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oneoftheprettynerds · 4 years ago

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Fixed: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 4 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 3: Love So Soft

Main Masterlist

A/N: It’s shorter than my usual updates but I’m busy so sorry for the delay. My final exam dates have come and all I can do is pray right now lol. Please pray for me if you can, this sis is out here writing fanfics for yall instead of studying so, haha. ANyways, enjoy babies! Shit happens in this chapter.

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 5K

Chapter 4: Fixed

You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. Your hands shook every time you got a flashback and even though you were numb to emotions that entire day, tears threatened to spill whenever your mind took to you to that overpriced kitchen again.

Now that he had gone to a dangerous and unnerved assaulter from a Dad trying to take care of his daughter, your mind wouldn’t put anything past him. You knew that in the back of your mind that he was a mobster and your ‘friendship’ was alarming to say the least, but now there was no denying his resources and power and the very obvious threat to your life lingering in the air.

At least before you had the luxury to be oblivious and ignorant, not anymore though. Steve felt even more unhinged and liberal now, even messaging you daily, greeting texts that you obviously ignored. He knew you both were aware that you never handed him your number and he felt no need to hide his pursuit.

You read most of the messages, not bothering with a single reply though. You tried to block him but somehow your phone would still receive messages from his number, even though his contact would always peek back at you from the otherwise empty blacklist.

As if his torment wasn’t ample, another message thread from a different number would forward you alarming images, photos of Grace in her daycare, on a class trip to the park and even her playing in your backyard. You had no doubt that this was another game of his to show you his resources.

You skipped daycare for a few days, your mental health worse than it was after the carnival attack, because now you had a personal tormentor and you cursed yourself for falling into this mess. At times, you believed it wasn’t your fault really, you just helped a kid and this situation spiraled itself but what would pointing fingers now get you? The harsh truth was you were in a calamitous situation now and every step from now on had to be thought out.

So, you let Grace attend her daycare and acted if nothing was amiss or altered, after the few initial breakdown days of course, kept going to your job and earning the bread. You considered your options, you really wanted to go to the cops or a higher fair power but those were few these days, almost non existent in your city. You also vaguely recalled meeting three of the Captains of the PD at Sarah’s birthday, all smiley and doe eyed for Steve. You knew they wouldn’t help, fucking kiss-asses.

Maybe you would have to move somewhere else, perhaps to your hometown, at least till things cooled down or better yet were forgotten? But that trail was very predictable and you didn’t want your parents in this mess.

You also came to know that Steve had inserted himself in the other spheres of your life. You were sure your location was always being sent to him, the knowledge a courtesy of the black car following you while you travelled to home at some late day’s end.

Aiden told you whereabouts were easy to track, when you inquired ambiguously. Another instance was when you went to the bank to deposit cash for your debit card, you came face to face with an enormous amount already there. Somehow, the limit on your credit card was also extended. How, you knew. The clerk told you about an email you must have gotten in regards to it, you dismissed that justification away and told them to not accept the cash. To sum the discussion, they weren’t helpful and had no policy against anonymous donors.

Aiden, your trusted coworker cum pal, sensed the shift in your aura and fidgety form very easily, pestering you with questions and you decided to turn to him, stressed and tired and ready to do something. His questioning eyebrows made you confess vaguely but you refused to tell him the extent of it. Just that his prediction came true and you needed help. Let’s just say, Aiden was a good man.

With time, Steve’s ‘affectionate’ messages became deranged, and you found it harder to act nonchalant in your daily life. You were thankful he didn’t come to visit you, possibly occupied with the rumored war between the mobs. You just prayed for a few more days of ignorance, just enough time to think and do something.

“What do you mean someone collected her?!” You had a hard time controlling your voice, you were about to burst, in tears or with anger, you didn’t know.

“The man was verified in the emergency contacts and we got a letter signed and approved by you to skip the day an hour into the first activity.”

“A man? Emergen-, wait no! What fucking approved letter?”

You had three emergency contacts, your mom in another state, Aiden, and one of the other kid’s mom you had grown close to. Aiden was with you at work all day, so did someone disguise themselves as him? And what was the deal with the letter signed by you? You surely didn’t remember writing and authorizing one.

The boy, Pietro, who had been the receptionist for as long as you could remember, shuffled through the chaotic piles of paper and presented a letter to you, and your blood froze as your eyes skimmed the font.

Your beautiful cursive stared right back at you and you knew that no one would ever be able to distinguish between this penmanship and the one in the pocketbook in your clutch. No one but you. Even though you knew you had not written it, the slightly different ‘f’ and ‘g’ told you everything.

Your signature at the bottom though, was done quite perfectly and that made you even more scared.

“I did-, I didn’t write this! What the-” Your widened eyes met Pietro’s from above the paper but all he offered you was a meek smile. Your hands shook with rage and for the first time in your life, you had the urge to slap someone really bad.

“Maybe your family had an emergency to take he-”

“No, you don’t get it!” You stopped yourself from getting frantic, willing yourself to take deep breaths and think rationally. Today of all days, things had to mess up.

He didn’t know you had no family in this city, that you had a mobster after you or the subtle threats that his hired spy sent to you.

Was going to the police an option? Aiden already told you that the cops were as good as Steve’s men. But this was about your missing kid! You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to her. And you were giving Steve way too much credit, what if he wasn’t behind this all? Come to think of it, what if the other number wasn’t his?

Relax yourself! Thinking of disturbing theories wouldn’t help anyone. You thought you should go to the cops, just in case. No mentioning of Steve, just a woman with a ‘missing child’ report.

‘Missing Child’ left an acrid taste behind and you were too close to a breakdown, but your whole journey of single-parenthood taught you to kick vulnerability aside, well most of the times.

You turned and were about to leave, but Pietro stopped you. “If you are going to the cops Ma’am, they require 8 hours of inactivity or disappearance time for kids under 5.”

Well look who just read your mind.

