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celestialmark · 6 years ago

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NEO CITY IN LONDON

okk guys so as most of you know i got to attend nct 127’s concert in london on the 7th and here’s my in depth experience and impressions of each members as promised :)

TAEIL: is an angel. he’s precious honestly. he’s just like how he is in nct videos. he has a really peculiar sense of humour which makes him even funnier and his gestures and facial expressions are exactly what you see in videos. his vocals are top notch wowza. his high notes are exceptional in bridges like chain, simon says, firetruck! what i remember the most about him is the part where he was asked to do something sexy and cute at the same time and this man licked his hand and did the peace sign after :)) said his iconic line “fans are our energy, we are always thankful and we love you.” love love loved him!!

TAEYONG: exudes leader energies all the way. honestly, the concert just really proved why all the members hold him in such high regard. his stage presence is so alluring and his voice is so clear and an exact replica of how we hear him in their songs. his dancing is oh my god absolutely dazzling and so smooth no wonder he’s a centre. he looks so good in blue hair his visuals are no joke + he spoke english a lot and did so well in communicating with the fans it was great. also his aegyo comes out in random bursts when you least expect it. it’s such a complete 360 contrast when he performs cos he’s so charismatic onstage but when he’s talking to fans, he’s a lil baby :( 100% precious. would definitely keep in my pocket.

JOHNNY: really really playful and dorky. johnny stays true to all the descriptions we’ve all read of him; funny and absolutely kind hearted. during their ments, he’s mostly the one who asks fans to get involved in their songs, i.e. doing the crowd wave or swinging the lightstick a certain type of way to correlate with their songs. he’s also very deep! one time, he talked about how open he felt within himself because he saw us being so open to cheering for them and hyping them up. also how could we forget— he clowned doyoung again and imitated his dance from masked singer and the crowd went balistic :))) also need to give him more credit for his singing as well as his dancing!! some fans in the crowd needed assistance since they didn’t feel too well and johnny openly asked for security and pointed out who needed help + voice slightly higher in pitch when talking.

YUTA: a crowd favourite! (he bias wrecked me the entire night). really really knows what the fans want and he delivered it so well in their songs. his smile is literally blinding and he had so much energy the whole night! his dancing is oof so so so fluid and the way he hit his high notes screamed effortless to me. you could literally see his passion burning as he performed onstage— intense and powerful. red hair suits him so much. his gestures during their songs were all captured so well by the cameras i’m pretty sure he stole everyone’s hearts that night. also his english is sooo sooo good. we stan this man.

DOYOUNG: another bias wrecker of mine. he’s beautiful onstage his eyes were literally shining i kid you not, so much so, i thought he was crying but really, they just had sparkles in them. his vocals, let me tell you, made all the hairs in my skin stand. he accentuated a lot of his notes and combine that with his emotions (esp, back 2 u— rip) really makes you think wow what a powerful talented man. i literally caught myself with my mouth open because i was so drawn to him. g o r g e o u s sweet man!!

JAEHYUN: wow this man. wow. absolutely ethereal in real life. his skin is so smooth and milky you could literally still see it miles away. his expressions were breathtaking, from his smiling, to smirking, to staring into your soul, you name it, he’ll just take your breath away. i’m convinced that man has no bones because his waves and his dancing were so fluid. the wigs were snatched with his vocals— so so good at maintaining his low notes and even better at reaching them notes so so high (timeless and no longer jdgsgsga). when he talks, his voice is actually a little higher pitched than what we expect it to be from videos and whatnot. will really steal your heart literally any day just by standing there looking all perfect.

JUNGWOO: precious precious precious. you know the way our baby gets nervous very easily? he said that he was nervous at the beginning but he felt so much better after seeing the lighsticks :(( his voice really really stands out when he sings, it just has that distinct sound that catches your attention. his smile is actually so pretty and cute! also his english was really good he had so much phrases and words up his sleeve and he spoke so well and without any effort. also dancing was phenomenal, very fluid and well delivered. we really gotta appreciate how he learned all of 127’s choreographies in such a short amount of time and dancing it all with so much ease!! we love love love :((

MARK: ok here we go. the first thing that caught my attention when mark spoke was his voice. it’s actually a tiny bit slightly higher pitched than what we hear from videos or their songs like jaehyun and johnny. but when i watched the videos i took, he sounds the exact same as other videos so i’m confused? regardless, mark proves he’s absolutely fully capable. he looked marvelous onstage and so comfortable there he literally does belong up there. he was so dynamic from his singing, rapping and dancing. he speaks really fast and i feel like his brain has no brakes so sometimes his words get jumbled around or he says the same thing twice in one sentence but it only makes him so much more endearing :( totally fell in love with him way more than i already have HAHAHA.

HAECHAN: oh my god this man. haechan’s voice is like honey okay, very very smooth and definitely one that you can distinguish right away. also watching him made me realise how not only should we praise him for his vocals, but also for his dancing. THIS BOY CAN DANCE. and may i add very very effortless too? he makes dancing look soooo easy and his footwork?? we should really consider putting him in the centre more and adding him to the dance line :(( his interaction with johnny are the most precious!! his skin glows it really really does he’s so beautiful :(

NCT127: overall, a team with really really good teamwork and unity. their choreographies were executed so well there’s so much hard work and late hours of practice evident in it. they all compliment each other really well, and for the members we don’t hear much from in their recorded songs, got other members’ lines or shared with them. THEY EAT CDS FOR BREAKFAST. they really outsold themselves— they make it all look so easy. all of the boys couldn’t stop thanking us and kept emphasising how it was their first time in europe and how it was all because of us that their visit to london was possible. they also kept reminding us to have a good time with them but on top of that, to mind ourselves and to be careful. all of their english was so so so good, they really did study so hard, they only needed the translator once. they’re very open with their gratitude to their fans and you could feel how thankful they really were :(( we tried to sing them a happy birthday but we weren’t in sync so jaehyun stopped us and counted us in so we could all sing together :)) honestly the sweetest souls ever!

pretty sure i repeated a lot of words and adjectives and i hope this gave you a good idea of the boys!! please do feel free to ask me anything if i’ve missed out on some things!!

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darkmindsotome · 5 years ago

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Risque Rouge pt15

Tagging: @umbralaperture @otome-smut-queen @silver-fox-of-azuchi @tsundere-mitsuhide @jennacat84

General warnings for the whole fic: Angst, some fluff, Mental health issues, emotional things, trauma, blood, death and possible triggers. Please read responsibly.

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

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Chapter 15

As plans went this had been perfect. It was an accident that could have happened at any time and in any part of the city. He was lucky to already know exactly where he could find a coach without its driver, all he needed was the perfect moment. Everything was arranged and it would have been considered simple bad luck that someone should be fatally crushed under the sheer force of the runaway horse dragging its carriage. It would have worked, should have worked.

Latour looked at the failure of what should have been a gloriously devastating demise. His eyes burned with hatred as he watched the female interact with the two men from his hiding place.

“Curses!” He hissed as his fist pounded the wall of the building before, he spun on his heel snarling as he walked away.

---

This had to be an out of the frying pan into the fire moment. Evie watched the two men in a silent standoff feeling completely useless. It was true she had run and she was scared. Yes, Comte had been part of the reason for that but he hadn’t hurt her. She did wonder about his approach when they were at the café but not once in all the times, they had been together, was he anything less than pleasant and kind.

Evie was more than aware he had every right to be upset with her right now. Acting the way she had must have truly hurt him. She saw the pained look in his eyes when she reflexively slapped his hand away. There was more there though, he had a melancholy look that was complete forgiveness. It was as if he would accept anything no matter how much it hurt him as long as it was what she wished. It hurt.

While her chest constricted in the grip of a coiling serpent intent on crushing her the man blocking her spoke.

“What sneaky games are you trying to play with this girl? Are you not entertained enough?” There was a tangible threat from the man shielding her from Comte. He was speaking without formality which could have meant he didn’t care to be polite to a potential menace but the fact Comte called him by name must mean they knew each other.

“I am not playing games, sneaky or otherwise. Genevieve is my charge and in my care.” Comte was smiling that same smile he had on his face when talking to Arthur.

“Then why was she so terrified of you just now?” Napoleon moved slightly and Evie had visions of this entire situation going bad fast. She didn’t know if Comte was aware of the look on his own face or if it was a miscalculation on his part because right now it was more taunting than intimidating. For all the mistakes made so far, she didn’t wish to have one result in a fight in front of her. She broke free of the human barrier, with pain lancing up her leg and placed herself between the two men.

“Please stop.” She gave a quick glance to Comte over her shoulder before turning to Napoleon. “Thank you, Monsieur, you rescued me.”

To say Comte was stunned would have been a very accurate description right now. This woman really did seem to swing on a pendulum to the point where she was hard to predict. He thought he had scared her and she would not go anywhere near him so why was she standing as if to protect him now?

“I only did what anyone would do.” Napoleon seemed to be equally perplexed looking at the sudden change in the woman who was basically a trembling mess only minutes before. His green eyes looked behind her quizzically towards Comte who didn’t know what to say.

He had felt and still did feel terrible for how he handled everything back at the café. Hindsight has a way of making every situation seem like a bad move and he already was well aware even without the help of reflection that his approach was a terrible choice.

“No, you did more because you were the one to risk yourself on my foolishness.” Evie lowered her head the trembling in her body was still very likely to make a repeat appearance but right now she was determined to make sure nothing else happened. “What this man says is true. I am in his care, he is my sponsor. It was true I was careless and running but…”

“Evie.” Comte’s voice was quiet. His eyes fell on the back of her lowered head in awe.

She was hurt she had been scared and still suffering the aftermath of everything that had been said and done. He could feel it, he felt her swirling emotions as strongly as if they were his own, the pain in her taking grip on his own body. Still, she was trying to smooth over a situation that was nowhere near as drastic as she thought it was. A wry smile formed on his face and his expression softened as he watched her. She was stronger than she knew and so beautiful. Napoleon didn’t miss the subtle interaction and looked at the young woman in front of him as if he just remembered something.

“So, you are the Mademoiselle from the mansion?”

“You know me?” Evie looked up her emerald eyes finding his clear jade green ones.

There really was something about this man, it was different from Comte and also different when compared to the other soldier in the mansion. It was a quiet dominance that gave subliminal weight to anything he did, even standing still talking with him projected the idea you were talking to a born leader.

“Of you. Sebastian informed me of a new guest and said that they were a lady.” The air around Napoleon felt much friendlier as it seemed the misunderstanding from before had all but been forgotten. Evie looked back at Comte. He said he would tell the rest of the guests himself, not that she wanted to pry into why Sebastian had been the one to inform this man instead.

There was obviously a little tension between the two men, it wasn’t bad, but it was certainly one that came from a place of respect rather than blind trust. It was very hard to explain and she didn’t even understand how she could feel something so slight from people she had just met.

Uncle had always said she was very sensitive and observant but this was more, it was a feeling that she instinctively didn’t question. People talk about intuition but that had always seemed a little off to her. Even with a strong intuition it was easy to second guess and lose yourself. This was a profound sensation and it was strange because it felt a lot like being more than one person at once in her own body.

