#This is about my frustration with instrumentation and mixing last night

[demphix]

Killing her tuesday

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - XII

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters gen. warnings: NSFW, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics-n-more 3rd pic is BRZRKR #2 cover variant 😍

⚠Trigger warning: dash of noncon, if that squicks you DO NOT READ!⚠

12. the serpent deceived me

It’s been a while, since you’ve had a migraine. 

It seems like tonight’s your night. 

Groggily you attempt to open eyelids that feel as though they’re made of lead. The room spins at first, and you try to hold your head in an attempt to put things back in their proper place. You are prevented from doing this, however, because your hands are bound over your head. With a snarl you pull at your restraints, metal manacles biting into your wrists, rattling chains bolted securely into a stone wall. You cannot budge them.  

You look around in a panic, and realize you are in a cave. Candles in wrought iron sconces and on various flat surfaces light the cavernous space. It looks lived in. There’s furniture, a table, chairs, even books, like this is someone’s subterranean retreat–mixed with a dungeon. 

“At last, look who’s awake.” 

With fangs bared you turn towards the familiar sardonic sound. “You…”

It’s about all you can think to say at first, as you behold don Juan sprawled in a throne of a chair across the room, his legs crossed and his beautiful mouth pulled in a satisfied smirk. He looks good enough to eat, in a billowing white shirt unbuttoned at his throat, his slender legs encased in leather boots up to his knees. He looks like he’s stepped out of a different century, and you vaguely wonder if older vampires wear the trappings of their time out of nostalgia, or like a security blanket against a modern world they hardly recognize. 

“Where’s Chas?” you demand, looking around. 

“Who?”

You bare your teeth, hissing, “The boy. Our friend.” 

Juan shrugs, smirking, and you hate him so very much in that moment. “I wouldn’t know.” 

Your mind flips through all the horrible scenarios of what could have happened to Chas. Was he dead in an alley? Or did they just take his fucking hat to bait you? You realize this monster does not care, and will not tell you. 

The next question you dread the answer to is: “Where’s John?”

“Which one?” asks the vampire with a cruel delight, looking back over his shoulder. 

Your heart filled with dread, you look past him into the shadows across the room, to find John Wick bound in a similar fashion to you, his wrists in manacles, his shirt in tatters and his torso covered in blood. He’s unconscious, hanging from the wall, and with a sinking feeling you wonder how the hell they managed to pull that off. What did they do to him?

“Thank you, by the way, for sending him marching right into my trap. He’s a bit of a blunt instrument, isn’t he? So predictable, the lot of you.” 

“What?”

The old vampire scoffs. “Did you really think you were going to nose around without me knowing? You, so freshly dead that I can still taste the sunshine on your skin? I felt you snooping from a mile away.”

You purse your lips, frustrated, mostly with yourself. You’d thought you were being careful. Turns out you still have a lot to learn. It might not matter, if you can’t figure out how to get out of these damned restraints…

“Um. Yeah, kind of,” you admit, pulling on your manacles again.  

He laughs at you, a malevolent, diabolical sound that grates you to the marrow of your bones. God, but you really do hate him. 

“He killed a great deal of my vampires though. I do not appreciate being forced underground.” You can sense there are other vampires around, lurking in the shadows. It feels like he still has plenty of minions to do his bidding. 

“Sucks to be you.”

“We’ll see who sucks who.” He stands from his seat, raking you up and down with a look that leaves you feeling decidedly unclean. “You are cute. I will give your suitors that.” 

You frown, unsure how he knows you have more than one…but then, maybe from now on you should just assume this snake knows everything. He’s far too clever. What chance did any of you have, against a thing that’s lived as long as he has? You sag in your chains in your despair, feeling helpless and stupid. Your only hope is that Constantine is still out there…but you realize that you hope he focuses on saving the world, rather than saving you. 

“Oh,” says Juan with false lament, pursing his lips in a pout that should look ridiculous on a grown man, but somehow…why is he so fucking beautiful? But you know it is like the serpents of the jungle; the ones most pleasing to the eye will prove the most deadly. “Giving up so soon? That’s no fun, the games have only just begun!”

You glare at him, for what it’s worth. “Why…would Hell on Earth seem like fun to you?”

He shrugs, approaching you with slow, deliberate steps, a predator stalking his prey. “The High Table has made life…untenable for my liking. It’s time to put them in their place.”  

“You’re crazy.” 

Before you can blink he’s standing before you, delivering a backhanded slap that rocks your head sideways into the stone. “You are a mere child, compared to the years I have lived. Do not question things you cannot understand.” 

You taste blood in your mouth, and you know it paints your smile red. “And, you’re a huge asshole.” 

He laughs, pinching your chin between two fingers in a vice-like grip. “That, I will give you, querida. But if you behave yourself…” He steps in so that there’s barely a hair’s breadth between you. “You may have a seat at my side, rather than in the fiery pit.” 

Still, you shake your head. “What makes you think you can keep the son of Satan to his word, once he has taken over here?”

“Not to worry, corderita,” he says with a mocking gentleness, his long finger caressing the curve of your cheek. “I’ve taken that into account too. He’s not so all-powerful as The Book would have you believe.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re going to double-cross the devil’s son once you get what you want out of him, aren’t you?” 

This pulls an oily chuckle from the older vampire’s lips. “Now you’re getting it,” he whispers. “A few more hundred years, niña, and you just might be dangerous.”

The hubris of this man is staggering, and fear seethes in your belly like angry snakes. There are so many ways all this could go wrong, and the whole world is at stake… But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care, because he truly believes it all belongs to him. 

“And what if…he’s planning on double-crossing you?”

Juan huffs with laughter, his eyes upon your lips, his finger under your chin tilting your head just so. “I will burn that bridge when I get to it.” 

He leans in to kiss you, and that is when an unearthly growl fills the cavern, a voice like the grating of ancient stones demanding, “Get. Off. Of her.”

Don Juan smiles wide enough to flash his fangs at you, anticipation sparkling in his high-polished onyx orbs. You realize he’s been waiting for this moment all along.

“Finally, the dumb beast is awake.” 

John Wick strains at his chains, the impressive muscles corded in his arms and chest rippling, his eyes glowing that unearthly blue. You know you’re an idiot, but you can’t help but stare, moved to your toes by the deadly magnificence of him.   

“Let her go,” Wick warns again, and there is a charge in the air, like a growing storm. It raises the gooseflesh all down your arms. 

Juan positions himself so Wick can get a better view. “My spies told me you’d taken a liking to her. You really think she’s your dead wife reborn?”

Wick growls in answer. “She is mine.”

Juan grins at that, looking between the two of you trussed like Christmas turkeys. “That’s not how it looks from here, cabrón.” 

Faster than the eye can follow, Juan tears your dress right down the middle, exposing you from head to toe. It’s stupid, but you scream, surprised by this violation that you suspect, deep down, will prove laughingly minor compared to what’s coming. Wick roars, and Juan savors it like his favorite candy, laughing wickedly. 

“I can’t fault your taste, dhampir, I will give you that,” he says, before grabbing you by the hair and slanting his mouth over yours. You struggle, of course, but it does you no good. He doesn’t even have to use that staggering mind-fuckery from earlier in the club. He just has you, and all your undead strength will do you no good against a creature as old as him. He pins you with that lithe body against the wall, so strong that he too may as well be made of stone. 

Wick seethes and snarls like a caged bear, and don Juan just grins. “I once kept a werewolf captive there in those chains for fifty years,” muses the vampire to you conversationally. “He won't be getting out.”

Greedily he runs his hands over your body, squeezing your breasts and tracing the lace of your bra with his thumbs, pinching your nipples cruelly through the soft fabric. Your body betrays you with a jolt of sickly sweet pleasure sent straight to your loins. 

Furious, you scream, trying to squirm and buck him off but to no avail. You’re not sure what’s worse–the way he touches you, or the way he laughs at your futile resistance, your complete lack of power in his clutches. He ignores the thunderous uproar behind him, feeding off the sound of Wick’s fury, delighting in both of your pain. You catch a glance of the dhampir over Juan’s shoulder, and you think that maybe don Juan is a fool trust in just those iron chains. Are the eye bolts wiggling loose from the wall? An eerie blue light is filling the room, and not just from Wick’s eyes. It is as though it is emanating from his very pores, and you find the thought of him unleashed scares you as much as it gives you just a sliver of hope. 

Engrossed in his distraction, Juan’s hand runs down the curve of your spine, disappearing into the back of your underwear, squeezing your ass then probing lower. “Mmm. I knew you’d have a perfect little coño,” he hisses in your ear, nipping at your earlobe as he teases your treacherously wet little hole. 

“I hate you,” you answer through gritted teeth, bloody tears streaming from your eyes. 

“Good,” Juan answers glibly. “It makes the victory all the sweeter, darling. But you may as well get used to it. I’m going to make you my pretty little muñequita before we’re through, and I will fuck you in front of your stupid pinche pain-in-my-ass boyfriends whenever I feel like.”

 He kisses you again hard, his mouth trailing to the curve of your neck. Wick continues to snarl, and over Juan’s shoulder, through the glaze of your tears you see that the dhampir is damn close to actually breaking free, one of the bolts in the walls only precariously attached to the stone, and the other close behind. You feel Juan start to turn to look, and you know if you have any hope of getting out off there you have to keep Juan occupied.

You cannot hold him, so you use the only means available to you, wrapping your leg around his hip and sinking your teeth into his lower lip. 

Juan groans, surprised by your change of heart, but not questioning it in all his outsized ego. He leans into you, forgetting all about the dhampir in favor of the woman in front of him. His greedy hands roam your torso again, cupping your breast. 

“I knew you'd come around,” he gloats with a smirk, pressing his bloody mouth to yours. 

That is when the cavern fills with the blinding crackle of lightning, and the whole world goes blue.  

__________

*querida - dear *corderita - little lamb *niña - little girl *cabrón - derogatory term, like bastard, motherfucker, etc *coño - pussy *muñequita- little doll *pinche - fucking *wow i know a lot of dirty words in spanish i’m so sorry mother 😆

[torithehoshi]

CCCC Digital Doodle Dump - Oct 2023

Right - bear with me. Due to the sheer amount of digital doodles I have (and yes, I am emphasizing digital for a reason) and the amount of thoughts I have didn't make posting them separately feel right so I'm trying a different format for this.

The TLDR is, I had a lot of fun drawing CCCC related things last month. And y'all may as well be prepared for the long-run with me. My main goal was to get used to drawing HMS in my style (mostly hair and little design things based on my interpretations) and it's still something that'll be changing? But it's cool to see how things have changed and I'd like to share them.

Right - with that out of the way. Everything's under the Read More due to the sheer amount of text.

Second First attempt at drawing the trio in my style - and you can especially tell with the little notes I have (trust me - there's a version with even more notes).

A lot of my references were from the videos, especially Light & Night as well as the instrumental album cover, and fan interpretations I've seen that I liked and wanted to give a shot at (primarily Mind's mechanical hands/arms were from seeing @/maybedr3am's design) and some of my own interpretations or thoughts (but I wouldn't be surprised if some of those mixes with fan interpretations. Most of them I can't recall for the life of me except Heart having sharp teeth. I know others have done it - I just hadn't at the time seen a lot). But for the most part, there is a lot of me getting used to drawing hair specifically since I wanted them all to look somewhat different and it was good to practice that.

Some of these notes do not make sense to me right now - and I doubt they made sense at the time tbh (looking at that one near Soul)

While I much preferred starting primarily going off of the videos, Mind was an exception. ...Accidentally. I struggled really hard with him and still do so that note is funny in hindsight. I liked the robot/android-esque (?) angle/reference to 'mechanical hands' folks went with but forgot I don't draw robots much. It was frustrating me and in that time, I gave him snake bites to, as I say in the notes, mirror screws. ... And now they're just part of my Mind design because I like them too much.

Also!! I mentioned that I have a version with a lot more notes (and a different attempt at Mind I hated). I didn't really want a bunch of doodles of my sona around, so this version is for somewhat easier reading. It also left me with extra space for one more thing and I was listening to Dream so, a doodle based off the last verse it was! (I love that song, it's so good)

Second one which is a compilation of a bunch of different doodle sheets I did!! These are ones I really liked and also were mostly finished. But also each of the sheets (which is an amalgamation of three) were done at different times which you can see in my indecisiveness in what I liked in making Mind look more robotic bar just the arms and the one doodle where the hair sticking a top of Heart's head changes.

Soul, surprisingly, changes very little bar me not being able to decide if he'll have that accessory or not. Also me being stupid inconsistent with remembering to color in his hands (his whole body has that split color).

Anyways - like three of these are meme/shitpost adjacent. You'll also see me trying to think about how to incorporate the crown to Mind's design since I hadn't really tried - but I've since moved it to post-Cacophony or post-Light design ideas/headcanons. I like the hairpin idea a lot. (Note: In this headcanon, Heart also has something but it's a bracelet and... there's a lack of hands in this so... yeah. Mind made it) Also me doing a thing I like to just give random new outfits when drawing a character and... Heart's the one I had the most fun drawing.

The only completely separate one! Mostly 'cause I already had it set to be separate.

It's a height headcanon thing I drew to visualize things for myself since I'm not the best with height. All it is, is that I think they're all the same height based off of what CJ said in the Medium Q&A. But then you have little details like Mind wearing platform shoes that basically make him 6'0" and Soul slouching a lot making him "the shortest". (Also hi completely human Mind design)

This was also originally done on the same doodle sheet where the "Fuck it we ball" one was on btw. Time wise, that was before I started changing how I drew the little hair sticking out on Heart's head which - speaking of...

Despite still drawing them interacting, I started to make clip files to practice drawing them on their own. I was already kind of doing that traditionally and I thought this would be a good way to get me to focus on one of the members. Especially since drawing with my tablet pen and pencil feels different but especially with these three.

Also - focusing on them individually felt like a good way to get used to how I draw them overall. I have one for Soul and Mind now, but not at the time. Idk if I'll share more of those later unless I can format them like actual reference sheets.

Fundamentally, this serves the same purpose as the first sheet. Trying out a bunch of things, just letting my hand... draw and seeing what I like and don't. Maybe even noting some little actions that I see myself drawing them doing (like the hands balled up in fists a lot). Also! It explains why I changed the shape of the hair at the top! I think the heart shape is cute - but as I did it more, I found with me trying to make his bangs look like a heart... just for me and my style specifically, it started to feel much. But then I had another idea in making it a bit more cartoon-y, which was the kind of circle/halo shape to create an angel motif and it fit well with how I see Heart. So that's how it is now!

It's actually fascinating seeing that I suddenly started changing how I drew his hair? I started this after making this for the record (which now I remember - I referenced these), and something just... changed. I don't like it considering I was actively trying to draw curls. I have a better grasp on it now though - I think.

