#it's hot outside and my balcony has some shade so it's not their fault that was the best place to set up shop

[army-of-bee-assassins]

i have multiple wasp nests on the balcony of my new place (which is where i'm keeping a good portion of my houseplants) and i really want to get rid of them but i don't want to kill them :(

[minstrivia]

concept;; dragon hybrid!yoongi

dragon hybrid!yoongi + breast care(breast stimulation) feat. body temperature control.

—

it was that good ol’ time again. that heavenly time of the month for us ladies. you felt so tender in all places. more precisely your breasts. even putting on a bra made you lightly squirm from the sensitivity. ever since yoongi bred you last season, each period felt like an eternity and caused u to feel sore in ur lower region and breasts. somehow, this only happens in some cycles not all thankfully, and today, had to be that one day you felt super crappy.

you could say it felt like something was jabbing at the milk glands and nudging around the inside of your breasts. to sum everything up, you were swelling.

you didn’t blame him—not at all. well partially. maybe it was mood swings talking but yeah it’s his fault.

yoongi, on the other hand, took notice of this. the change in your scent was the sign that confirmed his theory. you were on ur period. and he also had a theory u were mad at him. why? he was yet to find out.

you were sprawled out under the fluffy comfort of ur blankets. swaddled under the warmth. it was raining outside and u were a human popsicle. and in addition to ur extreme coldness, your breasts abnormally ached like a bitch. you had removed ur bra for ur lil nap so the girls were free and out and about. “baby,” you felt the bed dip, and yoongi came crawling under the covers. “I know you’re awake. you ok?” “my boobs hurt and my nipples are puffy. so no, I’m not ok. It’s your fault I feel this shitty.” he chuckles softly yet dangerously low. alert alert—trouble.

he settles himself behind, spooning u. hands travel upwards, “is there any way I can make it up to you, hm? maybe if i...,” his hand finally stopping at your boob, cupping the plump flesh. you hiss at the sudden contact, icy fingers sketching small circles on the skin, “fuck.”

“tell me what you want, baby. say the word and I’ll make you feel better.” he’s now on top of you, hand still resting on your boob. “shit, your tongue, yoongi. use your tongue.”

he dips his head down, beginning to lay airy kisses around the areola. he stops momentarily, nipping at ur nipple with his teeth before his mouth latches onto said puffy bud, frantically swirling the tip of his tongue over said bud. he’s gentle in manner and mindful of ur current aches. and yet he’s a tease. “what’s the magic word?” he mutters, chilly breath fanning the wet bud. hint; it’s not please.

“ah f-fuck, warm, yoongi.” a cozy sensation envelopes your nipple, so warming and snug. he’s stays latched onto there though, slowly massaging his hot tongue over your nipple. he tends to it with care and a dash of tease. an excellent mix of what makes up yoongi.

he works his way over to the next one, this time taking u by surprise. he alternates between temperatures. he sucks diligently on ur nipple with a frosty tongue as u mewl from the sudden change. a great one, may u add. his fangs come out to play as well. lightly poking at you, grazing the tender skin. if you weren’t so into this and so damn sore, you’d beg him to bite you right here. right now.

he gives it a long lick, lapping around the valley of your breasts and the pretty curves of the mounds. warm and soothing. obscene slurps spilling from his pretty lips as he continues his journey. “shh, love,” he murmurs, mouth full of ur tit, “what do you want now?”

that’s a rhetorical question. he knows exactly what you want. he always seems to pinpoint precisely what you crave for.

hands. his hands. god those skilled hands and gifted fingers. your pussy throbbed by just thinking about them. warm digit circling your engorged clit as his middle finger slipped in and wiggles around before thrusting in with no mercy. it was killing you; this incessant discomfort that needed to be taken care of. yet, for you, this time of the month held a barrier up for any fully intimate actions. but you make do with what you have, right? so having a dragon hybrid for a boyfriend did help in times of desperate need so you were utterly grateful.

the frigid touch of his fingertips brush the erected nipples as he pinches them with curiosity glistening in his darkened eyes. more likely, knowingly of ur reaction. watching as you jolt back into the comfort of the fluffy pillows and whine softly, he proudly(and quite smugly) smirks and resumes to his duties. he thumbs at your nipple, flicking the nub with his fingertip and rubbing it slowly.

he kneads both of your breasts like a master; the comfortably toasty warmth of his hands relieving the remaining ache. those hands could put any massage machine on the market to shame. he’s not harsh yet not boring. he sets an excellent tempo and you’re living for it.

he dives back in, only this time he commenced to suck dainty plum shade bruises all over the top curvature of your breasts. it stings at first as he gradually sucks, he acknowledges this, but the sweets cries of ecstasy leaving your lips just assures him you mind a lil sting.

the shades of purples and light pinks covered the expanse of your chest. in all shapes and sizes. variations of color, too. he was the artist and your chest his canvas. he doing as he pleased. treating the skin kindly, most importantly.

ok rewind back— yoongi’s tongue worked literal wonders; heated muscle flattening on ur boob, the pointy edges of his tongue gently scraping the perky bud. subsequently taking it in his mouth and releasing with a lewd pop. he alternates between the two, going in hot and then cold had your core growing hot. your hand threaded through the auburn locks, “shit, yoon—stop for a b-bit,” you pulled gently on his head, attempting to pry him off you.

oh but lord the look on his face. pink swollen lips, lidded eyes just devouring you whole. god, he looked so fucked out yet like he could go for like three to four rounds. no breaks in between though. when he goes down on you, he shows no mercy.

don’t be fooled though, this man has the stamina of a dozen dragon hybrids combined, within his tiny frame, he holds a lot of strength. no weakling here. all it is is self control, really but if he were not to use a single inch of it, currently you’d be against a window as he hits it from the back because he just adores showing off to your stuck up neighbors. or maybe outside on the balcony, with him sprawled on a patio chair as you ride him vigorously. these are just some of his wild sex scenarios.

right now, he’s just merely restraining himself from fucking on every surface in the house but he’s conscious of your period aches. although, he really doesn’t mind a lil blood mixed with your sweet cum. his senses are sharp, so remember, you’ll always taste sweeter and different to his tastebuds. besides, he’s not embarrassed by it. my boy is a proud man. no kink shaming here.