You huffed and kept the tears at bay, your mind thinking of what to do then? Grace was obviously taken-

“How could you let a toddler leave without informing the parents?” You knew your anger was channeling out at the wrong man but didn’t he all but hand Grace to the stranger?

You beat him answering and inquired, “What did the man look like? Do you have any footage? Anything?” The wrinkles in your forehead and stress creases on your face paired with the eyebags betrayed your age surely. You were sure you had aged more this week than an entire decade, juggling your normal life with the hovering threat.

“You shouldn’t be this worried Ma’am.”

The fucking audacity.

“Your daughter recognized him, she all but ran to him and this other little girl he came with. You should maybe ask your parent-friends around? A blonde family perhaps?”

As all the emotions drained from your face and terror took over, the young lad in front of you looked smug. You wondered as if you imagined the faintest of smirks on his face.

You crumpled the letter in your hands, seething with rage as you stepped in your car. Oh, you were mad, more wrathful than ever. You could take any hits on you, any threat but not on Grace, never on her.

You were stupid, you had already decided you wouldn’t put anything past him but unknowingly, you did put this past him. You thought this man had a shred of decency to not use your kid in this adult war, being a parent himself and all but what a surprise! You were wrong.

You drove to your home, your thoughts a mix of trepidation, anxiety and fury. You were scared of him and his reach and resources but if he put Grace in any type of danger; whether to teach you a lesson or use her as bait or both, there’d be consequences.

Lord knows you killed a man a month ago Grace was threatened.

You had one thing to do before contacting Steve about Grace but you never got to do it because unexpectedly the bastard was in your home. In your home.

The black sports car outside was a huge giveaway but your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door with your house key. The banter and giggles from inside alarmed yet calmed you; the dread of confrontation and the assurance of Grace’s safety reigned your mind.

As the door opened painfully slow like a horror movie, the sight that met your eyes made you sick with a feeling of failure. It wasn’t gore or blood or grunge, it was Steve bouncing Grace in the air and catching her while Sarah twirled around in the living room.

This man was craftier than you thought, every action of his was calculated, each a refined step. You had been so preoccupied to avoid direct encounters with him in your little family’s life that you didn’t think he had other ways. He was always looming around with Sarah and as Grace began to trust Sarah, she consequently began to trust her blonde guardian too.

As you slammed the door behind you, Steve’s eyes snapped to yours and his smirk made you want to punch him so hard. The smugness on his face while he let Grace down without breaking eye contact told you he had no regret, no remorse. In fact, he was loving every second of this cat and mouse chase between you two.

You were a millimeter close to losing your shit, the only check being the kids in the room. But you were mad and he was going to know it.

“What the hell, Steve? Messing with my kid?” You threw your clutch onto the couch, Steve haughty by the reception of his sent message but still holding back because of the kids. He called Wanda and you didn’t really notice where she came from but you did register Steve asking to take the girls to the park for a ‘private discussion’.

As Grace passed by you, you grabbed her arm lightly, making her look at you with doe eyes resembling yours. You gave her a smile trying to ease her, but you knew she was smart enough to sense the change in the atmosphere.

Apparently, the whining Sarah wasn’t.

You looked back to Steve, your hold still on Grace and continued with a frown and raised eyebrows, “She isn’t going anywhere, not out of my sight and obviously not with you or your goons.”

Wanda had the audacity to look offended and you scoffed at her, eyes staring Steve’s down.

“Honey, I don’t think the kids should hear what I think you have to say right now.” He said nodding to Wanda to take Grace.

“You must be deranged to think I trust Grace near anyone even remotely related to you! Take your people and get out.” You held your hand up to stop Wanda and pointed towards the door with the most menacing glare you could form.

Grace looked incomprehensibly between you two, concern and confusion on her face. That might have been the first time such a tone was used in your household. The grumbling Sarah was close to throwing a tantrum, irritated by the change in the playful air or the lack of attention to her, you didn’t know. She was hanging on Wanda’s forearm, her feet slipping on your printed rug. Wanda was trying to not look hurt still by your previous statement, distracting herself by the blonde kid and you were baffled by her obliviousness to all this.

Steve, the beefy blonde Lucifer, was furious and seething. His white knuckles and ticking jaw were the most obvious giveaways, the fingers just itching to beat the shit out of someone no doubt.

Was he imagining striking you into compliance into his weird playhouse game complex? You wouldn’t be surprised given the extent of his attempt to ‘win’ you over.

The ‘get out’ tone and blatant disrespect was a bruise to his ego for sure, and by you, a middle-class woman nonetheless was a worse injury. Steve was the deadly boss to armored men in the vicinity, the kids’ father figure, according to him, and Wanda’s stern yet kind employer.

People had been killed for less and there you were, standing in all your glory, being the only person alive to reject Steve Rogers and now, the only to raise your voice at him.

You almost scoffed at his impudence to look offended, what did he expect? For you to submit to him after the stunt he pulled? His reach was scary he proved today and that any future with him in your life in any way, was a fearsome possibility to entertain but you’d be damned if you went down without a fight.

“You can’t make me leave; we both know. You don’t have the physical edge nor the mental one. I have no problem drawing out G-U-N-S in front of the kids or to throw the warnings around, although I would prefer not to.”

Your free hand itched to slap him, like how his did minutes ago. It wasn’t a mankind problem about men thinking they were entitled to everything; it was a Steve Rogers’s problem. Of course, with him consent didn’t matter. If he had a ‘housewife, kids and fences’ fixation, he’d make it come true.

“Do you even listen to what I say? Or your own words even? Please, go ahead! Traumatise my kid and also yours in your wooing process! Why are you so obsessed? Leave us alone, you freak! I just ignored few messages!” You had a hard time maintaining your cool, if there was any left. You were sure you were scaring Grace and no matter what happened next, you knew she was already traumatized by this entire ordeal already. You were so sorry, so, so, so sorry to your poor baby caught in this mess.