“Genevieve this is Napoleon, he is also a guest of mine.” Comte issued the late introduction after the conversation finally seemed to allow for it.

“Is there anyone in Paris who is not a guest of yours?” Evie’s question was out long before her good sense could talk her out of it. Her eyes went saucer round and she clamped her hand over her mouth. “Erm…”

By this point, Comte was used to her little outbursts. Whilst they still had a tendency to catch him off guard, he was inclined to look upon her fondly rather than feel the desire to chastise her. Besides judging by her reaction and the way she was currently looking she was giving herself a much harsher lecture than he could. While Comte and Evie were looking at each other a loud eruption of laughter burst forth from Napoleon.

“Pff -- Bwahaha!”

“I’m sorry.” Evie muttered her apology flinching when Comte placed a hand on her shoulder. Noticing her reaction, he retracted his hand. The brief touch of warmth he felt freezing over as he felt the penalty strike him as he feared it would if he hurt her. He tried to ignore the way that information sat like a steel weight in his chest. Convincing himself he should be content with simply watching her.

“No don’t be I – hahaha – I’m glad to see the shock didn’t do any damage to your body or conviction. Haha pardon. I like how honest you are.” Napoleon was struggling to stop himself from continuing his peel of laughter his shoulders were still shaking as he tried to stifle it and speak.

“If we are finished here, I think it would be best to return home.” Comte interjected which seemed to help Napoleon gather enough power to get his laughter under control.

“Home?” Evie asked curiously before taking an interest in the people around them. The gathering of onlookers was a little smaller but she was very aware that even if they had returned to their previous tasks they were still glancing in her direction.

Still, when Comte said home he meant the mansion and there was a feeling of chilling dread that filled her chest as she thought of that. Could she go back there and cheat what she feared most in her mind? Would she avoid being the source of someone else’s pain or would she fail and have another torment to add to her collection?

“Yes, we need to tend to that ankle of yours.” Comte drew a little closer, sensing of her rising anxiety.

He wanted to take her hand as he had always done but she recoiled at his touch and he did not wish to be an added source of her discomforts. He hoped that his words could be enough reassurance to her and she would choose to come back. He tried to ignore the selfish desire he had to be alone with her once more. He wanted to apologise properly and allow for dialogue to once more be open between them. He knew how detrimental the passage of time could be as it passed by removing the opportunity to speak freely. The only survivor of the situation being the air of extreme awkwardness that hung like a cloud.

“I don’t really…” Evie hesitated and winced again the pain in her ankle silencing her.

Napoleon hadn’t pushed for details and he was not stupid enough to get in the middle of a lover’s quarrel. He could see the concern in Comte’s eyes as he watched the young girl with black hair. He had seen similar looks in the eyes of men on the battlefield. It was a look of understanding your fate is in the hands of another and acceptance that their actions would define the world to come.

The woman was curious, it wasn’t that he was immune to her charms he felt them keenly drawing him in. It made him instinctively wish to help her. It was strange and he had felt something similar when he had experienced meeting Comte for the first time. He took a certain level of pride in being a good judge of character and he found her to be interesting, honest and trustworthy.

“I’ll join you as well as I was on my way back anyway.” Napoleon spoke up in response to the idea of returning. He had been on his way back anyway so it was of little concern to him if he travelled alone or with companionship. If his presence meant that the young lady should feel more settled than if she were to travel with only le Comte for company then he considered it his duty to do at least that much.

“Did you not ride into town?” Comte enquired feeling a deflated sensation taking hold of him.

“Not today.” Napoleon didn’t seem to care or notice the shadows crossing the amber eyes of the pure blood Count. He did, however, slip his arm around the waist of the injured girl. He did it in such a way that it was completely natural, a silent declaration of the fact this is where it should be. Evie could not find the words to protest and found her weight naturally leaning on the strong arm around her as Napoleon guided her towards the carriages.

Comte knew it was to support her and help her. He knew it was a purely platonic motion and there was nothing meaningful about it. Logically he knew all this and still a dark whisper in his mind had him questioning every small glance and muscle twitch between the two now walking in front of him.

“Well isn’t that splendid?”

---

“So, it failed.” Amos sat mulling over the ill-fated news as he watched the foam dissolve on the head of beer in his glass.

“Yes. There was interference and the female found protection at the most inconvenient time.” Latour had appeared like a tempest and was working his anger out on a bowl of nuts crushing the shells in his bare hands, placing their contents to the side. He didn’t really like nuts, he didn’t really enjoy any human food anymore. It was all ash in his mouth.

Blood was all he craved to slate his thirst and fill his belly. Alcohol provided a change in pace, whilst providing natural cover from the passing observer. Cigarettes helped keep him busy, it was a throwback to his time as a human. Watching the curling smoke from the lit shredded tobacco, how it filled his lungs. It helped him focus, it helped him think and it blocked out some of the atrocious scents of the cattle around him.

“Not by the Reo’s doing?” Amos asked watching the bowl of mixed nuts grow empty. He was a little pleased that his disciple had learnt to vent his anger in a way that drew less attention to him. He remembered how troublesome it had been in previous years during training when he had been forced to keep a tight leash on him or risk exposure.

“No, it was another. One from the mansion although they are not part of the familia.” Latour reached a particularly stubborn walnut and after squeezing it towards its obliteration he finally seemed to relax.

“Did they suspect foul play?” Amos drank the dregs of his pint and scooped up a handful of the freshly shelled nuts on the table.

“No, My Lord” Latour confirmed what was possibly the only saving grace of the misadventure. Failure was not an option Latour knew it would spell the end of everything for him. His master had no use for tools that could not fulfil a task.

“Good, then there is still a chance we can approach the matter again.” Amos smiled the lamplight caught the very tip of his exposed fangs before he expertly moved his head playing it off as a trick of the light for anyone who might have seen it.

“What would you have me do?”

---

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

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Sorry about the stupid question, but wasn’t Ares kinda evil? He was in Percy Jackson at least, and that’s about all I know about Greek mythology

Hahaha, I mean, yeah he’s not exactly misunderstood, as far as most takes on him go. Supremely douchey, at the least. But then again, that kinda describes the vast majority of the Greek pantheon, both major and minor divinities alike….so I mean, he’s got plenty of company. Like I know in the PJ series, Poseidon is basically a pretty decent god comparatively speaking, but like….nah, he was definitely a major asshole in a majority of myths he showed up in. Demeter would definitely make your crops wither if you tried making a case for him being an okay guy, for instance.

But the take on Ares in that post you’re talking about still fits because in pretty much any myth I can think of, Ares is very much the type to be fully convinced he’s in the right at any given moment. He’s definitely the hero of his own story, and everyone else’s, as far as he’s concerned. So he would def object to being cast as evil.

It’s kinda like….so I mean, there’s definite reasons why Ancient Greek culture centered a great deal of focus on two different (and usually opposing) war gods, whereas most cultures usually only had one, or at least one prominent one and then any other war gods being more minor, satellite deities, kinda.

And yeah, Athena is almost always considered the ‘good’ or ‘civilized’ goddess of war - even though she definitely had a nasty streak at times herself - but it was usually more like….Athena was the goddess of wisdom, of strategy and tactics, the incarnation of war with PURPOSE and intent. Like, she embodied war in the sense of….a definite creation of human civilizations, wars that happen because human minds and motivations decide okay, we are going to war and here is why.

In contrast, it’s not really so much that Ares was considered evil, as that he was seen as more…brutish, unreasoning, impossible to sway with talk of peace or treaties or appeals to an enemy’s sense of mercy or such. Basically, he was Athena’s opposite in the sense that he embodied war as like…a force of nature, almost. Something primal, senseless, bloodthirsty, the kind of war that no one truly wins, whereas Athena’s domain was seen more as like…’noble war,’ or war waged for ideals, honor, stuff like that. A little known aspect of Ares is that he was also at times referred to as the god of storms as well as war. Not the heavens or skies in general, like Zeus or other sky gods, but storms specifically. The natural disaster kind, just powerful and overbearing and impossible to tame, just like, the wild fury of mindless nature that the best you can do when facing it is look for shelter and try and wait it out as best you can. Like, a storm isn’t technically evil, but that makes very little difference when the end result is the utter destruction of everything in its path, you know?

Its also interesting to consider the role cultural bias plays in even ancient mythologies. Like how we talk about how history is written by the victors, they decide what gets remembered and in what light…that’s kinda a key component of the Athena/Ares dichotomy too. Its not really a coincidence that Ares is the older of the two…both in terms of worship, like in the sense that he was around and having myths told about him long before Athena arose as a popular divinity in Hellenistic cultures…and in the sense of like, how even in the myths themselves, or at least the myths that lasted and make it through the millennia in the form we remember them and tell them today, Ares is literally the older of the two, in terms of age, with Athena being born long after him.

Like, we talk about the Greek pantheon as the gods of what we usually think of as ancient Greece, like…city-states like Athens and the like, the Greek civilization that built the Parthenon and practiced democratic ideas and were famed artisans and such…but the entire lifespan of THAT ‘ancient Greek civilization’ is still only a relatively small piece of the overall history of the region. The Greek gods as we know them today, were around in various forms for literally thousands of years before that…or at least some of them were. The older Greek gods, culturally speaking, are the ones who are more linked to primal, elemental forces of nature, embodiments of the natural world moreso than specific cultural ideas such as art, music, beauty, wisdom/strategic war, revelry, etc. And over time, as cultures of the region mingled and consolidated and grew into the broader, more widespread civilization we tend to label ‘ancient Greece’ in most of our minds….new gods got added to their myths and merged with the older, more elemental deities into one cohesive pantheon. And that’s why the gods of natural forces like lightning, the sea, the earth, sky, the sun, etc….they were the oldest gods in the Greek pantheon, age wise….the children of the Titans, along with those Titans who’d sided with them in the war against their parents, like Helios, etc. And its these gods’ children, for the most part, who embody the ideas born of human cultures and civilizations, and thus make up the younger generation of Olympians, like Aphrodite, Apollo, Dionysus, Hermes, etc. And of course, Athena.

Ares and Hephaestus exist in a kinda weird, in between state, like one foot in one ‘generation’ and the other foot in the younger one…because they’re examples of deities who were around for a long time in previous cultures in various forms….but kinda evolved along with the changing ideals and priorities and focal points of the various Hellenistic cultures that told their stories. Or not evolved precisely, that’s not the word I’m looking for, its got some less than accurate or great implications here, but…like essentially, in their oldest, earliest remembered ‘versions’, the gods we know now as Ares and Hephaestus were primarily associated with natural forces, just like Zeus, Poseidon, Demeter, etc. Proto-Ares, for lack of a better description, was more a storm god than even a war god, initially, while Hephaestus was pretty definitively a god of fire. But for various reasons, their stories changed along with the cultures that told their stories, without ever actually replacing them with newer, younger, ‘gods of civilization,’ the way the older Greek gods replaced the Titans in the mythological cycle, and their children were destined to do the same to them.

