#i like the new song but like ill actually start biting if i hear the guitar solo and the drums OUGHHHHHH

[crunchycrystals]

pink pony club live from snl save me

[hey-have-you-heard]

Hey, Have You Heard These 50 Tracks from 2023?

Another year comes to a close and the music lover pulls up their trusty spotify playlist to document the high points of their year in music. You know the drill by now but in case you're new here... Songs are in alphabetical order (there is no internal rating to the 51) but if I had to choose a single song for everyone to listen to, it would be "Why Am I Alive Now", please listen to that track if nothing else. A Spotify playlist of the included songs is linked below for your listening pleasure

Fontaines DC - ' Cello Song Kicking things off with the only cover song on the list, Grian Chatten and band spin Nick Drake's song into something entirely their own, paying homage to Nick Drake's songwriting whilst pulling in the intricacies of their own unique sound and appeal.

Boygenius - $20 Screw star-signs and wizard school houses, which member of Boygenius do you align yourself with? I'm a Julien Baker stan but I adore them all, especially when their voices and styles are weaving in out of each-other in rapturous noise like this.

XL Life - Baby Steps Hardcore and punk has had a great year, a really great year, and XL Life have been a standout part of that. Backed up by a guest verse by Bob Vylan's own Bobby Vylan, Baby Steps is bursting with soul and emotion, driven by breakneck drums and heart-on-sleeve positivity

100 Gecs - Billy Knows Jamie 10,000 Gecs (the much anticipated follow up to 2019's 1000 Gecs) truly gave us the as-promised 10 times as many gecs, if a Gec is a unit of measurement for what can only be referred to as wild-genre-fuckery. Billy Knows Jamie gives us full on Bizkitesque nu-metal, including record scratches, a bass line Fieldy would be proud of and a rapid descent into utter chaos.

Algiers, Billy Woods, Backxwash - Bite Back Bite back is a masterpiece of ever-building tension, Carpenterian synths weave the track together as one musical idea gives way to another. With every new phrase and trade-off between vocalist, the threads pull tauter and tauter. The switch up at 3:10 still gives me chills every time I hear it.

Glass Beach - the CIA My favourite theatre kid emo's are back and doing what they do best, which is whatever the hell they feel like. You know when all the 70s prog rock bands fell into the 80s and needed to get radio-play so they fell into this weird sort of choppy watered down down art-pop sound (e.g. Yes)? This feels like that, but there's no actual need to conform, so Glass Beach are still free to get as weird with it as they want, whenever they want.

Blood Command - Decades Deccades is a very bad representation of Blood Command as a band (at this point I'm unsure if a good representation of the band exists), but it's a very good song. Hardcore and "Death pop" is out, R&B is in. Reverb soaked synths and horns, skittery hi-hats, layered vocals and lyrics about lost love and the Heavens Gate cult.

Liturgy - Djennaration I'll be the first to admit that Liturgy are an acquired taste (the first time I saw them live it made me feel physically ill), but if you can put on some headphones, turn up the volume and lose yourself in Liturgy's "Transcendental Black Metal" there is no other feeling quite like it in music.

Kesha - The Drama The continual evolution of Kesha's sound has been a fascinating thing to watch ever since Tik Tok put her on the brat pop map back in 2009, each album cycle has seen her stripping back elements of character, delivering ever rawer and more honest depictions of self. The Drama pulls away from pop almost entirely, what starts as a Lorde-like slow ballad tumbles into a nightmare-collage of upbeat synths, a circus show of theatrical excess as Kesha's desparately laments on a loss of faith in humanity and self. The song ends on an absurd mix of housecats and Ramones, oh the drama of it all.

Fever Ray - Even It Out Even It Out may not be the technically best song on Radical Romantics, but the idea of Karin Dreijer teaming up with Trent Reznor to make a gleefully unhinged song about violently attacking a child is just too funny to me. The rest of the album is also incredible and well worth a listen.

Follow You - Saint Agnes Oh, hey, speaking of Trent Reznor, Saint Agnes channel Nine Inch Nails on the massive distortion drenched choruses of this stand out track from Bloodsuckers. Lead singer Kitty's vocals soar over wailing guitars and crunching bass, this is the sound of a band triumphing through adversity.

Johnny Booth - Full Tilt I remember seeing a comment when this first released that summed up how ifelt about it perfectly. "This has slap fucks". Yes, selppin2, I couldn't of put it better myself. Johnny Booth have been consistently hitting it out the park for the past few years and this is no exception, absolutely brutal stuff.

Creeper - Further Than Forever Creeper's Sanguivore is an album to be devoured in it's entirety, I couldn't choose a single song so this is merely a goth-punk-opera overture. A nine minute long homage to the theatrical tendencies of Jim Steinman. If you enjoy any part of this, Sanguivore is a must listen for you.

Crosses - Ghost Ride Chino Moreno swaps out the rumbling wall of guitars of Deftones for pulsing bass synths and sparse electronic drums with the second album from his side project with Far's Shaun Lopez. Ghost Ride is a sultry slow build that crashes into industrial-pop(?) choruses.

Idles - Grace Idles (to my surprise) were my most listened to band of last year, and if Grace is a sign of things to come on Tangk, they're in with a shot for 2024 as well. Grace finds Joe Talbot swapping out the political battering ram of a growl he's employed previously for a soulful tone, a message of peace and love, and its hauntingly beautiful to behold. No God, no king, love is the thing.

BENEE - Green Honda You may remember BENEE from tiktok's 2019 supahit Supalonely, she's still writing bops. Two middle fingers up, leave you in the rearview, bops.

Free Refills - Grounded What can I say, I'm a sucker for a good bassline, and this is a great bassline.

Pendulum, Bullet For My Valentine - Halo (Matt Tuck Rework) On his rework of Halo, Matt Tuck keeps all the energy of the original mix but ups the aggression. This is the sound of Pendulum at their heaviest and best.

Tokky Horror, Scottish Gabber Punk - HAMMER 2 THE FACE (Scottish Gabber Punk Remix) Speaking of energy and aggression... it doesn't get much more energy and aggression than this, hammer 2 the face is a fitting title for the brutality of this track.

MSPAINT - Hardwired MSPAINT are a hardcore punk band with a notable lack of guitar, the instrumentation instead filled out with colourful synths. The result is a unique and engaging sound unlike anything else in the genre.

Empire State Bastard - Harvest ESB are my kind of supergroup, formed of Biffy Clyro's Simon Neil, Oceansize's Mike Vennart and Slayer's Dave Lombardo (yes, you read that right). Simon Neil is delivering career best vocal performances, Mike Vennart is stirring up unholy hell on guitar and Dave Lombardo is doing what Dave Lombardo does best.

Alice Longyu Gao - Hëłłœ Kįttÿ I didn't think we could get more unhinged than last years MONK, with it's thrash metal guitar and vib ribbon solo, but here we are in the year of our lord 2023 and I'm listening to car clown horns. BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM.

Bob Vylan - He's a Man Do y'all remember the Lindsay Lohan Freaky Friday movie? There was a great song in it called Take Me Away... anyway, I forget why I mentioned that, but this song is really fun.Great cheeky lyrics and love that guitar riff.

Fall Out Boy - Hold Me Like A Grudge This may just be a nostalgia pull, but that intro transported me back to hearing Dance, Dance for the first time. Hold Me Like A Grudge does a masterful job of pulling together elements of FOBs classic sound and their more recent poop sensibilities that has had me enjoying their sound in a way I haven't since Infinity On High

Evie Enby - Homies Oops, how did this get in here? Please appreciate the one note guitar solo.

FIZZ - I Just Died My general lack of enthusiasm for The Beatles is fairly well documented by this point, but one of the best things they did for pop music was use the clarinet on When I'm Sixty Four. Well good news, I no longer have to listen to The Beatles to get my clarinet fix. Now that the Beatles reference for this year's list is done.. I just died is a song about an absolutely mortifying experience delivered with great mirth. It's a fantastic, sing-along-in-the-shower bop, and have I mentioned the clarinet solo?

CLT DRP - I Put My Baby To Sleep (It's pronounced Clit Drip) What can I say, another explosive, genre defying, track by one of the best bands in the world. Now go listen to the entirety of Nothing Clever, Just Feelings.

Orla Gartland - Kiss Ur Face Forever Joyous, peppy and "let's play a game of emotional monopoly, in the name of monogamy" may be the best couplet I've heard this year. It's just fun, so much fun.

Bring Me The Horizon - LosT When LosT first dropped, I referred to it as the geccification of BMTH, I meant that in the best possible way. I really enjoy how the hyper-pop elements lift this track up. "The next time that I open up to someone will be my autopsy" is one of the finest Oli Sykes-isms we've had in a long time.

Swans - No More Of This Okay, so the actual Swans track that should be on this list is The Beggar Lover (Three) but apparently putting an uncompromising, nigh impenetrable, 43 minute long epic in the middle of a playlist is terrible for retention, and I'm a coward. But if you have a spare 50 minutes, go give it a listen.

Pupil Slicer - No Temple Pupil Slicer continue to prove themselves to be one of the most exciting bands in Mathcore. Pushing against the boundaries of genre in a genre where pushing against boundaries is a core philosophy, No Temple is, according to the band, the heaviest song they've ever written. The bass guitar work is an exceptional standout for me here as it pushes against the rest of the song.

Carly Rae Jepsen - Psychedelic Switch With every CRJ album project comes a B-sides album, and with every B-sides album comes an absolute banger. Psychedelic Switch is undoubtedly this for the Loneliest Time/Loveliest Time project. You'd be forgiven for thinking Daft Punk themselves reunited to produce this french disco flavoured bop.

Soft Play - Punk's Dead Who the fuck are Soft Play? Sound like a bunch of lefty snowflakes. I've missed these boys, doing this kind of thing. The Robbie Williams feature is inspired.

Chappell Roan - Red Wine Supernova Red Wine Supernova is sexy, self-assured, feel-good, sapphic fun. It's a testament to how good a song is that lyrics like "I heard you like magic, I've got a wand and a rabbit" doesn't detract from it, but actually elevates it's effortless charm.

JAAW - Rot JAAW are an industrial metal "supergroup" formed of members of Therapy, Three Trapped Tigers, Sex Swing and Biglad. That is likely mostly gibberish to the average music listener, but to a niche few, it's a very exciting prospect. What it sounds like is swelling, tumultuous walls of noise, tortured screams, screeching guitars and pulsing distorted bass. Catharsis through noise.

Better Lovers - Sacrificial Participant More supergroup! Greg Puciato teams up with ex-members of Every Time I Die and Will Putney (of Fit For an Autopsy). I was devastated by the split of ETID, (off the back of the phenomenal Radical adn jsut before I was due to see them live), but Better Lovers is one hell of a silver lining. Puciato's energetic vocals bounce wildly off of the erratic musicianship that was the cornerstone of ETID's sound. It's a perfect match on record and is even better live.

Architects - Seeing Red Bless Architects. They're a band that are truly a victim of their own success, as they've tried to pull their sound and ethos in new directions it's been met with a huge amount of negativity from their own fanbase. Seeing Red is a reaction to this. "You want heavy? Here's heavy. Are you happy now?". Blegh.

Teen Mortgage - Sick Day Sick Day is a 2 minute punk blitz about how you are worth so much more than your labour and how having a cute cat you want to look at is a perfectly valid reason to stay at home. Capitalism 0 - Cats 1.

Purity Ring, Black Dresses - Shines Purity Ring and Black Dresses are both Canadian electronic duos and that's about where the similarities stop, but that just makes this collaboration all the more interesting. There's so much going on here, the chaotic harsh frenetic noise of Black Dresses, Ada Rook's screams, the twinkling synths of Purity Ring and sing-song melodies of Megan James. Somehow it pulls together to create something of true beauty in its own weird way.

Dream Nails - Sometimes I Do Get Lonely, Yeah Dream Nails take on the rising issue of incel culture and red-pill ideology, with grace and empathy. Pointing fingers not at individuals but at the systems and powers that enable and create these pipelines to hatred and bigotry. It's a bold and challenging idea, executed superbly.

Baby Dave - Sounds Good When a fan sends you an unhinged voice message out of the blue offering you a bite suit and dogs to shoot a music video, obviously the thing to do is make a song out of it, then take them up on their offer and use it as the video for that song. There's a great OPM era The Streets vibe to this track that plays off nicely of the grounded reality of its subject.

Sleep Token - The Summoning Sleep Token do the impossible, they make prog-metal (the unsexiest of all genres) , undeniably sexy. Nowhere is this clearer than on The Summoning, a 6-and-a-half minute epic of a track with multiple time signature changes and tonal flips, that somehow still oozes with a swaggering sexuality throughout it's runtime. The out-of-nowhere funk switch up on the end of this track is perfection.

Lambrini Girls - Terf Wars Love those Lambrini Girls, they say what I'm thinking, and they say it loud.

Ezra Furman - Tether This one had me in floods of tears from the first listen. A classic string-laden piano ballad about inescapable pasts and the desire to cut yourself free from who and where you've been.

The St. Pierre Snake Invasion - That There's Fighting Talk This track does two things it builds and it STOMPS, like real "put on your heaviest boots and then strap lead weights to them because they need to be heavier" stomps. An industrial-mathcore floor-filler, the song crescendoes then continues to crescendo into ever greater insanity. Get Stomping.

Calva Louise - Third Class Citizen Calva Louise's sound has evolved so much since I first fell in love with the band listening to their 2017 debut single Getting Closer. Third Class Citizen has elements of Muse in it's bass-lines, stadium-sized guitar riffs and fizzing production. The vocals and lyrical content make it something altogether its own though, the palpable fury in vocalist Jess' voice as she demands "Respect, motherfucker" is real and visceral.

HEALTH - Unloved Off the back of their genre spanning, multi-release collaboration project, DISCO4, RAT WARS sees HEALTH back in a focused mode and delivering their heaviest album to date. Unloved is a moment of relative respite on the album though, a Depeche Mode tinged track, soaked in 80's reverb and ready for the goth club. HEALTH pull you into their world of misery and beauty with catchy hooks and pulsing bass.

Anohni and the Johnsons - Why Am I Alive Now This year saw the release of "My Back Was A Bridge For You To Cross", Anohni's first studio album with her band since 2010's Swanlights. The abrasive electronics of her solo albums are traded in for warm soulful tones and a raw almost live-feeling instrumentation. It's a beautiful, deeply emotive, and incredibly present sounding album. Feeling as if you are being drawn into the recording process itself, Why Am I Alive Now? is an existential lament on finding purpose in a purposeless world, in navigating through suffering to find hope and love. On learning why to be, when it feels like the world is set on stopping you from being.

HMLTD - Wyrmlands THE WORM IS HERE! Wyrmlands is an example of one track on an album that should be listened to in its entirety. The Worm is a concept album at its most conceptual, eschewing genre and at times structure entirely in favour of narrative and ~vibes~. It's a dizzying disorientating listen, that will leave you' with more questions than answers, but thankful for making an attempt 're mind awash with unanswered questions and fresh ideas.

Billy Woods, Kenny Segal, Danny Brown - Year Zero Year Zero refers to an apocalyptic cultural reset. Society has reached a breaking point and we must start from scratch, everything before was for nothing. Billy Woods and Danny Brown play two different sides of the same coin. Woods, stony faced and deadly serious "My taxes pay police brutality settlements" is the herald of the end "Burn it down with us inside". Danny Brown, the manic joker, revelling in the freedom of a new world, rhyming Good Will Hunting with Cool Runnings and dropping bars about ice cream machines. It's a compelling way to deliver a narrative.

[darthwheezely]

traitor - j.p.

summary: based on the song traitor by olivia rodrigo - the second entry to my sour collection!

pairing: james potter x reader

warnings: cussing, angst, falling out of love, no happy endings, POS!James, yeah </3

a/n: if you’re a James stan like me: I am so sorry, but I regretfully have made him the LARGEST asshole I could

brown guilty eyes and

little white lies

yeah, i played dumb but i always knew

that you'd talk to her, maybe did even worse

i kept quiet so i could keep you…

He had called it a ‘mutual decision,’ but that kind of sounds like bullshit when multiple people saw James Potter tell you ‘he just wasn’t right for you anymore.’

He wasn’t right for you: but he sure as hell was right for Lily Evans.

It didn’t take you by surprise and that’s what sucks.

And ain't it funny

How you ran to her

The second that we called it quits?

It didn’t take long for the public to hear how Y/N had somehow broken the heart of the resident heartbreaker (go figure). How you had seemingly started things he couldn’t forgive you for, how you ruined him, and - your personal favorite - said by supposedly James himself:

“I had no idea anything was wrong.”

But in the end of the story, he always ran to Lily. You couldn’t blame her - how could you, that would make zero sense, she did nothing wrong. The only ill will you bore was to the boy you had wrongfully fallen for over and over again. You hated her at first, but how could you do that? How could you hate a possibly perfect being?

Lily was Eden incarnate, and you were a sorry sucker that just took a wrong bite of an apple.

And ain't it funny

How you said you were friends?

Now it sure as hell don't look like it

You had watched them get closer, it didn’t take much to see that he was slowly falling out of love with you and gaining feelings for the scarlet macaw of a woman that wasn’t you.

“Y/N?” He had knocked on the already open door, a goofy gesture that he always did - but today it hadn’t felt right. His body was awkward, the handsome young man now acting (and standing) horrifically disjointed. You closed your parchment and book and sat up.

“Hey, sweetheart! I’m so excited for our date tonight - I’m almost done with our homework and then I’ll start getting my makeup done n all-“

“Y/N we can’t go tonight. Actually.” He said stiffly, his hands fisting in his pockets. James couldn’t bring himself to look at you, too terrified of the stricken look you probably wore.

“But-but we’ve had this Queen concert planned for months,” you pleaded, smiling through tears that threatened to spill. “you were going to take me to London-“

“I know, but-“

“And we were going to stay with your family-“

“Yes, well, things changed, babe. I’m sorry, but we always can’t follow exact plans.” He said shortly, in a tone almost of silencing you, something that made him feel like being ill all over the place and you…terrified.

“I’m-I’m taking someone else.” He said flatly.

“Y-you’re taking someone else?”

“Yes.”

“To the concert we were going to?”

“Y-yes-“

“Is it a girl?”

“It’s not just any girl, it’s Lily. And I thought you’d understand that seeing as our anniversary is coming up anyways and I’d figure I’d just buy you some new jewelry and take you out, because god knows you couldn’t afford it on your own.” There was a beat of silence, your air being knocked out of you by his horrifically ignorant insight, your eyes glazed with spite as it slowly dawned on him what he had said.

“I am - God, Y/N, I’m so sorry-“

“Leave, please.”

“Baby, I-“

“Just. Go.”

He shut the door behind him.

You cried.

You betrayed me

And I know that you'll never feel sorry

For the way I hurt, yeah

You'd talk to her

When we were together

Loved you at your worst

But that didn't matter

It took you two weeks

To go off and date her

Guess you didn't cheat

But you're still a traitor

Now you bring her around

Just to shut me down

Show her off like she's a new trophy

Remus had desperately tried to get you to come to Gryffindor parties again, bribed you, outright pleaded you - but lo, to no avail. He couldn’t blame you, he wouldn’t want to go either had the love of his adolescent life been there.

On the subject of that: it really didn’t help that they all knew you were in love with him. Even after all this time.

Even when now, as you decided to show your face in front of all your ex-friends, the people that now wouldn’t look at you in the hallway, and the boy who so ingeniously broke your heart, you were still wishing he would pick you.

And I know if you were true

There's no damn way that you

Could fall in love with somebody that quickly

Ain't it funny?

Remember I brought her up

And you told me I was paranoid

“She is my best friend-“

“I know, James, I’m just asking if maybe we could spend more ti-“

“No, Y/N, you’re going to listen to me,” he had snapped, his voice cutting through your pleads and out any snippet of empathy in his voice.

“I am not and will not ever stop hanging out with my best friend because you are insecure of…whatever is going on.”