You knew, no, you hoped, he wouldn’t pull out the gun, his actions at the carnival a proof, you remembered how he hid his gun on finding Sarah. That threat was empty but the next one wasn’t, his words making you freeze in your spot.

“I think you keep on misunderstanding me, sweetheart. I don’t make empty promises,”

Posh word for threats.

“For starters, maybe I should pay my future in-laws a visit in their blue duplex. They might need help with the vast garden they have, it is the season for ‘violets’, isn’t it?”

As you froze with your parents being brought up, he also cooled, albeit differently, smirking once again gaining the upper hand, not that he lost it if you were being honest.

“Isn’t threatening my kid enough for you, Steve?” You hated how your loud voice almost broke, your anger slowly subsiding into helplessness and you hated that. You hated his guts, his entitlement, his claim; everything about him.

“You still don’t see it, do you? Our family of four is the most important thing to me right now and I’m not above doing anything to save it.”

“There is no family of four Steve! I keep explaining and you keep coming back to square one with all this bullshit!” The curse word did tick Steve off but he would correct that later, when bigger things weren’t at ploy.

“Your ignorance makes me a little mad sometimes sweetheart and that is why I have to do all I do. You haven’t realized we need each other yet, but I’m staying until you do and even after that, I promise. You know how much it pissed me off to see your tickets and the packed suitcases after I’ve been nothing but nice? I was so generous to spoil you with my riches but instead I find that in your finances.”

This fucker knew. Of course, he did!

You were wondering in the back of your head what had prompted this visit with so many threats and warnings and anguish. He was pissed even before you ‘acted out’, he tracked the tickets and the plan and that meant he even tracked-

“You have so much to learn, but luckily you interact with quite a few people. I am most tempted to start out with this Aiden guy, trying to be the hero and giving you all the ideas. Maybe I should visit him?” Steve wondered out loud, and you flinched at his suggestion, hating how you were trapped by this man.

You couldn’t live with yourself if anyone got hurt because of you, be it your parents or Aiden or any other possibility Steve would come up with. Of course, Grace was your peak priority but you doubted he would hurt her as he threatened to harm them.

“Steve, please.” The fire was almost out, your hands trembling, Grace worried and Steve smug.

“Let the kids go and I think we can come to a conclusion.”

“Steve this needs to stop.” You said, your breaths heavy and helplessness clawing away at you.

“I won’t repeat myself.” He voiced out with a threatening edge, gesturing to Grace and Wanda, clearly telling you to first get the kids out.

For a deranged fucktard, he sure cared about the kids a lot.

You loosened your hold on Grace, patting her arm softly and nudged her to Wanda. Wanda received her little hand and enticed the kids with the promise of ice-cream. Sarah clapped her hands and as the trio left, Grace did look over her shoulders at you in concern and for permission, majorly in concern though. You nodded and waved, a tear dropping as soon as the door clicked shut.

You were still staring at the door, not wanting to meet Steve’s stormy blue orbs when he began, “Today was a slip up that I won’t tolerate again. Neither the cursing nor the dramatics.”

We aren’t in a fucking play, what the fuck is he labelling as dramatics?

Your eyes slowly flickered to his, and you had a hard time not letting the tears escape except the one traitorous one earlier. The fatigue, the worry of Grace’s disappearance, the threats to your friends and family were all catching up to you. It took all in you to stay strong and not fall down right now.

“Steve this isn’t funny anymore. It’s sick and you know it! I just said no! Was that so inexcusable that you had to follow up with this? You have violated me for that, broken into my home and now kidnapped my daughter! At what extent will you stop?” You broke down finally, arms a flailing mess as fat tears rolled down. Nothing scared more than the helplessness this moment. He won and he knew it. The carnival incident was nothing in comparison to this. The only good thing you could hope in all this was a safe Grace but that too only if you complied, which seemed like what you would do now given your attempts at fighting back and scampering have failed laughably.

“Gosh, I forgot how theatrical women are. You are smart darling; you know what I want from day one, just a happy family. Nothing that horrendous has happened and especially not as badly as put it. I’m just looking out for you and me in the long run.” Steve slowly treaded towards you, his hand extended to pat your arm comfortingly but you involuntarily flinched at contact and stepped back. Steve clearly didn’t like that as he caught your arm in a bruising grip and jerked you towards him. Manhandling you as your wet hands rushed to ease his grip was not a tough task for Steve, a surprise to none.

“Stop trembling like I’ve actually done something to harm you!”

Steve clearly didn’t know how to comfort women and it showed.

You stopped with the cowering away, even though it disgusted you to be this much in close proximity with your assaulter. He clearly had anger issues and no clue how to solve them. You needed to steer the conversation right and get him out. You could see your hands visibly shake as you put them on his chest, just to create some distance and in a way of surrendering to not fight. The tears slowed but you don’t think they stopped; it was hard to tell with a million other things on your mind.

As your eyes made contact, Steve loosened his grip, clearly a bit satisfied by your submission, as he began counting to help you breathe. As much as you hated to admit, it helped you and you got a flashback to the time when you freaked out on him about Grace at that extravagant dinner date. That was a sweet gesture then, not so sweet now. Funny how drastically things change with time.

It wasn’t so much Steve’s help as it was your own mind telling you to be fucking smart about the whole ordeal right now.

“Good. Better. Now let’s talk. Why were you planning to run away? I’ve been busy and coming home to find out that wasn’t joyful, you know.” His smile suggested a better mood than before but his voice, his husky voice always had this daring edge that almost challenged you to defy him but at the same time warned you of unpleasant consequences if you did.

“Steve, I’m scared.” You spoke with utmost honesty. “The part of the world you associate yourself with scares me. You can’t blame me for not wanting that life for Grace, I mean you have a kid of your own. Wasn’t the carnival attack specifically on Sarah?”

The reasoning was right but you knew you triggered him the moment his smile evaporated. He either felt insulted as a parent or disrespected in his profession or probably both.