-----

Anyways - that's everything! Uh - thanks for reading all my ramblings if you did. I have no idea if I'll format any future art dumps/doodle dumps like this again but we'll see. Doing this made me notice both advantages and disadvantages to this so... It'll really depend if I have the same amount to say, haha.

[audio-luddite]

Warm up sound.

Last night the wife was away for a bit so I could play it loud. While I made dinner I plugged in my iphone and let the thing run. I gotta say that it does not sound that great at first. It takes an hour or so to smooth out the edges. I am sure this is mostly if not entirely in the Franken Amp. It sounds harsh. I suppose there is a subtle thermal thing going on. Offsets and biases are set warm so there is that.

Back in the old days (really old tube days) the machines would not even work until they got hot. It is a bit frustrating, but I understand it and expect it.

Specifically there is harshness in voices and sibilance is exaggerated. It is not bad bad, but I expect better. Once it finds its happy place there is none of that. Once I ate, I made a cocktail and sat in the good spot and listened to more itunes. I was not sure what I wanted, so I tried a few things.

One album I listened to was "Graceland" from Paul Simon. It is interesting musically, historically, and technically. Talk about multi-track mixing from different continents and time frames! Still it hangs together. There is no "reality" as it is pure studio stuff, so you must concentrate on the textures. In Itunes there is some harshness in places, but the timbres of instruments is present. I lacks some life.

Later I spun up the 180 gram LP pressing of the same and night and day better. My favorite bits were with Ladysmith Black Mambazo. Pure human voices in a group recorded in a space. I know this album well. I was struck last night that the lyrics were much clearer and understandable on the LP. PS can mumble sometimes especially in "You can call me Al".

I also did a bit of Loreena Mckinnett as well I like it. Very clear vocals and well recorded instruments.

Does anyone remember Gerry Rafferty? (He died in 2011.) I have "City to City" there is a famous Sax Riff on the song "Baker Street." Very striking as is the guitar stuff. I like his songs and for some reason had pulled this album out of the rack downstairs a while ago, and last night played it. I am always fascinated how spoken accents disappear or are neutralized when singing. GR was Scottish and I think from Glasgow. Scotts English sounds like another language all together. I am pretty good at listening, but it is a true challenge.

I have noticed a few small differences in the turntable. Rumble is often noticeable on lead in tracks, but then can be ignored when the music starts. I think also the new suspension dampers make a difference. Music was a bit loud last night. No sign of it hearing the speakers. I turn it up so it is just below my ears complaining. It is sort of like clipping in my head.

I shut it down as I was tired and the drink was working.

[bayster]

There's More To Love (Than Boy Meets Girl) is a nice 80s song, there's a part of it that reminds me of Holding Out for a Hero but you already know that song. Here's a song I like that it also kind of reminds me of.

I LOVE the instrumental style of Firestarter. Like it sounds kind of electronic in a harsh rock way, like futuristic and dark, along with that "hey! hey! hey!" It's like something skaters in the 90s/2000s would listen to. I've actually been looking for music like this, but I'm not sure which genre(s) it'd fall under. So far Bom the woofer! and this song are the closest songs I can find. (Leave You Far Behind by Lunatic Calm)

I love Deee-Lite, my friend introduced me to them last year, my favorite song on that album is probably Good Beat. What Is Love? is an iconic song too though. I can't think of any other house music that matches Deee-Lite's style, but Can You Feel It is one of my favorite house songs.

I like the way this rapper sounds, I haven't checked out too much British rap but I've been wanting to hear more. This is the one of the only songs in my library that has a British rapper rapping in it and I LOVE it so if you know any other songs like this let me know.

I don't listen to much music like the Oingo Boingo song you sent, but I do like some music like that, like I've heard Oingo Boingo before and songs similar to their style. I like when there's weird noises in their song, which is the vibe I got from the one you sent. Here's a song I found similar to that style in case you haven't heard this one.

Don't feel pressured to say how you feel about all of these if there's any you're not too into. Well, really just know you don't have to respond at all if you don't want to, but I wanted to send songs back based on what you sent me like it's a game of tennis.

I'm enjoying this game of tennis tbh. Night Line reminds me of a song that frustrates me that I can't place what i'm thinking, but I find it so funny you mention my last song sounding like Holding Out For A Hero, because my first song this time around, is actually where some of the sounds and stuff were originally used. I mean that song was written by this artist so it works.

I don't listen to much of that kinda sound for Leave You Far Behind, but I do enjoy it. Best I got for that one is ironically, my ringtone.

Can You Feel It is a really good house song tbh, I love that sound even if I don't typically have much of it saved. Closest I have is this.

That Greaze remix, I don't recognise the original artist, but i swear I hear a different UK rap artist in it. It sounds like JME, who I honestly love.

Okay, that Thomas Dolby one, is the one I instantly added to my playlist. Love that one a lot. I'm trying to find something weirdly experimental and 80s. So here's a top ten hit from australia that are still unexplainably weird to me.

I honestly love this back and forth, I can keep sending music all day.

[caffiend-queen]

Blood & Music

Chapter 9: At Last

In which James and Maila finally get their well-deserved time alone.

There was a weird pressure to make this chapter perfect because I made these two wait so long to be together. I wanted a mix of tenderness and filth, and I hope it works. Thank you all for sticking with me, I appreciate you more than I can say.

Chapter 8 here.

You broke apart as you could hear Tommy speaking louder than necessary, clearly warning you as he escorted an extremely drunk Billy and crew up the stairs to the rooftop lounge. Matt’s pale eyes narrowed slightly as he looked between you and an unflappable James, but he didn’t say anything.

Billy held court for the next hour until James and Lea convinced him it was time to call it a night. You’d been sitting next to Matt, vibrating with impatience and seething frustration. He has a job to do, you reminded yourself. He’s on the clock. Stop whining. But after all these years, to feel something like this?

There was a moment, a short one as you all headed back downstairs to the waiting cars. “I would have wished for more time,” he murmured in your ear, surely seeing the spray of goosebumps sent up on your skin. That man and his perfect voice! “But I very much want to speak with you when we have time to-”

“Just talk?” you teased, wondering inside who this carefree creature was, “Only converse? Dialogue? Reflect?”

“Stop it now or I shall throw you over my shoulder and carry you off, duty be damned.” Oh, there was that wildly arousing growl you’d been dying to hear. When only a weak puff of air escaped your slack lips, he chuckled softly and moved in front of Billy.

It was just as well that your night with James was cut unfairly short. Matt was chatty when you got back to the hotel, exceptionally chatty and infuriatingly, it was surface chatter.

“So, we’re on this sultan’s yacht, and he’s got like sixteen of these exceptionally hot and naked-”

“You are not going to tell me this, Matt.” You rubbed your forehead. “It’s also like 5am and I’ve got rehearsal in a few hours. So you’re going to take a shower and sleep on the couch. I’ll take you to brunch after you suck down a couple of Tylenol, okay?”

He scoffed slightly, settling back and taking another sip of the very good Dutch beer from the minibar. “Sure. As soon as you tell me what’s going on with you and the bodyguard. You fuck him yet?”

“Really?” You kicked at his leg and Matt scooted away at the last minute, laughing. “This isn’t funny, Matty! And that’s so gross. Do I ask you about your sex life, you weirdo?”

“No, but I’ll tell you,” he grinned, “what do you want to know?”

“Know?” Your lip quivered before you took a breath, “I want to know where you’ve been for the last five years. I want to know why you haven’t come to see me. I want to know how you and Billy have, and I quote, ‘Done business together.’ I want to know if you’re getting any small bit of happiness and stability back in your life, even if it means you keeping away from me.”

There was that tell-tale quiver at the end of your stern statement. Perfect. Matt was looking at you, pale blue eyes wide.

“Please don’t cry,” he whined. “It freaks me out.”

You took his hand, and he reflexively tried to pull away but you held on. Long, slim fingers like yours, so gifted at coaxing music from his instruments as a child. There was scar tissue, smoothed over the years where his index finger had been. “You can leave again, but I’m still your sister, Matty. You can tell me anything. Anything. You know that, right?”

“I’m doing… business. Nothing illegal!” he hastily added when your brow rose doubtfully. “But nothing you need to get involved in.”

“Did you get drugs for Billy?”

He laughed, boisterously like he used to. “No. I picked up some rare guitars for him. I’m not ending up in some third-world prison for some rich asshole’s coke stash.”

“Okay,” you tried to smile. “You know I’m worried. You know I hate that you’re keeping secrets from me. But…” you held on to his hand more tightly. “Are you happy?”

His pale gaze went somewhere else for a moment, then he smiled at you with an effort. “I’m getting closer.”

When Maila walked on to the stage for soundcheck, James smiled almost involuntarily, and when she spotted him, a small and sincere grin answered him. Tommy chuckled, and again he was sincerely regretting hiring the smarmy Scottish bastard on to this job.

“Seems real fortunate that after the concert tonight, Billy’s on downtime for a few days to shoot the interview shite for the documentary, eh? A lil’ downtime for everyone’s not such a bad idea right now I’m thinking.”

He opened his mouth to sternly advise his friend that of course, he, personal security agent James Conrad would be handling all the duties related to their client’s stay at a vineyard in Tuscany. Of course.

Tommy cut him off.

“It’s 72 hours, mate. I can take the first 48. You been on duty with this arse for months, eh?”

James frowned. He did not leave a client. He was on duty until relieved of-

“I know what you’re thinkin’ and you should think again. There ain’t no more of a girl like Maila. She’s standing right in front of ye and there’s no third chances. Take the 48 hours.” Tommy grasped his shoulder, shaking him.

He opened his mouth to disagree, to explain his duty. “Thank you, Tommy,” was all he could manage instead.

Pacing back and forth after finally wedging a drunk and obstreperous Billy into the egg-shaped tub where he’d insisted on sleeping, James pondered exactly when it was when any charm he’d had with women disappeared. Because the enormity of planning this time with Maila loomed hugely. Was it too presumptuous to simply whisk her off to some charming - and ideally secluded - cottage in Tuscany? Would that be too much togetherness, even with the utter certainty he felt of everything suddenly and smoothly clicking into place? The feel of her mouth tonight and that realization of, “There you are. Of course.”

Finally showering and slipping into bed - clothed, because he must be ready at a moment’s notice if his client was in danger - he wondered if Maila slept nude. If she would mind if he slept nude, which he’d always preferred. Then, the image of her skin against his, the warmth, the softness of her was too much and James groaned, taking his cock in hand and knowing this would just barely take the edge off his need for Maila.

You had managed to see Matt off the next morning without crying again, an action you knew he noted with some relief. And the day got decisively better when you showed up for rehearsal, James in a perfectly tailored pair of navy blue pants and a cashmere sweater that outlined those broad shoulders so nicely that you might have made a small, involuntary woman noise. He looked up and smiled, and your jaw dropped.

He was so beautiful when he smiled, the Stern and Composed Bodyguard to the Stars James Conrad. An open grin, making the fine lines around those pretty eyes crinkle. It wasn’t measured or controlled, it was sincere. Sincerely happy to see you? You realized you’d been smiling back in a misty fashion for far too long and gave an awkward little shrug before turning to your bass guitar array.

Rehearsal dragged on, Billy somehow always having the uncanny sense when his band had other things to do. Crucial things. Important scheduling issues. At least, you thought it was important. You thought James also might find it a priority. Sighing, you rubbed your forehead while the new Lighting Guy re-adjusted the spotlight. So much was still unsaid between you and James. Billy, go take a nap or get a vitamin shot or whatever that thing is but give us a break, you thought, ready to crack him over the head with your Ibanez Premium. It wasn’t your favorite guitar. And it was from cherrywood so it would bounce off his thick skull and maybe hit him again on the way down…

James smiled, enjoying the dreamy expression on Maila’s face, having clearly gone somewhere happy. He was a patient man. He could wait. He’d waited for days, weeks even in the military during crucial missions. He’d waited hours for Billy to do any number of ridiculous things.

“I shall retire to my egg before the performance tonight,” Billy announced. “‘Til tonight!”

Thank god, James thought. Perhaps he wasn’t the patient man he used to be.

Tommy was doing his level best to not actually laugh in his face - the Scottish git apparently still had some sense of self-preservation - but he shooed him away from the palatial bathroom where their eccentric employer was curled in the tub, humming blissfully as a young woman in a full Dutch costume, including wooden shoes, was tap-dancing happily to the melody of “Singing in the Rain.”

“Go,” he said, “no one needs ta’ see this. Ya’ got an hour, make it count.”

James’ long legs ate up the distance between Billy’s suite and Maila’s and the door flew open on the first rap of his knuckles against the wood. His fingers slid into her hair and his mouth on hers in seconds, and he groaned, relief that this woman, this kiss was real. That he hadn’t imagined the moment she exposed her truth to him.

“It has been a long day,” he managed to say before slotting his lips against hers again, loving the soft, full texture of them.

“And it’s going to be an even longer night,” Maila sighed, “but after Club Naked, I think even Billy’s partied out. At least for the next twenty-four hours or something.”

He chuckled. “You underestimate the man. He is ensconced in his egg-shaped bathtub and there is a young woman dancing for him.”

Her brow furrowed sweetly. “What, like a stripper?”

“Far more intricate,” James was focusing on his thumbs, sweeping gently over her cheekbones as he cradled her upturned face. “She’s wearing - I believe it’s called the Wedding Guest costume?”

“The Bruiloftsgast?” Maila laughed, “I’m sure I’m mispronouncing it but I choreographed a music video with some Dutch girls dancing backup. Is she… like, erotic dancing or something?”

He was running his nose lightly down the side of her neck. “No,” he whispered in her ear, enjoying her rapturous little shiver, “she’s tap dancing. In wooden clogs.”

That did it. Maila just howled, laughing hard enough to slump against him. Wrapping his arms around her, James laughed too, relishing the feel of her, her warmth, and the tangy scent of something like lemon and peppermint. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed, “I kind of thought this moment to go differently. How much time do you have before you have to get back?”

His smile faded, but he tightened his arms just a bit more. “Not long, I’m afraid.” Placing gentle kisses on her cheeks, forehead, the tip of her nose, then one more, just one more slow play of his mouth against hers, the tip of his tongue toying with hers. Pulling away with some effort, he was pleased that her lips tried to follow his. “But I come with an invitation.”

“Oh?” Maila was doing some exploring of her own, those long, clever musician’s fingers lightly scratching the back of his neck.

“Billy has the 72-hour break in Tuscany, of course, but…” James groaned as her finger circled his ear. “But I have 48 hours free. No requirements - unless there’s an emergency, of course - I hoped to spend them with you.” Maila’s smile was warmth, it was sunshine and comfort and he paused for a moment, basking in it.

