#heavy metal festival AU

[poppet-seed]

Festival sun, moon and eclipse,,,

And of course poppy in place of y/n

I attended a festival over the weekend and doodled the boys also attending

Had a blast!!

Hopefully these doodles are okay 💚

[espace--positif]

Avowal // a Sylus x f!Reader medieval AU fic

Summary: King Sylus never tires of watching his most loyal knight fight. That is, until he tires of just watching and decides to test himself against your blade. WC: ~2.4k Content tags: Medieval AU, King!Sylus, F!Knight!Reader, swordfighting/sparring, sexual tension, praise, mild sub/dom themes

Read on AO3 // Masterlist

King Sylus never tires of watching you fight.

The sounds of metal clashing against metal stir the audience that fills the tournament grounds to the brim, cheers and roars traveling through the stands as heated battle unfolds before them. From the vantage point granted to him by the shaded royal box, Sylus calmly watches as you avoid your enemy’s relentless blows, sometimes redirecting and sometimes dodging, all the while being slowly but surely pushed to the edge of the arena. His guest of honor, the rambunctious monarch of one of the few remaining independent kingdoms in the Grasslands, sits besides him and punctuates the exchange of blows with unprompted commentary. Praises of the hulking knight who relentlessly advances on you fall on Sylus’s deaf ears, your distant form the only target of his attention.

It is the third day of tournaments held to inaugurate negotiations with said monarch, negotiations which Sylus has no doubt will end in his favor. And so the tournaments and festivities are nothing more than a formality. That, and a wondrous excuse to send you forth to joust in his name, to joyously watch you obliterate would-be champions.

The loudmouthed monarch applauds and cheers as his chosen knight applies more pressure on you. Your opponent is large, almost twice your size, and the greatsword he brandishes with heavy arms would certainly be cause for concern for any knight lesser than you. But Sylus does not worry, for he’s seen you dance this dance countless times before. Before long, your back is nearly touching the edge of the railing that delineates the arena. The rambunctious monarch whoops, and Sylus watches in silent anticipation. The presence of his not-so-honored guest is easily forgotten as he tunes out the monarch’s raucous cheers, focused only on you.

This is his favorite part.

In a swift motion, you pivot on one foot and duck under your opponent, swiftly avoiding what would have been a decisive strike. Off-balance and off-guard, the man fails to compensate for your movement in time, and you’re behind him before he can react. Your swift arms carry your sword into your opponent’s ribs in a powerful strike, and you follow through with a fervor that draws a contented hum from Sylus’s lips. The man comes crashing down in a heap of plate and mail, breaking through the fencing, and the crowd gasps, some letting out pained hisses at the sight of the dent you’ve left in his thick armor.

As expected, the giant’s raw power was no match for your calculated dominance of the field, each movement of your beautiful dance a deliberate choice made to move your opponent exactly where you wanted him, when you wanted him. All the while leading him to believe he had the upper hand.

Sylus doesn’t just love to watch you fight, he’s exhilarated by it.

“I don’t believe it!” bellows his guest, wine spilling on silk robes as he thrashes about in disbelief.

“I warned you not to underestimate her,” Sylus replies with a smirk that’s equal parts smugness and pride.

You sheathe your sword as you effortlessly stride to face the royal box while your large opponent clambers up and unceremoniously waddles behind you, struggling to catch up. You both offer deep bows at the box — your opponent’s gesture tainted with shame as he nurses his likely bruised rib, and yours brimming with tension.

Yet another part of you he never tires of glimpsing.

As captain of his personal guard, you are his most trusted knight. You’ve fought for him for as long as he cares to remember, representing his kingdom, defending his life, slaying dozens and injuring hundreds in his name. Each time, after the deed is done, you inevitably look to him, your tender eyes measuring his reaction, awaiting his approval. And each time, he gives it to you. How can he not, when you look so beautiful, draped in the scarlet colors of his kingdom, in his colors? When the lamellar feathers that line your gauntlets and greaves strike fear in all who would oppose you, for they know you would cut them down at the snap of his finger? When the crest of the crow on your breast, golds and reds and blacks shining brightly under warm sunlight, serves as a daily reminder of how deeply beholden you are to him?

Today, a playfulness in him, no doubt engendered by the swelling pride he feels at your victory, tempts him to delay this little ritual of yours. He simply settles deeper into his seat, long legs sprawled out, and rests his chin onto his palm as you raise your head. Even from beneath the visor of your helm, he can sense your nervous impatience. The crowd roars for you, but you pay them no mind. You remove your helm with urgency, beaded braids falling freely down your shoulders, sunkissed skin glistening under the warm daylight, and he finally meets your gaze. It’s filled with anticipation and loyalty and eagerness and adoration, and that’s all it takes to draw an inevitable smile from his lips. He nods, offering slow, tender claps that are just for you. Relief fills your eyes, and you return a subdued smile, beaming with a light that only he can see.

—

The ceremonies have come to a close, and you’ve finally been relieved of your post after diligently standing guard beside the king well into the late evening, never leaving his side throughout the festivities and beginnings of negotiations — just as he personally requested of you. Even when your relief arrived in the form of the night garrison, you looked at Sylus for quiet confirmation, and he gave you the slightest nod as he continued his conversation.

You now busy yourself with your favored method of decompression after tournament days such as these. Tucked within the confines of the makeshift armory — a spacious tent where your settlement’s arms are laid out — you inspect weapons, sharpen blades, and polish pommels, surrounded by nothing but quietude, steel, and dim torchlight.

The sound of the tent’s flap shuffling pulls you from the task of buffing out a chip in the blade of a longsword, and you’re greeted by none other than King Sylus himself, the last person you expected to walk into your little patch of solitude.

“There you are,” he says in that low voice of his that always settles pleasantly in your chest.

You immediately straighten, planting the tip of the sword you’ve been working on into the ground with both hands.

“Your Majesty,” you say, offering a small but courteous bow.

“You fought beautifully today,” he says with a warm smile as you raise your head. A flush creeps up your cheeks, and you hope that it is too dark for him to see it.

“Thank you, Sire.”

Sylus absently toys with one of the swords you’ve just finished maintenance on, running the edge of his thumb across the sharp blade.

“I would spar with you myself,” he says suddenly.

“I’m certain you would make a formidable opponent.”

“Then let us find out.”

You freeze. “Now?”

“Now.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have suitable armor for you to wear here,” you reply, looking around. You know your armory well, and you’re certain that none of the standard armor will fit his tall, muscular form. “Perhaps—”

“I’ve no need for armor.”

“Sire, I couldn’t possibly fight you without adequate protection. It’s too dangerous.” You stare incredulously at his bare chest — he wears nothing but what is perhaps the least protective belted leather sash you’ve ever seen and fine leather trousers, leaving him less than battle-ready. For a king, he’s never been one for gaudy robes nor ostentatious armor, leaving very little to the imagination as he flaunts a chiseled chest and firm arms that could’ve been sculpted by the gods themselves.

“And if I ordered you to?�� He cocks an eyebrow, and you realize your eyes are still lingering on his chest, torchlight dancing on the soft curves and hard edges of his muscles. You make no effort to look away.

“If you ordered me to, then I would of course oblige,” you smirk, emboldened by the intimacy of the setting and by the smile that already adorns Sylus’s face. “I suppose it’s a good thing you haven’t done that yet.”

It’s hardly the first time he’s loosened up when alone in your presence, and you like to think that he can be more than the indomitable king, more than the unyielding conqueror, more… himself, whenever he's away from the prying eyes of the kingdom. So you indulge and let him indulge in the playful informality that has become commonplace between you on such occasions.

He hums in mock contemplation. “Then I’m ordering you to.”

You study his face, trying to discern how serious he is. When his curved lips settle into a line and his eyes narrow at your lack of response, you breathe out a small sigh that you hope he doesn’t notice and acquiesce. “At once, then.”

You toss the polishing cloth aside and Sylus assumes a relaxed position a few feet away from you, sword still in hand.

He motions towards your helm, which sits forgotten on a stool at the back of the tent. “Aren’t you missing something?”

“It’s only fair that I match the stakes you’ve put down, Sire,” you answer in a low voice, trying to quell the all-so-familiar embers of anticipation that ignite within you. It isn’t an unfamiliar feeling, especially when you find yourself before battle, but this time is remarkably different. This time, Sylus won’t simply be watching — he’ll be at the receiving end of your sword. The thought causes smoldering butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

“En garde.” You point your sword at him, and he mirrors your motion, lips cocked in a half-smile

Without another word, you initiate the dance.

Your movements are careful and measured, each of your strikes relenting when you feel the tension between your blades threaten to falter in your favor, a tension that would normally spur your muscles to exert more pressure and vie for that final blow.

But you aren’t the only one holding back. Sylus remains defensive, his every strike nothing but a careful response to your own aggression. Even when you misstep, the tip of your sabaton catching on an uneven patch of dirt, your thrust falling short and leaving a gaping opening at your side, he does not move to take the opportunity.

A mixture of the tension building within you – tension you’re unable to channel into your sword lest you injure the king himself – and drumming anger at the fact that he might be toying with you pushes you to a limit you didn’t know you had. Your expression darkens, and you gradually stop easing up at the tail end of your strikes. Sylus’s amused grin does nothing but fan the flames that rouse you. Here you are, teetering on the edge of insubordination by daring to strike so harshly at the king, and here he is, letting you have your way with him. How far will he truly let you go before he earnestly fights back?

He wants you to find out, and you won’t disappoint.

A sudden charge of your plated shoulder knocks Sylus off balance, and you follow up with a deft upward cut. His move to block is a bit too slow, and he catches the full force of your ascending swing. For a moment, your eyes interlock just long enough for you to catch his own widening with surprise. With a resonating clang, your blades clash, and this time you follow through, only stopping when the king is sprawled on the ground, his sword thudding in the soft dirt. You tower over him, your cold steel tickling at the bare skin of his chest as you glide the tip of your sword downwards ever so softly. The sight of him under your grasp, pristine silver locks all disheveled, eyes narrowing at your audacity while his lips curl with approval, stirs something unholy within your depths.

“Yield,” you breathe, the words escaping your lips before you can stop them.

His voice is soft and breathy, gravelly tones traveling through your ears and sending tingles dancing on the surface of your skin. “I yield.”

“Louder,” you push, and his grin widens, revealing sharp canines. Your fingers tighten around your sword’s grip, an involuntary response. The sharp blade draws a single, glistening droplet of blood from his bare chest.

A glint of something unrecognizable, primal and predatory, flashes across the deep reds of his eyes, and you immediately know to pull away. But halfway through the movement, Sylus’s large hand curls around your sword arm, and before you can even register what happens, your back is hitting the ground, armor clashing harshly against the supple dirt. The impact draws a sharp gasp from your lips. You try to shift, but your movements are restricted by a heavy knee on your core, and your sword arm is rendered immobile by the firm grip of his hand on your wrist.

And now, it is his turn to tower over you, to hold you under his grasp. There’s a fiery intensity in his eyes, and you threaten to melt under the adulating grin he now bears.

“You did well.” The words burn all the way through you, leaving nothing but ashen desire in their wake. You shift fruitlessly under the weight of his body.

 “I lost,” you reply between uneven breaths. You lost, but you don’t seem to care right now.

“On the contrary. I yielded,” he says in a low whisper. “The fight is over, knight mine.”

He’s close enough that your breaths, erratic and laced with exertion, mingle together in the quiet of the tent. The world outside stills as you lose yourself in his presence, in the warm closeness of his body, silent devotion drawing you into the vermilion pools of his eyes.

Then, Sylus suddenly stands, finally freeing you. A strange emptiness replaces the pressure that his body was exerting on your own, and you can’t help but think of the look he gave you, right as you pushed him to the limit. A light shiver runs down your spine, an enticing mix of trepidation and anticipation. You wonder what it will take to see that look again.

He’s already at the tent’s entrance when you shuffle back to your feet, and you realize how deeply you’ve forgotten yourself throughout this… duel, if you can call it that. Quickly, you offer a small bow at his back, and blurt out, “It was an honor, Sire.”

“Come by my quarters later,” Sylus smiles over his shoulder. “You’ve a lot to teach me yet.”

My knight hyperfixation and my LADS hyperfixation have coalesced into this fic, and I really really really enjoyed writing it. It's inspired by a melting pot of the Grassland Romance card, the NDZ card, and some ASOIAF (which has been on my feed recently). In my head, this is a whole cinematic universe, so I might revisit with some more snippets if I have more ideas. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed ❣

[kamon-of-hope]

Event: Summer Music Festival

*You come across a flyer promoting an exciting event. It says the following: 'It's that time of the year again, everyone! The Okinawa Summer Music Festival is making its grand return with a massive line up! We got bands from all over the country and many other bands from across the seven seas! For the entire summer season, we got music of all genres to fill the air! Classical, Rock, Heavy Metal, Pop, Jazz, Somba, Polka, and more! Every one has a song in their heart and has every right to play and be heard! You want in on the party!? Then come on down and take part in the Okinawa Summer Music Festival! See you soon, music lover!' You look at the date and time of the festival. Jun 1 to August 25. Sounds like a fun time to be had.*

@the-vees @bartender-husk @the-reaper-games @ask-ultimate-fashionista @hoshi-neko-hikari

@edens-garden-au @fall-of-eden @bad-ending-cards @xxcottoncandybitchxx

@paths-of-sound @virtuoso-lies @hopes-memorial @radio-doe @rising-morningstar

@domini-inferni(Zeezi, the Vees, or Alastor) @klowns-bitch @anemoacedia @xxstaticontheradioxx

[nocompromise-noregrets]

It's Download Weekend, so I'm just going to share this again :D

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil, Bard the Bowman & Bard’s Children, Bard the Bowman & Hilda Bianca & Percy Characters: Bard the Bowman, Sigrid (Hobbit Movies), Bain of Dale, Tilda (Hobbit Movies), Hilda Bianca, Percy (Hobbit Movies), Thranduil (Tolkien) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Alternate Universe - Heavy Metal, Reunions Series: Part 22 of Barduil Month 2023 Summary:

Having reformed his old band after thirty years out of the music business, Bard is a little bit overwhelmed to be invited onto the bill for the Download festival…especially because Thranduil’s latest super-successful band is also on the bill, and while there was definitely something between them all those years ago, Bard really isn’t sure if Thranduil even remembers him, let alone wants anything to do with him after all this time.

Written for day 22 of Barduil Month 2023 (come and join us at @bi-widower-dads!), prompt ‘heavy metal AU’. My time has come! I’ve been kicking around on the UK rock/metal scene for upwards of 30 years at this point, and this one was so much fun to write :D A lot of my own experiences have snuck in here, particularly with regard to the fun of bands reforming and doing things on their own terms instead of those of the record companies, as a fair few of my favourite bands have been doing that, to one degree of success or another, over the last 15 years or so and it’s been DELIGHTFUL. 

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the something blue

lilac, chapter sixteen

a/n: i gotta admit, I felt pretty proud of myself back when i came up with the title for this chapter. really clicking into that big brain of mine, giving it multiple meanings

summary: Casting one last glance over your shoulder at the celebrations still in full swing, you slowly made your way out front to where your car was parked among all of the guests’. 

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, angst, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, wedding, kidnapping, crying, violence, cliffhanger

word count: 917

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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As you pulled open the zipper on your backpack that was momentarily resting on the wobbly porch bench, a small smile tugged at your lips as your gaze washed over the dancing figures distantly in the garden. Softly lit by the twinkle lights strung from the trees, you caught sight of Donna, in the middle of the grassy dancefloor, swaying closely with a man about a head shorter than her, the strong embrace she had around him smooshed his face far into her bosom. Twirling around, she caught the eye of both Otto and your father who were off to the side, dancing as if they were in Studio 54. 

Shifting the tupperware of cake under your arm, you fished out your phone from your bag’s front pocket and began to type out a message. 

Y/n: Finally done! Hope you’re not asleep yet because I am on my way!

And just a few short moments later, your phone plinged with a reply.

Frank: Don’t worry, sweetheart. I am wide awake.

Smiling softly to yourself, you tucked your phone away, nearly shoving it into the folded-up cotton of the underwear you’d rid yourself of just minutes earlier when you had dipped inside to grab your stuff from your room. 

Closing the front compartment, you slung the backpack over one shoulder and smoothed a hand down over the deep green velvet wrap dress that enveloped your curves, hugging you and cascading off like a waterfall. 

Casting one last glance over your shoulder at the celebrations still in full swing, you slowly made your way out front to where your car was parked among all of the guests’. 

With gravel crunching beneath your modest heels, you neared your vehicle, tugging your bag around to your front as your fingers fiddled after your keys. Halting just as you neared the door, you glanced down a moment before finally finding the keys at the very bottom of your bag. 

But just as you fished the jangly bundle out and moved to unlock your car, heavy pairs of footsteps rustled in the gravel behind you. 

Absentmindedly glancing over your shoulder, assuming that it was just a sleepy wedding guest ready to go home, you instead spotted two big, rough-looking individuals that you didn’t recollect from the day’s festivities. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, your words ended up muffled as they rushed and closed the gap between you, one of them clasping a palm over your lips, nicotine staining the harsh flesh and burning in your nostrils. 

