#I’ve just been doing the occasional rough drawing recently

[caramellody]

They are playing Balatro

[miumiins]

Thank you everyday for your art!! Your lineart work is absolutely gorgeous, and especially on calligraphy pens?? 😭 It's amazing!!

I used to do calligraphy, but I 'm now trying to practice a calligraphy pen with lineart, and I'm hoping to get lines as clean as yours. What type of nibs do you use? Do you switch them for different line thicknesses? Any tips you can offer? 🥹

I hope you have a great day 🌟

omg thank you so much!! as much of a struggle it can be, i do enjoy doing lineart a lot when i draw (mainly digitally but i’ve been having fun with these lil traditional drawings too) so it makes me happy to hear you say that 🥹

also im still super new to drawing w the gpen/calligraphy pen as i’ve only just gotten one for the first time about a month ago so i’m still slowly experimenting with them (and i’m also partially winging it to be really honest) but this is the pen/nibs i got! It came with a set of five different nibs, two each. Since this is my first time getting and using this kind of pen, i don’t really have anything to compare it to in terms of quality and such but it’s doing what i expected it to do for the most part LOL (also the bottle of ink that i got if anyone was interested)

(the rest is under the cut since it's kinda long haha)

My first initial drawings were drawn with the 004 nib from the set, whereas my more recent drawings were drawn with the 003 nib. (For filling in the solid black areas, i just used a micron brush pen)

For the most part, i pretty much used the same nib throughout the entire drawing for each one. Part of it is just me being lazy about changing it, but also, because these are postcard sized (about 6” x 4” / 148mm x 100mm) and not very big drawings in the first place, i didn’t really feel the need to switch nibs too much. If i was working on a larger canvas/paper, i might switch between nibs more often for more variety in line thickness, and if anything, i definitely would use one of the smaller nibs (like 001) for finer details

(also here's the paper i got that i drew all of these on. keep in mind that i ordered it off amazon jp but it was a set of five packs so now i have plenty to practice on LOL)

As far as tips for clean linework, a lot of this is stuff i do for digital art but i’ve been more or less applying the same logic to the stuff i’ve drawn traditionally recently (some of these might be really fundamental/obvious and you might know this already but it is kind of what helps me a bit):

▷Having a clear sketch of what you want to draw and where you want to place your lines is really helpful, both for digital and traditional art, but probably especially so for traditional art.

As someone who honestly avoided doing traditional drawings for so long, my biggest struggle was honestly getting a clean rough sketch down on paper and getting past the sketch stage to do anything more with the drawing. Part of it is, again, laziness on my part, as it’s a lot easier for me to do sketches and clean them up digitally since i heavily rely on undo as well as the lasso and transform tools to fix proportions and whatnot (plus, not being able to undo once you start inking also held me back, because i know that my hands aren’t the steadiest and will occasionally move unexpectedly when inking sdlkfg). That said, using my ipad as a light table and tracing my digital sketches onto paper is what got me past that hurdle so that i could experiment with more traditional art (though i know i should eventually work on just starting from scratch on paper too haha).

But having a clean sketch gives you a clear guide of where and how you want your lines to be, rather than just having a vague idea of how you want it to look and having to think on the spot about the placement of your lines at the same time as inking your drawing.

▷This is something i saw someone else point out in their tutorial once and i never really took notice of it until i saw it, but as you line over your sketch, keeping your line of sight on the path slightly ahead of where your pen is currently at kind of gives your brain a heads up of where your pen needs to go and your hand will naturally follow. It’s probably something that the more you draw, the more it comes to you subconsciously, like i kind of do this but i’m not super conscious of it, so you probably don’t need to get too hung up about keeping this in mind.

▷this is moreso a tip on line thickness rather than clean linework, but even without changing the nib or brush size, i like to manually vary the line thickness in various areas! This can be achieved by applying more or less pen pressure, and even if you can’t do it in one stroke, you can draw the initial line and go over the areas you want to thicken.

▷rotate your paper or canvas as necessary! When i draw digitally, i rotate my canvas a lot, as well as heavily rely on the flip canvas function. Obviously you can’t flip your canvas and continue to do lineart with traditional art, but rotating your paper can help with how you draw your lines. Sometimes it’s hard/uncomfortable for me to draw lines that go inward towards my drawing hand, so rotating the canvas so that the line flows outward makes it a little easier and more comfortable for me to draw.

▷draw with quick(ish) strokes! The slower your hand moves when you draw each stroke, the more wobbly your lines might become. Of course, if you draw each stroke too quickly, your lines will end up in a direction that doesn’t follow your initial sketch. This comes with time, and the more you draw, the more confidence you’ll gain in your lines once you have a grasp of how you draw them and you can adjust accordingly.

▷if watching natsume-sanchi’s videos has taught me anything, when you ink your traditional drawings, always start from the top-left (or top-right if you’re left handed) and work your way down and right so you don’t risk accidentally smudging the ink with your hand before it dries (i still somehow end up smudging the ink one way or another though LOL)

I’m not the best at putting how i do things into words since a lot of it is just based on feeling/in the moment but i hope any of this is helpful!

[sds-mod]

Hi i follow ur mademoisemuder tumblr account and I really like how smooth your lineart is especially the black & white manga style and regular linework.would you be willing to share your brushes or brush settings? A photo works to. I use clip studio & I’ve been dying to draw smooth lineart like you do! And your knife girl oc, to die for! A friend said she uses a brush size of around 6-7 with no taper and adjusts her pen pressure settings, dunno how she does it, how is your brushes settings like? I’m a iPad person and I recently got a screen moniter but it’s a whole different experience switching from procreate iPad to PC. Please share your ways por favor , -art anon

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

I use Clip Studio too! I use it on PC with a tablet (regular, not screen), so idk how well my settings will translate for you but I'm happy to share regardless!!

First of all, and importantly: a lot of it is muscle memory and training that comes naturally as you continuously do lineart. With time, you'll notice that the bigger swoops and long lines/curves that form a smooth line will start to come more naturally to you simply because your hands get used to the motion and you don't have to actively think about it anymore. Hands are cool like that.

(but also sometimes a stroke just takes 15 attempts regardless. Strg+Z is your best friend.)

As for the brushes I use, I'll put them under a readmore (got a bit lengthy)

First, for a rough reference/guide regarding the brush sizes, I usually sketch on the base A4 layout with 300 dpi, but I sketch small and not page-filling. Here's a thumbnail so you get a rough feel for their size on an A4 page.

Also I recently adjusted my pen pressure settings a little (under File - Pen Pressure Settings) so it now looks like this, but it used to be the default until a little while ago though!

Onto the actual brushes:

Most of the stuff on KG's blog is drawn with the Maa Brush from the CSP Asset store, so for example this, this and this were all done using the Maa Brush. I use it to sketch and line, usually on size 5-10, these are my settings:

Next, for very thin delicate lineart I like to use the Favorable Pen from the Asset store, which I used here for example. I use around size 20 for it (I don't use a lot of pressure so the line comes out quite thin)

For a lot of my more rendered art I use the basic Mapping Pen in Clip. I used it for example for the recent story-arc update in asksds or for this. I generally use size 6-10.

Back when I used SAI I had a brush called the Ballpoint Pen which I THINK I made myself in Clip (I at least couldn't find it again under that name in the asset store but I'm sure there are a dozen brushes like it) which is just a basic brush without pen pressure. I often use that one to get me out of a rut or to force me to focus on simpler shapes since it does kinda need you to be a little controlled to keep everything readable. I used it here and here for example. I use it at size 3 but keep in mind that I draw small.

I guess I could also mention that for most of the regular asks in asksds I use the Simple LineArt pen from the Asset store. There's no significant difference to the Mapping Pen, I just feel like the tips aren't quite as delicate as the Mapping Pen and I prefer that for sds...it might be an illusion though.

And we're done, those are the main brushes I use for lineart! Occasionally I try something different (like a G-Pen for a more textured look) but these ones are my regulars. I hope it helps!! (❁´◡`❁)

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Billy & Stu (3/4)

Word count ; 4.1k

*Edited.

Three random girls entered the female bathroom of which I was loitering in. I eyed them up and down before drawing my attention back to the floor. Just as I ignored them, they ignored me. They did their female business and occasionally complained about their periods. However, a nerve was struck when the imminent topic of the recent murders were brought up.

“You there’s actually a murderer?” girl one squeaked as she washed her hands.

“Of fucking course there is, Bethany,” another scoffed.

“Yeah, but you heard about that girl Sidney,” Bethany argued. “She could be blowing it all up out of––what’s the word––proportion.”

My shoulders tensed at the mention of my amazing friend.

“Well, I guess that’s right. But… you-know-who has gotten attacked too.”

“They could be faking. If there really was a murderer out to get them, they’d be dead by now.”

That was my cue to enter. All three of the girls were hushed and hovering around the sink. They watched warily as I approached from behind with crossed arms and a harsh glare. “Keep talking’ like that and you’ll end up with bruises on those pretty faces.”

The one that went by Bethany turned to face me. “Uh-huh, sure. Stop acting like some tough bitch, because no way in hell could you take on three—"

I sighed, deciding to ball up my fist and punch her square in the jaw. The girls screamed and the victim crashed into the sink. I grabbed the other bystander - not the decent girl - and slammed her body into the side of the stall. The other girl let out a squeak and abandoned her friends.

I took a step back, admiring my work. I knew better than to totally explode at such immature girls, but they still needed a bit of a roughing up for talking shit. The remaining two girls grabbed one another and stumbled out of the bathroom, throwing some frightened curses toward me. I once again leaned against the wall.

Just then, the bathroom stall opened and out came Sidney. She was obviously crying, and for some reason, she looked guilty. How long had she been in there? Her gaze was cast to the ground as she walked up to me.

“Thanks for that,” Sidney muttered.

I tilted my head. “Don’t worry about it. How ya doin’?”

Sidney opened her out and then shut it again. She was struggling with her words, understandably. I clamped my hand securely on her shoulder, rubbing it slightly. She took the invitation and stepped closer, currying her face in my chest as she let out a quiet cry.

“Why is everyone so cruel?” she mewled.

“Just the way it is,” I sighed, continuing to rub her back. “Are you gonna stay here? I’m planning to skip. Well, I have been skipping, so…”

Sidney laughed and pulled away. “I’ve never skipped class before, you know, not even when… my mom died. But, since it’s the first time, why not go somewhere and have a blast, right? I bet you know all the fun places around town.”

“You sure?” I checked, looking the good girl stereotype over. “We can go over to seven-eleven, if you want—"

“That’ll be fun! Uh, I just wanna use the actual restroom,” she admitted bashfully. “Can I meet you at your locker?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

I ruffled the poor girl’s hair and exited the bathroom, leaving Sidney to her own devices. I sauntered down the hallway with my hands shoved in my pockets. There wasn’t much to do other than wait, although I did fuss around with my pocket change. I had five bucks, which could hopefully get Sidney a snack, although it was at the expense of not being able to get a cheap ramen dinner.

I futzed with my books before eventually spacing out while staring at the chiming clock. One minute, two minutes, three minutes. I couldn’t help but wonder what was taking her so long. However, my mental questions were soon answered as a scream came from down the hallway. My brain immediately made the connection to dearest Sid, so I darted down the hall. The poor girl was screaming and crying and ran right past me. She was quick, so I was soon left in the dust, wondering what the hell had happened.

It didn’t take long to find out, though.

~~~

I leaned against the side of the trailer. I felt lonelier than usual; no mother to watch cheesy reality t.v. shows with, and friends too scared to leave their bedrooms. So, here I was, lingering outside my tiny home, unsafe and unhappy.

At least my mom was recovering, one day at a time. The stab was shallow enough not to be deadly, but it was still enough to cause issues. Apparently, she’d be in the hospital for another week, but I knew she’d insist on leaving earlier because of work and bills.

I heaved out a sigh, slumping further against the wall. I zoned out for god knows how long, but I was caught off guard by the ringing of my phone from inside.

My blood ran cold. It could’ve been the murderer, for all I knew. Or news of the murderer’s work. I waited for a moment, half out of paralyzing fear, half out of suspicion. I’m not sure what it would mean if the person called again, but I was still trying to muster up the courage.

Another minute passed. My eyes glazed over the forest around me, dark and mystified. I spotted nothing. Letting out a sigh, I stepped inside the trailer and grabbed the phone. With shaky hands, I raised it to my ears.

“Hello…?”

“I told you she’d be home, Billy boy!” Stu’s energetic shouts came from the other line. I flinched, but relief washed over me. I almost melted on the spot. “Hey girl, what do you say we have a movie night? Take your mind off the cuckoo killer and shit?”

“Stuart, hi,” I stammered. “You’re with Bill?”

“The one and only,” the said boy’s muffled voice came from the other side.

I bit my lip. “What movies… are ya thinkin’ of? Nothing horror, you know that —“

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darling!” Stu sang. “We picked up some of those shitty romances from the video store. Clueless, Beauty and the Beast, He Said, She Said… Whatcha think?”

“…” I pursed my lips, a comfortable flutter forming in my stomach. “I never mentioned liking romance movies,” I muttered, casting my gaze to the scattered rom-coms on the couch.

“Lucky guess?”

“Yeah, sure,” I caved. “Where at?”

“My parents are on some cruise for a week. Come on over, you can stay the night,” Stu offered.

“Oh, the girls are gonna be there, too?” I assumed hopefully, playing with the telephone cord.

“Nah, just us three. Why, something wrong with that? Do you not love us anymore?”

“Uh, nah, that’s cool. I’ll be there soon, I guess.” Wasting no more time, I hung up on the pair and fussed with my socks and shoes. I grabbed a comfortable hoodie and brushed my teeth before I went. It was nerve-wracking to go to Stu’s house for the first time since… god, when was the last time I’d been to his place? And had I ever been to Billy’s?

As nerdy as it was, I biked down the country backroads, passing by enviable mansions. I wasted no time gawking at the absolute castles I went by, only slowing as I came up to the ‘want’ country house that Stu nicknamed ‘the party palace.’ He was… amusing that way.

The house was quiet and most of the lights off, but I noticed that the front door was open. Call it PTSD, but I didn’t like how eerily big the house was. So many… hiding places. But, alas, I let my bike fall to the ground and I went to the front door. I pushed it open slowly, relaxing when, immediately to the left, both of the boys were eagerly lounging on the couch with the news on. I tried to tune out murder central and enjoy their presences.

“Hey, guys,” I greeted meekly, kicking off my shoes.

They peered over their shoulders. Stu was quick to jump to his feet and greet me with a hug, while Billy watched the scene unfold, his signature smirk sitting on his handsome features. “Hey, Y/n.”

“Welcome, m’lady,” Stu emphasized, exaggeratedly bowing.

With a quirked brow, I replied, “You boys are as chipper as ever.”

“Why wouldn’t we be when our favorite gal’s shown up?” Billy chuckled, sinking further into the cushions.

With his arm tossed around my shoulders, Stu pulled me over to the couch before pushing me down. I gasped before adjusting myself, but it was too late; Billy’s arms wrapped securely around my waist and I was pulled flush against his broad chest. A pronounced pout tugged at my face and I sent him a glare.

“‘Favorite gal’? I’m sure Sid and Tate would be thrilled to hear that,” I muttered, even if it did feel nice to be a ‘favorite.’ But, I’m sure they were just fluffing me up for their own galant amusement.

While Stuart was fiddling with the cassette player, putting on whatever movie, Billy cuddled into my further. I didn’t have to look at his expression to know he had a wide smirk on his face. “As thrilled as you are, I’m sure,” he retorted. “The girls are having a movie night of their own. Something about ‘being able to see so and so’s dick at the right angle.’” That would’ve been Tatum. “I’m surprised they didn’t invite you. I wonder why.”

I pursed my lip again, eyebrows furrowing. My fault for getting abnormally attached to the girls. I’m sure they had a fine reason for excluding me. Tatum was known for being forgetful —

Stu’s grubby hands clamped down on my cheeks and tugged on them, pulling me out of my thoughts. I irritably tugged at his wrists, trying to get coherent words out, but it was in vain. The boy cooed, “Aw, little cutie sad she wasn’t invited out? Have no fear, we’ll have a great guys’ night without ‘em.”

I sent him a glare as the boy plopped beside me. He was quick to intertwine our arms, and I was affectionately trapped between both boys. I would never admit it to them, but I appreciated the company. Billy and Stu had been welcoming from the start, so I truly was thankful for them. I had no idea how I would be off if I didn’t have the pair as the pillars to my mental health. Especially… with my mom recovering. For all I knew, this movie night saved my skin.

I sunk further into their arms, the tenseness washing off me. I pulled my feet onto the couch and to my chest, leaning further onto Billy. He smelled of strong cologne, something I hated, but I didn’t let it bother me as my attention remained on the television. At some point during the movie, Stu had gotten more comfortable, too, laying his head in the crook of my neck while his arm wrapped around my neck.

I’d seen the Princess Diaries many a day, and it never got old. However, I had a hard time paying attention. It felt like my heart was beating out of my chest, and yet I was being lulled into a state of security at the same time. Stu as acting stranger than usual, as instead of belting out inappropriate jokes, I heard loud snores break out every few minutes. I couldn’t help but giggle at Billy’s annoyance, hearing him mutter under his breath about how ‘he needed to shut the fuck up.’

As the movie went on, I cousin’t help but get lost in my thoughts further. For the first time, I wanted to express my gratitude to them. The way they made me feel all the time was… refreshing and new. Even in a world where there was a lot on my shoulders, Billy and Stu had washed away my fears, letting me drown in a fantasy where there wasn’t a serial killer hunting me.

My eyes began fluttering shut and my drumming heart became mute. I enjoyed the feeling of Billy’s fingers rubbing circles on my arms, and the sounds of his yawns were that of a lullaby. Stu was just as fast asleep, using me as a teddy bear, but I didn’t mind. I usually hated being touched, but if it were my best friends, I had a hard time not enjoying it.

And so, I was able to sleep well for the first night in weeks.

~~~

I stirred to the incessant ringing of the phone. I rubbed my sleepy eyes and blinked, observing my surroundings.

I was still on Stu’s couch, however, said boy was nowhere to be found. Billy was draped over the other side, completely out, while gentle sunshine passed through the curtains. I yawned once more and kicked my feet off the couch carefully, coming to terms with how I had to answer the phone. As annoying as it was, I knew better than to think whoever was calling was going to give up. Perhaps because I had a sneaking suspicion of who it was - not the girls, not parents, but the vile murderer plaguing me.

I stretched my limbs, becoming more and more annoyed as the ringing went on. It amazed me that Billy was sleeping through it. I went into the kitchen and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hello, Y/n.” My blood ran cold and I glared over at Billy. However, as though they were reading my mind, the deep voice continued,” Don’t you dare wake him up or I’ll slit his throat before you can even open your mouth.”

With furrowed brows, my body began trembling immensely. However, I was more so frightened for my best friend, who resided lazily on the couch. “Please, kill me if ya… if ya fuckin’ want, but don’t hurt Bill. He’s done nothing wrong.”

The voice broke out into a fit of cruel cackles. “You think - oh, my god - you can’t be serious. You’re so naive as to think he’s done nothing wrong! That’s precious, sweet cheeks. Real precious.”

He went quiet again, but I didn’t speak up. I was confused and somehow that confusion translated into a bout of tears that threatened to fall. The guy was a total psycho, and I knew he was the one in complete control. I hated it.

“He - he’s done nothing wrong. And… and what did you do to Stu?” I hissed fearfully.

“I don’t know, what did I do to Stu?” he taunted. My stomach curled uncomfortably as my imagination raced. “I’ll let you go this time for being so cute, but next time, watch your back. Ta-ta!”

The psycho hung up, and I was left with pitiful stammers while paralyzed. For the first time in my life, I felt utterly helpless.

“Hey, who was it?” Billy’s groggy voice came from behind, causing me to jump and turn. I fussed to wipe away some of the escaped tears, but it was too late. Billy’s expression washed over with concern. One hand stole the phone away and slammed it on the receiver, while the other snaked around my waist and pulled me to his chest. “What happened, dollface?” he cooed, pulling me away from the counter.

“N - nothing, just that - that bitch on the other line,” I huffed, angrily wiping away the rest of the tears. “We - we need to find Stu, I think he’s in danger —“

“Who’s in danger?”

Peering over Billy’s shoulder, I saw Stu, bathrobe wrapped around his person and a towel around his neck. His hair was glossy and wet, indicating he’d just hopped out of the shower. Relief flooded me, and I sunk further into Billy’s arms.

“Oh, thank fuck,” I gasped, grasping onto Billy’s tank top. He began rubbing my back, but Stu was quick to steal me away, causing me to let out a screech of dismay as I was swayed around in his store arms.

“What happened, babe?” he asked in unease, prodding at my face.

“I - it was jus that killer on the other line, he called and - and threatened to kill Billy and I thought you were fuckin’ dead,” I choked, still trying to calm myself from the harrowing experience.

Stu let out a scoff and picked me up in an affectionate hug. “I’d like to see him fucking try.”

For some reason, Billy was glaring daggers at Stu, and in mere moments, I was very much sandwiched between the two athletes. Billy was playing with my hair and muttered, “Don’t worry about that douchebag. No way he’s getting his hands on our favorite girl.”

I frowned, biting back more complaints and retaliation. I caved and sank into their loving arms. The boys had that effect on me, the sort that made me only think of them when they were around. I appreciated all their welcomeness, especially during this suck-ass time.

“In fact,” Stu slurred excitedly, “we’re throwing a Halloween party tonight. No costume required. Why don’t ya stay the day and night, attend the party?”

I tensed. “I’m not much of a fan of those. No offense.”

Stu pouted while Billy’s head plopped into the crook of my neck. “Aw, come on, it’ll just be a small get together. Only friends will be here.”

“And besides, you should stick with people, doll face,” Billy reasoned.