“I would love to,” she said. “What are you thinking?”

“I have a friend, he has a beautiful country home with a tiny vineyard in Tuscany. Close enough if necessary, but far enough to be private. Secluded. He’s offered to send the staff on holiday, it would be ours alone.”

Gripping his sweater, she shook her head, “This is almost too romantic and perfect to be real. But I…” Maila hesitated, then seemed to take the plunge. “I am here for it.”

“Thank you,” James kissed her again, longingly, sweetly. “I’ll have everything ready to leave tomorrow morning, and knowing this crew, well before anyone is awake.”

“Could you just stay like this for a minute?” Maila’s voice was muffled with her face buried in his chest, rubbing her cheek against his sweater. “This is so nice. Just for a minute?”

“Of course.” His voice was a bit hoarse. He’d pictured passionate sex, had imagined thrusting into her with her back against the door of her hotel room the instant she’d closed it. But this tenderness… it was unraveling his contained, controlled shell.

But he could allow it. Just for a minute.

The following morning…

“What did you tell Nigel?” James asked you between kisses, “I’m sure  he’d planned on spending the break with you.”

“I don’t want to talk about Nigel, or Billy, or anyone else related to this tour,” you objected, words slurring a bit when that tempting fiend ran the tip of his tongue down the tight tendon in your neck.

“I intend to massage you later and rub this uncomfortable tendon into submission,” he was purring in your ear, that perfect British elocution was making it hard to concentrate. “I intend to run my hands over every part of you, in fact.”

“Oh?” Inwardly you cringed, your voice was pitched high enough to attract seagulls. “That’s… you know that would be… heh.” Now his tongue was delicately tracing your jaw and then sliding between your lips as he gave a groan. A deeply satisfying groan as if he’d been waiting forever to do this. All too soon, the clearly amused driver opened the door to reveal a helicopter waiting on a private airstrip.

“I do not intend to waste a moment of our forty-eight hours,” he said, helping you out of the car. Interestingly, there didn’t seem to be a pilot.

“Um, are you flying us there?” You cocked your head, watching him throw your bags into the tiny cargo area and walk around the helicopter, performing a pre-flight check. James looked up at you, his pale eyes squinting slightly in the watery sunshine. He was wearing those black jeans again that fit so well, and a blue shirt - sleeves rolled up - that perfectly matched his eyes. He is so beautiful, you thought, a bit weak in the knees.

“Do you trust me, darling?” Oh, now he was just being devilish, one corner of his mouth turned up in a subtle smirk.

“With my life,” you said instantly, “you’ve already saved it twice.” His mouth was back on yours almost before you finished the sentence and you sagged against his broad chest for a moment. His kiss tasted like gratitude, like passion, like a promise.

James put the helicopter down on a tiny landing pad near the cottage he’d borrowed from his friend. “Less a cottage and more a mansion,” he wryly remarked as he accepted the keys from a grinning caretaker who immediately left them alone.

Maila was walking through the hallway, fingers lightly tracing the hand-plastered walls hung with brightly-colored tapestries and some whimsical sculpture pieces. The huge, arched windows were the only hint of a modern design and they looked out on to the little vineyard. “You know your friend has to have an amazing house wine, right?”

He laughed, “We will try it with dinner tonight. In the meantime…” Hesitating, wondering if it was too soon, if Maila would be ready, if she needed more time. When he looked up, she was already at the top of the stairs.

“In the meantime,” she drawled, unbuttoning her shirt, “I’m sure we can think of something to do.” She squealed as he loped up the stairs and hauled her over his shoulder. In the bedroom with a graceful four-poster bed and filmy white curtains, he let her down gently, cupping her face in his hands with the lightest, most tender kiss. And then he threw her onto the bed, feet flying up and laughing as the carefully arranged pillows flew everywhere. James finally allowed himself what he'd been fantasizing about since she walked on to that stage at Wembley, moving his mouth and tongue over every inch of her, removing each article of clothing slowly until she was naked and moaning, her hands stroking over his back and arms, sliding up to cup his face and kissing him. Rising on his knees, he smiled reassuringly, looking her over as he removed his pants and shirt. Lifting her leg up and putting it over his shoulder, he ran the tip of his tongue up her smooth skin, groaning low in his throat at the taste of her under his mouth. Then, with a dark smile that made Maila clench in anticipation, he dove into her center, sucking most of her wet lips and clitoris into his mouth with a lewd slurping sound. Her hands left his shoulders and he knew she was covering her face, anticipating the embarrassed giggle that came next.

"Don't be shy, darling," he soothed, sliding two fingers inside her and enjoying how those satiny walls clutched them as he stroked the rough pads of his fingertips along them. "You're so silky here, you taste sweet and slightly salty." Ignoring her, he used his deepest, more persuasive tone. "And when I press against you, just so..."

"OH! God!"

He couldn’t help his pleased chuckle as she came on his fingers. "...you gift me such sweetness. Delicious, utterly."

You covered your face again. “I can’t believe I just… really? Came within like sixteen seconds?”

“More like ninety seconds or so,” James said soothingly, then set to work again, wringing two more orgasms out of you with his mouth and fingers before sliding up your shaking body, wrapping your weak legs around his waist. "I want to be inside you, sweet Maila."

You could feel his thick head, already wet with his leaking tip pressed against the opening of your passage. Why was he waiting? You moaned when his cock pulsed against you. "Please, James..."

"Invite me inside you."

You looked up at him then, searching his face. This was different, even more than giving the usual consent to a partner. This was... what? You were agreeing to more somehow, but you were past thinking clearly, so you nodded instead, raising up on your elbows and kissing him. "Please be inside me, James."

With a pleased growl, James did, pushing in slowly, as her thighs tightened and then relaxed against his waist. When her moans grew louder, her hands pulling and clinging to his shoulders, he plowed through her cunt eagerly, over and over while he listened to her moan as he felt the stretch and pull inside her, circling his hips to gain access to every inch of her channel.

"God, the way you shape around me," he groaned, "it's heaven. Your heat and silk..." he began thrusting harder, forgetting he might be hurting her, forgetting it might have been a very long time for her and only thinking how good it felt to be inside his Maila, how perfect she was and how he'd never felt home inside another woman. Not like this. Nothing like this. He didn't realize he'd said that out loud until she hugged him harder.

“Yes, please,” Maila managed to moan, “Please, stay inside me. Fill me up.”

James shuddered as he’d nearly come right then but held himself still for a moment. “Such a very good girl,” he said a little hoarsely, “such delightful, filthy words.” Pulling her up as he went back on his heels, he pushed his hips forward to line his wide head up to the opening to her slick cunt and began sliding up inside her again. “The shape of you,” he groaned, “the way you fit around my cock, wrapping so wet and tight.”

He was thick, this beautiful man, so intrusive with his shaft forcing your walls to part for him and pressing against all those tender and secret spots inside that made you gasp and moan for him. You could feel the muscles in his flat stomach tighten as he slid inside another inch. And you looked down, making an embarrassing little whimper of pleasure as you saw half of his thick spike still outside you. It felt like a bit like a spike, driving higher than you thought you could possibly have room left to accommodate him. James always seemed to know when it was overwhelming you and he'd pause, flexing slightly inside you but rubbing your back, humming a little. His cock would continue sliding along your sensitive walls when your arms loosened a little.

"You're like satin, inside," he soothed in his beautiful, dark voice, "pulsing around me, so slick." He moved you up slightly, altering the movement of his driving cock. "When I press here..." he did it again, as you moaned for him. “I can push farther still, pushing up into the deepest part of you... there's a little hollow, the last bit of you where I can wedge my cock."

Your entire body stiffened and your back arched, a weak exhale of breath as you felt the heated head of his shaft rub enticingly inside you - up to your belly button surely - and then just... hold.

Your thighs were shaking, holding the sheer weight, the thickness of his cock inside you and James wasn't moving, just holding you still with his hands on your bottom, squeezing and stroking as he just held the position, spreading your insides so widely. You both held motionless in the moment until you made a small, desperate noise and tried to rise up a little.

"Ah, no, darling..." that mesmerizing voice whispering in your ear again, lovely filth about how beautiful you were and so sweet, how much he needed and wanted you, and how very, very good you felt. And then James just held pressed deeply inside your channel, rotating his hips very slightly, the pressure so intense that even a millimeter of movement seemed to push against all the most sensitive bits inside you and make you shudder and sigh. His sonorous voice and lurid compliments made you half-insane with arousal, knowing that he could make you ready to come just by speaking to you that way.

"Patience..." he whispered, "hold for me, lovely." Your focus seemed to narrow down to the wide, heavy shaft pushed halfway through your body, how even the slightest movement of his lean hips felt like fire stroking inside you.

"I treasure you so, precious girl," he finally growled, "I want to be inside you every moment, keep us mated so tightly that nothing can touch you." You heard his breathing begin to speed up as he ran his hands up and down your spine. "I do believe, my angel, that I can make you come with one more rotation of my cock rubbing the very top of you. Shall we see?"

Oh, my god he is going to kill me, you thought, dizzy with need, wanting him to come, wanting him to let you come, needing to feel the heat of him pulse inside and coat you. And so when this cruel, beautiful, perfect man made just the slightest movement that seemed to stroke along every nerve ending inside you, and as you felt the sudden, impossible swelling of his cock that meant James was coming inside you, with a soundless gasp, you came too.

I’m building a Blood and Music playlist on Spotify, if you’d like to listen along…

Alerting mutuals who I think might be interested, please let me know if you’d like on or off this list. Thank you!

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[hawnks]

You say, “But good is subjective. When you’re young, doing anything is an accomplishment. But you get out into the world, and you realize nothing you do is particularly special.”

Alright no need to call me out damn

ansjsjewjdkkd ok i have a lil story for you

so, i have played the flute for 15 years. when i started i was around 9 years old, and it was summer break. during that period i was left alone for most of the day, and literally all i did was practice. i would practice for hours and hours at a time. i sounded like i had been playing for years. i got signed up for lessons because the flute teacher at the local music school thought i was a prodigy. the only reason i had an instrument that didnt have the tone of something i’d picked out of the trash (which was basically the case with my first one lol) was because a benefactor heard me play and bequeathed me her old (expensive) concert flute. everyone had very, very high hopes for me.

but the thing that would eventually become apparent to my teachers: i couldn’t count and play at the same time. i don’t know why, but i just couldn’t do that kind of multitasking. the numbers got all mixed up in my head, and i fell out of beat very quickly. to me, music was about feeling, not accuracy. i could make anything sound good, but very rarely was it correct. which is a cardinal sin of musicianship. one that disappointed and frustrated basically everyone in my life, and set me up for a rough future as a flutist. apparently, i wasn’t gifted — i just loved it a whole lot. and for a very short while, that had been enough.

my highschool was huge. there were about 30 other people specializing in my instrument, more who could play it casually. among them, i was middle of the road, at best. i picked up bass and alto flute on my way out and into college, two instruments that are incredibly niche (i was the only bass flute player in my county), just to free myself from the constant pressure of Not Being Good Enough. or, at least, not as good as everyone expected me to be. but by then playing the flute had already lost the magic it used to have when i was younger. i no longer played for hours. i hardly played at all.

sophomore year i was home from college for the winter. i picked up my c-flute on a whim (at that point i hadn’t touched it in months), went through a collection of Vivaldi etudes on my shelf, one of my very first music books. they were simple songs, hardly impressive. i still couldn’t play them accurately. not the way someone who had played for as long as i had should be able to.

the next morning i was sitting at the kitchen table with my ma. she had run into our neighbor last night, a sweet little old woman named Sara. my ma told me Sara asked about me, and the Vivaldi i’d butchered my way through:

“She’s glad you’re playing again. She missed hearing you.”

and like….maybe this doesn’t seem all that important. the conversation took up probably 30 seconds of my life. but it kind of rocked me to my core. because i wasn’t a prodigy anymore; a lot of times I wasn’t even good.

but that didn’t matter to Sara, because she didn’t hear good or bad. what she heard was music.

subjectivity goes both ways. someone out there will love your Vivaldi, my darling. even if you play off beat.

[lisinfleur]

Movie Marathon

The request:

Author’s Notes | HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SIS! I had to produce something for you haha I chose to make your request and I hope you like the little gift, but love, the biggest gift I can offer you is the enormous love I have in my heart for you. You’re always safe in my heart and one day, I swear, I’ll go visit you just for a huge hug, a brigadeiro volcano cake and lots of rainbow sprinkles. Love you! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader Info | Modern Age AU, requested by and produced as a birthday gift for @honestsycrets Words | 1353 ⁑ Warnings: Explicit content, cursing.

It was the most important day of the year: your birthday.

And he had planned it perfectly in his mind!

Hvitserk knew that parties were not your favorite way to celebrate: although you liked to party with him, your birthday was a day when you liked to enjoy some chilling time.

So, he prepared a surprise for you in his apartment.

He set everything up to pick you up at 6 pm, making it look like he was doing something around a surprise party - something he knew you would hate, but would come just to make him happy.

Said and done: when he came to pick you up, you had that yellow smile on your face just as he hoped to find.

Everything was ready for his plan to be perfect.

"Hey, princess," he smiled from the car, making you feel even more distressed in your heart.

Shit. You wanted so much to relax and not be wearing that dress!

But you smiled, sitting next to him, trying to hold on to his beautiful smile and the happiness in his eyes as a support to move on with that horrible idea.

Hvitserk smirked when you sighed beside him as soon as he started the car, thinking he wouldn't hear the frustration in your voice.

He took you to his apartment, jumping on his heels next to your door before opening it for you to leave the car.

As a good gentleman, of course.

Oh gods, you thought. He was so, so happy!

How could he know you so little?

How could you break that happy smile on his face by telling him that you didn't like surprise parties?

Carry on, carry on, you forced yourself, watching as he opened the building, standing next to you in the elevator with the most anxious expression you have ever seen on Hvitserk's face.

"Close your eyes, love. And don't open until I tell you to!"

Oh damn ...

You were SURE that everything would be decorated with pastel ribbons, and your friends would be there, and his friends, and music, alcohol, and you standing in the middle of...

"Surprise!"

...his empty living room?

Your eyes looked around, stunned.

Hvitserk was unable to contain his laughter.

"You thought it was a party! Haha! You did it!" he laughed louder. "Fuck, love, I wouldn't do that shit to you."

His arms wrapped around your waist as you stared, amazed, at the beautiful home cinema he'd prepared for the two of you.

"I know what my princess likes most," he said, kissing your shoulder and the curve of your neck.

"Oh my gods!" you finally found your voice. "Hvitserk ... This is perfect!"

The room was empty. Not a single soul in his home.

