#rain when i die lyrics

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

𝔄𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔦𝔫 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰  -  ℜ𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔫 ℑ 𝔇𝔦𝔢

[fairyysoup]

easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again. 

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever. 

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you. 

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world. 

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing. 

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you. 

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you. 

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt. 

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture. 

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough. 

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you. 

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him. 

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else. 

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me. 

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.” 

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?” 

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.” 

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.” 

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.” 

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur. 

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear. 

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.” 

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t. 

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now. 

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected. 

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin. 

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier. 

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate. 

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is? 

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet. 

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window. 

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes. 

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins. 

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?” 

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now. 

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder. 

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again. 

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan. 

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs. 

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue. 

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief. 

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.” 

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.” 

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it. 

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again. 

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you. 

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap. 

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness. 

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head. 

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it. 

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does. 

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down. 

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet. 

To keep you quiet. 

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.” 

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table. 

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other. 

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss. 

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear. 

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

[gungieblog]

Rain When I Die- Alice In Chains (w/ Lyrics)

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 13: The Regrets Are Useless] [Series Finale]

A/N: Below are your final predictions. Let's see how you did... 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Whatsername” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Rain pours outside the cabin, mist-shrouded pine trees and still dark water, a place in southern Oregon called Lake of the Woods. The twin-sized bed with a thin foam mattress was once used by kids attending summer camp, capture the flag and s’mores, hikes and scary stories, but now the children are ghosts and the monsters are real, stumbling down streets and lurking in dark places, licking blood from what’s left of their lips.

Aemond is here but he’s also not, a castaway on an island where the world never ended, his hands in your hair as you straddle him, your hips moving tentatively, his lips and teeth at your throat, the sharp points of his canines like fangs.

“Am I doing this right?” you murmur doubtfully. “I feel like I’m definitely not doing this right…”

“Shh, you’re great, you’re incredible.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know how to do everything already, I’m sorry you have to teach me—”

“Stop,” Aemond commands, a sharp sigh through your hair. “I love this. I love you. I want to teach you things until the day I die.”

The nervous tension in your muscles unravels—peddles thrown into water, campfire smoke vanishing into indigo night—and now his hands are on your hips, steadying you, guiding you. You link your fingers around the back of his neck and try to find a cadence that isn’t uncomfortable, ungainly, effortful. You wanted to try this. You want to experience everything with him.

“Take your time,” Aemond is saying like it’s difficult for him to keep a train of thought, his eye closed, his cheeks flushed, blood-colored blooms like a dusk sky. “I’m fine down here, don’t worry about me…”

Rain drums against the windows; lightning flashes in the sky and thunder growls. From the front porch of one of the other cabins, you can hear the indistinct droning of conversations and Aegon strumming the acoustic guitar he brought from the beach house. It’s something you’ve overheard him singing before, one of his strange midcentury darlings, a song that should be too old for him to know the words to.

“All you big and burly men who roll the trucks along

Better listen, you’ll be thankful when you hear my song

You have really got it made if you’re haulin’ goods

Any place on earth but those Haynesville Woods…”

Your skin gleams with a cool sheen of sweat; there is a draft through the cabin walls that makes you shiver as you cling to Aemond. You roll your hips a certain way and he moans—suddenly, involuntarily—and you know you’ve found the right rhythm.

“It’s a stretch of road up north in Maine

That’s never ever ever seen a smile

If they’d buried all them truckers lost in them woods

There’d be a tombstone every mile

Count ‘em off, there’d be a tombstone every mile…”

Aemond is kissing you deeply, desperately, trembling hands and gasping shallow breaths. And there is not just euphoria written into the lines of his face; there is disorientation, there is wonder. He barely manages: “Alright…um…if you want me to last longer than about thirty more seconds, you should probably slow down…”

“No,” you tease, grinning as you bite at his full lips.

“When you’re loaded with potatoes and you’re headed down

You’ve got to drive the woods to get to Boston town

When it’s winter up in Maine, better check it over twice

That Haynesville road is just a ribbon of ice…”

Aemond cries out, louder than you’ve ever heard him before—you’ve never had privacy, you’ve never truly been alone—and then again, a helpless ecstatic sound, pleasure so overwhelming it almost starts to feel like pain.

“Quiet!” you whisper, giggling, touching two fingers to his mouth. “Everyone’s going to hear you.”

“Oh my God,” Aemond says. He falls back onto the mattress and brings you with him, his arms wrapped around you, kissing your cheeks and your forehead as the two of you lie there panting and entangled, his blue eye astonished. “Okay, okay, I need a minute. I think I just burst an aneurysm.”

“I killed you?” you purr with feigned distress, basking in your conquest.

“You can kill me whenever you want. You can kill me five times a day.”

“When you’re talking to a trucker that’s been haulin’ goods

Down that stretch of road in Maine they call the Haynesville Woods

He’ll tell you that dying and going down below

Won’t be half as bad as driving on that road of ice and snow…”

Aemond stares up at the ceiling—a steep gable roof, a motionless fan—and now you can tell he’s thinking about his family again, discorporate screams, misplaced trust. Otto Hightower’s bones were found in the shower, meaning he likely died before or not long after their power failed and water would have run out in the municipal system. They were probably killed before you and Aemond ever met, distant galaxies lightyears away, remote long-dead stars. And so all the blood you paid to get to California was wasted.

“Do you ever think about the people you have saved?” you ask gently as your fingertips trace the ridge of his scar. “You stitched yourself back together. You healed Aegon’s burns. You sutured Cregan’s arm. You got me and Rio down from that transmission tower.”

“I guess I did,” Aemond says, but his voice is ambivalent, as if none of these things count. He has not found someplace safe for you yet. His job is not finished; his triumphs may only be temporary.

“Aemond…back in Pennsylvania…why did you decide to help us?”

“Luke spotted you guys, and we all talked it over. If it had just been Rio, honestly, I wouldn’t have taken the chance. A man his size, and possibly armed…could be trouble, you know? But I figured since he was traveling with a woman and you seemed to be with him by choice, he was probably okay. And then when we first met, he was so protective of you…didn’t want me touching you, didn’t leave you alone…I realized he had to be a good guy.”

“He was,” you say solemnly. I was supposed to remind him about the racks. I was supposed to warn him. But you didn’t warn Rio about what was waiting to kill him in that sand-swept grocery store in Winnemucca, just like you didn’t warn Jace about radiation or Baela about the way the rungs of the ladder that ran up the side of the grain bin were rusted and creaking, and maybe there is more than enough blame to go around.

“And then after Battle Mountain, as soon as we found the gasoline and ammo, I knew we had to go back for you. It hit me all at once. I couldn’t protect you by leaving you with Rio and Cregan. And I couldn’t let you go. I’ve never had something like this before. I didn’t know it existed. I told the others we were turning around, and Aegon said: Thank fucking God. Rhaena took off sprinting towards the car.” Then Aemond kisses you again, but tenderly this time, slowly, like you’ll have forever and there’s no need to rush. “I’m going to get you to Odessa. I’m going to take you somewhere safe.”

The rain is stopping; there are still a few hours of daylight left.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Chip Skylark. Check it out,” Aegon says, grinning at you from where he’s sprawled on the wet dock and smoking a cigarette, wearing his neon green plastic sunglasses, his left leg finally freed from its bandages and on full display. You’re all wearing the same things, stolen t-shirts and shorts, sweatshirts at night when it gets cold, sneakers you can walk hundreds of miles in; but Aegon won’t give up his Sperry Bahamas. “It’s nature’s tattoo.”

You sit down beside him and admire the scar tissue, red knots and white cords, jagged terrain like a mountain range, organic highways and bridges and trails. “It’s a roadmap.”

“That’s appropriate.”

You’ve been traveling on foot for two weeks since Criston’s white Tahoe ran out of gas and was abandoned in the town of Mad River, California. Now you are only about ten miles from Odessa, close enough to reach in half a day but too far to get into town before nightfall. This time tomorrow you’ll be there, and it will either be a haven or a wasteland, and if Rio’s parents’ community in Odessa has disappeared then so has your last idea for where to go. Absentmindedly, you skate your fingerprints over the bumps and grooves of Aegon’s leg like a blind man reading braille. He shifts and clears his throat; you’ve made him uncomfortable somehow. You lift your hand away.

“I’m sorry, does that hurt?”

“Nah. I can’t really feel anything besides pressure. The nerve endings got fried.”

“Oh.” But now you don’t know what you did to upset him. Aegon doesn’t provide an explanation. Down the dock a ways towards the shore, Rhaena is reading The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes and listening to the pink Sony Walkman formerly owned by a little girl named Ava. Inside whirls Green Day’s 2004 album American Idiot, which Aegon took from his bedroom at the beach house to add to his CD collection, a cultural archive, a gift for posterity. Cregan is teaching Daeron to fish with poles he found in one of the cabins; Helaena is bringing them worms. Aemond and Luke are gathering things dry enough to burn—books and wooden chairs from inside the cabins—and piling them up so Cregan can cook dinner once it’s caught.

“So,” Aegon says, changing the subject, scrutinizing you as he puffs on a Marlboro Gold. “Everything going okay?”

You know what he means; he must have heard Aemond earlier. “Yup.”

“Got it all figured out?”

“Sure did.”

“Great. I’m happy for you,” Aegon says, and yet there’s a twinge of melancholy he’s trying to hide. It must be hard for him; he and Daeron are the only single ones.

“We’ll find you some suitable candidates for your harem when we get to Odessa.”

He chuckles. “Oh, come on.”

“Guys, girls? Do you have a preference?”

He’s smiling wistfully down into the water, a dark rippling mirror. “I have too specific a preference, that’s the problem.”

“Yacht girls in bikinis. Golf cheerleaders.”

“There are no cheerleaders in golf, you yokel.”

“Okay, well…I’m sure you’ll be very popular with the lonely, traumatized, widowed women of the apocalypse.”

Aegon gazes morosely out over the lake. He pitches the end of his cigarette into the water, and your eyes catch briefly on the black ink of the tattoo on his forearm: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground. “I don’t know. I’ve been sober for two weeks and now everything is annoyingly clear.”

“What’s bothering you?”

He waits a while before he answers, evasive. “I’ve never been good at anything.”

“Everyone feels that way sometimes. Luke thinks he’s not good at anything either.”

“But Luke’s nice. I’m a rat bastard.”

You laugh. “You’re kind of nice, Aegon.”

“Yeah right.”

“No, seriously. I like being around you. You make me feel better. You’re like…” You ponder how to word it. “I feel like I could tell you whatever and not worry about being judged for it.”

He snorts. “As if you’ve ever done anything judgeable.”

You shrug, peering out over the lake. “I abandoned my family. I stopped sending them money, I stopped calling. And when everything happened…the zombies, the world ending…I didn’t even consider going back to Kentucky to try to help them. I went west with Rio instead. And now they’re probably all dead and it’s my fault. That’s evil. I couldn’t have gotten away with that level of betrayal. I must be cursed.”

Aegon is watching you, eyebrows raised. He has never heard this before. “But your family sucked, right?”

“Yeah,” you admit. “I think it would be hard to argue they didn’t.”

“So fuck ‘em,” Aegon says simply.

You smile at him, touched, grateful. “Okay. Fuck ‘em.”

“I’m relieved my family’s gone,” Aegon confesses, something so brutal he’d never tell anyone else. “I mean…I feel kind of bad about my mom and Criston. But as long as they were alive, I’d always be the person they raised. And if I could bring someone back, it wouldn’t be any of them. I’d pick Rio.”

“I would too,” you say softly, staring down at the faint burn marks on your palms from when you were stranded on that transmission tower with him, talking him out of suicide, so adamant that both of you were going to make it to Oregon. And you were wrong.

“So if you’re cursed, Pita Chips, sign me up because I’m right there with you.”

Rhaena pulls out an earbud and says to Aegon: “I don’t get this album.”

“What?!” he exclaims.

“It’s so good!” you concur. On the shore, Cregan is spearing several gutted rainbow trout on sticks so they can be roasted over the fire. Ice is gleefully gulping down fish organs.

Aegon continues: “Whatsername! St. Jimmy! Jesus of Suburbia!”

Rhaena blinks, glancing between you and Aegon. “But neither of you grew up in the suburbs.”

“It’s not about the suburbs, Rhaena!” Aegon replies with frenetic hand gestures. “It’s about being disillusioned and angry and failed by all the adults in your life, and self-medicating, and losing love every time you get a taste of it, and wanting to burn everything down and start over. It’s about hating the world and the world hating you back.”

“Okay, sure. I still don’t get it.”

You say: “You might have had too happy a childhood.” And you and Aegon burst out laughing.

“You guys are so weird,” Rhaena says, but she’s smiling. She stands up, gives Aegon back his Walkman, and walks to the end of the dock where Cregan is cooking the rainbow trout. Aemond and Daeron are gathering up the aluminum buckets found at the campground and set outside earlier today to collect rainwater. There is one five-pound bag of trail mix left to share, and then all the food is gone. If Cregan doesn’t kill something, you won’t eat.

“We should go help them with dinner,” you tell Aegon.

He groans. “Should we really?”

“Yeah. We should.”

“Fine.” He takes your hand when you offer it and struggles to his feet. Then you inhale a lungful of the scent of roasting trout, and startlingly powerful nausea punches through your stomach, so repellant you have to clamp a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from retching.

There has to be something wrong with the fish. It’s never smelled like that before.

Aegon seems baffled. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Does the trout smell right to you?”