I bit my lip and sent one last glare to Stu. “Fine, but only for the free food.”

~~~

After an entire day spent in the hospital with mom, I was eager to bounce to my next destination. Namely, Stu’s house. However, I knew to make a truck stop at the video store, since I figured I could go with Randy, even if the boy had gotten on my nerves recently. I noticed Stu’s car in the parking lot as well.

I entered the video store with my hands shoved in my pocket. Standing in the entrance, my eyes glazed over the shop until I spotted Randy, who was restocking one of the shelves. Weaving through the aisles, I stopped when I reached him.

“Hey, Randall,” I greeted awkwardly, in hopes of getting his attention.

The boy jumped and dropped a CD case. “Oh! Y/n, glad to see you haven’t been gutted yet. Here to pick up a movie?”

I strained a smile. “Nah. Just checking if you’re going to Stu’s party. It’s, uh… not safe to walk alone and shit.”

The boy perked up, clearly surprised. “That sounds cool. I’m almost done with my shift, the old man’s not around so I might leave early. If you don’t mind waiting.” Having finished restocking the shelves, he rose to his feet and stretched his arms. “And, uh, I did had have something to ask you…?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“If you wanted to, sometime we could, uh —“

I yelped as an arm was tossed around my shoulders and neck. I almost punched the intruder right in the face, but I was set at ease when I recognized Stu’s voice.

“Whatcha talking about?”

Randy looked absolutely mortified and tried to brush off the intrusion. I elbowed Stu’s stomach and stepped away. No way was the asshole getting away with senseless PDA. I leaned against the shelf so I could eye both of the males.

“Nothing much,” Randy conceded.

“Oh yeah? Then why d’ya look so disappointed?” Stu teased, tilting his head.

“You were interrupting something.”

I quirked a brow. “He was?” I muttered densely.

A sneer passed over Stu’s features, but only for a second. In a moment he was chortling. Randy just rolled his eyes and turned the other direction, setting his gaze on something else. “Now that’s in bad taste.”

“What?” Stu inquired, following his gaze.

In the horror section, Billy stood, talking to two doting girls. He had that arrogant resting expression as per usual, and even I got uncomfortable by the implications Randy was making. Stu looked peeved as well.

“What? It was just a misunderstanding. He didn’t do anything,” Stu defended, and I nodded curtly in agreement.

Randy snickered. “You’re such a little lap dog. He’s got killer printed all over his forehead.”

Stu sent him an eerie grin. I wanted to shrink further into the shelves. “Oh really? how come the cops let him go, smart guy?”

“Cause they obviously don’t watch enough horror movies. This is standard horror movie stuff. Prom night revisited.”

“Randy, this isn’t a freaky fuckin’ horror movie,” I sneered in annoyance, causing the boy to flinch.

“Yeah! Why would he want to kill his own girlfriend? And our favorite gal, Y/n?”

Randy rolled his eyes as though he knew the secrets of the universe. “There’s always some stupid bullshit reason to kill your girlfriend. Try this on for size, though - the guy’s in love with ‘favorite gal’, Y/n,” my shoulders tensed from such an accusation, “and he wants to scare her into liking good ol’ innocent Billy. Coincidentally, the girlfriend gets murdered at the same time and he’s single and ready to mingle with said ‘favorite gal.’ How’s that?”

I could do nothing but cast my gaze to the ground. I hated that a part of what he said made sense, but it just couldn’t be true. I wasn’t arrogant enough to think Billy, smart student and athlete, would be interested in me and not Sidney.

“Oh,” Stu enunciated, slumping slightly.

“That’s the beauty of it all - the complexity. Who’d go through that much effort just to get the girl? Besides, if it isn’t confusing enough, it’s obvious.”

“Randall, what you’re saying is fucking insane,” I muttered. “Billy’s my friend and him and Sidney love each other. The police let him go for a reason.”

“Yeah, but what’s the chance Sid would go out with me when Billy’s thrown behind bars for the real sicko he is —?”

“No way in hell, bitch,” I sighed.

“You know who I think it is? I think it’s her father. Why can’t they find her pops, man?” Stu theorized with a shrug before grabbing why shoulder and pulling me to him.

“Because he’s probably dead and his body will show up in a ditch a few weeks from now. Eyes gouged out, fingers cut off, teeth knocked out! The police are always off-track with this shit.”

My stomach could hardly handle the imagery. I shrunk further against Stu’s chest, sending a consistent glare to Randy. “Yeah, Sid would definitely wanna go out with a freak like you.”

Stu cackled while Randy looked rather offended. Even I felt a bit mean, but he seriously didn’t need to go into theoretical detail. “Man!” Stu chortled.

“If they watched Prom Night, they’d save time,” Randy bellowed, drawing attention from passing customers. “A very simple formula! Everybody’s a suspect! I’m telling ya, the dad’s a red herring. It’s Billy!”

I gulped as the said boy came stalking from behind. He tilted his head, an agitated scowl on his handsome features. “How do we know you’re not the killer, huh? Huh?”

Randy’s confidence faded into oblivion and he stumbled to face the boy. “H - hi, Billy.”

“Maybe your movie freaked mind lost its reality button. Ever think about that?” he sneered, pushing his finger to Randy’s chest. He stumbled right into me.

“Boys, can you fuckin’ stop with this shit? Cut it out,” I groaned, although it came out as more of a whine.

Stu’s arms extended past me and clamped down on Randy’s shoulders. The boy looked utterly petrified. I couldn’t help but feel bad. The guy really did think it was Billy and that there was a gun to his head. Billy cast me but a glance, insisting on bickering with him.

“You’re absolutely right, I’m the first to admit it. If this was scary movie, I would be the chief suspect,” Randy stammered defensively.

“What would be your motive?” Stu giggled, although there was a dark undertone to it.

Randy tried shrugging off the intimidation. “It’s the millennium. Motives are incidental.”

All of Billy’s agitation washed away in that moment, an entertained smirk making its way to his feature. “‘Millennium,’ hm… I like that. That’s good. Millennium. Good kid.” Billy patted Randy’s back and walked toward the entrance with a saunter. Stu had his classic grin on his face, and both the boys were acting as though they weren’t just scaring the boy half to death. Sure, Randy’s logic was fucked up, but Billy was looking at the guy like a piece of meat.

“‘Millenium,’ good word, my man,” Stu complimented, also slapping his shoulder. “Let’s blow this popsicle joint, sweet cheeks.”

I could only send the boy a pitiful glance as Stu hoisted me over his shoulder and we exited the video store.

[yukidragon]

Will u make more of your take on aphrodesia!Sunny day jack? No pressure if u dont want to!

I’m so glad you want to see more of the Something’s Wrong With Sunny Day Jack and Aphrodesia crossover AU! I certainly want to do more with it, particularly writing some short fics and art in that setting. For the most part I’ve been taking a break with writing and drawing in general to recharge (which is why Sunshine in Hell hasn’t been updated in a while), but with the occasional writing blurb here and there for funsies. It’s kind of like the writer equivalent of doodling.

Since you were so kind to ask for more of this crossover AU, and in the spirit of celebrating the kickstarter getting successfully funded and reaching 300 followers on my twitter, I suppose I could post a little narrative doodle. I’m not sure if I’ll actually finish this little rough snippet, but I had fun making it. Maybe you’ll like it too.

If I do wind up finishing it, I’ll be sure to post the polished version in Sunshine in Another World. I hope you enjoy it!

Oh, and as a heads up, this flashfic is for Adults Only. These fandoms are for Adults over the age of 18 Only. Things are pretty explicit right from the outset, and it’s a bit kinkier than my usual spicy writing, so it’s going to be entirely hidden behind a cut.

I never thought I’d be writing a smut piece about cockwarming with a mafia boss, but here we are.

...

Alice had to learn to be patient about a lot of things ever since she was inducted into the Sunny Family. She had to learn how to sit still and focused for hours to be an effective sniper. Back when she was barely hanging onto the lowest rung of the family she had to be patient and ready to be summoned at a moment’s notice by her boss. Most of all, she had to be patient until her debt was paid off, and she could finally leave this bloody life behind her and return to her real family.

One thing Alice never thought she would have to be patient for was for Sunny Day Jack to just fuck her already.

Ever since the two of them got together officially as a couple, Jack never seemed to be able to keep his hands off Alice. Well, admittedly he had a hard time keeping his hands off her since the day they met, but he was nothing if not respectful of her boundaries. However, at some point their physical contact crossed from platonic hand holding to a heck of a lot more. It had been such a striking change in her life, going from never having sex to making love practically every day. They spent every single day together, and it was rare that they wouldn’t wind up naked and entwined together at some point.

Despite how active her sex life had become recently, Alice still had no idea how she wound up in the lap of the leader of the most powerful and respected crime families of St. Valens with his large dick buried deep inside her. What was even more inexplicable was how Jack expected her to just keep still while he filled her so completely to the brim. She was so acutely aware of every inch of him, especially the part of him that faintly throbbed inside her, hot, hard and more than ready to just finally rail her over the desk already.

How the hell did I get in this mess? Alice wondered, not for the first time since she got embroiled in the seedy criminal underbelly that infested the city of St. Valens. Sure, indulging in her boyfriend’s kinky request was a far cry from the worst thing she had ever done while here, but it was hard not to feel frustrated when her body throbbed with need.

Unfortunately, her boss ordered her not to move until he was finished with his paperwork. ‘Let’s play a little game,’ he said. ‘Won’t that be fun?’ he said.

Jack even sweetened the deal by offering Alice some sort of prize if she ‘won’ their little game, though he didn’t say what that would be. He also didn’t say what her ‘penalty’ would be if she ‘lost.’

That damn prize better be worth it, Alice thought bitterly as she watched the most dangerous crime boss in the city sign yet another paper while she struggled desperately not to start slamming her hips down on his dick - penalties be damned.

Jack pretended to take no notice of his assistant’s discomfort. He didn’t exactly ignore Alice, idly stroking her hair in an almost offhand manner as he used the other to thumb through his paperwork. Seeing her so impatient for him was intoxicating. He wanted the game to last for as long as possible. The flush of her pouty cheeks was so cute, and the exquisite velvety feeling of her pussy wrapped around him was heaven. She was so perfect, as though she was made for him. There was nothing in the world better than to be one with her like this.

Well, admittedly, it was a little taxing on his patience. Although Alice did well not to move, her occasional twitches around his dick sent small sparks of pleasure that was sweet torture. It was difficult for Jack to hold back and continue the game instead of bending her over the desk to pound himself into that deliciously hot and wet pussy of hers, but he was committed to seeing it through.

Besides, teasing Alice was pretty fun. Jack wondered just how long it would take for her to break down and beg him to make love to her. She was already so impatient, so needy for him.

This game was as good as won.

“You’re doing so good,” Jack murmured as he pressed a kiss to Alice’s forehead. She still flinched a little where his lips touched her scars, but not as much as she did at the beginning. It was enough to send another spark shooting through his dick as her spongy walls fluttered around him. His breathing caught for a moment, but he managed to keep a straight face despire the sweet torture the game put them both through. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Jack…,” Alice said, cringing at the needy whine in her voice. “How much longer?”

Jack chuckled, the corner of his mouth hooking into a smirk as he admired her flushed cheeks. “Just a little longer, sunshine.” He pressed another kiss into her cotton candy soft hair this time.  “Don’t worry, I’ll be done soon.”

Alice couldn’t stop her sigh of frustration. “You said that half an hour ago.”

“Yes,” Jack admitted almost a little too innocently. “I suppose that is true, but ‘soon’ is just a little sooner now than it was before.”

Alice huffed as she pressed her cheek into her boyfriend’s shoulder, taking solace in at least his warmth. She tried not to think about the burning in her core, but it was impossible not to ache for Jack to make love to her. He was so warm, his embrace so comforting, and he gently toyed with her hair or rubbed her arm in a gentle affirmation that she was precious to him.

 It was wonderful, but it wasn’t enough. Alice couldn’t ignore the way her pussy throbbed with need and begged to be pounded into until she lost all sense of reason.

There had to be a way to get Jack to end the game sooner without losing.

Another kiss to her cheek, along one of her most prominent scars. The action was so tender and loving that her insides fluttered despite her frustration. It wasn’t just her chest that constricted with emotion, and Alice caught the shuddering breath Jack let out, as well as the small noise that was suspiciously like a whimper. It was so cute.

It also gave Alice an idea.

Jack was in the middle of his signature, when a gentle squeeze around his dick sent a jolt of pleasure through him that caused him to scrape his pen across the page. He had to take a moment to compose himself, but another squeeze drew out a whimper that he failed to bite back.

“Sunshine,” Jack said in a slightly husky tone.

“Hmm?” Alice asked with an innocent smile painted on her lips.

“I told you to keep still,” Jack chided as he poked one of her pinked cheeks with a finger.

Alice just made her faux innocence even more obviously fake as she batted her eyelashes cutely at Jack. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said sweetly even as she squeezed around his dick again, her voice catching a little. It also sent a shudder through him and into her that felt absolutely delicious. “I haven’t moved my hips an inch, just like you told me to.”

Jack eyed his mischievous sunshine with a considering look, but found his train of thought interrupted by another jolt of pleasure as Alice tightened herself around him again. He moaned her name despite his composure, and he put both hands on her hips to stabilize himself, only for her to do it again, and again, wearing him down in the most wonderful of ways.

Maybe the game wouldn’t be so easy for Jack to win after all.

[windmilltothestars]

15 Questions Meme!

Not really tagged by @magnetocerebro but it’s been a while and I’m in the mood, so why not?

1. Are you named after anyone?

Sort of?  I apparently had an ancestor named Malinda Minerva Spanigal!  Is that not the coolest name ever??  My parents also found ‘Malina’ in a name book or something and decided they liked the sound and meaning of it and it could also honor the ancestor but just knock of the ‘d’!

2. What was the last time you cried?

It’s actually not too recently, oddly enough!  I’ve been a little on edge for hormonal reasons the past few days, and the good ol’ dissatisfaction with my current place in the world, but I’ll cite the funniest example.  I watched an episode of Hercules: The Legendary Journeys where the people tried to put Herc on trial for inspiring people to endanger themselves by trying to be ‘heroes’ and how ‘heroes’ had no place in a civilized society.  But in the end he gave a passionate speech about what it means to be a hero and if that’s wrong in the modern world, he’ll gladly go to prison for it, and then all his friends stood up and did the “I am Spartacus” thing to stand by him, and I’m not gonna lie, I got a little choked up.

3. Do you have kids?

Nope!  This is unusual among my high school classmates, but normal among my college friends.  I do have two cats that I unload my motherly feelings on, though, along with some of my friends’ kids, to whom I am an honorary auntie.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

I’ve come around to being mostly irony-free and earnest!  However, I feel being around my brother brings out my sarcastic side.  And sometimes I will try to use sarcasm for good, ie. sarcastically complaining about my friends’ qualities that are clearly false and the opposite of their best qualities, to demonstrate how absurd their own self-criticism is to me.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

I mean, obviously just seeing them I’ll notice what they look like, but I feel I am also very attuned to the kind of energy people project, and shy away from certain kinds of energy and gravitate toward others.  I don’t mean anything weird and spiritual by this, I just mean the vibes and emotions I pick up from the way people talk, carry themselves, respond to others, etc.

6. What’s your eye color?

It’s a dull greyish shade of green or blue that looks greener or bluer or brighter depending on what I’m wearing.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

I mean, for sure happy endings!  There’s certain brands of ‘horror’ that aren’t too rough for me and have elements I do enjoy, but often that milder horror will have a happy ending, too!

8. Any special talents?

Well, if I’m honest, I have no false modesty about my singing voice.  In fact, I have been known (to my shame) to get a little vain or show-offy about it.  But so many people tell me it’s nice, and I take great joy in singing, and I like the sound of it, too, and I have a special pride when I am able to lead people in song because my voice is on-pitch and strong and confident.

9. Where were you born?

Billings, Montana!

10. What are you hobbies?

At the moment?  I’m trying to get back into drawing and writing fanfics.  But I have not achieved massive success so far!  I’ve had more success reading through my third biography of Lafayette, and writing weird meta-essays comparing fandom stuff . . . When I’m with like-minded friends, we always sing folk-songs or hymns together, and that’s always a wonderful time!  Occasionally I enjoy playing my guitar alone or cross-stitching as well . . .  To simplify, my hobbies are everything and nothing!!

11. Do you have any pets?

Cats!  My two girls I adopted in Korea, Kartoshka (Toshka for short) and Dulcinea (Dulcie for short) have now joined their venerable old uncle Phoenix, whom I got in high school and who stayed with my parents while I was in Korea.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

I used to play softball in middle school, and I took a summer course in Mixed Martial Arts once.  When I was a little girl, I took ballet.  But I’m not super-athletic by nature, so I haven’t played in quite a while.

13. How tall are you?

5′3′‘-5′4′‘ I think.

14. Favorite subject in school?

English, Choir, Art (specifically loved my sculpture class; my teacher was amazing!) and Acting in high school.  Really loved my Philosophy class and Classical Mythology class when I got to college, but my FAVORITE class of my college career was Screenwriting!

15. Dream job?

Well, as you can see by my favorite subjects and favorite hobbies, my interests are very wide across the spectrum of the arts!  Do I wanna be a musical theatre actress?  A folk/filk singer?  A stage or film director, or actress?  A screenwriter?  An author of fiction or an author of comparative literature criticism?  A comic book writer/illustrator?  A sculptor?  An English teacher or college lecturer who just gets to monologue about my favorite books and themes as a living?  A youtuber who does the same?  All of the above and more? 

But also, my career experience so far has been in International ESL Education, and I do love working with kids!  I specifically loved working closer with individual kids in a tutoring capacity, while also experiencing new cultures!  So I was looking into au pair/governess stuff . . .

Following in the footsteps of my esteemed forebear, I won’t tag anyone specifically, but welcome anyone who sees this (especially if we know each other!) to participate, if they feel so inclined! :)

[angelanimedesaray]

A Demon’s Promise Part 3:  Return the Favor

AN:  CONGRADULATIONS EVERYBODY!!! My 1000th post is the longest smut piece I’ve done to date, and I am going to hell.  Oof.

Also, hey, look, the plot is starting to peek through O.o

Characters:  Incubus!Levi, Reader

Pairing:  (Eventual) Levi x Reader

Warnings:  Language--including here in the warnings.  Hints of Angst.  SMUUUUUTTTT!!!!  Time for the kinky shit list:  Oral, Blowjobs, Anal, Rough Sex, Overstimulation, Breeding Kink, Throat Fuck, Tail Play (Yup, that’s still here), Multiple Orgasms, Edging, a bit of Aftercare, Dubious Consent, No Protection (probably should have put this one on the last two chapters as well).

Word Count:  7265

<----Previous Part    Masterlist    Next Part---->

*Reader’s POV*

A thought had started to settle into your mind.  Maybe it had always been there, but buried under the intense whirlwind that was your dreams of Levi and the mind-altering pleasure that he brought you every night.  The aches and soreness after waking up, and then the bruises a bit more recently from the hickeys--any more physical, tangible evidence started to make you wonder if it really was just a rash of extremely kinky dreams.

Of course, that was impossible...but the idea was there nonetheless, lurking in the back of your mind.  Even though you didn’t believe they were real, it was still something that was there, and apparently it was present enough to influence some decisions of yours.

For example, all these nights he came, he was always focused on you, on giving you pleasure.  But after that unexpected thing with the tail, when you’d seen his control slip in the face of true pleasure, you’d realized you hadn’t really been given the chance to do anything for him in return.  Besides what he had you do in the course of whatever sexy thing you were doing for the night, but it was always aimed towards getting you more riled up, or keeping him hard--or semi-clean and not so sticky at the end.  You never once laid him down, and focused on him for a change--and he never once asked for it.  You didn’t even think it was something on his mind, a thought or a possibility on his radar.  He was so focused on servicing you, but for some reason thought nothing of servicing himself.

Besides that breeding kink of his that came into play with every dream.  Was that some weird way of your subconscious telling you that you wanted kids or something?

Actually, the more you thought about it, whenever he orgasmed, it was always inside you--buried deep inside your pussy.  Not down your throat, not when he was buried up your ass, not pulling out and onto your stomach, it was always buried inside you.

Again, probably part of that breeding kink, or maybe he was also into cockwarming.

Why were you here thinking about the man in your dreams like he was an actual person, he was literally a wet dream fantasy your brain had cooked up recently and wouldn’t stop sending to your sleeping mind.

At least, that was the more rational, reasonable explanation you had, but not one that fit the physical signs of sex in the mornings after.

In fact, it had gotten so bad, you were scheduling a doctor’s appointment to see if you were a rare case of sexsomnia or something--the idea came to you after you saw it on a medical drama playing on TV in the background while you made your dinner.  Something was happening with you, and you figured it was about time to seek medical help in figuring out what was going on.

But that was still a few days away, and there were still several steamy nights with Levi to spend before getting to the bottom of what was medically going on with you to have continuous wet dreams.  For now, the appointment was far from your mind, as this time when you drifted off to sleep and inevitably towards a dream of Levi, you had a goal for the first time.

Your mind was only in darkness for what felt like a few seconds before you felt the weight of a body against yours, the feel of lips along your jaw and a hand running along your stomach and down in between your legs to already start rubbing you through the fabric of your panties.

Someone was impatient, tonight.  Too bad for him--you’d been talking yourself up to this considering the raw sexual energy Levi exuded in your dreams was rather intimidating, and you were not going to let yourself chicken out at the last minute.

“Levi…” you murmured as you were roused from your sleep, eyes fluttering open to stare upwards at the canopy of the black satin bed you were almost always inside.  The sight disappeared as Levi shifted to lean over you, his eyes filling your vision for a few seconds before he kissed you, sparking a heady and almost lethargic sensation inside you as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, feeling his well-sculpted body pressing up against yours, fingers prodding underneath your panties to already start fingering you.

He was really trying to get right to it, tonight, wasn’t he?

It was only through sheer force of will that you managed to pull back from his heady kiss, gasping slightly as if you’d been drowning and blinking as if to disperse a fog as you focused back on the goal you had in mind.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you murmured, and Levi froze, staring warily at you as you tried to regain your bearings.  He went in as if to kiss you again before you could say anything else, before you could regain your thoughts, and even though you came in to kiss him, moaning at the feel of his fingers already delving between your folds as his tongue swept into your mouth, you managed to gasp out your request around your very heated kiss.

“I want...to try something tonight,” you murmured, and you felt some of the tension from a few moments ago melt out of his shoulders at the admission.

“Someone feeling adventurous?” Levi asked in a low voice, pulling his head back just enough to speak before he trapped your lip between his teeth and gave a little pull, one of his fingers sliding inside you and earning a low moan, his thumb drawing dangerously close to your clit.

No, no, you were going to take charge here, you had a purpose, and he was not going to distract you from it in his insistence to always focus on your sexual needs.

It was his turn.

Your hand tangled deep in his hair, clutching at his head as you kissed him fiercely, leaning up into him and attempting to push him over onto his back so you were on top.  It...didn’t work out.  Too much muscle and a surprising amount of strength despite his small structure.  He simply returned the fervor you brought to the table, body pressing tightly against yours, breathing picking up as the kiss grew sloppy, a knee slipping between your legs to spread you open for him…

You didn’t have control of this moment, but you needed it.  As much as you usually sat back and let him please you, that’s not what you were aiming for tonight.  This was a dream, though, right?  Your dream.  So if you wanted something, all you needed to do was picture it...and will it...and…

With a sudden tilt to the world that was honestly disorienting and left you reeling for a few moments, you and Levi were no longer on the bed.  You were on that couch that occasionally made an appearance for certain positions you two tried, and Levi was underneath you, with you straddling his lap and your hands resting on either side of his neck.  He broke away from the kiss almost as soon as the two of you landed in a different position, looking confused and even worried at the sudden change as he stared up at you cautiously.  Maybe even...unsettled.

“How did you--”

“My dream, right?” you answered with a small smile, your nerves making your stomach squirm as you realized your moment of truth was here.  “I want to do something different tonight,” you repeated, much more firmly than before, and a hand sliding down to his chest as a way to tell him to stay there for a second and stop making moves so you could make yours.

He was hot to the touch--not just warm, actually hot beneath your fingers, his skin unrealistically flawless, his features sharp, body chiseled.  But you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something you just couldn’t see, especially after that tail reveal last time.

Something that was missing this time, you noticed.  Or at least at the moment.  Like you only saw it when he wanted you to.  No, when you wanted to--he was a figment of your imagination, right?

Fuck, how did all this work?  None of it made any sense, yet here you were, rolling with it, trying to seduce your fantasy seducer.

Those thoughts were for another time.  All these nights, he had every chance to learn every inch of your body, memorize you inside and out, but you hadn’t had much of a chance to really explore him, to touch him, memorize his lines, make him vocalize in pleasure--beyond those few times when he got caught up in the high of an approaching orgasm, or the time you’d found how much of an erogenous zone his tail was--when you could see it.

Your hands moved slowly down his body, fingers dipping and curving upwards along his abdomen as you felt to about midway, then brought your hands back up as if to rememorize every muscle and curve before your hands glided over his shoulders--something you were already familiar with after all the times you’d clung to them--and started feeling along his arms.

He was holding still for you for the time being, but he was watching you sharply, as if trying to get in your head and figure out what you were doing.  You were just relieved he’d stopped long enough to let you start, considering how fast he normally was, leaving no time to breathe after one high before he tried out the next on your body.

The thought suddenly made you worried, and in an effort to keep him from getting bored by your slow movements, you moved in to kiss him suddenly and firmly, attempting to get your tongue to dominate and slide into his mouth unhindered for a change.  He kissed you back, but there was a surprisingly hesitant and reserved feeling about it, like he wasn’t sure how to react to what you were doing, like he was still thinking out how he was supposed to respond to this.  His arms were wrapping around your lower waist, which you let happen, feeling him pull you closer as his lips started to press harder against yours again, feeling his cock sliding against your abdomen, moving closer to your pussy…

“Mhm,” you hummed, pulling away from the kiss and dropping to his neck, shifting your hips back to avoid letting him thrust inside you.  As much as your body had practically been trained to crave his dick inside you, you needed your wits about you to start--that could come later.

Levi was tensing up again even as your lips kissed along his neck, feeling for his pulse point and attempting to put little hickeys along his skin like he had done to you.  While that was happening, your hands, which had returned to his chest, started to play with his nipples, fingers brushing in bare touches against them, hearing his breathing grow heavier and feeling his skin jump with every touch.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice gruff.  He wasn’t stopping you yet, which was a good sign, but the fact that he seemed confused that you were turning the tables and giving him attention of your own free will, that he hadn’t figured out that’s what you were doing...was it because he didn’t consider it in the realm of possibility, for someone to give him the kind of sexual attention he gave?  The thought hurt your heart a little, but considering it was an assumption and something you couldn’t ask without ruining the mood, you tabled the concern for the time being.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you asked with the slightest frown, seeing his jaw clench as your fingers started to idly play with his nipples like he’d done to you not too long ago.  “You always treat me so well--I want to make you feel good for once.”

To emphasize your point, you slid back in his lap, bringing your head down to trap one of his nipples with your lips and swirl it around with your tongue, giving it a few hard sucks while your other hand idly played with his other nipple.

He didn’t seem that vocal, not like he had been when you’d played with the base of his tail, but it could have been his distraction with his confusion, or the fact that he just wasn’t very vocal to start.  His breathing was more ragged, which told you this was at least doing something to him.

His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you back towards him and causing you to release his nipples as he pulled you close enough he could have reached out and bitten your lip without any effort on his part, his cock once more pressed against your abdomen.

“We’re not here for me, we’re here for you--your wants, your needs,” he murmured, trying to shift attention from him, his eyes locked on you.

“Fine...but what I want right now, is to give you what you want,” you answered.  This had to be the most the two of you had talked outside of during-sex talk, right?

“I want to pleasure you.  That’s what I’m here for,” Levi returned without missing a beat.  Except, the delivery wasn’t quite believable.  Something about that sentence rang hollow, like it wasn’t the full truth, just a line he said.  And while he gazed at you, you realized you couldn’t look away, you were being pulled into those blue depths, pulled in closer to his lips, body giving in even as your mind clung to your goal.

Your fingers brushed against his lips a moment before he would have sealed you in that strength sapping, hypnotic kiss of his.

“No--not what you can do for me.  Tell me what I can do for you.  It’s still your show, but tonight, I want to focus on you, not me,” you said lowly, eyes searching his willingly, and not just because something kept you drawn to them.  You came closer to him, lips brushing along his cheekbone as you moved closer to his ear, one of your hands moving slowly and lightly down his spine, noting proudly with the other hand that followed behind the first that it made goosebumps break out across that flawless skin of his.

“Let me taste your skin...let me suck on your cock...let me touch your tail and feel it against my skin again...I’ll ride your cock, your face, I’ll even eat out your ass if you ask me.  Tell me what to do to make you cum.  And at the end, just like we always do, you can breed me.  But what I want right now…”  Your hand slipped between the two of you, grasping at his cock and starting to slowly massage his length in your hand.  He grunted, a soft moan escaping him that you almost hadn’t heard.  “...Is to hear that, all night.  I want to hear you feel pleasure because of me tonight, Levi...Please...let me pleasure you.”

As you finished your words in a soft whimper, nibbling slightly on his jaw, you heard his breath hitch, and he went still.  You couldn’t understand why this was such a hard thing for him to grasp, why he hesitated, why this seemed to shake him.  Why would it be so strange for the person he’d pleasured so much to want to return the favor, at least once?  Had you done something wrong?  Had you said something to upset him without realizing it?  Should you just lay back and let him go about his original plans for the night?

And if this was your dream, and he was a man conjured up by your mind, why would he hesitate and resist to do what you wanted like this?  

Trying to coax him into reacting since his silence was making you nervous, you carefully started kissing along his skin, moving lower and lower, feeling his eyes follow you even though he still wasn't moving a muscle.  Your hands moved along his thighs, surprised as you crouched down between his legs to find that the ground beneath your feet had turned soft and supple, more ideal and less punishing for someone on their knees.  Once you were in position, you started kissing along the inside of his thighs, well aware of how close to your face his cock currently was, close enough you’d just have to turn your head to brush up against it.

As you came close to starting in on your offer to really taste him, he finally moved, hand moving out to touch your cheek.  You thought maybe he meant to stop you after seeing the look in your eyes.

“You don’t have to, really,” he said, attempting to stop you once again, but you weren’t budging on this.

“I want to,” you returned in a low voice, and before you two could continue in these ridiculous and ultimately pointless circles, you leaned forward and placed a far-from-chaste kiss at the side of his cock.  You felt the grip of his fingers tighten for a second, heard his breath catch again, and decided just to go for it.

Gently, you let your hand wrap around the base of his cock, letting the shaft brush against your cheek as you pulled back to get into position, letting your lips wrap softly around the very tip.  Your tongue swirled experimentally around the soft skin of his cock's head, getting used to the feel and taste of him in your mouth and trying to predict how difficult it would be to take in more.  Your fingers moved slowly up his cock from the base until you were holding his cock to your mouth like you were taste testing and trying to keep drops of food from escaping with your fingers.

Levi’s hand shifted from your cheek to the back of your head, grabbing at your hair.  For a wild second, you thought he might pull you off him.

But as your lips ventured a little further to take the full head of his cock into your mouth, his fingers--still tangled lightly in your hair--slipped down the back of your neck.  His legs spread a little wider to give you more space to work, and he leaned back in his seat, head tilted upwards and resting on the back of the couch so he could gaze up at…was there a ceiling?  You weren't going to look right now, you were fairly focused, though admittedly distracted for a moment by the conflicted look in his half-closed eyes as he sat back and let you do what you were clearly determined to do.

For a few minutes, the only sounds were the ones you were making.  The wet smack of saliva against skin, your little noises as you took a small portion of his cock into your mouth, keeping your cheeks hollow, the jaw lax, and your tongue active and wild.

Levi moved occasionally, shifting here and there for a more comfortable position, his thumb stroking lightly along the back of your neck while his other arm was slung out along the back of the couch.  You would be worried you were giving a bad blow job and he was bored, if it wasn't for the way his hand gripped at the couch, or the slight flush of pleasure to his skin, or the way his eyes had fallen closed, lips parted and moving faintly in what might have been words around his deep breaths.

Or maybe it was something a lot more lewd that made your legs quake, thinking of that gorgeous sight of him between your legs with his face buried in you…

Foreplay wouldn't keep him satisfied for long, though.  You'd been playing with his cock for a while now--it was time to try and make him arch and moan for once.

Without warning, your tongue lay flat, and you slid more of his cock into your mouth with a low hum.  Levi let out a pleased sigh above you, hips rolling up into the motion and making you stop just so he wouldn't push past where you were ready to take him.  Your saliva slipped down his dick and onto his balls, making his length a little easier to take in as you tried angling your head, tongue sweeping around the dick in your mouth in search of a spot that made him squirm.  All the while, your hand started to lazily pump up and down the shaft, trying to keep him erect and hard despite your hesitant pace as you gingerly felt out the situation and how good you were at this.

Adjusting to having his cock fill your mouth and be on the verge of reaching your throat, you started off slow just to make sure you weren't going to hit the wrong spot so hard and fast you would choke, or worse.  You bobbed your head up and down on Levi's cock, humming and moaning low in your throat the whole time at how surprisingly good it felt, even if it required some concentration and care.

A little pressure on the back of your neck when you took him in, and a slight tug on your hair when you pulled back, made you realize Levi was getting invested, too, his hand on the back of your neck starting to guide how you took him, hopefully helping you find the right spots soon.

Your panties were wet with excitement, but there was nothing you could do about that right now--you were focused, and you were getting somewhere.

"Don't be so timid--if you're so intent on doing this, then do it properly," he chastised you suddenly, his voice gruff, close to a growl, revealing that he wasn't nearly as relaxed as he seemed.  Clearly, he was tired of the slow pace.  At least he was saying something instead of straight up bucking into your mouth and throat without any warning.

He was right, too--even you knew you were going pretty slow right now.  All right, then, if he wanted you to raise the stakes a bit more…

Shifting in place, your other hand ran up his thigh and over his waist, reaching towards his lower back, towards his tailbone.  At the same time, you dipped your head low, taking in as much of his cock as you could before you gave a hard suck and allowed yourself to swallow reflexively.

Gag reflex?  Why would you bother with that in your own dream?  Anything was possible here, and you were going to take full advantage of that right now.

