#I sometimes sing along to some angry heavy metal to get it out of my system. It usually helps ♡

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

number 2!!

So the reader is ftm, and Eddie is obsessed with his voice (he's a singer) his voice is like a destroy boys / destructo disk type.

And Eddie is head over heals when he sings. and even more when he gets m/n to moan.

and if you're comfortable, can you do a kinda heavy make out?

Thanks! (Drink water or I will make you :) )

Hi! Thanks for your patience while I worked on this! Hope you enjoy!

Eddie Munson x Trans Male Reader

CW: Smut adjacent, nothing explicit.

Send me request here! Currently writing for Eddie Munson. I write for a variety of reader inserts (male, female, gender neutral, POC too).

The more details you had to your request, the better it is for me. EX: “What about some fluff for Eddie after he’s had a long day?”

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

_______________________________________________________________

It’s not that Eddie’s angry if what he’s heard is true. In fact, he’d be fucking glad that there is another band in town. But it is nerve wracking. Will these newcomers somehow get faster traction than Corroded Coffin? Will they have to struggle just like they did? Part of Eddie hopes this band is not struggling as much as they did, but something like jealousy that Eddie wishes he doesn’t feel is the hardest part to get rid of. 

So on Wednesday, during the evening when Eddie normally would be trying to bury the woes, he travels to The Hideout. The trip is truly speared by the necessity of making sure the band gets paid. After the Tuesday gig, the manager asked if Eddie could come tomorrow to get the cash considering they’d done a bank drop earlier than they normally did but had to after a pretty hefty weekend of festivities. Eddie’s not sure what could’ve caused in a town like Hawkins but he wasn’t going to argue with the one revenue stream that was legal. 

Thus landing Eddie here, leaning into the corner of the bar, watching the band play. It’s not metal--decidedly not, but Eddie still finds his head bobbing along to the hefty and heavy hats of the drums as the singer screams into the microphone, “Is this all I’ve ever known?” 

It’s punk, a music genre Eddie knew of and listened to occasionally even if it wasn’t what he gravitated too. He’d hoped for this band's sake that soon the genre would have its moment. It felt timely, a reflection of the shit state of the world and demanding change. Where Eddie’s genre of choice was all about escaping and finding some fantastical way out of the misery, this bank charged the misery head on. 

“Now I’m crying in a bathroom stall,” the singer croons, a layered haircut bouncing along the side of their face. The ends are flipped out, framing the round face in a way that reads like a warning but also lures Eddie in. All he wants to do is to know the way the rosy cheeks feel under his palm. The voice is definitely singing, but it’s almost mocking as they speak sing some of the lyrics. Eddie’s spine shivers. 

Instantaneous as the thought of the sweaty cheeks comes Eddie shakes his head, trying to keep in mind that he is here to get paid from yesterday. But the lead singer’s voice invades Eddie’s brain. He has a feeling as the manager hands over bills and Eddie stuffs it into his pocket, that he’s going to be hanging around The Hideout a lot more often in the middle of the week. 

After three weeks straight of attending the Wednesday shows, the lead singer seems to approach Eddie head on, though Eddie’s been one to always linger at the bar. “You play on Tuesdays right?” 

Eddie nods. “Yeah. You all sound amazing by the way. Like really good.” It should come out with a bit more shame and a bit more reservation. But the praise is all to easy to give because each time Eddie hears the band, the more he falls in love with them. 

“Th-thanks. You and your band sound great too.”

“Would-would you like to go out sometime?” Eddie asks. “I’d like to get you know you more.” He’s being way more suave about this than he’d ever imagine himself to be. But maybe it’s the setting. It’s not school and he’s not dealing with someone that might even have some pre-conceived notion about him, or be trying to get a story to tell a friend about how they kissed, slept with, or even hung out with The Freak. It’s a bar--two social outcasts who are doing everything they can to let the world know the wrongs it’s committed. It’s just easier because here, there’s no real judgment. 

“I’d like that. What did you have in mind?”

It’s a simple question. And the response is less simple, less smooth, because if Eddie’s is honest he anticipated not getting this far. But even though he fumbles through his response, it lands him here, listening through the closed bathroom door as you hum from the otherside. You’d been working on some lyrics for a new song for a week now, singing the chorus of it ever and over throughout the trailer. Washing dishes--you were singing. Taking a quick smoke break--singing. 

The sink runs for almost a minute before the door handle creaks with the twist and it opens to reveal a goofy smile on Eddie’s face. “Were you listening to me piss?” you ask. 

“Listening to you sing, more specifically. The pee was just a byproduct.”

“Weirdo,” you laugh and step around him to head to his room. 

“It’s not my fault that you have a voice that calls out to me like a siren. Really it’s your fault.” 

He follows behind you to his room. You settle at his desk and Eddie falls onto the bed behind you. Where you’d normally have a response, your focus zeros in on the notebook in front of you. Eddie watches the way the line of your shoulders tense up. He pushes up, hands taking the meat of your shoulders into his palms. He wastes no time in kneading at them. 

“You’re thinking too hard about it.” Eddie trails his lips closer to your ear. They brush a kiss to shell and then down your neck.  “Let me help you relax.”

You sigh into the feeling of Eddie’s hands and lips at your neck and shoulders. The song did need to be done by the weekend for rehearsals. But you’d managed to get more done than you thought you would consider the difficulty that it was giving you earlier. Maybe it wouldn’t at all be a bad idea. “You’re lucky I like you,” you tease. 

Eddie’s hands slide down from your shoulders to your back, pressing right above your hips firmly. The action makes you groan--mostly involuntarily, as you hadn’t even noticed how much tension you’d been putting on your lower back. His fingers knead at your body and every moan that you let slip through your lips makes Eddie purr into your skin. 

If it weren’t for the back of the chair, you’re sure Eddie’s crotch would be pressed into your spine and you’d inevitably feel the growing erection. You only let it go for another minute or two before you reach back for his hands. He pauses at the light hold of your wrist. “Something wrong?”

You shake your head before pushing up from the chair. “No, just want you closer,” you whisper as you press into his chest. 

Eddie dips his head, capturing your lips in a kiss. His hold is gentle around your waist, fingers hardly pressing into the hot flesh under the sweatshirt. Your head grows a little dizzy with the feeling of his tender trace. The parting of your lips echoes in the room before you two meet again for another kiss. A grunt falls from Eddie as you push him down onto the bed and you land squarely on his lap, not hiding the sigh at the feeling of his erection pressing up into you. 

Though you two hadn’t gone as far to have sex just yet, only being a few months total into the relationship, it still pleased you to know you had this kind of effect on Eddie. He laughs as you rock your hips against his. “Don’t,” he hums. “I know you’re sick and demented and you get pleasure from making me puddy.”

You grin. “Which is why I do it.”

Eddie squeezes at your sides, his hands never go higher than your stomach and you’re thankful that he seems to be aware of how at times your chest causes you discomfort, but right now, you don’t mind his searing touch, so you guide Eddie’s hands up and when his fingers brush over your chest and nipples, your throat loses the battle of suppressing the moan. 

Eddie drops his head a little, listening to the sound of your pleasure rolling around his brain. “God I love that sound,” he whispers into your throat. His lips kiss square in the middle, tongue falling the pressing of his kiss. “I love it so fucking much.”

You release another one, fingers gripping at Eddie’s shoulders to keep you steady. “Please.”

It’s a plea, Eddie knows that. For what? Not even you can tell, but Eddie drops his hands to your thighs getting a tight grip and then tosses you into the pillows. His crawl up your body is slow and tortuous but when his hands finally settle against, holding your waist and his lips seal around yours, you hum at the weight of him pressing you into the mattress. 

“Thank you,” you exhale as Eddie moves his kisses down your jaw.

“Any time, baby,” he whispers back. His teeth trace the bone of your chin before he trails his tongue back down over your throat. Your moan comes out shaky. “Any fucking time.”

[bookersebastien]

the little mermaid!au with quynh as ariel and andy as her princess (if you imagined the other way around it's cool too, i just think i need to send an ask to make you write). ily don't hate me 🥰

(asjkdsa i could never hate you, but i love how you send this to make me write it, a loving push if you will. but yes andy is the princess quynh saves for this ficlet, enjoy my love 💕)

the ocean cannot have you

She remembered the nights she used to come to the surface as a child, giggling with her sisters and making up stories about the constellations, telling strange tales about the humans that roamed the seas in their ships. It was all jokes then, about how they so desperately wished to travel the ocean yet with their legs it was impossible; Quynh felt a kinship with them, though she instead wished for legs of her own to explore the lands she’s only heard rumors about. 

Tonight she made her way to the surface again, her insatiable curiosity as a child had only grown and she made time to observe humans any chance she could, even if that meant skipping out on a few hours sleep. The water was cool and dark around her, comforting yet sometimes it felt as if the currents were pulling her back, ghosts of drowned sailors trying desperately to keep her in the depths, but the fresh air once she broke the surface was well worth any sleep she might be missing. 

The stars were bright tonight, not a cloud in sight, a smattering of diamonds scattered across a sky as dark as the sea itself; a shining, yet distorted, reflection, a world she knew and the one she wanted to get to know. 

It was a rare sight to see ships, she’d spent many nights, and what little daytime hours she could sneak away, waiting and watching the horizon for even the slightest peek at passing boats, the sight of their sails rippling in the wind always tugging at her sense of adventure, begging to be set free upon the world, face tilted up at the sun and feet on the ground. 

So tonight she counted herself lucky when a grand ship floated into view, the deck lit up with the soft glow of lanterns, the sound of voices and music carrying across the calm waters, the high tempoed beat accompanied by shouting and the rousing stomping of feet. She gazed up in wonder as it grew closer, eyes transfixed by the way the humans moved along the deck with ease, feet allowing them to hop and twist along to the music, she could see the instruments being played, things with strings whose sounds were earthy and bright, resonating deeply in the crisp air.

Cautiously she slipped closer, every warning about humans gone from her mind as she moved, utterly bewitched by the sight, the sailors faces plastered with wide grins and red cheeks as drinks were passed around, everyone taking large swigs from the bottles, not a glass in sight. Her eyes darted over to the corner of the ship, where a strange pile of objects lay and just as she wanted to move closer, a sailor came running over and picked up the bundle in his arms, words too slurred to make out from where she clung to the ship. 

Propping them up along the bow, she had only a second to peruse through some theories before a booming sound shattered the joyful noise of the party. She dove under the water, eyes wide and fingers clutching at the wood of the ship so hard she felt it scrape at her fingertips, her breath coming in short gasps until she glanced up, seeing the sky lit up in dozens of different colors spraying across the sky, no longer dark but now bright and vibrant. She had to cover her mouth to stifle the giggle that rose from her throat, watching on with glee as the colors reflected back onto the water, blending together with the soft movement of the waves.

She peered back at the sailors, finding her excitement nearly matched as they cheered, holding up their drinks, that then sloshed onto the deck, but none of them seemed to care. It was a moment before she realized it wasn’t the display of colors they were cheering, but instead a person who emerged from amidst the group, joining in on the revelry and Quynh suddenly felt as if the earth had stopped moving. 

The sight of the women before her caused her heart to flutter in her chest, a noiseless gasp escaping her lips. She was magnificent. She moved amongst the sailors with such an easy familiarity, dressed in slim black pants and a white shirt, that she could almost be mistaken for one of them, but it was her posture that gave her away. Quynh recognized the straight line of her shoulders and the slightest raise of her chin, she wore no clothing that revealed it, but Quynh knew she had to be royalty. And looking like that, she’d be hard pressed to find someone who disagreed. 

Her movements commanded every bit of Quynh’s attention, soft yet purposeful strides that took her across the deck, swiping a bottle from the hand of a sailor who was swaying on his feet and without missing a beat, tilting her head back and belting along to the next song the musicians started up. 

However, it was her eyes that had Quynh frozen in awe, lips parting slightly as she stared at their brilliant blue, putting any blue sky to shame the way they sparkled in the warm light. They held so much life, it was almost as if the entire sea itself was condensed into them, like the depths of the ocean, beckoning her into them, and Quynh had no desire to fight it.

She watched as she ran to bow, face painted with unreserved happiness, laughing into the wind with arms spread wide. Her reverie cut short as an older man rushed over to her, careful to pull her back from the edge with a disapproving glance, whispering something that made her pull a face at him before laughing and moving to grab hold of the ropes tied to the edge of the ship. Right next to where Quynh was hiding.

“Princess.” He sighed when she didn’t respond. “Andromache,” the man pleaded, “please be more careful.”

“Nothing is going to happen Charles, I just like the feeling of the ocean breeze.” She lifted her head then again, eyes closing while she took a deep breath and exhaled with a wild smile on her lips.

“Your father will not be happy that you didn’t take a liking to the prince.” His voice was more firm, but he made no move to grab her from the railing.

“Love cannot be forced.”

“Well it’s not always love that makes a marriage, you know.”

She looked back at him now, an unreadable expression in her eyes, before casting her glance back out to the sea; it was like she could see the very edge of the earth from where she was perched. “For me it is.”

Before he could say anymore, a flash of lightning shot across the sky followed by an angry burst of thunder that shook the entire sky. The ship trembling under Quynh’s fingers. It was barely a second before the full force of the sudden storm manifested itself on top of them, churning the dark waters, swirling dangerously and crashing against the ship with loud thuds.

Rippling in the wind, the sails flickered and snapped against the air, the crew scrambling to take them down, a sudden burst of sobriety overcoming them at the impending danger. She could do little but watch as the rain burst forth from the heavens, dark clouds releasing a torrent upon them, so heavy she could barely see in front of her. Everyone packed down supplies and took their spots across the ship, looking every bit like hardened sailors, faces moments ago laughing and singing now held determined stares and clenched jaws.. 

Andromache herself moved to the wheel, face hardened with a fierce determination as she gripped it tight and held it as steady as she could, her shirt soaked through and dark hair matted against her pale skin, arms straining with the effort to keep the ship upright. She stood tall against the wind, the look in her eyes could almost command the storm had she so desired, but in the end she was no match as a huge swell cascaded over the deck, dragging them off the ship with deadly swiftness, the boat groaning as it slowly tipped over into the water. Their screams cut off by the sounds of their bodies hitting the surface.

Quynh was thrown off the ship as it fell, hands scrabbling uselessly against the wood before she found herself underwater, watching as pieces from the ship hit the water around her; jagged pieces of wood and rope tangled together. Everything moved in slow motion for a moment, the debris sinking slowly into the ocean depths while she saw the crew members drag themselves to the surface, clinging to the pieces that managed to stay afloat, some scrambling into a small lifeboat a little ways away from her. 

The princess was nowhere to be seen among those resurfacing, and the pained expressions on the sailors faces as their eyes scanned the water in the darkness confirmed her fear. She was still under.

Plunging under once again, she swam closer to where the ship was rapidly taking on water, suddenly reminded of an old ship wreck she’d explored years before. Everything had been taken over by kelps and corals, it was no longer a ship, it didn’t hold the same sense of anguish that swimming through this wreckage did; the way darkness curled around it, it felt more like a graveyard than a ship.

The lightning was still visible from this far down, it reflected off the occasional bottle or scrap of metal each time it struck, flashing in the peripherals of her vision. Her stomach twisted as she pushed away debris after debris, movements becoming frantic, her body protesting as she pushed herself faster and harder through the wreckage, desperation growing until she finally saw it. 

Bright white, the sail was hard to miss, rippling and dancing along the currents, it would almost be beautiful if it wasn’t the thing dragging the princess to her death. Her face was deathly pale, eyes closed while the fabric pulled at her body like the hands of a vengeful ghost, determined for others to share the same fate at the bottom of the ocean.

Urging herself further, she carefully unwraps the canvas from her limbs, heart skipping a beat as her fingers brush over the skin of her neck, smooth and ice cold to the touch. Taking a deep breath, she ignores how her body feels against her as she winds her arms around her waist, hand clutched to the back of her head, threading faintly through the black strands, speeding towards the pale light that followed the now retreating storm. 

Quynh wanted so badly to stop, to tell the princess not to worry, that she would be okay, but with the way she hung nearly lifeless in her arms she knew she had to keep going, praying silently to every god she could think of, hoping the ocean could show its mercy this time. 

Time passed in a blur and soon a beach came into view, the warm colors of the sand a welcome break in the blue gloom that had settled in the sky, and she nearly cried in relief at the sight, gritting her teeth and pushing herself faster, ignoring how the princess’s clothes were weighed down by the water, instead just clutching her tighter and hoping she was fast enough. 

The sand was smooth under her fingers as they gently released the princess to the ground, rolling her onto her back. She tucked her tail underneath her, hands hovering in the air over her face, unsure what to do now that they’d reached land, chest tightening as she watched for any signs of life, soon finding herself admiring the sharp angle of her cheekbones and the fullness of her lips, the color slowly coming back with the return of the sun, the clouds now chasing the horizon line, the storm nothing but a distant haze in the sky. 

Everything was quiet, save for the sound of waves gently lapping against the shore and the sound of Quynh’s blood pumping in her ears, so loud she couldn’t even be sure she was hearing the waves at all. 

A startled shout left her lips when she saw the faintest rise of her chest, pressing her ear quickly against her and letting out a loud breath. Her heartbeat was there, soft and slow, fighting it’s way back and Quynh felt like she could finally breathe, letting her own heartbeat slow in time with the princesses. And for the first time she finally realized how long it had been since she’d left her home, her family was probably worried, the morning sky a pale blue, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave, not as she watched the princess, her hand trailing slowly along her cheek, admiring the slight movement of her eyelashes at her touch.

She leaned in closer, her words barely there as the breeze seemed to steal them from her lips. 

“Andromache,” she tested the taste of her name on her lips, reveling in the way it felt on her tongue, like honey and home, powerful like the sea but warm like the sand beneath her; it was almost like it belonged in her mouth, fated to speak it in this life or the next.

And just like that, her eyelids fluttered open, a brilliant flash of blue before she blinked the salt from her eyes, chest heaving as she took her first, full deep breaths. Quynh wanted so badly to rush closer, let her know the extent of her joy that she was okay, but quickly remembered herself and instead used the moment to slip back into the water, already missing the feeling of the warm breeze on her skin, the cold of the ocean not as refreshing as it once was. Now it stung, a reminder of what she couldn’t have.

She watched from a good distance away as a group of sailors, many of them she recognized as members of the sinking ship, rushed down the beach, screaming and shouting as they enveloped the princess in blankets, pulling her carefully to her feet. 