“you want more, don’t you?”

you’re hesitant. and yoongi’s quick to pick up on this. of course you want more of that sweet mouth of his. of those blessed hands that were sculpted and made entirely by the gods themselves. you wanted them roaming, touring every inch of body. you want it. and badly.

“doll, answer me.”

“yoon—,”

“angel, come on. I know you can do better than that. what’s the correct word?”

“yes, sir.”

— submission

[staticscreenwriting]

casual moths - chapter four

Deleted the links to the other parts in hope that this might show up in the tags that way. Find them on my masterlist or if you add /angel-reyes-fanfiction after my URL :)

If you liked this part and wanna help me out, please consider a reblog. Thank you.

Chapter four - fears and starlight

Her name is Lex. She has bright red hair and a body to die for. She knows how to move in all the right ways and how to make Angel feel good. Her skin is warm against his as their bodies are tangled with each other in his bed.

Any other day, he would be caught up completely in the bliss of a gorgeous woman’s body. Not this time though. This time all he can think about is how he wishes the hair was blond and the eyes were a deep shade of brown. How this isn’t enough. Not anymore.

How much that thought scares him.

When it’s all over and done with and Lex falls into an exhausted slumber, Angel crawls out of bed, puts on his boxers and sits on the porch steps of his house.

It’s the very early hours of the morning and Santo Padre is quiet. It feels peaceful. Comfortable. It’s rare moments like these when Angel’s mind seems so loud and the world seems so stil, that he really feels the gravity of it all. That he feels just how lonely he really is. How the girls in his bed will never fill the void. How the familiall bond he found with the MC will never be a proper substitute for what he’s missing with his blood family.

How his heart aches for the love of another person. Fatherly love. Brotherly love.

The love of a blonde single mother.

And it scares him because, despite what others might think — what his dad might think, Angel is not an idiot. Callie is soft touches and warm smiles and love. She’s too good for him in all ways considered. He’s all gloomy and sad and angry and she’s — magic.

Angel doesn’t regret the path he chose but it’s moments like these where he wonders what could be if he had taken another. If he cared a little more about academics, tried a little harder, reached out a little further. If he made his dad a little prouder, protected EZ a bit better. If all was different, would he be a good enough man for Callie ?

The sun slowly starts to rise and cover the street in a glow of pinks and blues. Angel wonders if she watches the sunrise too. And he knows that’s some real pussy shit to think about and that his brothers would have his balls if they ever found out he was thinking such things. But he does anyway. Because it’s the early hours of the morning and everything is quiet around him and his head is so loud and it’s nice to indulge in a future he can never have but so desperately wishes he could.

- OOO -

It’s later that day, when Angel is slumped down on his dad’s couch absentmindedly watching some 90s TV show rerun on tv, that EZ enters the room casual as always.

“ The fuck are you doing here ? “

At his older brother’s exclamation of dismay, EZ raises his eyebrow in confusion.

“ Uh. Was gonna say hi, see how pops is doing ? Why ? “

“ Nah. You’re supposed to be watching Callie “ a ball of anger builds inside of Angel’s stomach. It’s red hot fury. He’s supposed to keep the girls safe. His trust lies in EZ to be his eyes, his ears. Be the knight in shining armour he denies himself to be. He’s too much of a villain to ever play that role entirely.

“ She sent me away. Angel I’ve been watching her house from the moment she left the scrapyard last night, no sight of the car anywhere. She’s at work now but she insisted I leave. Her customers are mostly old ladies and apparently they’re aren’t too fond of a dude on a motorcycle watching the store at all times. That’s reasonable, honestly. “

“ Are you stupid ? Of course she was gonna send you away. That doesn’t mean you gotta leave, just keep some distance you — “

Angel can’t finish the sentence though, as his dad interrupts him with a loud cough.

“ What are ladies bickering about again, huh? One would think I raised a bunch of hens. Goats maybe. “

“ Don’t worry, old man “ Angel waves him off. This is none of his dad’s concern really. He doesn’t want or need him to get involved in this. He’d just be another reminder that Angel will never be good enough for Callie.

“ I do worry. It’s what comes with the whole parenting ordeal. “ Felipe grumbles.

“ Angel she didn’t want me there. I am not going to force my protection on her. “ EZ starts to reason again, before another interruption from their father.

“ Her ? who’s her ? “

“ Callie “ EZ answers.

“ Who is Callie ? “

“ It doesn’t matter “ Angel replies. Only it does. Because she’s all that’s on his mind recently and it’s stupid and ridiculous because he just met her a few weeks ago. She’s just a girl. Only she is so much more and it’s fucking terrifying.

“ Is she the one with the little girl ? “

Angel doesn’t reply, just bites his lip in frustration. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. In a different world where his dad loved him enough, he would be delighted to talk to him about Callie. In a different world she’d be his and he’d bring her around for BBQs with his dad — and maybe his mom, and they’d embarrass him with old baby pictures and he’d pretend to hate it but secretly love it for the smile it’d put on Callie’s face.

But that world is not the one he lives in. The one he lives in greets him with a look of pure frustration and disapproval on his father’s face.

“ Angel. She’s a mother. Don’t get her involved in this. “

This. Involved in this. It means involved in him. He knows it and it breaks his fucking heart to hear his insecurities voice by his own father. He knows it’s a terrible idea but to have his dad confirm his fear is — too much.

So he reacts the way he always does. With anger.

“ This ? What is this exactly huh ? Me. You can say it. Don’t get her involved with me. I know that’s what you want to say. I know that’s what you think. And honestly you’re probably right. She’s most definitely too good for me but maybe she could see something else, you know ? Something more ? She thinks I’m a good guy. She — she makes me want to be better. Enough. Something I could never be for you, for this family. Maybe this time I can be. “

He shrugs off the hand that EZ rests on his shoulder to try and keep him calm. There’s no staying calm aymore. For too long, Angel has sat in his anger and hurt and frustration. Letting it gnaw at him and devour pieces of his heart little by little.