Instead, his sofa was pulled back to make room for a huge and comfortable fluffy rug on the floor, where TONS of pillows and cushions formed the perfect place for you to lie down together.

There was an island of pillows at your fingertips with your favorite goodies. And his TV was pulled up, re-placed to become a shiny screen jumping off the black curtains that he placed behind it on the wall to create the perfect ambiance.

To be honest? Perfection was the right word to define that place.

Hvitserk released you only to turn off the lights and ask you to lie on the rug with him.

Your smiling puppy was so happy that his surprise was a success!

"I thought you might like it," he said, smiling as you laid against his chest.

"I loved it! It's perfect! It couldn't be better!" you answered.

Not realizing when his smile became slightly malicious behind you.

"It can always be better, love... Always," he said, turning on the screen.

And you thought your favorite movies were his way of making that moment even better for both of you.

The last thing you expected was that the films were nothing more than a distraction to take your attention away from the fact that his caresses were getting hotter and hotter.

You didn't notice when his fingers stopped reaching for the treats in the bowl to slide down your body, making you sigh for him, sometimes even letting out little moans for his kisses on the curve of your neck.

When did his hands invade your clothes? The gods know!

But you really didn't care about it anymore: his fingers reached your breasts.

Screw the movie! Your Hvitserk was growling right next to your ear, breathing heavily on your skin.

Sliding through your body like an insidious snake.

Now you could understand why he told you to put on that dress: it was easier for him to reach for HIS favorite treat in the middle of your legs when you were wearing it!

Tsk, tsk, tsk ... Treacherous puppy!

"Oh, fuck it!" there goes your panties.

And your self-control!

But who would be able to keep any of them with Hvitserk and his anxious mouth close by?

In a moment, the two of you were enjoying the movie. Then he was enjoying his favorite dinner, and you were a moaning mess with his tongue.

Your voice mixed with the lines of the film, echoing around the room in moans of pleasure, filling it with a cacophony of sounds that Hvitserk was anticipating when he planned that surprise.

Only then did you notice condoms among the treats in the bowl.

"Naughty puppy!" you exclaimed when Hvitserk stood up from under your skirt, smiling and licking his lips.

"Your goodies ... My goodies," he said, taking one of the condoms between his fingers.

Making your eyes widen.

Those were not ordinary condoms. Those were the "hot marathon" ones!

"Hvitserk!" you called him and he laughed, opening the condom and applying it to his hardness already exposed.

"What?"

"Are you planning to kill me? On my birthday ???" you squeaked, making his laugh even looser.

"Maybe," he said, climbing upon you.

"Babe..." you mumbled between his kisses on your lips. "The last time... It kept you on for three hours!"

"I have the package with three of those in that bowl," he murmured back, biting your earlobe before pushing himself into your channel with a grunt.

"Oh ... my ... fuck ... Oh, damn it!"

Hvitserk laughed at the way his thrusts cut your sentences, preventing you from speaking along with the warm feeling of that condom lubricant.

Hot for you, a little anesthetic for him - that shit helped Hvitserk's control to last longer and gave him the biggest series of your orgasms ever the last time the two of you tested it!

And now he had the package!

With three of them!

"And here comes the first," growled Hvitserk when your voice was lost in pleasure and you came around for the first time.

Punching his chest when he laughed at your tired face.

"Happy birthday, love," he murmured against your mouth, pushing harder just to hit your sweet spots with that instrument of torture!

You wanted to say thank you.

You wanted to say fuck you!

But your voice became a loud moan when he led you to a second orgasm almost effortlessly.

"Fuck," you groaned.

"That's the idea for the night ... Until we break our record, baby. I'm going to drive you crazy tonight!"

He would go.

Definitely!

Thank the gods, your best friend gave you a new cream of aloe vera that morning.

It would definitely be useful at the end of the night!

But you had nothing to complain about.

If you could choose the best way to spend your birthday night it would be exactly like this: hugging Hvitserk's body, feeling nothing but his skin, his lips on yours. You two becoming one.

"I... fucking... love you!" you managed to groan cohesively before he reached the third mark with you.

Laughing, he kissed your lips, touching your forehead with his.

"I love you too ... More than yesterday. Less than I will love you tomorrow. Every day I love you more ... And more ... And more!"

You smiled.

There was no better gift than his love. And it was yours.

Totally yours.

Forever.

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[theimmaterialplace]

holding on | emily prentiss x reader & spencer reid x reader | ch. 3: just the way you are

Chapter Summary: Spencer’s day after.

Contains: mentions of death.

Word Count: 2k

Comments: haha, uni is kicking my ass! sorry for the three weeks it took to post this, this chapter would just not write itself :( also i literally have future chapters finished but i need to get the in between chapters done before that so sorry! a lot may not have happened but spencer is seeing something here. he hasn't been able to come to a conclusion quite yet but he will soon... but will it be before the reader spills? also yeah, this story is filled with headcanons because i can't help myself! :D

i love jj but she gives off overbearing vibes and rn spencer needs some space from everyone that reminds him of emily/will only want to talk about his feelings. little does he know for that first part...

the next chapter is the funeral and after party!!! hope you enjoyed the chapter! lemme know what you think!

masterlist | read on ao3

I would not leave you in times of trouble

We never could have come this far, mmm

I took the good times, I'll take the bad times

I'll take you just the way you are

- Billy Joel, Just The Way You Are

When Spencer enters the room, it reveals relieved coworkers. JJ is the first one to approach him, eyes red and worry evident on her face. She pulls him into a hug as soon as she reaches him.

“Spencer, we were so worried when you left last night,” her whisper might as well be a scolding in his ears but he’ll take it because he never meant to worry his team, not like this. She pulls away and cradles his face gently in her hands.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t realize how bad it would seem to everyone. I… I didn’t want to make anyone worry after everything else.” He closes his eyes, not wanting to see the emotions that will only bring him to his knees.

Derek speaks up then and it’s like he knows. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, kid.” Looking at him, Spencer can tell he hasn’t slept and has cried the whole night through. If he had stayed with them, he likely would look the same. As it is, he barely got a few hours asleep, as haunted as his dreams were.

“Me too.”

His team is in shambles. It’s not just that Emily has gone away and left them, left him, like Gideon or Elle. No, she’s never coming back because she is dead, just like every other cadaver they’ve encountered in their line of work. Statistically speaking, death in their line of work was highly likely and it’s a miracle he’s managed to avoid it for so long.

Perhaps it’s because Emily has always been impressive but he’d never thought she’d be the one to die. If anything, he’d bet himself before anyone else on his team.

His team is talking to one another and Spencer can’t hear anything they’re saying. All their words are blurring into unintelligible words and the only thing he can see are their faces.

Rossi is a slab of stone being chipped at little by little into something unrecognizable. Hotch’s eyes are red and his face is pale and an ever looming cloud of guilt surrounds him. He wonders why; it wasn’t his fault she died. Morgan is much the same but there is an anger in him that he hasn’t seen before.

Morgan’s anger simmers underneath his skin; he’s frustrated that he wasn’t fast enough to save her or to catch Doyle. His sadness has become eclipsed for now but he knows it’s there, buried under the guilt and rage he feels. Perhaps it’s because Garcia takes on the brunt of it, the grief is written all over her face. She’s always worn her emotions on her sleeve and this hasn’t changed. He chooses not to look at her because if he does, he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep it together. Someone so vulnerable makes him want to do the same and he feels vulnerable enough as it is.

JJ is like Hotch, guilt and grief clouds her. She keeps sweeping her hair back and chewing on her cheek, a habit when she doesn’t want to focus on what’s plaguing her.

Their tells are obvious to him and he’s memorized all of them, every little action they’ve done is cataloged in his brain and this is no different. He had already known what they’d be like and what they’d do when he saw them.

He hears Ambassador Prentiss’ voice stutter when she asks why Hotch has called and he wonders if she already knows and wants to hear it before she comes down so she can grieve on her own time. He stays quiet and that’s as good as confirmation for her because her breath hitches and she says she’ll be down in an hour.

Emily never spoke much of her mother but she takes- took after her greatly. They share the same face and hair color. It’s like her mother had asexually produced because he sees no difference between the two; there was no bit of her father in Emily. The only difference between the two are the crow’s feet and smile lines on her mother’s face and he realizes that Emily will grow to her mother’s age because she died too young.

Hotch delivers the news, as expected of his status of Unit Chief, and Ambassador Prentiss is stoic and nods at the news of her only child’s death. She asks for details and Hotch is only able to give her the bare minimum and she only nods and thanks him and the rest of them. She goes up to Morgan and takes his hands into her own and whispers something only for his ears. He stiffens but nods and she goes away with the request that they inform her of their decision of when the funeral is and that she’ll pay for everything.

It’s a bit cold the way she all but announces how she doesn’t want to be included in the planning of her daughter’s funeral but Emily always had described her as cold and distant, loving only in private and when convenient.

The planning process takes up the rest of the afternoon and it passes him by quickly and he knows it’s mostly because he disassociated through most of it. JJ and Hotch shot him with worried glances all day and he just wants to go back to your apartment. He doesn’t want to go to his apartment just yet, not when he'll have to come face to face with the reminders of her in his own apartment.

The funeral is booked three days away and he shoots you a text and you respond a minute later with a simple thumbs up.

He tells the team he’ll be heading out and unsurprisingly JJ speaks up over this.

“Are you sure you want to go back home? I can give you a ride or you can come over. I don’t want you to be alone, Spencer.” Her voice is meant to be soothing in that maternal way she’s learned but it grates at his nerves. He doesn’t need to be babied. He knows she’s just worried about him but Emily’s death has left him exposed in a way that throws him off his rhythm.

“Thanks JJ, but a friend is picking me up. I’ll be staying with her tonight.” The team exchanges looks in a way that is meant to be subtle but Spencer has always had an eye for details so he doesn’t miss it but he doesn’t call it out.

“Oh well, okay, if you’re sure…?” He nods and she acquiesces but says she’ll walk him out. She waits with him outside while he waits for you. You pull up in your car with his favorite Billy Joel song on and he can’t help the tiny grin that spreads on his face.

You look tired but happy to see him and he knows that JJ probably wants to examine you but he really just wants to get out of here and cuts her off before she can say anything and says goodbye to her while getting into your car.

He can smell the aroma of Italian in the backseat and he knows you went to the little restaurant he frequents after a bad case because the food reminds him of when his mother used to order takeout because much like himself, she was a disaster in the kitchen. It made him happy that you remembered.

Billy Joel’s velvet voice is enough to fill the silence. He watches you as you drive, noticing how you tap your fingertips to the beat of the song on the steering wheel and how it’s obvious now that you’re distracting yourself from something. He hadn’t been able to see it before because he was too lost in his own grief but there was something off about your demeanor.

When you finally arrive back at your apartment, he finds it to be cleaner than it was in the morning and set for maximum comfort. Your couch is covered with soft, thick blankets with animals on them, cobijas, you had called them. He’s fairly certain that just means blanket in Spanish. The table that is usually in the middle of your living room is pushed closer to the couch and it’s where you set the food at so he assumes it’s where the two of you will be eating.

Your record player is playing jazz music. A compromise, you had told him one evening, appealing to his classical music needs with it’s long instrumentals and your love of their crooning and smooth voices.

“Hey, Spence, what do we feel like drinking tonight?” Your voice jolts him out of his observations and he looks towards you where you’re peering at the available drinks in your fridge, two ice-filled glasses set on the counter beside you.

“Arnold Palmer?” You hum and grab two pitchers from your fridge and set it out on the counter and he watches as you mix the two together so it’s not separated. You set the two pitchers back into the fridge and bring the two drinks to where he’s sitting, handing him one and placing the other on your coaster.

He watches as you take out the food from the bags and put his own container in front of him along with two pieces of garlic bread and his own fork and napkin.

Once you’re all done, you take a drink from your glass and open your container and take a bite of your usual order. He follows quickly after, knowing from experience how rapidly the food can get cold.

Time passes by and eventually the food gets finished and you’re both left alone with Billie Holiday’s voice filling the silence.

You’re nibbling on the last piece of garlic bread, your eyes focused idly on your bookshelf but more specifically on a collection of Emily Dickinson poems. He files away the fact that he’s seen this specific book somewhere and decides to ask at another time.

Once you finish, you lean your head against his shoulder and wrap your arms around his midsection. He shifts so that you’re in a more comfortable position that lets you rest against him while he’s able to hold onto you as well.

Spencer can’t help but think that you always know what he needs without him needing to say anything. It’s something he hasn’t had since Elle or more accurately, Emily. It’s not even been a month and already, he craves her affection. He misses the impromptu Russian talks and the book sharing and her calming presence. You remind him so much of her. It’s like you've taken on some of her mannerisms. Perhaps it’s projection but he’s noticed for months now how you’ve changed bit by bit into someone similar to Emily.

You must have seen his tell because you look up at him, hand finding his own and squeezing it gently before bringing it to your wrist.

It’s the little things you do that bring him back to reality, no matter how painful it is. He’s not sure where he’d be right now. Most likely with JJ and her family, all the while feeling like a burden. With you, he feels vulnerable in a way he doesn’t mind. He’s known you for years and not once, have you ever made him feel small. It’s always been easy with you and he hopes the same can be said for you about him.

“Stop thinking right now, Spencer. We can do that later, like tomorrow. You need a break right now. I know it’s hard for your big brain to shut down so just focus on my pulse and match your breathing to mine.” Your voice is slightly muffled by his sweater and he can only nod and follow your instructions.

“Thank you.” He says after a while.

“ Always, Spencer.” And like always, you understand.

The words are never said but he’s sure you know it and he knows you feel the same.

[catxsnow]

TIM DRAKE SMUT ALPHABET

I’m bored so I complied all the Tim smut alphabet requests that I got several weeks back into one post so it’s easier to read lol. None of these are new, they’ve all been posted before, just making it for you new comers! 

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tim likes to have a shower with you after. There’s nothing more sensual to him than washing each other’s bodies. The mix of sweat and cum that you guys made together, are washed away together. He just wants to take care of you at all times.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your favourite body part of his is his back. He’s got the nicest, muscular back and it’s the sole reason that you always offer to give him massages (which nearly always end up with sex)

His favorite of yours is lips/mouth. He loves kissing you, the sounds that you make, and mostly when their wrapped around his dick.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

As I said in the body part ^ Tim loves your mouth and he sure as fuck loves to cum in it. There’s nothing sexier to him than watching you swallow his load. It’s his favourite place to cum.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Tim once jacked off while he was out on patrol. You begged him all evening to stay home and he promised he wouldn’t be long. That was a lie, he had been out all night and you needed him. So, you sent him a rather extensive video of you pleasuring yourself and he couldn’t take the wait to get back across the city to see you.