Just as she was propped up, the princess’s gaze once again found the horizon and Quynh dared to dream it was her she was looking for, and as she swam back into the depths she couldn’t help but wish it was her eyes she was lost in instead.

[xmystophalesx]

Best New Metal Releases Weekend of February 18, 2022

This weekend was absolutely crazy with the amount of fantastic new releases in multiple genres. It seemed that every other album that I listened to was making a push for inclusion in the highlights of the weekend. So much so that I have the longest list of highlight albums that I have ever had, by almost double. At first, I thought I wasn’t being picky enough when it comes to my highlight list, so on subsequent listens I actually tried to force myself to find faults and it worked, but not as well as I thought it would. That all being said, I normally try to write a couple of sentences when talking about these highlights and put it together in a long form paragraph. I was already thinking that paragraph was already feeling too long during other posts I have made and with the amount of highlights for this week, a change is needed. Going to try a little of different format this week and see how it goes by just listing the highlights and writing a little about each one. So let’s get started.

Anachoret - Syndrom

I missed this one last week as I found the wrong Anachoret band on Spotify last weekend. A friend helped me find that mistake and I am incredibly glad he did. The raw pain and anger on this album is palpable. This doesn’t sound like an album that was created as much as it was something that this guy NEEDED to do.

Star One - Revel In Time

Was there any doubt that this album would make the highlight list this week? I am not a fan of everything that Arjen Anthony Lucassen does, but I love his work with the Star One project. It has been 12 years since the last Star One output and I was wondering if it had fallen by the wayside. Well, here is the new one and once again it is near the top of the heap when speaking about Progressive Metal. Stunningly good.

Schizophrenia - Recollections of the Insane

There have been some pretty good Thrash Metal albums so far this year, but apparently Schizophrenia has simply said “Hold my Beer”. Riffs for days and blistering leads with drumming that threatens to beat you into submission. I realize this is only the third week of February, but this is currently the BEST Thrash Metal album of the year so far. I will judge other Thrash albums against this one from now on. It REALLY is that good.

Mind Patrol - Milking the Masses

One good Thrash album deserves another and Mind Patrol deliver. If you prefer your Thrash not quite as angry or aggressive, then this album will be for you. A bit more on the Heavy/Speed Metal side of Thrash than the angry ultra aggressive style you get from Schizophrenia. Think of the difference between early Kreator and early Metallica and you will get what I’m talking about. Either way, this album is a fantastic listen and should not be missed.

Pure Wrath - Hymn To The Woeful Hearts

Every time you think you need a new Atmospheric/Melodic Black Metal album to get stuck in your playlist, it seems the universe complies and sends you one. This week it is courtesy of Pure Wrath. This is one of those albums that makes you think about it after you are done listening to it, and it isn’t too long before you feel the need to listen to it again. I am honestly listening to it for the fifth time as I am typing this up.

Absolva - Fire In The Sky

What do you need after some heavy thought provoking Black Metal? Some good time Heavy Metal with catchy choruses and songs that are instantly memorable. Absolva has you covered. This album is all about just having a good time and sometimes you just really need those kinds of albums.

Veonity - Elements of Power

It was very clear that Power Metal had an off year in 2021 and it is also quite clear that in 2022 the genre is back with a vengeance. The latest album from Veonity continues the onslaught with all out Power Metal goodness. You want very uptempo songs? You want happy sing along choruses? You want so much double bass the drummer will have trouble walking normally? You want leads that will melt your face? Veonity says ask and ye shall receive.

Re-Machined - Brain Dead

You want a better version of the band Accept? Look no further than Re-Machined. That Traditional Metal sound without sounding dated and just catchy as hell. I am dead serious when I say this band does Accept better than Accept can do Accept. If you listen to this album and it doesn’t make your head start to nod, at least a little, check your pulse, you may be dead.

Gorech - Antagonist

Enough of all that cheerful music with all those smiling people. It’s time to get back to Melodic Black Metal with Gorech. This band from Russia add some Symphonic elements into their brand of Melodic Black Metal, but use it sparingly and only to add that little bit of extra sound that gives the overall feel of the album a fuller and richer sound. This is all courtesy of the full time Cello player that is in the band. Great idea and a great album.

Immolation - Act of God

Immolation has been one of my favorite Death Metal bands for quite some time, and their new album is more of what makes them great. To a certain extent, you always know what you are going to get with a new Immolation album and I would argue that is one thing I really appreciate about the band. That being said, they have added slower tempos here and there throughout the album, but it is done in a way that it doesn’t take away from the brutality that Immolation is known for. With more listens, this album could easily become one of my favorite from their entire catalogue.

Nightrage - Abyss Rising

One genre that I feel I haven’t noticed a lot of this year is Melodic Death Metal. There have been a few, but overall it feels a bit lacking. Maybe that is the reason I really took to this new Nightrage album as hard as I did. They have definitely taken plenty of lessons of early 2000s Dark Tranquillity and In Flames. More of the latter but without losing the focus that In Flames ended up doing. It sounds dumb but I’m not exactly sure what it is about this album that keeps drawing me in, but it does just that.

Eleven highlighted albums are the most I have ever had by a long shot and if you look at the rest of the list and all the one star albums, you see how many quality releases there were this weekend. You guys will have to let me know if this new layout is better. I personally think it is slightly easier to read. Until next week and as always,

BANG THY HEAD!!!

Anachoret-Syndrom (Black)**

Asgaard-What If… (Gothic)

Anubiis-The Wall of Sacrifice (Black)*

Petroleum-Verbalia (Atmospheric Black)

Lunar Blood-Twilight Insurgency (Death)*

Vault-Trypanophobia (Death)

Lesson in Violence-The Thrashfall of Mankind (Thrash)*

Ard-Take up my Bones (Doom)*

Fumigation-Structural Extermination (Death)

Star One-Revel in Time (Progressive)**

Schizophrenia-Recollections of the Insane (Thrash)**

Embryonic Autopsy-Prophecies of the Conjoined (Death)

Hilbera-Mindu Galdua (Heavy Progressive)

The Last of Lucy-Moksha (Technical Progressive Death)*

Mind Patrol-Milking the Masses (Thrash/Heavy)**

Ty Morn-Last Villain Testament (Power)*

Gleichmacher-Kränkung Fall Verderben (Black)*

Manic Sinners-King of the Badlands (Hard Rock/Heavy)*

Pure Wrath-Hymn to the Woeful Hearts (Atmospheric Black)**

Boguslaw Balcerak’s Crylord-Human Heredity (Progressive)

Gutter Creek-Gutter Creek (Heavy)

Whales Don’t Fly-The Golden Sea (Heavy Progressive)*

Altair Metal-Ghosts ‘n Sinners (Traditional Heavy)

Grieve-Funeral (Black)

RazorRape-Fucked Beyond Recognition (Death/Grind)

Dawnrider-The Fourth Dawn (Doom)*

Absolva-Fire in the Sky (Heavy)**

Veonity-Elements of Power (Power)**

Paterikon-Doom of the Doomed (Doom)

Red Raven Chaos-Chaos to my Eyes (Melodic Death)

Re-Machined-Brain Dead (Heavy)**

Glasya-Attarghan (Symphonic Power)*

Gorech-Antagonist (Melodic Black)**

Immolation-Act of God (Death)**

Nightrage-Abyss Rising (Melodic Death)**

Cryptic Hatred-Nocturnal Sickness (Death)*

Death Was Looming-I Am… (Black/Death)*

Hydra-Beyond Life and Death (Doom)

Kuoleman Galleria-Armon Loppu (Melodic Black)*

Simplekind-Goodbye to Yesterday (Hard Rock)

Little Caesar-American Dream (Hard Rock)

Corpsegrinder-Corpsegrinder (Death/Thrash)*

All worthy of a listen if you like the genre

*= standout in that genre

**=best of the week regardless of genre

Pick of the Week was a difficult choice this week, as 11 highlighted albums may attest to, but I gave it to Schizophrenia-Recollections of the Insane with 5 super sleepy bulldogs out of 5.

[lockefanfic]

Callsign

War never changes.

There were times, though, when you found it difficult to believe the pilot of this particular plane could live up to such a fearsome lineage. You glance up at the closed canopy, and the name emblazoned there in gold paint, along with her infamous callsign: LT. E. JUNG - “KAR-”

“You want to tell my why the fuck the starboard nacelle is still acting up on shallow banks, Chief?”

Even before you turn to face the speaker, you knew who it would be - her voice was one you’d grown to know well over your past few years aboard the UNS Busan. It was a wonderful, musical voice with a hint of a countryside accent, and you knew personally from more than one drunken karaoke session in the pilots’ lounge that she had a great singing voice - unfortunately for you, she usually used that voice to whine about something on her plane.

You sigh once more before you turn and face her, steeling yourself for yet another confrontation.

“I’ve already told you, Lieutenant Jung - the readouts don’t display anything out of the ordinary. I’ve taken that thing apart and put it back together twice, and couldn’t find any issues in the parts or the way they go together. It’s all in your head.”

You turn away from her and continue to walk down the sleek fuselage of the fighter, your fingertips once again tracing its outer shell the same way an owner would touch a close pet. Your fingertips lightly graze its anti-radar, anti-cyberwarfare, anti-everything skin, as though apologizing for the way its pilot treated it.

“It’s all in your head, Lieutenant!” she corrects, following closely behind you, anger still prevalent in her tone. “All I’m asking for is for my goddamn bird to be able to bank without sounding like it’s got fucking spacelung.”

“I’ll get someone to give it another look, but I’m telling ya, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Another glare. If she weren’t so intensely beautiful at the same time, you’d think she was about to explode.

---

The F-121 Raptor III was a thing of beauty.

Its sleek lines and curves gave it the impression of a hawk or eagle, always crouched, muscles tensed, ready to leap into the sky at a moment’s notice to swoop in on its unsuspecting prey and snatch it up with its talons before flying off somewhere to feast. In years gone by, the previous versions of this warplane did just that, dancing in the endless blue of Earth’s sky, swooping in with guided missiles and rotary cannons instead of talons - every bit as dangerous as the birds of prey that were its namesake.

The Raptor III carried on the legacy of its forefathers - but the vast darkness of space was its playground now, and it did its hunting not with talons or missiles, but with focused energy weapons and kinetic projectile accelerators. Laser beams and gatling guns, in other words.

The theatre and weapons of war have changed, but some things never do. In some long forgotten text someone wiser than you once put perfect words to that sentiment: war; war never changes. 

In the early 21st century it was long thought that fighter pilots were on their last legs. Drones and AI were the future, they all said, and soon pilots would be reduced to sitting on their asses thousands of miles away from the battlefield, controlling their planes with joysticks and keyboards, looking for all intents and purposes like they were playing the fanciest (and most expensive) video game on Earth instead of remote piloting multibillion dollar aircraft and dropping very real, very destructive bombs on the other side of the planet.

But networked drones, it turned out, could be hacked. 

And so despite the thousands of years of collective human technology and the billions of credits that each of these modern day hawks took to make - they still needed pilots.

Gradually, as hackers and anti-drone cyberwarfare became more and more prevalent, pilots found themselves taking back to the skies. The human brain, afterall, couldn’t be hacked; at least, not yet. And so, a full two centuries after the first F-22 Raptor fired its weapons in anger, the newest version of it still needed a pilot. Without it, this magnificent creation, the very pinnacle of human technology and advancement, was only so much useless metal trash. Just as the knights of old turned domestic farm horses into fearsome weapons of war, so the knights of today turned these magnificent machines into instruments of destruction.

War never changes.

There were times, though, when you found it difficult to believe the pilot of this particular plane could live up to such a fearsome lineage. You glance up at the closed canopy, and the name emblazoned there in gold paint, along with her infamous callsign: LT. E. JUNG - “KAR-”

“You want to tell my why the fuck the starboard nacelle is still acting up on shallow banks, Chief?”

Even before you turn to face the speaker, you knew who it would be - her voice was one you’d grown to know well over your past few years aboard the UNS Busan. It was a wonderful, musical voice with a hint of a countryside accent, and you knew personally from more than one drunken karaoke session in the pilots’ lounge that she had a great singing voice - unfortunately for you, she usually used that voice to whine about something on her plane.

You sigh once more before you turn and face her, steeling yourself for yet another confrontation.

“I’ve already told you, Lieutenant Jung - the readouts don’t display anything out of the ordinary. I’ve taken that thing apart and put it back together twice, and couldn’t find any issues in the parts or the way they go together. It’s all in your head.”

You turn away from her and continue to walk down the sleek fuselage of the fighter, your fingertips once again tracing its outer shell the same way an owner would touch a close pet. Your fingertips lightly graze its anti-radar, anti-cyberwarfare, anti-everything skin, as though apologizing for the way its pilot treated it.

“It’s all in your head, Lieutenant!” she corrects, following closely behind you, anger still prevalent in her tone. “All I’m asking for is for my goddamn bird to be able to bank without sounding like it’s got fucking spacelung.”

“I’ll get someone to give it another look, but I’m telling ya, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Another glare. If she weren’t so intensely beautiful at the same time, you’d think she was about to explode.

“...Lieutenant,” you finish, turning away once more to follow the fuselage of the plane towards its rear. When you reach the rear of it you give it one last pat on its vectored thrust outtake.

“I swear to god, all you grease monkies do around here is dick around on your PlayStation 22s while I’m up there flying in a bucket of bolts-”

You turn immediately on your heel and face her.

“Don��t you dare call her a bucket of bolts… Lieutenant.”

Lieutenant Jung seethes - her nostrils flare, her eyes widen, and her cheeks puff up; but she still looked intensely adorable, like some anime girl from the ‘flix come to life. If she were trying to look intimidating or angry, she was failing. Either way, you’d had enough with her demands, and you begin to walk away towards the crew offices adjacent to the hangar.

“We’re not done here, Chief!” Lieutenant Jung shouts after you, the loud clang of her flight boots on the hangar deck telling you she was stomping her way behind you, “You’re gonna tell me what the fuck it’ll take to get my bird flying smoothly, or I swear to god I’ll take this straight to the CAG!”

“Go ahead,” you say with a dismissive wave behind you, “the CAG owes me from poker last week. I wonder what side he’ll take?”

Lieutenant Jung lets out a wordless, frustrated sound leave her throat as you push open the door to your office. She stomps in after you and shuts the door.

Then she turns, drops her flight helmet on the floor and grabs you by the face with both hands before crushing her lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

It was wrong on so many levels - she was a pilot and you a crew chief, she was an officer and you were enlisted, she was a spacer and you were born on Earth - but there was no denying the passion that existed between you. The intensity of it only flared up immediately after she flew CAP or went out on sortie, returning to the Busan all hopped up on pilot stimms and adrenaline. All she wanted after each flight was a shower, a beer, and your cock between her legs - and not necessarily in that order, and sometimes even at the same time.

Both of your pairs of hands work with a frenzied pace at each others’ clothes - her long, dainty fingers working the buttons of your overalls while your paws, still greasy with engine oil, work on the straps and buckles of her flight suit. It was a race she won more often than not; pilots obviously wore a ton more equipment on their persons than deck chiefs. And so while she had succeeded in getting the top half of your overalls off, you had just finished getting her flight rig undone.

She shakes off the heavy webbing from her shoulders, and she takes it upon herself to start to unzip the flightsuit zipper at her collarbone.

“You need to get faster at that, Chief.”

“You need to wear less, Eunji.”

The response is a smile at your use of her first name - a smile that is so dazzling it made the stars you’d spent so many hours staring at on the observation deck look pale by comparison. In your quieter moments, alone in bed together on those rare occasions when your off-duty hours matched, you’d mentioned once that you thought her callsign should be “Sunshine”; to match that thousand watt smile of hers. She’d giggled it off and said that pilots didn’t choose their callsign; it was given to them by other pilots. She’d said “Sunshine” sounded stupid, and not threatening or deadly the way pilot callsigns were supposed to be.

Nonetheless, when you gave her a small necklace with a small golden sun on it for her birthday, she wore it every day since, right next to her dog tags.

The necklace shone now in the artificial light of your office as she strips out of her flight suit, revealing a sweat soaked white tank top beneath that clung to her form like a second skin, and the delightful absence of a bra beneath it. Her skin, her perfect, vanilla skin, shines faintly with a sheen of her sweat, making her glisten. Her nipples poke invitingly from her chest, plain to see beneath the thin material of her tank top.

You can’t wait a moment later, and you give her a brief but passionate kiss before diving into her neck, planting kisses on the softness there, enjoying the taste of her sweat on your lips and tongue. She lets a soft, musical sound escape her lips - she had a great singing voice, but now, when the sounds escaping her are wordless gasps of lust and need, her voice sounded utterly sublime.

You reach a hand to her side, enjoying the feel of her tight, toned midsection before quickly reaching up her torso to fondle her left breast. You enjoy the feel of her soft mound in your hand and the rapidly hardening nipple poking through her tank top, and you smile against her neck even as her voice fills your ears with yet another wordless sound of pleasure.

You are content to spend a few more minutes playing with her body, enjoying the feel of her melting into your hands and mouth, but she is impatient, needy, still high from the adrenaline of her recent flight; she needed more, and needed it now.

She grasps the bottom of her tank top before pulling it over her head, leaving her naked from the waist up aside from the shiny metal of her dog tags and the gold of her sun pendant. The sun hangs a little lower than the dog tags, resting between her small, round breasts, and you smile at the symmetry of it.

“Stop staring and suck on them, Chief,” she says, with the same tone as if she were giving you an order.

“Right away, Lieutenant,” you answer with a mocking tone. She opens her mouth to answer, but the breath is stolen from her lungs when you bring both hands up to her naked breasts, squeezing both before capturing her left nipple in your lips. You involuntarily take a few steps forward, and soon you are pressing her against the closed door to your office. She sighs softly, wrapping her arms around your neck and pushing her chest out, standing on her tiptoes to make it easier on your bent back - all in an effort to give you better access to her wanton, needy body.

She loved it when you sucked on her breasts; nothing got her off quicker, got her more in the mood. She loved it when you drifted a hand between her legs, loved when you ate her out; but nothing got her as hot and bothered as when you played with those small, round, perfectly shaped mounds, and the perfect, tight little nipples atop each one.

“Smaller tits are more sensitive,” she’d told you once, and from the way she gasped and writhed and quivered with each lick and suck and nibble you placed on her breasts, you were inclined to believe her.