Not anymore. Not any longer.

- OOO -

The wind lashes around him as he speeds down the streets of the outskirts of Santo Padro. His anger dissipating with every mile. The adrenalin, the rush, it helps him calm down. Just like punching stuff does. Just like sex does. He’s been on the road for hours, the day almost making room for the sun to set.

Maybe his father is right though. Maybe he should end it now. Not contact her again. Stay away and let her live her life in peace and quiet and find a proper man who can take care of her and the little one.

But that thought kills him a little inside. Because he’s not ready to let go of the spark, no matter how dim it is. How little light it actually spends. Even a small spark can start a fire.

He finds himself at her door, stomach tied in knots. He’s never been nervous about meeting a girl before. But those girls didn’t really mean as much. They weren’t his spark.

There’s laughter ringing through the house and Angel has to think back to the days when laughter lived at his home. When he was younger and careless and happy. When mom was alive and when dad was in love and when things were … good. When he had a family.

Callie opens the door with a huge smile on her face and a strand of blond hair falling across her face while the rest is pulled into a messy ponytail. She’s wearing denim shorts and a shirt that looks two sizes too big for her. There’s flour on her cheek and sauce on her collar.

Angel thinks she’s never looked more perfect.

“ Hi “ she says and smiles that gorgeous smile that has become a source of heart palpitations for Angel.

“ Hey. I uh — “

What Angel ? He asks himself. I was in the area ? That’s bullshit. Tell her the truth.

“ I wanted to see you. “

She takes a breath but the smile doesn’t fall not for a single second.

“ You wanna come in ? We made pasta. Spaghetti sauce is store bought though. Hope that’s alright ? “

And for the first time that day, Angel smiles.

“ That’s perfect. “

- OOO -

The tv plays cartoons in the background while little Daisy is fast asleep on the couch.

Angel wonders what it feels like to be a parent. What that unconditional love feels like. If that even exists. It seems to exist with Callie and Daisy. It used to exist with his mother. He wonders if it goes away at some point. Because he sure all hell hasn’t felt any of that love from his dad in a long time.

Callie pours another glass of wine, perched on the little white fold out chair on her balcony, and watches as Angel’s eyes seem to gloss over with — nostalgia ?

The night is dark, only illuminated by the stars and the fairy lights placed all around the balcony and the light coming from inside the house.

“ She’s cute isn’t she ? “

The corner of Angel’s lips pull up into a little grin. “ You know she is. Did good there. “

“ Yeah I did “

The pride her words hold, is so all consuming, Angel finds himself feeling almost jealous. Pride is something he never got to experience at home and maybe that’s his own fault but it doesn’t make it any easier.

“ Hey uh — thanks for sending EZ to keep an eye on us. I know I said you shouldn’t and I know I sent him away but I did feel quite a lot safer last night knowing he was outside watching out for us. “

“ Of course. Gotta keep you save. “

“ But you don’t “ Callie replies “ you don’t have to do it but you do it anyway. I appreciate it. “

“ Well you don’t gotta invite me in for dinner and make me feel like — “ he sighs wondering if he should speak the following words but unable to stop himself “ — like I’m part of a family for an evening. Even if it’s just for a few hours it means a shit ton. “

The deep brown of her eyes seems to come alive with a whirlwind of emotions. There’s so many and Angel can’t name a single one because they all blend into one another so perfectly.

And she doesn’t say anything at first, just places her hand on his. And it’s soft and warm and wonderful.

“ You can be a part of our little world any time you want. I owe you that. “

“ You don’t owe me shit. But would you — would you want me to be ? “

Callie takes a sip of her wine and looks to the side, mulling over her words. There’s no right or wrong here just honesty. There’s no pressure and yet it feels like the weight of the world is resting on both their shoulders. And shouldn’t this be easy ? Shouldn’t this be the most simple answer on earth ?

And maybe it is because Yes she wants him here. But Yes is the hardest word to say sometimes. Because it means more than just that. It means letting him in. Letting him be a part of her life and, by extend, that of Daisy. It’s giving a part of their little world to him and it’s crazy really because since he stumbled into it a few weeks ago, he’s already been occupying her mind. Little by little taking over her heart.

She doesn’t love him. Because love is complex and confusing and something that takes time. But there’s no doubt in her mind that she can love him. That she can learn to let him in.

“ I’m terrified ” she confesses.

“ Why ? “

“ Because I like how this feels and I like the idea of more nights like this. I like to think of what could be and I’m scared that it’s not gonna turn out this way. That it’s gonna crash and burn and hurt both me and Daisy. “

“ It — “ he doesn’t get to speak out though, as Callie goes on.

“ I’m even more scared of what happens if it does turn out the way I wish it did. I’m scared that I get another chance at love and that things become magical again and that life is good and then when it is, it gets taken from me again. I can’t go through that again. Daisy can’t. She was too little to understand then but she’s grown. She’s old enough now. “

“ I’m scared too. “ Angel answers truthfully. And really, to hear his doubts reflected in her is both terrifying and comforting all at once. Because things are only half as scary if you go through them with someone else, aren’t they ?

“ Well we shouldn’t be, thought. Good things aren’t scary, right ? “

“ But there’s good things that are a little scary. “

“ Like what ? “ Callie asks, a little smile making its way onto her face.

“ Rollercoasters. Horror movies. Skinny dipping. “

“ You’re being surprisingly reasonable, I gotta give you that one. “

Angel softly takes her face in his hand, making her focus on him and him entirely. And it’s like the quiet night takes them in and covers them in a veil of silence and starlight. And all that is there is the electricity between them and the beatings of their hearts.

“ I think some things are worth it. Facing your fears and all. I’m gonna try all I got, to make this one worth it. And we don’t have to go all in immediately I just — I need to know this isn’t one sided. You’re all that’s been on my mind since you showed up at the clubhouse looking for Jess. I can’t explain this and yeah it fucking terrifies me too but god am I ready to face this head on. I’m not the best catch but I can be the best version of myself. I can. “

Callie only nods, her face so close he can feel her breath on his lips, her nose brushing his.