So by the time the Greek pantheon had solidified into the Olympians as we think of them today…..Ares and Hephaestus were added into the Olympian pantheon as part of the second generation of gods, like Aphrodite and Athena and Apollo….but were distinctly the oldest of that generation, the first sons of Zeus and Hera, and thus why they’d been around so much longer than the younger gods, mythologically speaking. And in the process, they’d ‘shed’ most of their more primal, nature-related aspects, as the storm god and fire god, and become more associated with where those forces led humanity once harnessed. Ares thus became the idea of war, but early war, as the emerging Greek civilization saw it, and by extension him…’primitive’ war, senseless violence and brutality that the Greeks of the more modernized era of Olympian worship saw themselves as having outgrown…and thus requiring the birth of a newer, younger, ‘more civilized’ god of war, a war god for the modern age of a more enlightened Greek culture and civilization, in their eyes….hence, the rise of Athena in both the myths and Greek culture as a whole.

(Though technically, Athena’s actually one of the older deities of the region too, with roots tracing all the way back to the earliest Hellenistic civilizations, but she was ‘updated’ in much the same way as Ares & Hephaestus, but even moreso, to the extent that its much trickier tracing her all the way back to her earliest depictions).

All of which is why I’d say its not that the idea that Athena = good war goddess/Ares - bad evil war god is necessarily wrong, per se….its more that its not the most accurate way of describing their dichotomy, and their relationship with the ancient Greeks of this era. The surviving myths we have most definitely characterize Ares as nasty, ill-tempered, prone to jealousy and fits of rage, always eager for a fight and hard to talk down from one….but also, he tends to be characterized as pretty stupid, overall, like…his only advantages tend to come from sheer strength and brute force, his willingness to inflict relentless violence without stopping or showing mercy, etc. And this is the part where I said its like how history is written by the victors. These are the depictions of Ares that survived til today more or less intact, widely proliferated, etc….even though Ares has had a very very long history tracing back thousands of years before those stories first were told, and has been many different things to many different cultures in all that time.

But the disdain for him that’s clearly visible in pretty much every surviving myth….that’s more about how like….the ancient Greeks telling those particular stories, recording them, passing them down….this disdain was basically their way of saying they’d outgrown Ares and the kind of senseless war he embodied, and why they ascribed to Athena’s more ‘civilized’ type of warfare, one that valued culture, and strategy, and tactics, and the OUTCOME of war, rather than the ACT of war itself. Essentially a culturally meta way of saying Ares’ kind of war, and wars of a type he would champion….this generation of ancient Greeks wanted to convey that all that was beneath them, that they’d evolved as a culture past that kind of senseless brutality and at this point had very little use for Ares and everything he represented.

(For the record, I’m not necessarily agreeing with their self-assessment, lol, as uh, lots of the wars conducted by the ‘ancient Greek civilizations’ at even their height, could still very accurately be termed senseless, brutal and bloodthirsty. Its more just about how any civilization that prides itself on well, how civilized it is, generally tends to look at what came before them as more primitive and uncultured. Whether or not that’s as accurate as they’d like to believe. Kinda like how we, as a modern society, would generally term ourselves more civilized and cultured than those particular ancient Greek civilizations, but uh, that doesn’t actually mean we’ve got a leg to stand on about modern warfare being any less senseless, primitive and needlessly violent than any waged 5,000 years ago, y’know? Anyway, this is purely an eye of the beholder kinda thing, more just about the kinda lens the myth-tellers of that era were viewing their gods and their stories through. Allegedly. I mean who the fuck really knows, I wasn’t there.)

And just for the hell of it, by a similar token, it could probably be argued that the myths making a big deal about Hephaestus being so ugly and misshapen by Olympian standards…you could probably make a case for that having a lot to do with Hephaestus’ age, culturally speaking, and how he was associated as much with older ‘more primitive’ cultures as with the more modern age of Olympian worship. Just as Ares became less and less associated with storms and more tied to violent war, Hephaestus moved further and further away from his origin as a primal fire god, to a more specific, newly added niche as a god of invention, craftsmanship, a patron god to blacksmiths. There’s stuff that could be said about the correlation between fire as a potentially destructive force, an almost violent or ugly aspect of nature that only held ‘value’ to humanity once tamed and shaped into a controlled force that had something to offer human culture, in the form of how it could be used to forge weapons, craft new technologies, inspire innovation, etc. Like…the thing about Hephaestus the Olympian is he was a popular god, in the sense of having a big cultural impact, occupying a fairly large focal point in civilizations of the time. But he wasn’t necessarily a well LIKED god. Nobody was pouring out libations to him if they could help it, he was kinda…there, because he was useful and needed, while still being a deity and presence that wasn’t entirely comfortable to be around or in the presence of, sort of. Personally, I think that all links back to how he’s referred to as being hideous to look upon, someone the other Olympians didn’t necessarily want near the rest of them, even as they petitioned him to make them weapons….like, I think you can see here the vestiges of him as the embodiment of fire, even as he’s less associated with that in this time period, and his focus narrowed more specifically to what fire MAKES. Like, the general idea of him, culturally speaking, being that we need him, and we know it, but he and the primal forces at the root of his divinity are like….not something its a good idea to be entirely comfortable around? Kinda the awareness that no matter how far civilization had advanced by then, it was still understood that like….there was still something primal, primitive about fire, that was never going to be possible to fully tame, to make totally civilized. That it’s a force of nature that can be harnessed, but. Bah.

Okay so I’ve been writing all this while waiting in the doctor’s office because boredom plus I’m a slut for mythological analysis and theorizing, buuuuuut I have to go be like, a person with an actual to do list today so I can’t finish this right now but also I don’t know if I’ll get around to coming back to it and finishing it so I’m just posting it as is, for whatever interest it holds as is, because plus it’s not like…..this is the answer anon was likely looking for to a pretty simple question haha, I just like, get carried away when talking myth stuff.

Also standard disclaimer I have to put on all my myth posts apparently haha, I am not a scholar, fuck academia, all of this is just my own personal musings based on my own personal research just because, and no I will not cite sources because I literally do not have time, this is just me talking about shit that interests me and my take on it, I am not suggesting this is the right or only take or should be taught to impressionable school children, lol do not @ me about how I’m misleading the innocents of tumblr who trusted that I, random tumblr user, should be construed as the sole authority on this topic like. I have reasons for adding this disclaimer and they are the thirty thousand fucking obnoxious ‘fight me for being wrong about Loki’ notes the last time I thought waxing mythologic was a good idea, and I have no interest in a sequel to that. LOL. Disclaimer over. Find the post interesting and worth looking for more thoughts on similar or even contesting lines elsewhere, or like, don’t. Just don’t go looking for me as target practice because my nerd take was controversial, lol thank you and have a nice day.

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hystericalrogertaylor · 6 years ago

Text

Reconnecting (Chapter Six)

Pairing: Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor X Reader

Word count: 6213 (yes, I’m serious)

Summary: (Y/n) and Roger have been friends since the cradle. When they’re suddenly pulled apart and reconnected years later, they both can tell that the relationship has evolved. They lead very different lifestyles now. Can they continue what they had, or go for something more, with this gap between them?

Warnings: Cussing, a lil blood, violence, Paul almost fighting someone

A/N: Good afternoon, lovies! I’ve got a surprise for you, as you may have seen me post about a couple days ago! Click on these words to be taken to the Reconnecting Spotify playlist! I felt like a playlist embodying the themes and events of this story would be appropriate. Also, if you listen in order, it takes you through the story chronologically. I will still be adding songs as the story progresses, because some, if added now, would serve as spoilers. I hope you guys listen and enjoy! Now, I bring you the most words I’ve ever written for one chapter of anything. I hope you love it!

