cold look and that calculated impassive expression on her face, but today she couldn't stop smiling, showing her perfect white teeth. She was also tremendously distracted, too excited by the news she had just received and the fact that her boss had given her the rest of the day off to celebrate. Perhaps that was why while she hurried to her office she almost tripped over one of the interns, who apologized immediately noting who had bumped into him. Nesta smiled more widely, apologizing in turn, and the boy went pale.

Once in her office, she quickly took her things and sent a message to Cassian, warning him that they were going out for dinner that night and that she had some good news to share. The message was read immediately, but she received no immediate response, as she normally did with her husband, which caused her to frown. She shook her head, grinning, thinking he must have been with a client.

She greeted her secretary, who, having recovered from the woman's ambiguous behavior, waved back.

She walked out of the building and raised her hand to stop one of the hundreds of cabs that were parked in front of her office and once she was sitting down and after giving the address to the driver, she picked up the phone again, to check if Cassian had answered. He had not.

Not wanting to dwell too much on why her husband ignored her, she decided to open the group chat with her sisters.

Biiig news coming! Wanna go out tomorrow night for drinks?

The answers of both of them didn't take long to arrive and Nesta felt a wave of affection towards her little sisters. They had always been very supportive and caring of each other and every time something good happened, after their respective husbands, they were always the first to be told everything. Their relationship had never been perfect, but they had always been there for the big events and Nesta wanted to shout to the whole world what had just happened.

From Feyruh: Oh my! You got promoted?

From E-lame: I told you you'd get the promotion. I'm free after seven.

Nesta simply answered with a smiley face to Feyre and told them both that she would pick them up after she left work. They then talked about this and that and only when the cab stopped and the driver turned towards her did she realize that she had arrived at her destination. She paid the man and made a quick run to cross the street, immediately entering the bright studio with the neon sign reading "Night's Brothers". As soon as she entered she saw Amren at the counter and the girl gave her a confused and worried look.

"What on earth happened to you girl? You look like the joker, god." Nesta started laughing, as she couldn't help but smile. Amren seemed to shiver at the sound, "No, seriously-" then she added under her voice, "-are you under the effect of any acid?"

"No, you idiot." Nesta chuckled as she sat on the welcome couch, crossing her legs. "I've been promoted," she said quietly, unable to keep the emotion in her voice.

Amren opened her mouth wide, getting up and going to settle down next to her friend. "Are you serious?" Nesta nodded, almost squeaking. "It was about time they realized your talent and acted on it." They exchanged a quick hug and then Nesta asked her how much more Cassian had. She couldn't wait to tell him.

" He should be done in half an hour with the client and then he has a couple of girls for piercings so I don't know how much longer he's going to be." Amren explained to her, getting up to check their calendar. Nesta puffed, making a grimace and interrupting her joyful motion that had been going on for hours now.

She sighed, getting up in turn and heading for the exit, " Alright, could you tell him that I'm already at home and that I'll be waiting for him at 8:30, please? Amren nodded, waving goodbye, and then Nesta walked to the right just to stop me two doors away from the tattoo studio.

Cassian and Rhysand had moved into that apartment right after high school and when Rhysand had moved out, going to live with the Archeron sisters to spend more time with Feyre, Nesta couldn't stand the constant nocturnal make-out sessions and exasperated she had asked Cassian if he could host her until she found a place to stay on her own. How Elain managed to survive in that house for another four months was still a mystery to the elder sister.

After a few weeks of living together, Nesta had discovered that Cassian was one of the neatest and organized people she had ever met. He never brought girls home when she was around and respected her personal space, something completely unknown to Nesta, who had only ever lived with her sisters. They had bonded so much and became best friends in a very short time. Not that they had a bad relationship before, but now it was much stronger. When after two months Cassian had asked her how much longer she was planning to stay, she had panicked, thinking that he had grown tired of having her around, and had told him that she had found a place not too far from her office and that she would be leaving soon. Of course, it was all lies, but Nesta will never forget the hurt and sad expression that had overwhelmed Cassian. After two days she had been forced to tell him the truth, regretting having done such a thing for no reason, and had never seen the boy so happy as when she had told him she would have to stay for at least another month. Cassian had hugged her and spun her around in the air, thrilled by the news, and told her that she could stay for the rest of her life if she wanted to. Nesta had started laughing and then Cassian with her and in one way or another, they had ended up kissing.

The rest is history.

She set foot in their apartment and let go of an excited laugh.

She would finally work on her own and could finally translate the books she wanted and approve the projects she preferred and not just reread drafts on drafts on drafts every day. She took off her shoes and pulled her bra off her blouse, unbuttoning her pants and letting her hair fall on her shoulders in a hairstyle that didn't pull her head.

She turned on the TV, put on a music channel and began to dance, singing whatever song passed by. She came into the kitchen shaking and shouting the chorus of the brand new song of a band whose name she couldn't remember. She took a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass.

"A toast to myself." She whispered, raising her glass, "You did it."

She went wild for a little while longer and after the second glass, she decided that it was better to go shower and be prepared for when Cassian would return.

***

She had just got out of the tub when she heard the door close a bit abruptly. She looked at the clock on the sink cabinet and saw that it was eight o'clock. Making a small grimace, she realized that she had taken a bath for an hour. She heard Cassian calling her name and didn't have time to open the bathroom door, which opened wide, making her take two steps back.

Cassian grabbed her wrist, stabilizing her, "Sorry, I didn't think you were in here."

Nesta shook her head and was about to jump on his neck when she saw he had a wrinkled expression. She placed one hand on his arm, holding the towel around her with the other, " Everything's okay?"Cassian sighed and closed his eyes. "One of the last two clients seemed to be a bit too comfortable, it bothered me a lot."

Nesta nodded, knowing exactly what he was talking about. It wasn't the first time one of the boys' clients had taken advantage of the situation - probably getting pierced in intimate places - and made her husband uncomfortable. Fortunately, this hardly ever happened, but there were always those few exceptions, and once a year he would find special clients.

Nesta approached Cassian, moving her hand from his shoulder to his cheek and stood on her toes to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. Cassian wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her, running his tongue over her lower lip. Nesta moaned slowly and broke away, smiling still holding him.

"What are you smiling about?" Cassian asked, kissing her on the nose and pulling away shortly afterward to start undressing. Nesta leaned against the door jamb, holding the towel to her chest and admiring the sight. Nesta shook her head still incredulous after all these years that the man in front of her was her husband. "So?" he insisted once he entered the bathtub.

"They promoted me." she said as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Cassian, who was washing his hair, stopped and looked at her with his mouth open before a bright smile took over his face. He got out of the tub, dripping water everywhere, and took her by her waist, lifting her up and letting the towel slide off her.

"I can't believe it," he said to her laughing, looking at her face with eyes shining with emotion, "God, I'm so proud of you," he snickered and put her down, pushing her towards him once more and kissing her deeply. Nesta laughed in the kiss and Cassian was forced to pull away.

He put his hand behind the back of her neck and pulled her to him, causing their lips to collide again and again and again until both were panting and Cassian's hand that was not busy holding Nesta close to him had found its way to her fine side and now he was holding her tight enough to make the girl moan.

At Nesta's cry Cassian pulled away slightly, pushing his forehead against hers to catch his breath. The water was still flowing behind him and when he stepped back to get into the tub, he pulled her with him. Her bare chest collided with his and they both held their breath as they touched.

Nesta gasped and shook her head, detaching herself from him and interrupting whatever they were about to do. "I've just washed, I can't take a shower again. And you should hurry because I made a reservation at our restaurant and we should be there in twenty minutes." she smiled at Cassian, who was still breathing frantically and held his hand on her waist, too close to her breast. She looked at him from under her eyelashes, letting him understand that they couldn't waste any more time, even though his thumb was now caressing her right breast and she was shivering at the thought of what those hands could do in other places.

Cassian had to clear his throat before speaking, "You're telling me I have to take care of this-" he pointed to his evident length with a movement of his chin, "-alone?" his voice was still hoarse. His eyes darkened as they quickly scanned her naked body. When he looked at her face again, her throat dried up and Nesta swallowed loudly, every trace of fun disappeared.

Nesta approached him with her gaze fixed on his lips and Cassian smiled slyly. She pointed a finger to his chest, sliding it down, towards his abs and then to his hips, reaching the base of his clear excitement. Cassian pushed his hips forward, trying to get touched where he most wanted, but Nesta grinned and walked away, giving him her back. His hand slipped away from her skin and Nesta immediately missed that touch.

She came out of the bathroom swinging her hips, while Cassian mumbled "You fucking tease."

Nesta chuckled, stepped back and stood by the bathroom door and said, "If you can wait till tonight, I'll show you just how much of a tease I can be." and then she winked at him.

He heard Cassian grunting in frustration as he put on the black lace panties he had given her a few months earlier, the ones she knew for sure would drive him crazy.

Oh yes, they would have so much fun that night.

acotar tag list (if you want to be added just let me know in the comments or sending an ask:))

@tottenhamboys20

134 notes · View notes

scapegrace74-blog · 4 years

Text

No Light, No Light (Claire’s Anthem)

A/N To recap where we’re at in the Metric Universe, Jamie and Claire are living separately while their building gets repaired after a fire. Jamie has confessed to loving Claire, and she hesitantly agreed to give a romantic relationship between them a chance. The dates have gone well. Really well. Maybe a bit too well... Rated M, because they deserve it after all I’ve put them through.

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The amazing song by Florence + The Machine (another guest artist!) that inspired the title and features in a few lines can be heard here: https://youtu.be/HGH-4jQZRcc

August 24, 2018, Scottish Highlands, Scotland

Outside the train, the landscape slid by in an emerald smear. It had been raining earlier, but as the sun dipped westward it broke from beneath the clouds, setting the greens afire. The view was violently beautiful, but Claire stared instead at her face, pensive and wan, reflected in the smudgy window. There was an almost laughable lack of connection between herself and the taciturn man to her left.

It hadn’t started out that way. After a near-idyllic summer dedicated to their mutual enjoyment of each other’s company, this trip to Scotland was meant a culmination of sorts. A validation that they were moving towards something momentous. A delineation between their past as friends and their future as... something more.

Jamie had first mentioned the idea in passing while they waited in line for a gelato in the shadow of the Gherkin on a hot July day.

“T’would be braw tae introduce ye to Lallybroch before ye return tae yer studies, Sassenach,” had been his exact words. Claire had learned to appreciate Jamie’s deft navigation of the shoals of her caution. An invitation to meet his family would have garnered an immediate negative response, but an invitation to his family home received an ambiguous hum.

Several weeks later, they were searching Netflix for a movie they could agree on while cat-sitting for Joe and Gayle. Said cat was lounging on the sofa cushions between them when Jamie casually raised the ante.

“Tomorrow I’ll be buyin’ my ticket home for the August bank holiday. The trains north will be packed, so I was thinkin’ I’d grab a second seat. Just in case, ye ken. T'is refundable, sae there’s no harm.”

By the end of the evening, the cat had fled the room, Claire’s shirt was down to its last button, Jamie’s summer tan couldn’t mask the flush of blood that raced beneath his skin, and the idea of spending a weekend away together sat like an unopened present on the closet shelf of their minds.

Last Monday, between her day shift and his graveyard, they had met for coffee to discuss the details of moving back into their flat.

“Jamie, my name is on this lease.” Claire set down her cup rather abruptly on the table, spilling a few hot drops over her fingers.

“Aye, tis. I asked the landlord tae include us both. Considering all the delays an’ the nuisance, tis the least they could do.” Pausing to hand her a napkin, he balanced his fingertips over her scalded knuckles. It’s yer flat too, Sassenach. No matter what.”

The gravity of the moment hung heavy in the air. Neither spoke for a while, letting the hum of ambient conversation dull the edges of their nerves. Claire slid an unsigned copy of the lease into her satchel.

“I, uh, I ken this mayna be the best time tae be bringing this up, but I’ll be away home come Thursday, back on Monday. There’s still a ticket in yer name, should ye wish tae come wi’ me.”

She looked at him then, so earnest and open and hopeful, the sunlight from the street burnishing his hair coppery-gold. He’d crept in like a thief, disturbing the tidy boxes of her life and leaving traces of his passage on her heart. A thief who gave instead of took, and whose only crime was to love without recompense.

“What would it mean, if I went to Scotland with you?” she asked quietly.

“It would mean everything to me,” he admitted.

That hadn’t been what she was asking, but it was her answer all the same.

The day before they were due to depart, Claire had been eating a late afternoon snack in the hospital cafeteria when a familiar tall form in running gear caught her eye. She couldn’t suppress the frisson of delight she felt as he made his way towards her table, a whiplash of appreciative female gazes following in his wake.

His infectious smile of greeting faltered and then disappeared as he caught sight of what she was reading.

Oh.

The monthly rental property magazine had been left behind on her table, but she’d be lying to say she was browsing it purely out of idle curiosity. The weight of seeing her name next to Jamie’s on their new lease had been pressing down on her since Monday.

On the one hand, it was a tremendous relief - no longer could the outcome of their courtship render her homeless - not that she could imagine Jamie ever being as cruel as Frank. But it also implied a commitment, a state of permanence between them, that quite frankly scared the shit out of her. And so she had been perusing her options, not with any serious intent, but because it gave her comfort to know they existed. Jamie had dropped by unannounced at the worst possible time.

A crowded cafeteria wasn’t the place to start making excuses, so after a stilted exchange about meeting the next day at Euston Station, Jamie departed, a small storm cloud of ire floating above his head.