He was fighting his inner demons already and you pointing it out was a slap to his face, a hit he didn’t want to take.

“That was a slip up, I admit. Never again. I’m only human, okay?” He convinced himself and you, his grip tightening a bit again.

Oh no, not the right direction to take.

You reckoned he still had nightmares about it like you, he really did love Sarah a lot, all things aside.

“Besides, I am looking out for you! Out for you and Grace and Sarah. I remember my promise of never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

You definitely didn’t trust his security or his people because what sort of a mobster let his daughter get targeted and possibly abducted? You definitely didn’t know the whole story or if it was just a bad day but he wasn’t a person that deserved some slack. Despite all this, you knew what all he held above you, above a common man. He might not be ‘Kingpin’ skilled but a threat to you nonetheless.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Is that what you call following me around, huh?” which you immediately regretted.

“Trust the process, baby. Everything is just to protect you.”

Is that what he called stalking even Grace around and twistedly enough, sending you proof of that? The anonymous thread of photos was another nightmare of yours, thanks to him. The last being a candid photo inside Grace’s room, her sleeping in her bed this morning and that’s when you decided you needed to get out. Of course, that didn’t go as planned.

“How am I supposed to do that when you have cameras in my house?!” You scoffed and he reeled back at the accusation, having the nerve to look impressed at being uncovered and caught red-handed.

“Oh my fucking God, it was you! You sick pervert!” You jumped out of his grip, your eyes wide and horrified. “I wasn’t aware of what to make of it but of course, it was you! Who else would be sick enough to do that?” You let out a humorless chuckle. You always put things past him even when you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. When will you ever learn huh?

You were full on panicking yet again, this man was an assaulter, a stalker and a creep too. It would have made a good dark, psychological thriller for you to watch if you weren’t the protagonist about to suffer his obsession.

He reached out to steady you again, but you whipped and stumbled back, realizing too late that you elbowed Steve’s nose so bad that there was a crunch. That, right there, was the look a man real-fucking-furious on Steve’s face and now you could see the feared mobster, the man who was personally terrorizing you under the beautiful, Greek God façade.

Steve reacted so fast even with an injury that in a split second, your view of his face turned into a view of his crotch.

“You do realize that there are others ways for me to teach you obedience? I think it’s fucking time you show me your gratitude for my care and attention and apologize for your misconduct and unkind response.” Steve spoke with a hoarse voice, a voice running out of patience and just about done with defiance.

His hand fisted your hair, maintaining eye contact while he nodded between you and his crotch. You knew what he wanted, what he was expecting as ‘thanks’.

“Steve, please no, you don’t-”

His other hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you from speaking as he warned, “I think you have done just enough talking for today, so why don’t you put that tongue to a better use and show me how sorry you are. Better make it convincing because I’d hate to pay one of your friends a visit and then bitch about a nasty blowjob.” He smirked at the end of his monologue, eyes shining with triumph and amusement.

You wouldn’t let him harm anyone else, you couldn’t. You and your daughter were already knee-deep in a pit and at this point, it’d just be cruel to drag someone else in. With shaky hands opening his pants, you just hoped you could get Grace out before you eventually were buried in it.

“Now that’s a good girl. Submissive is a sexy look on you.” His hands patted your hair, playing with your tresses while yours pulled his pants and then briefs down.

His member jerked out, almost slapping you in the face as you recoiled at his insolence to get hard and erect at your torment. Your disdain must have shown which he took as admiration and derision to take his affluent cock in.

“No need to get shy, I have faith you’ll be able take it just as well in your pretty pussy as you will right now. Open up-”

“Steve, I beg you-”

Just as you had cut him off, he interrupted your pleading. Your gag reflex was probably the most efficient in the world but that turned this narcissist on. It had been years since you had done it, never with a man as beefy as Steve.

His taste was salty and if you had to put it into better words, it was the like overpriced sea salt flakes that you never bought. High and pricey and for the entitled.

Your hands clutched at his thighs as you blacked out multiple times; your jaw aching, uvula swaying and tears escaping. Him forcing himself on you brough a new sense of vulnerability as your body trembled. Steve relished like a sadist, practically rutting into you all by himself as you just sat there with your jaw unnaturally open.

His obscene moans and groans were crass and nauseating and you just prayed for this to be over soon and for no one to walk in on this, especially your kid.

It seemed like it would never end, your body dehydrating with all the spit it produced, the drool dribbling and landing just beside your knees on your printed rug. You would have to throw that out.

The tears stooped after some point, the sobbing an unnecessary action that just tired you out more on this eventful day. You moved your tongue around to prevent your teeth from scratching him when he shifted angles. If this was what he did on slightly mad, you didn’t want to find what he did for a more serious punishment.

Apparently, that action was something that turned him on even more, his breath hitching as neared closure. In broken whispers he demanded that again and you complied, wanting to get done with it.

He growled in the moment of his release and you tried to lean back but his grip didn’t relent. “Swallow.” His grainy, exasperated voice said out loud and you knew better than to defy.

He released you and you fell on to the rug, hip bruising by knocking into some furniture and tears coming back again after being hydrated by his seed. He packed himself, his smile smug and content as his expressions truly resembled ecstasy being personified.

“You be a good fiancée from now on and maybe you’ll have all your friends alive and present at our wedding. No cheeky business from now on, got it?” Steve hummed then and strutted out, not even bothering to listen to your reply.

As soon as the door slammed, your eyes closed and your demons danced again.

There was no right direction to take when you were stuck in a loop.

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multifandomwriter18 · 4 years ago

Text

Feeling a little down: Chatnoir x reader :PART 1:

A/n: hey so it’s been awhile since I last posted. Sorry for being so inactive I’ve been working full time and I’ve been really busy. I havent been in such a writing mood and of course work and life has been keeping me on my toes but I’ll try my best to get asks / requests done and try to be more active on here.

Since it’s been a while since I posted a Chatnoir x reader I thought I’d post one now. *this is taken from my Chatnoir x reader oneshots on wattpad.