But you wanted more, wanted to put her in her place for the way she told you off in the hangar in front of your entire deck crew - even if you thought you did a pretty good job of standing up for yourself. She was so bratty sometimes, so needy, that it satisfied you to no end whenever you had your way with her behind closed doors. She couldn’t behind her rank when it came to sex.

You tear your mouth away from her chest, eliciting a groan of disappointment from the pilot. Her eyes glazed over and half-lidded with pleasure, she grasps you by the shoulder before turning you around and pushing you against the door to your office, resulting in a louder crash than you were expecting. A small part of you hoped no one happened to hear it, but a larger part of you couldn’t care less, not when Lieutenant Jung drops to her knees, peels your dirty overalls off your body, and gives your hard, stiff shaft a lick from base to tip.

It was such an erotic sight - the haughty, proud, cocky pilot on her knees with a cock on her lips - that it drove you insane each and every time you saw it. You reach down and run a hand through her hair, grazing her cheek. Her lips are busy planting soft kisses on your hard shaft, but her eyes tell you need to know about what she wanted.

“Fuck my face, Chief.”

Another soft kiss, another long, slow lick of your cock.

“...that’s an order.”

You were never one to defy orders - especially not ones like this. And so when the lieutenant takes the head of your aching, stiff shaft inbetween her lips and braces herself against you with her palms flat against your thighs, you prepare yourself to execute the order you are given.

Slowly at first, but soon building to a quick pace, you slide your shaft in and out of Lieutenant Jung’s needy mouth. Your hands grasp the back and side of the pilot’s head as you fuck her mouth, her tongue swirling devilishly all over your shaft with each entry and exit. 

“Mmmmffmfm,” she mumbles, the sound sending wonderful vibrations onto your cock as is slides in and out of her slick, hot mouth. 

You gasp, involuntarily, at the pleasure that is quickly building at your core, and you tear your eyes away from the delicious sight in front of you and try to focus on something, anything else to keep from cumming too soon. But the desire to retrieve some measure of revenge for the way she treated you outside closed doors, the way she was so bratty and demanding out in public - it drove you to fuck that mouth of hers a little harder, a litte rougher than you were expecting. There was some perverse satisfaction to be found in taking a mouth that was usually filled with complaints and filling it with cock.

Eunji got off on it too - on the roughness and disregard for her general needs that you showed during sex. Perhaps she got off on the reversal of power and her newfound helplessness. Maybe she just loved rough sex. Either way, you weren’t one to complain.

For long, beautiful minutes you stand there, thrusting your hard cock in and out of Lieutenant Jung Eunji’s mouth. After awhile she looks up at you with those large, round eyes of hers that were somehow so innocent and so mischievous all at the same time - and for you that was it, that was the end of your patience. You had to have her, had to have all of her.

You practically tear the girl’s needy mouth from your shaft, her lips still sucking tightly on your cock as she lets out a little whimper of disappointment. Her whimper soon turns into a wanton gasp, however, when you pull the previously haughty pilot from her knees on the floor and push her towards your desk.

Eunji knows what this is, knows what you intend to do, and the pilot quickly pulls down her flightsuit until it is past her round, full ass of hers and halfway down her thighs. 

Lieutenant Jung Eunji’s ass was on another level - round and full and tight, it was perhaps her most attractive feature, aside from that blindingly bright smile, of course. Her thick pilot’s flightsuit did little to hide her assets, and you caught yourself more than once watching, dumbfounded, as her wide-set hips swayed and swung when she walked away from you, those  round cheeks so full, so inviting, so perfectly shaped it all too often made slack-jawed fools out of you and every other man on the hangar deck.

She didn’t wear panties, either. Too hot and sweaty in the cockpit, she told you once, and they had a tendency to ride up into her nether regions every time she twisted and turned in her seat. The sight of that perfect little ass and wide hips of hers, naked now, uncovered by some flimsy piece of underwear, all sweaty and tight…

You want to be inside her, want to fill the needy little girl with all of you, but you manage to gather enough self control to tease her, make her beg for it. Her display of arrogance out in the hangar, the gall she had to call you out for her plane’s perceived problems - it made you want to retaliate.

You press yourself against her, your stiff shaft, still moist with her spit, pressing between the two large, full cheeks of her ass, your hands reaching out to caress those wide hips of hers. You give her a few small strokes, enjoying the feel of her perfect butt cradling each side of your cock.

“Do you want this, Lieutenant?” you ask, mockingly.

“Fuck yes, Chief.”

“I don’t know if I want to fuck you, given how much of an annoying little brat you’ve been.”

Eunji lets out a gasp of equal parts frustration and need.

“I.. fuck, Chief! Just put it in me.”

“No. Beg for it.”

“What?”

“Fucking beg for this cock, Lieutenant.”

Eunji moans, a sound that would have been soft and musical were it not loaded with lust and need.

“Mmmm fucking stick your cock in me, Chief. Fuck me with that cock. Fuck me and make me moan and make me cum all over your dick. Fuck me until you fill me with cum and-”

Eunji’s words are cut off as you thrust yourself inside her, her small body pressed forward against the desk. When she regains her breath she lets a long, drawn out moan of pleasure hiss from her lips as she adjusts to the full, stiff shaft that she has suddenly been filled with. Her pussy is soft and warm and slick and you want to let out a gasp of your own, but you hold back - you didn’t want to give her that satisfaction.

You start fucking her, with hard, smooth strokes, her drenched pussy having no problem accepting each thrust into her tight little body. Normally you would have slipped inside her slowly, given her time to adjust to you before slowly ramping up the speed and depth of your thrusts - but not today, not when she was acting the way she was. Not when she needed to be put into her place.

“Oh, fuck, fuck that feels good…. Oh fuck, you’re so fucking big inside me,” Eunji gasps, having found the breath to vocalise her pleasure now. Her hands search for something on the desk to grasp as an outlet for her pleasure, but she fails to find anything, and she settles for digging her fingernails as deeply as she could into the wooden surface.

Fucking the cocky pilot from behind on your desk would have been enough, and you would have gladly continued doing so until you filled her with the cum she so desperately wanted - but you wanted more, wanted to truly put her into her place.

You push on her sweaty back with an open palm until her torso is flat on the desk, and taking her right arm, you bend it behind her and hold it against her back by the wrist. You take her left arm with your own and, grasping it by the wrist, use it to pull the rest of her body back as you thrust forward with your cock.

It is a position of pure power and dominance, and you watch delightfully as Eunji squirms and writhes beneath you on the desk, helpless to do anything but take your cock as you fuck her hard over your desk. You worry slightly about hurting her, but the gasps and moans and filthy words that soon escape her mouth convince you she’s more than okay with the way she is being treated.

“Fuck yes, Chief… ohh, unggh! Fuck me, fuck me just like that… fuck me!”

“Do you like it, Lieutenant? You like being bent over a desk and fucked like this?” you spit, your words punctuated by the sound of your hips slapping against hers.

“Fuck… fuck yes! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me… Fuck me however you want. Fuck me like your personal slut!”

The sight of the haughty young lieutenant, so proud and cocky out on the deck, reduced to a writhing, hot, wet mess as she is bent over and fucked roughly - it is enough to drive you insane. The pleasure quickly building in your loins as you fuck the mewling woman worries you with the speed of its build up.

“Fuck… you’re so fucking… tight, Lieutenant. Fuck… you’re gonna make me fucking cum soon.”

“No!” Eunji hisses, surprising you. She squirms roughly, her strength taking you by surprise as she wriggles out of the hold you have on her body. She pushes back against you, and your shaft slips out of her, glistening and dripping with her juices.

Eunji practically rips her flightsuit off, tearing the one piece suit off her long, sweat-drenched legs, leaving her only in her white tank top, which she peels from her torso. She hops quickly onto the desk, spreading her legs and grasping your slick cock with her right hand and quite literally using it as a handle to pull you between her thighs.

“You’re going to fuck me, Chief, and you’re going to fuck me until I cum first,” she hisses, the intensity on her face hard to deny - her eyes are tense and filled with intent and need. There is an anger in those dark brown pools as well, as though she is upset with the possibility that she could be denied the release she so desperately craved.

She points the head of your shaft at her splayed, pink lips of her pussy, and with her hands on your hips she pulls you towards her until you fill her once more with your cock.

You find yourself almost immediately fighting a battle you weren’t sure you could win, thrusting in and out of Eunji’s slick, wet pussy as she lies back on the desk, her perfect, sweaty, almost naked form laid out for you, each thrust of your cock resulting in a delightful shock to her body, giving her round breasts and full thighs a soft bounce each time.

She has so quickly reversed who held the power - mere seconds before you were the one in control, fucking her submissive little body from behind as she begged and pleaded for it; now you were the one trying your best to hold on as she took what she needed from you.

Eunji reaches down between your bodies to quickly find her clit. She swiftly begins to swirl a fingertip around the sensitive bud - even as your cock slips and in and out of her body not so far away. You spend a few wonderful seconds watching as your slick, glistening cock fucks her needy, hot pussy - and her fingers, so close to her splayed pink lips, rubbing her tight bud. 

You raise your head from the wonderful sight to find that her eyes have been locked on yours the whole time. There is need and lust in those eyes, nothing more, nothing less.

Her mouth is frozen in an open “o” as she lets breathless gasps and moans escape her lips, her brow furrowed, her eyes pleading for more and more and more. Her fingertips increase their pace between her spread thighs, and her free hand claws at your wrist, her nails digging almost painfully into your skin. Inside her, she is tightening and pulsating around you, her slick walls wrapping themselves even tighter around your thrusting cock…

“Oh… oh fuck, I’m gonna... fucking cum,” she spits, her tone almost afraid, almost fearful of the amount of pleasure that was about to come. And you are thankful, because you were so deliciously close to that same peak yourself. Her fingers work quicker and quicker against her clit, swirling her slick juices around her sensitive bud as she comes closer and closer to the edge.

“Cum for me, Eunji,” you reply, all thought of rank cast aside - this was just two people pursuing pleasure, and nothing else mattered.

“I… Oh, I...oh!” Eunji gasps, and suddenly her body stiffens and quivers and shakes atop the table as her orgasm overtakes every inch of her being. The sight of her as she cums is the last straw for you - her pulsating, tightening pussy overcomes the last of your resistance and you follow Jung Eunji into the bliss of orgasm, driving yourself as deep as you can inside her before you release stream after thick stream of your thick, hot cum into her needy pussy.

Eunji draws you close as you cum, letting a soft, almost vulnerable moan escape her open mouth with each stream of semen that leaves your cock and splashes against her walls. She had a filthy mouth during sex, loved to tell you in vulgar detail what she wanted to do or wanted done to her. You’d heard her moan and gasp of lust and need plenty of times, but it is the soft, vulnerable little whimpers when you cum inside her that you treasure the most.

For long seconds you stay inside her as your respective orgasms wind down, both of your bodies recovering from the exertion with heavy breaths and gasps. Eventually you slip out of her, and a not insignificant stream of white semen drips from the splayed lips of her pussy.

Eunji watches the cum drip out of her with interest, biting her lip. She always loved it, always wanted you to cum inside her for this reason. And you loved watching her watch.

“Job well done, Chief,” she says, eyes still glued to the mess you made inside her as it drips onto your desk. 

A few minutes pass as you both clean up after yourselves. You retrieve a few tissues from your desk which Eunji uses to clean up the mess between her thighs as you both slowly put your uniforms back on. It was awkward sometimes, immediately after sex, as you both come back, reluctantly, to reality - but when she gives you a sheepish smile after zipping up her flight suit, you couldn’t help but smile back. 

She steps out into the hallway, back towards the deck, and as you close the door to your office you couldn’t help but notice how it looked a little darker, a little more dim without Jung Eunji’s presence. She was light, she was sunshine, and when she left the room she took her light with her.

You accompany her back to the hangar deck - her bunk was on the other side of the ship, and you needed to get back to work on her bird, anyway.

When you both reach her Raptor, your fingers reach out and graze its fuselage once more, like an owner returning to its pet after a day’s work. You could almost imagine it being happy to see you again.

“I’ll be back early tomorrow to check up on your work,” Lieutenant Jung says, with just a hint of that thousand watt smile on her lips. “Good work today, Chief.”

“Thanks. Have a good night, Sunshine.”

Her smile widens briefly, and while you hadn’t ever in your life had the pleasure of setting foot on Earth, you imagine that that was what it must have felt like to have a ray of sun set upon you. You let her walk away, cradling her pilot helmet under one arm. 

Her hips, and the perfectly sculpted cheeks of that ass of hers, sway alluringly with each step she takes. You knew for a fact your eyes weren’t the only ones glued onto the young pilot’s swaying butt as she walks the width of the hangar and disappears into one of the adjoining corridors.

With a smile, you glance back up at her plane, and the gold lettering near the canopy where her name and callsign are emblazoned. She never told you how or when she got her callsign -  only that it was the name of some well endowed celebrity from old Earth.

LT. E. JUNG - “KARDASHIAN.”

---

Author’s Note: Trying something new here with the sci-fi backstory. I think any fans of Battlestar Galactica (the remake) would know where I got the inspiration. I had the biggest crush on Boomer... ;)

[megalony]

After the show

This is a Harry Styles imagine that I hope everyone is going to enjoy, feedback is always appreciated.

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Masterlist

Summary: Harry and (Y/n) finish up a show and he helps her when she doesn’t feel very well.

Enjoy.

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

With a sigh of utter relief, (Y/n) moved her hand to rub at her neck where a particular muscle was beginning to tighten like it was on a string that was being tightened.

The heels of her shoes clicked against the metal stairs she descended down, trying to hurry and get herself to the dressing room and change before it was time to disappear from this venue and get some much needed sleep. She couldn't have been more thankful that there was no meet and greet after this particular concert, in fact, a lot of the shows on this tour didn't have a meet and greet after the show and it was a God-send to (Y/n). As much as the fans meant to her, the concerts always took every ounce of energy and reserves she had left and trying to keep up the act of pretending to be okay wouldn't be easy after a concert.

It took all (Y/n) had not to grimace and groan in discomfort when the tightening feeling in her neck spread up until it spiralled around her jaw that was becoming very tense as of late. The aching in her jaw felt like someone was hacking away at the bone with a hammer, chipping little pieces off and causing (Y/n) the most pain but also drawing that pain out to make it last.

The ending of the concert couldn't have come soon enough for her liking. Being out there performing to the crowds was something she knew she wanted to do for the rest of her life because it was everything (Y/n) ever wanted. But doing this for the rest of her life didn't seem like a possibility when finishing this current tour was turning into a difficult task in itself.

When (Y/n) turned a sharp left corner and headed into the dressing room backstage she just caught sight of Harry following her and she shivered at the sympathetic look she could see in his eyes.

The pair had been doing this joint tour for two months now and Harry could never quite seem to be able to overcome the sadness that washed through him whenever he saw the pain (Y/n) went through. When he saw her coming off stage looking like she was about to cry from pain was not something he thought he would ever have to witness. It made Harry sad that doing the job she loved gave her so much pain because if singing gave him half as much pain as it did her, he wouldn't know if it was truly worth it.

Harry had done many tours so he knew how much they could take out of a person. He knew it took a lot of energy to go on stage for two hours and dance and sing and be happy and try to interact with everyone. But he didn't know how (Y/n) did it when she had a muscle disease that made singing painful after a while.

(Y/n) had muscular dystrophy which affected the muscles and it made them weak and deteriorate and it affected her heart too. The type she had was affecting her upper back, neck and face first and it would spread in years to come. Knowing it spread very slowly over time didn't help (Y/n) when the disease had gone for her neck and face first which affected her career. She could still speak properly, she could sing, she could move her head and her neck and jaw perfectly. But the disease made her affected muscles tense and pained because they were growing weak and it meant that singing hurt after a while.

The rushes of adrenaline and the music and crowds didn't help her heart either but (Y/n) couldn't quit. Music was her life and performing was what she loved and was good at, in a few years time it might not be a possibility anymore and so she needed to make the most of it now whilst she still could.

"Are you okay?" Harry tried to keep his tone light as he entered the dressing room behind her before shutting the door so no one else would come in or hover around like the crew sometimes did.

He watched (Y/n) look around for some clothes to change into and he almost felt bad for asking but he couldn't help it. She looked like the pain was worse tonight and he wanted to make sure she was okay and see if there was anything he could do to help. They had been a couple for a few months now and it was very clear to Harry from the beginning that (Y/n) didn't like admitting when her condition was flaring up or starting to get her down. He had to guess when she was trying to hide it and wear her down until she finally talked to him and let him help any way he could.

"I'm okay, just want to get back to the hotel."

"You can say if you're in pain you know. Two and a half hours of that surely can't feel amazing." Harry changed his shirt before his eyes locked with (Y/n) who looked like she wanted to admit how much pain she was in but was deciding against it.

She had to put on a mask when on stage and force herself to smile whenever she felt any kind of pain because none of the public or the fans knew of her condition and she wanted it to stay that way. Plus it wouldn't be very nice if she was frowning or hissing in pain or looked angry like she wanted to leave when she was performing a concert.

"Everything feels like it's on fire and my heart is burning from the adrenaline." (Y/n) saw the look of sadness in Harry's eyes because he couldn't imagine how that must feel. He knew the feeling of his heartbeat pulsing in every vein and artery in his body but that didn't hurt, it just made him feel alive. For (Y/n) it felt like each beat of her heart was becoming harder to do and it felt like she was going to be sick or faint.

(Y/n) held her hand out for Harry so they could go back to the tour bus, the sooner she had her medication and got back to the hotel, the better she would feel.

As they headed back out into the corridor and started to head down to get out into the car park, they felt the crew following them. There was their tour manager, a few bodyguards for precaution and a few other crew who had to tag along. It always felt strange to both singers when they were followed by an entourage wherever they went, it didn't seem right when they had both grown up as part of normal society where bodyguards had never been needed up until they became noticed by the world. Not to say they weren't thankful for the crew, it was just strange, even now after years of going through these tours.

When they got down to the last corridor that led out into the car park, Harry turned to look at (Y/n) when she started to slow down

"What's wrong?" Harry leaned his head closer to her own so he could whisper the words in her ear without anyone else listening in but he felt his anxiety growing when (Y/n) looked like she was about to pass out or fall asleep standing up.