By the time they met the following morning, that cloud had darkened to a gale, blowing all hope of casual conversation before it. Jamie’s disposition was generally sanguine, but when he put his mind to it he could glower like the Viking gods he resembled. It made for a silent journey.

“Ye can just go ahead and say it, Claire.” When it came, his voice was diminished by resignation.

“I’m curious what it is you want me to say,” she replied.

“That ye willna be moving back inta the flat next month. If that means we willna be seeing each other at all, well, I’d rather ye tell me before I go introducing ye tae my family as my girlfriend like a fool.”

When she turned to face this accusation, the first thing she noticed was the absence of light behind his typically radiant blue eyes. It neutralized the acid on her tongue.

“Those are awfully dire conclusions to be drawing from some rental adverts, my lad,” she quipped. Then, almost begging. “You promised to be patient with me.”

“Aye, I did. But ye also promised tae try, Claire. I canna help but feel that ye’re just marking time, waiting for me to fuck up badly enough that ye can say, well, that’s that then, another disappointment, and retreat tae yer solitude.”

It wasn’t far from the truth, although she’d never have stated it so baldly. As with every emotional conversation she had with Jamie, his words left her feeling naked and exposed. He saw her so well. She didn’t doubt the sincerity of his love for her, because what else kept a man coming back once all the ugliness was on display?

“I hear what you’re saying, Jamie. I think you know this isn’t easy for me. Just being here with you on this train, Christ. I almost called you twice this morning to say I wouldn’t be coming.”

“But ye didna. Why?”

“Because the only thing that scares me more than being with you,” her voice rose in pitch, “is being without you. I’m here, but it’s taking bloody everything I have. So please do not ask me for more,” she pleaded.

A strong arm wrapped around her shoulder and she came to nestle against him willingly.

“I would never ask ye for that, a ghraidh. I only want ye tae learn tae let go of yer fear, as it serves for nought. I learned that the hard way with my accident. T’wasn’t anything I earned nor deserved, but it happened nonetheless. We canna chose if we win or lose. We can only chose how we fight.”

She listened to his heart, steadily thumping beneath the muscles of his chest. To think, he could have been taken away before she came to know the dimensions of its strength. It sent a chill down her spine.

“I ne’er told ye, that first night we met a’ the pub, how ye reminded me of a fierce lioness. All golden eyed and imperious. An’ when I saw those same eyes, peering at me o’er a surgical mask the night of the blast, I understood I would live, because ye did. Ye’re a fighter, Sassenach. I kent it from the start.”

“God, Jamie, I was an utter shambles at the time,” she confessed. His faith in her was overwhelming.

“Aye. But ye were goin’ down swinging.”

***

Ian Murray, Jamie’s best friend and brother-in-law, met them at the train station in Inverness. As they navigated the country roads, his conversation with Jamie had the ease and teasing short-hand of timeworn friendship. Claire was content to sit quietly and listen, the inconclusive discussion on the train looming large in her peripheral vision.

It was well past dark as they arrived at Lallybroch, giving the structure an air of timelessness as yellow light bathed the courtyard from windows high above. The battered wooden entrance swung open to the welcoming chaos of barking dogs, children’s laughter and lilting Gaelic voices spilling into the night.

Claire hung back, pretending to help Ian with their bags as Jamie jogged forward to embrace a dark-haired woman who barely reached his shoulders, lifting a giggling toddler from her hip and high into the air. The dogs spun around his legs, practically tripping him as he tried to climb the stairs and answer his sister’s rapid fire questions all at once. Halting before the door, he handed his nephew over before Jenny disappeared inside, the dogs at her heels.

Feeling absurdly nervous, Claire mounted the stairs and accepted his outstretched hand.

“So, this is it?” she asked inanely.

“Aye, this is it. Welcome to my home, Sassenach.”

***

They’d eaten on the train, so after a hasty introduction to the rest of the family and a promise to become better acquainted over breakfast, Jamie and Claire headed upstairs. It occurred to her on the second landing that she had no idea where he expected her to sleep. Their status as temporary lodgers in other people’s homes back in London had made the question moot.

Visceral memories of their increasingly heated goodnight kisses caused Claire to trip on braided rug. Jamie turned as she was righting herself.

“Aye, well, here we are. The lavatory is jest across the hall. If ye need anything, the laird’s room is up these stairs.”

“The laird’s room? Wait, who’s the laird in this story?” she was momentarily distracted from her agitation by this unforeseen detail.

“Well, me. But dinna get any grand illusions. Tis only a leftover title from when Clan Fraser ruled o’er these parts before the Rising.”

Her mouth was moving before she fully considered her next words.

“And does that make me your lady?”

Instead of laughing off her glib comment as she hoped he would, Jamie’s face grew somber.

“Nah. Tha’ position is presently unfilled. In this house, the laird sleeps next tae his lady, always. G’night tae ye, Sassenach.” And with a soft kiss that barely ghosted her lips, Jamie retired to bed. Alone.

***

The next two days were a glimpse into a way of living whose existence Claire had previously discredited. Communal mealtimes, where each family member had an assigned role, from buttering the bread (Jamie’s three-year old nephew and namesake) to clearing the table (Ian, and by their second meal, Claire). Morning and evening chores that left the adults drowsy and smelling slightly of the chicken coop. Siblings bickering, slamming doors and then laughing about it by suppertime. Outings to local landmarks in the rain, a cheerful row of matching Wellingtons and wax cotton jackets tramping along well-worn paths. Visits to neighbours, carrying a Pyrex dish of some culinary offering and returning four hours later, stuffed to the gills and carrying a different Pyrex dish loaded with leftovers.

Seeing Jamie take his place at the centre of this family dynamic was a shock. She’d only ever known him in an urban setting, where he was one man among millions; noteworthy for his decency, his peculiar fondness for blood pudding, and because he was hers. At Lallybroch, he grew before her eyes, taking on new dimensions that challenged and teased her understanding of him.

This was his concept of home.

This was his template for love.

***

On Sunday afternoon, the clouds had lifted to reveal a robin’s egg sky. Claire accompanied Ian on a circuit of the upper pasture. A border collie named Jem bounded down the hill ahead of them. Ian was an easy companion, and they were mid-conversation about the impact of the Scots in the history of medicine when Claire pulled up short, words evaporating in her throat.

There in the hay field just below stood Jamie. Long rows of golden sheaves that had been cut the past week were now drying in the late summer sun. Armed with nothing but a pitchfork, Jamie had obviously been working for some time. He wore boots and loose trousers, but his shirt was long abandoned. Sweat glistened in the fine russet curls that covered his breastbone and over the sun-kissed curves of his shoulders. He was so beautiful, it hurt to breathe.

“He’s himself again,” Ian remarked. “It lightens my heart tae see it.”

Claire tore her eyes away from Jamie. Ian was watching her with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

“Well, he obviously loves being here, with his family...” she dodged.

Ian shook his head.

“Nah, t’isn’t that. Since his accident, he’s been... altered. Jamie was always the golden one, ye ken? Smart, strong, funny, kind. He wore it well, but it gives ye a sense of... invincibility, maybe? Tha’ blast ripped apart more than his back. I think it made him doubt who he is on the inside. Ye’ve helped him find tha’ man again, Claire, and for that we are in yer debt.”

She couldn’t look at Ian then, for fear that he would see just how much she wanted what he was saying to be the truth. To be essential to someone who meant so much to her, to be enough purely by being herself, it was more than her feelings could contain.

It was what Jamie had been trying to tell her all along.

***

The third stair between the guest room and the laird’s bedroom creaked, and Claire froze, eyes darting guiltily down the corridor to where Ian, Jenny and their children slept. Nothing stirred beyond the drumming of her heartbeat, so she crept the rest of the way, tapping quietly on the solid wood door.

Jamie’s voice was alert as he beckoned, “Come in, Jenny.” She clutched a thin sheaf of papers to her chest and entered the room. The only illumination came from the hearth, where a low fire still blazed. It cast its light on a large, masculine room, with deep blue wallpaper, heavy damask drapes and an immense four poster bed. Jamie sat up against the headboard, the glow from his iPad echoing in his downcast eyes.

“It’s not Jenny. It’s me,” she whispered.

With a visible flinch, the iPad fell to his lap.

“Claire...”

He stretched her name out like honey from a jar, trickling sweetly from his mouth.

She wanted to run. From this plush room, this welcoming home, this uninvited sanctuary of tenderness. Her legs quivered with the impulse. Instead, she plunged forward into the room, right to the edge of the bed, and thrust her offering towards Jamie, who followed her movements as though she was defusing a bomb.

“Whas’ this then?” he asked, peering down at the document.

“It’s our lease. I signed it. And faxed a copy to the landlord.”

There, she had done it. The pebble that would start the landslide. There was no turning back now, and it was pure relief.

Jamie was silent for so long, staring down at her signature, that she began to wonder if he’d fallen asleep. When he looked up again, his eyes were glassy.

“Are ye sure, Sassenach?”

A drunken encounter in a pub. Agony radiating from his bright blue eyes on a hospital gurney. Her rain-soaked salvation. A roommate. A friend. His steady patience as they tentatively grew closer. And now something more, something bigger than she knew how to articulate, sneaking around the margins of her fear.

She wasn’t sure of much, but she was certain that Jamie’s love could never hurt. The rest, the panic that she could lose him or disappoint him, that was just the price of paradise.

Instead of answering the question directly, she walked around to the opposite side of the bed and gestured to the empty mattress beside Jamie’s long body.

“Is this place still vacant?”

His smile was radiant.

“For ye, Sassenach, always.”

***

It was like no other sex she’d ever experienced. Intimacy, up until then, had been a transaction, an exchange of debits. This was a cancellation of accounts, an obliteration of any mutual debt. They loved each other with the pure, mindless joy of a wave meeting the shore.

Which isn’t to say that it was perfect. It felt strange to touch Jamie in more than a friendly way. Not at all unpleasant, but strange. Like going to the theatre to see a well-loved play, and suddenly being thrust onto the stage. The hesitance behind Jamie’s touch told her he felt something similar.

In a particularly awkward moment, they were jostling and bumping to remove each other’s pajamas when her hair got caught in the buckle of his watch.

“Ouch!” she yelped. He pulled away, stammering apologies, which only made things worse. After a few failed attempts on Jamie’s part, she reached up and unclasped the watch band, giving him two hands to work with. By this point they were both giggling, the gravitas of the moment lost.

“Ye’ve a great deal of hair, mo nighean donn,” Jamie groused as he lay the offending watch on his nightstand.

“Complaining already, Fraser?”

“God, no. Ye’re... would it be sentimental tae say ye’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?”

She was lying naked, but for a pair of skimpy knickers, the firelight caressing her limbs where they were splayed against the dark sheets. Jamie’s visual perusal of her body held a potent combination of lust and reverence that warmed her blood.

“I suppose I can tolerate a bit of sentimentality,” she conceded, rolling towards the bulwark of his naked chest. Her fingers played down the corduroy ripples of his flank.

“You’re beautiful too, Jamie.”

The mood in the room shifted again. Soon they pitching across the mattress, trying to touch in as many ways possible. Their skin grew slippery with sweat. At some point, underwear must have been removed, because she could feel the coarse abrasion of his pubic hair against her thigh, alongside the tensile ridge of his erection.

“Claire,” he gasped as their hips ground together in frenzied pulses. “If ye dinna want me tae go any further, I need ye tae tell me now.”

She reached between them, taking the heft of him in her palm, feeling a spasm of need shudder through his frame.

“There’s nothing about you that I do not want, James Fraser.”

A cavernous groan, a frantic search for a condom in the bedside drawer, the tearing of a foil wrapper, and then a breathless hesitation. She opened her eyes to see Jamie looking down as though she was the morning sun. There was nothing left inside her but dazzling hunger, filling the spaces where her fear once resided.

Here was the start.

#my writing #outlander

53 notes · View notes

vesuvianmess · 4 years

Text

Second Guessing

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Character(s): Apprentice Drexxel | Julian Devorak | Asra Alnazar

Rating: Mature - Contains depictions of sickness, bodily fluids, mental illness and mentions of death

The Red Plague had Vesuvia in its grip, ever tightening and refusing to let go. The numbers are rising and time is running out.

I had come to Vesuvia many years ago after my clan had sent me north, a story I will save for another time, and with much resistance I had finally come to call it home. In the beginning of my days here, I spent my spare time hiding away, simply watching the foot traffic flow through the streets through my window. I was a stranger here, an outcast hiding the wrongs they had committed. Hiding the guilt and shame of my past. I wanted nothing more than to see my mother’s face again… But I’m getting off topic.

At first it was just whispers. Hushed tones and sideways glances. There was talk of an unusual death in the city. Supposedly it had been one of the palace servants. But this was soon forgotten in mere weeks. That is, until another was found. And another. And another. Whispers became buzzing like the thrum of an angry hornet’s nest. The people were uneasy, as was I. It wasn’t long before a dear friend had arranged a meeting at the shop when my aunt was away. They sat me down in my room, pacing in front of me.

“What’s this about, Asra?” I asked, watching them go from one end of my room to the other. “You’ll wear a rut in the floor at this rate.”

“We need to leave the city.” The magician held their thumb and forefinger to their chin, eyes focused on the floor. “It’s not safe here anymore. I can’t risk you getting hurt.”

“I can handle myself.”

“That’s not what I mean. I know you can. But this...this isn’t something you can control Drexxel. We need to go somewhere safe, far away from Vesuvia.”