The cake and the keys tumbled to the ground with your backpack soon following suit as they grabbed you, lifted you off your feet and hauled you towards a close by dark van you hadn’t even blinked at before. You tried to get free, kicking and screaming in their grasp, but all your struggles granted you was the loss of both of your shoes.  

As they threw you into the back of the vehicle, the tumble itself onto the cold metal floor left you breathless and aching, the alarmed words, “what are you–,” escaped your lips just before one of the men stepped in after you and the other slammed the door shut. Sitting down on the small bench on the side wall, his hands dipped into a duffle bag as you squeaked, “let me go!” 

Not even casting a glance off in your direction, he just conjured a roll of duct tape as you soon felt the van begin to drive off. 

Leaning in, the man captured your wrists and began to bind them up. 

“This must be a mistake, I-I think you’ve got the wrong person,” tears rolled down your cheeks as he moved to restrain your ankles, “i-if you just stop and drop me off, I promise I won’t go to the authorities,” you trembled like a leaf on the grimy floor, “please, just let me go!”

“Shut up, bitch,” he shot back coldly. 

Casting a glance over your shoulder at the small window that looked to the driver’s seat as well as the night’s swallowing darkness they speeded into, you tried to ask, “w-where are you taking me?”

“I said,” the man looming above you growled before he tore off another piece of tape and forced it over your lips, “shut up,” soon following it up with a dark cloth bag that he tugged over your head.

Disappearing into the void, you had no idea how long the bumpy car ride took. Could have been an hour, could have been a day. The time was impossible to decipher as all you could feel was the paralysing terror that ravaged every inch of your being. 

But at some point, the van did roll to a stop and you heard the doors again be ripped open. 

A shrill yelp muffled against the tape as you felt numerous rough hands grab a hold of you and haul you out. Your balance was non-existent as your bound feet met freezing concrete, the bruising grips being the only thing holding you upright.

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the harsh fluorescent light after they ripped the dark hood off, a few strands of your hair following with them in the action. 

You were in a parking garage of some sort, but that discovery wasn’t what made you nearly faint. It was the familiar, suit-clad man standing before you with his ring-adorned hands shoved casually into his pant pockets. 

“Hello, doll.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[xhoneygirlxx]

Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince

Steve Harrington x Reader

summary: The cheerleading and boy's basketball coaches are the talk of Hawkins High. When they can't seem to put two and two together, the students have to take matter into their own hands to get the pair together.

warnings: fluff. Steve and reader are both in their 20s. gender/body size/ethnicity are not discussed (the name of the fic was simply picked based off of one line). a little cameo from our favorite metal head. a bit sappy but who cares. idiots in love. we stan the students in this fic, they were doin god's work frfr. also modern au! spelling errors/shitty writing, i'm sick so forgive me for any mistakes lmao.

*if i miss anything please let me know*

a/n: As we all know, today would have been the last day of Honey's birthday bash. That was the plan my friends but bc of party festivities, hangovers, and now a bad cold, we are now behind on schedule. Thank you all for hanging in there with me :) I hope you all enjoy this, love you bunches!

The whole school is rolling fake dice.

Whispers traveled through the echo chamber hallways, bets being placed with the shaking of hands, and gossip being passed back and forth in the lunchroom like a breadbasket at dinner. All anyone could talk about was the two coaches that were blind to their own attraction to one another.

Unbeknownst to you and Steve, you guys were in the middle of a storm of circulating rumors since the beginning of the season. From the moment you two met all hell broke loose, a wildfire spreading through the classrooms of the school.

Everyone could see how much you liked each other, it was so clear like the scoreboard that shined brightly in the gym, except for you. The perfect love story, the cheerleader and jock, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

It started as a game between the cheerleaders and the basketball players, betting on who would break first and finally make it official. Soon it became a game amongst the rest of the student body, all of them biting at their nails and crossing their fingers in the hope that one of you would crack.

To everyone's disappointment, neither of you ever did. It was exhausting watching the two of you dance around your clear feelings for one another. The two of you tried to play it cool, act like any of the accusations were just that, accusations. But it was there, bright as day, on display for the whole world to see.

It was in the way your eyes would find each other's in a crowded room, feather light touches that would linger for way too long, shy smiles and rosy cheeks. The way you talked to one another was anything but two people who worked together. It was teasing, flirty, and breathless any time you talked.

There was a big wager for this whole thing, which team would win the biggest check and which one would have to fork over all the money. The cheerleaders and half of the school had their money on Steve, his reputation as a ladies man helping them with their decision. The basketball team and the other half of the school bet on you, knowing you were more outspoken then he is.

Now it's been months since the bets were placed but neither of you finally crossed over the line from friends to lovers. So the cheerleaders did what they do best, they rallied everyone on their side, made a plan that would guarantee their win.

Winter formal was only a week away, both of you were sure to chaperone without a date. So the cheerleaders got to work, making sure their plan would be executed flawlessly.

Phase #1: Plant the seeds

Two loud knocks against the heavy wood door of Steve's office bring him out of his computer screen. Shouting a come in, he's met with the sight of the student council president, Lauren McPhee who holds a white paper.

"Sorry to bother you but I need this form filled out for the dance next week!" She's too chipper for a Monday morning, smiling brightly like the sun that hangs in the cold December sky.

"Oh yeah, let me just get a pen." Wheeling back on his desk chair, Steve begins to pat his shirt while looking around at his cluttered desk for the writing instrument.

Once he snatches the ballpoint pen from under the stack of papers, Steve grabs the flimsy sheet from Lauren's hand and scribbles down his signature on every empty line.

"Alrighty, there you go." With a tight lipped smile, he hands it back to the nice girl.

Steve watches as her eyes flit over the paper, flipping it front to back to make sure everything is filled out properly. When her features twist in confusion he can't help but wonder why.

"Everything look good?" He questions and she shakes her head while still reading over the curled letters of his name.

"Y-yeah, it's just," pulling her lip between her teeth, Lauren begins to chew on it anxiously, "the section for your date has been left blank. Excuse me if I'm crossing a line here, coach, but you're not bringing a date?"

Her voice is sympathetic, lips pulled into a deep from and her eyes sparkling with pity as she looks at the older man. Steve isn't sure why she seems so upset about him going alone or why it would be a problem, but when she looks at him like a dog that's been kicked he feels the need to answer.

"Oh, well I don't really have anyone to take. Plus it's more important for me to be paying attention to the punch bowl to make sure no asshole- I mean jerk, spikes it." With a forced laugh, he waits to see if his answer is enough to suffice the girl's curiosity.

"O-oh that makes sense I guess, I just though maybe you and the cheerleading coach would go together. You know cause they're also going alone and from what they told me, they never been to their winter formal before." Shrugging, the girl moves her sights from him back to the paper.

"They told you that?" Steve's answer is met with a hesitant nod from the girl. "I-I didn't know that." He breathes.

"At least they'll finally be able to go, right?" Again she shrugs, pulling a folder from her bag to put the paper away.

"Wait!" It comes out louder than he expected, cringing slightly at his volume. "Can I hold onto that and then had it in later?"

"Sure! I'll be back on Wednesday." A sunny smile shines at him, the white paper being passed back to him. "See you then, coach."

Waving him goodbye, Lauren shuts the door behind her where the cheerleaders wait for her. With a singular thumbs up, they begin to jump with joy only for a moment before moving on to phase two.

Phase #2: Destroy the band room

Now destruction of school property was not something any student was willing to get written up for, but with the help of an adult maybe they wouldn't have to.

Mr. Munson was the band instructor and drama teacher, as well as Steve Harrington's right hand man. Before he was an educator, Eddie Munson menaced these halls for many years. Before getting his act together and after he quit selling weed to the students in the woods, he worked as an apprentice for a while, following a plumber around for months while he went to college for education.

"Mr. Munson come on, don't you want to see your bestie finally get a happy ending?" Karissa Thomas batted her eyelashes at him as she begged for his help.

"I don't know guys, I could get into a lot of trouble." Rubbing his forehead, Eddie sighs as he weighs out his options in his head.

"Think of it this way, you can finally give principle Higgins the finger. At least metaphorically." Anthony Whitmer adds.

"Plus, we'll give you some of the profits." Mark, another band kid pleads from the group.

Eddie leans against his desk wide eyed, smirking slightly at his band students. Who knew they would be so devious.

"Fuck it, I'm in." The group before him shout in victory while Eddie laughs devilishly. Somethings never changes, he thinks.

So this morning when he arrived at school, Eddie made sure that no one was around when he began fucking with the pipes. After about twenty minutes and sore upper arms, he finally succeeds by springing a leak.

When he reported the leak to principle Higgins, he was met with a side eye before getting the approval of the gym slot after school, which meant you and your team would be forced to share with Harrington and his team until it got fixed.

Phase #3: Offer planning services to coach Harrington

Now to bring this whole plan together, cheer captains Dan Morrison and Amber Hall needed to be in the same place at the same time as Steve Harrington. The only problem was his office and where he usually occupied the most was the east wing of the school. The east wing was the closest to his office and it was the least traveled hallways out of the whole school.

That meant they needed to make it look like they were that way for a reason. Luckily for them, the art room was also in the east wing, so they would make it look like they were grabbing poster boards for last minute winter formal posters.

Lunch time was the best time to put this into motion, so the minute the 11:50 bell rang, Dan and Amber sprinted to the east wing in the hopes they would catch him.

After rummaging around for glitter, markers, and poster boards, the two waited at the door, peaking over the frame in the hopes to catch the older man. When the door of his office opened, the two seniors began to walk out of the room talking about random things to not make it look so obvious.

In the hopes of sparking a conversation with him, Amber dropped the container of markers causing colorful pens to fall all over the hard floor.

"Amber, I told you not to drop them!" Dan laughs, putting the white posters to the floor in order to pick up the rolling markers.

"You made me laugh!" The girl argues back, laughing loudly as she crouches to help.

"I didn't even do anything." He replies, making the girl laugh even harder at his comment.

The echo of Steve's heavy footsteps could be heard by both teenagers, but they ignore it so he wouldn't catch on.

"You guys cool?" Steve asks, crouching down to help pick up what fell.

"H-hi coach," Amber greets, catching her breath from her heavy laughter, "We're okay, Dan just made me drop these."

The boy in question huffs and rolls his eyes playfully, continuing his actions of gathering the rest of what's on the floor.

"So what are you guys doing with all this, anyway?" Steve asks, pushing off on his knees to stand.

"Oh, just last minute posters for the dance." Dan says nonchalantly as he gathers his pile of supplies.

"You're going, right?" The young girl asks and Steve responds with a small sigh, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah I'll be there." Nodding his head, the man places his hands on his hips looking at the two kids in front of him.

"That's fun! Are you bringing a date?" Amber wiggles her eyebrows.

Shoving her playfully, Dan looks at her with a gasp. "Oh my gosh, Amber you can't just ask that. Sorry, coach." Doing his best to look sympathetic, Dan offers his best smile to the older man.

"It's okay, Dan," Steve places a hand out, looking at the brown haired boy, "Actually, I was wondering if you guys could help me with that."

"Sure!" The cheerleaders agree in unison.

"Let's talk about this in my office." Pointing a thumb to the end of the hall, spinning of the ball of his foot to lead the way.

Steve defiantly doesn't see how bright both of the teen's smiles are from where they walk behind him and he surely doesn't see them giving each other a high five.

Phase #4: Get you to go to the parking lot before practice

This phase was probably the hardest of them all. You were very keen on punctuality, always the first to be at the building to make sure everything was set up. Now that you'd be sharing the gym with the basketball team, you were more than likely to be there a whole lot earlier than usual.

Now this is where the most important players come in, Lauren Hernandez and Simon Carter. The two freshmen were bright stars at Hawkins High, the leading members of the mathletes and very trust worthy students.

When this whole plan started it was known that they'd need someone who was convincing to divert your attention, so the two meek students volunteered without a second thought. The amount of money they'd win if coach Harrington made the first move was way more important than credibility at this point.

When they spotted you coming through the outside gym door, the two kids began to put on their show. Rushing through the two gymnasium doors, Lauren and Simon pant acting as if they ran a mile.

"C-coah, we need-" Simon bends over, bracing his hands on his knees while breathing heavily, "We need your help!"

You immediately drop your bags, sprinting over to the two youths. Worry is written all over your face, eyes immediately checking for any visible injuries on them.

"I-is everything okay? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Placing a hand on your chest, you wait for them to catch their breath.

"There's a fight outside. Max Newman and Devon Lewis are fighting in the parking lot." Lauren rushes out, eyes wide and glassy under the gym lights.

You're more than shocked at the news, the two boys have been great friends the whole time you've coached them. In a flash, you urge both kids to get coach Harrington from his office while you break up the fight.

What you don't know is neither Simon or Lauren have to get him, waiting until the slam of the heavy gym door both run after you to make sure they don't miss a single moment.

Rushing through the entrance doors, the cold winter chill instantly hits you but you don't pay too much attention to it when there isn't a fight happening.

When you walk outside, you see your team of cheerleaders lined up on both sides of the steps, a red rose in each hand. As you walk, they hand them to you, bright smiles on each of their faces when they do.

You can't speak with the amount of confusion that runs through your brain. Even though you want to ask them what all of this is about, you just let your feet carry you out into the parking lot.

You jump slightly when you hear Wildest Dreams being play, the only difference is the band kids stand off to the side with their instruments. Giggling slightly, you imagine Eddie Munson teaching his kids a Taylor Swift song but Bridgerton style.

With a bundle of roses in hand, you continue out into the snow covered parking lot. Under the street lights you see him standing with his hands in his pockets. Behind him stands some of the drama kids, holding big white posters. Taking a moment to read the blue and silver lettering, you gasp when it finally hits you.

F O R M A L ?

Tears prick your eyes and not just because of the cold winter wind. The thought and dedication that went into this must've taken so much (more than both of you even realize), you're heart beaming with the thought of Steve putting this together.

"So what do you say, coach? Will you do me the honors of being my date to the dance?" Steve's cheeks are red and his teeth glimmer under the florescent lights.

You can't help but let more tears fall, all of the pining and wishing finally coming true under the darken sky, right where the two of you first met. It feels too good too be true, a real life fairytale happening in real time.

"Of course I will." It comes out loud enough for only him to hear, the two of you looking at each other in adoration.

In a split moment, Steve's strong hands pull you in and wrap you in the tightest hug, something you dreamt of all this time. Even in the cold temperatures, his body heat, his touch holds the heat of a thousand suns.

The roaring cheer of all of those around you, besides the band who continue to play, fills the open air. You and Steve are so wrapped up in each other you don't even notice the flash of the camera, Andrew Johnson of the yearbook committee getting multiple shots of the whole thing.

Pulling back enough to look at one another, you smile brightly up at him. Steve looks so pretty like this, cherry nose, snow flurries collecting in his eyelashes and hair, and a smile so sweet it could rot your teeth.

"I can't believe you did all of this." You say with a laugh, shaking your head in amazement.

Chuckling slightly, he looks down bashfully at you. "Yeah well, I had some help." The two of your look all around the parking lot where multiple students stand, all from different clubs, groups, and social brackets beam and cheer for the two of you.

The two of you turn back to one another, gooey looks on both of your faces and love filling your eyes. "Who would've thought." You say breathlessly and he agrees.

"Can I kiss you?" It's breathless and hopeful when Steve says it, and you're answer is just as breathless.

Connecting his lips to yours felt like two puzzle pieces fitting together, it's feels like home, and it feels right. Like a snow globe, you and Steve are frozen for just a moment under the December snow.

I hope you all enjoy! Love you all <3

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[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Thistle, Scout and Scottish Bluebells pt 2

Pairing: Grumpy!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,036

If troubles are anything, they are hard to lay to rest.

Tags:  httyd 1, aged up, au, time travel, Hiccup’s POV, mixed flashbacks, angst

<Previous - Next>

The sound of uneven footsteps rested like a heavy weight at the bottom of his sternum, worsening already pained aches and furrowing his brows so deep he thought they might pull like a leg in a rainy day, after running measures, a slightly more toned and a completely imaginary contrast to the now near-constant ringing in his ears, mimicking the way a thick hammer sounded clashing against metal.

Cracks lay like gashes in the stone, deep like the strike of lightning… like the way a knife’s blade carved lines in wood.

Formerly bulky shoulders flagged, laying haphazard across rumpled cross. A crooked jaw lay half-open as a previously jolly man was rendered pale and nearly lifeless by sickness and infection. 

He relished in the cool shadow of the Arena’s overpass entrance for the moment it took to walk underneath, wincing slightly as he came to a stop just at where hard light drew a solid line over uneven stone. 

He sat, shoulders hunched and hands clenched, sitting over a rickety chair, chanting desperate apologies as he listened to the rages of battle outside and to the final-screaming battle-calls of the warriors outside, lost to the night.

For a moment, running his hand along the border between open grated frame and the outside world, he reveled in the contrast between his own freckled, scarred knuckles and the cool, mottled surface of the arena’s colorless walls.

He weighed a rolled-up, wrinkled notice in his other hand before letting them both drop to his sides.