A soft gasp left Levi’s throat, and this time, you didn’t linger or hesitate, pulling back and starting a vigorous bob along his cock, a strange noise you hadn’t realized you were capable of escaping you with every dip of your head, every time his tip almost slipped out of your mouth before you relentlessly sucked him right back in, burying his cock in your mouth, your hand pumping along his length for added stimulation.

Levi’s breathing was heavy, borderline on panting as he watched you suck his cock, his hand now fisted in the hair at the back of your neck, hips rocking into your hand and those sinful lips of yours.  He was almost there, but he wasn’t quite at the point you wanted him to, which meant you had to push him a little further to get what you wanted.

Your free hand had made it around to his tailbone by now, fingers splaying across the place you knew his tail had been last time, feeling along the smooth skin experimentally.  Levi squirmed underneath your light, investigative touch, and you didn’t relent, trying to communicate without halting your enthusiastic tasting of his cock that you wanted him to stop hiding his tail--you wanted to feel it, and you were currently seeking out its base.

"Shit…" Levi gasped softly as your hand moved a little up his spine, as if concerned you might be a little too low to find it, and on the way back down...it was suddenly there.

You shifted closer in anticipation, Levi's grip on your head now holding you close enough to him that you could not pull away.  Greedily, your hand wrapped around the base of his tail, thumb rubbing sensual circles around the base to try and provoke a reaction similar to last time.

Now he moaned, hand holding you tightly in place as his hips bucked forwards into your mouth, cock thrusting into your throat.  At the same time, your hand wrapped around his tail, hand moving slowly out to get a good feel of it and see if Levi's sensitivity expanded beyond just the base. A quick glance to the side revealed it was fairly long, draped loosely across the couch and over the edge, coming to one slender tip that looked sharp as a whip.

No arrow tip, no "forked tongue," no scales--just smooth, hot skin for the slender appendage.  It looked strangely natural, despite the black, blue, grey shades and coloration. And it was surprisingly muscly for a tail.

Well...with what you knew he could do with it, perhaps that part shouldn't seem so surprising.

And it was currently coiling, shuddering under the attention it was receiving, arching in the air as if in anticipation for the incoming touch.  Another moan escaped Levi as his tail arched, and you realized it was also a fairly good indicator for the pleasure he was experiencing.

Bringing your hand back to the base and feeling for those sensitive spots along the thickest part of his tail, he bucked sharply up into your mouth with a low growl.  The scenery changed again, and suddenly he wasn't lying on the couch letting you suck him off--he was standing with his back against the wall, you kneeling in front of him with your mouth still wrapped around his cock and your hand still clutching the base of a tail that now brushed sensually across the exposed skin of your legs an arm, the tip of his tail curling underneath your shirt.

This was no longer a blow job--you were about to get throat fucked.

Levi pushed inside you until your lips were brushing against his balls and your eyes watered, hand shifting to grab his waist as you felt a shred of relief in the fact you'd decided a gag reflex wasn't going to be a problem in this dream.  Otherwise this could have ended badly, though you still found it hard to breathe, and it still took effort to try and get yourself to relax enough to take him in.

Levi let it sit there for a few seconds, his tail sliding up along your chest, pulling your shirt up with it as it came between your breasts and continued to reach, Levi's breathing officially turning into lustful pants as he pulled out and started his deep thrusts into your mouth.  Moans and slight yelps escaped you in the process, and you tried to keep your head angled so he had a smooth entrance deep inside, eyes drawn up to his with the way you were knelt in front of him, only able to feel what his tail was doing, not to see and anticipate.

"That's a good girl, taking my cock like this," he growled, all earlier hesitation forgotten as the orgasmic high started to kick in and take control.  "I knew you were a slut for my cock, but this...you take it so well, me fucking your throat like this.  You look like you just want more."

As he spoke, his pace quickened, dick sliding smoothly all the way in and almost all the way out, your teeth grazing in a bare tickle along his cock and making it twitch, tongue licking and flicking and teasing whenever there was enough room in your mouth to do so.  He shuddered at the sensation, egged on by the way you were pumping and stroking along the erogenous zone of his tail at the same time, and held you close, cock thrusting steadily and quickly into your mouth.  The edge of his tail slipped up through the collar of your shirt, the very tip teasing along your lips and growing slick with saliva in the process, while a little further down it arched and wiggled in a way that it brushed against your nipples, making you whimper.

Now you weren't just excited--you were wet and aching, dying for the attention his tail was now teasing you with.

"You wanted to taste my cock?" Levi growled, his pace picking up and his cock throbbed against your tongue.  "This what you wanted?  To choke on my dick like my personal cockslut?  C'mon, this is what you wanted, right?  Fuck...shit…"

The dirty talk was getting worse, and he was starting to pound relentlessly into your throat, which told you he was close.  Your hand had given up pumping along the shaft of his cock with how rapidly he was throat fucking you, now, and had instead started to massage and tease his balls, hoping the stimulation was about to send him over the edge between the throat fuck, the fondling of his balls, the teasing along the base of his tail, and…

It had stopped rubbing against your nipples, instead sliding down over your abdomen and into your panties, the hot skin easily slipping between your folds rubbing along your entrance and clit.  Your legs shook, and you started to moan and whimper needily, which just made the feeling of his cock sliding into your mouth so much better for him.

"Hah...fuck...shit you're wet...and your throats so fucking tight…and…hnng…"

Levi's pants were ragged, his hips starting to move sporadically as his hand threaded through the hair at the top of your head repeatedly, holding you almost uncomfortably tight to his cock in his approaching climax.  Even you could feel it coming, could anticipate the salty taste that would soon flood your mouth and throat…

The tip of his tail suddenly rolled and curled against your tip so it formed a small round edge instead of that wicked sharp edge, and without warning, it pushed between the folds of your pussy, pushing inside you much as it had into your ass the first time you'd seen it.

You gasped and then choked on Levi's dick at the sensation, and a strangled sound escaped him as he suddenly held you firmly in place, his body shuddering against you and cock twitching madly as his tail pushed further and further inside, stretching and filling you more than his cock could without cumming inside you.  Each flex of the hot muscle inside you made you feel like it would rip you open as it went further than humanly possible, further than anything you would feel in real life, and your mind went blank, body limp for a few moments as you surrendered yourself to being fucked by Levi like this gladly.

Maybe you would cancel that appointment, because if this was the kind of pleasure you were going to experience in these dreams, you didn't want it to ever end.

Neither did he, based on the sound that came out of him.  Wild and feral, Levi bucked into your throat without resistance, the tip of his cock pushing against the back of your throat even as the muscles of your throat flexed and tightened around him with your choking from the raw sensation and his cock buried in your throat.  His face was flushed, sweat dripping down his forehead and cheeks, glistening against his skin as he tried to hold his orgasm in vain.

As you were coming back to your senses, egged on by the feel of your body seeming to stretch and fill from his tail coiling as far inside you as it could reach given the position the two of you were in, you caught the slightest spark of logical realization in his gaze through the haze of his orgasmic high.

"Fuck...your pussy.  I...I only cum inside your...hng...shit!"

Before he could second guess, before he could even finish the thought or pull back, you released his balls so you could grip tightly at his ass with one hand to yank him forwards and shove him as deep down your throat as he could go, your other hand giving a firm tug on his tail that made him throw his head back, arch his back, and let out the wild curse, voice cracking and going hoarse as his control finally shattered, and his cum spilled hot and thick down your throat, tail twitching wildly inside you for a few moments in a way that almost sent you over the edge.

You greedily swallowed the hot cum spilling down your throat, fingers digging into his skin, pulling back when the flow started to lessen so some could stay in your mouth, the salty taste filling your mouth, a small strand escaping from the corner of your mouth and causing you to have to pull back and catch it with your tongue, lapping up the last few squirts from his cock before they could fall to the floor.

Just before his tail could stimulate you to an orgasm, though, it had gone still inside you.  You were still filled, and the feeling alone kept you on edge, but his stillness denied you a release, and even walked you back from the edge a few steps.

You took a few moments to clean off his cock, making sure there wasn't a trace left as you listened to his breathing slowly come back to normal, his hand changing from that vice grip to strokes through your hair as you cleaned up his cock like he was petting a kitten.

"Not a single drop wasted, huh?  Good girl...but no more fooling around."  His tail flexed inside you, and you let out a wanton moan, the heat in your cheeks the only hint you had at how flushed and needy you looked to him right now, kneeling in front of him with traces of his cum still making your lips shine.  "You pleasured me--now it's back to you."

His dick was hardening again to stand erect in front of your face, and while you were certain that was humanly impossible, you were rather sure he wasn't really human at this point--plus it was a dream, so if you wanted round two now, he would be ready for round two now.

His tail suddenly trusted deeper inside you, and you arched at the sudden feeling you might tear and burst, ears ringing and vision going fuzzy for a moment before you suddenly found yourself on your back in the bed, staring up at the black silk canopy as the last of his tail slipped out of you, leaving you feeling hollow and cold without that heat filling you.  Levi was hovering over you again, his cock resting momentarily against your stomach as he removed your panties and waited for you to come to your senses.

As your eyes focused on him, he lined himself up, cheeks still flushed from the intense orgasm he'd just had, hair falling in front of his eyes to obscure your vision of the one thing that could give you a hint at his thought process.  His cock started to slip inside you, and you whimpered and moaned at how good it felt to have his hot and hard cock filling the space his tail had left empty, as well as how easy it was for him with how stretched and open you felt right now.

Your hand ran along his chest, but you didn't push him away.  You were just getting his attention.

"Let me ride you?" You asked softly.  Levi looked up to meet your gaze, both of you well aware that this was a continuation of him being the focus, of you treating him--that it wasn't going to end with the blow job and throat fuck.

You didn't want Levi to have to work for it tonight.  That was your job, tonight.  He just needed to lay back, relax, and enjoy.

Your hand slid up his chest and neck, cupping his cheek and jaw in your hand as you reached up to kiss him deeply, surprised when he started to pull away before giving in, his arms wrapping around your body to turn you both over.  Now, he lay on his back, his cock already inside you, you on top of him with legs straddling him, causing his dick to slide deeper inside as you settled on top of him.  You moaned against his lips, tongue slipping inside his mouth before he could take advantage of the sound and beat you to the punch.

Once you were settled in place, his arms wrapped around your back, his tail sliding and curling lazily along your legs, you started to rock against him, whimpering lowly at how good it felt but also the sensitivity leftover from him edging you moments ago.  His cock entered you with ease, buried to the hilt in a few rocks against his hips, like it was where he belonged.  You didn't have to wait for him to adjust this time, hips lifting and then sinking onto his cock again with a wet smack, his fingers clenching in the fabric of the shirt you were still wearing, surprisingly.

It was Levi who pushed you back.  Normally, he was always holding you so close, always in contact, always keeping things so fast and intense.  But he pushed you away from the kiss into more of an upright position, bringing his knees up behind you for something to lean back on as you rode his cock, maybe intending to make it a little easier for you.

His hands slid under your shirt, and you leaned your head back with a low moan, feeling his hands slowly move along your skin, feeling you up even as your hips rocked together to keep his cock buried deep inside you.  You were going to cum from this sensation alone, but you still asked for more.

"Put your tail in me again.  It feels...so good…" you panted, one of your hands covering his as it found its way to your breast, the other staying planted in the bed for stability.

Yes, it did feel good for you, but you also knew just how damn sensitive that tail of his was, and how he’d fallen apart last time he'd double penetrated you with it.  It would be explosive for him, which was what you were aiming for.

Levi didn't hesitate to follow this request, and you felt his tail, still wet and sticky with the buildup from you earlier, slipped past that little ring of muscle and started to push its way inside you.  Your body reacted instinctively, curling backwards over his legs with a guttural moan, one of Levi’s hands lowering to your abdomen to hold you down and keep you on his cock, which he trusted up into you as if to remind you it was still there.

You came without any more warning than a weak cry at his thrust, Levi letting out a pleased sigh at the sensation of your cum coating his cock, moaning when the walls of your ass gripped at his tail tighter even as it pushed further in, and he continued to thrust into your pussy through your orgasm, able to feel the tip of his cock with the hand resting against your abdomen when he trusted inside you with the bend of your body and how deep his cock was.

Even as you orgasmed and weakly attempted to keep riding him, though at this point he might as well have taken over, Levi kept going, layering on more stimulation to drive you even further over the edge.

His hand gripping your breast was already playing with your nipple, and the other hand that was resting on your abdomen and trying to hold you down enough he could keep thrusting into you had reached out with his thumb to seek out and start teasing your clit.  All the while, his tail coiled and trusted into your ass, finding the erogenous spot deep inside and refusing to release it afterwards, the tip of his tail rubbing against it relentlessly while the rest coiled, flexed, and filled your insides.  And he never once pulled his cock out of you, either, continuing to thrust, with you hanging on for dear life, trying to ride him but your mind quickly losing the battle with all the stimulation.  You just felt him, and you could hear him moaning, gasping, and panting beneath you, showcasing that you had been successful in eliciting pleasure from him and letting him be more of the focus tonight.

You just hadn't realized it was going to overwhelm you in the process, going limp as he stimulated and fucked you so thoroughly you lost sense of how many orgasms he pulled from you, the flashes of heat spilling into your gut and the resulting, guttural growls your only sign he was cumming as well.

He didn't stop until you blacked out for a solid...well, it had to be more than a few seconds, even though it felt like you'd slipped back into sleep for that long before you came to, mind hazily focusing on the feel of his arms supporting you instead of his legs, tail gone from upside you and leaving you feeling partially empty, even though his cock was still buried deep inside you, like he'd been worried to pull out while you were unconscious.

"Easy...easy…" he murmured, and hearing his voice again made you realize he hadn't said a word after the throat fuck, up until now.  Carefully, he was laying you back down on the silken bed, his hand gently pushing sweaty strands of hair from your face so it wouldn't block your airways or get tangled around your neck, allowing you to breathe with ease.

Once you were lying on your back, he pulled his other arm out from under you so it would be free, letting it softly fall on your abdomen, where his thumb stroked gentle, random lines against your bare skin.  After giving you a few moments to catch your breath, he pulled out, slowly and carefully, though he didn't stop when you whimpered at the feeling of his cock slipping out of your body now so sensitive it hurt.

"It's okay...just rest now.  It won't be so bad in the morning," he murmured, covering you with the silken sheets except for that hand on your abdomen, still stroking and rubbing the skin absent-mindedly.  It was strange that, even though he was supposed to be comforting you in your exhausted state as part of the aftercare, that was the only touch he gave you.

And that look in his eyes as he stared down at you, one you glimpsed seconds before something pushed you back under into a deep and much needed sleep.

So conflicted.  Trapped between some kind of amazement and crushing guilt, like he was staring at the last of a dying breed.

Next Part---->

Tags:   @humanitys-hottestsoldier @clary-quinn​ @sunny-flo​​ @whalerus​​  @thirstyforsometea​

A Demon’s Promise Tags:  @wo-ming-bai​ @rindulacre​ @seeeyounara​ @myherotrashbin​​

[whaleofatjme1920]

hello, my lovely !! i was hoping to get a matchup with one of the creepypastas. I’m hoping this is all okay for you. Thank you, you are the light of my life.

soo,,,i’m around 5’2 from when i last checked. My figure is hourglass and curvy, I often do that thing where you just kind of hold your tiddies for no reason. I’m one of those people who tans really well and never burns but goes quite pale when I’ve stayed hibernating in my room for only a couple days. This results in me always having pretty dark circles like a beaten up raccoon due to both my lack of sleep and when i oversleep. This always leads to me being ‘relaxed’ which is actually me being lazy and tired. I have naturally waved hair, that straightens and feels all soft/fluffy when i hair dry it, just touching my shoulders since i cut it recently. It’s currently my normal hair colour which is sort of chestnut brown and sometimes dyed different colours, ooh i have green hazel eyes too (my eyes happen to be my favourite features). Uhh, I hate showing my teeth when smiling so you’ll usually get a soft closed mouth smile or my grins where i struggle to keep my mouth shut.

My style, a lot like yours truly, can change. The most frequent styles i go for are dark academia and gothic, these just show my interests off a bit. Like, I’m all for libraries, my earrings in my lobe and around my helix because i have a small obsession for jewellery like rings, also genuinely living for my playlists that i have for every situation out there. Oh, you need music because your now ex boyfriend just ate your dog ? You don’t already have one?? Well, you’re in luck, i do.

My zodiac (some say sun) sign is a Capricorn, my moon is Sagittarius and my rising is also Capricorn. How far i agree with them? I’m not too sure about half of it tbh.

In short, my personality tends to vary quite a bit, depending on my surroundings or who I’m with. It takes quite a long time for me to even become comfortable with people, but that doesn’t stop me from being considerate to most people or being an absolute mum friend when necessary (not overbearing though, because ik people dont always react well with that). Ig that makes me pretty careful/gentle with both people and objects.

I’m afraid I can’t go too into detail, my lovely, but i can say that my humour is extremely dry and filled with innuendos- some unintentional.

relationship wise~

okay, so, um, I’m an omnisexual with she/they pronouns (afab).

I’m a switch. So, yk when i’m in a dom mood because i will have my suit or shirt on. I quite enjoy seeing my partner whining for me, all needy and praise is just- yes. yes please. this is prolly because i’ve always been raised to be well-mannered. Same goes for when I’m being topped, i like having a soft dom and occasionally rough when im feeling particularly spicy.

I’m fairly open to experimenting as long as i know what we’re doing. I do draw a line at being degraded or humiliated since I hate feeling embarrassed and helpless. This is why im not too keen on hate/angry sex. The only harming i’ll allow is biting and a bit of scratching. It’s an intimate moment, let’s keep it that way please.

Outside of that, I’ve always been awkward. Whenever someone holds their hand out for a hug or hand hold, i high-five them :| call me touch-starved i dare you. I’ll manage eventually though.

I’ve got a list of things i’d die for (giving and receiving) <3

leaning into s/o for cuddles or headpats, playing with hands/hair, being dragged by the hand to do smthn, reading to s/o, playing games, ive always been one for giving nicknames and the usual shenanigans we could get up to. like, baby, we could go out into the woods for an adventure dressed as trees to steal juice and collect cool rocks or stay in do karaoke and make fun of bad films. I’d just love having that one person to be my everything and them feeling comfortable to talk about stupid random stuff with me or open up, i pride myself in being open and good with listening. i will take care of them as usual and perhaps roll them into a burrito if necessary.

Your matchup is… Toby!

Read more because of NSFW :}

In general:

So, I read over this and had a few people come to mind for this. It honestly took me a hot minute or so to finally come to a conclusion on who I wanted to pair you with and a few things bounced around in my head before I finally came to the conclusion yes: this is Toby territory.

What he likes about you:

So, physically, just to begin with, Toby really likes your figure! I get the vibe that Toby actually really likes full figured people, who like, this matches up pretty well imo. He thinks your hair is absolutely beautiful and will spend his time running his fingers through it and talking about how beautiful he thinks it is. He also really, really loves the color! And come on this man finds your smile absolutely adorable, regardless if you show teeth or not. All of your smiles are good ones, especially if they’re genuine. Furthermore, he’s gonna hype up your teeth. Whether you accept that or not, take it up with him lmfao Toby is really good for making people feel like gold. He really likes your changing senses of style too because he’ll just,,,, fall into them entirely. Thinks you can pull off everything so well. He LOVES your piercings too!! Also finds it really cute that you have playlists for everything lmfao. I also think he likes your sun sign (I have a small bias towards Capricorns lmfao, I’m sorry, it’s the Virgo in me). Toby really isn’t concerned with zodiac/natal chart stuff so like, but I do think he’d get along with you very well. He thinks you being 5’2 is cute too-. He thinks you being a mom friend is also super sweet too. Also likes that you’re gentle with both people and objects. Furthermore, your sense of humor just,,,,, like it just lines up with him y’know,,,, While I don’t think Toby’s humor is childish, it’s definitely try and full of innuendos as well.

General cute stuff:

I think Toby would be super sweet with you regardless, and wants to hold you but that’s just because he himself is super touch starved. He would… He would high five you lmfao. He understands what it means to be awkward and is one of those “let’s be awkward together” kind of guys. He’s also super into the leaning in for cuddles. When is he not cuddling with you? Always wants to curl up in bed or on the couch as the rain falls and just hold you, humming softly and whispering little secrets about the world and everything in it. Is ready to headpat you whenever, will compare hands with you and do all that kind of cute stuff. Toby loves to go out on little adventures so like, this man is ready to do it all with you. Grocery runs where you just push each other in the carts? Doing donuts in the parking lot at midnight? Wandering the city at high noon and just existing? Little chain restaurant dates, little car rides, traversing the woods and seeing cool mushrooms, watching movies, y’know all that wholesome stuff. Toby would give you just as many nicknames! You will never out nickname him. He’s also really bad at karaoke but he would have fun doing that with you. You could,,,,,, you could roll him into a burrito if you’d like,,,,,,,,

You two as a couple & NSFW:

Toby is really patient and understanding when it comes to his romantic partners. He understands that people are different and some take their time and he’d never rush you for anything. But I feel it would be super easy for you to warm up to Toby. He’s just a pretty mellow people person, y’know? He will also gift you jewelry!! I imagine your relationship is nothing but fun and good love. Just that really wholesome stuff where everyday feels like an adventure. Toby is admittedly kinda awful at taking care of himself so please,,,,, please help him out with that sometimes. Also will get lost looking into your eyes. Just nonstop, “they’re jewels.” He finds you so sweet and so adorable, just let him love you and absolutely adore you. Also he will show you off sometimes! He’s a bit cocky at times so like, if you’re looking fine as hell (which is ALL THE TIME) I swear he is ready to be like “look at my BABY.” Toby will collect cool stuff with you. I can honestly see thrifting dates being a thing between you two, taking time to just explore and stuff. Toby has a hard time opening up about stuff so like, please, help him with that. He will eventually feel so at peace with you and so safe that he’ll just let it all out. I can also see nap dates being a thing between the two of you as well.

This was a big part of how I matched you with someone. I think Toby is a switch! Which is great, because he actually liked being dominated once and a while. He is such a whiner lmfao. He sometimes wants someone to just take over and make him melt entirely. Do that for him. Make him beg for you. Make him writhe under your touch and make him cry out in ecstasy for you. He’ll just be a mess of “please, please please - tell me I’m a good boy” and that kind of stuff. Like YES. Luckily, Toby isn’t that dominant of a person? Like, he’s cocky and definitely likes stuff a certain way but he’s not too rough or too out there most of the time. He’ll always respect your boundaries and he’s just, y’know, a good soft dom. He can do praise really, really well. I also don’t think Toby liked being degraded or that he’s particularly good at degrading people either, so like, I don’t think you have to worry about that. Toby is kind of a scratcher? But nothing off the wall. He’s not too big into biting either. I think he’s big on intimacy as well. So, I really don’t think you need to worry about angry or hate sex. He’s a tad possessive?? But honestly just tell him what you will and won’t allow and he’ll follow through with that. He’s honestly so thrilled you’re letting him touch you.

Closing Thoughts/Other Things:

Hi love bug, you are really really sweet oh my goodness? I'd love to get to know you better just by what you wrote here omfg, flattering me silly. Though, I don’t think you actually gave me your age, I am trusting you immensely-- partly because you included kinks. And the other part just said,,,,, okay,,, I'm trusting you (and it didn't feel right to just make this one platonic.) That's all. Other than that, no, tell me about your humor! Tell me about it and your playlists, and whatever else you find fun and interesting with the world! This blog is just one giant “I will soak up everything bc ily.” You sound like such a sweet person, very sunshiney and just really - like my heart reading this stuff made me happy. I was happy reading this. Other than you being such a lovely person, as always, let me know what you think and I hope you enjoyed! <3

[all-of-the-imagines-for-eve]

Touchy ~ Embry Call

A/n: MY BABYYYYYYYYYYY!

Request: "Okay here we go! Can I please get a Embry x imprint reader where she’s super affectionate and is always holding a part of Embry or sitting on him. The pack teases her a lot and she gets kinda self-conscious so she stops hanging on Embry. And he thinks that she’s scared of him but she ends up telling him what’s wrong. And the end is supper fluffy and Embry kicks their asses ! Lmao sorry if this is too much! ❤️❤️" by @sweetkiitty

A/n: I'm so sorry this is late. I got... distracted... blame Cameron Monaghan.

MASTERLIST

"Hey guys!" The boys in their usual places around Emily's table all looked up, smiling at the familiar voice.

No smile stretched further than Embry Call's though. He went to move to the girl who'd spoken, but she came in. "Hey babe." She tucked into his side, her arms wrapping around his waste as his arm went over her shoulders.

"Hey." She looked around, greeting each of the other pack members with one nod at a time. When she finished her quick trail, her gaze returned to Embry. "I miss anything?"

"Other than Embry?" Quil jabbed softly. Jared snorted next to him.

Feeling my face growing warm, I rose an eyebrow. What was wrong with missing my boyfriend? He met my gaze evenly so I looked away, feeling suddenly self conscious. "Nothing much," Embry answered, reaching over to shove Quil playfully.

Recently the boys had been making lots of comments like that. Wolf whistling when we got too close or pulled away from the others or headed out for the night. Making kissy noises any time we kissed- even if it was just on the cheek or forehead. They were relentless and never missed a moment, which they never did because Embry often had you on his mind at all times... even when he was a wolf and the others could tune into every brain train he hopped on.

At first it had been fun. I flaunted my ability to kiss Embry, grabbing him and making out with him anytime they began their teasing. They'd get worse for a second and then retreat and it would end there. But then they got braver Quil would squirm between us or Paul would hoot and holler until we stopped, getting louder as time passed. Jared would laugh so hard that he sounded like a hyena and their prodding and poking was starting to get to me.

Were they annoyed with me? Did they want me to be less affectionate? Was I making them uncomfortable? Were they trying to hint that I was doing something wrong, but I wasn't picking up on it? It wouldn't be the first time I'd been oblivious to even the most obvious clues. Just ask Embry what it was like getting me to date him.

Embry didn't seem to mind basking in the attention of the others or flaunting our relationship. He seemed to have no plans on backing off or calming down and often moved to me or pulled me closer if I tried to put some space between us. He was enthusiastic with affection. He could also occasionally read the other boys' minds and he'd back off if it was really bothering them. He wasn't just a good boyfriend- he was a good friend too. Silly and adorable and fun and lighthearted, but respectful. His mom had made sure of it.

So what was up?

"Hey, you okay Sweetheart?" I blinked and refocused on Embry as his question pulled me from my thoughts and back into reality.

Putting on a smile, I looked around to see that the others were distracted, but a few kept stealing looks. Perhaps I'd made an odd face or they'd been trying to talk to me. Oops. Embry's voice was quiet, trying to check on me without drawing too much attention. Even though the others could still hear, I kept my voice quiet as well. "Yeah. Sorry, got some things from school on my mind. Just homework.Upcoming test. The usual." He nodded and relaxed, looking back to his friends.

I reintegrated back into the conversation and soon we were all laughing and having a great time. At one point my fingers found their way into Embry's short hair, switching between fiddling with the strands and lightly running my nails against his scalp. He adored both actions and was slowly relaxing more and more underneath me. I thought it was lowkey, but Paul looked over at us with a huge smirk.

"Careful- get any louder and you'll be moaning." He winked at Embry, who snickered. My hand immediately dropped from his hair. Embry's shoulders sagged in disappointment. Embry wasn't aroused- from my position on his lap I would have felt it. Surely Paul wouldn't have said something if there wasn't something to be said though. I hadn't meant to mess with him in front of his friends. He wouldn't have said anything either, with them so in ear shit. Damnit.

"Do you guys ever part?" Jared teased a little later. We'd moved for Paul who had to go take care of some business and everyone had temporarily parted from their partner at some point to allow him to get through since he was chair locked in the corner, except for me and Embry who'd sort of just pressed closer together to make more room behind us. I hadn't really actively noticed it until Jared said something.

"Nah," Quil drawled, his smirk growing. "If she moves then we'll all see his massive boner."

"Shut up!" Embry laughed,rolling his eyes,

Emily stood, smiling. "Let me through now. It's getting late, I need to get dinner ready."

Seeing my chance, I jumped off of Embry's lap and began to trip over myself to follow her. "Let me help!"

Everyone got an odd look, especially Emily. She was very particular about cooking and we'd all resigned to just letting her do it herself since she usually ended up doing so anyway. "I'm fine," she assured softly.

"I'll do whatever you say, promise." I shot her a desperate look I prayed no one else saw. She didn't know why, but she saw my need immediately and nodded. I followd after her into the kitchen. I felt Embry's eyes on my all the way.

Maybe I was being annoying, in some way or another. I hadn't been in any other relationship. My family was small and it had been a relief when my parents got divorced. I had no idea how people who were happy together acted and it showed far too often. I could give Embry space for a little. Get the guys off his back. Off of mine as well.

Emily asked what was wrong but I brushed it away and she let it drop. For now. This wasn't a big deal. I couldn't overthink it. So I didn't.

I quickly failed and overthought the hell out of it.

What kinds of intimacy should I limit around other people? Were short kisses still okay? Loving staring contests? How much should I pull myself from touching him? Should I hang out with him less? Let him just hang out with other people less? For how long? Should I just take a break, or should I learn how to bother him with my presence less? Perhaps I was too needy and needed to calm down in general.

Why was this so hard?

Short story even shorter, it didn't take Embry a long time to notice my odd activity. After spending every second of every day I was allowed to, attached to him in some way or another, my forced distance and the awkward way I. Was handling him was obvious and painful. After a whole day of me just not touching him because I was hyper overthinking, he finally reached out for me. I tried to find a middle but I was an extreme person. Being allover him was easy. So was not touching him at all. I could set a clear line and rules and not cross them. Where did you step when it was all grey though and you had to make precise movements? Lines that shaped boxes were solid and dark for a reason. It was impossible to navigate without the star difference and clear paths.

Finally, Embry snapped. He found me during lunch one day and pulled me aside, his face clouded with far too many emotions. Fear; guilt; worry; confusion. Maybe more I couldn't quite place. None of them made sense. "Are you okay?"

"Never been better." A white lie. The teasing had died down and I definitely felt better about myself, but I was also massively anxious and craving Embry's touch and it was driving me just a little mad.

He rose an eyebrow. "Are... we okay?" The fear and worry rose a little and suddenly all the buried confusion that left his face rose to my own.

"So far as I know."

He pursed his lips.We seemed to be at an impasse, unsure how to approach a problem neither of us were sure the exact shape of. See? Back at this gray in between kind of there kind of not line again. Things needed to be straight forward! This was ridiculous!

"You've been distant lately," he started slowly, allowing me time to process and jump in whenever.

I shrugged. I felt extremely self conscious. What was I just saying about being straight forward? Geez I was a mess. "Um... I figured maybe you and the guys wanted me to back off a little?"

Embry's face was wiped of all expression, a new one taking place of all of them: surprise. "Why would you ever think that?"

Now I felt silly. "Uh, I don't know." I looked away, shuffling. "The guys' relentless teasing, I guess. They seem to be really annoyed by my neediness and I was thinking maybe they were acting like that because they were uncomfortable. I know I've been stealing you from Quil a lot recently, and distracting you during hang outs. I thought maybe you were secretly feeling smothered and were too nice to say anything." He looked absolutely bewildered and I scrambled to make sense of it. "I just- it seemed that they were hinting at something very strongly, because that's usually the level someone reaches when I'm missing something big. Constantly doing the same thing, repeating certain words or phrases, long eye contact and pointed looks..." My voice faded out.

Embry began grinning brightly, his hands reaching up to cup my face. "You dork. They're all very affectionate, and they can't rough house and play around like they could with me, so they made a different approach. You're kind of like one of the guys- really fun and energetic. Down to go out and do things. They still haver to be super careful though, so that... friendship, I guess, shows up in what they can do: they tease. A lot." He blushed. "They thought it would be fine after you started to retaliate and laugh along with us."

My hands rose to cover my face as realization dawned on me. "I'm such an idiot."

Embry began laughing as he reached up to pull them away. "Don't hide that pretty face from me." He leaned down, pressing a little kiss to the tip of my nose. My anxieties melted away and I couldn't help but done a sweet smile. "At least you're my idiot."

I shoved him and he allowed it to have impact for my benefit. "You jerk!" We both began laughing before moving close again, him pulling me under his arm and into his side.

"You know, you keep being sassy and retaliating with that amazing confidence you have, and I'll beat them up for you, yeah? You can cheer me on."

Little giggles rolled from me. "I'd love that."

Embry kept his promise. The next time we were with the others we unabashedly cuddled and kissed and touched each other being as heavy with PDA as usual. Quil started up first, oohing and aweing. Paul started up with the whistling and even Jake joined in with the kissy noises. Jared ignited that usual laugh, making suggestive gestures in an effort to make me blush or become awkward.

Embry gave a huge sigh and moved to them, leaving me behind in the chair. He played it casual until he got close to Quil, who started it. He then hooked his friend under his arm in a head lock. The boys began rough housing; thankfully, we were already outside so Emily didn't have to worry about it.

People started making bets as the two laughing boys began to get rough. Jared and Paul cheered and Jake came over, throwing an arm around me. "Hey I just wanted to say... sorry." He gave me a small smile. "I know Embry's been worried about you for the last while and since this-" he motioned to Quil and Embry. "-is a thing, I assume it's their fault. They won't apologize, but they really don't mean any harm."

I grinned. "You know, I think I'm catching on. Boys are idiots."

We both laughed before he nodded and admitted, "Yeah. We really are. Especially when it comes to girls we have feelings for, or girls our friends have feelings for."

I grinned so wide it hurt, my face red and radiating heat. It was like having a whole gang worth of brothers. Maybe I'd been embarrassed before, but now I was so glad to have each and every one of them. It wasn't just me- we were all idiots. That's what made us so very, very fun.

What made us family.

"You think Embry or Quil will win?"

Jake shot me a devious grin. "Money's totally on Quil."

I smirked. "You're on." I ran ahead a little so Embry could hear when I screamed, "KICK HIS ASS BABE!"

The boys all erupted into laughter around me.

It was absolutely perfect.

-

Forever Tag List: @bitchyseawitch @alexa-playafricabytoto @chipster-21 @captainxmikaelson @justanotherdaydreamersoul

[laudedliar]

Was looking for some fluff.  So I wrote it.

Fluffy wuffy was a mage