“Asra, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving my aunt here to fend for herself.” I shook my head, leaving her alone wouldn’t be right. Too many loved ones left behind already.

“There’s been another ten down just since morning, Drexxel. People are beginning to drop like flies!” They ceased their pacing, standing instead directly in front of me. “Please, I can’t let you stay here.”

“I said no.”

“Pack your things, don’t leave anything important behind. We must be off as quickly as we can.” The magician insisted. “I’ll help you.” They started for my things, grabbing clothing from my drawers.

“I said no.”

A steady flickering flame was beginning to build in my chest. I had already said no twice now and they weren’t listening to me. My patience was wearing thin too fast. I had been running the nail of my thumb under the nails on my opposite hand as we talked, a nervous tick I had developed in early childhood. I watched as my friend continued to ignore my words, instead gathering up my belongings. I couldn’t take it anymore. I snapped, standing from my spot on the bed.

“Asra, I said I’m not going!”

The magician stopped short, eyes locked with mine. The purple hues stained with a solemn heartbreak. It hurt me to see. But I had made up my mind. Heaving a sigh, I sat back down, keeping my eyes trained on the hands shaking in my lap. The hurt in my friend’s eyes was too much to bear. I couldn’t look at those eyes again. It would break me. Without looking up, I broke the silence.

“I think...I think you should leave.” My voice began to shake, a knot forming in my throat. I was losing my friend. “Go without me. I will follow when this is over.” I bit my lip this time, choking back the tears threatening my eyes. “I promise.”

・・・

The coming weeks were filled with more and more death. The city’s residents had begun to call this the ‘Red Plague’ due to the horrid leeching red veins that weaved spiderwebs across the face, hands, and feet. I sat alone in the tavern, listening to it all. There were somber ones trying to drown the loss of their loved ones in spirits. Others huddled together, chattering in nerve wracking tones about who would be next. Even though I was listening, everything seemed distant, foggy and unclear. My own thoughts began to mix together with their words until eventually everything else didn’t matter. A heavy weight nested itself in my chest, my hands grasping tighter around my cup.

Not long after Asra had left, the plague pulled my aunt down with it. I watched her collapse on our doorstep, her life fading away as she struggled to breathe. Everything I had come to love now was gone. I ruined my family for the second time. Part of me wished I would just disappear. That way, at the very least, I could put everything I’d done behind me. There would be nothing left to tear myself up over, nothing to lay awake about at night wishing it had gone differently. I wanted out. Out of this life. Out of this crushing sadness and guilt.

My chance came when I was invited to work under one Dr. Julian Devorak, a tall and lanky man who looked like sleep had evaded him since the day his life began. I was to work under him as his apprentice while he helped research a cure for this plague. This meant I would be up close and personal to this epidemic. If I played my cards right, I could use this as my out. I would simply be another number on the charts, the stroke of a pen on paper. Another body for the fire.

In our spare time, Dr. Devorak and myself would drink together at the Raven, going over paperwork at first. Before too long though, we would be up on the tables dancing and singing while others looked on with a glimmer of hope. The doctor began to treat me as more of a friend than an underling. I couldn’t fathom why. I was merely pretending to be happy. A thin veil concealing my intentions. But I liked him nonetheless. He was kind, sincere in his own right, and the stories he could tell always got a weary smile from me. In what seemed like no time at all, I would call him my friend. I would almost regret leaving him behind.

I’d been given a new task. With a leatherbound book in hand, I was to keep a record of those fallen in the streets. Their names, locations, occupations and the like were all written in the book. Each day I went through more pages than the last. I was beginning to fear that Vesuvia would soon run out of names to fill the blank spaces. In these times, Julian and I had less and less free time to spend together. Our times of singing and dancing in the flickering lights of the tavern were quickly becoming fever dreams I wished I could live through forever, never waking to see the light of reality. Instead, I went alone as I had before. I danced by myself, singing songs only I could hear in a language not spoken by locals. My songs were never happy. On this particular night, I found myself far too deep in the grasp of exhaustion to put on my shows. My body ached and my head felt like static. I left for home early. I must have worked myself too hard. Between my daily counts, records, and tavern visits I had surely expended nearly all of my energy. Leaving my mask on the shop counter, I made my way upstairs. I needed rest. I crawled into bed without even changing my clothes. When the sweet embrace of sleep finally took me, I dreamt of my mother and her soft lullaby.

Snapping out of my sleep with a wretched cough, I shot up and immediately doubled over, an arm wrapped around my abdomen, the other covering my mouth with the back of my hand. When the fit finally ceased, I had to take a moment to gather my breath. My joints ached and my head was spinning. I tried to stand, only to fall back among my pillows. From the edge of the bed I felt the eyes of my companion watching me with worry. I turned to look, offering him a weak smile.

“It’s okay Bentley, I’m just tired.”

Walking to the bath on shaky legs, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I’d never seen myself so pale. My eyes were sunken in with heavy dark circles from top to bottom and they stung in the light. I swallowed hard and put the sight from my mind. I still had work to do. There was something in me that wanted to find this cure now. Call it curiosity. But this didn’t overshadow my goal. Overworked as I was, I clung to the hope that this disease would take me. The pain I had seen those taken already trudge through seemed immense. I thought that maybe somehow this pain would serve as payment for the years of guilt and lies. Lying about being happy. Lying about being okay. I needed this to be my end.

Three days passed, leaving me worse for wear by each morning. On the morning of the fourth day, I was wracked with another intense coughing fit. My lungs felt like someone had crushed them under the wheel of a carriage. Breathing was a struggle and standing took all of my energy. My sheets were soaked with sweat and I had, once again, not changed my clothing from the day before. Moving to the edge of the bed I was hit with another coughing fit, this one worse than the last. I felt acid rise to my throat. Ignoring the pain the best I could, I rushed to the bin. Nothing but bile came from me. I sputtered and gagged until it stopped. Without care I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and stumbled my way to the bath. My eyes were unfocused, not looking at anything. I slumped against the countertop, trying to straighten out my vision. I blinked hard, holding my eyes shut for a few heartbeats before opening them. When the haze cleared, I felt something in me churn.

My hands, pale as they had been before, were now painted with red as if they’d been dipped in dye. Crimson red veins ran from my fingertips like cracks in porcelain. I could barely feel them. Bringing a hand to my face, I turned to look myself over in the mirror. My eyes were an eerie shade of red, watery and horrific staring back at me. Those sickly red veins fell from my eyes like lightning bolts. All those days I had felt so sick… I had my wish granted. But then… Why was there this knot in my chest? I had gotten my wish. I had gotten what I wanted, my way out. I could finally escape everything I’d been hiding from. And yet, I stared at my hands, eyes tracing the patterns against reddened skin. I should have been overjoyed, right? This was my goal. I’d wanted this. In an instant my head was swarmed with memories. Meeting Bentley for the first time at the docks, morning tea with Asra, the smell of the baker’s bread in the market, the thrum of the central square...the nights spent with Julian at the Raven.

Was I...was I crying?

At that moment I knew.

I’m going to die today.

I had to tell him. I had to see him one more time. I pushed past the pain the best I could, gathering all of my files, all of my own independent research in my bag. Pulling it over my shoulder I made for the door. I stopped short at the end of the stairs. Bentley was on the shop counter, staring me down. I bit my lip, fighting back the urge to scoop him into my arms again and tell him everything would be okay. I couldn’t lie to him.

“Bentley….I’m dying.” I could feel his pain as I spoke. “Watch the shop for me okay? Tell Asra...tell them I’m sorry.”

Wiping red stained tears from my eyes, I left the shop behind me. There was no need for my mask now. I didn’t need it. Not where I was going. I used every ounce of strength in me to break out into a hobbling run. I needed to make it to the palace. I had to say my goodbyes. The further I got, the harder it became to breathe. My body burned as if set aflame and my head throbbed like a jackhammer. I caught my foot on an uneven stone and found myself laying face down on the street. When I tried to get up, my arms gave out underneath me.

“I have to… I need to see him.” I said aloud, as if saying it would make it happen. “I lied.” The tears wouldn’t stop coming. I drug myself forward on sheer willpower alone, clinging to the foolish idea that I might make it out of this. My lungs were filled with blood and each breath felt like razors clawing their way up my throat. “Please! I don’t want to die….I never…”

That’s right...dying wouldn’t solve my problems. I knew that from the beginning. And still, I craved it. I thought that maybe, just maybe I could find some solace in it. There was no comfort here. I never wanted to die. Not truly. I only wanted to start over, and I didn’t know how.

I never even made it to the palace gates.

#the arcana #the arcana game #fan apprentice #apprentice drexxel #asra alnazar #julian devorak #red plague #past tales #nix hydra #apprentice lore #this was a doozy to write let me tell you

24 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 4 years

Text

From Man of Steel to Zack Snyder’s Justice League: A Complete DCEU Timeline

https://ift.tt/3eYjG5C

This article contains spoilers for Zack Snyder’s Justice League and other DC movies.

The timeline of the DC Extended Universe began in a fairly clear manner, with most of the events of Man of Steel set in 2013. As more films were released, containing flashbacks, or lacking a clear chronological setting, things became increasingly complicated. And by the time we got to Birds of Prey film, its precise placement in the DCEU is downright murky. But there are contextual in-universe clues in the form of media, gravestones, mugshot photos, or throwaway lines of dialogue that provide some clarity.

With the long-awaited release of the Snyder Cut of Justice League hitting HBO Max, it’s a good time to break down what we know so far about when some significant moments in DCEU history took place.

100,000 B.C.

The Kryptonian Expansion: Krypton begins interstellar exploration and launches scout ships into the void of space. They colonize and flourish for 100 thousand years until artificial population control is introduced. (Man of Steel)

18,000 B.C.

A Kryptonian scout ship crash lands on Earth; one Kryptonian escapes the craft, leaving behind an empty pod. (Man of Steel) According to a Man of Steel prequel comic that may may not still be canon, her name was Kara Zor-El.

Thousands of Years Ago

Darkseid seeks to conquer Earth, but is foiled by the combined forces of man, Atlanteans, Themyscirans, Olympian gods, and at least one member of the Green Lantern Corps, Yalan Gur. Three Mother Boxes are hidden across the planet: in Atlantis, on Themyscira, and with mankind. (Zack Snyder’s Justice League)

Millennia after the Amazons are created, Ares goes to war with the Olympian gods, and kills all of them, including Zeus. Themyscira is created with Zeus’ remaining power. Somewhere during this period, Atlantis sinks beneath the waves. (Wonder Woman)

The ancient wizard Shazam imbues a champion with the powers of six mythological figures, only for him to become corrupted by the power. (Shazam!)

Diana of Themyscira, daughter of Queen Hippolyta, grows up on the hidden island, and trains to become a warrior under General Antiope. (Wonder Woman, Wonder Woman 1984)

1918

Diana saves Steve Trevor who has crashed on Themyscira. He warns her of the great war, World War I, raging across the globe. She joins him in the world of man, and together they seek to stop the evil Dr. Maru and General Ludendorff (who Diana incorrectly believes is the God of War, Ares). Steve Trevor dies. (Wonder Woman)

Comics

Wonder Woman Movie: Complete DC Comics Easter Eggs and Reference Guide

By Mike Cecchini

Movies

Does Zack Snyder’s Justice League Set Up Wonder Woman 3?

By David Crow

1974

Thaddeus Sivana is magically transported to the Rock of Eternity and fails the test of worthiness conducted by the wizard Shazam. (Shazam!)

1980

After the explosion of his homeworld, Kal-El of Krypton crash lands on Earth, and is taken in by Jonathan and Martha Kent of Smallville, Kansas. This date is approximate, but while being interrogated in Man of Steel, Superman says he’s been on the planet for 33 years. (Man of Steel)

1981

Thomas and Martha Wayne are murdered in Gotham City, leaving their young song Bruce an orphan with a serious grudge against criminals. (Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice)

1984

Diana Prince operates in secret as the heroine Wonder Woman, while also working by day at the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, D.C. After unwittingly using the Dreamstone, she resurrects Steve Trevor (who inhabits another man’s body). Barbara Ann Minerva, also through the use of the Dreamstone, gains superpowers and is ultimately transformed into Cheetah. Businessman Max Lord wishes to become the stone itself, and uses his powers to create global chaos. (Wonder Woman 1984)

Movies

Wonder Woman 1984: DC Comics Easter Eggs and Reference Guide

By Delia Harrington

Movies

Wonder Woman 1984 Post Credits Scene Explained

By Mike Cecchini

1985

Lighthouse keeper Thomas Curry rescues and falls in love with Atlantean queen Atlanna; Arthur Curry, aka, Aquaman is born shortly thereafter. (Aquaman)

Circa 1995

Bruce Wayne begins operating in Gotham as the vigilante Batman.

1997

Jonathan Kent dies in a tornado after discouraging Clark from using his powers to save him. (Man of Steel)

2013

This is a bat-signal in the dark, but this is a reasonable estimate on when both Dr. Harlene Quinzel becomes Harley Quinn, and when Dick Grayson, Batman’s partner Robin, is murdered. Suicide Squad lists Quinzel’s date of birth as July 1990. It seems unlikely she would have become a psychiatrist, and assigned to the Joker in Arkham before age 23. Still, Robin is dead by October 2014 (and presumably dead by the Black Zero Event in late 2013, as shown in Man of Steel). This allows for about a year for Harleen to help Joker escape Arkham, take a transformational acid bath, and help the Clown Prince kill Grayson.