A sudden flurry of white spots danced across (Y/n)'s vision when she felt her heart shuddering in her chest, a familiar feeling signalling that the impulses in her heart weren't working properly. Her body gave way for a split second as her mind felt like it had some sort of glitch, as if she was about to pass out but stopped herself at the last second.

Her knees caved in and her head was suddenly too heavy for her to hold up causing her head to snap back which felt like her neck had broken when the muscles started to scream. Her breathing stuttered as a burst of agony flooded through her whole body.

Turning his head so quickly he almost got whiplash, Harry stumbled to a stop when he felt (Y/n) crumble beside him. He watched as her head fell back and her eyes fluttered like she had blacked out for only one second. Harry let go of her hand so he could wrap his arms around her to stop her from falling to the ground. (Y/n) managed to move her shaking hands to grab onto Harry's arms for support and she tried to force her knees to straighten out when Harry gently pulled her up so she was standing again.

He took most of her weight before moving her backwards until she was leaning up against the wall. He turned her head so she was looking up at him, noticing it took her a few seconds to focus her eyes on him.

"(Y/n), you with me?" His tone was concerned yet sweet like it was dipped in honey. He leaned his head down a little due to the height difference so he could look at her properly, brushing his thumb across her cheek as she managed to nod, lips twitching from the pain the movement caused in her neck.

"J-just my heart." She responded, breathing through the words as Harry watched her come back to Earth rather quickly. In any other situation Harry would have commented on how she spoke like that was a normal thing, but then again this was sort of a normal occurrence for her.

Harry knew he needed to get her back on the tour bus so she could get her meds and get her back to the hotel quickly.

"Do you think you can walk, we need to get you to the bus."

(Y/n) took a deep breath before nodding and she pressed her head into Harry's shoulder when he took her weight again, pulling her from the wall and into his chest. His arm secured around her waist keeping her glued to his side as he guided her down the corridor with everyone else following behind, unsure what was happening.

Harry opened the door in front of them to get them outside, noticing some of the production crew were already outside and waiting nearby or already on the tour bus. They all looked over at the pair with rather confusing looks when they noticed how unwell (Y/n) looked. Harry glanced wearily at the crowds that were beginning to flood around them outside, clearly wanting an autograph or to have a chance to meet them both which clearly wasn't going to be an option tonight. He felt a surge of relief when the crew seemed to understand something was wrong and they made sure there was a barrier so none of the fans could get close to the tour bus.

It didn't take them long to get to the tour bus and after taking it slow up the steps to get inside, Harry kept his arms tightly around (Y/n) as he guided her down the bus. The crew on the bus started to crowd around them, asking if they needed anything or what was wrong and it made Harry want to snap. Surely they knew (Y/n) wasn't very well but Harry and the crew were the only ones who knew of (Y/n)'s condition so it wasn't as if they hadn't seen her in a similar state to this before.

"It's alright, let's just get back to the hotel." Harry stated, making sure to keep any annoyance out of his voice because he didn't want to be rude.

He sat down with (Y/n) at the seats at the very back of the bus, watching with sad eyes when she started to subtally shake which made him shake when she wrapped her arms around him like she was trying to disappear.

Their eyes met when he held her hands and moved them to rest in her lap, his eyes telling her that it was alright as he kissed her temple. Harry's eyes told everyone else on the bus to leave (Y/n) alone and to stop pestering her with their persistent questions of 'are you alright' and 'what can I do'. He knew what he was doing and them fussing around her wasn't going to make things better because they weren't doing anything to help, they were only making her anxious and overwhelmed.

He watched (Y/n) in slight pain as she curled up in the seat against the window, tears silently falling down her face as she watched where Harry was going.

The first time Harry had witnessed (Y/n) be in pain from her irregular heartbeats or when she was in pain from her tense, sore muscles he didn't know what to do to help. But now he had come to know which medications she was on and what they did and he tried to figure out different methods and things to do that could help alleviate her symptoms and her pain.

Walking over to the seats that held all of the bags, Harry rummaged around, grabbing the small black bag with the rough exterior material that scratched at the skin. He unzipped it and grabbed one of the many medication bottles before he grabbed a bottle of water and an ice pack from the cooling bag beside him.

Harry sat back down beside (Y/n) and placed the bottled water on the table before he undid the medication bottle and took out two beta-blockers which would help calm down (Y/n)'s heart impulses and muscles. (Y/n) gratefully took the tablets from him and took them with a large gulp of water before she wiped at her eyes with her sleeve to rid her face of the tears she had started to shed.

(Y/n)'s eyes darted up to look at Harry when she felt a sudden shock of cold on her neck. He had his right arm resting o the back of the seat they were leaning against as his left hand was holding the ice pack to her neck to try and calm down the tense muscle. It was a ritual for (Y/n) to grab an ice pack after every show and sit with it plastered to her neck for the ride back to whatever hotel they were staying at. She hardly went anywhere without the cooling pack that was a medication in itself to relieve the pain she always seemed to be getting now as medication simply wasn't doing enough for her weakened muscles.

Leaning over (Y/n) rested her head on Harry's chest just under his chin, relaxing against him when he said nothing in protest against her actions. His hand keeping the ice pack pressed to her neck as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

Neither of them could wait until they got back to the hotel and got some peace and quiet.

[nerv0usm3chanic]

CORRUPTION

Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4

--

((NOTE - This is an introduction to a new PERMANENT AU feature exclusive to nerv0usm3chanic. Please see further, generalized information regarding this AU here: X

Be advised that each of these chapters are VERY LONG. The full content will be tucked under a read more after a brief introduction segment.

DO NOT REBLOG.))

--

“Arthur...have you been feeling okay?” Vivi asked, taking a seat beside Arthur as he focused on the project before him. He’d been fiddling with robotics for a while just as a hobby, but given how long and hard he’d been working, it looked like Arthur was working on an even more vital project than any before. He was clumsy with his right hand as he set down a pair of tweezers and looked at Vivi with tired eyes and a weak smile.

“I’ve been better, Vivi.” Arthur sighed tiredly. He’d been back from the hospital for nearly a month now - two and a half months since he’d lost his arm - and the blond spent nearly every day working on an intense project. “It’s...not too easy adjusting to not having something...” Arthur admitted quietly, staring at the metal bones before him.

“Oh, jinx! I’m sorry, Artie, I-I didn’t mean-!” Vivi started, backpedaling in her sentence before Arthur reached out with his right hand and touched her shoulder. He smiled at her softly, assuring her that it was alright.

“N-no, it’s okay, Vivi. You know it’s not your fault.” Arthur said gently, reassuring Vivi that what had happened was in the past and really there wasn’t anything she could have done. Except maybe not make them go to the cave in the first place. But Arthur refused to entertain that dark train of thought...it might wake him up. “It was just...a lot of crazy coincidences.” That was something he told himself over and over, day in and day out. It helped him feel better about the absence on his left side.

“Hmmm...well...are-are things going better?” She asked, tucking her hair behind her ears, “Is it easier with your cousin and uncle taking care of things?”

“Hmm...uh, well...to a degree.” Arthur answered, turning back to his project and carefully picking up the tweezers. Even after weeks of practice, Arthur still found it hard to adjust to being right-handed...among other things. “Lucan takes care of the front of the shop and does some fixing and Uncle Lance still runs the shop as normal. I help out with checking numbers and making sure bills and such get paid. So, I’m still working. It keeps me busy when I’m not sleeping or working on this thing.”

“So this is...” the blue-hared woman started, looking at the complex assemblage of metal rods, hinges, and wires, along with a lot of other things Vivi didn’t know the particular names of.

“Yep.” Arthur nodded, using the tweezers to carefully arrange a pattern of wires to eventually lead to sensors in one of the digits. He still had a lot of work to do before he was finished with his prosthetic arm.

--

“Okay um, yeah, um hold it there, for just a second.” Arthur directed as his doctor carefully positioned the first rendition of the blond’s new left arm. Six months had passed and this was going to be the first attempt to connect the false appendage to the specialized port. In that time, Arthur had spent so much time studying and using the nearby university resources, he might as well have earned an honorary degree with what he was attempting. Arthur knew this was going to hurt and he needed his cousin and uncle for support. The pale fingers of his right hand were grasping tight to Lance’s rough gloved hand in worried anticipation.

“Just take yer time, lad.” Lance replied in the softest version of his gruff voice. He wasn’t the most comforting of individuals, but the short-statured Kingsmen was practically Arthur’s parent with how much time he’d put into raising the boy. Arthur wouldn’t have asked anyone else to be there for emotional support. “An’ don’ do anything ye don’ feel ready fer.”

“We ken always do this later if ye need ta iron out some wrinkles.” Lucan offered, giving Arthur a pat on his whole shoulder. As his cousin, it was expected that Lucan would be somewhat close to Arthur. But seeing as the two had bonded so much more closely since Lucan moved to Tempo, the younger Kingsmen might as well have been brothers. All three men looked to the doctor preparing to attach the false arm.

“I wish I could numb the pain for you, Arthur.” He murmured gently, “But this is a prototype and...we need to gauge how well the adaptor works to communicate between the wires and nerves...” The arm had been through so many tests and iterations with the help of the local university and waiting for more tests wasn’t going to work anymore.

The doctor needed results for his paper. The university needed results to keep funding the specialist and Arthur. Arthur needed results...in the form of a new left arm. The chance that there would even be any kind of re-use of his left arm again was enough to motivate Arthur for this improvement.

“I’m ready...just...be careful.” Arthur nodded, gripping his uncle’s hand tighter as the prosthetic’s port approached the adaptor his doctor had installed two months earlier. There was that ominous tingle in the back of his mind, a dark chuckle rising up from the depths as the separated parts got closer. Amber eyes widened in fear as he noticed a small flux of energy and a tiny zap between the ports now just millimeters apart.

“W-wai-!” But he was too late. A pained scream ripped free from him, lightning practically erupting around Arthur’s arm port as everyone was pushed from the blond. Arthur would wake sometime later in a hospital bed, his new arm heavy and limp. He would cry out in angered frustration, causing everyone to leave the room as he pitched anything within reach at those nearby.

He had failed...again! There was nothing this metal arm could do but sit there! It was an arm-shaped paperweight...it was just good for looking like an arm...until he made a metal finger twitch.

--

“Alright, you ready to test out that coordination, Artie?” Lewis called over the short distance between him and Arthur while Vivi and Mystery watched eagerly. Arthur was going to be practicing more refined movement with his arm, this time it was catching and throwing a ball. A simple task for many, but Arthur had been so focused on preparing his arm, working on it days and nights for months. Vivi was proud to see Arthur regaining himself; the use of his left arm being the most important thing she’s noticed.

“I’m ready!” Arthur called back, flexing his robotic hand to prepare it to catch the baseball. He’s been working on getting back to being left-handed, but had found tasks much easier to accomplish with developed skill in using both his hands. Forced ambidexrty was interesting to accomplish - and he was exceedingly proud of his abilities - but now the point was to get his false arm’s motions up to snuff.

“He’s improved so much!” Vivi says to Mystery as she watches Lewis pitch the ball gently. “I was really worried about him for a while.”

“Yeah...it was a little shaky for a while there, wasn’t it?” Mystery added, internally still angry at himself for using such drastic action. It’s been a solid 11 months since then and still-! Mystery nearly bolted and then forced himself to sit back down with a huff; he was doing his best to contain the canine urge to chase the ball. The first few volleys back and forth were fine, no trouble at all for Arthur. Mystery felt a sudden strange energy in the air as Arthur caught the ball again and perked up as he smelt a strange singe.

“That had some real pep!” Lewis laughed as he ran to catch the ball and prepared to throw it back. He was so glad to see Arthur seemingly back to himself once more. For a while, Arthur had become a near-complete hermit, forgoing any kind of social engagement to get his arm made.

Arthur himself felt almost too relieved to be able to use his arm so easily. Physical therapy with the doctors was tough and mechanical therapy with the robotic majors at the local university was a nightmare...but it was worth it to have a functional arm once again. And the grant money to develop the appendage further wasn’t half-bad either. It was exciting, thrilling even! He almost could feel the electric excitement as he-oh...oh no. Arthur caught the ball and paused his adrenaline rush as he sees electricity dance over his arm again and hears the sizzle of the tennis ball’s singing fibers in his hand. Quickly he passed the ball to his other hand.

“Ah- uh, I think th-that’s enough for now. I think the arm’s getting a little overworked. Ah, um, st-static and all that!” He gives an awkward grin to ease Vivi and Lewis’s sudden confusion. “I’m ah, g-gonna go inside and discharge.” Arthur gave an awkward laugh and scurried to get inside the mechanics shop again, his trio of friends were left worried and confused.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” Arthur whispered in a hiss, glaring at his hand as a ribbon of green electricity coiled over the metal. The dark voice in his head merely chuckled as Arthur went to a specialized discharging station in his room.

‘I was bored. You live a very dull life, Kingsmen.’ The voice hummed idly, ‘If you would just allow me to take over-’

“Never! Just-just leave already!” Arthur murmured, sliding into his room and heading for the discharging rod. On the surface, it just let off static electricity. On the inside, there was a battery hooked up and storing the electricity Arthur would often unwillingly produce. He used the power to run a lamp attached to his desk.

‘If I could, I might...but at this moment, I can’t. So I will just bide my time, boy. I am very patient~. And when your friends inevitably abandon you for your behavior~.’ Arthur frowned, furious that he had to deal with this thing all the time. But what could he do? Exorcising a spirit was one thing, but he was sure this being wouldn’t let go after a few holy words, a splash of water, and some special tags.

Arthur might need to find someone who can offer more specialized help than a priest.

--

Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4

[moonchildsaurora]

The Hercules of a Weapons Master/Mechanic

»»—— Crew Member #8 of Space Pirates ATEEZ ——««

all aboard The Perihelion, welcome to the co-pilot’s log system! here you’ll be able to access the crew’s profiles should you wish to read about their journeys: (no nsfw content)

[CAPTAIN] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

“so you want me…to break them? As in literally or figuratively?”  

is the baby of the crew but actually the eldest in his own family

epitome of ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’. With a well-grounded and balanced mindset along with a great sense of independence and self-discipline

is a native Draerair born and raised on Corebos, a relatively peaceful planet where several clans co-exist across the different regions specialising in agricultural and metal work

[database file: Draerairs are shape-shifters by ancestral blood, however not every individual are born with the ability to shift into their bestial forms (though they retain some of their inhumane strength and traits). Each clan’s lineage has a specific beast they’re associated with. Individuals with the ability to shift can do so at will, be it partially or fully]

Jongho and his family are descendants of the Silverclaw clan, their associated beast is that of a bear. He’s the only one currently in his family that was born with the shifters ability, his grandmother was the previous individual with the ability

in his human form his hair is dark like the coals in his father’s workshop, honey tanned skin from hours of work under the sun and a gentle shade of hazel for eyes        

when partially shifted he gains a good 2 and half feet in height as bones and muscle mass expands, nails are elongated into claws, canines sharpened and eyes become more of an amber gold colour. Faint markings appear around his eyes as well as down his arms. Fur of black-brown shade emerge the closer he shifts into his beastial form

his strength is renowned throughout his clan, at the tender age of 5 he shocked the souls out of his parents after they found that he’s managed to bend the metal bars of his youngling playpen simply to get out so he could go on a mini adventure to find an afternoon snack

“oh sweet Zeus, we’ve lost the baby!”

they found out very quickly that he particularly liked snacking on fruits especially apples and sometimes would have to hide extras from him, otherwise they’d have none left

Jongho had always looked up to his father and his speciality with weapons forging. During his youngling years he’d be allowed to sit at a safe distance and observe, wide eyes with wonder when he looked at his father welding ambthanite metal together or carving a blade from crystalline emeyl

it was no surprise that Jongho followed in his footsteps and begun his apprenticeship by his 12th summer, his immense strength was a sure advantage when it came to being efficient and how easily some techniques were mastered 

“who needs a machine when you can just bend it with your bare hands?”

his younger siblings adored watching their older brother (it felt like déjà vu) build anything as small as a hunter’s dagger to fixing up parts of visiting ships. It’s also an extra treat for them whenever Jongho would crush fruity snacks single-handedly, because he loves hearing their joyous laughter and applause

The Perihelion had actually made a supply stop within the region that Jongho resided in to trade for food and energy cells. Under the recommendation from some of the market farmers, the crew were led to the Chois’ smithing workshop to fix up minor damages on the ship’s hull and to assess if any defence upgrades were available to be installed on such short notice  

“…I can’t tell if that’s Hercules or a beast hammering away in there”

the expressions on half the crew’s faces were priceless once they met Jongho, right after they saw him heave a 7 tonne slab of frerhil iron [database file: a common metal for heavy duty spears used by barbarians & warmasters] on to the bench without batting an eyelid

“you sure are one strong baby!”

“MINGI SHUT YO-“

“oh don’t worry, I get that. A lot”

and if it wasn’t for the overly toothy smile that Jongho sent their way that made the crew slightly nervous, it would’ve been the way his muscles flexed tauntingly as he gripped Mingi’s hand in a handshake during introductions Seonghwa nearly sweated out his worries just wearily watching that exchange

“I think what our lovely tech engineer meant was that you have a bab-ahh youthful face, yeah, youthful appearance! Not that you’re a baby at age”

“of course, I just passed my 15th summer not too long ago actually. So what can I do for you lot today?”