~~~~~~~~

Dorian sat watching the sun setting over the mountainous skyline.  It’s ray bright and yellow against the fading blue of the evening sky.  Dusky reds mingled with darkening purple which gave way to star dappled velvet black.  The air was cooling rapidly and it sent shivers prickling down his arms.  His breath curled in white tendrils in the cold mountain air.

Cold.  He hated the cold.  And yet, still, he was here.  In the Frostback Mountains, long after they had sealed the breach and sent the blighted ancient Magister to his crypt for the final time.  Adaar and Iron Bull had asked him to extend his stay afterward, even as he mentioned returning home to Tevinter.  So he had.  He’d extended it again.  And again.

Though why he felt compelled to remain was a mystery to him.  Other than the occasional dalliance into the wilderness to help some hapless soul or other, Dorian had no real ties to SkyHold.  And yet... He couldn’t seem to find it in him to leave.  Not yet.

“Are you not cold, Pavus?”  A warm voice asked, startling him from his musing.

“Commander.  I didn’t hear you approach.”  Dorian muttered, turning to blink widely at the blonde ex-Templar.

The man smiled softly at him.  An almost wistful look in his eyes that locked firmly with the mage’s own.  A look that piqued Dorian’s interest as much as it caused insecurities to wriggle within his chest.  Insecurities that feasted upon the withered heart he so carefully protected as fiercely as a dragon.

And yet those golden brown eyes that finally broke from his to look upon the darkening horizon had somehow caused a shudder to wrack the precarious foundation of self-assurance he’d been able to rely upon in recent years.

“Yes, I am cold.  Freezing, actually.  But I’ve found that if you stand in the cold before taking a bath it is so much more enjoyable.”  Dorian finally answered finally.

Cullen glanced at him from the corner of his eye.  Poised and regal looking in his armored overcoat, ubiquitous sword belted to his hip, palms resting on the plain leather bound brass pommel.  “My sister makes the same claim.  I find it makes the water feel too hot.”

“Says the man who slept with a hole in his roof for almost a year.”  Dorian quipped, smirking at the other.

“We were far too busy to spare anyone to fix it.”

The Tevinter’s eyes crinkled in amusement as he chuckled.  “Fereldans.  One step away from being Avvar barbarians.”

“We just run warmer than other’s.”  Cullen remarked, the last of the sun’s rays glinting golden off his hair.

“Speaking of warmth, I think I’m going to find that bath.”  He paused, eyes gazing over the Commander’s shadowed outline.  “You might consider one for yourself.  I can smell the rigors of your training circle from here.”

The blonde turned his gaze back to Dorian.  The air between them suddenly felt oddly heavy, weighted with an unidentified intensity.  A hum between them that heated the blood now pulsing quickly through every limb.

It reminded Dorian of when Cullen’s hand brushed his during their chess game a few days before, the Commander mumbling an apology as his cheeks turned red.  Or a few weeks prior when Dorian had walked into the other’s tower without knocking (honestly it had been well into the morning by then) and got a surprising eyeful of the blonde standing in nearly nothing while shaving.  Mind, Dorian had gone up the ladder even after Cullen had called that he would be down momentarily.  He had not shouted or balked at the sudden intrusion, instead only turned those calm brown eyes in the mage’s direction and mumbled a brief apology for his tardiness.

A strong, sword calloused hand reached up to rub at the warrior’s broad jaw line, scruffing along the rough, ever present stubble.  “I do need to shave as well.”  The blonde muttered, eyes losing focus as he looked over Dorian’s shoulder back towards the courtyard below them.

A still passed over the mage and he scrutinized the warrior for a moment before ever so softly suggesting: “I can help with that, if you like.”

Those honey-brown eyes sharpened and slipped back to Dorian’s face.  Even in the dark he could feel them scrutinizing every inch of his face.  He schooled his features even as his heart fluttered madly at the sheer audacity of his suggestion.

Altus Dorian Pavus shave Commander Cullen Rutherford?  Absurd.

And yet...  The very idea sent excitement skittering over his skin, warming him enough that he forgot all about the cold that bit at his fingers and toes.

“Could you?”  Cullen said thoughtfully.  “I wouldn’t want a ridiculous moustache.”  He warned, but it was tempered by the smile that stretched across his face.

“Never!  Only a man of class is capable of pulling off such a statement piece.”

One eyebrow rose as the other’s smile down turned.  “Well, as a man of taste, I have to respectfully disagree.”

Dorian’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open with a shocked gasp.  “Commander!  Your wicked tongue wounds me once again.”  He chuckled.  A shiver shook his whole frame.  “I don’t quite understand how cold can bite straight to the bone.”  He said as he turned to walk along the battlements and down the stairs towards the bathing rooms in the lower levels of the keep.  He barely heard the soft scrape of booted feet following behind him over the pounding of his heart.

The natural hot springs beneath the keep kept the bathing room warm and humid.  Tucked into a small side cove was a table with soap, towels, and baskets to carry any dirty clothing back to the laundry.  Dorian paused in front of a table beneath a small mirror, a well cared for (enchanted to ensure no rusting) set of shaving tools in a leather pouch, and a bowl of lathering soap and brush.  The communal bathing room was empty, and the soft splash of Cullen’s boots through the gathered puddles on the uneven stone floor echoed through the low domed chamber.

“Perhaps... Perhaps a bath first.”  He suggested, eyeing the tools laid neatly on the tables before turning to look at his companion.

The blonde suddenly looked lost, shifting foot to foot, eyes darting around the room to look at anything but Dorian.  The Tevinter watched as the man’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed nervously and nodded in agreement.

“Perhaps.”  Cullen answered softly.

Slowly, cautiously, Dorian began to unbuckle the straps on his top.  His eyes never left the other’s face, noting each small twitch along the stoic warrior’s facade, every brief glance at the mage and away.  It was thrilling.  Exciting to watch the color creep up Cullen’s neck and cheeks as he undressed in front of him.  Ever so carefully, Dorian let his shirt fall to a nearby empty basket before he began to work on the buttons of his pants.

Cullen swallowed again and stepped back.  “Maker’s breath.  I, uhm, actually remembered there are reports.  In the w-war room.  Yes, in the war room.  If you have time tom-morrow, I would be amenable-” The blonde stuttered and stumbled over his words, cheeks and ears redder than the rising sun.

“You smell.”  Dorian blurted out.

“Excuse me?”  Cullen asked, affronted.

“You, my dear Commander, stink.  I cannot allow you to wander these grand halls in your state.  Think of the scandal!  Nobles would flee every time you came into a room afterward.  Poor Lady Montilyet would be swamped with requests to have you scrubbed before every important meeting, to be perfumed in the heaviest scents available before your appearances.”  Dorian said dramatically.

Slowly Cullen’s lips quirked upwards and he snorted a soft laugh at the imagery.  “At least I won’t politely have to decline any more marriage proposals.”

“Ha!  You’d never get another proposal again.  Not after gracing the masses smelling akin to the back end of an ogre.”

One dark blonde eyebrow quirked up.  “I don’t smell that bad.”  Cullen groused.

“No, that was an overstatement.  But only by a small margin.”  Dorian smirked.

“I am rather tired, though.”  Cullen said wearily, eyes once more flickering along the mage’s exposed torso to his face.

“A bath would be helpfully relaxing then.”  He answered in turn.

Brown eyes darted away and a pink tongue traced along scarred lips as the warrior contemplated the deep pool of warm waters.  “I suppose you’re right.”  Fingers scarred from sword play slowly began to work free the latches and buckles along the heavy armor.

“Of course I’m right.”  Dorian said, a little breathier than he would have preferred.  He began to work the buttons on his pants once again, drawing golden eyes back to him with the motion.  His skin burned with pleasure as he noted the way Cullen’s eyes widened just slightly as he began to wiggle his pants down over his hips, sliding the leather garment down his thighs slowly.

A soft catch in the ex-Templar’s breath as he kicked the garment off and let it fall into the basket with his shirt excited Dorian in ways he hadn’t experienced in a very long time indeed.

“Do you need assistance?”  He asked, voice low and husky with unbidden emotion as he stepped forward towards the blonde completely bare.  Cullen’s throat flexed as he swallowed thickly once again, his back going rigid as the space between them was closed.

“I-” The blonde started, then paused as their eyes met.

“You?”

“Can manage.”  Cullen breathed out, so quietly the sound would have been lost had not Dorian been mere inches from him.

The atmosphere between the two swirled warm and electric.  And Dorian understood then so much more.  He suddenly could place the lingering gaze across the chess board, the gentle rumble of laughter at an inane comment, the grazing touch at the dining table.  He saw the meaning behind all those small moments.  How they built and coalesced into what now sat heavy between them, drawing them in with magnetic force.

“Wonderful.”  Dorian sighed and stepped away, moving over to the water of the pool.  He dipped a toe in to test the warmth before sliding in gracefully.  He could feel his counterpart’s eyes on him, even as he listened to the other’s armor being unbuckled and the clank of steel as it was set to the side.

He turned to look back, lowering himself into the water until it lapped along his collarbone and lounged as he watched Cullen pull his shirt over his head.  Revealing a thickly muscled torso wrapped in cream pale skin. Maker’s breath indeed.  The warrior’s pants were removed unceremoniously and tossed to the side with his shirt and the blonde stepped quickly into the pool of water, clearly self conscious about being nude in front of another.

Dorian laughed before slipping under the water and swimming just under the surface until he came up beside Cullen.  His grin was feral as he took in the man’s flushed cheeks and shifting poise.  Lifting his hand he ever so gently traced his fingers over the curling strands that brushed along the back of the blonde’s neck.

“Seems you’ll need a haircut as well.”  He said sounding calm and assured even as inside he thrummed in exhilaration.

“Yes.  Am I to believe you are a barber in your free time?”  Cullen asked, watching Dorian from the corner of his eye as the Tevinter slowly circled around behind him, fingers tracing over the fine hairs along the back of his neck.

Dorian snickered gleefully as gooseflesh pimpled along the blonde’s arms at his touch.  “I am a man of many talents.”  He said, daring to step close enough Cullen’s arm brushed against his belly and his words stirred the hair curled about his ear.

“Excepting chess.”  Cullen teased, turning his head to face Dorian.  Eye to eye the two stood so close they could feel the soft puff of breath from the each other.  Misty steam rose from Dorian’s skin, swirling in dancing tendrils around them.

“Well, I have to let you win at something.  You are a poor hand at cards.”  Silver eyes moved down to linger on slender, pink lips and Dorian wet his own nervously.

Cullen huffed an attempted laugh as calloused fingers ever so gently found their way to the underside of Dorian’s jaw where they traced along the delicate bone, following the curve to cup the side of his cheek gently.  Brown eyes hooded and the warrior’s head tilted just slightly in invitation, lips parting wantonly.  “And what if I let you win?”  He asked.  “What then?”

“Win at what, Commander?”  Dorian replied.  They were so close now the movement of their words whispered a touch between them.

“Whatever you want.  Whatever you desire.”

“I have quite a few of those.  Desires.”  He breathed just before their lips met warm and soft.  And he knew just what it was that had kept him at SkyHold for so long.  And what would keep him there for much longer yet.

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

wolf in sheep’s clothing

Mob! turtles au Turtles x fem! reader

Leo x reader

Summery: The turtles are 4 brothers who run the mob in New York and their territory is under threat since a serial killer (you) has taken up residence in the area. Bodies keep dropping and it’s being blamed on the turtles which is bad for business so they decide to do something about it.

Warnings: violence, mention of drugs and weapons, NSFW

((A/N I’m not a writer, I’m a dumbass with a dream to write some dark fiction so please save any nasty comments. Hope you enjoy))

__________________________

November in New York was always beautiful, the leaves become this vibrant burnt orange and scatter throughout the parks and roads, you can see your breath in the air and occasionally there’s fresh snow on the ground. Nothing quite tops that. You sit in your regular bar, Paddy’s, and take another swig of the beer sat in front of you. You’re sat close to the door so it gets a little chilly with the patrons walking in and out creating a cold breeze but you simply shrug your jacket on closer and ignore it.

The city is at a pivotal point with gang activity, the mob known as “the turtle boys” runs most of up town New York- selling guns and narcotics to lesser gangs. It’s a dangerous time you think to yourself as you shake off the four sets of eyes you can feel watching you from the corner. You finish your beer and stand to leave.  Outside it’s dark and freezing, typical whether, you light up a cigarette, adjust your scarf and continue towards the ally that leads home leaving a swirling trail of smoke behind you; the end of the cigarette gleaming orange in the dim light.

You can hear the footsteps following you but you don’t quicken your pace. They’re free to do as they so please and have no idea who they’re messing with. Along with gang activity, New York has one other big problem at the moment: a serial killer. Their calling card? Strangulation. 7 bodies have washed up along the Hudson in the last 4 months all with the same abrasions around their necks from what the police suspect is barbed wire as well as stab wounds. You know it’s barbed wire, though. You’re the one who put them there.

The footsteps are gaining on you now and you stop in your tracks, take a deep inhale of your cigarette and turn to face them. You didn’t quite know what you were expecting to see but, the turtles boys wasn’t it. All adorned in beautiful, presumably expensive, suits they stare back at you with blank expressions but a slight look of worry in their eyes.

“Y/n L/n” the one in a blue suit calls to you. “you’re a hard girl to track down”

“laying low is my speciality. What can I do for you boys on this fine night?”

“cut the shit” the biggest one out of all of them cuts in. He’s wearing a black suit with a red handkerchief poking out of the pocket. Raphael you make a note to yourself. He’s going to be the hardest to take down. You smile sweetly.

“we can do this the easy way or the hard way” he finishes.

“do I look like an easy girl to you?” you turn on your heels and begin to run, if you can get them into the next ally way there’s a chance you can take at least one of the down before the others get to you, you think. 

Out of breath and cursing never sticking to your resolution to do more cardio you make it to the next ally but the one you know as Michelangelo has gained on you and slams you into the brick wall on your right side. 

“that’s no way to treat a lady” you say looking up at him, he grins, spits and decks you in the face. Everything goes black.

There’s a thumping in your head, you feel as though you have a concussion and your jaw aches like a motherfucker. Damn it you think to yourself, they’re more to handle than I thought.  There’s some kind of sack over your head that has a sheer texture to it so you can sort of make out where you are. There are cupboards and you can hear the steady drip of water so a tap must be near by, you assume you’re in a kitchen. You try and move your hands but they’re bound behind your back, the same with your ankles. Motherfuckers. You reach into the back of your jeans, you knife is gone. They must have searched you, they’re more thorough than you gave them credit for. you shouldn’t have underestimated them, you’re the one who likes to be underestimated. Just a sweet little girl, wouldn’t hurt a fly; you’re a vegetarian for fucks sake, who would think of you as the ruthless killer that you are? you try and slide your arms under your butt to have them in front of you, maybe then you can get this bag off your head and see where you are. Suddenly, you hear movement

“She’s awake” one of them calls to the others. More footsteps and you know they’re all in the room with you. You feel the bag being removed from your head, some of your hair being pulled with it but you ignore the slight sting that it causes. You’re face to face with Leonardo who’s crouching in front of you

“Now” he begins “I think it’s time we get better acquainted, don’t you, y/n?” 

“I thought mobsters were supposed to be sweet on women. They Cray twins, Al Capone, all real nice when it came to ladies. What gives?” you say to him.

“you’re no regular lady” he retorts. “We have sources that put you at the scene of 4 of the murders that have been going on recently and we just need to have a little chat about what you were doing there. We’d hate to have the wrong person”

you scoff.  “Me? A killer?” you feign an innocent look. “Whatever are you talking about”

Leo stands up and you can really see his true height now. He’s an impressive man, about 6′4 and all muscle. That suit was really doing him some favours as well, you would water at the mouth but you had other priorities at this moment in time; staying alive being just one of them.

“what were you doing by the Hudson on September 6th when James Masters was killed” he asks

“Look, you’ve got the wrong girl. I wouldn’t kill anyone” you flash him your big doe eyes hoping that’ll score you some points with the big bad mobster. They wouldn’t really hurt a girl, would they? “I’m an art major at Columbia, I’ve got 2 brothers who need me” you try and summon tears but you just can’t do it so you settle for the odd sniffle instead “My mum calls me at 12 everyday and if I don’t pick up she’s gonna get worried”

A sharp smack flies across your face and you’re taken aback by the impact. You can feel liquid at the corner of your mouth and know that he hit you hard enough to draw blood

“Cut the act, what were you doing?” he repeated himself.

You take a moment to finally look around the room. There’s a table to your right with stacks of cash and guns on it as well as lots of tightly wrapped bags full of white power; cocaine you assume. The 4 turtles stand in front of you, Leo being closest, all with their arms folded doing their best to look intimidating. You laugh.

“I get the feeling begging isn’t going to work, huh?” you say

“Not today, sweetheart” the one who knocked you out, Michelangelo, replies.

“Well, would it please you to know that I was there to get rid of a body? That I’m the one who’s been ‘terrorising’ New York as the papers put it? or did I give that away too easily?”

“That’s not quite what we’re here about” the one in purple pipes up

“Oh no?”

