#anyway lots of memories on the brain tonight. feeling pretty raw

[edandstede]

brought home a boxload of old family photos. there’s one of baby quill with a puppy, another proudly holding a tots tv easter egg (very 90s) and another with the worst fringe you’ve ever seen

[morganaspendragonss]

Can I request an angst to fluff Tarlos fic with Carlos having Memory loss??

thank you so much for the prompt, my lovely! sorry it took so long! please keep sending me prompts! BTHB masterlist here

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: memory loss

fandom: 911 lone star

ao3

Waking up in the hospital is becoming all too familiar. Being the one in the bed is less so, but Carlos has had his fair share of hospital trips. He knows the drill.

It’s difficult to turn his head, but he manages enough to catch sight of TK in the chair next to his bed, his hand lying limply in Carlos’s own. Carlos twitches his fingers and TK starts, eyes searching out his. 

“Carlos,” he breathes, half-rising from the chair only to immediately slump back down, breaking out in harsh sobs. 

Carlos frowns. “What -” he starts, but his throat is dry and raw and even breathing is a little painful right now. TK clearly notices and hastily wipes his eyes, sending Carlos a wobbly smile.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just… God, Carlos.” He shakes his head and stands up, kissing Carlos’s knuckles. “I’ll get the doctor. We can talk later.”

*

Later, as it turns out, isn’t for a few more hours, after Carlos has gone through every test imaginable. The doctors don’t say a word about what happened, aside from, “You’re very lucky, sir,” and, “We’re glad to have you back with us, sir.”

TK is similarly quiet, his leg bouncing nervously as they wait for the doctor to pronounce his verdict. Talking is easier now, but Carlos doesn’t want to push his luck so he answers the doctor’s questions and refrains from demanding responses of his own.

When they’re finally alone, night has started closing in. TK perches on the edge of Carlos’s bed, carefully avoiding touching him aside from where their fingers intertwine. TK’s barely let go of his hand since Carlos woke up.

Carlos waits patiently, studying his husband’s face. TK looks terrible, and even if Carlos suspects he himself doesn’t look any better, he can’t help but be concerned. 

Eventually, TK takes a shuddering breath and looks up from the bedsheet, finally meeting Carlos’s eyes. “How much do you remember?” he asks quietly.

“Not much.” Carlos shakes his head. “Nothing.”

TK nods. He takes a long time to speak again, his free hand fidgeting with the sheets. “You were attacked. I only know what your partner and the doctor told me, but it was bad, Carlos. Multiple stab wounds, you hit your head badly, they strangled you… When I got the call -” He breaks off and looks away, brushing away tears before clearing his throat. “When I got the call, they told me I needed to get here because they didn’t know if…”

TK trails off and, this time, he doesn’t try to talk again. He doesn’t need to; Carlos knows full well what that ‘if’ means. 

“Ty…”

“No.” TK says firmly, attempting a smile. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay, the doctors said so, and you’ll be home in a few days. So.”

Carlos doesn’t bother arguing. He simply smiles back at his husband, and hopes that he’s right.

*

It starts small.

He forgets the time, a lot - but that’s normal, right? He’s pretty much confined to the sofa or the bed while he heals, and it’s not like there’s much to do but binge bad daytime tv. It’s only natural that he’d lose track of time.

He’s not great at remembering to take his prescription either, but that’s what TK’s for - or so he jokes. Carlos feels guilty for that, kind of; he’s thankful for TK’s presence and he knows he just wants to look after him, but he hates keeping TK here.

“You can go back to work, you know,” he says on the sixth day. TK pouts at him, folding his arms.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says firmly. “Not until you’re healed.”

Carlos sighs, exasperated. “TK, I’m healed enough to go to the fridge and back by myself. Anyway, you’re one to talk, Mr Busted-His-Stitches-Two-Days-After-Being-Released-From-Hospital.”

“That was two years ago. And that’s Mr Busted-His-Stitches-Two-Days-After-Being-Released-From-Hospital-Strand-Reyes to you,” TK quips, but it’s clear his heart’s not in it. He sits on the couch (carefully, so as not to jostle Carlos) and meets Carlos’s eyes, twisting his wedding band anxiously. “I’m just worried. I could have lost you, and I hate the thought of me going back to work and then something going wrong.”

Carlos grimaces. “I get that, babe,” he says, lacing their fingers together. “But I’m fine. I’ll be fine, I swear.”

TK sends him a dubious look. Carlos smiles and kisses his cheek.

“I promise I’ll call if I’m ever not fine,” he adds, which seems to mollify TK. They resume their movie, though Carlos can’t exactly remember much of what happened. He doesn’t ask, though; it’s probably nothing, right?

*

So, Carlos might be panicking. 

He doesn’t know where TK is. Which, ordinarily, wouldn’t be too much of an issue, but it’s two in the morning and TK’s not in bed, nor is he in the house. Carlos knows TK must have said something to him earlier, he wouldn’t just leave like that, and he can feel the memory lurking at the edge of his mind but he can’t get to it and he doesn’t know where TK is.

Yeah, Carlos is definitely panicking.

TK picks up on the fourth ring, his voice muffled from sleep, but clearly concerned. “Carlos?”

Carlos collapses on the sofa, still confused, but mostly just thankful to hear TK’s voice. He lets the silence drag on, trying to figure out how to explain why he’s calling in the middle of the night whilst also not worrying TK too much.

Unfortunately, this accomplishes the exact opposite.

“Carlos, talk to me,” TK demands, sounding a lot more awake now. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I woke up and you weren’t there,” he says slowly, keeping his voice as level as possible. “I just… I’m a bit confused.”

TK’s frown is audible. “Carlos, I’m at work.”

“Oh.”

And - oh. Carlos does remember now. Sort of. Well, not exactly, but he recalls TK saying something about heading out and ‘see you soon’ and - Carlos is an idiot.

He flushes. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m coming home.”

“What? TK, no, it’s fine -”

“I’m coming home,” TK repeats, more forcefully this time, cutting Carlos off. “I’ve cleared it with my dad, I’ll be back as fast as I can.” A pause, and when TK speaks again, his voice is painfully soft. “We’ll figure this out, Carlos. I promise.”

Carlos nods, though he knows TK can’t see him. “TK?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay on the line with me?” A part of Carlos feels silly for asking, but the panic from earlier hasn’t truly faded. It’s not just tonight either; he knows that something’s been wrong since the attack, and he can’t help but worry despite himself.

TK’s answer comes without hesitation. “Of course.”

*

“You had a traumatic brain injury,” the doctor explains. “It’s common to experience some degree of memory loss after such an event.”

“Right, but - but it can be cured, can’t it?” TK asks, his left hand squeezing Carlos’s right in a death grip. 

The doctor gives him a sympathetic smile, which does nothing to reassure either of them. “I’d say it can be managed.”

“Managed? What does that mean?” TK glances anxiously over at Carlos. Carlos tries for a smile, but he has a feeling that it comes out more like a grimace.

“From what you’ve told me, I’d say what you’re experiencing, Officer, is more on the milder side,” she says. “There are a couple of treatments we could try, but in your case I wouldn’t recommend them. You’ll have to establish some compensatory strategies - basically, anything that will help to jog your memory.”

Carlos leans forward in his chair. “What sort of things would you suggest?”

“Routine is always a good start.” The doctor shrugs, folding her hands on the desk. “Written reminders, post-its, even the notes on your phone. Different things work for different people. I won’t lie to you, it’ll take some time. But, with any luck, you’ll be able to live your life just as normal soon.”

*

Carlos rolls over in bed, his arm reaching out for TK only to come into contact with a sticky note instead. It’s been like this since they saw the doctor two weeks ago - TK had gone a little crazy and practically bought the store’s entire supply of post-its in a panic. 

There are reminders stuck up all over the apartment, several of them with a copy of TK’s shift schedule written on them, though getting TK to go back to work had been a fight all of its own. The multiple post-its are a concession on Carlos’s part, a condition on TK’s.

Carlos had told him it wasn’t necessary, but he appreciates the effort. And… It helps. More than he can really express. 

Something else TK has taken to is leaving a note in the bed whenever he gets up before Carlos. Even if he’s still in the house which, judging by the clattering of pans and soft cursing coming from the kitchen, Carlos is pretty sure is the case today. He smiles softly and opens his eyes, squinting at the post-it.

Reminder, it reads. I love you.

(ps making breakfast)

Carlos huffs a laugh, shaking his head. After laying there for a few seconds, he heaves himself up and heads towards the kitchen, post-it in hand.

He watches TK in silence for a while before speaking. “Got your note.”

TK jumps at the sound of Carlos’s voice, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the open cupboard door.

“Careful. We don’t want two of us with memory issues,” Carlos jokes.

TK shoots him a dark look. “Not funny,” he grumbles.

Carlos grins and walks over, wrapping his arms around TK from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Come on,” he says. “It was a little bit funny.”

“It wasn’t,” TK insists, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He turns so that they’re facing each other and winds his arms around Carlos’s neck. “What did you think of the note? Too much?”

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything.”

Carlos laughs as TK’s mouth drops open in mock outrage. 

“That’s so rude, Reyes,” he says.

“That’s Reyes-Strand to you,” Carlos corrects, grinning. “And you did ask.”

TK smiles properly then, and Carlos can’t help but to kiss him. “I love you, too,” he murmurs when they break apart. 

They stay like that for a while, until Carlos sniffs the air, raising an eyebrow. “Are we sure I’m the forgetful one?”

TK frowns, then curses, turning to desperately attempt to salvage the burnt remains of breakfast. Carlos just laughs, his heart filling with love for his husband all over again. He’ll rescue TK at some point but for now…

For now, Carlos thinks he’ll just enjoy the moment.

[punchesco]

Ultimate Aqua Teen Hunger Force Body Horror Masterlist

ATHF was on just before the age of streaming, so a lot of my memories of the show are fragmented half-truths from bleary-eyed 3 AM viewing sessions. Upon a disorganized loose rewatch of the series I’ve discovered that is just as bizarre and disturbing as my sleep-deprived memories recalled, so I’ve made a fun little list of all the most disgusting and vile things this beloved cratoon enticed me to suffer through. 

TONIGHT!

Fry Legs

In an attempt to woo a computer repair technician he’s stalking, Frylock liquefies her boyfriend in public. He then poorly reassembles his corpse and tapes his brain into the shambling monstrosity, assuming his identity in order to marry the technician. As he’s proposing, his legs snap off like dry twigs and Cary Mean’s howl of pain is genuinely upsetting, as is the bluebird picking at his exposed brain, and the chilling implication at the end that Frylock is now permanently trapped in this decaying body. Great work all around. Also, the technician lady is revealed to be a C.H.U.D. who has sex with animals.

Hypno-Germ

Shake sits on a gas station toilet seat in New Joisey and is infected with the eponymous Hypnogerms. To be fair, this is more psychological than body horror, with Shake’s life slowly being overtaken by a persistent fantasy world primarily populated with talking file cabinets who slip him psychic commands to do things like “lock yourself in a cold, dark room”, “smear yourself with garbage and try to cross the freeway” and “eat your own dung”. Also, at the end of the episode Shake farts via his eyes. 

Antenna

ATHF predicts 5G: The Episode. Aliens install a massive satellite tower above Carl’s house. It replaces any TV or phone signals with a monotonous video of two aliens passing a cardboard box back and forth, which also causes torrential nosebleeds and swelling of the cranium/eyes. Special Guest Star Voice Over Artist George Lowe.

She Creature

Carl’s pool has turned stagnant with neglect, breeding hundreds of mosquitoes as well as some huge, unidentifiable creature. Carl lets the mob use it to dispose of bodies to help alleviate his debt with them, but ultimately the Aqua Teens “help” him chlorinate his pool and install a filter. The creature is revealed to be a beautiful mermaid, who offers to give Carl an “indescribable pleasure” for 30 bucks, 50 if the Aqua Teens watch. After she swims into his penis, Carl then explodes in a torrent of eggs, as does Frylock, Meatwad, but not Shake. Not even the sea monster wanted to fuck Shake.

Piranha Germs 

This one is pretty repulsive, even for me. Shake gets a job as a “viral marketer” from a floating severed head, who assigns him tasks such as eating raw ground beef with a fork from off the ground, or dipping his hands in unpasteurized milk and squeezing raw chicken before walking around a conference hall shaking hands/giving high fives with as many people as possible. Shake eventually contracts a disease that literally devours him at the cellular level, slowly disintegrating his body. The head takes Shake to the company health care provider (another floating head) who has Shake inject himself with more of the virus. Eventually Frylock takes action, hooking Shake up to a machine that “boils and bleaches the blood”, an agonizing process that lasts at least 3 days straight. That over with, Frylock tells a bloated Shake that his blood has been replaced with a highly explosive substance and promptly freezes him. A really unpleasant experience to watch overall, which makes for an excellent ATHF episode. It’s marred somewhat by the fact that its ending is essentially just a less-funny rehash of the next featured episode, and one of ATHF’s best...

The Clowning

I feel like the image above should be all you need to know about The Clowning. Carl gets a wig infected by an alien clown disease. ATHF’s writers seem to have something of a predilection towards horrible viruses, and I gotta say that Carl-centric episodes are always my favourite. He’s just such a delightfully crass and obnoxious character, the writers and animators seem to find such joy in coming up with these nightmarish fates for him. Anyway with Carl fully clownified, Frylock freezes him in the hopes of someday developing a cure. Cut to many years later with the Aqua Teens elderly and senile in a zombie apocalypse, with Clown Carl still frozen, used as a coat rack. Then he falls over and shatters.

Total Re-Carl

And here we are at the logical conclusion of this exercise, the single best episode of Aqua Teen Hunger Force ever made, the one that scarred me as a teen, and the one that inspired this list in the first place.

I really love that Carl begins the episode trying to avoid talking to Frylock, to the point where he turns his lights off and hides behind the couch muttering “Go away, dammit. Just go away.” It’s like he knows what’s coming for him. He just wants to sit around drinking beer and watching porno, but these horrible talking foodmin keep ruining his life. He’s trying so desperately to have some peace, which makes what happens to him in this episode that much more horrifying and hilarious. 

Frylock breaks into Carl’s house and talks him into coming out to try his new jet engine powered vacuum toilet (that, of course, is sitting on Carl’s lawn in plain sight, although Frylock assures Carl he has built a state-of-the-art invisibility curtain for privacy (a Lie)), and provides him with a care package of fiber tablets, espresso beans, and other laxatives. 

After surreptitiously locking Carl out of his house, Frylock and Meatwad watch from a distance as Carl is forced to try out the new toilet and is immediately and violently sucked into the toilet bowl, his body ejected out the back as a red mist, only his head left unmulched. Frylock hooks up Carl’s head to his computer to keep him alive and to translate his brain output to text, and the little flash of dialogue we see on the screen makes me laugh every time:

The Aqua Teens then fail several times to find a replacement for Carl’s body. The first is the corpse of an elderly black man whose body immediately “rejects the head transplant” and begins savagely attempting to rip Carl off his shoulders. 