The Chief’s hut was far from the safest place on Berk. Tonight, for him most of all. A cold sweat ran down his shoulders, his jaw, his back.

He’d much rather be wasting away, wearing his wrists brittle in the forge. He yearned for that place just as much he hated it, walls plugged and nailed shut with smoke and soot filling the air with a thick film.

After all this time, he very much preferred to be left on his own. Being back here brought back memories he’d much rather leave forgotten.

He stared forwards.

They hadn’t noticed him yet. 

They were all on the opposite side of the basin, where above, mounted along the rim of the arena, a cage that was once strong and well-taken care of was now crumbling in places, slightly bent and moved out of sorts. 

 Some cage doors were obviously offset and heavily dented, the logs used to lock them shut old and almost rotting, the pulley system levers and cogs and great draw-hinges attached to the sides and frame all old and slightly rusty and in need of oiling.

He stood, hand at his sides. 

It would need to be taken apart and scrubbed raw, resealed and a new log mounted or perhaps replaced by more metal and held aloft by chains instead of rope. The already frayed ropes were probably not enough to hold its weight, half-snapped and dangerous. A head and a half thick, he remembered, was the proper measurement for the right… log.

The sun lay heavily across his shoulders, as if he was being burned over a spit, sparks flying from his heart and dropping from his half-open mouth as he looked around with a smile. 

Every individual man made up one part of a whole, ripped sleeves, marching up thin ladders, boasting half-empty mugs and wives and a child running about.

A repair like this used to be a group event- throngs of Vikings gathering together, bumping shoulders and bolstering themselves up high, wielding hammers and hardy conversation like wooden play-swords. It was painstaking work made easy.

It was as if he didn’t exist- as if he was not so much an individual as one part of the merry-making, the festivities, the joy, even if there was no real holiday, even as he stood and watched. It was as if he wasn’t who he was; a runt, trouble… him.

…And it was the best feeling ever.

On his lonesome, with a ladder and a pulley, it might be managed. 

It was all work he wasn’t going to do.

He took his time, lingering for a moment, judging. 

 He had better things to be doing.

“I-I think my invite was lost…” Fishlegs said, palms spasming, balled in front of him as if searching for papers and things that might as well never have been there. 

He was different from the last time he’d seen him, though he was still a man just as large as he was tall, with a timid lilt to his shoulders that seemed quite unbefitting. His voice was just as squeaky as it was deep. The arena did a great deal to make it echo, just as it did the sound of patchy boots shuffling against uneven stone floors. 

“I got it.” He said curtly, waving the notice in one hand, feeling his already rolled-up sleeve scrunch against his elbow. His voice, still slightly nasal for a man of his age, echoed slightly.

It was immediate- as soon as He spoke, it was as if time itself stopped. There were no breezes or motions besides a jerk or two in his direction, the eternal dancing of hearts and bodies and nature coming to a pause.

Something bucked and festered in his chest. He knew what the feeling wasn’t- hope, camaraderie, acceptance. It was more bitter, drenched in shame and long-held resentment. It had been his one constant companion all these years.

 There were a set of two starved, wiry twins. They used to look nearly identical- now the male brother-half donned a mask of burnt skin and clumped hair on one side. Though his sleeves carried many holes and singes and stains from his time working in the forge, theirs was almost worse, covered in Nightmare-length, sticked claw marks and large, frayed, burnt patches.

There was a thicker, though somewhat short man there, too, standing besides a woman. He was just as scarred as he was stocky. His cousin. 

“Oh, great,” Snotlout snorted, squaring his shoulders even more so as he stepped forwards, studded belt-sash shifting over his chest. 

He glowered at the lot, his shoulders tall, cool air running invisible blades up and down his arms, standing all his hairs and giving way to prickled gooseflesh. He felt the grit of his jaw as he bit down on already gently clenched teeth.

“What are you doing here, Useless?” The woman asked, moving forwards when no one else would. She had a long, jagged scar running from just above her right eye to the curve of her jaw. Her voice wasn’t condescending, wielding Usless’s moniker more as if it was a simple factual statement than an insult, though he knew there lay plenty of bad blood between them.

Of course, it was his official title, now. That was unhelpable- as unavoidable as a blade held to his neck and a heavy, hairy hand lifting him by the scruff of his shirt, nearly choking him breathless.

Astrid Hofferson was her name.

Gobber was there too, thick cheeks now hollow, highlighting high cheekbones and a crooked jaw. A hunch that had always been there was now so severe he looked as if he might keel over at any moment, an ailing arm clutching at the top of a very short talking staff. His clothes hung thinly from his shoulders, moving in a way that, despite their solid color, made them seem so thin that they could have almost been transparent.

He was a shadow of a man- something dead walking. He turned his eyes away from Gobber just as he refused to cower as the Hofferson woman approached.

She stopped before him as he shoved down something a little bit like irritation, betrayal… grief.

He wheezed, crouching prone along the floor, his hands covering his head as thick smoke packed his lungs, making it harder to breathe. His chests ached, stinging and searing in lines, dull pain raging like storming waters just above his heart-

In the lilt of her brow, the intensity of her eye, the line of her mouth, the subtle scarring clawed into the side of her face and long since scabbed over, framed by dragon-skull shoulder pads and a hefty, patchy fur hood he saw what she thought just as clearly as she had said it all those years ago. 

He couldn’t think, the world muffled past the uncontrolled crackling of dragon fire, clanging shields and swords, yelling and roaring, deep claws scraping against solid stone.

In a look he almost returned, he could feel it aimed right back to her. The sentiments, he could have mistaken it for the sun singing against his skin’s hairs, what with all the concentrated heat and the nearly sense-rending prickling of the hairs on his neck. It was anger, mostly. Really, it would be better for them all -him most especially- if he was left alone.

Where there once lay a special portion of his mind for mooning and yearning and other rash teenaged things there now lingered something mean and hollow.

Are you ashamed?

Awnry ringing was made more intense by the sudden, hollow whistling through the spaces between bars and over hollow basin.

“‘Iccup!” A hand reached towards him, cloth strips wrapped heavily around it, thick, through green smog.

He couldn’t move- his limbs clenched and spasmed, still reeling from the force of the dragon’s blow. There was a ringing, sharp and never ending, spearing through his ears and filling all empty spaces between noises, uplifting and entwining with the sound of screeching metal and heavy body rushing through sickly-smelling gasses.

His finger, his elbow, his knees all pulling in- he forced up his head as if working endlessly against the rusted, stuffed hinges of his neck just in time to catch a glimpse of him.

His face, bearded braids trailing slightly behind, rushing towards him, jaw open- It was action, both fast and frozen enough to almost be one of the many great, carved murals in the hall.

He’d remember it forever. He wasn’t fearful. He’d never really been, but in that moment, like the rapidly foaming top of a large, cresting wave, doom rose in his guts, ravaging through his middle and tearing his insides to shreds.

He was no warrior, battle-scarred or otherwise. Despite his stature, his frame was lean and he was worn. Though his chin was heavily scruffed, he was not bearded or thick. He was stubborn, though, and he was angry.

She knew who he was and made sure he knew it too. Even after- standing at stall windows, making mild conversation, forcing words out past hard hearts- to search for some kind of acknowledgement from someone who mattered, even if it was just a greeting, to know that he was real, he was here, he was worth something. All of that had long since been put to rest- killed, slain like a hapless animal. She made sure of that.

“I don’t know what you want.” 

The world was still and bright outside, the shadow of the forge’s window covering him like an old blanket. He leaned back as she jabbed him in the chest. She was angry, her brows furrowed, leaning aggressively forwards-

He looked down on her.

”-Useless is your name, now After what you did in the arena? I don’t want to talk to you, see you or hear you. You sharpen my weapon and that. Is. It.”

He needed a drink. The taste of ale was phantom-strong on his tongue. It was a taste he’d become more familiar with in his late teens during times spent bitter and alone, but ale meant going up to the hall and he wasn’t soft on people.

That was where they gathered, mostly- those who had been left behind. Many abandoned their own homes for the safety and refuge of company and large, frigid hall walls, setting up old blankets and clumsy tents in abandoned, dusty corners.

Without looking away, he tossed the missive behind one crumbling barricade, propped up against the smooth arena walls.

He made sure to hold her gaze for one more long, hard moment before turning and waving an arm absently behind him, “I was just leaving.”

[chelseeebe]

wherever you stray (i follow)

more apocalypse au! yayyy

i actually really am enjoying writing this bc it’s so different.. i haven’t really decided if it’s zombies or UD related but i guess it’s not explicitly mentioned yet.. anyway, there may or may not be an appearance from someone from steve’s past.. we’ll have to see

i’m sorry everything is taking so long.. it’s the festive period and i am working like crazy while also trying to see my friends and acc enjoy the time so my writing time is limited

as always, 18+.

₊ ⊹

steve had never expected life on the road to be so.. fun?

he feels weird even thinking about it because in all honesty, the shit you’d both endured while on this journey had been anything but fun. he thinks, or rather knows, that if it were anyone else but you, he’d have turned back a long time ago.

you’re not easy on him by any means, coaxing him into walking to the next town over after he’d already proclaimed he was done for the night and making him open the scary doors while you stood poised. nevertheless, he enjoyed it.

that was until now, when everything was flipped on its head and you were the one begging to call it a night.

‘steve,’ you warn from somewhere behind him. he barely glances back, keeping on hobbling forward. his leg was throbbing, the pain searing up to his thigh, but he’d never tell you that.

steve had got caught up in some barbed wire a few days ago, the sharp metal had torn his leg to shreds. it was an almighty wound that had set you back a couple of days in the schedule. you’d been petrified of tetanus, asking him hourly if he was sure that he’d had his vaccinations, tenderly prodding the painful area as you muttered a plethora of symptoms of infection.

there wasn’t really much he could do except bandage it up and hope he didn’t die. maybe a few years ago he would’ve freaked the hell out over it but now he’d realised that that never helped anybody. it especially would not help you.

‘i’m fine,’ he grits, stopping to turn and look at you. your face painted with the deepest frown, arms crossed over your chest. it was reminiscent of his mother, how she’d stand a the kitchen table when he’d come home with yet another black eye. except he felt you actually cared, she had just wanted an explanation.

‘no you’re not,’ you assert, as if you knew him better than himself. hey, after this maybe you did. ‘there’s a perfectly good house here.. we can rest for a while and i can check your leg,’ you bargain with him, trying the puppy dog eye technique that very often won him over.

steve holds his hands up, he wasn’t going to let you win this one, not after he had been the sole reason you guys were so behind. ‘i’m okay.. i don’t need to rest, i’ve got at least another two miles in me,’ toothy grin on full display.

‘i’m not going back and forth with you, we’re stopping here for the night.’

he sighs as you stomp angrily up to him, ‘i am fine.. no we’re not. why don’t you just believe me?’

steve thinks he sees hell in your eyes, the scorn of the devil written all over your face, ‘because i love you and i don’t want you to lose your fucking leg for the sake of two extra miles,’ your brows knotted together in pure rage.

he doesn’t respond, decides it’s better for his health not to. rather just nodding, letting you guide him towards the, hopefully, derelict house. your words ring around his head, echoing loudly as you do all of the heavy lifting, checking the house and ensuring there were no nasty surprises.

love.

you said you love him.

he wouldn’t ever admit to it, but he’d been toying with the same thought for at least two weeks now. deciding over and over again that it couldn’t possibly be love, it was too soon. he was just.. infatuated, or something.

but hearing the words straight from your mouth solidified his feelings.

the moment you clear one of the upstairs bedrooms and bundle him inside, his grin is unstoppable. reaching his eyes as he just stands staring, waiting for you to finish barricading the damn door before he speaks.

‘what?’ you question, startled by his stillness, ‘what are you looking at?’

‘what d’you say outside?’ he doesn’t take his eyes off of you even as you rush around, checking the windows and then slinging the heavy bag into the floor.

you blink back at him until it clicks, ‘wha- oh,’ your cheeks burn, suddenly much more interested in the room than him, ‘please don’t.’

‘you said you love me,’ steve beams, ignoring your warning though he’d probably regret it.

‘steve, i didn’t-,’

he cuts you off before you can even finish, not allowing you to play the bashful game, ‘you didn’t mean it? i don’t believe you,’ his unfaltering smile still occupying his entire face, right up to his eyes.

you punch his arm, now stood directly in front of him, ‘i didn’t mean to say it like that,’ your own smile inches onto your lips, he’s almost begging you to let it out, ‘i thought it’d be a little more romantic than this,’ gesturing towards the rundown house you stood in.

‘i don’t think romance exists anymore,’ his arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer as you use his shoulders for leverage, ‘say it again.’

you groan, hands coming to connect around his grubby neck, ‘do i have to?’

‘yes.’

steve adores how diffident you become, ducking your head down before the words form and the very quietly squeaking out a tiny, ‘i love you.’

it’s enough for him, his grin growing tenfold, ‘i love you too,’ bumping his nose against yours, drawing your attention back to his face rather than the splintered floorboards.

what’s left of the pale sunlight reflects off of your eye, practically glimmering at him, ‘i know,’ you giggle quietly, ‘you said it in your sleep the other night..’

his smile drops, ‘what? you weren’t supposed to find out like that,’ sighing softly, his stupid, drugged up brain had let it slip before he even had the chance to.

you respond by pressing your sweet lips to his, god he wishes he had some chapstick. you deserve more than his cracked lips.

far more than this world could offer you.

though he would certainly try his hardest.

-

steve normally took first watch because he knew if he didn’t, you’d never wake him up for his shift, rather letting him sleep all night but tonight he doesn’t argue. his leg hurts too much to waste time going back and forth with you.

it’s only when he wakes up to a room full of sunlight that he starts to question how long he’d been out. there’s an echo of his name coming from somewhere, still too encompassed by sleep to figure out what the hell was going on.

‘look who’s finally awake,’ the voice starts but it’s not you.

you’re not next to him either, his arms cradle the pillow where your body should’ve been. that’s when he turns, the bedroom door flung open and a familiar figure looms in the doorway.

‘tommy?’ he croaks out, sitting up against the headboard.

what the hell was happening?

you’re nowhere to be seen, the makeshift barricade pushed back against the wall rather than where it should’ve been. his mind instantly flashes to the worst case scenario, you’ve been taken or tommy has done something to you.

holy shit.

‘stevie! i didn’t know if you’d recognise me,’ tommy leers, still lingering in the doorway, hand poised on his gun.

steve hadn’t seen the boy in years at this point, not properly. they passed each other in the halls but after the whole ordeal with jonathan in the alley, they hadn’t spoke since. which steve was eternally grateful for, the red head was in simple terms, an asshole. there was no part of him that wanted to be involved with people like that.

‘what the hell are you doing here?’ steve questions, voice still heavy with sleep.

god he hopes this is just a bad dream and any second now, he’ll wake up and you’ll be by his side.

tommy’s face drops in faux-offence, ‘c’mon man, is that any way to treat an old friend?’ the side of his lips curling up. he always was a horrible person, provoking people til they had no choice but to respond.

‘how’d you know i was here?’ he asks, deciding not to mention you on the off chance you had just run off and tommy had no idea of your existence.

‘i was searchin’ houses.. thought you’d be smarter than this man, sleepin’ with no protection,’ his eyes fall to steve’s leg, eyebrows raised with opportunity, ‘and you’re hurt,’ the boy tuts, ‘this should be easy then.’

steve stiffens up, his bag was on the floor next to the bed, there’s no chance he’s faster than tommy.. he’d never get it in time.

it’s then that steve’s eyes flit to you, appearing silently behind tommy in the doorway. his heart drops. you were alive. tommy clocks on immediately, eyes following steve’s gaze to your looking figure behind. but before he can turn around fully, the baseball bat connects with his cranium, his body falling to the floor with a mighty thump.

you stand staring at the lifeless body for a moment, chest heaving as you step over him and over to the bed. wide-eyed and trembling, god knows how much of that you heard.

‘oh my god you’re okay,’ steve starts, reaching up to hold onto your cheeks, ‘i thought something had happened.. jesus christ where were you?’ he’s trying not to sound like such an overbearing mother but it’s not exactly working.

‘your leg was hot.. i went to go find medicine, i barricaded it from the other side but i didn’t think that asshole would show up,’ your hand caresses his atop of your cheek, ‘i got the medicine though,’ you look somewhat hopeful, pulling the bottle from your pocket and presenting it to him.

once steve has calmed down a little, he takes two of whatever it is, looking nervously at his ex-friend still on the floor, ‘i can’t believe you killed him..’ he trails off, even if he didn’t particularly like tommy, he didn’t want him dead.

your face screws up, pausing as you shove your belongings into your rucksack, ‘he’s not dead steve,’ you state, features contorted as you glare at him.

‘oh,’ he chuckles awkwardly, relief washing over him. ‘well shit,’ a smile twitches at the corner of his lips, taking over when you shake your head in disappointment. look, he wasn’t the brightest, never had been.