I'm basing this chapter on season 2 Glacier..(was that the name of it?) I think it was episode 10? You know the one where the ice cream guys gets akumatized and Chat Noir gets depressed cuz LadyBug didn't show up and Marionette is upset about Adrien? Yeah well this will be sorta based on that specific episode but without the whole akumatized part etc. OKAY! Now... You may enjoy!

ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 200 FOLLOWERS! I know it’s not a lot to some of you but it really means a lot to me. Thank you for all the support and love I have received on my blog. Be sure to follow my other one @swiftdagger-con *keep in mind I cannot message anyone on that blog but feel free to send dms on this one here :)

Tears weld in my eyes as I small sob breaks out of me. I was standing up on the roof top/balcony of my house.

I can't believe it..

(Boyfriend name) broke up with me..how could he do something like that?!

"I don't love you anymore (y/n)..I'm so sorry..I'm so sorry.."

His words ring inside my head. I don't love you anymore..

My whole body shakes as I clenched on to the bars of the balcony. I held on for dear life chase it felt like the whole world was shaking..

"I thought I could love like I loved (your enemy's name who was once dating your now ex.bf) but I don't..I just..I..I just can't.."

I clenched my jaw as I covered my ears, shaking my head trying to making the noise in my head stop.

Not too long ago Rose was telling me about (bf's name) and (your enemy) getting close together at a small Café.

I take in a sharp inhale and slumped down pressing my face against the bars. Marionette and Ayla were trying to cheer me up today with some ice cream along with Nino but nothing was working.

Not even Adrien could help me..I mean he couldn't even go anyways but still..

I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose. My (eye colour) eyes burned from all the crying. I bet I looked hideous. Strands of my (hair colour) hair stuck to my sweaty forehead.

All this crying was making me sick. I closed my eyes and take in another deep breath. I stood up and shakily went into my bathroom and splashed water on my (skin colour) face.

•(When I mean by skin colour I mean like pale, or flushed or like light coloured skin, or dark or tan etc.)•

I looked in the mirror and frowned. My once (eye colour) eyes were now a little blood shot and I had small bags under my eyes.

I groaned and slumped on my washroom floor. "Come on (y/n) you can do this..you gotta be strong.."

I stood back up and cleaned up my face with more water. I sighed and dried my face again. Slowly my eyes softened a little more and the bags under my eyes didn't look too bad.

I fixed my hair into its usually side braid and walked back outside. I closed my eyes enjoying the cool breeze.

I leaned against the bars and looked up at the moon. I have to be strong..

"Hi there, (y/n) right?"

I gasped nearly falling on my ass. I was too much in a daze and I didn't even see Chat Noir sitting on the railing.

I stared at him with wide eyes. "Ah..I didn't mean to frighten you..I um..I was wondering if I could hang out here.."

After I was able to slow my heart heart I walked a little closer to him. "Ah..yeah sure..I mean-yeah! Yeah, I would mind that at all." I rambled out as he slumped a little looking at the stars.

"Y-you ok?" I asked softly as I moved a little closer to him. "I guess.." He barley whispered and I frowned.

"What's wrong.."

"Love issues.." He grumbled and I looked away. "I know how that feels.." I muttered as I looked back at the stars.

"Wait what happened to you?" He asked softly as his soft but sad green eyes met my glassy (eye colour) ones.

I looked away and tucked a stray strand of (hair colour) hair behind my ear. "You first.." I mumbled and he sighed. "I had this whole little date planned for LadyBug and I..b-but she didn't show up..it's not like she would've came..she said she might now be able to come but..I had my fingers crossed..I thought she would've made it.." He replied as I felt his voice starting to break.

"I..I'm so sorry Chat..I..maybe she was-"

"-it doesn't matter anymore..what happened to you?" He asked cutting my off.

I bite on my lower lip as I made sure to not cry. Especially in front of him..

"M-my..my uh...my boyfriend broke-broke up with-with me." I babbled out as I let out a small laugh.

"Not like I didn't see it coming..the thing that made me wonder was how he came up with the whole thing. 'I don't love you anymore..' Who says that to someone?" I hissed out as I cursed under my breath for saying to much.

"(Y/n)..I'm sorry to hear that..I mean..ouch..that must've sucked..wait I-"

I waved him off as I leaned against the railing. "It's ok, I got used to it a long time ago.." I stated softly and looked over at him who seemed even more depressed.

He met my gaze and looked away. "Yeah..I guess your right.."

I frowned and without thinking my hand rested on his. "Hey..don't be like that..I-maybe she was busy..people sometimes have a full plate and can't do everything at once."

He huffed as I felt his cheeks turn pink from our touching hand. I sighed and looked at him with a faint smile.

"I don't think she meant any harm..Ladybug didn't mean to hurt you..there's always next time right?"

He shook his head and I frowned pulling my hand away. "I'm sorry..I'm just making it worse right? I'm sorry.."

He looked at me and stepped off the railing and stood next to me. His back rested against the railing as his eyes met mine.

"Please stop apologizing..it's not your fault..and no your not making this worse, I promise you that.."

My eyes widened for a small moment and then softened. He gave me a small smile extended one gloved hand.

"How about I cheer you up a little, I have the perfect place." I stared at him and back at his hand.

Slowly and shakily I placed my hand in his as he then held me close.

"Hold on tight ok? I promise I won't drop you.." I smiled as I warped my arms around his neck closing my eyes as I breathed in his sweet, almost drugging scent.

"I know you won't..I trust you.." I rest my head on his chest as I was able to hear the rhythm of his heart beat.

I felt a small purr rumble in his chest making my stomach dip and churn. Finally when he was ready he scooped me up in his arms and we were then on our way.

Part two will be up soon! Thanks for reading!!

I don't think I want to add heavy sexual scenes for this chapter..

Maybe something a little vanilla like scenes..

Anyways stay tuned for more!