The next try is easily the worst mental image I have ever experienced on syndicated television, and while I love this episode I’m thankful for the simple artstyle and the relative restraint they showed compared to later as far as gore goes. 

Frylock tells Shake to order some body parts from online, but Shake buys from “we-got-us-some-medical-waste.com” and receives a soggy cardboard box filled entirely with loose eyeballs. Carl wakes to find his head attached a Heaping Golem of Eyes, which honestly sounds like a Bloodborne enemy 12 years ahead of its time. At Frylock’s behest, he takes a step forward to try out his new “legs” and Dave Willis’s voice acting for this scene still scares the shit out of me, if I’m being honest. Those screams are every bit as excruciating as I would expect for someone whose feet are made from dozens of lidless corneas. 

The third and final replacement is a gleaming exoskeleton of weaponized powerarmour, which they quickly realize is a terrible idea seeing as how he just tried to murder Frylock with this eye arms. They end up putting his severed head on a RC car while Meatwad obliterates Shake with the exoskeleton.

Thanks for reading!

[psi-psina]

Tour19 This Way to Self-Destruction Kanazawa & Fukuoka ♡

金���市文化ホール

Kanazawa was a day of reunions and meetings with many precious people so it’s a day that will always stand out in my memory. Kanazawa Bunka Hall is a lovely venue but felt a little odd for a rock concert. Due to various circumstances I ended up with a front row seat in this hall, dead in front of Shinya and Die. I was extremely excited about it but it also felt quite odd, because the circumstances that led to me getting this ticket were really unfortunate. Anyway. 

The edge of the stage was barely over an arms length away and there was this hilarious little rope on the ground at our feet for the ‘barrier’. I think they only raised it during the encore? I was concerned I’d be going head first into the stage when headbanging, but thankfully it wasn’t a problem and I quickly realised we’d have to be far more careful of the photographers crawling around in front of us trying to get  their pics of the guys 😂 Thankfully they were very accomodating of our enthusiasm and we were no trouble to them 😂 I hope. Although I think during one song a guy may have got whipped by my hair. I’m sorry bro. So yes, DEAD IN FRONT of Shinya and Die…It was Bliss…I think this is probably the deepest engagement I’ve ever been able to have during a live because there were just no mitigating factors…the stage was right there and there was no one in front of me or crushing me or hindering me in any way. Unbelievable. The stage in Bunka Hall was pretty large and not just wide but quite deep. Kyo’s box was placed way further back than usual, like easily a good few steps between it and the stage edge.

I believe that both the SE and the SE footage used on this tour are the same as in TIW spring tour. There maaay be some variation in the footage but overall the impression is exactly the same. I was surprised by that because I had thought that this being such an extensive tour with a new single at the helm that they might develop the visuals a bit more, and mix things up a bit, but this tour is no different to TIW tour aesthetically speaking. It’s also a less varied setlist, which surprised me at first, but now makes complete sense due to the nature of The World of Mercy. 

絶縁体 谿壑の欲 Downfall Devote My Life Celebrate Empty Howls 人間を被る 赫 Merciless Cult Rubbish Heap 軽蔑と始まり Values of Madness Ranunculus The World of Mercy

EN. HYDRA -666- 鬼眼 Followers NEW AGE CULTURE 詩踏み

Seeing Zetsuentai up that close for the first time was incredibly moving, and then the transition right into Keigaku created this most hypnotic atmosphere. It was a really nice opening pair especially for a seated venue, it let the atmosphere really blossom before jumping into the more energetic songs. They started Downfall and I lost it, I think the only song I was looking forward to hearing again MORE from The Insulted World was Ningen. I cannot believe I was meh about Downfall until I experienced it live! On record, at first I thought it just sounded choppy and a bit generic, but live it just explodes with emotional intensity and I am absolutely crazy about the bridge. Major highlight was Die coming right up to the edge of the stage at literal arms-length away and just rocked out there for a moment while I threw down my SPINE. He was wearing these glittering wide-leg trousers that really caught my eye when he was right there…And his hair is magnificent 💞 And then IN DEVOTE Kaoru came over from shimote during the second verse and stood in the same place…right over me and Britti and, made his rock star face…pretty sure I lost control of my entire face and possibly shouted “TO DIE IN” right at him, RIP…I cannot fully remember but he was, enthused. Oh my god…I love him. So I have very little memory of Kyo from Downfall > Ningen due to the fabulous antics of Die and Kaoru, but Kyo’s wonderful dancing in Celebrate obviously always stands out. He does this irresistible jerky dance with his hips and arms and flops his head around during the main riff and like, it’s impossible to NOT move watching him do this. This song is so much FUN live.

Every time I hear those opening chords of Ningen I experience, like, a physical anticipation and pleasure that is pretty much unique to this song. No other song gives me a physical sensation like this one, I just find it really, really intensely emotional. And I know this song is sooommmewhat derivative and hardly like groudbreaking-ly original or anything like that and I DON’T. CARE. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Stanning 人間 till DEATH, bye. Also during the second interlude, after Ningen (I think) we were calling out for Shinya, which I do not do ENOUGH. I mean I was standing RIGHT in front of him, I had no excuse not to stan. Called for Kyo as well bc he was sitting on the drum stand like RIGHT THERE and I was like “oh fuck 🤡”

ALSO one important tidbit I don’t want to forget about, is a friend telling me she could see Die glancing at my hair all the time while I was headbanging 😂 the thought of this makes me feel all glowy

I have only the vaguest memory of Aka…I was thinking about it as I was looking at the setlist and trying to remember each song and I could barely conjure Aka at all. It just didn’t stand out especially tonight which is weird for me, because last spring it was paired with undecided. Played as a ‘pair’, those two songs created an unforgettable and incredibly distinct moment in the set each night…on this tour Aka is somewhat marooned, alone in the middle with all the really energetic songs. I do recall Kyo creating his loop out of the mic chord and dragging it around his neck during the guitar solo, and watching Die’s passion at various moments. And I do so so so love being called on to sing during this song…I love singing Aka so much, the melody is so smooth and melancholy and the words just flow off the tongue so beautifully…I love it

After Aka we smashed into Merciless Cult and I have a lot of trouble remembering anything from Merciless > Values with any cognisance. Kyo moved around a LOT during Rubbish Heap and Values and I think Die and Kaoru also did. Kyo was energetic and interactive during this part of the set and he was demanding MORE from the audience. I wish I had seen more of Toshiya tonight but I honestly barely saw him, he did not visit our side at all or move to the front much and a lot of the time Kyo obscured him from my line of vision. Bby! I was able to see Kaoru most of the time but I only turned to him at select times bc, guys. Die was RIGHT in front of me and I love him. As if I’m going to treat him so poorly?

Then it was time for Ranunculus & The World of Mercy. I have listened to The World of Mercy incessantly since it’s release, but for me, the effect of it’s ‘pairing’ with Ranunculus in this set, almost as a Part 2 of that song was just…after the experiences and emotions of Ranunculus on the previous two tours… in a way it was deeply heartbreaking.  Kyo was extremely emotional during Ranunculus today, but it felt different…I couldn’t put my finger on it until we talked about it afterwards, but it was rattling. I couldn’t tell if he was weeping, but he screamed, and tore at his clothing and thrashed his body around and then at the end of the song, he fell and bent into the foetal position. Delay was used on the mic as they transitioned out of Ranunculus into the soft open of Mercy. He began making these desperate, abstract sounds that immediately reminded me of his inward screams. Perhaps he was using words but to me it sounded like wordless pleading murmuring and gurgling and breath. I could clearly see his face on the floor while he was doing this and it was unpleasant to watch…it’s hard to describe at all. He sounded like he was crying, but I don’t know if there were tears. He sat up slowly, cradling the mic and then began laughing horribly. Letting out these hopeless forced cackles as he sat there looking crumpled, and that was how he vocalised the first lines of Mercy.

It was difficult to watch. I wanted to cry but also wanted to hide. I did not feel this horrible hopelessness in Mercy at the following 3 lives I attended, which is not to say that it wasn’t there, but perhaps was more poetic and contained, and less raw than it was tonight. The following 3 shows also had a far greater sense of intimacy and rapport between the band and the audience imho. When Mercy came to an end the hall was just engulfed in dead silence. The backdrop went black, and then glowed with DIR EN GREY + the tour title in bright red text. I almost completely burst into tears. The members all left quietly and applause broke out, and then the call for encore went up. I collapsed momentarily to drink some water but then had to stand back up bc lol if I’d stayed seated it would have all been OVER for me.

The encore was LIT, but it was a bit odd having Followers right in the middle of all the rowdy songs. Hydra 666 mates…mates UGGGHHHHH IT’S JUST SO FUCKIN LIT ugghhh the mask experience is insane and seeing Kyo projected on the backdrop like THAT…in THAT song. Epic iconic immortal ugh this influence this legacy. I almost FELL head first into the stage during Kigan, it was a CLOSE CALL. New Age was absolutely manic, Kyo was running everywhere and I’m pretty sure it was on his way back from kamite here that he gestured at us as he danced past hahaha I was too close to the stage to see anything he was doing on his adventures, and I think Kaoru came over again and Die visited shimote 💞At the end of the song Kyo was right at the edge in the centre, and he was grimacing with his effort not to smile. He failed and smiled hugely for a moment with his face turned on side.

They closed out with Utafumi which I can honestly never remember well, like the song is just too hectic and always ends with me bent over bashing my brain against my skull. At the end Shinya was being EXTREMELY PASSIONATE with the drums, it was RATTLING my whole body and Toshiya was like…. .. .. . . . … .. . . …. . .. . (are u done???) lajsndflkas 💞At the end Kyo stood on his crate and briefly took in the hall with an unreadable expression, he clapped and then departed. The other guys threw a few goodies, and then also departed. None of them seemed displeased, and from my vantage they all seemed to have had a good live but I was told the audience was rather stoic so they weren’t excessive with their gifts at the end of the night. I have a very distinct memory of Kaoru doing his thing…standing DEAD in front of me hardcore ignoring us 😂 Die and Toshiya did the same but they are like, not so deliberate about it. They just like, cruise along while Kaoru deliberately stands there with that smirk like. hahahaa….ur not getting one alskjdnflaksjd. It makes me LAUGH 😂 The backdrop was emblazoned with the band’s name and tour title again, and Kaoru was the last to leave. He left with smiles and waves and gestured strongly at the backdrop which got an additional cheer. Then he left! And I immediately became a boneless blob…I think my muscles took a whole week to recover from this show.

Zepp Fukuoka 

This is a VERY Kyo centric report I am sorry for all the things that ESCAPED ME!

So this show made me never, ever want to miss a Dir live in Fukuoka ever again. Tonight was so emotional!! This is the third time I’ve seen Dir in Fukuoka and the second time I’ve seen them at the Zepp, although I believe it  has been completely re-done and is a different venue to the time I saw them there in 2015. To get inside the hall we had to go down two flights of stairs and inside it felt very intimate. I had a good number and had a nice spot just at the back of the pit in front of the first rail which is where I love to be. I was right between Toshiya and Kyo, and it was such a good spot.

絶縁体 人間を被る Downfall Devote My Life Celebrate Empty Howls Merciless Cult 谿壑の欲 赫 Rubbish Heap 軽蔑と始まり Values of Madness Ranunculus The World of Mercy

EN. 理由 Followers 凱歌、沈黙が眠る頃 NEW AGE CULTURE 詩踏み

Kyo’s outfit tonight I absolutely LOVED, he was wearing the HELL out of a calf-length pleated black skirt with his tabi boots and a white dress shirt done up at the neck with a black ribbon, plus a slim black harness over the shirt as well. There were several times where I was just completely transfixed by his silhouette, and the ‘flow’ this long skirt gave his body and movements.

Zetsuentai had a BIGGER impact tonight and honestly there were a couple of moments for me where tears came on…when he broke into ”aa, damashi au koto de dare…” my heart felt like it was being squeezed and tears just came out…the second one, after “kono sekai mienakereba jibun no mama de ireru”, was even worse..and then when he broke into “shinjite mireba…” I was practically gasping for air…not due to heavy crying, because i wasn’t, but I was just overcome with emotion that couldn’t find it’s way out in tears…my whole body felt like a prison and I just wanted to scream. So Zetsuentai was…amazing tonight, it was only topped by the second night in Okinawa. Because that night, it was mid-set… I was VISIBLY not the only person having an emotional breakdown.

The final riff in Zetsuentai ground to a halt and the hall erupted in feral screaming, completely drowning out the final notes of the track and then oh my god…we slid into Ningen and I experienced extreme catharsis lmao oh my god…Kyo spoke as those opening chords sounded and we roared at him and that’s all I can remember except for headbanging and singing my heart out…it was Bliss. At the end of Ningen there was an break and Kyo sat on the drum stand and just looked at the crowd, and Toshiya left the stage. They did this during every break this evening. The screaming was deafening, just absolutely amazing. Growling. It drew to an end we had Downfall, Devote, Celebrate and Merciless. I just can’t…Fukuoka  LOVED Downfall, we were singing the FUCK outta that bridge well before the section that Kyo gives to us and he LOVED it, and then Devote started and Kyo was moving all over the place and did the whole song basically right at the edge of the stage, pointing and gesturing and making faces. Celebrate was a DANCE, we had some BOPS. There was this super passionate guy right next to me who just got down SO HARD for this song as well, we had the SPACE to dance and bop so we just did it and I just lajskdnflaksjd the Toshiya fangirls to my front-left were also just having the BEST fucking time. I kept hearing this girl sing out “Toshiyaaaaaa” in this really quite melodious voice all night laksjdnlf. Kyo’s dancing was also wonderful, his long skirt accentuated his hip movements uhuhu 😭

Merciless Cult is a blur, I could DIE. At the start Kyo snarled “掛かって来い!!!” at us and there was a lot of shrieking and oh my god that mosh…Kaoru and Die were LOVING it and Kyo was shaking his entire body at us as we screamed “GASP” and oh my god oh my god… Kyo just wordlessly howled at us to sing “kurikaeshi tsuranuku…aaaa, doko ka, kowarete yuku” and people SCREAMED with Kyo as he broke out at the end of the line and threw ourselves back into the riff….I am honestly shaking just thinking about it.

