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fandomscombine · 4 years ago

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Exploding Stink Bomb

Platonic!Weasley Twins x Reader

BG: Chaos ensues when the twins steal your latest prank invention. How much worse could it be when innocent people are caught in the mess?

WC:1744

Entry for @feetoffthetable 's 500 writing challenge. A week late I know-sorry! Cause I lost the initial draft. (Note: Do NOT trust auto save that much) So I had to rewrite it.

The prompts are taken from Random Prompts List No. 4 and No.11. (Are in bold in the text)

4. “…Are they dead?” “I don’t know! Why don’t you ask them!”

11. “You’re being remarkably calm about this.” “Thanks, it’s the shock. Give me fifteen minutes, the screaming will happen.”

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

Fred Weasley, George Weasley and Y/n L/n, also known as 'The Pranksters Trio' of modern day Hogwarts.

It is the winter of senior year, and your stress levels are increasing by the day. NEWTS are to be held in a couple of months and you have managed to procrastinate completing your mock papers. At this rate, you would get a passing grade but in all honesty you know that wouldn’t cut it, you know your abilities. If you actually put effort in your subjects you can bump a level up.

You've made a deal with your parents that if you had completed your practice papers, you could spend the last week of the Christmas holiday with the Weasleys.

Which you are; 3 days in, 4 days left till school.

'What your parents don't know won't hurt them...' You mumble to yourself as you stir the bubbling green mixture clockwise.

See you haven't finished the potions assignment yet. Your parents thought you did last week, but in reality what you were working on was a little fantastic smelling concoction that could contribute to the twins' upcoming new joke shop merchandise lineup!

During the journey to King’s Cross, Fred had come up to you and asked if you could help brainstorm a new product that would blow people's minds away. Of course you agreed, a multitude of ideas already brewing, you would do anything to help out your friends.

That night, it was all you could think about. Naturally you are itching to get started, before the thought flies away. Pushing your potions textbook aside, you got to work. It took 18 hours of no sleep but it paid off. The product was now in your hands.

A shiny burgundy shimmering marble-like sphere. The final product was smaller than the blueprint- the amount of ingredients you had on hand in your muggle household were limited- you do a mental note on raiding the potions supply closet once back in school for dragon hide.

But when you do finally have all the resources, the sphere should be the size of a baseball.

For now, at 30% of the ideal size, this mini test sphere could stink up a small bedroom. Which is enough to do damage but also has a small enough impact that you fix if anything were to go wrong.

BAM! You knew the quiet was too good to last.

“y/n/n, my dear!” Greeted Fred, waltzing into Ginny’s room.

“Are you--” George placed his hand on the door, stopping it from slamming back to his face. “Oi! Why’d you have to kick the door so hard? You could have ruined my handsome face!” He shouted to his twin.

Dropping your quill back into the ink bottle you sighed. “Nooo, how many times do I have to tell you? I’ll be finished when I’m finished. Most likely tomorrow, the earliest.”

“Why can’t you just let US test it though?” voiced George.

“Because I came up with it and it’s the only one we’ve got!” You reasoned. “I wanna see it when it explodes!”

Right then, the boys’ eyes lit up.

“IT EXPLODES?!?!?” They exclaimed in union.

“SHIT!” It was too late to cover it up. The secret is out.

The twins shared a look, you don’t really believe in twin telepathy but in the case of your 2 best friends and mischief, they almost always are on the same page.

You are sent flying sideways off your chair and hit the air mattress. “Offph! George! Let….me….go!” With all your might, you try to push George off you but to no avail. The muscles built up during quidditch training are to his advantage.

In the other side of the room, Fred is rummaging through your trunk, eagerly looking for the mysterious and highly sought after invention.

Although he may not know what it looks like, Fred is still one of your accomplices in sneaking prank items to school, meaning he and Geroge know all the secret compartments in your trunk. As do you with their trunks.

This setup made sense, it was a precautionary method devised so that in a matter of incoming danger or when suspected of something, the others could easily get rid of any incriminating evidence.

The system is perfect! Well expect now when it backfired on you.

“AHA GOT IT!”

Your face snaps to the direction of the voice. Cursing internally, right there, raised high above Fred’s head is the prized Exploding Stink Bomb.

“WICKED!” cried George. While the twins are reveling in their success, you took the chance to push George off you and launch towards Fred.

While George was caught off guard, Fred had the few seconds in which you got up to process what was happening and sprinted towards the door.

“IMMA GET YOU FRED!”

“LET’S SEE THAT SMALL LEGS!”

“GOT YA! AHHHHH--” One moment you had your hand on Fred’s shoulder, next you felt a tug on your waist. “GEORGE LET. ME. GO”

“No can do y/n/n.”

His hold wasn’t enough to hurt you, but it was certainly tighter. “Learned from your earlier mistake eh” You teased.

“Just caught me off guard” George reasoned.

Fred walking backwards, bids his farewell. “See you Suckers!” He shouted, taking a bow. With that he disappears round the corner.

A THUD.

“Ginny!”

You and George shared a look of confusion, what was going on?

Arriving at the scene, you are not surprised to see a sneering Ginny.

“That’s what you get for going in my room!”

What you’re more surprised to see is a frantic Fred. You knew that Ginny is fully capable of being terrifying but this was all in good fun right?

Slowly George walked up to his brother. “Freddie what’s wrong?”

“The ball… it slipped”

Eyes wide, your heart starts to beat faster. “Where…?”

You barely had gotten the question out, the answer is given.

As if on cue, you hear shouts coming from your right, Ron’s room.

Ginny being the closest, beats all of you to the door. When it opened, you catch the faint bit of purple smoke before it completely clears away, no other evidence of the stink ball in sight-you smile at the result, hard work does pay off.

‘Now is not a time to be happy y/n’ you told yourself. Your gaze reached the unconscious bodies on the two beds. “Well that’s…..uhh... new...”

Here are 4 guilty looking teenagers looking at the scene of the crime.

Ginny gingerly poked Ron’s side, keeping a fair distance away just in case he jolts back. “…Are they dead?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know! Why don’t you ask them!” George paused his pacing to point his finger at both you and Fred.

“Hey! I am not the one you had thrown the stink bomb into the room!” You said defensively. “Besides I told you to test it when I’m ready! BUT NOOOO… you two wanted it now WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING IT’S FULL CAPACITY AND RESTRICTIONS!”

“I…..I…” When George couldn’t come up with a come back, he changed tactics. Turning to Fred he challenges. “You’re being remarkably calm about this.”

Fred, who was still standing rooted at the entryway, replied. “Thanks, it’s the shock. Give me fifteen minutes, the screaming will happen.”

“What the heck happened anyway?” asked Ginny.

“Yea, I thought it was just a stink bomb that could explode!” added George.

“It is just an exploding stink bomb!”

“Then why are they unconscious?” George’s panic becomes more evident as in addition to his pacing, his voice is now an octave higher.

“I think that the stink bomb was too powerful for such a small room.” Sighing, you gestured to the closed windows. “There’s no adequate ventilation too. Must have cause them to inhale a larger concentration”

“How long will they be out?”

“I don’t know Ginny…really.” You shrug. “It could be hours, one to two at best.”

“TWO HOURS?!?” The twins say in union despite one clearly in utter distress while the other scarily unmoving.

Fred gripped his hair, placed his head in between his thighs and let out a scream that could rival a lion.

George now having lost hope of his brother functioning, took charge. “Mum is gonna be back any second now. What are we gonna do?”

“Well, first…we’re gonna check the boy’s condition again for progress” You suggest, dragging Ginny to check on hair while you check on Ron.

“Then..we’re gonna say..”

“GOT YA!” You 4 shout, finger guns at the ready.

“Wait.. WHAT?!!?? WHAT’S HAPPENING?” George looks at Harry and Ron- who are surprisingly alright and laughing their heads off, to you and GInny looking very smug.

Fred tilts his red face up to the commotion.

“YOU JUST GOT PRANKED! SAY CHESSE!” You announced, indicating to Ginny with the camera.

“Cheeseee” murmured the twins in defeat.

“How’d you do it?”

You knew that they would be back with questions. You keep them on the edge as you finish up your potions essay.

"You lot are predictable."

"Predictable?" George scoffed.

Tidying up the study table you continue "Mhhhmmm hmmm. Predicted that you would test it out on Ron, knew that you would try to steal it from me cause you both are very impatient- especially you Fred."

"Heyy!"

"But how did you wake up Harry and Ron?" Piped George. "We shook them but they were still unconscious!"

"Ah George ever the curious. It's simple really." You lay on the bed with hands behind your head, enjoying this moment of outsmarted the boys. "Your siblings were all very tired of been pranked so when we saw an opportunity to have you taste of your own medicine we grab them chance."

You glance at them.

"The time of you setting off the stink bomb is unknown but we were ready. I've made a nose blocker chewing gum while I was tinkering with the foul smell of the stink bomb."

"No sense of smell, no effect." stated Fred.

"Exactly, the rest I'd just improv and acting! The boys weren't actually unconscious, just a temporary numbing spell which Ginny and I reversed when we checked on them."

Sitting back up, you continued.

"What I didn't predict was how crazy you with react. I've never seen you two gone off the rails scared shirtless like that before." You admitted. "Priceless."

"And now you have a photo of it" grumbled George.

"And video too!"

"WHAT?"

Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1

HP Taglist: @onlyfreds

#fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #fred and george #fred weasley imagine #george weasley imagine #fred weasley #george weasley #weasley twins #harry potter x reader #feetofthetable500writingchallenge #fandomscombine writes #fred weasley fluff #george weasley fluff #harry potter imagine #weasley x reader #ron weasley #ginny weasley

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jadedlavendergemini · 3 years ago

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A Summer To Remember

Pt 2

Summary: Lexi Goldstein has one goal in her life, to be a model. Her boyfriend, who is inspired to become a big time actor insists on taking a break and working at a summer camp with the rest of their friends. What go wrong?

A/N: I’m so terribly sorry for the long wait. I’ve been extremely busy with both jobs. Thank you guys for giving me a great amount of support with my fics. I just wish I was able to update more frequently. As always, let me know what ya’ll think!

Tag list (if anyone is still interested) : @instincts-baby @lovelylangdonx @fckinsupreme @7-wonders @angelicmichael @dark-mei-rose @langdxn

Part one

—————————————————————————-

“Alright great job everyone!” Xavier exclaimed to the class. “Just remember I wont be teaching for a couple of months but that doesn’t mean you can slack off! I want every one to be ready to go as soon as I get back!”

The class slowly made their way out of the door, some stopping to wish Xavier a good summer break. He flashed his famous white tooth smile, waving them off. His eyes wandering to his girlfriend who was in deep conversation with Montana Duke.

“So how was the dick last night?” Montana asked bluntly, still stretching her legs. The blonde chuckled at her friend’s wide eyed expression. “Oh don’t be so modest, Lex. You’ve been smiling like an idiot since the both of you got here.”

Lexi just shook her head before crossing her arms and leaning in, lowering her voice. “It was very nice.”

Before Montana could get in one of her many responses, Ray had stepped in and placed an arm around both of the girls.

“Okay, enough with the chit chat and let’s get GOING. I want to get to RedWood before it gets late.”

“What is your deal with leaving the city so soon, huh?” Xavier made his way over to the group and shoved Ray’s arm off of Lexi.

“Like I said, this city is about to get crazy. Just want to get a head start, man.” He moved his other arm off of Montana and nervously wiped his forehead.

“Right, well we’re going to hit the showers and we’ll be ready.” Montana looped her arm through Lexi’s and took off.

After showering, Montana and Lexi met up with the boys in the gym lobby. Lexi fell into Xavier’s side on the couch. Chet sat opposite of them, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his thighs. Ray sat halfway off the arm of the couch looking on edge as per usual that week.

“Alright so the drive to RedWood should only be about two hours so if you guys need anything, get it done now because I’d like to make as less stops as possible.” Xavier said to the group.

The group all shook their heads and Ray jumped to stand.

“Nope!” He said enthusiastically. “Let’s get rolling!”

Xavier and Chet rolled their eyes as they began to stand to exit. Before any of them could even head to the door, the doors to the lobby opened and small brunette hastily made her way to Montana.

“Montana!” She exclaimed, practically shocking the hell out of the blonde. “I- can I still come with you guys?”

“Of course, Brooke. What’s going on?”

“You look shaken,” Chet chimed in, dropping his bag to the ground and stepping towards the girl. “Are you alright?”

The girl, Brooke, was on the brink of tears. “H-he came for me last night. The Night Stalker! He broke into my apartment, he tried to kill me!”

Montana nodded, and guided Brooke to the couch. “What? You’ve got to be kidding! Are you alright?”

Lexi moved from Xavier and ran to the nearest water machine to grab a cup for the girl. The group just stood by as Montana tried to calm her down.

“Are you sure that’s who it was, Brooke?” Ray asked. “Not just some random dude?”

“Of course it was him! He said,” she lowered her voice. “He said he wanted me to swear on satan.”

Xavier sighed, brows raised. “Damn, that’s fucked up. You’re still welcome to come though.”

Montana nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Come with us, we’ll be out in the woods. You’ll be safe there with us.”

As Brooke nodded, Lexi made her way back to Brooke with the water. “Here drink and just breathe.”

Brooke took the water with a small “thank you.” She looked around at the group. “I- I packed a bag just in case-“

“We’ll get the van loaded, no worries!” Ray spoke, signaling the boys to follow him.

“Yeah, plenty of room.” Chet gave a small smile towards the brunette before leaving the girls to sit in silence.

Lexi stood up from where was kneeling next to Brooke. “I’m Lexi, by the way. You must be Montana’s new friend.”

Brooke nodded. “Yeah, we met yesterday in class.”

“Lexi is Xavier’s girlfriend.” Montana said. “And my best friend, well more like a sister.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Brooke spoke.

“Same.” It remained quiet again until she spoke once more. “So do you really think it was him? There’s a lot of crazy shit that goes down in this city.”

“It was him.” Brooke declared, sitting the plastic cup on the coffee table. “He said he was going to come after me!”

Montana held her hands up. “Brooke, chill. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll come with us to Camp RedWood and by the time we get back, the cops will have most likely found him.”

Lexi nodded. “Exactly,” she patted Brooke’s shoulder for reassurance.

Brooke nodded and stood. The two blondes stood with her and they all made their way out of the gym.

———————————ASTR————————————

The first hour during the ride was filled with laughs and promises of the best summer to come. Lexi sat close to Xavier in the front of the van as the others chilled in the back. Brook sat between Montana and Chet, still obviously on edge.

Ray offered some alcohol to the brunette in hopes of calming her nerves. “I still don’t really know what happened.” She managed to say before taking a swig from Ray’s flask.

“Face it, Brooke. You’re a badass.” Montana smiled at the girl.

“The cops are going to find him right?” Brooke asked, still in not convinced.

“I’m sure they will, hun.” Lexi turned around in her seat to give Brooke a reassuring smile.

“What’s better than a few weeks out in the wilderness? And get paid for it!” Montana said, bringing a hand onto the brunette’s knee. “Brooke, you’re totally doing the right thing coming with us.”

“Absolutely, it’s going to be a nonstop party.” Ray spoke next. “The kids, the camp. I’ve got us enough blow and weed to last us through the summer. And let’s just hope that we don’t have to take any drug tests.” Ray, Lexi, Montana and Xavier laughed as Chet huffed.

“No, it’s not fucking funny. Point zero zero one. That’s how much shit those morons said was in my blood stream.” Chet huffed and crossed his arms.

“If you haven’t figured it out yet, Chet was disqualified from Team USA. He peed a pharmacy, so they kicked him out of the Olympics.” Montana said to Brooke, who tried to keep her eyes from starting at the man.

“Come on, you can be honest with us. We’re all friends!” Xavier chuckled.

“But I didn’t do anything! I worked my ass off for that spot!” Chet whined, now moving to pull his shirt off. “I mean look at this bod. Have you ever seen a body like this?”

Brooke shook her head and replied quietly with a “no.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself.” Ray chimed.

“Yeah? What the hell do you got, huh? Let’s see it!”

Montana, who had been watching the whole exchange with smirk spoke. “Yeah, I’m up for a good laugh.”

Lexi giggled as Ray struggled to remove his shirt but managed to finally get it off. He flexed whatever muscles he had. “Eat my shorts!”

A bright flash from Montana’s Polaroid camera blinded him for a moment. She just grabbed the film when it finally printed. “For memory purposes.”

“It’s like the ad always says ‘there’s always room for jello.’”

Ray rolls his eyes and digs through his backpack something. Then brings out a little clear vial of a white substance.

Without a word he gestures it to Chet who hesitates but gives up.

“What the hell! It doesn’t matter what I put in my body anymore anyways.” He says before taking hit off his finger.

Chet passes it back to Brooke, who shyly declines. Which it was now handed to Montana who was obviously down.

“More for me,” she snorted what she could before handing it to Lexi. “And for Lexi.”

Lexi rolled her eyes before lifting the vial towards her nose. She took a big wiff from the line in which she poured onto her hand.

Lexi managed to trade the coke for one of Ray’s famous blunts. She sunk back into seat next to Xavier with the blunt placed in between her fingers.

The curvy blonde took two hits before holding it up to her boyfriend’s mouth. Xavier rolled his eyes at whatever chatter his friends were causing in the back seat. He leaned into the joint that Lexi had held up for him.

Not bothering to wait for him to release the Smoke he had inhaled, she moved closer and placed her lips onto his plump ones. The smoke from the joint seeking its way back into Lexi’s mouth.

The two didn’t notice their friends were watching. Ray, being the more playful friend, decided to call them out.

“Come on you two, cut that shit out before Xav crashes the damn van!”

Lexi only smiled bashfully and sat back in her spot in the passengers seat. That didn’t stop Xavier from taking his large right hand to squeeze her thigh.

And in a low voice, avoiding their friends. He whispered into her ear. “Don’t forget what I said about sex in the woods.”

Lexi just smiled “Oh baby, don’t tease.” She winked.

Not much longer the group arrived at what looked like an older, broken down gas Station. Which was kinda eerie to Lexi, considering her knowledge of horror movies with gas stations like this one.

Everyone had hopped out to stretch their legs. Xavier moved passed the gas station attendant.

“Fill her up. How much?” He asks the older man.

“About a quarter,” he responded.

“And the pay phone?” He asked. The older man grunted And pointed towards the back by a garbage dump.

Lexi settles for a coke from a soda machine nearby. She scraped together a dollar from the change from Xavier’s van.

“You guys want anything from the vending machine?” Lexi asks the girls who are busy stretching their legs and talking.

“Nah, I’m good.” Montana replied.

“No thanks, I’m good.” Brooke responded.

Lexi shrugged and headed back to the vending machine to get her drink.

“Actually, Lexi could you do me a favor?”

“What?” She grabbed her soda and joined Montana And Brooke.

“I don’t know if you could tell but I think Brooke here has a crush on our dear, pain in the ass, Chet. Does she have you blessing?”

“It’s not what you-“ Brooke was cut off.

“Brooke, I really don’t care about you and Chet. Just go for it. Honestly, we only dated for 6 months.”

“You don’t care?”

“Nope. Chet And I have moved on from each other. And now I have Xavier.” Lexi said, eyeing her man walking back towards them. “So have fun!” She giggled to Brooke.

“See? I told you not to worry about her!” Montana Schabe Brooke’s shoulder a shove. “Xavier let’s go! We need to start making a move if we going to get to RedWood before dark!”

“Did she say RedWood?” The old man asked.

“Yeah, camp RedWood. We’re all camp counselors there for the summer.” Brooke answered.

“Turn around. Go back to the city.” The old man responded. “They should have never opened that place again.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. How much do we owe you?” Xavier interrupted, his hand resting on Lexi’s lower back.

He helped her into the back of the van as Ray paid the gas station attendant.

“Xav, what is he talking about?” Lexi asks.

Xavier shakes his head. “Nothing. Probably some random shit he says to anyone heading the same way. Don’t worry ‘bout it, babe.”

Xavier hopped back into the drivers seat. Chet stole Lexi’s spot but she was glad to be in the back with the girls and Ray.

Xavier was just finding the right tunes for the rest of the drive when the old man slapped a hand on the hood, causing them to jump in surprise.

“You’re all gonna die.” He spoke in such a deep tone that gave Lexi goosebumps.

The blonde just winked. And drove them off back towards the way.

Lexi however, couldn’t stop thinking of those words. What was he talking about? How much of Camp Redwood did this man know about? Obviously something she did not. And she wasn’t the only one.

——————————-ASTRM————————————

A/N: I know it’s shorter than expected but I’ve already got chapter 3 going. Please let me know what you think.

#a summer to remember #ahs:1984 fic #xavier plympton #Xavier plympton x oc #cody fern #ahs

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sachigram · 3 years ago

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With Teeth Chapter 3

((click here to read on ao3!!))

“Is that man coming by here again?”

Izaya pauses in his typing, sparing a glance at Namie, who is staring at him from her side of the desk. She looks bored, but that's nothing new. She hides her emotions well. It's one reason he can tolerate her, despite her unpleasant personality and obsession with her brother. She's fun, hard to predict. She's a challenge.

“What man?” Izaya asks, knowing full well what she means. She scoffs at him, and he grins at her. “You'll have to be more specific.”

“That one. The one you're obsessed with. Heiwajima. He's been coming by here every month around this time, skulking and making rude comments. This will be the seventh month, right?”

“Observant, aren't you?” Izaya asks, turning back to his typing. “I can't predict what Shizu-chan does, you know that. He does what he wants.”

“Yeah, but there's a pattern now. People like him don't normally have patterns, do they?” Namie tilts her head at him, something other women might do to seem cute. With Namie, it's always a disarming tactic, something she does to seem smaller when she's actually a power player. Izaya is used to her by now, even without reading her mind.

“That's part of what makes him so unpredictable. He's random until he isn't, and then he breaks his pattern when you least expect.” Izaya waves her away. “Ask what you want to ask, and stop with the games. We're both busy people.”

“You've got something on him, right? You're blackmailing him? It has to be something like that. He wants you dead even more than I do, and that's saying a lot. There's no way he'd suffer in your company more than he had to.”

“Whatever I do or don't have on Shizu-chan is between him and me. That makes it none of your business, Namie-chan! Unfortunate for you, but true all the same.”

“Are you guys fucking or something?” she asks, and she shrugs at the look Izaya gives her. “What? There's not much else you'd keep secret. If he gave you something actually juicy, you'd be holding it over his head much worse than this. Unless you had something to lose too, you wouldn't care what happened to him.”

“You are the definition of an 'over-thinker',” Izaya informs her. “Sometimes things are what they are, and nothing more.” Almost on cue, a thundering knock raps at the door, and Izaya motions for Namie to get it. “Who knows who that could be! Look professional, would you? We're running a business, here.”

“Yeah, I'm so curious who it is,” Namie says sarcastically, wrenching the door open to reveal a grumpy-looking Shizuo. He doesn't bother greeting her, just steps around her as he stomps into Izaya's apartment.

“Shizu-chan, what a surprise!” Izaya calls. “Terrible to see you, as always.”

“Fuck off and die, flea,” Shizuo says, heading straight for Izaya's fridge. Namie watches him for a moment, and then she turns back to Izaya.

“Shall I leave you to your fornication?” she asks.

“Oh, I don't know,” Izaya muses. “You're pretty, Namie-chan, when I don't have to look at your face. Maybe you could join us for the evening.”

“I'd rather be eaten alive, thanks.”

“More like you have plans already to stalk that brother of yours. Don't bother; he's having a date night at with Mika-chan at your favorite Italian place! He made reservations yesterday.” Izaya tilts forward, smirking at her as her face reddens with rage. “Run along, won't you? Who knows what they might do for dessert?”

Rather than retort, she picks up a folder from Izaya's desk and throws it as hard as she can. The papers fly out, flowing through the air like confetti, and she slams the door behind her hard enough to make even Shizuo flinch.

“Fuck. What's her problem?” Shizuo asks.

“Lots of things. She has more problems than most,” Izaya says, going back to his typing. He makes a mental note of the fact that Shizuo went straight for the pork tenderloin Namie prepared the day before, and then he looks up at his expected guest. “How's the bloodlust?”

“Same as it always is. Too fucking much,” Shizuo replies, already chomping away on cold leftovers. He never bothers with reheating them, anymore.

“And yet, you haven't bitten anyone. It seems you either have more self-control than I ever would've guessed, or you're exaggerating your symptoms.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shizuo says, and he flops onto Izaya's couch, giving Izaya a scrutinizing stare. “Does your secretary not know you're a witch?”