Master list is in my profile description! :)

~~~

Ridge Farm Studio looked homely enough. Of course, it was a farm out in the middle of nowhere, but you decided you’d make it work. If you’d be here for at least a month, maybe longer, you’d have to.

You parked your car next to Roger’s. Everyone was unloading their luggage and setting it over by the farm house. You’d just brought one suitcase, so that part wasn’t too difficult.

“All right everyone, let’s head inside. (Y/n), get the luggage for us.” Paul Prenter, Freddie’s manager, gestured to all the suitcases before taking the band inside.

“Wha--what? Hey! Get back here!” Paul continued to walk away, while the rest of the band grabbed whatever they could to take inside. They all gave you a pitying look. They knew you hated Paul more than anyone. You couldn’t stand people who thought they were better than everyone, and Paul was the epitome of that kind of person. You groaned, grabbing one suitcase in each hand and putting a makeup bag under your arm before heading up the stairs into the house.

You followed everyone to the upstairs of the house. Paul gave Freddie the biggest room, Roger and Brian got smaller rooms, and John was stuck in the basement. Which meant you had to navigate the three floors, trying to figure out which bags belonged to whom, because no one thought to tag them. It took you a good forty-five minutes to get the job done, because apparently Freddie needed seven suitcases for clothes alone. (“What the hell, Fred?” “Sorry darling, but you know how I am!”)

You stepped into the kitchen, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “And (Y/n), you’ll have to sleep in the barn.” Paul sat at the table, sifting through papers.

“Oh no no no, that is not happening.” You put a hand on top of his paperwork to direct his attention to you. “And where, pray tell, are you sleeping?”

“Freddie and I are sharing a room.” Paul smirked at you smuggly. “Maybe if you were useful to them, you could’ve gotten better sleeping arrangements.”

Fuming, you swiped all his papers onto the floor before storming outside. Ever since Freddie had hired Paul as a manager, you two had been at each other’s throats. You couldn’t agree on a single thing and your personalities clashed. He was far too controlling for your taste.

“Pick these up, bitch!” he yelled after you.

You ignored him, flinging the door of the house open. Roger didn’t mention Paul would be there. You would prefer cleaning up after James’s drunk ass than dealing with him.

Speaking of Roger, he stood across the yard, looking up when he heard you. He was squatted down, butt sticking out, with a chicken at his feet. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Roger looked back down at the chicken, reaching out to poke it. “Roger, don’t mess with the chicken.”

“I’m going to mess with the chicken.”

“Don’t!”

The chicken puffed out its chest, slightly charging at Roger. He screamed loudly, falling back on his butt.

“I told you!” you yelled. You sat down and grabbed your stomach because you were laughing so hard. Big bad Roger, scared by a chicken.

He stood up, wiping the dust off his backside. He mocked your laugh, putting his hands on his hips and sticking his elbows forward for emphasis. “Hahaha, that was sooo funny! I love when Roger makes a fool of himself!”

“It’s true, I love it.” You had your back against a wooden post.

“Oh buzz off.” Trying to hide a smile, Roger walked past you and into the house, leaving you to die laughing on the porch.

---

Ignoring Paul’s desires for you to be as far away from the house as possible, you made camp on the couch after everyone had gone to bed. You’d lied to Roger about where you were sleeping because you didn’t want him to feel bad that you didn’t have a room. You pulled a rough blanket over your body; it was the only one you could find. The couch wasn’t too comfortable either. You sighed, figuring you were used to little sleep, so this shouldn’t be too different.

After two hours of tossing and turning, being unable to sleep, you heard someone come down the stairs. Quickly, you rolled over and closed your eyes, trying to even out your breathing. Whoever it was padded into the kitchen, running the sink. Likely getting a glass of water. They came back out into the living room, taking several loud gulps. Then, they were silent for a few seconds. “(Y/n)?”

“...yes, Roger?” you answered slowly.

“Why are you on the couch?”

“...sleep?”

He sighed. “Okay, but why not in a bed?”

“Hey, Paul tried to put me in the barn, this is an upgrade.” You rolled back over, facing him.

He widened his eyes, his anger showing through them. “You can’t be serious.” You nodded. He scoffed. “That’s bullshit. This couch is bullshit. Get up, we can share a room.”

“Roger, I don’t want to encroach on your spa--”

“Also bullshit. How many sleepovers did we have as kids?” He held a hand out to you to help you get up. “It’s a queen-sized bed. It’ll be fine.”

You had to admit, now that you were both adults, sharing a bed like you did as children would be weird. As far as either of you knew, you weren’t attracted to each other. But you were both attractive adults who knew what implications of sharing a bed were. Regardless, you were longing to sleep in a bed, so you grabbed his hand and pulled yourself off the couch.

You followed Roger up the stairs and into his room. You didn’t hear any noise coming from Freddie’s room, which you found strange for the night owl singer and his loudmouth manager. Roger’s room was right next door, so you were actually grateful for that quiet. Until the cold hit you.

“Oh, my GOD, Roger, this room is freezing!” You rubbed your arms up and down, trying to create some heat.

“That’s part of the reason I got up.” He laughed. “That’s also probably why I was given the most blankets.”

“I miss the couch,” you joked. “There’s even a fireplace down there.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “It gets better once you’re under the covers.”

You gave a sarcastic thumbs-up. “Okay, I’ll hold you to that if I freeze.”

“It is not that cold, you drama queen.” Roger shook his head, laying down. “Goodnight.”

You slipped under the covers on the other side of the bed. There were a significant amount of blankets, which you were grateful for. You pulled them up to your chin, smiling at the much more comfortable feel of the mattress. “Night, Rog.”

---

You stared straight ahead, at the wall, while Paul talked about today’s plans. He wasn’t even the band’s manager. You were closer to that title than he. He shouldn’t be making the daily schedule for everyone. Living with him was going to be your living hell.

“All right, is everyone good with that?” he asked. The band members nodded groggily. Brian looked about ready to face plant into his cereal. Paul had woken everyone up at the crack of dawn, and no one was happy about it.

Everyone stood up, getting ready to walk over to the studio part of the farm. You downed your last bit of orange juice, setting the cup down in the sink.

“So! How’d you sleep last night?” Paul asked, leaning on the counter next to you.

You sighed angrily. “Very well, thank you. Roger let me sleep in his room.”

“Ah,” Paul said stiffly. Then he smirked. “And, uh, how do James and Gayle feel about that?”

“What are you implying, Prenter?” You gave him a death glare.

“Oh nothing, nothing.” Paul patted you on the shoulder patronizingly before exiting in the kitchen.

Seeing red, you followed him, violently shoving a chair out of the way as you left. You heard your enemy chuckle up ahead.

---

“Okay,” you said, rubbing your temples. “We’ve been in here for six hours. Freddie’s had to pee eleven times, Brian’s over there nodding off, Roger doesn’t know what song we’re on, and we have yet to record anything.”

Everyone collectively groaned. This album was proving difficult. Aside from several songs no one could agree on, the band didn’t seem inclined to get any work done.

“Just take a break,” you said, motioning for the band to leave. Everyone except yourself, Paul, and Brian left the room. Brian had laid himself on the floor and was already asleep. “This better just be one bad day,” you remarked to no one in particular.

Paul sighed. “Yeah...let’s hope.”

Half an hour later, the band came back. They woke up Brian and put out some songs they weren��t quite finished writing yet. “We figure if we finish these today, we can start recording tomorrow,” Freddie explained.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” You nodded. “Let me know how I can help.”

Brian yawned. “What’s a sweet food?” he asked randomly.

“Chocolate?” “Candy.” “Sugar.” “Cookies!”

He frowned. “No....”

You sat next to Roger, who seemed very deep in thought. “What are you writing?”

He smirked. “A car song.”

“Like, something you can listen to in the car?” you asked.

“Sure…” he answered slowly.

You gave him a funny look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see.”

---

Roger’s room seemed even colder the second night. Maybe it’s because your blood was boiling from another argument with Paul.

“What did I do to him thought?!” you shouted, knowing he could very well be right next door. “I’m just trying to do my job until Sheffield gets here!”

“You did almost fling milk in his face.” Roger was in bed, shirtless, arms behind his head as he leaned on the headboard.

“He mentioned my ‘womanly emotions’ first.” You sat down on the edge of your side of the bed. “He deserved more than milk in the face.”

“Just go to sleep. You’ll feel better tomorrow.” Roger shifted down into the sheets, turning off his bedside table lamp.

You wrapped yourself up in the blankets, still shivering. You didn’t like being cold. It made it hard for you to function normally. Maybe it was dramatic, but that’s how you were.

“Jesus, you’re shaking the whole bed.” Roger suddenly pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. “Stop. Shivering.”

You blushed. “Okay, I-I’ll try.”

He smiled, though you couldn’t see it. He liked being able to cuddle you, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud. You liked it too, because he was warm, and his arms were safe.

You sighed. “Thanks. Goodnight, Roger.”

“Goodnight, (Y/n).”

---

You were awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of piano and singing. Roger’s arms were still tightly wrapped around you, and you still felt warm and comfortable. You spent several minutes debating whether or not to get up; you wanted to know why Freddie would be singing at such an hour. Eventually, your curiosity got the better of you, and you gently unwrapped yourself from Roger’s arms and the sheets before heading up to the loft.

“Love of my life...you’ve hurt me…” You peaked around the wall, seeing Freddie at the piano and Paul in a chair on the other side of the room. You retreated back behind the wall, listening contentedly. “You’ve broken my heart, and now you leave me....” Such a beautiful, yet sad, song.

You heard Paul stand up, which made his chair creak. “Is that about Mary?” he asked.

Freddie hesitated. “Yes.”

Both men were silent for several seconds, making you suspicious. You snuck a look around the wall again and had to slap a hand over your mouth to keep silent.

Paul was kissing Freddie. On the lips.

Freddie seemed entirely uncomfortable. He pulled away from Paul, looking completely bewildered. He looked down at the piano, not wanting to meet Paul’s gaze.

You stepped back down a few stair steps, trying to calm your breathing. You still couldn’t believe what you’d just seen. Was Freddie cheating on Mary? Did Mary know? What was going on??

Roger, meanwhile, had woken up to your absence. He sat up, looking around the dark room, in which you were nowhere to be found. He figured you’d gone to the bathroom, so he lay back down and decided to wait until you got back to try to sleep again.

You gently stepped the rest of the way down the stairs, trying to be as silent as possible. If Paul or Freddie saw you, you didn’t want to know what would happen. You were still trying to figure out if you wanted to ignore it or mention it to Freddie, or maybe even Mary. If something like that happened to you, you would want someone to tell you.

Stepping back into Roger’s room, you knew he was awake. He was on his back, staring at the ceiling. When you closed the door, he looked over to you, smiling. “There you are. Welcome back.”

“Yeah, I’m back,” you replied, distracted. “Sorry, if I woke you.”

“No, it’s okay.” He held his arms open for you again. You laughed, scooting into him. You heard his breathing even out a few minutes later, meaning he’d gone back to sleep. You stayed awake, pondering the events of the day, but mostly the ones you’d just witnessed. It bugged you, a lot. It wasn’t your business, but you were close to Mary, so it sort of was. Either way, you couldn’t help but worry about something you couldn’t change.

An hour later, you heard Freddie and Paul go to bed.

---

You woke up on your stomach with Roger’s arm under you. His other arm was hanging over the side of the bed. You cringed, pushing yourself up and off of his arm. You didn’t know how long you’d been like that, and you didn’t want to know how bad his pins and needles in that hand were going to be.

The light streaming through the window indicated that it was the middle of the morning, which was strange. Paul hadn’t woken everyone up. Or, at least, he hadn’t woken up you and Roger.

“Rog. Roger. Roger Taylor.” You repeatedly poked Roger’s face, trying to wake him up. “C’mon, we have to get the day started.”

Roger groaned, flexing the hand of the arm you were laid on. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Nine o’clock?”

“Wow. I got to sleep in.” He laughed, sitting up and stretching. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well with my own personal heater with me,” you joked. “You?”

“Like a log.” He flapped his hand around. “Jeez, what did you do?”

You giggled, grabbing his arm to stop him from accidentally hitting you. “You’ll be fine, just give it a few minutes.”

“Okay. Once I regain feeling in my arm, I’ll shower and meet you down at breakfast?”

“Sounds good.” You both got out of bed, heading off to do separate things.

---

“Not strong enough? What do you mean, ‘not strong enough’?”

“Roger, just look at the lyrics.” Brian sat at the bar, trying to eat his breakfast peacefully.

“Let’s see what you’ve written then!” Roger snatched some papers off of the bar, looking at them intently. “‘You call me sweet, like I’m some kind of cheese.’”

You raised an eyebrow at Brian, the hand holding your toast suspended in midair. “That’s the sweet food you went with?”

Brian shrugged. “It’s good.”

“Wow.” Roger threw his hands out in frustration.

“Is that-is that, you know, ‘With my hands on your grease gun’? That’s very subtle--”

Roger cut him off: “It’s a metaphor, Brian!”

You snorted while John chimed in, “It’s just a bit weird, Roger, what exactly are you doing with that car?”

At some point during the spat, Freddie had walked in behind you. “Children, please. We could all kill each other, but then who would be left to record this album?”

“Statistically speaking,” John started, “most band’s don’t fail, they break up.”

You stopped chewing mid-bite, giving John an incredulous look. “Why the hell would you say something like that?” Freddie asked. John shrugged, still eating. Freddie rolled his eyes, directing his attention back to the angry blond. “Roger, there’s only room in this band for one hysterical queen.” He promptly exited the kitchen, probably the smartest thing he’d ever done.

“You know what your problem is,” Brian said, still attempting to eat quietly.

“Oh, and what’s that?” Roger snapped.

“You know your song isn’t strong enough.”

Roger nodded, still fuming with anger. He meandered over to the stove before grabbing a piece of bacon straight out of the pan, throwing it into Brian’s face. “Is that strong enough?!”

“Roger!” you shouted.

In one swift motion, he swept everything off of the bar. “That?!”

Fairly used to violent outburst from him, the three of you just stared at the floor where the smashed plates and ruined breakfast lay.

He turned around and grabbed the coffee maker, prepared to hurl it straight into Brian’s face. “Not the coffee machine!” you three yelled, holding your arms out to stop his arm. He held it up for several seconds, panting.

“Can you just fucking chill for five seconds?” you demanded. “Maybe not break Brian’s nose?”

Roger slammed the coffee machine down onto the bar, storming out of the kitchen. You sighed, then began looking for a broom to sweep up his mess with.

---

“Where’s Roger?” you asked Paul and Freddie. They were standing in the studio, their stress clearly showing.

“You won’t believe us if we told you,” Freddie replied, rubbing his forehead.

“Try me.”

“Okay.” Paul turned to you, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s locked himself in a kitchen cupboard.”

“What?” you questioned. “And why on Earth would he do that?”

“He wants ‘I’m In Love With My Car’ to be on the B side of Bohemian Rhapsody.” Freddie shook his head. “He’s been there for at least an hour and refuses to come out until we agree to his wishes.”

“Sounds like a hostage situation. Except Roger’s both the captor and the hostage.” When both men looked at you like you were crazy, you continued, “Yeah, I’ll just go try to get him out.” You turned to head back to the kitchen.