And then Keigaku came after the second interlude with a lot more feral screaming and oh. my. god. This Keigaku is INCOMPARABLE and probably my FAVOURITE performance that I have ever witnessed of this song. Kyo sighed creepily into the mic at the start, making these sinuous movements with his body and voice that were just COMPLETELY captivating and then slid into those obscure words…before each heavy riff he just HOWLED, it was like his body was taken over by the song completely. During the thrash sections the crowd went WILD and I don’t mean just movement I mean people were screaming, i was losing my mind. By the time the second verse sidled up we were so hypnotised it felt like everyone there was swaying in sync and we drew into that riff again, Kyo was singing COMPLETELY different lyrics and in that small empty space before Kaoru crashes in he CACKLED into the mic and then just shrieked…oh my god oh mygod. He sang “me o mukeyou to wa shinai, sou made shite itsuwarita…” with such a sensual quality like he was winding in on himself… then as it ended he uttered those omitted (?) words…はやく死ね (“fucking die quickly”; personally i feel like the sentiment is very like “i hope you drop dead” but that’s my impression)… 

and those words led straight into Aka, which left a MUCH bigger impression than in Kanazawa because god following Keigaku… In the second verse he sang different lyrics and then called on us to sing…it felt very subdued and hopeless. Kyo looped the chord around and around again… ugh. And then Rubbish Heap ohhhhh my god. Kyo went straight to kamite at the start of Rubbish Heap and held his fist up and SHOOK it at us, and I saw more people than USUAL make fists lmao. Me and old mate next to me were jump-punching the air with every “FIST” and Kyo gestured in our direction and I know Die saw us 😂 Keibetsu and Values are just…a blur of adrenaline. I know the guys moved around during Values but I was too busy dancing to remember ljhgkhgkj.

Ranunculus was so incredibly soft tonight…At the start Kyo was breathing into the mic and the opening verse was so beautiful and during the second he became teary…he beat himself with the mic and screamed three times before the final chorus … ;_______; As it ended Kyo kept repeating “わたし…一人で…” with delay on the mic again and then just lapsed into silence. He sang those first lines of Mercy almost with a kind of lethargy…like he’d just woken up. His body looked limp as well…he started moving the mic around so his voice was smaller and more distant…and when it reached “majiwaru ima…” he just wailed it and screamed out as Shinya broke in…I was absolutely beside myself and was just standing there crying…he vocalised “mada minu mirai de kusarou” in this desperate elongated wail that is probably the most vivd memory I have from the entire concert. As he repeats “yuugi…yuugi…yuugi…” he turns and slowly draws his arm around in circles…he uses his whole body to make this shape though, using his hips to create this undulating motion that is completely hypnotic.

During the interlude after the first heavy section Kyo gnaws on his wrist. He did this in Kanazawa as well, but tonight it was rather more intense for me I think because I was more directly in front of him and he was making extremely erotic moaning and sighing and sucking sounds into the mic. >.< In Kanazawa this part was slightly alarming bc it looked like he was really BITING his wrist, but after seeing it a few times there is far more tongue than tooth action and it can be appreciated as a more ritualistic/symbolic performance. After gnawing he holds his wrist over his cupped hand as though collecting blood in it, then scoops with his fingers and smears it across his lips and eyes…all you can hear is piano and his breathing. Then he wailed “majiwaru ima…” and I immediately started crying again, as I already felt quite FRAGILE watching this. >.<

The encore was a blast. Wake + Followers was an absolute pleasure and then THEY PLAYED GAIKA and I’m pretty sure I fuckin astral projected because I can’t remember a GOD DAMN THING that might have happened!! New Age is a DIFFERENT STORY during New Age Kyo made fish-hooking gestures in his mouth with his pinky finger, dragging one side of his mouth up into a deranged smile before flinging his hand out, I remember him doing this both at kamite and in the centre, dancing around and pointing and eyeballing people. And it was during the breakdown in this song where Kyo was right in the middle and he bent forward and started doing this STOMP DANCE in time with the riffs and it was SO FUCKING DOPE UGGGHHH his expression and posture were so ON POINT it’s literally one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. Kaoru also came to the middle and I absolutely screamed and shook my fist at him like a lunatic and he just jutted his chin lmfao. I cannot remember a thing from Utafumi either, it is hopeless.

Kyo stayed at the end longer than he did in Kanazawa, it was kinda sweet, with each show I attended he stayed a bit longer. He clapped and fox-kissed us and waved bye-bye and then left. the other guys stayed longer as well and threw MUCH more stuff than they did in Kanazawa. And everyone left GLOWING. Band and fans. Everyone looked so full and pleased, it was wonderful. I feel like the whole band and everyone in the crowd had a wonderful night. ❤️

[danetobelieve]

Fangs For The Memories || Ricky and Winston

Really, as far as roommates went, Winston was pretty much as good as one could get. Ricky liked having them around, and they got along well enough, but sometimes it was nice to have the house to himself. Winston had mentioned they were going to spend the night at their parents, so Ricky was enjoying the concept of some home-alone time which meant time he didn’t have to spend in hiding. Rifling through the refrigerator, Ricky decided it was as good a night as any to treat himself to the nice piece of salmon he’d bought the other day, and he was in the process of firing up the stove to sear it when he heard the front door slam open. Several things went through his mind in quick succession; one, that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and two, that his false teeth were in their case in his nightstand, and not in his mouth which was currently filled with very bright very sharp fangs that were on display for his very human roommate to see. He slammed the refrigerator shut and busied himself in the spice cabinet, keeping his back to Winston, “Oh hey dude…. You’re back early. Everything good?”

Winston was very wet still. After hanging out at their parents they’d been distracted by Pokemon Go and through a weird series of events with Skylar -- a girl they met through chance really -- they had been attacked by a gollum-esque creature and Skylar had revealed a rather sharp looking set of fangs. It was … well it was a lot to take in. Winston was trying to explain what they had seen just hours before, and on autopilot they had driven straight home to change. After all the Cave of Voices wasn’t the ideal place to go and fight weird animal things (which Winston was in the process of convincing themselves that’s what they must be) without getting a little wet. Brushing sand out of their hair, they slipped in the front door and pulled off their coat, hanging it to dry before heading towards the kitchen. “I had a very … weird experience.” Winston frowned gently as they strode into the kitchen. 

Ricky carefully kept his back to Winston, grabbing some spices from the cabinet and mixing them in a small bowl. Without turning he reached over and twisted the volume down on music he was listening to; he knew it was probably louder than was standard for a normal conversation. “A weird experience?” He called over his shoulder, patting the spice mixture into the large salmon filet. There was no easy way to exit the conversation and make his way upstairs to put the most crucial piece of his human disguise back on. He turned over his shoulder to look at Winston and furrowed his brow at their appearance, “why are you wet?” He kept his lips as close together as he could but knew it’d be a hard conversation to follow if he couldn’t read Winston’s lips as they were talking. His hearing wasn’t completely absent on land, but it was bad enough that he usually needed to supplement with lip reading “Didn’t think it was supposed to rain tonight?”

Winston had left a basket of clean laundry in the utility room, slipping in, they began to peel their now damp clothes off of their skinny body, throwing each item of clothing straight into the washing machine and stepping into a fresh, clean pair. “I am getting to why I am wet, but have you ever been to the Cave of Voices beneath the Hanging Rock?” Winston was sure that Ricky wouldn’t have been there, “I was up at mom and dad’s and they were boring so I was playing Pokemon Go and I wandered over there.” They paused as they pulled on a warm pair of joggers and zipped a hoodie snuggly around them, pulling the hood up and slipping their glasses back on before going to take a seat at the breakfast bar. “So I go in search of a Pokemon I want, I end up in this little sea cave, and there’s that girl who helped me at the internship with those hard of hearing kids, Skylar, I’m sure I mentioned her a few months ago.” They weren’t really paying attention to what Ricky was doing, focussed more on explaining their weird day. “But that’s not the weirdest part. There was something in there.”

Ricky stiffened slightly when Winston mentioned the Cave of Voices. As far as he knew it wasn’t the permanent home of anything dangerous but it definitely had enough supernatural visitors that it wasn’t a place humans should be hanging out regularly. “You went to the Cave of Voices for a Pokémon? That place is super dangerous, Win. The tides will drag you out to sea real easy if you’re not careful.” It was Winston’s mention of something else in the cave that really gave Ricky pause however. “what kind of something?” He turned to face his roommate, cupping his chin in such a way where his fingers obscured his mouth. He didn’t think anything had taken up residence in the Cave recently but if something had it was something that was going to have to be addressed sooner rather than later and he didn’t really feel in the mood to have a knock down drag out fight with yet another alghoul. “You want some dinner? I’ve got enough for two here.”

Raising an eyebrow gently, Winston couldn’t help but admit that they wished they had known that before hand. “Now you tell me that it is dangerous?!” Winston replied exasperatedly, “If I’d known about the tides I would never have gone there.” They were too nervous taking risks as it was already. Risk averse might as well be their double barrelled middle name. “But like I was saying, the tide was not the problem, the problem was this something, and what kind of something I couldn’t tell you. Maybe if a bat and orangutan had a baby then it would’ve looked like this, but it also just looked like a jacked Gollum.” Winston wanted to tell Ricky the whole story, to explain about Skylar’s veneers and everything with her mouthful of teeth, but they didn’t feel as if that was really their secret to share. “It came after me and Skylar…” they paused and shrugged, “I’ve called animal control and informed the sergeant at the office.” After all one of the perks of working at the police department was if anything went wrong then they would be able to talk to someone they knew personally. “They said they’d send someone down there to check it out, but I don’t know if they really believed me.” Pausing for a moment, they adjusted their glasses and nodded. “If you’ve got enough, I wouldn’t say no.” 

“Haven’t you lived here your whole life?! You should know that tidal caves are some bad news bears up in this bitch. I’m glad you two made it out okay but that shit coulda gone south if the tides were super strong.” Ricky grabbed a pan from the rack and lit the stove, listening to the click click click of the pilot before the burner caught and the flame whooshed to life. A pat of butter went in the pan as he carefully listened to Winston’s story, mentally trying to catalogue what it might be that was lurking down in the cave. “Did it hurt you guys? Wild……. animals can have all sorts of nasty diseases. We should get you to the hospital if you got bit or scratched.” He knew a lot of the lesser necrophages were disgusting disease vectors, and even a scratch from one of them could lead to a terrible infection. “Well. I believe you. The legends about that place” and the entire town, he thought silently to himself, “put some pretty gnarly shit down in there. I haven’t been in since I was a high schooler,” another convenient lie, “and I don’t plan on going back anytime soon.” Given the description Ricky thought it was probably a ghoul that had attacked them, which made him feel slightly better. Ghouls weren’t that terrible. “Two salmon dinners coming right up then.” 

“Hey,” Winston snapped back, shaking their head indignantly, “I know it was a bad decision, I don’t need you to call me out like that. Besides, I’m just fine at swimming, I’d have managed. I’m more concerned about the fact that Gollum is down there and apparently without the one ring.” Raising their palms, Winston showed Ricky their palms which were still grazed and raw from their fall in the cave. “I have a few bumps and bruises, it really went took it out on Skylar worse, she was in a worse state then me but we both made it out.” Winston was surprised that Ricky accepted their story so easily. “I can’t reconcile it within my own head, it was like something out of a game dude, there’s… there’s …. I just can’t get it straight. I know rationally that this makes no sense. But I saw what I saw.” Not to mention Skylar’s fangs. This town was getting weirder and weirder by the second. Picking at the drawstring  of their waist band, Winston smiled gratefully before taking their glasses and anxiously polishing them. “Thanks, I appreciate this dude.” They knew they must’ve interrupted a quiet night alone, which was a rarity for the both of them. 

“It’s literally your roommates job to call you out when you do dumb shit. It’s like in the roommate handbook. You need a beer to settle your nerves?” Ricky pulled two out of the fridge and popped the tops off, sliding one across the counter without waiting for a reply before turning back to the meal he was cooking. The kitchen was starting to fill with the smell of pungent spices as Ricky thought about his next move. He prided himself on being honest with the people around him; but there were some very specific loopholes to that policy and they all dealt with the supernatural. Which is why he was less than pleased with his choice to gaslight his roommate. “I’m sure Gollum himself wasn’t lurking in the Cave of Voices.” He kept his voice pitched light and breezy, “it’s dark, it’s cramped, and it’s more than a little creepy. The human brain likes to fill in all sorts of blanks with the insane when it’s confronted with something terrifying. You probably just startled some poor forest creature who got stuck in there by the tide. You’re lucky you don’t catch rabies.”

Winston was about to say that they didn’t want a beer, but Ricky put one in their hand anyway and the cold, malty liquid felt good. “Thanks dude, I know it is your job to make sure that I’m not doing anything that could potentially kill me.” Ricky was a good guy. He had done a lot for Winston in the small amount of time that they had been living together. Winston was distracted, otherwise they might have noticed that Ricky was keeping his back to Winston. They might have noticed that they weren’t directly addressing them and they hadn’t seen their teeth yet. But they were kind of preoccupied. “I don’t think it was Gollum either, probably an animal and a bump on the head or something, i know that your brain tries to turn everything into a narrative and the fear probably just y’know, changed my perception.” They had been convinced earlier that whatever it was hadn’t been an animal, but this was the real world. It had to be an animal. There was nothing else that it could be. “I know, I know,” Winston replied glumly, their left thumb picking at the corner of the label on the beer, rolling and unrolling it restlessly, “I just can’t shake the feeling that there was something more to it then a rabid animal.” It wasn’t really their problem. They weren’t a member of animal control.

“Your mother would kill me if I let anything happen to you and frankly I’m convinced that she could do it with little effort on her part.” Ricky plated the salmon and slid one of the plates across the counter to Winston, setting a fork down next to it. “Fear is a powerful thing. But I know deer and badgers and the sort go down there to forage at low tide and then get trapped in the cave. You might have just startled one of them that was already at the end of its rope and its fight or flight response kicked in.” He waved his own fork glibly as he laughed off Winston’s story, trying to put them at ease while pushing them towards believing they hadn’t seen a necrophage and instead had just seen a frightened animal. He realized too late, however, that between taking a bite of his salmon and laughing brightly he’d left his mouth open for far too long, and he no longer had his back to his roommate. He snapped it shut and took a sip of his beer, hoping that Winston has been too distracted by the delicious food to look at him.

Winston didn’t think that their mother would kill Ricky. They were certain that their fate would be far more gruesome then an easy death. “Well don’t worry because I won’t let anything happen to you, and my mother isn’t about to find out about this.” Turning the plate round, Winston scooped up their fork and picked at the slice of salmon that Ricky had cooked for them. Ricky didn’t seem to eat much other then fish and meat, but they knew how to cook it and they did a damn good job. Winston just assumed that Ricky was fussy and out of deference to their friend had elected not to bring the topic up, incase it embarrassed them. “Maybe, but I’ve got to admit that it didn’t look like any sort of deer or badger that I have ever seen before, this looked like a cross between a monkey and a bat.” Winston looked up just in time to see Ricky’s gleaming mouthful of fangs. Wait … fangs? Winston felt their eyes widen and realised that they had caught Ricky’s eye for a moment. A look of shock on their face before they looked at their plate and shovelled a huge mouthful of fish into their mouth. “Mmhmmm this is great fish dude,” they said inbetween bites, doing what they could to avoid admitting to what they had just seen. But they’d seen those very same teeth on Skylar, hours before. What the fuck was going on? 