“Of course she doesn't,” Izaya replies. “Why would she?”

“She practically lives here.”

“She works here, Shizu-chan. This is an office, first and foremost.”

“Funny. I thought it was your apartment.” Shizuo takes another bite of food, his cheeks bulging almost comically with the amount he's eating all at once. When he speaks again, it's with his mouth full. “Even your place is a front. No one knows anything about you, huh?”

Izaya gives him a withering stare, grimacing at the grotesque way Shizuo eats.

“You're awfully conversational today. Why the sudden interest in my life? Usually you just barge in here, eat my food, and sit in silence until you're the true monster you've always been.”

“I guess I'm just curious about the way you do shit. Shinra told me all about how rare it is, what you are. He said you're probably keeping my secret so I'll keep yours,” Shizuo says. He finishes the last of the container of pork tenderloin, and then he goes back to the fridge.

“By all means, tell everyone what you know about me. The people who don't immediately run screaming from you will hardly care. I've been called terrible things, and for good reason. Calling me a witch in public will hardly matter.” Izaya turns back to his screen.

“Got no reason to tell anyone about you. I don't give a shit what you are.”

“Wonderful.”

There's silence for a bit, the sound of Shizuo chewing, of Izaya's fingers clacking against the keyboard. Izaya spares a glance up at Shizuo, who seems to be thinking about something, his brows furrowed. Curious in spite of himself, Izaya can't help but dip into Shizuo's mind. He snorts, and it draws Shizuo's attention.

“If you wanted to go to Shinra's place for this, you should have,” Izaya says. Shizuo snarls at him.

“Don't fucking read my mind.”

“Then stop thinking so loudly.”

“You said you didn't read minds often!”

“And you said that was a lie.”

Shizuo growls, his mind going to static as he considers throwing Izaya's entire counter out the window. Truth be told, Izaya wasn't lying when he said he doesn't try to read minds very often. It would be helpful for him in his line of work, but he was always more interested in doing the work himself. It was more fun, more challenging, easier to convince himself he didn't need his magic to be as powerful as he was.

“I hate you,” Shizuo hisses. It's the truth, Izaya can sense. Shizuo hates everything about this, being here, relying on Izaya, speaking to Izaya, smelling Izaya's scent all around him. Like this, Shizuo's mind is so loud and consumed with rage that Izaya pulls back, unwilling to listen to all that incessant noise and clatter.

“So go to Shinra's, then.”

Shizuo doesn't respond, but he doesn't need to. Izaya doesn't even need to read the beast's mind to know what he's thinking. Shizuo doesn't want to be seen that way by anyone he actually cares about. Izaya doesn't count in Shizuo's simple mind.

Of course it would be something like that.

Izaya pushes it from his mind. He's always loved seeing the worst aspects of other people, seeing them at their lowest, their breaking points, and choosing to love them anyway. Part of what makes Izaya able to love mankind as a whole is being there when they break, observing them as they either pick up the pieces or destroy others as they have been destroyed. It doesn't matter how it happens, whether Izaya has to cause it himself, or not. Their choices are their own.

Even in Shizuo's case, he's choosing to come here, to rely on Izaya, to trust in Izaya to help him remain himself.

“What are you smiling about over there?” Shizuo barks, snapping Izaya from his reverie.

“Oh, nothing,” Izaya lilts.

Creepy fucker. Shizuo thinks it, so clearly it seems almost direct, as if he wanted Izaya to hear it. Knowing him, it's more than likely. Shizuo doesn't censor his thoughts or his words, after all, and he's never been afraid to tell Izaya what he really thinks.

Seemingly content with the amount he ate, Shizuo sits back on the couch, his legs bouncing in nervous anticipation. He's always filled with anxiety on nights of the full moon, and Izaya can't exactly blame him. Even if Shizuo has a higher pain tolerance than most, the transformation is still incredibly painful, and Shizuo worries about keeping his sanity more than anything else. He's terrified of hurting someone, anyone, even Izaya, and he finds comfort in the fact that Izaya would never let him get close enough to actually hurt him.

Sometimes Shizuo is so human it's sickening.

***

The first time Izaya was consciously aware he was dealing with a dangerous, inhuman creature, he was in middle school.

Tsukumoya Shinichi found Izaya first, of course, an incredibly tame bloodsucker, but an irritating one all the same. He was Izaya's first official client that wasn't a desperate spirit, and he also had the annoying habit of popping up out of nowhere, eager to poke and prod at Izaya like a test subject, much like Shinra, but much, much more adept at getting under Izaya's skin. Izaya was just beginning in his potion-making back then, and Tsukumoya was enthusiastic about needing to feed less. A fellow lover of humans, it had been a long time since Tsukumoya had taken a life. He knew the right amount to drink, but he also had the habit of getting lost in his work, forgetting to feed, and always risked taking too much from the first victim after a period of accidental starvation.

“That's where you'll come in. You could have an entire market of potions for those like me, those that don't want to hurt anyone in the world of the living,” Tsukumoya explained. He had popped up out of nowhere again, met Izaya on his walk home. The sun was freshly set, and Izaya was walking home from Shinra's, enjoying the rare break of caring for the toddlers since his parents were home.

“Isn't making a potion as simple as reading a recipe?” Izaya asked, already irritated by the vampire's presence. “Couldn't you do it yourself?”

“I could,” Tsukumoya said, “but it would only be a drink at that point. I'm not a witch. There would be no magic in it.”

“How fortunate for me,” Izaya said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Tsukumoya merely laughed at him, as he always did. The vampire seemed to view Izaya as a trinket of sorts, the kind of thing one might pick up on a whim, and then keep for a long time.

“Just think about it, would you? There aren't many options in this world, or the next. Witches are few and far between, as you're aware,” Tsukumoya said. “It's been centuries since I met one as powerful as you.”

“So you've said before,” Izaya replied.

They walked in silence for a while, Tsukumoya still grinning like he was thoroughly enjoying himself, and Izaya with a small frown on his face, irritated by the fact that between Tsukumoya, Shinra, and the twins, he was always having someone trail after him. They were passing by an alleyway when Izaya's body screamed at him to RUN and NOW. He felt the pinpricks of danger along his skin, but he was rooted to the spot, too curious for his own good.

“Stay back,” Tsukumoya said, his voice calm, but tight. “That one's pretty strong.”

“What is it?” Izaya asked, straining to see through the darkness of the alley. He could see a figure, huge and looming, but he couldn't make out any details. As if in answer, a ferocious growl sounded, and Izaya was bombarded with the ugliest thoughts he ever heard in his life.

Kill, kill, blood, bite, KILL, KILL, KILL—

Izaya pulled back with disgust, and his sudden movement seemed to trigger the creature, who lunged forward. Tsukumoya yanked Izaya out of the way, too fast for Izaya to truly follow, and then Izaya got a full look at what was after him.

The creature was massive, covered in patches of thick, course fur. It had glowing eyes filled with madness, singularly focused on Izaya, the same thoughts running through its head. Teeth, sharp, jagged teeth, were in the creature's gaping maw, too large to truly fit.

“Werewolf,” Izaya said aloud, as fascinated as he was on edge.

“Yeah,” Tsukumoya answered, “and we interrupted his meal.”

Only then did Izaya notice the blood all over the creature, the viscera under its claws and in between its teeth. He inhaled sharply, and the creature lunged again. It seemed to be all Tsukumoya could do to dodge it.

“You shouldn't be out walking on nights of the full moon!” Tsukumoya said through clenched teeth, throwing Izaya over his shoulder as he ran up the side of the building, the wolf hot on his heels. “Haven't you read enough to know what's out here by now?”

Izaya had. He knew what was out here, knew the risk, but he didn't care enough to stay safe indoors. He couldn't bring himself to regret his decision, not when he could see firsthand what a werewolf could truly do. He propped himself on his elbows to watch the werewolf from over Tsukumoya's shoulder, and his stomach felt like it was dropping to his feet when the vampire detached from the building, free-falling in a careful spiral towards the ground.

The wolf fell after them, still only thinking the same thoughts as before, and Izaya didn't know what Tsukumoya's plan was, didn't wait to find out. He gripped his hand, and the wolf seized, a confused yelp leaving it as its arms and legs snapped to its sides, sending its body careening into a crumpled heap on the hard concrete. Tsukumoya wasn't breathing heavily, not the way he should've been after such physicality, but Izaya reminded himself that for as human as Tsukumoya seemed, he wasn't, and he had no need to breathe. He set Izaya down on the ground and moved towards the still snarling wolf, who snapped at them repeatedly, still trying in vain to bite them.

“Was he one who could've used a potion?” Izaya asked, watching in awe as he approached behind Tsukumoya. He felt fear, certainly, but not nearly enough to leave.

“No,” Tsukumoya said, “this one enjoys the hunt.” With that, he lifted his foot, bringing it down hard on the wolf's head. Bits of skull and brain-matter splattered onto the ground and walls as the wolf's growls ceased, and slowly, the body left behind became that of a man's. Izaya stared at the grisly scene, finding it strange that the first tangible thought he had was that he wished Shinra could be here to see this.

“Sorry,” Tsukumoya said, turning to Izaya. “He would've just killed someone else next month. It was better this way.”

“Yeah,” Izaya said, his body still thrumming with adrenaline. “I've never used my power like that on anything living before.” He didn't really even mean to. He didn't realize it was happening until he was doing it. Tsukumoya only laughed, of course.

“Oh, Izaya, that's only the beginning of what you could do.”

***

Hours later, and Shizuo is back to his usual pacing, his looming form weaving between the coffee table and the TV. Izaya is staring at his computer screen, trying to keep up with the chatroom conversation, but it's nothing he's interested in, and his attention keeps drifting elsewhere, his vision blurring as he loses himself to his thoughts.

He was up the last few days with another assignment. Shiki has been keeping him busy lately, definitely trying to occupy as much of Izaya's time as possible. Shiki really enjoys his petty tormenting, and Izaya has to admit he's been stepping out of line these past few months. He hasn't admitted to anything, of course, but he doesn't have to.

—like shit.

Shizuo's thoughts cut through Izaya's. Shizuo is glancing at him as he paces, his mind the usual maze of self-loathing, bloodlust, and emotional static, but it's clear he's thinking of Izaya, too, specifically that Izaya doesn't look well. Shizuo is thinking of the last time he saw Izaya in the middle of the city, and how he resembled a caged animal, manic, listless, poised to strike. Izaya's jaw tightens, and he fights to keep his expression neutral as he stands and moves to the kitchen, bypassing Shizuo.

Shizuo's thoughts continue to carry as Izaya makes tea. The monster is thinking of how small Izaya is, like this, with Shizuo's form so massive in comparison, but also all the time. Shizuo has always thought of Izaya as flea-sized, a beanpole, something annoying to be flicked away, but somehow Izaya always returns. Shizuo thinks Izaya is completely out of his mind, would have to be in order to keep coming back to annoy him.

But there's a comfort in that, isn't there? Izaya thinks, and Shizuo goes completely stiff, his body turning slowly to face Izaya.

Get the fuck out of my head.

“It's not my fault your thoughts are so loud. You're practically screaming them at me.” Izaya finishes with his tea, and makes his way back to his desk. “Besides, is it really even considered eavesdropping if you're thinking of me?”

Yes. Shizuo's ears are pulled back, his teeth bared. You've invaded enough of my life, you fucking parasite. Let me think in peace.

“Monsters don't deserve any peace,” Izaya mutters, but he grants Shizuo's request, and leaves his mind. At least, Izaya tries to. It's strange. He's never encountered this before. Izaya doesn't read minds often, at least on purpose, but most people are always subconsciously guarding themselves, even without being aware of Izaya's abilities. With Shizuo, he's both protecting and projecting his thoughts to the point that he's pulling Izaya in more than he's pushing him away. If Izaya had to guess, he'd say it's because Shizuo has never had to guard himself. For all of Shizuo's confounding nature, he's incredibly simplistic and straightforward, and his close proximity to Izaya is only making his thoughts even louder. Izaya groans and pinches the bridge of his nose.

What's wrong with you? Shizuo sends, and Izaya blinks up at him when he realizes Shizuo is now sending his thoughts freely and directly.

You're making my head hurt. Izaya thinks back. Shizuo growls a bit.

Good. You deserve it. Fuck you.

Izaya snorts and sips at his tea. This is new for them. In all the time Shizuo has spent here in his transformed state, he's never really conversed with Izaya before. The conversation isn't exactly thrilling, but it's an improvement over Shizuo's usual brooding pity party.

Izaya turns off his computer, deciding he's done playing with his humans tonight. He carries his tea with him as he pads over to the couch, passing by Shizuo again, who glowers at him the entire time. Izaya sits down on the couch and turns the TV on, flicking through some different channels before he decides on a cartoon he likes.

Shizuo isn't looking at the screen, but his ears are twitching towards the sound of whimsical music. Izaya wonders if Shizuo deprives himself of all creature comforts on nights of the full moon because he's afraid of this being his new normal, afraid of accepting this is his life now. It's laughable, and Izaya does laugh, can't stop himself. Shizuo's head whips towards him, dark eyes narrowed suspiciously, still incredibly human even in that distorted, monstrous face of his.

“Don't look at me like that. I'm only watching TV,” Izaya says, and he sips at his tea. Shizuo goes back to his pacing, his ears pulled back. He's pissed, as usual, and he wants to ask questions, but he knows Izaya won't answer them. Curiously, Izaya delves a little deeper into Shizuo's mind, wondering what it is exactly that Shizuo wants to know.

Out of my head. Shizuo sends angrily. Izaya pouts and obeys, wondering how Shizuo even sensed him eavesdropping.

You're no fun at all, Shizu-chan.

***

The first thing Izaya really notices when he stops floating along is that he doesn't recognize where he is. It's a normal-looking house, filled with pictures on the walls, and it takes a few moments for Izaya's eyes to focus on them long enough to make sense of the faces. Shizuo's picture is there, and he's smiling, flexing for the camera as Kasuka stands stiffly at his side. They're both young, and like this, with Shizuo's dark hair, it's incredibly easy to see the similarities between them. From a distance, they could be mistaken for the same person.

“Why are you here?” A voice asks from behind Izaya. He turns to face Shizuo, a spitting image of the child in the photograph. He's maybe ten years old, if Izaya had to guess. He's looking at Izaya like he knows who Izaya is, despite the drastic difference in their ages. “Get out.”

“I'm not sure why I'm here,” Izaya says, his hands going in his pockets. “Is there something you wanted to show me?”

“Fuck, no. I want you to get out.” Shizuo's fists are bloody, and his body is covered in tiny scrapes, his clothes filthy. He's been fighting. Izaya can't help but wonder when the fights started, how young Shizuo was the first time he was jumped.

“Am I dreaming?” Izaya asks aloud. He doesn't remember closing his eyes, but it's possible he passed out. He hasn't slept, and he hasn't eaten. He thinks of Shizuo in werewolf form, pacing around and refusing the comforts he desires and he scoffs.

“How the fuck should I know?” Shizuo's fingers twitch, and he's glancing nervously at the stairs. His parents are up there, Izaya realizes, and Shizuo is afraid of them for some reason. No, that's not it. He's not scared of them. He's scared of them being scared of him.

“Were you fighting? You're so young here,” Izaya says. The Shizuo he met was already broad-shouldered and blond, carrying a heavy reputation with that strength of his. This Shizuo is nervous, jittery, unsure of himself.

“You're in my head,” Shizuo accuses, and then he jolts as a door upstairs opens. “Why are you always in my head?”

“I don't know,” Izaya says honestly. “I'm beginning to think you want me to be here.”

A woman begins walking downstairs. She's strikingly pretty, her face similar to Shizuo's and Kasuka's, her dark eyes large and kind. She moves to Shizuo's side, putting her arms around him. She doesn't acknowledge Izaya.

“You didn't mean to,” she says, petting through Shizuo's hair. “You were trying to help.”

“I still hurt her,” Shizuo says, leaning into her and closing his eyes. He seems to have forgotten about Izaya. “I couldn't stop myself.”

“Kasuka said you were trying to do the right thing. You were only trying to scare the bad men away. You're a good, sweet boy, Shizuo.”

“Where's dad?” Shizuo asks, and his mother pulls away a little, giving him a false, gentle smile.

“On the phone with the police. Don't worry, they just want a report of what happened.”

“I already told them what happened.”

“Yes, but they want to hear it from an adult.”

Izaya looks from the scene to the doorway, which is shrouded in darkness. He makes his way over to it, stepping through, and he finds himself outside the wreckage of a convenience store, multiple people buried in the rubble. Shizuo is there, breathing heavily, Kasuka at his side.

“Was this your first time hurting an innocent person?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo snarls at him, tears in his eyes.

“Go away.”

“I can't,” Izaya says, and he walks towards the woman's unconscious body. “You throw your little tantrums all the time. Who knows how many people you've injured?”

“I don't mean to!” Shizuo shouts. Kasuka isn't paying either of them any attention, is only looking towards the distance where a cacophony of sirens are moving closer to them. “You hurt people more than me. You ruin lives all the fucking time, you like doing it. You're the real monster here and you know it!”

Izaya ignores him and looks around, deciding to explore all he can while he's here. Shizuo follows after him, face still contorted in rage.

“How would you fucking like it, huh, if we walked around your memories, all the things you don't want people to see out in the open? All the things you're scared of, ashamed of? How would you like it, flea?!”

Izaya scoffs, turns to tell him to shut up, but everything shifts around them, and they're suddenly in Izaya's childhood home, the twins both screaming in their cribs as a young Izaya curls in the corner, sobbing as the lights flicker around them and doors open and slam repeatedly. Shizuo's expression changes as he looks from Izaya's younger, terrified self, to the real Izaya in front of him.

“Flea?” Shizuo is older, suddenly, and he looks so fucking concerned that it makes Izaya's teeth click together.

“OUT!” Izaya roars, and the scene dissolves around them. He and Shizuo both wake with a start, still in Izaya's living room, Izaya on the couch, Shizuo curled up in the floor, human again, sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Wha— What was that?” Shizuo asks as he sits up, his voice unsteady. “Were you in my past? Was I in yours?”

“Get the fuck out,” Izaya hisses, scrambling to get off the couch and stand over Shizuo. “You had no right, no right.”

“I didn't do anything! You're the one with—magic. What did you do, huh?!”

“I don't fucking know!” Izaya snaps, and then he turns on his heel, marching towards the door. He steps into his shoes, throws his coat on. If Shizuo won't leave, then he will. He refuses to stay here with Shizuo looking at him like this, with pity clear in his gaze. The door slams behind him as he hurries out of the building, his skin prickling and his hands shaking more and more with every step he takes away from Shizuo.

#with teeth fic #shizaya #Izaya Orihara #Shizuo Heiwajima #werewolf shizuo #witchy izaya

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ruorelabrealis · 3 years ago

Text

Behold the xiaoven oneshot I impulsively wrote without a title;

Notes: I didn't revise this yet so criticize if you must. This ship will be the end of me one day.

He really doesn't want to fight Venti. Xiao thinks as he waits in the room below the stadium, hearing the crowd cheer aa the last battle's winner is declared.

He spends like last seconds before stepping out for the next battle composing himself.

Venti, the Anemo Archon, Xiao knows, is the same boy who plays beautiful melodies on his flute and makes flower crowns for the village children. Just the thought if him beaten up is enough to make Xiao grimace slightly.

Still, He can't let Rex Lapis' name be tarnished just because he would pity this certain bard if he'd see wounded, beaten up, green clothes torn, hair in a mess... He sighs.

He doesn't know the reason why Rex Lapis was so eager to participate in this Mondstadtian event. All he knows is that he is to dutifully follow his every command. This one isn't an exception.

If he thinks about it Rex Lapis has given him far worse requests than this. This wasn't even a big deal.. supposedly. If only he hadn't heard that bard's tune that night.

The huge cage-like door that divides Xiao from the main arena opens, snaps Xiao away from his brooding, and a duplicate of it does the same on the other side.

Across the even grounds of dirt and dust he sees the familiar shades of aqua blue braids and how the wind violently thrashes with the white cecilia kept on his hair and the white hood at the back. Venti is... not wearing his usual attire. This must be the stuff he wears as an archon, Xiao concludes as he assesses the silk garments and flamboyant gold linnings.

He can almost feel it, the smile coming from that direction.

Meanwhile Xiao narrows his eyes at the figure, pulling out his spear and warily stepping half an inch forward when he sees that the other does not draw a weapon.

When the two step out where the shadows no longer proon over them and into the sunlight making it's declaration under the absence of a roof above the battle field.

The crowd's cheers louden. Many cheering for Mondstadt as they were on it's grounds. Familiar faces looking down upon Xiao which he does not need to look back at to know who. They're assessing him.

He could feel the thrill of excitement vibrating from the stands and how Xiao hates being in the spotlight.

The crowd's screams soften into doubtful murmurs when they take in the sight of the Xiao's oponent. What is a mere bard doing battling a skilled adeptus? they must be thinking.

"Boy, get out of there!"

"You're gonna get yourself killed!"

"This is boring we have a clear winner already"

Such idiots they were, Xiao thought. Although he could not really put the blame on them, only few knew of the bard's true identity and those who did either gasp or have a solemn line on their lips.

Against the growing protests and remarks of doubt amongst the people, Venti only grins wider. The mischief never leaving his eyes.

"Xiao, Conquerer of demons, Mighty Yaksha!" Xiao cringes at the call of his name, "versus... Venti.." The anouncer declares with lack of climatic rise at the last part.

"That's my name" He hears the boy chuckle from afar. "So dear adeptus, shall we start?"

Venti's stance is slovenly, showing no conduct of offense or defense. Xiao's grip on his spear tightens. Hesitation begins to flood his senses voices saying 'Him too?' 'No more' He inores them all eyes shut.

He trudges forward with his spear swiftly. The attack is quickly evaded with a burst of wind. Xiao might admit it wasn't his most precise attack but it was one nonetheless and he can't help but feel a gush of relief that it was dodgable.

"How rude, surely we must start with proper introductions, even if we are in a battle field," Venti says after finding his footing, placing his hands on his hips.

"So, who shall go first?"

"I know who you are," Xiao says, they are now on the opposite sides of where they had started.

That statement was meant to cut this conversation short but Venti only beams in pride, "My my how delighted I am that the breeze had blown my name to Liyue. Shall i sign a poster for you?"

"You can drop the act or I'll tell them your true identity right here right now," Xiao says knowing that thr winds would shield the audience from picking up this conversation.

"You wouldn't." Venti challenged. Xiao attempts another front attack with his spear that is evaded again. And another right after that pointing to Venti's head, he ducks.

"Hmph fine, so you already know who I am, What about you then? Do I know you?" Venti says after avoiding all of Xiao's plays.

His patience is wearing away. "Xiao. loyal server of Rex Lapis, yaksha. The announcer told everyone earlier, maybe you were too caught up in presenting yourself to hear."

Venti disregards the remark and frowns, "Your telling me about the warrior, the one who follows commands, I'm not asking for him. I'm asking about you. I want to know who Xiao is."

Xiao beginning to get more frustrated by the constant philosophical sentennces, only ignored that comment and lands another attack only rougher.

"Don't tell me you don't know who he is?" Venti questions after multiple dodges.

Xiao stares dumbfoundedly, spear pointed at the other boy's chest. A meter away from peircing through. "Ofcourse I know who I am,"

"Do you really?"

He stays silent at that and the other boy only frowns more.

"Enough chit chat we want to see action!" A random voice shouts from the crowd. "Yeah!" And a chime of voices agree.

"Alright alright" Venti rolls his eyes at whatever direction, "It seems we have to cut our introductions short, my apologies,"

"No apologies needed." He had opted to make this quick, fewer riddles to think about would help in that matter.

At one point, Xiao notices the crowd getting evidently used to their battle pattern. Attack, Dodge, Attack, Dodge. That was all that was ever seen. Venti never went on an offensive and that was all Xiao did. Neither ran out of stamina.

At one point it's the hundredth or so attack Xiao lands, when the sunny skies suddenly blink to night. Cheering was replaced by the familiar sound of the Dihua flute. And Venti's armour flickers to the green clad attire he normally wears.

When Xiao blinks the world goes back to normal and he realizes that his spear is an inch away from the other boy. He staggers on his feet, aim clumsly redirecting to the empty space beside him.

In the crowd's eyes it looked like Venti has yet again dodged Xiao's attack but those in the battle field could clearly tell that Xiao made a mistake. Venti sees this.