Movies

Man of Steel: Complete DC Comics Easter Eggs and References Guide

By Mike Cecchini

Movies

Superman Movies Ranked: The Best and Worst of the Man of Steel

By Mike Cecchini

Batman apprehends Floyd Lawton, aka the hitman known as Deadshot, while he’s Christmas shopping with his daughter. (Suicide Squad)

General Zod invades Earth, and Superman reveals himself to the world. Bruce Wayne witnesses the battle between the two, and sees the Wayne Financial Building in Metropolis collapse. (Man of Steel)

2014

Harley Quinn is captured by Batman after Joker drives their car into the harbor, and abandons her. When she is introduced in Suicide Squad, she is listed as an accomplice to Robin’s murder, which is what leads to her arrival at Belle Reve prison. (Suicide Squad)

2015

Victor Stone and his mother are in a car accident which kills her, and puts him on death’s door. Victor’s father uses Mother Box technology to keep him alive and transform him into an incredibly powerful cyborg. (Justice League)

2016

The holy trinity of DC meet! Batman and Superman duke it out before joining forces against Lex Luthor’s Doomsday creature. Meanwhile, Diana joins the action, and dons her Wonder Woman suit in battle. Sadly, Superman dies, but Bruce and Diana decide to form a league of heroes. (Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice)

Comics

Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice – Complete DC Comics Easter Eggs and Reference Guide

By Mike Cecchini

Movies

Suicide Squad: Complete DC Comics Easter Eggs and Character Guide

By Mike Cecchini

Amanda Waller establishes the government sanctioned Task Force X, also known as the Suicide Squade, to respond to metahuman threats (and following the death of Superman). Enchantress enslaves Midway City, but is ultimately thwarted by the squad. (Suicide Squad)

2017

Bruce Wayne and Diana assemble a team including Barry Allen, Vic Stone, and Arthur Curry to battle Steppenwolf, who has returned to Earth. Superman is resurrected, and ultimately joins the fight. Shortly after Superman’s return, Lex Luthor breaks out of Arkham and reveals Batman’s secret identity to Slade Wilson, aka Deathstroke. (Justice League)

2018

After defeating his half-brother Orm and stopping a war between the underwater kingdoms and the surface world, Arthur Curry ascends the throne as king of Atlantis, wielder of the Trident of Atlan, and ruler of the seven seas. (Aquaman)

2019

Billy Batson is granted the powers of Shazam, and thwarts Dr. Sivana’s evil plans. While this could take place a little earlier, it is pretty well established within the film the events occur after those of Justice League, so we’ll just default to year of release here. (Shazam!)

Comics

Shazam: DC Comics Easter Eggs and References Guide

By Mike Cecchini

Movies

Shazam 2 Will Have a Sinbad Cameo and a Cool Title

By Delia Harrington

Barry Allen encounters a parallel universe version of himself in STAR Labs. Though it is unclear when in his timeline the encounter occurs, it is before he has adopted the moniker of The Flash — which is given to him by the Arrowverse’s Barry. Based on his reaction to the meeting, it can be assumed this takes place before Barry has explored other realities via the Speed Force. (Crisis on Infinite Earths)

2020

Harley Quinn and Joker break up, and she establishes a new life in Gotham. She goes to war with Roman Sionis, and the Birds of Prey are formed. The events of Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) take place after both Suicide Squad and Justice League — and at a time when Batman has gone missing. (Birds of Prey)

202?

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

As seen in the epilogue of Zack Snyder’s Justice League, in a potential future, Superman has succumbed to Darkseid’s anti-life equation following the death of Lois Lane. As a result, he becomes a powerful weapon wielded against humanity, and his former teammates, including Batman and Flash, as well as Mera, Slade Wilson, and Joker. Many heroes of the past, meanwhile, have perished. (Zack Snyder’s Justice League)

The post From Man of Steel to Zack Snyder’s Justice League: A Complete DCEU Timeline appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2OTXe2G

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

14 notes · View notes

paodequeijofeliz-blog · 4 years

Text

Don’t you remember?

Bloodbound Fanfiction (characters and main story belongs to Pixelberry Studios).

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed and MC (Annie)

Information: this takes place long after Bloodbound 3. In this scenario, MC was Turned only after giving birth to their daughter.

Summary: Thirty years after meeting Annie for the first time, now Kamilah is married and has a daughter who is about to get married as well. While preparing the wedding, they decide to remember Lysia’s childhood stories.

Warnings: it’s mostly fluff and mother-daughter fights talk. Nothing heavy.

Part 2

Don’t you remember? - Part 1

January 8th, 2049

The store was empty since it had been reserved just for them.

Kamilah only needed a single phone call to make it happen. She wanted to have enough time to admire those beautiful white dresses. As her hands slid throughout the satin of one of those hanging on the wall, wonderful flashes of her own wedding came up: the sunset painting over the hill and the flowers, how the slow song played by a pianist helped her heart calm down, the astonishing vision of her bride smiling as getting closer and closer…

“Kami?” Annie put a hand on her shoulder, a little concerned about the silence. “Are you okay, babe?”

“Hum? Oh. I’m sorry, I was just… Remembering.” She opened a soft smile, leaning in to kiss her wife on the forehead. “You looked so beautiful that day. I don’t believe the world had ever seen a most dazzling bride…”

“You can be such a hopeless romantic sometimes… But I think I’ll lose my throne, though. Look.”

Kamilah turned at the direction pointed by Annie, suddenly losing her breath. At the other side of the dressing room, right in front of the mirror, Lysia was standing with a proud posture and a small smile on her face. Her dress was covered with a subtle and elegant lace that went down reaching the floor. It didn’t have a tail, but long sleeves and a turtleneck, once it was supposed to be a winter wedding. The high heels and chin up made her get almost as tall as Kamilah.

Almost.

“My love…” the Egyptian held her daughter’s face, unable to stop admiring it’s beauty. “You look…”

“I know.” Lysia whispered, placing one hand on top of her mother’s and squeezing it. “Thank you for this.”

“I would do anything for you… Anything to see you happy.” Kamilah kissed the tip of her nose, but the sound of sobbing made them step back and look at a tearful Annie on the couch. Both sighed at the same time.

“Mommy, don’t cry… It’s just a dress…”

Loud hiccups came from the small figure. “You two… And this… So… Beautiful… And I…”

Lysia tried to approach, but Kamilah stopped her gently, turning the girl back at the mirror where the seamstress was waiting. “Don’t worry, you have to finish the adjustments. I’ll handle her.”

Annie, who was already blowing her nose in a tissue, lifted her eyes when sensed Kamilah’s arms wrapping around her. She gladly fit there, like a tiny teddy bear being hugged, until finally the tears stopped.

“Are you feeling better?” the Egyptian’s voice was soft, one hand still caressing Annie’s hair.

“I am. I’m sorry, it wasn’t the dress or the wedding. I just feel emotional every time I see you two so close. For a while, I worried.”

“About what?” Kamilah seemed confuse.

“About… Well… You didn’t exactly get along when Lysia was a teenager. After she turned twelve, thinks got complicated. You know what I’m talking about.”

“Yeah, the fights.” The answer came from Lysia, who had two arms lifted above her head while waiting for the seamstress to finish.

“Arguments.” Kamilah’s tone got a little acid since she was suddenly feeling attacked. “And it was just a few.”

“A few? Kami… You two used to fight every night. I had to literally keep a score for good behaviour from BOTH of you, because of how many times you were yelling around.” Annie chuckled, now that time has passed, it felt good to laugh about it. “Don’t you remember?”

“Not like that. Name one time we yelled around. Both of us.”

The Brazilian rested against the couch, fingers intertwining while searching her memory. “Fine. For example, that night I let Lysia go out for the first time…”

-------------------------------------------------

July 12th, 2039

Annie loved bathtubs. That wasn’t a common thing in Brazil, and theirs was a huge comfortable one. Every bath would take at least a couple hours, especially on a Friday night. At that moment, her body was completely relaxed in the hot water, an empty glass of wine still hanging on her hands. Nothing could disturb this woman’s peace…

Until she heard that sound. That very much familiar sound of trouble.

The sound of slamming doors.

Oh fuck.

Slowly, she covered herself in a robe and went downstairs to find a furious Kamilah dragging her daughter by the arm, while Lysia fought against that grip, angry tears on her eyes.

“What the he…” Annie didn’t even get to finish that sentence.

“YOU ARE UNBELIEVABLE! LET ME GO!”

“You lower your voice right now, Lysia Sayeed. Don’t dare testing my temper any further. Not after what you pulled out tonight.”

“I told you! SHE LET ME GO! Mommy, tell her!” the girl’s eyes finally met Annie’s, desperate for some help, but before any answer could come, Kamilah’s grip tightened.

“Well, I didn’t. Besides, aren’t you leaving an important part out? The part you lied to her about who was going to be there? Want to clarify this now, Lysia?”

The girl’s face got red. Tears came down her eyes. “LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Annie put herself between them, intensely alarmed by the tone on her daughter’s voice. She held Kamilah’s arm gently, finding her gaze with pleading eyes. “Hey, look at me. Let her go. This isn’t right, don’t hold your daughter like that.”

“Thank you” whispered Lysia, finally free.

“Okay, now… You go to your room and wait there.”

“You’re grounded.” Kamilah added.

“Wait…” Annie tried to fix it, but it was too late, Lysia had already started yelling again.

“WHAT? WHY? I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG!”

“YES, YOU DID!”

“That’s enough!” the Brazilian lifted her hands, the first one pointed at Lysia while the second one held Kamilah’s wrist. “Lysia, go to your room now! And Kamilah, you calm the hell down!”

Those brown eyes sparkled dangerously at Annie’s direction, making her gulp and add a “please” in the end. Their daughter went away with heavy footsteps, slamming the door upstairs. Kamilah had the impulse to follow and fight against that lack of politeness but was stopped by her wife’s embrace.

“Kami, please, stay here. We need to talk.”

“She’s never going outside this house again. I’ll hire private tutors. I don’t even want her setting a foot at school. That’s my final decision.” Annie narrowed her eyes. It was enough to make Kamilah sigh and collapse in the armchair. “Ugh. Sorry. We’ll decide the punishment together.”

“Babe, listen to me. This isn’t right. She was jut having pizza, I allowed her to go…”

“There were two boys from the late clan Lacroix there.” That hit Annie in the guts. Lysia hid that part when said it would be just a few high school friends. “If I hadn’t gone to check on her, we wouldn’t know.”

“I’m sure there is an explanation for it. No, don’t do that, don’t interrupt me, now it’s your time to listen. I’m not saying she is absolutely right. It’s not about taking sides. It’s about you being too harsh and overprotective around her… Kami, screaming and dragging isn’t healthy. Lysia is sixteen. She wants to go out with friends, to have fun, and she will do stupid things at some point, that’s how life is. When it happens, I need her to feel comfortable to come to us and ask for help. She’s a good kid, but the more you suffocate her, the more she’s gonna try to fly away.”

“I’m just protecting my daughter. There is far too much danger out there for me to sit back and relax.” Kamilah’s expression finally moved from anger to concerned. “She is so… Fragile. Like you were before being Turned.”

Annie went to sit on her wife’s lap, finding the way to kiss her on the lips. Sweet and slowly, exactly what she needed to calm down. It didn’t take long for Kamilah’s tenseness to melt away, arms holding her wife as close as possible.

“I love how you want to shield our daughter. One day, she might realize it too. But we can’t do that by stepping on her feelings and wishes. Lysia is a person, not a doll. She deserves freedom too.” Foreheads together, both were getting lost in each other’s gaze… So compenetrated they didn’t even hear their daughter’s heartbeat from hiding behind the bookcase. “Trust me on this. Please.”

Kamilah sighed, walls broken down.

“I trust you both. And Adrian. I just love you too much as well.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

January 8th, 2049

“Wait…” The Egyptian stood up, walking towards the dressing room’s door. She leaned against it, whispering. “You heard it? That night?”

Lysia leaned against the door too, already changed into her casual clothes. “Yes. I went back cause’ I forgot my phone on the table.”

“Why did you tell her, but not me?”

“Because I wanted you to say it again. To me. Not to mom. I… Wanted you to say how much you loved me or wanted to protect me, instead of just yelling about the world being a horrible place.” She held her own body, a little shaken by that talk.

“Lysia. I do love you. Deeply.”

After a silent moment, the door opened to show a sweet smiling face behind it. “I love you too.”

Kamilah held her close, a long tight hug interrupted by what was again a sobbing miserable Annie on the couch.

“Oh no, here we go…” Lysia laughed, walking towards her mother to take her into a hug as well. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Let’s have lunch together, alright?”

“Maybe now we can talk about happier stories? Baby ones. Please. I can’t keep crying like this.” Annie sniffed, completely emotional.

“That’s a good idea, mom. Let’s do it.”

#kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #choices kamilah #bb kamilah #choices: bb #choices: stories you play #it came out earlier cause I got too excited hahahaha #hope you like it <3

40 notes · View notes

adrowning · 4 years

Text

WHERE THE SKY MEETS THE SEA.

@icecurse | heavy triggers; detailed gore/blood , violence, literal gut wrenching dreams,etc.

26 Days into North coast of Iwakagure

Location: Disclosed.

“You hate me because you wish you were me. Is that it?” It has been a long time since Isamu laughed. A genuine laugh where his belly is drumline tight and his teeth stark white--sharp columns of bone. It is a dizzying slow laugh something sweet and unnatural of him. One where amusement holds on tight with its fists, a laugh that lifts burden and regret off of the body for just a few seconds. But it’s just a few seconds that is needed for Isamu who laughs between the flames of the fire.