Hongjoong didn’t even try to hide how impressed he already was, he hadn’t come across too many shifters before and knew very little of their nature and abilities so this was great insight for him. He couldn’t care less with Wooyoung snickering in the background when his chest puffed out proudly after Jongho complimented his ship

Jongho was genuinely amazed that The Perihelion had managed to hold out until now (after hearing brief stories as to how the damages were acquired), without even having a ship’s mechanic for regular maintenance. His awe elevated when Hongjoong told him that he, a self-taught, was the one who worked and spruced the ship up from its near-scrap stage

Jongho’s father made similar comments when he came round to check up on his son and the workshop, even helping a bit with fitting in newer protective panels around the engines and windows. It wasn’t anything fancy, but Jongho did promise should the crew make another stop by in the future he’d have some better upgrades for them

it wouldn’t be till nearly 4 years later where their paths would cross once again in the city of Acreon. Jongho having made the decision to leave his home planet to start living life a little more, though he’d still pick up smithing-mechanic work along the way of his travels. Probably not the most ideal way to reunite with the crew, especially amidst a bar brawl of all things    

having not fought in his entire life (unless you count sand wrestling during his youngling days), Jongho was running entirely on pure adrenaline when he recognised Hongjoong and swiftly grabbed him out of the way – seconds before a stool came smashing down

“what th-OH hey! It’s you!”

the crew witnessed Jongho partially shift that time, almost bowling the entire crowd over with his solid mass to get Wooyoung and San out of the fray. Throwing them over his shoulders and bolting with the rest out the back door of the bar (Wooyoung’s shrieking could be heard down the street)

“thank you for that, really, we owe you one”

“do your evenings out usually end up like this? Never would’ve pinned you lot as the type to throw punches at a bar”

“listen here, that slimy loathsome spawn of a troll deserved it for inappropriate treatment of the dancer”

well at least Jongho couldn’t fault them for having good morals and standing up for it, though he wouldn’t be able to live it down come the following day when news spread throughout the city of ‘a beast from the nether realms’ being involved in the incident at The Illusion he dreaded getting an earful from his parents should his family ever catch wind of the news

Hongjoong invited him to tag along with the crew for the rest of their time in Acreon (highkey hoping this time Jongho would stick around more permanently), which allowed him time to evaluate the state of The Perihelion since it’s been a long while

Jongho officially became a member of the crew after he convinced Hongjoong to head over to Vostrilles, a place he knew had supplies of the latest ship weaponry and mechanical resources, and stuck by long enough to help with the upgrades that the crew pretty much adopted him into their wholesome chaotic family

he grew to thoroughly enjoy their company and now have the luxury of being doted on by his older sibling figures (he’d still deck anyone who dares call him a baby with the exception of mumma Seonghwa)

“watch your language! There are children on board”

the crew realised just how much they needed a proper weapon smith/mechanic on board after a few close-calls with a rival crews – Jongho’s newly installed point-defence canons had given the ship an advantage on its durability and defensive structure that it could withstand enemy attacks enough to make an escape

no one would openly admit that they cannot stay angry at Jongho for longer than 2 minutes, even when he was being in an argumentative mood

not to mention that everyone is extremely protective of their baby bro ��

ends up being closest to Mingi, Wooyoung and Yeosang, the latter having a calming presence when he needs some downtime and he appreciates the other chaotic duo when they join in singing random duets with him (a habit he does whenever he’s in his workshop)

recently Jongho found some quality metal paint, he pitched the idea of giving The Perihelion a proper makeover – Hongjoong and others could customise the colour palette they’d like and finally give the ship the glo-up she deserves (no one noticed Yeosang’s little character doodles he so sneakily painted at random spots/corners of the ship hehet)              

(moodboard made with love, by @s1ardusk​ ♡)

[fall-to-rise-98]

Divergent, Eric+OC

Kingdom Fall:  Amity Reject

Before choosing Dauntless at her choosing ceremony and becoming a true Dauntless member Amity-born Anna never felt accepted in her faction, but she took a leap of faith and learned fast how to make it through initiation. She took her aptitude test and got Divergent though, having shown an affinity for three other factions: Abnegation, Erudite, and Candor. Peace was something she wasn’t accustom to and she had been known to become violent at times, so that ruled out Amity. Dauntless was for the brave and courageous, which she could manage. Although some fears she thought seemed permanently etched onto her soul. Before choosing Dauntless Anna had also never known true love, then she met Eric. The cold, stone-faced leader of the Dauntless initiates. They butted heads from the moment they met with Anna’s sarcastic, cynical personality and his quick temper. It took some time for Anna to break through Eric’s metal armor and as dangerous as she knew it was to be near him, her being Divergent, it excited her all the same. Her life was at risk being around Eric, but this was what she wanted when she left behind Amity: the chance to finally be free. If she had to die eventually, just for the sweet taste of freedom, then she was determined to go out with a bang. 

A/N: Each post for this story may be short or long, depending on how much creative juice I can squeeze out. Each post may or may not be in order, just enjoy the ride. I will update as often as I can, since I am also writing another fanfic for Little Vampire on my main fanfiction account here  ⎯ https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13791424/1/Sweet-But-Psycho. Also, trigger warnings abound: vulgar language, physical abuse, mental abuse, adult themes (y’all know what that means), mentions of suicide (won’t go into detail), death, and of course  ⎯ violence. 

The Choosing Ceremony: Part 1

Raise Hell

Bored. 

Bored. 

Bored. 

Anna felt her eyelids trying to shut of their own accord, thought she chanted in her mind: stay awake, stay awake. 

Stay, a-fucking-wake. 

She wasn’t quite comfortable though, the position she was in. Wedged between her step-father (abusive asshole) and her mother (the lamb in the lion’s den) in a row of stiff, plastic chairs. Surrounded by smiling, juiced-up crowd of other Amity citizens. 

Fools, the lot of them. 

Hopped up on happy serum. Everyone always gets a dose of the sickly sweet, bright pink liquid once a week. It was a potent potion made to “keep the sins of anger at bay,” which Anna found absolutely ridiculous. 

It felt like a violation of free will. 

She happened to like the idea of free will. It was something she longed for and had wanted for many years. Especially when her mother Kimberly decided she wanted to settle down with the man who tormented them both on a daily basis, which Anna could not stand. At all. 

Sometimes she would lay in her bed at night, unable to sleep and covered in bruises, feeling sorry for her mother. Sometimes Anna thought her mother would have been better off growing a spine, just like she did. 

She didn’t want to accept the abuse any longer, especially after the incident almost a year ago on her sixteenth birthday. It was the most terrifying moment she ever experienced in her life. 

The night was rainy, but it wasn’t noiseless. She could hear the faint melody of the Amity sector. The shrill singing of small children, the merry laughter of adults. It was all outside of her house though. There was a different kind of noise inside her home, where happiness and joy seemed a million miles away. 

It was the sound of silence, a calm before the storm. The atmosphere in the house was thick and could not be cut so easily with a knife. A heavy, ominous presence hung in between the casual “pass the salt” or “how was school today?” chatter. No “did you have a good day?” 

No “happy birthday, sweetie.” 

Andrew sat at her left at the kitchen table during dinner, as quiet and menacing as a snake slithering in the grassy fields. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. 

Strike you dead, if by the look on his face. 

Something was getting under his skin bad and her mother was doing nothing except cowering in her seat to her right, trying to keep up a happy charade with a fake smile plastered on her face. It faltered often, but no one ever commented. 

No one cared enough to speak out and ask some serious questions. 

To involve themselves in our family drama, to help. 

Help was not something the Amity community usually gave out, from kindness of their hearts or just out of pure curiosity. Why does Anna keep to herself and always has a negative outlook on life? Why does Kimberly never talk to anyone? 

To everyone else, Andrew is viewed as an angel. A model citizen with a charming attitude and good soul. 

If only the Amity people would stop turning a blind eye to everything around them. Maybe the world would really be a better place. Everyone just might be able to get along. 

Then Andrew turned to her with a smile on his face, it was sudden and filled with dazzling teeth. He was a handsome man for his age, mid-forties with a head full of thick salt and pepper hair. Green eyes the color of jade, staring her down with malice. Hardened and angry. 

What had she done this time? She was being responsive to every question or comment, asked by either of them. Eating her dinner quietly otherwise, head bent down to avoid confrontation. It was a defense mechanism Anna knew worked best with Andrew and most of the time she tried hard to keep her step-father placate. 

This was how you survived in her house. 

“How was your day, baby girl?” 

What. 

The. 

Fuck. 

Anna snapped to attention, her startled dark-blue eyes meeting the amused expression on Andrew’s face. She was taken aback at the pet name, one she hadn’t heard him use in years, and glanced at her mother. 

She hesitated, a pause of breath which irritated Andrew. 

Kimberly was staring at her second husband with the look of a frightened animal, gaping mouth and teary-eyed. There was something in her eyes, all wide and watery, that made Anna’s blood run cold. 

It was a look she only saw once. 

The first time Andrew took his anger out on them. 

But that was then and this is now. 

Andrew was glaring at Anna now, slamming his knife down on the table. “When I ask a question I expect you to know the answer immediately and respond back to me. Have we not had this conversation before?” 

Her mother surprised her. 

She spoke out against Andrew, although as timid and small as the plea was. 

“Andrew, don’t. Please.”

Andrew turned away from Anna then, but Anna knew it would only be brief and the strike would be swift. Once for speaking out of turn, across the mouth. 

Twice for telling him what to do, on the hand. 

Three times for standing up to him, which Anna only experienced one time. 

It made her angry. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this. Her fingers gripped tightly to her silverware as she studied the scene before her. 

Prepared to either watch as her step-father descended upon her mother or step in between the two with the threat of a studded belt across the ass. 

Andrew was satisfied only mildly when Kimberly shrunk even further into her chair and raised an eyebrow, “Why not? You never said anything when I brought it up before. So I obviously assumed I had the right to ask Anna herself.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

What in the flying fuck was going on between these two? 

Something was off with both of them, a feeling of dread filling the pit of her stomach making it toss and turn the food contents she was previously piling down her throat. 

Though fear crept in there was also confusion and mild curiosity. Alarm bells rang off in her head though. Voices telling her to run away, get up from the table and run away, get away from the whole situation now. 

Kimberly glanced over at her daughter and choked on a sob, “Happy birthday. I love you, baby, I hope you know that.” 

She felt sick suddenly, then jumped to her feet at the feeling of a rough hand brushing her thigh. Anna felt the scream in her throat, but managed to keep it from filling the house. 

Andrew would not like that. 

It could have been a mistake. 

But he was grinning at her now, glancing from the expression on her face to the face of her mother. Kimberly felt anger course through her momentarily and she blurted out, “Stop it! Don’t you touch her like that.” 

In an instant, as fast as a lightning bolt appearing and disappearing, Andrew was on his feet with the knife and leaping over the table at Kimberly. 

Anna felt her vision blur for a moment, then go blood red at hearing her mother’s horrifying scream. She heard the plates fall from the table and shatter, heard the chair her mother was sitting in hit the ground with a thud as he tackled her to the floor. 

It filled her with absolute rage. 

Andrew had only intended on scaring Kimberly, threatening her with the knife against the throat, but enraged as Anna jumped onto his back he flung her off with ease. 

Then turned to her, a frightening smile on his face. 

The smile of a psychopath. 

“You see, I had a little talk with your mother the other night after dinner. It was really interesting. You left rather quickly, talking about how you were going to check up on a friend before bed. That was a mistake, you know. You have no friends.” 

Anna was winded, having hit the table with her shoulders which scraped it’s wooden legs across the oak flooring, and hitched a breath at Andrew’s words. At this point Kimberly was scrambling away, for the stairs, leaving Anna to fend for herself. 

Why wouldn’t her mother do something about this man? 

What was going on this time? 

“As you know your mother is 8 years older than I am and these past couple of years together have not suited her well. But you, my dear, have grown into a fine young woman and I feel it may be time for a change around here.” 

She scrambled to her feet, prepared now to defend herself until she couldn’t. 

This was one battle she wasn’t going down without a fight for. 

What needed to change was his ego, his pride. His sadistic cruelty. 

Andrew was faster, grabbing onto her legs as she started to run. He lunged at her like a football linebacker and they both fell to the floor. He laughed when she wriggled underneath him and fought to turn her on her back. 

“Come on, don’t you want to wrestle with your step-daddy?” 

Since then Anna began to train during her free time. Of course there was no use for gym equipment in Amity because of the farming business, but she had seen videos on her tablet (stolen from one of the Erudite-born at school) on how to build muscle and strength. 

Exercise videos that were played during health class, but not performed in the school. There was no physical education in her school that required actual physical labor. That was saved for after school. Chores, either at home or on the farm. 

She didn’t want to ever be put in that position again. Since that night Anna was preparing herself, physically and mentally, for the choosing ceremony. The choosing ceremony she was finally attending after six months of hard work and waiting. She would be free. 

She would finally be happy. 

Andrew was expecting her to remain in Amity, he had said so himself the night before, but Kimberly had not spoken a word in three days. 

Anna glanced back and forth between them both, hiding behind a curtain of pale blonde hair. It was freshly washed as of this morning and she was wearing tan shorts with a bright, yellow tank-top. She knew once she chose Dauntless she would be running towards the train with the other initiates, she always came to the ceremonies with her “family” and she loved watching the Dauntless run for the fast-moving locomotive. 

They were always shouting and screaming, but out of pure excitement. 

It was their new beginning and now it would be her new beginning. 

Although sitting quiet and stiff among the other Amity she was listening for the names of each new Dauntless initiate. 

Hardy, Ian. Candor.

Higgins, Samantha. Erudite.

Jonas, Zeke. Candor.

Larson, Holiday. Abnegation.

Maddox, Avery. Erudite.

Marsden, Jamie. Abnegation.

“Thatcher, Anna.” 

It was time. 

Her time.

[writing-the-end]

WS Chapter 47- Fire and Brimstone

Previous Chapter

Masterpost

So.....i didn’t have the chance to fully edit this. I got some really unwelcome news followed by an argument, and suddenly it was almost 8:30. If there’s any mistakes, feel free to yell at me in the comments or my ask.

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block

Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland​

Avon was on watch, but Ecto slips into the darkness without her friend noticing. Normally, all three wanderers try to sleep close together. To minimize the threat of attack, and to make packing up easier. Plus, cuddles. But since their fight, Ecto had distanced herself. Kept the fire between herself and the others. She ate alone, she curled up to sleep alone. She was used to being alone- that’s how she was for most of her life. 

So leaving alone shouldn’t have been so hard. But it was. It took all her strength not to turn around, to return to the warmth and comfort that the fire, that her friends offer. Ecto was not backing down- not now. She’s decided what she’ll do. She can’t sit around and let people decide her fate, sit around and watch things happen. She was going to stand, and fight. Put herself between the danger and those who aren’t as strong willed as her. And get to bash a few enemies in the process was a bonus.

Ecto didn’t know how to make a nether portal- rather, she didn’t know how to make obsidian. She tried to rip it apart from a pond of cooled lava a few days back, but the fragile volcanic glass shattered in her hands. It was while Ecto was watching rain fall, cooling the lava into the black stone that she realized what she can do. 

She may not have the tools to mine obsidian, but she does have two buckets and two pools of liquid nearby. It’s a consuming process, dangerous at best. Lava pours from the heated bucket, and she has to be quick to douse the flames before they burn down the forest around her. She singes her fingers and hair a few times, but manages to construct an obsidian rift frame. Ecto takes a step back, counting to make sure she has the right dimensions. The black frame is imposing, volcanic glass absorbing and refracting light away from the structure. 

Ecto pulls out the flint and steel, looking over her shoulder. She doesn’t know what she’s looking out for, or searching for. Maybe she’s searching for prying eyes- either the hellspawns or her own friends. Maybe she’s hoping her friends will see her, join her. But the only other creature watching as she ignites the portal is a pig. And even the pig flees. Ecto gets a shiver in her spine, a feeling in the pit of her stomach that this is a stupid, dangerous idea. 

Which is why she jumps in before her body can hesitate. Ecto has grown used to the feeling of traveling between worlds and dimensions. She’s used to the feeling of everything and nothing, used to feeling like she’s hungry and full, used to being in unbearable agony and perfect euphoria. 

But it still doesn’t mean she’s able to catch herself when she stumbles to the other side. She goes crashing into the red dirt. It’s clumpy, like clay rather than soil, staining her skin and clothes the color of blood. Ecto checks to make sure it isn’t actually blood, breathing out relief when she clears herself. 

Ecto stands to her feet, looking around. So this is the Nether, the one thing Avon fears above everything else. It’s hot...really hot, and that’s coming from Ecto. She looks up, trying to find the sun as she walks. It has to be the sun that is making this so- 

She catches herself before she drops into lava. One foot already over the ledge, she practically jumps back from the sizzling sea of molten rock. Okay, it’s not the sun. It’s entire lakes and seas of lava. Grey sand catches on Ecto’s feet as she walks the beach, the grain sticking to her shoes and wisping across with her. Dragging her down, making her slower. She swears it feels like hands are on her feet, and with each step she can hear a distant scream. Is that the sand? Or some creature she’s yet to lay her eyes on? She feels like she’s walking in a massive cavern. There is no sky, only more and more of this netherrack and soulsand. Not the endless void of the End, or the midnight sky of the Overworld. The only light comes from the sea of fire below her, or the few deposits of glowing stone above her head. Starbursts of yellow light, across the angry red scene before her. 

Sometimes, when Ecto is walking, she passes by slight changes in the nether. The air grows cooler, calmer. Beneath her feet, she notices the netherrack has been disturbed. Blue and red fungus buried in their own soil, crushed and overturned. She can see the roots of trees, long cut and burned away. She crouches down, picking up a broken vine. The cut is clean- cut with a tool. 

At first, Ecto can’t see the fortress. The red brick blends in with the red wall and the red ceiling and the red mist that it’s hard to outline. It’s not until she gets closer, noticing the heavy foot traffic in the netherrack that Ecto understands where she is. The fortress rises from the netherrack, grand staircases and fences in the same uniform style and color as the rest of the building. Pylons emerge from the sea of fire, holding up open air bridges high in the cavern. Square, enclosed buildings rise from the bridges, guarded by beasts that seem to be aflame as they move. Blazing, curling and turning like dancing fire as they hover. Definitely not something Ecto wants to deal with. 

She ducks into the long halls, the tunnels along the bridges. She can hear murmuring in the distance, and the ringing of metal against metal echoing down the halls. While initially drawn towards the sound of a fight, Ecto backs off. Avon was right about one thing- they’re outmatched. And as long as they have the dragon egg, as long as they have the upper hand, the wanderers will continue to only be runaways. She’s not here to fight a battle- she’s here to win a war. Hit them where it hurts. 

It’s been a long time since Ecto’s been alone. How long have the wanderers been travelling? The heat does remind her of her desert, a comfortable warmth that she does her best not to get distracted by. She misses the hot, dry climate of her home biome. And now, she finds that she’s starting to miss the presence of friends. She’s so used to being alone, why now does it bother her? Why does she wish for Red’s bouncing enthusiasm, Avon calm demeanor? She doesn’t need them to do this. She can do this by herself. She didn’t need to wait for them to forget her, to leave her. 

She left them. Ecto jumps into a patch of warty fungi, ducking under a staircase as armored footsteps march down the stairs. She covers her mouth and nose with a wrapped mask, tight and secure along her lower face. Muffling her harsh breath, and filtering a little bit of the awful brimstone scent in the air. How does anyone learn to live with this scent, like chicken eggs left in a chest for too long? 