“you see, James was an informant of ours and he had some…Information that could be very harmful to our organisation if it got out. And since he was tortured before he died, we want to know what he told you”

“let me see” you you paused for dramatic effect “I believe his last words were ‘no please stop, oh god no’. Does that have any significance to you?” you smile

Another slap. This one hurt worse and was making your already aching jaw hurt even more, you would definitely have a bruise if you made it out of this.

“looks like we’re gonna have to use the old school method” Leo states

“the old school method it is” Donatello agrees

He leaves the room for a moment and comes back in with a black bag which he opens on the counter. He takes out a white plastic sheet and some things that you can’t quite make out from the floor but they make a metallic twang on the counter when he puts them down. They’re going to torture me. Your heart sinks to your stomach. You aren’t a coward and you’re no stranger to pain, half of your victims put up a good fight and rough sex was prominent in your life, but you truly didn’t know any inside information about what the turtles operation held and there was no way they were going to believe you.

Donatello approached you, laying down the white sheet and shimmying it under your form so that it lay underneath you.

“look, guys…” you began “We don’t have to do it like this”

“A bit too late for that, don’t you think” Donatello replied as he pulled a scalpel from his pocket and pushes it down into your hand. You howl in pain and try and pull your arm away but his hand is already on your wrist keeping you in place. 

“Just tell us what he told you” He states in an eerily calm voice

“He didn’t say an thing about you guys!” you bellow “I caught him tryna sneak date rape drugs into a girl’s drink and that’s why I killed him! It had nothing to do with you!”

They all look at each other and Donatello draws back.

“Even so” Leo began “He wasn’t the best at keeping secrets. I imagine he tried to make some kind of deal with you for his life” 

“Yeah, that he would leave the city and never come back” They stare at you, unsure as to weather or not you’re lying. Mikey uses his arms to propel himself backwards to sit on the counter behind him; his legs swinging casually as he sits.

“So nothing about us?” he inquires.

Leo moves towards you, crouching down again so that he’s eye level with you; his suit hugging his muscles in all the right places. You decided to take a gamble.

“well…He did tell me one thing” you croon

“Go on” Leo almost whispers

Your hand was bleeding pretty badly at this point and a bead of bright scarlet blood dripped down between your fingers and on to the plastic sheet beneath you. If you wanted to live, you had to make them like you in some way. You lean in closer, almost nose to nose with the turtle’s leader.

“you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours” you say in your most seductive voice. He smiles at you, not quite sure what to make of your comment.

“I’m not following, little girl”

“Oh come on. Haven’t you heard that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar? Give me what I want, and I’ll tell you whatever you need to know” 

He stays crouched in front of you, still staring into your eyes trying to gage weather or not you’re serious. “Leave the room”  he commands without even looking back at his brothers. They do as they’re told, Mikey sighing slightly as he hops down from the counter and Donatello picking up his black bag of torture gear on the way out. 

“what do you have in mind?” his eyes are locked on yours and you’re so close you can feel his body heat from where you’re sitting. He truly was an amazing creature, all muscle and strength. It made you wet just thinking about what he could do to you. You place one of your still tied up hands on his knee and run it down his thigh until you’re close to his crotch and look back into his deep blue eyes

“Oh, you know. A little bit of hair pulling here, some biting there. Just fuck me raw basically” your forwardness gets you a raise of his eyebrows and his mouth forms into a bigger smile. He looks down and then back up at you and begins to untie the restraints around your ankles but leaves your hands bound. This is going to be good.

He runs his hands down your thighs and begins to undo the button of your jeans to slide them down your legs, you kick off your shoes to help him get them over your feet. His hands go straight for your underwear. This guy doesn’t fuck around you think to yourself. Underwear off, he trails kisses down your inner thigh until he reaches your sex and parts your lips

“you’re wet already? Naughty girl” he jokes and you can’t help but blush.

He moves closer and takes one long lick between your folds exciting a moan from the back of your throat. He’s good at it, too, swirling his tongue in devilish ways over your small bead and occasionally sucking at it too. He places one thick finger inside your wet entrance and begins to curl it in pace with his tongue. you’re barely hanging on at this point as your orgasm is coming fast. He looks up from between your legs while still using his hand to draw circular motions over your clit

“It’s ok, babygirl. You can cum for me” 

With one final stroke of his tongue and his permission your orgasm rips through you bringing tears to your eyes but he isn’t done yet. Moving up your body he lifts your top and undoes your bra taking his time to suck and kiss at your nipples. It’s as though he can’t decide which one he likes best but you don’t mind his indecision. You can feel his teeth pull the soft tissue of your left breast into his mouth as he sucks creating a small purple bruise and you humm in pleasure. He kisses your lips hungrily, inserting his tongue into your mouth just enough to taste the cigarette he must have been smoking before you woke up and you love the taste. It’s so manly. You take your still tied up hands to cup his chin as he does so and then move them down to feel his torso, His reptilian skin so rough yet smooth at the same time and you can feel his muscles twitch beneath the surface in anticipation.

He trails kisses and bites down your tummy before grabbing your hips and flipping you over, your face hits the floor but you don’t mind; you were guaranteed to be man handled and he did not disappoint. With your exposed ass in the air you can hear him behind you undoing his flies and you want to badly to look back and see him but the not knowing almost makes it hotter-that is until you feel him at your entrance. He’s thick. Almost too thick for you, he’s gonna stretch you open for sure and you can’t wait. Just as you think this you hear him spit and his fingers are at your entrance again making sure your wet enough for him. In one long slow motion he inserts himself inside you, filling you completely to the point where you don’t know if you can take any more. He bottoms out and you sigh in pleasure. He pulls out a little and then thrusts back into you hard over and over again at a punishing pace. His hands are on your hips but he removes one to smack your ass as he’s fucking you.

“harder” you almost beg

“that’s it baby, take all of me” he moans to you

the feel of the cold tile floor beneath your face is a nice contrast to the burning heat in your core and you know you can’t hold on much longer. He reaches around your body to play with your clit while he’s still pushing in and out of you at an astonishing rate while he takes his other hand and pulls at your hair forcing you to look up.

“Leo, I’m going to-I’m gonna” you practically scream before your second orgasm sends shock waves through your body. A few more thrusts and you hear him moan as he reaches his own ecstasy and cums deep inside of you. You almost collapse but his hands go back to your hips, steadying you. He pulls out and you can feel his seed and your own wetness leaking out of you and running down your inner thigh.

“wow, I haven’t been fucked like that in a while” you laugh

“I’m not done yet, baby” he taunts

flipping you back over onto your back you can see that he’s already hard again. Gods bless those mutant genes that turned him into whatever creature was kneeling before you. You don’t think you can take him a third time but before you have the chance to interject he’s inside you again and pumping in and out at an overwhelming pace. He runs his hand up over your breast to your neck and squeezes the sides of your throat, cutting off the blood supply to your head and you can feel your whole face redden with the pressure. He looks deep into your eyes, lost in his own pleasure. You’re mind is tingling with lack of oxygen and the force of his cock inside you and you’re close again. You slip your hands between your thighs and begin to play with yourself as he fucks you mercilessly, hand still at your throat. Suddenly your hands are pushed out of the way

“beg me to let you cum” he commands

you do as you’re told

“Please” you pleaded with him “I need this, I need it so bad please just let me cum”

He grunts as he thrusts harder, allowing your hands back at your pussy and you both cum at the same time. Bodies twitching in the afterglow of what had just happened.

He rolls to the floor beside you and lies on his back, both panting with exhaustion. He cups your sex with his hand.

“so, what did James tell you” he says as he catches his breath.

shit. you hadn’t thought this far ahead.

Fin.

[koeyohte]

It’s bright in the hallway.  Sunlight streams in from the expansive glass doors and windows just a few steps away in the atrium.  The campus has received many remodels in the past few years and I’m fortunate to be taking two of my semester’s classes in this airy building.

    I’ve never been good with school.  Other students could casually discuss what they’d learned or cram their study session in the night before an exam and do just fine.  I’ve always needed extra help - after hours work from the teachers, tutors, extravagant memory solutions.  I’d finished high school last year and now was waiting, alone, outside a closed wood door where my english literature class would take place; not for a while though, I think, glancing down at my phone.  I’m always early to class.  For now, I’m sitting on the floor, plucking at stray fibers of material from my jean shorts and wondering if wearing leggings would have been a better idea.  The tile is a cold shock to my skin whenever I touch it.

    I’ve been taking this class for three weeks now - two days in each of those weeks on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  I look hopefully down the hallway, toward the atrium.  There’s usually a quiet young man who arrives early and waits across from me.  He keeps to himself and is always reading something.  I think he’s nice to look at, though I would never admit it out loud.  He’s a bit unusual looking - angular features compliment a frame that’s thin and wiry, but with broad shoulders that make him appear larger than he likely really is.  His hair falls just past his shoulders, which is unusual around here.  I’ve never seen a man around my age with long hair.  When I’m sitting on the floor, he seems rather tall, but when I’m standing, he’s actually about the same height as me.  I don’t know anything about him but it’s nice to share the otherwise lonely wait in the hallway with him.  I feel like there’s something calm and even comforting about him, though I’m not really sure why.

Twice, I’ve switched up what side of the hall I stand on, just to see what he’ll do.  He stood farther away during the first week but after I accidentally dropped my notes and he picked them up for me in the second week, he’s been standing a little closer, still always across from me.  I remember noticing a narrow but long scar across his wrist when he handed me my notepad.  His hands were rather rough when they brushed mine.  He hardly met my eyes and was quick to move away again, like he was uncomfortable with being near me.  The dark circles under his eyes were much more apparent up close.

I look up when I hear the doors of the atrium open and my heart skips a beat.

    He’s buried in his phone just like he has been every day before.  He makes his way down the hall, barely looking up even once, and comes to lean against the wall opposite me like he always does.  He looks past his phone to nod at me, which I wasn’t expecting.  I try to smile at him but it comes out like more of a grimace.  He doesn’t seem offended and brushes his long hair from his face while he continues to read.  His hair is a strange, dark blond color and it frames his sharp features in a way that makes it difficult for me to look away. He doesn’t seem to attract much attention from anyone else but I realize as I stare at him that I find him oddly handsome.

    I guess that explains why I’ve randomly thought about him more than a few times this past week.  That’s new for me.

    Confused by my revelation, I look away before he can notice.  I don’t even know his name.  There’s a subtle smoky scent that I now recognize is coming from his bag.  It’s sweet and herbal rather than stale and dusty.  His clothes are the same as always - a button down, earth-toned shirt with dark grey slacks.  He looks like he should be working in an office.

    He doesn’t say much and he won’t speak unless spoken to. I’m not sure if that’s just how he is, or if it’s a manners thing, or if he actually despises small talk.  He seems too buried in deep thought for it, from my observations.  He’s always reading something, whether a book in his hand or something on his phone.  I can tell they’re not text messages by the way he brings the phone up and stares at it while occasionally scrolling for the entire 20 minutes we usually stand in the hallway.

    It’s surprising and a bit bewildering to admit that I like looking at him, but it’s true.  That being said, I find just about everyone nice to look at in some way.  It’s confusing sometimes.  I’ve never felt anything more for anyone, though, despite being pursued more than once.  It just hasn’t happened yet I guess.  I’m in no rush, so it’s alright with me.  Unintentional flings don’t seem enjoyable and I can’t imagine being so intimate and open with someone who doesn’t plan to be there in the future.  Unlike Sun, I think to myself - she’s been with lots of people, and while some of them still spend time with her just as friends, others have left a bad taste in my mouth.  She’s easily forgiven them.  Or forgotten.  Maybe both.

    Someone else walks between us and when I glance up, I’m surprised when the man across the hall looks quickly away from me.  I watch him for a moment, wondering how long he was staring.  Maybe he wasn’t.  Instead of looking back at me, he scratches at his chin and tucks his phone away, looking at something over my head.  I find myself glancing upwards, assuming there’s a flyer I must have missed, but there’s nothing there.  When I look back at him, he’s watching me again, but he startles.

    “Sorry,” he mutters and looks away.  He sticks his hands into his pockets and avoids my gaze.  I’m not sure what to say.  That it’s okay?  That sounds weird, possibly even creepy.  Should I ask him if something’s amiss?  That might be weirder.

    He’s looking at me again and this time, he doesn’t shy away from my own gaze.  His light eyes trail down to my knee, where I realize he’s eyeing a small cut from where I had banged it on one of Sun’s short coffee tables last week.  He looks like he wants to speak but he’s holding himself back.

    “Ran into a table,” I say awkwardly, gesturing at the wound.  It’s just a small red line now.  The man looks back to my eyes and nods.

    “Looks recent,” he says after a moment.  His voice is mellow and lighter than I expected it to be.  He sits in the first row, close to me in our class, yet I’ve rarely heard him speak; certainly not more than a simple yes or no.  “Not from this week, though.”

    I tilt my head at him, surprised he can tell.  “How’d you know?”

    Something passes across his face.  He looks almost disappointed - or angry?  “I’ve seen a lot of… cuts,” he mutters.  He shakes his head but falls silent again.  His expression is mellow as he stares at the tiles between us.  Relaxed, he’s very nice to look at.

    I feel myself start when he blinks up at me again.  I’m wracking my mind for something to say.  There’s a palpable tension in the air - either that, or I’m just incredibly nervous, for some reason.

    “What happened to your wrist?” I blurt, glancing at the pale pink line that reaches over his skin.  He pushes his hand further into his pocket and I fear I’ve crossed some invisible boundary with him.

    “Nothing,” he responds quietly, voice hardly more than a whisper.  His posture is stiff now and he’s avoiding my gaze, so I don’t press him.

    “What do you do?” I ask, hoping a change in subject will make him feel more at ease.

    “Metal shop,” he mutters simply.  He’s still not looking at me.  Deciding he’s done with the conversation, I just nod and go back to my phone.  Sun’s sent me a picture of some plants she wants to buy for her patio.

    “What about you?” he asks after a moment.  I’m glad that he’s not giving up so soon.  He still looks upset, or frustrated, but his posture’s relaxed a bit.

    “Just… this right now.  I’ve been around.”  I pause, realizing how that sounds.  “I mean - I’ve had a few odd jobs.  Nothing serious.  Coffee shops, library, things like that.”

    At mention of the library, the man perks up.  “What did you do there?”

    “Just inventory, organizing shelves, scheduling shipments from one branch to another.”  I watch his features change, almost dramatically, from brooding and gloomy to fascination.

    “I assume that means you like to read?” he asks, standing up straighter.  He takes his hands from his pockets and folds them.  He crosses one leg over the other and suddenly appears much more comfortable than he ever has in the hallway.  The newfound engagement on his face makes him much nicer to look at.

    “I do,” I begin, but before he can ask me what most everyone does, I hurry on, “but mostly nonfiction.  I had to focus on school for so long, I hardly had time to read for fun reading.  I’m just now getting into it again.”

    To my surprise, he nods as if he understands.  Most people find what I’ve said to be ridiculous, or a poor excuse to avoid reading as a hobby.

    “I’m like that sometimes, too,” he says.  “I’m always reading something, though reading purely for enjoyment is something I only very rarely get to do.  I’m….”  He tilts his head to the side and sighs as though he’s about to tell me something ludicrous.  “I’m in the midst of a collection of European cavalry history, right now.”

    I nod, unsure of what to say.  It doesn’t sound particularly appealing to me, but I can understand the draw for someone who knows more already than I do.  I try to smile in place of empty words, and the man drops his gaze to the floor again.

    I notice a tear in the belt loop of my shorts and start to pull at it.  They’re one of my favorites, as they actually fit.  I have exceptionally wide hips, so everything is either too tight in the thighs or too loose everywhere else.  I grumble when the string gets caught on my ring.  I wear a thin silver band around my ring finger on my left hand - I grew tired of people trying to hit me up.  Free from the devious string, I glance down the hall, but first I steal a glance at my classmate.

    I nearly startle when I notice his eyes are resting on me again.  It looks like he meant to just glance at me but upon noticing my staring, now he is too, in an effort to hide his intention.  Whatever it was.

    My heart is pounding in my ears.  I can feel my pulse in my chest.

    “Jeans,” I say weakly, shrugging at the string in my hand.  The young man nods once.  I see him swallow and lower his phone from his face.

    “I had a sister who wore a lot of them,” he says slowly, as though he’s considering each word before he speaks.

    I notice how he chose his words - “had” a sister.  I offer him a polite smile.

    “I’ve never had a sister.”

    “Brothers?” the man asks.  I shake my head.  He shrugs.  “More resources for yourself.”

    I open my mouth to respond, then realize that nothing natural comes to mind.  What an odd thing to say.

    “I suppose,” I finally say.  He had started to look at his phone again but when I speak, he pauses.

    “You suppose?”

    I look away.  There’s an edge to his tone that wasn’t there previously.  He seems frustrated with my comment.  His brows lower and the creases along his mouth deepen.  Whatever attraction I did feel toward him fades slightly.  The man straightens himself up and tucks his phone into his pocket.

    “You don’t get anything to yourself with six siblings,” he elaborates.  A subtle, tired smile flashes across his face at my expression of surprise.  “That’s all I meant.”

    Realizing that he noticed my disenchantment with his tone, I begin to feel guilty.

    “It’s alright,” I manage, hoping he’ll forgive my reaction.  I’ve always been sensitive to people’s behavior.  I assume it has something to do with a handful of particular years during my childhood.  My mother went through something that I was too young to understand, but I didn’t miss the things she did and said to me before she found herself again.  I’m quick to assume the worst from people rather often.  It’s something Sun likes to remind me about, if she isn’t criticizing my willingness to help people.

“Seven of you?” I ask, realizing the man is still watching me.

    He nods.  “We’re fosters… so, none of us are really related.  Different ages, come from different places….”  He looks suddenly uncomfortable and trails off, looking away.  He sticks his hands back into his pockets, shoulders slumping.  He looks like he wishes he hadn’t told me.

    “That must be difficult.  I can’t imagine that.”

    “Hmm.”  The young man looks back to me.  “It can be.”

    A few other classmates are starting to arrive.  I’m disappointed that we don’t get the hall to ourselves anymore.  The man pulls his phone back out and resumes his reading like I’m not there at all.  I get the distinct impression that his foster family is something he doesn’t speak about much and probably didn’t mean to offer to me.

    The rest of the wait goes by as usual.  Relative silence in the hall is replaced by shuffling shoes, the rustling of paper, the clamoring of heavy books against tile, and chatter.

The door to the classroom opens, the last of the previous class files out, and the professor beckons us inside.  I take my place in the front row, all the way over to the right, where I’ve made a corner against the far wall.  The man follows and sits two seats away like he always does.  The professor does all the talking, until discussion time.  My quiet companion and I aren’t exactly fans of speaking to the class.  The professor hasn’t called on us yet and she doesn’t this week, either.

    Once dismissed, I gather my things and wait patiently for the young man to take his so I can leave.  He’s shuffling papers in his bag and muttering to himself.  He looks upset, so I pretend to read a message, but am glad to see one from Sun to respond to anyway.  She’s got some exciting news about a new girlfriend, it seems.  I begin to type a reply but the man groans and moves aside, pinning himself uncomfortably against the table.

    “Sorry, I’m sorry.  Go ahead.”  He waits for me to pass him and I notice how he recoils further as I do, as if being near another person disgusts him.  His knuckles are white against the table and he’s turned his head away from me like he’s afraid I’ll look too closely.  I try not to think too much about it, hoping it’s not personal to me.  I pause just after him when I notice the way he paws frantically through his things.

    “You okay?” I ask, lowering my phone.  He looks up.

    “Yes.  I just… lost something.”

    “Can I help?”  I start to move closer but he quickly straightens up, picks up the bag and sighs heavily.

    “No.  Thank you.”  Clearly frustrated, he strides past me toward the classroom door.  I’m surprised when he holds it open and looks expectantly at me.  I thank him and sweep out into the hall.

    “You sure you’re okay?” I ask again when he trudges past me.  He frowns.

    “I’m fine.”

    “Okay.”  He doesn’t seem fine.  He seems to be silently fuming.  His brows are low and the creases in his face are deep.  I remind myself that I don’t know him and it’s best to leave him be.  Despite the way my feelings get carried away so easily, I have to remind myself that they shouldn’t choose my decisions for me.  It’s very difficult, especially when I see someone upset or in need.  Sun likes to tease me about it, telling me I’ll spread myself thin trying to provide more attention to everyone I’ll ever meet than I ever do for myself.

Some days, I think she’s right.

I leave my disgruntled classmate behind and go to stand outside, waiting for my mother to pull the car up.  We share the vehicle, so she dropped me off today.  She had work for a few hours while I was on campus and doesn’t always get off on time.  I could be waiting here awhile.

    I look up when someone comes to stand next to me.  It’s my classmate, and he’s fidgeting like he’s distressed or like something is wrong.  His hands are flexing like he’s in pain and he’s gritting his jaw.  I don’t ask him this time if he’s okay.  He’s staring straight ahead as if I’m not there.

    “You getting picked up?” he asks suddenly.  I nod and ask him the same.  He barely hides a scoff.  “Ah - no.  They would never… no.  I just....”  He frowns and looks down.  “Nevermind.”

    “Wait.”  I follow him as he steps back toward the building.  He looks strangely on edge, like a frightened, injured animal.  I feel myself hiding an eye roll at the way he stares at me like I’ve caused him further upset.  “Don’t worry, I won’t ask if you’re alright - but... do you need anything?”

    He looks offended until he realizes why.  “I’m sorry,” he begins, turning around to face me again.  His voice is thin and suddenly soft.  There’s something gentle in the way he speaks to me now.  “I didn’t mean to be rude.  It’s not… socializing isn’t my strong suit.”  He looks sheepishly away again, hand anxiously rubbing at the strap of his backpack.  I can see how worn it is there.  “You don’t… have a lighter, do you?”

    That’s what the herbal smell was.

    “Sorry, no.”  I don’t have anything against smoking, but I’ve never done it myself.  Sun does, sometimes.  I’ve sat in her room in the cloudy, sweet haze while her company languished around, discussing things they weren’t ever quite relaxed enough to allow themselves the luxury of doing before.  It’s a great time it seems, but I won’t try it with so many strangers around.  I trust Sun with my life, but she has a lot of strangers in her room sometimes.  Some come and go swiftly and others stay for weeks.

    The man casts me a small smile.  I hate how charming he looks like that.

    “Darn.  Hope you won’t think any less of me for it, anyways.”

    “What makes you so sure I’m thinking about you at all?”

    I’ve spoken before thinking.  I feel my face flush bright red.  He blinks at me for a moment, then looks away.  Neither of us say anything for several breaths.  The tension is stifling.

    I close my eyes and shake my head at myself.

    “That - that was… I didn’t mean it like that.”

    The man laughs quietly and I see him reach up to scratch distractedly at the back of his neck, ruffling his hair.  He looks shabby but in a confusingly enticing way.

    “‘S alright,” he mumbles.  I allow myself to look at him for a moment while he’s busy looking anywhere else but at me.  His face is lightly shadowed and his sharp features cast sunlight across his forehead and the bridge of his hooked nose.  His eyes are light, unlike my own.  As I look, I notice pretty, almost yellow centers.  I’ve heard of heterochromia but I can’t tell from here if that’s what’s there for sure.

    He looks at me again and I notice out of my peripheral vision that my mother’s little blue car is turning into the driveway.

    “My mom’s here,” I announce, unsure of how else to proceed.  The tension is still there but it’s not as taut.  The man looks up and backs away from me as though he shouldn’t be seen so close.  He’s chewing his lip but as the car pulls up to a stop, he just looks away from me again.

    “See you,” he says, and turns back into the building before I can even respond.  I open the passenger door and climb in, not allowing myself to stall, and glad when my mother doesn’t ask any questions.

[theeverlastingshade]

Pitchfork Music Festival 2021 Recap

This year I finally attended the full 3 day Pitchfork Music Festival after years of deliberation. There's no way my enjoyment of the experience wasn't compounded due to live music having been on hiatus in the United States since March 2020, but I suspect that I would have enjoyed it all the same if that hiatus hadn't transpired. Pitchfork put on an impressive festival defined by  a superbly paced, and varied roster of some of the most exciting up and coming artists, legacy artists, and plenty in between. While not a perfect festival by any means, Pitchfork nonetheless showcased what was close to a small to mid-size festival ideal.

Each day was paced well, alternating between sets from acts on either the green or red stage juxtaposed with electronic or folk acts on the blue stage across the park. Friday alternated between the weirder, artier folk/pop acts and various electronic producers running the gamut from the headier, house strain of The Soft Pink Truth, to the skull rattling rush of techno from Yaeji. The pacing between sets worked pretty well, and the only substantial runoff was Yaeji's relentless low-end creeping into Big Thief's set (and again on Sunday with FlyLo's music bleeding into Cat Power's set). For the most part, nothing felt particularly overwrought or ill-considered from a booking or performance perspective, and the day consisted of the sort of purposeful curation that just isn't common at most music festivals at this point in time.

The heavier acts were generally relegated to earlier slots, (with the exception of Ty Segall Freedom Band on Saturday) while the bulk of legacy acts and zeitgeisty up and coming artists performed later in the day. It's hard to deny that many artists really brought it like Dogleg, but at this point in Pitchfork’s existence a melodic hardcore/emo band isn't going to be granted more than an earlier/mid-afternoon slot. The diversity of the artists was far more varied than could have reasonably been expected from a post-Conde Nast curated lineup, but the lack of metal, shoegaze, drone, or noise was still a bit of a letdown.

Dogleg were an exceptional early set that blew most of the following artists away. The bulk of their setlist came from their 2020 debut LP, Melee, and it all translated as well to a live setting as could have been expected from that kind of high-wire energy. They also seemed like one of, if not the closest band to exemplify aspiring rock stardom, and they delivered a raucous set filled with cartwheels and windmills, and other kinds of fun guitar antics that bands just don't seem interested (or capable) of executing. The vocals were a little rough around the edges in spots, but they played with remarkable dexterity and chemistry, making a strong case for the staying power of capital-B bands in an era where the solo artist still reigns supreme.

The first electronic act of the festival that completely blew me away was Drew Daniels, aka The Soft Pink Truth. Daniels drew the most from his latest and finest LP, Shall We Go On Sinning So That Grace May Increase, fleshing out the music with a more aggressive low-end that complemented the ambience of the songs beautifully while giving them a heightened edge. The songs continued to build to ecstatic heights without losing their shape, and each flowed superbly into the next without the stiches ever showing. Towards the end of his set Daniels began to draw more from his great 2014 black metal influenced record, Why Do the Heathen Rage? for some of the most chaotic, and eclectic mixing that transpired all weekend.

Even with the absence of founding member and guitarist Matt Kwasniewski-Kelvin, black midi were as great as they've ever sounded, this time rounding out their lineup with a keyboardist and a saxophone player, which is only to be expected given the more prog-leaning approach that they took on their latest LP, Cavalcade. Although a band like black midi is best suited for a seedy, beer stained club than any kind of outdoor festival the new material translated well to this specific context. The songs on Cavalcade are more sprawling, and lend themselves better to lengthier jamming than their earlier material. Throughout their set, black midi managed to breathe some fresh new life into these songs without ever quite extending anything past its welcome. They remain a satisfying anomaly at a festival like Pitchfork, and within the greater sphere of contemporary music as a whole.