He makes a step forward to the recovering adeptus. "If you have no plan on fighting you should declare a defeat now before time runs out."

"I won't let down Morax's name" Xiao replies, though it, too, sounded to him that he was desperately convincing himself rather than the archon.

Xiao was about to land another attack when the Archon begins drawing out a bow from wherever it came from and shoots Anemo embedded arrows.

Xiao doesn't dodge, he doesn't need to, the arrows are shooting right past him forming a circle with him being it's center.

Is the Anemo Archon belittling him? He was about to ask just so when a bursts of air coming from every direction where the arrows were shot shakes the arena resulting in a cloud of dust in the battlefield.

A smoke screen, he realizes. Had this been his plan all along? The other boy could no longer be seen admist the fog of brown dust and Xiao is ready to defend himself from all attacks he might pull.

What he wasn't ready for was the Archon's body slamming against his, both of them fall on the ground. Venti is ontop of him, pinning both of his arms to the floor. Shit he was caught off guard.

Despite his feeble form the boy's grip manages to keep Xiao pinned to the ground. Had he used less energy than this Xiao would've successfully broken free.

"What makes you think I'd hurt you?" The Archon asks out of nowhere as Xiao struggles to move. Wrong question to ask really, to an adeptus whose been in bloodshed for as long as he knew.

"Get off," He warns.

"I'm sorry, this will only be painful for a little bit," Venti apologizes, to his surprise, looking genuine despite his micheivous demeanour. He bends down to the point where Xiao can't see anything but the bright glow of blue eyes fading to green.

Venti's lips touch his own. Xiao lets out a burst of surprise from the sudden act.

He tries to ignore the alarming amount of heat creeping upon his cheeks as he attempts in breaking their contact.

But then he softens, and how he curses himself for it. He closes his eyes and melts into the other boy's kiss.

As the kiss goes on longer the more his grip is lossening on his spear, the more of his struggling to get out of Venti's hold and protests in his mind die down.

Until he feels Venti pull away and refuses to meet his eyes.

As the other boy's eyes seem to light up, literally, and he can see the reflection of his own glow. He feels a gush of air arise in his viens and flows everywhere throughout his body.

Despite what Venti had said, it isn't painful at all, he notices, only a tad uncomfortable. It's like getting a vaccine shot.

As the unknown gas stems to his inner organs, all the hidden tension in his body completely slips away. He feels numb but the voices in his head disappear. He can no longer move, he can't feel his fingers, legs or anything for that matter.

Then suddenly he remembers Zhongli saying "Acharis Demeanti, An ancient spell only to be used by archons. Causes the victim to be rendered immobile by the touch of an Archon's lips"

He is left there lying on the ground by his spear as Venti walks away. He looks at the clouds that pass by as he remains still.

The cloud of dust that was surrounding them dissipates as a burst of anemo energy is shot out of the boy's hands. Venti stands there, hand on his hips and the other stretched out to wave as the crowds cheer.

"Venti wins!"

Some look to be in confusion. And the millions of murmurs about what could've happened within the vision obstructing cloud of dust that made the strongest adeptus lose.

I'm sorry, he thinks as he sees Zhongli frown from the corners of his eyes.

"Drink this," Venti comes into his view a moment later, looking down so that Xiao could see him. He places a bottle of bright blue liquid onto Xiao's open palm and winks before he's out of sight.

Minutes later when he feels that he can move his fingers enough. He plays with the small glass bottle in his hands and feels the anemo energy stored inside it.

This could be another trick, he ponders. But would Venti be the type to pull another stunt right after a battle. After consideration, he gulps it. It tastes like... Dandelion wine?

Whatever witch brew that was, The trance he was in completely fades as he stands up and leaves the open arena.

"Rex La– Zhongli, my apologies.." He says, guilt rising from his stomach, as they walk out of the stadium amongst the crowd.

Zhongli waves it off. "There is no need for that, I'm not mad" It's hard to tell, he has that same stoic expression. "We should've known he'd pull a trick like that,"

"But"

"You were rendered uncapable of continuing the fight because of his spell, were you not? It isn't anything to apologize about" Zhongli questions.

That only made Xiao feel even worse, for his grip on the weapon had loosened long before the spell had made it's way to his body. But he did not argue any further.

"Now, We ought to find Childe and have dinner–"

Two loud voices in the plaza nearby cut him off. "What was that" A man with blazing red hair crosses his arms.

"Hey, I won didn't i? Now you have to treat me to a years worth of wine haha!" Venti cheers to himself, looking proud and victorious even if from afar he looks like a child being scolded by it's guardian.

"You cheated, didn't you" The taller one acusses.

"Rules don't say anything about me not using magic alright? I won fair and square!" Venti huffs and glances to his side, his eyes widen in delight, "Right Xiao?"

The man in question turns away, embarassed. But Zhongli walks toward them, to his demise.

"My apologies for his actions" The man– Diluc– bows to him, placing one hand to his chest. Zhongli shakes his head stepping forward, while Xiao keeps a distance.

"Although I hate to say this, He's right," Zhongli says proving his statement when his eyebrows crease "Congratulations" He sounds bitter.

"See! I told you so!" Venti turns back to Diluc.

"That doesn't mean you should go smooching around placing the forbidden Archon's spell on people!" Xiao only backs away more at the phrase 'smooching'.

"Adepti," And turns even redder when Venti doesn't correct him about it.

"Not the point." Diluc sighs and brings a hand to his forehead.

"Hmph. I'll make it up to you later Xiao! I promise!" Venti promises to the boy before lightly skipping away, "Now, thou art must be taking my leave! Farewell! For the vin we must retrieve!"

"Where do you think you're going?l!" Diluc shouts but Venti doesn't stop.

"Wine! wine! wine! Here I come!" He says in a sing-song manner and disappears to a burst of feathers before Diluc could reach him.

Xiao thinks he peeks at mirth-filled blue eyes one last time before they vanish, What exactly did he mean by 'make it up to you'.

The endddd tundundun i don't know what to write as a continuation.

#xiaoven #genshin fluff #because i was bored #why did i do this #this is why i can't have nice things #genshin

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hopevalley · 4 years ago

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Season 8, Episode 1: Open Season

Work was busier than expected on Monday, but the deep dive into the first episode of S8 begins now!

Scene 1: Narration, Elizabeth and Nathan, Lucas

The awkwardness between Elizabeth and Nathan was...palpable at first lol.The best part about the non-narrated part of the scene is twofold: Nathan interacting with Jack is a well-needed and very nice touch, and of course it’s always nice to see that Nathan is patient concerning Elizabeth’s situation and reassures her that she can let him know when she’s ready to go to dinner with him.

My problem with the whole thing is that...if she hasn’t spoken up about wanting that dinner date yet, and she’s not saying yes she’d like to get dinner with you now, it’s like...any sane person would assume at this point in the story that Elizabeth isn’t interested in Nathan. Worse, Nathan isn’t the kind of man who wouldn’t take a hint. I’m pretty sure this is why the opening scene felt just a little bit off. I think they ought to have let Elizabeth be a little more enthusiastic about the idea while still failing to commit to it.

To be fair to the writers, I can’t imagine it was easy for them to figure out how to open this season after such a long time gap. They let a whole winter elapse between last season and this one. How do you explain literally no major development with the love triangle in that amount of time? Especially after the way the last season ended?

Random consideration: the camera focuses on Elizabeth’s face a lot and makes her wedding ring clearly visible.

Boom, the flashback with Lucas. I think having him leave out of jealousy was a better idea than having his mother fall ill (we’ve certainly seen that enough at this point), and maybe we should also consider the fact that while Lucas was gone, Nathan didn’t really jump on the opportunity to woo Elizabeth himself.

I wonder if we’ll get an explanation for that or not. What makes Lucas so sure that after 4+ months, Elizabeth hasn’t started courting Nathan? Maybe he kept in touch with someone in town? Or he just knows Elizabeth well enough to know she wouldn’t feel quite ready to commit in that time frame anyway?

I did really like Lucas’s opening scene with Elizabeth. Honestly, he was quite likable, here: admitting he was wrong, admitting his shortcomings, apologizing. All good things. “I’m ashamed I let my jealousy get the best of me... The worst of me.” That’s such a good line.

It didn’t feel equal in enthusiasm to the Nathan scene, but I’ll have more thoughts on that later. I do believe it was on purpose.

Scene 2: Clara and Jesse’s Fight, The Café

I like the concept of some marital discord for Clara and Jesse. Marriage is easier said than done and like any serious relationship, it’s a lot of consistent maintenance. It starts out pretty well, with Jesse sleeping in the other bedroom. At this point I fully expected to find out Clara kicks in her sleep or she snores a lot or something that’s funny to hear about but really difficult to actually deal with in real life. Color me disappointed later, but I’ll get to it.

Scene 3: The Mercantile, Ned, Florence, Carson

This just set up things with Faith’s situation so there’s not much to say, but as always I do love Florence. I hope she gets some good scenes this season. And I love Ned so I hope the same for him.

Henry coming in to mail a letter was interesting, though. I’m not sure it’ll mean anything in particular later, but...it’s possible. Then again, maybe he’s just here to set our expectations regarding Faith’s return (of course it’s a long trip from Chicago) or Carson’s worry (a bit unreasonable unless he expected to hear from her at a specific stop).

Scene 4: Nathan, Dylan

Dylan is such an incredible scumbag. The spurs were a nice touch. He says things almost fondly (“She’s growing up... My little girl.”) and then wants nothing to actually do with Allie.

The guy’s actually a pretty good actor. The way he segues into being glad for Allie’s sake that Nathan wasn’t the one killed. If the next words out of his mouth weren’t a demand for go-away money you’d almost feel those words were genuine!

Scene 5: Lee and Rosemary’s Return + Faith’s Return + Dylan Part Two

Lots of energy in this scene, both good and bad. I always appreciate what Lee and Rosemary bring to the show. I genuinely just don’t care that much about Faith. I’m ready to ship her with Cowboy Brett Brewer. He gets a name, which makes me wonder if he’s gonna show up again. :3

Lol at Carson’s jelly face:

I MEAN...

Not a fan of Faith’s outfit...but to be fair we’ve never really seen Faith outside of uniform. That just doesn’t strike me as something she would wear to travel in...?

Dylan approaching Jack and Jack speaking to him was so hilarious to me. “A puppy!” It’s extra funny after he looked afraid of Rosemary. Nathan intervening was undoubtedly for the best, but I can’t imagine why he would have approached Elizabeth or Jack. He doesn’t know who they are, or their connection to Nathan. Maybe too convenient. Might have been better to have him approach someone else entirely--like Opal.

Scene 6: Nathan and Allie

It’s great Nathan’s officializing the adoption but he had literal years to do this and only chooses now, when there’s a threat? Legally Dylan doesn’t have a leg to stand on even in that day and age (he did the abandoning in the first place + Nathan is a lawman)... It kind of ruined the cute moment for me, and I think it will come back in a bad way later.

I don’t mind Nathan’s inability to confide in Elizabeth in this situation. At this point, she doesn’t need to know, and the situation is just weird enough that he probably doesn’t think he needs to dump his own problems on her.

Scene 7: Carson and Faith

I’m the jerk who just chanted “BREAK UP BREAK UP BREAK UP” during this scene in my head. I just...don’t care about Faith and Carson.

Scene 8: Bill and The Gals

I hate that they keep retconning Bill’s ability to cook well with every passing season. In season 2 and 3 he was more than satisfactory. In S4 he made dinner for Dottie and it was really nice. Now he’s godawful and doesn’t taste his own shit before letting other people try it? Come on.

This is the kind of stuff the writing team needs to cut out of the story. It’s not funny.

Worse, outspoken Fiona lying to Bill? I just don’t see it. At least Molly told him the truth...but I still am just SO tired of seeing this shit. It makes me think new writers only watched the last couple of seasons instead of all of them.

Also, if Bill is literally running the cafe most of the time, if he was bad at cooking, then...the place would have shut down ages ago. What they should lean into if they wanna do a cooking joke is that Bill isn’t good at creating recipes from scratch. Maybe he doesn’t have a strong sense of taste (my husband has this issue so it’s the first thing that comes to mind) so he’s likely to over-do things like spice or sugar or salt on accident. There’s also a lot of room for jokes about his “taste” in things that can come of it (women, clothes, et cetera).

Scene 9: Lee’s Pants

Good scene, 10/10, wouldn’t change a thing. I hope this pants thing becomes a running gag. This is the good kind of humor I want in my life. And I like that Jesse wants to emulate Lee. It’s wholesome.

Scene 10: Rosemary and Clara

The ribbon as a tissue was funny, but it was just SLIGHTLY too over the top for me.

Scene 11: Faith and Carson Again...............

“Were you jealous of that cowboy?” I think he should be. The cowboy is better. I don’t give a damn about these characters. And I genuinely hate that the strumming is Carson’s Thing Now. At the very least we should get some Carson and Bill doing a duet together which would be cool.

It just felt like it was shilling Paul and had nothing to do with the characters.

Scene 12: Mmm Money

This is arguably the most interesting scene in the episode. Lucas nodded at Nathan. Nathan went to Lucas for money. Lucas didn’t need to get the scoop to find out why Nathan needed it to loan it to him. Elizabeth is officially the least interesting part of the love triangle.

They treat her like she’s such a prize to be won, but I’m starting to worry that she’s become the new Lorigail on the show.

Anyway this scene had some gay vibes and I liked them.

Scene 13: Rosemary and Elizabeth Catch Up

YES. GOOD SCENE. It starts off fun and it gets serious, and the transition feels really natural. “Did he have reason to be [jealous]?” I’m genuinely glad this is in the episode. It needed to be. I hope Rosemary continues to ask the hard questions.

Elizabeth needs to face either dating one of them, or dating neither of them so that everybody can get on with their lives. If you’re not that enthusiastic about either of them I’d say...maybe don’t date either of them idk.

Scene 14: Nathan and Bill Talk

"If he sees you with me, then...” The problem with this scene is uh...twofold, let’s say.

Issue 1: ThEN HE WILL WHAT, NATHAN? WHAT HAS HE EVER DONE BEFORE THAT WAS SO BAD if he’s not a hard criminal? Maybe an example would be useful here...?

Issue 2: The old Bill Avery would have heard “if he SEES YOU with ME” and mentally been like, “all right so it’s only bad if he SEES ME” and spied on Nathan.

Nathan wanting Bill to stay behind in case Dylan doubles back isn’t a terrible idea, but it almost comes across more like...the writers just want Nathan alone.

Scene 15: Oil

I like the discussion and that Hickam gets to do something. I feel like Henry is low-key advising against shooting the well, and that Lucas and Hickam will end up doing it and causing an issue. It’s just setting up for the future and it’s nice to see those kinds of scenes in the series again!

Scene 16: Jesse and Lee

I’d like this scene more if I felt it gave us ANY insight into the problem Jesse and Clara are having. It mostly comes across like Jesse gets home and does nothing at all until bedtime and Clara is lonely. Could have been a better scene. It’s mostly just repetitive right now.

Scene 17: Nathan Cancels the Date

“Tomorrow’s Saturday.” Nathan’s like uhhhhh. This actually works really well to do what it’s supposed to do. By that I mean, he seems “off” so Elizabeth realizes he’s a bit stressed and leaving town = mountie business = dangerous.

I kind of wish Rosemary and Elizabeth would talk more about this, but maybe that’s coming in an episode soon...?

Scene 18: The Barbershop

Just a cute nice scene that shows a good friendship between Fiona, Clara, and Faith. I like this stuff. Keep it coming, Hallmark!

(Skipping Scene 19 because it’s just Nathan riding around...)

Scene 20: Lee and Rosemary Scheme

I really enjoyed this little bit where they decide to buy something for Clara and Jesse and we don’t get to see what it is. Super wholesome and very fun!

Scene 21: Nathan gets Ambushed

This scene was absolutely wild. Probably one of the best scenes like this that they’ve ever done. Dylan taking Nathan’s hat, “Take care of my little girl” after he takes the money and Nathan’s gun. It was super good.

Also, not too fake that Nathan was on the ground that long. If you got roped off of your horse you’d have the wind knocked out of you super hard lmao.

Scene 22: Bill & The Girls

Clara and Fiona are so cute. Bill playing the “Dad” figure to them both is really nice and it’s good for him. “I’m a lawman. I get to sneak.” What a Bill response.

(Skipping Scene 23 since it’s just Nathan finding his horse.)

Scene 24: Lucas visits with Elizabeth

Lucas and Elizabeth are flirting via a nursery rhyme. I...don’t like that LOL. But Lucas’s “Helen Bouchard taught me to read and after that I was on my own.” She really sounds unloving. This was a pretty decent scene, though.

Also, Grand Isle Louisiana had a major hurricane in 1909 and 1915.

They also seem to have been hit by more mild hurricanes in 1916 and 1917, but the 1915 one was a Cat4, so...the most notable.

Scene 25: Rosemary and Lee in the Dress Shop

This tries to solve the issue of Clara and Jesse’s marital problems, but it doesn’t actually do that. “Let Jesse read when he gets home.” “I’ll talk to Jesse.” Meh.

Scene 26: Barbershop

“Why do this when you’re so good with women’s hair?” I fully expected Fiona to say, “That’s where all the hot gossip is, of course.” I do like her gumption, though!

Scene 27: Nathan Finds Dylan

“I had to let you ambush me, so I had grounds to put you away.” COLD BUT EFFECTIVE. I appreciate this.

Imagine getting to be this smug. I wish it were me.

Anyway, long-term thoughts on this are mostly that...there is just no reasonable way Dylan’s story is over yet. It’s too juicy of a storyline to let go this easily. Allie is going to find out what Nathan did and she’s going to struggle to come to terms with it, especially after her grandfather really did try to turn his life around. Why couldn’t it be the same for her father? Why couldn’t she get lucky like that?

I hope it feels satisfying, whatever they choose to do. Otherwise this was just wrapped up too neatly/too quickly.

Scene 28: Nathan Returns

Very good scene. Nathan’s in a good mood and he does my favorite trope of all time when one person in the relationship has a child: “Why don’t we all go?” You already all know each other, so why not? It’s wholesome and good, and it shows he doesn’t care how he gets to spend time with Elizabeth, as long as he does.

Also, it takes a lot of the pressure off of her for the duration of the date and at its conclusion. This was a cute and good scene, one of the better they’ve had, I think.

Scene 29: Jesse and Lee Talk

This was a nice attempt at a talk, but it really comes off like Jesse has stopped loving Clara for no reason. That his romantic interest in her is what is causing the failure in their relationship.

The problem is: WE HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS CAUSING IT. NOBODY EVER SAID.

I agree that love isn’t “just” a feeling or “just” an emotion. It’s ALSO a choice. Marriage is a commitment you choose to continue every day. That is all good.

“Choose love. Then you feel it.” is probably some of the worst dialogue they’ve put in the show, though. Yuck. It left a bad taste in my mouth. It feels like it’s shaming people who legitimately fall out of love or who are in bad relationships. “If only you chose to work harder.”

I don’t think that was their intention at all, but it really soured the scene. I would have MUCH rather have had Lee get Jesse to talk about what’s wrong and then offer him pointers on how he could do better. Maybe he’s stressed out and losing himself in books, or he wishes Clara would sit and read with him because that’s something he always wanted. Or maybe Clara would be down for reading time if he read to her while she did her sewing.

There’s so much they could have done here to really send this home, but it didn’t work very well. At the very least Lee could have said, instead of ‘choose love’: CHOOSE COMMUNICATION. Make sure she knows you still feel that way about her.

The biggest thing is like, Lee could also be very encouraging in saying like, the honeymoon phase doesn’t last forever but just because things settle down doesn’t mean the love is less.

THERE IS SO MUCH GOOD STUFF THEY COULD HAVE WRITTEN FOR THIS but they chose “Choose love. Then you feel it.” WTF. That’s awful advice.

Scene 30: Jesse and Clara

Him bringing her flowers was a nice touch, and her getting him the book was also nice. The tandem bike was SO unexpected to me and I loved it. It’s just goofy enough that it works. The best part is that they know it’s not going to fix anything, but it’s still a fun and nice thing to do, and that’s wonderful for Rosemary and Lee. They both like to make the people they care about happy.

Scene 31: Mama Bouchard

MILF ALERT.

Elizabeth is just so shook at all of this she doesn’t say a damn thing for so long it made my palms feel sweaty.

“Someone ought to take an interest in your writing, don’t you think?” I rewatched the episode to understand the tone, and it’s a little hoity-toity/uppity, but she actually doesn’t sound condescending. It’s good for an editor to meet the author, after all, and meet to talk about their writing/book. This has always been custom, even in the early 1900s. Authors didn’t usually get their work published by an editor they’d never met (though of course, you will find some exceptions).

From the little we saw, Helen seems fine. The preview for the next episode tells us she’s UH, AN EDITOR DOING HER JOB, so I’m not looking forward to the editor being the bad guy, but I guess I’ll have to deal with that when it arrives. (To be clear, Elizabeth has never proved to the audience that she’s a Good Writer, let alone a Great Writer. She’s also not experienced which means her work probably NEEDS SOME WORK.)

Anyway, Elizabeth is immediately rude as HELL. Nobody can make an excuse for this. Helen isn’t THAT big of a deal. There are other publishers. Your father is filthy rich. If she changes her mind about your book you can pub to someone via your father if you have to. Like...Helen wouldn’t have taken you on if she didn’t see any potential in you.

Even if it was a big deal, Elizabeth has NEVER been a flake. EVER.

This is a classic case of a writer forcing the character to go out of character in order to bend to what the plot dictates.

If I were Nathan, I’d drop Elizabeth like a brick.

How to fix this scene? I’ll honestly have to think about that for a while. This was the first hint of truly bad writing this season. The bit with Lee and “choose love” was careless writing, but this scene with Nathan is just Bad.

The thing is, I KNOW WHAT THEY ARE DOING. I know they put this in there so that it looks like she’ll choose Lucas because she never even goes out with Nathan, and then BOOM. I know it’s meant to be this big thing about how she’s scared to feel anything for Nathan because Lucas is the safer option and also a good man (so why would she fall for the more frightening option?).

But this was not the right way to do this type of scene. I hope to God in the next episode someone says something about it. Allie could tell her it was rude and it hurt Nathan’s feelings/you shouldn’t have said yes if you didn’t want to. It’d be fully in character for her. Rosemary could also say something similar. If they do, I might be able to forgive this...but if it’s not called attention to by the other characters, then it’s a massive failure as a scene to me.

Did I miss anything? Do you want my thoughts on something in particular? Shoot me a message HERE and I’ll do my best to answer!

#when calls the heart #long post #season 8 shenanigans #season 8 spoilers #episode write ups

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vermillionflames · 4 years ago

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hi... idk what this is hehe :)

nozel x oc

word count: 2k+

warnings: language, mention of blood and self-stabbing (non violent)

PROLOGUE

“There, there, Your Highness,” the guard said as he wiped away the princesses tears, “It must’ve been so scary down there. I’m sorry you had to go all alone this time. If I had permission or the strength to go with you I would. But you’re alright now. I’ll be standing guard outside your door all night if you need me.”

The guard had a smile so small you would only see it if you knew to look for it. The princess didn’t need to see the smile to know he meant what he said. Out of all the soldiers in the Kingdom hers were the most loyal.

“Please don’t tell my father I was crying… or the King!”

“I would never, it will be our little secret, alright, Princess Seraphina,” he stuck out it pink to show he meant his promise.

“Thank you,” the young girl crawled back under her blankets as her guard headed towards the door, “Goodnight, Dante.”

REAL TIME I GUESS

You know when you tell your husband for days to not do something because there will be a negative outcome, but he does it anyway? And what you told him would happen, does? And yet he still acts surprised and upset? Sometimes takes his anger out on you via a cold shoulder and glare? No admittance that you were right? That’s what it’s like to be married to the Captain of the Silver Eagles.

I love Nozel dearly but he is more annoying than my father-in-law and the ladies of the court asking about babies. Actually, now that I think about it, the whole Silva family had something about them…

“Vice Captain? Are you alright?”

That’s one way to snap me out of a scheme

“Oh, Nils, I’m sorry. A thought crossed my mind and I got lost in it… What were you saying?” Will probably get scolded for that later.

“I was just telling you how I’d improve myself before my next mission with what I learned on the previous one… Do you think Captain will be pleased with my plan?”

Royalty always wants to improve themselves without much training, but I can’t say that to him without it causing a rile so I just smile at him.