Ecto slips down the hall, trying to be as stealthy as her lanky body can let her. She pulls her scarves close, and runs across the hard netherbrick like she’s running across sand. Soft footsteps in bouncing strides that disturb as little as possible. She peeks down the corridors, slips up staircases, edges around lava pits. 

Until she stops. At first, the voices sound exactly like Red and Avon. Red’s lighter, higher toned voice against Avon’s pitchy chatter. Except the tone of Red’s voice is sharp, like a knife cutting through their enemy, while Avon’s doesn’t have the husky tone from years of disuse. 

That’s not Red and Avon. They haven’t followed Ecto into the end. It’s their antithesis- Blu and Nova. And Endo. “Would you just shut up already, Nova? You don’t need to go telling the whole goddamn barrack about this brilliant master plan.” 

“It’s not like you came up with it in the first place.” Blu posits, blade swinging in lazy circles as they come around the corner. Ecto crams herself into a high up corner, dark and hopefully out of view of the hellspawns. She could’ve run, or hidden beneath the stairs- but that’s just not her train of thought. 

“But I’m the best one to explain to the rest of the army! What, would you rather Endo bores this entire squadron to death with her long winded essays on perfect battle strategy and undercutting the enemy?” Nova whacks her hand against Blu’s head, embers bursting from the firey hair tied back in a short ponytail. “And I doubt your rattled mind even knows what the plan is.” 

“I know that we need to do something with that egg.” Blu hisses. “And I know that this would all be over with already if we could just kill off those three idiots!” 

Endo shakes her head, the slick magma of her hair shifting color but hardly moving. “No matter how much we raize the nether, warped forests and fungi keep regrowing. The warped magic is coming from the End, but we can only guess that crimson magic is invading from the overworld.” 

“Of course it is. That place is freaky and weird enough, it just had to spill over and start growing shit all over the nether. But what does that have to do with the egg?” The trio pass by, hardly walking in unison. In fact, Ecto couldn’t say any of the three look remotely like friends, or even allies. They’re bodies are tense, especially when on gets too close to another. Ecto isn’t sure if he’s ever heard them not fighting- not just bickering like Ecto and Avon sometimes do, but full on attacking one another. Ecto leans out, trying to listen in as the hellspawns keep walking on. 

“You would like to know, wouldn’t you?” Endo stops, letting the others screech to a halt. Endo doesn’t look over her shoulders, but a horrible chill goes down Ecto’s spine all the same. “A little far from home, aren’t you Overlander?”

[thelaurenshippen]

oh hey, here’s a playlist from 2017 that I realized wasn’t on my website with the rest of them and that I totally wasn’t thinking about because there’s actually a part two that has never seen the light of day that may or may not be incoming

notes on my website and also under the cut

As I write, I like to build playlists for all my characters and, occasionally, will make playlists as a character as well. These playlists are part of my writing process and I take them far more seriously than anyone should. Sometimes the playlists come together instantly and effortlessly and sometimes I play around with them for months. As such, there are a fair number of cast-offs that never make it onto the final, official playlist. That's what this playlist is.

So here we are: all the songs that nearly made it on to the character playlists but got cut for various reasons. Those reasons tend to fall into one of a few categories:

There wasn’t space / another song was serving a similar purpose

The song was right for the character but not right for the character at the beginning of their story (which is what most of the playlists are)

The mood/genre/tempo of the song was out of place in the playlist

I discovered the song after the playlists had been put together.

All my playlists are very specifically ordered, so adding or removing songs after their publication is more or less impossible. Instead, I would throw songs into this B-Side playlist as they appeared, meaning that, unlike most of my playlists, the order here is random (aka this playlist has NO flow). Here is a list of where they would have gone had they made the final cut. The characters are listed above the tracks, with a link to the playlist in question.

A/N, 2020: These are the B-Sides specifically from pre-Season 4. Back in August of 2017, I  did a sticker giveaway to see what folks would guess about which songs were for which characters - these annotations were published after that giveaway and thus, there's some reference to how people guessed!

WADSWORTH 

1. “Heavy Metal Lover” - Lady Gaga

This is a Wadsworth song through and through in terms of style and swagger. There just wasn’t space for it.

But would you love me if I ruled the world

DAMIEN 

2. “Reaper Man” - Mother Mother

This is a song that was recommended to me as a Damien song by tumblr user kalgalen and I am actively mad that I didn’t know this song before making Damien’s playlist. The style, the lyrics - everything about this song is Damien. And it actually fits perfectly after the opening track but by the time I was made aware of it, it was too late.

Oh yeah, I’m an ugly mess/not in the face, but in the head - regardless of how attractive Damien is, this is something he thinks. God, what an edgelord line this is.

Oh yeah, I got no choice/got no choice/but to love myself - I mean, it’s just all there.

A/N, 2020: this song eventually made its way onto a playlist -  my playlist for A Neon Darkness, Damien's book.

CHLOE 

3. “Her Morning Elegance” - Oren Lavie

I love that this song really conjures a visceral image to your brain - it paints such a vivid picture. It’s delicate, but determined. I think Chloe sometimes moves through her world separate and observing and that’s what this song is.

There’s also an amazing music video that I think Chloe would watch over and over again.

I got a lot of submissions guessing that this was a song for Sam and I really see that too. It fits well with the aesthetic of her playlist and the theme of fighting for your life everyday definitely resonates with Sam, as does the “Nobody knows” lyric. But the lyrics are also about being out in the world, which is something Sam doesn’t do but Chloe wants to continue to do desperately, despite her ability making it difficult.  

CALEB/ADAM 

4. “Blue and Yellow” - The Used

This was a song suggested by my sister for Caleb and Adam because of the colors involved and also because The Used was a band we both listened to a lot when we were emo teenagers like Adam. Ultimately, this song feels very dated as early emo and didn’t quite fit musically on any of their mixes, either in-universe or not.

And it’s all in how you mix the two/and it starts just where the light exists/it’s a feeling that you cannot miss/and it burns a hole/through everyone that feels it

5. “Stupid for You” - Waterparks

This is another song that was recommended to me, this time by a tumblr user and it is absolutely perfect. I didn’t even realize that there was pop punk being made like this anymore, so I was delighted.

You’re yellow, I’m natural blue/let’s get together and be green like my insides - I mean??? Couldn’t have said it better myself

Also, the refrain of “stupid for you” fits perfectly with the “I’m the guy who’s been so stupid about you that it broke my fucking super power!” I mean, I clearly ghostwrote this song.

ISO: the tumblr user who suggested this song. I have scoured both of my blogs to find the ask to no avail so if it was you, please raise your hand.

Both of these songs would go on a Caleb/Adam ship mix if such a thing existed. But in fact, both their mixes are in-universe and, while one of them might put this on a mix now, it would have been way too vulnerable of a thing to put on one of those earlier playlists. I've linked to their second in-universe mix - the quite lovey one that Adam makes for Caleb.

MARK 

6. “Time Machine" - Robyn

This definitely felt a little too on the nose for Mark, so I went with “Hang With Me” instead. But Mark loves Robyn and would love the DeLorean reference in this so it was very tempting. It’s also a song all about making impulsive decisions, which Mark definitely does a lot, but in classic Robyn style, it’s such a bop despite the serious lyrics. That balance fits Mark perfectly.

7. “F U” - Miley Cyrus

I know this song is about someone cheating, but it is such a good angry-fuck-you song that I can’t help but think of it in the context of Mark’s feelings towards Wadsworth. Having missed the heyday of pop borrowing from dubstep and the increasing use of internet slang, I think Mark would have gotten out of The AM and fallen hard for this song. I imagine many an afternoon before Joan gets home from work just angry dancing around the living room singing along to this.

SAM/MARK 

8. “Someone to Fall Back On” - Jason Robert Brown

This is 100% Sam singing to Mark about being his knight in shining armor. Sam is hard on herself - doesn’t realize her own strength - so the self-deprecating lyrics really work for her. It didn’t make it on the playlist because it felt like it was a little further down the line in their relationship - somewhere around Episode 40.

I’ll take your side/if I’m the only one/I’m used to that/I’ve been alone/I’d rather be/the half of us/the least of you/the best of me

I got a lot of guesses for Frank on this one, which completely fits. He’s quite a bit more confident in his abilities than Sam - if he thinks he can be your knight, he’ll say so right from the get-go.

9. “Can’t Get Started With You” - Ella Fitzgerald

This is pretty self-explanatory. It didn’t fit with the very particular structure that I created for the Sam/Mark playlist and it also felt like a later stage of their relationship. That playlist was them falling in love and wanting to be in the same time; this song is getting close to that but then getting pulled apart again, first by Damien and then by the difficult realties of actually trying to have a relationship. If the previous track is end of Season 3 for them, this is a Season 4 song.

A/N, 2020: it certainly is a Season 4 song, because it actually ended up going on their Season 4 playlist.

DAMIEN/MARK 

10. “Elvis Ain’t Dead” - Scouting for Girls

So…this is a reject from an as of yet published playlist. I know - not fair. Think of this as the free square on a bingo sheet. In the course of writing Season 3, I was motivated to make a playlist for a relationship that was becoming increasingly interesting to write. While this playlist could certainly be seen as a ship playlist, I have no intentions to ever put these characters together in a real way, but their dynamic was so compelling that I wanted to explore it. I will eventually release the playlist because it’s one of the best I’ve made, but I didn’t want it influencing anyone’s reaction to the end of Season 3. Loose lips sink ships.

I wish it was me you chose/Elvis ain’t dead/and you’re coming back

Okay, okay, I won’t leave you hanging because a few people actually guessed this one right - it’s from a Damien/Mark playlist. This is actually one of three unpublished Damien mixes - for whatever reason, music is the fastest and easiest way for me to connect to him. He really brings out the playlist-making skills in me.

A lot of people guessed that this was Agent Green which I absolutely love. Poor Owen.

A/N, 2020: I didn't link to the playlist originally, but it exists now! To this day, I think it's some of my best work.

ROSE 

11. “Carolina” - Harry Styles

This was mostly rejected because I felt stupid having two songs called “Carolina” on one mix and Sara Bareilles trumps Harry Styles (as much as I love him). But in style and content, this really feels like a Rose song.

[izzyovercoffee]

Prompt number: 19. “Yes, I admit it, you were right.” Fandom: Destiny / Destiny 2 Rating: PG? Warnings/Tags: mention of violence but nothing explicit or major, sudden violent seizures Summary: Jaq-29, Exo Hunter, gets pulled out of their jovian excursion to do recon on Earth’s moon, and has a good-bad time. Notes: So this is based off something that happened while I was playing earlier. Lets just say I beat up a giant scary Vex, picked up an exotic quest, and at that exact moment my game crashed, and then all the servers went down, and they stayed down for like 10-20 minutes and I was very much weirded out by it. Vex, man...

##. I’m gonna ask Ikora for a raise

  It’d been a long time since Jaq-29 set foot on the moon.

The hurt scarred the landscape---cut deep in long, glowing wounds that continued to bleed ichor and fester under the gaze of the Earth. It was a lot like the scars the guardians all carried, the kind that never quite healed right, that never really mended back together in the way normal people might.

Granted, they all were “extraordinary.”

Set foot on the moon, kicking up gray dust under xheir boots, and Jaq didn’t feel extraordinary.

Tired, maybe.

Hard to tell, after the long shut down.

Still 29, though. Two-nine. Not three-oh.

Not yet.

Probably soon though. Was hard for Jaq to keep track. Siggy got it.

“I don’t like this,” Siggy spun about Jaq’s head in the expressive turn he often did when anxious. His mashed shell---pieced together in the parts they’d found while wandering the wilds across the system caught the faint light of old ruins and mother earth and took a sickly pale sheen to his sides.

Jaq needed to find him a better shell.

“What’s not to like?” Jaq replied, cheerful. Mouth lit up inside xheir helmet with blue, and white, and xhey twitched as a rush of static sparked down xheir spine. “The young wolves got it covered. We’re here for recon. That’s our favorite thing to do, no?”

“Well…” Siggy sounded about as enthusiastic as Jaq sounded dreadful---which was just about never. “...I guess.”

“It’ll be just like old times,” Jaq said, and walked along. “Updated maps downloaded yet?”

“Yes…” Siggy sighed, and found his way into xheir hood. “We’ve landed in the Lunar Battlegrounds.”

“We’re just poking around the old battlegrounds.” Jaq tried for soothing, but xheir vocal box took so many beatings sometimes xhey wondered if tone ever came across right. Hard to tell, with the static seizures. Fewer recently, further out and away from everyone.

Jaq liked it when xhey were alone. Just Jaq and Siggy, and the big open jovian skies.

Still, had to come back. Hard to stay away, when Ikora Rey commanded Hidden to intervene elsewhere. Put Jaq’s leave on hold, jet off Io and see the moon.

“Huh,” Jaq said, one hand reached out to the wall of a particularly harsh scar that rended the landscape in harsh, broken ground. The deep grays of the lunar soil opened up, solidified, and the rockface gave way with a gentle push to a narrow passage.

Could be nothing. Could be something.

The messy lines of activity that led to the passageway said could be something. And, judging from the way the soil was most disturbed on the surface, pushing and breaking apart evidence of old steps, Jaq guessed recent.

Hard to tell how recent. Much like Jaq’s sense of the passage of time, hard to tell what exactly was “recent” on the moon.

“Let’s go this way.”

Siggy said nothing, just waited in the crook of Jaq’s neck and shoulder, in the dip of the cloak that held tight to the collar of their chest armor.

And when the pale light of the earth and the distant sun faded, Siggy brought to life a beam to light Jaq’s way.

Time. Time was a thing others could track easily. Seconds, minutes, days. Jaq had taken so many blows. The body they inhabited broken in a fundamental way, during The Red War. Maybe even before, and the most recent war only triggered the rapid spiral.

Or it was psychosomatic. Hard to tell. Ana Bray had tried a hand, at the request of Ikora Rey, to see if one could find the source of Jaq’s repeated seizures. Scans said… scans said the exo-unit should have functioned perfectly fine.

And yet static still gathered in Jaq’s joints, and if not let out periodically in bursts of arc light, would wreak havoc on Jaq’s system. Dysfunctional, but still functioning.

Good enough for Jaq.

“I don’t like this…” Siggy whispered along their internal communique.

The narrow passage turned, sharp, to the left and then to the right, and a glow not from any of Jaq’s exposed parts, or Siggy’s lamp, illuminated the passage ground.

Siggy’s lamp shut off as they made the final turn, and the passage widened abruptly to an enormous open cavern lit aglow from within. Sharp, rectangular pillars jutted out in uneven patterns from the ground, and the light fell in harsh lines across the cavern floor.

The distant wall appeared… to hold a perfect arc of metal.

Just like the Vex gates they’d both seen on Mercury, and Nessus, and Io.

“That’s interesting,” Jaq said, and looked down. The passage dropped off at a fairly steep incline, and Jaq opted to simply leap to one of the pillars that stood nearby.

Empty. The cavern looked to be empty for some time, with the gate itself inactive---lacking the telltale glow Jaq had become so accustomed to seeing, across their traversing of the jovian moons.

“We should go,” Siggy said. “I have a bad feeling---”

And then something sparked, sharp, down Jaq’s arm. Jaq stuttered, and fell to one knee.

The portal vibrated, and something in the air crackled, then popped---sending out a blast that scattered loose lunar dust in thick clouds to clog the air and break sight.

“Jaq---move!”

Jaq dove to the right. The place where they knelt exploded in red fire. An electronic, broken crackle of a roar shattered the silence.

Fuck, Jaq thought, and brought to bear their handcannon. Shots fired met their target, but the wild curve of golden metal and glowing white fluid barely ceased its marching towards them.

And the faded image of a hundred Vex glitched, like a broken projector shifted on and began to play an old, poorly-remembered film… except it wasn’t a film. It wasn’t a recording.

The portal had come back to life---and Jaq’s handcannon was useless. Useless.

Jaq turned, and ran.

Another burst of energy exploded from the portal. Jaq’s spine lit up white hot in their pain receptors and they tumbled to the lunar soil. Siggy flew from their hood and tumbled across the dirt.

Screaming. Siggy screamed something.

Jaq threw their body to the right. An enormous metal limb slammed the ground beside them.

Run, Siggy said.

Hide, Jaq replied.

Siggy hid.

A heavy weight came over Jaq’s heart as they rolled onto their back and left to their feet. The Minotaur---strangely glowing, strangely gold, or maybe silver?---roared in the broken way the machines always did.

Jaq tossed the handcannon, and felt static gather in their arm again. Concentrated. Felt the pull of the light inside their chassis, and hurled the static at the monstrous thing.

It exploded in a bright burst of arc light.

A sea of Vex eyes all glitched, frozen… and then turned their glowing red eyes on them. The portal shuddered, gathering energy to burst again---and Jaq reached down into the cold, into the silence, and found light waiting. Arc energy burst under the seams of their chassis, consuming their limbs in white static that stretched to that all-too familiar staff between their hands.

The portal burst alive, and a monstrous construct the like of which Jaq had never seen stepped through. Horned---or were they antlers?---scraped the underbelly of the cavern’s ceiling. The many weapons of the sea of red opened fire.

Jaq danced.

That was always Jaq’s favorite part.

The way the universe responded in melody to Jaq’s body alight in arc energy muted the pain in every other part of their life. The agony, the misery, the frustration. Confusion and horror in equal tempo pulling Jaq’s thrice-broken heart-analogue in stuttered and angry skips---all righted by the arc energy that hummed within them.

And they danced across the sea. Pure arc energy dancing off their fingertips, off the baton that deflected the heat and the fire shot at them as they moved to meet the construct that roared as an amp screeched with its wires pulled.

Concentrated on a single force, Jaq found the screeching bursts of energy threatening to tear them apart now singing in answer, and fear left them.

Just as surely as Jaq tore apart the constructs center, and white spilled out in every direction. Jaq danced out of the way, felt the exhaustion pulling sharply in every direction, and tumbled face-forward into the lunar soil as the excess light left them.

All the Vex screamed, shuddered under the weight of something unseen---and dissipated into the air. The portal hissed, screeched, and powered off. Pieces of gold scattered all around Jaq, around the fallen body of the construct, and shone within arm’s reach.

Like a mind. Or piece. A part. It called to Jaq, and so Jaq reached for it.