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katsukis-sad-angel · 4 years ago

Text

an explanation as to why i have been largely inactive this past year! I'm so sorry for letting you all down! I just need to get this off my chest.

I met David almost a year ago, around the end of august 2020. School was starting, marching season had begun in earnest, and I was new to all of it. HE started talking to me first. He noticed I was a little uncomfortable when the group both of us were apart of would go out to sonic and hang out. Before we started talking, David was just a really tall scary guy that always wore a had so I could never really see his eyes. I never thought much of him.

I was new to the group and very surprised my sister even wanted me there at all. They were her friends and I was just along for the ride.

I didn't think anything of his texts but felt guilty of the fact that he thought he needed to reach out to me like that so I told him he didn't have to and I was fine. Still, he continued to make conversation with me. He'd come up to me at practice and talk to me, he continued to keep up with me even if I thought we had nothing else to talk about and stopped, and he'd ask me about the things I liked and as it turns out we both enjoyed anime. I got him into mha and he tried to get me into seven deadly sins but I got bored and never finished.

i don't know what went wrong. I don't know what i did, if I did anything, but i'm too afraid to ask. The last girl he liked led him on and scarred him so bad he's remained single since his sophomore year of high school. Maybe the fact that I cared enough to go to his lacrosse games, or how I would go out of my way to try to spend time with him, or maybe it was when i snatched his hat and told him he looked better without it, it could've been when he came to my house to meet our new puppy, or when i called him and asked him if he wanted anything to happen between us, but even after deleting his number i still want to see him and talk to him like nothing happened.

he would keep pursuing me if he still wanted me around, right? maybe a little effort?

but seriously, has no one ever cared for him like that?

is that what scared him off?

was he surprised when i told him he should stop marching with a heavy ass tuba and quit playing lacrosse so he could get surgery so he wouldn't have to spend the rest of his life on unhealthy amounts of painkillers for the rest of his life?

After the goodnight texts stopped, i knew something was wrong, but didn't have the courage to ask.

I'm being selfish as usual.

"i turned down 3 guys because i was talking to him, hoping something would happen"

yes because they were ugly and gross so that wasn't much of a sacrifice

nothing is happening, nothing happened, so the reason this is still weighing me down is a mystery.

The name 'David' means 'beloved'

Apparently, he wasn't meant to be my beloved, but i hope for his sake he'll find someone as dedicated, if not more, to forcing him to take care of himself and beating it into him that some bitch that labeled him as less should be tossed to the curb

i hate to be that sentimental crybaby, but i am one.

the last thing we talked about face to face was at a school event in late May. He dropped his papers and told me he genuinely considered doing a split to pick them up, but decided against it because he would've ripped his dress pants and/or destroyed his ankle again.

this past year was very memorable in all the wrong ways, so please my absence and neglect of my blog(s)

if you got this far, thank you. i write for the people out there like you :)

#crying is an extreme sport #would you like a side of depression with that #no?#okay #i have plenty if you need some :')

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lyssismagical · 5 years ago

Note

15 or 94 for the angst/fluff prompts ✨💙

15 – “You betrayed my trust”

94 – “Don’t you give up on me”

{TW for Car Crash}

“You can’t just do that!” Peter shouts, ripping off his mask to stare Tony down. He’s pissed and he’s not the starstruck kid he once was, too scared to step in the wrong direction around Tony, Tony’s too much of a father-figure now that Peter will show how pissed he is.

“I know what I said, kid, but I couldn’t let you do that,” Tony says, as calm as he can, but he’s obviously angry about this too. “You would’ve gotten yourself killed out there.”

Peter rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “That’s not true and you know it. I know I used to be this stupid kid in a onesie to you, but I’ve learned how to take care of myself now. I don’t need you babysitting me.”

“I’m not babysitting, kid. I’m just watching out for you.”

“If you were watching out, you’d still be home, watching the fucking baby moniter feed. You wouldn’t have dragged out a suit and pulled me from the fight. I had it handled like I said I did.”

Tony sighs harshly, running a hand through his hair. “You have to understand that I was just trying to protect you.”

“I said I had it handled. I would’ve asked you if I didn’t think I could. I don’t need you to come swooping in every time I try to do anything myself!”

“I don’t want you to get hurt!”

“You’re not my dad!” Peter shouts, chest heaving. “You lied to me. You said you’d watch the baby moniter feed and let me handle it, but no, you flew out here to stop me. Again.”

Tony’s visibly angry now, voice lifting. “You didn’t have it handled! There were fifteen armed people in that building, Peter!”

“And I’ve dealt with more! I can’t be a superhero if you keep treating me like a child!”

“You are a child!”

“I’m seventeen for gods sake, Tony,” Peter says, already starting to back away towards the elevator. He just wants to go home before one of them says something they regret. “I don’t need you helicopter-parenting me.”

Tony rolls his eyes, letting out a harsh laugh. “I can’t helicopter-parent you if I’m not your dad, can I?”

“God, can you just admit you’re wrong for once?” Peter says, voice tipping into cold territory. He’s never once acted like this around Tony. He feels like he’s being the annoying teenage-stereotype, but he’s a superhero and Tony should let him act like one. Not keep him cooped up and dealing with cats in trees for the rest of his life.

“Can you just admit that you’re not ready for something like this?”

“You told me you’d stay home unless I asked you for help. I would’ve asked you if I needed you. I thought we’d gotten past this stupid phase when I beat the Vulture for you.”

It’s still a relatively sore topic, all things considered. Tony still feels a lot of guilt for Peter being alone that night, and Peter still deals with a lot of nightmares and panic attacks revolving around the warehouse collapse.

Tony sighs harshly again. “How many times have I had to save your ass after you refused to ask for help?”

“That’s not the point!” Peter shouts, angry all over again. “The point is that you betrayed my trust, Tony! The point is that you promised you’d let me handle this one alone unless I asked you for help, but you couldn’t even do that! Do you just not trust me?”