“I think Nozel will be very pleased. Now if you wouldn’t mind, I do have a lot of work to get to,” I gesture to some papers on my desk.

He nods and takes his leave. I sigh and turn my chair to face the window. Noelle should have gotten her grimoire by now, surely. I do not want to do this paperwork or deal with the hell my in laws will unleash on their baby sister, but if anyone had a chance of redirecting their attention to another failure it was me and my womb.

I play with the ring on my left hand. It was his mothers, in fact Nozel had gifted me with more jewelry than I could ever wear that had come from Lady Acier’s collection. Sometimes I wondered if he got it all or first dibs and took it all because he was the oldest. Perhaps her collection had just been so expansive I could have a shit load and the other kids could do. The girls didn’t ever bat a lash when I wore her crowns and necklaces.

There’s a firm knock on my door, they don’t pause before opening it. Husbands, ya know? I looked over my shoulder to see he’s entered my office, not bothering to shut the door (to avoid scandal though I’ve never understood how married people can be scandalous with each other? The policies of this country were difficult to understand).

“Yes,” I ask, raising my brow at him.

“Noelle has received her grimoire,” his face was bleak.

“And?”

“And she still cannot control her magic. She’s still a shame to House Silva.”

The fluctuation in his mana told me all I needed to know.

“Nozel-”

“Don’t try to coddle me, Seraphina. You don’t understand what this means for my family and our reputation.”

I wonder in our 14 years of marriage if he’s ever learned that I can read his mind and emotions. He kept on the mean big brother act and never shut it off. However, I like to take opportunities to argue when I see them. I turn my whole body to face him and cross my arms.

“Like how we don’t have an heir?”

“Don’t start this right now,” his voice was low and serious, “Nebra, Solid, and I will be having dinner with our father and grandparents tonight.”

“Then I’ll join you,” I shot up out of my chair, “It would look bad if I stayed here.”

His stare was cold. I started to prepare an argument in my head.

“Fine. But wear something nice,” he moved his attention to the deep cut of my dress, “Maybe we should get your robes adjusted.”

“Oh darling, I think that’s the most attention you’ve given my breasts in our whole marriage.” I bit my tongue, a little too late for that, Sera. Oops.

“Tsh,” Nozel turned and headed for the door, “You should probably have the maids at the castle help you get ready… We both know you won’t be able to braid your own hair.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The door closed and I was alone again. The mother fucker. He was right, but that mother fucker. If he knew what kind of foul language I had stored in my head for him… Maybe tonight will be the night all chaos explodes. Dinner and a show with me as the main actress.

I started to make a mental list of things to bring up during our argument as I made a spacial magic gate to my quarters at the Silva Castle.

----

I opted for an emerald gown with silver jewelry for tonight. Rule number one of House Silva: all the jewelry is silver. If you happen to have gold it was either a gift from House Vermillion or House Kira and you only ever wore it to fit a dress code House Vermillion made for a ball. Same thing for red and blue. Do not wear red or blue unless you want to piss off your husband, which I’ll admit is fun but he threw the poor dress into the fireplace the next morning. We don’t even share a room, he had to wake up early, come in, and find it to do that.

Rule number two: be very, very good at keeping your thoughts to yourself. Especially when it comes to Noelle, Acier, and your lack of offspring.

“Seraphina, perhaps you decided to join us because you and Nozel have some good news to share,” if Nebra was anything it was blunt and to the point.

I gave Nozel the side eye.

“No,” He said while lifting his wine to his lips, “Just didn’t want to bother socializing with the rest of the squad tonight.”

I gave her a meek smile.

“Well, Seraphina, I have something to show you, Solid rose from his seat and walked over to Noelle who was staring at her food with tears in her eyes. He pulled her grimoire out from her side while she winced. “Look at how thin this is. You’re more a Silva than Noelle could ever be.”

I dropped my shoulders and focused on my plate in front of me.

“I guess...”

----

If I got anything from that dinner it’s that I needed to find a way to sneak Noelle out of the castle and get her away; at least for a day. I was sat at my vanity removing all the tiny gems the servant had insisted on putting in my hair. If I couldn’t stand up to her to my in-laws the least I could do was get her away. God how many gems were there? I started at the bell to call a maid… I really hate doing this but if there’s one thing I cannot do it is my hair.

After a few moments a young girl came to my room and went right to work undoing the braids and taking out the gems. I watched her in the mirror, she never took her eyes off my head.

“So, what’s the hot gossip from the servants quarters?”

She paused.

“I’m sure nothing would be of interest to you ma’am.”

I purse my lips.

“If I say you can keep all the gems in my hair?”

“That wouldn’t be necessary, the masters pay us kindly.”

“Oh… well surely you heard something that would be of interest to me?”

“Ma’am, I know you don’t stay here often, but typically you wouldn’t speak to me so casually…”

“Who cares about that? It’s late. It’s just you and me here. Everyone else is probably settled into bed,” No budge. Oh. “Lord Nozel won’t be visiting my chambers tonight. It’s alright.”

“Surely the Captain visits his wife every night… You two are in love and you’re so beautiful.”

Great. Not the can of worms I wanted to open. And now I gave her shit to say about me!

“He stays in his room when I am bleeding.” And now I have to stab myself or else she’ll know I lied. Dammit.

“Oh, the other servant didn’t mention you were… Would you like me to get you some warm towels?”

“No, what I would like is some information that only someone in your position would know.”

“Really, ma’am. There’s nothing happening these days.”

“Please?”

“Um… well I have a friend that works for House Vermillion and she said they’ve been preparing Lady Mereoleona’s room for her return. They expect her to arrive tomorrow afternoon.”

Oh god.

“And Lord and Lady Vermillion had to have meat brought in from the town! The chefs don’t even know how to cook meat!”

“Surely they can just give it to the girl and let her cook it herself…”

“You’re funny, Lady Seraphina.”

“Well, ya know, someone in the family has to be! Thank you for your help. You’re dismissed, go off to bed now.”

The girl bowed and left.

And she had the right fucking idea.

I need to leave too. Mereoleona? No thank you. God only knows what kind of torment she has planned for me. Actually, probably not God. Probably no higher being.

I need to hide somewhere and take Noelle with me. I throw off my dressing gown and scramble to put on clothes, throwing random shit I think I’ll want in a bag. Real manic style. Now if there’s one thing I am not it is a bad liar. I throw the blankets off my bed and lay as if I’m going to sleep. Crossing my leg so it sorta comes to wear my center lays and take out a knife and cut my leg… which heals pretty quickly given my abilities. I’m almost certain it’s not enough to be convincing but I am far more concerned in avoiding the Vermillion to care.

Next stop, Noelle’s room. I knock on the door. No answer so I help myself. She’s asleep, dry tears around her eyes. I put my hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, wake up. Noelle.”

She gasps and her eyes fly open, instantly putting her arms in defense. I take a step back… They didn’t wake her up to hurt her… did they?

“Pack a bag, we’re going into hiding.”

“What?”

“Lady Mereoleona is coming back for her yearly visit. I’m taking you and we’re gonna go hide at the beach castle.” Yeah, I married into a two castle family. Had its perks.

“Why?”

“Because you’re my baby sister by marriage and I think we both could use a little vacation. Don’t you agree?”

“Really? But what about Nozel?”

“I’ll deal with him if he notices. Chances are no one will know. So get up, grab your stuff, and let's go.”

She got out of bed quick. I sat at her vanity while she gathered some things.

“Also, no servants.”

“No servants?!” She turned me so quick she almost snapped her neck.

“You’ll live. This is about survival. Now,” I stand to make a portal to the beach castle, “let’s go.”

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rosalietodd013 · 4 years ago

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Always

A/N: This is one of the many one-shots I have been thinking about writing lately. I have not felt up to writing in a good minute and writing this made me realize just why I love writing so much and that I miss it. Forgive me if it is a bit rough around the edges; I might rewrite it later.

Summary: No matter what happens, she’ll always be there for him.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: Major Character Death, Angst

Word Count: 1,412

I couldn’t let him go alone. I just couldn’t.

I knew how much this meant to him and I could only imagine what might happen if he went on his own, and I couldn’t let him.

If I found out that the woman who gave birth to me was out there somewhere, I would do anything to find her as well.

No one could have known it would have gone down the way it did though.

…

He tried to hide it from me in the beginning, but I knew him well enough to know when something was up.

I waited for him to come to me like he always did when something was bothering him or he found something out that he did want to keep to himself but he wasn’t really ready to share with anyone else. But he never did.

“What’s up, Jay?”

I cornered him in an alley during patrol. Bruce was on the other side of the city dealing with some low lives like Jason and I just had so I knew we had a little bit of time before he became suspicious of our lack of movement.

“What are you talking about?” His reply was nonchalant but I could feel him stiffen slightly at my question.

“I know you are hiding something from me, Jay. I didn’t think we were keeping secrets from one another.”

Jason had been my best friend since Bruce adopted us. First him, then me a few weeks later. Gotham street rats we were and we bonded quickly because of it.

We didn’t trust our ‘good fortune’ in the beginning; ready to bail if things became the least bit sketchy, but they never did. We trusted each other. Over time we opened up more and more to one another and somewhere in the mix feelings were shared and romance blossomed.

Fast forward a few years and we are literally inseparable. I would die for him and I know he would do the same for me in a heartbeat. We have complete confidence in one another and that’s why I know he’ll tell me what’s going on in his mind.

“I found my birth mother.” He said softly. “She’s alive and I plan on going to meet her.”

I’m in shock at first. I didn’t even know Jason was adopted. I don’t even know how he knew. How’d he find out? How’d he find her? Where was she? Did Bruce know? I didn’t voice any of these questions at first.

“I’m going with you.” Is all I said.

From the look on Jason’s face, he wants to protest. Maybe he wants to do this on his own. Maybe he doesn’t want me to get in trouble in case things go sideways or Bruce finds out. Maybe he doesn’t want me there in case she isn’t who she says she is. Honestly, all of this is why I should go with him. He might not realize it, but he’ll need moral support regardless of what happens. And I will be there to give it to him.

“Non-negotiable Jay.” I cut him off before he can get his protest out. “I’m going with you because I know you didn’t tell Bruce or Dick and I am not letting you go alone.”

He looks at me for a good few minutes, truly contemplating what I have said and for a moment I think he is still going to refuse me, but he instead pulls me into the sweetest most passionate kiss we have shared since our first time and I am eager to reciprocate.

“I got your back, my love. Always.” I say as I rest my forehead against his and he wraps his arms tight around my waist.

“What would I do without you?”

“I don’t think you ever want to find out.”

We laugh softly into the chilled Gotham air before our communicators beep and Batman’s voice can be heard.

“Robin, (Y/S/N), meet me on the roof of the GCPD. Commissioner Gordan has new information we need to see.”

“On our way.”

…

It didn’t even go how I imagined it would.

When Jason told me about this Shelia Haywood, something just felt off. I didn’t know what and I really didn’t want to worry Jason with my unsubstantiated suspicions or ruin this for him, so I kept my mouth shut and God do I wish I’d done more.

It was a set up from the beginning. He told me she knew he was Robin, but he didn’t realize just how much power was in that information.

She sold us out to the Joker of all people. I don’t care why she did it, but it broke my heart not only when we found out, but the look on Jason’s face when the psychopath killed her right in front of him. She might have been a piece of shit but she was still his mother. I just knew he would never recover.

And he never got the chance.

That clown tied us to chairs and made us watch as he beat the two of us back and forth. First Jason, then me.

I was sure each blow would hit just the right spot to end this nightmare, but he obviously knew what he was doing.

By the time he finished with us, neither I nor Jason could barely move or breathe. I could hear his quick shallow breaths and I knew for sure one of his lungs must be collapsed. There was a gash somewhere above his hairline that caused blood to run into his beautiful blue eyes, not that it mattered much seeing as though they were practically swollen shut.

I could hear Joker getting ready to leave and say something cruel and meaningless, but all I could focus on was my Jason.

When the door finally slammed shut and the clown’s laughter was gone, I used all my strength to rip my hands out of the ropes binding them.

Once I was free, I limped over to a barely conscious Jason and undid his bindings as well.

“Come on Jay. We can’t stay here.”

I tried with all my might to pull him up and out of his chair but only succeeded in causing us both to topple to the floor.

I let out a quick cry of pain and I could hear a muffled moan from my boyfriend. From the undistinguished sounds coming from him, it appeared as though he was trying to say something, but I had to get us out of there first.

“Hold on Jay. I’m gonna get us out of here.”

I hobbled to the door, the pain in my legs increasing with every step I took. But I refused to give up.

The door was locked when I got to it but I couldn’t stop now. Jason was counting on me.

I pulled with all my might and after a few unsuccessful attempts, the lock on the door finally gave way and it swung open just a crack.

I let out a cross between a laugh and a cry as I turned back to my companion who was lying on the floor on the other side of the cabin facing away from me.

“I got it open my love. We can go now.” I said as I neared him.

His breathing was no longer noisy but I assumed that was because he was unconscious. No matter. I’ll drag him out of here if I have to.

I laid my hands on his shoulder to turn him over and I could actually feel all the blood in my body turn to ice.

He wasn’t breathing. I could actually feel his skin chilling with the frigid temperatures outside.

Jason. The love of my life. My soulmate. Was gone.

I didn’t realize how much worse he got it than me. How quickly he was deteriorating. And now he was no more.

He’d left me right before we had our freedom. Freedom I didn’t want without him.

I didn’t look at the door as I collapsed in front of him.

I didn’t hear the tick tick ticking not five feet away from us as I laid my forehead against his, wrapping his lifeless arms around me.

I couldn’t hear the faint sound of a motorbike speeding towards the cabin as I spoke my final words.

“I love you, Jason Todd. Forever and always.”

There was nothing but darkness after that.

A/N: I want to apologize to everyone for my lack of presence. It has been far too long. I have suffered writer's block, school has been an issue then work, I had a major death in my family and then COVID-19. I feel like a big ball of excuses tbh. Now I want to take some time to focus on my writing. I plan on continuing Forever, Together, and the Ours series, and I have a few new things I have in the works but everything else is on an indefinite hiatus but definitely not discontinued. Please feel free to message me with questions, comments, concerns, random facts about your day. Anything is welcome. I will be back soon!

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #Jason Todd #robin x reader #DCUniverse #DC comics #dcu one shot #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you

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betterdaysareatoenailaway · 4 years ago

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Random Review #3: Sleepwalkers (1992) and “Sleep Walk” (1959)

I. Sleepwalkers (1992) I couldn’t sleep last night so I started watching a trashy B-movie penned by Stephen King specifically for the screen called Sleepwalkers (1992). Simply put, the film is an unmitigated disaster. A piece of shit. But it didn’t need to be. That’s what’s so annoying about it. By 1992 King was a grizzled veteran of the silver screen, with more adaptations under his belt than any other author of his cohort. Puzo had the Godfather films (1972 and 1974, respectively), sure, but nothing else. Leonard Gardner had Fat City (1972), a movie I love, but Gardner got sucked into the Hollywood scene of cocaine and hot tub parties and never published another novel, focusing instead on screenplays for shitty TV shows like NYPD Blue. After Demon Seed (1977), a movie I have seen and disliked, nobody would touch Dean Koontz’s stuff with a ten foot pole, which is too bad because The Voice of the Night, a 1980 novel about two young pals, one of whom is a psychopath trying to convince the other to help him commit murder, would make a terrific movie. But Koontz’s adaptations have been uniformly awful. The made-for-TV film starring John C McGinley, 1997′s Intensity, is especially bad. There are exceptions, but Stephen King has been lucky enough to avoid the fate of his peers. Big name directors have tackled his work, from Stanley Kubrick to Brian De Palma. King even does a decent job of acting in Pet Semetary (1989), in his own Maximum Overdrive (1986) and in George Romero’s Creepshow (1982), where he plays a yokel named Jordy Verril who gets infected by a meteorite that causes green weeds to grow all over his body. Many have criticized King’s over-the-top performance in that flick, but for me King perfectly nails the campy and comical tone that Romero was going for. The dissolves in Creepshow literally come right off the pages of comics, so people expecting a subtle Ordinary People-style turn from King had clearly walked into the wrong theatre. Undoubtedly Creepshow succeeds at what it set out to do. I’m not sure Sleepwalkers succeeds though, unless the film’s goal was to get me to like cats even more than I already do. But I already love cats a great deal. Here’s my cat Cookie watching me edit this very blog post.

And here’s one of my other cats, Church, named after the cat that reanimates and creeps out Louis and Ellie in Pet Sematary. Photo by @ScareAlex.

SPOILER ALERT: Do not keep reading if you plan on watching Sleepwalkers and want to find out for yourself what happens.

Stephen King saw many of his novels get adapted in the late 1970s and 80s: Carrie, The Shining, Firestarter, Christine, Cujo, and the movie that spawned the 1950s nostalgia industrial complex, Stand By Me, but Sleepwalkers was the first time he wrote a script specifically for the screen rather than adapting a novel that already existed. Maybe that’s why it’s so fucking bad. Stephen King is a novelist, gifted with a novelist’s rich imagination. He’s prone to giving backstories to even the most peripheral characters - think of Joe Chamber’s alcoholic neighbour Gary Pervier in the novel Cujo, who King follows for an unbelievable number of pages as the man stumbles drunkenly around his house spouting his catch phrase “I don’t give a shit,” drills a hole through his phone book so he can hang it from a string beside his phone, complains about his hemorrhoids getting “as big as golfballs” (I’m not joking), and just generally acts like an asshole until a rabid Cujo bounds over, rips his throat out, and he bleeds to death. In the novel Pervier’s death takes more than a few pages, but it makes for fun reading. You hate the man so fucking much that watching him die feels oddly satisfying. In the movie, though, his death occurs pretty quickly, and in a darkened hallway, so it’s hard to see what’s going on aside from Gary’s foot trembling. And Pervier’s “I don’t give a shit” makes sense when he’s drilling a hole in the phone book, not when he’s about to be savagely attacked by a rabid St Bernard. There’s just less room for back story in movies. In a medium that demands pruning and chiseling and the “less is more” dictum, King’s writing takes a marked turn for the worse. King is a prose maximalist, who freely admits to “writing to outrageous lengths” in his novels, listing It, The Stand, and The Tommyknockers as particularly egregious examples of literary logorrhea. He is not especially equipped to write concisely. This weakness is most apparent in Sleepwalkers’ dialogue, which sounds like it was supposed to be snappy and smart, like something Aaron Sorkin would write, but instead comes off like an even worse Tango & Cash, all bad jokes and shitty puns. More on those bad jokes later. First, the plot.

Sleepwalkers is about a boy named Charles and his mother Mary who travel around the United States killing and feeding off the lifeforce of various unfortunate people (if this sounds a little like The True Knot in Doctor Sleep, you’re not wrong. But self-plagiarism is not a crime). Charles and Mary are shapeshifting werewolf-type creatures called werecats, a species with its very own Wikipedia page. Wikipedia confers legitimacy dont’cha know, so lets assume werecats are real beings. According to said page, a werecat, “also written in a hyphenated form as were-cat) is an analogy to ‘werewolf’ for a feline therianthropic creature.” I’m gonna spell it with the hyphen from now on because “werecats” just looks like a typo. Okay? Okay.

Oddly enough, the were-cats in Sleepwalkers are terrified of cats. Actual cats. For the were-cats, cute kittens = kryptonite. When they see a cat or cats plural, this happens to them:

^ That is literally a scene from the movie. Charles is speeding when a cop pulls alongside him and bellows at him to pull over. Ever the rebel, Charles flips the cop the finger. But the cop has a cat named Clovis in his car, and when the cat pops up to have a look at the kid (see below), Charles shapeshifts first into a younger boy, then into whatever the fuck that is in the above screenshot.

Now, the were-cats aversion to normal cats is confusing because one would assume a were-cat to be a more evolved (or perhaps devolved?) version of the typical house kitty. The fact that these were-cats are bipedal alone suggests an advantage over our furry four-legged friends, no? Kinda like if humans were afraid of fucking gorillas. Wait...we are scared of gorillas. And chimpanzees. And all apes really. Okay, maybe the conceit of the film isn’t so silly after all. The film itself, however, is about as silly as a bad horror movie can get. When the policeman gets back to precinct and describes the incident above (”his face turned into a blur”) he is roundly ridiculed because in movies involving the supernatural nobody believes in the supernatural until it confronts them. It’s the law, sorry. Things don’t end well for the cop. Or for the guy who gets murdered when the mom stabs him with...an ear of corn. Yes, an ear of corn. Somehow, the mother is able to jam corn on the cob through a man’s body, without crushing the vegetable or turning it into yellow mash. It’s pretty amazing. Here is a sample of dialog from that scene: Cop About To Die On The Phone to Precinct: There’s blood everywhere! *STAB* Murderous Mother: No vegetables, no dessert. That is actually a line in the movie. “No vegetables, no dessert.” It’s no “let off some steam, Bennett” but it’s close. Told ya I’d get back to the bad jokes. See, Mary and Charles are new in town and therefore seeking to ingratiate themselves by killing everyone who suspects them of being weird, all while avoiding cats as best they can. At one point Charles yanks a man’s hand off and tells him to "keep [his] hands to [him]self," giving the man back his severed bloody hand. Later on Charles starts dating a girl who will gradually - and I do mean gradually - come to realize her boyfriend is not a real person but in fact a were-cat. Eventually our spunky young protagonist - Madchen Amick, who fans of Twin Peaks will recognize as Shelly - and a team of cats led by the adorable Clovis- kill the were-cat shapeshifting things and the sleepy small town (which is named Travis for some reason) goes back to normal, albeit with a slightly diminished population. For those keeping score, that’s Human/Cat Alliance 1, Shapeshifting Were-cats 0. It is clear triumph for the felis catus/people team! Unless we’re going by kill count, in which case it is closer to Human/Cat Alliance 2, Were-cats 26. I arrived at this figure through my own notes but also through a helpful video that takes a comprehensive and complete “carnage count” of all kills in Sleepwalkers: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmt-DroK6uA

II. Santo & Johnny “Sleep Walk” (1959) Because Sleepwalkers is decidedly not known for its good acting or its well-written screenplay, it is perhaps best known for its liberal and sometimes contrapuntal use of Santo & Johnny’s classic steel guitar song “Sleep Walk,” possibly the most famous (and therefore best) instrumental of the 20th century. Some might say “Sleep Walk” is tied for the #1 spot with “Green Onions” by Booker T & the M.G.’s and/or “Wipe Out” by The Surfaris, but I disagree. The Santo & Johnny song is #1 because of its incalculable influence on all subsequent popular music.

I’m not saying “Wipe Out” didn't inspire a million imitators, both contemporaneously and even decades later…for example here’s a surf rock instrumental from 1999 called “Giant Cow" by a Toronto band called The Urban Surf Kings. The video was one of the first to be animated using Flash (and it shows):

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So there are no shortage of surf rock bands, even now, decades after its emergence from the shores of California to the jukeboxes of Middle America. My old band Sleep for the Nightlife used to regularly play Rancho Relaxo with a surf rock band called the Dildonics, who I liked a great deal. There's even a Danish surf rock band called Baby Woodrose, whose debut album is a favourite of mine. They apparently compete for the title of Denmark’s biggest surf pop band with a group called The Setting Son. When a country that has no surfing culture and no beaches has multiple surf rock bands, it is safe to say the genre has attained international reach. As far as I can tell, there aren’t many bands out there playing Booker T & the M.G.’s inspired instrumental rock. Link Wray’s “Rumble” was released four years before “Green Onions.” But the influence of Santo and Johnny’s “Sleep Walk” is so ubiquitous as to be almost immeasurable. The reason for this is the sheer popularity of the song’s chord progression. If Santo and Johnny hadn’t written it first, somebody else would have, simply because the progression is so beautiful and easy on the ears and resolvable in a satisfying way. Have a listen to “Sleep Walk” first and then let’s check out some songs it directly inspired.

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The chords are C, A minor, F and G. Minor variations sometimes reverse the last two chords, but if it begins with C to A minor, you can bet it’s following the “Sleep Walk” formula, almost as if musicians influenced by the song are in the titular trance. When it comes to playing guitar, Tom Waits once said “your hands are like dogs, going to the same places they’ve been. You have to be careful when playing is no longer in the mind but in the fingers, going to happy places. You have to break them of their habits or you don’t explore; you only play what is confident and pleasing.” Not only is it comforting to play and/or hear what we already know, studies have shown that our brains actively resist new music, because it takes work to understand the new information and assimilate it into a pattern we are cogent of. It isn’t until the brain recognizes the pattern that it gives us a dopamine rush. I’m not much for Pitchfork anymore, but a recent article they posted does a fine job of discussing this phenomenon in greater detail.