You felt unbearably naked in front of him, then. Why didn’t he care that you were crying? Why didn’t he care that every waking moment was much well spent with his newfound best friend - who before was his enemy - than with the woman he so proudly called ‘his first and only love.’

“I’m just confused, is’sall-“

“Yeah, me too,” he said ruefully, shaking his head.

He rolled his jaw and rubbed it before giving a gruff, “listen, you can either choose to trust me or keep being paranoid - choice is yours,” before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

Sometimes, you couldn’t make decisions when it came to James.

God, I wish that you had thought this through

Before I went and fell in love with you

Seeing him in the hallway with his mates, you’d decided, was the last straw. The same mates that had completely ignored you (save Remus), spread heaps of shit about you, and now had turned to look at you in the hallway.

“Two weeks. Two fuckin’ weeks, James,” you said loudly, your pace quickening to get to the utterly terrified boy.

“Y/N-? I-“ he didn’t have the time nor resistance to finish, as the palm of your right hand collided with his cheek, forcing his spectacles to hit the ground almost immediately.

“I-I’m so sorry-“

“Oh you’re sorry? Sorry for what?” You got louder, repeating the scene you had been so socially shunned for earlier. “Sorry for breaking my heart? Sorry for making me feel so incredibly used? How about distraught? Are you sorry for making me distraught? Neglected could be maybe a better word…”

“Y/N, please, I understand,” he damn near squealed, his head swishing from side to side to make sure everyone still perceived him as tge hero, as the victim even.

“You understand? You under-stand?”

“Yes, yes, I do-“

“No, James, you shut up and hear me, dammit because I’m only saying this once:”

When she's sleeping in the bed we made

Don't you dare forget about the way

You betrayed me

'Cause I know that you'll never feel sorry

For the way I hurt, yeah

You'd talk to her

When we were together

You gave me your word

But that didn't matter

It took you two weeks

“You didn’t even wait, James, how much did I actually ever mean to you?”

To go off and date her

“Y/N, please-“

“No! No, Godric, no, I am so sick of pretending to support you when we both know exactly what happened to us-!”

“Oh Jesus Christ…”

Guess you didn't cheat

“No. I want you to leave.”

“W-what?”

“I want you to get out.”

“I- no, what? No, I’m not letting you tell me what to do-“

“I never want to see you again do you hear me, James Potter?”

but you’re still

“I don’t understand-“

“You fucked us over, Jamie,” you spat.

you’re still a traitor

“And I never want to see you again.” You inhaled sharply, a rough wipe to your eyes was the last strength of movement you had before you started to walk past him, mumbling an “excuse me.”

The boy watched you walking, his legs starting to move autonomously and his face growing hot. This was your best friend, he-he had loved you, why were you walking away? Lily didn’t mean anything, you meant everything.

So why was it that a rupture of something only defined as guilt crawled up his chest and made him want to heave into a bin, or make him shiver with a frightful cold.

“God, Y/N, I’m sorry.” He whispered, to no one in particular.

yeah, you’re still a traitor.

•••

taglist! @lumosandnoxwriting @luvfrommars @luvshack @lycanlupins @wandsandwheezes @belouva @jillys-feral-fandoms @sunrisefairy @harrysweasleys @diary-of-an-onliner @goddessofdawns @babyjordy @vixen @phuvioqhile @weasleysandwheezes @ssahotchswife @theoreticslut @loony-loopy-lupinn @melmalone

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Flake's podcast - Blood

Published 2022-11-08, songlist in this post

One of my secret wishes is that Flake invites one of his bandmates one day as a guest on his podcast, and a podcast with topic 'Blood' seemed the perfect one to invite Till to (as Till often writes/sings about it), but nope, it didn't happen (not so sure that Till would even want to participate ofcourse). But.. Flake does play (1h13) the song 'Blut' by 'Lindemann', as far as i remember the first time he used one of their songs, because (as he says it) "It is called Blut and I wanted to hear what the colleagues are up to' 😊

Before that he mentions enjoying visiting cemeteries and reading tombstones (in Berlin there's one with just 'Mutter' (Mother) on it, which leads to the Lindemann song), but he also mentions one of his favorite tombstones with a Mercedes S model on it (Flake is a car-enthusiast, if we didn't already know it). His favorite phrase on a tombstone is "I told you I was ill" (he muses on about how you could put anything on it, like your World of Warcraft score (which he doesn't play, just read about it in a Bushido bio), I wonder if he already knows what to pu on his own 🌺).

After the Lindemann song he reminisces about his school days when Blutsbrüder (Blood brothers) was on tv and when Flake decided to become blood brothers too, a classmate wanted too, so that met in the schoolyard, Flake brought a pocketknife, and they wanted to cut up their arm like in the movie, but as in turned out human skin is quit thick so they didn't manage it (or maybe the East-German pocket knives just weren't that good). Flake then scratched open a mosquite-bite that he had, the friend also scratched something, but in the end they didn't bleed much and the bloodbrother thing didn't happen. He hasn't seen the friend for about 50 years 😁

Flake also plays Rammstein (at 1h00), 'Wiener Blut', fitting the theme, after it he says "ah, beautiful song" (and you can tell he means it) and talks about having to come up with an act for it when they wanted to play it live, so Flake came up with the idea of starting with using an old-fashioned recordplayer, but that wasn't as simple as it seemed. Flake played the violin sound on his keyboard and they mixed and scrambled to make it distorted. A friend then made an actual vinyl from it, and then came the challenge to go through antique shops to find recordplayers that looked the part and still worked. And when those were found, there weren't enough needles for the players. Someone told him to use cactus-needles instead, so he took his mum to a gardencentre, and with a pair of scissors snipped off a few needles. Then back to bandpractice, trying it our, many needles snapped, but in the end it worked out and the recordplayer was used in the act, although often you couldn't even hear it properly. For the act they also used dolls that were lowered from the ceiling, these were a bit difficult to see (dolls were too small) so they built in some laserpointers and used jalousie (curtain) motors from the hardware store to lower them. Or as Flake says "Guys who like to do DIY will feel right at home with us". 😄

Couple of nice songs and anecdotes; at 1h20 he plays Eisbrecher, another band in the 'Neue Deutsche Härte' genre. Also U2, ofcourse with 'Sunday Bloody Sunday', or as Flake says (at 0h43) from a time when they were still cool. He already mentioned in previous podcasts not being a U2 fan, this time he reveals why: actually he still thinks they're cool and likes the music, but he really resented the Apple iTunes story when a new U2 album was forced in all user's devices. Flake thinks that was very wrong and pushy, everybody should make their own choices in what music to hear. But he thinks they redeemed themselves a little to promote a new album in Berlin, actually in the 'U2' which is a line of the Berlin U-bahn (subway).

Flake occassionally is very outspoken about topics, and it happens this time too, starting at 1h34, he talks about what a rubbish car the 'Volkswagen' is, not just from historical perspective (the world war II past) but also quality-wise he thinks those are really bad cars, bad construction, bad making, stuck together without love, maybe there are worse cars, Flake doesn't know, but certainly not worse cars that cost as much, and the worst customer service who lie and cheat, totally unacceptable. The tirade seemlessly continues in a rant against political parties, like the AfD (Alternative für Deutschland, a relatively new right-wing party in Germany), who support the wrong cars and not worthy causes like artists. Artists who are generally considered to be left-wing and Flake agrees on that, those who make art are those who go through the world with their eyes open, watches, improves things. No artist would ever vote for the AfD. That people in their discontent and anger vote AfD he somewhat understands but thinks is very bad. Someone who votes AfD can't be Flake's friend, it's impossible. If you buy a Volkswagen you can still be Flake's friend, he's not as strict there, but you can't complain afterwards that you've spent all that money and have a bad car. This whole rant is over 4 minutes long, but I think it gave a good insight in two topics that Flake clearly feels very strongly about.

On a lighter note, and as it's a long post again, i'll end with a small band (he doesn't mention, but i think it's Rammstein) anecdote at 0h27 when they played as a supporting act in Prague for AC/DC and Brian Johnson came over to have a chat with them, very friendly person, very well-behaved (as far as Flake can tell), and he told them about Angus Young having shortened his guitarsolos, because they were a nightmare before. They were so long that Brian would go offstage and 'Fucked me one'; Flake doesn't really now if that means he jerked off or he actually had sex, and if he did so with every song... Flake hopes one day they'll play with AC/DC again so he can ask him. 😄

🎹

more of my takes on Flake's podcasts

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Moment In Time

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Just when you've gotten out, you’re given a reason to come back.

Warnings: Mild Language

Chapter 5

* * * * * * *

“You and Fury seem to forget that I’m retired pretty easily.” You say, eyes focused on your surroundings instead of the man talking to you.

A nice breeze flows past, followed by another crowd of passersby. The street is busy as always at this time of day but you always appreciate the hustle and bustle of the city. Something about it appealed to you. 

New York has always been busy, for as long as you can remember. Admittedly, with the lack of advanced technology in your time, people spent a lot more time talking to each other in passing than they now spend on their phones.

“No one’s forgotten, except maybe you,” Tony says and you turn to refocus your attention on him.“ Or did you forget that it was you who copped a ride with Fury to Sokovia.”

Of course you didn’t forget that. That mission had been more dangerous and life threatening than any one you’d previously been on. 

The man hums and nods, a soft chuckle leaves his lips,“ unless of course you weren’t there for the team.” 

“What?” Your eyebrows pinch together,“ what’re you talking about?” 

“I’m talkin about you and Romanoff.” He leans forward, pushing his coffee cup away a little.“ Clint told me about that little moment you two had before the city fell. What’d you do? Spring to action when you realized Natasha was in danger?”

Your eyes roll but you avoid answering his question. Cause that is actually what you did. On top of being generally concerned with the safety of your friends, your main focus was Natasha. You’d never admit it, out loud, but you know that’s what happened. And you know why you did, even if you won’t admit it at all. 

“Awe, don’t want me exposing your crush on Nat?” He further teases and your nose turns up at him.

“Think I liked you better when you were running around in pjs and building robots and stuff.” He makes an offended face and you smile sarcastically at it.“ If I agree to train the Maximoff kids will you not mention these supposed feelings for Natasha that you assume I have.”

For a moment he looks at you, then nods.“ You’ve got yourself a deal Y/ln. Also,” he pushes his chair back and stands up,“ you’re just training the girl. Rogers apparently has some special plan for Speedy.” Picking up his cup, he claps his hand on your shoulder with extra force, and walks away.

Just as you’re about to slouch into your seat to stay an extra few minutes he calls out for you to come with him and you resist the urge to groan. Sighing softly, you finish your tea and get up. 

As you expected Tony takes you to the tower. His choice of music blasts through the sports car and you can’t help but chuckle. Since he was thirteen he’d been obsessed with classic rock. You have no idea what the first song he heard was but whatever it was it hooked him to the genre.

Through the loud music he explains everything you’ll have to go over with Wanda and mentions that he’s getting a facility together upstate that will become the new Avengers HQ, but that move is going to take some time so the tower is still “home” as of now. You nod along, knowing that if not for your enhanced abilities you wouldn’t be able to hear him correctly.

By the time Tony pulls into the private parking garage, whipping into his spot and turning the car off, you completely understand what role you’re about to play in terms of training Wanda.

“What? Eager to get to work?” He asks after you’ve practically sprinted out of the car. 

“More like eager to get out before my ears start bleeding.” You tell him, glancing over your shoulder at him to stick your tongue out playfully. You don’t have to keep looking at him to know he rolled his eyes. 

The familiarity of the building makes it easy to navigate. Pretty much leaving Tony in the dust, you walk through the lobby to the elevators. Taking them up to the training floor. 

Your plan hadn’t been to see anyone just yet. Mainly coming here to form some sort of plan as far as training the Maximoff girl goes. Only for her to be the person you run into once having stepped into the training room.

She’s across the room, fingers running over the edges of a treadmill as her eyes look through the large floor to ceiling window. You imagine she’s taking in the sight the tower provides of New York. 

“Beautiful isn’t it?” You ask, effectively grabbing the young woman’s attention. She turns her head to face you, eyebrows pinching together as she’s not familiar with you, only having seen you just before you hugged Natasha in Sokovia. 

“It is.” She replies shortly and you chuckle at it, stepping further into the room. 

Giving her a soft smile you introduce yourself,“ I’m Y/n,” you move over to the weight benches,“ Stark asked me to come in and help you adjust.”

Her eyes narrow and that draws your attention to the fact that her eyes are green.“ Are you an Avenger? Because I haven’t seen you around here.”

“I am not. I’m supposed to be retired but no one seems to give a damn so here I am.” Spreading your arms a little to emphasize your current location.

For whatever reason your words make her giggle and you smile at that, happy to have broken the ice at least a little. 

“So how’re you going to help me adjust Y/n?” Her inquisitive gaze follows her moving closer to you.

“Not sure. What do you need help adjusting to?” Your head tilts and your eyebrow quirks.“ The training regiment? Your new chaotic teammates? Living in New York?” 

“Is all of the above an option?” She asks, and although you know she’s serious you still hear the teasing in her tone. 

With a quiet laugh you nod,“ all of the above is an option.” You let her know.“ Um, I’m not sure of all the details with the move upstate but how about I show you around the tower and we can go over the basics of your training and such?” You decide to pose it as a question in case she doesn’t want to.

“That would be nice actually.” She smiles and you notice that it’s truly genuine. So with a smile in return, you motion for her to follow you out of the room. 

With her being on this floor, you assume she’s seen it all. Not that there’s much to see. It’s the training floor so there’s nothing but gyms and a locker room. Getting in the elevator, you press the number for one of the floors dedicated to just hanging out.

Not liking the silence of the elevators, Wanda breaks it with a question.“ So why didn’t you join the Avengers?” 

“Um,” you take a deep breath and release it as a sigh,“ I’d already done the whole superhero thing before. The Avengers came in and I was no longer needed.”

“Oh really?” She asks and her tone of voice makes you chuckle, then nod.“ And what made you want to be a superhero?”

The elevator stops and the doors slide open.“ I saw what they could do. The difference superheroes make in people's lives.”

Picking up on the shift in your energy, Wanda frowns, ignoring the very expensive looking stuff in the room.“ What happened?” She asked carefully, as if she were trying not to trigger something. 

“I-” you sigh softly, contemplating whether to actually tell her or not. Looking into her eyes you see past the general curiosity and what you find pushes you to tell her. 

So you both get comfortable on one of the couches in the room and you open up to her.“ I was taken by HYDRA when I was fairly young. And it’s not like the guards and scientists were interested in anything other than making me the perfect weapon. So when they started to experiment on me I was already in a horrible state physically. My health was on a steady decline and none of their experiments worked, it actually made me fatally ill. And with no further use of me, they’d left me there to die.” 

Wanda listens intently, eyes misting with tears at the information of your mistreatment.“ But you didn’t.”

“No I didn’t,” you both laugh softly at that.“ The, at the time soon to be, founders of SHIELD were working with the US military to shut down HYDRA after World War II and they found the facility I was being held in. While they saved everyone who was being held captive there, I was in the worst shape. Seeing that I was on the verge of death, they made a decision to administer the super soldier serum to me to save my life.”

Wanda’s eyebrows raise and you have to admit that her expression is amusing.“ You’re a super soldier from World War II?” You nod.“ How old would that make you?” 

“I’m 90. And I wasn’t in the war. I was born before the war. When it started I was 16 and already in a HYDRA base.”

She looks down and bites her bottom lip. You know she has another question on the tip of her tongue. And with her background, having volunteered to be experimented on by HYDRA, you know she’ll have a lot more questions after that.

So with a deep breath, you ask what’s on her mind and tuck in for a long conversation.

* * * 

After a long day at SHIELD, going over papers to further induct the twins into the Avengers, Natasha finally gets back to the tower. She ignores all the SHIELD agents rushing in and out of the lobby and goes straight for the elevators. 

Mentally, she admits that after the headache that is going into SHIELD, the sound of your laugh as soon as she gets on the main floor is refreshing. A small smile forms on her face and she makes her way towards the kitchen where she hears your voice.

While she knows you’re friends with the rest of her team, she can’t help but wonder if you came here to see her.

That thought falls short the instant she reaches the kitchen doorway. She quickly finds that the source of your laugh is the same young woman she’d just been recruiting onto her team. 

In fact, laughter comes from you and Wanda as you cook together. The aroma smells incredible but she can’t help but to remember that this is the very same thing the two of you had done on multiple occasions. 

“Nat, hey, when’d you get here?” 

Your voice pulls Natasha from her thoughts and she almost smiles again. Almost. 

“A few minutes ago.” She decides to take a step closer, which puts her right in the doorway.“ What’re you two making?”

“Um,” your eyebrows pinch together and you look at Wanda.

“Paprikash.” She answers with a quiet giggle and a shake of her head. 

You smile at her then look back up at Natasha,“ we’re making Paprikash.”

The redhead hums, debating with herself on whether she should stay or not. An indescribable feeling nagged in the back of her mind, growing more persistent as she looks at you and Wanda happily interacting with one another. It gradually chips away at her excitement to spend time with you and she hates it.

With a huff she says,“ I’ll leave you two to it.”

She turns on her heel and walks away, effectively dodging the blue blur that is Pietro running into the kitchen, heading back to the elevator. With her floor practically empty due to the move, she wasn’t eager to go up but it seemed more relaxing than watching someone else make you laugh and smile how she did. 

Just as the elevator doors have started to close you slip through, narrowly missing getting your arm caught between the doors, and stand directly in front of her. Your eyes scan her form, up to her face and lingering there. She watches as you take her in, your eyes finally meeting. 

In a soft voice, one that practically melts her heart, you ask,“ are you okay?” She can’t say she expected you to ask that, plus the equally as soft look in your eyes, she grasps for an answer. One that isn’t ‘I didn’t like seeing you so happy with someone else’.

“Just tired. It’s been a long day and my floor isn’t exactly relaxation friendly right now.” She excuses. 

Nodding along, you smile a little at her,“ think I could help with that if you’d let me.” And there’s no way she’s saying no.

That’s how, a little over thirty minutes later, she finds herself following you into your apartment building with takeout bags and beer in hand. 

You hadn’t explained the plan until you were picking up the food. Telling her that a change of scenery might be exactly what she needs. Her trying to relax and unwind at the Tower was equivalent to a lawyer trying to relax at their firm.“ You can’t destress from work at work.” You reasoned. 

Unlocking your door, you gently push it open and hold it for Natasha. She wasn’t sure what to expect of your apartment, but what she finds definitely isn’t it.

Walking into your apartment makes her a little confused. It’s like stepping into a time vault that housed a number of different eras all at once. While things like your appliances and a few tables or paintings were modern or at least from the last decade, your couch, chairs, and even your cabinets look dated.

It was as if you furnished your home without a single clue of what you actually knew you wanted to present. But it’s you. Natasha finds that it almost perfectly embodies the person she’s come to know you to be. 

Since the moment she met you it was clear you were equally as present as you were stuck in the past. Your friendships with Tony and Steve showed that in an ironic way. With Tony the majority of your conversations or bonding was over the future, things he was planning, building, or tinkering with that would change the future. While with Steve you focused on the way things used to be in the era you grew up and were raised in.

“Nice place.” She finally says, moving her eyes from the kitchen to you.“ Very, you.”

The look you give her makes a small giggle leave her lips. You seemed so proud of her first comment and then the second one made you frown, as if you couldn’t tell if you should take it as an insult or a compliment. 

“Don’t think too hard Y/ln, your ears are starting to smoke.” She says jokingly, patting your cheek without giving it any thought. Her turning away makes her miss the way you flush at her inconsequential touch. 

At your invitation, she makes herself at home, finding a spot on the couch and starting to unpack the food. You join her shortly after with plates and forks, turning the tv on and going to a channel you both enjoy watching. 

“How you feelin about the move?” You ask, picking up your plate and leaning back against the couch. Even though the tv is on, Natasha can’t help but notice that all your attention seems to be on her. 