Aegon sniffs the air like a labrador. “I guess…? I barely smell anything.”

“Well you probably destroyed your nose cells with all the coke.”

“That’s discriminatory. Addiction is a disease.” But his brow is furrowed with concern. “Seriously, are you okay? You look awful. Not like that. You know what I mean.”

“I’m fine.” You don’t feel fine; but everyone down by the fire is chatting and joking around nonchalantly, and surely if there actually was something wrong they would have noticed. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“Sure,” Aegon says, perplexed.

You hurry past the others and take refuge in the cabin you’re sharing with Aemond. Inside the trout smell isn’t so strong. You sit at the edge of the bed and suck in several deep breaths, trying to calm down, willing the confounding wave of nausea to pass.

Did I eat something bad, did I get bit by a spider or something…?

You are checking your arms and legs for little raised bitemarks when Helaena enters the cabin and shuts the door behind her. When she opens her burlap messenger bag to root around inside, you glimpse photographs she must have taken from the beach house, the frames left empty on the mantle of the fireplace. Then Helaena pulls out a pregnancy test, just one, Clearblue.

You gawk at it. “What are you doing?”

“You look sick,” Helaena says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s that.”

She is puzzled, wide innocent blue eyes. “Why not?”

“Well…I mean…that would be freakishly quick, wouldn’t it? Like…quick as in immediately. People can’t get pregnant the first time they have sex, right?”

“Huh. They really don’t have sex ed in Kentucky,” Helaena says, and leaves you alone with your pregnancy test. You don’t feel so nauseous anymore, but you sneak around the back of the cabin to take it anyway, because now you’re thinking about the possibility with a vividness you’ve never experienced before: a round blossoming belly and tiny handprints and Aemond cradling his child in his arms. And by the time you get the result, you aren’t even shocked. It feels like something that’s supposed to happen.

You and Aemond don’t have a moment alone together until after dark, sitting on the porch swing outside your cabin for first watch, everyone else asleep, Ice dozing serenely by your feet. The only sounds are the breeze through the pine trees, cool and damp, and the hoots of owls, and the chirping of crickets and cicadas.

“So guess what,” you say casually as moonbeams float rippling and fractured on the surface of the black-glass lake.

Aemond smiles drowsily, not expecting anything. “What?”

“In approximately eight months, I might be having your baby.”

At first, he doesn’t speak; he only studies the test when you hand it to him, and then looks at you like he’s not convinced you aren’t angry, like he can’t quite bring himself to believe that you’d want this with someone like him. “Are you afraid?”

“No,” you answer honestly. Maybe you should be, but you aren’t. “I’m hopeful. I feel like as soon as I realized it, everything got brighter. And now I’m thinking about the future instead of the past.” They’re not going to grow up like I did. They’re never going to think they aren’t loved. “What should we name it?”

“Not Otter.”

You laugh, trying to muffle it so you don’t wake anyone. Ice lifts her head and stares at you curiously, her shaggy grey ears straight up.

“I don’t know, I’m terrible with names,” Aemond says; and now he’s smiling again, a wide radiant smile, and you know he’s thinking about the future too. “Hope or Peace or something. Something happy. Something about starting over.”

You take his hand. “I can’t wait to start over with you.”

“Just one more day,” Aemond says.