‘he’s probably gonna wake up soon so we need to get the hell outta’ here,’ you frown, glancing at the lifeless body.

you trundle over, taking the man’s gun from his hand, patting his pockets for anymore concealed weapons he may have. pulling a small switchblade from his back pocket, steve recognises it immediately. he’d been there when tommy had carved his and carol’s initials into some old tree in the woods by school. he wonders if it’s still there now.

‘how d’you know this guy anyway?’ you ask, slipping the knife into your own pocket. he watches dubiously, he’d never been a thief.

‘we were best friends..’ he swallows, maybe he had left some things out about his life before the end of the world. there’s no way to explain why they drifted apart other than to admit to how cruel he once was. ‘just drifted, you know?’ it wasn’t exactly a lie and he’s not sure you’d even care but now didn’t feel like the appropriate time to admit to all of his wrongdoings.

you nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder, ‘sucks.. but i’m not gonna lie, he didn’t seem like a great person,’ shrugging as steve finds his feet, getting off of the bed for the first time in hours.

‘he wasn’t,’ again, not a lie.

you hum in response and steve looks to the floor. he wasn’t keen on discussing the ins and outs of his friendship with tommy hagan right now. or ever really.

-

the rest of the journey up here had been pretty non-eventful. his leg was healing nicely and he was able to walk for at least another hour without complaining out loud. most people had obviously found communities, not daring to go out in the road anymore.

without mention of the run in with tommy, it had just been just the two of you. well you and the grotesque, rotting monsters that roamed around the forest. he thinks the cold must slow them down as your gun goes, mostly, unused.

steve has never seen you look quite so excited. the moment you’d crossed the boundary into your town, you’d been babbling nonstop about where you grew up. pointing out important locations and silly details about things he couldn’t even picture. his eyes instinctively roll when you mention the now decrepit diner you had your first date. he can’t help it.

it’s only when you near what he assumes is your neighbourhood that you quiet down, holding onto his hand with an iron clad grip. your nails dig into the grime covered skin when you spot the gargantuan make-shift wall up in front. he doesn’t squirm or pull away, instead he whispers a small it’s okay as you near the cul-de-sac.

‘what if they’re not there?’ you ask, shrinking into yourself.

he doesn’t have the right words to assure you but he’ll try his hardest, ‘then.. then we’ll find them.’ he hasn’t a clue what lies on the other side of that wall, perhaps the people behind it weren’t friendly and you’d never find out or maybe there weren’t even any people left.

but you’ll find out together and that’s all that matters.

someone’s head pokes over the top of the wall, gun poised at steve’s head. they must be stupid if they think he’s the one they should be scared of.

‘stop right there, don’t come any closer,’ the heavily armed woman shouts down, ‘what do you want?’

steve looks to you, unsure if he should even attempt to speak right now. his fingers squeeze yours for silent reassurance, there’s a voice above but he can’t see who it’s coming from, tucked behind the wall as they inevitably discuss your fate.

‘i used to live here,’ you speak, just loud enough for the first woman to peer down at you. she looks back towards the other mystery voice and then another face appears, eyes like saucers when they spot you.

‘open the gate,’ she orders, ‘open the gate now!’ barking at the other lady who jumps to it.

steve stands in quiet wonderment, glancing back at you with your mouth hung open. so you must know each other. or is that your mom? now he truly understands how you must’ve felt coming out of that nurses office to a bunch of strangers.

but you don’t let go of his hand when the gate creaks open just enough to let the two of you through. the houses are all more or less how he imagined they’d looked before everything started.

‘oh my god,’ you sputter out, dropping his hand to jog over to the faceless woman, throwing your arms around her neck as she pulls you in.

you don’t look particularly similar but steve has no idea what your parents look like. he wasn’t quite so prepared to meet the parents though he’d had weeks and weeks to think about what to say.

who even is he? not your boyfriend. yet. maybe it just wouldn’t be brought up in the midst of all the reunions.

he knows you love each other, you’d said that much, that he’d hobbled across state lines for you and would do just about anything to make sure you were safe so, did labels even matter in the apocalypse?

‘i can’t believe you’re here,’ the lady cries, still wrapped up in your arms. the locals are looking on with a mixture of confused and joyous looks on their faces.

‘neither can i,’ you sniff, pulling back and looking at her, hands still firmly on her arms. ‘are they here?’ you rush out excitedly, full of hope.

the woman’s, who is still yet to be introduced to, face falls, her voice dropping an octave as she speaks, ‘baby..’ she tremors through the sentence. ‘they left to go and find you.. i don’t- they haven’t come back..’

your smile drops immediately, steve’s heart sinks. he couldn’t begin to imagine how you felt. the pair of you had made it across multiple states, lived through steve’s injury and evil past friends for nothing.

he supposes that it wasn’t for nothing exactly. despite the bickering and rumbling stomachs, it had brought the two of you closer.

now his heart breaks the way yours does when you bury your face into his chest, shoulders shaking as you wet his already ruined shirt.

-

the next few hours are a blur of introductions, meeting people you called neighbour not so long ago. the now-identified woman was called janet, who had told him all about how they fortified the neighbourhood and their efforts to keep everyone alive. they’d done something similar to the school, kept the water system running so they could clean and drink and hoarded supplies the second they realised the army weren’t coming for them.

this was followed by a tour of the place and then your house. it had been left untouched in the hopes that your parents would come back eventually. dusty pictures of you in school, at college and one he particularly likes of you at christmas, nose scrunched up as you grin into the distance.

maybe he’d snag that one for himself.

it’s only when you bundle him into your room that you really let go. sobbing in his arms on your bed. surrounded by a time capsule of the past. if it felt weird for him, it must be utterly awful for you.

‘i thought they’d be here,’ you choke through tears, ‘they were supposed to be here,’ fingers grabbing at his biceps.

steve’s not known for his quick thinking but he realises there’s not much else he can say. the situation would seem hopeless to most but he wasn’t letting you give up now. not after you’d dragged him thousands of miles to get here.

‘you were at college in indiana, right?’

it’s enough for you to stop crying and look up at him through your wet lashes, ‘yeah.. why?’

you had never really spoken about college. he knew you went to college in indianapolis, that was obvious from the ratty letterman jacket you’d been wearing when he stumbled upon your camp, but that was about it.

‘so we go back to indiana,’ his fingers tangle in your hair, unsure if a smile would be completely inappropriate.

‘steve.. we-,’ you go to object but he can see the cogs turning in your brain, it’s the only sensible suggestion either of you had. ‘you would do that?’

this is where he smiles, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, ‘of course,’ he’s not even sure why it’s even a question.

he’d do anything, traipse after you to the ends of the earth if you asked. hell, he’d do it even if you didn’t.

he continues on, ‘we’re in this together now.. like, forever,’ pressing his forehead to yours, thumb coming to swipe over your sodden cheek.

there’s hope, or at least a tinge of optimism back in your eye, ‘forever?’

steve nods, caressing your dirtied face as if it were precious porcelain, ‘is that alright with you?’

maybe, in a roundabout way, that was him asking you if you’d be his girlfriend. he knows he probably should ask properly but he’s sure you know.

it’s contagious, his smile, your lips curving as you blink slowly, ‘sounds good to me.’

that night, you’re fully relaxed, a kind of placid state that steve hadn’t seen since the school. normally, you’re on high alert even in bed. your muscles stiff as you let him sleep. but this time, he lets you drift off first.

his fingers glide through your now clean hair, eyelids fluttering shut on his chest. he thinks you might even start purring.

instead, your breaths get deeper, and slower until you no longer even murmur in response to whatever he was saying. and eventually, steve drifts off too. relieved that you can both sleep tonight, both feeling a sense of security that hadn’t been there for weeks.

-

steve awakens suddenly at what he determines the middle of the night, your palms clammy as they grab hurriedly onto his chest. you’re panting, desperately trying to steady your breath when his arms tighten around your shoulders.

‘what’s wrong?’ he asks, still in that confusing transition between sleep and awake, his eyes struggle to adjust to the dark room.

you exhale, the outline of your face suddenly begins to form, ‘i had a bad dream, i’m sorry,’ chin pointed upwards. your face is wet, eyes glossy with tears.

‘it’s okay.. it’s okay,’ he soothes, heart still pounding rapidly even after he knows no creatures have mattered down the door and had a chomp on your leg.

you swallow loudly, still gazing up at him when his head rests back on the pillow. ‘i love you,’ you squeak into the quiet night, the third time he’d ever heard it tumble out of your lips.

it mostly went unspoken. coming through in little gestures, feeding him his medicine or scratching your nails into his scalp the nights the pain was too much to sleep. he liked it that way. as if your love was only for the two of you.

this world didn’t deserve to witness that.

[ofmermaidstories]

merms, for the mashup game i am asking for royal au + florist au for weeds x bakugo. i am asking for surrender: the period fic version lmao. only if you want of course!

omg. okay LMAO. ur wish is my command. 😌✨

You’re abed, dream-slow and almost under when you’re startled awake by the pounding at your door.

Even with the bustle of the Autumn festival preparations, the town had been quiet without the regiment and their patrols. You would not have admitted it out-loud, but you missed the sight of them—the flash of their armour in the sun as they moved through the streets. The stark brightness of their capes, like festival banners. Haru had noticed, you think—trying to demand you out of your worry and your wistfulness by pressing his wild games at you, or hiding the little wooden soldiers Ser Kirishima had carved him among the flowers of the shop.

They are now dotted around your little home, tonight—standing guard as you stumble to your door, still half-asleep. You pause before it when the silence stretches, wondering if perhaps you dreamt it—but then the banging starts again, and fear erupts within you. It could be Akane, or Haru, some kind of disaster befalling one of them—

You do not expect it to be your knight, wild-eyed and breathing hard as he stares up at you from the step.

“Ser—Ser Bakugou!” You croak, opening your door further for him in a silent invitation. “I don’t—has something—?”

In the torchlight of the street, his hair glows gold, the metal of his armour dull, burnished. Your eyes flicker over him, looking for wound or struggle but when you dare to meet his eyes again the knight is scowling, gripping the doorframe so tightly you fear that he will crack the wood.

“You’re whole,” he says, incredulous. It’s not a question, and startles you more than his frenzied midnight banging.

“Yes,” you say, bewildered. “Do I have cause—not to be?”

His jaw tightens as he lets his gaze roam over you in kind; it could almost burn a path along you, scar you, so intense is his assessment and your skin prickles in answer. Though the chemise you went to bed in is modest, brushing your toes and elbows in its length, you feel uneasy. Flimsy. In his armour still, his forest-green cape, Ser Bakugou is dressed for war—solid and imposing as he stands on your threshold. You, in your thin cotton, are unsubstantial before him—woefully unprepared to receive him, barefoot and still warm from your bed.

His eyes are wine-dark, in the night, lip curling as though the same thoughts have occurred to him. You try not to feel as though you are dressed in smoke before him, and focus on the taut pull of his neck, where it’s bare above his collar.

“You’re whole,” he repeats, breathing in sharply, the pulse in his throat jumping. “You’re—dammit! M’gonna kill him!”

The street behind him is empty; it makes his outburst louder. He looks livid to have found you alive and unhurt.

“I’m sorry to hear that displeases you,” you say mildly, earning you a dark glare. “But you cannot stand here, so—come inside, quickly.”

The knight is coiled tightly; tense, primed for a fight. It takes him a slow moment to follow when you retreat into your home, his boots heavy against the wooden floor.

Your home is small, tucked into the back of your little shop as it is. You were proud of it, normally. In the daytime it was warm with the light from the windows. Now, in the night, you move around it silently, lighting what candles you can and filling the space with their flickering.

Ser Bakugou does not sit, standing like one of Haru’s little wooden knights as you restoke the fire of the hearth. The back of your neck pricks with his attention, silent and watchful as you move the kettle back over your stove for him.

“There’s some stew left,” you say to break the silence, turning back to him. His face, serious and smooth in the low light, doesn’t change and your heart thumps wildly in response. You knew what to do with your knight usually, when he was rambunctious or rude or demanding; but this version of him, standing so still and watching you with sharp eyes is foreign to you.

You glance away from him, your heart rabbit-fast, darting amid the garden of your hopes and your fears. There was no reason to react so, around him—but even as you think that you know it a lie, remembering how your lips had parted against his, the last time you were together.

Perhaps your knight was thinking of the same moment. When you set a plate of bread down on your small table for him, a small jug of oil, he doesn’t move—eyes on your face instead, as though he could read your heart through it.

“You must be tired,” you say, desperate for some response from him that wasn’t his looming. He had to be, though; the butcher had only been telling Akane a week ago that the regiment was meant to have made it to the further most town south. A journey that would take weeks, even on horseback.

Instead of replying, Ser Bakugou’s eyes flicker over the table, taking in the bread, the oil you’ve laid out—and one of Haru’s little soldiers, guarding the meal faithfully.

“They’ve been keeping me company,” you say, trying for cheer. “And I’m glad of it. It’s—it’s been lonely in town, without you.”

It’s only when his eyes slide back to yours, sharpening his face you realise your mistake; you had meant without them, Ser Bakugou and the other knights, their noise and activity. But his mouth flattens, coming to some unspoken decision, you think, as he steps closer—his cloak catching at the edge of your table before it pulls away as he edges closer to you.

“I thought you dead,” he says, quiet and low into the space between you. “All ‘cause some idiot rode into camp—ramblin’.”

You think you might combust, your heart is holding itself so tightly. They were meant to be weeks away—

“You—you rode so far?” you whisper, uselessly. At your back the fire of the hearth is warm—what his face catches of its light makes him glow, makes his eyes glow like embers and you wonder what he sees as he stares at you, so close.

He smells of horse—of salty sweat and the campfire sweetness of his magic that follows him everywhere. You swallow, all too aware of how his nostrils flare at the motion, like he could feel it in his own throat.

“Yeah,” he says, rough. “I rode that far.”

For you, he doesn’t add. He might as well have whispered it against your ear—you shudder and he catches your arms, your elbows, one hand brushing along you to the nape of your neck, pulling you into him further as you tilt towards him.

“Y’re alright,” he says, half question, hot against your mouth. His armour is cold and hard against you and your cotton and you can only nod.

“We’re alright,” you whisper back, his lips parting against yours in answer before he curses, soft, and kisses you.

[damned-punk]

What You Won’t Ever Find (Kidd x Reader)

Part Four

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Content Warning: nsfw, modern!AU, suggestive language, unhealthy attachment, angst

Content Description: gn!reader meets Kidd in a bar and their relationship develops from there ♡

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The weeks following your intimate morning with Kidd were filled with many more spent together, the quality time working to greatly substantiate the connection between the two of you. You were pleased with how open he’d been with you, often turning to heavy talking points late in the evening or early in the morning. You’d learned a lot about him, his personality, and how his friends functioned more like family. You assumed that he’d want to be exponentially more physical after that morning, but he seemed to value your company no matter the level of intimacy. It was refreshing and in great contrast to the way he’d made himself seem the night you’d first met. There were times when it felt like he treated you the same as he treated Killer, a trusted confidant but not by the usual implications that come with the addition of a lover.

Speaking of Killer, Kidd had mentioned that his birthday was coming up and they’d decided to have his party at the bar. From what you’d been told, they were known for throwing the occasional rager but it’d been a while since the last event. Kidd offered to drive, asserting that he’d pick you up so that the two of you could arrive together. He’d carefully maneuvered around the detail that Hip would be in attendance with the rest of their friend group, a fact that he knew would cause unnecessary worry.

He’d kept his word, arriving at your agreed upon time and unleashing a relentless barrage of compliments at how good you looked all dressed up for him. Being in his car surrounded by the scent of cologne mixed with the ever present undertone of metal from his job and a calloused hand lightly squeezing your thigh was working to solidify the ambiance of the evening. It’d been a while since the last time you’d went out with his group, a thought that was creeping in the back of your mind as he pulled into the lot. As always, a small number of them were postured outside the door smoking. You recognized Hip immediately as she was holding onto Mosh’s arm and smiling at Kidd’s arrival. The tint on his windows had made it impossible to see if anyone else was in the car, her face all but faltering when you stepped out alongside him.

It wasn’t an appropriate time or place to approach her, it was Killer’s night after all, but you wanted to break the tension so badly. You still weren’t sure what’d happened to cause her reluctance but nevertheless, it’d have to wait for another time. Kidd lead you to the door, greeting the group in passing but opting to get you inside. A cake was decorated and placed on a table in the middle of the room with balloon themed plates, the bar otherwise looking like its usual self. It seemed like the others were only holding back in lieu of Kidd’s arrival, immediately pouring shots and tipping them back one after another. You refrained from the festivities, hoping to provide the two of you a safe way home at the end of the night.

Killer seemed to be having a great time, which made you happy. The cake was left entirely ignored which made you laugh, they were far too wrapped up in their own antics to even begin the process of lighting candles. Kidd seemed to take notice of your amused face, snaking a hand over your waist and trailing to knead the plush of your hip. The sudden affection wasn’t unwelcome but it was admittedly uncomfortable in front of his friends. You gently removed his hand, attempting to place a quick peck on his lips to satiate him when he drunkenly stumbled until your back was against the top bar. Your hands instinctively met his chest, firmly pushing him back in an attempt to stop the barrage of kisses he was aiming to litter across your neck. The scent of liquor was intense and you could feel patches of lipstick being smeared across your skin by his imprecise movements. He groaned in annoyance when you used the leverage on his chest to push yourself away, effectively freeing yourself from his grasp.