While she is definitely used to the attention, men and women alike focusing solely on her because of her looks, your attention is different. She knows it would be unreasonable of her to think you aren’t paying attention to her for her looks because well, when she gives you attention the first thing she looks at is your looks. You’re incredibly attractive, especially to the redhead. But it was more than that. 

On both ends, yourself and Natasha saw the physical beauty, but you looked beyond that. You saw the beauty of each other’s personalities. 

You’re lighthearted, you have an outlook on life that she finds intriguing, and not just because you’re decades older than her, it was how you maintained a fairly optimistic view on things despite the cards you’d been dealt in the past. On top of that you’re honest and caring, especially to the people you consider friends and family.

As far as she goes, you see her in, almost, the same way she sees you. She’s honest. Shows her care in a way that you find adorable, mainly because it’s so nonchalant. Her will to keep going, to endure the many trials she’s been through. Her strength never fails to amaze you. Not to mention the absolute admiration you have for her in regards to her clearing her ledger. Especially since being an Avenger means so much more to her than just that. 

That thought alone sends a rumbling of butterflies in her stomach and she hates how childish it feels but loves it all the same. 

“Um,” she looks down, letting her hair curtain between you two to hide the blush that rises.“ I can’t say I feel any particular way about it.”

When she feels your fingers ghost over her cheek, she has half a mind to grab your hand and break it, but it’s you and she’s been secretly craving your touch. In the softest gesture she’d ever been on the end of, you brush her hair back. Your fingers lightly run over her cheek and temple as you hook her hair behind her ear. 

She looks over to see you drop your head slightly to catch her eye, a little smile on your face.“ It is okay if you aren’t all that happy to be leaving. The tower has been your home for the last few years. An attachment or even familiarity with it is understandable.” 

“I-” she sighs, just barely tilts her head closer to your touch, then lifts her head.“ I’ve never had a home Y/ln.” She knows you can hear the hurt in her words, cause admittedly she didn’t hide it like she usually would. She doesn’t feel the need to with you.

You go quiet for a moment and Natasha wonders if maybe she should’ve kept her somber comment to herself. The instant she considers walling herself off again, you speak.“ Well then maybe,”

She raises an eyebrow at you.“ Maybe what?”

“Maybe this could be your home.” You swallow, nerves manifesting in the way you play with your food.“ I know you’ve only just been here today but, everyone deserves a safe haven. Somewhere they can escape from the rest of the world. Everyone deserves a home.” You finally look back into her eyes,“ especially you Nat.”

You didn’t know but in that moment you got to her in a way no one else ever had. You didn’t tear her walls down. Instead, as if understanding the very reason the walls had been put up in the first place, you built a door to her heart and soul. And only you hold the key to it.

She’s hit with the weight of her feelings for you, feelings she’d never had for anyone before. As terrifying as she finds it, she can’t help but think that if there’s anyone who she could trust to be gentle with these feelings it’s you.

* * * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @natasha-danvers @blackxwidowsxwife @yumusak-yastik @b-5by5 @fayhar @lostandsearching @iliketozoneout @thewidowsghost @ecruzsalaz

[storiesforallfandoms]

tabloid bs ~ eminem

word count: 1822

request?: yes!

@imaginesforjohnnydepp​ “hi! i was wondering if you could do an age gap eminem x reader imagine where the reader is a singer and is the daughter of a very successful actor and singer and there are rumors of her parents not liking marshall making the rounds in the tabloids?”

description: in which she decides to shut down bullshit tabloid rumors regarding her boyfriend and her parents

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing, age gap (totally legal though, we’ll say the reader is about 25)

masterlist (one, two)

Being the daughter of two incredibly famous actors meant you were in the spotlight from a young age. Paparazzi, crazy fans, fake friends, none of it was new to you by the time you decided you wanted to try your hand in singing.

You were nervous at first, worrying that either you’d only blow up because of who your parents were, or that everyone would shut down your career because of who your parents were. You were happily surprised to learn that everyone genuinely liked you and your music, despite your parentage.

As your career began to skyrocket, you were contacted by none other than Eminem asking to make a song with you. Apparently he was so impressed by your talent that he wanted to get in contact with you and ask you himself for a collab, something that he only did with people who ended up becoming close friends of his (Skylar Grey, Rihanna, 50 Cent, Ed Sheeran, etc. etc.).

You ended up following this trend, except in a much more extreme way. You did end up becoming close with him, but not as just a friend. Within a month of doing your collaboration you found yourself going on a date with Marshall, and within a year you were basically living with him.

The press had a field day when they found out. You were 20 years younger than Marshall, and he was only two years younger than your mom. Of course people didn’t react to kindly to this at first, but it wasn’t as hard to ignore these things as you expected it to be.

The thing that was hard to ignore, though, was the constant stories that were published about your parents hating Marshall, and hating your relationship.

This couldn’t be farther from the truth. Your parents loved Marshall, both as a musician and as their daughter’s boyfriend. Your dad and Marshall got along really well, and your mom basically viewed him as a new best friend from the moment he walked through the door.

These rumors were harder to ignore when they were brought up so often in interviews and during livestreams or Q&As. You were starting to get annoyed with it and you wanted to make it stop.

Lucky for you, the person interviewing you at that moment gave you the perfect segway to shutting those rumors down.

“I know this is a bit of a private topic,” she started, “and if you don’t want to talk about it we can just move on, but there’s something circulating in the rumor mill regarding you and your boyfriend.”

“Of course there is,” you said, rolling your eyes in a playful manner. You were trying to remain lighthearted about it all, but you were feeling the annoyance bubble up inside of you already.

“There’s a story going around that you blew off your dad’s birthday because he wouldn’t let you bring Eminem to the celebration.”

You felt your face heating up with anger. Oh, so now the media was trying to present you as a bratty singer now too? Saying you skipped your own father’s birthday due to your boyfriend?

No, they were not getting away with that one.

You pulled your phone from your pocket and quickly opened it. The interviewer looked at you in confusion as you scrolled through your pictures before holding your phone towards the nearest camera.

“Here’s a picture of me and my dad two days after his birthday,” you said. “It was taken by Marshall, because the three of us had a special celebration alone. My flight home was delayed and I had to miss my dad’s actual birthday, in which my boyfriend was actually invited to, by the way. Dad specifically asked if Marshall would be coming, even jokingly told me that I had to take him. So no, I didn’t purposely miss my dad’s birthday because of my boyfriend, I would never miss dad’s birthday on purpose.”

“All you had to say was no,” the interviewer mumbled, regarding her notes to move along to the next question.

“No,” you said. “I’m not keeping this one short and sweet. I’m tired of all these stupid, untrue things being said about me and my boyfriend and my parents. Mom and dad don’t hate Marshall, I don’t purposely not see my parents because of him. There’s no hate at all between any of us, and it makes me angry that tabloids make those accusations without any evidence just for clicks. This is someone’s real life, not just some fiction for someone to fuck around with.”

“You sound very passionate about this.”

You scoffed. “Of course I am! Ever since Marshall and I have started dating people have been saying shit about him and my parents and I don’t understand why. There’s never been any ill will between my parents and Marshall, not even any implied ill will. People just like to make up stories so they have a good headline to get views and get people talking.”

“Well, although nothing has been ever been confirmed, you can’t say you don’t understand where those rumors came from. No one wants their kid dating someone who is basically their age, no matter how famous that person is. It’s only natural for a parent to be protective over their kid, especially from such an older person that may just be taking advantage of them.”

Your eyes were wide with shock. You could barley believe what this bitch was saying. She was really trying to spin the story and say that Marshall was trying to take advantage of you, a literal 25 year old adult?

You stood from my chair then and began trying to pull the microphone off of yourself. The interviewer looked at me with concern before trying to stop you.

“I’m done here,” you declared, pulling at the wire once I found it.

“You’re going to break the mic!”

“Send the bill to my people,” you retorted. “I’m not sitting here and having someone tell me that the guy I’m dating is trying to take advantage of me just because he’s older, or hearing you spill some bullshit about my parents. Newsflash: if someone is happy publicly with their relationship, then maybe they’re actually happy. No tragic behind the scene stories or ulterior motives, just two adults who are in love.”