The most unpredictable, and satisfying set of the night came from Animal Collective. They returned to Pitchfork with the full-band, four piece setup that was somewhat reminiscent of their dynamic while touring the material for their 2005 opus, Feels, with the exception of Deakin primarily playing keys and synths instead of guitar (except throughout highlights "The Purple Bottle and the "Grass" b-side, "Fickle Cycle", both from that aforementioned era). In proper fashion, they predominantly played new material, which took the form of lounge-flecked psychedelia that continues to make good on their path towards jam band ascension. Aside from the Feels era cuts they also performed Merriweather Post Pavilion cuts "In the Flowers" and "No More Runnin'", and “Unsolved Mysteries” from Strawberry Jam. It was thrilling to hear Panda Bear behind the kit bashing out tight floor tom/cymbal rolls, and Geologist occasionally abandoning his rig for some time with the Hurdy Gurdy. They capped off their set with "The Purple Bottle", and Avey was in top form singing and shrieking his way through the jubilance with tight precision. There are very few bands that continually change their setup, challenge audience expectations, and experiment with form even in the midst of live performances quite like Animal Collective, and on Friday it payed off remarkably.

There are also very few active bands that display the kind of immense inmate chemistry that Big Thief have, and it was palpable throughout their entire set. The band drew from all four of their albums, leaning heaviest on their exceptional pair of 2019 records, U.F.O.F. and Two Hands, with a few great new/previously unreleased songs thrown in. Their most stirring performance arrived with "Spun Infinity", a Lenker solo song that the band helped build into a rousing sing along. They've played it both times that I've seen them, and it's grown in potency each time that they played it (here's hoping it makes that next record). They delivered highlights from both spectrums of their sound, from the lush sway of "Cattails" to the searing eruption of "Not", with older favorites like "Shark Smile" and "Masterpiece" thrown in for good measure. They closed their set with a new song called "Dragon" that was even more intense than the songs from TH, cementing the notion that they're among the best bands active, and one that's still getting better with each record and show.

It wasn't surprising that Phoebe Bridgers headlined Friday given what a massive glow up in popularity that she experienced throughout last year, but her set couldn't help but underwhelm following right on the heels of Big Thief. Her performance was serviceable, with subdued highlights like "Scott Street" and "Garden Song" retaining the melodramatic arcs of the source material, but her set generally lacked the sense of risk, experimentation, or versatility that Big Thief and Animal Collective carried in spades. The lack of dynamics and variation doesn't necessarily hamper the cohesion of her records, but it left quite a bit to be desired from her headlining set. There’s no question that Phoebe’s a talented artist, and she’s already released a handful of good records in the brief span of time that she’s been professionally recording, but her music doesn’t necessarily lend itself to a particularly strong festival headlining performance yet.

On the whole, Saturday didn't quite match the highs of Friday, but there were still a handful of great performances. The lineup was arguably more sonically diverse than either Friday or Sunday, and it showcased the strongest balance between veterans and up-and-coming artists. Bartees Strange delivered a solid performance that exuded the soulful intensity of his recorded output, but it wasn’t quite as gripping as the searing performances early in the day that Dogleg and Special Interest delivered. Divino Nino sounded far more raw than they come off on record, delivering a solid performance only occasionally hampered by muddy basslines. Maxo Kream was charismatic, and engaging, but his performance lacked the intensity of his raps on record. Things didn't really pick up until Waxahatchee's set. Waxahatchee drew most predominantly from her terrific 2020 record, St. Cloud, with a few older highlights like "Silver" thrown in as well. Katie Crutchfield's voice sounds just as strong live, as it does on record, and what the band's performance somewhat lacked in SC's urgency she made up for in gorgeous melodic phrasing.

Aside from Kream, and a few particularly propulsive selections from Divino Nino, things generally remained in a low-key, blissed out temperament perfectly emblematic of the inoffensive chill malaise of mainstream indie up until Ty Segall and his Freedom Band took the stage, and then things took a complete 180. Ty Segall is inherently a throwback, to be sure, from the sonic parameters of his records, to the pacing of his output, to his career trajectory built on relentless touring with an indifference to the expectations of individual branding and fan engagement. All of which makes him an exciting prospect at any sort of festival; there's was some explicit potential for real spontaneity. And while the band mostly stuck to cuts from Segall's recently released, synth-heavy Harmonizer, they also performed a few of Segall's classic cuts like "The Only One" and "Love Fuzz". Everything was heavier, and more aggressive than it comes off on record, with The Freedom Band exuding an impressive level of chemistry that heightened everything that they performed. It would have been nice to hear some more range given just how disparate Segall's discography is (a cut from Sleeper or Goodbye Bread as a breather would have gone a long way towards helping smooth out the pacing), but they still delivered an exciting set with the kind of unrelenting intensity that the festival could have used a little more of.

One of the most intriguing acts going into the festival for me was the prospect of a solo set from Kim Gordon. She released a terrific record in 2019 called No Home Record, but that’s technically the only solo project to her name, and it was hard to say what else she might draw from, and how well the insular music from that record would translate to a festival setting. Gordon was backed by a standard guitar, bass, drum trio while she predominantly provided vocals, and some occasional guitar playing as well. They just played the entirety of NHR all the way through, and yet her set was still the most unorthodox and engaging of Saturday. The music was layered with the usual dissonance and distortion of all her work, but the slyly funky rhythms and jagged no wave guitars were interwoven into some new shapes that service her sparse vocal melodies well. The music translated much better to an outdoor festival space than I had anticipated, in no small part due to the versatility and straight up intensity of her drummer. It was hard to believe that Gordon was able to restrain herself from saying fuck the governor of Texas until the last 15 minutes of her set, but given everything that Gordon has ever stood for the sentiment couldn’t have possibly gone unsaid. It was a welcome reminder of her steadfast commitment to feminist ideals amidst an abrasive set that never quite buckled under the weight of her legacy.

The only mention of 9/11 that I remember was Angel Olsen claiming to have been inspired to write a new song the night prior to the anniversary only to jump into "Shut Up Kiss Me". The absurdity of the sentiment was only matched by a fan asking Olsen if they could throw broccoli on stage, and then actually delivering on the request after she gave it the thumbs up. For all the self-seriousness of her recorded output she certainly seemed to be enjoying herself far more than she generally lets on throughout her records. Her set predominantly featured songs from her last and best record, All Mirrors, with a few songs from My Woman and a handful of earlier cuts sprinkled in. Olsen's band consisted of two guitarists or two keyboardists depending on what she was playing, and was rounded out with drums, bass, synths, a violist, and a cellist. You probably wouldn't necessarily have guessed that was her first set in 2 years given how strong the band's chemistry was, particularly during the AM cuts. She carried herself with the theatricality of a natural performer completely in her element. For Olsen’s last song of the night Sharon Van Etten made a surprise appearance to join her for their collaborative single “Like I Used To”, delivering an immensely satisfying cap to just over a decade long creative and commercial ascension for both singular artists.

As expected, Jay Electronica pulled out of the festival last minute. He was replaced by RP Boo who took Jamila Woods' set time, and Woods took Jay's slot. Jamila performed a strong set, with the only misstep being her underwhelming cover of Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit". She drew predominantly from her last and best record, LEGACY! LEGACY!, in addition to a few older cuts, and a promising new song. Her voice retained the understated grace, and effortless control of her recorded output, and the band behind her (particularly the drummer and keyboardist) elevated her songs with tight grooves and virtuosic keyboard vamps. Along with Waxahatchee, Jamila delivered some of the strongest melodies of all the acts on Saturday without missing a step. It was incredibly satisfying to see an artist from Chicago take a slot that late in the day, and absolutely crush it. If there’s any justice in the world she’ll be playing larger slots and festivals within the next several years to come.

Annie Clark, aka St. Vincent, is a reliably great performer, and despite the lackluster quality of her last two records her set was much tighter than they'd suggest. Aside from a corny bit where Annie pretended that her sister called her while dropping a P4K 6.8 joke, and seemingly drawing attention to the lukewarm reception of her last record, Daddy's Home (a far worse record than Pitchfork acknowledged in their review), in light of her headlining status, her set was immensely engaging. For the most part she thankfully eschewed that kind of performative exhaustion and eye-rolling by breathing some new life and renewed energy into her songs by way of tight chemistry, great harmonies, and occasionally just fucking ripping into guitar solos. Very few artists had guitarists that can play guitar like Annie, and only Dogleg, Ty Segall, and Yves Tumor seemed to match her aspiration of traditional rock stardom (and of those three, only Yves Tumor was on the same level of her stage presence). Naturally, some of the DH songs fell a little flat, while a few of the songs that predated Masseduction were transcendent. After seeing her twice now it seems pretty evident that no matter how disappointing her records become, she’s still going to deliver a pretty strong show.

Sunday was defined largely by hip-hop and r&b, but there was still some nice variation earlier on in the day. Special Interest kicked things on Sunday off with an urgent performance that retained their aggressive no wave meets four on the floor energy. Although their music is much better suited for a dank basement club, their serrated beats and overall bombast still translated fairly well to the dust-ridden grounds and dry Chicago heat. There were some minor vocal flubs, and some stiff pacing, but they brought some much needed teeth to the day's proceedings right out of the gates. Special Interest have only released two records to date, but their performance reaffirmed that they’re on to something truly singular.

Aside from Dogleg, oso oso were the only fifth wave emo ambassadors that played Pitchfork, and their set was unsurprisingly among the weekend's highlights. Still riding high from their sublime 2019 LP, Basking in the Glow, oso oso delivered a rousing performance imbued with the sugary, top notch vocal melodies that play a large role in shaping their records (oso oso frontman Jade Lilitri is still completely in a league of his own when it comes to writing vocal hooks). They played a few older songs, including Real Stories of True People Who Kind of Looked Like Monsters highlight "Where You’ve Been Hiding ", but the bulk of their set was split between songs from the aforementioned BitG, and their 2017 breakout second LP, The Yunahon Mixtape, capping it off with their great 2018 single “gb /ol h/nf”. The band backing Jade sounded tighter than any I've seen perform with him in the past, freeing him up to just deliver his infectious hooks and prance around the stage. While plenty of acts delivered great melodies throughout the weekend, no one matched the sheer immediacy of oso oso. Oso oso have been making some of the best guitar pop of the last few years, and their live show captured the spark of their records.

Choosing to see Sean Bowie, aka Yves Tumor, over Thundercat was easily the most difficult decision that I had to make that weekend. Thundercat is always great live, and the last two songs that I caught after Tumor's set ("Them Changes" and "Friend Zone" respectively) were tight performances, but Tumor has quickly become one of the defining artists of our time. Bowie’s set brought the smoldering psychedelic glam rock of 2020s Heaven to a Tortured Mind, and their recently released The Asympomtical World EP to life with finesse and ferocity. The four piece band behind them featured guitar, bass, drum, and assorted electronics freeing Bowie to freely prowl about the stage howling, crooning, and shrieking as the songs demanded. The set drew the most from those aforementioned releases (which compounded just how badly I fucked up by not traveling any distance necessary to catch them while touring their 2018 masterwork, Safe in the Hands of Love), but they still dove into "Licking an Orchid", “Lifetime”, and "Noid", showcasing how well the avant-pop of their breakthrough works within the context of their current phase. It was incredibly heartwarming to see dozens of people legitimately moshing to avant-garde music, in addition to Bowie reveling in the immense goodwill that their game changing records deserve. Most of the sets that I saw throughout the weekend were great, but Bowie’s set felt like a particularly transcendent star-making moment.

As anyone who's seen Danny Brown live can attest, it’s always a great time, but you don't exactly know how he's going to perform, and his set on Sunday was no exception. He started off strong with "Dope Song", and one for the heads with "Black Brad Pitt", but within short order Brown began to stumble through a few cuts. Brown stopped many of the songs he performed after just a verse or two since he couldn't remember the rest of the words which made for a disjointed experience, but it also meant he was able to draw from more of his catalog (if only for a minute or two per song) than he would have otherwise. His flows were as sharp and controlled as ever, and there's no denying his idiosyncratic stage presence, particularly during classic cuts like "I Will" and "Grown Up". After shouting out his Bruiser Bridge label Zelooperz and Bruiser Wolf joined his set for a few songs which gave the proceedings a nice Bruiser Thanksgiving spirit. He played only a few tracks from his latest record, uknowhatimsayin? with the bulk of his set drawing on classic cuts from XXX and the tried and true festival staples that make up the bulk of Old’s b-side. While certainly not the tightest performer of the weekend, Danny Brown was easily one of the most charismatic and engaging, and on a handful of songs, like “Attak” from Rustie’s 2014 LP, Green Language, he proved that he's still one of the best rappers alive.

Flying Lotus emerged on the red stage towards the end of Sunday evening with his mind-bending visuals and light show well-intact. He started off playing cuts from his recently released Yasuke OST from the anime of the same name before pivoting to some remixes of old classics, with “Zodiac Shit” in particular teased with its original, iconic Adult Swim visual. The mixing throughout was as remarkable as anyone who’s seen FlyLo live would come to expect, and nothing overstayed its welcome, seemed forced, or uninspired. At one point Thundercat leapt up from the side stage to deliver vocals during "Black and Gold", and the chemistry between them was almost overwhelming. At two different points during his set FlyLo descended from the decks donning his Captain Murphy alter ego which allowed for some nice variation between the dense electronic onslaughts. In a shocking, but sublime move FlyLo ended his set with "Do the Astral Plane", a highlight off of his opus, Cosmogramma, that he doesn't play often, but is nevertheless the perfect festival send off, and yet another reminder of just how far he's taken his singular beat making.

Erykah Badu was only 25 minutes late for her headlining set Sunday night, but her performance was well worth the wait. She performed alongside a 9 piece band, and delivered tight renditions of classics from Baduizm and Mama's Gun, as well as some cuts from her great 2015 mixtape But You Caint Use My Phone. Her singing sounded just as strong live as it does on record, imbuing the music with the same hazy warmth that helped shape her strongest material. Badu’s backing band retained the multi-faceted sweep of her music while subtly enlivening it, and Badu herself had a commanding stage presence that bellied the understated swagger of recorded output. Badu’s set was the perfect send-off for what was by all accounts an extremely well structured and executed festival. Within a landscape of music festivals with homogenized lineups that generally don’t even give the illusion of curation or any sense of personality, Pitchfork 2021 was a satisfying anomaly that will hopefully continue within this vein for years to come.

[totallyinsecurerobot]

the only lovers left alive

Summary: Asterix’s history from the moment they meet David. They keep finding each other, they keep ending up together, and maybe it’s fate, or maybe no-one else understands them quite like they understand each other.

A/N: 7718 words. SFW but there’s implied nsfw stuff. It does get a little bit violent at times, and there’s light period-typical (1950s Hollywood) misogyny, implied sexual violence, and victim blaming. It’s all very light, just mentioned in passing, but I thought I should give you a heads up. COMPLETELY UNEDITED AND JUST KIND OF A MESS. PROBABLY OOC. WHATEVER. nb oc & nb marko. poly lost boys at the end there. shut up they’re all in love street smarts. 

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Perhaps it’s that he’s looking to feel powerful, that he sees Asterix, corsetted and well-to-do, taller than most, and he picks them as a victim because they look like a challenge, bragging right to - to who? Their sire perhaps, any others in the area; but Asterix would know if there were others in the area, they’ve been here long enough after all. He’s new to this, Asterix can tell; it seems strange for him to be walking at a normal pace, the movements a little too thought out, where the speed would be second nature to a human. Asterix knows from experience that it takes some getting used to, they’ve been working on it for several centuries already, at the very least. 

“You alright, ma’am, you know strange things are afoot in these parts, you should be careful walking around alone at night,” he’s trying to appear charming and nonthreatening, but his clothes don’t fit right; they’re dark enough to hide the blood he hadn’t been able to get out, but nothing could hide the smell from a vampire’s enhanced sense of smell. Asterix plays along.

“Oh my,” Asterix says, eyes wide, hands clutching tight at the silk of their elaborate skirt, “I’d heard rumours, terrible rumours, but I thought this was a nice part of town.” Of course they’d heard the rumours, they’d been the actual source of them, this newbie was just trying to capitalise on how Asterix had normalised disappearances. They weren’t sure whether to laugh or be mad.

“I’m sure you won’t be bothered,” he’s alternating between walking too fast and too slow, trying to keep in time with Asterix’s consistent pace, but not quite being able to hold himself back, “would you allow me to escort you back home, to your- your husband?” He hazards a guess, a product of the time; Asterix, biologically nineteen and dressed to appear feminine, should very well have a husband by now, or at the very least be betrothed; all he’s really doing is determining whether he has to attack before or after they get back to Asterix’s house.

“Oh, I- I’m not... I’m new to town, you see, my Aunt lived here after being widowed at a young age. She passed recently and left me her house, a beautiful property on the edge of town,” Asterix’s story isn’t actually much of a lie, apart from the fact that they’d killed the poor widower who lived on the edge of town and fabricated a new life from her demise, “I certainly shouldn’t be accepting offers from strange men,” Asterix casts what they hope is a nervous glance his way, and the blonde vampire takes an obliging step back, “but I suppose if you really were some dastardly villain, you’d have already seized your opportunity.” 

He really should work on controlling his expression, Asterix thinks with heavily veiled amusement; he’s practically telegraphing the ‘this is going to be easier than I thought’ that’s running through his head as he offers an arm for them to take, to be escorted. He’s too quiet, movements too fluid; if Asterix were any other person, they’d find it unnerving, off-putting, in ways they wouldn’t be able to put their finger on. Here and now, as a vampire of several centuries, all Asterix can see his youth in his movements.

Under the guise of small talk, Asterix asks about what rumours he’d heard, and he’s more than eager to warn them of the Devil that’s found a home in town, snatching up young sinners and leaving them dead and drained in the woods. 

The Devil... That’s what they’re calling Asterix, they’d heard demon, vengeful spirit, monster, but devil, which had been what they’d been going for initially, was finally starting to pay off.  

“Well you’re no devil,” Asterix laughs lightly, giving his arm a squeeze, as if to convey their relief. He doesn’t realise how deliberately they’re playing him, how they’re just waiting for him to reveal himself, and ruin that surprise with one of their own. 

“And what about you, ma’am, would you consider yourself a sinner?” His voice is low, intrigued and tiptoeing the line between menacing and thrilling, and Asterix’s throat suddenly goes dry. He wants nothing more than to kill them, they know this, logically they know this, but if he knew the truth, what would their answer really mean.

“It’s just a load of nonsense anyways,” Asterix says, taking a deep breath, leading down a far less lit street. They’re suddenly tried of playing along. But he chuckles, low and rough, and when Asterix turns to look at them, he’s looking back, face twisted into it’s vampiric form, eyes shining bright and golden in the darkness.

“Are you sure?” His voice is a menacing snarl, but Asterix doesn’t flinch in the face of this change, dropping their nervous act in an instant, smirking. Finally.

“Yes,” and he seems confused at their cool, smug expression, their lack of overt reaction, right until they let their own face shift, ridges forming, eyes turning that very same gold, dropping their voice to a growl of their own, “because the Devil’s not a he in this town.”

Honestly, Asterix had kind of been hoping to run this newcomer out of town for trying to capitalize on their good bad name; it’s not easy to make a whole town accept occasional random disappearances, it’s certainly not easy to make them all believe it was divine justice, and to not look for the actual source. What they hadn’t expected was to end up with him apparently living with them. 

Like a lost duckling, he still follows them home, and when Asterix asks after his Sire, he gets all broody and angry and admits that he had no idea. They’re in the basement, which Asterix has outfitted for their undead purposes; it’s always cool down here, which also happens to be why they store the excess blood from their victims. No use letting it go to waste, their stomach is only so big after all, and it’s always good to go as long as possible between kills, as to not arouse suspicion. They offer him a jar and he drinks hungrily; he’d been hunting tonight after all, he was probably thirsty, it’s just basic curtesy. 

“I’m not going to teach you how to be a vampire... ?” They hesitate, squinting at him, and he fills in the blank with his name. 

“Davidson - well, for now it’s Davidson, and I know how to be a vampire,” he frowns, unscrewing the lid of the jar, sniffing the contents doubtfully. 

“It’s not virgin’s blood, but that’s an old myth, believe me,” their voice is flatly unamused; the night is young, they had planned to fly a few states over and swim naked in a lake to confuse anyone who happened to see it, not mentor a young vampire, “and boy, I knew what you were the moment I saw you, just because others don’t know what they’re looking for doesn’t mean they won’t be able to tell something’s of. If something’s off about you, soon enough the town starts speculating,” and as they explain, they sit themselves on the velvet sofa, watching him wrinkle his hose as he sips the blood, “and soon enough, the rumours I’ve worked so hard to start, but not be associated with will be linked to you, and once you’re killed or run out of town, I’ll have to start somewhere new from scratch. You’re inconveniencing me by being bad at this,” they tell him, lip curling as they look him over, as if trying to radiate ‘it was fun to meet you and mess with you, but you’re more trouble than you’re worth’. 

“I’ll hunt elsewhere, but you don’t get to dictate where I am,” he responded, before raising the jar of blood, licking the excess off his lips, “this is stale.”

“Then give it back and stop being ungrateful,” Asterix held out their hand for the jar, but Davidson quickly scowled, taking another, angry sip, “and if I say I don’t want you to harm a single living person within a fifty mile radius, you’ll damn well do as I say.”

“And what makes you think that?” He sneers, looking over them, in all their silk and finery, on a dainty sofa, his tone derisive and gaze dismissive. Asterix’s lips quirk into a smile that didn’t reach their eyes.

“Because you would not be the first of our kind that I have disposed of,” they’re blunt, unsmiling and unwavering, and Davidson seems to finally start taking them seriously.

But he also stays.

He never hunts within the fifty mile radius that Asterix had set, unless of course Asterix themselves had invited him along on one of the night they hunt in one of the neighbouring towns. 

The story has changed too; no longer was Asterix simply playing Lady Estelle, the unfortunate and unwed niece of the widow Sinclair, but now she was actively betrothed to Davidson, the man she’d had to leave behind when she’d accepted ownership of the property. It was the only story that explained their vastly differing looks despite living, and occasionally being seen together.

For the entire first month of the arrangement, Asterix regretted ever agreeing to it. Realistically they knew that if they stuck with the story and the hunting pattern they’d developed, they’d be able to live comfortably here for a very long time, but it didn’t stop them from being irritated by Davidson’s smugness, how bloody and messy he’d be when he came back after feeding, and how he’d roll his eyes whenever Asterix would choose a jar over hunting. They’d icily tell him that it was about now drawing unnecessary attention to themselves; Davidson would simply stick to the rules that had been set, but always chose a hunt over saved blood. 

To be fair, he doesn’t see them hunt for that first full month. 

When Asterix invites him, Davidson barks a harsh laugh.

“Didn’t think you knew how,” he admits, and says he’s only tagging along to see how a professional does it - his words, sarcasm dripping from them. 

And so Asterix takes him to the edge of the outer limit, a sleepy town some fifty miles away, where a man was waiting in a graveyard by the church. Davidson waits out of sight as Asterix directs him to, and he watches in fascination as they approach the man, dressed in silk and lace, and he calls them a name Davidson doesn’t recognize, but Asterix greets him in kind, all quiet and sordid. They kiss like long-separated lovers, and the man, breathless and quiet, talks about running away, about horses waiting nearby, about eloping just like they’d always talked about, and Asterix plays at being thrilled, at tearing up and agreeing, and letting the man slide a ring onto their finger.

It’s it’s own kind of horrifying, Davidson realises quickly, to see how smitten this man is, and to know his fate when the man does not. He follows along, watches them climb aboard a horse that almost bucks the moment Asterix comes close; the man they’re with calms the horse however, and then they’re off. It’s a drawn out process, a slow execution for the man who does not even realise he’s on death row, and it is all but driving Davidson mad as he follows them through the night, through the darkness, for several hours. He’s about to give up, to head home, half convinced Asterix is actually just marrying this man, when the horse stops. 

The moon is high in the sky when they stop at Asterix’s insistence, and the man asks what’s wrong when they dismount. Asterix claims to need to stretch, but soon they’re wrapping their arms around him, voice low and intimate;

“It’s just you and me out here, like it should be; you and me for the rest of your life.” 

The man doesn’t catch Asterix’s wording as they pull him into their embrace, fingers threaded through his hair, pressing a gentle kiss to his vulnerable throat, but Davidson does. It’s time; he descends from where he’d been circling them like a vulture. The horse spooks and bolts at the sudden newcomer, but this is about the time that Asterix’s teeth sink into the man’s neck, and he tries to struggle, but their grip is unyielding.

He’s begging, pleading, screaming, but as Asterix steps back, they raise their free hand to the wound, as if to stem the bleeding, face transformed and grinning eerily.

“He’s not long for this world, if you’d like to drink it fresh,” Asterix raises their voice, not looking away from the man, though Davidson knows they’re talking to him. The man in their hands screams louder at Davidson’s sudden appearance by his side, but there’s no-one else around to save him. Asterix steps behind the man, fingers still threaded through his hair to hold him in place as Davidson feeds, sloppy, not even half as elegant as Asterix had made it look, but it didn’t matter. Something about the feral, primal way in which he drank had a dark appreciation stirring in Asterix’s chest, and couldn’t help but lean in to the man’s other side and bite him again, to share in this moment. 

He’ll lick the blood from their fingers, eyes aglow, and Asterix will remember what it felt like to be newly turned and fearless and reckless, and the power that came with it, the heady sense of invincibility that would surge through them in the afterglow of a kill. They couldn’t begrudge him his cockiness anymore. 

There’s a moment, a sense of connection, of understanding, of finally seeing eye to eye, creatures acting on instinct alone in the dead of night. Later, Asterix will explain the countless men they have been wooing in secret, men betrothed or married to other women, men whose families are suspicious of affairs, but with no proof, men who could be called sinners, men who would be perfect targets for The Devil these little towns all feared. Later, they’ll take the body of the man back to their house to exsanguinate him, to not let his blood go to waste, to dispose of him the following night far away from the scene of the crime. Later, Asterix will take the ring off that the man gave them, and Davidson will see the countless other ones just like it in a jewelry box they keep in a dark corner of the basement, and he decides not to ask.

“Even when you kill you’re...” he searches for the words, but they’re not harsh or demeaning like they may have been before this night had occurred, “calculated; men in towns for miles, months of work put in, all so people don’t realise it’s you; it must feel so unnatural to suppress your instincts like that, aren’t you tired of it?”

“I am alive,” Asterix points out, though they grimace at the choice of words, but Davidson understands anyways. 

“Next time, hunt with me, let yourself let go,” he urges, teeth sharp and eyes bright. Asterix remembers that tone, his words - and you, ma’am, would you consider yourself a sinner? - as they look at him and agree, exhausted by always playing by the humans’ rules.