Once inside, you noticed several other things on the floor, such as broken plates, food, silverware, and the coffee machine. He must’ve fought with someone again.

“Roger.” No reply. “Roger Meddows Taylor, get out here right now!” you demanded.

“No!”

You rolled your eyes. You tried to open all the cupboards until one didn’t open, indicating which one he was in. “Roger, doing this isn’t going to solve your song problem. You’re just being a pissy baby.”

“I’m still not coming out.”

You sighed. “Okay. We’ll just record everything except your vocals and drums. I can probably fill in for you.” You chuckled at the prospect. “Just stay in there and starve.”

“Joke’s on you, I grabbed some food. I can stay in here as long as it takes.”

You stood up, brushing the floor dust off of your pants. “All right, whatever you say.” Just to mess with him, you turned on the sink so it ran at a trinkle. You left the kitchen but stood just outside the door, listening.

A few minutes later, you heard a sigh from the cupboard. “I have to pee.”

---

“Freddie, you have to talk to him.” You sat next to Freddie on the couch. “We haven’t been able to get anything done in two days. We’re wasting our time here at this point.”

Freddie groaned. “Yes, I know. It’s just...a very weird song.”

“It’s probably not the weirdest thing he’s said. Nothing else comes to mind off the top of my head, but...I’m sure.”

Freddie laughed. “You’re probably right. Maybe we could give it a chance. It certainly can’t be Brian’s cheese song on the B side.”

You chuckled. “True, very true.” You hesitated, wondering if you should say what’s on your mind. You figured it would almost haunt you if you didn’t, so you just went for it. “Fred, I saw you and Paul kiss last night.”

Your friend stared straight ahead, into the unlit fireplace. He looked exceptionally sad, like the kiss was weighing very heavily on him. “Please,” he began, looking over at you, “please don’t tell Mary. I love her, and it wasn’t my doing. She would be crushed if I cheated on her. Which I didn’t, but I can’t make that situation look to be anything else.”

“I won’t tell her,” you promised. “But you will have to, at some point. She has a right to know, even if it wasn’t something you necessarily initiated.”

He nodded. “I know. I just don’t want to see her hurt.”

You grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “She loves you. She’ll try to understand.”

He smiled at you, squeezing your hand back. “Okay darling, since you pried into my personal love life, may I ask you a question?”

“Fire away.”

“Is there a thing between you and Roger?” Freddie turned so he was facing you better. “Because you two would make the most adorable couple.”

“Oh, my God, Fred, no!” You burst out laughing. “No, Roger is my best friend, we wouldn’t date. Besides, I have James and he has Ga--”

“Yes yes, I know. But you seriously can’t see that you would be great together??” Fred had his hands out in emphasis.

You shook your head. “No, Freddie. He and I are more...platonic soulmates, if you will.”

He rolled his eyes, imitating you talking with is hand. “Blah, blah, blah. That is the cheesiest way I’ve ever heard someone say, ‘I like him but he doesn’t like me back.’”

You socked him in the arm, hard. “Shut up! No, that is not what I meant, and no, I do not like Roger!”

Freddie winked at you. “Okay, whatever you say.”

You groaned, standing up and walking briskly to the kitchen. You walked over to the sink, which was still trickling, and shut it off. “Still need to pee, Taylor?”

“No, I’m good now,” Roger answered.

“Eew!” You gagged for dramatic effect. “I was going to tell you what you wanted to hear, but now I may just let you sit in there in your own piss.”

The door to the cupboard flung open. Roger did, indeed, have a dark stain on the front of his light pants. “You’re serious? (Y/n), don’t joke with me.”

“Yes, we’re going to give your strange car song a try.” You shook your head. “You are one of the craziest people I’ve ever met. That stunt caused us another day’s delay.”

“But it worked!” He grabbed you into a bear hug, lifting you a few inches off the ground and shaking you back and forth.

Your diaphragm was constricted in the hug, so your speech sounded more like a wheeze. “Roger, you smell like mothballs and urine, I think you need another shower.”

“Oh, true.” He set you down, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry.”

You gave him a gentle punch on his upper arm. “Hey, you’re cool. I’m interested to see how your song sounds.”

“Me too. I assume you talked to Fred about it?”

“Yeah,” you answered. “He’s not thrilled, but we’re both willing to give it a try.”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling down at you. You looked into his eyes, and stared for a bit longer than you should. You looked down at his nose, not wanting Fred to be right.

“No problem.” You gave him another quick hug before pushing him towards the house so he could shower.

---

After another cold night of cuddling with Roger, it was finally time to get some recording done. Roy Thomas Baker, the producers, and Norman Sheffield had arrived, and neither were too pleased with the lack of progress. You promised they’d be getting things done today, whatever it took.

The deal was that if Roger got his song on the B side of Bohemian Rhapsody, then the latter song would be recorded first. Said song required Roger to sing the name of famous astronomer Galileo over and over again. Very high-pitched.

“Galileo!” he began. “Galileo! Galileo, figarooo!” He took off his headphones. “How was that?” he asked into the microphone.

“Higher,” Freddie demanded. Brian, at the other microphone, turned it on. “Can you go higher?”

“Um...I can try?” Roger redid his line, going very slightly higher. “That better?”

“Higher,” Freddie said again. Brain relayed the request.

This went on for several times, until Roger began to get frustrated. “If I go any higher, only dogs will hear me!”

Freddie insisted he go higher. Roger tried the line a few more times before asking, “Who even is Galileo?” Brian, who had a degree in astrophysics, facepalmed before telling Roger to do the line again.

Roger did the line at least twelve more times before Freddie looked satisfied. “Are we done? Can I get a drink?” Roger questioned.

“Fred?” Brian asked.

The singer nodded. “We’re good. Let him drink something.”

Brian laughed, turning the mic back on. “You’re good.”

Roger sighed. “Thank God. That took forever.”

---

The four members of the band crowded around the microphone stand. The walls behind them had been set up to get a better sound, and they were ready to record the operatic section of the song. They had rehearsed it several times, wanting to make it perfect. Everyone agreed that it was wonderful, and was ready to be recorded.

The band recorded several takes of the section, each attempt sounding better than the one before it. The last take, however, was hands-down the greatest, and you could tell the band thought so too. They started getting a little jumpy and excited, and once they reached the end of the section, they accidentally knocked the walls down, falling with them.

After your laughing fit, you went into the recording room to see if everyone was okay, but they were also laughing. Mostly at John, who hadn’t realized the wall was falling and grabbed onto Freddie at the last possible second. And still fell.

“John, you goof,” you joked, reaching down a hand to help him up.

“Hey, it was Brian’s fault!” John retorted, pulling himself up with your help.

“On the bright side, the guitars back there are okay.” Brian pointed to the back of the room, where a rack of guitars sat.

“That’s an expensive bright side,” Roger remarked, causing everyone to laugh again.

You shook your head, chuckling. “Okay everyone, we’re done for today. We’ve recorded enough.”

Everyone whooped and punched their fists in the air, running off to enjoy the rest of the night.

---

“I have no idea.”

You pointed to another constellation. “Okay, what about that one?”

“Do I look like I’d know about stars?” Roger asked, pointing to his face.

You laughed, shaking your head. “These are the easy ones! Anyone could name the Big Dipper!”

Roger glanced back out at the sky. A few seconds later, he suddenly gasped. “I know what those are called!”

You looked to where he was pointing, and saw a shooting star fly across the sky. You looked over at him once it was gone. He was smiling, and it was the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen.

He made eye contact with you. “What?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered slowly. “I’m fine.”

Both of you found yourselves leaning in. It wasn’t a conscious decision by either of you, it just felt like the right thing to be doing at that particular moment. He grabbed your upper arm, pulling you closer as both of you closed your eyes.

The door behind you slammed open, causing you two to rip apart and eliciting a scream of shock from you.

“Darlings! We’re watching a movie if you want to stop lip-locking for a while!” Freddie was smiling down at you knowingly.

“Get out of here!” Roger shouted. Freddie laughed, closing the door.

You scooted away from Roger, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Do you want to go watch the movie?” you asked, not looking at him.

He leaned against the porch post, sighing. “Not one bit.”

---

Recording “I’m In Love With My Car” was interesting. Roger was the only one who looked like he was having any fun. The others looked massively confused and disturbed. Roger had yet to answer John’s question of what, exactly, he was doing with that car, but everyone had a fairly good idea about the answer.

Roger poured his heart and soul into the song, and you were entranced. You two had slept facing away from each other last night, not wanting to deal with the fact that you had almost kissed. Since that moment, however, you were seeing things in Roger that you hadn’t seen before. For example, little ticks he had which you found adorable, like running his hands through his hair or biting his lip. You were also noticing how truly attractive he was. It was a strange experience. You’d known him your whole life, and suddenly these things were hitting you like a freight train.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling anything similar.

He sang while the other members of Queen jumped in for background vocals. Roger kept making eye contact with you through the glass, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was looking up to see if you were watching, which you were, of course. The whole sight was captivating for several reasons, not the least of which were the hilarious facial expressions Freddie, John, and Brian wore.

Baker leaned down to the microphone. “That was great. Let’s try to get the instrumental parts down now.”

Roger stayed in the recording room to do the drum parts. You laughed at the prospect of him having to perform this song on stage, playing drums vigorously while singing. The band looked at you strangely, thinking something was quite wrong with you.

---

“We’re playing tennis after dinner,” Fred announced. “There are courts on the back of the property, so we’re going to go have some fun.”

You set your fork down, looking over at him. “I can’t play tennis. I have no idea how.”

“Have you never been to Wimbledon?” he asked.

“No, I’ve never had the money or a reason.” You resumed eating.

“Okay, that’s a crime,” Roger said, sliding his food away. “We’ll teach you how to play tennis and then take you to Wimbledon.”

You frowned. “All right, whatever you guys say.”

Once everyone had finished eating, the five of you headed out to the tennis courts. Freddie had taken the liberty of finding several rackets and balls, distributing them to everyone. You decided the games would be doubles, and whoever was left out would be the umpire.

“Okay!” Freddie shouted. “It’ll be me and Brian versus the Taylors!”

“I will hurt you with a brick,” you threatened. Freddie held up his hands in resignation.

Roger wrapped an arm around your waist. “C’mon, (Y/n). We’ll make a great doubles pair.”

“We’re going to get our asses handed to us,” you corrected.

“True, but we’ll have fun while it’s happening.” He led you over to your side of the court.

As predicted, you were losing badly. Your racket seemed to have a hole in it and John was biased towards the other side when you did win a point. At least, that’s what you wanted to believe, but you knew you were probably screwing up.

Now, it was your turn to serve. You bounced the ball a couple of times, trying to envision the ball landing where you wanted it to. You gingerly threw it up in the air, testing it. Then, you tossed it up and whacked it as hard as you could with the racket. It flew way off course, almost leaving the court area before it hit whoever was entering the area straight in the face.

Any guess who it hit?

Roger turned away so Paul couldn’t see him laughing. His face was red and his hand was covering his mouth in an effort to silence himself. Paul was holding the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the blood that was dripping onto the pavement.

“What the fuck, (L/n)??” he screamed.

You too were trying not to laugh. “I’m sorry Paul, but that was a perfect fault.”

He stormed towards you. “That’s the last time you disrespect me.” He held out his hand that wasn’t holding his nose, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt. You grabbed his wrist, trying to wrench him off of you, eyes wide in surprise.

“Prenter!” Roger shouted, grabbing Paul by the back of his shirt and yanking him back as hard as possible. Paul let go of your shirt, falling onto his back. “That’s not okay! She hit you on accident!”

“No she didn’t!” Paul pushed himself up, deciding to let his nose bleed freely. He looked about ready to charge at you again before Roger grabbed him around the middle, pinning his arms to his sides.

“It’s about time you left,” he said threateningly. He began to drag a squirming Paul back to the house.

You flipped him off while Brian put a hand on your shoulder. “You okay?” he asked gingerly.

“Yeah. Just wish I would’ve hit him more down south.”

Brian winced, laughing. “Yeah, he deserves more than a bloody nose.” He gave you a pat on the back. “Let’s go get dessert or something. We can always play tennis later. Maybe you’ll hit Roger next time.” Your jaw drops in offense. You smacked his arm away from you, causing him to chuckle.

---

Roger and the boys had to talk about music things later that night, so he came to bed a couple hours after you. You hadn’t been able to get to sleep for whatever reason, so you were staring at the ceiling, trying to make yourself bored and tired.

But you weren’t bored. You were thinking about Roger, and how he defended you after you gave Paul what he deserved. Granted, you could’ve handled the situation on your own, but it was nice to have someone care about you like that.

Roger took off his shirt and exchanged his jeans for pajama pants before slipping into bed. He gently brushed his hand up and down your arm. “Come over here, I’m cold.”

You laughed, moving over into his arms. He held you tightly, as if he really didn’t want you to leave. “How’d the music discussion go?” you asked.

“Pretty well,” he answered. “We know exactly what we want to record, and in what order we’ll put the songs in. It’s going to sound beautiful.”

You closed your eyes, leaning your head onto his chest. “I know it will.” You yawned loudly, saying, “Now that you’re here, I’m super tired.”

He laughed. He began to run a hand through your hair, making you even more sleepy. “Get some rest. You deserve it.”

You fell asleep to the peaceful beat of Roger’s heart.

---

The rest of the album took a little under a month. You and Roger continued to share a bed and sleep as close together as possible for warmth. Neither of you mentioned the almost-kiss for the rest of the time, and it was killing you. The more time you spent with him, the more you felt different about him. You felt like you were developing a stupid high school crush on your best friend of twenty-six years. And you felt terrible about it.

Often, you thought of James. He was sitting at your flat, waiting for his girlfriend to get back home, while his girlfriend was developing feelings for someone else. You knew you’d have to talk to him, like Fred needed to talk to Mary. But you also had Freddie’s predicament: you loved James, more than most anything, and you didn’t want to hurt him.

Once it was time to leave the farm, everyone packed up, Paul made you get the suitcases again, you “accidentally” dropped one on his foot, he almost got physical again, and Freddie had to step in and move his manager away from you. You had long since given up on avoiding conflict with Paul. Plus, it was fun to mess with him.

You and Roger stood on the porch, saying your goodbyes. You hugged him and said, “Drive safe.”

“You too.” He hugged you back quickly. He let go and gave you a quick kiss on the forehead. “See you tomorrow?” Everything was recorded, but most of the sound mixing and editing still needed done.

“Absolutely.” You both headed down the stairs to your respective cars. You still couldn’t see Roger’s car without thinking of the song. You’d laugh, Roger would roll his eyes, and then laugh with you. You got in, started the engine, and followed his car out and away from the farm.