“ Sorry for being so fucking cheesy “ he whispers, lips brushing hers as he speaks.

“ No. No, keep talking. You’re making me fall in love with you. “

And as her lips meet his, Angel feels like that spark has become something more. This feels right even if it shouldn’t. Even if he’s never going to be good enough. Even if he’ll never be deserving of her. The spark is now a wildfire and it’s consuming everything.

Angel doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything better than her lips on his. Callie thinks he’s a magnificent kisser.

Santo Padre is quite and dark that night, only illuminated by the stars and the moon and the glow of two lost souls finding one another in the dark.

Taglist:  @world-from-my-viwe , @carlaangel86, @genius2050, @brokenandrising, @captainsamwlsn, @starrynite7114 ,

[srrrokka]

Wip meme: blood (ik you'll have fun with this one :)

[Give me a word and I’ll quote it from my fic WIPs]

Please note that my WIPs are mostly a mess of notes, half written scenes, dialogue snippets, and so on, therefore this might look a wee bit weird.

 Blind AU

1)

But the moment burst like a soap bubble when a trickle of blood suddenly poured out of Corvo’s nose. Corvo licked his upper lip reflexively and frowned. He touched it and looked at his fingers to confirm his suspicion. He sighed but didn’t look alarmed.

“It’s fine, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He tried to reassure both Thomas and Daud who in the meantime approached the other two and was now having a closer look at Corvo with a deep frown on his face.

Out of lack of better options Corvo put the hem of his sleeve to his nose to soak up the blood that only started flowing heavier.

2)

Corvo grinned widely, teeth red with blood. But his triumphant demeanour got instantly broken by a coughing fit that pulled on his muscles and bowed him over in half.

3)

“I get to see–” He covered his mouth with his left hand, an unpleasantly wet cough shook his body furiously. A single drop of blood rolled from between his fingers. “–you get to be seen.” He finished with some difficulty.

He looked at the palm of his hand, covered in splotches of blood, and made a face. The taste of copper in his mouth was overpowering. “You picked a gruesome one this time, huh?” He rasped out, the next inhale came out as a painful wheeze.

That’s a single scene hahahaha

4)

“That won’t be necessary.” He pointed with his chin in the direction of the assassin’s blade. “Unless you just really want to kill me, then by all means, but I personally didn’t come here for bloodshed.”

“Why are you here, then?” Daud lowered his sword but didn’t put it away.

“See, I heard you have my daughter.”

5)

It hurt. It hurt so much. His fingers touched a large, sharp splinter of the Void sticking out of his chest. It was slick with blood that was slowly dripping down onto the ground, a single bright flash of colour in an otherwise colourless world.

The Outsider slowly strolled into his field of vision. His hands were clasped behind his back and he looked with calm curiosity as Corvo struggled to catch a breath, as his knees buckled underneath him and he fell to the ground.

He pushed Corvo’s chin up with two fingers. A pleased expression was painted on his features, a stark contrast to desperation, fear, and suffering on Corvo’s. “You can see me now.” He brushed a bead of blood from the corner of the man’s mouth with his thumb, creating a long streak on his cheek. “The dying and the dead can always see me, my dearest Corvo.”

________________________

 Soulmate AU

1)

Paloma’s lips parted around a silent gasp and her eyes widened as she took in the splatter of blood on her son’s palms. It stood out with bright crimson against his olive tanned skin. She took his smaller hands in hers carefully and rubbed her thumbs along the splotches. He was right, it wasn’t coming off.

2)

The person on the other side of the bond spilled blood. But was it someone else’s or was it… their own? It wasn’t that uncommon to find a singular splash of blood on your hands and then never hear from the other again… She hoped, for her son’s sake, that it was not the case.

________________________

 With Your Single Word (Token)

1)

It felt good. It gave Corvo a sense of dark joy to see the hand that hit him so many times over the last months, fall to the ground in a growing puddle of blood, to see shock twist Campbell’s features briefly before he grabbed his throat and drove the sword all the way to the hilt in the High Overseer’s torso from between his collarbones.

2)

Corvo can’t stop looking at where the blood amber and bone are touching Daud’s skin.

3)

C: I can take care of myself. I don’t think–

D: I know. I know you can. But you said it yourself - you’re my responsibility now. If something happens to you, it’s all on me. I don’t need your blood on my hands as well… [jaw tightens, looks away, his fingers close over the Token]

4)

Daud believes him. There is something in his voice that sounds like blood on the edge of cold steel and screams of pain deep in the night. And Daud knows it, he knows the feeling of it intimately. Corvo’s cold fury resonates with him as if Corvo is speaking of what curls in his own chest.

5)

D: That’s why you were so off…

C: What?

D: When we went to break out Stride.

C: [Stops for a moment] I spent many, many hours in that interrogation chair. My blood is probably a permanent fixture on the floor… But as happy as I was to see that place shredded, it was still– I still– [takes a deep breath] It’s not a good feeling to be back there.

6)

“I imagine now you know how Corvo felt when you murdered the Empress with cold blood.” The voice came from just above his ear. “He held her the same way you’re holding him right now. Funny how both of those deaths were your fault.”

________________________

 Inhuman AU

A silver spike he abandoned on the ground earlier pierces the monster’s head from the back, splattering blood onto Corvo’s face and then collapses on him, just a limp corpse.

As the corpse drops, Corvo sees Daud, who was standing behind it. He’s panting, absolute fury is lighting his eyes up.

Corvo wishes he could pass out…

________________________

 Save Game

He finally stands up. His eyes seem to be unseeing, empty. Daud grabs his face with one blood-covered hand and forces him to look at him. “Corvo. Listen to me. If you don’t move, we’re both going to die.” Still no response, although his eyes at least look at him and not through him. “Just follow me, can you do that?” Corvo moves his head, shifting his jaw out of Daud’s fingers. Daud decides that it must be good enough.