He laughs modestly, but it is true, he laughs because of Haku and because of other reasons that have nothing to do with them at all. Yet, Haku’s eyes remain the same through Isamu’s sudden reverie, the plains of his face shadowed by smoke and winters song but yet waits for an answer.

Isamu does not give them one.

He scrapes whatever is left on the sifted cast iron that holds the remainder of his rationed food and picks through it with his fingers before eating. He can still feel Haku’s eyes straining towards him as if to turn Isamu into an icicle because then it would harbor a better answer than this. Isamu in his montage of silence is no better than a thrashing hurricane. But like any element, Isamu is tough, all thick and useless spite it wouldn’t matter what Haku does or doesn’t do to him. He figures if the earthling is asking him this, surely he has won tonight without even trying. Isamu looks up and Haku’s eyes do not waver, he drops the cast iron to his feet and sucks the salt from his fingers.

“You would not believe my answer either way.” Isamu stands, he sees the small flicker in Haku’s sharp eyes their body prepared for any of Isamu’s sudden movements. By the amber light of the fire, Isamu can see the hatred now underneath the dark spotty bruises splayed on Haku’s skin. Some are his own making others only part of the journey. By this time Isamu is highly aware of the senbon that will fly towards his right eye if he makes the wrong move or the rusted kunai itching to be used to be threaded against the skin of his neck if he aims a threat at Haku, no matter how diluted it may be.

Isamu plans on disappointing them further, letting Haku’s body tense a bit longer then needed letting them stay on the edge alone.

Oshun, Isamu’s sword stays lodged between them adjacent to the fire as it mirrors the flames. Isamu walks over, picks it up from the sand, drags her long steel tail and lets it stand at Hakus feet.

“Who are you anyway? For me to wish such a thing.” Isamu moved from his sword and walked towards the fire, a heavy cladded boot dug through gravel and sand to put it out, a whirling of dust finally settled before Isamu disappeared into the tent. He would not give Haku anything tonight not an altercation or a flash of teeth and blood, he would leave Haku alone here by the darkness of the sea and the loneliness of red moonlight. He would leave them hungry.

152 Days into Land of Snow Mountains

Location: Disclosed.

“You’re so busy hating me you can’t even see that he abandoned the both of us. The truth is Zabuza never loved anyone not even himself.” He had waited for Haku at the end of the long grey hallway.

Isamu breathes out white smoke, thick in its rage. His fingers begin to tremble on their own. Haku’s words are acidic and these castle walls become more of a cage the longer he stands in front of them.

“You are a coward.” He spits, Isamu knew for all this time he had spent with Haku it wouldn’t mean anything now. He had walked almost a hundred miles to get to the place they are in now. All of it for Haku.

He had spared lives and tore flesh out of bone. He had felt the power drain from his core, spilling out softly like secrets he cannot hear even though they are his own. He has given life and sword for Haku and his cause. Inexhaustibly followed the sunken trail and listened to all of Haku’s amendments; as the cursed blood sanctify the early morning of doom that they both woke up witnessing. All of it for Haku.

Some nights their voices were only screams but at least they did it together, at least when they fought their commonality was a ghost they had loved dearly. Now Haku’s eyes are empty and Isamu truly never felt so alone here on Earth or here with Haku. It was all for them after all

The sun hides once Haku’s hand twists against a shard of glass and Isamu’s fingers curl into fists.

“You know nothing about me.” Haku says.

Isamu growls, “No, just that you must feel so fucking special with your cursed Yuki blood running through your veins that you would abandon him.” He steps closer, “but I shall drain you out of it.”

Oshun swings high and low, cutting through air thirsty for flesh before she finds the thick bounty of Haku’s right calf. Isamu wields his sword smoothly as if she was a song, conducting her to follow and predict Haku’s movements. The first blow isn’t deep enough but it’s good enough to hurt. Isamu extends the blade to block senbons being thrown his way and whirls it just in time to catch the side of Haku’s rib yet it only costed him an ice blade between the hill of his neck and shoulder but he gives himself no time to react pulling out the blade and crushing it. In the tussle Haku swipes him underneath but Isamu uses the momentum and hurls Haku to the castle wall. Oshun falls to the wayside and Isamu is screaming with blood boiling in his mouth and down his shoulders coating the plains of his back. He sees Haku stand seething havoc smeering blood from his lips looking like the monstrosity Isamu had always known. He doesn’t hesitate running to Haku, he knows what will happen next could kill them both but he doesn’t care.

They fall three stories from the castle wall.

Isamu breaks two of his fingers on his dominant hand but snaps them back into place as the burning pain runs up the length of his arms. There is nothing but silence as he lays on his side in the snow. He brings himself to the fetal position before rocking on to his knees as he tries to stand.

In the clearing he does not see Haku anywhere.

Then, fog floats beneath his feet and Isamu is smiling again slowly in this paradise of white. The tip of Oshun, his glory blade is pressed to the middle of his back.

+++

28 Days Later

Location: West of border between Land of Hot Springs and Yukikagure

Wanderers and travelers have told Isamu to be careful here, there are collectors from the west heading east, rummaging through the country, burning down the woods and sacking villages.

“These are not good times.” An old woman says to him, he trades her coin for a tent, a few supplies and animal skins, reeds for a bed roll. “There never seems to be in this place.” Isamu says back as he takes his purchase and disappears into the woods.

Isamu places himself past the head of the forests with a waterfall thirty miles to his back and the border of the Land of Snow in front of him. He makes settlement on a hill just above a natural hot spring tucked quietly into the hillside.

There is enough source for him to survive out here, he hunts at daybreak and guts the animal over a fire at high noon, he eats alone everyday complaining to be sick of the taste of rabbit.

It isn’t too horrible here, at the hot spring he bathes and drowns himself in the water. Sometimes, he can see the world that he came from, sometimes the side of his mothers face, her golden hands. He sinks lower because water loves him too much to let him go. Isamu never struggles he sinks deeper and deeper far past what a normal hot springs should be. He can see his father now, thick muscles turned to him and kubikiribocho still at his side even in spirit. He wants to call out his name but he fears his tongue will mistake father for savior, and savior for a question he not dare to ask--not even in his own private of dreams.

Something slithers at the bottom of his feet, undulating in the dark waters wrapping around him for what feels like eternity. Isamu calls out for his father then but it’s too late, his eyes fly open and the thing at the bottom of the spring disappears. When he reaches the surface, dots of blood drop to his feet, his nose bleeding and his ears filled with voices unknown.

He doesn’t know what the voices want, they get louder the further he walks back to his camp. It dizzies him and Isamu drops to his knees. Hours, perhaps days have passed where the demi-god is lurching, twisting from the inside out. He tries to lay flat on his back on the ground when he can when the pain numbs. The only sliver of peace is the cold. Yet the voices do not stop as they stir something in the pit of his stomach lunging to go past him, past what he used to be. Blood pools at his stomach, copious of warm thick liquid drenching the front of his tunic.

What are you trying to say? He grits through his teeth wondering if this is the doing of his mother. Isamu buckles in pain as something pierces through his abdomen, his eyes are closed as he cries, as thick flesh is pulled apart, lines like cracks on the floor opening to make way for something in need of a way through. From within a blood soaked serpent is looking at him he knows it, can feel it stare.

He passes out once he meets it’s silver eyes, bathing swirling in his blood.

Nightmare, it was his first nightmare in a while. He assumes it must have been that because he is still laying down mouth to the snow just without the pool of blood or the voices in his mind. Isamu is alone with the whistle of wind he looks up and stares at the horizon in the east for a while. He doesn’t know why now that he thinks of the castle and it’s icy walls, the decorated moat opened like a willing mouth, how he too came out changed.

+++

The tip of Oshun, his glory blade is pressed to the middle of his back. Haku puts pressure and he feels the jolt running up and down his exposed spine. It’s a funny thing when your own sword is used against you. Yet Isamu does not falter he isn’t afraid. He had shifted his weight quickly enough to dodge another swing of his sword. Isamu's right leg shifting through the snow as he gets back into a fighting position. They lunge at each other, his fist catching Haku’s chin and Oshun peeling back his skin. The white ground covered in brown and red spots. They fight till the song is married into their bones, till Isamu is screaming Haku’s name like a promise. He sees in Haku the reasons his father had died. He cannot forget his words, how was he to know? To betray his fathers memory to widdle him down like nothing.

Something runs through his body, twisting through his veins, it emits a whirl of clear blue. It isn’t chakra it isn’t of this earth. It’s his power, his true power. His fist flies back and Haku uses Oshun as a shield but even she is not strong enough as Isamu shatters his own blade.

It propels them both to the ground , the blue aura is gone but Isamu is raging, he knees Haku in the face and groans when three senbon are lodged to his side. They tumble and roll catching fists and blood and spit and Haku stabs a senbon through Isamus palm trying to drive him away, the weight lessens once Isamu falls back but he doesn’t let Haku get away. He places his boot on Haku’s ankle, pulls himself forward until he’s behind them. Isamu’s hips weighing down the hilt of Haku’s back trapping him down, a bloody senbon is now between his fist as his other hand pushes Haku’s neck down letting him eat snow, blood and gravel. Isamu shoves the senbon that was lodged into his palm to the back of Haku’s skull.

But, there’s a moment of complete silence. A flutter of realization as Isamu is still holding Haku down and pressing the senbon to his head, it nicks them, letting out a small pearl of blood that coats their black hair.

Isamu’s body clamps, all of him in this moment wishes to split open Haku’s brain. But he doesn’t. It’s Haku’s mind, he realizes that carries all the memories, that carries the whole picture while all he knew them to be fragments of Zabuza. He cannot fathom letting those memories go even if they are not his own. If he were to kill Haku he might as well have killed his father.

Weak, that’s all that he feels. Physically and emotionally to the pit of his stomach he is weak. He is a child all over again looking through the water mirrors at this Earth he is in now, wishing for a father, wishing someone besides Gods knew his name.

Isamu’s breath fans over Haku’s cheek, his dreads now falling over both of their shoulders flaked in snow. “I have seen who you really are.” He whispers softly, tired and heavy Isamu releases his weight on Haku. He stands awkwardly, thighs aching chest raw from adrenaline and he walks away for good.

+++

Isamu stares out to the mountainous horizon taking in it’s clouded beauty. It seems like the mountains beyond this point go on forever. perhaps they are the same ones from his own world continuing on here on Earth, he doesn’t know he doesn’t know anything at all now. The valley below him howls with wind and Isamu is stuck in his transgression. He looks up to the sky now once it begins to snow he closes his eyes and listens, for what? For his father perhaps his spirit somewhere in the mist.

The ground below him violently shakes, he surprises even himself once he’s up on his feet and reaching for a sword that isn’t there. He was going to reach for his dagger on his thigh but he realizes the threat is no where near him. He looks at the mountains ahead and watches as the blanket of snow cracks from it’s tip and comes sliding down. The avalanche sweeping everything in it’s path. Isamu is more than safe miles away from the action. But something doesn’t sit right with him. He thinks of the castle behind those mountains he thinks until he no longer can. The voices come back screeching in his ear, and this time he knows what they are saying.

He runs down the hill, past the marsh and the frozen river ahead, he runs and runs till his boots and pants are tapered with sleet and dirt. From those mountains, it had taken him several weeks to find his haven to find a place far from that place. The voices in Isamu's head became a constant hum lulling him, dragging him further in even when his chest felt like it was on fire. He ran till his boots felt weighed with blood and his knees hollowed by the cold. Isamu ran not knowing whether it was night or day, he was riddled with frost bite and no creature dared stand in his way, he couldn’t stop he couldn’t look back.

Once the hum became the crackling of voices again he knew he was back that Haku was close by. The sky a sheet of white with black clouds waving over, in his heart Isamu knew he was in the right place he could feel his power draining here. He could retrack his old steps where Haku had performed his auguries on this cursed land.

He is close to the castle but the voice is pushing him in a different direction, north instead of south. Isamu follows it and finds a bridge made out of ice and stone, one he does not remember being there from before. Quietly he crosses it, light on his tired feet. Once he crosses he can hear a battle in the forefront. Haku is fighting someone and it sounds serious, looks like it too once he smells the iron of blood. Isamu watches them fight and thinks of the old woman back in the land of Hot Springs and what she had warned him about.

A collector. Isamu to his own fault doesn’t think ,his feet ache as he lunges down into the snow. The enemy is on top of Haku but he tackles them off. Their eyes beady and red he see’s them and the evil that they carry the tomoe merging into thick lines but Isamu was stronger. He looked into those eyes knowing what he was. Cursed, an anathema of the worse kind alone and baron the darkest part of the ocean, a demons son, he was wrath unraveling in it’s purest form.

Isamu went under no genjutsu, he gouged out the eyes of the man. and felt the carving of a knife pushing through his back. He tore the knife out before warranting a thrash of punches out of him his fists meeting skin till it felt soft between his knuckles. Blood splattering across his face as he heard bone pop but he kept going unable to hear the screams from the person underneath him. It seemed the whole place was filling with this sound of Isamu pushing his fists through a puddle of flesh and marrow. He didn’t stop until he felt snow in his hands again.

There was ringing in his ears, the voices in his head abandoning him. Once he stood he turned to Haku. They were both slow in their movements but Isamu got to him quicker. They had both seen better days.

“Do you see who I really am?” Isamu lips are glossed with ice and blood, even with the only visible parts of him being the whites of his eyes and the shine of his teeth.