It’s freeing to be feral; for the first time in decades, Asterix feels alive. 

But still they hold back, terrified of being overcome completely by their bloodlust, too aware of the power they wield to use it to full capacity. Humans only ever require a miniscule amount of power to tear apart, there was no need, they told themselves, for overkill.

The good thing they’ve got going lasts all of five years before people start to get suspicious about how they never age. After a year has passed, they tell other that they’d eloped, if only to keep up the ruse; it would be suspicious if they kept their engagement going on too long in this part of world. They’re both equal parts horrified and amused by it all, not that it changes anything about their dynamic; they’re still free to do whatever they wish with whoever they wish, so long as the people in town never find out. 

But still, Asterix gives him the ring that had been given to them by the first victim they’d shared, the night they’d finally started to respect each other. It’s meant partially as a joke, but Davidson wears it nonetheless.

When the time comes, and the townsfolk start asking questions that they can’t answer, they take what little belongings they’ve accumulated - Asterix takes their box of engagement rings - and burn the house they were staying in, no proof of their existence left behind, just the memory of a young couple tragically lost, and they go their separate ways.

Asterix, desperate for a change of scenery, secures passage on a ship headed to Europe, and spends a considerable few decades residing in various bogs across Europe’s various forests, preying on unfortunate explorers, and occasionally towns, if they were close enough. It’s like hibernating, as if turning their brain off to become the instinct-driven creature they truely were. Being away from society, away from humans, away from even others of their own kind, it was the exact reset they needed. 

When emerging from their self imposed isolation, there comes news of a war in American having been and gone, and for the barest moment they consider going back, but ultimately decides against it. Instead they take up residency in the heart of London, sleeping in the cellar of a pub they managed to claim ownership of through dubious means. City folk are so desensitized to strange behaviors that they don’t think twice about the pub only ever being open at night, when most others offered a lunch service; they don’t question Asterix managing to be the only employee, it’s a small pub after all. No-one wonders why Asterix is never seen during the day, most assume they’re asleep anyways, since the pub is open practically ‘til dawn.

Sid Priestly, Asterix’s current identity, could be any other human on Earth as far as most of London was concerned. They don’t live in a secluded castle, or hiss, or float menacingly through the air, so none of the humans think to suspect them as anything other than one of their own, albeit one who keeps strange hours.

There’s a few vampires in London, mostly the standoffish types, however there’s a respect and understanding between them all, and they all know Asterix pub to be a place where they will be invited in without question. Asterix, for their part, had reinstated their habit of preserving their leftovers, and finds themselves incorporating blood into one of their dark beers, so their special guests could enjoy themselves as much as the humans.

The pub’s been open for almost nine months when he walks through the doors, looking pleasantly surprised in the golden glow of the overhead lights. One of the other vampires in attendance lights up at the sight of him, waving him over.

“Arthur! Glad you finally made it,” he grins, and turns to Asterix, “two of your finest dark beers, thanks Sid,” and Asterix obligingly turns to fetch two of the blood-infused beers. 

“Arthur,” they acknowledge him with a nod and a smirk, placing the beer down in front of him as he sits, giving the other vampire his own, which he sips gratefully while ‘Arthur’ gives the beer a dubious look. His gaze flicks to Asterix, who’s watching with hesitant amusement, not quite sure how to proceed, and then he takes a sip.

“It’s stale,” he says with a knowing smirk, which breaks the tension, and Asterix smirks a laugh, despite the other vampire’s confusion.

“You ungrateful bastard,” Asterix shakes their head, pulling themself a beer and cheersing him. 

“Do you two know each other?” The other vampire asks, and Asterix and ‘Arthur’ share a look. 

“Sid’s my -” he pauses, giving a look to Asterix, to their masculine presentation and current identity, and he shifts a little, voice growing a little quieter for fear of the human patrons overhearing, “husband.” Asterix huffs a dismissive breath through their nose, rolling their eyes at the memory of their ruse, of their briefly shared life. 

“Husband?” The other vampire asks, looking curiously between the two of them, intrigued.

“Wife at the time,” Asterix offers, “I’ve been a lot of things,” is the closest they get to any sort of explanation. It takes a beat for the other vampire to consider, but then he’s shrugging, mentioning that he doesn’t think the beer, or it’s special ingredient, tastes stale; Asterix gives him a toothy, pleased smile, while ‘Arthur’ rolls his eyes despite hiding his grin against the lip of his cup by taking another drink.

There’s an understanding within the community, of outliving the restrictive, human concept of identity, in almost all respects. It’s easier to explore who you are when you literally have all the time in the world; many find labels that fit them, pronouns and names that are comfortable, finding variations of themselves each time they move. Without the pressures or expectations of human society, it’s also easier to be comfortable being with whoever they choose to, especially when they’re more than comfortable ripping apart anyone to cast negative aspersions on them for their choice of partner - or partners. 

“You don’t get to claim part ownership of the pub just because we told people we were married fifty years ago,” Asterix closes the pub early that night, finding themself sitting atop the roof with ‘Arthur’. Neither of them is quite sure how to interact with the other, sitting a foot apart, drinking a pint in the moonlight. 

“I don’t plan on staying long,” he says, looking out to the city while Asterix is watching him, “thought I’d go be a nuisance around Romania; America’s gotten boring.”

There’s something about him that’s different from when they’d last seen him, something easy and uncomplicated about his movements. His grin stretches wide, leaning back on his elbows, confident, sure of himself. It’s only in seeing him again that Asterix can feel how much his absence ached. It had only been five years, of the few hundred that Asterix had endured at this point, what had been so special about him that they’d been so effected?

He looks at them, smiling sharp and fond in equal measure.

“You’ve gone all soft in your age,” he teases, and immediately Asterix feels themselves growing flustered in their outrage, “serving humans, and not even attempting to court on a single one? How do you ever feed yourself if you’re not stealing the hearts of unfaithful bachelors?”

“I get by,” Asterix tells him, “I’ve got an understanding with some of the others; I don’t have to do the dirty work anymore, my loyal customers provide me with everything I could ever need.”

“Surviving on scraps, always surviving on scraps,” he tuts, “I think you’re scared of yourself, I think you always have been.” 

“Arthur,” Asterix warns, eyes flashing a dangerous gold.

“What are they going to do if they figure out what you really are? Kill you, Sid?” He half laughs, and Asterix sits up straighter, tensing at his words, feeling the powers that runs through their blood, their muscles, the centuries of experience built up beneath their skin, “or do you just miss being human that much that you’d do anything to pretend you’re still like them?”

“I am alive,” Asterix snarls, lip curled into something dangerous and menacing, face half-shifted to it’s monstrous form, something they haven’t had to use in what feels like years. He watches them carefully, can see the nerves he’s touched, their button’s he’s pushed, and seems to delight in their indignation. 

And maybe it’s that he’s seeing the person he met all those years ago, seeing an opportunity to prove his power; he’d been young then, inexperienced, unsure of his power in relation to them, but his confidence had grown in their absence. He is aware of what he is capable of, and thinks, finally, that he could rival the vampire who’d taken him in all those years ago.

When he pins Asterix faster than a human eye could comprehend, he’s surprised by how easy it is. They’re flat on their back, his knees planted either side of their hips and his hands pinning their wrists either side of their head; for the barest moment, they lock eyes and share in a strange sense of deja vu. Asterix flushes. 

“What are you looking to prove?” Asterix asks, turning their head to look at his hand holding their wrist; they flex and unflex their fingers, otherwise unbothered.

“Are you scared of being a vampire? Is that why you try so hard to drink so little? To kill so little? To push down your instincts, deny your nature?” 

When Asterix looks back at him, his eyes are aglow, face twisted to reveal his true nature, just like they’d seen countless times before; he thinks he has the upper hand, that like this, he can provoke a reaction from them, get them to fight back. 

They’re far too aware of their own capabilities to act so rashly, instead, with surprising ease, they sit up, into his space, surprising him, forcing him back to sit on their thighs, hands raising too, like his grip meant nothing. 

“Sweetheart, if I wanted to raze towns, I am more than capable, but if I let myself burn down the world, what would be left? You?” They smiled, but it didn’t reach their eyes. Upon hearing their words, however, their companion actually grins, leaning in as his face changes back to it’s more pleasant disguise, pressing a familiar kiss to their lips.

“I never said to burn the world, but a hundred years ago, people thought you were the Devil; you’re beautiful and terrible, but even then you’d held yourself back,” he’s still holding their wrists, grip loose with their hands in their lap, the two of them nose to nose on this rooftop. 

“I’ll always be beautiful and terrible, but I’m not about to sacrifice my comfort for a cheap thrill,” they murmur, lips inches from his, despite their discomfort with the subject. 

“You never miss stalking a beautiful lady or handsome gentleman through the night in a quiet town in another country? You never miss...?” And he trails off, fingertips sliding up Asterix’s left arm, their shoulder, to their neck, thumb gentle against their jaw as he tips their head just a little, a gesture they both know all too well, but that Asterix is unfamiliar with being used against them. A shiver runs down their spine.

“Why do you care so much?” Asterix frowned, tipping their head back against his hand, surprised when he holds their jaw instead of moving away. Something unfamiliar began to ache in a spot behind their sternum, close to where their heart should be.

“Because it’s been a hundred years,” and then he’s holding their face gently in both hands, smirking a little, “and you’re still just surviving, I haven’t spent this past century just being afraid, and I’m still here,” he points out, and Asterix bites their tongue on the urge to ask how many of those years he spent on the run, “you’ve thoroughly proven you can lay low, you can live in a bog for decades, so what does it matter if you terrorize a few cities? Burn a few towns to the ground then be a bog mummy, at least some of the time you’d be having fun.”

“I’m having fun now,” Asterix says quietly, blushing a little at the intimacy of it all, but then, as if resentful of his words, “I am fun.” They kiss him like they’re proving a point, something familiar and warm joining that strange sensation in their chest when ‘Arthur’ kisses them back, smiling against their lips.

“How strong are you actually?” He finally asks, pulling back with their hands gripping his hips firmly, still technically in their lap. Asterix’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“We get stronger with age,” they’d said, though their lack of an actual answer does not go unnoticed.

“You’ll always be stronger than me, won’t you?” He smirks when he looks at them, and their lips twist into a wry, fond smile, leaning into his touch against their cheek.

“‘till we die,” they agree, eyes now sparkling with mischief. This news seems to both delight and disappoint him for very different reasons.

They keep finding each other in the years that follow, always with new names, new lives, new identities. Sometimes they’re together for weeks, for months, sometimes only for hours, but every time it’s like they’d never left one another’s side.

Asterix has conned their way, through both magical and non-magical means, into a life as a Russian noble at the turn of the 20th century, and he finds them at a masquerade. They’d know each other anywhere. They’re meant to be dancing with potential suitors, but the whole night they’re by his side. That night, they kill another member of nobility who had been suspicious of Asterix, who’d been planning a coup against the head of the family who’d welcomed them with only little persuading.

After the carnage of the kill, of the high they rode together, they sleep through the day, silk bedsheets and boarded up windows, a lie on Asterix’s behalf about a rare sleep disorder meaning no-one came in or asked questions, and the following night, he takes off, and Asterix acts surprised when the news of the previous night’s kill finally comes to light. 

Wars come and go, and Asterix finds themselves in the middle of them, and sees men a fraction of their age take more pleasure in killing than they’d ever allowed themselves. They fight, and take bullets, and take orders from men who have never known real fear. The humans they fight alongside live like every day is their last in the time between the fighting, lives on the line because someone said it should be, from relative safety. 

And they lose humans they considered friends, and they start tearing out throats, they stop caring about what if because everyone here would die quickly, they all knew it. Asterix felt like the only one with half a chance to outlive the war. 

‘and you’re still just surviving’

So they start living, start letting themselves be sloppy and angry and give in when they want to fight and break bones and spill blood, because the government comes, and the government doesn’t care, and the government admits ‘we had some like you fighting with Lincoln’ and ‘we had some like you fighting with Washington’ and ‘we always had some like you’ and all they care about it what side Asterix is on. 

The War ends, but the next starts in what feels like a blink after the centuries Asterix has been through, and they come out the other side understanding that the things they’d feared for so long don’t matter, that the consequences they feared would not affect them; if they were smart, the government wouldn’t care, and other people were too weak to be a real threat, so they have fun with their identity. They get malevolent after watching their fragile, human friends die, and they learn how to target terrible people, how to find humans more monstrous than themselves, and how to deliver the justice that the justice systems will not give.

In the 1950s, they’re working in the violent crimes unit in LA, focusing on targeting serial sexual abusers in Hollywood, after listening to countless victims teary statements, and hearing the men on their team laugh behind the victim’s back, saying that’s just how Hollywood was. Asterix made sure to remember each man who’d ever said that about a distraught woman, mentally promising to take them each out before they leave for their next identity. 

He’s calling himself David when Asterix finds him in a bar on the waterfront, and he’s like a breath of fresh air. He admits to liking how Asterix was operating, how free they seem, and accompanies them when they offer to take him on a hunt. 

By now, Asterix’s victims have all been killed in the same way, nothing to denote a vampire, but clearly a serial killer’s work, someone with experience, and within no time it’s thought to be a hitman. David’s more than happy to stick to their MO, especially since they still both get to drink their fill, and he’s delighted with how unhinged Asterix gets in the act.

People started to see the pattern, the connection between the victims, and more people come forward about others in the industry who’ve committed similar atrocities. They don’t quite know who to tell; some go to the police, some go to confessional, some tell their friends, but Asterix seeks out their voices, their testimonies, and their list grows until the word of the victims’ atrocities gets around.

They’re calling Asterix the Actresses Avenging Angel, since most atrocities had been committed against aspiring or active actresses. It’s a new version of the town that believed the Devil killed the immoral few, but it’s a title they wear with pride.

But one of Asterix’s coworkers sees them leave a bar with David, and calls them names that sting, that have Asterix’s blood boiling, all in front of the rest of their team. A team that never took them seriously when they took the assault victim’s side against a powerful man in Hollywood. 

They were tired of this town anyways; their list had stopped growing so fast since the Actresses Avenging Angel had become popular folklore. 

They’re on the run for almost twenty years after that day, after leaving no-one alive in that evening briefing, after stealing away into the night. The government does tend to care when Asterix, or people like them, kill a whole department of a police force.

So they lay low near Washington state, changing their look, writing ‘*’ whenever their name was required; someone asked out loud if their name was Asterix, and yes, they supposed it fit. They’d always had to be something to fit into society, but they’re tired of being anything when they never felt like anything, so ‘boy or girl?’ is met with a solid ‘no’, and they stop caring about the confusion it elicits. They will outlive confusion. They will outlive everything and everyone. Almost everyone.

In the eighties, they hear a rumour about a beachside town in California having an unusually high death-rate, how strange and unexplained it all was, and perhaps it was loneliness, perhaps it was that they were missing a very specific person, but Asterix travels in hopes of finding David. They are not disappointed.

They meet Max first, their lip curling in disgust at how he holds himself, how he parades himself like everyone else when he’d been just as smarmy and unbearable in the Late Middle Ages. 

“You,” he says flatly, nostrils flaring as the only sign of his discomfort at the sight of them. He and Asterix had been sired by the same vampire some centuries ago, within a few decades of each other. He’d always resented Asterix for being simultaneously older and younger than him. Also he’d been the one to kill their sire fifty years after being turned.

“It’s Asterix now,” Asterix tells him, and Max’s lips thin into an unamused line, but before he can say anything, his gaze flicks over their shoulder to the door where there was a sudden commotion, sudden laughter. When Asterix turns, it’s to the sight of a display rack on the ground, and of two blonde boys trying not to laugh, leaning into each other as they insist they found it like that. 

The eighties look is certainly kind to David. He’s always been pretty, but now he’s allowed to dress in a way that’s enhanced by his dangerous aura, and Asterix has never been so glad to see him. 

And his expression lights up when he catches sight of them too.

“Asterix, do you know these people?” Max asks flatly, and if Asterix didn’t know any better, they would have thought he didn’t have any clue who they were, but judging by the sobering expression on David’s face, they knew each other far too well. 

“Of course,” Asterix answers, smile turning cat-like and smug, if only to see Max grow more irritated, working harder to hide it. 

“Asterix, this is Marko,” David says, unprompted, introducing the other blonde boy with curly hair and a slight frame; Marko is quiet by David’s side, looking over Asterix with something evaluative in his eyes, something evaluative and intrigued.

“All of you, get out; I told you boys aren’t allowed in here,” Max orders, and Asterix flips him off before making a beeline for the boys, and the exit. Marko stays quiet, but he, like Asterix, is comfortable falling into step by David’s side as the three of them head to somewhere more secluded on the boardwalk.

There’s a streetlight out over a picnic table not too far away, and Asterix is quick to sit, to make themselves a reasonable height out of habit, before David takes their face in his hands. It’s like he’s checking that they’re okay, looking in their eyes, hands on their arms, their hips, coming to rest on their knees, wordlessly checking in. 

“Marko, this is Asterix,” David steps out of the way, gesturing to Asterix with one hand while his other still resting on their thigh. Marko steps up, offers his hand for them to shake with a grin. “They’re...” but David trails off, unsure of how to introduce them now, after all the time they’ve known each other, after all they’ve been to one another. But Marko seems to understand; he’s emotionally entwined with David the way Asterix more or less is, and surprisingly, Asterix realises very quickly that they don’t mind.

“Are you planning on staying long?” David asks later in the night, watching Marko as he talks with another pretty, blonde boy who they’ve apparently been talking to for a while, Paul. They’re intending on turning him, with Max’s blessing; Asterix is less than happy to find out that Max is technically the leader of the coven, and is right furious to find out that he’s David’s actual Sire, the one who’d abandoned him all those years ago. But he keeps himself separate from the younger vampires, so Asterix is more than happy to hang with the boys.

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me,” Asterix says gently, and David’s arm snakes around their hips, hand coming to rest on their hip, fingers spread wide and warm and possessive against the edge of Asterix’s exposed stomach beneath their crop top. It’s enough of an answer for Asterix to lean against him, to sling their arm across his shoulders. 

Paul, where he’s talking to Marko, casts a dubious look to the pair leaning against the streetlight, arms around each other. Asterix winks at him, and though Paul quickly averts his gaze, his smile widens. It’s easy for them to adapt to this dynamic that Marko and David had developed, so long as there was a place for them. They’re more than happy to make a place for others too. 

So Asterix makes a life for themselves with the boys in the abandoned hotel at the edge of the cliff, quickly getting close to both Marko and Paul once he’s been turned. They don’t think about how good it feels to not be afraid of their friends dying, or being killed suddenly. David doesn’t comment on how grateful they seem to have friends at all. Or perhaps it’s more than that, perhaps they’re all more than that; physical intimacy is clearly not a foreign concept. 

Marko and Asterix will share an armchair while reading a magazine, cheek to cheek, him in their lap with their arms around his middle, and Paul has a penchant for taking one of the others down a dark alley or to a shadowy corner, only to emerge with kiss bruised lips and a flushed complexion, and in a year they have Dwayne too, who comes across as brooding to anyone who doesn’t know him well enough, never more happy than when he has his arm around a member of their little, insular gang, possessive and proud in equal measure. 

Marko’s like them too, more than they realized, they learn, not nothing, like they are, but sometimes he’s both or neither or somewhere in between. Mostly they’re he but he also feels like they, and he doesn’t mind which they’re called, as long as it’s someone they love doing the calling.

Love. He’s free with that word. Freer than Asterix or David ever was, no matter how much either of them thought it in all the years they’ve known each other. But Marko says it and it sounds right. It sounds like the word Asterix was too scared to think back on the roof of their pub in London, a hundred years ago, when David had them pinned and all they could see was him backlit by stars.

“We’re a far cry from your silk bedsheets and Russian nobles,” David’s smirking up at the ceiling in the hours before dawn, stretched out on the moth bitten sheets of one of the hotel’s beds. Asterix is curled up by his side, eyes closed and content. It’s just the two of them in the hotel for now, the other three having gone out to stalk a group of assholes that had been harassing their latest person of interest, a beautiful young woman named Star.

The others don’t quite know how far back Asterix and David’s history goes, but everyone knows they’re close, know they can speak their own language without saying a word. 

“You were Svetlana then, weren’t you?” He adds, and Asterix hums in confirmation, and David quietly muses that he’s not even sure if he’d given himself a proper name in Russia, since he’d just been passing through. “Do you still have that box of rings from the eighteen-hundreds?” He asks, half smiling, tightening his grip on them, pulling them a little closer at the memory.

“They were lost when my pub was burnt down,” Asterix told him, though this was new information to David, and came as a shock, “after Bram Stoker published Dracula, someone accused my pub of hosting several vampires; I was never accused directly, but someone noted how my patrons only ever seemed to come out at night, and they thought it would be best if the whole pub was taken out as a precaution. They were right, of course, but it was still fucked; I’m fine, obviously.”

“Do you want mine back?” David asks candidly, “you worked hard for them, you should have at least one as a keepsake,” his words catch Asterix by surprise, and they’re quiet for a very long time, trying to process what this all means, how this makes them feel. He kept their ring. All this time.

“It’s yours, I gave it to you,” they say, soft and gentle, finally looking at his face. He’s still looking at the ceiling, but he’s grinning, “do you not want it?” 

“Depends; are we still fake-married?” When he looks at them, he’s grinning from ear to ear, all kinds of mischief and adoration at play in his expression, and Asterix’s expression melts to a sly grin as their tone turns teasing.

“As if I’d remarry after you,” they snort, and David quickly turns back to the roof, though it doesn’t quite hide his flustered grin, as he quietly mutters for them to shut up, voice full of affection -

“Get dressed, Star’s “friends” are having a bonfire and we’re gonna have a feast,” Paul bursts into the room with absolutely no warning, all but crashing through the door mid-landing, too excited to walk anywhere at a half-normal speed. He’s grinning from ear to ear, throwing articles of clothes at the pair like a hurricane localised entirely at the end of the bed. 

Once the pair are getting dressed and know where to go, Paul is already gone, leaving them in relative silence, and Asterix glances over to see David patting down his pockets, before fishing a thin, gold necklace from his back pocket, holding it, and the familiar ring that hung from it, out to Asterix like proof, like an offering.

“You’ve gone soft in your old age,” Asterix grins instead, echoing his words back at him from a hundred years ago. David rolls his eyes, but puts the chain around his neck and tucks it into his shirt before they leave.

When they arrive, they let the others take the first bites, pun intended. Lord knows they’ve committed enough destruction to keep them sated for several lifetimes. 

“Strange bedfellows we keep,” Asterix voice is low, teeth sharp and eyes ablaze as they drunk in the sound of the carnage. They hook two fingers into one of David’s beltloops while he watches his fellow vampires tearing their victims apart like lions tearing into gazelles. Asterix steps up to him, lets him curl an arm around them as they both watch with hungry expressions as the carnage unfolds. 

“Feels good,” Asterix murmurs, locking eyes with a poor human trying to escape; neither Asterix nor David has allowed their face to shift to it’s true form just yet, so the human runs to them, begging for help. Asterix steps forward, is by the man’s side in a blur, too fast for him to get away as they wrap one arm around him, the other in his hand, pulling his head to the side to expose his neck, “though I do miss people thinking I was the Devil,” they call over their shoulder with a sharp smirk, eyes a bright gold.

David’s laugh fills the night air, amid the screams, amid the crackle of the fire, as Asterix sinks their teeth into the man’s neck.

[segalia]

Living in Lockdown with You

What’s that saying about writing indulgent fluff if you don’t have the inspiration to write? Yeah...this domestic fluff three-parter has been nagging at me since I was in extreme lockdown a month ago and wondered how Percy and Annabeth would handle a similar situation. Featuring clingy and sleepy Percabeth and working from home. Enjoy. 

*** Annabeth stared at the screen blearily, trying desperately to focus on the videoconference in front of her. As a demigod, focusing was hard for her at the best of times, and this switch to everything online certainly wasn’t helping. She was all too aware of her face in the lower corner of her screen, wishing her boss hadn’t insisted they leave their cameras on for this presentation. Blinking and squaring her shoulders, she was just about to try again to tune into the discussion of a new architectural technique when a mug floated out of the corner of her vision. 

She looked up to see Percy offering her the steaming mug with a sympathetic smile. She took it gratefully, cupping it in between her hands and letting the warmth revitalize her. 

Thank you, she mouthed, then remembered her mic was off. “Thank you,” she repeated out loud, needing something real to ground her to this moment. 

“Of course,” he nodded, and turned to give her space to focus. 

“Wait,” she put the mug on the table and caught his hand, reveling in the familiar feel of his hand in hers. “Can you stay just a few minutes?” 

He smiled again, that troublemaker but supportive smile that had eased its way into her heart so long ago. 

“Of course,” he repeated, making himself comfortable on a nearby chair. 

She expected him to start playing on his phone as she went back to focusing on the presenter, so he caught her off guard a few minutes later when he posed an insightful question about what the presenter was saying. As she answered, pulling together facts from earlier in the presentation and one of her college classes, she realized that this weird combination of stimulation, from the hot liquid warming her up inside and his hand in hers, to the presenter’s voice and Percy’s questions, was helping her focus better than she had all day. She squeezed his hand briefly in his thanks, and he gave her a warm look before asking another question. 

Gods, he was so smart. 

With Percy peppering occasional questions throughout, she was able to not only breeze through the rest of the lecture, but also pose several intelligent questions when it came to the follow-up meeting. Finally, the meeting concluded, everyone said goodbye, and she signed off. 

She sagged back in her chair in relief. “Oh my gods, thank you. You were a lifesaver.” She hadn’t meant to steal him for the whole meeting, and she was sure he had other things he was probably supposed to be working on, but she was so grateful and he was so willing that she decided to feel appreciative rather than guilty. 

He shrugged nonchalantly. “It was actually pretty interesting. I’ve listened to you rant about architecture enough over the years that at least most of the words made sense.” 

Too tired to properly express her emotions of gratitude and how smart and amazing he was even if he didn’t always see himself that way, she raised his hand to her mouth and kissed it softly. “You’re amazing, thank you.” 

His smile was soft and a little bashful, but all he said was, “what are you thinking for supper? I’m not sure we have enough leftovers for a full meal.”

Her brain switched gears to food, and they started brainstorming. With stretching and groaning, they rose and headed to the kitchen, ready to tackle this new challenge as a team. 

***

A couple days later, she found herself going to bed at a decent hour for once (quarantine and distance work had been messing with her already messed up sleep schedule). When she crawled under the covers, however, Percy was still seated in bed, staring intently at his laptop (their apartment was really tiny--what can you do against New York apartment prices?-- and didn’t have much in the way of living space). 

“Are you--” she yawned, “almost done?”

“Huh? Oh, I mean, I think so? I can move elsewhere if you want.” 

She shook her head sleepily, aligning her body so she could curl around him. “It’s okay. Just dim your monitor please.” 