You finally got the microphone off and basically threw it at the interviewer before turning and leaving the room.

~~~~~~

You stayed at Marshall’s place that night, still partially fuming from the interview. You didn’t tell him specifics (especially not that you walked out in a fury the way you did), but you told him it didn’t go well.

You were awoken the next morning to your phone ringing. When you checked it, you saw your dad’s face and name light up your screen. You groaned when you noticed how early the time was before answering. “Hello?”

“Good morning sweetie,” came your dad’s voice. “Have you been online yet?”

“I haven’t even been out of bed yet,” you responded. “Why? What’s going on?”

“You’re trending for walking out of your interview.”

You sat up in the bed so quickly that it woke Marshall. He rolled over and looked at you in confusion as you put your dad on speaker and started frantically opening your Twitter app.

“Dad, you’re on speaker. Marshall is here,” you told him as you started looking.

“Good morning, Marshall,” your dad said.

“Morning,” Marshall responded, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “What’s going on that has (Y/N) wide awake at 8am?”

“She’s trending.”

“For what?”

There it was, your name at the top of the trending list. When you clicked on it, the first thing that popped up was your interview from the day before.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “I can’t believe they actually posted. It was so bad, I thought they’d just delete the footage and never think of it again.”

“You think too highly of people looking for a good scoop, honey.”

The title of the video read Singer (Y/F/N) Goes Off On Interviewer while Talking About Parents and Boyfriend Eminem. The entire interview was included, luckily enough, including everything leading up to your storm out. Marshall watched over your shoulder as your dad waited, silently, for you to see it all.

“You didn’t tell me what was said,” Marshall said. “Why didn’t you tell me they were saying that shit to you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you responded. “I mean, it did matter, but by the time I got here I didn’t think it would matter anymore. Like I said, I thought the footage would be deleted and long forgotten.”

You were nervously biting at your nails as you scrolled through Twitter to see what people were saying. You were expecting a wave of hate and people believing that you truly were a bratty singer, until you started to see how much praise and love you were getting.

“Imagine trying to frame (Y/N) as the bad one in this situation when the interviewer literally said Eminem is trying to take advantage of her”

“Never believed those rumors about (Y/N)’s parents and Eminem. They’re all too tightknit for (Y/N) to date someone her parents hate”

“The way she told the interviewer to bill her for the broken mic that’s QUEEN SHIT”

“It doesn’t seem too bad,” you said as you continued to read. “A lot of people on my side.”

“Oh, I knew no one was against you on this one,” your dad said. “I just wanted to let you know you’re trending, and let you know I’m proud of you for finally putting an end to those rumors. It was getting really tiresome to read why I hated Marshall on any given day.”

You chuckled slightly. “Thanks dad. I’ll call you and mom later. Love you.”

“Love you, too, honey.”

Your dad hung up and you decided it would be for the best to put your phone away for a while. Even though you weren’t getting any negative attention for this, you were still overwhelmed by the fact that the interview went up at all.

You settled back into bed beside Marshall, taking your place in his arms where you loved to be the most.

“I’m proud of you, too,” he said, kissing your forehead. “I didn’t realize my girl was so badass.”

“Yes you did.”

“Maybe I did.” You giggled as you nuzzled your head into his chest more. “You know how much I love you, right?”

“Of course I know, babe. Don’t let that shitty interviewer and her bullshit get to you.”

“Oh she’s not,” he said. “I’m well aware your parents love me and I’m not taking advantage of you. I just wanted to remind you.”

I chuckled and shook my head. Shortly after, I drifted off to sleep, feeling proud of myself for what I had done.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Sun 30 May ‘21

Louis’ old friend Nizam got married! Well good for him or whatever but mostly GOOD FOR US, cause we get the best wedding gift of all- seeing LOUIS IN FORMAL WEAR! I mean just seeing Louis at all is nice, but long hair and a suit?? Hot damn, it’s like 2014 but oh so much better cause it’s NOW! The wedding is in Durham, and there were a few pictures, including Louis taking part in the tradition of congratulating the couple by feeding them a bite of sweets.

Liam posted that he’s been ill (oh no!) and missing a lot but nonetheless-- Round Up with Liam video today!! Titled ‘My NFT, Haircuts and Four Years of Strip That Down’ the video features sure enough, a sniffling and croaky voiced Liam. He shows his favorite fanarts that he’s selected-- I really like when he talks about how he himself draws and knows how long it takes and says how inspiring he finds the fanartists- and says he planned to print out and sign and send the faves to the artists, but couldn’t because he didn’t want to send people his germs so he will later. All the illness talk is worrisome but- good news, he does eventually assure us that it is not COVID! Anyway all the drawings he’s chosen are of him and they are fucking incredible honestly (Liam, “is it weird to call a drawing of yourself beautiful? We’re about to find out!”) He talks again about his NFT but despite the vid title still doesn’t actually SPILL and just says, more on that soon. He sort of says what NFTs are (though not in any way that will change the hearts and minds of us naysayers) and shares clips of a couple he owns and says his will be “based around lockdown with a little bit of fame twisted in there as well”, about a character he made up and drew being “locked in a cage... he can fly but he can’t fly because he’s stuck which I think a lot of us can relate to.” And also on the subject of things we don’t really hear about and aren’t getting yet, he also mentions recording in Sweden a little while back and how that song will be coming out… sometime. He doesn’t know when. The Strip That Down section, about what it was like to release his first solo single, has him playing a video of a performance from release time- “I was nervous as hell” he says, “look at the size of that place.” and “the sound on that stage is so different from what you guys hear it scares the hell out of you.” He also talks a lot about hanging out with Bear and says they’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, and says he’s just moved into a different house, AGAIN, and tags Niall in his posts of him practicing his golf putting, a good sick day indoor activity.

And THEN- Liam announced that he’d started a DISCORD for fans to hang out with him! Any guesses as to how that’s going?? UTTER CHAOS OBVIOUSLY! “Wow! You guys broke discord... there’s so many of you,” Liam commented helplessly. The suggestions channel is overwhelmed with people suggesting some kind of rules or moderation, a rules channel was added soon after launch but remains empty and locked; for now, anarchic disorder (discord, if you will) reigns, it’s like the comments section of a livestream that just… never ends…. ENJOY I guess, wow.

Meanwhile, Niall and Anne Marie are psyched Our Song is doing well; “We love it!! Thank you guys. Let’s keep it going,” said Niall.

[axwalker]

Creep 2: I don’t care if it hurts

HIGH SCHOOL AU

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC  (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

MASTERLIST HERE

Synopsis: Drake and Lexie are star-crossed lovers. Her father hates him and forces Lexie to stop any contact with Drake. Lost and heartbroken, he “bullies” her for two years until he discovers the truth of Lexie’s behavior.

A/N 1 This came up to me after I got an ask from @nestledonthaveone​ to write a fic based on the song CREEP.

I used to hear this song when I was a teenager, so when I read this ask, I immediately wanted to write something angsty but situated in high school.

A/N 2: Because they’re younger than usual, I decided to change my  FC. 

Words: 4,110 

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love.

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express his love. His behavior is not excusable.

This is a dark love story. If you’re not comfortable with it, PLEASE do not read it.  

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS

As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapter. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic, please do not hesitate to ask!! 

DRAKE

Even if she never looks at me or speaks to me again, she’s mine. Even if I’ve been a horrible jerk to her for two years and she pales every time I pull into the parking lot on my motorcycle, she is mine. Just seeing her with him enrages me, so I walk straight toward my usual seat, directly behind Lexie, and slam my textbook down onto the desk.

Startled, Rys looks up at me, “Hey, Walker. What’s up?” 

It’s not the first time he tries to make a move on Lexie. Last time –two years ago, we almost killed each other. Pretty boy might be an entitled ass, but he knows how to fight. Maybe he thinks Lexie is game again after all this time. He couldn’t be more wrong. 

 “Don’t you have a class this period?” I ask him. Liam cocks his left eyebrow, adjusting the straps of his backpack. 

“I fail to see why that concerns you, Creep.”  

My smile is murderous. “Get the fuck out of here before I break your face, pretty boy.”

I think he has a death wish because he looks at Lexie when he talks, “See you after class, Alexis, when your watchdog will be busy mowing my lawn.” Finally, he just shakes his head and gets out of the classroom. I resume my daily routine. Staring at the back of Lexie’s head, tracing the curve of her perfect neck, my cock getting hard over her perfect cherry scent. 

“So that’s what you like,” I say, leaning forward to speak an inch from her ears. “You like them with blond hair and pink polo shirts. Prospects for Cambridge or shit. A huge trust fund. Don’t you? A brat like you needs someone who can spoil her. I bet you’d introduce him to daddy, wouldn’t you?” 

She doesn’t respond. She never does. Her eyes stay stubbornly on the front of the class where the teacher has started writing today’s lesson on the board—my hands fist in desperation. I’m dying for her to talk to me. To look at me. Anything. “Too bad, Lexie. I’ll scare every single one of those fucking entitled boys off. You’re going to sit alone in your house on prom night, crying into your designer sheets like a baby. And I’m going to enjoy it.” 

The only sign that she hears me at all is the quickening rise and fall of her shoulders. Even that tiny display that I’ve upset her is agonizing, floods me with self-loathing, but I can never stop. She ripped out my fucking heart, and I can’t deal with the consequences of that alone. I can’t let her go. I’ll never let her go. This toxic feeling is the only thing left between us. My hands shake with the urge to take her in my arms, to stop the trembling I caused. To protect her from everything. Even myself. I’d love to move my fingers up into the silky, brown hair that reaches the middle of her graceful neck. I don’t have a lot of money; most of the cash I earn as a handyman goes to food and fixing my dad’s cabin, but I’d give every last cent for her to turn and lock those soft brown eyes on me, just one last time. Sometimes when I jerk off, all it takes is fantasizing about Lexie looking at me, giving me one of those shy smiles, and I lose it. One stroke. Maybe two. Done. I can’t breathe without having her close. And I can’t breathe with her close. It’s a strange condition, this obsession, but she’s an addiction that I just can’t give up. 

How could I? She’s intelligent, strong, and so damned gorgeous. Once upon a time, I thought she had a good heart too. But that was before she broke my pathetic heart only because I’m poor. I’ve been hurting since then, and I need her to hurt too. To know what it feels.

“Do you actually think that dumb rich boy would be a good choice for your first time, Lexie?” I grip my desk so tight it nearly breaks down, just thinking about her being kissed –touched by someone else. “At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with Rys for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my rundown cabin door, begging me to fuck you as we both know you’d like.”

A pretty blush is starting to climb her neck. I have to take a deep breath to keep from kiss her pink cheeks. But I think if I got to touch her skin, my wall of bullshit would crumble. I’ve only fucked one girl. Since seeing Lexie for the first time freshman year, there’s been no one but her. I want no one else. She owns my cock as sure as she owns my heart. How easily she’s forgotten about both leaving me in agony. 

“Stop,” she breathes. I freeze. Did she just speak to me? It’s the first time in two years that she’s even remotely acknowledged my existence. 

“Lexie,” I managed to say. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s all it took. One pleading word out of her mouth, and I’m done. 

“Just stop,” she says again, turning her head slightly. “Please.” 

I fall back in my chair, my heart thundering on my chest. If we weren’t in the middle of class, if I didn’t feel like a monster, I would pull her into my arms right now. I’d hug her until she stopped struggling, then beg her to hit me, bruise me, make me pay for every shitty thing I’ve ever said to her. But before long, the class is over, and she’s leaving the classroom to get out of here. To put distance between us as quickly as possible—and I have no choice but to watch her because I feel physically ill. Still, I manage to get out into the student-packed hallway, my plan to apologize for being crude and a jerk and torturing her for so long. 

My head is telling me not to apologize, though. It’s telling me she deserved it for being such a snob, for breaking me, for valuing money and status like everyone else. My damned heart is telling an entirely different story. It’s insisting there is an explanation for her behavior. Am I going to apologize or not? The decision is taken out of my hands when Lexie opens her locker, and the little gift I left before class falls down. It’s a picture I cut out from our last yearbook. In the photo is a gorgeous smiling Lexie above the caption Most Likely to Succeed. Except I’ve crossed out the caption and added my own. Most Likely to Be a Trophy Wife. Watching her read it, I almost get sick right there in the hallway. Usually, she’s perfectly composed, not betraying a trace of emotion where I’m concerned—a real Ice queen. I’ve always thought she honestly didn’t care. Today, though… she’s not pulling it off. Something is not okay with her, and I don’t like it. She has to bite down on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering as she puts the photo back into her locker, out of sight, her bright eyes finding me briefly, massacring me where I stand. Betraying with one single look how much she has been affected by my actions. Christ. She hasn’t been indifferent at all.

Before I can react, before I can call her name, she’s gone, vanished into the crowd of wild students excited to be leaving for the day. And I know what I have to do. I have to see her. To apologize. To get an explanation for everything. Tonight. I’ll return to her house for the first time in two years.

LEXIE

I’ve known this was coming all day. Sitting on the couch in my living room, trying to make myself as small as possible, I watch my father pace. He rants, gesticulating noisily. This isn’t new, my father’s rage threatening me. But it’s going to be worse than usual. Business has declined for him and it’s put his temper on a trigger. Dad’s new wife, Nancy, hates to be on a budget, and she’s been spending his money like crazy all over Paris --where she’s now. When dad gets home from the office, he’s rarely in anything but a horrible mood. A tornado eating up everything in its path. Completely terrifying. At least dad’s temper makes me forget what Drake told me today, the ugly words he said to me, the boiling anger in his eyes when he looks at me. 

“Are you even listening?” The slap across the face comes as a shock because I’d momentarily disappeared into my thoughts, but the sting quickly brings me back to reality. 

“Yes, sir,” I say, my ears ringing. “I’m listening.” 

“This C on your algebra test is going to drag your whole average down.” He’s waving the test in my face. “What a disappointment you are, Alexis. Your teacher shared my disgust.” I nod solemnly, but I’m listening for the rain outside. “I guess you’re your daughter’s mother after all. A poor Mexican girl who could barely count.” It’s not true. My mom learned English and Greek by herself, and she was a great Spanish teacher in Portavira, but my father would rather die than acknowledge how smart she was. 

“Don’t talk like that about her,” I retort.

My father snorts. “I beg your pardon?” He takes a step towards me, and I can see the threat in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” I hate to be such a coward, but I know what he can do to me.” I’ll do extra credit. Something to bring my grade back up to an A.” I wet my lips. “Even if I can’t manage to raise the grade, it’s not going to show up on the college transcripts I sent off with my applications.” That’s the reason I let my focus slip a little in algebra. The finish line is in sight for everyone, and we’re just waiting to find out where we’ll be accepted for college. It’s a wonder I’ve been able to maintain my focus this long in any class, considering Walker sits behind me in every period, brooding making me feel … something. At the reminder of him, I want to close my eyes and dream about him. I replay that night in my garden when he kissed me two years ago, so tenderly and passionately, when he spoke to me so sweetly and honestly before he became the second villain in my story. Someone I dread, as much as I crave the sight of him.  

At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with that punk for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my trailer door, begging me to ride you right. 

Should I be ashamed of the way my body reacted to those words? I grew uncomfortably damp in the hard plastic chair, the center of my body clenching, seeming to beat like a heart. His breath on my neck made me shiver, head to toe. Even the way he scared off Liam Rys did something to me. Aroused me. Deeply. It got so bad that I broke the rules and asked him to stop. I can still hear him saying my name in that tortured way after. That shocked, uneven sound. Lexie. And whether I’m ashamed of myself for it or not, I know I’ll think of it when I touch myself tonight. His voice, his hands, his eyes obsess me. 

“College?” My father snorts, tearing the test in half. “You’re not going to college.” 

This grabs my attention. A horrible feeling is making me cold. “I’m…what? What do you mean? I applied to nine different schools. I have a four-point five GPA.” 

For the first time, I notice his red face is about more than just rage. There’s…humiliation. I’ve never seen him display that emotion. 

“None of the American colleges that accepted you offered scholarships.” 

“I’ve been accepted?” I gasp, sitting forward, heart pounding in my chest. “Where? I didn’t see the letters—” 

“All the mail in this house goes through me, Alexis. I read them. And you failed to get academic scholarships. You failed. Not that I’m surprised.”

 I don’t point out that his refusal to let me participate in any extracurricular activities is more than likely to blame for that. I’m too worried about what he’s saying, what this means. The blood is draining from my head, making the room spin around me. 

“Okay, I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry. But…we have money. We can pay tuition, can’t we? Or colleges in Cordonia are almost for free. I can go to any of them; I don’t have to go to NYU.” I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. This is my way out. College is the escape route. I counted on going back to New York, but I can stay here and go to college in Cordonia City. 

“Listen to you, so quick to spend my hard-earned money—spoiled brat. And of course, you can’t go to college in Cordonia. What for? To end up being a schoolteacher like your mom? A housewife as Nancy?” He laughs bitterly. “No, you’ll stay here, and I’ll help you find someone suitable to marry.” 

I shake my head. “There’s financial aid, then. Loans or I can get a job and go to college in Portavira…” 

“You want to leave, just like her, don’t you? You’re all the same.”

 I don’t even flinch when he yanks me to my feet, shoving me into the wall. In fact, for the first time, I took him right into his eyes. And I can see the violence burning on them has nothing to do with me. It never had anything to do with how I behave, my choices, how hard I worked in school. How welcome I made Nancy feel or cooked a roast. It’s about him and his self-loathing. It’s his sickness. Not mine. I can also see that he was never going to send me to college. Because he wouldn’t be able to control me from a distance or stop me from sharing what I’ve been subjected to since my mother died. Not like he does now. He wasn’t physically abusive all the time. Especially not when his new wife is around. But she traveled often, and then he’d push me. Shove me. Slapped me several times. I’ll graduate at the top of my class for nothing. He knew I would all along. 

That’s when I realize I’m free. I don’t have money, but college is free in Cordonia. I can work, save a little and go to college in one or two years. I’ll be a writer; it’ll just take more time than I thought. “Go to hell,” I whisper. 

He steps back, giving me the momentary satisfaction of his shock. “What did you say?”

Liberated, I scream it this time. “Go to hell!” From the moment I sat down to have this conversation, I knew tonight would be worse than usual, but I’ve just bought myself a ticket to hell. Usually, I can retreat to the untouchable place inside of me as he unleashes his rage, but not tonight. He doesn’t stop at one or two slaps. He punches and kicks, and I’m present for every punch and kick. Every yelled insult. Finally, I start to get scared. I’m crawling across the carpet on my hands and knees, searching for a weapon I can use in my defense when I glance out the window and see Drake staring back at me, his face a mask of horror.

 Drake

 What I’m seeing just isn’t possible. It can’t be real. My head won’t accept it. Not until her terror-filled eyes meet mine through the window and the truth pounds on my chest, leaves no doubt that this is real life. Lexie’s father is beating her. Her mouth is bloody, one of her eyes beginning to swell, arms and legs visibly weakened. I can barely fucking process it before my body is springing into action, desperate to protect her. To put a stop to the worst thing I have ever seen. What the fuck. Scorching hot rage takes over. I kick in the front door and throw myself between Lexie and her father. His fist is raised, but it pauses when he sees me, his momentary confusion giving me the time I need to knock him out cold. It only takes one right uppercut from someone his own size, and he goes down, his blank, glassy eyes staring at nothing, mouth opened. It’s not satisfying enough.

Nothing will ever be satisfying enough. I want to kill him, destroy him, but my Lexie is struggling for breath behind me, and she’s all I can think about. Turning, I approach her, my heart threatening to jump off my chest. As gently as I can, I catalog all of the cuts and purpling skin. No. No. Who could do this to her? Who could lay a finger on her in anything but reverence? Get her out of here. Calling her name, I reach down to pick her up, but she flinches and hurries back, bringing her body up against the wall. 

“Don’t touch me!” Those words filled with fear rip the soul clean out of my body. My hands drop limply to my sides and two years come rushing back, hitting me in the chest like a hammer. Every word, every action. Everything I did to make her life harder when this is what she’s been dealing with at home? Fuck me. 

“Lexie…” My voice is as kind as I can. I feel broken. “I’m sorry. I came here to apologize. For everything.” 

She puffs a humorless laugh, testing her cut lip with the tip of her tongue. “Bet you weren’t expecting to see this.” 

“If I knew this was happening, I would have been here a long time ago. I would have stopped it. I swear Lex.” 

Her expression can only be described as stunned. Maybe even a little pissed. “You are not my savior, Drake. You are my enemy. You’ve been for two years, and I want nothing else from you now.”

 “I am not your enemy.” Those words barely make it out of me, my chest hurts so fucking bad. “Don’t say that.” 

Unsteadily, she uses the wall to try and stand. I try to help her, but she recoils, and it’s a dagger straight into the center of my throat. Nothing less than I deserve, though, isn’t it? Her distrust of me is entirely my fault. I’ve made her hate me. There has to be some way to fix what I’ve done. Please God, let there be away. But right now, my main concern is her physical safety. Knowing she’s been in danger all along is unbearable. I only decided to come here tonight a few hours ago. What if I didn’t? What if I arrived an hour later? The possibilities are going to haunt me for the rest of my life. From the floor, her father groans, shifting slightly. 

“We need to get you out of here,” I say, anxious to get her free of this place. “Now, Lexie. I need to get you somewhere safe.” 

She’s standing now. Leaning against the wall and cradling one arm to her stomach, regarding me warily. “How do I know I’m safe with you?” It’s so much worse that her question is honest. Not meant to hurt me. She honestly doesn’t know if I pose a threat. It guts me where I stand. 

“You are the safest with me,” I say thickly, cursing myself. Wanting to erase the last two years so badly, my hands shake. “Please believe me. I’d die before hurting you. I’d never, Lexie. I’d never do something like that.” 

Her father rolls over onto his back and slurs a few words before losing consciousness again. Still, the sound of the older man’s voice seems to scare Lexie, “I…maybe you can just give me a ride to…a motel maybe?” She pushes off the wall, her step uneven as she walks toward the stairs. “I need some things from my room.” 