E = Experience 

Tim knows what he’s doing, but he hasn’t been with that many people. He’s mostly learned and adapted to what you like rather than base what he knows off of his past. It’s more important to specialize in exactly what feels good for you rather than what he assumes you like. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Tim’s favourite is the face off (idk what it’s actually called sorry) When he’s sitting up and you’re riding his cock. He loves this because he get’s to have that closeness to you and it’s more sensual. It’s a versatile position - the bed, his office chair, the batcave chair, the training mat - His office chair.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.

Depends on the location. In his room? Tim will crack a joke here and there just to keep you entertained. In his office though, boy oh boy is he completely different. Tim’s already got his big boss attitude from his long day’s work and he definitely keeps it up with you. Bossy Tim is a whole new level of hot. 

H = Harmony (do they like music in the background?)

If he’s in his room, he’ll put some music on in the background. Nothing with lyrics, just instrumentals. Never too loud either, he wants to hear you more than he wants to hear the music. However, if any of his brother’s are staying in the same house as him, he always turns the music up loud enough to drown out your sounds. No way is he letting his brother’s know just how hot you sound when he’s fucking you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Tim’s pretty romantic. He doesn’t want to fuck you like you’re some kind of whore (but enjoys it on the occasion). He’d rather praise you and enjoy how close the two of you are.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Since dating you, Tim doesn’t jack off very often. He only ever does if you’re apart and you ask him for a video of him. Just because Tim doesn’t feel the need to masturbate while he’s away doesn’t mean the same for you. You’re begging him through text and telling him how much you miss his cock in you. Tim makes sure he’s extra vocal as he’s thinking about you sucking him off rather than only having his hand.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Tim likes some light bondage. He loves when your hands are tied up and you can’t aid to your own pleasure (even though he does a good enough job on his own). Nothing too crazy. He hates when you do it to him though, Tim needs to have his hands on you at all times.

Orgasm control. He doesn’t pull this very often but he’ll make you wait to cum. If you cum without him saying, he’ll go through it again and again until you get it right.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Like I said in my previous post, he’ll fuck you in his office. It might not be the most comfortable place, but there’s no better feeling that having you bent over his desk while he’s pounding into you. He sound proofed his office just so you didn’t have to hold back your moans.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Tim see’s you in lingerie and he’s done for. He think’s it’s unbelievably sexy and he won’t waste a second to fuck you without taking it off. The worst is when you send him a picture of you in it while he’s at work. Half the time he leaves the building just to show you how hard you make him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Tim hates the idea of cuckholding. Literally the idea of another man fucking you while he just watches is his worst nightmare. He’s the only one allowed to bring you pleasure. Tim wouldn’t be opposed to a threesome though

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers to receive. Tim loves getting head from you. However, he also loves when you sit on his face too and boy is he good at it. Tim’s learned just the right combo of licking and sucking. You put a kink in his neck one time from it and Bruce questioned what had happened. Thank god he was a great liar.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Tim’s more slow and hard. He doesn’t want to rush things with you but he wants to slam his hips so hard that you’re seeing spots. He’s more about getting as deep as he can rather than as fast as he can.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not a huge fan. Tim likes to prolong fucking you when he can, so when you guys are rushed, he knows that he’s not doing his best performance. He’ll do them when need be but it’s not his ideal time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Look all I’m saying is that Tim would, has, and will fuck you in his WE office. It’s his company and he can do as he pleases in his building.

Tim has his classic positions that he preferences but he is willing to try new things if you bring it up.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Tim can go a lot of rounds, like a lot. However, he doesn’t last particularly long. He loves being inside you, and the pleasure of it all is sometimes just too much for him to handle. He never quits until you’re tired though - he could go all night if you wished. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Tim doesn’t own toys for himself but he bought some for you. He encourages you to use them when he’s away on missions and he nearly cums in his pants when you send a lengthy video of you using them. He uses them in bed occasionally too if he’s on the mood to over stimulate.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases you just enough to get frustrated. Tim knows your limits better than anyone else, he knows when you’re on the edge of cumming and he knows exactly when to stop. He’ll deny your orgasm but if he does it more than once then he’ll make it up to you for the rest of the night.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not that loud. Tim will express how he’s feeling rather than making noises. He’s king of dirty talk which came out of nowhere with how awkward he can be. Tim constantly praises you for what you do and you know if you get a long moan out of him then you’re doing one hell of a good job.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

As CEO of WE, he had important business dinners he attended to and most times you went with him.  Tim was feeling ridiculously bold one night. You guys saw side by side and not even ten minutes into the night he was slipping his hand between your thighs and teasing you through your underwear. It was the first time that you had worn a short dress to the dinner meeting and you regretted it. Tim never brought you close enough to an orgasm but the endless teasing all night had led to the most intense sex you ever had with him.

X = X-marks the spot (where’s their favourite place to give/receive hickies)

Tim loves to leave them all over his chest. He knows they’re there, but no one else does. He only wants you and him to see the marks he leaves on you. As much as you like leaving them where everyone can see, he’s got a multi-billion dollar company to run and people already see him as childish they don’t need another excuse. You settle for right where the edge of his suit would be, sometimes they just barely peak out.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Tim can fuck as much as he wants. He’s not constantly horny, but if you’re in the mood then he’s not gonna deny it. Tim’s sex drive isn’t intense, but he can’t go over a week without you either, he’ll go crazy.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends. Tim’s used to being awake for a while so if he needs to stay up afterwards he can. However, he loves falling asleep with you in his arms right afterwards if he can Cockwarming maybe. 

[grannygerd]

LYNN GUNN SHARES THE ONE THING SHE WISHES SHE COULD DO OVER AND MORE

The artist also shares the best meal she's ever had and the best fan interaction.

[Photo by: Sasha Samsonova]

PVRIS’ fearless leader Lynn Gunn ponders genres, the best-ever fan-dad interaction and comes clean about what she really wants a do-over on.

AN INSTRUMENT YOU WOULD LIKE TO OWN.

There’s something pretty magical about an old, worn upright piano—if it’s tuned and maintained. Makes for some great ideas. Or maybe a harp. If I had one around, I know I’d force myself to learn it. [Laughs.]

IF GENRES ARE STILL A THING.

In some ways, yes. Others, no. I think putting artists into specific genres is starting to be defined less on the instrumentals [and] production and being defined now through the culture, mindset [and] methods they’re created in. So many “genres” are being mixed and combined to create entirely new soundscapes that really blur the lines and make them hard to pin down. I think in each of those, there are specific threads—in the community, collaborators, etc.—that the idea and specifications of what makes a “genre” seem like it’s being reimagined.

In a perfect world, we’d just listen to music and not have to think about where it “belongs.” I still think compartmentalizing and categorizing is human nature, so it’s a hard thing to break. But it can be extremely hindering, not only for artists but for listeners. Music should be able to exist on its own terms.

IF MUSIC WASN’T AN OPTION.

There are a lot of things I’d love to try even while music is an option. I’ve always been heavily involved, when allowed, in our creative direction—music videos, graphic design, merchandise, album artwork, photos, etc.—so that would be a fun overall pursuit to creative direct for other artists or even just different brands or companies. I think any other creative pursuit, leaning in the visual world, would be the other option.

THE DAD JOKE YOU ACTUALLY LAUGHED AT.

Ha! It was my actual dad’s joke. He’s pretty old school and present in real life, so he doesn’t use his phone or text often, but usually once every few weeks while I’m away, he’ll send me a really funny text. The last one he sent was: “Just saw a road work sign on the way home that said ‘Be prepared to stop.’ If I’m not prepared, should I not stop? Just wondering.”

THE TIME YOU GOT REALLY ANGRY ONSTAGE.

Anger is hard to think of, but I have no problem finding frustration, and that was with myself. I was working through a lot of vocal issues for pretty much the entire touring cycle for our second record [All We Know Of Heaven, All We Need Of Hell]. [I] had to get up onstage every night with a voice that could only really do 20% of what I’m normally capable of. Some nights were brutal. I got so mad at myself onstage, but I tried my best to hide it. It was one of the most challenging and frustrating things to work through, but it taught me so much, and I’m very grateful for what [I’ve learned].

THE PLACE YOU HAVE YET TO VISIT.

I’m dying to go to Iceland. One of my friends went recently and said it was truly magical. Egypt is on my list, too. I was fascinated with ancient Egypt as a kid and still have a strange affinity toward it.

THE BEST MEAL YOU EVER HAD.

Brian [MacDonald, bass/keyboards] and I strive to eat a delicious meal wherever we are in the world. We make it a priority in every city to find great restaurants. But recently, one of the best meals I’ve had that really stood out was at my friend’s home: It was just a bunch of assorted grilled veggies and rice, but it was seasoned so well and made with so much love. You could honestly taste it.

THE THING YOU RECENTLY WITNESSED THAT MADE YOU THINK THE WORLD IS GOOD.

I try to see it every day. Even down to the smallest things. Simply smiling to a stranger you’re walking past or having a lighthearted exchange with a barista [or] waiter. Even simply getting onstage and looking at the crowd some days, the fact that hundreds of people can gather together and be unified by something that gives them joy—music—and exist peacefully and be unified in those environments, for the most part, is a clear sign of that.

I think at our core, we really are good at heart, and all we want is to connect with each other. Some of us are just harder to crack [and] more cautious than others. I think a lot of people have a hard time looking away from their own struggles to even notice [that] witnessing the good has to start in your own self a lot of the time.

THE MOST AWESOME FAN INTERACTION.

It was actually the most awesome interaction with a fan’s dad! We had a long flight to Belgium one day. A fan’s dad was one of the flight attendants and recognized us and upgraded our entire band and crew to first class. It was a godsend because the night before, some of us had to drive from New York City to New Hampshire and back overnight because we’d forgotten a legal document that we’d need at customs when we arrived in Belgium. Everyone was a bit sleep-deprived and about to board for a six-plus-hour flight, so we were extremely grateful for that.

THE THING YOU WOULD LIKE A DO-OVER ON.

My style, hair and makeup choices from the entire White Noise era. Seriously. Insert [the] world’s biggest facepalm ever. I don’t know what I was thinking. I cringe when I see old pictures sometimes. [Laughs.]

This 10 Topics interview appeared in issue 374.

July 29th, 2021

[whiteravengreywolf]

Burned to the Wick - A CindyxAlice fanfiction

A/N: Hey guys! Here the beginning of my new one-shot! It’s a College AU where Alice goes to an Halloween party, only to end up stuck in a room with Cindy, whom she basically hasn’t spoken to since the indicent with the radio when they were 12. If you want to read the whole thing, the link is at the end! I hope you enjoy!

There was a time when Alice liked Halloween. It was a time when making her own costumes with whatever she could find was fun and not pitiful. A time when she knew how to disappear behind the mask, where even the other children's mockeries couldn't touch her. A time when she would eat candy until she was sick and sneak out of bed to watch whatever late-night horror movie was on TV. By the age of twelve, she'd outgrown it all.

By then, Halloween became nothing but a marketing ploy. Halloween passed, people threw away their rotting carved pumpkins and replaced them with turkeys, and Alice trudged on through school. She didn't care much, about anything, actually. But in sophomore year of high school, she handed in a poem in literature, and Mrs. Bates, who was quite the poet herself, recognized raw talent when she saw it. She took Alice under her wing, and Alice begrudgingly let her. She didn't like poetry much but she had a knack for it. She imagined it was the closest she'd ever come to making music since she didn't know how to play any instruments. And it seemed her teacher really believed in her. She convinced Alice to apply for college to study poetry, and get a scholarship. And incredibly, it worked. Alice got one of those 'let's pull that talented, poor kid out of misery' grand named after a white guy whose claimed to fame was being rich. It paid exactly 27% of her first year. She was eighteen, crippled with debt for life, and studying things she couldn't care less about. The American Dream.

It could have been worse. She was in a brand new dorm, one of those test dorms with mixed bedrooms. Her roommate was named Arnie, and he knew all the best tips to get the best drugs. He'd also sneaked a micro-wave under his bed and had elevated the cooking of TV dinners and ramen to an art. He was pretty cool. He was also the one who suggested they go to the massive Halloween Party at Omega Beta Zeta, which made him just a smidge less cool.

"Come on, it'll be good, trust me."

Arnie had been rolling joints in preparation for the party like it was his job. He had a reputation to maintain.

"Are you serious?" Alice replied.

She was laying on her bed and had been struggling to read Byron for half an hour.

"What's so good about a bunch of prep kids thinking they're edgy cause they're dressed like Satan and smoking a joint?"

"For a start, there's gonna be free alcohol, and how can you say no to free alcohol?"

Alice shrugged. Free alcohol was good, but she'd rather not have to listen to Taylor Swift while she was drinking.

"And those prep kids? They've got some good shit. Like, where do you think I get all my oxy?"

Alice gave another vague shrug. Byron was not going well, she'd been reading the same verse five times already. Frustrated, she shut the book and let it fall on the bed.

"I'm not putting on a costume."

Arnie grunted in acknowledgment, entirely focused on the joint he was rolling between his fingers. Once he was done, he set it aside and answered:

"You don't need anything too complicated. Last year they let me in with a pair of star sunglasses."

Alice sighed. She'd gone to a few parties already, but this was different. Something about everyone dressing up for Halloween, the simple fact that it was a Halloween party, made it different.

"Come on, think of all the girls. Think about all the girls in slutty costumes questioning their sexuality."

Alice threw her head back against her pillow with a groan.

"Fine. I'll go. But if it sucks I'm coming back here and eating all those candies I know you're keeping in your sock drawer."

FULL STORY HERE

[dragonseattofu]

Spaces Between My Fingers (NEO TWEWY fanfiction)

Summary: Neshiki NEO reunion. NEO TWEWY spoilers. Everyday for two years after Neku’s disappearance, Shiki sits behind Hachiko talking to what looks like herself, her hand securely in another that she can feel but can’t see. Warnings for depression and panic attacks. Check source content for Ao3 link.

Preview:

“Great work on the presentation Misaki-san!”

“Excellent job as always Misaki-san! Have a wonderful evening!”

“See you tomorrow!”

Shiki smiled and nodded at the outpouring of compliments from her staff as they filed out of the conference room. It was her last meeting of the day, and she was exhausted. Never in a million years could she have imagined being the youngest CEO of any clothing company, much less her own brand at the age of eighteen. But, being young didn’t make the responsibilities of a trending brand owner any less tiring. On the bright side, the remainder of the evening was all hers to spend at her own pace.

With that in mind, Shiki gathered her laptop and papers under her arm, turned off the lights and closed the door behind her. She retrieved her messenger bag from the coat rack in her office, pulled the keys from the front pocket, and said a habitual goodnight into the empty space before locking the office for the night.