This is bordering too close to raw territory, real feelings, and that’s normally not easy for them, let alone when they’re angry and fighting.

“Fine,” Tony mutters, eyes dark and jaw clenched. “If you want me to stop helicopter-parenting you, I will. If you want me to let you dive into stupid fights and get yourself killed, go for it, I won’t stop you. See if I care.”

It’s not true, and Peter knows it. Tony cares about him a lot. Too much, probably. But the words still cut deep, and Peter’s never been a good arguer. He always ends up crying if conflict is too much.

So instead of making things any worse, Peter sends Tony one last glare before turning his back and heading for the elevator.

Peter’s driving now. He’s not the best driver, but he can do it. Plus, it saves Happy the long hours to and from the city for Peter. It makes everyone’s lives a little bit easier.

He doesn’t want to drive home. It’s raining now and the sky is dark, and it’s hard to see through his glassy eyes, tears threatening to fall. He almost turns back to the tower to say in his room for the night, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to face Tony again. He doesn’t want another fight.

He should’ve been smarter. He should’ve followed his gut to not drive back.

Maybe that would’ve changed the outcomes of the night.

Either way, the roads are slippery and Peter doesn’t see the truck run the red light. He certainly doesn’t see the way the truck loses control.

The last thing he does see is a flash of black as the truck slams into his tiny cheap car, and then the world goes dark.

*Tony stands in the hallway for a long time, staring at the discarded Spider-Man mask on the floor. Peter left in his suit, with a sweater and short pulled on over it like it would protect his identity at all.

He already regrets the things he said. He knows he should have faith in Peter’s capabilities. The kid’s strong and smart and he’s got a crazy expensive suit on his side. Tony should’ve trusted Peter, he knows.

But on the other hand, Tony can’t lose Peter. He can’t let something happen to his kid.

“Karen’s inactive so I’m incapable of getting a read on why, but Peter Parker’s vitals have fluctuated to dangerous levels,” Friday pipes up.

“What?” Tony asks, drawing his watch up to get look at them.

It isn’t clear why his heart rate has chaanged drastically or why his blood-oxygen levels are dropping, but it’s bad. It’s pretty obviously bad, so Tony summons a suit and takes off towards Peter’s last known location.

When he gets to the scene, Tony’s heart drops to his stomach, hands trembling as he tumbles out of his suit.

There are two ambulances, three police cars, a fire truck, and two tow trucks all surrounding the scene of the accident where Tony can just make out Peter’s little car, wrecked and smoking.

Tony had told Peter time and time again that he shouldn’t buy the shitty, old car off his neighbors, but Peter had been insistent. He wanted a car of his own, not one that Tony would buy for him. He wanted to have his own first shitty car.

And Tony let him as long as he promised they’d fix it up together.

They never really did.

“Sir, you can’t be here,” a woman tells him. She touches his arm gently, eyes focusing on him with concern. “We don’t need Iron Man’s help here.”

“No, not Iron Man, I’m just here as Tony,” he tries to explain. “That’s my kid’s car. That’s- He- He’s my kid, please.”

The woman nods carefully, glancing behind her at the wreckage. “We’re working on getting him out of the car and then you can ride with us to the hospital, alright? Just stay out of our way.”

“Yeah, yes, of course,” Tony blurts, voice shaking. “Just- Please, please let him know I’m here?”

All Tony’s allowed to do is wait on the sidelines.

A man’s dragged out of the truck. He looks alright, still able to stand on his own, only a little bit of blood on his temple and hands. His face is scrunched up in awful grief as he stares at Peter’s wrecked car, as he’s taken to one of the ambulances.

And then finally, finally, they get Peter out of the car.

All Tony can see is blood and he nearly throws up, stomach twisting as he sees the paramedics get Peter onto the stretcher and into the back of an ambulance.

The woman from earlier reappears and grabs his arm, leading him up and into the ambulance as well.

Tony can barely breathe as he reaches out and grabs Peter’s hand, trying his best not to cry. “I’m so sorry.”

Peter’s eyes are closed, skin an awful pale, blood staining every inch of him.

“I’m so sorry, kiddo,” Tony repeats quietly, accepting the washcloth and bucket offered to him and he starts carefully rinsing the blood off the kid, water turning pink. “Don’t you give up on me. Please. I’m sorry.”

Tony focuses on washing away Peter’s blood until they get to the hospital and he’s sat down on one of the uncomfortable chairs, left to call May and Pepper and Happy, let them know what happened and promising to keep them in the loop.

Time passes strangely and Tony doesn’t do much but sit there and silently hope that everything will be okay, guilt swelling within him for hours.

Until a nurse comes and leads him to the hospital room where Peter’s already awake, still looking too pale and hurt, but awake. Alive.

“Kid, I’m so sorry-”

“I know,” Peter says, reaching out one of his hands for Tony to take. “I didn’t really think you were being honest because I wasn’t either. I know you only do what you do to protect me.”

“And yet, you’re here because of me.”

Peter shakes his head, eyebrows creasing in confusion. “It’s nobody’s fault. The weather was bad, it was just an accident. We could spend forever pointing blame, but it’s okay. I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“I’m still sorry.”

And Peter smiles, bringing Tony’s hand up to his chest to hold it close. “I love you, Tony.”

“Yeah, I love you too, kid. Don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @spideygirl2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @tonystarkweneedyou {Let me know if you want to be added or removed}

#lyss writes #lyss answers #irondad #Irondad and Spiderson #irondad fic #peter parker #tony stark #kinda lowkey not that proud of this one but yk

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goldenfawnwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Birds Of A Feather - Part 14 Hawks Fic

Summary: Finch has changed, for the better or for worse?

A/N: Just got a new laptop for my birthday and I’m absolutely in love with it, only thing- the keyboard lights turn off when they go inactive and my eyesight is awful so when I go to start typing again I often mess up lol. Fun times tho.

Warnings: Angst, violence, abuse by the commission.