Given the profound look of shock on their face and the renewed vigor with which they ate and commented on the fish, Ricky knew pretty immediately that the jig was up. “Winston…” he sighed wearily as he set down his fork and took a drink of his beer. “Yeah. I know it’s great fish. I can cook fish like a motherfucker. Because fish and meat are pretty much all I can eat. Listen. I know you saw and you can stop trying to hide that behind food comments and eating. Mostly because at the rate you’re going you’re gonna finish that fish in two bites. So. Yeah. Let’s talk.” He’d really planned on going a lot longer without having this conversation. But. Hopefully Winston’s cool head would prevail “if it makes you feel better… it definitely wasn’t a badger or a deer you saw.”

With a mouthful of fish, Winston looked up at Ricky and let out an uneasy laugh. “Yeah, I know you eat fish and meat, because you’re a giant baby living in a man’s body and you hate your veggies, you’re a fussy eater and you’ve probably got like a gluten intolerance right?!” They let out a high pitched anxious laugh and shoved more fish into their mouth. “But you’re right, really good fish, you did an amazing job, like you always did. HA ha what amazing fish.” They chewed extra slowly on the tiny amount of fish that they had left. “I’m sorry Ricky,” Winston said glancing at their wrist and realising they weren’t wearing a watch, “but I’ve got to dash, my parents are expecting me for dinner and they’ll be upset if I’m late…” they tried to force their heart to slow down, but it wasn’t working. They didn’t have time to focus on something else and just breath. “Anyway, I’ll catch you later.” They were standing and grabbing their rucksack and keys. They would stay at their parents house tonight. They would also be checking to see if they too had a mouthful of sharp teeth. “Thanks again for the fish dude.” 

It became readily apparent to Ricky that this was going to be at least a two part conversation, as Winston gathered their things and started to head towards the door. “Winston.” Ricky called out from where he was sitting picking at his fish, “my….. fussy eating” which seemed to be the terms they were going to couch this in for the moment, “Is a secret for a reason. There are people who would use that as an excuse to hunt me. Literally. So if we could keep this between us for the moment. I’d appreciate it.” He took another swig if beer and glanced down at his phone as Winston headed for the door, “also. It was probably a ghoul. Down in the cave. Sounds like one. Don’t go back there again. It’s not safe til that things been taken care of. Be careful.” All he could do was trust that he and Winston had enough of a bond that his roommate wouldn’t go blabbing to the whole town. 

Winston was pulling their rucksack onto their back and had their hand wrapped around the handle to the front door. “Ricky,” Winston said turning to face him, “Ghouls aren’t real. In the same way that ghosts, vampires, werewolves and magic aren’t real. This isn’t supernatural or the Witcher. None of these things exist in the real world. If they did exist, don’t you think that the internet would’ve spread the word about them? You think that a secret that big could be kept?!” They laughed nervously, suddenly unsure in everything that they had just asserted was the truth. “I won’t tell anyone about your fussy eating,” Winston said sourly, “I know how to keep a secret,” they pulled the front door open and felt a cold breeze roll into their house. “Besides, I’ve always got your back, even if you … are a fussy eater.” With that they were taking a step out of the front door and heading towards their car. They needed answers. They needed time to think and try and wrap their head around this. Ricky had used the words ghoul for fucksake?! 

[fluffymusketeer]

Chasm

“I have the Warhammer power,” Eren says, apropos of nothing. “If anybody is interested.”

Obligatory post-105 angst fic! I wanted to process this a little, as I’m sure many of us have needed to, after that heartbreaking chapter. It’s Eren/Levi, and it can be read as platonic, however it is pretty intimate. As always, thank you to @omglevixeren for beta reading <333

Also on Ao3

Eren is left until last, still in chains on the airship. Not even his friends wait for him, a tacit agreement that for now, discipline takes precedence over friendship. Silent tears track feebly over his cheeks, and dried blood flakes from his nose.

To Levi, he looks like a broken animal.

He has begun to shiver, his body thin and disgusting, and Levi fights the urge to do… something. He’s still not sure what. Doesn’t know whether he’d be handing Eren a handkerchief for his tears, or a fist to the face followed by an order to pull himself together. So Levi stays in the corner and allows Eren his silent misery. It’s done now, and further attempts at communication are unlikely to end well.

When the airship has finally emptied, he pushes himself from the wall and unlocks Eren’s chains. They’re just for show, really; they both know that his real chains are the blades at Levi’s sides. “Follow me,” he orders.

The old castle that houses the Survey Corps stands solitary in the clouded starlight. Most of the windows are dark or dimming, everyone heading straight for bed with their exhaustion, though Hange and Armin will likely be up with that bearded asshole for a while yet.

Levi doubts anyone will be in the mood to eat, not tonight, but he bypasses the communal areas anyway, and takes Eren straight down to the dungeons. The worst of it is having to walk so close, Eren shuffling along, stinking like he’s been swimming through a stagnant pond. “I expected you to be more talkative,” Levi remarks. He gets no answer, and when they’re at the correct cell – Eren’s pyjamas already at the foot of the bed, likely thanks to Mikasa – he shoves Eren inside rougher than necessary.

Eren stumbles, then mutters, “Would you like me to just kneel on the floor, Sir?”

It’s not really for his ears, but Levi winces anyway. And yes, part of him would, because at least it would be some kind of submission.

He needs to get out of here. They’re both still too agitated, too liable to resort to attack as a form of defence. I don’t know what to do with you anymore.

Everyone is counting on Levi to fix this. He can feel it, their eyes on him as if he alone holds the key to Eren Jaeger. Levi knows they are wrong, but he doesn’t know how to tell them he never had control of Eren. All he ever had was hope and intuition, and he was mistaken on both counts. There is nothing he can do to bring Eren to heel, and now he’s a nineteen year old kid who can destroy the world if he decides it’s the ‘right’ thing to do.

“Maybe we should consider… having Armin eat…” Hange had been unable to finish the sentence at the time, there was still hope Eren would come back before it was too late, but Levi knows now it won’t be long before he’ll have to hear the suggestion again. A little firmer this time, a little more resigned. And probably from higher ranks than Hange, too.

“I have the Warhammer power,” Eren says, apropos of nothing. “If anybody is interested.”

“And you started a war to get it,” Levi replies flatly.

Eren closes his eyes, sighs, and sinks onto the bed. He’s like a blank slate to Levi, just a dirty, messy thing behaving like a brat, shutting down as if nobody will ever understand him. You used to be an open book to me.

Levi hovers awkwardly in the middle of the cell, the cloying thickness of dust and stale air crawling over his skin, but he has to ask. “Do you even understand what you did?”

“Yes,” Eren says. He rolls over and shoves his face into the pillow, putting his back to Levi. After a moment, he glances over his shoulder. “But you don’t.”

Levi takes a step forward before his brain catches up, and he stops, awkward and frustrated and not sure what he wants to do, but it’s too late. Eren has already tensed, staring at him, preparing for a blow. He’s so filthy, greasy hair hanging over his eyes. It’s pitiful. He looks like some kind of mangy dog, baring its rotten teeth until the end.

He used to look like a puppy. One that trusted Levi, and Levi had trusted Eren in turn, and now that trust lies broken and bloodied on the cold stone floor between them.

Levi cocks his head to one side. “Do you hate me?”

Eren blinks. All he offers in response is a shrug.

How am I supposed to fix this? Levi thinks. I wish Erwin were here. He gives up, at least for tonight. They’re both exhausted, and he’s keenly aware that he needs to find some time to process the death of yet another deeply cared for squad member. He makes for the cell door. “Get some rest. I’m sure you need it.”

After locking up, he douses all but one of the oil lamps outside, so Eren will at least have some darkness and peace. Halfway to the stairwell, he hears the sob. Just one, a kind of dry gasping heave, but it stops Levi in his tracks. He waits for more, almost desperate for it, but nothing comes.

An hour later, Levi is back. “I couldn’t sleep,” he announces.

Eren frowns down at the bucket of lukewarm water, and the towel and soap tucked beneath Levi’s arm.

“You’re fucking filthy. It was annoying me.”

Eren makes a disgruntled noise and sits up. In the hour Levi was stomping around his room, hungry but unable to face going down to the kitchens without some memory of Sasha assaulting him, Eren hasn’t even bothered to remove his hospital clothing or get under the blanket.

Levi rolls his pyjama sleeves up and dunks a sponge in the water. “Get undressed,” he snaps.

Eren stares at him.

“That’s an order, Eren.”

The old castle dungeons are silent save for the rustling of Eren’s clothing as he wriggles out of it, and the wet slop of water as Levi lathers up the sponge. There’s not a lot he can do about Eren’s hair just yet, though he’s determined to drag him down to the showers in chains tomorrow if he has to, but Levi can at least wash off the worst of the sweat and grime. His fingers are itching to do so.

Neither of them are shy after years in the Survey Corps, but Eren still flinches when Levi presses the sponge to his shoulder. He stares into space, disassociating himself from the process. Levi methodically scrubs away the dirt, replacing it with lather and the scent of lavender, not that Eren seems in any state to appreciate one of the most expensive soaps in Mitras. He watches as globs of fluffy foam slip down Eren’s bicep and onto the blanket, wet patches blooming in their wake.

“Lift your arm,” Levi commands, and Eren does so. Levi wrinkles his nose and gets scrubbing.

He pretends not to notice when Eren starts trembling, his breaths coming quicker, distressed. Levi focuses on keeping his movements precise, methodical.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean for… for Sasha…”

“Shh,” Levi says. “I know you didn’t.”

Eren’s chest shudders, the once healthy musculature now withered, bones sharp and jutting. Everything about him is diminished, sunken, wasting away. Levi is going to lose him, and he can’t even stop it. Eren is sitting right here in front of him, and he can’t stop it.

He focuses on the sponge, on the slow circles, the rhythmic scrubbing.

“You’re making me steam.”

Levi blinks. A patch of skin on Eren’s left ribcage is turning bright red, rubbed raw and near-bloody beneath the sponge. “Shit.”

“I think I’m clean now.”

Eren is still staring into empty space.

“Think again,” Levi says.

Green eyes slide over to him, sceptical. Levi arches an eyebrow, because it’s achingly familiar. Eren fussing at the windows, asking Levi if they’re clean enough, knowing damn well they need another round of polishing, yet hoping anyway. Something inside Levi threatens to break. He looks away. “Come on. Let’s just get this over with.”

Scrubbing down Eren’s bottom half is as uncomfortable as expected. He stinks, and Levi is sorely tempted to just drag Eren up to his quarters and dump him in the bath. But Hange would be right next door, and he doesn’t want to risk it. Brusquely washing Eren’s private parts is actually less bothersome than the thought of explaining to Hange why the brat is soaking in his bathtub when he should be locked in a cell.

Soon enough there’s only one thing remaining. Levi looks at the patch of dried blood across Eren’s cheek, the wound long since healed up, and swallows. He grabs the handkerchief from his pyjama pocket, dunks it in the now-grimy water. The greasy strands of Eren’s hair tickle the back of his hand as he dabs at Eren’s face. Blood stains the white cotton, ruining it forever, and Levi sighs. “I failed you, didn’t I?”

Eren looks up, gaze unexpectedly focused. “It wasn’t your fault. The choice was mine.”

“But I taught you that.” Levi continues to wipe the blood away, gentle now, because every swipe of the damp handkerchief releases a bit more tension. He pauses to rinse the cotton again, struggling over the words, knowing he must try to be wiser than he has been. “Eren, I didn’t… I never meant… making the choice you’ll regret the least does not mean that you can take matters into your own hands whenever someone disagrees with you.”

He goes back for a second attempt at Eren’s face, but Eren pushes his hand away and shakes his head. Instead, he shuffles into the pyjamas Mikasa left for him, and lies down. He pulls the blanket up to his chin, and Levi is left feeling useless, clutching the soiled rag. They stare at each other across the empty space of the bed.

It’s big enough to fit two.

“Is that what you think I did?” Eren asks quietly.

Levi tosses the handkerchief back in the bucket. He considers leaving, but Eren is so close, and this is the most they’ve spoken in… Levi can’t even remember. He doesn’t want to sever this fragile thread that is connecting them.

So he shunts the bucket a bit further away, takes off his slippers, and lies down. He stares at the ceiling, ignoring the way Eren is peering at the side of his head. “I don’t know what you did, Eren,” he admits.

“Levi, none of you would listen to me. I was the one with the memories. The plan, the peace… it wouldn’t have worked.” Eren’s tone doesn’t quite have the conviction it once did, but his argument has not changed at all. “You don’t know these people. They’re not scared of us. They don’t even hate us. We’re… we’re just convenient to them. Just some tiny island they can blame for their problems.”

“And next time we disagree with you?” Levi asks, feeling bleak.

Eren’s silence is all the answer he needs.

Levi knows he should get up and go. He can feel the frustration rising again, just after he’d managed to scrub most of it away with the slow steady bathing of Eren’s skin. But he’s not sure he can admit defeat, not where Eren is concerned. “You can’t know it wouldn’t have worked,” Levi says, despairing.

“I know better than any of you,” Eren snaps.

“You’re not always going to be right, Eren!”

“But this time I am!”

“Fuck!” Levi punches the bed, hard. He wishes he was next to the wall instead, he could do with a few painful whacks of skin-against-stone and a bloody fist right now. He rubs harshly at his forehead instead, trying to get control of himself. “You never even gave us a chance,” he mutters. “I’m so disappointed in you, Eren.”

“Yeah well…” Eren rolls onto his back, presumably to face the ceiling, as if it will somehow give him more answers than it is giving Levi. “I’m disappointed in you too, Captain.”

Their frustrated breathing echoes through the cell, the oil lamp beyond slowly dying, and Levi thinks, I need to get up. I need to go. There is tension in the space between them now, the kind that threatens to destroy any progress they may have made. Levi feels fragile, breakable… exhausted. He wants to cry for Sasha, but he’s not sure he can bear to let Eren see how much he is hurting. Levi gave this boy a piece of his heart once, long ago in a crystal cave when he was so proud he could hardly stand it, and Eren has been destroying that piece ever since.

He doesn’t want to say it, but he has to. Eren needs to grasp the full implications of his choices. “You know we have other options, right?” Levi pauses, then forces the words out, feeling sick. “Armin never had a problem following orders.”

Eren is quiet for some time. Eventually the blanket rustles, and Levi senses he is being watched again. “And you’d let that happen?”

Levi removes his hands, and does Eren the justice of at least looking him in the eye when he says, “I’m not sure I’d have a choice. I’m not sure any of us would.”

Eren sighs heavily, turning towards Levi.

Levi mirrors his movements, and they face each other across the chasm of scratchy grey material. “I don’t know what to do, Eren.”