“Not right now…”, you said in a stern but calm tone, aiming to diffuse the situation and redirect his attention back to his people.

“Goddammit (Y/N)!”, he yelled out rather loudly, taking you and several others by surprise, “You’re not drinking, you won’t kiss me, what the fuck? Why are you even here?”

Shock coursed through your body like fire, your ears burning as anger and embarrassment crested within you. This was your first time out as some undefined semblance of a couple, even more pressing that the night was supposed to be focused on Killer but Kidd was making a scene out of the two of you. You stood totally frozen as he stalked his way to the other side of the top bar, seeming to reintegrate with his crew just as quickly as he’d blown up. Everyone refused to look at you and you began to feel totally out of place, just like the first time you’d met. You knew that his actions were the result of the alcohol, but it didn’t ease any of the feelings hurt by his behavior. It was too much and with no one to turn to, you opted to just leave. It seemed like the best option as it would preserve the remainder of Killer’s birthday and give Kidd time to sober up.

As you reached the edge of where the parking lot met the main road, you listlessly scrolled through your contacts in search of someone who might be able to pick you up. You heard the door of the bar be thrown open and slammed shut. You couldn’t turn to face whoever it was, far too focused on keeping yourself together and preventing the already welling tears from falling. Footsteps that were far too light to be Kidd’s drew closer, stopping when they reached your immediate proximity.

“Are you alright?”, the voice was familiar, one that you hadn’t heard in a while.

Hip had a sad smile on her face, reaching out to place a comforting hand on your back. Her presence caused a whiplash of emotions. She’d been avoiding you consistently for so long that you’d long considered your friendship to be over.

“I will be.”, you answered honestly, feeling no need to mask your feelings, “I think I should just go… This night was supposed to be for Killer and we can’t talk while he’s drunk anyway.”

“I can take you home… I mean, if you’d be comfortable with that.”, Hip offered with hopeful eyes, appearing very genuine in her concern for your wellbeing.

You felt a sense of reluctance but accepted in spite of the awkwardness, feeling a sick sense of nostalgia washing over you as you sunk into her passenger seat. This was a disgustingly familiar experience, all too closely resembling the night she’d first convinced you to meet her and her friends at the establishment. Both nights revolved around Kidd’s actions, only occurring in drastic dissonance from one another.

“I know this probably isn’t the best time, but I’m sorry for being so distant.”, Hip broke the silence that had settled between the two of you, “I don’t regret bringing you to meet everyone but I have to be honest, I didn’t know what to do when Kidd told us he was interested in you.”

“What do you mean?”, you asked, her confession entirely too perplexing and not exactly helping you feel any better about the situation at hand.

“He is completely unconnected from his feelings and has a tendency to string his partners along. I’ve watched it happen so many damn times and I know it’s not something that he sets out to do, but something like what happened tonight is almost always inevitable. He starts fucking someone and let’s it go way too far.”, she explained as a feeling akin to repulsion bubbled beneath your skin, “I didn’t want you to end up in that position with him, but I didn’t know how to tell you without coming off like I just didn’t want the two of you to be together. I love Kidd, he’s a great friend and a great person, he just isn’t great in a relationship.”

“I care about Kidd a lot and I have to be honest Hip, gratification isn’t a major focus in our relationship. We’ve spent a hell of a lot more time getting to know each other and just enjoying each other’s company. I know that I don’t know him like you do, but I would be hard pressed to think that all of this has meant nothing to him.”, you stood your ground against her concerns, despite his actions you still believed that he cared for you in a meaningful way.

Her best efforts to not come across as abrasive were failing. You weren’t completely opposed to the idea that some of her words held merit but it was no easy feat to even slightly consider the possibility that Kidd wasn’t as interested in you as he’d led on. Not only had the two of you forged a physical connection, you’d also shared very intimate details of your pasts and what you’d both like to see in the future. You were always happy to listen to him and it felt like you’d gotten to know parts of him that no one else ever had.

“Has he ever mentioned Victoria?”, Hip asked after several quiet minutes.

“No, he hasn’t.”, your chest tightened with the realization you might not have actually known him as well as you’d thought, “Who’s Victoria?”

“She was Kidd’s girlfriend a long time ago and they didn’t work out.”, Hip explained, “Not long after they broke up, she got in an accident and… She didn’t make it.”

You sat silently, trying to make sense of what Hip was saying. That was one hell of a detail of his life that Kidd had never mentioned. He’d lightly brought up his past experiences with partners who just weren’t compatible, but not at all something as major as a love lost.

“It happened a few years ago… He’s never really been the same since. He still hangs out with the group, but it’s only because we were around before Victoria. If we weren’t, he would’ve pushed us all away too.”, Hip continued, “He and Killer have known each other their whole lives so he’s the exception but I’m telling you, I know he wouldn’t have anything to do with us otherwise.”

“You have to understand that it’s hard for me to even begin thinking that way. He’s only ever had nice things to say and has made it a point that he’s wanted to spend more time with all of you.”, you defended him, beginning to wonder if it wasn’t just a way to reassure yourself, “Just the other day, he was telling me about how excited he was for tonight because it’d been a while since the last time your whole group was together under the same roof.”

“I don’t know… I’m sorry this is all so heavy, I just felt like telling you was the right thing to do. I don’t want you to be hurt in the process of Kidd trying to figure his own shit out. Like I’ve said before, he’s a great friend, but that’s as far as I can defend his character.”, she reiterated her point as she pulled into your driveway.

“Thanks for bringing me home, I appreciate it.”, you thanked her rather awkwardly, still fighting the lingering twinges of anger from the immense doubt she displayed in response to your relationship with Kidd.

“You’re welcome.”, she reciprocated as you stepped out of the car, “I know everything I’ve said has been hard to hear, just please think long and hard about what you want and what you won’t ever find with him. I hate to say it, but I’ve seen this happen too many times before.”

“Goodnight Hip.”, you dismissed her and carried yourself inside, running over every detail of what she’d said.

What you wanted was as a future with him in it, no matter what that may look like. As much as you loathed the attribution, there was at least some tangibility to her words when considering the events of the night. You were certainly hurt and saddened by his actions, but that didn’t mean you weren’t willing to work through the rough patch with him. If he was only stringing you along, he had a particularly sick and twisted way of doing it. What would be the point of pouring the most intimate details of his life into you, only to walk away when he was bored?

You couldn’t ignore what Hip had revealed about Victoria, but you wished Kidd had just told you himself. He might not have been ready or known how to tell you, it was a very traumatic event and one that involved an ex-partner which wasn’t particularly suited to your own developing relationship afterall. By the time you’d reached the comfort of your bed, exhaustion had pronounced itself and immediately took hold when your head hit the pillow. You slept through the incessant buzzing of your cellphone as an innumerable amount of texts and calls flooded in throughout the night, all coming from the same person.

Part Five

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A/N: Thank you for reading! All characters presented in the story have been caricatured to fit the desired plot devices. Some interactions and situations may read out of character, this is only to progress the story and does not reflect my view of their canon personalities.

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[jkflesh]

At the Mermaid: Punk, Grindcore and Napalm Death in 1980s Birmingham

The Mermaid was a large, dilapidated pub in Sparkhill, a working-class neighbourhood 3 miles south of Birmingham city centre. The Mermaid was vital to the early days of the band Napalm Death and the creation of a new heavy metal subgenre: Grindcore.

There was a lack of live music culture in Birmingham in the 1980s, and there weren’t many places where a band could reliably get regular gigs, develop its sound, experiment, and build a reputation. The Mermaid was a vital space for the underground music scene.

Regulars to the Mermaid speak of the impressive range of underground music showcased at the pub. Indie bands like Primal Scream, post-punk bands Au Pairs and World Domination Enterprises, experimental rock band Swans, early gigs for Chumbawumba, and even reggae and free festival dance music. However, only Napalm Death could claim the ‘house band’ status at the Mermaid.

The impact of this short-lived scene in the 1980s is still profoundly felt. People had found lifelong friends, and the music continued sending sonic shockwaves worldwide.

In this film, we interview Matthew Knight and Tim Richardson, Mermaid regulars; Justin Broadrick, Member of Napalm Death and Godflesh; Nicholas Bullen, Founding Member of Napalm Death Nicholas Bullen and Sarah Lafford, Lead Researcher at Home of Metal.

[hostess-of-horror]

❄️A Pristine Carol ❄️

A Mario + Rabbids AU Revisited...

In the Space Opera Network, during the most festive time of the year, the Phantom of the Bwahpera prepares for his annual Winter's Ball performance at Pristine Peaks. Much to the dismay of everyone, his ego is increased tenfold as he refuses to acknowledge his struggling employees. When the Phantom is greeted that night by his dead companion and three other spirits, he begins to realize the error of his ignorant ways.

A holiday ghost story... About a ghost being haunted by ghosts. How ironic!

Inspired by Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, this AU has both holiday cheer and all the spooks you'll ever need!

@randomrabbidramblings @bramble-scramble @minnesotamedic186 @deezeyrabbidy @pastelprince18 @murd3r-rabbids @mimizzin @mothstache @sneklover @salamifuposey @spaceiis0daz

The Cast:

The Phantom of the Bwahpera (Ebenezer Scrooge)

Bea (Belle, Scrooge's Lover)

Judas Morose (Jacob Marley)

Jedidiah McGruff (The Ghost of Christmas Past)

Z.I.N.G. (The Ghost of Christmas Present)

Mal "Fleshcarver" Steward (The Ghost of Christmas Future)

Leo (Bob Cratchet)

Little Lottie (Tiny Tim)

Dolly Mallard (Fred, Scrooge's Nephew - OC by @minnesotamedic186)

The Whole Story in a Nutshell:

The story begins with Phantom reminiscing about his best friend, Judas Morose, who died five years ago while preparing for the Winter's Ball at Pristine Peaks.

Leo, his assistant, asks if he could take a vacation on that day so that he could bring his wife and daughter to his performance, and Phantom does under the condition that his pay will be docked (permanently).

They then get a visit from the kind-hearted Dolly Mallard, who invites him over at her mansion to celebrate the winter festivities. Phantom declines, saying that his performance is far more important than some simple social gathering.

That night, Phantom comes home to get some beauty sleep until he is suddenly visited by Judas Morose, a wretched soul bounded and dangled by heavy chains, who tells him that he must change or else he'll be just like him.

Judas, before he returns to the afterlife, shows Phantom all of the celebrities who were just like him - self-centered and greedy.

Thus begins the haunting. As the clock strikes, Jedidiah McGruff, a country singer with a hankering for smoke and whiskey, appears. He takes Phantom to the past, revealing every moment that made the opera ghost who he is.

In the past, the Phantom was defeated by the hands of Mario and his crew of Heroes at his birthplace, Spooky Trails, and is met by Morose, who seizes the opportunity to make him a star.

Phantom does become a major star, popular for his operatic roasts, and becomes a big part of Morose's party inside a nightclub. Here is where he meets Bea and they fall in love. But their relationship soon became strife with heartbreak as Phantom obsesses over the spotlight, ending with him breaking up with her through text.

The clock then strikes twice, and Phantom encounters an electrifying rapper and DJ named Z.I.N.G., who shows him the present.

Leo arrives home to his wife, Lucille, and his daughter, Little Lottie, who is a huge fan of Phantom. The opera ghost realizes that she's autistic - a lonely girl with a big imagination and an even bigger heart. Lucille laments on how Phantom treats Leo, but Leo remains positive, for their daughter's sake.

Z.I.N.G. then takes Phantom to Dolly Mallard and her gathering of friends playing a guessing game, which turns out to be an excuse to make fun of Phantom. Z.I.N.G. then turns Phantom's attention to his backup dancers, Ignorance and Want, before leaving him.

And finally, when the clock strikes three, the final spirit, Mal "Fleshcarver" Steward of the metal band Rabbid Stew, appears from the darkness. She shows Phantom a vibrant and bustling world of fame and fortune, which was caused by the disappearance of a certain bad celebrity.

This celebrity was so horrible, so terrible, that everyone began praising his absence and goes as far as to sell off his items at an auction for extremely cheap prices. With Phantom not getting it, Fleshcarver then shows Lucille receiving a sudden call from the local school about Little Lottie.

Little Lottie, badly injured after another of her encounters with bullies, is in the nurse's office with her dad. When her mother arrives, she nonverbally communicates that she wants to disappear forever so that everyone can be happy.

Heartbroken by this little girl's predicament, and extremely scared of his future, Phantom begins to realize who the missing celebrity is. Fleshcarver then takes him to a decrepit mansion where he - that very celebrity - was crushed by a hanging chandelier while alone, wallowing in his failed career.

Phantom pleads for forgiveness and begs for another chance at redemption, vowing to put others before himself.

He then wakes up! He is alive, very, very much alive, and he is beyond ecstatic! The story ends with Phantom adding a great sum in everyone's paycheck, allowing Leo and his family to his performance for free, and arrives at Dolly Mallard's party, who was greeted with open arms.

[abitohoney]

All I Want for Christmas Is You

Chapter 5 of 6 - All I Want For Christmas Is You AO3 link

CH1 || CH2 || CH3 || CH4 || CH5 || CH6

Sevika x female reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, 18+, NSFW

Tags: Sevika/Reader, AU - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Lesbian Sex, Cunnilingus, Teasing, Humor, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm Delay (nothing extreme), Begging, Strap-Ons, Face-Sitting, Corny & Cheesy Dialogue, kinda sappy

Word Count: 8.5k

Fic Summary: It’s your first year spending the holidays with Sevika, and though the two of you couldn’t be any different in your level of holiday spirit or view of the traditions that come with it, your shared adoration (and sexual attraction) for each other is more than enough to get both of you through it together.

A collection of little holiday-inspired scenes, technically chronological, but really could be read in any order or as stand-alone oneshots. Includes a nice blend of sugar (fluff) and spice (smut).

Chapter Summary: It's Christmas day, and not only do you get to spend it with your favorite person, it's also the first snow of the season. Can you convince Sevika to partake in the snow related festivities, or will the Grinch in her win out? (Was supposed to be just fun and fluff (the tooth rotting kind), but apparently I’m too horny, so enjoy a little smut at the beginning too!)

AN: Another fic already complete on AO3 that I'm bringing to Tumblr. Guess it's Xmas in April. 🤷‍♀️

Light filters in through the crack in your bedroom window shades. The brighter than usual beam aligns perfectly over your closed eyes. Pulling the sheets over your head, you feel Sevika’s warm body shift behind you. Her prosthetic arm, still snaked around your waist from where she placed it the previous night, pulls you closer against her bare chest. Warm breath tickles the hair at the back of your neck as she nuzzles into it and releases a deep sigh. A smile paints your face, delighted by how content your girlfriend is with having you near. As your head starts to clear of its morning fog, you realize what day it is.

“Sevika!” you whisper with barely contained excitement as you throw the sheet off both your naked bodies. When all you receive is a muffled groan against your neck, you try to pry her heavy arm off your body so you can sit up. Apparently she has other plans though, as she only holds you tighter and murmurs a curt, “No.”

“Sevika! It’s Christmas!” you say louder, and this time she releases her death grip on your body in favor of rolling onto her back and covering her face with a pillow. Now free, you sit upright, ignoring the way your body trembles and your skin prickles with goosebumps at the loss of her body heat in the chill of your bedroom. Scooting off the bed, you make your way to your window and push the curtains open to peer outside, curious as to why it’s so damn bright out this morning.

“OMG SEVIKA” you scream, no restraint in the volume of your voice this time.

Sevika immediately sits upright, head whipping in your direction as she prepares to save you from what must be something dangerous. Why else would you shriek like that? Her narrowed, bleary eyes take in your naked form silhouetted by the light pouring in through the now fully exposed window.

“IT SNOWED!” you squeal as you spin to face her.

The concern on Sevika’s face immediately fades into annoyance. Releasing a frustrated sigh, she falls back against her pillow, but stares blankly at the ceiling. She’s not going back to sleep, not after you startled her wide fucking awake. And not with you currently… frolicking around the bed to her side. “Babygirl,” she groans as you look down at her, all smiles, “It’s too early.” She can’t be upset with you though, not when you look so fucking adorable. Her lips pull up into a tiny smirk and she reaches out to run the backs of her metal fingers lightly down your side and over the swell of your hip.

Those ice cold digits paired with the feather light touch send chills down your spine and another wave of goosebumps across your skin. The way your body trembles in response does not go unnoticed by Sevika.

“You’re cold, sweetheart,” she purrs, her morning voice somehow impossibly deeper- huskier. That alone is enough to raise your body temperature a good several degrees. “Let me warm you.” She slips her prosthetic fingers around the back of your thigh, just beneath your ass cheek, and tugs gently- urging you to join her in bed again.

Your smile falters, legs aching with want as you watch her dark eyes rake over your naked body. “But Sevika,” you whine, “I want to open gifts and go enjoy the snow with you.”