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her we don’t have time, but I’m just grateful she’s trusting me enough to leave with me, so I don’t argue. I just wait until she’s halfway up the stairs, then tie her father’s hands behind his back with my belt in case he wakes up before we leave. I have no problem knocking him out a second time, but Lexie has seen enough violence for one night. Cautiously, I walk up the stairs toward the light coming from a room halfway down the hall. This place is a far cry from my home. It’s elegant and clean, and tasteful, but it lacks any warmth whatsoever. It’s cold, like a museum. Turning the corner into Lexie’s room, it’s time to hate myself all over again. There is nothing on the walls, none of the expensive furnishings. Just four white walls, a bed, and a dresser that doubles as a desk. Several textbooks. She looks back at me over her shoulder as if judging my reaction, and I keep my features impassive, though I’m dying on the inside. 

“What can I do?” I ask. 

“How long do we have?” 

“As long as you need.” It’s physically painful not to pull her into my arms when I’m standing this close, and she’s hurt. Sad. Yet full of more inner strength than I’ve ever witnessed in another human being. I’m lucky just to be in her presence. I fucked up royally. And if she allows me back in, I’ll never do it again. It’s probably, definitely, too much to hope for. Being allowed back in. She doesn’t even look sure about having me in her room. Let alone her heart. I was trying to protect my own heart, but I lost it instead. 

 “Um…” She closes her eyes to focus, a familiar trait I’ve seen in class countless times. “There is a black bag in the hallway closet. Can you just stuff anything into it from the bathroom that looks useful?” 

Ask me to bring you a unicorn. I’ll find a way to do it. “Sure.” We work in silence, Lexie taking things out of drawers and adding them to the bag, which I’ve left open on the floor. I add toiletries from the bathroom, and once it’s zipped, I wait, watching her hesitate in the doorway. 

“Lexie?” Conflicted chocolate eyes meet mine. 

“I can’t just leave, can I?” 

“You’re not safe here, baby,” I say softly, trying to keep the residual rage at bay because it’s the last thing she needs. Not to mention she’s had her fill with negativity from me. No more. “How long…how long?” 

She shrugs, the saddest expression in her eyes. “My mom died five years ago. Ever since then, it’s gotten worse and worse. Although I never had a chance to talk to anyone about what happened behind closed doors, you know? I don’t think a person can evolve into a monster. It’s inside him.”

 “I don’t know,” I say. “I became one, didn’t I?” 

That gives her pause, forms a line between her delicate brows. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” 

She starts to walk past me, stops, standing close enough to fill my nose with cherry. “He told me if I ever spoke to you ever again, he would hurt me. Ruin you, have you evicted. Make sure you never got hired again. I didn’t mean to…hurt you. Or hurt your feelings, if that’s what happened.” 

That revelation destroys me, sets me on fire. “Jesus, Lexie. You were protecting me? And I…I tortured you for it?” I twist the neck of my T-shirt, trying to calm down, but it doesn’t work. I’ll never be calm again “I’m so fucking sorry.” 

She glances at the doorway, then back at me, eyes closed again in that way that says she’s thinking. “All I want from you now is a ride out of here, okay? And on Monday morning, you’ll stop.” She opens her shining eyes again. “No more bullying, Drake. If you’re really sorry, you’ll do that for me.” 

Fuck. I couldn’t say one more single shitty thing to her if my life depended on it. Put me at gunpoint, and I’d rather get shot at than torture this girl for one more second. But I’m highly, painfully aware that with an end to the bullying comes an end to the possessiveness. No more scaring off guys who show interest in her. No more getting close enough in class to count the hairs on her head, to smell her sweet fragrance. And to tell the truth, I’m pretty fucking worried I don’t know how to give those things up completely. I don’t think I can physically do it. This addiction with Lexie isn’t something I can cut off. A leg would be easier to sever. But my hesitation is causing her eyes to worry. If I don’t agree to, essentially, let her go… she’s not going anywhere with me. And that means her safety won’t be guaranteed. I need it to be. More than anything. 

“No more bullying,” I say, finally. A moment later, I follow her out of the room and down the stairs, trying desperately to count the hairs on her head before I no longer have the chance.

[ladyfogg]

Heal My Wounds - Part 1

Heal My Wounds - Part 1 of 3

Fic Summary:  After you meet the infamous Kit Walker, you realize that he cannot possibly be guilty of everything they say he is. Determined to treat him with kindness and compassion, you end up falling hard for the handsome man with gorgeous dark eyes. But you both are playing a dangerous game and you must decide just how far you’re willing to go to save the man you love. Part 2. AHS Masterlist. 

Fic Rating: 18+

Fic Song: War by Poets of the Fall

Pairing: Kit Walker/Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, Slow Burn, tw: mental illness, tw: asylum setting, tw: violence

A/N: I ended up finishing this a lot quicker than I thought I was going to. Enjoy! For @tatestripedsweater​ and @kitwalker02​. 

You’ve seen many things during your time at Briarcliff. Being a nurse, you deal with truly awful alignments, either self-inflicted or acquired under “mysterious” circumstances. This usually means that a guard roughed the patient up or Dr. Arden can’t be bothered to treat them himself. You learn to expect the worst, not in the patient but in what they are afflicted with. In truth, your heart goes out to every one of them. Regardless of what sent them to Briarcliff, it is always your mission to treat them with the respect and dignity they deserve. 

Which is why, when you hear that the infamous Bloody Face, aka Kit Walker, has been transferred to the asylum, you try not to be concerned. You knew all about Bloody Face and what he’s done and when they arrested Kit, you aren’t ashamed to admit that your first thought was, “Good riddance!” However, you force yourself to change your tune once you learn you’ll be treating him at some point. Plenty of dangerous people had come and gone through Briarcliff’s doors. You aren’t going to treat him any differently than you would the other patients.

No matter how dangerous he is. 

It isn’t long before you find yourself face-to-face with him. He is there less than a day before he’s brought in to see you, his lip and his nose a bloody mess, the red a stark contrast to his pale skin. His appearance surprises you even though it shouldn’t. You read the papers; you’ve seen his face. Yet, in person, he’s so handsome it takes your breath away and you need a moment to compose yourself.

“What happened?” you ask Kit as the guard forces him to sit on the bed. He is bound with cuffs and chains, an overkill if you ever saw one. 

“He got into a scrape with another inmate,” the guard says in a gruff voice. “Bloody Face here got the worst of it.”

“They’re called patients, not inmates,” you correct him with a glare. “And I wasn’t asking you, I was asking Mr. Walker. That is his name, that's what he will be called while he’s under my care.”

The guard, whose name you think is Hardy, looks taken aback by your words. He is a new one who hasn’t had to deal with you yet. While many of the female staff are nuns, you are not. You are there purely for medical purposes, not religious ones. Therefore, you have no reason to force politeness to the guards. After all, why should you? They never show you any. The sooner Hardy learns you will not tolerate his bullshit, the better. 

You have been talked to by Sister Jude several times regarding your attitude but since you are appointed by the state, there is nothing more she can do. Eventually, the both of you came to a mutual understanding. In fact, you suspect she admires your non-nonsense attitude as it most often gets results. If there is a patient in your infirmary, you can call the shots. Of course, the male guards don’t like that, but they can get fucked. 

When you turn back at Kit, he has a surprised look on his face. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” you ask. 

“Just my face,” he answers. “And my hands.”

You glance down and see his bruises and bloody knuckles. Clearly, he defended himself but given the fact that the other patient hasn’t been brought it, you assume Kit got the worst of it. You go about collecting what you need to disinfect his wounds. 

To Hardy, you say, “Remove his chains.”

“No can do. Not for this one.”

“His knuckles are bleeding, and I need to examine his hands to make sure nothing is broken or fractured. Remove his chains.”

There is an intense stare-off between you and the guard before he relents and unbinds Kit. Once his restraints are gone, you wave Hardy off. “You may step outside.”

“Now hold on a minute! This man—”

“Has rights. He deserves the same privacy as every other patient. Besides, I won’t have you getting in my way while I patch him up. You can step outside and wait. I’m more than capable of handling myself.”

Hardy snorts, annoyed and done with arguing. “Fine by me. Don’t complain if you get killed.”

“I won’t, considering if that happens, I won’t be able to. Or are you not aware how death works?”

With a sneer, he stalks away, and you heard him mutter, “Stupid bitch.” under his breath.

“Smart bitch actually,” you call after him. “And shut the door on your way out, please.” It slams behind him and you return your attention to your patient. 

Kit looks at you with awe. “Forgive me for saying so, doc. But you’re one tough broad.”

You laugh, pulling a chair over so you can sit in front of Kit. “I’m not a doctor, I’m a nurse. And you have to be though, especially in this place. The gentle don’t last long. Now, let’s take a look at those hands.”

Kit extends his hands, and you take them in your own, examining his wounded knuckles. After moving each finger and his wrists, you determine there was nothing broken or fractured so you set about cleaning the scrapes. Kit watches you the entire time. Even though you don’t look up from your work, you can feel his eyes on you. 

“I think you’re the only person in this place who’s not afraid of me,” he says after a stretch of silence. “This is the first time I’ve been treated like a person since this whole thing started.”

“Should I be afraid of you, Mr. Walker?” you glance up and are immediately taken in by the soft expression on his face. 

“Call me Kit,” he says. “And I never hurt anybody. All the things they say I did are lies. I have no idea what happened to those girls and I have no idea what happened to Alma other than they took her.”

You consider his words for a moment and pull away, letting his hands fall to his lap. The bloody towel you hold is tossed onto your tray of supplies before you sit back and cross your arms. “Alright then, Kit. Tell me why I should believe you.”

Kit doesn’t seem to know what to say at first. You’ve dealt with numerous patients who swear up and down they didn’t do what they were accused of. Most of them had. Because of that, you are pretty damn good at reading people because even the best liar has a tell. An eye twitch, a knee bounce, a lip bite…anything. You trained yourself to look for these things because, in your line of work, it means the difference between life or death. 

The man in front of you doesn’t look like he’s hiding anything. More to the point, you don’t feel scared of him. You aren’t made of stone; you feel fear just like everyone else. You are simply better at masking it. However, that violent vibe you’ve learned to sense doesn’t radiate from Kit and as you look into his deep brown eyes, all you see is fear, frustration, anger, and sadness. They all pass one after another on a loop. 

“I don’t have a reason,” Kit finally says after a long pause. “If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t believe me either. But you showed me kindness no one else has and I’m grateful. Really.”

“I think this place wouldn’t be half as bad as those colleagues of mine showed a little kindness too.” You go back to work, cleaning his hands. “This is going to sting a bit.”

Kit flinches as you pour alcohol over his cuts. Carefully, you clean them some more before you are sure they won’t get infected. Once that’s done, you wrap them in bandages. 

“There, good as new. Just try to keep those bandages dry for a bit. You can take them off tomorrow to let the cuts breathe. Let me make sure your nose isn't broken.”

Kit remain still as you gently cup his face, turning his head left to right in order to take stock of his injuries. Being so close, you realize how handsome he truly is. That jawline is to die for, and his dark curls looks so soft, you want to run your fingers through them. Once that thought entered your brain, you scold yourself. He is your patient and is in the asylum to see if he is fit to stand trial for murder. Thinking about him in any way other than professional is a dangerous game. And very stupid.

“That bad huh?” Kit asks with a slight smirk. 

It isn’t a malicious one by any means. In fact, it’s almost hesitant. Like he is afraid to be so comfortable joking with you. You don’t blame him considering what he has gone through. You offer him a smile in return. 

“Just a split lip and it doesn’t look like your nose is broken. It’s not even swollen. There shouldn’t be any permanent damage.”

You grab a fresh towel and dip it in warm water before gingerly cleaning the blood from his face. But before you can get far, Kit reaches up to stop you. Instinctively you freeze, worried that you may have hurt him. Maybe his nose is worse off than you originally thought?

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

Kit shakes his head. “No, I’m just…” He pauses as if he’s not sure what to say next. “I’m sorry but I just...why aren’t you scared of me?"

“You really want me to be, don’t you?”

“What? No! Of course not. I’m just…” He stops when he sees you holding back a smile. “You’re messing with me.”

You shrug and go back to your work. “A little,” you admit. “But to answer your question, I’m not scared of you because I believe you. I don’t think you killed or even hurt anyone. I just don’t sense that sort of evil in you. As for what you claim to have witnessed, that I don’t know about. But I do know crazy, Kit Walker. And you’re not it.”

It is like the remaining tension leaves his body and Kit slumps against you, a few tears running down his cheeks. Without thinking, you pull him into a tight hug, letting him rest his weary head on your shoulder. The warmth of him is invigorating and you savor the feeling. It’s been a long time since you’ve been touched in any way. Long work hours make your social life non-existent and you carefully keep your distance with your patients.

Except Kit, it seems. You don’t know why your well-constructed walls are crumbling under the weight of one interaction with one man.

“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” he says, his voice muffled by your uniform. “No one will listen. No one believes…”

“I’m listening. But first, sit back before you get blood all over me.”

With a weak laugh, Kit pulls away.  He wipes the tears with the back of his hand which you’re grateful for because you were about two seconds away from gently brushing them away. Pulling yourself together, you continue to clean his face while he tells you his story. It’s definitely strange. The idea of being abducted and probed was one you’d rather not think about.

But you don’t just listen to his words, you watch his expression, pay attention to the tone of his voice and his body language. Even though you’ve heard some of it through the papers, it’s different hearing it from him directly. Once he’s done, you’re even more certain he didn’t kill anyone. No one who talks about their missing wife that softly and heart felt could possibly be a vicious serial killer.

It’s his eyes that give him away. There’s so much emotion and depth, you can’t help but believe him. You wish you can explain it, but some things are beyond explanation.

“You sure I’m not crazy?” Kit asks when you don’t respond to him right away.

“After that story, you’re absolutely batshit.”

He chuckles when he realizes you aren’t serious. You pull your hand away, finally done getting rid of all the blood, but he stops you with a gentle touch to your wrist. “Thank you for listening. I could tell you weren’t judging when I spoke, and I appreciate it. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

“It’s not my place to judge. Only heal.” You sit back, breaking all contact with him, hoping it’ll clear your spinning head.  “There. Now you’re just as handsome as you were before. Do me a favor and at least try not to get majorly hurt again for the rest of the day?”

“He started it.”

“Everyone always starts things here. And given your current situation, it’s best to keep your head down as much as possible.”

“What’s the point? They’ve already made up their minds about me being guilty,” Kit says bitterly as you roll your tray over to the sink. He sees a pack of cigarettes on your desk and nods towards them. “Mind if I have one?”

You wave for him to go ahead as you clean up. “I wish I had words of encouragement for you. I wish I could say it will all work out. But unless they catch the real Bloody Face, your choices are either here or the electric chair.”

Kit pops a cigarette in his mouth and lights the end. “I have to see the state-appointed shrink. My last hope is to convince some head doctor that I’m not crazy.”

Your heart goes out to him. His situation really is a double-edged sword. If he proves he isn’t crazy, then they are sure to send him to trial and his death. If he keeps spouting off about strangers abducting him and his wife, then they will keep him at Briarcliff. Either way, he loses. It isn’t fair. 

“Stick to your story,” you tell him. “If it’s really the truth and that’s really what you know happened, then stick to it. I mean, it’ll probably get you confined here for life. But at least you’ll be alive.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?”

You don’t get to respond. The door bursts open and Sister Jude strolls in with Hardy right behind her. You wonder how long he waited outside before running to tattle on you.

“Why is this patient not restrained?” she asks in that stern voice of hers. 

“I needed to clean his hands and couldn’t very well do that when they were bound,” you say. “He’s all set now.”

“In the future, I would appreciate it if you would leave the door open. No young woman should be alone with this one,” Sister Jude says, motioning to Kit. “Not until he’s been properly medicated.”

“He deserves just as much privacy as any of us do when being medically treated.”

“Not here. Not under my roof,” Sister Jude counters. “I like you, girl, but don’t push me on this. Kit Walker may have the looks of an angel but he’s far from it.”

“She didn’t do nothing wrong,” Kit says angrily.

Sister Jude motions for Hardy to grab Kit. Anger courses through your veins when you see how he is manhandled. “Hey, be careful! I don’t want to have to treat a dislocated shoulder,” you say.

Kit sends you a grateful smile which Sister Jude unfortunately notices. She steps up to him and in a low voice says, “Quit your leering! You don’t fool me, Kit Walker. You can keep spouting that innocent act all you’d like but I know there’s darkness in your soul.”

Kit’s body tenses and you see him clench his fists in anger. The nun yanks his cigarette out of his mouth and puts it out on your desk. 

What a bitch.

As he is led away, Kit dares to look back at you and you see the glimmer of another smile before he is gone. The empty room suddenly seems more so without him there. It’s strange how comfortable you feel around him, especially considering the circumstances. After cleaning up the remnants of his cigarette, you sit back at your desk. But focusing is not in the cards for you. The rest of the day, you find yourself constantly sidetracked by the handsome brown-haired man with the deep brown eyes. So much so that you get angry with yourself.

You are hardly ever swayed by just a pretty face. Then again, there’s more to Kit than that. Although, it certainly helps. The way he stood up for you even when he was in trouble spoke volumes about who he is a person. You don’t think there is a selfish bone in that man’s body.

The next day during meds, you don’t see him in the Day Room with the others. It suddenly occurs to you that after the fight the day before, he probably was thrown in solitary. You hate solitary being used for any of your patients but the thought of Kit in a small dark room, bound and alone makes your heart break in your chest. All you can do is hope he’ll be out of there soon. 

At least three days pass before you see him again, mostly because you spend most of that time in the infirmary rather than in the common areas. It’s early morning and you are enjoying a rare moment of silence when the door opens, and Kit is led in. He’s bleeding from a cut on his forehead, which has already begun to bruise and swell. 

“What happened?” you demand as you leap to your feet. 

The guard, a brute named Dixon who you can’t stand, forces Kit onto one of the beds. “He slipped and fell.”

You doubt it. Your eyes slide over to look at Kit, who gives you a subtle shake of his head. “Oh really?” you ask Dixon, narrowing your eyes in distrust. “This seems like a pretty big bump just to happen from a slip.”

“Just treat him so I can get him back with the others,” Dixon orders. 

“He hit his head. I’m going to have to keep him here for a few hours to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion.”

“Fine.” Dixon shoves Kit until he was laying on the bed. When he reaches for the restraints, Kit fights back. 

“No! Let me go!” Kit struggles against him.

“Those aren’t necessary,” you declare, crossing the room to try to stop Dixon. 

But the guard isn’t having any of it. The next thing you know, he pushes you away, hard enough that you trip over your feet and fall right on your ass.

“You son of a bitch!” Kit exclaims. He leaps up and punches Dixon square in the jaw.  

What happens next is a flurry of blows and swears as the men fight each other. Knowing this can only end poorly for Kit, you manage to get back up before prying the two apart. “Enough!” you snap. “No fighting in my infirmary!”

Dixon is practically snarling as he wipes blood from the corner of his mouth. “You don’t scare me, Bloody Face. If I had my way, you’d be in the furnace by now.”

Kit makes a move to go at him, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. “Mr. Walker, lay down so Dixon can bind you. If you don’t, I know the right injection that’ll make you so tired, you’ll wake up next week.”

Kit’s eyebrows knit together as he looks at you with concern. You throw him a subtle wink. Breathing heavily, he sits back on the bed and allows Dixon to restrain him. Even though it pains you to do so, you help to keep up appearances. But you don’t tighten them as much as you should. Kit’s jaw is clenched as he watches Dixon’s movements, as if he’s waiting for him to attack again.

Once Kit is secured, you reach into your pocket. Unbeknownst to the guards, you carry around a sharpened scalpel for your own protection and the second Dixon lets his guard down, you press it to his neck, making him halt his movements.

“Listen here, you sick fuck,” you growl. “If you ever lay a hand on me again, I’ll shove this so far into your neck you’ll have to take your meals through a tube. Are we clear?”

Dixon sneers and takes a step back. “Whatever you say, woman. Call us when this psycho is ready to go back to his cell. And I’d be careful who you threaten. You wouldn’t want to end up like one of your patients, now would you?”

His threats send a chill down your spine, but you keep your hand steady, the scalpel still pointed at him as he backs away. It’s not until he’s out the door that you cross the room so you can lock it behind him.

“Are you alright?” Kit asks the moment it’s clear the two of you are alone.

You cross the room, pocketing the sharp instrument as you go. “I’m fine, Kit. Don’t worry about me.” As quick as you can, you undo his bindings. “Sorry about this. I fucking hate using bindings, but it was the only way to get Dixon to leave. He’s got a nasty streak in him; I’d stay clear if I were you. Are you okay? What happened to your head?”

“That asshole smashed my face into the wall,” he says as he sits up, rubbing his wrists. “He caught me wandering out of the Day Room.”

“Now why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?” you ask, hands on your hips. “Didn’t I tell you to keep your head down?”

“I just needed some peace and quiet. On my own terms and not in a dark dirty cell. Besides, others wander. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because the others aren’t wanted for murder. They mean to make an example out of you, Kit.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

You sigh and head to the icebox in the corner of the room. As you put together an icepack for him, you say, “These guards will look for any excuse to get rough. And they especially have it out for you. You have to be careful.”

“I hate this. I hate all of it. I feel like I’m going crazy. My head is so cloudy, and I can barely feel anything.”

“Those are the meds. Meant to keep you docile.” You carry the ice pack over to him along with supplies to fix up his head wound. “And suppress other impulses.”

“It’s inhumane, that’s what it is.” Kit barely makes a face as you clean the cut and dress it. “How am I supposed to defend myself if I don’t even feel like me? I think I’m slipping, doc.”

“I told you, I’m not a doctor.”

“Well, what should I call you then? You never gave me your name.”

You tell him your name and press the icepack to the bump on his head, “Here, hold this. Your nose is bleeding…again.”

Kit does as he’s told. After a moment, he says your name. It’s soft and beautiful coming from his lips and you can barely focus long enough to hear his question. “Can I confess something to you?”

“I’m no priest or nun.” You start to dab at his nose with a damp towel.

“It’s not that kind of confession. I wasn’t just wandering for the sake of wandering. I was trying to come see you.”

You pause, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes flickering up to meet his. “Why?”

“I feel safe here.”

You go back to your work. “I’m glad you do, but I don’t want you to get yourself hurt just to see me.”