And when their gloved palm reached the strange cubed relic, it’s like all their pain receptors lit up in sudden fury. Static burst in their joints, jolted up and down their limbs. Threatened to tear them apart, from the inside out.

Jaq screamed.

And screamed.

Until their voicebox shorted out. Until their arms popped, and one blown off at the wrist, the other at the elbow. Body shaking, seizing over the ground.

Siggy…

Sig-g-g-g-g-g-ggy… h….elp m///// e.

// POWERING DOWN . . .

   Okay, Siggy. Okay.

You were right. 

[blogaboutmusic]

all the playlists !

did this a while ago, but my spotify changed so much that i decided to do it again, and also because i have a lot of new followers! thank you & thank you if you follow my playlists! Be sure to check the list out bc i have a playlist for almost every genre & mood!

● ✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ* existential crisis:  everything i have that is sad ● 2019 ; letz getit: music i discovered so far in 2019 / music that is important to me in 2019 ● 20(18)GAYTEEN: every album that came out in 2018 (at least of artists i like) ● 20(19)BITEEN: every album that came out in 2019 (/artist i like :) ) ● 5sᴏs ; complete: i think the title says it all ● ａｌｉｅｎｓ: a mix full of alt. songs. dope. 10/10 recommend to aliens ● all of it ; alternative ?: stuff that is alt but not quite, pop punk but not quite, rock but not quite, etc! ● all of it ; emo music: EVERYTHING YOU NEED. EVERYTHING SAD. EVERYTHING ANGRY. EVERYTHING GUITAR. pop-punk punk-rock emo/rock indie/alternative ● all of it ; k-pop: all the k-pop music that I listen to, stuffed into one mix. ● ᴀʟʟ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏᴡ ; ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ: all of all time low’s music ● angry k-pop bops: a playlist that was inspired by district 9 of stray kids ● autumn, baby: perfect songs for fall! ● back to the future: idk some albums that i love listening to that go really well together ● bandito tour ; twenty one pilots: a playlist for an upcoming concert ● b͓̽a͓̽n͓̽g͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽h͓̽a͓̽n͓̽: a playlist for my bias of stray kids! ● ʙᴀɴɢᴛᴀɴɢ sᴏɴʏᴇᴏɴᴅᴀɴ ; ʙᴛs: all of bts’ music in one playlist ● best intro's, no argue: okay but really 505 is one of the best songs ever don’t fight me on that one ● bi bops: actually it doesnt matter if you’re gay, straight, pan or bi, these all work. just bops. ● b-sides, : songs i tend to forget about because i mostly listen to other songs on the albums... but they deserve the world so there you go ● 𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖒𝖊: kinda angry, kinda alternative. ● bon voyage: i listened to this a lot when i went to paris and when i have to travel a lot. travel worthy. ● bop that Bussy ; emo version: FAV EMO JAMS AND BOPS AND BANGERS ● bring me the horizon ; complete : all of bmth’s music ● bts amsterdam 13.10.18: SETLIST ly tour amsterdam but also europe. i miss them a lot & wanna thank them for one of my best nights ever

● calm my anxious ass: what i need when i’m breaking down & alone again ● chanyeol (っ◔◡◔)っ: a playlist for my exo bias, mostly english sung songs though ● chilly billy doobop: so nice to have as background music or for when there’s a friend over. just ever so fckn CHILL ● classical // piano: classical music, mostly piano ● current mood: songs i’m probably listening to right now (lmao still) ● daniel james howell: a playlist for my fav youtuber!!! ● daydream: my playlist with music that makes me dream for a better version of me ● ᴅᴀʏ6 ; ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ: every day6 song ever. stan talent stan day6 ● death / school mix: songs about dying & other relatable stuff for school, ha ha ● dizzy tummy: stuff i listen to strolling through the city or being in a specific trainride ● dope on a rope: no, this isn't a playlist for the growlers' song, it's old beats. ● emo & alternative: sum emo tunes! totally random *insert that one crazy emoji with the tongue out* ● energize this tired bub: upbeat tempo music that really energizes me ● energetic appleflap: playlist for a friend (that i have crush on) ● eɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀᴘᴀʀᴋꜱ: music i  listened to before & after my waterparks concert + every waterparks song ever & the setlist ● ᴇxᴏ ; xᴏxᴏ: exo complete. please give us a ot9 comeback ● exploring: stuff i have yet to listen to ● fᴀʟʟ ᴏᴜᴛ ʙᴏʏ ; ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ: all of FOB’s music. can you believe i’m still emo trash? ● frickity freck!: fresh alt-ish music ● fuck me up: a ReAlLy gOoD aLterNaTiVe / IndiE / eMo playlist? ● funky dunky business: the bass in these is mostly really mcflipping good ● geez, morty: playlist for fake friends ● ɢᴏᴛ7 ; ᴀʜɢᴀsᴇ: all of got7 their music ● ɢʀᴇᴇɴ ᴅᴀʏ ; ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ: all of green day aka my fav band their music ! every.thing. ● grrr. : just metal and grunge. heavy shit ● guitars: really good guitars like guns ‘n roses & beatles and just guitars that i love??? ● guns  n' roses setlist: setlist g ‘n r Europe 2017 ● halsey: indie artist, all her music in a playlist ● happy vibes: music that makes me smile!! ● hoe anthems (k-pop ver.); k-pop bops that make me go wanna hoe the heck out ● homework // calm: music i listen to when i make homework ● hug me pls: acoustic songs i wanna listen to while cuddling ● i’m a mess: a good, short playlist i- lol- unironically made when i discovered Michael Clifford had a girlfriend lmao i hope theyre happy they deserve it ● i, an intellectual: a nerd: music from movies and series i really dig ● interactive introverts: music they played and i listened to before interactive introverts ● jae = bae: this one goes out to jae, guitarist and vocal legend in the band day6 ● jazzin' away: jazz, my friend. ● j-pop ; rock 'n soul: my favourite j-pop songs!! yes, that includes all one ok rock songs. ● journal writings: i attempt to keep up a journal. this gives me vibes. sometimes a bit more uptempo, but mostly a bit softer ● judith.eliza: for a friend ● jughead's tape: for jughead jones, of riverdale ● just guitars, nothing else.: just acoustic guitars of some of my fav songs, really good for while studying i think ● k-grooves: korean r&b and indie ● k-pop ; essential jams: my favourite k-pop songs, which are quite a lot! ● k-pop ; girls: all my girl groups’ music ● k-rock ; you make myday: all my favourite k-rock songs, yes that includes every day6 song because they are just that good sorry ● last young renegade tour: music i listened to before & after my all time low concert + the setlist ●  letters to you: songs that made me think of my crush. i think people can realate? ● let there be luf: some new alt, sum songs about love ● lilacskyjimin ; fav: playlist for a friend ● lone hours: in: feeling lonely? we do, too, dont worry. youre not alone. ● mama: stuff i grew up with / stuff my mother and i both like ● marina & the diamonds: apperantly she’s only called marina now? one of the best female singers i know, indie as f*ck ● ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ; 5sos:  playlist for the 5sos concert, setlist and the songs in between! ● micmicbudgee ; fav: playlist for a friend ● mom jeans, tired eyes: mostly 70s and 80s BOPS ● ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴀ x ; ᴍᴏɴʙᴇʙᴇ: all of monsta x’s music in a playlist ● muse ; complete: all of alt rock band muse their songs ● my chemical romance ; complete: emo rock band mcr all of their music ● my youngblood chronicals: alt rock songs. the reason why i’m still fighting ● nederlandse bodem: my favourite Dutch songs! ● ɴᴇᴏ ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴇᴄʜɴᴏʟᴏɢʏ ; ɴᴄᴛ: nct complete, in a playlist ● nienisneckdeep ; fav: playlist for a friend ● nights: songs i like to listen to before going to sleep ● noa.myg: fav: another playlist for a friend ● non-english bops: jewish, french, spanish, swedish, irish and celtic music like omnia (which is partly english but i think it fits here so tough luck) ● one ok rock ; complete: one ok rock is a japanese rock band that sings in english in their latest work ● ᴘᴀɴɪᴄ! ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪsᴄᴏ ; ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ: all of panic! at the disco’s music in a playlist ● paramore ; complete: paramore was a punk rock band with a female singer, and now they make alt rock ● paris: a playlist for a city that i miss, a time that i miss ● ᴘᴇɴᴛᴀɢᴏɴ ; ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ: aka all of k-pop group Pentagon their music in a playlist ● pizza punk: waterparks, neck deep, with con and music like that. perfect for skating eheh ● power vocals: beautiful voices ! voices that make me jealous ● problems with sleeping: lovely alt songs, some of them are about not being able to sleep ● queen discography: you know that movie, bohemian rhapsody..? ● rad activist shit: end gun violence. black lives matter. abortions should be legal, pedophiles and rapists should not be able to walk free. oh and love is love, get over it. angry songs, songs about revolution. ● rainbow: love songs, some sad (rain), some ever so happy (sun). together they make a rainbow ● red hot chili peppers: the red hot chili peppers are rock band and if you dont know them, look them up!! ● revolution radio 2017: music i listened to before & after my green day concert + the setlist ● rev up my spaceship, bois: modern hard rock in a playlist! ● sad boi o’clock: another sad playlist, you can never have enough of these ● sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ; sᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴇᴇɴ: seventeens (k-pop) complete music discography ● skylinn ; khaleesiqoyi: first playlist i made for a friend: my best friend ● slytherin headgirl: this is what the people in slytherin listen to, i swear ● socrates would deffo stan: indie and alt, only for intellectuals (i’m just kidding) ● soft; rock™: soft (old) rock ● soft; k-pop: for if you wanna weep along with exo, bts,, etc ● soundtrack of my life 🌙: the basics to my music ● space jams 🚀: most songs are about wanting to run away, perfect for when you’re in space ● spoopy rave: i secretly listen to this through the year, idec ● starry skies, snazzy beats: mostly cute beats, perfect for studying or staring at the sky ● sᴛᴀʏ ; sᴛʀᴀʏ ᴋɪᴅs !: all of stray kids songs, go stan them already and please stay ● stranger things: songs that give me a stranger things vibe ● supernatural ; rock & grunge: stuff Dean Winchester would listen to, blue oyster cult, aerosmith, black sabbath, stuff like that ● tae tae: a playlist for v of bts, one of my biases ● the 1975: an alt band, latest work: an brief inquiry into online relationships ● the neighbourhood: very chill music. kinda rap, kinda alt ● these physically turn me on: really, really good songs, or nice vocals, idk how to explain ● tits out for harambe: the closest thing i have to pop music / rap i guess, with khai dreams, frank ocean, childish gambino, ari, troye, ya know ● tokyo: a playlist for dreaming about the feeling of a city ● travel back in time: 50s, 60s music, stuff i listen to with my grandpa but also alone cuz its fun ● twenty øne piløts ; complete: all of twenty one pilots their music ● underappreciated alt songs: alternative songs that i think deserve (even more) hype! ● waterparks ; complete: nice new pop punk band that deffo has a lot of talent! ● when the week ends: a mix for the weekend ● wubbalubbadubdub: old bops that make me forget about my sadness ● year in review: 2018: music i discovered in 2018 / music that was important to me in 2018 / songs that came out in 2018 ● yoongi: songs where you can sing yoongi really clearly and songs that make me think of him ● you’re making me feel miserable: songs i listened to after i confessed to my crush and he turned me down sksksksk

please reblog, it helps my blog a lot, tysm

[darkwalk]

Didn’t have a lot of internet access over summer, which is why I wasn’t really on Tumblr. 

Now I’m just going to post a bunch of ideas that have been pestering me:

Medics have magnets in their servos for various reasons, but some humans see Ratchet or First Aid use the magnets to grab some tool away from Sideswipe who was messing with things and they’re like “Oh My Gosh You’re a JEDI!!” “DO IT AGAIN! USE THE FORCE!”. No medic is safe from Star Wars and Jedi jokes after that. 

There’s a battle between the Bots and Cons on Earth and the wind starts picking up and the sky goes dark. And no one notices or cares because they’re fighting. And then these heavy torrential rains start pouring down and everyone looks over to see this massive funnel cloud forming. And they all look at each other like “oh shit”. And then an unanimous decision to retreat on both sides. Earth weather is damn scary. And they’d rather fight each other than fight earth weather. Even Cybertronians are in trouble in 200 mph winds. 

the only ones who really think earth weather is amazing is the Twins, Beachcomber, Hound, and the Seekers. Although Starscream won’t admit it. But he tends to fly through less intense storms for the thrill of it. Skywarp is just as bad. 

When mechs get angry or upset, their optics pale or glow but the metal around their optics also heats up because of the excess energy and the metal changes color slightly.

What if the seeker trine was accidentally shoved into one frame because of an experiment gone wrong or an artifact? Starscream, Thundercracker, and Skywarp have to cope with sharing a body and that would seriously suck. 

Or what if they were one spark split into three?

Early in the war Shockwave was taking seekers and splitting their sparks into three so they’d have more soldiers. And Starscream’s trine worked so hard to keep it secret that they were actually three pieces of one spark and make sure Megatron didn’t find out. But he the one who ordered Shockwave to do it in the first place and Starscream’s trine doesn’t know that. Starscream and Skywarp are the more unstable pieces of the whole and Thundercracker is mostly stable but occasionally he doesn’t react emotionally to things he should or reacts with the wrong emotion. 

And then somehow they find a way to put their spark fragments back together into one spark but they don’t quite mesh the way they used to because they’ve grown and changed. It’s like having multiple personalities instead of one person. And they find out that Megatron is the one who ordered their spark to be shattered in the first place.

An AU where the bots and cons are working together against the Council. And they’re technically one faction but they can’t agree on a name so they just have the bot side of the faction and the con side of the faction and mostly get along. OP and Megs argue a lot though. 

Megatron encourages the humans to shoot the new recruits with slingshots if they pick them up without asking.  Random human: “Ratchet’s mad at me again. He says he’s running out of spare optics.” Megatron smiles, “Don’t worry about it. My medics have some to spare.” Optimus, “Stop encouraging them!” Innocent smile from the warlord, “But Optimus,~ they’re poor defenseless humans! ~What else are they supposed to do?~” “Oooooh-hoooo, you’re hilarious.” Optimus rolled his optics and muttered sarcastically. 

Prowl tries to get the meeting back under control, “And what are our plans if the Council attacks so and so place?”  Megatron gives him a serious face, “We shoot them. With cannons.” (He and Ironhide get along so well, much to everyone else’s misfortune)  OP groans, covering his face. Prowl narrows his optics. “And what if they shoot back?” Sighs, as everyone actually gets to work. 

And then OP, Megs, and some others are on a team trying to retrieve some of their own on a really cold planet that has giant organics that look like dinosaurs and when they get back Megs makes a comment about how “That was fun. We should do it again.” just to mess with Optimus who is obviously exhausted. And OP just looks at him with this stare. Ratchet calls over that murder is still illegal. While Megs laughs, Optimus mutters something about shoving Megs off the roof later. 

Hot Rod is in rec room being a dramatic volcano/lava god. blocking energon despenser. Jazz comes by, "Yo. Can I scoot by oh powerful god to get some energon?" Hot Rod looks at him and waves a hand. "Oh yeah, sure. Go ahead." moves aside to let him pass than then goes back to dramatic declarations. rest of room laughing as Jazz makes victory signs behind him. 

The Twins aren’t paying attention, walk right by. Hot Rod yells in mock fury. "How dare you insult me mortals! Wrath! Wrath and doom upon you!!" Sideswipe catches on really quick and falls to his knees in dramatic agony. "Nooooooh! What have we done?!" Sunstreaker just looks around confused. "Wait, what?" then catches on. "No." turns away to get energon. He’s not getting involved in this. Sides throws an arm over his optics. "Sunny Why??!!! You've doomed us." Hot Rod: "Doom and a fiery death upon you impudent mortal!"

HARD LIGHT TATTOOS

Special Ops are always noisy when playing poker in their shared quarters. OP has human representatives coming onto the base and tells them no yelling swears or cussing loudly. Optimus is in the meeting, everything is going fine and then everyone hears a very loud and angry bellow of “Baloney!!” from farther in base. OP tries not to facepalm. That was not what he'd meant.

Bluestreak and Blaster love to narrate the mock battles in the rec. room. sometimes it's sparring, sometimes it's dancing or singing, and sometimes it's whoever can make the crowd laugh the most. It's usually comedic.

 "And in this cooooorrner, we have the infamous gunslinger of the west,.....Ironhide!!!" Cheering. Sometimes the other opponent is a surprise. Raise a curtain, youngling comes out. Entire crowd roars and 'oooohhhhs'. Ironhide gets an 'oh scrap' look on his face. Bluestreak announces, "Well, we can see how this is going to go....." “Quite right,” Blaster replies, “I don’t think there’s anyway Ironhide can win this one.” And the youngling just goes up and mock punches Ironhide in the leg making a cheesy “pow” noise. And Ironhide falls over like he’s knocked out cold, which makes everyone laugh.

Jazz is talking to Soundwave on comms, (they’re on shuttles/ships) messing with him. "Hey Soundwaffle. We're gonna raid your ships." SW makes comment about his name being Soundwave. And Autobots being defeated. "Sure sure waffle." "Soundwave." "Sir Soundwave of the Decepticon Royal Court, prepare to be raided!" cuts off comms.

This is my absolute favorite. Please don’t use this. I’m saving it to put it in one of my stories:

They ground bridge to tropical place. A parrot comes through accidentally and the science bots convince the officers to let him stay for two weeks as a "study" on earth avians. Teach him a neat trick. Every time Ratchet raises his voice, the parrot screams, "Why is all the rum gone?!"

“All right, you lazy slaggin-!”  “WHY IS ALL THE RUM GONE?!”

“Perceptor! Get rid of that glitched-!”  “WHY IS ALL THE RUM GONE?!”

“Quite laughing you hooligans!”  “WHY IS ALL THE RUM GONE?!”

*Ratchet whispers “Someone get rid of it. now.”  Parrot:“......why is all the rum gone?”

“WHEELJACK!” 

[doomedandstoned]

MELVINS!

       Live 'n' Loud     in Portland

Stephanie Savenkoff: Review & Photos

Shelby Kray: Live Concert Footage

Tom Hazelmyer: Linocuts

  On July 12th, 2017, Doomed & Stoned dispatched me to photograph MELVINS at Hawthorne Theater in Portland, Oregon. It was my first time seeing them live and they exceeded any expectations I had. The crowd was primed and ready after hearing opening act, Brooklyn "dream sludge" duo Spotlights and with the Melvins set all ready to go, there was only a short wait. The crowd erupted when they hit the stage and I cheered when King Buzzo's white, bouncy mop came into view. I rejoiced at the sight of that multi-colored, metallic-threaded muumuu and those shoes!