“You could trust me,” he whispers. “Like I asked you to.”

“I’m not even sure I can forgive you,” Levi says. He notices a leftover speck of blood on Eren’s cheek in the low light. “Or if you’ll ever forgive me.”

They stare at each other warily. They are both broken, and both unclean, and maybe that is why Levi never even stood a chance. He never had Eren to begin with, and it was stupid to fool himself that he did.

Eren reaches out and takes Levi’s hand. Laces their fingers together.

Levi looks down in shock. It’s an intimacy just a shade beyond appropriate. He must go now, he must, he must, because tomorrow… tomorrow he has to start convincing the world that he has control of Eren once more, and this time, he’s going to need to convince himself too. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever find Eren again, when Eren has set himself so firmly beyond reach.

Yet here Eren is, and he took Levi’s hand first.

So Levi cannot let go. Not just yet.

~ THE END ~

[nega-aria]

In Sickness and in Health (a Quackervolt sap story)

Experimenting with posting story stuff here. Just a short little thing with Megavolt and Quackerjack which also happens to be one of the first fanfictions I ever wrote. Or rather, started writing. Finally finished it recently and @doktorgirlfriend was kind enough to help me edit in an attempt to improve my silly fangirl writing skills. Thanks lady! I appreciate it lots ♥

Enjoy the floof ♥

A rainy night in St. Canard: bleak, cold and miserable. There was very little Megavolt hated more than the rain. The smell was somewhat nice, but his sinuses were so messed up at that point he could barely enjoy it anymore. Or had they always been messed up? At least his makeshift residence was warm despite that pesky draft that whistled through the bayside window. The resident space heater took care of him very well in that regard. Megavolt made a mental note to thank him later, but it was quickly filed away among the many other bits of information doomed to be forgotten.

The lighthouse was dingy, slightly dilapidated and rather musky, but it was well lit as always, and Megavolt felt comfortable there even if there was that one leak in the roof that he was too paranoid to go anywhere near. The dripping of it mocked him constantly on days like this, but the melody of static that played in his head did pretty well to block it out. Still, he really should get that leak fixed someday. It was yet another forgotten memory, quickly reduced to a black haze in the back of his mind when the thought was replaced by a sharp rapping at his window.  

He lifted an eyebrow in confusion. Not that confusion was an unusual state for him, but this was definitely something curious. Lilith told him clearly that it was almost 11:30, and although she often disagreed with Henry and Hank, she was usually right about these things. Not that most people would take the word of an often ornery alarm clock over the sound advice of a rather level headed oven and his microwave sidekick, but Megavolt did believe it was that late. If the hours he had spent sitting on the couch and stewing were any indication, it was definitely that late, and that would mean only one someone would be anywhere near the lighthouse. Sure, there was only one person that ever was around generally, but he had made it very clear earlier that he was far too busy for his boyfriend tonight. Megavolt still wasn’t entirely sure what Quackerjack’s frustrated ramblings had meant exactly, but it was hardly unusual for him to be confused by the man. Chances were he had just been trying to end the conversation so he could pout as he usually did when they argued.

Megavolt scowled at the sound of Quackerjack’s voice in his ear, the recollection of that earlier phone call dislodged in that moment to replay in his head in a somewhat altered fashion from how it went down in reality. Not that he was aware of that little detail. Quackerjack had definitely been trying to get him to go on some silly heist; he was sure of that. Pretty sure. Maybe? Or it was just that thing about adopting a puppy? Either way, it ended with the man child irrationally mad at him. That he was sure of.

Tap, tap, tap.

There was that sound again. Megavolt had forgotten there had been a sound. The string of lights around the window urged him to investigate. He did so begrudgingly, but not without a soft grumble to express his annoyance. Whoever it was, they had better be looking for some free electroshock therapy. How did they get to the top of the lighthouse anyway?

Megavolt was already sparking by the time he reached the window, throwing the curtain back with so much force that the lights above nearly fell. His mouth was already open to let forth a mini explosion of vulgar content, but the words quickly scattered and were forgotten as soon as he saw who it was.

“Quacky?”

“You know it, sugah! Miss meh?”

The drenched clown giggled at the shocked look on Megavolt’s face, the customary sound of amusement quickly devolving into a hacking cough. Megavolt was so mesmerized by the way the rain was making his entire body shimmer beneath the lights that he jumped at the shock of the obtrusive sounds. It was then that he truly began to study the other man, noting his overly pale and obviously shuddering body. Combine that with the snot he was struggling to keep contained in his nose, and it was obvious why exactly he had been in such a grumpy mood earlier.

Quackerjack always did hate being sick.

“Come play wit me, Megs!” Quackerjack said, mustering as much of his usual enthusiasm as he could.

Despite the effort, Megavolt’s theory was quickly proven right as the sound of the duck’s stuffed sinuses and raw throat echoed in his voice. He sighed heavily at the rather pathetic display. “You’re sick, Quackerjack! And it’s raining. I am NOT getting drenched and letting you catch your death just so you can get some new toys,” Megavolt replied.

The crossed arms and stubborn look on his face clearly said that was not open for debate, but Quackerjack wasn’t exactly one to take a hint.

“M’ nod sick!”

“Yes, you are, and I don’t want you getting sicker, so just—”

The words were rudely stopped in their tracks when an annoyingly familiar face invaded his personal space, grinning that annoying grin and mocking him with that over-stuffed head of his.

“He said he’s not sick, Dick.”

Megavolt scowled at the high-pitched voice. “Oh, reeeal mature, Fruit-face,” he grumbled at the inanimate doll.

He didn’t have a chance to respond further before Quackerjack was climbing through the window, bringing a disconcerting amount of the outdoors with him. Megavolt backed nervously away from the growing puddle before scampering off and leaving a rather crestfallen Quackerjack behind.

Quackerjack gave the fidgety rodent a moment to make his motives clearer rather than tracking more of the terrifying fluid through his living space. He took the moment of frustrating isolation to wipe some of the water from his feathers, cringing as he removed his hat to ring out some of the excess moisture while sniffing more mucus into his throat. Quackerjack was barely given the time to look up before he was wrapped in a very warm and very fluffy blanket. Megavolt’s favorite blanket to be precise. The fact that he would sacrifice the comforter on such a cold night for the literal task of comforting his friend made Quackerjack feel far warmer than he already did. For a moment everything was sparkles and love-stained light as the sight of Megavolt standing there, backlit and fussing over him, held him captive. It was obvious by the way his mouth was moving that he was saying something, but all Quackerjack could manage in that moment was to watch those lips dance and whiskers twitch from the action.

“Wha?” Quackerjack slurred distantly.

“I said you need to lie down! You’re burning up, Quacky!” Megavolt said as he ran his fingers through the feathers on Quackerjack’s forehead with only a light wince to show how the moist plumage hurt him.

“M’ not sick, damnit!”

Quackerjack immediately paled, his plumage turning an unnatural, sickly hue as his body mocked him in that moment. Try though it might, his mouth could not repress the determination of his stomach to torment him. He produced little more than a stifled sound of discomfort before rushing from the room and trailing the now damp blanket behind him.

It took a moment for Megavolt’s brain to catch up, as it often did, but the second that telltale sound of vomiting came from the small bathroom down the hall, he was quickly up to speed on what was happening. Megavolt sighed heavily at the retching, slipping into the bathroom behind his friend. He bent over slightly so he could rub the jester’s heaving back gently. “So, ready to admit it yet?”  

Quackerjack grumbled miserably as he swatted at the hand currently attempting to offer comfort. “Dis doesn mean andythingh,”he insisted, still trying to convince himself more than Megavolt that he wasn’t sick. “I’m jus doingh this for fudn.”

“Riiight. Well, when you’re done having fun I’ll be in the living room.”

Really, Megavolt hated to leave him when he was so miserable, but he also knew how stubborn his other half could be, and he wasn’t going to stand in the now unpleasantly scented bathroom while Quackerjack tried to convince him that it meant nothing. Experience told him that if left alone long enough to wallow in his own gloom, he would seek out Megavolt’s company eventually.

Megavolt stretched out on the couch, kicking his boots off and fidgeting his fingers against the rough fabric. He supposed it was past time to steal a new sofa, but this one had so many memories attached to it he was afraid to let it go. There weren’t many things in his life that recalled any sort of past occurrence, so he was hesitant to abandon anything that reminded him of so many fond memories of his beloved partner.  It hadn’t even been that long since the mallard had become a partner to him in more ways than one, but memory in the short term was often even harder for him to deal with. Still, those moments remained tied to that piece of furniture as if they had been weaved into the worn fibers, and it made Megavolt smile at the various forms of playtime that had taken place there.

The grin on his face morphed into a roll of his eyes when more retching filtered from his bathroom. Quackerjack was nothing if not stubborn, and being sick was definitely one of his least favorite things to do.

“What? Don’t look at me like that. HE’S the one being all bitchy. He knows where to find me when he’s willing to admit it,” Megavolt muttered in reply to the unasked question from the light beside him.  “Don’t get your filaments in a twist.”

The toilet flushed, the sink ran, and before Megavolt knew it he could hear the soft creaking of the floorboards as Quackerjack slowly returned. He was wrapped tightly in the oversized blanket, bundled up as though trying to hide completely in its comforting warmth. His hat was clenched in trembling fingers, which might have meant nothing to most people, but to Megavolt it was an obvious sign that he wasn’t in a normal state of mind.

“Megsy,” the miserable jester whined with a sniffle, “I’m siiiiick.”

Megavolt couldn’t keep the small smirk off his face at the adorable condition his friend was in. It just wasn’t very often that he saw Quackerjack needing comfort in quite such a way. “Oooh, you don’t say,” he replied sarcastically.

Quackerjack nodded as though oblivious to the fact that the other man wasn’t being serious. He frowned, sniffing his dripping snot back into his nose and groaning unhappily at the way it made his abused throat hurt even more. He sighed dramatically, making his way over to the worn couch and dropping himself into the cushions face down so he could lay his head in Megavolt’s lap.

Megavolt tried not to cringe at the snot that was being smeared on his legs, but was only slightly successful. At least the thick blanket was enough to keep any hint of moisture off of his body. That slight comfort made him happy for sure, but the sight of the softly shivering mallard currently snuggled against him was somewhat heartbreaking. He stroked at the disheveled feathers on Quackerjack’s head, running his fingers gently through the sweat-slicked plumage. No matter how many times he saw the other man without his hat he would never get used to the sight. It was rare that the jester ever removed the beloved item. In fact, the only times Megavolt had ever seen it absent in the past was when Quackerjack was forced to wash it or wash his head.

Quackerjack snuggled closer to the other man’s ministrations, already falling prey to his exhaustion. “Soodn as I’m betta, yo owe me soooo mush playtime,” he mumbled nasally.

Megavolt snorted, undeniably amused by his friend’s insistence. “Only if you do everything I say until you’re better,” he said, taking the opportunity to make a deal with the dejected clown.

“Eveythingh?”

“Everything.”

Quackerjack grumbled at the response, displeased pout settling on his face; he just knew Megavolt was going to make him take nasty tasting medicine and rest all the time. He was pretty sure being stationary for more than five minutes was literally detrimental to his health. “Fiiine,” he finally responded, “but dyou gotta wear the nurse’s outfit.”

“I am not wearing your nurse outfit.”

“Awww, why not?”

“Because I still can’t believe you talked me into it the first time!”

“Bu I wasn even really sick that time!”

“Too bad. You used up your… Megsy nurse… privileges. Besides, the oven was laughing at me for months after that.”

“Oh, who cares what Henry thinks. Dude’s got an attidude problem.”

“Stop trying to make me wear dresses!”

“Poo, you’re no fud.”

“And yet you keep knocking on my door at four in the morning wanting to play hide and seek.”

Quackerjack blew a raspberry at him, the action causing another coughing fit. "Fdine, Mr. Boring." He paused for a moment. "Megs?"

“Yes, Quacky?”

“Watch cardoons wid me?”

Megavolt smiled at the request, pulling Quackerjack closer so he could snuggle into the sofa with him. “That I think I can handle.”

[planetpossum]

brunettes and band boys

ask and you shall receive @markired

based on this post.

--

He doesn't know how he spots her in the crowd of people, his fingers trembling with the beat of the drum, Nate's smooth, harsh voice washing over his ears, Mark's deft hands skirting over the lines. Jack can feel the music in his very being, thrumming through every part of him, and he thinks it must be fate, or a God he's not sure about when he glances up and sees a beautiful girl, front row, eyes alight, a beacon against a sea of unfamiliar.

It's their first gig, all things considered. But this is the first time they've ever been official, their names up in lights, announced in dulcet tones and with heightened screaming following. They've been to tons of bars and clubs, played for crowds down in restaurants and have hosted a private show from their studio for a couple of family members—but nothing quite this big. The music's almost all new, never heard before, but the way that girl's lips move to the rhythm, it's as if she knows every word Nate and Jack and Mark and Ethan spent hours coming up with, weaving into stories that only they know the meaning behind. Jack feels like it's some kind of magic.

He's never seen her before. Jack's gotten used to seeing familiar faces—old college friends, old high school acquaintances—distant cousins and ex-girlfriends. He's seen them all come and go, because they're a small, local thing. They don't mean much. But Jack takes pride in the beauty they've built around themselves, what they've given up for this dream that is just getting off the ground, and so Jack remembers the people who got them here, but she isn't one of them, but she's into it.

Jack swears she's looking right at him, and he offers her the largest, mouth splitting grin he can muster up as he slams to the beat, resonating in his chest as Nate belts out the last chords, his throat likely raw from all the singing he's done tonight. One day, they'll probably write some music for Mark to sing as well, but that's for another day, and right now, Nate's their man.

“Thank you all so much!” Nate drawls out, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt. Under the light, he must be boiling. Jack knows he is. “You've all been a wonderful audience. I can't tell you how much it means to all of us that you're supporting us. Hope you enjoyed the show!”

A roar erupts in answer, and that is the true music of this concert, Jack thinks. Hearing how what they've built elicits such an emotion. Even as they exit the stage, Jack can't help but glance back over his shoulder to see the girl, still standing there, watching them disappear behind the curtain with a soft smile on her lips.

~~

She's at the next concert too. She's two rows back this time, but he can see her brunette hair in the distance, lips upturned, face glimmering with that concert sheen, the humidity from the building wafting through the air.

Jack makes eye contact with her halfway through the show, and winks at her.

He knows she's watching when she winks back.

~~

The third concert, he's looking for her, and Mark makes fun of him.

“Looking for your girlfriend?” he teases, bumping shoulders with him. Jack shoves him back. “Lighten up, McLoughlin! I'm just teasing. Seriously, who are you looking for?”

“Nobody,” Jack insists, popping his knuckles. “Just like. Trying to burn off nervous energy. Doesn't get easier.”