One more day.

~~~~~~~~~~

“So what am I going to do in Odessa?” Luke asks as the eight of you—nine, if you count Ice—trek eastbound on Route 140. You are about five miles from Lake of the Woods and halfway to your destination. It’s only 80 degrees and overcast, good walking weather, although there is a looming threat of rain, occasional rogue drops and far-off rumbles of thunder. “Everyone has valuable skills except me. Chips has great aim and can build things, Daeron has his compound bow, Aemond is basically a doctor, Rhaena is learning how to shoot guns and treat injuries…”

“Aegon has skills?” Cregan jokes, casting him a good-natured grin. Aegon acts like he’s going to whack Cregan with his golf club, which he’s spinning around haphazardly. Both his Marlin .22 and acoustic guitar are slung across his back. There aren’t many bullets left, but everyone has a few.

“Aegon can navigate,” Luke says. “And probably impregnate ten women a day. Very useful during a population crisis.”

“We don’t need that in the gene pool,” Rhaena notes.

“You wrote stories in college, right?” you ask Luke.

“Screenplays, yeah,” he says hesitantly. “But I wouldn’t say I was super talented or anything.”

Aegon claps him on the shoulder “Well I’ve got good news for you, kid. A big chunk of the world’s screenwriters are probably dead now. So you’ll look so much better in comparison!”

“Thanks…?” Luke says.

“What I mean is,” you continue. “You could write books for people to read, since there aren’t really libraries or Barnes & Nobles anymore. And you could interview people to get their life stories and then record them so they aren’t lost forever. The next generation should know what the world was like before the zombies.”

“Yeah,” Aegon says as he pets Ice. “Someone has to tell them about blue raspberry Icees, right Blue Raspberry Icee?”

“Maybe,” Luke says thoughtfully, and you notice that he’s smiling a little.

Ice begins whining, and there is a rustling in the woods to the north, low-hanging branches of bigleaf maple and dogwood and Douglas fir trees being forced aside. “Zombie!” Aegon announces, pointing. Immediately, Daeron nocks an arrow and then releases it, and the figure draped in the shifting shadows of foliage drops to the ground.

“Hey Aegon,” Daeron says after a few seconds.

“Yeah?”

“That was actually a zombie, right?”

“Totally,” Aegon replies, but he doesn’t sound certain.

Aemond turns to his older brother accusingly. “How sure are you?”

“Like…50%.”

“Aegon!” Rhaena cries, petrified, and everyone rushes off the road to investigate.

Blessedly, the felled creature is long-dead, a former park ranger whose tan uniform hangs in gore-stained tatters. The nametag reads: Underwood. The arrow pierced its soft rotting skull and remains lodged there until Daeron pulls it out to be used again, giving Aegon an impatient scowl as he does.

“Close call,” Aegon tells him. “Think they would have charged you as an adult?”

“Lord almighty, that gave me a scare,” Cregan says, chuckling. Helaena spies a blackberry bush and begins picking a handful, and Cregan goes over to join her. Rhaena and Luke are telling Aegon that he needs to be more responsible and should have waited for Luke to confirm it was a zombie with his binoculars. You exchange a glance with Aegon: he rolls his eyes, you offer a smirk of commiseration. Ice is already trotting back towards Oregon Route 140.

You haven’t told anyone else that you’re pregnant yet, but eventually they’re going to notice that Aemond won’t leave your side. He sighs and asks you: “Have you had enough of this little field trip?”

“Definitely.” You head for the road. Aemond walks with you, placing you not on his left side but on his right where he can see you. You ask, smiling: “You don’t trust me to watch your blind side anymore, huh?”

“I prefer the view the way it is.”

You are only a few steps from the black artery of pavement that cuts through the Cascade-Siskiyou National Monument, a 114,000-acre preserve of wilderness that somehow—although it is 2,500 miles away—reminds you a bit of eastern Kentucky, endless emerald forests, the omnipotent shadows of mountains. And because you are on Aemond’s right side, he can look down and see something just in front of you on the earth strewn with knobby roots and pine needles and dead leaves.

“Don’t!” he shouts, snatching your forearm and yanking you backwards, and he’s never touched you like this before—so forcefully, so violently—and you stumble and almost fall, and your arm burns and aches where he grabbed you, and people are asking what’s going on, and you peer up at Aemond with confusion, fear, mistrust.

“Why…?”

And then you hear it rustling from the same place where you were standing a moment ago. The others yelp and dash out of the way as the snake escapes into the woods, a drab spotted olive green, a rattling tail, an angular skull like an arrowhead.

“Aemond?” you say, because he hasn’t moved, hasn’t made a sound. He looks down, and your gaze follows his. On his right calf, just a few inches above his ankle, are two small puncture wounds from the snake’s fangs, each dribbling a thin river of blood.

“Northern Pacific rattlesnake,” Helaena says, her voice shaking, tears welling up in her horrified eyes. “Venomous.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Aemond has one arm draped across Cregan’s shoulders, the other over Aegon’s. He’s moving slower, or is that just your imagination? His steps are less steady, his breathing more labored. His leg is swelling, a deep blue phantom of a bruise spreading beneath his skin, so tight it looks like it might split open.

“We’re almost there,” you say; you keep saying it, because hopefully that will make it true. “We’re only a few miles from Odessa, and we’ll find people who can help us.”

“Aemond, you’re a doctor,” Luke says.

Aemond’s voice is weak, pained, hazy. “I’m not a doctor.”

“You know what I mean!” Luke yells, frantic. “How do we fix you? What can we do?”

“Nothing,” Aemond says listlessly. “There’s nothing you can do without a hospital. I’ll either get better or I won’t.”

“People in Odessa will know how to help,” you insist. “They’re outside all the time, they hike, they hunt, they fish, they’ve seen snakebites before. They must have. They’ll have treatments.”

“Aemond,” Rhaena breathes, and you turn to see there is blood running from his nostrils. You scream, and Aemond touches his fingers to his face and then watches as they come away bloody.

“Put me down,” he tells Cregan and Aegon.

“No—” you begin, but then his knees buckle and he’s on the pavement anyway, blood pouring from his nose and his lips, blood filling up his right eye. Cregan walks to the shoulder of the highway, his head in his hands. Aegon stays beside Aemond, and you’re kneeling there with him, both of you using anything you have to clean the blood from Aemond’s face: the corners of your shirts, your bare hands.

He’s covered in blood, you think. Just like Jace, Baela, Rio.

“Can’t clot,” Aemond is murmuring. “The venom causes coagulotoxicity. Internal bleeding too. I feel like…like there’s all this pressure inside…”

Rhaena is taking Aemond’s pulse like he taught her to, fingers on the underside of his wrist. “It’s really faint,” she says quietly.

You grab a plastic Gatorade bottle filled with rainwater out of your backpack and tilt it against Aemond’s crimson-stained lips. He manages to swallow some of it. “Aemond, listen to me,” you say as calmly as you can. “You’re so close. We’re almost there. I need you to hang on a little longer.”

He shakes his head, slow dizzy motions. “It doesn’t matter.”

“They might have doctors in Odessa.” This is a fantasy, but you can’t resist it.

“Even if they do, there won’t be any antivenom. And it’s too late anyway.”

“No,” you say savagely, a sob ripping through your throat. “We didn’t cross 3,000 miles so you could die here. I won’t let you. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s not fair.”

“Aegon,” Aemond says, reaching for him, drained and fumbling.

Aegon catches his hand. “I’m here.”

His eye—crystalline blue corrupted with red, blood in clear water—drifts to his brother. “You have to get her to Odessa. You have to help take care of everyone.”

Aegon is weeping. “Man, it’s supposed to be you. How can I still be here if you aren’t?”

“You can do this,” Aemond says.

“I’ll try.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, Aemond,” Aegon says, then crawls away on his hands and knees and collapses on the pavement, gutted, inconsolable, hemorrhaging grief instead of gore.

Everyone is crying and touching Aemond—his face, his hands—saying goodbye, accepting tasks, and they come away stained with red, and rain has begun to fall from a dark sky growling with thunder. Rhaena takes his medical kit. Helaena takes his Glock and stows it away in her messenger mag. Then Aemond looks for you, and now you are alone with him here in the middle of the highway, two golden lines on black asphalt, and with your thumbprint you whisk away the rivulet of blood that is spilling from his eye.

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispers as his heart fails, as his lungs fill with blood instead of air, as his pores leak rust and ruin. “Odessa will be everything we hoped for. I just won’t be there with you.”

“You can’t leave me,” you’re saying as rain patters against the road. I left my family and now my family is leaving me.

“Love,” he sighs, almost too softly to hear. “I don’t want to.”

You lie down on the pavement with him and rest your head on his chest, feel it rise and fall beneath you as the rain descends in sheets. And then Aemond exhales, deep and rattling, and he never tastes oxygen again, never speaks, never touches you. You don’t move from where you’re lying. You’re there until you’re drenched to the bones with rain and the world is a cold mist of pine trees, of wilderness, and you can never go back to any of the places you’ve been before, you can never get back the people you’ve left there.

Aegon is shaking you. “We have to keep moving,” he chokes out through tears.

You reply without looking at him. “I’m giving up now.”

“No you’re fucking not. We have to walk to Odessa.”

“Everyone’s dead in Odessa. Everyone’s dead everywhere. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to stay in a world like this.”

On the periphery of your vision, you can see Aegon glancing at the others, standing just off the highway and under the canopy of the pine trees. He seems defeated, he seems lost.

Then suddenly Aegon turns back to you. “Hey!” he screams, so loudly you jolt upright, your palms on wet pavement, rain dripping from your hair. “I’m still alive. You’re still alive. This isn’t over yet. I said I would get you to Odessa, so that’s where we’re going. Stand up. Right now.”

Aegon holds out his hand. Thunder booms, lightning strobes, and then you take it. He pulls you to your feet and hesitates, as if he didn’t think he would get this far. Then he throws his arms around you, a crushing desperate embrace, a wordless devotion, a silent vow, sobbing into the curve of your neck, tasting the copper and iron of his brother’s blood on your skin.

“We have to keep moving,” he says again, like an apology, like he understands how impossible it feels. “The storm’s getting worse. It’ll be too dark to see soon.”

“We can’t leave him alone like this.”

“That’s not Aemond anymore,” Aegon pleads. “Aemond’s gone. And he would want us to live.”

Now the others are here on the road too: Daeron, Helaena, Cregan, Rhaena, Luke, Ice whimpering and licking scarlet stains of blood off your hands. You’re all holding each other; you’re all any of you have left. Cregan carries Aemond off the pavement and on a patch of grass alongside Route 140, the seven of you cover his body with branches of pine needles and white petals from dogwood trees. Rhaena is the first person to begin walking again, heading east. One by one you follow her. The downpour is torrential; if you are attacked now, you are nearly blind. Aegon stays beside you no matter how slow your steps are. You think if he disappears, you will too; the strings that tie you to the earth will fray and unweave and your bones will turn to mist, your voice will only be the wind howling down mountainsides. You have no way of knowing how long you’ve been walking or how many miles are left. You wonder what will happen to Aemond’s child if there is nothing for you in Odessa.

The rain is stopping. Now you can hear crows, woodpeckers, formations of geese honking in a foggy sky and squirrels scrabbling up tree trunks. Falcons perch watchfully on dead power lines. Rare aisles of sunlight are breaking through dissipating clouds.

They rise up out of the verdant jungle, a tangle of Pacific ninebark and blue elderberry: four figures in green camouflage, two men and two women, all wearing tactical sunglasses and wielding assault rifles, M16s you’re fairly sure, automatic and with 20-round magazines. Daeron moves to nock an arrow and then stops when he sees you’ve put up your hands. The others follow your lead: palms empty, willingly surrendering.

It’s them, you think dazedly. The people in Odessa. They’re alive, they’re real.

“Please cooperate and hand over all your weapons,” one of the women says, fifties, muscular, alert hawkish eyes.

No one moves. Then you unholster your Beretta M9—received from the U.S. Navy almost exactly five years ago, a different lifetime, a different world—and hold it out to the woman in your open palm. And now everybody else is giving their weapons over too: Aegon and Luke’s .22s, Rhaena’s Ruger, the spare Ruger and Aemond’s Glock hidden in Helaena’s burlap messenger bag, Daeron’s compound bow, Cregan’s axe. Ice peers up at Cregan anxiously, her yellowish eyes wide, but she wags her tail when he runs one of his large, calloused hands over her rain-soaked fur.

Aegon is still clutching his golf club. One of the men stares at him, incredulous. “You can keep that, son,” he says.

The woman nods to the men. “Nick and Glen will escort you five miles up the road, and then return your weapons. We ask that you keep moving and do not turn around. We don’t want trouble, but we can defend ourselves. Don’t think you can double back tomorrow and try to loot us or anything. This is your only warning. Do you understand?”

Aegon nudges your hand with his knuckles, then taps you harder when at first you’re too shellshocked to notice. You have to explain. You have to tell them why you’re here.

“I…I…” You begin, unable to make the words leave your lips, rats from a sinking ship, plummeting bodies from a burning building. Here you stand on a precipice, and with so many other people to save. “I served in the Navy with Bryan Osorio. We left Saratoga Springs together. He told me it would be safe here.”

Now they are interested. Slowly, the woman lowers her M16. “You know the Osorios?”

“I do.” I’ve known them for half a decade.

“Could any of them identify you and verify what you’re saying?”

“His wife, Sophie. She’s blonde, and she likes elephants, and she had a baby recently.”

The woman is scanning the faces behind you. “And where’s Bryan?”

“He’s not here anymore,” you say, and now you’re sobbing again. Aegon is squeezing your shoulder, his head bowed. “I’m sorry. I wanted to help him get home. I was supposed to warn him, I was supposed to stop it from biting him, but I didn’t and now he’s gone—”

“Okay, okay.” The woman motions for you to calm down, but her voice is kind. “Who are these guys? Your colleagues, your friends?”

“They’re my family.”

“You can vouch for them?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll all submit to searches for bitemarks?”

“Yes.”

The woman turns to the men she called Nick and Glen. “Take them inside, will you? Get the ID verified and then we’ll process everyone.”

“Got it,” the older man says. And then, to you and your companions: “Follow me.”

Nick and Glen lead you into the forest, the canopy of pine needles so thick the daylight turns to dusk, and you think of lightning bugs, of firelight, of drinking Guinness on the beach with Rio on Diego Garcia. There are several patrols, groups of four or five, that approach to stop you until they see Nick and Glen and wave you through. Then the trees open into a meadow of buttercups and daisies and pink fawn lilies, and beyond that an immense village, some houses decades old, others currently being constructed with logs from pine trees. There are hundreds of people tending to livestock, hanging up laundry to dry on clotheslines, digging in gardens, making candles and soap and butter. There are children playing without fear, giggling as they chase after scampering dogs, challenging each other to games of kickball and Uno.

In front of one of the houses that predates the apocalypse, brick with a screened-in porch, there is a small blonde woman standing in a garden, smiling and chatting with a middle-aged couple. The baby she carries against her chest in a blue sling has dark curly hair like Rio’s.

Sophie and the baby are here. They’ve been alive the whole time.

You rest a palm on your belly without realizing you’re doing it. “What happens now?” you ask Aegon.

“The rest of our lives.”

It is unimaginable, it is impossible, it is so full of luminous potential you feel like the light will spill out of your pores like blood, it’s an oasis, it’s a second chance, it’s an island in the vast lethal untamed blue of the Indian Ocean.

“Let’s go,” Aegon says softly, taking your hand and leading you across the field of wildflowers, kaleidoscopic blooms in the last days of summer.

[blessedbyahuntress]

Blessed by a Trickster

Chapter Nine: I Never Thought my Last Words Would be That Stupid

Prev/Next

A/N: Guys this chapter is so short 😭

Warnings: I changed so many of the lyrics of this song to fit the storyline better

Word Count: 750

Listen to: Ruthlessness

“Poseidon,” Odysseus breathed.

The man standing on the rocky shore of the island raised his trident, grey hair billowing in the leftover wind that was released from the bag.

“In all my years of living, it isn’t very often that I get pissed off.” Even from the ship you could still hear the voice of the imposing god. “I try to chill with the waves, but damn you crossed the line.”