________________________

 High Corvo’s Chaos

C: So this is the part where we fight and one of us dies. Or neither. That’s also an option, I guess. Or both. Although, I find that rather unlikely. [Slowly advances towards Daud while touching and inspecting various things on the way like crates and bookcases, isn’t really looking at Daud but keeps him in his peripheral, sword still at his side and not in his hand] I must be honest with you, Daud, I don’t feel like this… clash between the two of us is going to resolve anything in particular. I’ve read some fun things about you in Burrows’s journal and well… I’m rather less inclined to cross blades with you than before. I especially don’t fancy spilling your blood, believe it or not. [he finally reaches Daud and stops a meter or so away from him, fingers lingering on one of the pillars holding up the small balcony in the chamber, he turns his eyes to him, gaze intense in a bit manic way] Do you want to spill mine? [tilts head]

________________________

 Amnesia

1)

There is a heartbeat of a moment when nothing happens. Everything stands still. There is just the rise and fall of Corvo’s chest, his hot breath in Daud’s ear, and the rush of his own blood, deafening in the silence. If Corvo Attano has been playing a really long game this would definitely be the culmination of it. The type where Daud ends up drowning in his own blood…

2)

“Daud, please.” A shade of desperation creeps into Corvo’s voice as he cradles Daud’s cheek with his left hand, putting his unpleasantly dangling head upright again. His fingers leave smears of blood on his skin.

A bang on the door makes him jump, muscles tensing, and he squeezes his eyes shut so hard he sees white as pain shoots up his side. His bloody fingers slide to Daud’s collar and he presses his forehead into his shoulder.

________________________

Witch!Corvo AU

1)

‘Don’t let them touch us! Make them stop! Their hands are soaked in blood!’ Jessamine screeched in the back of his head, fury painting her voice.

2)

Jessamine was in his arms. Blood was soaking through the front of her coat. “Corvo!” She called as if she was pulled away from him. And then her head fell limply to the side.

[…]

For a short moment there was only darkness and a sense of despair so overwhelming he couldn’t breathe. A bloodcurdling scream pierced the air.

3)

Corvo touches the back of his head and comes up with fingers covered in blood. He raises one eyebrow at Daud pointedly. Than makes a symbol of glasses with his thumbs and pointing fingers in front of his face and then motions with his thumb in the direction of the infirmary.

4)

Corvo was sitting cross-legged on the ground in the middle of the room. All around him, every reachable surface was covered in symbols drawn in whale oil and something else, maybe blood. The sigils seemed to form concentric circles with Attano at the very centre.

________________________

 Body Swap AU

D: Black-eyed bastard.

C: Outsider. [Corvo nods in greeting]

O: It’s good to see the two of you getting along so well. [Appears behind Corvo] I see that you decided to take your fortune into your own hands, Corvo. Good job. Although… [Floats to in front of him] It would seem that your choices have very bloody consequences. [He takes Corvo’s chin in his long fingers to look at the drying blood still clinging to his skin]

D: [Grabs Outsider’s wrist] Don’t touch him.

O: [Slowly looks down on where Daud is touching him and the Daud in the face]

D: [Lets go]

O: [Appears on Daud’s other side] I never took you for a jealous type, Daud. Seems like I was wrong.

________________________

Scratch Session

1)

He collapses, blood is flooding his lungs, pain makes him feel distant in some way. He lies on the floor, a growing puddle of red underneath him, and he watches Daud as he touches Jessamine’s cheek and the stone recedes. And he watches Daud hug his daughter. And then there’s nothing.

2)

Something Daud did not expect was an actual fight. The Whaler holding Oz runs out of Pull and so the Lord Protector joins the fight but is stormed by Whalers so Corvo is still on his own against Daud without any weapons. He is half blind because of the blood pouring into his eye and he pleads with Daud to stop. He tries to knock him out but it’s really hard in that state.

The Whalers get Oz again and Corvo is getting woozy because of the pain and blood loss. Daud grabs his throat and pushes him against one of the balustrades and raises his blade to put it through his heart. Corvo gasps his name, clutching onto his arm with his left hand, the Mark stark as the day on his skin, and Daud freezes. He drops the sword and pulls Corvo, who is honestly ready to faint, into his arms. (“Void, Corvo, no no no no!” “You better fix this, Daud, because I am not being the Heart again…”)

3)

In his open palm lied an intricate, silver brooch in the shape of a bird mid-flight, holding a round, polished piece of blood amber in its talons. He brushed his thumb over the meticulous detail of the minuscule engraved feathers and hummed in thought.

It was a crow.

________________________

Dark Matter

Corvo falls to his knees in the puddle of Daud’s blood. He touches his face, his eyes the colour of the clouds look unseeing into the sky. He scoops him up into his arms.

A drop, black like ink, falls onto Daud’s cheek. And then another. And another. And Corvo realises he’s crying. He didn’t notice. Everything is so distant…

Corvo couldn’t protect him. The same way he couldn’t protect Jess.

Everyone he loves dies.

________________________

TRC/DH1

Either way the Empress died because Pull still works on Corvo, but instead of being hurt after falling Corvo just gets up and continues fighting until Daud runs a sword through him and… nothing happens. Corvo looks Daud dead in the eye and the assassin takes a step back. his sword doesn’t have even a trace of blood on it.

________________________

Fugue Feast Story

“I don’t understand killing for fun.” Corvo signs, and sits down on the curb. “There is nothing fun in violence. I can accept killing for a reason - in defence, for revenge, for honour, even to some extent for money. But for fun? No, never.” Corvo touches the deep cut on his mask, not much longer and he would have probably lost his eye… He looks up at Daud “Murder is never fun.”

He looks to the side where the blood of the Butchers nearly reached his feet, crawling slowly towards him in the cracks in the pavement.

“Let’s go somewhere else…” he signs at Daud and gets up.

________________________

Apocalypse AU

“That is true… But have you?” His gaze rolled over the men and women surrounding them in a loose formation, whatever weapons they had out and ready to strike. They were all scared, apprehensive, unsure, Corvo noted. Several seemed to harbour a deep discontent towards him. Corvo grinned, after making sure his fangs were big enough to make them wonder if a well-aimed bite would be lethal. “You even brought friends with you. Just like old times.”