~~~

Reblog and tag your ship name for you and Roger!

Taglist:

@thessxoxo @roger-bang-the-drum @slavsher @sabbrriiinnaa @i-ship-it-ironically @blissfully-queen @oyoke @borhapqueen92 @girlpluto @secretsweetscollectionblog

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luthienebonyx · 6 years ago

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Fanfic Meme

I was tagged by @agirlnamedkeith

At what age did you start writing fanfiction?

I was 31. And yes, that was a couple of decades ago. I am not just fandom old, but old old.

Who is your favorite author?

I have favourites in every fandom, and I’ve been in a lot of fandoms. Also, inevitably, if I tried to list them, I’d wind up forgetting some. I’ve written lots of recs over the years, and you can find quite a few of them here on my dreamwidth account. (I hardly used dreamwidth at all for about five years until about six months ago, so there’s a gap between the recent few recs and the earlier ones.)

But yeah, okay, if I had to pick my favourite authors over a long time and across many fandoms, then the two constants would be @telanu and Nym. Yes, they’re two of my best friends, but the reason why I wound up talking to them in the first place was because I loved their writing, and that hasn’t changed over the many years I’ve known them.

Favorite type of scene to write?

I love writing long, navel-gazy descriptive stuff. Description comes easily to me, and my aim in any fanfic is to get under the POV character’s skin and find out what makes them tick, so inward-looking description just makes the words flow for me.

Dialogue, otoh, is something that I don’t enjoy writing so much. People have told me that I’m quite good at it, but when I’m writing dialogue I’m always hyper-aware that one wrong sentence, or even one wrong word, that isn’t in-character can throw out an entire paragraph or an entire scene.

What is your favorite fanfic?

Again, so many fandoms, so many great pieces of fanfic. If you read the links to my recs above, you’ll get an idea of the sorts of stories I like.

One story that sticks out above others, though, is Nym’s A Bed of Thorns. It is an IMMENSE story, longer than War and Peace, and it’s still a WIP, though Nym dearly wants to finish it.

It’s a Once Upon a Time Rumpelstiltskin/Belle (rumbelle) canon divergence, where instead of going with Rumpelstiltskin to be his servant/sort of captive, Belle marries him. You know all that navel-gazing description that I like to write? It’s even better when someone else does it for me, and when that someone is a writer as talented as Nym... This story is chock full of character exploration, including character exploration via a LOT of sex scenes, and angst, and fluff, and more angst, and plot, and memorable original characters and original cats. There is nothing else like it in any fandom. Read it.

What tags do you avoid like the plague?

Very little. I’ll read just about anything if it’s well-written. I dislike anything where the author’s kink (not necessarily a sexual kink) trumps the characterisation. If the kink is used in service of the character exploration, rather than the other way around, then that’s fine, though. Because of this, stuff like Alpha/Beta/Omega really doesn’t work for me.

What AU do you wish to write but feel like you won’t manage?

Not so long ago, I would have said that the one AU I’d LOVE to write but wouldn’t be able to manage was a novel length Regency AU. I’ve written Regency one-shots in other fandoms, but I didn’t think I would have the strength for a longer Regency AU. But, um, well... You I Know.

Do you outline or write as you go?

Hahaha. I’ve have TRIED to outline. It doesn’t work for me. My outlines turn into drafts of scenes. I do work with a sketchy mental outline of the main beats of the story, a sort of skeleton that will be filled in with the flesh and blood of detail as I write. There are going to be about half a dozen distinct sections to my current WIP, and those will keep me writing in the right direction (I hope). I do also have a list of bullet points that I keep adding to whenever a detail strikes me that I’ll want to include later on, but that’s really the extent of my planning. Oh, and I like to know approximately where the story will end up before I start putting words on the page. Until I know the destination, it’s really just a story idea rather than a story draft.

What has been your favorite story to write so far?

Very occasionally, a story is so clear in my head that I just have to write it. I can’t stop and second-guess myself; the story just has to be what it wants to be. I’ve written precisely three of this type of story over the years:

1. The Rain Keeps Falling (Harry Potter, Snape/Harry)

2. Plain Jane (Once Upon a Time, Rumple/Belle)

3. More Than a Memory (Game of Thrones, Jaime/Brienne)

Do you prefer to write one-shots or multi-chapters? Why?

Um, both? I mean, I am TERRIBLE at predicting the word count of my own stories, to the point where my friends just laugh when I confidently tell them how long I think my current story is going to be, so sometimes I think I’m writing a one-shot and it turns out I’m not. Case in point: More Than a Memory was going to be a one-shot of a few thousand words. Three weeks later, it ended up at 33,000 words over five chapters.

What is your favorite kind of comment?

Well, the long, detailed comment where it’s clear that someone really ‘gets’ what you were trying to do with the characters and the plot is hard to beat - but absolutely any comment is great. I view fic as being part of the fannish conversation, so when I write a story, I’m opening a conversation about the characters - the comments are the other half of that conversation. And, really, that conversation is why I’m in fandom at all, so it’s all good!

Why did you start writing fanfiction? Why are you still writing it?

Back when I first found fandom, I lurked on a Mailing List (yes, it was that long ago) devoted to one particular character. It wasn’t a big group of people, so there wasn’t masses of fic, and some of it was only so-so. And no, this is not where I tell you that I decided one day that I could write something better than what I was reading. In fact, it was the opposite. One day, someone posted a REALLY good story, and I read it and thought, “Fanfic can be like this. It can be this good.” And I wanted to be part of that, so I gathered my courage and sat down and tried writing something of my own.

Why do I still write fanfic? Well, actually, I thought I’d stopped. I hadn’t written any fanfic for a couple of years, apart from the occasional drabble, although I’d started a few stories but not finished them.

And then the final season of Game of Thrones aired, and characters I’d loved for years, without ever feeling the urge to write them, had an ending that just left me going “but... but... but...” I got that feeling where I HAD to write them, and now I’ve written over 50,000 words in six weeks.

Fandom taught me long ago that I should never say never about anything. I should have remembered that.

—-

Tagging @slipsthrufingers, @woodelf68, @sfiddy, @indiefic and anyone else who wants to play.