You watched, frozen as Poseidon floated through the water toward your ship. “I’ve been so gracious, and yet you hurt the son of mine.” He smiled at your fearful expression. “That’s right. The cyclops you made die, was mine.”

“No,” you and Odysseus said in unison, both your voices laced with disbelief.

It was like that single word summoned the god, because he appeared right in front of you. You scrambled back as Poseidon continued in his booming voice, “I’m left without a choice, and without a doubt. Guess the pack of wolves is swimming with the shark now.” He swept his trident to the right, and several figures rose above the ship- six wolves made out of water, trying to swim while a shark circled the pack.

“I gotta make you bleed, I need to see you drown.” The god’s words cut through the visual, and you raised your forearm to block the water droplets that rained down. “But before you go, I need to make you learn how ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.”

You took another step back, and then there were two, quite solid things- going shoulder to shoulder with you.

You looked around wildly and breathed a sigh of relief when you realized it was Polites and Eurylochus, both pointing their swords at the god that stood before you. 

Poseidon only sneered at the sight of the blades. He turned his attention to Odysseus, who was now unprotected.

“You are the worst kind of good, ‘cause you’re not even great,” Poseidon said, circling the captain. “A Greek who reeks of false righteousness- that’s what I hate! ‘Cause you fight to save lives, but never get the job done.” He raised a hand and curled it into a fist. “I mean you totally could’ve avoided all this, had you not killed my son. But no.”

Polites could see you shaking and turned you toward him gently. “Open arms,” he told you softly.

“No,” you replied in the same low voice as him. “That won’t work here.”

Your attention was jolted back to Poseidon as the god said, “Now it is finally time to say goodbye. Today, you die. Unless, of course, you apologize for my son's pain and all his cries.”

“Poseidon, we meant no harm,” you tried. “We only killed him to disarm him.”

Odysseus, nodding, added, “we took no pleasure in his pain. We only wanted to escape.”

Poseidon stopped and narrowed his eyes at the both of you. “The line between naivety and hopefulness is almost invisible. So close your heart the world is dark.”

The god raised his trident. “Die!” He screamed, bringing the butt of the trident down on the floor of the ship.

Almost instantly, geysers of water shot up and around the other ships of the fleet. You stumbled to the railing, knees weak from the thought of the deaths you might have caused. You could hear panicked screeching coming from the helms of the ships. “Captain! Captain! Captain! Captain!”

Poseidon waved his hand and all went quiet.

“What have you done?” Odysseus whispered, looking out at the destruction. The only thing left of the rest of the fleet were a few sinking sails and floating floorboards. 

“Forty three left under your command.” You could practically see the proud smirk on Poseidon’s face without turning around.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you glanced behind you, shocked; the hand belonged to Poseidon. “I am your darkest moment,” the god murmured. “The monster that always draws near.”

He raised his voice and took his hand off of your shoulder. “Any last words?” He asked grudgingly.

You had been eyeing the bag for a while, and now you lunged forward. “All I gotta do is open this bag!” You said triumphantly, untying the rope and flinging it open.

“What?” Poseidon thundered, but you were already speeding off on the newly summoned winds, leaving the god and his island behind.

You slumped back, closing your eyes and releasing a sigh of relief.

You wondered if you imagined the, “remember me…”

[twinglockrobins]

wildflower

jason todd. f! reader

description. harboring in the loss of your late boyfriend jason, his brother is tasked with protecting you, but he begins to think he crossed the line when the late robin is back from the dead and he already sacrificed much.

warnings. death / grief / funeral / super angsty / violence / fighting [gotham combat] / slight substance use / slightly au-ish [dick attends jasons funeral] / this is so ouch like tear inducing / pre-death to redhood! jason / platonic! dick and reader relationship /

based on wildflower by billie. adjusted to fit the story / blue lyrics match dick, red lyrics match jason and their thoughts

she was your girl, you showed her the world

things had been perfect. Perfect as assuming there were hardly any flaws or cracks surrounding the surface, so you would say that the relationship you shared with Jason was perfect. Who was to argue over movie nights, and watch the Gotham City sky-line off the rooftop under the grey illumination of the moon. Blissful kisses and dinner at the Wayne’s. 

But what you were unaware of, was the costume that was making him sick; from the inside out. Yellow cape behind him waving in the wind almost like a warning and a sign for him to slow down. To take the mask off and face the real him. The Jason behind the glamour and confusion of life yearning for the truth. Little by little robinhood was driving him crazy and his past tickled at the back of his mind. The Joker wasn’t too far behind him either. 

A few days after the two of you had begun dating, Jason bit down his pride. Anxiety bubbling in his stomach as meals were becoming less and less — as well as sleep, and though he couldn’t put a finger on the uneasiness he was having, It was making him bitter and irrational to everyone else. Including you. 

Trudging through the Wayne residence, to pull a fluffy-haired Dick Grayson aside.  Dick could see it all in Jason’s face, the existential dread, grief and sadness in one. His eyebrows furrowed and bags so deep it was leaving dark holes under his eyes. 

So Dick asked if the two of you had broken up? Perhaps he was grieving the loss of your relationship, to which Jason shook his head but snatched Dick up by the collar of his shirt,

“Can you promise me something?” Jason stammered, voice shaking and his knuckles turning white against the blue shirt Dick was wearing

“Look after her, please. I-If I were to die tomorrow and there was no me…make sure she’s okay…please”

Please. 

The six-letter word was something Dick thought that he would never hear out of the boy's mouth, but here he was; late in the depths of the night — begging him — almost on his knees. Dick couldn’t stop nodding his head, hands wrapping around Jason's wrist to pull him away from his shirt.

His brother didn’t really ask for much and a big request for his first ask was a little jarring. 

It itched at the back of his mind seeing as Jason dropped his grip on his shirt and left, almost ghostly in his appearance. 

she was cryin’ on my shoulder, all I could do was hold her, only made us closer until July 

Flowers smelled nice in the rain. But not appreciated when you were front row, looking down at a sleek black casket. White and red roses decorate the top, with a wooden picture stand to the side.  It was bittersweet how time worked. Snatching Jason down as his hourglass of time was shortening and dimming and his lucky nine lives were suddenly zero. 

You, with your mouth agape gripped onto the umbrella as the rain poured down zoned out as his eulogy was being read. 

Jason. Your Jason was in that casket, and his lack of contact suddenly made sense to you. 

Dick paid close attention to how you were moving, tears littering your cheeks and sliding down your face like it would a window pane, and the grip you had on the umbrella similar to the one Jason had on his shirt a few months prior. His eyes trickled down to your hand, that was jerking forward until you consciously pulled it away and balled it into a shaking fist.

The wave of grief you were riding, and Dick right along with you. 

It made the boy cry more seeing the way you were unraveling, the once energetic attitudes you had, dulled and destroyed with dead eyes and despair. 

His hands couldn’t help it as they trickled their way to your forearm. Sending a gentle swipe of comfort and support, to which your body felt light and your head knocked onto his shoulder. Dick froze, Jason’s words playing like a record in the back of his mind as he held onto you. The umbrella for one, becoming an umbrella for two as his loose hand took it from your own. 

Crying together was all you can do. A watchful Bruce at the back of you two, eyes burning holes into the shadow of the umbrella to his face. Guilt riddled in his stomach, was this what it felt like to lose? 

His eyes connected with Alfred who could only stay silent as he watched as the young duo cried together. 

That day, Dick publicly vowed, to you that he’d be there. For you to not be a stranger and that the Wayne Manor was always open to you, and of course Jason’s belongings. That it’s what his brother would have wanted. 

but i see her, in the back of my mind, all the time

Dick was mortified, the heartbroken look on your face replaying in the back of his mind and it’s been years since Jason has been dead. His ears would ring constantly and sleep was becoming harder. Working with the Titans eased the pain of thinking about his loss…well, your loss—

As expected, you pushed yourself away, doing what you knew best. 

It was easy to ghost the bat family shortly as the years came by. Bruce stopped calling but that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching and Dick tried to keep you updated on his life — until traveling got in the way. So you bit the bullet and changed your number. 

It settled your brain inside, to calm the panic that would rake through your body when you would get a message from Dick; almost irritated that Jason’s name wasn’t the one at the top of the screen instead— something saying that he wasn’t dead and that it’s just a prank. You would hope and you would dream. 

like a fever, like i'm burning alive, like a sign

Dick respected your silence, and your absence all together. But  it did feel like a slap to the face when Alfred would ask and he’d lie like he knew the answer when he didn’t. Truth is, his heart sank when he realized your number wasn’t the same. His cheeks got warm, his chest was burning and his stomach swirled at the thought of you, and maybe it was the selfish desire and urge to protect you and keep Jason’s word alive; because if he was honest, he was doing terrible at it. 

So he spiraled, digging up everything he possibly could about you, so he could actually sleep at night knowing you were in good hands. He wondered if you were dating again, had you changed your hair or your job? But according to the Gotham City street tv’s you still looked like a spitting image from how you looked when he last saw you. Black from the trench coat at the top of your body to your shoes, it sent a shiver down his body.

But what was he going to say to you?

“Hey y/n I hope you’ve been well?”

“I’m sorry Bruce stopped calling”

“Why did you change your number?”

Dick felt his throat run dry, a cold tough lump every time he swallowed, almost like he couldn’t breathe. Then he sunk into his chair, floppy hair pushed back by his hands as he gripped at his scalp, typing in the nearest florist that he knew. 

That evening, A mix of flowers arrived at your desk; Jason’s favorites. Your hands are entangled in the vase, fingers ghosting on the stem and leaves. Sniffing them almost took you back to standing in the rain that day. Coldness fills your body and the void that hasn’t been filled. You shrieked as your finger sliced a rectangular card of white paper, your crimson blood staining the white as you read the note;  I hope you’re well — D . G 

And you knew that name better than anyone. 

and I know that you love me, you don't need to remind me

Grunts filled the air, alongside the slapping of fist against flesh and scuffing of shoes. The redhood emerged wrecking havoc on criminal business in Gotham and it certainly wasn’t going to go unnoticed. Dick should have known the minute he put his blue and black suit back on as he tussled side to side with the rather buff and tall man in front of him. 

The red-hood shoved Dick off of him, holding onto the side of his mask in between pants “Why don’t we do this with honesty” 

Dick tilted his head in confusion as he watched the red-hood dethrone his mask. Shaking his hair out and rolling it like a bowling ball towards Dick. Jason’s hair was a tad bit longer now, money pieces frosted blonde, and a J scar etched into his cheek, his gaze was hard and so lifeless. Dick felt like his heart stopped beating in his chest, breathes shakier than ever — burning up like he did when he had a fever. The wound was reopening for Dick. To see a very much alive Jason Todd in front of him was enough to throw him off his step. Hand crossed over his hip from the punches to his stomach, Dick doubled over. 

“I’m gonna be sick, how are you…”

“fight me.” Jason spat bitterly as he stared at Dick, ignoring the way the boy was trying to piece together if his death even happened. If the body in the casket was even real, who could he blame?

“Why would I fight you, you’re my brother?” Dick argued taking off his domino mask, eye makeup surrounding his eyes as he stared into Jason eye-to-eye. He couldn’t feel his soul; he couldn’t see through him, and for some reason their meeting felt oddly eerie. He dropped the mask, the thick eye mask landing right next to Jasons mask on the floor. The dichotomy. 

do you see her in the back of your mind, in my eyes?

“Where is she?” Jason poked, but Dick just remained silent his body resting against the wall,

“Dick, where the hell is she?” Jason repeated, this time with some base in his voice as the octave got louder. 

He moved in closer.

“I can’t— I can’t tell you that I’m sorry” Dick muttered as his head hung low. Jason cursed under his breath as his body turned facing away from Dick as he had a hand resting over his mouth. “But I can reassure you, she’s safe”

“So tell me where she is!”

“I CAN’T !”

Maybe this was selfish of him, Dick thought this was the right move, the smarter choice…even; and guilt was chewing him up and spitting him out like bird food. 

“I am sticking to what you said to me, and what you requested. You can’t just go back and play house, she’s hurt!” Dick paused as he tried to gather her thoughts, “let her heal”

His comment sent Jason over the edge, as his body lunged forward, fist in the air to plummet Dick’s face, missing as Dick’s reflexes started to kick in. Dick was doing well, dodging Jason’s punches until he reached in his holster, bringing out a small gun— silencer attached and began shooting at Dick in front of him who was successfully dodging every bullet.

“You can’t find her if I’m dead!”

Jason stopped firing, staring at the boy below him, chewing at his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut. Face filled with contemplation and indecision, Jason held his finger on the trigger firing it anyways, as the bullet traveled deep into the cement next to Dick’s leg — purposely missing by an inch. It did make his heart pang seeing the way Dick scrunched up in terror, with his arms blocking his face. 

did i cross the line

Jason stood in front of your apartment building, fully suited in his suit. It was almost menacing how he looked.  Thick boots on the fire escape, wet from the light dusting of rain as he broke your window seal open to climb inside. 

Jason was immediately overwhelmed, it felt awfully warm inside but your perfume was also everywhere, every crevice of the room. His wet footsteps trickling around the room as he saw how empty your apartment looked. It almost reminded him of his own. Your white sheets, lack of red or color anywhere and that wasn’t quite like you. There was hardly any decor on your bedroom walls, but he didn’t wanna loose hope.

Jason traveled further down the hall of your apartment, the living room and kitchen separated by an island table that was closer in the kitchen, but still…minimalist and lack of pictures. He snickered to himself. It wasn’t you, or the you that he knew that encouraged him to not wear black all the time when he wasn’t out playing robin. He de-gloved his hands reaching for the photo that was facing down on the table— lifting up the glass to reveal a picture of a much younger him, and yourself together. It was taken by Alfred at one of Bruce’s Gala’s and it pained him how awkward he looked, but his eyes were vibrant and full of hope. 

Jason’s body suddenly felt warm and he wanted to rip every article of clothing off his body, he couldn’t recognize himself or what he had become, where he had even been had been a blur. His memories felt every bit of a dream. But you were constant. The memories he had of you never changed, his hand shot up to his chest like the air was suddenly hard to breathe, when he crouched to the floor; knees in front of the mantle.

Jason was planning to get comfortable, his hand reaching up to take his mask off when he heard the jingle of keys outside your front door. Cursing to himself he took off, hiding back into your bedroom with the light off blending in with the dark curtains you had and the wall shadow. 

He heard the front door open, you were walking in after your shift; struggling to stay upright as you shrugged off your coat and purse to the couch. The familiar trench coat that you always wore slightly damp but blobbed as it rested on the arm. You took off your shoes, one by one which made you notice the track of footprints on the floor. It was Gotham, meaning people liked to play on the fire-escape for fun which made you grab a knife from the knife block. 

On the way down the hall, you’ve seen the picture of you and Jason up-right, causing your hands to grip around the picture but you think it could of been the alcohol you’ve been drinking that was making you see things. Flipping the picture over and back face down to the table you followed the footsteps into your bed-room.