The knife pierced Daud’s skin and the man twitched in his hold, as a stream of hot blood spilled down his neck. Fear and intense anger swirled in him and Corvo couldn’t help but smile, eyes narrowed in delight.

[findmeinpops]

Chapter Five: I’m On Fire

Summary: You’re home alone when you hear an unexpected knock at the door. This is loosely inspired by ‘I’m On Fire’ by Bruce Springsteen, the lyrics are here and you can listen to it here. Enjoy! x

I’m On Fire: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

I Predict A Riot: Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

Abbreviations: (Y/N) - Your Name (Y/L/N) - Your Last Name

A/N: This took me quite a bit of time to do because I have had a bad flare up, but I’ve just this second finished it and I think I’m happy with this. Enjoy and I can’t wait to write the next part! x

You took your time returning home. What were you supposed to be doing with this information and all your thoughts and emotions?

The easier subject to face was your dad’s deal with the Serpents, you wouldn’t even think about the mess with Sweet Pea. You decided to confront your dad.

“Dad, can I talk to you?” He removed his glasses and closed his laptop, giving you his full attention.

“Sure, Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“I spoke to Sweet Pea, he said you made a deal with him and the Serpents.”  

Your dad’s face hardened and he stood up. “I told you to leave it be. I told you to never talk to him. Ever.” You saw anger boiling in his eyes and you took a step back. Maybe you had pushed him too far.

“It’s none of your business, I am trying to protect you and that’s all that matters. Why did you go against me? Why do the exact opposite of what I told you to do?” His face turned red and his stance was intimidating. He was your dad, he wouldn't hurt you, right?

You opened your talk but no words came out.

“Right, that’s what I thought.” He picked up his stuff and walked out the room and out of the house. To where, you didn't know but you were glad he was gone.

A week had passed and you had managed to avoid Sweet Pea so far. Each lunch time you had eaten in the back corner of the library and every lesson you had together, you sat in the back corner. He gave you a wide berth, which you welcomed.

“I want to be able to keep an eye on Juggy, being a serpent would be the best way to do it.” You had invited Betty over for a much-needed girls’ night. The pair of you were settled in your room, surrounded by cushions and blankets watching your favourite films. She had been catching you up with all the gossip in school, having missed it due to your isolation. Betty also wanted to join the Serpents and you were trying your best to support her.

Ever since Jughead had become a more involved member of the Serpents, Betty had been worried about him. She thought that if she was there, she could make sure that he didn’t do anything too reckless or dangerous.

“Are you sure Bee? It’s a commitment that the Serpents won’t take lightly.” You didn’t want to deter your friend from what she wanted and what she felt was right but you needed to make sure that she had thought it through. “Have you talked to Jug about it? Isn’t there an initiation? What do you have to do anyway?”

“Well, that’s probably the worst part, I have to do this ‘Serpent dance’.” She sighed and pushed her hair away from her face. “It’s a sexist tradition that any female initiates basically have to strip and pole dance in front of all of the Serpent, 90% of whom are old men.”

This made you cringe just thinking about it. It would take a lot for you to do that, and you knew that Betty must truly love Jughead if she was willing to do this for him.

“As for the commitment, I can handle it, as long as it keeps Juggy safe. I suppose it’s one horrible moment for an insurance in Juggy’s safety.” She took a sip from her hot chocolate, some of the whipped cream sticking to her nose. You chuckled as you reached over and wiped it off.

“That’s enough about me. What’s going on with Sweet Pea?” You blushed and pulled your legs up to your chest.

“We may have kissed.” Betty’s eyes widened and she gestured for you to continue. “I suppose it was less of a kiss and more of an impromptu make out in the corridor of school.”

You covered you face with your hands and you heard Betty pause the film in order to concentrate more on you.

“You’re only telling me this now! What happened next?” You sighed and grabbed hold of your mug, wrapping your hands around it for comfort and warmth.

“He asked me on a date to Pop’s and told me all about the business with my dad.” Tears were welling in your eyes and, as much as you fought them, one escaped and fell down your cheek.

“My dad hired him to essentially bodyguard-slash-stalk me because the Ghoulies were threatening to hurt me.” Betty pulled you into a tight hug and rubbed your shoulder soothingly. “I blew up in his face, Bee. I had a go at him, telling him that he was a liar and that he didn’t really want to get to know me, he was just playing around to get back at my dad.”

“You had the right to be annoyed, Y/N. You had just learnt that your dad betrayed you, admittedly you took it out on the wrong person, but it’s not your fault. Maybe you just need to let him explain himself, it might make you feel a little better…” You nodded and Betty pulled away, grabbing a tissue to wipe away your tears.

“So, did you talk to your dad? I mean the Ghoulies are drug dealers and, from what I’ve heard from Juggy, they’re bad news.” Betty sat back and crossed her legs, leaving a hand on your leg for reassurance.

“I did but he refused to tell me anything, said that it was none of my business and the less I knew the less likely I would be hurt.”

“Bullshit.” You were taken aback, Betty tended to refrain from swearing, blaming her strict mother. “You have every right to know what your dad has been doing behind your back to put you in danger, if you knew what was going on, you could avoid it.”

“Maybe what he’s done is so bad that he thinks it will drive my mum and I away. It could be drugs, or a cover up, or anything! We have no idea!” Betty took the mug from your hands, placing hers and yours on the bedside table before standing.

“Let’s go to the Whyte Wyrm.”

“Are you insane? Why?”

“We may not be able to do anything about your dad’s shady business but we can go find Sweet Pea and you can at least found out the truth, let him speak his piece.” She offered you a hand.

You were unsure, you and Sweet Pea were messy. You didn’t know if you could trust him but you couldn’t deny that there was something there. He was different when he was around you.

“Anyway, if you’re going to be attacked by some lunatic Ghoulies, it won’t harm to have some friends in the Serpents.”

You sighed but stood up. “Fine, but if something smells fishy, we’re leaving.”