“I didn’t know that asshole was gonna beat the shit out of me just for wandering.”

“Say you have cramps.”

Kit raises his eyebrow. “What?”

“If you want to see me…I mean, come to the infirmary, tell a guard or one of my assistants that you have cramps or a stomachache. It’s something most people don’t question since stomach stuff is really common, ‘specially around here. It usually comes with vomiting or diarrhea and no one wants to deal with that.”

Kit smiles. “Good to know.”

You finish cleaning him up and add, “But don’t overuse the excuse. Otherwise, if something is really bothering you, they won’t listen.”

“Understood. Do you really think I have a concussion?”

“No. Your eyes are clear and you’re not slurring your words. I figured it would at least give you a little reprieve from everything out there.”

Kit’s smile widens. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Although, I will have to at least keep your feet bound. That way if the guard comes back, I can quickly bind your hands before they enter. The lock will only temporarily slow them down since they have keys.”

“Hey, if it means spending time here with you instead of out there with everyone else who thinks I’m a vicious murderer, I’ll take it.”

Once you have him settled in the bed, you give him a cigarette before going about your daily routine. It is nice having Kit there. Occasionally, you talk as he smokes, but for the most part, the both of you enjoy each other’s company. He asks you about yourself, minor things, nothing too personal or probing, which you appreciate. You feel like he’s also trying to keep some distance between you, understanding your position and what a friendship with him could mean.

A few hours later, when you hear footsteps coming your way, you quickly bind Kit’s hands.

It takes a second for the door to be unlocked but then it opens and Dixon enters just as you’re pretending to check Kit’s bandages. “Walker here needs to see the shrink,” he says gruffly, crossing the room towards you.

“I was just about to call you.” Your lie is so effortless it even impresses you. “He doesn’t have a concussion. You can take him.”

Dixon is rough as he unbinds Kit and yanks him off the bed. To his credit, Kit doesn’t fight back or resist, understanding the stupid rules he needs to follow if he’s going to get anywhere in this place. Once he’s gone, you start to wrap up for the day, finishing any last minute tasks before getting ready to go home. As you’re straightening up your desk, your eyes catch the medication logbook, and an idea strikes you.

Sitting down, you flip through the pages, taking a look at the medications that are prescribed to each patient. At the bottom of the list is Kit’s name and, with a quick flick of your pencil, you manage to subtly cut his doses in half. It’s not much. You wish you can outright stop giving him the meds but that’s impossible. Hopefully, this way he’ll start to feel like himself.

You expect to be worried or guilty for what you’ve done. But honestly, you don’t. It feels right. Far too many patients have lost themselves in Briarcliff and you’re determined not to let Kit be one of them.

---

Kit’s world is not even recognizable anymore. One day he’s home with his beautiful wife, the next, she’s gone, and the police are accusing him of murder. He sees those damn creatures every time he closes his eyes, hears that loud noise echoing in his ears. If it’s not that he’s hearing, it’s the screams of the other patients.

When he saw you for the first time, heard you snap at the guard for mistreating him, he thought he was still dreaming. You have to be a dream. Nothing that good or sweet can possibly exist in this place. The way you look at him makes him feel seen for the first time in months.

He can’t get you out of his mind. After that initial visit, all he could think about was your warm embrace and the concern in your eyes.

To have someone care enough to worry about him meant everything. Especially during such a dark time. Trying to sneak away to see you had been a stupid idea but one he thought was worth the risk. He needed to know if he would have the same feelings each time, the same security and comfort. Do you really believe him or are you just a great actress?

The second time, you’re just as kind and generous as the first, and Kit knows that he is in trouble. A different kind of trouble than he already is in. This one is emotionally based and has the potential to end very badly.

Kit knew himself well enough to recognize the signs that he is falling for someone. You have only known each other a short while but already he can’t get you out of his mind.

The day following his first appointment with Dr. Thredson, he sees you in the Day Room and has to stop himself from immediately going over. It’s clear you’re busy, making the rounds and checking in on the other patients. Kit watches from a distance, smoking a cigarette as he leans against the back wall. Your kindness extends to everyone you come in contact with. He watches with admiration as you sit patiently with Pepper, checking on the small scrapes and abrasions she has.

You smile and his breath gets caught in his throat. Fuck you’re gorgeous.

Curiously, Kit watches as you slip something into Pepper’s hands before moving on to someone else. It turns out to be a small chocolate, which Pepper immediately devours before going back to her book. Kit smiles.

You catch each other’s eyes across the room just then. It’s a charged moment, like nothing in the world matters but the two of you. He makes a move to walk towards you, unable to help himself anymore. But then meds are called, and the moment is lost. Kit stubs out his cigarette and gets behind Lana as everyone lines up for their medications.

“This is bullshit,” Lana mutters under her breath. “Not all of us need medication. I don’t like that they force it on us. Makes my head all foggy.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Kit asks, echoing your sentiment from the day before. “Keep us under control.”

“I have a point. One I’d like to shove right up their asses.”

Kit snorts at Lana’s blunt phrasing. At first, she had been weary of him but now the two have developed a mutual understanding. Neither one of them belongs there and it’s better to support each other than fight. The line moves and Kit watches you join your assistant to make the medication process go faster.

When it’s his turn, you hand him his cup and briefly, his hands touches yours. It’s like a bolt of electricity shoots through your fingertips and into his, coursing through his veins at such a speed it makes his head spin. On the outside however, he remains calm, bringing the cup up to his lips to knock back his meds. Except, he notices they look slightly different than the days before. His eyes briefly dart to yours and there’s a subtle change in your expression. Your eye closes just enough to seem like a wink without fully being one.

Kit downs the meds with less hesitation than before.

Sadly, he can’t talk to you after that. Once meds are distributed, you go back to the infirmary and he’s left alone once more. Briefly he considers faking a stomachache to see you again, but your warning is still ringing in his ears. The fact that you offered him the excuse was risky on your part. He doesn’t want to get you in trouble by overstaying his welcome in the infirmary. Even though he is curious about the medication change, he lets it go.

It’s not until he’s in his room that night that he realizes he’s feeling clear-headed. Usually, once lights out comes around, the meds have him so loopy he rolls over and goes to sleep. Or at least tries. This time, however, he feels more like himself. Of course, that also means he’s more aware of the dark and the loud screams, but once they subside, he’s left with silence and his own thoughts.

She must have lowered my meds or something. She’s fucking amazing.

Kit smiles, curling onto his side as he allows himself to think about you without worry or fear. Again and again your meetings replay in his mind and when he closes his eyes, he can almost smell the scent of your laundry detergent and perfume. The way your soft hands gently held his made him flex his fingers instinctively. Those lips of yours…he’d given anything to kiss them.

Kit’s eyes fly open when he feels his cock swell. It’s been so long since he’s felt any kind of sexual desire even before being medication. It’s a wonderful change of pace, however now he has a slight problem. Kit feels ashamed of himself for thinking of you sexually. All you’ve done is show him kindness and he’s thinking about doing all sorts of things to you. With a frustrated sigh, he rolls onto his stomach and tries to ignore it.

This turns out to be a bad idea. The pressure of his body against the hard mattress causes wonderful friction and Kit finds himself pressing his hips down for some semblance of relief.

Fuck it, he thinks, shoving his hand in his pants. I need this right now. I need her.

It’s been a long time since he’s done this himself. It takes a second to find the right angle and rhythm. He stays on his stomach, arching his back just enough to give his hand room as he jerks himself off. Burying his face in his pillow, he bites down to stifle his moans as he pictures you in your nurse’s uniform. The way it hugs your frame suddenly assaults his vision. When you had leaned over him to check his head, he had caught just the barest hint of cleavage. Then, he had purposefully closed his eyes to be respectful.

Now, it’s all he focuses on, thinking about how he’d love to run his tongue across your salty flesh while his hands cupped your tits. He’d bury his nose in your skin and inhale your scent before kissing and sucking every bit of you he could reach.

Would you moan his name? He bets you would, and he bets it would sound fucking fantastic.

Kit grips himself tighter, speeding up his movements as he keeps the fantasy going in his mind. Suddenly, the angle is too constricting, and he rolls onto his back, biting his bottom lip as he hand brings him closer to coming.

He pictures it being your hand. Pictures him laying in that hospital bed, you leaning over him and jerking him off as you watch his face. He thinks of you telling him to come for you and as soon as that thought crosses his mind, he explodes, coming all over his own hand as he quietly moans your name.

Sweating and panting, Kit lays there in his bed, heart racing and head spinning. He uses his blanket to clean himself up, tossing it onto the floor before curling into a ball. He expects the shame or guilt to hit him any moment, but he can’t find it in himself to feel either. All he feels is aching in his heart for the real thing.

The next morning, when they open the cells, he remains in bed. Once he hears the guard come closer, Kit begins to moan in agony, clutching his stomach.

Thankfully, Hardy is the one who check on him. Ever since you told him off, he’s been mostly tolerable to Kit. At least to his face.

“What’s wrong?” the guard asks.

“My stomach,” Kit moans. “I think…I think I ate something bad.” When Hardy kicks Kit’s soiled blanket aside, he adds, “Wouldn’t touch that if I were you. I felt real sick last night.”

Hardy wrinkles his nose and gestures for Kit to get up. “Come on. I’m taking you to the nurse.”

Laying on the theatrics, Kit forces himself up, still hunched over with his arms wrapped around his stomach.

You’re sitting at your desk when he enters. The morning light is filtering in through the barred windows and it catches you ever so slightly. Enough to almost make Kit forget he’s supposed to be in great pain. When you see him, your face grows concerned.

“This one is moaning about a stomachache,” Hardy says. “Where do you want him?”

To his dismay, Kit notices you’re not alone today. There’s a patient asleep in one of the other beds. You’re out of your chair in a second, pressing one of those soft hands to his forehead.

“He’s burning up.” Your ability to lie so smoothly makes Kit admire you even more. “Here, let’s get him on this bed right here.”

Hardy and you help Kit onto one of the beds in the corner of the room, one that’s hidden behind a divider. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” you say, tucking Kit in. “It’s probably just food poisoning. I’ve told the cook a million times they need to store the food better.”

“Think he needs to be tied down?” Hardy asks.

“No, of course not. Have you ever dealt with a patient who’s tied down and soiling themselves? My job is hard enough as it is. I won’t be dealing with that today.”

Kit makes retching noises if for no other reason than to see Hardy grow pale and uncomfortable.

“Oh, you better go before he starts up,” you urge, shooing the guard away.

Kit keeps up the act until he hears the door close and you turn to him, giving him a wide smile. “Wow, bravo. Great work, Kit.”

He smiles, sitting up. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll have a shot as an actor when this is all over.”

You chuckle and glance over at your other patient to make sure he’s still sleeping before sitting on the chair by Kit’s bed. “How are you really feeling this morning?”

“Better, actually. Do I have you to thank for that?”

“Well…it did seem overkill to have you on such high doses of medication when you aren’t mentally unstable. I’m sorry I couldn’t take you off them completely.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Kit says, reaching out to lay his hand over yours. “If anything, I’m sorry for you having to take that risk. I don’t want you to get in trouble, or worse, because of me.”

You look down at his hand and he immediately draws it back, worrying he may have crossed a line. There’s something in your expression that puts him on edge. He can see that you’re struggling, which only makes him feel worse. He berates himself for foolishly giving into his desires. Already things are tough, and the future is scarily uncertain. He’s on the hook for murder for fuck’s sake.

Before Kit can continue the self-deprecating spiral, you surprise him by carefully getting out of your seat and sitting next to him on the bed.

“Kit…” you say. “This friendship between us…I don’t know if it can continue.”

Kit’s heart sinks and he looks away from you, his gaze now fixated on the floor. “I don’t blame you,” he says. “It’s not safe being near me in any way. Honestly, it was stupid of me to come here like that. As much as I like spending time with you, I never want to put you in a compromising position. I’ve seen these guards and I know how they treat women. You’re in just as much danger here as I am.”

Your hand takes his, and he snaps his head up to look at you.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” you say. For the first time since you met a few days ago, he hears the slightest crack in your voice. “I’m worried because, if we continue this friendship, I know that for me, one day, it might not be enough.”

His heart speeds up at your confession. Kit can’t believe his ears. The fact that you are feeling even the slightest bit of the attraction to him that he’s been feeling for you is enough to give him the sliver of hope that’s been severely lacking over the last few weeks.

Kit hesitantly links his fingers with yours, giving you every chance to pull away. You don’t. When he says your name, his throat is dry, and he has to clear it before he can go on. “I have no right liking you as much as I do. I don’t believe in God, but I can’t help but think that you’re my damn guardian angel. Because of you, I’m actually starting to think that maybe there’s a way out of this. Or at the very least, staying here won’t be so bad so long as you’re here.”

Your gaze softens and you look away, trying to hide the tear leaking out of the corner of your eye. With his free hand, Kit reaches up to wipe it away with his thumb. He can’t stop himself from cupping your cheek, needing to feel the warmth and softness against his palm. You shut your eyes, leaning into his touch, a shaky exhale escaping through your parted lips.

Your lips.

Kit’s eyes can’t look anywhere else. They look so inviting. He bets they’re just as soft as the rest of you, maybe even more so. Without even stopping to think what he’s doing, he starts to lean in, so slowly that you don’t seem to notice until you open your eyes to meet his. You pull your head back. Not abruptly or angrily, but enough where he gets the message to stop. Kit sighs with disappointment at the refusal. But a second later, you’re leaning in this time, at the same achingly slow pace he had been before.

Your lips brush and there’s a heated charge that soars between you, making you pause before you even properly get a kiss. Your eyes are wide as they meet his, searching for the same thing he’s looking for in yours: permission, acceptance, desire.

Kit closes the distance.

With one hand still cradling your face, he kisses you deeply, drawing your body as close to his as he dares. He feels you melt under his touch and it urges him to keep going, to keep kissing you, to deepen the kiss so he can savor the intense waves of desire washing over him.

You let him, opening your mouth so that his tongue can glide along yours.

It all becomes too intense for the both of you and you have to break the kiss, panting as your foreheads rest against one another’s.

“This is such a bad idea,” you say, the breathlessness of your voice making Kit’s cock twitch. “We have to be smart and we have to be careful. If we really can’t stay apart, then you have to listen to what I say and follow my instructions. Okay?”

“I can do that,” Kit says. He’d honestly agree to anything you say at that point. “Trust me, baby. I know the stakes.”

“Me too.” You take a deep breath and pull away, breaking all contact with him. It immediately leaves him cold and wanting more. “My assistants will be coming to collect the meds any moment. I need to go prepare.”

You reach out to cup his cheek and Kit holds your wrist, keeping your hand there for another moment so he could savor the contact. The way your eyes soften at him only makes him want to kiss you again. Instead, he settles for a peck on your palm before letting you fully pull away.

As you stand and collect yourself, you take a step towards the divider before you pause and look back at him. “No one can know, Kit. Not if you want to stay under my care. If anyone finds out there’s something between us, they’ll transfer me somewhere else and I won’t be able to protect you.”

The fact that you’re scared for him in this scenario and not yourself makes Kit want to throw you on the bed and ravish you. “I promise, I will find a way to clear my name,” he says. “Then once I’m out of here, I’ll take you away. Far away where this place can’t reach us.”

You smile and reach out to stroke his cheek again. “Easy there, Mr. Walker,” you tease, stroking his bottom lip with your thumb. “Keep talking like that and I may think you’re already falling for me.”

He watches you walk away, only one thought on his mind. Too late for that.

[spine-buster]

peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | three

A/N: Thanks again for your positive feedback on this mini-series!  Please keep those canon questions coming as you guys know I loooove answering them to help build the canon!  This one is a short one but it will be made up for by the last two chapters.

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

                                                                 *     *     *     *     *

Brock and Grace were having fun.  Actual, genuine, real fun.  Whenever they were together, they were smiling and laughing and kissing and having a good time.  They’d go out to eat at Vancouver’s best restaurants.  They’d take walks in parks or along the seawall.  They’d get coffee at cute little cafés and munch on bespoke cookies or donuts that would make Brock complain about extra hours in the gym.  They’d invite Elias and Svea with them and it would be great, because they were great, and they’d all just be constantly laughing.  Grace and Svea got closer – much closer.  Elias and Brock were tearing it up for the Canucks.  Grace and Svea would go to bars for a glass of wine before going to games together.  They’d cheer and clap and sing along with all the songs being blasted throughout the arena.

Fun.  Life was fun.  

***

“How do I bite it?!” Brock was incredulous at the size of the cupcake Grace got him.  It was bigger than his jaw could open.  Elias and Svea were already ready with their damn phones to film him.  “I can’t…” he tried to bring it up to his mouth.

“Just put the whole thing in your mouth!” Grace exclaimed.

“That’s what she said,” Elias mumbled, only to garner a disapproving mother look from Brock and a slap on the arm from Svea.  “What!  Isn’t that the joke?!”

“Don’t be crass,” Svea chastised before focusing her attention back on Brock.  “Just bite the thing, Brock.  Just…just stuff it in there,” he pretended to do the motion herself.

“Again, that’s what she said.”

Grace hit Elias too this time.  

***

“You can get us reservations to Hawksworth?” Svea asked in shock.  

Grace nodded casually, like it was the easiest thing in the world to get a reservation at Vancouver’s best and most exclusive restaurant.  “The Gillespie’s own the Rosewood Hotel Georgia.”

“You do?”

Grace nodded again before sucking back on an oyster.  “When do you want to eat there?”

“Oh, I – I don’t know.  Can I get back to you?”

“Of course!  Just let me know.”

“Wow Grace,” Svea said.  “You really do have the world at your fingertips.  Vancouver especially.”

Grace shrugged her shoulders.  “It’s a blessing and a curse.  I can’t go anywhere without running into someone that knows my dad or knows who I am and thinks they know me.  It’s even worse when they knew my dad a long time ago and only ask about how he’s doing with his Parkinson’s now.  Most of the time they don’t even truly care.  And I’d trade it all in, every single penny, if it meant my dad never got Parkinson’s.”

Svea couldn’t imagine living that kind of life.  She didn’t know how Grace did it – or Brock, for that matter.  She would be a sobbing mess on the floor every single day.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to be insensitive when I—”

“Oh God no.  No no no – you don’t need to apologize.  I just…” Grace paused, trying to collect her thoughts.  “I know how fortunate I am, believe me.  I just don’t think people know that – that I know I’m fortunate.  But Parkinson’s – any chronic illness – it really humbles you.  Most people don’t know what that’s like.  And like, thank God they don’t.  But they think they know.”

All Svea could do was nod her head and listen.

***

Whenever Brock sent a text that said ‘come over and watch a movie’ Grace knew what that really meant.  But instead of finding it lewd, she’d slather on some raspberry chapstick and be on her merry way to Brock’s apartment.

When they were done, and lying in bed together, with her head on his chest and her hair sprawled everywhere, that’s when the talking would begin.  “How’s your dad doing?”  “Are the new round of meds working?”  “Is he having more trouble getting up now?”  “What are the doctors saying?”  “How’s his memory?”  “How’s the swallowing?”  “Are the doctors recommending speech therapy?”  

“When I quit dance, my dad was so disappointed,” Grace revealed one night as Brock was running his hands through her hair.  “It was the only thing I was ever really, really good at.  I wasn’t the best in school.  I just didn’t get things the way other kids did.  And when I told him the reason, he made me promise I’d keep doing dance in some capacity.  I maybe wouldn’t do it super-competitively anymore with him driving me all around BC and flying me all over Canada and the US to attend competitions, but I’d still do it.  That’s why I teach at the Goh Ballet.  Like…I know I’m not the smartest girl in the world, but I like to think I have a big heart.  And I just hope that people see that.”

“I wear number six because it was my dad’s number,” Brock revealed too, one night when they were alone.  “I wanted…I wanted to make sure that if he wasn’t around, my career would still honour him in some way.  I want that to be my legacy…like, everything I do, I do for my dad.”

Grace nodded.  She completely understood.  “I don’t think I’ve ever met a person who knows and understands exactly what I’m going through,” she said.  “Do you think it was fate that brought us together at that meeting?”

Brock found himself nodding his head automatically.  “Of course,” he said softly.

***

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have you at the house for dinner, Brock, but our chef is on vacation,” Eliza Carmichael, Grace’s mom, smiled from across the table as she sipped on her glass of wine.  From beside her, her husband, Grace’s step-dad James kept perusing the menu, as did Grace’s two step-brothers, Jasper and Theo, who were seated at opposite heads of the table.  

“Oh that’s no problem at all,” he smiled politely, grabbing Grace’s hand underneath the table and squeezing it gently before putting it in his lap.  “I actually come here with the boys sometimes.  The food here is amazing.”

“It is, isn’t it?  James knows the head chef,” she said.  “Grace tells me you’re a hockey player.”

It was at that point that James put down his menu.  “Honey, he plays for the Vancouver Canucks.  We’ve been over this.”

Eliza rolled her eyes playfully before picking up her menu.  It was only at that point that Brock noticed the giant rock on her finger.  It was the size of his eyeball.  “Grace tells me you live in Shaughnessy,” he said, trying to make polite conversation.  “I hear that’s a beautiful neighbourhood.”

“Oh, it is.  Perfect place for the quiet life hockey player’s lead,” James joked.  Brock forced out a chuckle.

***

“I love this song!!!” Grace exclaimed as the DJ began to play some old school Rihanna.  She downed the rest of her drink and slapped the glass against the bar before grabbing Brock’s arm with one hand and Svea’s hand with the other, knowing that Svea would, on instinct, grab Elias’s arm and drag him to the dance floor too.

The club was completely unstuffy.  There were no girls dressed to the nines, no four-inch stiletto heels digging into Grace’s feet, no people showing up just to be seen in booths with bottle service.  It was completely unpretentious and that’s how Grace liked it.  Considering her lifestyle and her wealth, it was actually how she liked everything.  So when the DJ began playing pop songs, she couldn’t help but start dancing uncontrollably.  To his credit, Brock did too.  It was like he lost all his inhibitions and began moving his body in tune with the music.  Even Elias and Svea did, and Grace knew how…well, quiet they were.  This wasn’t their scene at all but they were having the time of their life dancing with each other, spinning each other around and moving to the beat of the music.  