“Later,” she insists, and you let her guide you onto the bed. Her hands slip around either side of your waist as you crawl onto the bed on your knees. She guides you so that you’re straddling her wide hips, her hungry eyes focused between your spread thighs. “Let me eat first,” she husks.

Smile completely gone now, replaced with a look of desperation- want- need, you whimper at her implication. You can't argue with such a tempting demand. So you let her have her way and allow her to pull you slowly up the bed and over her naked body. When your knees reach as far as they can go- blocked by her arms- she moves them to slip between your open legs and reaches up to grasp your sides. Locking eyes with you, she pulls you further up the bed. And with each step closer to her waiting mouth, you feel the fire in your belly grow hotter, and the muscles in your legs grow weaker. Once you’re aligned and hovering over her mouth, her hands slide down to your hips. Without breaking eye contact, she starts pressing open mouth kisses along the inside of one of your thighs, teasing you. Then she moves to the other thigh and nips at your heated flesh, drawing sweet little mewls from your parted lips with each bite.

Fully aroused and past any hope of controlling your own body, all you can do is stare down at Sevika’s lust-filled eyes and watch as she draws a deliberate line with her tongue, directly over the bite marks she just left. Your legs tremble, and the low chuckle she releases in response only weakens them further. Feeling a tug at your hips, you let her guide your body down, slowly sinking towards her plush lips, all while she drags the tip of her tongue up along the inside of the first thigh.

Unsure you’ll be able to hold yourself up by just your legs any longer, you grab for the headboard. Your controlled descent- and subsequently her tongue- stops just before she reaches the apex of your thighs. The whimper of disappointment and desperation that leaves your parted lips is pathetic. Though that ought to leave you feeling embarrassed, you know Sevika gets a thrill from having that power over you, and you can feel proof in the way her lips curl into an arrogant smirk against your skin.

Heated gaze still locked with yours, Sevika watches your lids droop as she takes a deep breath through her nose, then releases it with a deep hum of satisfaction. It’s such a lewd act, and yet it makes your walls clench around nothing.

Unable to take the prolonged teasing any longer, you silently plead with your eyes for her to get moving- to put that wonderful mouth of hers to work. When all she does is run her nose through the small patch of hair above your aching cunt, you turn to vocalizing your needs. “Sevika,” you whimper, “No more teasing, please.”

Her stormy eyes sparkle with mirth, pleased with how much of an effect she has on you- on your body. Continuing to run her nose over your mound, she husks, “I’m just savoring the aroma of my meal before I eat it.”

Janna, she talks so filthy.

Your nails dig into the soft wood of the headboard you’re currently grasping as you fight the desire to just grind against her beautiful face. However, you’re not prepared for when you feel her blow a stream of breath across your wet heat. Your hips instinctively rock forward, her nose brushing along your throbbing clit and sending a wave of pleasure through your lower half. ”Fuck!” you choke out.

Sevika, also seemingly not expecting your physical reaction, growls against your cunt. A warning not to do that again. Digging her fingers into the forgiving flesh of your hips, she moves you back in place above her, just a hairsbreadth from her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, “I didn’t mean to. It just felt so goo-” your apology falters, fading into a moan as you feel her trace the tip of her tongue just along the outside of your entrance. Apparently she’s already forgiven you. Another round of teasing the perimeter, and then you feel the pleasant drag of her tongue through your folds. She only just barely breaks the surface though, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to buck against her face.

She knows exactly what she’s doing. Knows how to tease you. To only give just enough to keep you wanting more. To have you trembling above her. Each time her mouth meets your cunt, she gives you just a little more than the last.

Her tongue delves deeper between your folds and your eyes flutter shut. She prods- like the ungodly expert she is- at your wet hole, sinking that delightful tongue of hers deeper each time. Nails digging delightfully sharp into your hips, she pulls you further down onto her face until you’re practically resting your full weight on her. And Janna, how your eyes roll behind your lids when you feel her tongue curl and drag along your walls as she- ever so slowly- lifts you back up.

“S… Sevika,” you mewl, but she doesn’t hear you. She’s too lost in her own reverie at the taste of you filling her mouth. Lifting her head she presses her lips against your cunt as she laps with renewed hunger. Her own deep, hum of satisfaction sends vibrations straight to your clit, further threatening your resolve.

“Tha- that feels- so good,” you moan, and that’s all the encouragement she needs to pick up the pace.

She pulls you back down onto her mouth, her nose buried alongside your clit. Her hands force your hips to roll down and over her face. Her tongue fucks you with each decent, and her nose rubs along the sensitive bundle above with each drag forward.

Your head lolls back, and your legs finally give way to the overwhelming pleasure, but Sevika never wavers in controlling how your body bounces and grinds over her face. Belly burning with your impending orgasm, you try to communicate how close you are, but all that falls from your parted lips is a string of nonsensical pleas and whines.

In the back of your mind, you realize Sevika is making her own sounds of pleasure, groaning each time she feels your walls clench around her tongue. Tilting your head forward, you force your bleary eyes open to peer down at her.

Sevika’s ravenous gaze is focused on your bouncing breasts. Her head bobs and switches angles as she intentionally rubs that perfect nose of hers along your clit. And you’re certain that site alone could push you over the edge.

Removing one hand from the headboard, you grab one of your breasts, kneading, pinching and playing with it as if it were Sevika’s hand. It’s nothing compared to hers, but you aren’t doing it for yourself. You’re doing it for her. To reward her. To excite her. And it obviously works.

In one swift motion, she’s pulling your clit to her mouth, wrapping her lips around it and sucking with just the right amount of pressure- all while releasing a guttural groan that you swear you can feel down to your toes.

You scream. Your orgasm hits you unexpectedly and intensely. But that scream almost instantly devolves into a broken sob and incoherent babbling as your muscles spasm with each pulsating surge of pleasure that races through your body. Clutching the headboard to keep from completely collapsing, you abandon all restraint and wrap your thighs around Sevika’s head, keeping those delightful lips in place around your clit as you ride out your high.

When you finally start to come back to reality, you gaze down at Sevika through clouded eyes. All you can see are those beautiful, stormy gray eyes focused on yours, and the top of her head. It only just starts to dawn on you that not only are you sitting on her with your full weight, you also have the sides of her head in a vice grip between your thighs.

“Shit,” you huff, “I’m- I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t say anything- understandable given she has a mouthful of cunt forced on her- but she also doesn’t seem upset. Quite the opposite rather. She looks almost fucked out herself with how relaxed her brows are and how glazed over her eyes are. Then you realize she’s also no longer holding your hips. Her hands are sitting limp against the mattress at her sides. She willingly allowed you to fully sit on her face.

Oh gawd.

You need to get off her, but your legs feel like jelly. And although she’s no longer actively sucking, her lips are still wrapped around your very sensitive clit. Any amount of movement is going to cause overstimulation, and you’re still too fucked out to handle that.

“Sevika,” you say meekly, “I- I can’t sit up on my own.”

Her eyes twitch, as if coming into focus, and she slowly lifts her hands to grasp your waist. With little to no effort, she carefully lifts you off her face, but the sight that reveals has your body aching with new arousal. Several strings of- saliva? Your release? Both? Whatever it is, it hangs connected between your weeping cunt and her lips. On top of that, her mouth and chin is absolutely coated- glistening. You can’t help but whimper wantonly.

“Made quite a mess, babygirl,” she says, her voice even huskier than usual. She sets you down over her stomach, apparently not caring too much about messes considering you’re now leaving those various fluids on her there too.

“That’s technically your fault,” you point out with a weak smile. You're exhausted.

“I’m not even talking about my face.”

Brows furrowed, you search around her head, clueless as to what other mess she could be referring to. Coming up with nothing, you ask, “What do you mean?”

She nods her head to something behind you and you glance over your shoulder even more confused.

“Look down, sweetheart.”

You do, eyes traveling up the length of her legs, to the apex of her spread thighs-

Oh shit!

“Sevika! Did- did you cum from that?” you ask, wide-eyed and completely astonished. You turn back to her as she wipes the back of her flesh hand across her face.

She doesn't answer. Just smirks up at you. Apparently that's a 'yes'.

You’re speechless. Not a damn thing you can think to say to that.

“You just stay here. I’ll get us cleaned up,” she says and helps move you off her and onto the bed.

Lying on your back, you stare blankly up at the ceiling.

Sevika got off…from you getting off.

Hearing Sevika’s heavy footfalls as she comes back into the room, you adjust your head to watch her approach the side of the bed.

“You alright?” she asks with a cocky smirk. She knows you’re more than alright, but you’ll feed her ego.

“I’m feeling really good. You blow my mind every time, Sev.”

The corner of her mouth tugs higher and she starts wiping down the insides of your legs with a warm, wet cloth. When she gets to where you’re still terribly sensitive, she’s extra careful not to cause any discomfort. It warms your heart to see how someone so big, grumpy, cocky and brutish can be so gentle and caring with you, and only you.

Once the two of you are freshened up, Sevika crawls back into bed with you. Lying on her back, she wraps her human arm under you when you roll onto your side to face her. She pulls you closer as you snuggle up to her side, resting your head on her shoulder. With an arm draped across her chest and a leg over her thigh, you release a contented sigh. Closing your eyes, you focus on the steady rise and fall of Sevika’s chest. You feel her press a kiss to the top of your head and you’re certain if you lay like this for too long, you’re going to fall right back to sleep.

“We should get up before we both pass back out,” you murmur after several blissful minutes of just cuddling with your girlfriend.

Sevika hums a noncommittal response. She’s going to make you be the one to push you two to get up. Again.

Reluctantly, you sit up and scoot to the end of the bed before hopping down and making your way to the dresser. Grabbing underwear for both of you, you sling hers across the room. It lands on her face and you make no effort to hide your giggles as she groans. You slip into yours then grab the matching pajamas and socks you bought specifically for today. “Here. Put these on too,” you say and toss hers. They land right smack in the center of her face just as she’s sitting up.

She narrows her eyes at you, to which you offer her your best innocent smile.

“More matching shit?” she grumbles as she picks up her clothing.

“It’s not as bad as the sweaters, I promise,” you reply while slipping your green, fluffy socks on. Then you follow with the red plaid pajama pants and long-sleeved top. Sevika has the same combo, but in swapped colors. And just like with her sweater, you removed the left sleeve to allow her prosthetic to slip through more easily.

Coming to stand beside where Sevika sits at the edge of the bed while slipping her last red sock on, you give her a quick peck on the cheek. “You look cu-” you pause, knowing she hates being called ‘cute’, “You look nice.”

She stands up beside you, not looking entirely pleased with her getup, but she also isn’t complaining like she did with the ugly sweater.

Progress!

“Now we can go outside," you exclaim, and without giving Sevika a moment to reply, you take hold of human wrist and drag her out of the bedroom, towards the front door. “I’m so excited!” you squeal. Grabbing your winter coat, gloves and boots, you ignore Sevika’s muttered, “Obviously.” from behind you. Geared up for the cold, you turn to find Sevika begrudgingly slipping into hers, but she’s taking her damn sweet time. “C’mon, Sev. Don’t be such a Grinch. You’ll have fun.”

Once Sevika is fully dressed in her winter attire, you throw the door open and dash outside. Sevika, far less enthused, slowly trudges out behind you.

With her back to you as she turns to close the door, you make a hasty snowball and launch it in her direction. Not only does it land, it nails her square in the back of her head. She flinches, her shoulders jerking upward. A nice glob of snow sticks to her dark hair and you have to cover your mouth with a gloved hand to stifle the giggles that slip past.

Sevika turns slowly, deliberately, to face you. Narrowed stormy eyes land on you, and you know this is going to be the damn flour incident all over again. Without removing her eyes from you, she kneels down and scoops up a nice sized ball of snow. Sensing an impending onslaught of snowballs, you give yourself a head start and spin to run towards the side of the house, giggling as you go. You don’t get far though, before you feel something smack you hard in the center of your ass. You yelp, nearly tripping from the sheer force in which you were hit.

Damn she’s got good aim!

“Why you running, babygirl?!” she calls from behind you tauntingly.

“Cause I don’t want to be covered in snow!” you yell as you round the house to the back yard. The snow is thicker there and- as luck would have it- one of your boots get stuck. You fall down- face first- into the thick snow. With the amount of momentum you had from running, you sink far enough to cover most of your body. Through the snow covering your ears, you can hear a muffled taunting chuckle and the crunch of approaching footsteps. Then you’re suddenly being pulled out of the snow by the collar of your coat before being set back down on your haunches.

“Were you running from me or yourself?” Sevika teases as you work to brush off the snow from your- everything.

“Haha,” you reply mockingly once your mouth is free of snow. Sevika's boots move into your view as she steps in front of you. Slowly, you tilt your head back to glare up at her shit-eating grin.

“Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart. I didn’t do this to you,” she sneers. She offers you her hand though, which you reluctantly take. She pulls you to your feet with enough force that you stumble into her hard form.

Hands pressed against Sevika’s chest, you tilt your head back to shoot her another nasty look, but she only smirks in return.

“Hey, where’s that pretty smile?” she asks in the smooth, sexy voice she knows will make you easily forgive and forget. She brings her gloved hand to your face, gently swiping away remnants of snow from your cold cheeks.

You try not to let your pout slip into a smile, but when her smirk softens and her arms slide around your back to pull you closer, you lose it. Grin back in place, you give her a playful shove, which -as expected- doesn’t do much of anything. Can’t exactly move a mountain. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” she asks, but you know she’s playing dumb with the way her lips curl higher.

“Be all sweet, and smooth and sexy when I’m mad at you.”

She chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I like your smile.”

Okay. Really can’t be mad at her now.

You won’t give her the benefit of a response, but she sees how that makes your smile grow. When she lets her hands fall back to her sides, you take a step back and peer down at the indent your body left in the snow. Struck with an idea, you turn back to Sevika. “I bet you’ve never made snow angels before, have you?” Taking her arched brow as a ‘no’, you trudge through the thick snow to a spot that looks a bit shallower. “It’s fun. Did this all the time as a kid,” you say before stretching your arms out at your side and falling back into the snow.

Sevika stands several feet from you, watching with mild amusement as you start moving your arms and legs across the snow several times.

“Okay. Help me up, but don’t step on my angel.”

You can tell by the way her lips twitch that she wants to say something snarky, but she comes to your aid silently. Taking her hand once again, you let her pull you to your feet, then turn to face your creation. “See! It’s a snow angel!”

Sevika stares down at the displaced snow, clearly unimpressed.

“Really? Nothing to say?” you pout and plant your hands on your hips. “Let’s see you do better!”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Oh come on, Sev. It’s something everyone needs to experience at least once.”

“No.”

Fine. If she won’t do it willingly…

Not learning from your earlier attempt to shove her, you pull your hands far back before shoving them full force- throwing all your body weight into it- into Sevika’s chest. To your surprise- and hers- you do manage to cause her to take a small step back to balance herself. Your eyes widen while her brows raise.

“Babygirl, you really want me to do it that badly?” she asks. When she sees you prepare to give pushing her another try, she grabs your wrists before your hands can connect with her chest again. Sighing, she relents, “I’ll do it. Just this once.” Your resultant giggles have her shaking her head, probably wondering why she puts up with your silly ass. Arms spread wide just like you had, she checks over her shoulder, then turns to you with an eye roll, a muttered, “You owe me,” and then finally falls backwards.

Janna, what you would give to somehow capture this image forever. Sevika is lying in the snow before you, grumpy face firmly in place, while she makes a fucking snow angel. A half-assed snow angel, but a snow angel nonetheless.

Once she’s done, you offer her your hand. However, when she arches a brow, you realize there’s no way you’re going to be helping her up, so you let your arm drop to your side and take a step back out of the way. “Careful not to mess it up!” you tell her as she moves to stand on her own.

On her feet, the two of you look over her handiwork. It’s comically larger than yours, and honestly not much like any angel you've seen. “Not bad, but I think it needs something,” you say and make your way to the top of her ‘angel’.

Sevika watches as you draw two long, curved lines above her head. Then you move to the side and draw a squiggly line coming from her lower back, and add a little triangle at the opposite end. “What the hell is that?” she grunts.

“Horns and a tail. I think a devil suits you much better than an angel,” you tease. The innocent smile you flash her starts to falter when she meets your gaze and her lips curl into a sinister smile.

“That so?” she sneers, “Well this devil has a penchant for corrupting sweet little angels.”

“Sev, no!” you squeal when she moves to grab you, but you remain rooted, knowing after your earlier mishap that running is futile. Not only does she grab you, she throws you over her damn shoulder. The shrill yelp that rips from your throat has her chuckling. “Sevika! Put me down!” you screech, kicking your feet helplessly as she starts to carry you back toward the front of the house.

“No.”

“At least carry me nicely!” you demand.

“Devils don’t do things nicely.” she sneers, but you can hear that playful inflection in her voice. She’s enjoying messing with you. “And stop kicking or I’ll drop your ass,” she adds with a firm slap to said ass.

Another yelp leaves your throat and your face flushes at how your body reacts to her spanking you. Feeling suddenly a bit too... excited, you opt to shut your mouth for the remainder of her trek back to the front door.