Pushing the door open was rather humbling when met with vacancy and silence. You couldn’t even bother to hit the light as the moonlight shined on your face and casted a blue hint into the bedroom. But the breeze of your window was frustrating you. Sobering by the minute, as the knife dropped to the bed. You mumbled words to yourself like — “get it together,” “what’s wrong with you” and it pained Jason to see how you were moving from his stance in the curtain. You’d looked so similar from when he had last seen you, but the lack of color on your body made it clear the pain hasn’t left you. You’d become him, dull and lost.

Reaching the window you finally closed it, noticing that the lock to your window was broken. Groaning knowing you’d have to call maintenance that took forever and a day, so you turned on your heels as you walked out of your bed room and to the bathroom. 

Jason couldn’t move, his feet felt cemented in the floor as he rested his body weight against the wall…He was trying to ignore the dampness of his mask and his face, as the tears cooked an obnoxious amount of condensation. 

He was gone and out the window with the flush of the toilet and perhaps Dick was right about one thing. 

i know you didn't mean to hurt me, so I keep it to myself

©TWINGLOCKROBINS 2025

[imaginesig]

A Bear and a Gorgeous Girl

SMAU

Ollie Bearman x singer!reader

with a new wave of fame, how does her hard rock aesthetic hold up when Y/n's fans find her boyfriends account? More specifically how she appears on that account.

ynln

Liked by user1, louis91, olliebearman, and 833 others

Ynln: You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain

tagged: no one

olliebearman i wanna support the arts 🙋🏻‍♂️

User1 I’ve been living for the on tour posts

User2 fr let’s all say thank you Louis!!

user3 that’s an odd caption—are you teasing song lyrics??

user4 Bear cameo

user7 the day we learn who bear is, is the day I die

user5 I want to know who her man is so bad

user6 Y/N LET ME IN

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olliebearman

liked by paularon_, kimi.antonelli, user2, and 732,927 others

ollliebearman: i spent my free time following my gf on her tour

tagged ynln

ynln forever grateful Bear ❤️

olliebearman 🧸❤️

kimi.antonelli simp

user1 it upsets me everytime im reminded they're both off the market

user2 ugh shes so pretty

user3 im a new fan, who is she?

user4 Y/n is a small artist who recently started touring with Louis Tomlinson (fron One Direction) and gained followers

user5 They're been together for about a year, but from what ive noticed, her newer fans havent connected that Ollie is her bf (understandable because she hasnt posted/tagged him in awhile)

user6 oh to have a supportive bf like ollie

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ynln

liked by louis91, ynln_hq, olliebearman, and 1,982 others

ynln: thank you Louis for an increable experience!! To everyone who learned my songs and cheered me on I love you ❤️❤️

tagged louis91, ynln_hq

olliebearman gorgeous girl

user4 you can say that again

louis91 you are a meance and it was an honor to be your first tour!

ynln 1D was also my first concert

louis91 so you've meantioned several hundred times

user1 best opener ever!!!

user2 im so glad ive discovered you

user3 og fans tap in!!

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ynln

liked by louis91, use54, user9, and 2,938 others

ynln: "Mom, I'm Goin' Out" dropping 7/24!! Enjoy my new single "Too Sweet" while you wait 💋💋

tagged ynln_hq

louis91 its gonna be fucking amazing

thesnuts you're smashing it

oliviarodrigo on repeat!!

user1 AHHHH BABE WAKE UP Y/N IS DROPPING A NEW ALBUM

user2 "its ten o clock before i say a word... you wake up for the sunrise" ok miss ma'am

user3 she found herself a good boy

user4 we've known Bear is the golden retriver to her black cat

user5 ok so she posted a soft launch-esc post with a lyrics from too sweet. The rest of that stanza is "You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain. Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait until that day"

user6 so?

user5 so its pr its about depsite the song suggesing otherwise

user7 noooo she's off the market

user8 i swear she laced the lines "i take my whiskey neat, my coffee black, and my bed at three" with crack

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olliebearman posted a story!

caption: gorgeous girl is releasing an EP stream it 7/24

ynln

liked by mmataband, user54, kimi.antonelli, and 2,930 others

ynln: "Mom I'm Goin' Out" has dropped!! Thank you to my family, fellow musicians, and my muse for the endless support! Now stop reading and learn the songs, we got gigs to attend

tagged: ynln_hq, olliebearman

user1 ok hard launch

mmataband we make a killer track

louis91 so proud!

kimi.antonelli adding to the Prema playlist now

ynln if Ollie hasnt already beaten you to it

kimi.antonelli yk he has 😔

user2 Y/n: tags her bf in her EP release, me: stalks him while streaming said EP

user3 UGH MAROON IS TOO GOOD

user4 there is no reason why "The Chain" is so hot

user5 WE FINALLY FOUND HIM

user6 BEAR IS OLLIE -BEAR-MAN

user7 are we all stupid orrr

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olliebearman

liked by ynln, paularon_, user32, and 721, 291 others

olliebearman: "Mom I'm Goin' Out" to celebrate love's new EP

tagged ynln

ynln you're so cheesy

olliebearman but you love me

ynln forever and always

kimi.antonelli please tell me she didn't let you actually touch that soundboard

olliebearman 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

user1 I cannot wait to blast Y/n while waiting for race to start

user2 this is the same Y/n???

user3 who are you girl

user4 I would have never pinned her to love pastel flowers and a pink heart cake

user5 I've stalked this mans whole account and we need to have a meeting

user6 the new Y/n fans have found Ollie ive seen...

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ynln

liked by user3, olliebearman, ynln_hq, and 293,293 others

ynln: HELLO?? YOU GUYS HAVE BLOWN THIS EP UP!! I'm so so lucky to say that my childhood dream has become a reality, thank you for everyone who have supported me and helped me on my musical journey!!

tagged: ynln_hq

louis91 stoked to see you're finally getting the attention you deserve

mmataband 🤘🏻🎸❤️🖤

user1 so so deserved!!!

user2 its been on repeat since it dropped

user3 ugh I swear this album was laced bc I CANNOT STOP LISTENING

user4 I can't wait for the live shows to start

user5 same!! I need to hear these songs live

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olliebearman

liked by kimi.antolli, paularon_, user54, and 273,393 others

olliebearman: I'm so in awe of your accomplishments gorgeous girl ❤️ Congrats on 1 million streams

tagged ynln

ynln couldnt have done it without my muse ❤️ love you bear

olliebearman love you too❤️

user1 theyre so cute but everytime he posts her its a jumpscare

user3 right its so far off from her aesthetic

user2 too cute!!

user4 God its me again

user5 when is it my turn

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ynln

liked by olliebearman, user43, paularon_, and 232,938 others

ynln: Bear has officially ruined my aesthetic but its ok because he's cute

tagged: olliebearman

user1 her hard rock aesthetic might be over but this post is still so put together within itself

olliebearman 😶

kimi.antonelli no its not ok, I dont wanna see you being all lovey dovey on my instragram

ynln something tells me you'll survive

ynln_hq you're still a kick ass rockstar in our eyes 🤩

user1 now that the shock is over im in love with them

user2 the second pic is literally so boyfriend coded

user3 lets all thank Y/n for her service

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olliebearman

liked by kimi.antonelli, user4, ynln, and 838,393 others

olliebearman: you heard the girl im cute!!

tagged: ynln

ynln this post is so Pinterest, ive trained you well 🥹

olliebearman best teacher ever!!

user1 ok aesthetic

user2 that second pic is gonna own pintrest

user3 looks like im sleeping in traffic tonight

user4 the matching captions make me sick I NEED IT

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ynln

liked by ynln_hq, olliebearman, louis91, and 233,939 others

ynln: guys its time I come clean... im a giant softie who likes my coffee in the form of an ice latte

tagged: olliebearman

olliebearman the lies!!! The deception!! cancel y/n 2024

ynln shut up 🙄

olliebearman 🎸❤️

ynln 🧸❤️

user1 not them having special emoji combos 😭

user2 the coffee drawing is so cute what

user3 well this was not what I was expecting from Y/n but im into it

user4 she's just a girl, no ones above an iced latte

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[matan4il]

Ahead of Eurovision 2024

I was listening to Eden Golan's song, Hurricane.

At first, it didn't seem to me like it stands out. I'm one of the people who prefers my Eurovision song less on the power ballad side of things, so this being in that genre...

But then I found myself haunted by the lyrics. By specific lines. Singing them to myself quietly, over and over again. I had to listen to the song again.

And it got to me, it really did, I haven't stopped listening to or singing it since, so I guess I needed to share a bit.

There's more than one hint that this is a song about mourning and survival. Lines like, "someone stole the moon tonight, took my light" can be interpreted in more than one way. But they become less ambiguous when combined with ones like, "holding on in this mysterious ride," when the mysterious ride we're all on is life itself. It makes it clearer that this isn't just a break up song. Then it becomes even more explicit with, "we shall pass, but love will never die."

The imagery in the videoclip is also telling, that ending when Eden is looking up, much like many do when talking to or thinking about a loved one that we have lost.

But the line that gets to me the most, the first one that took over my brain? "I'm still broken from this hurricane."

We all get what this song is about, in the wake of what happened here in October 2023, and since. And I am broken. So many Jews and Israelis are. As one survivor said (his words have haunted me first, then I heard them echoed in this song): "We are broken, but strong." That's exactly what the song is about, deeply feeling the pain and the tragedy, the loss, this impossible to accept grief, and still trying to find a way to live with it, to survive not just the horrors of a massacre, but the trauma that follows it as well.

The other line that affects me the most is directly related to this, "baby, promise me you'll hold me again." Because I have spent the last 5 months watching the news, seeing the funerals, and hearing people breaking down, as they say a variation of this to their loved ones, who are gone. Asking for a promise that can't be made, or fulfilled, and knowing that it can't, even as the request is being uttered. I hear their voices breaking around their words, whenever I listen to or sing this line.

The videoclip is also infused with imagery that's related to the massacre of over 360 people at the Nova music festival (and the kidnapping of 40 more from that scene), which is in a way very apt for music lovers. The images show dancers in what looks a lot like a nature party, just like Nova, and since the massacre happened when the music festival was meant to reach its peak, a long night of music and dancing climaxing around sunrise, that's exactly what we see, a move from the "moon light" throughout most of the videoclip, to the "sunrise" at the end.

But in the case of this "sunrise," Eden can smile, she can find comfort, she can sing a few words in Hebrew that reflect hope, about that little light that's left even when the moon's been stolen.

She's bringing the song to a beautiful, emotional closure.

Obviously, it can't be ignored that this is a re-write. The original song (which was called October Rain) was disqualified as "political."

You can read the original lyrics here. They're almost identical. I heard an interview with the song writers, who said they weren't even told what got their song disqualified, so they had to guess what the Eurovision Broadcasting Union had in mind, when they called an expression of our pain, and our strength at the face of that, "political."

I admit, I find it very hard to accept this disqualification. It's not like there isn't precendent for countries at the Eurovision expressing pain (including the kind originating from political circumstances) through their songs.

If you take the wildly popular Ukraine 2007 entry, the singer was quite obviously singing "Russia goodbye," with allusions to Russian interference in Ukrainian elections while wearing outfits reminiscent of Soviet uniforms. And that wasn't called political, because "Russia goodbye" was changed into gibberish that still sounds like it (and in recent performances, it was blatantly sang like that).

If you take the much talked about Croatia 2023 entry, it was about the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022, and also criticized Belarus' tyrant kissing Russia's tyrant's ass, by referencing the tractor that Lukashenko bought for Putin, while the band members played with military weapons and uniforms on stage. And that wasn't disqualified for being political.

If you take the Ukraine 2016 entry, that was explicitly singing about their pain over what the Russians did to the Tatar population in Crimea in 1944, with clear allusions to what Russians did when they invaded Ukraine's Crimean peninsula in 2014. And that wasn't called "political" either.

Even this year, we have the entry from The Netherlands being political, with both the lyrics and videoclip referencing the borderless Europe (which IS a political issue, as Brexit, if nothing else, had made clear). I've seen people pointing out online that the song isn't political, because the whole borderless Europe thing is a metaphor for the singer's grief for his father/parents. I have no problem with that reading, but let's acknowledge that there could have been many metaphors for that, and he chose a political one.

So why is Jewish pain treated differently? Why is our pain labeled "political," when the metaphors for it in the songs aren't that, there are no specific political mentions of people or organizations in the song (unlike the Georgia 2009 entry, which slipped Putin's name into the song's title) in either version, when there are no political statements being made in the song, there's just expressing our pain, and trying to find a way to cope with it?

This WAS the biggest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, and expecting Jews not to write about it, not to sing about it, not to try to process it through art... Our pain is not political. It's human. When Ukraine won in 2022 with a song that wasn't originally political, but became one, as it was adopted by Ukrainians suffering from a war that they did not choose, but had to fight, singing it wherever they were displaced (I remember the winners, Kalush Orchestra, coming to Israel to sing it for and with Ukrainian refugees who found shelter here), I thought it was quite obvious, even for people who don't like politics at Eurovision, why the song won, and why everyone overlooked the fact that it was only partly based on its qualities as a Eurovision song. I don't expect Israel to win, I very much expect that, even as Israelis embrace this song about our pain during a war, that we didn't choose, but have to fight, and while hundreds of thousands of us are still displaced, we will get a lot of hatred, instead of understanding and sympathy. But I still have to speak up. I still have to point out that treating Israeli or Jewish pain differently is wrong.

(as a footnote, I wanna get ahead of the usual, "Why is Israel allowed to participate in Eurovision to begin with? It's not in Europe!" comments, while I haven't come across the same ritual for certain other Eurovision participants, like North African Morocco, just-as-Asian-as-Israel Lebanon, transcontinental {despite some of these countries only being considered European culturally, while geographically speaking, they're fully Asian} Georgia, Russia, Cyprus, Turkey, Azerbaijan and Armenia, and the one that's a continent all on its own, Australia. They all have the right to participate, because they all belong to the European Broadcasting Union. Just like Israel)

[yandere-romanticaa]

Here are some crumbs about yandere mortician! From now on, his name is Viktor. (I'll make a detailed post about him, his personality, looks later, I promise.)

masterlist.

Viktor can often be seen with headphones in his ears, his expression neutral and eyes glazed over with a sheen of nothingness. When he's spotted in public people want to give him the benefit of doubt and say he's just lost in his own world, consumed by the sound of music. Perhaps he's just so in tune with the lyrics, maybe they speak to him on a level which people often seek out when listening to music. His playlist is filled with all sorts of songs - be it long ballads, cheesy love songs, generic pop, heavy metal, screamo, classical music, frankly some songs you wouldn't even expect someone like him wouldn't even listen at all(a la WAP by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion).

Even while working, Viktor likes to have something playing in the background. His co-workers often joke about his music taste but he just shrugs them off without saying anything. It's all just a rollercoaster, a complete mess but he likes it that way. It's fun to be on his toes.

Truthfully, Viktor never liked music. He never bothered paying attention to the lyrics nor the meaning or even the tune of the song.

He simply can't stand the silence.

Viktor is a walking contradiction - he dislikes most people and yet wishes to be a part of them. He wants to be someone. But he doesn't know how to do that. His way of coping became listening to music. He even learned to play some instruments growing up, thinking that maybe someone would take a liking to him.

Even so, no one bothered with him. He was still a nobody.