The soft tapping of rubber on carpet filled the empty hallway on her way to the elevator, the sounds of mindess instrumental music soothed her tired nerves on her voyage down from the eight floor. Slow clicking of gears moving, and the opening the heavy metal doors woke her from her stupor, gesturing light apologies on her way out as more bodies piled into the elevator.

Fresh air filled her lungs as she finally reached the ground level, going westward toward the neighborhood coffee shop where she’s a regular, and the barista started mixing her drink before she could even fish out her wallet. Condensation on the side of the plastic cup collected at her fingertips, leaving a wet smudge on the door as she exited, her sneakered shoes guiding her in the direction of a statue, faithfully waiting for his master that will never come.

Shiki takes a seat behind Hachiko, and looks down at her watch. 19:01. She chuckles, she’s a minute late. She pops an earbud in her ear, and rests her right hand, palm up, on the side of the seat next to her, and waits. She takes another sip of her drink, licking her lips, savoring the overly sweet beverage on the verge of crystallization.

A couple walks by talking about dinner plans, and a group of female students discussing Prince’s recent social media posts pass by as well. A shiba stops in front of her, tilting its head to the side for a brief moment, almost as if he sees something that others can’t, before his owner tugs him along.

Her breath catches and she waits for a split second before she feels a slight shift in the wind around her, an even lighter pressure on her palm. She exhaled, relishing the feel of the spaces between her fingers filling, and she smiled.

“So, I had another productive meeting today....”

She speaks for about an hour into the wind about how her day went, what her last conversation with Eri was like, even about her new not inanimate pet, Mrs. Mew. From afar, most people think she’s talking to herself, those closer assume she’s on the phone. Little do they know that they are both wrong, but that hasn’t stopped her from coming to Hachiko everyday, and speaking into the void as if she’s carrying on a conversation with a long lost friend.

She’s not exactly sure when she started doing this, but it became her way of, well, grieving. After a couple months of blissful dating, getting to know one another outside the confines of a death game, she had sort of … fallen in love.

Only for that love to be suddenly ripped from her with nothing left but a note, from a not so helpful composer. The first couple of days were devastating, she didn’t leave her bed, she wouldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. The weeks thereafter weren’t much better. Eri, and Rhyme were constantly by her side, making sure she didn’t end up in the hospital for malnuritionment. Beat showed up soon after to smack some sense into her, mostly figuratively.

Beat slammed open her bedroom door, Eri and Rhyme trailing behind yelling at him to calm down. His usual sympathetic expression was replaced with one of impatience and frustration.

“Shiki, enough of this. Get up and go eat somethin’!”

An empty gaze was his only response. He growled, stomping into her room and ripped open the curtains, beams of sunlight showering her floor, her bed, her listless face. In the light he could see that she lost a significant amount of weight in such a short period of time. She was already lean before, now her face began to look sunken in from the starvation and constant darkness. Beat suddenly felt another overwhelming wave of emotion sweep over him.

“This is ridiculous, girl, ya can’t keep goin’ like this or you’ll…” He choked up; he didn’t complete his thought; he just couldn’t. Rhyme and Eri lunged forward to try and hold back the blonde as he grabbed Shiki by the front of her shirt, pulling their faces closer, glaring at her with an intensity he didn’t think he would ever use on her.

Her world shook as droplets fell onto Shiki’s glasses. She could feel Beat shaking from his grasp, his usually clear cerulean eyes were stormy, almost like the sky had broken. A lump formed in her throat. She forgot through her heartbreak that other people might also feel the same pain she was feeling. Sure, she was his first partner, but Beat was also his partner too.

For a tense moment nobody moved, Beat stared into Shiki’s eyes hoping to get his message across wordlessly, Eri and Rhyme holding onto Beat on both sides to restrain him. She had every right to grieve and her pain was more than he could ever imagine, but Beat needed her to know that she wasn’t alone, and that he was there for her, if she would let him. He couldn’t afford to lose her before he got the chance to save him.

Ever so slowly, Shiki moved her one hand over Beat’s. She grabbed a fistful of his jersey in her other hand. For that excruciating week, she went from feeling anxious and depressed to just numb. Now she felt relieved that there was someone else who understood this persistent gnawing ache in her chest. Brotherly simpleton Beat wasn’t being sympathetic to her heartache, but rather empathetic in her mourning.

Her face started to prickle, as the wells that had dried up started to free fall again. She moved to grab Beat, nestling her head into his chest and just … cried. He rested his large hand on her head and hugged her tightly, supporting each other in this moment of catharsis. They stayed like that until Shiki passed out again.

When she came too, Beat, Eri and Rhyme stayed with her that day to make sure she consumed something.

Sometime in the afternoon, Eri decided to attack Beat to get some measurements for a pants design. Big muscular Beat hiding behind tiny Rhyme who was doing little to nothing to protect her older brother from the teen designer wielding a measuring tape going too close for comfort to his ... particular body parts. Shiki graced them all with a smile none of them saw in days.

Big brother Beat decided to have all his meals with her that day forward. Eri said that she could handle this, and found him to be a nuisance, but he didn’t care. Slowly Shiki’s appetite and strength returned, more places ventured outward, even the whirling of her bobbins clicking could be heard throughout the house.

Everytime she had a relapse, a brief moment of chest-tightening, her breath catching, she’d reach out and Beat would be there, embracing her until the panic attack subsided.

With her good days and her bad days, Shiki decided to go back to school after taking a month of absence. Eri got her back into the sewing club, pelting her with designs to keep her busy. The distraction was helpful, almost becoming necessary.

Sometimes she’d go to the skate park, sitting on the bench watching Beat and Rhyme do ollies in front of a setting sun. She would sketch out pieces inspired by the skaters, a little black cat signature adorning each one. Rhyme uploaded some of her designs and completed outfits on a popular social media platform, and named it Gatto Nero with her permission. Sooner than later, Shiki had a following of over one thousand, then five, then over ten approaching twenty. It also helped that her best friend was an influencer and modeled everything Shiki made.

Before anyone knew it, Shiki was approached by the founder of Jupiter of the Monkey, who was impressed by her work, and offered her an intern position while she was still in school. With more tasks to keep her busy, everyday slipped by faster and faster, and the relapses became more infrequent.

A year had passed since his disappearance, and Shiki never really forgot, more so distracted herself with other things to keep her busy on a day like today. After classes, Shiki would go to her internship to work on a couple of assignments and with her last meeting with her supervisor over, she headed out to catch the train home.

She slowed her pace down when she passed the 104 building, mindlessly loitering near the window displays to check out the trends. The Scramble Crossing was busy as usual, and she found herself wandering closer and closer to the statue of Hachiko.

Shiki stared at the bronze canine, her mind drifting to the promise she made quite a long time ago. Realizing she wasn’t in a rush to go home anyway, she took a seat behind the statue.

“Well Neku,” she hesitated, having not uttered his name in almost a year, “it looks like I didn’t keep my promise to be here everyday waiting for you to come back.”

“I-I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner.” She could feel her anxiety bubble in her throat, like digging at a wound that had scabbed over and was threatening to bleed out again. Thinking of him was painful, but she realized then that they did have a lot of memories, wonderful, happy memories that she had forgotten in her grief. Memories that were hers to hold onto for as long as she wanted them. Shiki could feel her heartbeat slowing down, the tension in her body subsiding ever so slightly.

“I hope that you’re alright somewhere out there,” she said into the open space in front of her, “I-I miss you.”

Just then a slight touch graced her hands on her lap, but when she looked up, no one was there. The ticking of the crosswalk signs, the pattering of shoes on asphalt, and the shouts of last minute sales continued on as if time and sound hadn’t stopped for a moment. Not exactly sure what she was doing, Shiki raised her hand out in front of her, and a second later, she felt a resistance, an air of familiarity filling the spaces between her fingers effortlessly.

Shiki jumped up in surprise, her bag holding Mr. Mew clattering to the floor before whispering, “...Neku?”

An invisible thumb tapped the back of her hand lightly. She couldn’t hear him, she couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. He was probably in the UG, but for some reason, she could tell he was standing right in front of her.

She sobbed, “Is that really you ---?”

“Shiki! Why ya cryin’? What happened, yo?”

The connection was lost as Beat skated up to her, visibly concerned, looking for some clue as to why his best friend was crying in public. He pulled out a crumpled cloth handkerchief from his back pocket, a gift from Rhyme that came in handy more times than he thought it would.

Shiki continued to stare at the open space, trying to make sense of what had just happened, grasping for what she thought was remnants of a lost love, but the sensation was gone. Whatever was there, it wasn’t there anymore. Even if he was in the game, she shouldn’t have been able to touch anything in the UG. Her mind raced with different jumbled thoughts. What was that? How did that happen? Why now?

“Earth to Shiki!” Beat waved his hand in front of her, successfully snapping her out of her trance.

She looked at him, accepted the handkerchief and dried her tears. Whatever that was, talking about it would only land her another session at the doctor's office. She knew Beat would believe her, but after her long painful year of recovery that he had witnessed, she doubted he would be open to the thought of dredging that wound up again.

Shiki didn’t trust her words, so instead she reached over and hugged him. Without hesitation, Beat returned the gesture. When her sobs had subsided, he gently asked, “let’s bounce?”

In an overprotective brotherly way, he kept his arm around her shoulders after retrieving her bag from the floor.

“Yeah.”

The next morning, Shiki found the day dragging on. She was on autopilot at school, and her assignments at her internship were more clerical in nature, requiring very little brain power. Anything not immediately due would be tomorrow’s problem.

She rushed out of the office building, crossed the scramble and stopped in front of the metal statue. Shiki held her breath as she sat down exactly where she was yesterday. Her muscles tensed as she inhaled deeply.

“So I might be losing my mind, and everyone will think I’m crazy but if you are here, if-if you’re really still here, I’d want you to know that … I miss you Neku.”

For an agonising moment, nothing happened. She wasn’t really sure what she was hoping for. Was everything yesterday just her imagination? Was she just feeling sentimental and willed the tactile sensation into reality?

After a couple more minutes of fruitless imagination, Shiki was about to give up and leave when she felt something, no, someone, grab her hand. Frightened at the sudden contact, Shiki looked down to see that nothing was there, just the fortune lines on her open palm and her silver pinky ring. Yet someone was there, holding her hand in a way she hadn’t felt in so long. She smiled as her eyes began to water.

“It’s you isn’t it.” She said more confidently, though she felt nothing of the sort. A light tap on the back of her hand was her only affirmation.

“I have so many questions for you, but I’ll save them for when you get back. The only one I need to ask is w-will you be back?” She tentatively prodded the air metaphorically, hoping she hadn’t pressed her luck. Another light tap had her smiling once more.

“Beat’s going to kill you if you ever make it out of the UG. Rhyme’s not going to stop him. Eri hates your guts for leaving me.” She chuckled at that. She felt her hand move slightly, almost as if he sat down next to her. He brushed his unseen thumb over her knuckles.

A couple of people passing by looked at Shiki as if she wasn’t having a completely one sided conversation with herself in broad daylight. She honestly couldn’t care less. She rambled on about random things, hoping to catch him up on the entire year he had missed, only the good things because she wasn’t quite ready to talk about the bad ones. She would have continued well into the night if her phone hadn’t rang.

“Girl, why you don pick up ya phone? I’ve been tryin’ to reach ya for hours!” Beat shouted so loudly into her phone she had to remove it from her ear.

“Shiki, where are you?” the smaller girl gently inquired, seemingly having pulled her brother’s phone away from him before he crushed it, “he was about to call the police if you didn’t pick up.”

She could still feel their hands interlocked, but reluctantly replied, “I’m at Hachiko, Rhyme. Tell Beat I’ll text when I leave and get home.”

“Beat wait -- , nevermind he just left. We’ll come pick you up. Just stay there. See you soon!” The phone line clicked.

Shiki sighed, “Beat and Rhyme are coming to get me. It won’t be long before they show up.” She paused, wondering if she could ask what has been on her mind, if the fates were on her side today.

“I’ll promise to be here, everyday, waiting for you to get back to the RG. Until then, can you promise to meet me here, everyday, until I can see you again?” She knew this went against the rules of the game, but the game had dictated her happiness for long enough. If there was any chance of being with him, invisible or otherwise, she would take it.

Her hand moved again, this time their fingers separated, but not completely. His pinky finger wrapped around her silver ring, the same one she wore during the first game, and a new promise was made as they gently shook on it.

And then he was gone. Her hand tingled from the absence of his light touch. She thought she could see faint sparkles from where she presumed he had been sitting. When the Bito siblings found her shortly after, her dazed expression had them both worried, but then a genuine smile broke out on her face as she proposed they go have a light dinner before heading home. Rhyme and Beat looked at each other, communicating through their eyes that they had no idea what had happened, but were glad Shiki’s original spark had finally showed up all the same.

That had been two years ago, and everyday of those two years Shiki spent pretending to talk to someone on the phone instead of an apparition. Everyday for two years of updating his shadow on her daily life routine and not being able to ask him how his day went. This arrangement wasn’t perfect, but just knowing that he was alive, even if they were on separate planes, meant that there was hope she would see him again. Even as the weeks went to months, and months went to years, everyday, he would faithfully show up, and they would hold hands just to exist together behind the symbol of loyalty and patience.

“Tomorrow’s my big collaboration presentation to the executives of Jupiter. Eri and Rhyme are going to be there. We could honestly all use the distraction after what happened with Beat. Please look out for him in the UG? Times like this I really wonder what’s going on with the game now and how many people I have to lose to it before it’s satisfied…”

About two weeks ago, Beat magically disappeared. Shiki was going to his classroom to invite him to lunch with her and Eri when she saw a student in his class hand Beat a pin of some sort. They were trending for a while now, but they reminded Shiki too much of the game to want one for herself. Trauma, bad luck, she wasn’t really sure, but she wanted no part in it.

When the student handed it to Beat though, he vanished into thin air. She dropped her bento and unceremoniously ran into the classroom. Shiki demanded what just happened, when Beat’s classmate just looked at her, his eyes dilated for a second, returned back to normal, and looked surprised. She again pressed on for an answer, to which the student had no idea who or what she was talking about.

It was almost as if Beat’s entire existence was … erased. When she realized that she wasn’t getting anywhere, she ran to the first year classrooms and shouted for Rhyme. Shiki couldn’t imagine why this was happening again. She finally was able to talk to Neku again and now her pseudo brother, Beat, was missing.

Despite the inner turmoil she was feeling, Shiki had enough sense that day to ask Neku if he’d seen or heard from Beat. It was difficult to communicate when the only responses she got were taps on her hand but she managed to find out that Beat was indeed in the UG, even if Neku hadn’t seen him personally yet. Rhyme had a look in her eyes, almost as if she was looking beyond the plane of the RG and was preparing her next move. Rhyme said not to worry, she was going to track down her brother down one way or another.