Led Zeppelin’s “D’Yer Maker” uses the “Sleep Walk” riff prominently, anchored by John Bonham and John Paul Jones’ white-boy reggae beat:

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Here it is again with Del Shannon’s classic “Little Town Flirt.” I love Shannon’s falsetto at the end when he goes “you better run and hide now bo-o-oy.”

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The Beatles “Happiness is a Warm Gun” uses the Sleep Walk progression, though not for the whole song. It goes into the progression at the bridge at 1:34:

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Tumblr won’t let me embed any more videos, so you’ll to travel to another tab to hear these songs, but Neil Young gets in on the act with his overlooked classic “Winterlong:” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RV6r66n3TFI On their 1996 EP Interstate 8 Modest Mouse pay direct homage by singing over their own rendition of the original Santo & Johnny version, right down to the weeping steel guitar part: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VT_PwXjCqqs The vocals are typical wispy whispered indie rock vocals, but I think they work, particularly the two different voices. They titled their version “Sleepwalking (Couples Only Dance Prom Night).”

Dwight Yoakam’s “Thousand Miles From Nowhere” makes cinematic use of it. This song plays over the credits of one of my all-time favourite movies, 1993′s Red Rock West feat. Nicolas Cage, Lara Flynn Boyle, Dennis Hopper, and J.T. Walsh https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tu3ypuKq8WE

“39″ is my favourite Queen song. I guess now I know why. It uses my fav chord progression: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kE8kGMfXaFU

Blink 182 scored their first hit “Dammit” with a minor variation on the Sleep Walk chord progression: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sT0g16_LQaQ

Midwest beer drinkin bar rockers Connections scored a shoulda-been-a-hit with the fist-pumping “Beat the Sky:” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSNRq0n_WYA You’d be hard pressed to find a weaker lead singer than this guy (save for me, natch), but they make it work. This one’s an anthem.

Spoon, who have made a career out of deconstructing rock n’ roll, so that their songs sometimes sound needlessly sparse (especially “The Ghost of You Lingers,” which takes minimalism to its most extreme...just a piano being bashed on staccato-style for four minutes), so it should surprise nobody that they re-arrange the Sleep Walk chords on their classic from Gimme Fiction, “I Summon You:” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teXA8N3aF9M I love that opening line: remember the weight of the world was a sound that we used to buy? I think songwriter Britt Daniel is talking about buying albums from the likes of Pearl Jam or Smashing Pumpkins, any of those grunge bands with pessimistic worldviews. There are a million more examples. I remember seeing some YouTube video where a trio of gross douchebros keep playing the same progression while singing a bunch of hits over it. I don’t like the smarmy way they do it, making it seem like artists are lazy and deliberately stealing. I don’t think it’s plagiarism to use this progression. And furthermore, tempo and production make all the difference. Take “This Magic Moment” for example. There's a version by Jay & the Americans and one by Ben E King & the Drifters. I’ve never been a fan of those shrieking violins or fiddles that open the latter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bacBKKgc4Uo The Jay & the Americans version puts the guitar riff way in the forefront, which I like a lot more. The guitar plays the entire progression once before the singing starts and the band joins in: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKfASw6qoag

Each version has its own distinctive feel. They are pretty much two different songs. Perhaps the most famous use of the Sleep Walk progression is “Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers, which is one of my favourite songs ever. The guy who chose to let Bobby Hatfield sing this one by himself must have kicked himself afterwards when it became a hit, much bigger than "You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling."https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qiiyq2xrSI0

What can you say about “Unchained Melody” that hasn’t already been said? God, that miraculously strong vocal, the way the strings (and later on, brass horns) are panned way over to the furthest reaches the left speaker while the drums and guitar are way over in the right, with the singing smack dab in the middle creates a kind of distance and sharp clarity that has never been reproduced in popular music, like seeing the skyscrapers of some distant city after an endless stretch of highway. After listening to “Unchained Melody,” one has to wonder: can that progression ever be improved upon? Can any artist write something more haunting, more beautiful, more uplifting than that? The “need your love” crescendo hits so fucking hard, as both the emotional and the sonic climax of the song, which of course is no accident...the strings descending and crashing like a waterfall of sound, it gets me every fucking time. Legend has it that King George II was so moved by the “Hallelujah” section of Handel’s “Messiah” that he stood up, he couldn't help himself, couldn't believe what he was hearing. I get that feeling with all my favourite songs. "1979." "Unchained Melody." "In The Still of the Night." "Digital Bath." "Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?" "Interstate." "Liar's Tale." “Gimme Shelter.” The list goes on and on. Music is supposed to move us.

King George II stood because he was moved to do so. Music may be our creation, but it isn't our subordinate. All those sci-fi stories warning about technology growing beyond our control aren’t that far-fetched. Music is our creation but its power lies beyond our control. We are subordinate to music, helpless against its power and might, its urgency and vitality and beauty. There have been many times in my life when I have been so obsessed with a particular song that I pretty much want to live inside of it forever. A house of sound. I remember detoxing from heroin and listening to Grimes “Realiti” on repeat for twelve hours. Detoxing from OxyContin and listening to The Beach Boys “Dont Worry Baby” over and over. Or just being young and listening to “Tonight Tonight” over and over and over, tears streaming from my eyes in that way you cry when you’re a kid because you just feel so much and you don’t know what to do with the intensity of those feelings. It is precisely because we are so moved by music that we keep creating it. And in the act of that creation we are free. There are no limits to that freedom, which is why bands time and time again return to the well-worn Sleep Walk chord progression and try to make something new from it. Back in 2006, soon after buying what was then the new Yeah Yeah Yeahs album, I found myself playing the album’s closing track over and over. I loved the chorus and I loved the way it collapses into a lo-fi demo at the very end, stripping away the studio sheen and...not to be too punny, showing its bones (the album title is Show Your Bones). Later on I would realize that the song, called “Turn Into,” uses the Sleep Walk chord progression. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exqCFoPiwpk

It’s just like, what Waits said, our hands goes to where we are familiar. And so do our ears, which is why jazz often sounds so unpleasant to us upon first listen. Or Captain Beefheart. But it’s worth the effort to discover new stuff, just as it’s worth the effort to try and write it. I recently lamented on this blog that music to me now is more about remembrance than discovery, but I’m still only 35 years old. I’m middle-aged right now (I don’t expect to live past 70, not with the lifestyle I’ve been living). There’s still a whole other half life to find new music and love and leave it for still newer stuff. It’s worth the challenge, that moment of inner resistance we feel when confronted with something new and challenging and strange sounding. The austere demands of adult life, rent and routine, take so much of our time. I still make time for creative pursuits, but I don’t really have much time for discovery, for seeking out new music. But I’ve resolved to start making more time. A few years ago I tried to listen to and like Trout Mask Replica but I couldn’t. I just didn’t get what was going on. It sounded like a bunch of mistakes piled on top of each other. But then a few days ago I was writing while listening to music, as I always do, and YouTube somehow landed on Lick My Decals Off, Baby. I didn’t love what I was hearing but I was intrigued enough to keep going. And now I really like this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMnd9dvb3sA&pbjreload=101 Another example I’ll give is the rare Robert Pollard gem “Prom Is Coming.” The first time I heard this song, it sounded like someone who can’t play guitar messing around, but the more I heard it the more I realized there’s a song there. It’s weird and strange, but it’s there. The lyrics are classic Pollard: Disregard injury and race madly out of the universe by sundown. Pollard obviously has a special place in his heart for this track. He named one of his many record labels Prom Is Coming Records and he titled the Boston Spaceships best-of collection Out of the Universe By Sundown. I don’t know if I’ll ever become a Captain Beefheart megafan but I can hear that the man was doing something very strange and, at times, beautiful. And anyway, why should everything be easy? Aren’t some challenges worth meeting for the experience waiting on the other side of comprehension or acceptance? I try to remember this now whenever I’m first confronted with new music, instead of vetoing it right away. Most of my favourite bands I was initially resistant to when I first heard them. Queens of the Stone Age, Kyuss, Guided by Voices, Spoon, Heavy Times. All bands I didn’t like at first. I don’t wanna sleepwalk through life, surrounding myself only with things I have already experienced. I need to stay awake. Because soon enough I’ll be asleep forever. We need to try everything we can before the Big Sleep comes to take us back to the great blankness, the terrible question mark that bookends our lives.

#sleep walk #santo & johnny #neil young #queen #dwight yoakam #led zeppelin #the beatles #betterdaysareatoenailaway

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thecursedhellblazer · 4 years ago

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At the Edge of Nowhere

(( So, guess who went ahead and scratched that crazy itch I got yesterday? Yep, Scotty did. It turned in a small fic instead of a drabble, since apparently I had more to play out than I initially thought, but...here it is. I took the chance to experiment a bit with the writing style too, while I was at it, ‘cause...why not? ))

(( I’m not really sure of where the idea came from, I just really wanted them to have interact, somehow, without inventing something too complicated. And this was the result. Also, it doesn’t mean that I won’t try to shove Five into John’s universe or vice versa at some point, but for now I’m good with this xD ))

(( Sharing just in case anyone is in the mood for some random oddity! ))

(( I even posted in on Ao3 if anyone wants to have a look at it there! ^^” ))

They sit side by side, watching the eternal sunset of Eternity stretching before them, swinging their feet past the edge of the Abyss, unfazed by the danger of its depths. The darkness seems to be threatening to suck them down, condemning them to an endless fall, and yet they pay it no mind, each of them far too interested in sipping and enjoying his drink.

The silence floods past them, over them, through them, carrying the whispers of their lives. However, for this ephemeral moment, they are given the almost unique chance to ignore them. It’s a rare gift, one that deserved to be savoured, like a fine well-aged vintage. Like the ambrosia that the ancient gods, legit and false, so much have lauded.

And so they sit, the Boy and the Fool, side by side, on the edge of the Abyss.

The atmosphere is almost companionable, as much as it can be when shared by two strangers who carry with them too much baggage. A past and a present that are too dark, too painful. There’s as much kinship and understanding between them as there’s mistrust.

They let the quietness linger for a while, listening only to the taste of the alcohol that coats their tongues, knowing that the stasis won’t last. Neither of them is good at keeping his mouth shut when something is making their skin itch.

“Th’ ‘ell ‘s a lad like yeh doin’ in such a place?” The Fool finally asks, turning his eyes away from the magnetic horizon and landing them on his unlikely companion.

The Boy scoffs. Why is it always the same old story with everyone he meets? “I’d watch my fucking tongue if I were you, young man,” he shoots back, with a withering look. “I’m far older than I look. And I’m older than you for sure.”

A half laugh rises with a small cloud of smoke, but it dies in the matter of seconds as the seriousness of those declarations settles in.

“Blimey. Yeh ain’t pullin’ me leg, are yeh? ‘Ow old are yeh s’posed to be den, mate?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding? Trust me, mate, I’m not. I’m fifty-eight. And I’m stuck in the body of a thirteen-years-old. There’s nothing funny about it.”

“Bloody ‘Ell. Fifty-eight n’ still a lad? Tha’s...insane. I dun envy yeh. Nay.”

The Fool shakes his head, but, despite the lingering astonishment, there is a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Tell us, tho. Woh’s yeh secret? I gots me diabolical trick to slow down agin’ n’ all, but it obviously ain’t workin’ as well as yehs.”

“I got stuck in the future for forty-five years and, when I finally figured out the equation to go back to my time, I missed a typo and...this is the result.”

“Soddin’ math. ‘S one o’ th’ bloody reasons why I ne’er managed to get alchemy rite. T’in’s keep blowin’ up in me face.”

“Sodding math indeed. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

They clink their glasses together and go back staring at the frozen skyline. Two sets of blue eyes. Different shades of the iris, similar heaviness burdening them.

The Boy steers his drink with his straw, lips pursing pensively. “Speaking of things that suck, what is this place exactly? Am I dreaming? Or did I accidentally take some of my brother’s drugs and this is like the most boring trip in history?”

The Fool scoffs. “Gonna pretend tha’ yeh didn’t jus’ insult me too, together wit’ dis soddin’ place.”

His gaze wanders for a split moment, touching their motionless surroundings. “Ah, I dunno, mate. Could be yeh dream, aye. Could be mine. Or maybe we bot’ stepped inside another real wit’out noticin’ n’ ‘ere we are. Wouldn’t be th’ first time for me. Won’t be th’ last either.”

“I’ve never been in another world. I’ve travelled through time, maybe a bit too much, and I’ve rushed through the fabric of space but this…” The Boy waves his free hand. “This is new. It’s easier to think of it as a dream, so I’d go with that, if you don’t mind. The last thing I need is another headache.”

“Wohe’er works wit’ yeh, mate. I get it. At times, ‘s be’er pretendin’ life ain’t real. ‘S good for yeh mental sanity. Even if yeh got none left.”

The Fool takes yet another drag from his cigarette. Curiously enough, it doesn’t seem to be shortening, even if the ash falls down on his trench coat.

“One t’in’ I can tell yeh ‘bout dis place, tho. It ain’t somewhere e’eryone can visit. Yeh gotta carry some serious shite wit’ yeh to ‘ave stumbled in ‘ere. Do yeh?”

The Boy shrugs. “Maybe? I kept pushing and pushing, even after my father had told me not to and I ended up after the End of the world. I heard the bastard’s voice echoing in my head for the past forty-five years.” He makes his voice thicker for a moment. “I told you so, boy. I told you so. Asshole.”

A long sip from his drink, as if he is trying to wash away that intrusive voice from his ears, before he continues.

“I worked for this organisation that monitors the timeline for a while as a trained assassin. They made me into the perfect killer, a tool for their plans. I had my goals, though, since the start. I took their deal just so that I could go back to try to stop the Apocalypse and save my family. We ended up breakin the world anyway, so I dragged them all back in time to try again. Of course, all that shit followed us. Because it’s never that easy, is it?”

The Fool nods and the Boy can tell that his companion knows that sort of feeling far too well. It’s nice to be fully understood, for once. Even if the understanding comes from a nameless stranger he’ll probably never see again. Assuming that their meeting is truly happening in the first place.

“So...We saved the world this time but broke the timeline. And now my childhood home is gone and me and my siblings are stuck in a timeline that holds no place for us anymore. I’m still trying to figure out how that’s supposed to work. Oh, and that bastard of my adoptive father is hunting us down using the kids he adopted in our place. It’s a real mess.”

There’s bitterness colouring his voice, the embers of a fight that’s too stubborn to die just yet, but the exhaustion is stronger.

“Though, between you and me...All I really want is a decent nap and a dozen more drinks. Maybe get a dog too. Not necessarily in that order.”

The straw produces a light slurping sound as he takes the next sip. “What’s your story? You must have one too, since you’re here...wherever here is.”

The Fool tips his head, in a sign of acknowledgement. No comments follow the tale, and there’s no real need for them there, out of time and space.

“Grew up in me own particular version o’ ‘Ell. Me oul man was th’ fuckin’ opposite o’ ‘father o’ th’ year’...So, I ran in my teen years, still thinkin’ I coulda owned th’ world. Stuck me nose in e’ery bloody t’in’ tha’ was magic n’ occult. One nite I got too cocky and damned an innocent girl to Hell. Earned a bloody place wit’ me name down there too in the process.”

The voice that spells out the words is casual, but there’s something haunted in his expression, darkening his eyes.

“Spent all me life tryin' to make up for tha’ bloody mistake. Ended up messin up meself and most o’ me mates n’ th’ people who ‘ad th’ ‘orrible o’ puttin’ their faith in me as a result. Girl’s still in ‘Ell, th’ bloody Devil ‘imself gots an eternal grudge against me, I gots demon blood in me veins n’ me soz arse ‘s still damned. I might not be a professional like yeh, but I bet I gots jus’ as much blood on me ‘ands. N’ even more souls on me conscience.”

The ice clinks against the transparent walls as the glass is lifted. More sourness to wipe away the one that the words have left on his tongue.

“Nowadays, ‘s mostly me, meself n’ I. Me best mate, too, from time to time. No clue o’ ‘ow he survived bein’ by me side for so long. ‘M still tryin’ to make t’in’s rite, but...for th’ most I jus’ try to be there to do th’ bloody dirty job no self-appointed ‘ero gots th’ time to do. I might be lost, past th’ point o’ no return, but there are lots o’ people out there who aren’t yet. Th’ fuckin’ least I can do ‘s tryin’ to ‘elp ‘em, aye? Make dis soz existence o’ mine wort’ more than misery n’ destruction.”

A drag from his cigarette and there’s a small hand landing on his shoulder, in a brief pat, before he has finished sucking the smoke in. The light pressure says more than a thousand words could.

“Between you and me, tho...I could use a dozen drinks too. Maybe more. N’ a bloody vacation. To sod off somewhere, even for jus’ a day. Maybe take me best mate n’ dis other lad I know. Oh, he could use a break too, th’ poor sod.”

The Boy makes a sound of agreement and he is back stirring his drink. “What a pair we make, you and I. And I don’t even know you.”

“I ‘ear tha’ loud n’ clear, mate. Bloody loud n’ bloody clear. Woh’s tha’ yeh drinkin’ anyway?”

“What? You ne’er seen a margarita? Where the hell are you from? England or Mars? Come on, try it.”

“Oi, I know woh a fuckin’ margarita is, oul man. Yehs jus’ a bit...flashier than woh ‘m used to.”

“Special recipe. I perfected it myself.”

“Now, tha’s more like it. I like a bloke who can make ‘is own drinks. There. Yeh like g n’ t?”

The glasses pass from one hand to another and then they both turn to look back at the unchanged horizon, holding each other’s drink.

A moment to sniff the liquors, in unison, and then the Boy dips his lips in the clear spirit while the Fool wraps his mouth around the straw. The tastes mix in the silence and it’s a symphony of citrus and sourness, with just the right amount of sweetness coming at the end.

“So, what happens now?” The Boy asks, after a moment.

The Fool shrugs. “Ah, I guess we wait till all dis fades. Or till we do. ‘S always ‘ard to tell when it comes to dis sort o’ shite.”

A huffs, with the faintest hint of irritation. “For someone who’s supposed to know a lot about this stuff, you give the worst cryptic answers. I can’t tell if you’re that ignorant or if you’re just fucking with me.”

A nudge in a smaller, slender side and a sharp smirk. “Who knows, mate. Yeh guess ‘s as good as mine. Keep th’ drink. I gots more back where I come from. Consider it a safe trip back home present. I’ll keep yehs as a reminder.”

“A present from a guy I never truly met? And a reminder of something we didn’t even speak about?”

“Nay. Jus’ th’ memory o’ some peace n’ quiet in decent company.”

“Fair enough. I can drink to that.”

#hellblazer #the umbrella academy #john constantine #five hargreeves #number five #tua #crossover #(( scotty writes ))

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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941

ACH

Do you listen to anything by Bach? I’ve probably encountered some of his material since I like looking for classical musical playlists to listen to on Spotify, but I’m nowhere near being a devoted fan or anything like that.

ASH

Do you like ash trees? I’m not attached to any kind of tree, really – but I know I have nothing against this kind, haha.

Do you have the ashes of a family member or a pet? No. The only ashes I’ve gotten to encounter are my grandpa’s, but we’ve since placed them in our local ossuary so that he can rest in peace.

How often do you feel like you want to bash your head against a wall? Before September, quite seldom. But with this month being so turbulent, chaotic, and nothing like I expected it to be, seldom has turned into every day.

Has anyone ever thrown you a big birthday bash? Sure. I had a big party when I was 7 and I also had a nice slew of celebrations when I turned 18. But if you mean a surprise birthday bash then no, no one has thrown one for me.

Do you know anyone who is brash? I do, but fortunately I haven’t had to work with her for a while now. I certainly often felt annoyed when I used to have to.

Do you typically carry cash or a credit/debit card? OMG Y’ALL I finally opened my own bank account last Friday I’ve never felt so grown-up until now haha. My dad helped me set up my first card, which is a debit card. :)

Have you ever crashed someone else’s party before? No, that sounds so annoying omg. I’d never want to be known as a gatecrasher. I know I’d be pissed if someone showed up to any of my parties uninvited.

Have you ever been involved in a car crash? Yes but fortunately they’ve all been super mild ones. One of my biggest fears is getting involved in a car crash where things would be out of my control and becoming seriously injured, like if a drunk driver crashed into me or if a 12-wheeler loses its brakes and slams into my car or something. I think I’d live in resentment for the rest of my life if that sort of thing happened to me and still ended up alive.

Do you use Door Dash? I didn’t know what this is so I had to look it up, and even though we don’t have Door Dash we do have several apps that do exactly the same services.

How often do you use a dash in your writing? I like using them in more casual contexts like survey entries, personal essays, feature articles, etc. I avoid dashes in academic writing since dashes are not really the most formal of punctuation marks.

Last place you made a mad dash to? The car repair shop that my dad asked me to meet him at because his situation was a little urgent at the time.

Do you make it a habit to flash people? Oh wow, no I don’t. That’s one of the last things anyone can expect from me. I like wearing revealing or skin-tight articles of clothing, but that doesn’t mean I like giving absolutely everything away lol

Do you prefer flash or no flash on a camera? No flash, always. I hate the effect that flash does and I never go for it, unless I’m in an area where lighting is poor.

Is the Flash one of your favorite superheroes? No. I’m not very big on superheroes to begin with.

Do you use the phrase “I’ll be back in a flash”? Not really. I find myself using “I’ll be super quick” more, or using ‘jiffy’ instead of flash.

Have you ever had a gash in your head before? Anywhere else on your body? I sported a gash near my eyebrow once because of some cousin who tried to blind me by hurling a glass jar towards my left eye and just narrowly missing my actual eyeball. Now there’s a scar in its place. Currently, I have multiple gashes on my arms and legs because Cooper.

Do you like hash browns? They’re okay, but I can’t have them all the time because I find them way too greasy for my enjoyment.

Do you do hash? No.

How often do you use hash tags? Almost never, unless I’m fighting for a political cause like BLM or calling for free mass testing. Hashtags got real lame real quick when they started getting popular around 7-8 years ago.

Do you have long eyelashes? Yes, it’s my favorite feature of mine and I get compliments on them fairly often.

How often do you lash out at others? For what reasons? Not often, but when I do it’s almost always because I’m already buckling under immense pressure and probably have nowhere to release my stress onto. I don’t turn it into an automatic mechanism though, because I don’t want to make others feel like shit for things they didn’t do.

Do you like mashed potatoes? I enjoy them but they’re not really my favorite dish. I can do 4-5 spoonfuls of them before getting over them haha, like I can never seem to finish a serving of it.

Do you typically gnash your teeth together? No I HATEEEE the sensation and the sound that it makes. My sister grinds her teeth in her sleep and it drives me nuts whenever we’re on a family trip and we share a room.

Do you know someone who speaks balderdash? Sure.

What color is the backsplash of your kitchen? White.

Have you ever had any rashes before? What kinds? Yes. Back in high school I used to occasionally get a random itchy area on my leg and whenever I’d scratch it, it would turn into an ugly patch of rashes. I never figured what the condition was but I’m just glad it’s never happened again.

Do you typically make rash decisions? Sometimes. I really tend to impulsive. The last one I made was swapping a full-time job opportunity for an internship with much lesser pay. Even I was surprised by how quick I jumped into the latter, but I like the nature of the work of the internship SO MUCH MORE, and I dunno if I’ll be happy with what I would be doing in the full-time gig. Plus, internships here are never even paid ones, so the fact that they even offered to give me an allowance per day just goes to show how good the company I’m interning for is.

Have you ever worn a sash before? I probably have but I don’t remember what for anymore.

Do you often find that your personality clashes with others’ around you? Yes, but I’m also good at adjusting to all kinds of personalities so I’m not too bothered by the clashes.

Whose tires would you like to slash? Any racist’s tires, really.

Who would you like to smash with? No one at the moment.

What was the last thing you smashed out of anger? I don’t really tend to be violent when I’m angry. The last angry thing I did was to throw my head against a pillow, but that’s it.

Do you have a secret stash of something hidden anywhere? Nopes.

How often do you take out the trash? My parents prefer to do it so they don’t really ask us to.

Has anyone ever told you that you look like trash? Other than myself, no.

Do you like to splash in the pool, the bathtub, or in puddles? I wouldn’t call it my favorite thing to do; I hate the mess that it makes, ha.