Some did admire him, from a safe distance at least. His aura was black as charcoal and posture stiff as a board. Even if one dared to look at him for too long it felt like Viktor would pluck their eyes out if he caught them looking.

Perhaps he would. He wasn't sure either.

The sounds had no meaning to him. It was all used to cover up the silence, pure white noise. Nothing more, nothing less.

All of that came to a screeching halt once he met you, his tiny piece of sunshine.

You'd go through his playlist, sometimes scoffing, sometimes liking the things you saw. His eccentric side never failed to amuse you. Amongst that jungle you'd ask him who his favorite artists were, if he had anyone specific he liked.

Viktor said the names of some random artists he thought you fancied yourself. He wanted you to like him.

His answer ultimately did not matter in the end as you would still recommend some of your own personal favorite songs to him. Viktor promised he'd give them a listen as soon as he could.

Later that evening, he was hard at work. As he was putting on his coat he turned towards his phone and reached towards it, slightly eager to see what you had in store for him. The song played quietly in the background as gently rain tapped against the window, giving the morgue a more tranquil feel than it ought to have. The person on his table tonight was an old man who presumably died of a heart attack earlier this morning.

Poor soul. That was all he could bother to say.

The evening went on as it usually did but Viktor could not stop thinking about you. His sweet little sunshine, he was so touched by the fact that you bothered to go so far for him. He could feel his heart racing as unfamiliar butterflies started to flutter in his chest.

Badum. Badum. Badum.

If he wasn't careful he would be the next one to die of a heart attack.

The music got a bit louder as it reached the chorus, its tune almost perfectly in sync with his heart. He hadn't even realized that he started to sway his hips gently. Left, right, left right.

It felt like the correct thing to do.

Viktor also picked up the sound of a male voice humming which was odd, considering the fact that the singer of the song was a woman. He nearly dropped his scalpel as he realized that the one who was humming was him, not someone else, him.

For the first time in his life, Viktor bothered to pay attention to the song. The singer detailed her undying feelings for her lover, promising herself to them and them only.

Viktor thought about you the entire time. He never fancied himself as a dancer but if he could, he would want nothing more than to dance with you.

Would you want to dance with him?

For the first time in his life, Viktor found joy in the music he listened to. And it was all thanks to his sunshine.

🔪 TAGS: @shamelessdarkprince

[em1i2a3]

In The Heat of The Summer, You’re So Different From The Rest.

Bjorn x fem!reader

Author’s Note: Howdy y’all. I took a bit of time off from writing because Christmas was an absolute shit show with all the gift shopping and family gatherings. I managed to write this on my breaks during work, and today I was finally able to sit down and work through the little slump I hit to finish this thing! I am back on the roll though and have so many damn ideas running through my head, I cannot wait to post more and let you guys in! Hope you guys had a great Christmas (or holidays!), and I hope you all enjoy this new little one shot. Enjoy your New Year’s Eve if I don’t post before that! :)

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, minors DNI. We have oral sex, both female and male receiving at the same time, P in V sex (unprotected, you know the drill, wrap it up before you go heels to Jesus please lol, stay protected), there’s an established FWB relationship here, I don’t think I missed anything!

A p.s from the author: Y’know when you hear a song and you’re like “holy shit this is a good song to base a horny little smut piece on”? Yeah Summer by Brockhampton is the fucking culprit for the inspiration of this little one-shot. Love the song, adore the lyrics and my god does it make me want to be in warmer weather right now lol.

Word Count: 4,474

Nothing had prepared you for Yvaga III’s twin suns. The warmth felt suffocating, and it weighed everything down, making the air shimmer with a golden haze that made your skin perpetually damp with sweat. The lush greenery and rolling hills were beautiful, sure, but it was hard to appreciate it when every article of clothing clung to your back, and every movement you made sent fresh beads of sweat down your skin. Sometimes, you even found yourself longing for the dark and sterile chill of Jackson’s Star.

You sat in the shadow of the ship, the heat of the day clinging to the air, sticking onto your skin, a film of sweat painting your entire body. You wore a white tank top and a pair of boxer shorts you borrowed from Tyler, knowing they would provide a more airy and baggy fit. Your legs were stretched out in front of you, and you held the data pad in your hands, looking at the scan you had conducted on the ship.

“The air conditioner is fucking broken.” You called out over the drilling noise that echoed above you, throwing yourself back into the tall grass that cushioned you and the ship, sweat trailing down your temples as you squinted up at the shimmering sky.

“I think we knew that when we woke up drowning in our own sweat this morning for Christ sake.” Navarro yelled from the top of the wing above you.

“I feel like I’m overheating, does anyone have an ice pack or something?” Rain complained, her voice carrying from inside the ship as she stepped into the light, her face reddened by the heat, looking as miserable as you felt.

”We’re saving them for tonight.” Tyler responded, “I’d rather not have one of us die from heat stroke while sleeping.” He added, as you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your arm, your chest filling with the thick air.

”This place is gonna fucking kill me.” You muttered, lifting yourself up from the grass, dusting the back of your shorts off “I’m going to lay in my bunk.” You called out, feeling all the sweat dripping down your skin as you made your way into the ship. Thankfully it wasn’t as bad as being outside, but it was still stuffy, the dull scent of sweat mixing with the moisture in the air. You kicked off your shoes, entering the living quarters you shared with Navarro, throwing yourself onto the bottom bunk with a loud groan, before quickly flipping yourself over to stare up at the beams that held up the bed above you. The tank top you wore was soaked through, and the waistband of your boxer shorts were damp, sweat was pooling everywhere, and all you could do was try to fan yourself with your hand, hoping that it would help.

The sound of heavy boots on the metal floors echoed outside of the living quarters, immediately gaining your attention, a groan escaping your lips as you closed your eyes.

”Go away.” The steps didn’t stop, and a moment later the door to the room hissed open. You tilted your eyes towards the doorway, seeing Bjorn standing against the frame. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his shorts hung dangerously low on his hips, the dark fabric sticking to his legs. Like everyone else he was glistened with sweat, and flushed red from being exposed to the prolonged heat. His sharp blue eyes scanned over you slowly, lingering on the way your tank top was clinging to you before returning his eyes to yours.

”Are you always this dramatic, or is today special?” He asked, amused by the sight in front of him, as you shot him a tired glare.

”What do you want, Bjorn?” He stepped inside of the room, letting the door shut behind him.

”You looked like you were going to faint out there,” He said, a smirk widening across his face, leaning against the wall near the bunk beds, “Thought I’d make sure you didn’t melt into the floor or something.”

“Well, I didn’t.” You muttered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows, his eyes flickering to your tank top again, watching your chest rise and fall. He was practically stripping you with his eyes at this point, the way they roamed over your exposed legs, picturing the last time he had held them, or nipped at the skin of your thighs. It was impossible not to picture you under him, especially when you were splayed out like this and breathless.

”You look like you’re suffering,” He said, his tone laced with mocking sympathy, “Want me to get a fan?” You rolled your eyes.

”Do you see a fan anywhere?” You shot back, your voice sharp. Bjorn grinned, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a single large ice cube, holding it up into your line of sight between his fingers.

”I brought you something better.” He commented.

”And what are you going to do with that?” You asked, your eyes flickering from the ice cube then back to him.

”Help you out,” He responded, pushing himself off the wall to sit on the edge of your bunk, the mattress dipping under his weight. The faint smell of sweat and aftershave itches your nose as you sit up fully, “Unless you’d rather be uncomfortable, cause if that’s the case I’ll use this on myself.” You squinted at him.

”This feels like a setup.” Bjorn’s smirk widened.

”Always so suspicious…” He murmured, “You know me better than that love.”

“That’s exactly why I’m suspicious.” Not moving as he leaned in closer, bringing the ice up to your neck without waiting for permission. The first touch felt electric as the cool droplets slid against your heated skin. You gasped softly at the sensation, a gentle relief washing over you, feeling Bjorn’s hand come into contact with your thigh, rubbing it slowly, caressing it with such softness that it almost made you climb on him.

“You’re jumpy,” He remarked, trailing the ice down the curve of your neck.

”It’s cold,” You replied, your voice shaky despite your best efforts to hold in your reactions.

”That’s the point.” You felt your cheeks heat up at the way he whispered. The ice left a wet, glistening path down your skin, as his knuckles moved the drops of water along your collarbone. The touch was slow, and when his eyes flicked to yours, the intensity made your stomach tighten.

”Been a while,” You said softly, your voice catching in your throat, Bjorn’s eyes relaxing a bit, his hand on your thigh sliding up to your waist, nodding.

”I know.” He whispered. The two of you had this on again off again thing together, oftentimes you turned to him just for some physical contact, but it was so natural you guys had found yourselves addicted to one another. The dry spell came when the close living quarters were established, and neither of you could figure out how to sneak around properly without the whole group figuring things out, so plans were scarce.

The ice trailed lower now, slipping beneath the neckline of your tank top, settling on one of your breasts, his fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt.

”Let’s take this off hmm?” You hesitated slightly, the tension between the two of you thickening. Slowly, he pulled the damp fabric over your head, tossing it to the floor. His gaze dragged over you, the hunger burning behind his blown out pupils, lingering on every curve of your body, and every bead of sweat that created a sheer on your skin. A small smile appeared on his lips.

”Much better,” He muttered, the ice now tracing over the swell of your breast, the coolness causing your nipples to harden, your back arching towards him. His free hand came up to push the cold trail of droplets over the rest of your heated skin.

”Still too hot?” He asked, moving closer to you.

”Bjorn-“ Your sentence died as he dropped the piece of ice off the side of the bed, sliding his hands to your hips, gripping tightly before pulling you forward to lift you effortlessly onto his lap with a practiced ease, a sharp gasp escaping your throat. His stiff chest pressed against yours, his hands trailing to your thighs, holding you in place. He looked up at you, his grin widening now, your hands coming up to hold either side of his damp neck.

”That’s much better.” He commented, settling himself beneath you, before claiming your mouth with his in a kiss that was tense and rough, his hands roaming over your back with the confidence of knowing exactly how to touch you under his belt. He broke the kiss, moving his lips towards your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before soothing the marks with his soft tongue. You breathed in shakily, your fingers now tangling into his hair, his hands pulling you flush against him.

”Bjorn,” You moaned, his name leaving your lips effortlessly, feeling his open mouth peppering hot wet kisses along your jaw. His fingers digging into your thighs just enough to remind you how firmly he had you in place.

”Something you need to say?” His breath stuck to your skin, a smile ghosting against your neck.

”You’re being cocky.” Bjorn chucked, the sound resonating against your throat.

“Am I? Cause I don’t really hear you complaining.” Before you could retort, his hands shifted, one trailing up the small of your back to pull you closer to him, the other settling on the soft skin of your waist. His calloused fingers tickled the sensitive flesh of your lower back, as his mouth returned to yours, his lips moving against yours gently. The weight of him beneath you, the heat radiating from every inch of his body, was overwhelming to your senses, but the tension was burning and tightening even more in the pit of your stomach. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, tugging gently at it before deepening the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours, making your breath hitch briefly, your hand coming up to cradle his cheek, a moan vibrating against his lips. You could feel his touch travel down to your ass, gripping the flesh in his palms, massaging gently, as he guided your hips towards his so that you could feel how hard he was through his shorts.

”I think we have too many clothes on.” He whispered against your mouth, the both of you giggling softly.

”Couldn’t agree with you more.” You smiled, kissing him one more time before moving off of him, going further back onto your bunk while peeling off the boxer shorts you had on, throwing them off the side of the bed, your gaze attaching to Bjorn’s as he stood up from the mattress, removing his shorts and boxers in one go. You were always surprised at how ready he was when the two of you would have sex, and this time was no exception. His cock was hard, the tip was a blush red, but he wasn’t too riled up yet, not enough to have precum dripping out from the tip, but the sight still made your mouth water. He made sure the door to the room was locked before joining you on the bed, your fingers trailing over the skin of your stomach as you watched him settle on his knees, opening your legs to have him settle between them.

”Eager are we?” He commented, pushing some of the stray hairs out of your face, plastering an array of kisses over your face, on your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose, but completely avoiding your lips, trying to tease you.

”I could say the same for you, it’s obvious you’re the catalyst for this situation right now.” You point out, a smirk drawing up on your lips, as he pulls you onto him, your thighs now straddling his waist, “Point proven.” You say breathlessly, leaning down to kiss him roughly, holding his stubbly cheeks between your hands, feeling his fingers digging into the meat of your hips. He pulls away from the kiss, his sharp blue eyes glossed over, drunk on his own anticipation.

”Turn around,” He instructed, his voice steady. You could feel the heat creeping up on your skin, your heart pounding against your chest, as he guided you in turning your body with an ease that sent a thrill through you, you hesitated for a moment, following his lead, twisting until you were straddling him in reverse. He pulled you back a little bit, just enough so you could feel the heat of his breath travelling over the back of your thighs, and cooling your wet core, a small groan escaping Bjorn’s lips at the sight.

”Just like that, stay right there.” He whispered, steadying you as his lips pressed against one of your thighs, sucking gently on the flesh, leaving a small red mark right below your butt. The intimacy of the position had your heart racing so much you could feel your head spinning, your hands bracing yourself on his thighs as his mouth came up right against your cunt, his tongue teasing against your slit with a precision that made your breath catch in your throat. He knew your body like that back of his hand, he knew all your weaknesses, and he loved every second he had you squirming under his control. A soft moan escaped your lips, your body responding by pressing against his unyielding tongue, your fingers digging gently into his thighs. His stubble scraped against your skin, the roughness adding an edge to the overwhelming heat of his touch and breath. You pushed yourself more towards him, your back arching at the way his tongue worked against you, another moan escaping your lips, reaching down to grab onto his cock, feeling and hearing his breath hitch at the new contact, bringing yourself down to the tip, your tongue flicking against it to tease him, earning a groan. His movements faltered for a moment, as his mouth moved off of you.

”You’re really trying to one-up me huh?” You smiled.

”Always,” You replied, adjusting now so you were almost flat against him, your mouth now wrapping around the head of his cock, sucking and tracing your tongue along the sensitive nerve endings, savoring the low groan that it coaxed from him, tasting the saltiness of his precum. You began to move your hand in sync with your mouth's movements, listening closely to the uneven breaths Bjorn took, as he refocused on his own task, his hands now holding onto your lower back moving your soaked core back down onto his mouth. His tongue explored every inch of you, tasting every last drop that fell from your slit, his lips teasing and coaxing reactions from you that left your body trembling on top of him. He was much more experienced than you, and he just knew what to do with your body to make you melt into him, he knew your weak spots, he knew that if he took your clit into his mouth you’d give up immediately, but he didn’t want that, this newfound position was driving you both crazy at this point.