#fanfic #fanfic memes

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swampstriderart · 7 years ago

Photo

i worked SO fucking hard on this hahaha. I finished the coloring about two hours before the D&D session this guy made an appearance in.

This is Mortilus, a lean, muscular medusa (he/him) who appears to be in his late 20s. He fights with a custom elven curve blade and shaved half of his snakes off (a very painful process) purely for the aesthetic. He’s a greater medusa, which in my campaign setting means that he has some sort of non-medusa parentage that is either a dragon, demon, or fae. Statistically he isn’t much different from a normal medusa (though he does have a few extra hit-die for an added level of oomph heh heh). The party caught him with his pants down, literally, but Mortilus doesn’t mind.

He was halfway through getting ready for a night on the town with his warlord boyfriend when the party arrived. Here is the description I gave them when they first say him:

“Sitting in the vanity with his profile to the door is a lean, muscular man who appears to be in his mid to late twenties. His skin is rather pale but highlighted with purple along his cheekbones and up his neck. His hair is done up in extremely tight, long locs that disappear into the folds of his nearly-transparent gossamer robe. They are dark-colored braids of several colors from black to dark green that shine with specks of light as if adorned with stars. His legs, visible under the vanity, are bare save for elaborate, knee-height sandals with intricate, interwoven straps and tall heels. The heels are round, slightly-curved, and come to a very sharp point, and when the man looks up into the mirror you can see his eyes: they are a bright, acidic green that gleam in the dim light of the room.”

One of my players had... difficulty dealing with this description and had to take a minute to compose herself properly. It was most amusing. Mortilus then bought time to by moving around the room, completely nonchalant about the parties arrival, grabbed a few spell scrolls, and set about using them to turn the fight in his favor. He turned invisible, animated furniture to attack, and then one of the players attempted a persuasion check to get him to not do that. They rolled a nat 20, but alas nat 20s do not mean automatic success with skill checks and this isn’t my little pony: you can’t tell an evil being to step off with some honeyed words. I do have plans for that nat 20, if Mortilus survives hahaha. They then attempted to read his mind (he’s going to kill them) and used Suggestion to get him to stop attacking, which worked! He did stop attacking. His animated objects, however, did not. They knocked them out, freed mortilus from the spell, and then he tried to turn one of the other players to stone. That’s where our session tonight ended and I’m delighted with how things went hahhha.

#myart #digital photography #colored #snakes #medusa #D&D #wednesday friendsday #mortilus

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girlbetweenryosuke · 7 years ago

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“Bite” - Chapter I

[Chapter II] [Chapter III] [Chapter IV]

Note: Belated Happy Hallofukinween baby boiz! I know it’s november 4 bUT YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S FINE OK IT’S FINE. Anyway enjoyyy it because I worked my ass off for it HHAAHAHAH the next chap will be posted soon just wait like around a week or so HAHAHA

Genre: Horror? I guess?? Vampires actually.

POV: Ryosuke’s POV

Warnings: Blood (obviously), death (i guess ??) and swearing.

Chapter Description:

Ryosuke has been diagnosed with Hemophorosis, a disease that’s directly transmitted and affects your nervous system and your vascular system; it gives you this longing to drink human blood. Patients with Hemophorosis must stay in the hospital for one whole month to avoid drinking blood until the disease has lifted off of them. In any case the patient has drank blood, they will have 2 possible outcomes and one quite rare outcome. They can simply die in a split second a drop of blood has landed onto their tongue, turn into a vampire and become an outcast to humans, or in the most unlikely cases, live but with the guilt that they have just drank human blood.

It was a fight for Ryosuke; it was a fight between him and himself.

"An alarming increase of Hemophorosis cases have been reported by the Department of Health this morning at 8am. The DoH would like to warn the public about these cases. The known way to contract the disease is through a Hemophorosis patient himself because there is no known source or cure for it as of today. If you know anyone who may be a patient with Hemophorosis, please bring them directly to the hospital because the consequences of not surrendering may be grave.

Please be wary of these symptoms: Nausea, vomiting of blood, fatigue, loss of appetite, headaches, high-blood pressure, pupils turning red from time-to-time, discoloration of skin, decrease of body temperature to less than 30°C, and unusual craving for blo-"

Enough. I don't need to hear any more of these. I shut off the TV right before I listened to the part I dreaded the most: Unusual craving for blood. Shut up. I know, okay? I know I'm in a dangerous situation right now. I don't need a reminder for shit like that. I have other things to take care of.

I took my pills out of the counter and swallowed one of them to take away my headache and nausea. I took another for my loss of appetite and vomiting. I took another one for my other symptoms and yet there isn't one pill that could save me from this undying desire to bite into one's neck and relish that first drop of human blood to ever touch my tongue-

Shit. What am I saying.

I snapped out of my thoughts and took my coat and my phone to leave my house. I needed to distract myself through work. I sat in my car, hands on the wheel with the engine starting when Chinen texted me asking if I can bring him coffee. Fuck. The least thing I want to do now is to be surrounded by my prey, isn't it?

I drove to the nearest coffee shop and parked right in front of it to make sure I had an easy exit to this situation. My stomach dropped when I saw the dozens of people in the shop buying coffee. My first step inside the shop already invited temptations to ruin me and break me into a demon. The smell of freshly brewed coffee was evident… but so was the blood flowing in each and everyone's blood vessels here.

"Hello Sir, may I take your order?", the cashier brought my attention back to the order. "Uhh yeah, just a grande cup of the original coffee…" I avoided their eyes. "Anything else?", he followed it up. "No.", I quickly answered, I don't want to extend the time I had to spend here. "Name?", she asked. "Ryosuke.", I replied. I paid for the coffee and she handed me the receipt. "Please wait over there Sir Ryosuke as we prepare your coffee.", she smiled and I looked over to the waiting benches where there were one too many people sitting there.

I had to sit a little bit too close to the person beside me who was playing on her phone. "Kian, don't bother me.", she said as a little kid started shaking her shoulders. "Mom won't buy me coffee!", he whined and I chuckled, kids just make my day. "You're too young, Kian.", she rolled her eyes and he huffed. He then started running around the shop, whining and crying. He ran too fast that people were asking for him to be careful because he might trip.

“Be careful!!”, the girl leaped forward to catch the boy but he fell down from the steps and started crying more. He landed on his face and the girl lifted him up which revealed that he got a cut on his cheek and nose. Blood. The scent of blood immediately filled my nose and I felt my blood rush rapidly through my veins. I gulped at the sight of the girl wiping away the tiny speckles of blood on his cheek and my hands went cold at the sight of the blood gushing out after every wipe.

“Hey... Why is that man looking at me?”, the little boy pointed at me and I quickly looked away and I tensely tapped my feet on the ground, hoping the cashier would bring me my order next. “...he’s looking kind of scary...”, he suddenly said and my eyes snapped back to him and I felt them feel hotter... Shit. What’s going on? “HIS EYES ARE-”, “One Grande Original Coffee for Sir Yamada Ryosuke!”, the cashier called out the moment the boy were to point out the odd one out of my face. I quickly took my coffee, not even saying a single word to anyone as I rushed out the door and into the sidewalk.

I need to get out, I need to get out, I need to get out of here. I frantically tried to get my keys out of my pocket, my hands shaking like I’m going crazy. “Fuck!”, I cursed as I dropped the cup of coffee onto the ground. I took my keys out and tried to unlock the door to my car but everything in my vision was blurry. I could not see straight, think straight, I was going mad.

“Sir, are you okay?”, I felt a cold hand on my shoulder and I sharply looked behind me to find a lady around my age with a concerned look. The warm look on her face made me gain my composure again and my breathing was back to its norm. “Y-yes.”, I stammered and picked up the cup from the ground. She started to examine me with eyes that looked like she knew what was happening.

“We should go to the hospital.”, she smiled. “What?”, I jolted at her sudden notion. “I think I know what’s wrong with you.”, she shifted her hand onto mine and her eyes flicked to me. “N-no...”, I jerked my hand away and I stepped backward until she grabbed it again. “Please come to the hospital with me.”, she said. “No!”, I furrowed my eyebrows together and tried to pull my hand away but she had a hard grip on it. “Sir, you know what happens to patients who do not surrender, right?”, she took hold of my other hand and I struggled to pull them away, causing people to start taking curious glances at us. “What are you saying, you fucking freak?!”, I finally broke free form her grip.

For a split second, I looked straight into her red-flooded eyes and somehow I felt my soul being dragged out of me. As if I saw hell in her eyes and I found myself falling into its deepest fire pits. Then suddenly...

darkness.

Light started to seep into my vision again as I woke up from a deep slumber. I looked around the room I was in and I well as hell wasn’t in my own. I sat up and jolted realizing that I was sitting in a room with other people surrounding me. “He’s awake.”, one said. “He looks kind of pale.”, another said. “Well that’s what you get when you get hypnotized, isn’t it?”, the first one replied.

“Hey! Good evening! Are you okay?”, he said. I slowly nodded and dragged the blanket up to my chin. “Is it too cold?”, he asked, “N-no...”, I answered. “Ah, that’s good.”, he sighed and sat back on his seat. “By the way, I’m Naoki.”, he stuck a hand out and I slowly reached out to shake it.

Cold.

“And I’m Takeo.”, the other one stuck out a hand for me to shake. “I’m Ryosuke...”, I slightly smiled. Naoki looked like he was a teenager, he had dark brown hair and dark skin. Takeo looked like a man in his late 20′s, he had bleached hair and a thin build. “You’re a newcomer, huh?”, Naoki chuckled. “Huh?”, I was puzzled. “I came here around a week ago.”, Naoki said, “I came here around a week ago too.”, Takeo said. “And I came in yesterday?”, I asked and both of them looked at each other and then laughed.

“No, you came in two weeks ago.”, Takeo said.

“Two weeks ago?!”, I jolted and they looked down. “You didn’t know?”, he asked. “Of course not!”, I snapped. “How come you two woke up before me?!”, I asked, “That’s because we surrendered to the hospital. We weren’t hypnotized like you were.”, Takeo said and I leaned back onto the headboard and stared up ahead.

“What happened at work?”, I asked, “I don’t know! I only met you now, do you think I know what happened at your office?”, he said. “Anyway, we have to get downstairs to eat dinner and drink medicine.”, he added and helped me out of bed. I was wearing what looked like patient clothes except they looked like normal pajamas. They were white with light gray, thin stripes printed onto it; it wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t bad either.

The hallways of the building were long and dark, much like a hotel from the 90′s that had at least a thousand murder cases. We went down 3 flights of stairs and entered the humongous dining hall. The walls were wooden brown with stained glass windows symmetrical to each other. There were also 4 long dining tables parallel to each other where I found over a hundred men grubbing on what looked like soup.

“Ah, he’s awake!”, a tall and thinly built man approached us. “Are you Sir Ryosuke Yamada?”, he leaned forward with his hands behind him. “Y-yes...”, I stammered. “You’re a lot smaller than I thought you would be.”, he chuckled and pat my head. I tried not to get annoyed by that statement because I really don’t want to create any disputes while I’m here. “I’m guessing you’re wondering why you’re here, huh?”, he gave a sinister smile.