Metal hand firmly gripping your ass to keep you from slipping off her shoulder, Sevika uses her gloved hand to open the door and steps inside. After kicking the door shut behind her, she carefully sets you on your feet. Smirking down at you- obviously enjoying how flustered you look- she starts stripping off her winter gear. “Now get that shit off and get your angelic ass on the couch. This devil needs your body to warm her up.”

Can’t argue with that.

As you quickly remove your gear, you think of one last wintry thing you want to share with her. “Can your angel make us a hot cup of cocoa to drink while we cuddle?”

“Who said we’re gonna cuddle?” she purrs as she steps into your personal space. And by personal space you mean her thick thighs- so thick that even her baggy pajama pants hug them impossibly tight- are directly in front of your face as you’re bent over removing your last boot.

Peering up at her through your lashes, you slowly straighten back up. “Not that I would ever deny whatever else you have in mind, but I really was hoping for some cuddles by the fireplace and opening gifts.”

And then the two of you are in a silent standoff. She watches you with a sexy smirk, threatening to make your knees weak and cave into giving her what she wants. But you have an equally powerful tool at your disposal. Your pouty lips and pleading doe-eyes.

Sighing in defeat, Sevika’s smirk devolves into a sweeter grin. “Alright, babygirl. This just means you owe me even more.”

“Okay!” you agree without question and make your way to the kitchen to whip up some hot chocolate. Surprisingly, Sevika follows you. “Are you going to help?” you ask as you fill a kettle with water and set it on the stove.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” she replies as she steps up behind you and wraps her arms around your waist, “Just wanted to steal some of your body heat.”

“I can’t really work like this,” you point out, but you make no effort to stop her. Not when you actually enjoy the attention.

It does- in fact- prove to be rather difficult to work with her wrapped around you. Trying to move around the kitchen with your tall, wide girlfriend holding you close, is challenging to say the least. However, you do manage, and end with two, hot, delicious cups of hot cocoa.

“What do you think?” you ask, handing Sevika her cup when she finally releases you from her embrace.

Lifting it to her mouth, she eyes it suspiciously before taking a small sip. Judging by the way her face scrunches up like it did when she tried eggnog the other day, she is not a fan. “Too sweet,” she grumbles.

“But I thought you liked sweet things,” you reply with a coy smile that she doesn’t seem to catch- too busy glaring at her cocoa.

“Never liked sweet things.”

“What about me?”

That gets her to look at you. “You’re the only exception, sweetheart.”

“Well I might be able to make that sweet cup of cocoa a little more tolerable,” you reply and make your way to the cabinet where Sevika stores her liquor. Selecting one of her favorite whiskeys, you remove the cap and pour a hefty amount into her hot chocolate. “How about now?”

She takes a sip- this time a nice long one- then pulls it away with a pleased hum.

“Now how about those cuddles?” you suggest and she nods, following you into the living room.

She helps you get the fireplace started, then gets settled into the corner of the couch, patting her thigh to indicate where she’d like you to sit. More than happy to oblige, you seat yourself across her lap, smiling as you wrap both your hands around your warm mug.

The two of you sip your cocoa in companionable silence, watching the fire dance and listening to the crackle of the logs. Sevika’s prosthetic, currently draped along the back of the couch just behind you, plays absentmindedly with your shirt collar. The smooth backs of her fingers caressing your skin.

Hot chocolates finished, you gather up both mugs and set them in the kitchen sink before grabbing Sevika’s gift from under the tree. “Gift time!” you call as you skip over to plop back down beside her on the couch. You turn to her with a huge smile and hand her the gift, excited to see her reaction.

Sevika’s lips twitch, fighting the smile threatening to bloom at the sight of your intricately wrapped present. It’s wrapped in a dark red paper that she knows is far too similar to that of her cape to be merely coincidence. The perfectly tied bow is a shiny gold that could easily be mistaken for the same material that covers the left collar of her favored leather vest. From the corner of her eye, she can see your leg bouncing up and down in excitement and she finally lets a small grin tug at the corner of her mouth.

Focused on watching your girlfriend’s expression, you wait- rather impatiently- for her to slowly remove the meticulously tied bow. It’s like last night’s gift all over again with how she takes her sweet ass time. Only this time the end results will likely be very different in nature. Even so, you’re just as anxious. You catch the way her brow raises just the faintest amount as she peels back enough paper to reveal the top of the humidor beneath. And it doesn’t go unnoticed how she then starts to remove the paper faster.

Nailed it.

With the paper removed, Sevika opens the lid to reveal a large number of her favorite cigars. Imported, and expensive to the point you know she only buys a small number each year as a treat. “Babygirl, this is too much,” she murmurs, but you catch how she smiles.

“I wanted to,” you reply, watching how she takes one out and brings it to her nose to inhale deeply. “There’s a couple other things in there too,” you point out.

She pulls out two small items covered in brown paper and unwraps one, revealing a gold cigar cutter. Then she unwraps the other to reveal a matching lighter. Both have her initials engraved into them. Her gaze lifts to your expectant one and she shakes her head.

Your heart drops for a moment.

Is she disappointed? Does she not like them?

“This is far too much,” she says quietly.

“But you like it?” you ask hopefully, but you feel that hope crack as she places everything back in the humidor and sets it on the end table beside her.

“Of course I like it, but you must have spent far more on this than you can afford.”

“Can’t put a price on how much I adore you, Sev.”

The way her expression softens- her eyes shifting as if she doesn’t know how to respond- makes your heart flutter. You place a hand on the top of her thigh and lean forward to give her a quick peck on the corner of her mouth. Before you can pull back, her human hand cups your cheek and she leans in to press her lips fully to yours.

She kisses you softly- tenderly- and you feel yourself melting. You know this is her way of silently thanking you. When she breaks the kiss, you can tell she’s holding back a smirk, but you’re not sure why.

“I got you something too,” she says quietly, and now you realize why she’s trying to hide a smile. She must be excited to see what you think of your gift. She reaches around the side of the couch and pulls out a box from under the end table. Placing it in your lap, she’s now the one anxiously watching your expression.

The box is- unsurprisingly- not wrapped. What is surprising however, is that it does have a little red bow on the top. And honestly, you think it’s pretty damn cute that she even went that far. Brimming with excitement, you pull the lid off and set it on the couch at your other side. Removing several pieces of tissue, you find a simple, black blindfold.

What in Janna’s name…

Your eyes rise to Sevika’s face suspiciously. She’s no longer holding back her smile. No, rather she’s smirking like she’s up to something. Like she knows something you don’t. “Sev…” you start skeptically, “What is this for?”

“Put it on.”

That is not the answer you’re looking for, but when she arches a brow, you do as you’re told and slip it on and align it over your eyes. You feel the couch shift as Sevika stands. She takes your hand into hers and guides you to stand as well. Without the sense of sight, your other senses start to work overtime and you can feel her warm breath fan across your forehead. She’s facing you.

“Sev, what’s going on?” you ask in an almost whine. “Is this for… bedroom time?” You’re almost hopeful that’s what it is, but when she starts silently guiding you in the direction of the front door, you know that’s not going to be the case.

“What did I tell you about being patient, sweetheart?” she teases.

“Good things come to those who wait,” you repeat, mocking her typical dry tone. And though that is true in the case of Sevika, that usually involves sex, which this clearly does not. Does it?

“Put this on,” she says when she finally stops and releases your hand.

You can feel her holding your coat to your back, which has you so much more confused as to what the hell she’s up to. “Sev, where are we going?” you ask as you allow her to help you slip each arm into the sleeves. “We’re still in our pajamas.”

“Nobody will be there,” she replies, ignoring your first question. After helping you slip your gloves and boots on, she leaves you momentarily to put out the fire before returning to get into her own coat and boots.

Taking your hand again, she guides you outside and into your vehicle. You know you’re not supposed to ask questions. You’re supposed to be patient. But damn, this has got to be the oddest thing she’s ever done. She’s never surprised you with anything outside the bedroom, so you’re literally at a loss as to what’s going on.

The drive is short, but the silence it carries is maddening. You're so damn confused, nervous and excited. When the vehicle stops, you listen for any sounds that could indicate where the hell she’s taken you. But, even as the door opens beside you, all you can hear is the rustle of Sevika’s coat as she reaches in to help you step down and out.

With her hand on the small of your back, she’s guiding you once again.

“Sev, how much further?” you finally ask, breaking that awful silence.

“We’re here. Sit down.”

Sit down? You don’t even know if there’s anything behind you, but she takes your elbow and helps you get seated on what feels like a cold, metal bench. Then, as if this whole situation couldn’t get any weirder, you feel her start to remove your boots, only to replace them with different footwear that you can’t quite identify. Something with laces apparently, as you feel her tighten them up.

She sits beside you, presumably to swap out her boots as well.

What the hell is going on?

“Alright, you can remove it.”

Finally!

Not waiting a second longer, you reach up and yank the blindfold off. Unfortunately, your eyes can’t quite adjust that quickly to the sudden change from near pitch black to blinding bright white light that reflects from the surrounding snow. Squinting, your eyes finally start to focus, and you realize you’re seated right in front of a small, frozen pond. Glancing around in stunned silence, you notice nobody else is there, just several small evergreen trees to your right. They line the very edge of the pond, and against the powdery white snow that coats them, you can see a variety of shiny red, gold, silver and green baubles decorating the branches. Then you remember Sevika had put something different on your feet. Straightening your legs out in front of you, you find your boots had been replaced with… ice skates?

Oh dear Janna, did she bring you to ice skate?!

A quick glance to Sevika’s own skate donning feet confirms your suspicion.

Holy. Fucking. Shit!

Your wide eyes search her expression for answers to questions you haven’t even formed yet. You watch as her eyes focus on your expression, clearly anxious for a reaction. “Sevika! Did- did you really bring me here to skate with you?!” you whisper in shock. There’s not another soul around to be quiet for, but you’re literally stunned to the point you’re almost breathless. This is not something you would have ever expected your grumpy girlfriend to do for you.

“You’ve been talking about it for weeks,” she replies quietly.

Wow. Just wow.

“Sevika, this is such a sweet gift!” You turn your attention to the decorated trees again, then back to her. “You didn’t do that too, did you?”

She nods, and you swear to Janna she looks almost bashful to admit it. “Ran helped.”

You owe Ran a hug and many thanks later, but right now you want to smother Sevika in kisses.

“You want to go out there?” she asks.

“Yes! Of course!” you exclaim. That earns you a cute lopsided grin as she stands and offers you her gloved hand. You give her your own, allowing her to help you to your feet. Hand in hand, the two of you carefully make your way onto the edge of the ice. Pausing you turn to gaze up at Sevika, and before you even ask the question on your mind, you know the answer. “Have you ever done this before?”

Sevika looks downright terrified, but she’s trying so damn hard to hide it under her typical surly demeanor. Yet there’s no hiding the way her hand clenches around yours even harder when both her skates hit the slick ice and slide just a fraction. Nor the way her entire body tenses. Everything goes stock straight- rigid.

“It’s okay Sev,” you assure her and give her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ve only done this a couple times myself. We’ll both probably fall a few times.” It’s a lie. You’d actually done it quite a few times in your childhood, just not for several years. When she gives you the side eye, you offer her a reassuring smile. “We’ll start slow.”

Carefully, you start to move forward. When she makes no effort to follow along, leaving your arm extended awkwardly behind you, you pause and turn to face her. Taking her prosthetic in your other hand, you start to slowly skate backwards.

“You know that’s not going to help, right?” she grunts. “If I start to go down I’m going to crush you.”

Gradually pulling her forward while you make your way further back over the pond, you can’t help but smile. It’s incredibly cute how nervous your brute of a girlfriend is over something as silly as ice skating. “You make it sound like being pinned beneath you is a bad thing,” you joke.

“It will be when you get to feel the brunt of my entire body weight crashing down on you,” she grumbles. Her eyes are focused on watching her own feet, and you think perhaps this is a good thing. That way she can’t see the way your eyes sparkle with mirth or how you smile in amusement at her expense.

“Sounds like a great way to go,” you laugh. Turning your skate to stop for a moment, you almost can’t contain your giggles when Sevika starts to freak out because the little bit of momentum across the slick ice keeps her headed straight for you. Her chest lightly bumps into yours, but your turned skate keeps you in place.

No longer able to glare at her feet, she’s left staring down at your beaming face. Some of that concern and frustration etched into her brows softens, and she grins.

“Kiss me?” you ask sweetly and bat your lashes at her.

“Babygirl, I’d like to, but if I try to bend down- we’re both going down.”

“It’ll be fine, just do it slowly.” You release her hands, but she immediately starts to wobble and it’s so hard not to laugh at how she goes wide-eyed. Grabbing her hands again, you place them on your waist to help steady her. It seems to work, but the death grip she has on you can be felt even through your thick winter coat.

“Shit,” she curses under her breath.

That scowl of hers is back in place, but you’re confident you can get her back to smiling. Placing your hands on her hips, you tilt your head back, purse your lips, and close your eyes - ready for your kiss. You hear her release a defeated sigh, but you can feel her bend at the waist and her warm breath hit your cold cheek when she places a kiss there. “You missed,” you tease, eyes still closed and lips waiting. Her deep chuckle warms your chest, but her lips finally pressing to yours set your whole body aflame. Thankfully, she manages to stay stable throughout the kiss, relaxes a bit even.

When Sevika straightens up, you smile up at her adoringly. “Thank you so much for doing all this,” you say softly. “This is the perfect gift.”

That smirk of hers is- as expected- back in place, but you can tell she wants to say something. You give her a moment, but when she says nothing, you try prodding her. “Something on your mind?”

“No. Let’s just keep going,” she replies and her eyes flit to the center of the pond, then back to you.

Taking her hands into yours again, you return to your slow backward skate, dragging Sevika along with you. After several close calls with her losing her balance but not quite falling, she starts to get the hang of it. You can feel her hands loosen their death grip on yours and see her shoulders drop a bit as some of that tension slips away. You both watch the other’s expression in silence. She admires your sweet, enthusiastic smile, while you admire her crooked smirk and the way her cheeks and nose start to redden with the chill of the wintry air.

Feeling bolder now that she seems to be getting more comfortable, you pick up your speed and start pulling her in more random patterns. To your surprise- and delight- she goes along with it, apparently too caught up in watching you smile. But, as the two of you approach the center of the pond, you catch how her eyes flit to something on the surface and her expression changes for just a split second. Too fast for you to determine what she was feeling. You glance down at your feet just in time to catch sight of a small, black box as you pass it.

“Oh! There’s something out here, Sev!” you point out. Carefully reducing your speed, you bring the two of you back to the box. Once you're both stopped and steady, you release her hands. Before you can kneel to inspect the item, you realize Sevika is looking nervous as hell again. “You’re fine! You’re not going to fall!” you laugh. She doesn’t seem to hear you though, as she just stares silently at you.

She’s so odd today.

Kneeling down, you grab the velvety box. It’s small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. Rising to your feet, you inspect it further. You realize it’s a clamshell, so you slowly flip the lid open, but are not prepared for what you find inside.

A ring? An engagement ring?

“Sevika!” you exclaim in shock, “Someone lost their engage-” your words die in your mouth when you catch Sevika’s nervous stare again.

Wait. No. It can’t be. She didn’t. She wouldn’t.

You search her eyes for the answers, too afraid to ask the questions. Her attention drops to the ring, and she very slowly, carefully, propels herself forward until she’s close enough to take the box from your hand. All you can do is watch, utterly dumbfounded, as her shaky human hand slips the glove off your left hand. Removing the ring from the box, she stuffs both your glove and the box into her pocket and then her worried eyes meet yours.

“I- I can’t kneel right now,” she stammers, her normally solid, confident voice nearly cracking.

Oh Janna!

She’s worried about being able to kneel. Yet you’re not sure you can even stand right now with how weak your knees feel. “Sevika…” you whisper breathlessly as she takes your ring finger in her metal hand while her poor, trembling human hand fumbles with the attempt to slide the ring on. You help her, although even your hand shakes with the amount of emotion threatening to explode from your every fiber. Your eyes brim with unshed tears, ready to fall at any moment.

“Will you-”

“Yes!” you scream, not even allowing her to stammer out the question you know is coming. Unfortunately, you were a bit too enthusiastic, and your poor girlfriend- fiancé- is so startled that she jumps. You try to grab her- foolish as it is to think you can help keep your gigantic fiancé upright- and latch onto her wrists. She loses her balance, feet slipping out from under her, and falls backwards, taking you down with her.

She lands on her back with a loud oomph, while you crash on top of her solid body with a startled yelp. You manage to firmly plant your hands down on the ice on either side of her broad shoulders to prevent your head from smacking into hers. Both of you stare wide-eyed at one another in shock for a solid two seconds.

And then you both laugh. You’re the first to release the tear inducing giggles, but her deep, belly shaking laughter follows soon after. Those tears of joy that had been so close to spilling over now fall freely down your cold cheeks before dripping down onto Sevika’s.

Once the two of you recover from your fits of laughter, you can’t help but just pepper her face with kisses. Despite the cold air, her cheeks are flush with warmth.

“Sweet-” Sevika tries to speak over your onslaught of affection, cutoff when you peck the corner of her mouth. When your lips moves to her nose, she tries again. “Sweetheart, I get it.”