You drove to the Whyte Wyrm, you felt your whole-body tense as you pulled up. What were you doing? You were a North-Sider, they were Serpents and you had always been taught that Serpents couldn’t be trusted.

Betty had to all but drag you to the door and you stood there for a while, staring up at the building. It looked exactly like you would expect a gang’s bar to look like. It was gloomy and dark, painted in shades of grey and black, accompanied by a large banner of a snake, which hung at the front of the building, marking the territory as belonging to the Serpents. The lines of motorbikes outside only added to the run-down exterior. It looked menacing, like if you were to step a foot in there, you would be killed.

To your surprise, you were given little notice by the inhabitants of the bar, when you walked in, they were too occupied by conversation, games and God knows what else. The interior lived up to your expectations. The first thing that hit you was the distinct smell of cigarette smoke, sweat and leather. It wasn’t necessarily an unpleasant smell but it certainly wasn’t pleasant either. The black walls were lined with posters and neon lights and a couple of strings of fairy lights decorated the balcony above. A few vintage arcade games lay around the room but it was the pool and foosball tables that took centre stage. The dim lights, hanging from the ceiling, also helped to create the overall grungy mood.

Your eyes turned to the bar. Sweet Pea was hunched over a glass of whiskey, paying little attention to anything around him. He looked miserable and you felt bad for how you had shouted at him.

As Betty dragged you through the crowd, people started to stare. You didn’t belong here, you were a North-Sider, Betty was too but she seemed to fit in quite well; you wondered how often she had visited the bar.

The bartender beckoned Betty over and she pulled you over too. You kept a safe distance from Sweet Pea, though he seemed to take no notice of the two of you.

“Betty! Hey! I wasn’t expecting you tonight.” She leant over the bar to hug her before focusing on you.

“Hi, I’m Toni, I don’t think we’ve met.” She embraced you too.

“I’m Y/N.” Out the corner of your eye you saw Sweet Pea turn to face you at the sound of your voice but you purposefully ignored her. You felt his eyes boring into the side of your head.

“Ah, you’re the famous Y/N. You’re Pea’s girl.” Instant regret filled her eyes.

“I’m not Pea’s anything.” You quipped back without thinking.

Sweet Pea stood and slammed his glass on the table before throwing a few bills on the bar and turning to leave.

“Sweet Pea, wait.” You hurried after him. The crowd parted, all eager to watch your confrontation.

“What, Y/N, you made yourself clear. You don’t want anything to do with me. Why are you even here? You’re a North-Sider, go back to your castle and your perfect life.” That hurt but you knew you had hurt him more, you needed to give him a chance.

“I came here to hear you out.” He turned again to leave but you reached for him and grabbed hold of his arm, “Please, Pea, talk to me. I was overwhelmed before, with my dad and… everything…” Your hand slid down his arm to his hand, lifting your head so your eyes met. You saw indecision and hurt, anger and frustration, but also hope.

His eyes flitted over your face as he tried to read your expression. “Please, Pea?” You squeezed his hand.

“Fine,” He looked to your intertwined hands, running his thumb carefully along your knuckles. After a few moments, he lifted his head up, “but not here, somewhere else.” You nodded your head, offering him a smile which he didn’t return. He pulled away and walked out the bar without looking back at you.

You turned to Betty and Toni, both of whom were watching your interaction intently. Toni gave you a wink and Betty shooed you away, telling you she’d be fine.

Taking a deep breath, you walked through the crowd, trying to ignore the watching eyes, and out the door to the waiting Sweet Pea.

“Sometimes it’s like someone took a knife baby

Edgy and dull and cut a six inch valley

Through the middle of my skull.

Only you, can cool my desire,

Oh, I’m on fire.”

@swordsandserpents @justmesadgirl @galaxy-hale @nepriaa @wybcalum @happilydeadontheinside @we-chemical-kids @iamaunicorn4704 @quinzzelx @forever-the-broken @marauders162 @celestialcastiel @abundanceofcarolines @ashwarren32 

[jafreitag]

Grateful Dead Monthly: World Music Theater – Tinley Park, IL 7/23/90

On Monday, July 23, 1990, the Grateful Dead played a concert at the World Music Theater in Tinley Park, Illinois. It was keyboardist Brent Myland’s final show before he died at his California home three days later from a speedball overdose.

The World Music Theater was/is an outdoor venue in Chicago’s near southwest suburbs. It was later renamed the New World Music Theater, the Tweeter Center, and the First Midwest Bank Ampitheater; it’s currently named the Hollywood Casino Ampitheater and owned by Live Nation. I’ve been there several times, and don’t have anything complementary to say about it. It’s corporate and characterless. The pavilion is ok, but strictly policed, and the lawn is massive, but view-obstructed by skyboxes built down from the roof, which also muffle the sound. Lot scenes outside are strictly prohibited, and concessions inside are nightmarish (as in, you could miss an entire set waiting for an overpriced beverage).

The World opened on June 2, 1990 with a Cher concert and soon hosted Kiss (Hot in the Shade tour), David Bowie (Sound + Vision greatest hits tour), and Depeche Mode (World Violation tour) before the Dead and hordes of ‘heads descended in late July for a three-night run. I attended the second night, 7/22/90. Before gametime, ticketless fans charged up the hill (check out the photo above) from the parking lot and vaulted the chain-link fence, only to be quickly and heavily tackled by security. Torrential rain then turned the new-ish sod into a literal mudslide – a buddy and I, both huddled under garbage bags, spent the entire night dodging folks running from behind and sliding by on their bellies. There was a bad vibe to that place (still is), and the band didn’t help with a dull playlist and uninspired playing. Easily, the worst GD show that I ever saw. I was glad when it was over, and afterwards stopped paying attention to them for nearly fifteen years.

born_crosseyed echoed some of those sentiments in his Live Music Archive review of 7/23, saying “Tinley Park sucked. There was a balcony built into the ampitheater building which acted like a sound baffle, causing the sound inside the building to bounce around all over the place. It sounded awful. The lawn sounded much better but was SO overcrowded that I could barely breathe, let alone move around.”