“You didn’t surrender to the hospital, did you?”, he asked, and I nodded. “People who don’t want to surrender will be found too, you know? And it just so happened that you were found by our guild’s leader.”, he chuckled. “Leader?”, I asked. He looked around to see if anyone was listening and he dragged me out of the hall and into an office-looking room. “Anyone who knows who she is would be scared to even say her name.”, he said. “What? That girl?! The girl I bumped into on the streets is the feared guild leader?”, I was doubting until he looked straight through me.

“Don’t you dare doubt her, young boy. She can rip you apart in a second and no one would ever notice that she killed you.”, he said in a serious-tone, gritting his teeth. “Yes Sir.”, I gulped and he sighed. “Anyway, you’re here until you recover from your Hemophorosis.”, he said. “The rules in this house are simple: No going to the female ward, if you want to see someone there, there’s a common area in the middle of the compound. No going out of the compound at any circumstance, if you have a visitor, they can go to the guard house where you can safely talk to them. No going out of the house after midnight, if you don’t want to die, then you’d remember that precaution. And lastly, no drinking of blood. At all. That’s a serious rule.”, he said.

“The moment you drink that first drop of blood, you have a 25% chance of turning into a vampire, but you have a 70% chance of dying; it depends on how you drank the blood.”, he said. “And the other 5%?”, I asked. “You will live normally, but with the guilt that you have just drank human blood.”. “If you survive one month without drinking a drop of blood, by then the disease would have lifted off. You’d be free from this hell and live a normal life. However if ever you do turn into one, you’ll be an outcast. The battle won’t be between you and yourself, it’s a battle between you and humans.”, he said. I nodded and he let go of me with a light push out of the door and into the hallway.

I briskly walked through the hallways thinking about what he had just told me. If I drank even a drop... I would have a 5% chance of surviving? What the fuck kind of shit is this?! Nevertheless, I was scared- too scared. I knew my walk to the dining hall wasn’t the most postured walk since I could feel my hands shake and my legs wobble in fear for what might happen to me.

I was walking in between the tables as people looked at me, knowing who I was. A canteen lady served me my milk-looking soup and I sat down on the table Takeo and Naoki were sitting on. “Everyone’s looking at me...”, I sheepishly said and Naoki chuckled, “Well, you’re a star, aren’t you?”. I lifted the soup-filled spoon up to my mouth and hesitated to take it in. “It’s fine. It tastes good actually and you’ve got to get used to it. It’s the only thing we’ll be eating for a month.”

I slurped in the soup and I realized how hungry I was. I kept taking in more and more and I missed the feeling of being able to eat something. “Woah, calm down there.”, Naoki laughed. “Well, you can’t blame him. He hasn’t eaten in two weeks.”, Takeo laughed. I finished the bowl in what felt like a minute and the two applauded, “Splendid work.”, they laughed and I laughed too.

“So what do you guys do for a living?”, I asked them. “I’m a lawyer.”, Naoki said and I was shocked. “You’re a lawyer?! But you look so young!”, I laughed, “Well, I guess it’s in my genes! I’m 30-years-old, you know!”, he added. “30?!”, I laughed out loud. “Believe me when I say I was shocked too.”, Takeo said. “And you?”, I asked him. “I’m a biology college student.”, he said, “I may look 30 but I’m actually only 21″, he laughed. “What?! What is this sorcery?!”, I laughed.

“Ahh... But I do miss my family back home.”, Naoki sighed. “Family?”, I tilted my head. “I have two daughters, just 4-years-old and the other, 3. My wife was the one who told me to surrender... she just didn’t want risk harming my children.”, he chuckled. Family? Right... I miss them. I miss my mom, my dad, my two sisters, even if they do cause a lot of trouble for me. God, I miss my group. The guys who always got me company and now they’re gone for a month.

“Ryosuke Yamada. Ryosuke Yamada. Naoki Shimizu. Naoki Shimizu. Please come to the visiting quarters right now. Please come to the visiting quarters right now.”, the speakers blasted out our names.

The two of us where then taken by the guards to the visiting quarters and I sat down in a room you would most often see in a prison. A glass wall was dividing me... and my group. “Ryosuke! How are you?!”, Yuto chirped though I knew there was a depressing aura around them. “We haven’t seen you in weeks!”, Yabu smiled, showing his signature eye-smile that hid the emotions I knew he wanted to pour out. I was silent, not even thinking of a word to say because I knew that the moment I would utter a single word, tears would start spilling out. “W-what’s wrong, why aren’t you talking?”, Yabu’s voice started to crack from trying to stop the tears from coming out. I looked up to see them all turning red from keeping it together.

“Guys… I just missed you.”, I said as a lone tear streamed down my face.

On that note, the eight of them started bawling their eyes out in front of me and I can’t deny the fact that I was too. “I-It’s only been 2 weeks, you’ve b-been away from us for a longer time before b-but…”, Chinen covered his face, “it’s different this time because your life is at stake.”. “Don’t cry, guys”, I laughed as more tears fell. “I’m trying!!”, Yuya cried, and we all laughed at him and his dorkiness. “It’ll be over in a month, guys, it’s fine.”, I sniffed. “I just have to restrain myself from drinking blood, that’s all.”, I nonchalantly said and they looked at me sharply. “Ryosuke, don’t be so calm with that, do you know how many Hemophorosis patients failed the treatment during the past 2 weeks?”, Inoo said in a serious tone. “2,895 reportedly failed the treatment in the Sano Rehab Center.”, he said, “And there were 2,962 patients all in all.”, he continued. I gulped and sweat started to form on my forehead.

“Ryosuke, please take this treatment seriously. We can’t risk losing you.”, Daiki cried.

“This isn’t just about our band’s activity, no.”, he continued and he looked down, letting tears drop onto the ground. “If we missed you this much in just 2 weeks, what would happen to us if we lost you forever.”, he cried and Inoo placed his arm around Daiki’s shoulder to comfort him. This whole encounter was a tear fest with emotions being spilled everywhere.

“I’ll make sure I’ll make it out here a--”

“EVERYONE GET OUT.”, the guard burst into the room in my side and the 9 of us sharply turned in shock. The open door let the sound of a fire alarm enter the room, hurting our ears. “SOMEONE JUST DRANK BLOOD!”, he shout and began to walk toward us. “You eight, leave now.”, he said as he tried to drag me out of my seat. “Wait! We’re not done talking!”, I tried to jerk my arm away. “Please visit some other time!”, he said to the eight and they all looked shocked and dumbfounded, not knowing what to do. He began to drag me out the door and I needed to finish my promise.

“I’LL MAKE IT OUT HERE ALI--”

The door was slammed shut in front of me as he dragged me out into the hallways. I began to hear growling becoming louder and louder as we reached the courtyard. “LET ME GO. LET ME GO!!”, the voice growled as if there was some kind of demon inside of them. We reached the courtyard and I found Naoki being strangled onto the ground by another guard as his mouth was fizzing and his face turning into a deep color of red.

He caught sight of me looking at him wide-eyed and he stuck an arm out to me, “HELP ME!!”, he shout. I stopped in my tracks, the guard pulled back to me. “Don’t move closer to him!”, the guard said and tried to yank me inside into the house. “HELP ME, PLEASE, RYOSUKE!”, he shout, blood coming out of his mouth an tears coming out of his eyes. “I DIDN’T MEAN TO DRINK BLOOD. I DIDN’T MEAN TO DRINK BLOOD.”, he repeated and I yanked my arm away from the guard to run to him.

“WHAT DO I DO?!”, I held my arms out with my eyebrows furrowed together in concern until suddenly, he stopped struggling under the guard that was shouting at me right now. His eyes suddenly turned dark as only his pupils turned to look at me. Then, an eerie grin spread across his face, veins in his eyes started to appear and then suddenly in a flash, he pushed the guard off of him and leaped to try and tackled me down.

During that split second, his fangs grew and his eyes were filled with greed as he leaped to me. I was suddenly pulled back, a striking pain was struck on my forearm as his teeth grazed onto it and his face was kicked by a boot by someone who’d I assume just came into the scene. He landed on the side of his face as the foot drove it onto the ground, the morbid sound of a skull cracking resounded in the scene. The familiar warm and deep red liquid splattered everywhere including me whose face looked mortified.

I took a deep breath, the metallic scent of blood entering my nose, causing me to vomit all over the cobbled walk. I felt like I coughed all my innards out as I held my bleeding arm close to me to stop the blood from flowing. “Ah.”, the voice above me whined. “My shoes are already covered in blood, and now it has vomit on it too?”, I looked up to see the same lady that day I was caught.

She squat down to my level and moved a piece of hair out of my face as she smiled. Her smile wasn’t eerie, she didn’t look villainous at all. “Do you remember me, honey?”, she smiled and I nodded, shaking in pain. “Are you in pain, honey?”, she helped me up, pressing on my stinging wound, causing me to shriek in pain. “Shh.”, she hushed me and brought my arm up to her and she looked at it with intent.

“May I?”, she her eyes looked back at me and I shot her a bewildered look. “W-what wil-l you d-do?”, I stammered and she grinned, this time with a slightly eerie aura. She stuck her tongue out and painstakingly ran it through my wound, licking the dripping blood away; her eyes were closing as she took pleasure in drinking my own blood. I grunted in pain as her tongue ran past the deepest spot in the wound.

“Don’t overreact, it’s just a scratch.”, she licked her lips and smiled, my blood on her teeth. “I won’t bite, don’t worry.”, she laughed and gently placed my arm on my lap, my other arm holding it as a reflex. “Are you okay, Ryosuke?”, she asked with a sweet smiled and a hand on my shoulder. Her expressions were so warm and soft contrary to her cold being. I gulped and nodded, “H-how do you know my n-name?”, I stammered and she chuckled. “Well, I hypnotized you and almost didn’t catch you as you were falling, I might as well know the name of the person I almost hurt.”, she sheepishly said, her arm rubbing her nape. She looked... cute. Despite the eerie surroundings with the streetlights being the only sources of light to identify my surroundings including the guard lifting Naoki’s corpse off the ground and onto a stretcher, she looked beautiful under the low light. “Aren’t you going to ask me what’s my name?”, she lightly laughed and I blinked, “Y-yes.”. “W-what’s your name?”, I asked her.

“It’s Y/N.”, she smiled and suddenly, my vision started to darken and blur until I felt my body grow weak. “A-are you okay? You seem pale.”, she held me up with her cold hands and my eyelids started to shut. In just a few seconds, the most calming scene I’ve seen throughout my short time being in this hospital,

disappeared as I blacked out in her arms.

[Chapter II] [Chapter III] [Chapter IV]

#Yamada Ryosuke #Ryosuke yamada #Hey! Say! JUMP #hey say jump #yama-chan #yamada ryo #Hey! Say! 7 #hey say 7 #Bite #Bite:Chapter 1 #Bite: Chapter I #yamada ryosuke fanfiction

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