For the past two weeks, Shiki had a few depressive relapses. Even though she had her coping mechanisms, her rock was gone. Rhyme was working on her military grade computer system to find Beat in the UG, and Eri helped keep her distracted with work. But it wasn’t the same. It helped that Neku was there for her everyday though, like today.

“Well that's all I have for now. Please keep on eye out for the skaterbrain, and wish me luck on my presentation,” she felt a tap on the back of her hand, “till tomorrow.”

As predicted, Shiki was a ball of nerves during her presentation, but she warmed up at least a quarter way through. It helped that she knew most of the execs from her internship days at Jupiter, and were impressed with her work. The collaboration looked promising for the coming days. Eri and Rhyme, both of her founding Gatto Nero board members, ushered her to leave for her date while they settled some details, promising to meet up with her afterward. She felt like she was on top of the world after that meeting, and was bouncing happily to the coffee shop to grab her customary celebratory drink before heading to Hachiko.

What she saw standing behind the statue made her drop her drink and had her flying across the scramble. She barreled into the boy, causing his headphones to fall into his hood. He took a step back to steady them both before bringing his arms around her.

“Hey Shik’s, did ya miss me tha much?” the blond boy flashed a mischievous grin.

“You idiot! I’m so mad at you! I’m going to sew your feet to the ground if you ever do that again!” Shiki screamed at him, throwing fists into his lean chest to demonstrate how mad she really wasn’t.

“Gah girl, when did ya get so strong?” Beat shrieked, trying to hug her again to stop her from hitting him.

“I missed ya too, now stop hittin’ me yo!” She pouted as she squeezed him tight. She had gotten so used to his hugs, she really missed them.

“I got a surprise fo ya.” He pulled away from her so she could see who was behind him.

She stopped breathing. It was like her lungs and heart decided to shut down at the same time, leaving her body to scramble on how to save the rest of her. Her hands tingled from the lack of oxygen as she stared at his face, the one that had matured, but never really changed after three years. He sported his boyish smile, not hidden behind a collar, the ones she admittedly had forgotten about but made her stomach flutter all the same.

“Hey Stalker.”

She could tell that he was nervous, the same nervous energy he had when they started dating years ago. Shiki had dreamed about what their reunion would be like, what she would do when it happened, what she imagined he would say. It wasn’t that, and she wanted to punch him for it if she could just MOVE.

But she felt paralyzed, and he was getting even more nervous from the silent treatment. There were a couple of people she didn’t recognize around them, but all she saw was Neku.

Growing impatient, Beat slapped Neku on the back so hard he fell forward, catching his balance before he could fall into Shiki. When he was close enough she reached out and grabbed his hand, with all the familiarity she had gotten used to for two years. Then he tenderly touched her face, wiping away her tears.

“I’m home.” He said gently.

She managed to mutter, “welcome home,” before he sealed his promise with a kiss she had been waiting too long to return.

OMAKE

“Phones get a room bro! We got kids ‘ere!”

“Yeah Neku-san get some!”

“We aren’t that much younger than you”

“I believe that I am older than all of you. And with that I bid you all farewell as I am in jeopardy of major spoilers. I must get the new EleStra DLC immediately!”

“Boss, wait, we got to celebrate our victory, come back!”

Notes: Full disclaimer, I haven’t finished TWEWY NEO yet, I’m starting the third week now. I’ve spoiled myself, so I sort of know what happens, but a lot of what I do know is out of context. So take this story as you will, it might not make a whole lot of sense, and might be completely off, but I’m excited that when I do finish the game, how my headcannons will have matched up! Or don’t!

That also being said, I starved myself from reading other fanfics on the Neshiki reunion because I didn’t want it to unintentionally change my headcannon and I also wanted to write without feeling like I was copying someone else’s ideas. If my story is similar to someone else’s, it’s purely because great minds think alike. An example of convergent evolution if you will. (I will be devouring those fics very soon though).

Notes regarding the story-wise: I like found family tropes, and I wanted to make it clear that Beat and Shiki’s relationship are purely brother/sister related if I haven’t already. If you have other shipping goggles on, have at it in this judgement free zone. This story was inspired by this idea I had of Shiki sitting behind Hachiko holding hands (I love hand holding. I wrote two other fanfics about that) with Neku, who is transparent being in the UG, just smiling at her while she talks about her day even though she can’t see him. The miracles of love and friendship traverse all planes right?

Anyway, if you’ve read this far, thanks for listening to my Ted Talk and I hope you enjoyed this Neshiki food I’ve haphazardly prepared in like 7 hours.

[noire-pandora]

You drive me crazy

For @14daysdalovers also on my AO3

Words:  2159

Pairing: Solavellan

Warning: brief mentions of blood and pain.

A pungent smell of healing potions and bitter tinctures shrouded the barely lit room. There, Elluin sat on a chair, her back on the wooden backrest, her eyes examining the surroundings. A bed with linen sheets stood next to the left wall, a bed she spent many nights in. She moved her gaze from it to the white, tall, long table, its whole surface occupied by numerous bottles, bandages and instruments she didn't understand. Healing magic was a curious craft, one she never fully comprehended. 

A sneeze suddenly tickled her nose, but she forced herself to hold it in, a high-pitched noise ringing in her ears. The shake of the sneeze would have reopened her barely closed wounds, a risk she wouldn't take.

Her left hand reached for her abdomen, delicately patting and probing for any blood staining the silky wrappings. Her fingers met a warm, sticky liquid, and she sighed, disappointed with her body. The short walk from her horse to the Skyhold's healing quarters ruined Dorian's handy work.

An annoyed grimace crossed her face. The healers always scolded her for jumping in front of the danger, huffing and puffing with disappointment. But, the only healer who could make her feel like a misbehaving child was Solas. And right now, she crossed her fingers, hoping anyone but him would come to heal her. She assumed he slept, as it was the middle of the night. Surely no one would dare to wake him up and announce him the Inquisitor and her party are back. 

As if summoned by her thoughts, Solas entered the room, closing the door with a loud thud. He said nothing and crossed the room to the worktable, firmly avoiding her gaze. The black circles under his eyes and his tensed jaw made her sigh profoundly.

'This won't go peacefully' she thought, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Elluin watched him as his hands opened and closed three bottles, pouring their content on a few bandages, mixing them with impressive confidence. His fingers sparked, healing magic sneaking in the silky bandages.

"Solas," Elluin warned him.

An annoyed huff left his nose. 

"No healing magic for me, please," she patiently explained once again. 

"As you wish", he grumbled through gritted teeth.

He turned to face her, one hand holding the bandages and one clenching the mysterious bottles. He stared at her wound, a dangerous frown knitting his eyebrows. 

"Sit on the bed," he instructed her. 

She slowly moved from the chair, hissing as a pang of pain quickly crossed her wound. 

"Take off your shirt," he continued as she eventually reached the bed.

"Oh, without kissing me first?" she said, looking up at him and grinning. "And here I was, thinking you're a gentleman."

Her cheeky grin melted immediately as he fixed her with a cold stare, the purple flecks in his eyes sparkling dangerously.

She quickly unbuttoned her shirt, revealing her pale shoulders, sprinkled with freckles that travelled down on her neck and chest. There, they disappear under her breast-band only to continue towards her abdomen where they disappear again, hidden by the hem of her pants.

She whimpered as she tried to slide the shirt down her arms, pain crossing her body again. "Can you help me, please? I don't think I can do it," she asked him, eyes closed to hide the anguish residing there. 

Quickly, Solas abandoned the healing materials on the bed next to her, and carefully slipped her shirt down her arms. Goosebumps sprang up all over her bare arms, as his fingers accidentally brushed her skin. She glanced up to meet his eyes, only to find a discrete blush dusting his cheeks. Her smirk returned, please to notice the effect she had on him. 

"I will take off the wrappings now. Try not to move."

She nodded and peered up at the ceiling of the room, allowing him to take care of her in silence. She winced and hissed a few times, the dried up blood peeling off from her skin. The cold air soon reached her wounds, the painful sensation pushing her to bury her nails into the wooden frame of the bed. 

"It will hurt less if you lie down in bed. Can you do that by yourself?" he asked, voice thick with concern. 

She shook her head. "No, I think I might need help for that too."

The coldness in his eyes disappeared altogether, only to be replaced with worry as he helped her get into the bed. After a few more painful seconds, relief washed over her, the pain subduing. 

While Solas left her side to burn the wrappings with his magic, she dared to take a glance at the wound, as the bleeding stopped. Her armour and the enchantment Dorian put on her took most of the damage, but the Venatori's sword still found a way to leave a mark on her flesh. She could clearly see a deep cut, a few centimetres long, stretching from the right side of her abdomen and stopping at her bellybutton. It was deep enough to cause impressive bleeding, but not enough to end her life. She closed her eyes again and made a mental note to properly thank Dorian for his assistance. 

Solas' hands touching her skin made her aware of his return. She opened her eyes to look at him, wondering if his cold demeanour melted away. The frown was still there, but she suspected it was the result of his deep concentration. She challenged his skill with her insistent refusal to use any magic to heal, thus forcing him to utilize the standard, non-magical means to help her. She closed her eyes again, the fatigue finally catching up with her, and she dozed off in less than three minutes. 

A loud huff woke her up again. She looked up at Solas with curiosity, raising an eyebrow. "If you have something to say, I'll happily listen."

"I'm finished," he said, ignoring her words, the coldness returning in his voice.

"Already? No wrapping?"

"No, not yet," he replied, gathering his stuff to put them back on the table, his back at her. "I will have to change the bandages again, in two hours. I do hope you will stay put for a few hours, without feeling the insistent need to jump in front of a sword." 

`Oh, here we go again.` she thought, half amused and half worried. She patiently waited for him to continue, already knowing where this discussion would lead. 

A few bottles clicked against each other as he sorted them, throwing away the empty ones. "I have the suspicion you do not understand an important fact, and I will be quite happy to enlighten you about it if you do not mind it." he continued. 

"Not at all, go on, enlighten me," she articulated, wondering if he caught the cheekiness in her words. 

"In the last year, I have been the witness of your choices and decisions, and all of them had a logic, a well-thought move behind them. I have fallen in love with that intelligence. And yet, I am confused. Are you unable to understand your importance at this moment, Inquisitor?"

`Oh no, I'm in trouble now. He just called me Inquisitor in private.`

As if hearing her thought, he turned to look at her, his lips pursed into a thin line, his nostrils flaring. He reminded her of a dragon ready to attack his prey. A wide, mischievous grin grew on her lips. 

"Oh, my current importance?" she replied, feigning ignorance.

"Yes. Do you not understand what it means to be the bearer of the magic on your left hand?" he continued, almost growling. 

She hummed questionably, raising her left hand to look at the Mark. The green light twisted and slithered against her palm.

"The magic on your hand," he continued, moving closer to her. He reached her bed, his tall silhouette hovering above her. "That Mark, Inquisitor, is the key to the survival of this world. To our survival. And I have the impression you do not understand the importance of that fact." 

"Oh, is that so?" she replied and slowly rose up from the bed, careful not to open her wound again. Solas moved back a few steps  to stare at her face. "What makes you believe I am so ignorant?" she looked up at him, the grin still on her lips. 

"This is the fifth time you do this. You used your body as a shield to protect someone who did not need your protection. Varric told me how you protected Blackwall with your body when a Venatori attacked him. Why? He has an armour! He trained all his life to withstand moments like that. You are a mage, you should run away from a sword, not jump in front of it!" he spoke, his knuckles turning white as he squeezed them into fists.

 "Did Varric tell you Blackwall had his back turned at the Venatori and didn't see the attack coming?" Elluin calmly asked. 

"No, he did not. And even so, Blackwall can endure such an attack. You cannot!"

"Well, it seemed I endured it quite well," she shrugged, pointing at her wound. "Dorian helped me, and you finished the work. I see no hard done."

"No harm is done?" he asked incredulously. "You could have died. What if Dorian's charm failed? What if the Venatori had a poisoned weapon? What would you have done then?"

"I don't know. But I'm sure you would have saved me."

"You cannot do that. You have to stop risking your life. Stop jumping in front of the attacks, Inquisitor!" 

"And what, let others die in front of my eyes?" she asked. 

"Yes. If that means staying alive and protecting the Mark on your hand, then yes!" 

"Hm, so I should try to stay alive just to protect the Mark. My life is important only because of that?" she asked, closing the distance between them. 

"No, that is not what I said. I would--- "he stopped, his eyes widened with surprise, as Elluin lips smacked against his. She kissed him, no, she devoured him, her tongue urgently searching for an opening to slip into his mouth. With a frustrated moan, he allowed it. One hand grabbed her butt to pull her closer to him, the other slipped into her hair, gently tugging at her locks.

After a few heated minutes, the imperative need to breathe made Solas break the kiss. "Why did you do that?" he asked Elluin, who licked her lips.

"To stop you from sounding like an ass."

He opened his mouth a few times to speak but closed it back. He sighed and spoke again. "I apologize. You are right, I went too far," he closed his eyes and bent down to rest his forehead against hers. "You are important to me, more than you can imagine. The thought of you being hurt beyond healing petrifies me. I cannot bring you back if you die. The Mark on your hand is essential, but your safety holds more importance to me.

"Oh, I know that. And I am aware of everything you told me just now," she nonchalantly said. 

He quickly straightened his back to look into her eyes. "Then why did you…."

"Well," she started, biting her lower lip to contain her smile. "I think you're hot when you get angry. But since you rarely get angry, I took advantage of this situation. The way your eyes darken when you're pissed off is quite delicious. And I enjoy teasing you."

"Oh, for…" he groaned, hiding his face behind his hands, a crimson blush covering his cheeks to continue up to the pointy tips of his ears. "You drive me crazy."

She laughed, holding a hand on her belly, in an attempt to protect her wound. "Yes, I know that. But that's exactly why you love me, right?" 

"Yes," he acknowledged, dropping his hands in defeat. But you truly need to stop jumping in front of swords, Vhenan. If you die, my soul will die with you." 

"Fine, I will try to stop doing that," she replied, sitting back on the bed, wincing. 

He blinked in confusion. "All I have to do is say I will be hurt and you will stop doing dangerous things?"

"Yes. Much easier than being a smart-ass with me, huh?" 

"You truly are confusing sometimes, my love." 

She laughed again. "Will you stay with me tonight? I doubt I can climb all those stairs to my room without undoing your handy work." 

"I will, Vhenan." 

He joined her on the bed, pulling her in his arms and kissing her hair. Elluin nestled on his chest, breathing in his scent. A thought quickly crossed her mind, breaking the sweet moment for a second: What would she sacrifice to keep him alive? Would she jump in front of certain death to keep him alive?