Have you ever thrashed violently before? What was the cause? Yeah. I probably embarrassed my grandma for life when I did so, but it was when I had to be confined to the hospital and they needed to insert the IV thing on me. It sent me into the worst panic attack I’ve ever gotten and I ended up thrashing a lot and several people had to hold me down so that the nurse could stick the thing into my wrist.

Do you own and use an eyelash curler? No. Those make me cringe so bad...I hate how they get so close to the eyeball. Kate brought her makeup kit to school everyday and she always made me try to learn how to curl my own lashes, but it just made me feel so nauseated lol

Have you ever experienced backlash from others? A few times before.

Have you ever had whiplash before? Never.

ATH

Do you prefer a shower or a bath? Shower. Much more efficient. Baths are relaxing, but I don’t like how I end up bathing in what’s pretty much dirty water.

Have you ever given another person or an animal a bath before? I’ve only given Kimi a bath. I let my dad bathe Cooper since he’s too much of a handful for now, plus I think it’s fair if we bathe one dog each haha.

How good are you at math? I can answer advanced algebra, statistics, and geometry questions if you give me enough time to review and get reacquainted with the formulas, but I’m perfectly alright with no longer revisiting trigonometry and calculus for the rest of my life.

Do you feel like your life is on the right path? Career-wise it definitely is; I’m happy with the direction it’s going right now. Everything else seems so turbulent at the moment and I can’t say I’m happy.

Are there any bike paths or footpaths in your area? We have sidewalks, if they count.

Have you ever gone on the warpath before? Not really. I do get very angry with certain people if I think they’ve been behaving badly, but I rarely get confrontational.

Is there a birdbath in your yard? No, those aren’t common here at all. I’ve only seen those in cartoons, I think.

Have you ever had a footbath before? Nopes.

What’s the last thing you’ve had to deal with the aftermath of? I can think of one thing but it’s still pretty triggering so I don’t feel like bringing it up at the moment.

Have you ever witnessed a bloodbath? Thankfully I haven’t. I get so queasy when I see blood though; it’s so much better off this way because I wouldn’t be able to deal with one at all.

Are you a sociopath or a psychopath? Do you know anyone who might be? No lol. I don’t think I know of anyone who could possibly be either. I wouldn’t want to associate myself with one in the first place.

Who’s the last person that you faced the wrath of? Myself.

AMP

Do you have an instrument that you plug into an amp? Nope, I own 0 instruments.

When’s the last time you felt amped up? What was the reason? Thursday morning when I parked in front of the office I was gonna have my job interview in. I needed to hype myself up to feel confident so I spent a couple of minutes in the car pumping my chest and screaming and shit, lol

Have you ever gone to day camp or overnight sleepaway camp? No. My mom wouldn’t have allowed me as a kid.

When’s the last time you felt like a champ? It’s been a while. I haven’t exactly felt like I’ve been winning in anything.

Last time it was damp where you lived? This afternoon. It was really humid for a good few hours and then it ended up raining.

Weirdest place you’ve ever had a cramp? My index finger whenever I’d try to use chopsticks; and my toes when I hiked in Sagada. The toe cramps were so bizarre I was actually laughing-crying the whole time the tour guide was treating me; my dad was taking photos of me too loooooool

Do you refer to your grandfather as “Gramps”? No. I call both of them Lolo, which is our local version of Grandpa.

Have you ever worn a headlamp before? No, I’ve never really had to.

Do you have a ramp anywhere in your house? I don’t think so, no.

Has anyone ever called you “scamp” before? No.

How many lamps are in the room you’re in? How many are actually turned on? There is one lamp, and it is currently turned on.

Do you stamp your feet when you are angry? It doesn’t tend to be a behavior of mine, no.

Last time you used a postage stamp? Not sure...grade school, probably? I never used those a lot.

Are there streetlamps on your street? What time do they turn on? Yep. I don’t keep track of their schedule but a safe guess would be either 6 or 6:30 PM.

Last place/area that you wanted to revamp? My room.

Do you know anyone who is a tramp? No.

Have you seen Lady and the Tramp before? Not the full movie but I’ve seen a lot of excerpts from watching Magic English as a kid.

Do you know anyone with a “tramp stamp”? I don’t think so.

AWK/AULK/ALK

Is the squawk of certain birds annoying? Which ones? I’ve never found any of them annoying, but maybe that’s also because there aren’t a lot of different birds flying around where I live.

Do you prefer hawks or falcons? And…why? I don’t have a preference; I’ve never encountered either.

Has anyone ever watched you like a hawk before? That sounds a little creepy and I wouldn’t want to know if anyone has.

What was the last thing you used caulk on? I’m almost positive I’ve never handled that, haha.

[a-zebra-is-a-striped-horse]

#survey #surveys

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xxisxxisxxis · 5 years ago

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Preview: Gateway Drug | Part Forty-Five

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @sinningsixx @edwardtriggerhandzz @lemmyjelly @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @vamprlestat @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @loveofmyloif @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @xpoisonousrosesx @cruecifymesixx @ijustwanttokiss70srogertaylor @emmaelizabeth2014 @meetthesixxter @sixxsixxsexx @sublimeprincesswasteland @arianareirg @girlnight-terror @mcnibberachi

@fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror @xrosegoldwolfx @blowinmeupwithherlove

Five days detoxing at Doc's house+rehab+therapy=road to recovery=out of the woods. It's the magical equation I swore up and down wouldn't end in "Error."

The few dishes on the counter shatter into the floor once Nikki roughly sits me on it, his fingers digging into my thighs that wrap securely around him, our tongues twisting as we tug and pull at each other's clothes.

I get his pants undone as he pulls the towel from around my body, taking a handful of my soaking wet hair in his hand and tugging my head back to leave bites and bruises up and down my neck, causing me to hum in pleasure while my core pulses with anticipation to be filled by him.

Moving myself to the edge of the counter, spreading my legs as he runs his fist up and down his length a few times, I take heavy breaths, a wash of shame coming over me for a moment because this is the complete opposite of what we were instructed to do.

But fuck the "no contact" rule that has strictly been given to us.

I've barely had any contact with him the past few months because he's been stoned or drunk. Telling me to practically ignore and avoid him for 30 days straight is like waving a loaded syringe in an addict's face before sitting it down in front of them and leaving them alone after telling them "okay I know it's right there and it's the one thing you struggle most to control yourself around, but don't even look at it."

Fuck that, and Nikki. And I refuse to walk around my own house anymore and not do the latter of those two.

The indescribable feeling of him pushing into me has my head tipping back , and my eyes closing as the both of us let out content sighs.

I put my weight on one of my hands that rests on the counter beside me, the other hand wrapped around the back of Nikki's neck, as he moves in and out of me ferociously and I meet him thrust for thrust.

Let's take a step back and catch up on how he and I had gotten to that point.

Eight Days Earlier

"You two can detox at my place, check into rehab, come out when you're better and we'll go from there." Doc explains to Nikki and Tansy as they both sit on our couch.

"W-What about the press? Or my mom?" Tansy asks him nervously, fumbling with the tag on the throw blanket she's enveloped in.

"You let me deal with your mom and the media, alright?" Doc assures her.

"Surely your mom won't be pissed at you for getting help, Tans." I try to tell her and she rubs her lips together.

"People will know I have a problem if I got to rehab." She points out. "It'll make me look bad."

"Having to cover your entire body with makeup to hide the discoloration of your skin and the track marks, looks bad, Tansy. Screw what people think. At least you're admitting you need help." I say and she doesn't reply, just looking at Nikki to gauge his reaction to all of this.

He looks pissed, but too tired and defeated to give a shit enough to argue with me anymore about it.

"What's the point of rehab if I'm just gonna end up kicking it at Doc's place?" Nikki asks me and I let out a breath.

"Because rehab will teach you coping mechanisms that Doc can't, Nikki. It won't take that long for you to get out if you just try your best at it." I reply and he scoffs.

"So, what, you're babysitting me at Doc's until I'm done throwing up, shitting myself, and having hot and cold flashes and then shipping me off for a few weeks?" He cuts his dead eyes at me and Doc and I exchange looks.

"Well, it depends on how quickly you adjust to rehab and make a turn around, as to how soon you can get out...so it might be more than a few weeks." Doc informs him. "And Bob has already scheduled you and Viv an appointment with a marriage therapist."

"Well if I'm spending more than three weeks in rehab there's no point in working on our marriage."

"The program you'll be in includes this particular therapist who's currently working on creating a schedule for Vivian to come visit you often and you two have your sessions bi-weekly." Doc states and Nikki rolls his jaw, looking at me.

"Is this what you really want? Your husband gone for weeks on end until some quack gives me a certificate and a gold star because I went 'X' amount of time without shooting up?" He harshly questions me and I rub my lips together.

I think of the reasons Nikki didn't spend more than three days in rehab the first time he went, was because A.) He refused to believe in a higher power, and B.) He didn't go to rehab because he knew he had a problem and wanted to get better, he went to rehab to appease the people around him because he felt we were twisting his arm until he gave up and cried "mercy" a.k.a "fine I'll go, just as long as you shut the fuck up and get off my back about it."

I look at him for a moment, studying his knotted hair, his yellow skin, his shot eyes, his weak appearance, before saying:

"I'd rather you hate me for a little while for getting you help, instead of waking up and trying to convince myself to continue to live in a world with no Nikki Sixx in it."

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #gateway drug

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sherlollydramoine · 5 years ago

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Here’s just a quick preview of some stuff...

The last day I’ve felt somewhat inspired to write. I have a few different pieces that I’m working on right now. Thought I’d give you all a little preview of the currently unedited pieces I’m working on. These are NOT all of my WIP’s, but just a small handful. Keep in mind all of these are unedited, and mostly in the rough draft phase of writing. I hope this gives you all some hope that I will be back. I have a few ideas for a few other fics as well. The ideas keep flowing but I just can’t write them fast enough. If any of you other Rami/Rami character writers would like some ideas, I have several that I’m willing to give away if you need some inspiration or ideas.

Again these are just previews, some of them are little snippets, some are a good little chunk of each WIP. Please enjoy! :) Be sure to give me feedback on anything that you want to see, and as always even though I’m a little slow moving... my ask box is ALWAYS open for requests. Please, start submitting requests through my ask box and not through messages because they get lost. Thank you all! Love you! :)

WARNINGS: Most of these contain language, some are just pure angst, some are just fluffy and cute, referenced or outright drug use, unprotected sex (y’all for reals.. wrap it before you tap it), dom/sub sexual themes, and some are the beginnings of just plain smut, 18+ only. Please, if you are under 18, DO NOT read this content.

1 BoRhap boys piece:

“So basically lads, she’s not getting out of bed unless we make her.” Gwil adds from his position by the window. He gets a devious smirk on his face before he pulls open the curtains with a yank of the chain, causing you to yelp, and everyone else to start laughing. Suddenly you find the bed being invaded by three very male bodies as each one settles on a different side of you. Joe on your left, Rami on your right, and Gwil at your feet; wearing matching devious smiles. Without warning you find your body being forcibly lifted off the bed and carried out into the communal area of the shared suite before being unceremoniously dumped onto the sofa.

Shooting death glares at all three men you speak up, “I’m outta bed, someone give me coffee now or I’m gonna tell the press that Joe and Ben had an affair and that Rami and Gwil non-platonically share a bed every night.”

Gasps could be heard followed shortly by the full on dramatics of three trained actors as Gwil pretended to be somehow mortally wounded, Rami just threw himself on the opposite sofa while dramatically sighing and throwing his arm over his face as if he had fainted, and Joe decided to dramatically yelp out “Y/N how could you? I thought that was our little secret.”

2 A Tasty Snack piece:

You can't ever help yourself when it comes to Rami. He's just so beautiful and playful that he makes you laugh just as often as he makes you horny.

One afternoon on a lazy day, you were both lounging by the pool, him munching away on his Red Vines, you laying on your back on one of the lounge chairs. You feel his eyes on you and you can't help but to turn your head toward him.

With a brow arched you casually ask him what has caught his attention.

"I want to eat you out. I want you on your back, legs spread, and my face between those beautiful thighs." he dead pans, as he loudly continues chewing his red licorice.

Taken aback by his casual response, you smirk to yourself.

"Is that right sir?" you ask as you stand.

"You want to taste my pussy?" you question as you begin to slide your bathing suit down your legs.

You feel his eyes on you, his body never moving from the spot he had earlier claimed.

"Because I want to feel your hot mouth on me. If you're hungry, come and get."

3 A random piece with 2 OC characters

“Fine then, why the hell don’t we play the compliments game? You guys remember how it works right? I think I’ll make this easy for everyone. Rami you compliment Lily and then I guess that means that Joe can compliment me. Once the guys have gone, the girls will compliment the guys back. I think that’s the best way to start the game. Yes, that’s the rules. I think those are good rules?! Does everyone understand because I am looking at a gaggle of confused faces?” Rose suggested, with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Okay, I’ll go first.” Rami volunteer with a smile while openly staring at Lily.

Rose and Joe share a conspiratorial smile with each other before leaning back in their seats.

“This outta be good.” Joe giggles before Rose kicks him in the shin.

“Joe stop. This is the compliments game not the how to be an asshole game.” Lily scolds while Joe rubs his sore shin.

4 Your Fantasy, My Game - a role-play with Rami in character as Snafu & Joe as Sledge. This is getting hot!!

As you kicked your front door behind you, you balanced your work bag and a small bag of groceries. Setting your keys on the hook by the door and bags on the ground, you sighed, relieved. You wanted nothing more than to curl up with the one man who had been occupying your mind all day, so you called out,

"Babe, I'm home!"

An eerie silence followed, as did a familiar smell. It only took a second to discern what it was - cigarette smoke. Brows furrowed, you walked cautiously toward its source. It was unlike Rami to smoke sober, and inside - what on earth would possess him?

Any further questions vanished the moment you stepped foot in your living room. A thin cloud of smoke parted slowly, almost cinematically to reveal a sight so thigh clenchingly appealing, you did just that - clenched them, hard.

Sitting on the couch was your husband Rami and his friend and sometimes guest star of your wet dreams, Joe. Both were shirtless, wearing nothing but marine green pants, boots and dog tags, loosely hanging from their necks.

A series of incoherent noises escaped you, you didn't know what to think, or say.

"Hey uhh...What are you? Oh Man is this - Babe?" you stuttered out, anticipation growing as you realised that your husband decided to make your fantasy a reality.

Rami simply smirked, nudging Joe as he scoffed,

"Naw, look at dat. Baby girl is already a mess boo, and we ain't even touched her."

It was with a thick Cajun accent he spoke, his dark eyes piercing yours. Undeniably wet and suddenly flustered, you coughed into your clenched fist, your other hand flailing about before resting on your hip.

With a practiced carelessness, Rami smiled, before lazily directing his attention to Joe beside him.

"Whad'ya say Sledge?" He quirked a brow. "Ya ready for a taste? I promise she's a-b-s-o-lutely delicious."

Joe gulped, head turning and eyes locking with yours. He gave you a once over, eyes raking up and down your worn out office attire as his pale cheeks began heating up. The only response he could muster was a nervous giggle and lip bite that made your stomach flutter.

You couldn't believe the sight before you.

It was then Rami - no - Snafu spoke again,

"Baby girl, I want ya to take Sledge to the bedroom. I'll be there in a minute. An’ Sledge, don't be scared to touch her. She loves it."

Both of you nod, fully aware of who is in charge of this whole thing.

5 All The Things He Said - a modern AU Snafu piece

With tears falling freely, you were able to muster up the courage to tell him the news. It had taken you several weeks to even be brave enough to call him to inform him that you wanted to talk. You were sick to your stomach with nerves and morning sickness; wanting nothing more than to run away somewhere and never return. But you couldn’t, you had to face your demons head on, and tell him the news you weren't expecting to go over very well given the volatile nature of your complicated relationship, or rather un-relationship, at this point.

“You wanted to talk Y/N. So fucking talk.” Merriell snapped at you, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Merriell, I’m pregnant.” you stated with your arms folded across your chest, and

He just stares at you with an unreadable expression for far longer than was comfortable, before he decides to open his mouth and speak. Of course, because it’s him, it had to be the worst possible thing that anyone could ever say in that moment.

"Well, is it mine?" those piercing green eyes staring at you, accusatory.

"I swear to God Merriell, I ought to punch you in your beautiful fucking mouth. Just because you can't keep it in your pants, doesn't mean that I cheated. Jesus. Fuck. Seriously? I gave you way to many years of my life, you piece of shit, and that, that is the first thing you could think to say?! Fuck. Really? Seriously? I really, fucking hate you! You know what, fuck you asshole, I'll make an appointment at the clinic first thing in the morning so that way we wont have to deal with this. How about that? "

His eyes cast downward in shame, the slightest tinge of red to his olive complexion, as he shifted uncomfortably where he was leaning against the wall.

" I'm sorry. Y/N, please, please, don't kill our baby. I love you."

You couldn't help but scoff at his statement. All of the anger rage that you’d been holding in for way to long is bubbling its way to the surface, and you can’t help the venom that came flying out of your mouth.

"Oh you fucking love me? Ha!!! Years of me putting up with your drunken shenanigans, constant infidelity, and all of the gaslighting? You think that’s love? Jesus fucking Christ, Merriell, were you dropped on your fucking head as a baby? The never ending fighting, cheating, and lies that made up the foundation of our relationship, that’s love to you? Hahahaha! You wouldn’t know what love was if it hit you in the face asshole. You know what the saddest part about that fucked up statement coming from you is?”

@xmxisxforxmaybe @txmel @itsme690 @free-rami @mezzomercury @mrhoemazzello @lablanchett @rami-malek-trash @ramimedley

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rmjagonshi · 5 years ago

Note

You asked for prompts. Will you do mutual pining teen stans as they build the stanowar and imagine whisking thier brother away to be all alone on a ship??? Pretty please?

I didn’t ignore you, anon! Promise! I hope this fits what you were looking for. I have never written a song fic before, so, I hope it’s okay that I did that.

Song by Michelle Branch (All You Wanted)

Stan Pines wasn’t jealous of his brother. Sure, Ford got a lot of attention from teachers and old grannies, and their father, but Stan wasn’t jealous. Ford was interested in nerd things, like math and chemistry and monsters…well, monsters were cool. But still, Stan had other things. He had…well…he had…

What did Stan have?

Ford had his smarts and Stan just kind of tagged along for the ride. But that was okay. He had Ford. They didn’t have much else, but they had each other. And that was enough. That was enough for years.

When the schoolyard bullies came to throw rocks and shove dirt down their pants, at least they were together and they could help each other up. And when their father decided he’d had enough of their shenanigans and wailed on Stan with the metal end of a belt, well…Ford was there. They were never alone. They always had each other. And they always would.

~I wanted, to be like you. I wanted everythingSo I tried, to be like you, and I got swept away.~

But still, it bothered Stan sometimes that Ford was obviously the epicenter of their dynamic duo, and Stan was the poor helpless planet caught in Ford’s orbit. Ford was smart and creative and always had the answer to everything. So, Stan started trying to be like him. He picked a book at random from the library shelf and tried reading it. But the words blurred and he didn’t understand half of what he was reading. And it was so boring. I was talking about shapes or ‘faces’ or bonds…Stan didn’t understand. The book cover showed a picture of a rock and some weird drawn shapes where you could see all the sides.

When book reading failed, Stan moved onto experiments. Experiments were more fun than reading because he got to mix things together and watch what happened. But one too many explosions and one used fire-extinguisher later, Stan was banned from doing experiments without Ford’s help. That only left school. So Stan tried doing well in school. But school work was even harder than book reading. Math was just a jumble of numbers and symbols, and history was all memorizing facts and dates. None of it was interesting, but his grades did improve, if only marginally. He was so excited when he’d studied all week for a test and got a B-. A B-!

That was the best grade he had ever gotten EVER! He was so happy he raced home after detention to show it to Pa, finally something of worth to show him. But Ford had gotten there first. Of course he had. Ford didn’t have detention. Ford had gotten an A+, as usual. All of a sudden, the lousy B- didn’t mean much. He didn’t bother showing it to his parents.

Stan went back to just tagging along and helping out his brother. He wasn’t jealous, but he did kind of wish Ford was so horribly bad at something, so Stan could be good at it. After one bad run in with Crampelter, Stan dragged himself and Ford home to their mom to get bandaged up. Through ringing ears and two black eyes, Stan heard his father tell him he was signing them both up for boxing lessons.

Boxing lessons were more horrible than Crampelter. At least with Crampelter, they could run away or hide or something. And they didn’t always cross paths with the bully. Boxing lessons were every other day and you couldn’t run. Both Stan and Ford came home sore and beaten more and more, but their pa never let up. No friends but each other, no support from family but each other. They clung together tighter and tighter.

~I didn’t know that, it was so cold, And you needed someone to show you the way.~

But boxing lessons paid off in the end. Stan was getting stronger. He stuck close to Ford and together, they stayed mostly out of trouble. Stan on his own would always wind up in detention, but Stan with Ford was able to weasel his way out of most things. Sticking with Ford made Stan aware of the crap Crampelter pulled when Stan was in detention. They both got bullied, but Ford had it bad. He had tried to hide the cuts and bruises and missing notebooks, but Stan saw them. Ford didn’t stand a chance. The next time they were cornered in the field behind the school, Stan fought back. He tackled the lard-butt and wailed on his face with all his strength until Crampelter kicked him off and rode away on his stupid bike. Stan got detention and was grounded for a month, but he didn’t care. When he’d held out his hand to help Ford up, Ford had looked at him like was was some kind of hero. From then on, Stan was the muscle, and he would protect Ford at all costs.

~So I took your hand and, we figured out thatWhen the time comes I’d take you away.~

It wasn’t long after that they found the boat, and the dream of sailing away on the Stan O’ War, just the two of them, was born. Stan threw himself into fixing the Stan O’ War. If no one else wanted them, then they would go somewhere else. Bullies didn’t really pick on Stan anymore. He was popular, exactly, but he was left alone enough that he was a 'pseudo’ jock. Ford wasn’t so lucky. Sure, people liked him, he was smart and could help them with their homework, but they weren’t interested in being friends. It became apparent when Ford had asked Lucy out for drinks after he’d helped her study for the upcoming Physics exam. She’d laughed in his face so long, he’d just gathered up his stuff and left, her laughing echoing down the empty school hall. Stan had gotten pissed when Ford told him about it. She didn’t deserve Ford, and Stan said as much, but Ford was still felling shitty about the whole thing.

“Why do people hate me?” Ford was curled up with his face pressed to his knees on Stan’s bunk. He’d stopped crying (not that there were many tears, but still, he was embarrassed about the few drops that had worked their way from between his eyelids), and was now just sitting, moping and wondering if he’d ever find someone who actually liked him.

“No one hates you! Okay, maybe Crampelter and Sonia do, but they hate everyone. And I think Sonia doesn’t like you because you’re associated with me. And that bitch haaaaaates me.” Stan had sat beside Ford with a bag of toffee peanuts and had refused to move until Ford cheered up.

“Okay, fine. They don’t hate me, but they sure as hell don’t like me.” Nobody liked him. They were only interested in if he could help them, then they were more than happy to drop him. Ford was too weird. And not just his hands, though they were part of it. Ford liked weird things. Shrunken heads and six-legged cats. Sea monsters and the Jersey Devil. Ma did her best to connect, but she didn��t understand his interests, and Pa…well, it was best not to engage Pa with anything that might be considered 'weird’. They only one that had ever tried to understand and take an interest in him was…

“Hey, you don’t need them. I like ya. And once we sail away on the Stan O’ War, it doesn’t matter what these bozos think.”

Ford grinned. Maybe Stan was enough.

~If you want to, I can save you. I can take you away from here.So lonely inside, So busy out there,And all you wanted was somebody who cares.~

Stan doesn’t know when it happened, or what caused it. Like growing up, you know it’s happening, but each change is so gradual, you don’t notice it until you compare it to where you were before. And that’s what he was doing, comparing himself now to how he used to be. Because he never used to think like he does now. At least…he doesn’t think so. He’d always been trapped in Ford’s orbit, and he never really thought much about it before. They were inseparable. And that never used to be a problem. But Stan finds himself thinking about Ford more and more. His brother invades his thoughts more often than anything else, and if he isn’t thinking of Ford exactly, then he’s thinking of something in tangent to him. Thinking about how boring math class is makes him think about how excited Ford it to learn new things. Thinking about his favorite snack reminds him how much Ford hates toffee peanuts. And, of course, thinking about the boat makes him think about sailing away from all the shit they deal with. When Ford starts making an appearance during his dreams in place of Carla, well, it really isn’t all that surprising, if a bit disturbing.