The question is not as simple as it sounds, he knows but he watches Haku carefully and see’s the hesitation is there but Haku nods slowly. Isamu grunts softly and nods back.

The sky is black with clouds and pouring down snow. They walk through it in complete silence. Isamu concentrating on Haku’s footsteps alone he can hear them falter ever so slightly. He doesn’t bother saying anything for a couple of miles into their trek. But the distance between them elongates and Isamu knows something is wrong with the way Haku clutches at his chest.

He won’t say anything, he promises.

Isamu walks towards him, Haku is ridged once Isamu clamps a hand down on his shoulder. He knows something is wrong, he cradles the back of Hakus neck lowers himself slightly tucks his arm behind his legs and carries them. He leaves it to the fact that they have no time to argue; a storm is coming.

They go down the trail from once Isamu came, the hum in his head is back, it clashes ever so often with Haku’s mumbling. His breath against his chest, his strong arms wringing against the back of Isamus neck.

Wind is nothing but a trumpet of sound that surrounds them, the further they go the thicker the snow gets. Isamu is steady and slow. He doesn’t stop, if he stops both of them will die out here. He looks down at Haku who is viciously pale, Isamu presses Haku close hoping whatever warmth he has emits into the other.

“If you die I will haunt you in the after life as well.”

He thinks he hears a laugh, perhaps it was just the wind.

It is perhaps hours perhaps days that sundered and went, but they make it to camp. Isamu puts Haku down on his bed roll and lights the lantern. Haku’s lips are blue black they part but he coughs and clenches his chest again. He touches his arm but Haku pushes him away. Isamu doesn’t care, he fights his way through and places his hand underneath Haku’s shirt, somehow they colder than he is, much colder.

Haku persists to be left untouched. Isamu frowns.“Die then, and all of this could be for nothing and you can go down in history as a failure. No Yuki clan bullshit you’ll die as the last of your kind and I won’t do you the favor of remembering you..” Isamu sits back on his knees and waits. Haku stares at him and lays back down on the bed roll.

Quickly, Isamu runs his hands over Hakus cloak, and peels it away until he gets to his undershirt. He lifts it and presses his ear to Haku’s chest his thumb following the curved lines of his ribs, He can hear it each time Haku’s heart beats, a squelching sound in the hollow of his chest. He picks up a serrated blade in his pack. Haku’s eyes widen.

For once, Isamu is trying not to be cruel here, he gives Haku a look that says be thankful. Be thankful that there is no use in killing you.

“There’s water in your lungs." Isamu says, " I’m going to take it out. Hold on to me.” This being his only words of comfort, hold on to me if you must- I will allow it. Isamu positions himself tearing the remainder of fabric. For a moment he thought Haku was shaking, but it was his own breathing his own hand. He licks his lips, pushes Hakus right arm over his head, Finds his marking under the third rib and pushes the knife through. The cut is lateral and thick black water spills from them. Isamu carefully pushes the blade deeper. Ignoring Hakus protests the chilling screams, he ignores it until Haku blacks out.

+++

3 Days Later.

The lantern sits between them, Haku laying on his side and Isamu sitting quietly in the corner pushing thread through fur.

It would be time to change Haku's gauze and throw another blanket on Haku despite his protests. Isamu ignores them and their sour stare once the gauze is changed.

“Is this really what you want?” his voice quiets with anger. Isamu scoffs, what a waste he thinks of energy when all Haku needs to do is rest and shut the fuck up. “Of course I don’t want to do this. You can change your own fucking bandages, yeah?” He doesn’t expect nor want an answer. Isamu places the fur over Haku’s body, “what I want does not matter here.” That should be a good enough answer he thinks, it’s shitty but it’s all he’s got.

At night he prepares them dinner but Haku doesn’t wake, they fall into a deep sleep. Isamu looms over them the rest of the night.

The sun struggles to peak through the snow capped mountains, yet Haku is still sleeping or dying Isamu doesn’t know. Their pulse weakens by the hour and all Isamu can do is watch.

Isamu as true as he is to his own nature cannot stay still, he pushes the fur around Haku’s body and carries them out of the tent. It is an awful idea perhaps, such things are forbidden in his world and most likely in this one too.

If the Pantheon could see him now, they’d laugh berate him and his foolishness his weakness. He is nothing more than a human now,, a God of the ocean who drowns in his own salt. Once they reach the spring, Isamu puts Haku down at the edge and undresses. There isn’t much on Haku that he needs to take off but he’s careful not to press too hard on the wound.

Isamu lifts Haku in his arms again, he curses under his breath and laughs at him self softly in pity Maybe he does want to do this.

In his native tongue he speaks to his mother now, doesn’t ask for anything but her forgiveness.

Isamu enters the warm spring with Haku, he dips their bodies into the grey blue of it’s waters while steam clouds the air. Haku is pushed deeper the more Isamu moves to the middle of the spring. The water begins to twist around them, framing Haku’s face. Isamu closes his eyes and sinks them both to the end of the bottomless spring.

You must give something away when you reach the depths of water. Whether it be river or sea, water has one heart yet many souls it will take.

Isamu knows this when he offers Haku and himself. When his essence leaves his lips and carries itself into Haku’s. The water pulls them apart and takes Haku into it’s tendrils a light surrounds them in a patron of divinity. It soothes over his wounds before letting them go. Isamu takes Haku back into his arms and swims to the top.

Haku is pressed to Isamu’s chest when they wake. Isamu can feel them breathing again he can feel the soft point of his their on his shoulder, the warm water surrounds both of them again twisting in shapes.

“Did you do this for you, or someone else ?” Isamu stays quiet for a while. “I did this for myself.” Isamu closes his eyes, “be quiet now, you still need to heal.”

“Where did you take me?” Haku asks insistently. “What did I see?” “Home.” Isamu sighs.

Where he is from, warriors who exude the temperament of otherly beings the ones who put forth their appetency of honor who shroud themselves in darkness are serenaded with songs of their deaths. So, Isamu puts his warm lips to Haku’s ear and lets his velvet voice sing.

#hungry for life and thirsty for the distant river | drabbles #o.haku yuki #lightly edited but wow i cant belee i wrote this gay mess #tw: blood #tw: gore

8 notes · View notes

tenpointstoq · 5 years

Text

Hot take on the Jaskier/Geralt fight, the importantance of the bath scene and general relationship stuff for them.

The fandom overwhelmingly underestimates Jaskier. Yes he is a sweet flower child but please consider: Things we don’t see - Jaskier is a university educated boy who is an actual professor. He is smart and strong. He has had a whole life already. He is also hiding many many things. Jaskier is a name he uses for a reason friends. He protects himself on the road allll the time. He doesn’t travel with Geralt constantly and always does just fine. In the books and games it’s common knowledge that you don’t fuck with him.

He also knows Geralt better than ANYONE else ever. I don’t think he has an issue with Yen as such. I think he worries that Geralt makes really bad decisions around her, which scares the living shit out of him. If Yen treats Geralt right it’s fine. But that’s the issue, to him, she doesn’t. She will always mean broken hearts and Geralt being angry and not knowing how to cope. So once the pain begins to settle Jaskier knows this.Also Jaskier understands Yen’s love for Geralt as well as the damn stress do loving someone who hates themselves as much as Geralt does. The two will be friends later in the series. They already are in some ways. They just bicker which is very them.

Jaskier knows that Geralt needs time, that Geralt will hate himself for what happened, but he’s a bear with a thorn in his paw and he needs time to heal before they can come together once more. Their love is the kind that is so much more than a simple argument. Of course it hurt to hear that shit from Geralt, but I think what hurt the most was seeing the pain that poured from Geralt. That he knew Geralt was trying to reach out to him while also pushing him away because he believes he doesn’t deserve love. It’s part of why Jaskier opened up to him earlier. So he threw all the acid he had at Jaskier, because that scared him too. Jaskier is smart, he knows how to deal with Geralt, he knows that his moods shift like the tides, when to push him, to make him laugh and when to shut up and give the man space because Geralt and feelings are not something that work super well together.

Look at the way he talks Geralt through everything in the bath scene. That’s why I have watched it SO many times. It’s not that it’s GAY tm. It’s the perfect explanation of their relationship. Jaskier spends a lot of time and energy reminding Geralt just how worthy of love he is, it’s why he writes the damn songs. It’s why when he sees what the the title ‘the butcher’ does to him he works his amazing ass off to change it. Jaskier looks after Geralt with a practiced ease that the two have settled into so many years ago. The two have a balanced relationship, but they are both people with lots of flaws and it leads to problems. That’s the realist shit out there when it comes to love. Jaskier is doing all he can to help Geralt but in the long run he knows that if Geralt refuses to accept that he can be loved Jaskier can’t push it down his throat.

I know everyone is sad about what happened, but you need to also give Jaskier way more credit. Yes he starts out as a silly young man, but he grows with Geralt and he is very emotionally intelligent and loves this man in so many ways. Geralt has Ciri to find, Jaskier knows this, he has destiny thumping at his door that he tries to turn away from over and over again. But that same Destiny has bound the two of them since day one. Geralt met Yen because of Jaskier. He has Ciri because of Jaskier FFS. He knows they will come back to one another. Sure it hurts, sure Geralt was a total asshole, but their love is way too strong for something like that to break them. If Geralt had acted any other way it would have honestly been weird. Geralt is a very reactionary person, so Jaskier would know it was coming. Hence why he doesn’t scream and yell back. He takes things as they are and knows to wait for the tides to turn once again.

Next season we won’t get some grand gesture, that’s not how they work. It will be through soft looks, through Geralt being so fucking sorry and ashamed at his actions and having no idea how to communicate that. It will be subtle and seem small, but that’s their love and it’s beautiful. Subtlety in love is everything and most people miss it. That’s why I think the series is so well written. Henry and Joey have amazing chemistry, the way they move around one another is a beautiful dance of love and destiny.

#geraskier #gerlion #jaskier/geralt #jaskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #the witcher #the witcher netflix #Geralt is the OG gay disaster #transboywitcher writes

88 notes · View notes

kiwi-strawberry-banana · 5 years

Text

Because there is not nearly enough content on them, here is a list of headcanons for all of the Mystics.

UrSu the Master.

Biggest Mystic.

Perpetually tired.

Someone please get this man a coffee.

Despite his role as leader, he constantly second guesses himself to the point of doing nothing.

Can only see one path moving forward and rarely entertains any other ideas.

Will say he doesn't play favorites. Big lie, UrMa is his favorite.

Every Mystic knows it, but none of them will say so.

Gets sad very easily.

Like, the wind could blow wrong and boom, sad lad.

Cries very easily, though will try to do so only when alone.

(Or around UrMa)

Tends to be intimidating upon first meeting him.

Genuinely cares for and loves all of the Urru.

Doesn't think he is a good enough leader.

UrSol the Chanter.

Is the Chamberlain of the Mystics. (Not nearly as bad as Chamberlain.)

Never lies.

Will occasionally use his voice to play pranks on the other Mystics.

Once had UrMa believe that he had a bird following him around for an unum (a month).

UrLii thought it was hilarious. UrSu, not so much.

The most honest of the Mystics and least likely to speak in riddles.

His honesty can come across as rude sometimes.

"UrAmaj, the food is not very good today."

When alone, will sing songs that only he can hear. They are sad songs, ones that display the true emotions that he keeps hidden.

Close friends with both UrZah and UrIm.

UrMa the Peacemaker.

Like SkekVar, has exactly one (1) braincell.

An absolute softie. The sweetest of the Mystics.

Is one of the Urru sad? Prepare for many kind words and hugs.

You don't want a hug? That is okay, UrMa doesn't mind. But he has a hug to offer in case you need it.

That one braincell takes him on many adventures.

If UrSu is out and about in the Valley, UrMa is not far behind.

Will often stare into space for hours. Usually trying to figure out one of UrZahs riddles.

There is not a mean bone in his body.

You could insult him right to his face and he would still love you. (Don't insult the lad please)

Even if a rare argument happens between some Mystics or if one is particularly depressed, those feelings don't last long so long as UrMa is around.

UrSu didn't talk to anyone for nearly a full trine when UrMa passed.

The Valley was much bleaker without him.

UrZah the Ritual Guardian.

So many riddles.

His riddles have riddles.

Will make a ceremony out of anything and everything.

Which is usually fine.

Some Mystics have had to put their foot down though.

No, UrZah, there doesn't need to be a ritual for when that particular rock has a shadow.

Will have conversations with UrSol for hours.

Those that listen in will become lost within seconds.

Even UrSu, for all his wisdom, will sometimes have no clue what they are talking about.

UrMa will just smile and nod.

Has a sand painting for just the occassion.

UrIm the Healer.

About done with the Skeksis' bullshit.

On housecall 24/7.

Daily check ups to make sure everyone is doing okay.

Visits UrTih. A lot.

Like, a lot a lot.

Always has bandages on hand in case someone is spontaneously injured.

Someone is usually spontaneously injured.

Grew close to UrTih over the visits and became good friends.

Worries most about UrTih, knowing how often he gets injured.

Like UrSu, just needs a break and a coffee.

Are his chants actually chants or is he just groaning in frustration? Whose to say.

UrTih the Alchemist.

My favorite.

I love him so much.

Enjoys his experiments.

Gets as lost in them as much as UrAc gets lost in his reading.

Will often forget to eat or sleep for the sake of completing an experiment.

Has caused an explosion on more than one occassion.

Was more social in his youth, began to seclude himself more as he aged.