“You're telling me,” Nate interrupts. “I'm over here thinking, what if I mess up a lyric? No one's gonna let me live it down. I'll be that guy.”

“You're that guy no matter what you do,” Ethan chips in, and the four of them share a good laugh at that.

Before long, the stage crew is motioning them on, the droll of the microphone introducing them. He takes his place next to his drums, happy to be back at them, and his eyes skirt over the crowd for the pretty brunette. He doesn't see her, and he ignores the stab in his heart that tastes suspiciously like disappointment.

They've played three songs when he looks up again, and he doesn't know how he sees her in the distance, but sure enough she's there, wearing a black pullover that looks a little too big but oddly endearing, and he's reinvigorated with the mojo necessary to carry him through the show.

Jack can't take his eyes off of her, so focused he nearly drops one of his drumsticks during the show, but manages to catch himself. He plays it off, but Ethan gives him a weird side eye, and Jack's just going to pretend it didn't happen.

Once the show's over, his brunette disappears back into the crowd, and Jack's herded out by the rest of his bandmates backstage, to where they're doing their first little meet-and-greet with a select group of people. Jack had forgotten, so had Mark, but Nate and Ethan are forever the two more responsible.

He's chatted with six people, taken a photo with eight, when Mark lets out a shriek of happiness. Jack turns, and he's pulling a blond girl into a hug.

“Amy!” he exclaims, nearly picking her up. “Oh my god, hey! I haven't seen you in years!”

Jack tries to wrack his memory for anyone named Amy, but his brain comes up short. Amy laughs, patting him with perfectly painted nails. “I know. I think it's really awesome that you pursued music. Engineering didn't go well, I take it?”

“I could've,” Mark insists. “I just didn't. But thanks for coming to our show. Did you like it?”

She nods. “I'll admit it wasn't my idea, though. I've only just rolled back into town, but my friend really wanted to come and see you guys. She really likes—where did she—Signe!”

Out from the small crowd gathered around them pops his pretty brunette.

Jack sucks in a breath, feeling a warmth under his collar, because wow, she's a lot prettier up close.

Amy puts an arm around her, gesturing. “I just wanted you to meet Signe. We worked together a the same graphic designing firm before I went freelance.”

“Nice to meet you!” Mark says, grinning, like the overenthusiastic puppy he is. “But Amy, now that you're back, you and me should go get dinner. We gotta catch up.”

“I'm spending some time with Signe while I'm here,” Amy says. “But if you don't mind her tagging along, I'm sure--”

“I'll come too,” Jack interrupts, before he can think properly about it. “Uh. I mean. Mark talks about you a lot, Amy. Just wanted to...get to know you. And, uh, I mean, I've seen Signe at a couple shows, so--”

“You think she's pretty and you want to talk to her,” Amy quips with a wry grin. Jack begins to stammer, but she laughs. “That'll be fine, yeah. If that's cool with you, Signe?”

Signe gives him a thoughtful look over, before nodding. “I'd like that.”

Jack gives her his dumbest toothy grin, and she winks as the two girls say their farewells so the other attendees can visit with them.

“Oh, you got it bad,” Mark comments as they leave, slamming him a little too hard on the back. “Bad for the pretty brunette.”

Jack rolls his eyes, but rubs the back of his neck anyway, determined not to give him the satisfaction of being right.

[endofadream]

fear not the ghosts

~4,500k

warnings for: depression, mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation, mentions of medication

“Couldn’t sleep.” Bucky’s voice is thick. When Steve turns he sees, in the dim light, that Bucky’s eyes are shining. His cheeks are damp. His next words are impossibly small: “I, um. I’m havin’ a real bad night, Stevie. Please don’t make me be alone.”

Dawn hasn't filtered in through the room yet when Steve is woken by a hand shaking his shoulder. Immediately he’s alert, sitting up and breathing hard, trained still from his years of service and even longer years of serving the Avengers. It’s an unshakable habit, this instinct, this fight-or-flight, and he doesn't relax until a small voice says “It’s just me.”

Steve lets his shoulders relax incrementally first, then lets his heart slow. Right. It’s just Bucky, they’re okay. There isn’t a crisis. It’s the middle of the night in their brownstone in D.C. and there are no monsters or aliens to fight. He says, “Buck? Whassa matter?” a little muzzy still as he wipes his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Bucky’s voice is thick. When Steve turns he sees, in the dim light, that Bucky’s eyes are shining. His cheeks are damp. His next words are impossibly small: “I, um. I’m havin’ a real bad night, Stevie. Please don’t make me be alone.”

Growing up, depression was the state of the economy, not the state of someone’s mind. It’s been difficult adjusting to that, to the fact that shell-shock is just an inaccurate term for PTSD, that people’s brains can be imbalanced. Steve knows that he hasn't been unaffected by it, thanks to Sam’s gentle urging that Steve’s nightmares and lethargy were not normal, but Bucky. Bucky is another story. Most of the time a bad night for him is a lot more than a few flashbacks.

“Oh, baby,” Steve murmurs, stomach sick to think what it could be now. Bucky looks so small, curled up in the blankets with his shoulders tucked in. Almost like he’s trying to keep the world out. Steve turns and reaches for him, pulling him close and pressing kisses to the top of his head, his temple, his cheek, breathing in his sleep-smell. “Baby. I got you, it’s okay.”

Bucky sniffles, burying his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, both his arms wrapping around Steve’s waist. The metal one is warm but still a little jarring as the fingers and joints whir faintly.

“I just…” Bucky mumbles, pressing closer until he’s nearly on Steve’s lap, the comforter tangled around both their legs. Steve runs his hands up and down the broad span of Bucky’s back, over and over, saying nothing. Waiting. Sometimes it takes awhile for Bucky to sort through his thoughts and give voice to them. Sometimes there aren’t words at all, just Bucky’s trembling body and wet tears.

Bucky takes a low, shuddering breath and says, “I can’t stop thinking about ‘em.” He doesn’t clarify, doesn't need to. “And about—about everything. And I just wanna die, Steve. I don’t deserve to be alive after what I did. Why am I alive when they’re not? I took their lives away. I shouldn’t be able to have this.”

Steve shakes off the stab of fear at the easy way Bucky can wish himself dead. He’s got his boilerplate answers, things like it’s not your fault and you’ll be okay, but Steve hates them almost as much as Bucky does. They’re empty, impersonal. Things that anyone can say. Hell, they’re things the therapists and psychiatrists have encouraged him to say as Bucky adjusts to life after HYDRA. But Steve wouldn't be Steve if he didn't rebel just a little bit. No one knows Bucky Barnes like he does.

“I’m right here,” Steve says, carding his fingers through Bucky’s long hair. “Feel my heart, breathe with me.”

“Used’ta do this to you, when you were small,” Bucky mumbles.

Steve laughs softly. “Yeah, pal. All the time. ‘Specially in the summer when the damn air wasn’t circulating.”

“And especially after…” And here Bucky trails off, words diminishing. Lost in a memory, Steve thinks. Wonders if it’s a good one this time. Bucky’s nose brushes the curve of Steve’s neck, right where he’s especially sensitive, and Steve can’t fight back the shiver, the way his arms tighten around Bucky. Bucky presses closer, trailing his nose up with purpose this time, then down. On the next path up he follows it with the wet point of his tongue, and this time Steve groans. This is familiar. This, it isn't hard to guess what memory Bucky is reliving.

“Stevie,” Bucky says, hot and a little low. He adjusts himself so that he’s straddling Steve’s lap, arms around his neck. “Stevie, I need you. I need you, please.”

Steve slides his hands up into Bucky’s hair, biting his lip as he begins to stir in his briefs at the slow rock of Bucky’s hips. “Honey,” he murmurs, trying to keep his voice level. “Are you—oh—sure?” He’s overly cautious when Bucky dips to a low point, but he would never forgive himself if they did something that Bucky would regret.

Bucky nods. “Yeah. I just. Help me forget, okay?”

He clutches to Steve the way that Steve remembers—with a pang—he used to do to Bucky when the pain and sickness became too much. That desperate grab for human contact, for anything.

“I’m gonna make you feel so much better, little angel,” Steve says into Bucky’s hair. He begins to run his hands along Bucky’s sides, curving around his hips before sliding back up. Feeling him up, getting him used to touches that go far beyond casual. “You okay with that, Buck?”

Through a tiny groan, Bucky replies, “Yeah.”

“What do you need?”

A few moments pass in silence, Bucky huffing in frustration as he says, “I don’t—I want—fuck,” he spits. Steve quiets him with a kiss and a gentle hush. He knows what Bucky wants, but the therapist is having Bucky work on verbalizing them; so far it’s been difficult, and most days are a step back rather than forward. But Steve’s always been soft on Bucky anyway. Buck used to say that Steve had the doe eyes, but Steve still swears he’s wrong, ‘cause there’s not a lot Steve won’t do when Bucky looks at him just right.

He thumbs at the waistband of Bucky’s underwear, deciding to give Bucky a pass tonight. He eases the elastic away from Bucky’s skin, feeling the indentations left. “Want me to fuck you, hmm?” he purrs. “Slide my hard cock in you and fill you up ’til you can’t think of nothin’ else?” His hand slides below, palming the curve of Bucky’s ass, then slipping between the warm divide of his cheeks. Bucky’s hips jerk forward at the first press of Steve’s fingers against his hole. Steve hums as he taps it, feels the wrinkled muscle twitch and go lax enough for him to work just the barest tip of his index finger in. He presses his nose to the curve of Bucky’s neck and groans, “Jesus, babe. Got me all ready to blow just from this.”

“Stevie,” Bucky whines, fingers tangled in Steve’s hair to direct him into a slick, lazy kiss, his tongue brushing against Steve’s, teeth sinking into his lower lip. When he rolls his hips forward there’s no answering hardness. Steve kisses Bucky gently back, broad sweeps of his tongue that make Bucky mewl, and gently turns him, rolling Bucky onto his back. Immediately Bucky is tugging Steve down to seal their mouths together when Steve’s hand slides down Bucky’s flat, quivering belly.

Bucky is still soft when Steve eases his fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers, and Steve takes a minute to cherish it, stroking his fingers along the silky skin of Bucky’s limp cock, the impossibly soft skin of his sac. This is, arguably, better than reaching in and finding Bucky wet and straining with his balls already drawn up tight.

It’s more intimate this way, being able hear every hitch of Bucky’s breath, every whimper; being able to feel him grow stiff, filling and elongating in his hand. Every involuntary movement, every inevitable bodily reaction. Steve’s always been the type of guy to love foreplay as much as the actual act itself, though Bucky’s impatience usually puts a stop to it pretty quick.

It isn’t an easy task anymore, largely due in part to Bucky’s medicine, but Steve is tenacious and patient. Beneath him Bucky is squirming, inhales catching, eyes squeezed shut on what could be pleasure or pain. Steve moves his hand lower to rub his knuckles over Bucky’s perineum, asking, “You okay, sweet thing?”

Bucky swallows first, throat bobbing as he runs his tongue over his lips. “Yeah,” he replies, a little hoarse, “yeah, I’m good. S'just a lot. It’s okay.”

“You’re sure?”

Bucky’s cheeks are tinged pink; he nods, opening his eyes and looking up at Steve. It nearly takes his breath away, the raw trust there. “I am,” Bucky says, lifting his flesh hand up to stroke down Steve’s cheek. “You know it just takes me awhile. Sometimes.” His flush deepens.

“Hey.” Steve bends, brushing his nose over Bucky’s, hand working over his cock slowly, steadily, trying to coax the blood to flow and pool. “I don’t mind it. You know that. I love it, in fact.”

The laugh Bucky gives in return is hollow. In the dim, distant light of the city illuminating their room Steve can see the angry tinge to Bucky’s cheeks. The tone in the room quickly shifts. “You love that your fella can’t get it up ‘cause he’s on three different kinds of medicine to keep him from killing himself and everyone around him?”

“No,” Steve says firmly, refusing to rise to the bait. “I love my fella ‘cause that’s exactly it: he’s my fella. My boyfriend, my lover." Steve feels his own breath taken away by those words. Wasn't a time too long ago that they were hiding because their type of love was illegal. And giving it a title like that? Forget it. Steve has to swallow back the swell of emotion to continue. "You're my damn partner in and off the field. No one else’s. You think I’m the type of guy to drop the love of his life just ‘cause gettin’ his dick hard ain’t as easy as it used to be?”

Bucky inhales deeply. “Steve—”

“I said the end of the line,” replies Steve, stubbornness an unrepentant fire inside him. He slides his hand out of Bucky’s underwear and rests it on the bed. “And the end of the line certainly ain’t over a little bedroom trouble.”

The fissures in Bucky’s face begin first as little quakes, the faint and mostly harmless brushing of tectonic plates against each other. As Steve twines his hand with Bucky’s right the ground opens up and Bucky is sobbing, pulling Steve down to him and burying his face in the crook of Steve’s neck.

“I got you,” Steve murmurs, smoothing back Bucky’s hair. The tears are warm against Steve's skin but cool quickly. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I hate this,” sobs Bucky, wet and muffled. “I hate you.”

“I know,” Steve says, kissing the top of Bucky’s head, clutching onto him tight. “I know you do, Buck. That's why I'm here.”

Bucky doesn’t grab onto Steve with his metal hand. He keeps it down at his side, fingers grabbing a handful of sheets. Slowly, carefully, Steve takes it by the metal wrist, directing it up and under his arm to join Bucky’s flesh hand where it clutches onto his shoulder blade. At first Bucky stiffens, hiccuping; then he relaxes, tugging Steve even closer.

“You’re not gonna hurt me.” Steve props his weight up on one forearm, pulling back enough to wipe at the tears on Bucky’s cheeks with his other hand. “Just hold onto me. Ain’t gonna let you go, not ever again.”

Bucky tugs Steve down and kisses him like the world will end if he doesn’t. It might: Steve doesn’t think he could handle the modern world without Bucky now that he’s back in it.

“Please,” Bucky says, their lips brushing together as he speaks.

“Okay if I take your shorts off?” Steve asks, searching Bucky’s face. It takes a moment, Bucky hesitating and eyes downcast, before he finally nods. He draws his lower lip between his teeth when he lifts his hips for Steve to tug his underwear past the curve of his ass. There’s so much that Steve wants to say. More than the moment has time for, more than he has the words for. Things like how beautiful Bucky looks, nude and reposed in their bed, the sheets a mess underneath him. How it doesn’t matter if he’s hard or not, because that isn’t what Steve is looking at: he’s looking at the shy flush on the tops of Bucky’s cheeks and the flutter of his lashes. How his knees are bent in towards each other, almost like he wants to cover himself but hasn’t. How nothing, not time, not a metal arm, not a body built for murder, could change that moony look in Bucky’s eyes.