The shared rhythm you found was intoxicating, the heat between the both of you building with every movement, and every moan and gasp for air. You took him deeper into your mouth, pulling up just enough to suck on the tip, feeling Bjorn groan against your skin, the vibrations adding to the overwhelming stimulation his tongue was providing. Your hand tightened around his shaft in response, your movements growing bolder as you took him in deeper, working to draw out those sounds from him again, craving the reactions he was giving you, feeling his body tensing beneath you, his mouth pulling away from you for a split second.

”God keep going, don’t stop.” He begged, burying his face back into you, his eagerness playing out in front of you. You moaned against him, your focus splitting between the pleasure he was giving you, and the satisfaction of feeling him unraveling under your hands and mouth. The tension between the both of you built with every movement, and every passing second, the air thick with heat, and with the unspoken understanding as you moved together, giving and receiving in perfect sync. You could feel his calloused hands slide up your back, then back to your hips, his mouth now moving to your clit, eliciting a sharp gasp from you, his lips turning up into a smile. You pulled off him for a moment, catching your breath before focusing on the now reddened tip of his cock, running your tongue over the head, focusing on the most sensitive area just below the head. His breath hitched, his voice breaking as he groaned your name, his hips shifting beneath you.

The position left no room for barriers between the both of you, the intimacy of the act alone was just enough, but the raw physicality of the moment was the thing that was pushing you and Bjorn closer to the edge. His hands moved again, one sliding up your back to steady you as the other gripped your hip, his touch grounding you even as his mouth continued to work you into a frenzy.

”Please Bjorn, don’t stop.” You begged, your words spurring him on, as you focused to match his intensity, the tension continuing to build until it was almost unbearable. Every sound and tremor the both of you shared between each other was overwhelming, the pleasure being a fire consuming everything around you.

When the tension finally broke, it left you in absolute shambles, your body was moving involuntarily at that point, grinding on his face, as his hips raised slightly, so you could take him deeper into your mouth, his cum coating the back of your throat. You swallowed every drop, moaning against him as you rode out your orgasm, coating his face with your slick. Your bodies tangled together in a mess, feeling the world blurring around you. Bjorn lapped up the slickness coming from you, before pulling away, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of your thighs, his breath warm against your skin. You took your mouth off him, a sigh escaping your lips at the sensations that were still running through your body.

“Okay…” Bjorn muttered after a long moment, “That was impressive.” You laughed softly, pushing yourself up, so you could roll off of him. Your legs felt like jello as you practically dragged yourself to the space beside him, seeing his mouth still coated with your slick, a drunk haze glistening in his eyes.

“Impressive?” You echoed, glancing up at him with a faint smirk, “I think we deserve more credit than that.” He chucked, his lips pressing against yours for a moment, before pulling away, watching you lick yourself off your lips.

”Oh definitely, but I don’t think we’re done yet.” He whispered, a smile coming up on his mouth as he watched your eyebrows raise.

“You’re ambitious,” You replied, feeling his fingertips trace circles along your waist, “Didn’t I just ruin you?” Bjorn laughed loudly, feeling himself stirring back to life, the blood running hot in his veins as he nodded.

“I think I’ve got enough left in me to ruin you right back actually, we can call it even after that.” His voice sent a fresh wave of heat through your body, as the familiar pull of desire reignited in your stomach, despite the comedown you were currently experiencing from your orgasm. His shimmering blue eyes searched for yours, the burning craving and lust coating the stare.

“You’re actually serious?” You asked, your voice trembling as his hand moved lower, brushing over the curvature of your hip.

”Very serious,” He replied, leaning over to your ear, his hot breath hitting against the shell, “And by the way, you look incredible like this- flushed, spent, and already ready for more.” He whispered, his words sending shivers down your spine, as he pulled back, shifting so he could sit with his back against the frame of the bunk bed.

“Now climb on.” He added. You looked up at him, now noticing that he too was a blush red all over his naturally pale skin. You laughed a little, pushing yourself up onto your knees.

”You make it sound like you’re an amusement park ride.” You commented, putting your thighs on either side of his hips, the intimacy of the position making your pulse quicken, as you settled on top of him. He reached up, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

”Well, I’m your amusement park ride…And I want to feel you.” You laughed lightly, leaning in, your lips brushing up against his in a kiss that started soft, but quickly escalated into something deeper, more urgent. It was sloppy, and wet, and the both of you could taste each other on your tongues. Bjorn groaned softly, as his hands slid down to grip your waist, pulling you closer to align your bodies perfectly. These were the times where the both of you knew there was something else between the two of you, there was no denying the craving was just a ploy to be closer to you. He could never keep his eyes off you throughout the times where you weren’t sleeping together, and you were the same, but the desire of being something more was left unspoken, it was just the right thing to do.

The earlier tension was still there, simmering just beneath the surface as your hands moved up to hold his neck, feeling Bjorn's fingertips tracing lazy patterns against the soft expanse of skin along your back, the both of you continuing to kiss messily, until your lips were sore. He pulled back, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath uneven, your pubic bone feeling Bjorn’s erection pressing up against it.

“You ready for me?” He asked, one hand coming up to push your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear, as the other one settled on your hip.

”Yes.” You replied, your voice trembling, bracing your hands on his shoulders, while you lifted yourself slightly so he could reach around you to line himself up with your sensitive slit, the both of you letting out a synched groan as you sank down onto him, the stretch familiar and intense, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. His hands tightened on your waist, his forehead pressing against your chest briefly before looking up at you, seeing your head tilted back in pure ecstasy, your neck fully exposed to him. He took the opportunity to trail kisses up your damp skin, nipping at every spot he could, feeling you settle down fully onto his cock.

“Fuck, “ He managed to say, “You feel so good.” You let out a shaky laugh, your nails digging into his shoulders as you began to rock your hips, the movements slow at first, testing how much your sensitive walls would be able to handle. You could feel Bjorn’s hands sliding down to your ass, gripping it gently as he rolled his hips beneath you in sync with the way you rocked against him but with a new intensity that made you gasp. The closeness of the position only heightened every sensation that struck your body like a tidal wave, every time his hips met yours you could feel the blood in your veins setting ablaze as you pressed into him even more. Bjorn’s teeth grazed against the skin on your neck, leaving a visible mark, before soothing the zap of pain with his tongue.

”God you’re fucking incredible.” He moaned, thrusting up into you, your head tilting back as your legs tightened around his waist.

”You’re so fucking good to me Bjorn.” You managed to breathe out, your fingers tangling into his hair, pulling it gently, “But I need you to be a little rougher with me now.” He chuckled softly, though it quickly dissolved into a groan as you picked up the pass, your hips moving against his with an urgency he had never seen before, his little gasps for air being heard over the creaking of the bed.

”You’re gonna kill me.” He commented, his voice strained but filled with amusement, his hips now finding your rhythm, grinding up into you as his lips brushed against yours, his tongue teasing yours briefly.

”Good,” You whispered against his mouth, “You deserve it.” You added, letting out a breathless laugh. The pace grew faster, more desperate, the tension building between the both of you again with every thrust and sound that escaped into the room. Bjorn’s grip on you tightened, his movements rougher and sloppier, his breath hot against your skin. You could tell he was close, and as you trembled against him, already chasing your second orgasm, he whispered scrambled sweet nothings into your ear, trying to compose words together even though it was hopeless at this point.

When the tension finally snapped, it made you cry out. Your hands tightened in Bjorn’s hair as his cock twitched in you, his warm cum coating your fluttering walls. His arms wrapped tightly around you, holding your body close to his as he rested his forehead against your shoulder, the both of you attempting to catch your breath, feeling your muscles twitching involuntarily. He pulled back slightly, looking up at you, his ice blue eyes overtaken by the wide expanse of his pupils, a lazy smile drawing up on his lips.

“Was it worth it?” You murmured, your voice teasing, as you brushed a hand through his damp hair. He laughed gently.

”Every fucking second,” He replied, the sentence dripping with satisfaction, “But I will definitely need a break before the next round, you have me spent.” He added, his lips meeting yours briefly as he pulled out of you, feeling his seed drip onto his thigh.

“You must’ve been dying to get a moment alone with me during our little dry spell.” You commented, pulling yourself off him, laying down on the mattress, the pillow puffing out beneath your head.

”Oh you wouldn’t believe it, we have to make sure that doesn’t happen again cause I don’t think I’ll be able to survive another one.” He replied, turning onto his side so he could face you, “I might fucking implode.” He added, earning a laugh from you.

”For once I actually agree with you…” Your voice trailed off, as you turned onto your side as well, “I really missed this.” He smiled, leaning in to give you a gentle kiss.

”I missed it too.”

[ssa-neeks-prentiss]

Everything I wasn't

Whumptober : Day Two!

BAU!team x underappreciated!reader. Mentions of Emily Prentiss x reader

Tw: Character death, feelings of loneliness, being taken advantage of.

Word count : 1.3k

Summary : You always loved them more than they loved you. And it would be the death of you.

Strauss had warned you that it would take a while for the team to get used to you. And you understood that. But you didn't account for the fact that you were still an outsider even after a year. You shrugged it off at first that it was trust issues. You had the same.

But when you were stood there, in the rain, you knew that was not the case. You were stood outside a window. A window to a restaurant to be exact. And sat inside was the team. The team and Alex. She had been there for a week at most and they already trusted her. What did she have that you didn't? Oh. Right.

She was everything you weren't. You weren't dumb but you weren't exactly smart. Not as smart as Alex at least. You had wanted to be a part of this small family. It was what you had wished for since you heard of it. And you saw it. Their tight knit family.

A family Alex was immediately accepted into while you weren't. You couldn't blame her though. She was smart, pretty and did her job a lot better than you did. But you couldn't help but feel jealous.

The envy ate you whole as you watched them. You just stood in the window watching them. Your eyes darkened with envy. You were tired of doing everything you could to fit in. So you stopped trying.

It was the small things at first. Soon, there was no coffee left and no one restocked. And not long after, Emily and Spencer found there were no longer song lyrics on post-it-notes arriving at their desk in the morning. Penelope found that she no longer had any sticky notes left, the ones that were always restocked at the start of the month. And then it turned to larger things.

You didn't input as much, only doing so if it was needed. Not like anyone listened to you anyways, all they did was hear you, ignore you, suggest your idea, get praised for it. And they found that a case that would normally take three days took a week. And no one knew what was wrong. They all blamed it on everyone's tiredness. You almost laughed at that. Of course it was.

You always knew that you were going to die because you let them take advantage of you. But it was a habit you could never let go. You felt weird leaving them so you picked up all of the habits again. The ones you swore you would never do again.

There was one case. They had found the unsub. But what they didn't account for was there being two unsubs. So when one appeared behind them and you heard the ringing of the gun. You knew what to do.

You snapped around and ran. Not away like most would think. But to Emily. She was going to get shot. But you had forgotten. You were tired both physically and mentally. You were so tired you had forgotten to put a vest on. Yet so did the rest of the team.

And as you ran. You knew. It was either yourself or Emily. And you would choose Emily every damn time. It was the same if it was any member of the team, Hotch or you? You would pick Hotch. Spence or you? Spence. It was as easy as lifting a feather. It was almost reflex. You would pick everyone but yourself.

And as you pushed Emily aside. As she turned to shout as you. As the bullet hit you. As Emily's shout of anger turned to shouts of desperation. You smiled.

"You don't know what you have until it's gone."

Famous last words. Sure. But Emily blamed herself. Maybe if she had made sure everyone had a vest on, this wouldn't have happened. But your words rang in her ears. As the light left your eyes, it rang through her mind. You don't know what you have until it's gone.

No one ever knows what they have until it was gone.

They realized that after you were gone.

They realized why the coffee was always ordered, why their files were done in the morning, why there was always their favourite snacks in the break room.

But they realized all too late. They didn't realize. Not until your desk was empty. Not until your funeral came and passed. Not until your face was framed on the wall of deaths.

They all thought of what they could've done.

Penelope cried. Maybe if she had researched into it more, she would've noticed another person so similar to the one before.

Aaron felt himself crumble. Maybe if he had remembered to get everyone to wear vests. Maybe you would still be alive.

Spencer was solemn. Maybe if he had noticed the traits of two unsubs. Maybe if he saw what he so obviously saw now before, you wouldn't be dead.

Rossi was stressed. Maybe if he had invited you to a few more dinners. You would've fell with Emily. You wouldn't have been killed.

Derek was aggressive. Maybe if he had noticed the second unsub before the gun rang, you wouldn't have had to push Emily out of the way.

Emily. And Emily blamed herself. Maybe if she had moved when the gun rang out. Maybe if she had grabbed you to fall with her. Maybe if she wasn't so dense, you would still be alive.

The team was.. Different. New agents had come and gone. None of them stayed. None of them were you.

None of them would make sure Penelope had little post it notes. None of them knew how much she liked to doodle on them when she was researching.

None of them took Hotch's paperwork so that he could go to his son, Jack, earlier. None of them asked how Jack was. Jack didn't ask where his favourite agent was now.

None would pick up Spencer's rambles and show they were listening by asking questions. None of them bothered to listen past the information needed. None of them gave Spencer little things during the day for him to research about when he finished his paperwork.

None of them put recipes on Rossi's desk. None of them asked how his daughter, Joy, was. Hell, none of them knew who Joy was!

None of them made teasing jokes with Derek. None of them had the same humor as Derek. None of them would make fun of his past as he did with you.

And.. None of them loved Emily like you did. None of them asked how she was when she went silent. None of them would smile at Emily and ask her about her interests. None of them gave her a shoulder to cry on.

None of them were you. None of them made sure they slept on the jet. None of them brought in small pastries after a bad case.

None of them had loved like you did. And that was why no one lasted. Their grief had taken over. It was different than when Emily had 'died' because Emily was shown care and love throughout her experience in the team.

While you..

While you were taken advantage of. While you weren't accepted into the family they had made early enough. While they didn't love you like you loved them. You always had a lot of love to give and you gave it to them. You gave it them a lot. But they never gave anything in return. They hadn't even given you a chance. Not a single chance.

You had given your love to people who didn't deserve it. You had given your love to people who didn't appreciate it. And you had died because of it.