Was closest to UrGoh and was hurt when the Wanderer left for good.

Was distressed at how often he got injured at the beginning.

Grew too used to it.

Scared UrIm half to death when he lost his eye.

One of the only times a Mystic actually cried out in pain.

Due to all the injuries, he developed Haphophobia (fear of touching/being touched)

That fear made UrIms job much harder.

UrMa found a solution.

Animals.

UrTih. LOVES. Animals.

He especially had a soft spot for birds.

Has had many, many pets over the trine.

Named all of them.

Didn't cage them, he let them come and go as they pleased.

Only animals could touch UrTih without making him flinch and cower.

Was the most excited for reunification, hoping that perhaps that would make his pain and suffering end.

UrSen the Monk.

What is "a bath"?

Something completly foreign to UrSen.

Yet something so desperately needed.

Due to SkekLach, they are sick. A lot.

Like UrTih, they get visited by UrIm. A LOT.

A stinky Mystic.

The stinkiest.

Even so, is always polite in all they do.

Almost as sweet as UrMa. Almost.

Left nothing behind except for memories when they passed.

UrAc the Scribe.

Please sleep.

Insomniac to the point where the other Mystics worry.

"When did you last sleep?" "What year is it?"

Will read and write from sunrise to sundown.

Keeps all papers mere inches away from his face.

Cannot see far away at all.

Has grown used to recognizing all Mystics merely by their voices and how they walk.

Has a book filled with nothing but the pranks that UrSol has done.

Is the most easily amused. (Probably from the insomnia)

UrAmaj the Cook.

Always with UrNol.

Always.

Is the chubbiest Mystic.

Will often sneak bites of food in the middle of cooking.

Enjoys eatting in general.

Loves to visit gardens where the food is grown.

(With UrNol, of course)

Kinda sweaty honestly.

Has to take baths a lot because of it.

Will exchange dirty jokes with UrSol and UrNol.

Loves jokes.

Does not pee on walls.

UrNol the Herbalist.

Always with UrAmaj.

Always.

Has named every single one of his plants.

All of them.

No two names are the same.

Will mourn if a plant somehow dies under his care.

Will be genuinely sad for days.

Tends to be clumsy from lack of depth perception (missing an eye).

UrAmaj is there to help and guide him.

Besides running the gardens, his room is also filled with plants.

Has many that are extremely poisonous.

Also has some that move around a lot.

Had to be told he couldn't have a plant that spits burning acid.

Was sad about that too.

UrYod the Numerologist.

Is a quiet Mystic doesn't say much....

... Unless you get him talking, in which case sit down, this will be a while.

Even UrSol gets intimidated by how much UrYod can talk.

His speech tends to be broken up and stuttery, making it difficult to understand.

Knows the exact number of everything in the Valley.

Like, everything.

One of UrSols most common pranks is asking UrYod to start listing off the numbers of various things.

Such pranks have come back to bite him on the rear on more than one occassion.

A bit of an airhead.

If he talks for long enough, he will just become lost in his thoughts and his speech will drift off until he stops talking altogether.

Always knows the time, down to the millisecond.

Gets headaches a lot. Will count down the seconds until they end.

UrUtt the Weaver.

Knows the exact measurements of all the Urru.

Also knows exactly when robes need adjusting.

Is meticulous in their designing and outfits can sometimes take many trine before they are finished.

So meticulous that they never make a mistake in their work, despite how long it takes.

Can be intimidating if another Mystic tries altering their outfits on their own.

Just don't do it.

Honestly a bit of a drama queen.

One of the only Mystics to ever care about how they look (even by Mystic standards)

Likes to change their hair every now and then.

Will put it in braids/ponytails or puts little feathers or beads in it.

UrSan the Swimmer. (Note: haven't read the books)

Chill with a hint of sass.

Has definitely eaten fish before, much to the dismay of other Urru.

Initially wasn't a fan of SkekSa having random piercings. Grew used to it and made some for herself.

Will occassionally swim around in Drenchen waters.

Partly because she likes the swamp, partly because she feels like messing with the Drenchen.

Stays away from the Sifa due to SkekSa.

Will occassionally go to land and meet up with UrVa or UrGoh.

Despite knowing it is their ultimate fate, isn't 100% subscribed to reunification.

Kinda enjoys being a Mystic.

UrLii the Storyteller.

Chose to leave the Valley on his own.

Really only liked UrSol, and even then it was merely out of enjoyment for his pranks and jokes.

Is a hoarder. A bad one.

Likely has a piece of lint from back when he was still an Urskek.

Likes the Grottans, but only in small doses.

And by small doses, he means only one at a time.

When completly alone, he will talk to himself.

To the point where he has gotten into arguments with himself.

Has also gotten to the point where he ignores himself due to the arguments.

Loves gifts and keeps every single one (hoarder)

Maudra Argot is amongst his favorite Maudra to come around during his times in the Caves.

Fairly intelligent. Doesn't share it.

Knows all of the stories of Thra, even the ones only known to the Skeksis.

Tells himself a bedtime story every night.

UrVa the Archer.

Like UrSan, has also eaten meat.

Not as often, only when he has to.

Used to visit the Valley on occassion even after he left.

Will meet up with SkekMal and sit by a fire.

Can and will have actual conversations with his Skeksis half (even if they don't always last long)

An odd truce between the two.

Likes a nice cup of tea and a leaf roll.

Is absolutely shredded by Mystic standards.

By Aughra standards, he is the hottest Mystic.

Through his travels, he began to question reunification.

Also enjoys just being a Mystic.

When bored, will do arrow tricks.

Meets up often with UrGoh.

Would still sneak visits even after UrGoh went to live at the Circle of the Suns with SkekGra.

A part of him knew that he would never become one with his other half and did his best to live life to the fullest.

UrGoh still kept one of his old teacups.

UrGoh the Wanderer.

Cares for SkekGra even past their bond.

Knows where to go, no idea how to get there.

Will visit the same place many times just to see what changed.

Would visit the Valley and bring gifts and stories of his travels.

Had the most gifts for UrTih, knowing the Alchemist would find the most value in what he had to give.

Speaks slowly as his thoughts tend to wander, leaving him already moving onto the next thing while in the middle of a sentence.

Began to move and speak slower after SkekGra got a nail to the head.

It was his idea to make the puppet shows.

If his clothes ripped during his travels, he would be the one to sew them up, much to UrUtts dismay.

Likes physical affection and cuddles.

Loves to sing for the sake of singing rather than always singing for chants.

Has made up many of his own songs over the trine.

Might do a headcanons list with the Skeksis too, I dunno yet.

#the dark crystal #the dark crystal age of resistance #mystics #ursu #urtih #urgoh #urva #ursen #ursan #urlii #urutt #uramaj #urac #uryod #urnol #urma #ursol #urzah #urim #urru #headcanons #my post

92 notes · View notes

honeyopinion · 4 years

Text

20/20 Albums of the Year

Circles by Mac Miller | Hip-Hop, Soul, Funk Released: January 17, 2020

Best Album For... Pouring One Out for Mac

I wrote a few different drafts of this album summary, and none of them felt like they really fit the impossibly large bill of accurately describing the posthumous importance or brilliance of this album. If you are a fan of hip-hop or soul music of any kind, try to give this piece of work a chance. I for one, used to judge Mac based on his early frat rap days in the late 2000s. But a decade later he came to leave the world with one of the most surprising and frankly impressive artistic evolutions that I’ve been able to witness in real time. RIP Mac.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Circles” or “Everybody”

Marigold by Pinegrove | Alternative Country and Folk Rock Released: January 17, 2020

Best Album For… Passing Through a Small Town on a Cloudy Winter Day

Pinegrove was one of the last great concerts I got to experience before the pandemic. And it was my favorite performance of theirs from the last 6 years of seeing them play live. Is this my favorite album of theirs? Honestly, it’s not. But I still find it extremely enjoyable, and the memory of seeing these songs performed live, along with some of their classics, was enough for me to include it on this list. This is an album that marks Pinegrove’s exit from their pop punk roots. It’s still sentimental, but much more country and folk rock focused vs. anything trying to be associated with emo or punk.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora Start With: “The Alarmist” or “No Drugs”

Watch This Liquid Pour Itself by Okay Kaya | Synth Pop, Art Rock, Folk Released: January 24, 2020

Best Album For… Crywanking at 3am, Bathed in The Dull Light of Your Overheating Laptop

What if Feist and Father John Misty had a secret love child? They might sound something like Okay Kaya. Self proclaimed “Singer ~ Crywanker,” Okay Kaya brings serious BDE to weirdo art pop that she seems like she could be a plant from the mind of Nathan Fielder. Kaya delivers with such deadpan precision as she rolls out line after line of sarcastic joy, staring blankly at our dystopian reality. “Here I am, the whole world is my daddy,” “Netflix and yeast infection,” “Sex with me is mediocre,” “I just want us to do well like Jon Bon Jovi’s Rosê,” and, “My parasite and I are blushing / In the zero interaction ramen bar,” are just a few examples of some of her memorable and biting lyrics. The entire album is both a critique and nihilistic fondness for the absurdity of our lonely technological society, not quite sure how to deal with taboos like repressed female sexuality, depression, and codependency.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Baby Little Tween” or “Asexual Wellbeing”

UNLOCKED by Denzel Curry and Kenny Beats | Hip-Hop Released: February 7, 2020

Best Album For... Nodding Your Damn Head To, Feeling Cooler Than You Actually Are

I had to double check that this was an album. Clocking in under 20 minutes, this collection of songs feels more like an EP, especially with the track titles that purposefully look like file names and placeholders. But for a short album, Denzel wastes no time, furiously zigging and zagging effortlessly over Kenny Beats’ 90s New York-indebted production (ad libs and all). Kenny pulls out samples of an array of pop culture references made by Denzel (like quotes from movies and weapon sound effects like a lightsaber) — as he rotates his flow between admirable impressions of DMX, Nas, and Joey Bada$$.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “So.Incredible.pkg” or “DIET_”

Cardboard City by Zack Villere | Pop, Electronic, R&B Released: February 14, 2020

Best Album For… Pal-ing Around With Your Friends From High School, Maybe Quoting Superbad At The Same Time

The first time I watched a music video from Zack Villere, I noticed the top comment said: “how did frank ocean get trapped in mark zuckerberg.” And while that definitely gets at the heart of how Zack Villere presents himself, he is not a phenomenal singer like Frank Ocean is, nor does he come off as an asshole like Mark Zuckerberg does. I would say that he is just a slightly awkward nerdy white guy who loves hip-hop production and R&B melodies. So the better question is really, “how did drake get trapped in michael cera?” This premise should not work at all, but somehow it does. This is only Villere’s second album, but he shows some serious production and songwriting chops, plus a commitment to his delivery that comes across as genuine, charming, and unique.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Grateful” or “Superhero Strength”

The Slow Rush by Tame Impala | Psych Rock, Synth Pop, Disco Released: February 14, 2020

Best Album For... Throwing a Silent Disco For One

Tame Impala continues on their now 10 year streak of psych rock dominance. Along the way we’ve seen Kevin Parker master and stretch the boundaries of psychedelic production. This has resulted in his music coming as close to sounding like the best aspects of The Beatles, while also expanding into hip hop drums, R&B hooks, plus more and more electronic elements. This is an album that I was not super impressed with when it initially came out, but as we entered the pandemic and were tasked with finding small joys in staying at home all the time, I found myself going back to this album and appreciating the themes of solitude and self reflection that Parker has drawn from throughout his career.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Posthumous Forgiveness” or “One More Hour”

1988 by Knxwledge | Hip-Hop Released: March 27, 2020

Best Album For... Pumping Your Brakes and Driving Slow, Uh *Homie* Although this album is named after a year in the 80s, the sound here is a perfect portal back to 90s golden era hip-hop, with all the gospel, soul samples, and the kind of deep bass you want to feel in your chest. This is the rare, largely instrumental hip-hop album that I find myself going back to, other than works from the legendary J Dilla and MF Doom. Knxwledge is good friends and a frequent collaborator with Anderson .Paak (in the form of NxWorries). Here we get Anderson to grace us with his presence on the track “itkanbe[sonice]”, and of course it sounds just like an authentic vintage soul sample. When I hear this collection of songs it makes me wish I still had a car, so I could inevitably damage my speakers listening to this.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “dont be afraid” or “thats allwekando.”