“There you are,” Steve murmurs, gently easing Bucky’s legs apart to crawl in between them. “Mother of God, Buck. Every time I think you can’t get any more beautiful.” He starts with his fingertips on Bucky’s ankle, feeling out the strong tendons, the jutting bone. Slides it up, over hard muscle and scratchy-soft hair. Up, up, skin pimpled beneath him, impossibly soft. The sharp curve of a hip, the soft patch of dark, dense pubic hair, wiry coils slipping between Steve’s fingers. Beneath him Bucky sucks in a breath and holds it.

“Relax for me.” The breath is let out in a shuddering gust.  Steve twists and reaches into the nightstand for the lube, sliding the hand already on Bucky’s belly to his hip. “Don’t worry about anything. I got you. I’m gonna take care of you.” He finds the switch on the bedside lamp. “Is it okay if I turn on the light?”

Bucky nods. The cap pops on the lube. The light clicks on and suddenly the room is awash in a soft yellow glow. It highlights all the shadows on Bucky’s body, and there are a lot lately, dips between ribs that weren’t there during the war, puckers of scar tissue and marks from things that Steve doesn’t want to think about.

So he studies Bucky, appraising with an artist’s eye. This is a body—a man—he’s sketched countless times over their lives. It shows the mileage, but it’s never changed; that spot on Bucky’s belly never fails to get him shivering, and biting at the apex of his thigh almost always gets him to go off like a rocket if he’s close. Steve’s point is, though they’re older and a lot worse for wear there isn’t much difference between two scrappy Brooklyn boys who joined the war and the two haunted men who live here now.

Nudging Bucky’s legs a little more open, Steve slicks his fingers, then grips Bucky’s chin with his clean hand. “Hey,” says Steve, quiet, feels his breath punched out of him when Bucky’s gray eyes lock on him. They’re like time in a bottle, Steve swears. He clears his throat and says, “You feel uncomfortable, or overwhelmed, you tell me to stop. Got it?” Bucky nods and Steve kisses him, fingers still on Bucky’s chin, thumbing the dimple before pulling back.

Normally Steve would spend time working Bucky up to it, teasing until Bucky is begging and swearing. But Bucky is glass one crack away from shattering, every muscle tensed even as Steve rubs his hole with a slick finger and begins to press in. Against his thigh Bucky’s cock is still limp. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, turning white with the pressure.

“Focus on me,” Steve says, because he knows what Bucky is concentrating on. He slides his finger in to the last knuckle, swivels and curls it, and eases it back out before repeating. Bucky squirms, breathes “oh” in a surprised way that reminds Steve of the days before, when they were just two young kids fooling around on a single bed in a crappy apartment.

Bucky looks up. “Steve,” he says, a little strained.

“Just you and me, pal.” Steve slides his finger in, out. In, out. The sucking pull of muscle, the way Bucky quivers every time. Steve is aching in his shorts, the soaked fabric dragging over the swollen head of his cock. “No one but me and my gorgeous fella.”

Breathing out shakily, Bucky drops his head to the pillow and groans, “Christ.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Steve says, covering his index finger with his middle and easing them in. Jesus, Bucky’s tight. He keeps clenching, pushing Steve’s fingers out before dragging them back in. Steve doesn’t miss how Bucky looks hungrily down at it. “Second coming of Christ right in front of me. Lookin’ like sin I’d follow to hell and back.”

“Now you’re just—oh, god—runnin’ your dumb trap.” Bucky turns his head and buries his face in the crook of his flesh arm. His breathing is picking up, growing slightly shallower as he adjusts to the stretch, goes soft and yielding around Steve’s fingers. Steve’s gotta squeeze the base of his dick as Bucky’s hips begin to rise instinctively towards the rolling pressure inside him, otherwise he’ll shoot off right here and now.

Steve bends and coxes Bucky into a soft, warm kiss. “Didn’t hear you complaining before,” he teases, rubbing his knuckle over Bucky’s perineum and getting a low, wounded whine out of it. “Thought you liked me using my mouth.”

At this Bucky’s dick gives a half-hearted twitch, though it makes no real attempt to rise. Steve counts it as a victory anyway, grinning and pausing to slick up again before sliding in three fingers. Bucky sucks in a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut, and Steve kisses his metal shoulder, murmurs, “Shh, shh, you’re doing great, babydoll. So great.”

“Steve,” says Bucky. Then again, “Steve,” like it’s all he knows how to say. He’s looking up with his eyes all wide, all blown-black blue. They’re a little glossy, tears pooling at his waterline; when he blinks one spills down his temple, disappearing into the spread of his brown hair on the pillow.

Steve strokes his fingers over that spot inside and Bucky gasps, back arching up off the bed. Again, his cock twitches but doesn’t begin to chub up. Steve scoots back and rubs his thumb over the stretch of Bucky’s hole, feels how it gives, goes a little looser like it’ll take his thumb in, too.

“You ready, baby?” Steve slides out at Bucky’s nod and startles a little when Bucky sits up enough to grab his wrist.

“Don’t get a rubber,” he quietly says.

Steve swallows hard. They’d only ever done it bare a couple times before and loved it, but didn't love the mess. It’s the first time since Bucky’s been back that he’s asked for it. Suddenly Steve’s throat closes up and he has to take a couple deep breaths before he can say, “I won’t, Buck. Whatever you need, okay?”

Bucky’s eyes are still huge and glossy and trusting as Steve slicks himself up, tugging his shorts off and throwing them somewhere off the side of the bed. Bucky spreads his legs before Steve can ask, tops of his cheeks still flushed as he hides his face in the crook of his flesh arm again.

Steve grips Bucky’s thighs, stroking their soft insides. “If you need me to stop, tell me. Promise?”

A nod.

Steadying his cock with one hand Steve lines up and begins pressing in, feeling gut-punched at the first hint of a squeeze around the head of his cock. Bucky tenses at first, body going rigid, and as Steve’s about to ask he finally relaxes, exhaling softly.

“Oh,” Steve breathes, trembling all over as he watches himself sink into Bucky’s body. “Oh, god, baby. Baby, fuck, look at you. Best goddamn thing I ever laid my eyes on, you know that?” He drops one arm to the bed and urges Bucky to wrap his legs around his hips. Bucky lets out a little noise and does, hands moving to grip at the sheets. He's begun rocking his hips, urging Steve in deeper, and Steve wonders if it’s unconscious or not.

When Steve bottoms out Bucky lets out an actual hoarse moan, dragging the sheets in towards his hip. Pressing their foreheads together Steve pants into the humid space between them. “You feel so good, Buck. So fuckin’ good, so tight and hot and wet around me. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. How could you ever think I wouldn’t want you? That I wouldn't want this?” He kisses Bucky deep and ravaging, nipping at his lower lip as Bucky moans again, shuddering. Reaches between them, wraps a palm around Bucky’s cock and feels it twitch again, finally firming up in his grip. “Oh, yeah. There you go, beautiful. There’s that  You’re the best goddamn thing to ever happen to me. You’re so gorgeous, baby. Prettiest fella I ever laid my eyes on. Only one I ever wanted.”

“Steve,” Bucky whines, voice thick. His flesh hand finally untangles from the sheets and tangles in Steve’s hair instead. His mouth is open, pink tongue wetting his lips when he pants. Back and forth his eyes dart across Steve's face.

Steve starts moving in slow, shallow thrusts that draw tiny mewling whines from Bucky. He works Bucky’s cock at the same pace though it doesn’t grow much harder, peppers each thrust with gentle encouragement before letting go to prop himself up with both hands. Bucky’s eyes grow wet again, shining in the low lamplight. He doesn’t look away from Steve, keeps their eyes locked when Steve’s thrusts grow harder, faster.

“Focus on me,” breathes Steve, unnecessary. Bodies undulating, the faint creak of springs is the only noise besides their labored breathing. It’s raw, more intimate than any sexual encounter Steve has ever had before. With one hand he cups Bucky’s jaw, sliding it back to thread his fingers through Bucky’s hair. Bucky’s heels on his lower back urge him down until he’s on his elbows and Bucky’s semi-hard cock is rubbing against his stomach. With this angle his thrusts grow deeper, dragging over that spot inside Bucky that still, even now, makes him moan.

“Stevie,” Bucky says, metal arm finally going around the back of Steve’s neck. His body quakes as he begins to cry again, flesh fingers twining more tightly into Steve’s hair.

Steve buries his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck and fucks forward hard once, twice. “I love you,” he groans, biting at the curve of Bucky’s shoulder. “Christ, I love you so fucking much. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He’s close, the warmth building in his belly. Bucky’s clutching at the back of Steve’s neck now, chest shaking with his hitching breaths. Steve struggles back up, kissing the salt from Bucky’s lips. They part just enough to breathe, just enough to remain in their own world. Steve remembers the first time they ever got further than fingers and it felt a lot like this.

Steve thrusts forward, their skin smacking mutedly together, and groans, “I’m gonna come, oh god—”

“On me,” Bucky urges, voice wet. “Come on me.”

Steve pulls out, stripping his cock a handful of times before he doubles over with a gasping moan. The liquid heat rushes up, expands, whites him out in a rush of pleasure as he spills over his fingers and onto Bucky’s belly and half-hard cock, his entire body shaking with it long after his cock has finished drooling come. As higher thought is still coalescing Bucky pulls him down and kisses at his neck, his shoulders, running palms both metal and skin over Steve’s broad, slick chest.

Before Steve has opened his eyes Bucky says, “I don’t think I can tonight.” When Steve looks down he sees that Bucky’s already flagged. The come wet and slick on it makes it look like he has anyway, and his smile is tight and a little rueful.

“Oh, Buck,” Steve starts, but Bucky shakes his head, rubbing the heel of his flesh palm over his damp eyes.

“I don’t care,” Bucky says. Steve knows that’s mostly a lie.

For a few long moments it’s quiet; then Bucky is saying, “Tonight was the first time in awhile that I really wanted to kill myself. Like…just go into the bathroom or something, lock the door and slit my wrist. I tried it once, back before they froze me for the first time. It hurts, but it ain’t the worst hurt I ever experienced.”

A slither of fear and dread crawls up into Steve’s heart, freezing it. Bucky looks down at the come drying on his belly. “And I almost did it again tonight. I laid there for a few hours, debating. Thinking, what do I got to lose? I’m nothing.”

Steve keeps his mouth shut, but it isn't easy. His throat is cramping from the lump wedged deep in there. Bucky goes through cycles, so it isn't anything new. But Steve can’t stop remembering how Bucky was when he first got here, how he’d hurt himself with anything he could get his hands on. The way he’d scream during nightmares or when they pried a knife away from him. They’re experiences that won’t ever go away, no matter how much Steve wants them to.

“And then,” Bucky says, looking up through red-tinged eyes, “I remembered that I had you. That you were sleeping next to me. And you loved me as much as I love you. As soon as you opened your eyes I knew I’d be okay, at least for now. ‘Cause even when we had nothin’—”

“—I had you,” Steve finishes, voice cracking. He’d said the same thing about Bucky once before. Bucky gives him a crooked smile, one of those ones that used to make Steve weak at the knees—and still does, honestly. That smile chases away the ghosts and lines and haunted shadows and makes Bucky look like he stepped straight out of 1944.

“Yeah, Stevie,” says Bucky. “I can’t leave your punk ass behind again because you’ll probably go and try to enlist for another war.”

Steve laughs, a guffaw that surprises him. One tear slides down his face and then he’s pulling Bucky towards him, framing his face and kissing him. They part with a wet noise and breathe together. Just them against the world, it feels like.

Rubbing his nose against Steve’s, Bucky whispers, “I love you. Jesus, I didn’t know a person was capable of loving someone this much.”

“Me too, Buck.” Steve squeezes him tighter. Fast-forwards to morning, when he’ll fix breakfast and Bucky will make coffee. Both only in their underwear, Steve’s heart humming with the simple domesticity of it all, and it’ll happen, Steve will finally ask—

But for now. Now, Steve gets a warm, damp washcloth and wipes down Bucky’s belly. Kisses his cheekbones where the last of the tears remain; then his lips, because Bucky pouts so adorably. They get under the covers again, curled around each other, and Steve’s grateful for Bucky’s warm breath, the steady beat of his heart, the hand dropped low on Steve’s waist.

He doesn’t drift off until long after Bucky’s breath has evened out.

[ddproductionsw77]

Still That Girl

Fandom: Girl Meets World

Pairing(s): Riarkle (Main), Charlie x Riley (Technically, not a glamorous potrayal), Smarkle (Past, hinted)

Characters: (Main) Riley Matthews and Farkle Minkus, (Mentioned) Maya Hart, Lucas Friar, Zay Babineaux, Isadora Smackle, Cory Matthews, Topanga Lawerence-Matthews, Auggie Matthews, and Charlie Gardner.

Rating: T

Warnings: Depression, Abusive/Unhealthy/Controlling Domestic Relationship, Underaged Drinking

Prompt from lucasfriarfan: Riley messed up. Big time, and this time, even Farkle can’t quite bring himself to forgive her. He won’t stand by and watch the girl he loves burn herself away, so after graduation, he decides to leave New York to protect his own heart. Riley, not realizing quite how much she felt for the boy, is devastated. She falls even further, dating Charlie, who has become someone no one would even want to know, and cutting herself off from those who love her most.

Charlie is controlling and Riley knows it’s wrong but he’s about all she has left so she can’t just walk away, right? So her family and friends watch as she continuously gives into her boyfriend’s demands and take note of how she never smiles anymore. Well, Maya Hart has had enough. She needs Riley Matthews back and she knows just the boy for the job… But is Riley even still that girl anymore? Can she ever be her again?

Author’s Note: Again, a lot in the prompt so I just worked off of that instead of writing it all.

I’m holding a picture from seven years back. I’m smiling as the memory, it’s smiling right back at me And I see brown hair and bright eyes… A heart full of laughter with nothing to lose, That’s how I remember you…

It had been a long time since Riley had stood in her own bedroom.

Months, maybe? She’d lost track of time, honestly, and had stopped caring even before that.

Dust had collected on the desk against the wall where she’d always done her homework. The bed was made with the same bedspread she’d straighten every morning before leaving for school for four years. The curtains of the bay window were drawn, casting the whole room into a darkness that didn't quite fit all of the memories she had there.

If she closed her eyes and strained her ears, maybe she could even trick herself into believing it was a year ago. Maybe she could go back, for just a moment, and do things differently. Maybe she could be something different, someone different.

But Riley didn’t close her eyes.

She didn’t play pretend, not anymore.

Running her nervous hands down the thighs of her jeans, she took another step into the old bedroom. The empty space where her friendship ring had been for so long still felt naked and sensitive from being uncovered. A flash of something hot and angry blossomed in her chest before stomping itself out.

Charlie didn’t like the ring. Riley didn’t wear the ring.

That was how it was now.

Tucking a long lock of straightened brown hair — Charlie didn’t like her natural curls — behind her ear, Riley ran a finger over one of the photos on her bedside table. The dust collected on the pad of her skin and she took a second to clean the glass with the pillow case closest to her.