The Seattle iconoclasts opened with a cover of "Sacrifice" by Flipper. After the first few notes, the energy level climbed even higher as people responded enthusiastically to the familiar song. Many sang along and bodies moved to the driving beat. After that, it was a tapestry of angst and fury, punk and grunge and hard-hitting sounds of heavy guitar and heavier drums. I had no idea what Buzz was singing about, but I found I didn’t care. It is the feeling and the energy that grabbed me and shook me, refusing to let go until the last notes faded away.

Buzz Osborne didn’t engage with the audience, other than to stand at the very edge of the stage just behind the rail a few times. I am not normally in front at shows and this time I was right there, right at his feet. When Buzz would lean over his guitar his head almost touched mine! He shredded with his eyes closed most of the time and would occasionally smile a little secret smile that made you wonder what he was thinking. He marched and stomped around that stage, owning it from start to finish.

Steve McDonald amused me with his fur vest and stage play -- pretending to trip and fall without ever doing so and throwing some kicks (always my favorite), as well as playing from his knees. At one point, he lifted his guitar up to his chin and proceeded to play it as if it was a violin without a bow. His animated face kept you watching to see what he would do next.

Dale Crover was all but invisible behind his drum kit, but he was a force of nature back there and thunderous with those sticks. He had a Sylvester The Cat plush toy sitting on one of the drums and I am amazed he managed to stay there for the whole set with all that banging!

I was there to take pictures, but there were times when I lowered my camera, hung onto the stage rail, and let the music take me, bucking me like a wild bronco. Both “It’s Shoved” and “The Bit” had a rhythmic push-and-pull that I couldn’t help but move to. Buzz wailed with a spooky, mournful tone reminiscent of Adam Alexander of Die Like Gentlemen and sometimes had an angry growl like Wallace Charman, front man of PDX rockers Pillowfight. Near the end Buzz held out his guitar, as if an offering to the God of Sludge. If that explains his genius and amazing creations, then consider me a disciple.

Meanwhile, Dale teased us all with a crescendoing drum groove in the final moments of the last song and then left us all hanging, standing up and not delivering that phrase ending downbeat. Always leave ‘em wanting more! That was exactly the case. People were shocked and sad when the house lights came on and they realized there would be no encore. The Melvins truly left everyone wanting more and I, for one, am looking forward to their next visit to P-Town.

Follow The Band.

Get Their Music.

[alxfierro]

Solangelo hc's

- it’s flirty bantering 24/7 - little to no physical contact at first - glaring when they steal each others food because yours tastes better but it ends up into laughing because you made eye contact too long - when people point out they Nico is smiling and random skeleton hand pops out of the ground and grabs onto there ankle just to scare them - canoe races. Not romantic dates. Races. - there teenaged boys yes there horny but no!! Physical!! Contact!! - like in the future yes but at the beginning it’s all a fun and games - I legit can’t see them making out until there 16 and even then its making out as in kissing longer than 30 seconds - and than it leads into wrestling and star gazing and trying to find a dick in the stars b/c there teenage boys vvhat do you want from them - Nico was raised to be against gays he had an internalized homophobia and is still weirded out by his desires until he remembers how great will is and will can’t possibly be wrong - like why would anybody ever not like will? He’s honestly pure sunshine? - they go skiing you can’t tell me otherwise - Nico’s got frail bones and he sprains them easily which is annoying -(it’s never an excuse to see will don’t ducking talk to me about lift up your shirt doctors orders or some shit) -(he honestly just had crappy bones ok he needs to drink more milk) -Nico’s always okay with will touching his shoulder or putting an arm around him - and he’ll fall asleep on him sometimes at sing along fire thingys (bonfires?) - will has this anxiety that his only talent is medicine and he can’t even save everybody? - And although everybody’s like your great at it!! He just thinks no I’m not my own brother died?? - Nico’s got a mood disorder and doesn’t really make it out of his way to talk to people, but he doesn’t really only talk to will either?? - the word boyfriend is still weird for him like,, he knows there dating and stuff and he’s cool with it but labeling it that it’s just weird for him - most of there time together is laying on nicks bed sucking on doctors office Lollipops - they randomly dance sometimes when Nico’s feeling down. - like they’ll close Nico’s cabin blinds and turn on heavy metal and just bounce on his bed and jump around - wills got that accent where certain words are said with it and others aren’t - Nico curses in Italian under his breath sometimes and that is how will learned Italian - suddenly vvhat Ciara says makes sense to him after hearing Nico enough - Jason doesn’t interrogate him and neither does percy and nobody is over protective of Nico anymore than they should be like - they barely see eachother since Jason is in California and percy is at home?? - Nico becomes better friends with the campers than he ever was with the seven - will wears his ski jacket ALL THE DAMN TIME - NICOS LIKE WE GET IT YOU CAN SKI A BLACK DIAMOND FUCK OFF ALREADY - AND WILLS LIKE YEAH WELL SHUT UP 🙃 - it’s all in good nature - let’s stop the doctors orders thing it’s just a joke they have nobody takes it seriously and if anybody at camp ever thinks they use it as an excuse well when Nico does cabin check he gives them a bad grade - like suck it you idiots - Nico wearing doctor stuff like gloves - putting water in doctor gloves and making hand turkeys together to decorate the hospital at thanksgiving - zombie doctors for Halloween - bisexual will is canon will - checking out other campers and getting jealous of the other - Nico making it known there together when someone try's to flirt with will - Nico legit having an agenda against paolo like we can't even understand him for all I know he's been asking you to marry him like he's not even that hot will wtf - will; yeah no your hotter - followed by tons of blushing and shut the fuck up will don't be so gay - Austin and Kayla and will are best friends and Nico just tags along - let Nico have friends his own age 2k17 - legit fighting while fighting monsters like ‘Will you can’t fucking ask the monster to stop attacking us’ ‘Well have you ever tried too’ ‘No I haven’t because I’m fucking sane’ And this is while Nico is stabbing it and will is standing there helpless because nonviolence unless it’s self defense (Nico: ITS FUCKING SELF DEFENSE ITS A MONSTER??) - will has a whole thing about violence because it just means more work for him - like when you were a teenager when did you ever go out of your way for more work?? - will having those no drug pamphlets and no sex ones from glee that Emma had - Nico reads them for a good laugh - idk autistic will / very high functioning - wearing flip flops while at the hospital even though it’s a safety hazard - wills scrubs are wearing baggy clothes and tank tops because he’s too lazy to find actual scrubs - there are no more lollipops when he tries to hand them out because Nico and Kayla fucking ate them all - Nico trying to spare with will but it doesn’t work so he does it with Kayla and she’s like meh - he gets so angry because he isn’t challenged and will just like - suck it up

[v177293]

Sing Me To Sleep

Summary: How do you even tell the one most important person of your life that sometimes, your brain felt fuzzy when they were talking to you without sounding like a creep? It's simple. You don't. Or the one where Genos has ASMR and Saitama has a really nice voice.

Word count: ~2500

Note: What it says on the tin. Canon universe.

It started soon after Dr. Kuseno found what was left of him in the dilapidated wreck of his hometown.

Even years later, Genos still remembered how that conversation went, the memory of the doctor's weary sigh clear as day in his mind as the man suddenly stopped what he was doing to look at him with a heavy gaze.

“You need to relax, my boy.”

“What,” he answered flatly, his voice a mixture of offence and disbelief.

Relax? How could that old man ask him to relax when they still didn't have any news on the whereabouts of the mad cyborg? When he wasn't ready to even face him, weak and useless as he was, let alone fight him? The doctor had been looking for that monster for years, surely he understood how important his revenge was?

With all the finesse of an angry teenage boy, Genos told him exactly where he could shove his advice.

It was a testimony of Dr. Kuseno's patience – or maybe the fact that he was by now far too used to those kind of comments – that he simply laughed at him.

Silence filled the underground laboratory once again, occasionally broken by the clatter of fingers on a keyboard or random high pitched chirps coming from the multiple computers and other pieces of equipment around them. The new familiarity of the scene was enough to lull the teenager into a false sense of security, thinking to himself that the doctor had decided to drop his crazy idea.

No such luck.

“Just,” the old man started again an hour later, seemingly distracted by the mess of wires he was patiently untangling from his left shoulder and connecting to his new metallic arm. “Look up some techniques on the Internet, perhaps? Isn't that what young people such as yourself like to do nowadays?”

Genos wasn't sure there was a way to say that all the parts of him that gave a shit about what 'young people' did died along the rest of his family without sounding over dramatic.

He told so him anyway.

Unsurprisingly, the doctor laughed again.

Eventually, begrudgingly, when the sleepless nights, the pain and the stress just became too much, the teenager ended up doing just that. At this point, he would have given anything for a distraction and this seemed as good as any. Still, it probably took him way too long to realize that trying to fall asleep to another hours long playlist of mind numbingly boring music just wasn't going to do him any good.

Genos was just about to give up when, after a week of fruitless research time spent between painful upgrades followed by the even more taxing rehabilitation, another video caught his eyes.

The term itself – ASMR? -  was unfamiliar to him; he'd never been a fan of technology, despite what he was slowly turning into, and even before, he'd never really spent a lot of time on his old school's library computer, even for research purpose. And this was not something he had ever encounter in any of the books he had read in the past.  In the end, curiosity and boredom won as he clicked on the thumbnail, expecting another useless piece of junk video that would do nothing more than make him loose another twenty minutes of his life.

What he got instead was the weird close up of a woman talking in soft tones, explaining exactly what that ASMR thing was and what it stood for while something was suddenly happening in his head.

The feeling was... strange. Good, but strange, like little starbursts bubbling in his brain and down his spine, making him want to just stay there and listen until he fell asleep, away from the world. Away from everything.

He was transfixed.

It wasn't much. Not during the first couple of months when his body slowly but surely started to feel less and less human and more like a machine, metal, silicone and wires creeping higher and higher as the blood, the bones and the human flesh was eaten away in his need for revenge. Not when, later, the last piece left of his humanity was a brain floating in his cyborg body, his senses still so dull at the time that most days he simply couldn't even feel anything.

No, it wasn't much, but it was enough to calm part of the anxiety and the boiling anger for a time, to make some of the pain more bearable, to starve off the worst of the sensory deprivation that came right after the end of the transition.

It wasn't really much of an issue, at first.

Even after Genos became a fully fledged cyborg, a lone wanderer looking for the monster who destroyed not only his family and his village, but also every single bit of the normalcy of his old life, those feelings weren't something he had the opportunity to experience very often. He had other things to do, always moving and fighting and searching. Clearly, there was no time to allot to something so frivolous now that he was out of the lab.

And then he met Saitama.

Saitama with his incommensurable strength, his unparalleled sense of justice and his voice.

Usually, it wasn't so bad. Saitama wasn't much of a talker and Genos could fill the silence for the both of them when prompted. And even then, his sensei's voice didn't usually have that strange soothing quality he found in some of the people he'd managed to discover on the Internet over the years.

Nothing to worry about there, really.

But then, when the other hero got especially serious before a promising – but always so disappointing – fight, or when there were so many stores to hit for sales and so little time to do so, his tone would shift, a bit lower, a little slower. And later, when the line between teacher and disciple started to blur and they became more, the late night conversations accompanied by hushed voices became the norm instead of the exception.

That's when the tingles in his head would start.

Which was another problem in itself. How do you even tell the one most important person of your life that sometimes, your brain felt fuzzy when the we're talking to you without sounding like a creep?

It's simple. You don't.

“Oi, Genos.”

Blinking, the teenager lifted his head, eyes tearing away from the screen to look at his teacher. The man, despite his usually inexpressive face, seemed almost uncomfortable for some reason. Sensing he should probably pay attention, Genos paused the video he'd been watching for the last 15 minutes or so – another one of those, it couldn't do any harm after the hectic week they just had -, locating his notebook in case he ended up needing it.

You could never know when someone as wise as his sensei was about to drop another one of his invaluable pearls of wisdom.

“Yes, sensei?”

“You're not...” Discarding his manga on the floor next to him, Saitama turned to face him fully, visibly bracing himself before opening his mouth again. “Dude, you're not watching porn, are you?”

The subsequent amount of steam that shot out of his vents would probably have been enough to fog out the entire living room of their apartment had the balcony door not been cracked open. If it was at all possible for people to die of mortification, the cyborg was sure that now would have been the perfect occasion.

“Wha- sensei!” he spluttered, closing his computer by reflex with almost enough strength to break the screen even though he didn't have anything to be ashamed of, thank you very much. “How- why?”

Raising his hands in defence, Saitama shrugged helplessly. “It's just- you've been staring at your screen for a while now, and you're not doing anything, dude. And your, uh,” Gesturing at his own face, he hesitated a moment before adding, “Your expression is just... I don't know, man. Forget I asked.”

Genos could have sworn his face was burning if not for the fact that he knew he had lost the ability to do so for a long time, now. Still, that didn't stop him from lowering his gaze to the table, trying to not only tone down his embarrassment, but also find something to say that wouldn't make Saitama judge him.

Not that his sensei would, of course. He was, after all, too much of an amazing man to ever do something like that. Only, it always seemed so hard for the ones who didn't experience those kind of sensations to actually understand.

That simple fact was almost enough to keep him from saying anything despite the uncomfortable tension he could feel growing steadily around them. Or at least, until his desperate need to give an explanation won against his desire to simply keep that part of him silent, boiling over in, he had to admit, perhaps not the most dignified way possible.

“Sensei! I want to explain!”

As soon as the words left his mouth in what was almost a yell, the cyborg couldn't help but cringe inwardly. Clearly, with all the time he had taken to compose himself, his window of opportunity to avoid making this even more awkward than it was had closed already, right? His sensei obviously thought so, if one was to believe the slightly taken aback look on his face.

“It's, uh, it's okay dude. You do whatever you want, you don't have to-”

“Please! Allow me, Saitama-sensei.”

Throwing him an almost suspicious look over the top of his manga, Saitama eventually gestured him to go on.

“So, let me get this straight.”

Sitting in perfect seiza at the other side of the table, Genos waited in silence, not wanting to put him off with another long winded explanation. Despite Saitama's patience, he honestly wasn't sure how much of what he just said the other hero actually understood.

“There's this AR-something in your head that makes it sometimes feel all nice and tingly.”

“Yes, sensei.”

“And it happens when people are, like, whispering and stuff?”

“As always, sensei knows how to find the right words to perfectly sum things up.”

“And you definitely weren't looking up dirty stuff in the middle of our living room?”

“Saitama-sensei! You know I would never-”

“I know, I know,” Saitama said while flapping a dismissive hand in his direction. “I was just kidding, sheesh. But, uh, yeah. That's... cool, I guess.”

Right away, all the tension that started building up in his synthetic body was released, a slight smile finding it's way on his face. Really, Genos should have known not to worry; not when he had a sensei as perfect as Saitama. His relief was almost enough to miss the slightly considering look the other hero sent his way before said man started reading his manga again.

Almost, but not quite.

And that was it, for the most part. Things continued as they did before, and the topic wasn't brought up again.

Or at least, not until the latest Hero Association meeting he was strongly suggested to attend to.

Alone.

As if Saitama wasn't the most capable hero of them all. As usual, most of the S-Class didn't even bother showing up, and the few ones who did, him included, probably all wished they hadn't. A colossal waste of time, if one where to ask him, especially since it was about something no one gave a damn. Which, all things considered, hasn't been that bad until another useless argument broke out between some of the heroes, making the remaining hour even more unbearable than it was to begin with. Honestly, some of them could be so fucking frustrating.

Especially that annoying little green goblin. The way she just kept disrespecting Saitama was just unacceptable.

“Bad day?” The man asked when he finally came back fuming, listening patiently – or at least doing a great job of pretending to – until Genos ran himself dry after almost half an hour of uninterrupted ranting.

After several minutes, probably sensing his leftover agitation – as if the way he kept looking at the table like he was seriously considering burning it to the ground wasn't enough of a clue -, Saitama eventually reached over to where he was silently seething. The gentle tugging on his arm made the cyborg finally relent, letting himself be moved enough to put his head on the man's shoulder.

“So,” Saitama said, clearing his throat, face almost pinched in discomfort. A strange occurrence, really, considering they'd passed the cap of casual touches months ago. “Did I tell you about that great deal I found in D-City earlier today?”

Without waiting for an answer, he then started getting into the details. How much he bought, how good the hot pot they were going to make tonight with all that discounted food was going to be, and had he mentioned the fresh cabbage he had found for only a third of the regular price?

Lost in the midst of his sensei's story, the first tingle at the back of his titanium skull almost caught him by surprise. Yes, Saitama's voice could hit just the right kind of triggers to make him want to go lax and listen to him for hours, but it was usually always during very specific kind of circumstances and this just wasn't one of those.

Genos was seconds away from asking him what he was doing when he noticed the faint pink tinge of Saitama ears, the hero's eyes staring resolutely at the wall in front of him.

Oh.

All of the sudden, his mind went back to that moment, weeks ago, and that look his sensei had given him. Genos had assumed Saitama had forgotten all about it, or just didn't care much about the whole conversation after his first moment of fleeting interest had passed. It seemed that, once again, the cyborg had underestimated the man.

That, or Saitama cared about him more then he'd thought at first.

Closing his eyes, core surging with unexplained warmth, Genos pretended not to notice, silently urging him to continue. His mind started relaxing more and more as the nervousness slowly bled out of Saitama's voice, his body following suit as the tingles occasionally caused him to almost shiver when they ran down his mechanical spine.

Then a short pause, before a low “That's alright?” reached his ears. The man must have taken his vague noise of affirmation as a yes, because he only stopped for a couple of seconds before he kept going, calmly explaining exactly how much he managed to save with the combined coupons and sales of today's grocery shopping.

When he normally would be paying a lot more attention to what the hero was saying – maybe hiding somewhere in there was the secret of his sensei's strength -, Genos stayed still, letting Saitama's voice wash over him, luring him into this in-between place right at the edge of sleep and wakefulness.

At this moment, despite everything, all was right in the world.

And really, the fingers that kept slowly carding through his hair were just an added bonus.

Melodies stuck inside your head A song in every breath