You pause, just long enough to check her expression. And upon seeing she’s not upset in the least, you quickly resume showering her in chaste kisses. At least until you feel her wrap her arms around you and roll the two of you over. Though she manages to get you on your back, she struggles to straddle you without slipping. As soon as you start laughing at her predicament, she gives up, letting her body slip down onto yours.

Giggles cutoff by the sheer weight of Sevika, you squirm beneath her. “Sevika!” you chastise, “You’re gonna crush me!”

She takes mercy on you- at least a bit- and pushes her upper body up off yours. Now she’s the one grinning down at you. “Thought that was a great way to go,” she mocks teasingly. Before you can retort, her lips are on yours.

When she breaks the kiss and gazes down at you with a crooked grin, you feel suddenly overwhelmed with emotions. “Sevika, this has been the best gift ever. I mean there’s no topping this,” you say softly. Your smile fades, replaced with that of disappointment as you continue. “But, I feel like my gift to you is so pitiful now. I really wanted to give you something special for our first Christmas together.”

Before you can turn away, Sevika’s gloved hand cups your cheek and she locks eyes with you. “Babygirl, I got what I wanted. And I’ll want the same thing next year, and the year after that.” When you raise a brow in question, she gives you a soft, warm kiss on your cold nose before answering your unspoken question.

“All I want for Christmas is you.”

next chapter >

[thisrobinisred]

So- I decided to actually attempt to write for the Kaebedo Anastasia AU. As I don’t have an account on AO3, I’m going to have to post it here. This is my first time doing something like this, so any advice would be appreciated :)

Also @thegorb-irl Thankyou for reading through this for me lmao

Warnings : Slight Violence, mentions of blood, Albedos OOC at the moment but in future parts it shouldn’t be too bad, Kaeya doesn’t appear in the prologue.

This does follow the storyline of Anastasia, so certain tweaks to both source materials have been made

Prologue - once upon a December’s dream

Khaenri’ah - 1907

The six year-old boy shifted his weight, now facing the woman sat on the end of his bed, a small frown painted onto his face. Ushering him towards her, the boy complied as he shuffled forwards - still refusing to meet her gaze. 

“Nana,” the boy started, finally looking up, “Do you really have to leave us?”

The Dowager Empress sighed before a small smile made its way onto her face, her fingers threading through a section of the boy’s ashy-blonde hair.

“Yes, Albedo. I will be leaving for Fontaine, but I won’t be gone forever,” the woman spoke as she took her grandson’s hands into her own. A pout was still visible on Albedo’s face, clearly unhappy about her leaving in the first place. However, as the boy began to ponder his own thoughts and consider the last part of her statement, his lips slightly tugged upwards. Majority of his worries had seemed to ease, yet had definitely not left his mind completely.

“I have something to give you, so that a part of me will always be with you.” the woman began to speak in a hushed voice whilst she reached over to the spot next to where she was sat. Albedo held his hands out, unsure of what to expect, yet he was excited nevertheless. Something slightly heavy had been placed in his hands, he opened his eyes to be greeted by a music box, decorated in intricate trimmings. His grin continued to spread across his face when she continued speaking.

“We will see each other again in Fontaine, this is something that I promise.” she claimed, a fond smile had took place as her expression, content with how she was saying goodbye to her grandson. Helping him open the music box, it began to play a calming tune, one that the two of them knew very well; even if it was made up of metallic notes. Almost instantly, she began singing the lullaby, with albedo eventually joining in. Describing a Decembers Dream, one that sounded beautiful and was a joy to think of. A sort of light glimmered in the six year-olds eyes: perhaps it was determination towards their future promise, or purely child wonder. When the lullaby came to an end, they both laughed slightly with any sense of melancholy seemingly disappearing for all but a moment. 

Khaenri’ah - 1917

That had been the last time he had seen his grandmother, The Dowager Empress - Rhinedottir. In what felt like a blink of the eye, ten years had whizzed by. Albedo was no longer just a child, but instead sixteen years-old. Despite how much time had passed by, he still hadn’t seen his grandmother since that fateful night. Frequently he would listen to the music box, the metallic notes, clicks and gears were a comforting melody, one that could momentarily fill the gap she had left behind.

Life continued on, after all it doesn’t wait for anyone, no matter their age or status. 

It was meant to be a wonderful evening, one filled with joy, festivities and splendour. It was meant to be filled with laughter, conversations and music echoing throughout the hall. And it was.

At least at the start of the night.

Albedo and his family - the Kreideprinz’s - were all in very similar clothing, all draped in silks and jewels that were fit for a royal family. He had spent the night dancing with his sisters, his mother and his father. He had gotten to enjoy his younger sister’s laughter, her bubbly demeanour that came with young age.

But none of it lasted.

BANG!

Gunshots rang out, shattering the hall’s windows. The people - their subjects - were rioting, No. Revolting. 

This was the people’s revolution.

It was a horrific sight, numerous bodies had dropped to the floor - puddles of blood spilling out from where they collapsed.

His family were frantically trying to escape. After all, the people were enraged because of them, there would be no way of negotiating.

Albedo followed them in their panic, before realising something, more rather the lack of something.

He rushed back in to the hall, grabbing the metal music box. The music box that once provided comfort couldn’t even help him now, but he refused to let it go.

Without a second to waste, Albedo picked up his pace as he headed towards the large corridors. Only a few minutes ago he had looked finely dressed, graceful even. But now his braids had fallen out, and he most likely looked very dishevelled; for once he didn’t care about that.

BANG!

Albedo froze.

Pain seared through his body, his eyes had widened.

He didn’t dare look down at his body, he didn’t want to look at the cause.

Everything went completely silent.

Albedo’s world had gone completely dark at age sixteen.

Fontaine - 1917

Rhinedottir’s knees nearly buckled at the news, and it was not due to her old age. She had let out a shriek, one filled with grief and horror, a shriek unfit for someone like her. She had began to sob.

“All of them?! My whole family, executed?!” She had managed to speak through her sobs, confused and horrified by what she had been told. A hand against her back ushered her to move forward - to continue onwards into the shelter of her home.

And for a while, the whole world believed that The Dowager Empress Rhinedottir Kreideprinz was the only Kreideprinz left.

Next

[orgyupdates]

Jay interview with Music Festivals Aus

California Nu-Metal pioneers Orgy are rearing and ready to embark on the first ever tour Down Under! Following on from sell out dates across the US, Orgy and fellow patriots Cold are gearing themselves for three massive back to back shows this October. The Orgy + Cold Australian Tour kicks off at Melbourne’s Max Watts on October 25th, The Metro Theatre, Sydney October 26th and rounding off at The Triffid, Brisbane October 27th. Now celebrating 25 years since the release of debut album Candyass, we caught up with Jay Gordon from Orgy to discuss the renowned Family Values Tour , the cause and affect of Napster and the evolution of Orgy since conception.

Interview behind the cut

Thanks for meeting with me today, Jay. I first found Orgy on the Family Values tour back in 1998 in possibly one of the most standout performances, and one that's remained with me for all of these years. Can you tell me about that tour and what it meant to you then and now?

 

Oh, yeah. I mean, it was our first tour ever. So it was what a way to break into the music industry. I mean, play with all of those great bands and all that kind of stuff. So it was fantastic. You know, definitely a learning experience. I learned how to navigate through the Big Boys you know, so it was cool. Messed up a lot. Had a lot of fun with Rammstein. It was chaotic. You know, we had we had a great time. But yeah, they cost me a lot of money. But it was cool. Yeah.

Yeah, it was definitely a rite of passage back in in the in the 90s. In Australia in those years, we had to physically import albums from overseas. Candyass was definitely one of my first and favourite imports. So, it’s 1997 and Korn’s Jonathan Davis signed Orgy as one of the first artists on their debut label Elementree Records, what impact did this have as an up-and-coming artists in the pre digital era?

 

Huge, you know. Korn was like a massive band at this point. And, they're good friends of mine, thank God and I owe them everything. They, you know, paved the way and opened up the doors for me along the way. So that was cool.

 

There is something candescent about your sound, in some forums labelled as electronic rock or alt metal, but more famously, as a pioneer of the nu metal movement? What were some of your biggest influences at the time?

I mean, I think always, you know, people like David Bowie and I just love the way his brain worked. I really can identify and relate to a lot of his music and stuff like that. But also, like, really heavy stuff, too. Like, where I came from, you know, the San Francisco thrash metal scene and things like that. So, adding like futuristic, melancholy weirdness with heavy stuff from the era at the time. Metallica and Testament and all those guys coming from where I'm from. So that all helped and kind of paved the way for me. And obviously Korn I suppose at the time. They were my favourite band. And so that's how I got to know those guys. And Jonathan would come stay at our house and stuff when they would play in town and it kind of started off a pretty, pretty basic friendship from then. And so they were a huge influence on me like I loved every song.

 

What impact did these artists have on you, personally and professionally?

 

Just Korn has such an original sound and they had a really big impact on me, all the way through my career. I’m always excited to hear what they come up with and what their next sound is going to be and what their next song is going to be. We get to play with each other every now and then like, in Sick New World. That was really cool. And just a huge impact.

Candyass was a pivotal album of the 1990’s, not only for myself but a deluge of young adults transitioning life. As a parent, it’s hard to pick between, but what is your favourite album release and why is it Candyass?

 

I don't know that it’s the best album that we've ever released. But I mean, it's probably my favourite. I don't know I was just in a different headspace. Candyass came from, let me see. So myself and Josh Abraham, were watching Depeche Mode show downtown and these three drag queens walked up to me and one of them’s name was Candyass. And, you know, he asked me, my name, I was like, “Jay” and he's like, “why don't I know you?” And whatever. And he goes, “you know me, my name is Candyass” and I thought it was so funny. So I said, I'm gonna name my first album Candyass and that was it. Then, you know, we became friends and everything, and they will come over to the studio and like, you know, mess up the board when I'm working. Like, I'd go to the bathroom and I come back and like, why does it sound like ass, you know, they were just like, him and Alexis Arquette, you know, RIP but I love Alexis Arquette and they would come over to the studio where we recording you know, it was just funny. Yeah, so that's why I named the record Candyass after him.

As most 80’s kids, I’m a sucker for a synth and electronic drum kit. The amalgamation of this soundscape with industrialism is none more evident than your cover of New Order’s Blue Monday. Before Stitches, this is one of my favourite releases. What was the inspiration behind your sound and its’ evolution?

 

You know, I wanted to do a cover song. And we were messing with a couple of different ones I liked it's called ‘Something Going On’ and Frida Lyngstad was her name. Her and Phil Collins, I guess got together and they did this song called I know ‘There's Something Going On.’ And that was gonna be the first one that we did. And then so we're playing around with that one and the Blue Monday one and we just went with Blue Monday. Yeah, just kind of, it's kind of clicked and worked out.

 

Vapor Transmission and Punk Statik Paranoia celebrated the unique sound encapsulated by Candyass, both in their own right. What was the progression in sound as traversed through the years and these albums?

Well you know, Vapor Transmission, I think definitely a progression, sonically, and things like that. I think we're headed for something really different on that record, but at the same time, that's when Napster dropped, you know.

“Napster kind of came out and kind of really killed the record industry, so to speak”

So, the record sales weren't there anymore, and things like that. But that's not an indicator that it wasn't doing what it was supposed to be doing. It's just that music was free after that, like, so it kind of just, it was a vibe killer on that, on that level, because our record had just come out, it was literally like, two weeks out. And then you see this big change in the sales of records because everybody caught on to Napster so fast. So that's kind of what happened there. And then Punk Statik Paranoia, that record just came out, like way too late. That was more like to me, like a bunch of glorified demos, you know, like, it never really got mixed, right. We never had a chance to really finish it up, because we were going through a lot of label stuff and trying to figure out what we were doing, if we were still going to be on a label or not, I think we were trying to get off Warner Brothers at the time. And that took some time. So the record just came out so late, and we ended up just putting it out in the end. Yeah, it took a long time for that to be able to happen. So we were sitting on it for like a year waiting for the lawyers and to get everything solid, so we can actually put the record out.

Carlton Bost first joined Orgy circa 2011 after an equally successful career as guitarist in parallel bands such as Deadsy, The Dreaming and the bass player in Stabbing Westward. What kind of dynamic did Carlton bring to the Orgy party?

I mean, Carlton's, he's great, like he's, he's a great band member. He and I actually, you know, when it comes to the more now orgy, you know, we kind of do a lot more stuff together. Whereas before in the past, you know, the first few records I just did by myself, you know, a lot by myself, you know, everybody did their part. You know, they played on the records and did whatever but, but as far as writing and stuff like that, I just did a lot of that on my own. And then I'd say, Paige wrote quite a bit of stuff on those records. And, you know, like a riff here a riff there and he was always really good at coming up with stuff on the spot. So, Oh, first, you know, he's like the new Paige in this era, but we actually just write a lot of stuff. Like sometimes he'll write like entire songs like Spells and Wide Awake and Dead. He had a big part of those songs. So it's more like a team on this one.

In October, Orgy embarks on the first ever tour down under alongside fellow patriots Cold in a three city rampage including Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane. What kind of energy are you anticipating from an Australian crowd?

 

I have no expectations. Because I've never been there. I don't really know a whole lot about it other than like, you know, the typical kangaroos and this and that. I mean, I want to see all of that stuff when I come there. But I have no idea what to expect from the crowds I think I think it'll be a good show. I think the crowd will love it. And we're gonna bring the energy that's for sure. And, you know, we just killed it out here. We sold out every show but one with Cold here, it was a great tour. And I anticipate it being similar to that and hope the turnouts there and the turnout there is going to get a great show, you know, and we just signed Orgy, Carlton, and I we signed a Tucson deal with Golden Robot, which is an Australian label. So we're gonna try to get those songs done and be playing those live when we get there.

A huge congratulations on the 25th anniversary of the debut album Candyass. You've just answered my question. can fans expect any new Orgy releases within the near future? So yeah, as a fan, I'm very, very excited about that one.

 

Me too. You know, I have no idea what the release dates gonna be on those two songs. But yeah, we get them done and get them out before we show up and play so we can play them.

 

I do follow you on social media, so I will be definitely keeping an eye out myself for that. Following the tour, what's next for you, for you, both individually and professionally?

 

I'm kind of getting into, I'm going to be getting into like film stuff like Sony and direct some stuff. So that's kind of my next chapter in life. But yeah, other than that I'm also producing music. So I'm gonna keep doing that and work with other artists and things like that.

Full Interview, Aus dates/tickets, and pictures here.

[twin-chains]

Just found out about Cadence of Hyrule, kinda in love with this game and I could totally envision a hero from it (probably won't be added to this au but fun to think about)

Cade? Rhythm? Sere? would be very rhythmic in battle and never wastes a move or step, nor a swing of their breakable items. They'd always walk/march on beat, even when they're sitting down they have a habit of tapping their fingers or foot to their own internal rhythm. They like to hum and repeat pretty sounds they hear, everything sounds like music to them (the buzz of cicadas, the whistle in the wind, etc). Even their voice would have a slight sing-songy accent around the other Links, accidentally singing a word or syllable while speaking.

Their world itself thrives on a music-based culture. Everyone has a song in their heart and family members have similar songs while close friends and partners have songs that harmonize and compliment each others well. Clans or villages could perform similar music genres or styles. People would sing to express respect, love, or joy in their words, the stronger someone sings their words or speech the stronger they feel these emotions. On the other hand, yelling, arguing, and screeching holds greater weight in conversations due to being strong, loud negative noises (heavy metal is frowned upon unfortunately).

It's common for rituals and ceremonies to be performed through song: wedding vows, birthday celebrations, festivals, even funeral dirges, etc. Even one of a child's milestones are their first tune or instrument (along their first word and step). When Princess Zelda (Lyre? Ballad? Harmony? Melody?) was coronated, one of the requirements was for her to write and perform a song to her people to portray her good and honest intentions to serve the kingdom.

Someone's vocal register (soprano, alto, tenor, bass, etc) is commonly shared with others and treated in a similar way as astrological signs (gemini, cancer, leo, etc).

If one chooses not to sing, they typically dedicated themselves to an instrument or two instead. Multi-instrumentalists are often admired and seen as gifted.

Music and rhythm is all around them in nature. Everyone is typically expected to learn to sing or play an instrument of some kind (it's an unspoken thing). To these citizens, song is seen as something that makes them hylian. It's said that their pointed ears let them hear song better and be closer to the music of the heavens. It separates them from monsters and animals that follow a beat but can't produce decent song of their own, mostly due to a lack of the proper vocal chords. Many birds are highly valued and respected in their culture due to their ability to produce melodious bird calls, even common as pets. Because of this, many in Cade's world often depict religious figures like the golden goddesses with great bird-like angel wings and bright plumage in their respective colors (Farore=green, Din=red, Nayru=blue). Maybe even feathers are common in royal or high fashion, I could definitely see Lyre wearing cute feathers in her hair or accessories.

Sunny or clear weather sounds like calm and relaxing music while heavy rain or stormy weather sounds discordant and loud with the claps of thunder.