Middle school passed in a whirlwind of working on the boat and keeping out of trouble. Sooner than they realized, they were in high-school. Classwork got harder and Stan was struggling. Stan throws himself into working on the boat. He even takes welding and woodworking when they’re offered. He might not be great at reading a map or doing math, but he can work with his hands to make things and fix things. He gets a part-time job and works down at the dock when he can. He spends more time in the library than Ford does some days. It’s hard. All of the work. He tried and tried and it never gets easier. Sometimes he thinks he ought to leave things alone. Ford had potential to be something. And he wasn’t very good at hiding his feelings. He did his best, lifting porn mags from the corner store and keeping a pin-up calendar tacked to his wall, but it felt hollow. It also didn’t help that Ford had picked up on his acting. Who was he to try and hide something from the person who knew him best? But he still hid. And still thought about letting go even as he wanted so desperately to hang on. Some days, he wants to throw his hands in the air and say 'Fuck It" and give up. But then he sees Ford come home with bruises and busted glasses, or maybe it’s just a smile or a belly laugh at one of his jokes and he’s right back, putting everything he has into making this work. In the end, it’s all for Ford. It always was.

Ford is all too aware that Stan is struggling. And he hates it. He hates seeing Stan like this. There are days, sometimes, where Stan doesn’t smile, at least, not a real smile. Days when he cries because he just doesn’t understand the work. Days when he does whatever he can to prove he’s a man because someone or something convinces him that he isn’t. He does his best to help. He tutors Stan when he can and works out homework problems with him. Stan is trying. He really is, but he gets confused and forgets things easily. He could read a page and not remember anything he’d just read. Every day, Stan would be ridiculed by their father, be constantly told he wasn’t worth anything, constantly told he 'was being a girl’. Every day, Stan would chases skirts and flirt with any woman who looked at him, got into more fights than he had any right to, and tried harder to prove himself worthy.

Ford knew the dream about sailing away on a ship was a childish one. He knew Stan was holding onto that dream with everything he had. But their future was so vague. They needed money to live, jobs paid money. Sailing around the world on a boat wasn’t going to get them there. It was just a matter of fact. But when Stan would get excited about progress on the ship or would tell stories about all the adventures they would go on, Ford found it harder and harder to admit that it was all just a fantasy. When Ford found Stan coming home with a chip on his shoulder and a black eye from getting in a fight with some chump that called him a fag, Ford found himself wanting to take away all the pain and misery. And the dream of whisking Stan away from everything on a ship felt all the more real.

~I’m sinking slowly, So hurry hold me. Your hand is all I have to keep me hanging on.Please can you tell me, So I can finally see Where you go when you’re gone.~

As senior year drew closer and closer, so too did their dreams. Ford was convinced they could sail away on the Stan O’ War to somewhere else. They could live on the boat while they worked and saved up money to get a decent place to live. And if something happened, then they would always have the boat. But they couldn’t just be treasure hunters. It wasn’t possible. He was drawing up a plan to figure out how they could manage. As soon as they were old enough, they were out of Glass Shard. But there was still work to be done to get there. And he still wasn’t sure how to break it to Stan. Stan was so dedicated to the idea that they would be treasure hunters, the he was blind to the reality they were facing. But Ford still wanted to get them away from there. He still wanted to rescue his brother. And maybe…maybe, if they were away from this, Stan could just be himself. Maybe Ford could…

~If you want to, I can save you. I can take you away from hereSo lonely inside, So busy out there,And all you wanted was somebody who cares.~

But things got harder. The science fair came, and Ford saw an opportunity. He could build something that would he could patent. He could sell it and they would have a nice nest egg to get started. But then, West Coast Tech was interested. And the promise of millions. Millions. What would he do with millions? They could do anything. They could sail away for months or years at a time and they would never have to come back to this shitty ass town. Finally, some success. Finally, something good. Ford would make some discovery, make a fortune, and he would come back for Stan. They would escape. He was so excited! He didn’t want Stan to get discouraged. It wasn’t forever. It was only until he was able to make something that would secure their future. And maybe it would give Ford time to process his…desires.

All you wanted was somebody who cares.

Everything fell apart after that. Ford spent years throwing himself into his work, and Stan spent the same time doing everything he could to make it rich.

If you need me, you know I’ll be there…

But when the post card was sent, Stan came without a second thought. And when the call came to correct his mistake, Stan stepped up to the challenge.

~If you want to, I can save you. I can take you away from here.So lonely inside, So busy out there.And all you wanted was somebody who cares.~

And in the end, after more hardship than either one had ever thought, in the end, they found themselves on a boat, with more money than they needed, and no more need to run away. No more need to hide. In the end, none of the past really matters. Because Stan has a family that cares. Ford found a way to use his sills to help. And they finally decide, to hell with all of the fear, to hell with the self-denial. Standing aboard their ship, lost in the middle of the ocean after having hauled up an actual crate of lost pirate gold, Ford and Stan share their first kiss.

#gravity falls #stancest #stanley pines #stanford pines #teen stans #mutual pining #prompts #fic prompts

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werejusttouchingeachother · 5 years ago

Text

Surprise Me

Summary: You are a food critic and the new restaurant that you decide to review has an unexpected familiar face—Chef!Doyoung au

Genre: smut ®

Words: 9192 (I… I have no excuses.)

Pairing: Doyoung x Reader

Music Recommendation:

youtube

You push open the large glass doors to Timeless, the restaurant that was mentioned over and over again in your inbox and social media for weeks on end now, the hottest new place that everyone was raving about. You take off your Ray Bans, pushing it back into your hair as you enter the warmly-lit eatery. You approach a table right near the window that looks out into the busy street, pretending to not notice how all the waiters’ and waitresses’ eyes immediately widen as they see you and glance at each other in mild panic. Hiding a small smirk, you settle down in your seat and cross your legs, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders as you casually look around.

It hadn’t been long since you got the verified mark on Twitter and Instagram—the 21st century equivalent to being of any importance. After months of posting reviews on popular bistros and restaurants in town on your blog only to be read by about three or four hundreds of people, you decided to mix it up and unleash a bit of your restrained thoughts. Pretty soon, your unfiltered and searing comments, blunt observations with its raw honesty were driving in hordes of readers. In their words (or meme responses, to be absolutely precise), “Why would you say something so controversial yet so brave?”

They either loved every word that you wrote or detested you with every fibre of their being. The latter group was smaller in number because contrary to popular belief, you were honest and the people trusted your opinions, whether they hated it or not. Nevertheless, you didn’t mind it—in fact, you enjoyed the controversy since that was exactly what made you stand out amongst the other million food bloggers and what put you on the map.

You stared at the small golden paper plane-shaped lights that hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the room as you ignored the waiters arguing over who would wait your table in your peripheral view.

Two of them played a game of rock, paper and scissors and the winner let out a frustrated groan that was loud enough to grab enough attention. With a tight-lipped smile, he quickly approached your table.

“Hello, miss, my name is Jungwoo and I’ll be your waiter for the afternoon,” he says in a practiced-cheerful tone with an equally practised wide grin to match.

You give him a smile as you lean back in your seat, crossing arms. “Hi, Jungwoo. I’m Y/N.”

He gives you a small uneasy look, shifting slightly. “I know.”

“Oh?” You feign innocence, raising an eyebrow.

“Petty Gluttony,” he says your blogger name. “PG. You’re the food critic.”

“I’d hardly call myself a critic,” you say, placing your phone down on the table. “Just a humble blogger.”

Jungwoo looks like he wants to comment on the ‘humble’ bit for a moment but thinks better of it and settles with a hesitant, “… Right. Anyway, what would you like to have today, miss?”

“Whatever is best,” you reply, shaking your head at the menu that he held out to you as you leaned back, crossing your arms. “Chef’s special. Your recommendations. Most popular favourites. Anything. Surprise me, Jungwoo.”

“What?” Jungwoo blinked, glancing back at the counter with furrowed eyebrows before looking back at you. “Um. Okay.”

You smile at him as he scurries to the kitchen doors. The blond waiter at the counter glances at you briefly before heading in the same direction. You smile and take your phone, glancing through your Instagram as you open the restaurant’s page. You’re scrolling through comments on a photo of bruschetta when a shadow suddenly looms over you.

You raise your head and immediately feel your eyes widen, heart dropping to your stomach.

“Hello, Y/N,” The man in white said, flashing you a gummy smile that made all your thoughts stop. “I know you’re more popularly known by your blogger name but I’d rather not call you Petty Gluttony, if that’s okay.”

“I’m—” you stopped, clearing your throat.

No way. It can’t be.

“Its fine,” you said, forcing yourself to regain composure. “I’m sorry, you are…?”

“Kim Doyoung, Head Chef here at Timeless.”

Oh fuck.

You swallowed slightly and he continued, “Jungwoo told me about your order and I just wanted to know if you have any special requests? Allergies or anything?”

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak and he gave you a small smile. “Any favourites then? Or least favourites, so I know what to avoid.”

At this, you gave him a look. “I enjoy everything, Dong—Mr. Kim,” you corrected yourself hastily. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“Oh, I most certainly will.” He smirked and you looked away for a second to catch your breath, unable to hold his intense gaze for so long. He paused and raked his eyes over you, hesitating before asking, “Is it just you?” At your confused expression, he clarified, “I assumed you had a photographer to take the pictures and such.”

“I try the places alone the first time and bring the photographer around for the second time,” you explained, shrugging. “More menu items that I try, the clearer my review is on a general opinion of the food of that place. Hence, twice.”

“That seems smart,” he nods in approval, flashing that familiar smile again. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I’d actually,” you started, clearing your throat again that had suddenly went dry, “like some wine.”

Well, not suddenly. It had happened as soon as you saw a certain someone.

“Chablis sound good?”

“Pinot Noir.”

“Coming right up.” He turned and you watched his back as he retreated to the kitchen doors and it wasn’t until he was out of sight that you finally let yourself exhale noisily, not realising you’d been holding your breath.

You scramble for your phone and dial the last number you’d called, biting your lip anxiously as you wait for your best friend to pick up.

“Y/N,” His voice comes through after two rings, sounding exasperated. “I told you that I can’t make it for the taste test, I have this stupid thing with my family. Seriously, one more call and you’re going to have to get a new photographer, I swear to g—”

“Johnny,” you cut him off, eyes darting around to make sure no one could hear you. “It’s him. The chef. I’m freaking out, it’s—”

You stopped to take a huge breath and Johnny paused before saying, “What are you talking about? Chef? Who? You mean at Timeless? Where? What?”

“The head chef. Of Timeless. Is. Kim. Doyoung,” You gritted out each word, clenching your fist in your lap.

“Okaaaaaay?” Johnny said, hesitantly. “And that’s a big deal because…?”

You closed your eyes in frustration, wanting to strangle him as you forced yourself to take deep breaths again.

“Suh,” you said slowly. “Remember Doyoung from high school?” At his silence, you prodded, “Kim Dongyoung? Class topper? Valedictorian?” You lowered your voice to a whisper as you hissed, “My crush.”

You hear a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line and it’s the warning to quickly hold your phone at a distance as Johnny starts screeching.

“Oh my God, oh my GOD, NO WAY,” Johnny is yelling now, loud enough that other customers at the nearby tables are looking over at you. “NO FUCKING WAY! THAT GUY? DOYOUNG FROM HIGH SCHOOL? DOYOUNG WITH GREAT GRADES, GREAT SMILE, GREAT ASS? DOYOUNG WITH—”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up right now, I’m not just getting myself a new photographer but also a new best friend,” your tone is low and deadly enough that he quietens down immediately.

“Okay, okay, chill, I’m chill,” he says, inhaling deeply before clearing his throat. “So. Did he recognise you?”

“I don’t—” You stopped, eyes darting up as Jungwoo stood near your table with his practiced smile. You flash your own smile at him, mouthing thanks as he pours the wine for you. You wait until he’s retreated before continuing, “I don’t think so. But that’s expected, I mean. Given our history. Or lack of one, to be precise.”

You recalled how he’d been that one guy in school who everyone had loved and admired. Girls flocked to him like moths to light and for a brief moment, you remember how he’d smirked at you in the hallway when he caught you staring for too long.

That was Doyoung: extremely hot and aware of it which made him cocky as fuck.

He had taken a particular interest to you after that one time in the hallway, flirting with you every chance that he could get just to make you flustered and nervous. It had pissed you off immensely—still does, even just thinking about it—because it had been a game for him and it didn’t help your massive crush on him either.

But you both were different people now. You were no longer that shy awkward girl who blushed easily with just a glance. You were one of the most outspoken bloggers, a nightmare for any restaurant that was trying to maintain a reputation, a person for whom chefs would bend backwards trying to please.

Chefs like Kim Doyoung.

You suddenly imagined him bending backwards quite literally and that obviously lead to the mental image of you bending backwards as you have before so many times, except this time, it was to please him and oh—

You blinked, shaking your head immediately as if trying to shake away the thought.

“Jesus,” you muttered, cutting off Johnny who was saying something.

Get your shit together, Y/N, you aren’t in highschool anymore.

“What?” Johnny questioned at your random outburst. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, what were you saying?” you asked, pressing your fingers to your temples.

“Didn’t he tease you all the time cause he knew you liked him?”

“Yeah, he’s a dick.”

Johnny paused and you regretted your choice of words immediately as he corrected, “A dick that you’d like to ride.”

“Shut up,” you gritted out. “No, I don’t. I was a love-struck idiot teenager then and this is my chance to rewrite that. This is a God-given opportunity, Johnny. The balls are in my court now. He’s under me.”

“Mhm, balls, under you, yeah, you aren’t making this any easier.”

“Johnny, I swear to God—” you cut yourself off as Johnny laughed at you over the phone.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” Johnny replied and you could tell he was smiling. You rolled your eyes as you heard him tap away at a keyboard. “All right, Ms. Revenge. How can I be of assistance?”

“Every single negative review,” you immediately replied. “Every single one. Even if it’s just hate, it’s fine. Forward it all to me. About the food, service, ambience, anything. Give me all the dirt you can find on this place.”

“I’m on it, already on their Instagram.” He paused before saying, “How does he look though? Still got it?”

You hesitated before mumbling, “Check for yourself. His personal has been tagged on quite a few of the posts. Can’t believe my dumbass missed it.”

You listen to the taps of Johnny’s fingers and then there’s a low whistle that tells you he’s found what you’ve directed him to.

“Damn, Y/N.” He’s silent and you can hear him scrolling and stalking through his personal page.

“You know,” he starts and you immediately know he’s going to say something inappropriate. “Maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way. Maybe this isn’t a God-given opportunity to get revenge but rather to finally get that Kim God-Doyoung dick and—”

You hang up, placing the phone on the table as you grab the wine glass and down the entire drink, needing it after that call. You glance to your side and Jungwoo is approaching you again, a tray in his raised hand this time. You lean back and move your glass, making room for him as he places a plate down in front of you.

“Seared scallops with pancetta,” Jungwoo says, glancing at your empty glass. “Enjoy, miss.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, straightening as you looked down at the dish. The scallops were seared well with a thin crisp brown layer around the edges, placed atop a green creamy puree of sorts and in between lay a thin bed of pancetta.

You opened your mouth to ask Jungwoo about the green but saw that he’d already retreated to the kitchen after refilling your wine. Shrugging, you take the fork and knife and slowly cut into the scallops, hoping against hope that it was undercooked or overcooked but it was soft and tender as it was sliced, cooked to perfection.

“Damn it,” you mutter under your breath. You stab into the sliced piece, taking it with the pancetta and the mystery green element before putting it into your mouth.

It’s probably pea puree—the frequently used combination with scallops.

You chewed slowly, concentrating as you let the flavours flood onto your palate—the meat was creamy and succulent, the crisp pancetta giving a bite to the chewy scallop and the final taste of the velvety puree. You furrowed your eyebrows as it was mild and almost bland, tasting like avocado.

And then it hit.

A dash of spice right at the end, an aftertaste that hit you out of nowhere and made your eyes widen at the completely unexpected surprise.

You caught Jungwoo’s gaze who came rushing to you as you hurriedly beckoned him.

You pointed at the green. “The puree. Avocado and—”

“Wasabi,” Jungwoo and you said in chorus, making your eyes widen as you gushed, “That’s… genius.”

Jungwoo smiled in content, looking pleased at your reaction. “Chef Kim enjoys experimenting and using unexpected combinations.”

“Well, it’s—” you stopped, realising how you looked. Clearing your throat, you regained your poker expression as you completed, “Unique.”

“I’m glad,” Jungwoo grinned at you and turned to leave.

You swallowed the bite in your mouth and cut another piece, quickly diving in for seconds. Your phone lit up and you used your elbow to swipe across the screen to read Johnny’s message:

Nothing so far, everything seems pretty perfect. Ratings are really good too. How’s the food?

You ignore the message and continue eating, chewing slowly and forcing yourself to not show any expression that revealed your true marvel at the amazing food that you were eating as you knew that eyes were assessing you from across the room.

The food finishes faster than you’d expected and you’re sipping the wine as Jungwoo returns to retrieve your clear plate. You hastily respond to Johnny’s last message with:

It’s incredible, Doyoung is a fucking wizard. Please find something or we’re fucked.

Even before you can lower the phone to the table, Johnny has replied:

How about you find his dick and get fucked cause that’s easier?

You’re fired, you send back before placing your phone down as Jungwoo arrives, the entrée in tow.

Again, he is cryptic as he just says, “Duck confit with parsnip puree.”

You pray for faults but yet again, its just another surprise—The tender meat of the duck with the nutty taste of the parsnip is ended with a note of sweet berry-flavour from the thin slices of fig placed in between the meat and puree. Once again, you find yourself blown away by the different flavours that burst and emerge on your tongue with every bite.

Dessert doesn’t disappoint either—salted caramel cheesecake that is all the perfect proportions of sweet, tangy and nutty. At this point, you’re contemplating lying for the first time on a review.

You ask Jungwoo for the bill and after paying (and a generous tip), you’re quick to get to your feet and rush to the exit. As you close the door behind you and make your way around the restaurant to your car, you catch Doyoung’s gaze through the large windows as he walks out of the kitchen. You quickly duck your head, speedwalking to your car as you scramble for your phone to call Johnny.

Three nights after your first time at Timeless, you’re walking back through the glass doors except with your arm around Johnny this time. You step into the restaurant and his eyes are already surveying the entire space for a spot with the best lighting.

Your eyes, on the other hand, are already riveted towards the white double doors leading to the kitchen at the back.

“Over there,” Johnny muttered, jerking his head towards a corner with a particularly large paper-plane light over the table, illuminating it in a perfect yellow glow.

You let Johnny lead you to the seat that he found best and right as you reached the table, you muttered, “Pull the chair out for me.”

“What?” Johnny peered down at you, confused.

“Pull the chair out,” you hissed.

“Y/N, what the fuck?”

“Johnny, just—”

He rolled his eyes and with a soft sigh, you watched him as he pulled away from your side to walk around the table and pull the seat out for you as you asked, shooting you an overly-exaggerated smile as he did it. You choose to not say anything as you give him a practiced smile and slowly sit down, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders.

Johnny sets down the camera on the table and crosses his arms at you. “So how do you think it’s working?”

“How do I think what’s working?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“This whole thing.” Johnny jerked his chin at you. “You dressing up, walking in here with you clinging onto me and practically pulling my arm off and making me pull out the chair and shit.” He shrugged. “Trying to make Chef Kim jealous, how’s that going?”

“Why the fuck would I try to make him jealous?” You defended. “Also what are you talking about? I always hold your arm, you ass. And of course I dressed up, we’re taking pictures for the blog today, I always dress up.”

“Hold my arm, yes. Hang off of it like a koala, no. Dress up, yes. Go all out in a bodycon dress of black satin, looking like a whole damn meal? Hell no.” You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and Johnny smirks, noticing it. “Who the fuck are you kidding, Y/N, I’m your best friend, I know when you’re thirsty.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, looking away as Johnny laughed. You hesitated before asking softly, “I do look good, though?”

“Good enough to eat,” Johnny assured you, making you grin. “And I know you’re hungry for some Doyoung but I’m starving for his food so let’s order.”

“Can you just shut the fuck up for once in your—Jungwoo, hi!” You quickly straighten with a bright smile as you greet the blond waiter who gives you a rather wary grin. Unlike the last time, you don’t send him away with your quizzical requests and take the menu from his hands which surprises him.

You both ordered all the dishes that were commented as average and the handful that a few deemed “below average”. Three days of extreme searching had still not granted any review that was even borderline unsatisfied—you had no choice but to resort to the “this tastes great but that tastes better” reviews where you just focused on all the ‘great’ dishes.

Once all the dishes had arrived, you sat back a bit as you let Johnny photograph them in various positions, trying to find the best angles in the lighting. Once he’d taken enough, you straightened as you posed for the thumbnail cover of the article—the only picture that would have you with the food too. You had your legs crossed under the table, both elbows resting on the surface as you held a fork to your mouth, lips around the dragon shrimp.

Johnny was standing in an awkward position in front of the table—as he always does when he’s clicking photographs since he’s basically a giant—and your eyes were riveted on the lens as you heard a soft click.

“Pout more,” Johnny instructed and you did, sensing a movement on your left in your peripheral. Your gaze shifted from the camera and widened momentarily as you saw Doyoung was leaning against the wall right behind Johnny, watching you. He raised an eyebrow when you finally locked eyes with his.

“Ooh, that’s a great expression, nice,” Johnny encouraged, hearing more clicks. You involuntarily arched your back more as you leaned forward over the table slightly to see Doyoung clearer.

“Uh, Y/N, your tit’s gonna hang out soon if you keep angling to the right like that,” Johnny warned, making you smirk.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you mutter, shrugging slightly which made the thin spaghetti strap of your dress fall down your shoulder, and you watched Doyoung as his eyes followed the movement.

You kept your gaze on Doyoung as you lowered the fork, swiping it over the dish to collect more of the sauce onto the shrimp before lifting it to your mouth again.

“Fuck, genius,” Johnny was muttering as he clicked more rapidly, trying to get the perfect shot as the sauce dripped from your fork to the table and some even down your chin. You didn’t shift your eyes from Doyoung even as Johnny lowered the camera, going through the pictures.

“This looks like porn, the readers are gonna get a heart attack,” Johnny snickered.

You placed the fork down on the dish, wiping the sauce off your chin with your finger and slowly putting it in your mouth to suck it clean.

Doyoung looked like he was trying hard to maintain his poker expression as he watched every movement of yours carefully and you released your finger from your wet lips with a noisy 'pop’ sound that seemed to startle him from whatever thoughts that he was lost in.

What wouldn’t you give to hear those thoughts?

Or rather, see him enact them out…

“Doyoung is behind me, isn’t he?” Johnny’s wry tone quickly wakes you up as your wide eyes shift to him, his judging eyes on your wet finger. He shook his head at you, sighing. “Ah, the thirst is real, Y/N. Literally. You're literally sucking shrimp sauce."

"I was cleaning up the sauce,” you defended and even before you could finish, Johnny was interrupting, “Right, cause what you just did is normal. Cleaning up. Not sucking and not porn at all."

"Can you shut up about porn already?” You rolled your eyes, wiping your hand on a tissue before picking up your fork again. “Just eat."

You both lapsed into silence and you started eating, focusing on the flavours of all the various dishes that you’d ordered together. When you looked up as you were halfway done with your lamb, Doyoung wasn’t there anymore.

When the plates are cleared and Johnny’s checking the dessert menu—although you both already knew what to order, thanks to the reviewers—a shadow falls over your table and you both look up.

“Miss Y/N,” Doyoung greets, smiling. “Glad to have you back. You left rather abruptly last time before I could even ask you about my food.”

“Oh,” you said, glancing at Johnny who had his eyebrow raised at you. You gave Doyoung a tight-lipped smile as you said, “Well, we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”

Doyoung grinned at your reply, nodding in agreement. “I guess we will. This is your photographer?”

“Johnny Suh,” you introduced, nodding as Johnny smiled and held out his hand to Doyoung. “Chef Kim Doyoung.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Suh,” he greeted, giving his gummy smile which Johnny returned.

“Johnny’s fine, Chef,” he said as they pulled away.

“I trust that you’re enjoying the meal?”

“Trust me when I say that I would respond in any other situation but the writer here absolutely cannot stand spoilers and enjoys cliffhangers so as she said, we’ll find out soon.”