'Yes'

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Parallels | Chapter 4

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist! | Parallels Masterlist

Characters: OC! Violet Grace Dawson, Luke Patterson, Julie Molina, Carrie Wilson, Bobby Wilson, Reggie Peters, Alex Mercer, Flynn nolastname, Willie nolastname, Nick Danforth-Evans, Dirty Candy 

Guideline: Sunset Universe is the universe in which Sunset Curve is famous and Violet is friends with Carrie, Julie and Flynn. Candy Universe is the universe in which Dirty Candy is more famous and Sunset Curve has broken up. 

Song(s) used: Clued Up - Little Mix 

Warnings: none

Words:  2,845

It was almost midnight when the two girls collapsed on the floor of the dance studio after having rehearsed every single Dirty Candy song at least twice. Violet had almost gotten everything down. 

“Will you tell me more about the other universe?” Carrie asked as she stared at the off-white ceiling overhead. 

Violet turned her head a little to look at her best friend before facing the ceiling too. “Where should I start?” 

“Are we friends?” Carrie questioned without missing a beat. 

“Yeah, we’re best friends with Julie and Flynn. We spend most days in Julie’s garage, making music. We wrote at least a dozen songs together, I believe.” Violet smiled at the memory of them writing their first song together just a few years ago. It was one of their proudest moments together. 

Carrie then sat up straight, the movement capturing Violet’s attention. “Will you show me one?” she asked, and Violet shot up into the seating position too. “Please?” 

Violet’s eyes darted across the room where she found a bunch of instruments stalled. With a smile, she got up and made a beeline for the acoustic guitar in the corner before returning and sitting down opposite of Carrie. 

After having tuned the guitar to her liking, Violet placed her fingers on the correct strings and started playing. An upbeat melody chimed through the room seconds before Violet’s voice followed. 

“Hey, yeah, no, oh, oh, yeah, mmm” Listen, I used to dress like everybody else I wanted to just blend in They told me no, keep my dreams on the low Told me I'd never win, yeah I love to be different Guard up to opinions then let 'em in Tear me down, wanna see me drown Like being happy is such a sin, uh-huh”

Violet looked up for a second to find Carrie watching her with the softest smile on her face, the way Carrie always looked at her. It made her feel at home. 

“And now I'm older, it's never over It don't stop affecting me, the world keeps testing me I'm getting on track with every knock back On a bad day, I just gotta stay, stay, stay, stay”

Violet’s voice grew stronger as she lapsed into the chorus with Carrie watching her intently. 

“I stay clued up and I'm ready To love the good and live the bad C-c-clued up and now I get it Just make the best of what you have 'Cause sometimes it's beauty, sometimes it's pain Sometimes it's sunshine and sometimes it's rain I'm c-c-clued up and now I get it Just make the best of what you have”

“Woah-oh-oh, woah-oh-oh Woah-oh-oh, woah C-c-clued up and now I get it Just make the best of what you have”

She slowed it down again, her voice mellowing out during the second verse. 

“Invisible, I feel like I'm forgotten Do you even notice me? Yeah Work myself up, let the nerves take over How I feel isn't what you see I need control, don't know how to let it go I need to learn to let it be, yeah Gotta remember nothing lasts forever So I'm just happy being me, oh-oh”

“And when I'm older, it's never over It don't stop affecting me, the world keeps testing me I'm staying on track with every knock back On a bad day, I just gotta stay, stay, stay, stay”

“I stay clued up and I'm ready To love the good and live the bad C-c-clued up and now I get it Just make the best of what you have 'Cause sometimes it's beauty, sometimes it's pain Sometimes it's sunshine and sometimes it's rain I'm c-c-clued up and now I get it Just make the best of what you have”

To Violet’s surprise, Carrie joined in during the post-chorus, which caused a wide, genuine smile to fall on Violet’s lips as the two voices blended together. For a moment, it was like nothing had changed and she was still in her own universe. 

“Woah-oh-oh, woah-oh-oh Woah-oh-oh, woah C-c-clued up and now I get it Just make the best of what you have”

“I will never run, never run from a lesson I will never hide, never hide from the present All the ups and the downs All the heres and the nows, oh Everything I face, no, it's never forgotten 'Cause every single day is a chance I can blossom All the ups and the downs Yeah, I'm living right now, hey”

“Mmm, I'm living right now, yeah Aah, one, two, three!”

A giggle escaped Carrie’s lips before she tried her hardest to sing along with Violet. It ended up with her just echoing some of the words, but it added a certain quality to the song that Violet really digged. 

“I'm c-c-clued up and I'm ready To love the good and live the bad C-c-clued up and now I get it Just make the best of what you have 'Cause sometimes it's beauty (beauty, no), sometimes it's pain (pain) Sometimes it's sunshine and sometimes it's rain (oh, sometimes it's rain) I'm c-c-clued up (up) and now I'm ready Just make the best of what you have”

“Woah-oh-oh, woah-oh-oh, oh, oh I'm c-c-clued up and now I get it Just make the best of what you have Beauty, but sometimes it's pain, mmh Sometimes it's sunshine, sometimes it's rain”

The last notes echoed through the space as the song came to an end, and made room for Carrie’s clapping and giggling. 

“That sounded great! Did you write this one?” she asked, intrigued to hear more about this universe of Violet’s. 

Violet smiled and placed the guitar next to her before answering. “Actually, you did…” 

Carrie’s eyes widened. “I did? Y-you mean your Carrie doesn’t sing about being popular and being the best at everything like I do?!” The girl was baffled at the idea that there were other subjects to write about than just popularity. 

“You should try it sometime,” Violet told her with a smile. “I’m sure you got something great in you. If Carrie from my universe can do it, then so can you.” 

“Sounds like a pretty good universe you lived in,” it sounded from the other side of the room and it didn’t sound like Carrie’s voice, whatsoever. Violet and Carrie turned their heads to find Bobby in the doorway. 

Violet smiled. “Actually, it was just okay. I don’t see you that often…” Bobby tilted his head a little before walking closer towards the girls. “What happened to Sunset Curve here? In my universe, they’re pretty big and touring the country at this very moment…” 

“We, uhm, we split up…” Bobby replied with a tinge of sadness in his voice. 

“What happened?” 

Bobby heaved in a deep breath before joining the girls on the floor. “Creative differences. I wanted to be famous, Luke was in it to prove to his parents he could make a career out of it, Alex just wanted to work out his frustrations and Reggie was just in it because his friends were…” 

“Oh, that sounds pretty terrible. Where are they now?” 

The boy shrugged. “Luke plays football, Reggie is focusing on his studies and Alex only has time for Willie.” 

“Who’s Willie?” Violet wanted to know, having never heard of the boy before. 

“Alex’s boyfriend,” Carrie replied, “And they’re the cutest couple on earth, I swear to God!” 

Violet’s eyes widened. “I knew Alex was gay. I swear the whole dating-a-different-girl-every-night was just a publicity stunt!” The Wilson siblings shot the girl a questioning look. “It’s a long story… But Alex is gay! Yay!” She excitedly clapped her hands, making the two teenagers in front of her chuckle. 

“So, any clue how we’re gonna get you back?” Carrie asked then. 

Violet smirked, “You already sick of me, Wilson?” Carrie’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. “I’m kidding. But no, I’ve got no clue whatsoever… There must be a reason why I’ve been brought here, right?” 

“I mean, you did tell me you wished someone would believe in me,” Bobby muttered, his voice laced with hurt and betrayal. 

Violet’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m sorry about that, Bobby… I’m sure I didn’t mean it…” 

The three kids let the words settle in their brain before the three of them burst out into laughter. That sounded weird, even considering the situation. 

For the rest of the night, the three of them brainstorm together, trying to figure out what reason could be behind the switch. There had to be a reason for her to suddenly show up here. It had to mean something. 

Determinedly, Violet stormed through the hallway towards where she last saw Julie, Flynn and Carrie. They were still at Julie’s locker and, like they had many times before, immediately shut up. This time, Violet ignored it and instead came straight to the point. 

“What’s this?” she asked and showed the girls the picture she had made of the news article in the trophy case. “This isn’t right! Sunset Curve broke up a year ago!” 

Just as the words left her mouth, a girl Violet could recognize from miles away walked her way. She had a strut in her step and her long, black hair swooshed behind her with every swaying step she took. 

“Kayla!” Violet called out and when her friend turned around, her face screamed disgust. 

“What do you want?” she asked, her tone laced with annoyance. 

Violet’s eyes flicked from Kayla to Carrie and back. Kayla and Carrie weren’t friends here. And neither were Violet and Kayla. Dirty Candy wasn’t a thing in this universe. Though the logo on Kayla’s badge that was pinned to her jean jacket said differently. 

“Nothing – N-nevermind.” Violet turned back to the girls she was previously talking to. “Does Dirty Candy exist?” she asked in a hushed voice. 

“Yeah,” Carrie replied, the volume of her voice matching Violet’s. “It’s Kayla’s. She created the band with Dana, Cynthia and Sophia.” 

Violet blinked a few times, trying to process all the information. “Dana’s in the band?” she whispered, and neither of the girls were sure if she was talking to them or not. “Dana got kicked out of Dirty Candy… Our Dirty Candy.” She said that last part to Carrie. 

“Vi, we were never in Dirty Candy…” Carrie told her with furrowed eyebrows. 

Julie lifted her hand to Violet’s arm. “Are you certain about that universe thing?” 

“Yes!” Violet groaned. “This isn’t the world I’m used to living in. In my world, Carrie and I are in Dirty Candy and we haven’t spoken in over a year since your mother died.” She pointed at Carrie first, then gestured to the two other girls before her gaze landed on Julie. 

Julie’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Her mother really did know more, she was certain of it. There was something she was hiding and Julie had to find out what it was. But first, she wanted to know more about this universe Violet seemed to come from. 

She grabbed Violet’s hand and dragged her towards the empty music room at the back of the school where no one ever came. This used to be Sunset Curve’s rehearsal space during their free periods and  now, Julie used it to work on her music when the girls couldn’t help. 

“Tell us more about that universe of yours,” Julie demanded as she hopped onto a desk in the corner. Her eyes flicked to the other two girls, searching for their approval before adding, “We wanna know everything.” 

“So, in my universe, your mother passed away. She got ill, really ill and after she passed, you lost your love for music. You didn’t sing a note for a year and we kinda lost each other. Carrie and I started to spend more time together afterwards and eventually created Dirty Candy. We grew our band with Cynthia, Sophia and Kayla, and became more and more popular the more we performed at school and at Chubbie’s pizzeria.” 

Carrie’s eyes twinkled at the idea of forming a band with her best friends, though she couldn’t quite see how she could start a band without Flynn and Julie. There was no Carrie and Violet without Flynn and Julie, or any other way around. 

“You have a Chubbie’s too?” Flynn questioned, earning a glare from Carrie and Julie. 

“That’s your question?” Julie shot back, shaking her head. She then turned back to Violet. “Continue, please.” 

Violet chuckled a little. “Besides rehearsals for Dirty Candy, I mostly hang out at Carrie’s where Bobby mostly mopes around because he doesn’t have any friends since Sunset Curve split up.” 

“Why’d they split?” Carrie wanted to know. 

“I don’t know, some drama, I guess? I don’t really pay much attention to him, to be honest.” A soft laugh escaped Violet’s mouth at the thought of teasing Bobby to the fullest with all her stupid pranks and witty comebacks during rehearsals. 

“Why’d you switch places with our Violet?” Julie then queried. 

Violet shrugged. “If only I knew that… The blogpost I found doesn’t really give a theory about why people switch places with their parallel self. It just – happened, I guess?” 

Julie mulled the answer over in her head whilst her teeth dug into her bottom lip in thought. She knew she could ask her mother about all of this. She had to know something about it. There had to be more that she could tell them. 

“I think there’s someone who can help us,” she muttered and jumped back on her feet. Her three friends followed behind her until they reached the street and they were on their way to Julie’s house. Their last period was a free period, so it wouldn’t really matter that they left school early. It was something they did quite often to go and jam in Julie’s garage. 

“Mom?” Julie called out as the girls entered the house. “Mom! You home?” 

Rose entered the hallway from the living room with a wide smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes that Violet hadn’t seen in years. The girl’s eyes widened upon seeing the curly-headed woman. She was alive. Alive and well and right in front of her. 

“You– you’re alive… Miss Molina… You’re alive. You’re actually–” Violet let out a surprised chuckle whilst tears pooled in her eyes. “You’re actually alive…” she breathed. 

Rose’s eyes darted from Violet to her daughter and the other girls before landing back on Violet. A light behind her eyes flicked on, signalling at the resemblance of the situation she had found herself in years ago. 

“I know what’s going on here,” Rose mumbled before heading into the kitchen. The girls exchanged glances before following the Latina woman. Violet and Julie took a seat at the table, opposite where Rose had taken a seat, while Carrie leaned against the counter where Flynn hoisted herself onto. 

With the girls’ expectant eyes on her, Rose heaved in a deep breath. “You’ve switched universes, haven’t you?” was the first question she asked. “You fainted and woke up in a world where you know the people but they lead completely different lives?” 

Violet’s mouth dropped, her eyes flicking to the other girls before focusing back on Rose. “Y-yes, that’s… That’s exactly what happened.” 

Rose smiled faintly. “I got myself in the same situation…” she admitted. “I was eighteen at the time and I had told my boyfriend at the time that I wished I lived in a world where he wasn’t such a jerk. Next thing I knew, I fainted and woke up in a world where my boyfriend was gay and my friends led completely different lives from mine. I was in a band, Rose and The Petal Pushers, and we were pretty famous there. All my other friends either didn’t talk to me anymore or were in my band.” 

Carrie and Violet exchanged a quick glance. That sounded an awful lot like them. 

“How did you get back here?” Flynn questioned from her spot on the counter. 

Fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist, Rose continued. “There’s this unfinished business I had to complete in that world and the Rose I knew had to do the same in mine. My unfinished business was getting Rose and The Petal Pushers in a band while the other Rose had to help find my boyfriend’s way out of the closet…” she smiled at the memory that floated back to the surface. “Aside from marriage and having two beautiful children–” she tucked a strand of Julie’s hair behind her ear with a smile, “The switch was the biggest adventure of my entire life.” 

“Wow, mom,” breathed Julie. 

Violet nodded her head, “That’s a crazy story, miss Molina.” 

Rose scoffed and reached for Violet’s hand. “Please, you call me Rose in this universe.” 

A smile landed on Violet’s cheeks. “Thanks for the reassuring story, Rose.” 

“I hope it calms your nerves and worries about all of this.” 

“It definitely does.”  

Rose smiled before patting the girl’s hand. “So,” she said, “What’s your unfinished business?” 

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