For at least a night, Grace could forget.  She could forget how her parents used her to get back at one another during an awful divorce.  She could forget her mom re-married an equally as nice guy as her dad but became more pretentious as the years went on and the wealth accumulated.  She could forget that she made the decision to quit dancing professionally.  She could forget her dad had Parkinson’s.  For one night, everything was perfect.  Everything was fun.  Everything was how it should be.

***

“Fuuuuck, baby,” Brock groaned as he watched Grace climb on top of him, leaning forward so she could press his breasts up against his face.  He immediately took the opportunity to place wet, open mouth kisses all over her breasts, kissing down to her nipples before taking them in his mouth.  He could feel her grab his cock and lower herself onto it, sighing at the feeling of him filling her up.  “Feel good?”

“You always feel amazing,” she smiled, her hair falling around her face.  “That’s why I can’t stop fucking you.”

Brock chuckled, a cocky smile on his face as he reached up and brought Grace’s face down so he could kiss her and stick his tongue down her throat.  “Ride me, baby,” he mumbled against her lips.

Grace began rocking her hips back and forth, her body moving so expertly and so in tune with Brock’s.  Almost immediately, she began to moan, and Brock grabbed her hands and intertwined their fingers so she’d have something to brace against.  Brock was in a trance – as he usually was when Grace was riding.  He was completely and utterly transfixed by her in every sense of the word, and in every way; from the hair on her head to the red nail polish on her toes.  

“God, I fucking love you, Grace.”

The words had barely escape Brock’s mouth before he realized the magnitude of what he said, how he said it, and when he’d fucking said it.  God, he was such a fucking idiot!!!!!  During sex?!  Really?!  Way to live the cliché Brock Boeser!  Way to be a fucking idiot and—

“I fucking love you too, Brock,” he heard Grace say, a smile adorned on her face.  The both of them giggled, and couldn’t stop giggling for a while even though she was still riding him.  It was miraculous.  “Way to say it for the first time while I’m riding you,” she joked.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he said.  

“You’re lucky I love you, because that’s such an amateur move, Brock.”

[notanotherreidgirl]

Lukewarm Is No Good

Summary: Spencer finally tells Reader how he feels when he finds out she’s going to get married

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: kissing

Word Count: 866

“I began to realize how important it was to be an enthusiast in life. If you are interested in something, no matter what it is. Go at it full speed. Embrace it with both arms, hug it, love it and above all become passionate about it. Lukewarm is no good.” - Roald Dahl

It took all of Spencer’s strength to keep his eyes trained on his files and off of you. Having to overhear Emily and Penelope’s whispered conversation was distracting enough and seeing you would be more than he could handle. You had a habit of making his mind run wild with impossible thoughts. But then he heard something that knocked all the air from his chest. 

Penelope was talking to Emily but she made sure to say this part loud enough for Spencer to hear. “Apparently Jim is going to propose”

“Really? Does Y/N know?” Emily had completely abandoned her paperwork at this point.

“Probably” Penelope said, rolling her eyes. “He wasn’t exactly that subtle when he asked her what her ring size was.”

Spencer suppressed the urge to snap the pencil in his hand. He knew you didn’t like to make a big deal out of things and if anyone asked you’d probably say you were fine, more than fine actually. You’d say you were really, really happy. Even if you weren’t. Even if you had always harbored a secret dream of an intimate and well-planned surprise proposal. Even if you were marrying the wrong man. 

Spencer spent the next hour in silence, only speaking to wish everyone good night until it was just the two of you in the bullpen. He couldn’t stop thinking about your ridiculously boring boyfriend. With his nondescript job in finance and his ill-timed jokes and his unironic talk of the economy until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“So … I heard Jim’s proposing?” he started, internally chastising himself for how pathetic he sounded. 

“Um yeah. I think so. Probably tomorrow night cause he got us a reservation at that new Italian place” you tried to sound enthusiastic but your voice fell flat. You had been feeling guilty ever since Jim asked for your ring size. You kept asking yourself what was wrong. He was a good man with a good job and he’ll be a good husband. He’ll make me happy right?

Spencer was fuming. Not only did you know about the proposal but you knew when he’d do it. You probably even knew exactly what he’d say. Jim was by no means a man of mystery. “Is this what you want - what you really want?”

“Of course it is! Jim is great!” The words came out automatically but you couldn't mask your defensive tone, the sound of you trying to convince yourself instead of Spencer.

“Really? Because I know you, Y/N. I know that your favorite flowers are sunflowers and daisies. I know that when you say two sugars in your coffee you really mean three. I know that you bite your lip when you're nervous and hum that song from the Sound of Music when you’re sad. I know you. And I know when you’re not telling the truth”

“Why are you saying this, Spence?”

“Because I love you! I love you so much it hurts.” The words burst from his lips before he could stop himself. At some point he had closed the distance between the two of you, pulling a chair up to your desk.

“Love isn’t supposed to hurt,” you whispered.

“I think it is. Just a little bit. The way that looking at the sun too long hurts or the way your stomach hurts when you’ve been laughing uncontrollably” he took your hands in his and for a moment you were lost in how your whole body came alive with just a simple touch. “It hurts but I would gladly experience all the pain this world has to give if it meant that I could have you.”

“Spence, I-I don’t know what to say” your voice faltered and you hated how inadequate you sounded. 

“You don’t have to say that you feel the same but can you honestly tell me that Jim cares about you this way?” You thought of forgotten anniversaries and silent car rides and all the parts of yourself that you shelved away to make room for him. “Don’t settle. You don’t deserve to settle.”

“What do I deserve?” you asked him but it felt like you were finally asking yourself. What do I deserve?

“You deserve to have your wildest dreams come true. You deserve someone who’ll love you even when it’s hard. Even when it hurts. Please Y/N. Lukewarm is no good.”

You couldn’t help the wet laugh that bubbled up from your throat. He was right. Of course he was right. You wanted love that clawed at the inside of your chest, begging to be set free. That crazy, screaming at the top of your lungs, there’s no one else for me but you love. 

This time you didn’t give yourself time to overthink, to rationalize, to talk yourself out of one of the most important decisions in your life. You pulled him in and pressed your lips to his and you felt it. A soul-deep, electrifying connection.

Taglist: @rosienie @coldlilheart @spencerreider

Click here to join a taglist and here to tell me what you thought of this one!

[eli-elien]

This is an animatic idea I thought of for Elijah Renard! I'm uh prob never gonna do it also cuz I know my android bitchass of a tablet would do the equivalent of blue screening on me lmao

Song is Constellations by The Oh Hellos 

You should give it a listen!

Tw for uh suicide attempt cuz woo boy imagine you already hate yourself and your life and you get stuck with an actual concrete and real person/thing telling off how many times ya fucked up and controlling you to do things against your will O_O

Anyways hope uh you can visualize it but uh hope ya like the idea ig lol

"I can feel it on my tongue

Brick and mortar, thick as scripture

Drawing lines in the sand and laying borders as tall as towers"

During these lyrics it's a montage of Elijah, with wings, helping rebuild Raphtalia's village. He helps bring big planks of wood to playing with the kids. He looks on fondly at Naofumi while holding one.

"I babble on until my voice is gone"

Elijah talks to Naofumi, probably showing a new work in progress for blacksmithing or painting project.

"This hill I'll die on is about 90 meters of bricks

Colored indigo and inscribed with my name, and lined with cedar

But the words fall flat like cymbals crashing

Like molars gnashing"

It's a flashback from Elijah's time in the first wave, which had a monster bite his arm off. He runs and runs through the blizzard, seeing his comrades get overtaken and falls, losing what feels like a pint of blood. He then feels something lift him off the ground and into something of an eye of a storm with frost and snowflakes flowing around him. He then sees a hand and takes it.

"Cause like constellations a million years away

Every good intention, every good intention"

We see him and Finnely, she's hugging him, and has blood on her overalls and pink lacey shirt he knitted for her.

Elijah is holding his axe for dear life, scared and eyes wide like a prey animal. 

He's covered in blood and surrounded by bodies of men that were trying to kill them, but were still alive.

"Is interpolation, a line we drew in the array

Looking for the faces"

A week or so of traveling after meeting Naofumi at the ill-sicken north town he meets and promises to take three demi-human children to safety. They meet bandits and he brutally hurts one terrifying the kids.

"Looking for the shapes in the silence"

He sees Naofumi on the road and they both are surprised, and Elijah is terrified.

"All that's left for me to climb

To the heavens is the chasm of the night

And a matter of time, but I hear the rumble

As the tectonic plates start to shake

And I feel my blood pounding like the beat of a drum"

Basically the spirit turtle arc+other world arc 

*instrumental*

Throughout we see Elijah flying and he's on the cliff edge. Naofumi comes into frame, brows furrowed with more concern than real anger.

He tries to grab his hand and the once winged man tears away in favor of leaving everything behind with the rocky below.

He hates his curse. He hates the axe. He hates the taunting voice of The Raven. 

He hates himself. 

Elijah takes the plunge but Naofumi takes him by his hand screaming at him and gets the crazy man on solid land.

"Cause like constellations a million years away

Every good intention, every good intention

Is interpolation, a line we drew in the array

Clinging to the faces

Clinging to the shapes in the silence

Like constellations imploding in the night

Everything is turning, everything is turning

The shapes that you drew may change beneath a different light

And everything you thought you knew

Will fall apart, but you'll be all right"

Naofumi screams the lyrics while crying and holds Elijah near him to make sure he's still here. And as he holds him, Elijah too is crying.

Naofumi says "you'll be alright."

Their family nears them, to check if they're ok, and are relieved that the crisis has been averted!

[ninikrumbs]

I only got eyes for you (Bucky Barnes)

-----

You unconsciously lick your lips at the sight below you. Your eyes followed every move, every breath. Tracing every crevice, every muscle that flexed as he moved. He crossed his arms which made his forearms look more prominent. His steel blue eyes scrutinizing the new recruits from shield. For a split second you thought his eyes landed on you and you almost forgot how to breath.

"You are my citadel, you are my wishing well, my baby blue,"

The clipboard in your arms almost fell. You didn't thought that just watching Bucky Barnes train new recruits could be this.. overwhelming. Luckily you were on the second floor behind a glass wall, so maybe it wasn't that obvious that you were currently melting.

"I used to like smoking to stop all the thinking But I found a different buzz"

That song reminded you of him. Ironically, you don't smoke.

"You need wipe that drool off you mouth." Natasha smirked.

You rolled your eyes at her. "ha ha very funny." But you wouldn't be surprised if there actually was drool. "How long have been there?"

"Long enough to see you eye rape Bucky." She teased.

"Shut up!" You said feeling the heat rise up your cheeks.

"You know, instead of staring at him from afar like a stalker you could just ask out the old man himself." She said teasingly while bumping her shoulder to yours.

"Thanks for the suggestion as always but no. How do you think a man from the forties is gonna react to a girl asking him out?" You asked raising you eyebrows facing her. You just don't see it happening. For you it was a hopeless case.

"Grateful. Realize that he is one lucky man." She stated a matter of a factly. You just shaked your head at her words as you glanced back down.

There he goes again, the sleeves of his shirt were pulled up. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt to wipe his sweat, exposing an extremely toned stomach. Those abs are just.. You inwardly sighed. Damn.

"I'm already high enough I only, I only, I only got eyes for you"

You knew Bucky. You were friends, went on a couple of missions together. Sat next to him on the jet, shared jokes, and once fell asleep on his shoulder. He always helps you and has saved your life more than once. He's kind and such a gentleman yet here you are looking at him like his some sort of meat. If he knew what you were thinking, he would surely be disappointed. At least that's what you thought.

"You're so clueless." You heard Nat whisper. Your eyebrows furrowed. "About what?"

"Nothing. Hey you're still going to the party Tony's throwing tonight, right?" You look at her suspiciously as she changed the topic so quickly.

"Is it mandatory?" You sighed.

"If its you then yes." Nat laughed.

"Then of course Im going."

"You better be there! Ill meet you at the pool table later." She said as she turned to leave and waved goodbye.

"Great!" You said sarcastically because you sucked at pool.

You glanced back at the steel eyed man that always makes it hard to look away from him. You don't what it is but something about him just pulls you in.

You huffed. You'll get over this stupid attraction to him somehow. Thankfully you were good at hiding it.

As you walked away from the glass window, you didn't notice a pair of eyes following you as you left.

----

He confidently walked in to the party. A dark brown leather jacket on his shoulders. Freshly out of the shower with a smell of aftershave. The party was in full swing. With Thor making humans drink alcohol from Asgard. Tony and Rhodey telling stories. Steve and Bruce drinking by the bar. A familiar song blasting through the speakers.

Someone handed him a drink. Sam. "Almost thought you wouldn't show."

"Yeah, yeah." He took a gulp of his beer as he discretely tried to search the crowd. But not as discrete as he thought.

"But then again it would be impossible for you not to show." Sam smirked. "Looking for someone?"

Bucky put down his drink. "No."

Sam laughed at his friend's terrible acting. "Quit denying it." Sam nodded his head towards the pool table.

His eyes followed the direction and finally. There you were laughing with Natasha as you failed miserably in playing pool. You shoulders shaked as you laughed and your beautiful eyes gleamed with mischief.

"Oh, you're phenomenal, feel like a domino, fall to my knees I am a malady, you are my galaxy, my sweet relief."

He didn't miss the way your hand held the stick, as you unconsciously caress it. He sucked in a breath. You flipped you hair to the other side as you leaned down the table, exposing you beautiful neck and he wondered what it would feel like on his lips.

"I used to like liquor to get me inspired But you look so beautiful, my new supplier I used to like smoking to stop all the thinking But I found a different buzz"

Your little black dress clung to you perfectly, your oversized denim jacket falling off your shoulders everytime you stood up. Oh how he wanted to run his hands on your shoulder to your neck as he whispered things to you ear. You looked up towards his direction and your eyes met his. Bucky could swear that he saw you bite your lips before you looked away.

"Woah calm down there Barnes." Sam's voice snapped you back to reality. "You're gonna break the table. But whatever Tony's rich so."

He looked at the little marble table in front of him and saw that it already had a small cracked. Damn, he was losing it. What were you doing to him?

You're just innocently having fun yet here he was staring at you like he was some sort of predator. And in a way he was. He wanted you. Badly.

He didn't want to scare you away and has always tried his best to be a gentleman in front of you. But he didn't know how much longer he could take it. The moment you fell asleep on his shoulder he was a goner. He knew it was more than something physical but right now the temptation was too high. He needed to leave before he does something he'll regret.

"Im gonna go ahead Sam." Bucky said as he gulped down his beer.

"What? Already?" Sam said surpised.

"Yeah, this party isn't for me." He replied as glanced back at you.

Sam smirked as it clicked in his head. "For a second there I thought you were never gonna get your fill of her."

"What are you talking about?" He denied.

"She'll burn if you stare too much you know." Sam teased him.

"I hate you." Bucky rolled his eyes and turned to leave.

"Look wait, why are you even leaving? You need to man up and ask her out." Sam exclaimed.

Bucky stopped in his tracks and turned his head to Sam. "What makes you think she want to date a mass murderer?" He stated coldly.

Sam sighed knowing he was never gonna get through him when its about that. "That wasn't you."

Bucky walk towards the elevator but Steve managed to catch him and dragged him to the bar.

---

"Hey! Barnes has been looking at you for the past 10 minutes." Natasha grinned at you as she hit a bank shot.

"Yeah, right." Your back was turned to them so you couldn't see if it was true or not. You did this on purpose so you wouldn't look like an idiot for staring at Bucky so much and actually have fun.

"Why do you think that you don't have a chance?" Natasha asked you as she stood up. Hitting her next target but it missed the hole. "Your turn."

You get into position, bending over the table, and flipping your hair to the other side of your neck. And you swear you feel someone's burning gaze on you. So you look up, only to be met with a pair of smoldering blue eyes. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling at the sight and immediately looked away.

You couldn't believe it. Bucky Barnes was staring at you but then again it could have been a mere coincidence. You cringed as the ball you hit missed the hole.

"Maybe its because I suck at pool." You let out a breath as you leaned on the table.

"How about a real reason." Natasha rolled her eyes at you. You tittered at her reaction.

You look towards Bucky and saw that he was talking with Sam about something. You realized he was about to leave as he gulped down his beer in one chugged and started heading towards the door.

You shifted away your gaze from them. Of course it was a coincidence, you thought. You sighed as you turned your back to them. "I hate boys."

Natasha raised an eyebrow at me. "What's wrong?"

You smiled grimly. "Nothing. Want a drink? Ill get some from the bar."

"Sure." Natasha shrugged.

You started walking towards the bar. You almost didn't notice the abundance of people there in the party. Suddenly, you hear a voice call your name. You turned around and see a familiar pair of chocolate brown eyes and a boyish grin which made you grin. "Peter!"

-----

Bucky sat on the bar stool with a hard drink on his hand, wondering how he managed to let Steve convince him to have a few more drinks. But then again, its Steve. He look towards the pool table and saw you weren't there anymore. His eyes searched for you til it landed on you laughing something at that boy from Queens said. Immediately his lips formed into a thin line. The little green monster creeping on his neck. He faced towards the bar, planning to ask another drink.

"Don't be so glum Buck!" Steve encouraged as he slapped you on the back. "I know its different from the parties in the forties but the drinking, the friends, and the beautiful dames, their still the same."

Bucky scoffed at Steve's sentence. If he only knew that there was only one beautiful dame that was flooding his mind right now. He still hasn't decided whether that was a good thing or not. All he knew is that he wanted to pull you close, feel your skin on his, and kiss you til it hurt.

Steve leaned back on the bar, wondering what had his friend so worked up. It wasn't until he saw Bucky secretly glance at the person talking to Peter and immediately gulped down his drink when he realized it. Steve smirked.

"Speaking of beautiful dames, there's one coming right now."

Without a doubt, you were walking towards the Bar but you didn't see Bucky yet as his back was turned towards you and you completely believed that he had went home.

It was when Bucky turned around the chair that you halted in your steps. Your lips parted in surprise, not because you discovered that he was still here but because of his eyes. Those steel blue eyes seemed to look into your soul, pulling you in, making you wanna sin. Was Natasha right? You questioned. Its like there's no one else in the room. Like he only got eyes for you and he did.

"Do you see anyone other than me? Baby, please. I'll take a hit of whatever you got Maybe two, maybe three."

You decided to play it innocent like you didn't notice anything. You walked closer to Bucky with a playful look on your face. Whether you were just assuming or not, you didn't care. This was now or never.

"What's wrong Sergeant Barnes? One drink too many? I thought super soldiers couldn't get drunk Steve." You laughed as you asked Steve.

Bucky didn't hear a word you said. All he could sense is that you were half a meter away from him, close enough that he could smell your intoxicating scent. You were close enough to grab, to touch and your supple lips were tempting him beyond reason. You had a glint of mischief in your eyes that almost made him think that you knew what you were doing to him and It took everything in him to stop himself from smashing his lips on yours.

"Don't try to give me cold water I don't wanna sober up."

You saw how his eyes followed your every move. The way his eyes shifted to your lips so you decided to push it even further. You furrowed your eyebrows as a response to his silence. "Sergeant Barnes are you okay?" Heat rose from your stomach to your chest as your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly inched closer to him and licked your lips. Where this confidence was coming from? You didn't know.

"Bucky?" You breathed.

You were merely a breath away and as if a thread snapped, Bucky's eyes flashed to yours. You didn't realize what was happening when in a split second he pulled you in by the waist, claiming your lips, hungry and intense, until your knees almost gave in. The taste of him nearly silenced all thoughts. His fingers moved and sank into your skin with a mind of their own, pulling you impossibly closed.

"I'm already high enough You got me, you got me good I'm already high enough I only, I only, I only got eyes for you."

You wrapped your arms around his neck kissing him back just as intensely and roamed your fingers through his hair. His kiss was possessive and consuming, it made you dizzy but you didn't want to stop, instead you wanted more.

Finally, you reluctantly pulled away from each other. You leaned you forehead against his, both breathless. You both stare at each other for a few seconds, wondering if that really happened or not. But it did, finally it did. You both let out a small laugh, realizing how stupid you both have been.

Bucky smiled before licking his lips as he stared at you adoringly, arms still wrapped around you." Wanna get out of here?"

You grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

As you guys left, its like you could almost hear the rest of the team say "Finally!"

[soundsof71]

FIVE ALBUMS YOU NEED IN YOUR LIFE RIGHT NOW!!!

aka, My Top 5 of 2020, but I didn’t want to seem too retro!

Yep, I have a classic rock blog. Yep, I think that the best rock and roll in history is being made RIGHT NOW. And yep, ALL of it is being made by women. 

(Shown at top, Nova Twins by Ant Adams [x] and The Tissues by Michael Espleta [x]. I was planning to make a collage of all my faves in concert, but  not all of them were able to play in 2020. Both of these photos are pre-pandemic.)

There’s been quite a bit of movement on this list, and all five of these have spent some time at Number 1 as the year has done (gestures broadly) All This™. Anyone looking for rock and roll is going to dig any of these. 

Rocking out is just the start of it, though. Wrestling with my bipolarity and schizophrenia is tough on a good day, and there haven’t been too many of those lately. The plague has also taken its toll around me, with two family members dead and a third who’s doing better, but will likely never be all the way back. (Mask up, kids!)

I’ve written plenty about how deeply Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers have moved me this year (and will do so again), but in those rare stretches where I’ve had enough spare energy to listen to music at all these days, I’ve mostly been looking for more than beautiful music. Heavy times need heavy lifting, and I find that in heavy music. 

The five albums here have all helped carry me, pointing the way toward light.

1) BULLY, SUGAREGG

Alicia Bognanno is a force of nature as a guitarist, vocalist, composer, and producer/engineer. (While working on her degree in audio engineering at MTSU, she interned with Steve Albini, who remains both a fan and an admirer). A Nashville transplant from Minnesota, she’s still a natural fit in her home on Sub Pop: as heavy as Soundgarden, as hooky as Sleater-Kinney. 

I was blown away hearing her searing honesty while working through her discoveries of her bisexuality and bipolarity (double bi!), and her triumphant roar lifts me out of my seat every time I listen.