Doyoung laughs good-naturedly and you have to remind yourself that you’re staring like an idiot as he does and you catch yourself just in time as he turns to you, expression shifting slightly.

“Have you decided on desserts yet?”

Johnny opened his mouth to reply but you quickly quipped, “We’re still looking. Anything you’d recommend, Chef?”

“Well,” Doyoung starts, stepping closer to the table. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in something. How about Johnny here chooses whatever he likes while I give you something off the menu?”

You blinked in confusion, noticing how Johnny’s eyebrows rise at the question, his hand quickly coming up to hide the smirk.

“That’s not how it works,” you say, ignoring Johnny as you narrowed your eyes at Doyoung. “I review your restaurant for its existing menu, not for some special recipe catered only to me.”

“Who said its for the review?” Doyoung raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “Relax. I did some digging around, read quite a few of your reviews and I think I’ve figured out your taste palate. So its just an experiment, I guess.”

You stare at him, unblinking.

“Come on,” he insisted, shrugging again. “It’s on the house.”

You look at Johnny who’s still smiling behind his hand and he widens his eyes at you inconspicuously.

“Unless…” You looked back up at Doyoung who was slowly backing away, raising an eyebrow and smirking at you. “You’re not up for the challenge.”

At your sharp glare, he continues, “You have a rep that you’ve never found a dessert that was the perfect ten cause you aren’t sure of your own palate when it comes to sweets and nothing has blown you away like appetisers and entrees which have gotten tens from you.” He paused. “What if I’m telling you that I know exactly what that ten is?”

You scoffed in disbelief. “What, just from reading a bunch of reviews?”

“Hey, if you don’t want to, it’s fine. Your loss. I’m only offering complete satisfaction here.”

Johnny was practically beaming at you as he kicked your foot under the table but you kept your eyes narrowed at Doyoung, trying to figure out what he was playing at.

“Y/N,” Johnny said, nodding ecstatically as he jerked his chin towards Doyoung who couldn’t see him since his eyes were on you. “He’s offering complete satisfaction.”

Doyoung smirked slyly at you. “I assumed since you like surprises, you were the type to take on a challenge but hey, if you don’t want to, I guess—”

“I’m in,” you snap fiercely, cutting him off. “Johnny will have the raspberry soufflé and as for me, I guess you should get to work soon.”

He flashed you his gummy smile, looking absolutely pleased at the turn of events as he nodded. “We’re closing up early today so you may have to stay back a bit. Is that all right?”

You didn’t have to look at Johnny to know that he was making exaggerated sex faces at you and you nodded, swallowing as you leaned back.

Doyoung stepped away and as soon as he was back behind the kitchen doors, Johnny started to stand up.

“Fuck the soufflé, I’m just going to leave and take everyone with me so you can finally get dicked down.”

“Johnny, I hate you so fucking much—”

Funnily enough, Johnny’s wish came true as all the customers slowly began to filter out of the restaurant. Johnny left about half an hour after the soufflé was done—only after you practically pushed him out cause you couldn’t hear about ‘God Doyoung’s dick’ for one more minute.

You crossed your arms and sat back, swinging your legs under the table as you watched the restaurant clear out of the last customers besides you—three guys whose volume and tempo increased with every drink they had. You were relieved as you saw them leave together through the glass doors but quickly realised seconds thereafter when the silence suddenly dawned upon the restaurant that you were alone in Timeless.

It seemed like hours later but was probably just thirty minutes when you heard the kitchen doors swing open. Your head shot up quickly as you saw Jungwoo in a casual shirt and jeans, holding a set of keys.

"I’m usually in charge of lock-up,” he explained, smiling as he held up the keys. “But since you’ll be staying back a bit longer, Chef Kim will do it tonight."

You nodded, smiling back as he placed it on the counter near the cash register. "Goodnight, Jungwoo."

"Night, Petty. Enjoy your dessert."

You startled a bit at his playful tone as he walked out of the doors but before you could even wonder what he was insinuating, a movement to the left caught your attention.

You raised an eyebrow at Doyoung who was poking his head out of the kitchen and he nodded at you.

"Almost done,” he stated. “I’m just putting the finishing touches. You want to come back here and have it in my office instead of over there?"

"Oh.” You sat up, grabbing your purse and phone from the table. “Um, okay. Sure."

You got up and walked to the kitchen doors through which he disappeared again. Pushing them open, you heard a yelp on the other side and froze as you saw a bright red-haired guy hunched over.

”Shit,“ you hissed, rushing to him. "I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you! Are you okay?"

He held up a hand, slowly straightening as he met your eyes. You blinked at him, momentarily taken aback by his sheer beauty. He ran his intense gaze over your frame and his shoulders relaxed almost as he nodded.

"I’m fine,” he said, his deep voice taking you by surprise. “You must be Y/N."

Doyoung suddenly stepped out from a wooden door to the side of the large kitchen that you hadn’t noticed before, glancing at the two of you.

"I see you’ve met my sous-chef,” he said, gesturing to him. “This is Taeyong."

"Hello,” you said softly, smiling apologetically. “Sorry about hitting you."

He waved his hand. "It’s fine, don’t worry about it."

A short awkward silence fell over the three of you and you saw Doyoung glaring at Taeyong who was smirking back at him.

"I think I can close up from here. You can leave now, Hyung,” Doyoung said with a raised eyebrow.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay,” Taeyong was teasing, almost grinning now.

“Hyung."

"Doie."

You were watching the whole exchange with confusion but you couldn’t help breaking into a smile at the nickname and 'Doie’s’ eyes immediately shot to you as the word left Taeyong’s mouth.

Doyoung was exasperated. "Taeyong, I swear to god–"

"All right, all right,” Taeyong laughed as he held up his hands. “I’m leaving."

He unbuttoned the white chef jacket that he was wearing and took off the cap, hanging them both far at the back where you could see small names over each hook on the wall.

Smoothening down the shirt that he was wearing underneath and running his hands through his red hair, Taeyong grinned at you as he said, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N. Put in a good word for us, you know we deserve it."

You narrowed your eyes at him and opened to your mouth to say something but he began laughing as his gaze went over your shoulder. You quickly turned and Doyoung dropped his hands immediately, smiling at you innocently as if he wasn’t gesturing behind your back.

"Goodnight,” Taeyong called out, making you turn your attention to him again as he waved his hand, pushing the back doors. “Have fun with your dessert!"

You turned to look at Doyoung again and raise an eyebrow at him, mostly at the fact that this was the second time in an hour that someone had said 'dessert’ weirdly but if Doyoung understood you or not was unclear as he chose to ignore it and explained instead, “Taeyong. Sous-chef and best friend, unfortunately.”

“Ah.” You nodded. “That explains it.”

“Mhm.” Doyoung cocked his head slightly as his gaze turned intense and you bit your lip, feeling nervous all of a sudden and the fact that his eyes immediately fell to your mouth at the movement didn’t help either.

“Um,” you trailed off, your gaze falling over the kitchen as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

Doyoung leaned back, smirking slightly and you could hear the playful lilt in his tone as he hummed, “Hmm?”

You rolled your eyes at this, crossing your arms as you glared at him. “I hope that you know it’s late, Chef and I have places to be. So if you’re done leaning on the wall and being useless…”

“Isn’t someone bitter?” Doyoung teased, winking at you in a very cheeky way that made you swallow. “Lucky for you, I have just the sweetness to help balance it. Come on.”

He lead you to the wooden door at the side and you hesitantly entered, eyes widening in surprise as you realised it was his office.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing to his broad wooden desk. “I’ll be right back.”

You nodded and made your way to the desk, realising the only place to really make yourself comfortable was just the single swivel chair behind it. You sat down reluctantly, placing your hands on the soft armrests to pull the seat forward. It was a comfortable plush leather and you couldn’t help sinking into it as you leaned back.

The door opened again and you quickly straightened as Doyoung entered, a small tray on his hand with a dish that was obviously covered with a lid.

You shot him a glare which he returned with a smile as you muttered, “You love being dramatic, don’t you?”

“Hey, you’re being all tight-lipped about the review and it’s not fair if I’m the only one living in suspense, is it?” He defended as he slowly approached the table and placed the tray carefully down in front of you.

Well. He had a point there.

Your silence made him grin as he stepped back, crossing his arms. “Go ahead, Petty Gluttony.”

You raised your hand to grip the handle of the lid, feeling a thrill run through you as you wondered what he had hiding. You pulled it up with a quick motion and lowered it onto the desk, eyes widely scanning the dish.

You furrowed your eyebrows at the sight, feeling your shoulders slightly deflate.

In a crystal glass bowl lay two scoops of smooth chocolate icecream.

“This is—” you cut yourself off as you looked up at Doyoung, seeing the glint in his eyes as he waited, despite the blank expression on his face.

“—not what it looks like, is it?” You finished, raising an eyebrow.

Doyoung smiled slyly, shrugging as he silently gestured for you to try and you picked up the spoon that was placed alongside the bowl. You paused, thinking of mint, salt, chilli, cherry, orange and any other unique exciting flavour that he could have put in.

Just try it.

You scooped it up into the spoon, realising not unsurprisingly that he’d made it perfectly creamy and smooth despite the short notice. Glancing up to meet his eyes, you put the spoon into your mouth.

The first thing you notice is that it was just as creamy as it looked. You chew on the spoon, the cold melting over your tongue and your eyes widen as you’re suddenly hit by the flavours—

The slight bite of bitterness—he’d used dark chocolate—followed by a subtle almost smoky heat. You swallow and that’s when the aftertaste hits—a mild sweetness coupled with a dash of spice.

It wouldn’t work. It shouldn’t but it did.

You look up with wide eyes, not even bothering to hide the emotions that you’re feeling as you gape at Doyoung. The chef is thoroughly enjoying the show, having seated himself on the opposite edge of the desk, eyes watching your every move carefully.

You quickly swallowed another spoonful, trying to understand all the confusing flavours that were exploding on your tongue—the most incredible one being the aftertaste of the sweet spice that you would immediately subdue with another spoonful of the cold cream to soothe the heat.

It was a cycle. You couldn’t stop.

“What the fuck is this?” You demanded, feeling aghast and Doyoung laughed, not seeming offended or surprised by your choice of words.

“Care to guess?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“I don’t even want to try,” you admitted honestly, making him grin.

“Well,” he said, glancing down at the bowl. “It’s dark chocolate, firstly. Got that bitterness?”

You nodded.

“And then… Tabasco and Smoked Chipotle.”

Your mouth dropped, eyes widening to the size of saucers.

“What?” you exclaimed, aghast. “That’s insane!”

Doyoung nodded, shrugging casually. “Not the first time I’ve been called that.”

“How the fuck does this work?”

“Proportions. Get it right and you’re hit with the perfect amount of everything in a perfect almost orchestrated order—sweetness of the chocolate, the bitterness of the dark cocoa, the slight umami of the Tabasco and finally the smoky heat of the Chipotle. Everything’s balanced. Nothing is overpowering. It’s perfect.”

“You…” You shook your head, feeling at a loss of words as you ate the last of it, not even realising that you’d finished it. “I’ve never seen this on the menu.”

“Because it isn’t there,” he stated. “It’s… not exactly a common favourite. Not everyone will like it.”

“That’s bullshit. How can someone not like this?”

“People prefer their desserts sweet, Y/N. You have a unique taste in food.”

“People are stupid. This is fantastic. You’re a genius.”

You don’t look at him as you say it, scooping up the base of the bowl to lick the final bits from the spoon and you hear Doyoung pause at your compliment before saying, “I’m glad you think so, Y/N L/N.”

You freeze, your hand going still over the bowl. You drop the spoon back onto the tray and look up to see Doyoung’s eyes on you.

“It is you, isn’t it?” He said, cocking his head. “Petty Gluttony. Y/N L/N from Seiken High School.”

You felt blood rush into your cheeks as you gaped at him, not able to say anything.

“I thought you looked familiar that first time,” Doyoung grinned. “And I had my suspicions too when you almost called me Dongyoung. But since you’re so private on social media, it was easier to find Lists of Your Best and Worst Reviews in 2018 than actual information about you.”

“But I confirmed it today when I saw Johnny,” he continued. “We may not have gone to the same culinary school but Yuta did go to yours. He kept me updated on you and told me about your giant best friend who was a Photography major that you met at university so when he came in today, I was pretty sure.”

You blinked, racking your brain as you tried to recall Yuta from school who had apparently been in the same culinary academy as you but you couldn’t remember his face for the life of you—although the name did ring a bell.

All those thoughts came to a stop as it suddenly registered what exactly he had said.

You looked at Doyoung in confusion. “Why did you want updates on me?”

Doyoung shot you a look as if to say ‘really?’

“Because,” he started. “I was interested in the hot girl who had a huge crush on me but was too much of a wimp to do anything about it.”

Your entire body stilled as you felt a fierce blush sweep across your face, protesting defiantly, “I was not!”

“Sure you weren’t,” he rolled his eyes. “I can still recall the way you blushed everytime I looked at you in the hallway, Y/N. Very similar to the way you’re blushing now. So don’t lie to me.”

“You played around,” you reply, deciding to be blunt since trying to keep your pride at this point was useless anyway. “You knew about the crush and decided to tease me like some kind of game.”

“It wasn’t a game!” He protested, eyes wide. “I was genuinely flirting! You kept running away though and became a stuttering mess every time that I even tried to approach you so I wondered if I was in over my head and if maybe you hated me.”

You stared at him, your body feeling really warm in the office now as you felt like you were back in school again.

“But hey.” He grinned, walking around the desk and coming to where you were. Your foot reflexively pushed the swivel chair back a bit to put space between you as he sat casually on the edge of the desk, right in front of you, saying, “You’re in my office now. I’m a chef and you’re a critic. Fate works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it?”

You swallowed, wanting to look away but not being able to pull away from his intense gaze. “I guess it does.”

“Almost didn’t recognise you, Y/N,” he murmured and you didn’t fail to notice that his tone had dropped lower as he quickly swept his eyes over you. “You’ve… glowed up.”

You didn’t think he could have made you blush yet again given how red you already felt but for some reason, the odd almost-millennial-slang compliment flattered you more than any adjective could.

Feeling a spark of confidence, you met his gaze more strongly as you cocked your head and said, “Yeah, well, that was a long time ago. I’m not running away now, am I?”

Doyoung’s eyes were trained on you and the way that he was sitting off the edge had his one leg pressed to your crossed knees—just the slightest contact but it was enough.

“No,” he agreed, voice soft. “No, you aren’t.”

You clenched your thighs together tightly, feeling the atmosphere shift at the prolonged eye contact and almost as if he sensed it too, Doyoung smirked, “Does that mean you’re finally going to make a move?”

You blinked, surprised at the bold question.

Does he…? No way, he couldn’t…

“Well,” he pulled a thoughtful face. “Maybe if I challenged you again—”

You shot up from the seat before he could even finish and his arms were already open as you grabbed the front of his jacket, yanking him forward. Your mouths met in a fierce heated kiss and he let out a soft surprised sound at the force, making you smile against his lips. His hands snaked around your back, slow and sensual, almost caressing. The touch made you relax in his arms as you let go of his jacket, choosing to loop them around his neck and run your hands through his hair instead.

He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, making a breathy moan escape your lips. He took the opportunity to push his tongue inside, his hands lowering down your waist to cup your ass as he pressed you harder into him.

You pulled away to catch a breath, opening your eyes slowly to see his gaze down on your mouth.

“I know I made the icecream,” Doyoung muttered. “But I love the way you taste—your tongue is still cold and I’m getting the spicy aftertaste.”

“Nice to know that you’re still conceited, Dongyoung,” you replied sarcastically, making him chuckle as he pressed another kiss to your lips, tongue tasting you again as if he couldn’t get enough. His one hand began wandering again, gliding smoothly over the hem of your short dress and snuck under it to cup the flesh of your ass, making you groan loudly.

He pulled away, looking at your red face as he said, “Your skin is flushed, Y/N. If you look this good just from kissing me, I can’t imagine how you’ll look under me.”

You leaned closer, pecking his jaw and leaving kitten licks and nibbles on his throat. “Why imagine when we could find out?”

His other hand joined the one under your dress as he gripped you tightly. “Also the black satin? This was intentional, right? There’s no way that you didn’t plan this. Do you seduce the chefs at all the restaurants that you go to?”

“No, just the ones that I’ve been fantasising of since eighth grade.”

You felt him smile against your forehead as his hand quickly came to your hair, gripping it tightly to yank your head back and meet your mouth in yet another kiss.

“Let’s bring those fantasies to life then,” he breathed, quickly spinning you around until you were pressed up against the desk as his hands lifted you and placed you on the wooden surface, quickly positioning himself in between your thighs.

“You’ve had your dessert,” Doyoung stated, eyes glinting. “Now it’s my turn.”

He pulls away, grabbing the bowl from beside you and tipping it over your shoulder so that the melted liquid of the icecream that had settled at the bottom of the bowl trickles down your collar bone and disappears into your cleavage. You hiss at the feeling of the cold liquid dripping over your flushed skin.

Doyoung kisses you, sucking and licking the icecream down the length of your throat, hands coming to pull the thin straps of your dress off your shoulders that quickly brought the entire front falling into your lap.

Cold air hit your exposed breasts and before you could even shiver, Doyoung’s lips were already nibbling and sucking your nipple into his mouth. You arched your back, trying to push as much as you could into him and he brought his hand to your other breast, kneading and twisting your nipple until you were squirming in his arms.

You feel your eyes widen as he suddenly drops to his knees, head right in between your legs as he grabs your hips and pulls you forward, bunching the dress up around your waist. The satin material helps you glide smoothly over the desk as he quickly pulls off your underwear and throws your thighs over his shoulders, the action pushing his head forward.

You let out a surprised yelp as you felt his cold nose on your slick folds. Before you could even process all the sensations running through your body, Doyoung’s arms came around your thighs to hold them apart firmly as his tongue licked a long streak right over your wet slit.

Your stomach clenched with arousal as you moaned, hands immediately finding his head to clutch his hair tightly in between your fingers. You felt him smirk as he licked up all the wetness, feeling the tip of his tongue that was cold from the icecream circle around your clit.

Your thighs were clenching tightly around his head as you leaned back, bucking your hips into his face as he laid his tongue flat over your nub, flicking it with the tip teasingly over and over before circling your walls when you started convulsing.

“Doyoung,” you whined as he refused to let you cum, teasing you into overstimulation every time you felt yourself reaching close. Your legs clenched down around his shoulders, fingers yanking on his hair painfully at this point as the soles of your heels pressed into his back.

He started tonguing you faster, your impatience setting him off as he circled his tongue around your clit faster and rougher. You gasped loudly as you felt his long finger join his tongue, your walls immediately swallowing the digit as he thrust it into you at a quick pace. Your eyes closed tightly as you fell back onto the desk, digging your heels into his back as you felt your orgasm crash over you, making you buck into his mouth and fall apart at the mercy of his tongue as he laps up all of it.

Your legs are numb as Doyoung lowers them back down and stands up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You take a shaky breath as he stands to his full height in between your legs and you try to regain your composure as you find your footing with the heels and stand up, shoving his chest until he fell back onto the seat.

Doyoung raises his eyebrows at you in surprise as you move your hair over your shoulder and straddle him.

“Thought you had places to be?” he teased, looking up at you with that small gummy smile that was miraculously both cute and sexy at the same time.

You leaned back as you crossed your arms in front of you and pulled off your dress, chucking it across the room. You pressed your bare chest to his front, wanting him to feel every bit of you as you snaked your arm around his neck and leaned your forehead onto his, holding his gaze intensely as you said, “Yeah, I meant your lap.”

His eyes widened at the unexpected reply and he surprises you by erupting into a laugh. You can’t help but smile sheepishly as he grins at you.

“When’d you get so smooth, Y/N?” Doyoung asks, cocking his head and you shrug, unbuttoning the front of his chef’s jacket.

“I’ve always been smooth,” you reply as he straightens from the seat, unhooking his arms from around you to help you take off the jacket.

“Really?’ He sarcastically asks, letting you pull off the dark shirt that he was wearing underneath. “Last I checked, running away wasn’t really the smoothest flirting in the book, or even flirting for that matter.”

You glared at him as you tossed the short aside. “Can you shut up about my awkward high school self already, I’m literally going to ride you.”

He smiled, his hands coming to cup your ass as he kissed you deeply. Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity of the kiss, feeling tingles all over your body.

“Go ahead,” he whispered, his warm breath hitting your mouth. “Let’s live out all those fantasies.”

Your hands are already unbuckling his pants, yanking the zipper down as fast as you can. You get up and step back enough to pull off the remaining clothes off Doyoung until he’s as bare as you.

You sit over his thighs, the skin-to-skin contact turning you on more than you thought it would and one look into Doyoung’s eyes is enough to assure you that he feels the same way as he immediately places his hands back on your ass and presses you closely to him.

You duck your head, kissing him slowly and leisurely as you grind sensually on his naked erection, your perky nipples brushing against his hard chest. You feel his grip tighten on your rear as you continue teasing him until he finally growls your name in frustration.

You pull away and raise yourself slightly, lowering your hand to take his dick. Doyoung hisses at the contact and you quickly spread the precum leaking from the tip all over the shaft and press the head to your slit, letting your wetness soak around it. Slowly, you slid down and held your breath as you felt him enter and fill you up.

“Oh,” a soft moan escaped your parted lips as you started moving, slowly trying to adjust him inside you. When you felt the head hit you right at the spot that made you see stars, you started moaning as you bounced up and down. Doyoung grabbed your hips, thrusting into you faster and grabbing your breast with one hand that were bouncing around wildly from the thrust.

You groaned, your voice cracking as you felt your second orgasm dawning closer with every thrust into your hilt until you came with a loud moan, sweat sticking to both of your bodies.

Realising that Doyoung hadn’t finished, you stood up on shaky legs which made his eyes widen in protest. He closed his mouth, however, as you quickly crawled in between his open thighs and took his wet dick into your mouth.

“Fuck, Y/N!” He exclaimed loudly, surprised and pleased as he threw his head back into the seat. His hands came around your hair to form a makeshift ponytail as you sucked him off deeply, swallowing both your combined essences that coated it. You swirled your tongue over the slit and head, sucking noisily as you used one hand to stroke what wasn’t in your mouth and he bucked from the seat. You bobbed your head up and down, taking his entire length into your mouth and he hissed at the warmth that enveloped his dick as you sucked like your life depended on it. Your free hand came over his balls, nails scraping it lightly enough just to make him feel a slight sting and it was enough as he thrust up, fucking your mouth and shooting warm loads of thick cum.

You swallowed, the filthy sounds and smells of sex surrounding the room as you licked him clean until he was pushing you back from oversensitivity.

You sat back, wiping your mouth with your hand as you breathed heavily and leaned against the leg of the desk, looking up at Doyoung who looked more glorious than you’d ever seen him—hair thoroughly finger-fucked, eyes hazy from the orgasm that you’d just given him and his entire face red.

“Guess I’m not the only one who looks good flushed,” you voice hoarsely, making him look down at you with a grin.

“Know where we’d look better?” He asked.

“Your bedroom?”

“Exactly. Let’s go.”

Your review on Timeless is uploaded three nights after you leave Chef Doyoung’s house. The last lines that you’d written become the highlights (and Johnny’s personal favourite) just as you expected:

Timeless is nothing short of surprising—the warm setting with its almost-childish but nevertheless gorgeous paperplane lights, the eccentric menu with secret flavours lying underneath each item and a chef with a unique creative streak that floods into your mouth with every bite. If you like surprises, this is the place for you. And I’ll definitely be back for more, eager to be taken aback yet again. You already know my order, Timeless: surprise me.

“This is a little misleading,” Johnny comments as he reads the draft while you sort through your laundry, making you stop and look over at him in confusion.

“What do you mean?” You ask, worried since you’d tried your best to be honest and remain unbiased.

“I don’t think the readers are going to have the same streak flooding their mouths as you, Y/N.”

One hour after it’s posted on your blog and Johnny has left your place, your phone lights up with a message from your recently added contact:

Come over and I promise you a surprise just as good as the last time.

#nct nct127 nctsmut nctsmutfic smut fanfic mature nctimagine #nct kim doyoung kimdongyoung doyoungsmut kdy kdy smut #this is so fucking long I think its my longest yet #i want johnny as a best friend #i had too much fun with this and even did research on food so y'all better not let this flop #seriously tho #cznnet czennie #cznnet #Youtube

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