It was an old photograph. Freshman year.

Her friends were all in a line, grins on all of their faces and arms wrapped around each other. Zay and Maya were laughing together, leaning on each other as if their knees were about to give out. Lucas was on Maya’s other side, chuckling at the pair. On the farthest right, Smackle was bent over with a rare smile on her pretty face, looking down the line. Her hand was linked with Farkle’s.

Farkle, who was holding Smackle’s hand but wrapped up in the girl at his other side, as always. A younger, softer, kinder Riley Matthews. A girl with bright eyes and a glowing smiling who had a boy with adoring eyes pressing his smiling lips to her temple.

Damn, she really had been blind back then, not to notice.

Maybe if she’d noticed things would have been different.

Setting the photo back down, she sighed and moved back towards the door.

She didn’t even know why’d she’d come back home. If Charlie knew, he wouldn’t be happy. She’d just felt drawn the old bay window and soft sheets of her childhood.

It's been so long since she’d felt anything, she’d decided to follow the instinct. Why not, right?

Riley still had the key to the apartment on her ring. She knew her parents would be at work, Auggie at school. They’d never even know she’d come back. No harm done… no more harm, anyway.

Riley could live with that. She was finding over time that she could live with a lot.

Stepping out of the bedroom, Riley closed the door softly behind her. Her back pressed against the wood, something strong and heavy grounding her feet to the boards under her worn sneakers.

Looking down the hallway, she knew she should be moving. Charlie would be home soon, at her new, real home. If she was gone when that happened…

Besides, her family wouldn’t want her here anymore anyways. Not after everything she’d done and definitely not when she’d been the one to push them away.

Still…

She didn’t want to leave.

A floorboard creaked and her head shot back up, heart jumping to her throat. Breath catching in her throat, she stared wide-eyed at the person now standing at the end of the hall. It felt like forever, it felt like a fraction of a second, but finally, she found her voice.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Farkle answered, stepping closer to her with his hands tucked into his pockets.

“I liv- I used to live here. Last I checked, you didn’t even live in this state anymore, let alone have a key to my family’s apartment.” Riley retorted, one hand still tightly gripping the doorknob of her childhood bedroom.

Something deep and desperate in her soul did not want Farkle to see the her of now side-by-side with the her in that photograph on the bedside table. She didn’t want to see his face with he compared the lifelessness of her once curly hair or when he realized there was no twinkle in her eye now.

Riley might not feel much these days, but she still didn’t want to risk it.

Farkle licked his lips, glancing to the side. Riley took note that he still hadn’t looked her in the eyes. Maybe he couldn’t? Like her, maybe he was too afraid of what he’d find. What he wouldn’t find.

“Maya called me.”

Maya had had his number? For how long? Not that it mattered to Riley because it didn’t.

It couldn’t…

But still Maya wouldn’t have kept that from her, would she have?

Farkle cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, “She said you weren’t doing too well.”

“I’m fine.” A programmed response, the response everyone expected. The one they all really wanted, right?

“Are you?” He pressed, his voice filled with a genuine concern that rocked Riley to her core.

Because, out of everyone she’d hurt and tossed aside, he was the one who should hate her the most. He should want her to suffer, he knew how much she deserved it. Yet, there he was, really just asking if she was okay.

Riley snorted, “Thank you for the concern, Farkle, really. It’s undeserved, but thanks.”

The young man sighed and ran a hand down his face, “Riley, if this is about what happened-“

“Of course it’s not about-“

“-I forgive you. It’s in the past.”

Riley stopped, looking up into his eyes and noticing he had been slowly approaching her the whole time. Now, their gazes met, all electric blue and chocolate brown.

He… forgave her?

But… how?

How could he forgive her when she couldn’t even forgive herself?

Suddenly, sickeningly, Riley was swept back to that night, over a year ago, when she’d burned him and their friendship to the ground with a smile on her face and a giggle on her lips.

Then your life took a turn, And you fell, And it hurt…

Long Island Iced Tea was all Riley Matthews would drink for the rest of her life, she swore to God. They tasted like sugar, liquor, and something delightfully sinful and she was hooked.

Laughing at the lights dancing across the ceiling, Riley moved to the music pounding through the room. She didn’t even care that some random guy was trying to grab her ass. That was high school, right? Being a teenager? Having fun?

She never had fun anymore.

Always Daddy’s Girl, Maya’s Good Influence, Lucas’ Perfect Princess, Farkle’s Sunshine.

Well, not tonight.

That Riley was gone for now and the one who’d taken her place was feeling a little drunk and a little dangerous and a lot more fun than ever before. A tongue that burned her lips pushed its way into her mouth and she let herself think it was because of raw chemistry and not because the dude had just taken his sixth shot. Damn, it felt good to not care.

“Riley! Come on, let’s just go!”

Farkle’s voice called over the music and just barely touched her brain. She knew she should push the random guy away and listen to her friend but that definitely didn’t sound as fun as staying right where she was.

“Get off her, man!” Suddenly the boy who’d been pushing her into the wall was gone and Farkle was grasping her wrist, pulling her away.

Her buzz, her precious buzz, was wearing with each step and anger flared in her chest as she yanked her arm back, “What the hell, Farkle?”

“Oh, come on, Riley! That guy doesn’t even know your name, let alone care about you!” Farkle threw his hands up.

“He doesn’t have to! That’s the point! I don’t want him to care!” Riley argued, stumbling a little as she tried to turn back towards the party.

Farkle stepped in front of her, eyebrows were drawn, “You don’t want to be with someone who cares?”

“I don’t want to be with someone I’m always having to spare.” She snapped, glaring.

Farkle rolled his eyes, “That’s a little self-centered.”

“You say that like you’re not who I’m talking about.” She whipped back, her words hitting him like a physical blow. Farkle went pale and seemed to stop breathing.

“Wh-what are you-? I don’t-“

“Everyone knows, Farkle!” Riley rolled her eyes, pushing at his shoulder. “Everyone tells me that I should just tell you it’s never gonna happen. Stop leading you on. Well, here goes.”

She rested a hand on each of his shoulders and narrowed her eyes on his wide-eyed, shocked ones. He was looking at her like someone might look at a loaded gun with the power to kill. Maybe she was that lethal.

Leveling their gazes, Riley slurred, “It’s never going to happen, Farkle. I’m never going to be the girl for you, mmkay? So let’s both just move on, hmm?”

Farkle’s lips pursed and his gaze dropped to the ground. Maybe she was so drunk she was seeing things, but it kind of looked like his eyes were watering…

He nodded frantically, wordlessly.

“So you’re gonna leave it alone now?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow. “You’ll leave me alone?”

He nodded more and swallowed, looking somewhere over her shoulder. Huh, his eyes were watering. “Yeah, I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t know you-“

“Knew? Yeah, well, I do.” She dropped her hands from his shoulders, clapping them together drunkenly. “Now, I’m going back to the party. You- you should just go home.”

Again with the mindless, numb nodding.

Oh well, who cared? Not her, not tonight.

Riley skipped back off to her random waiting boy and left Farkle behind.

But your story’s not over, It’s still being told, Your sunrise is coming…

Everything had changed after that night.

Farkle couldn’t even look at her. Maya was the angriest with her she’d ever been for hurting their shared best friend. Lucas had even told her that he ‘expected more from her’.

Well, that was the problem, wasn’t it? So many damn expectations.

Charlie hadn’t expected anything, though.

Things were so easy with Charlie at the start when everyone else had stopped talking to her. He didn’t give a shit about what she did. She didn’t learn until later that he didn’t really give a shit about any of her, but at that time it had been attractive.

He was a warm body, a non-judgmental face.

After graduation, when Farkle packed his bags and ran off to Princeton, when Maya flew to Rhode Island, and Lucas to vet school in Texas, Charlie stayed right there. He wasn't much and what he was wasn’t good, but he was something.

And she was weak so she thought something might just be better than nothing.

Coming back to the hallway, now a year older, Riley looked back at her bedroom door, “You shouldn’t.”

“You’re probably right.” Farkle nodded. “But I love you. I have since the first grade and I always will. You’re Riley Matthews.”

“No, I’m not.” She shook her head, echoing his own movements from that night so long ago, “That girl is gone. I can’t be her anymore.”

“Why not? Riley, you're the one who always believed she could be anything, the princess of her middle school class, the first woman on Mars.” Slowly, hesitantly, Farkle reached out and brushed the skin of her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “I miss that girl.”

She watched the goosebumps rise and once again acknowledged the inevitability of her body’s reaction to Farkle Minkus. Odd how even after so long apart her cells still responded to his with such natural ease. She barely even noticed when Charlie touched her but Farkle set her aflame.

Maybe she'd been wrong — of course, she was wrong. Maybe she’d been in love with him back on the night of that party. Maybe she still was. Too afraid then, too afraid now… For everything that had changed, that hadn’t.

“I miss her, too.”

Her vision blurred and she felt a joint of surprise when a tear rolled down her cheek as she blinked. It's been so long since she'd felt enough to cry. Honestly, she’d begun to believe she was now just too numb to produce the tears.

“So, work your way back. Riley, you’re still that girl, the one who could change the world. Maybe you’re a little off course right now but that doesn’t mean you can never find your way back.” He said, gently.

Riley closed her eyes, relishing the words she’d imagined him saying a million times. She wanted to believe it, wanted to trust that newborn flicker in her chest, fall into his reassurance and certainty.

But it was too late for her. Too late for him. For them.

So, when Riley opened her eyes, she forced herself to step back. The distance was for the best, for his own protection. Everything she touched, she broke.

She’d already left him battered and bruised once.

She wouldn’t do it again.

Without another word, she slowly shook her head and pushed past him. Escaping the apartment, she made her way back across town to Charlie and their shithole studio with no bay window. Again, she left Farkle behind.

But that was really for the best, wasn’t it?

But you’re still that girl.

- Still That Girl, Britt Nicole

I purposely left this prompt open-ended... you get to choose your own adventure here, I guess. Maybe Riley comes back? Maybe Farkle chases her? Maybe things end happy? Or maybe they don’t... you get to choose.

[claudecat17]

Orioles Game 29: The Weather Piles On, O's Still Win

I'm gonna do this one a little differently. Rather than develop a theme and form paragraphs that build on said theme logically (as if I ever do that), I'll just summarize things first, then list some things of interest (to me anyway) that happened along the way to this latest O's victory over various things in addition to the opposing squad.

This time it was the weather. I've become pretty attentive to weather.com lately during home stands, and nowhere in the forecast for this night was there anything greater than a 10% chance of rain. Naturally it rained steadily from around 4pm to around 8pm. Not heavily. Just enough to make everything barely wet enough to matter, and enough to delay the game by 45 minutes. In other words, mother nature herself has begun to conspire with everything mentioned yesterday to make things difficult for the O's.

Look, this whole "the universe is against us!" thing is largely for comedic purposes, obviously. But I'll be dadgummed (an actual word!) if it isn't beginning to really feel like this is becoming a thing. Every time the O's go on the road? Beautiful sunny days. They come home? It's gloomy dankness. The Boston/MLB/ump/media crapola. The injuries. As a cynic this all makes hay with several carefully honed sensors in what's left of my brain. It's beginning to get ridiculously real-feeling.

But anyway... this was a real fun game experience, for everyone. Dugout Club game, so lots and lots of families, more of them nice and better behaved than usual, perhaps thanks to the rain filtering out the non-enthusiastic for baseball. I had several families in my area that stayed until the very end, as any real baseball fan should for a game like this one was. I always try to talk about this with said families, saying things like "You folks are true baseball fans! We love people like you!", which always gets smiles and hopefully gets some return visits even on non-Dugout Club dates. The kid smiles are the best. Even better is when they start asking you questions about players or other real baseball things. You hope to help turn a few youngsters into lifelong fans of the game. Felt like maybe I did tonight.

The game itself? Fun stuff, though as always an early cushion turned out to be paper thin by the end. No lead is safe, the universe is out to get us, etc. But Bundy was good enough, the rest of what was available to pitch did well enough (barely in Givens' case) to seal it, and there were some fun offensive and defensive moments. Enough of everything baseball is at its best to keep even marginal fans engaged, perhaps get 'em over the hump into obsessed fandom. Dongs and bullpen, defense and starting pitching. What's not to love?

Random notes:

- Throughout the game there were people carrying armfuls of either coffee or hot chocolate back to their seats. That and cotton candy. Which got me to thinking: why are the only vendors patrolling the upper deck on a Dugout night the beer/peanut guys? It's not like there haven't been guys and gals hawking these more kid-friendly (and on this night highly in demand) items before. What gives? So I asked Eyon, a nice young vendor dude, what's up with nobody selling the stuff they could be making a fortune on? He gave me some crap about how the DMC folks sell the beer/peanuts, while it's others that do the rest. I dunno... not sure I'm buying that. Bottom line? There was a ton of cash/convenience to fans left on the table tonight. That oughta be fixed...

- The tune they used for the Kiss-Cam tonight was the Ray Charles version of "Night Time Is The Right Time", and it sounded so great to hear such a high quality piece of music played through so many speakers. The original, incidentally, was done by one Nappy Brown a year or so earlier than Ray's hit, but you knew that. This was also yet another “YMCA“-less night. Yay!

- Perhaps some of you are aware of this usher from the old days called Charlie Zill. The "Zillbilly" was famous for bringing a fiddle in and pretending to play it during "Country Boy", and just generally making fans feel good in every possible way. He's the guy they point to via video during our training sessions (and whose name is on a few places we all walk through but fans never see) as a reminder to put fan fun first and all that. Well, I'm on the elevator up after lunch and I happen to ask a fan how her night's going. "Oh, this is the best night I've had at the yard since my uncle died!", which struck me as a bit odd, until she told me that her uncle was Charlie Zill! This was the first time she'd been back to the yard since his memorial game way back when, and she was having an amazing time! That made my night right there...

- No George Bush girl tonight. She called out, and my dreadlocked colleague/section-mate was back, so that was awesome. I don't think she realizes how annoying she is to almost everyone. Even Allison's mom can't stand her, and she loves everyone. Plus, she brought brownies tonight! Yay!

- Speaking of food, I resisted the jumbo hot dogs, despite a few weak moments, in favor of a Jimmy John's #10. It worked well. I feel lots better as I type this at 12:50am after having just now gotten home and showered. Have to be there extra early tomorrow too because of Little League Parade Day, which is really not all that exciting. One time I had to help herd the kids, which was OK for a while, until my hand became raw from too many high fives. Gonna have to sleep fast, soon.

That's all I can come up with. A fantastic night, as are most, especially when the O's win. I'll conclude with just a bit more angst however, by noting that the Yankees have not had to face a good Cubs pitcher yet, though they'll get Lester tomorrow. Grrr... Someday they'll lose again.

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