“She sings the hell out of [these songs], her voice fraying to the point of combustion every time she launches to the top of her range. This is phenomenal music for converting anger and anxiety into unbound joy.” ~Stereogum, Album of the Week

Also, check this fantastic interview with Alicia in the New York Times talking about what she’s gone through to get here. 

TURN IT UP!

2) GANSER, LOOK AT THAT SKY

Ganser syndrome is a rare dissociative disorder characterized by nonsensical or wrong answers to questions and other dissociative symptoms such as fugue, amnesia or conversion disorder, often with visual pseudohallucinations and a decreased state of consciousness. ~Wikipedia #it me

‘Just Look At That Sky’ doesn’t presume to offer solutions; it’s an honest document of what it feels like to wade through anxiety, day by day, not a survival guide or handbook of answers none of us actually have. Whether or not you pay attention to this, Ganser are simply one of the most invigorating, exciting new bands. ~Clashmusic

I saw one very positive review compare Ganser to a cross between Fugazi and Sonic Youth, but I think they hit much, much harder than either of those. And as you can surely guess, I also deeply relate to their themes of mental illness and dissociation while trying to make it through All This™. But my god, are they TIGHT. This is a BAND.

Ganser has two fantastic lead vocalists, and on “Bad Form”, bassist/vocalist Alicia Gaines wrote the song for the voice of keyboardist/vocalist Nadia Garofolo. Alicia also wrote a FANTASTIC essay on the strains that making an album during a pandemic puts on the mental health of the entire band at talkhouse: “Writing, recording, reaching out, balancing relationships outside and within the band, I found (and still find) myself under-rested and agitated to no particular end. More than not doing enough, I was not enough.” 

(If you can’t relate to that, I can’t relate to you, tbh.)

This video also does a fantastic job of showing dissociation. TURN IT UP!

3) THE TISSUES, BLUE FILM

“Blue Film” is a ten-song shot of dagger-twisting electro-(s)punk. It’s completely addictive from the very first listen. The tour de force is “Rear Window”, an art-punk masterpiece of slashing guitars and mad caterwauling. Copious doses of jaunty poetics and social commentary reward the earlooker patient enough to untangle Kristine Nevrose’s hysterical meowing about intergalactic salt shakers and hysterectomies, but I’m too emotionally invested to look under the hood.” ~ Sputnik Music

“Rear Window” is in fact my most-played 2020 track. TURN IT UP!

4) GUM COUNTRY, SOMEWHERE

It’s not all heavy! But even when I’m looking for something light and hooky, I need a bite, and Gum Country has done it with the kind of swirly, feeedback-laden wall of sound that Lush or Yo La Tengo would make if they lived in LA. (Recent transplants to SoCal from Vancouver, I do think that the sunshine has gone straight to their heads, in the very best way.)

Indie music nerds will know guitarist/composer/singer/front woman Courtney Garvin from The Courtneys, and she really does throw up a glorious wall of sound. I adore this video too! Sweet, swinging, fun -- and yes, the drummer is playing keyboard with one hand while slapping the skins with the other! 

I mentioned earlier that all five of these albums have spent part of the year at #1 on my list -- I think that this one might have spent the longest stretch there. Like all shoegaze, even as hooky as this, the truth of these songs is revealed in VOLUME. TURN IT UP!

5) NOVA TWINS, WHO ARE THE GIRLS?

Now, THIS is heavy! Amy Lee (vocals, guitar) and Georgia South (bass) are fucking LOUD, and insanely intense. A mix of grime, hip-hop, metal, punk, and good old rock and roll, they’re a harder-hitting, more theatrical Prodigy, with a pyre of intensity that recalls the heaviest howls of Rage Against The Machine. Indeed, Nova Twins spent a good bit of 2019 playing heavy metal festivals and toured as openers for Prophets of Rage. (Tom Morello has been a fan and supporter from the beginning.)

As you may have noted in the photo at the top of this post, their musical audacity extends to visuals too: they design their own clothes, hair, and makeup, they art direct their own videos, and more. They impress the hell out of me, and I’ve been a huge fan since hearing their first singles in 2018. I’ll plant a flag and say that Georgia South in particular is the most innovative musician on any instrument in any genre right now, but they’re both absolutely monsters. 

I’m honestly not at all sure that #5 is high enough for this, but I’m absolutely certain that after this video, you’re gonna need to rest for a little. LOL

“Taxi” is the story of two gleefully and creatively violent women shaking up the local crime syndicate as they use a vintage cab for their moving murder scene. This is the movie that Robert Rodriguez wishes he was making with Sin City, if it were combined with Blade Runner and The Matrix. And gangsters. And a snake.

I’m gonna take your crown I’m gonna, I’m gonna bleed you out We demand it by the hour We devour, control, power

I’m gonna burn it down Even the, even the royals bow

So not the same kind of therapeutic work being explored on this rekkid, but you know what? Fucking shit up is therapeutic too! 

Definitely take this full screen, and for the love of fuck, TURN IT UP!

SO. Not done with the best of 2020 yet? I’m sure not! A lot of my favorite songs aren’t on albums (at least not yet), so for an unedited list of everything I’m finding, check out my Spotify list, 2020: Shuffle This List! 268 songs and counting, over 15 hours, and not finished yet. I’m still checking out everyone else’s Best of lists (including yours! Message me links to yours!!!), so will probably be adding to this for most of 2021, too. 

And for more banging tracks by women from 2020, plus a few 2019 gems that I’m still grooving to, check out my more thoroughly curated Spotify playlist Women Bangers: A Tumblr New Classics Jam. (You’ll see a couple of these tracks there!) I’m working on a YouTube playlist and an essay to properly roll that one out. I’m also still tweaking the ending, but the three dozen or so tunes there are definitely bangin’.

Tell me if you hear anything you dig here, and tell me what YOU’VE found! We’re gonna get through this together.

Yr pal, Timmy

[daebakinc]

D-1: Brownie Points

Pairing: Pixie Baekhyun x Brownie Reader

Au: Fairy AU

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 1.8K

Empty! Empty, empty, empty!

You stomp your foot in frustration as you look at the two bowls in front of you. One should be filled with milk, the other honey with a bit of bread. Instead, there’s only a thin line of dried cream and a sheen of honey with crumbs of bread too small for a being as tiny as you.

Obviously it wasn’t that the family you live with forgot. Ever since you let the youngest child briefly glimpse you, the family has faithfully left the bowls out for you out of gratitude. After all, not every family is blessed with a brownie.

You know you’re an exceptional brownie too. You make sure the hay they harvest remains fresh and sweet, the sheep always have the softest wool to fetch the best price at market, and not a single animal or human falls ill on the farm. That’s just a little of what you do. But this family deserves it for their hard work and kind hearts.

It isn’t their fault there’s a thief about.

A rumbling growl comes from behind you. When you turn around, you see the family cat trotting towards you, something held in her mouth. That something has wings that glitter in the starlight.

As soon as you see what she has, you cross your arms and glare. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

The pixie grins cheekily despite the collar of his shirt being firmly gripped in a carnivore’s teeth. “Hello to you too, sweet pea. No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Wherever there’s mischief, there’s a pixie, and you, Baekhyun, are a frequent perpetrator on my farm.”

“Your farm?” Baekhyun cocks his head and examines you, squinting his eyes. “I didn’t know you turned human. Looks like you forgot some height.” 

Ignoring him, you walk over to the cat and put a hand on its leg. “Diana, thank you for catching him. Could you release him please?”

With a chirp, the cat drops him and trots back off to the barn. Regrettably, Baekhyun doesn’t crumble into an undignified heap like he deserves. He catches himself before his toes even hit the ground, his wings fluttering fast as a hummingbirds. Dumb pixies always showing off their wings and how graceful they are.

“Thanks,” Baekhyun says, smiling even wider than before. “Well, I’m off!”

You grab his ankle before he can fly off. “Not so fast! You ate my dinner! I earned that with honest work and you stole it.”

He rolls his eyes. “Why’re you making a big deal about it? It’s not like the humans are never going to feed you again.”

“It’s the principal of the thing. You pixies just fly around all night causing nothing but trouble. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone out of your way to cause problems I have to clean up!”

“Name one other time,” he huffs.

“When you tangled the plough horse’s mane and the harnesses so I had to spend a whole night just fixing those.”

“I-”

“When you unraveled all of the spinning from the day.”

“That-”

“When you made all the apples I picked turn sour.”

“Come on,” Baekhyun laughs. “You have to admit, the faces the humans made on that first bite were hilarious!”

They were, but Baekhyun is crazy if he thinks you’ll say it aloud. You know he doesn’t do all these things from a place of malice. He can’t help but cause little troubles because he’s a pixie; it’s what pixies do. But the way he seems to target you in particular just gets old sometimes.

Sighing, you let go of him. “Byun Baekhyun, just don’t mess with my farm, please. I have work to do.”

As you turn to go to the barn, Baekhyun flits in front of you. “Don’t you ever take a night off? To have fun? Do you even know that word?”

“I love my work,” you move around him, “so my work is fun. Unlike some people who’ve never worked a day in their life.”

Baekhyun flies alongside you over the damp grass. “Just take one night off. I know this really cool pond in the forest with these dragonflies big enough for us to ride! Sometimes unicorns even go there. I could take you.”

“No, Baekhyun. I have other things to do.”

“Fine. See ya later, brownie.”

The irritation in his voice surprises you. You’ve never heard him anything close to angry before. He’s always just happy Baekhyun. Turning to look at his face, you find he’s already gone.

“Oh well,” you think to yourself. He’ll get over it and be back to his tricks. Maybe you’ll get a few nights of peace if he really is miffed.

Your prediction seems correct. He doesn’t show up for the next three nights in a row. The quiet in the absence of his chatter at you makes your ears ring. Even if he never raised a finger to help, preferring to just fly around you and talk, you almost miss him. Then, you shake your head and think better of it.

The night of the new moon, while you’re refreshing the family’s store of dried herbs, you hear a sheep bleating. Lambing season is far off and your wards keep predators away... Still, you should check. When you slip out the front door, your feet freeze and your heart stops. 

The sheep pasture is completely empty.

“Daisy!” you cry as you run towards the pasture. “Rosy! Camellia! Lilly! Tulip!”

Silence.

As you reach the gate, you find it wide open. You know it wasn’t like that when you checked at dusk. Whirling around, you run around the farm, calling every ewe’s name. They’re nowhere to be found. Then, you reach where the farm ends and the forest begins. There, stuck on a briar bush is a strand of wool.

You collapse to the ground. Tears stream down your face as you clutch the wool to your chest. They’re gone. The forest is enormous; there’s too much ground for you to cover without wings.

Someone says your name.

Your eyesight blurred, you look up.

It’s Baekhyun, his eyes concerned and mouth twisted downward in a frown. Hovering above you, one of his hands is outstretched toward you. Then, you see what’s in his other hand.

The rope that locks the pasture’s gate.

“You!” you screech. “You let the herd out!”

“Look,” Baekhyun lurches out of reach when you lunge for the rope. He actually does sound apologetic as he says, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for all of them to get out. I was just going to let out one-.”

“You’re sorry?” you yell. “They’re all gone, Baekhyun! Without the herd, the family is ruined! I’m ruined!”

“I just wanted you to come play with me...”

“Play with you?” You laugh, the sound harsh. You throw up your hands. “Well, congratulations! Soon, I’ll get to play with you whenever because soon, I’m going to be homeless when the family has to leave! And what family is going to want a brownie like me now?”

Baekhyun’s wings falter and his eyes dart from the pasture to the woods, like he’s finally realizing what he did. “I’m... I’m sorry,” he says softly. His eyes shine with tears, but you can’t find sympathy to spare. 

“Go away, Baekhyun,” you whisper, brushing off your clothes and wiping at your face. Your chest feels heavy and hollow all at once.

“Wait!” Baekhyun flies in front of you, nearly hitting his head on yours. “I can fix it!”

“Whatever. Don’t you think you’ve ‘fixed’ enough tonight?” You take the rope from his hand, more tears choking your voice. “Just go.”

Not knowing what else to do, you trudge to the barn to do what you can. But even the simple magic of putting out hay and grooming the horse is exhausting. All you can think of is how after all this time of finding the perfect home and family, you’re going to lose it and have to start over again.

In the hay loft, you find Diana. She doesn’t crack an eye, but starts purring when you snuggle up to her. Just a short nap. Maybe this will all prove to be a bad dream when you wake up.

It feels like you just closed your eyes when a sound whispers its way into your ears.

You jolt up, listening. The pipe song is enticing and sweet, growing louder with each second. Pushing off the still sleeping cat, you run to the barn door.

At first, you see nothing. Then, movements of white in the forest. You hold your breath, unable to believe in miracles.

One sheep emerges from the woods. Another follows it, then another.

Joy and disbelief coursing through you, you sprint toward them, blind and deaf to everything else, calling, “Chamomile! Amaryllis! Peony!”

The lead ewe, Daisy, lowers her head and nudges you as you reach her, her breath hot as she snorts.

“You’re back,” you cry, clinging to her nose and breathing in her wooly smell.

“I got them all. I double checked.”

Baekhyun stands from his seat on Daisy’s shoulders. He glides down and lands in front of you, tucking his pipe into his belt. This is the first time you’ve actually see him touching earth. The sheep calmly continue walking past you to return to their pasture.

Baekhyun looks at his feet as he says, “I- I was wrong. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have messed with the animals. I know how much you care about them and the family.”

Who is this creature in front of you? It can’t be Baekhyun... He would never speak words like this.

“It’s my turn to guard the springs, so my brothers are all gone on their own adventures. I got lonely. I just wanted to have some fun with you since you’re the only other fairy around, but it was really selfish and stupid of me to try to get your attention this way.”

He’s not wrong, but you hadn’t known about his family. You’d thought he just liked bugging you for the heck of it.

“I really am sorry. I promise I’ll never do anything to you or the humans here again.” His wings droop and with a sigh, he turns his back to you. “I’ll leave you all alone for good.”

Baekhyun looks pathetic as he looks over his shoulder at you one more. Another sigh, and he starts walking away, wings dragging behind him. He looks so small and alone, you can’t help yourself.

“Baekhyun, wait!” you call.

He stops, but doesn’t look back.

“After I lock the gate... I haven’t eaten my honey, bread, and milk yet... If you want to join.”

[escapethewonderland]

It could have been you

Pairing: JakexFem!MC (Nadia)

Word counts: 1.8k

A/N: Hi darlings, I got the itch for a bit of Jake angst over the last few days so here it is this little OS. Kindly inspired by a song that stuck in my head while writing, Muddy Waters by LP. Hope you like it! SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 7 ENDING, BE AWARE!

TW: swearing, angst, mention of blood

Nadia was sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her closet intently like she was trying to find an answer to the incredible mess that her life had become over the last month. The doors were hanging open, patiently waiting for the girl to start gathering the clothes she needed for the trip to Duskwood.

She felt like her head was on the verge of exploding. Rabid thoughts were chasing each others around unbounded, hammering against her temples and begging to set them free.

She squeezed her hands together, quivering nervously while trying to release that ugly tension off her body. Seeing Richy bloody, slowing fading away on that hellish forest’s ground was the last straw for Nadia: someone got severely hurt and, all of a sudden, the game her and Jake were playing got extremely real.

Nadia couldn’t afford anymore to wait on the sidelines, protected by the distance and her hacker because sooner or later, they would come knocking on her doors. Although the strong gut feeling of running far away in the opposite direction, Nadia couldn’t deny the inescapable bond that was calling her to Duskwood. Even more now that both the girl and Jake may had the blood of an innocent guy dripping from their hands.

The young woman closed her eyes against that cruel image, breathing slowly from her nose, flexing her fingers.

Richy was going to make it; he had to.

He might survive. Those were the feeble words of hope that the doctors had said and the whole group hold on to them with ferocity: the idea of losing Richy was unacceptable.

A notification from the phone distracted the young woman, making her wince: she couldn’t recall how long she had been standing still in front of the wardrobe.

  Nadia…I just read your texts. Is it true? Is Richy…?

The girl let an unsteady breath slip out between her lips, fighting back the tears.

Yes Jake, he’s fighting for his life on an operating table.

She got up from her bed, walking aimlessly around the small apartment in an agitated frenzy. Jake’s answer came right away.

I’m so, so sorry. I…I wasn’t expecting that. I…I’m at loss for words.

“No shit” Nadia snorted viciously under her breath, wiping away a traitorous tear that slowly crept down her cheek. Her breath was now ragged, but she still tried to keep her cool and not hyperventilate. Panic wouldn’t get her nowhere, she needed to be sharp right now.

Holding her phone in a tight grip, Nadia walked back to her bedroom; mind settled.

I don’t know what to say too, Jake, but I know what I have to do.

She threw the mobile on her bed with more vehemence than what was necessary. With few, swift strides, she found herself back in her room, standing in front of her closet to retrieve an old backpack from the tallest shelf. She scrutinized the clothes with a clinic eyes, opting for something practical, taking only the bare minimum she needed for a week or so.

Nadia didn’t bother to check her phone when Jake’s first reply came. Nor the next one or the other after that.

She was on autopilot, a ghost wandering around and haunting her own house.

Nadia spared a look at her reflection in the mirror while collecting the stuff she needed from the bathroom: her face was strained with harsh lines, eyes wide with messy makeup and even messier hair.

She brought her things to the other room, dumping them merciless inside the backpack and only then looked at her phone.

There were several messages from Jake but it was the last one that caught the girl’s attention.

Are you packing, Nadia? Please, answer me.

The phone slipped from her fingers after reading that words. A hint of paranoia emerged in her chest and she scanned her bedroom with meticulous care, calming down again only when she had checked twice every possible hiding place. No one seemed to be lurking in her room and the curtains were closed shut, a few sun shines peeking through them. She was still safe, it was still her home, no danger lurking in the shadows.

With trembling hands, Nadia retrieved the phone from the carpet.

She frowned, slightly afraid to look at the camera, before a wave of scolding hot anger filled her bones. Mouth set in a straight, harsh line, she started typing to Jake.

Are you fucking spying on me through my phone, Jake?

No answer. The girl felt like boiling with everything she’d been trying to repress since the first time Thomas texted her.

Are you fucking serious, Jake? Are you fucking with me or have you lost your mind along the way? Do you think that you can just go around spying people through their phone whenever it sooths you, whenever it’s convenient for your agenda?

Jake. I fucking trusted you! YOU…

The girl stopped there, unable to type anymore given the trembling that took control of her hands.

Nadia brought the back of her hand against her lips, suppressing a sob that would inevitably destroy the already fragile dam that was barely holding back all of her destructive emotions.

She fought it with all of her might, eventually falling on her knees because even standing felt crushing in that moment.

Nadia felt like she was going crazy, slowly loosing herself in something that was so much bigger than her.

Her phone started vibrating in her hand, signalling an incoming call from an unknown number.

Nadia stood there for a moment, debating if accepting the call or not. Could it be…?

“Hello?” she answered with a shaky voice.

Nadia heard a sight and a male voice greeted her, no distortion this time.

“Please, don’t go” pleaded who she assumed was Jake on the other side of the line.

Nadia let out a wet sob, almost chocking on the longing and sadness that built up in her chest at hearing Jake’s voice for the first time. His voice sounded so warm and comforting like a soothing balm, but it was all ruined by the ill-timing of the call.

“How much have I longed for this moment… you have no idea, Jake, you have no idea. I can’t believe it, it’s actually you” she mumbled under her breath, almost too quiet to be heard.

Another sight greeted her words, but Jake didn’t say anything.

“I would have loved to hear your voice for the first time under different circumstances” she continued, tears rolling freely down her grieving face.

“But the situation is pretty fucked up, Jake. I can’t afford to wait on the side-lines any longer”

“You can’t go, Nadia, please. You can’t really be thinking of going to Duskwood” replied Jake fast, almost eating up the words like he was in a hurry to get them out, to keep her safely where she was.

“But I am going, Jake. It was all my fault: Jessy’s attack, Cleo’s letters and now Richy… if I didn’t get involved, if I stayed out of it, nothing would have happened to them. It’s only fair I stand by their side to help them, actually help them” Nadia said with deep-rooted sadness in her voice, slowly getting up from the carpet. Her knees felt weak but her mind was strong.

There was a loud thud on the other side of the line, like a fist being slammed against a wooden table.

“No, no, no! Nadia, please! Duskwood is even more dangerous than before right now and you could put yourself into bigger troubles!”

She snorted without humour in her voice, now fully standing, sliding a hand through her hair.

“Well Jake, it’s not like you can stop me, can you? Because you’re not here… You’re not fucking here with me. What would you have me rather do, uh? Don’t you think I’m scared!? I’M TERRIFIED BUT WHY DON’T YOU…”

“IT COULD HAVE BEEN YOU, DAMMIT!” Jake almost screamed into her ear, panting like he had just ran a marathon.

Nadia closed her eyes while more tears carved their path through her reddened cheeks, biting hard on her lower lip. Her heart clenched painfully at his words cause only now she realized how much she’d been craving to feel his barriers coming down.

“It could have been you, bleeding out in that nightmarish forest, for fuck’s sake. And only the thought of you being hurt or worse, of losing you…it’s enough to drive me insane” he confessed softly, his silky voice like sweet honey in the Nadia’s ear, a tempting offer of haven.

“But it wasn’t me” she replied hesitantly, not trusting her voice not to break “it still could have been Lilly. It could have been Hannah”

That was a low blow, Nadia knew that but his sisters were the only family he had left and if he couldn’t be on the front line to save them, she would step up to be in his place and protect them.

“I don’t wanna lose you, not you too” Jake whispered, voice heavy with despair, so close to the mic that for a moment she had the faint illusion of having him right by her side.

“And you won’t, Jake, I promise you. You won’t lose any of us, we will see each other at the end of this. We’ll all be together and make up for all the time we spent apart.”

She almost smiled at that idyllic picture taking shape into her mind.

“But I have to go” Nadia simply stated, softly as to not hurt him, even though she was already doing that.

She closed the call before she lost all of the courage she had mustered up, Jake’s no’s haunting her while she turned off her phone. She exhaled deeply, before hitting her wardrobe’s door with her open palm, muffling a scream against her folded t-shirts.

It took Nadia five whole minutes to regain her composure and fight back fat tears of sorrow, but when she finally looked back up, there were flames in her eyes.

She set her body into motion, retrieving an object from the drawer under her desk: the older phone used to be her main phone, but Nadia was sure she was going to need a backup since everyone in Duskwood already had her info. No one knew her new number though, so she hoped it could turn out to be a secret advantage. Only Lilly was aware of it, she was the one to help her out to settle everything and she was the only soul that knew she was coming to Duskwood and they both preferred that way.

She braced herself, backpack on her shoulder and keys in her hands: even though she was filled with much uncertainty, Nadia knew she was on the right path.