They thought of the things they could've done. That they should've. But it was too late. You were gone. And it was their fault.

But you knew. It was like a curse. You could never love someone equally. You would always love them so much more than they do you.

[brattaire]

Ok I think I can be more coherent on my thoughts now from Les mis yesterday

First up I forgot how much Valjean gets the shit beaten out of him in the first two songs. Rip my guy

The bishop? Incredible

We had Emily Fink as Fantine and she was INCREDIBLE! I don't usually cry during I dreamed a dream but man that got me.

The confrontation 100/10 Colin Anderson Valjean and Nick Rehberger Javert are insane. My race is not yet run always gives me chills and this did not disappoint

Master of the house. Oh my god I could write a whole post on this song. The Thenardiers were so good. Matt Crowle was fucking hilarious. Kyle Adams cameo going THRU it they fed him his own vomit???? I was in tears. Also him and that woman 100/10 good for him (and her)

Bye bye Baguette will live rent free in my mind for the rest of my life

Enjolras??? I would follow him to my death too.

Eponine is INCREDIBLE! Also I met Mya Rena Hunter after the show and she was really nice! But oh my god her and Marius. And she's really badass. And her voice yall.

Ok red and black. There's SO MUCH! Enjolras 100/10 once again would follow to my death. Grantaire fucking around the entire song, prancing around the stage and I think he sat in multiple people's laps? Also long hair Grantaire was an amazing choice whoever did that you're a genius. Staring longingly at Enjolras in between fucking around. Book accurate Grantaire for the win.

GRANTAIRE AND GAVROCHE! Fucking killed me. I'm still not over it. After DYHTPS they're pretty much together the rest of the show and god they fucking kill me. Grantaire protecting Gavroche multiple times. Bruh

You guys Marius and Cosette are so awkward and adorable. Cosette disappearing in the window and Marius "I'm doing this all wrong" sad puppy face. Eponine in the background god.

ONE DAY MORE! The song of all time I'm not even kidding.

Ok ok I'm gonna write less now but

On my own and a little fall of rain broke me. Once again Eponine was incredible. Gavroche being the one to notice that she's dying in Marius' arms and once again Grantaire comforting him, and the rest of the barricade turning to watch.

Grantaire guarding Javert oh my god. I would pay actual money to know what he said to Javert.

DRINK WITH ME! Oh my god. Everyone giving a cheer when Grantaire starts because they think he'll say something funny, and instead he says that. The change in attitude. Him and Enjolras. Gavroche comforting him. Afterwards they're in the corner of the stage and and you can see them hugging.

Bring him home was incredible. Again. Chills.

I could also do a whole post on Gavroche's death. First of all Grantaire is pulled away from going after him and just stands facing the audience. The look on his face. You hear a gunshot and then silence, and then Gavroche climbs back up and there's so much relief and Enjolras is holding his shirt to pull him down and then he gets shot. Enjolras catches him. Grantaire walks over and gestures for Enjolras to hand him the body and then is holding Gavroche until the final battle.

Final battle bruh. Grantaire kissing Gavroche's head, laying him down, and then going to the barricade. He and Enjolras' moment. Enjolras climbing the barricade and falling forwards when he's shot. I'm pretty sure I heard "long live the republic I am one of them" Grantaire being the last to die. The theater was completely still and silent afterwards.

The fucking cart carrying Enjolras' body made me audibly say what the fuck. Javert looking at Gavroche's body.

Empty chairs at empty tables. The choreography was incredible I feel like it's usually just them standing there but it was more with candles and stuff. Yes I was crying.

the wedding/beggars at the feast. Once again Thenardiers are amazing. Kyle Adams as the wedding guy once again prancing around stage. Amazing dance moves. BATF is one of my favorite songs. Lyrics changes to "this one's a queer I might try it too" and Thenardier dancing with a man. Insane.

And then I ugly cried my way thru the epilogue

Afterwards I met Mya and Kyle and they were SO NICE! I made a joke post about screaming crying throwing up on IG that Kyle reposted and then he was screaming crying throwing up in our pictures and I was laughing my ass off. He's really funny. Mya was so nice! Her and my friend were talking because they're both Mya's and both have septum piercings lmao

I'm very tempted to go see it again before it leaves

[crazy-ache]

Pirate Elucien Playlist

Tread carefully...

You’ve been warned.

Elain and Lucien are falling into deep waters. A playlist to accompany the fic Treacherous Waters, a story featuring Elain Archeron as a disgraced daughter of society, forced to marry our favorite Lord of Foxes, the mysterious pirate captain intent on keeping her.

This is a little stocking stuffer gift for @jsmelodies for the @acotargiftexchange. Hope you enjoy listening! Key lyrics found below the cut.

Listen to the Playlist

Love Letter From the Sea to The Shore - Delaney Bailey

'Cause you hold in my tide I would die a thousand times Just to see you in another life I think I loved you In a thousand ways 'Cause you remain stagnant On my troubled days No matter how far I drift away You'll be there when I come back one day

Black Water - Of Monsters and Men

But there's something, eating at me Black water, take over Swallowed by a vicious, vengeful sea, oh-oh Darker days are raining over me, oh-oh In the deepest depths, I lost myself, oh-oh I see myself through someone else The strange silence surrounding me Grows closer, feels colder

Allies or Enemies - The Crane Wives

Are we allies or enemies? This will be the death of me This will be the death of me All is fair in love, and war But I can't fight with you anymore This will be the death of me

hostage - Billie Eilish

I wanna be alone Alone with you, does that make sense? I wanna steal your soul And hide you in my treasure chest I don't know what to do To do with your kiss on my neck I don't know what feels true But this feels right so stay a sec Yeah, you feel right so stay a sec And let me crawl inside your veins I'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain It's not like me to be so mean You're all I wanted Just let me hold you like a hostage

Troubled Waters - Alex Warren 

The waves keep crashin' What would happen If I asked you to stay? Woah say you won't Let me drown in troubled waters alone Ooh throw me a rope Won't you tell me that you're still holdin' on Feel the world on my shoulders Slowly pullin' me under And I don't wanna push you away Woah say you won't Let me drown in troubled waters Drown in troubled waters alone

Treacherous - Taylor Swift 

Put your lips close to mine As long as they don't touch Out of focus, eye to eye 'Til the gravity's too much And I'll do anything you say If you say it with your hands And I'd be smart to walk away But you're quicksand This slope is treacherous This path is reckless This slope is treacherous And I, I, I like it

What The Water Gave Me - Florence + The Machine

Time it took us To where the water was That's what the water gave me And time goes quicker Between the two of us But oh my love, don't forsake me Take what the water gave me

We Sink - Of Monsters and Men

I know that it's a waste of time, chasing in the dark But keep me in your clouded minds, until time ignites a spark

gold rush - Taylor Swift

Gleaming Twinkling Eyes like sinking ships On waters so inviting I almost jump in

Power Over Me - Dermot Kennedy

I wanna be king in your story I wanna know who you are I want your heart to beat for me Oh, I Want you to sing to me softly 'Cause then I'm outrunning the dark That's all that love ever taught me Oh, I Call and I'll rush out All out of breath now You got that power over me, my my Everything I hold dear resides in those eyes

Sailor Song - Gigi Perez

Oh, won't you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor? And when you get a taste, can you tell me what's my flavor? I don't believe in God, but I believe that you're my savior

She Lit a Fire - Lord Huron

I've been through the desert and I've been 'cross the sea I've been walking through the mountains, I've wandered through the trees for her I have been trying to find her, want to give what I got She lit a fire, and now she's in my every thought

Salt And The Sea - The Lumineers

I'll let the darkness swallow me whole I need to find you, need you to know I'll be your friend in the daylight again There we will be, like an old enemy Like the salt and the sea

Runaway - AURORA

No, take me home, take me home where I belong I can't take it anymore But I kept running for a soft place to fall

Francesca - Hozier 

Do you think I'd give up That this might've shook the love from me Or that I was on the brink? How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily? Now that it's done There's not one thing that I would change My life was a storm, since I was born How could I fear any hurricane? If someone asked me at the end I'll tell them put me back in it Darling, I would do it again, ah, ah If I could hold you for a minute

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

The Foundations of Decay (My Chemical Romance)

The guiltiness is yours/You must fix your heart/And you must build an altar where it swells/When the storm decays/And the sky it rains/Let it flood, let it flood, let it wash away/And as we stumble through our last crusade

And if by his own hand his spirit flies/take his body as a relic to be canonised/and so he gets to die a saint /while she will always be the whore

Let our bodies lay where our hearts will stay/Let our blood on vacation, you'll find God in pain/And if by his own hand his spirit flies/Take his body as a relic to be canonized/And so he gets to die a saint but she will always be the whore

"Every single lyric is so fucking powerful. the instrumentals hit every time. it’s such a powerful and moving and motivational song like yeah, everything is fucked up and ruined and will never be the same again. but keep moving. get up (coward). fix your heart. god it’s so good."

“Aside from being MCRs return song after 10 years. There's so much pain, and rage, and just deeply felt emotion. When I saw them live, screaming GET UP COWARD at the end is the single loudest sound I have ever made in my life."

"It's just... a spiritual feeling that washes over me whenever I listen to this song. I feel like I die and am reborn thousands of times throughout its six minute duration. The lyrics are poetry. A battle between giving up and letting the decay take over you or overcoming it and getting up no matter the consequences. But it's not like a gym song to work out to. It's a battle song to make it though the dark cave that is depression and suicidal thoughts and trauma. It's a song that brings you back from the dead."

I/Me/Myself (Will Wood)

I wish I could be a girl, and that way/You'd wish I could be your girlfriend, boyfriend/Am I pretty enough to love back?/No not yet/I wish I could be a girl, and really/I'd prefer it if you would use I/Me/Myself/Am I pretty enough, am I pretty enough to fucking die?

"Do you KNOW what the line “I am quantum physics, my witness brings me into existence” has DONE to me. to my psyche. because it’s like. okay so I’m so sorry if you know all of this already but in quantum physics theres something called the observer effect, where if you you measure something, it affects it. Like by checking tyre pressure, you have to let some air out, so you can’t physically measure it without changing what you’re measuring. in normal day to day life (like the tyre) this doesn’t really matter, because the effect is so small that you can basically ignore it. but quantum physics deals with really REALLY small shit so every single effect matters. Basically. observation of an object changes it’s state. this line is about acceptance. the euphoria of someone calling you by your preferred pronouns or chosen name. observation changing your state. It might seem small to others- someone who’s never been misgendered in their life it’s not even something that would occur to them, but to a trans/nb person who’s being observed, being SEEN? it’s everything. AND THE SHEER PUNCH OF “say my name like a slur, but I’ve been called worse” like. FUCK. oaky I think I’ve rambled enough about One Entire Line so lemme just wrap this up by saying that Will Wood is a cis man who ID’ as genderqueer for a while before realising that he wasn’t, he just had some internalised shit about being gnc and not traditionally masculine to work through, so he wrote this song about his frustrations with gender in general and about how clinging to an identity that didn’t fit him can hurt you"

[vgtrackbracket]

Video Game Track Bracket Round 2

Bio-engineering from Rain World

vs.

The Only Thing I Know for Real (Maniac Agenda Mix) from Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance

Propaganda under the cut. If you want your propaganda reblogged and added to future polls, please tag it as propaganda or otherwise indicate this!

Note: The propaganda contains spoilers for Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance.

The Only Thing I Know for Real (Maniac Agenda Mix):

This song is about Jetstream Sam and how disillusioned he has become to fighting, especially after losing to Senator Armstrong. Sam only knows how to kill and has no reason why he's killing. It mirrors Raiden (the main character) who fights people for justice and to protect the weak, Sam fights just because.

Every single boss fight in Metal Gear Rising is all instrumental until you hit "critical" points in the fight, when the vocals come in. Not only does it make the scene feel even more epic, the lyrics apply to both the boss being fought AND the game's protagonist, Raiden. In this case, it's about their loss of identity, feeling that they have to fight all the time and sometimes that's all there is to them, and yet when the thrill of the battle is over their doubts and inner conflict still remains. Sam (the boss you fight) actually showed up and fought you at the beginning of the game, a battle you are scripted to lose. There are no lyrics during this fight, because Raiden isn't at a point where he can face up to him yet; they don't understand each other, and Sam even tells Raiden that he denies his weapon its purpose, because the sword Sam uses is a family heirloom destined to bring justice until he was misguided/strayed off the path he thought he'd be on. Their conflict starts at this point and it rises until you finally fight Sam as the second to last boss. There is also a moment where Raiden disarms Sam, but the fight goes on. The lyrics cut off abruptly in this moment, and they only continue when Sam picks his sword up again. People theorize this is because without his sword, this whole conflict of whether he's using his weapon for what it was meant to or what he thought he would disappears (since he's no longer using it), and maybe if he would stop fighting or if he tried to follow his ideals again and not just fight for the sake of fighting, he'd resolve those doubts. We'll never know because he does die 😔 but as every other boss in MGR, he parallels Raiden, maybe the most aside from the final boss (in my opinion lol) & the way the soundtrack reflects this, as well as characterizes him greatly, AND generally goes hard as hell is honestly amazing. Play MGR yall

[putschki1969]

Wakana Classics 2024 Mini Report

Tweet by Wakana | Instagram post 1 & 2 by Wakana | Oricon News | Livedoor News | Sanspo | Wakana's Blog post

2024/12/18 Setlist 1.Yureru Haru 2.Kara 3.Kibō 4.Rain 5.When she loved me 6.Inochi no Namae 7.Kaze no Tōri Michi 8.Monoke Hime 9.snow falling (Kalafina) 10.Underneath the Tree (Kelly Clarkson) 11.Shirushi 12.Kinmokusei 13.Flag 14.Asu no Yumemite Utau 15.Magic Moment Encore 1.Happy Hello Day Encore 2.Sono Saki e After Event.Yume no Yukue

Some highlights: Kibō my beloved 😍, the entire anime block was to die for! I loved every second of it! Non-stop tears😭 snow falling was such a treat. It’s a favourite of mine and Wakana’s cover is honestly amazing!!! When she started talking about the upcoming Kalafina Live I got so emotional. Everyone is so excited and they can’t wait for is to hear their harmony again. Hopefully they will sing snow falling in January 🙏🙏🙏Never heard that Kelly Clarkson song before but Wakana slayed! Overall it was such a good live with so many great performances. A few forgotten lyrics but that’s almost part of Wakana’s charm by now😅Her reaction is always so cute (I do feel bad for her though because it obviously bothers her).

The little talk with her cellist Masateru (Teru) Nishikata was super fun. For those of you who don’t know, he played the cello for Kalafina many times so they know each other well. This was the first time he joined one of Wakana‘s solo events. He was moved to tears and also beyond excited for the Kalafina reunion live. He mentioned regretting the sudden disbandment because they never got the chance to do a proper goodbye. Wakana is relieved about this reunion (even though it is also very sudden). Wonder if that means Teru will be one of the band members…?

Random side note: Poor girl was killed by her high heels today so she had to return to the stage with bare feet.

I hate myself for being shy during the send-off. Wish I would’ve been able to say something like last time🫣This time I was just too nervous and staff members were rushing me☠️ I think she recognised me though and wished me a safe journey back home.

*********************************************

Before the concert, I did some Wakana activities. First I had lunch at MinMin, a small 🥟gyoza🥟 restaurant. Then I went to see the exhibition at Ginza Art Aquarium. Such great experiences❣️

Of course I got all the merch. Wakana is so cute in the pamphlet photos💕💕What an adorable hairstyle! Also got a lot of snacks from fellow fans🤗