ECM suggested that we feature 7/23 as a tribute to Brent. I asked him for some comments about the show, and about keyboardist’s tenure with the band. Here’s his typically well-considered insight:

Last show of summer tour. Started in Bonner Springs, Kansas and ended in Chicago, IL. Some sheds (Bonner Springs, Deer Creek, Tinley Park), some small stadiums (Cardinal and Carter-Finley), and some big stadiums (Three Rivers, RFK, Foxboro, and Rich). Mostly a pretty solid tour, even if it didn’t reach the heights of the Spring East Coast tour. The band was still playing at a pretty high level. But the song selection was lacking. The band played 4 out of 9 songs from their “newish” album Built To Last.

The first set starts with solid but nothing to write home about performances of Cold Rain and Snow, Picasso Moon, Never Trust a Woman (the final version), and Stagger Lee. There is an unusual and promising Bob Weir Trifecta to close the first set – Cassidy, Truckin’ > Smokestack Lightnin’. The latter two songs were very rare in the first set, and Smokestack was pretty rare itself – it was only played about three times a year since 1985, and this was the first of only two performances in 1990. The jam between Truckin’ and Smokestack has a very distinct Nobody’s Fault But Mine quote – another rarity (last time played was in 1985). Smokestack is quite strong actually. However, only two Jerry songs in the first set (Cold Rain and Stagger Lee). Was Jerry losing his voice? It was the last show of the summer tour. Maybe the acoustics were bad and Jerry couldn’t hear himself? Was he tour weary and ready to go home? East Coast summer tours were notoriously hot and humid.

Opening the second set with Victim or the Crime > Foolish Heart after doing the exact same thing at Bonner Springs (7/4), RFK (7/12), and Deer Creek (7/19) was probably not what the die-hards who came out on a Monday night for the tour closer had hoped for. Again, the performance is solid, but standard. Women Are Smarter follows, and Brent certainly shines, but this is not the kind of song with mind-bending jams that most fans are seeking. The crashing chords of Terrapin are majestic but there is no big jam as there was at Landover (3/15), Albany (3/24), and Shoreline (6/16) – or even Pittsburgh (7/8) and Deer Creek (7/18). This almost felt like a “we’re outta here” Terrapin, as did the final post-Space songs. Breaking tradition, the band ditches the usual tour closing encore Brokedown Palace in favor of The Weight, a new cover that the band debuted at Nassau on March 28th. This is only the seventh performance. Each band member takes a verse which makes it a bit more special. Almost prophetically, Brent takes the verse “I gotta go but my friends can stick around.” It’s the last lyric he will sing with the Grateful Dead as he died three days later on July 26, 1990 at the young age of 38.

Ed sent some pics of this show’s entry in the Taper’s Compendium.

And he also sent this personal reflection on Brent’s tenure with the band:

I see a lot of love for Brent on my 31daysofdead Instagram account these days, and it warms my heart – not only because it is well deserved, but because it was not always that way, unfortunately. It may come as a surprise to many that there was a lot of hate for Brent during the 1980s. I think much of it had to do with the band’s sound and jam style in the 70s vs. the 80s. It was all too easy to point to the change in keyboard players to account for these differences.  This turned into the inevitable and unfair comparison of Keith vs. Brent.

Brent could not shake the stigma of being the “new” guy, which is quite ironic because he held the keyboard seat longer than any member of the Grateful Dead. Moreover, many fans hated the sounds Brent chose for his electric piano and the songs he composed, complaining that they were “too cheesy.” Brent was quiet and sensitive and didn’t handle this well. He felt compelled to prove himself. In addition, he had problems at home in his personal life. He wore his heart on his sleeve. Sometimes he revealed just how tortured he was in his performances, as he famously did at the Berkeley Community Theatre on April 21, 1986.

I had heard of Brent’s substance abuse issues through tour gossip but had dismissed it as “just alcohol.” A specific rumor I heard was that he was going into rehab after the New Year’s run in 1989. However, that never happened and Brent’s playing during that run and the subsequent Spring tour was nothing less than stellar. As a result, I tended not to believe the rumors. That’s why Brent’s sudden death at the young age of 37 came as such a surprise to me. It was even more stunning that his death was due to a drug overdose from a speedball. It didn’t seem real to me. I had just seen three shows on the Summer 1990 tour – Bonner Springs, Louisville and Foxboro. All of them were strong shows and at no point did I have any reason to feel concerned about Brent’s health as I did about Jerry’s health during the Summer of ’86. Hell, we were always worried about Jerry. Nobody had their eye on Brent, the quiet one. I was shocked and devastated when I learned of Brent’s death. I never saw it coming. It was so tragic and so sad for him, his family, the band and all of the fans.

To me, the Brent haters had him all wrong. I am a piano player and I am here to say that the man had amazing keyboard chops. If you can’t get past his “cheesy” keyboard sounds, then you only need to listen to his beautiful work on the grand piano during the acoustic sets at the Warfield and Radio City Music Hall in the fall of 1980 to appreciate just how skilled he was. In addition, he had total command over a B-3  organ and played monster solos that blew the roof off of most venues. If you listen to the way the Dead played blues songs in the 70s vs. the 80s, there is no comparison whatsoever. Also, Brent’s soulful voice made him sound like Greg Allman sometimes. And, his high harmonies made the band sound like a choir of angels on things like the bridge section in Wharf Rat – particularly during the 1979-80 era.

Probably best of all is the musical connection that Jerry had with Brent. If you watch videos from the late 1980’s you will see a wide grin on Jerry’s  face whenever he and Brent connected – and it happened quite often. Many believe that Jerry, who looked quite healthy after recovering from a diabetic coma in1986, relapsed into drug addiction shortly after Brent’s death, which resulted in his own death only five years later. It is certainly quite plausible, making Brent’s death all the more tragic. I have a great fondness for the Brent years and feel so fortunate that I was able to see him perform many times. Thank you, Brent.

And thank you, Ed.

You can transport to the Charlie Miller remaster of the soundboard recording of 7/23/90 on the LMA HERE.

Rest in peace.

More soon.

JF

from WordPress https://ift.tt/2P24p5H via IFTTT