Future Nostalgia by Dua Lipa | Pop, R&B, Funk, Disco Released: March 27, 2020 Best Album For... Alarming Your Pet With Your Enthusiastic Lip Syncing

This album is a pure sugar rush. Like Bruno Mars with the help of Mark Ronson, or Calvin Harris a few years ago, Dua has harnessed a nostalgia (it’s even in the title, wink) for disco, funk and R&B, and is instantly a sexy, catchy, not-so-guilty pleasure. It’s sad that the majority of these songs are all bonafide club hits that didn’t have a proper home this year … except for my living room. And hopefully yours.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Pretty Please” or “Future Nostalgia”

Hold Space For Me by Orion Sun | Alternative R&B and Hip-Hop Released: March 27, 2020

Best Album For... Wishing Frank Ocean Was Your Dad

“Alternative R&B” is a contentious term, but what else would you call one of a few R&B singers cool enough to make it onto (NYC indie darlings) Mom+Pop Records?? On one hand, she brings the vulnerable and introverted lyrics of an indie singer songwriter like Tracey Chapman, crossed with the raw presence and sweet melodic delivery of a true R&B star like Aaliyah. I’d even go far enough to refer to her as the musical stepchild of Frank Ocean and SZA.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Ne Me Quitte Pass (Don’t Leave Me)” or “Lightning”

You and Your Friends by Peach Pit | Indie Rock and Dream Pop Released: April 3, 2020

Best Album For... Going Back To Your College Town To Crash A Party

Peach Pit seem like they would be cool dudes to hang out with. You have no problem picturing them as the band playing a house show in an indie movie about college kids. And that’s because there’s a familiarity to the scenes that their songs portray, of stumbling through your 20s, either being too dumb or having too much fun to notice. It’s funny to refer to this as “Indie” rock since this is Peach Pit’s major label debut with Columbia Records. But It has all the trappings of Indie; sticky melodies, gentle reverb, an “I’m not trying that hard” vibe, and lyrics that are oddly specific enough to be interesting, but still vague enough to be relatable.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Feelin’ Low (Fuckboy Blues)” or “Shampoo Bottles”

Heaven To a Tortured Mind by Yves Tumor | Psych Rock, Indie Pop, Post-Punk, Alternative R&B, Experimental Electronic Released: April 3, 2020

Best Album For... Tearing Up The Fucking Dance Floor With Your Hot Robot Girlfriend

If Tyler the Creator, Alex G, King Krule, and Blood Orange all got into the studio together and dropped a shit ton of acid on Halloween, their recording session might sound something like Heaven To a Tortured Mind… And even then, you still might have trouble putting your finger on exactly what you’re hearing. “Dream Palette” is a good reference track for Tumor’s most wild and mesmerizing qualities. The biggest styles of the past half century of music have been loaded into this gleefully effective genre blender, with blades of dissonance slicing everything up, creating a surrealist sonic smoothie.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Super Stars” or “Dream Palette”

The New Abnormal by The Strokes | Indie Rock, Dirtbag Disco, Synth Pop Released: April 10, 2020

Best Album For... Mixing Yourself Another Drink This Saturday Night

Back from the dead, The Strokes return with their first album in 7 years to turn some heads and settle back into some old habits. The charming messy haired garage rock of the early 2000s still pops up here and there, but this is really a record where the group is mature enough to show you that they actually are trying, and are unafraid to take joyous swings for the fences. Julian Casablancas pushes his scratchy alley cat yelp of a voice into something more vulnerable, sunny, and sweet, like he asked for a piña colada (you know, with one of those little umbrellas) instead of a double shot of scotch before hopping up on stage… Or maybe he did both. But these days, everyone is looking for some sort of break from our groundhog day lives any way that we can. Sometimes that sounds like selling out, or depending on how you look at it, stepping up. This album is the result of a group of old friends who got together to make music they simply want to make for themselves. Now far removed from the 2000s New York scene where their younger selves were acting too cool and disaffected to care about having fun.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Eternal Summer” or “The Adults Are Talking”

The Loves of Your Life by Hamilton Leithauser | Indie Rock and Alternative Country Released: April 10, 2020

Best Album For... Drinking Down At The Docks, Watching The Sun Set

While I am a fan of The Walkmen, I have no idea what their frontman Hamilton Leithauser looks like or how he dresses. But hearing these songs off of his latest solo, I imagine the following: a member of Mumford and Sons if they were edgy and cooler, giving off a “cowboy rocker meets depression-era dock worker” aesthetic. That’s exactly how his music comes off to me. It’s a convincing blend of blues rock, Americana, and old timey country music. All expertly narrated by dusty country guitars and standup bass, tarnished horns and flutes, and what I imagine to be a restored saloon piano. The Loves of Your Life originally started as a collection of short stories, each about characters based on both people he knew and strangers. Leithauser then wrote the music separately, and finally came to mix and match their parts together in a surprisingly convincing fashion to create the album.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Wack Jack” or “Cross-Sound Ferry (Walk-On Ticket)”

What Kinda Music by Tom Misch and Yussef Dayes | Neo-Soul, Electronic, Hip-Hop

Released: April 24, 2020

Best Album For... Cooking For Someone You’re In Love With

Exactly what kind of music do Tom Misch and Yussef Dayes make? It’s orchestral, it’s jazz-infused, it’s hip-hop beats joined with gentle soul. It’s a little sexy, it’s a little mysterious, and you’re going to want to listen to it a whole lot. That’s it. That’s what kind of music it is! Send tweet.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “What Kinda Music” or “Storm Before The Calm”

Petals For Armor by Hayley Williams | Electronic Pop and Art Rock Released: May 8, 2020

Best Album For... Browsing Depop for Your Next 80s Normcore ‘Fit

Hayley, Hayley, Hayley. You are too good for this wretched world!! After exploring more adventurous sounds and genre hopping over the last few Paramore records, Hayley decided to go out on her own. This really frees herself from the expectations that come along with being the face and heart of a wildly popular band for the last 15+ years. Thom Yorke fans rejoice, because Hayley Williams has a clear admiration for Radiohead’s haunting indie electronic vibe, while emoting some pain and darkness atop her love for 80s pop and art rock (think Genesis, Devo, The Talking Heads). This is a promising new avenue for Hayley to explore herself and process her pain and desire completely on her own. I see this new project of hers only blooming further from here.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Simmer” or “Sudden Desire”

Set My Heart On Fire Immediately by Perfume Genius | Indie Pop and Art Rock Released: May 15, 2020

Best Album For... Daydreaming That You Were Somewhere Else

For his 5th studio album, Perfume Genius enlists production wizard and guitar god Blake Mills, along with Grammy Award-winning arranger and multi-instrumentalist Rob Moose to create a beautiful swirling mosaic of 80s pastel pop that also packs serious classic rock grandeur. Bass guitar dances between satin smooth lines on one song to churning distorted currents on the next. Sparkling string arrangements and organs bleed together to expose a fading sunset that you’ll want to try and hold in your hands to keep it in sight. Perfume Genius is unafraid to challenge traditional masculinity, packing a 21st century queer machismo into both the quiet moments and jubilant explosions.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Without You” or “Describe”

græ by Moses Sumney | Indie Pop, Art Rock, Neo-Soul, Psychic Folk Released: May 15, 2020

Best Album For... Astral Projection 101

I mean this in the best way possible, but I think that Moses Sumney is a witch. Or maybe a wizard? There’s no other reasonable explanation for the level of creativity and wonder that he summons. This album feels like a private concert by a waterfall (similar to one on the cover), with ethereal pleas, and heavy ideas—like meditating on what lies beyond the constraints of the physical self and reconsidering how well we can actually trust memory and the mind. Sumney layers his voice to create the effect of a ghostly choir, accented by a stark intimidating falsetto that reverberates through the ruins of an abandoned temple where Sumney is the only one in attendance.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Cut Me” or “Polly”

WILL THIS MAKE ME GOOD by Nick Hakim | Psychedelic Neo-Soul Released: May 15, 2020

Best Album For... Playing Pool in a Hazy Dive Bar

Nick Hakim is a silky smooth smokey crooner who paints with warbly piano loops, dreamy reverb-heavy guitar, boom bap beats—not to mention a falsetto that would make Smokey Robinson jealous. Clearly a fan of Motown and 60s jazz, Hakim could be considered a peer of Thunder Cat and Anderson .Paak’s to a degree. I remember seeing him perform at Music Hall of Williamsburg a few years ago. The performance ended with him falling down on stage (presumably from being under the influence of multiple substances). But while the song continued he popped back up and belted an impressive high note like it was nothing, drink in hand. And it’s that kind of messy beauty that also makes this album so engrossing. Like watching the eye of the storm get closer and closer, but unable to look away from the sheer magnetism that nature can wield.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora Start With: “All THESE CHANGES” or “ALL THESE INSTRUMENTS”

RTJ4 by Run The Jewels | Hip-Hop Released: June 3, 2020

Best Album For... Making Your Next Protest Sign

Run The Jewels’ fourth outing might be the most unapologetically angry rap album in the “fuck this” year of 2020. And it reminded me that I should absolutely still be furious about everything that happened during this groundbreaking yet terrifyingly familiar year: country wide protests over the continued murder of innocent black people at the hands of the police, government drone strikes and detaining kids in cages, the state of our environment worsening—and that’s not even addressing the pandemic or election. Killer Mike and El-P are here to scream from the rooftops that our current system of cutthroat capitalism and white supremacy is killing the planet and its inhabitants, and I’m glad that they’re using their platform to continue to sound the alarm.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “out of sight” or “ooh la la”

Your Hero Is Not Dead by Westerman | New Wave Revival and Indie Pop Released: June 5, 2020 Best Album For... Wanting Your Old School MTV

The cover of Westerman’s first proper album is mostly black and white, except for the title, which is scrawled out in lettering which spans the Crayola color spectrum. It’s an album that on the surface is cold and buttoned up, but when these choruses open up, the maximalist 80s power pop bursts like the bulbs of a neon sign. There’s a level of even-keeled cool and confidence in small moments on display here that makes this relatively new artist seem well beyond his years. Having seen him play at Rough Trade a few years ago (opening up for the stellar Puma Blue), the songwriting growth on display on this record is impressive. I’m only sad that there wasn’t an opportunity to have seen him play these new songs live.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Easy Money” or “Confirmation (SSBD)”

Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers | Indie Rock and Alternative Country Released: June 18, 2020

Best Album For... Burning Incense and Breaking Out a Ouija Board to Talk to The Ghost of Your Former Self

This is without a doubt, a career defining release for Phoebe. Taking everything she’s learned from writing, performing, and touring with the likes of Lucy Dacus and Julien Baker (in boygenius), and Conor Oberst (in Better Oblivion Community Center), Bridgers levels up to become the truly prolific singer-songwriter she’s been telling us she would always be. Bridgers has explained her personal definition of “a punisher” as a well meaning person who’s, “just talking to you and they don’t realize that your eyes are glazed over and you’re trying to escape.” Vital to understanding this album and its central message is that Phoebe finds herself caught between the contradiction of falling victim to this phenomenon while also doing it herself, especially if she ever met her musical idol, Elliott Smith. Punisher serves as a warning to her audience that if you focus too much on trying to find yourself through other people (via escaping through fandom, drugs, toxic relationships), you’ll always feel lost and dissatisfied, without the proper self awareness to ever quite know why.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Garden Song” or “ICU”

Women In Music Pt. III by HAIM | Rock, Pop, Folk, R&B Released: June 26, 2020

Best Album For... Preparing For A Better 2021, lol

With this album, HAIM skyrocketed to the #1 position of family bands that start with an “H.” Sorry, Hanson! But seriously, HAIM has outdone themselves on this one. If there was one album from this list that I would dub my personal AOTY, this would be it. You might wince at any tracklist longer than 10-12 songs these days (I know I usually do), but almost every song proves itself worthy, pulling at a different thread of my heart until there’s nothing left. Sunshine State Beach Pop? Check. Blues Tinged Dad Rock? Yup! Dive Bar Country? Mmhmm! No, wait, what’s that you say, Glitched-Out R&B? Yes, yes, and yes. You can have it all, sister! ‘Cause when you’re Haim, you’re family! ;) And these three “women in music” continue to prove that they are just about the best Assorted Pop Rocks(™) act in the world right now.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “I’ve Been Down” or “Don’t Wanna”

Lianne La Havas by Lianne La Havas | Neo-Soul and Indie Pop Released: July 17, 2020

Best Album For... Sipping Coffee and Journaling on a Weekend Morning

This album exudes a warm vulnerability, like a comforting hug we all needed this year. On her third album, Lianne La Havas makes the risky decision to self title it, a move that artists make when they believe that it is the piece of work that they most want most directly associated with their name. It’s one thing to name your first album after yourself if you can’t think of anything else at the time, but to make a self titled album in the middle of your career, it means that you are sure about having captured who you really are and who you want people to remember you as. “If I love myself, I know I can't be no one else,” La Havas admits on the standout track, “Paper Thin.” She knows that she will meet her destiny and reach self actualization, but only through self love. And finally, I cannot overstate how breathtaking La Havas’s voice comes across on this album. The strength and control on display in her vocal tone and vibrato is quite a spectacle.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Paper Thin” or “Sour Flower”

Limbo by Aminé | Hip-Hop and R&B Released: August 7, 2020

Best Album For... Trying and Get Over Kanye With

On Limbo, Aminé establishes himself as one of the torchbearers of soul-sampling, lyrics-driven hip-hop that still cares about storytelling, skits, and presenting vocals clearly. Kanye West, Drake, and J. Cole all paved the way for someone from the next generation like Aminé to keep the dream alive and avoid succumbing to the “feel good, don’t think” form of passive listening that mumble rap has made the standard for mainstream hip-hop.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Pressure In My Palms” or “My Reality”

Shore by Fleet Foxes | Folk and Indie Rock Released: September 22, 2020

Best Album For... Running Along The Beach With Your Arms Stretched Out

It was really kind of Robin Pecknold and co. to have released an album this triumphant, calming, and awe-inspiring during the year of our Lorde 2020. On behalf of myself and anyone else who suffers from Seasonal Affective Disorder, the SAD people of the world really needed this, man. And to anyone who is quick to judge these beard-o’s of being boring, you’re simply not using your ears properly. Yeah, you know those two things on either side of your head? Get the gunk out of them! That way you’ll hear the choir of angels with acoustic guitars who are here to guide us through quarantine and beyond.

Spotify Apple Music YouTube Pandora

Start With: “Can I Believe You” or “A Long Way Past The Past”

Listen to all of these albums together in our playlist.

4 notes · View notes