He nodded absent-mindedly, focus already returning to his work as he complied. 

She must have drifted off because she woke disoriented to find Percy still tapping away on his laptop. “Hey.” She breathed, adjusting her position to lean against him, stretching out a crick in her arm, “what time is it?” 

“Hm? Oh, I guess it’s 2:30.” He blinked and muttered, “when did that happen?”

“Percy,” she was having trouble keeping her eyes open, “you should head to bed.” 

“I know, I know, I’m just really close to finishing.” 

“You said that several hours ago.” If she wasn’t careful, she was going to fall asleep and drool on his shirt.

He kept typing, and she wasn’t sure if he’d heard her. 

“Perce? Are you actually close to a stopping point? Cause if you save it for tomorrow and get some sleep now, you’ll probably do better work.” 

The computer noises stopped, and she felt him chuckle under her cheek. “Now where have I heard those words before?” 

She grinned sleepily, “Not sure. I think some wise guy said it a couple times.” 

“Wise guy, huh?” 

She could picture the smile on his face, but merely hummed in agreement and snuggled further into his side. 

“Okay, okay.” There was a pause before he said, “for real this time, I found a good stopping point, just give me a few minutes.” 

“Okay,” she was drifting off again. 

True to his word, she felt him shift several minutes later, and suddenly the dim light vanished. A tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding released. She only grumbled slightly as he gently slipped out from under her grasp, and sooner than she expected, he was back under the covers, drawing her into his chest. 

“Love you,” she murmured. “Sleep tight.” 

She felt a laugh rumble through his chest as he bent to kiss her forehead. “You too, Annabeth. Love you.” 

***

Her laptop was lifted from her lap mid-sentence and a weight settled in its place. “What?” She looked down to find Percy sprawled across the bed between her legs, head pillowed in his arms on her lap.

“Sleepy,” he muttered, shifting to get comfortable. 

“I wonder why,” she responded affectionately, holding her laptop in one hand and carding her fingers through his hair with the other. 

“Had to-” he yawned, “finish the project.” 

“And you did, so I’d say you’ve earned your rest.” His recent tiredness put her in mind of the months after he’d taken the Achilles’ Curse when he’d fall asleep anywhere and everywhere, often in this very same position. 

Of course, then, she didn’t usually have a computer and a report to finish. 

“Hey,” she gently tapped the computer on his head. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled. “That works.” 

“This works?” She repeated, skeptically resting her laptop on his head. 

“Sure.” 

Deciding to play along, she tried to continue typing. “Hm, I’ve determined that your head is not a sufficiently flat surface.” 

She felt him shrug against her legs. “Not for lack of trying.” 

“I don’t think I’m advocating for more monsters to bash you in the head.” She moved her laptop to his back instead. “I’m fond of your skull as it is.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she smiled, running her hand through his hair again, tracing the shape of his head. “Now stop distracting me.” 

“Sure thing, babe.” 

Smiling and rolling her eyes, she turned back to her report in the dyslexia-supportive program one of her siblings had designed. Percy’s back was much more stable than his head, and she couldn’t say she didn’t appreciate the company. 

She finished a rough draft and saved it, deciding to look it over for errors and edits later. As she closed the report, her background came into view. It was her and Percy during their visit to Washington DC the year before. They’d planned a large group trip with Grover and the rest of the seven to support Piper’s recent appointment. A lot of them had road tripped down together, and spent hours at the Smithsonian Museums. It had been the last time all of them had been together, and now, with lockdown, the memories were even more precious. Her heart clenched, and she was immensely grateful for Percy, even if he was becoming hot and heavy. 

“We should have a group call with the others soon.” 

He stirred; she honestly hadn’t been sure he was still conscious. “We have one the day after tomorrow. Hazel put it in the group chat, and you already agreed.”

“Oh yeah.” With the stress of lockdown and working from home, details were a little hazy sometimes. “That’s good then. Are we calling your mom any time soon?”

“Maybe tonight? Paul’s busy with teaching online, and Mom’s been busy with her book and trying to homeschool Estelle. She said she’d let me know.” 

“Cool,” she idly traced patterns on his back. “Gotta say I’m so grateful for modern technology right now.” 

He snorted, “And that we can use it now.” 

“Gods, yeah.” A combined effort on the part of some Hephaestus kids, Athena kids, and a remarkably tech savvy Ares kid had led to a spell/app combo that meant monsters could no longer trace demigods through their technology. Annabeth had to admit that a smartphone had been a lifesaver a number of times, both in college and in monster fighting. 

“So, what do you want to do for this rest of the day? Especially now that you got that project out of the way?” 

“Sleep.” 

She tugged at his hair, “you can sleep later, c’mon.” 

“You can sleep with me,” he suggested, and she caught his mischievous look. 

“I’m not tired,” she stuck out her tongue. “Do you wanna watch something? We’re nearly caught up on, uh, that one show.” 

He named it. “That one?” 

Snapping her fingers, she nodded decisively as if she’d had the name all the time. He just gave her that teasing smile. “Yeah, that one. Wanna watch that?” 

With an overly dramatic sigh, he crawled off her. “Sure.” He kissed her cheek as he settled into her side. “Popcorn?” 

“Why not?” She smiled at him, “but you have to salt it.” 

“I think I can agree with that,” he grinned at her and pulled her laptop to him so he could pull up the show. 

She plodded to the kitchen (well, kitchenette), and returned a few minutes later with only slightly burnt popcorn and a salt shaker for Percy to wield. As she curled up beside him, and the familiar title song played, Annabeth felt the deep-seated contentment that no matter what crazy things were happening in the world right now, no matter how helpless and scared she felt, at least she had her something permanent with Percy. 

[happymetalgirl]

October 2020

Six Feet Under - Nightmares of the Decomposed

I wrote a full-length review of this disaster of an album earlier in the month, and yeah, wow. Between the phoned-in performances from the instrumentalists who have proven themselves far above this joke of a band and the half-assed production this would have been a pretty crappy album even without Chris Barnes’ milk-aged vocals. But he’s here, and he’s managed to actually get worse too, gasping his way through the whole album and littering it with these ludicrous “high” squeals that would make Smeagol sound like a more competent death metal vocalist. It’s the worst thing I’ve heard all year, and what’s worse, I don’t think Six Feet Under is stopping.

1/10

With that out of the way, let’s cleanse the pallet right away with some really good shit.

Greg Puciato - Child Soldier: Creator of God

Ever reliable in his artistically integrity, explosive former Dillinger Escape Plan frontman, Greg Puciato, has been pretty sonically and artistically adventurous since the honorable dissolution of the iconic mathcore outfit, his most notable music project being the ethereal, synth-heavy The Black Queen. This year, however, Puciato has gone fully solo for a full-length project, and something told me to get ready for a wild ride, and boy was I right on that hunch. Borne out of an exponentiated process of songwriting that produced songs Puciato deemed unfitting for any of his current projects, what was planned as a small release to ship these songs out of the writing room eventually spiraled into a full-blown debut solo album clocking in at over an hour. A lot of solo projects play like clearly indulgent amateur hour sessions from an artist whose ego has been boosted pretty well from significant success from their main project, leading them to overconfidently try their hand at music they have no business trying it at. And it’s often approached under the understanding that it is a victory lap, more or less, and a satisfaction of creative impulses for the sake of it. Sometimes the resultant material is clearly inspired and showcases a side of an artist that certainly deserves some spotlight. Other times it feels like being trapped in an awkward situation with an acquaintance where they just show you all their newest pedals and production software and you’re just stuck there watching them fiddle around while you nod along and offer the occasional “wow, that’s pretty crazy” every now and then while they don’t pick up on the obvious cues that you are just waiting for them to finish playing with their toys. While Puciato was open about this album being borne from the very creatively borderless mindset that so often damns solo projects, Child Soldier: Creator of God is an actual realization of the type of grand, genre-spanning album that so many solo artists envision themselves making and set out to create, and it’s hardly a whimsical, amateurish crack at the styles within either. Puciato’s foray into sludge metal, industrial rock, harsh noise, darkwave, synthwave, and shoegaze, (1) makes for a hell of a dynamic and exciting track list, and (2) shows a much deeper than average respect for and relationship with the styles being played here. This isn’t some frontman thinking his charisma can carry him through a whole rap solo album; this is a well-rounded artist (also a hell of a frontman, no denying that) giving the most comprehensive look yet into his creative mind. The album leaps around in patches of different styles, strung together mostly by ambient connective tissue of various types, all with a great attention to detail paid to both texture and progression. We get early patches of smooth ambiance, but also aggressive industrial and sludge metal, eventually moving to more soothing and meditative synthy stuff around the middle, finishing with some serene, Have a Nice Life-esque shoegaze. But really there’s no way to sum up this album stylistically without breaking down every single song on here, and that would just ruin the fun and the experience. You really just have to experience it for yourself.

9/10

DevilDriver - Dealing with Demons I

Embarking on a conceptual double-album, Dez Fafara and DevilDriver’s first installment in the pair is a scoop of the, indeed, slightly above average, but unfortunately still plain and predictable modern groove metal they always offer up. I’ll give the band credit for keeping the pace up and clearly putting substantial energy into the performances on this album, while also trying to squeeze in a few shake-ups to their sound, like the clear Gojira-inspired riffage on the opening track. The album loses steam, unfortunately, as its punches lose their impact as it goes on.

6/10

Anaal Nathrakh - Endarkenment

While certainly cultivating a unique sound, Anaal Nathrakh’s unholy fusion of nasty modern blackened grindcore with sweeter metalcore and melodic death metal elements has its mixed results. And while that might at first sound like a relatively critical assessment of the Brits’ eleventh album, I’d say that there is actually a lot to enjoy and take in for at least the interesting mix of styles, most of which are hits rather than misses as well.

7/10

Enslaved - Utgard

Having been a fan of a good amount of their recent output, especially 2015’s In Times, I came out of Utgard moderately disappointed with how infrequently Enslaved galvanized their potent brand of Viking folky, progressive black metal effectively; the few moments the band do channel their strengths cohesively and purposefully left me wanting more rather than savoring those moments.

6/10

In Cauda Venenum - G.O.H.E.

It’s hard to, and indeed seems kind of in just to, sum up a heaping prog metal serving like G.O.H.E., comprised of two 22-minute halves, in a capsule review, but that is kind of the format my current busy circumstances have forced me into. French outfit In Cauda Venenum made a self-titled debut in similar two-long-track fashion back in 2015, and the band’s gothic and somewhat theatrical brand of atmospheric post-black-metal is continued on their sophomore effort here, drawing the obvious comparisons to Opeth and Katatonia, as well as Der Weg Einer Freiheit, Numenorean, and Sólstafir, and apart from the more frequent sample usage and extra drawn-out songs, there really isn’t that much to differentiate In Cauda Venenum stylistically. The band’s second album, unfortunately, resembles so many others in the field with big aspirations and the same inadequate means of getting there.

5/10

Apparition - Granular Transformation

A much more bite-sized early two-track offering, Apparition’s debut EP offers a more promising glimpse into a heady, atmospheric, yet still visceral manipulation of modern death metal that I would be curious to hear in a more long-form format. In a genre as extreme as death metal in recent years has been, finding artists effective at working with negative space can be difficult, but the two songs on Granular Transformation showcase a formidable dexterity from Apparition that I think can take them places.

6/10

Molasses - Through the Hollow

While indeed marred by some rough performances on songs with sometimes more desert to cross than water to make it there, there’s an undeniable occult hypnotism about the Dio-era-esque doom metal hollow that Molasses ritualize their way through.

7/10

Death Angel - Under Pressure

While certainly an odd choice on the surface, Death Angel’s acoustic EP and cover of the famous Queen song actually comes out pretty alright. The acoustic version of Act III’s “A Room with a View” comes off with the energy of something like Rush whenever they went acoustic, and the original acoustic cut, “Faded Remains” isn’t too bad either. The acoustic format did not, however, mask the drabness of “Revelation Song” from last year’s overall disappointment, Humanicide.

6/10

Necrophobic - Dawn of the Damned

The Swedes’ melodic brand of blackened death metal is nothing if not thorough on the quintet’s ninth full-length, Dawn of the Damned, covering all the ground that their fans expect their style to cover and doing so with more compositional and performative stamina than their average contemporary. While the band’s broader compositional approach is akin to the beating of a dead horse, I can’t deny it produces some tasty motifs in the process.

7/10

Bloodbather - Silence

After coming onto the blossoming metallic hardcore scene in 2018 with a standard, but potent enough 14-minute EP, Pressure, Bloodbather are back with another 14 minutes of similar, yet less promising material, doing little to set themselves apart from or on the same level of the likes of Jesus Piece, Vein, Knocked Loose, or Harm’s Way.

5/10

Infera Bruo - Rites of the Nameless

The Bostonians’ fourth full-length is, at the very least, a rather well-executed forty minutes of modern black metal a la Craft or Watain, but beneath the seams the band’s progressive tendencies twist what would otherwise be a fresh, but standard, slab of black metal into a more head-turning offering of the usual shrieks and blast beats.

7/10

Touché Amoré - Lament

While somewhat shaky in their compositional exploration in their fifth LP, the firmness of their emotive post-hardcore foundation allows for Touché Amoré to build upwards relatively steadily without losing that raw vulnerability that has made them so captivating to begin with.

7/10

Gargoyl - Gargoyl

This is the self-titled debut from Bostonian four-piece Gargoyl; a novel blend of dirty nineties grunge and gothic prog metal, Gargoyl come through with one of the more impressive genre fusions of the year, meeting the lofty sufficiency for dexterity with excessive vocal harmonies in a manner so uncanny that would make habe to Layne Stayley proud. While there is the expected room for improvement on the compositional end that many debut projects come with, Gargoyl have laid the groundwork for themselves fantastically and started off on a good foot.

7/10

Crippled Black Phoenix - Ellengæst

Through creative gothic flair and full-bodied guest vocal contributions that bolster the somber atmosphere beyond the typical post-metal album, the UK band’s most recent offering of “endtime ballads”, despite its few low points that undo its otherwise immersive atmosphere, serves as one of the more engaging releases under the broader post-metal umbrella of the past year.

7/10

Wayfarer - A Romance with Violence

The Denver-based quartet follow up 2018’s strong emotive case for the potential for evoking cathartic power of the atmospheric black metal which has so saturated the American scene to the point of numbness, their Americana-tinged third LP, World’s Blood, unfortunately, with a fourth LP whose compositional homogeneity and mere few intermittent bursts of enthralling atmospheric instrumentation more represent, rather than advocate the merit of, the saturation of the American atmospheric black metal scene.

6/10

Armored Saint - Punching the Sky

Though I think the structural homogeneity and John Bush’s similarly limited vocal delivery holds it back, with crunchy bangers like “Do Wrong to None” and “My Jurisdiction” alongside more tempered tracks the clearly grunge-influenced “Lone Wolf”, Bush and company provide a relatively stylistically diverse traditional heavy metal album for an age that could use more contemporary representation of classic styles (beyond the entire stoner metal genre LARPing as Black Sabbath too).

7/10

Spirit Adrift - Enlightened in Eternity

But it's not just the old guard representing their era of classic heavy metal robustly; a year and a half after their energetically melodic third album, Divided by Darkness, which took a triumphant melodic approach to classic heavy metal and doom metal similar to that of Khemmis on their excellent third album, Spirit Adrift ease up a bit on the hyper-soulful approach to guitar melody that had led me (and others I'm sure) to draw the comparison to Khemmis, and instead dive deeper into the headspace of the genre's earliest progenitors to achieve that unabashedly glorious rallying cry that is evoked by the very front cover of Enlightened in Eternity. While I am personally pretty partial to the very vulnerable and heartfelt melodic approach that characterized Divided by Darkness, the effectiveness with which Spirit Adrift are able to wield the sometimes Maiden-esque, sometimes Testament-esque sounds of the 80’s on this album is undeniably impressive.

8/10

Fever 333 - Wrong Generation

Providing the correction to this generation’s answer to Rage Against the Machine (after Prophets of Rage’s insufficient attempted revival) Fever 333 follow up last year’s debut of heavy, fired-up and modern take on rapcore with another 14 minutes of righteous anti-racist hardcore anger that’s attuned to the issues to a level that I wish more artists would at least express in their art. While the EP is 18 minutes long, the last two songs, “The Last Time” and “Supremacy”, don’t match the sonic energy of the first six tracks. The somber piano-led snippet-length ballad, “The Last Time”, should have been the conclusion of the album, but the closing track, “Supremacy”, while as conscious as the tracks before it, is basically a late-stage formulaic Linkin Park track that flatters neither of the two bands. Despite botching the landing though, Wrong Generation is a ripping batch of songs that well represent the current unrest and provide a positive hypothetical idea of what it might be like if Rage Against the Machine were in their prime and active today.

7/10

Mörk Gryning - Hinsides Vrede

The Swedes return from their 15-year disillusioned absence from the studio with a concise and clearly renewed enthusiasm for the energetic black metal that they put forth on Hinsides Vrede. Dynamically bolstered by folk-metal compositional tendencies and more than a dash of that famed Gothenburg melodicism (I know they’re from Stockholm and in fact their melodic approach often does heaven to that of their close neighbors from Uppsala, Watain), Mörk Gryning’s seamless return to music finds them jumping into the modern black metal scene’s advanced compositional rubric with relative ease.

7/10

Zeal & Ardor - Wake of a Nation

Having covered their output since their debut and being a big fan of Manuel Gagneux’ project, it pains me to say, especially given the noble pretext and occasional momentary flashes of sobering messaging, that this six-song mini release really doesn’t capture the unique sonic pallet that has made Zeal & Ardor such an interesting act to listen to for the past few years in the most flattering light. The title track is possibly the least of the offenders here, but all the songs here function by taking a little snippet of sound that samples Zeal & Ardor’s broader stylistic range, and drawing it out across these short, but all too minimally composed tracks in such a way that they lose their momentum very quickly. Like I said, I wholeheartedly appreciate, sympathize with, and support what Manuel Gagneux is doing to lend his band’s platform to the addressing of the dire issue of today’s racism through musical means with this project, and when its social motivation is at the forefront, it’s at its most potent, but musically, unfortunately, it’s just desperately underwritten in a way that doesn’t fairly represent how accomplished Zeal & Ardor really are with their sound.

5/10

Sevendust - Blood & Stone

The flashes of crushing grooves reminiscent of their earlier work on Blood & Stone that highlight how well Sevendust can harness nu/alternative metal to execute pummeling attacks with the right crunchy guitar tone, unfortunately, don’t come frequently enough on their twelfth LP to mirage the exhaustion that has come of the band’s writing process after such frequent, unrelenting output and the all too apparent desperate need for a recalibrating, refreshing break, which they certainly deserve for their tenacity.

5/10

Undeath - Lesions of a Different Kind

In one of those cases where the ridiculously gratuitous album cover actually represents the album’s sound quite well, Rochester, New York five-piece, Undeath mince neither words nor sounds on their debut LP in their 100% upfront, no-nonsense, and wonderfully nasty delivery of death metal. Eschewing even the slightest sense of snobbery or pretense for aimless ambition, the band simply compile the genre’s tried and true elements of bellowing growls, filthy riffs, mean-ass down-tuned chugging, and blood-pumping double-bass with blast beats into an addictive slab of raw, uncured death metal that serves as a testament to the merit of not overthinking shit.

8/10

Griffon - Ὸ Θεός Ὸ Βασιλεύς

On their sophomore LP, Parisian quintet Griffon channel the world innovative ethos that has become rather prominent in their scene into a somewhat short, but definitely sweet offering of modestly ambitious black metal that captures much more effectively than most albums of similar style and lesser imagination, the divine grandeur that the genre so often tries and fails to embody.

8/10

Bring Me the Horizon - Post-Human: Survival Horror

After taking the hard left into current pop music trends very transparently on their controversial, which was at least partially intentional on their part, and ultimately really patchy, but not wholly awful, 2019 album, amo, Oli Sykes and co. walk it back substantially for this smaller release here, back to That's the Spirit, even Sempiternal, a prospect that might get a lot of the band's more long-time, metalcore-centric fans excited, but I would suggest those fans temper their expectations of Post-Human: Survival Horror. The band reunite with the anthemic metalcore/deathcore that put them on the map for a good chunk of this album, and the intro track, "Dear Diary,", might even give some false hope of the prodigal sons returning home. But songs like the cookie-cutter single, "Teardrops", provide strong evidence that, while the band have re-embraced their old aesthetic, they have not kicked the pop vocal or compositional habits. And the project really does run out of energy in its final third because of this compositional homogeneity. I do want to highlight the song, "Kingslayer", which features a very in-form Babymetal (I loved their album last year), because their fun, not-so-serious approach to the crossing of J-pop and metal music in their feature on this track among the other songs around it provides a contrast to the more formulaic, disinterested radio pop swagger that Bring Me the Horizon have been trying to jam into their sound that could perhaps inform Bring Me the Horizon's artistic approach to integrating pop music if they really are so hellbent on doing so. Ultimately though, as much as they want to move into newer territory, this trajectory-revising release shows just how much more solid Bring Me the Horizon are in their metalcore territory than they were on amo. It had its predictable hiccups, but this thing wasn't too bad.

7/10

Pallbearer - Forgotten Days

With the slow, sludgy, down-tuned riffing of the menacing opening title track and the similar chug of “Vengeance & Ruination” being the sole exceptions, the remainder of Pallbearer’s fouth full-length largely sees them operating in the same niche they have in their three previous albums. And while this could invoke accusations of playing it safe, the brimming heartfelt sorrow and resistance to succumbing to despair across Forgotten Days is enough to wave that away, as Pallbearer showcase just how emotive doom metal can be.

8/10

Bleeding Out - Lifelong Death Fantasy

The very new act and fresh Profound Lore signing, Bleeding Out, certainly display more dynamic capability than your average local grindcore scene’s biggest names here on their 18-minute debut for the label, but as of now it is still just a glimpse of potential for more effective future implementation. It’s a good start, though, and I’ll be looking forward to a more long-form project from these guys.

6/10

Evildead - United States of Anarchy

Every year we get the resurrection of some long-inactive old-school band who seem to have found that missing spark at last; we’ve seen the return of smaller bands to the studio like Angel Witch or Sorcerer and long-awaited revivals of iconic acts like Possessed. This year, Los Angeles’ Evildead has seen fit to make their commentary on the massive ongoing sociopolitical upheaval. Despite my love for the 80’s thrash scene they were born out of, the combination of the utterly lame band name, logo, and covers for either their ‘89 or ‘91 albums never really made me want to check them out, but seeing the horridly cheesy and incoherent cover of United States of Anarchy (I mean how much more on-the-nose can you get), my morbid curiosity got the best of me. Maybe I’d be wrong to have judged them by their cover, plenty of my favorite 80’s albums have particularly goofy cover art. So what do we get from Evildead in 2020 with this fucking album? Well, it’s not as poorly performed as the past few Anvil albums I’ve had to review have been, but Jesus the lyricism is similarly cheesy 5th-grade-level stuff and smacks of silly political incoherence that essentially boils down to “enlightened centrism” with mix of that good ol’ Illuminati-conspiracy-theory belief that no political thrash album is apparently complete without. I mean there’s just basic acknowledgment of the prominent problems of the day and the fact that both major political parties are bad and that corruption is rampant all throughout DC, but Evildead not only barely scratch the surface, they apply the same level cynicism to the “both sides” they criticize with no substantiation to their criticism despite that mindset being a big reason for our being where we are right now, mixed in with the occasional conspiracy-paranoia about the shadowy underworld running everything, so no real solutions or even proper addressing of these problems. Like, the same level of criticism is levied at right-wingers and communists, like communists are at all why this country has gone to shit. And the generic Anthrax/Megadeth type of thrash instrumentation, while rumbly and mixed well to highlight its bass heaviness, doesn’t exactly make it easy to get past the commentary deficiencies on here.

4/10

Emma Ruth Rundle & Thou - May Our Chambers Be Full

Rounding off their year (at least I think), with a long-teased collaboration with Emma Ruth Rundle, Thou finally present their massive sludge-doom sound in a much more flattering light than the previous cover albums this year did. Thou's original material continues to highlight just why their relatively stiff sound is much more cut out for that, original material, than for trying to bend beyond its flexibility to tribute grunge songs. And while Thou being back in their more effective department, Emma Ruth Rundle's contributions, beyond just her gorgeous and ethereally haunting vocals, to the album's atmosphere, dynamic, and structuring really take the collaboration to the next level. Not to say that Thou are completely overshadowed and relegated to the background on this record or that they don't contribute to a fair share of the legwork here; the workload is shared pretty equally, and both collaborators have their moments of prominence, but Emma Ruth Rundle's ever-present gothic/folky influence really directs the music in a way that plays to Thou's strengths in a way I'm not sure they would have been able to on their own. It's great work from both of them, and I'd be eager to hear Thou find more collaborations like this in the future that push them into doing more interesting things with their crushing doom sound, as opposed to the rather tepid collaborations with The Body.

8/10

Auðn - Vökudraumsins Fangi

Sadly, three albums in, Auðn have only barely exceeded the bare minimum for naturalistic atmospheric black metal, with no signs of significant improvement to be found. The Icelandic band earn points for their earnest delivery, but they never seem to fully make it out of the rut that the genre’s many contemporary acts have dug.

5/10

Botanist - Photosynthesis

The black metal traditionalists might have had to accept that the floodgates to bright ambience and serene shoegaze in the genre have been opened and that there's no going back now, but even as an avid Deafheaven fan, I'm sometimes momentarily surprised at just how heavenly some black metal has gotten lately, and this new album from Botanist is one of those albums. And while it sometimes slips into some of the current wave's typical ruts, the sheer blindingly illuminating aura of this album when it reaches those high points (and it does so frequently) is enough to pull it out from those gutters and high into the cosmos. Yeah, another splendid offering of nature worship from Botanist.

8/10

Mr. Bungle - The Raging Wrath of the Easter Bunny Demo

Making their return after over a decade, Mike Patton recruits both Dave Lombardo and Scott Ian for the long-awaited fourth Mr. Bungle album, which is titled in homage to the first Mr. Bungle demo which it is comprised largely of much clearer re-recordings of. Ever impressive, Mike Patton balances aggression and eccentricity like a tightrope walker on this project too, while his bandmates do the same with thrash metal’s natural adrenaline rush while pushing the genre into new compositional and stylistic territory without sacrificing that crucial whiplash. It’s a great time, and definitely one of the year’s best thrash albums.

8/10

Carcass - Despicable

While they've been much less prolific since their reboot than they were prior, Liverpool's melodic death metal pioneers simply continue to demonstrate their excellence in this seemingly effortless four-track appetizer to next year's Torn Arteries. Anyone familiar with the band's brutal form of melodic death metal will certainly be pleased with the four quite sufficiently pulverizing cuts here; those who may only be familiar with some of the band's many less muscular imitators might be surprised, and pleasantly so, with the Englanders' ability to lay on the infectious guitar melody without sacrificing an ounce of force.

8/10