It was late, Hawks was sitting up watching the news. That was when he got a call from an unknown number. Usually he wouldn’t answer to numbers he didn’t know, for fear of his phone number getting leaked but, for some reason a heavy feeling settled in his gut and he clicked answer quickly.

“H-Hawks?”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Asami, Starlight.”

“Oh you’re Finch’s best friend right?”

“Ya actually, I was calling about Kore. I haven’t heard from her in awhile-”

“She’s been training for the commission. It’s been non-stop.”

There was a pause from the other side of the phone and then Asami continued.

“Well, is she doing alright? She doesn’t usually ignore me like this.”

“U-uh,”

He contemplated telling Asami with the hope that she could help but he also didn’t want to worry her and end up getting her hurt.

“Ya, she’s doing great actually, she’s even tried flying a little.”

Asami gasped and made a little excited squeak.

“That’s amazing!”

“Ya, I’m sure she’ll give you a call soon, she’s just been super busy and worn out with all the work so...”

He trailed off. He hoped to god she wouldn’t try and go visit her or call. He feared Finch may snap on her or worse, him.

“Ok, well, I’ll let you go, sorry for disturbing you, I just thought I didn’t want to bother her so I’d call you. Y’know, she was really upset when you stopped visiting her in the hospital.”

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“Ya I know... I just couldn’t get too close to her without the commission riding my ass about it. We talked it out though.”

They definitely hadn’t talked out all the harbored feelings with that situation but, he’d address that later.

“Ok, well, let her know I called! Thanks Hawks~”

“No problem!”

He replied before she hung up, letting his throw his phone down on the couch and run a hand down his face with a sigh. He’d never be able to get to sleep at this rate. All he’d been able to do was worry about Finch since the last time he’d seen her, a couple days ago. He turned off his TV, making a decision.

As he flew through the night sky he couldn’t help but wonder if he was making the right decision. Would he be making the situation worse? Stressing her out more? When he got to her window he paused, his wings flapping to keep him in place. He sighed, sliding it open and pulling himself inside the dark bedroom. Maybe he should’ve went through the balcony door, he thought, stepping into the room. He spotted her passed out in her bed, curled up tight in a ball. He left his eyes on her for a moment longer before letting out what he thought was a silent sigh but man was he wrong. Finch popped out of bed at the speed of light and was immediately coming at him before he could even realize what was happening.

“Finch, Finch, it’s me!”

He yelled, grabbing her to stop her. She struggled against him, throwing punch after punch, Hawks blocking each one before finally grabbing her by the arms and turning her around, pinning her down on the bed roughly.

“Kore, it’s me Keigo!”

She was panting hard, and then suddenly, it was like she was back to normal again.

“K-keigo?”

She croaked in a hoarse voice. He could tell she had been crying.

“Keigo, what’s h-happening to me?”

She whimpered. Hawks wanted to let her up again but was still worried that she’d try and attack him again.

“Dove, you’ve gotta calm down, then I’ll let you go and we can talk.”

He tried to say gently, he was still panting, trying to prepare himself for the next round, if she decided to attack him again.

“Keigo I don’t know what’s happening-”

Her voice broke off into a harsh sob and Hawks could feel his heart break for her. She was in so much pain, so much torment.

“Come on lovebird, I know you can do this, just breathe, we can fix this.”

It was like she was a mechanical warrior, like she was following a string of commands. Her wings finally relaxed, no long pushing against him and folding to her back. He sighed, finally trusting that she was calm again as her feathers smoothed down and her breathing evened. He let her up slowly, bracing himself for if he had to contain her again.

“Just go slow birdie, no quick moves.”

“Y-you don’t trust m-me?”

“You’ve gotta understand Finch, I’m in a whole new situation also.”

^^^

They sat on her couch, far away from eachother as Hawks questioned her.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know, I just did it.”

“You just did it?”

“Yes- It’s like I couldn’t control myself...”

“What have they been doing to you?”

She paused.

“What do you mean?”

He ran a hand down his face. Maybe it was different for him to grow up learning this, they had more time to teach him things, so they didn’t have to rush, they could be a little more gentle with him but, for her they were trying to pump out a new hero as fast as they could. No time for her to absorb anything but being threatened with her life.

“What kind of training are you doing Finch?”

“T-they just put me in a room, everything is black, no lights or anything, they play really loud static noise and then they come.”

“They come?”

“People start to attack me. They take away my sight and hearing and then they start attacking me, I think it’s 3 different people but I’m not sure, sometimes it less, sometimes it’s more. Then I just have to.. I don’t know, survive? Sense them and react?”

He was silent.

“What else?”

“Am I going to get in trouble for telling you this? You can’t go to them, I’ll get in a lot of trouble-”

“What else Finch.”

He growled, his feathers puffing up.

“U-uh... They do it under water too... I get in a pool, they blindfold me, and then I fight someone. That’s always one on one, never more. Recently they’d been putting me through flight training. Fast paced obstacle courses and stuff like that. Fighting in the air.”

“Have they been giving you any breaks?”

“Not usually no. Not until they let me go home. They don’t tell me the time very often. They just bring in food sometimes and let me eat and rest.”

That’s why he hasn’t seen her barely any at work anymore. She’s been occupied fully. No breaks. That’s why she’s so paranoid, why she randomly attacked him earlier. She doesn’t know anything but danger. She hasn’t had any time to process this.

“Finch, you’ve gotta stop this, we’ve got to give you a break, you’re stressing yourself way too much-”

“I can’t take a break now Keigo. I’ll lose everything I’ve worked so hard for. I can’t give it up now, I definitely can’t go through all this over again.”

She looked so tired. So exhausted. Like she hadn’t seen peace in weeks. And he knew she hadn’t. The commission was ruthless. This was their best creation yet, and the poor girl just happened to get caught in the middle of their aspirations. He had done this. It was his fault, he brought it up to the commission, he had convinced her to go through with it.

“Finch, you’re gonna work yourself to death, this isn’t healthy. They need to cool it, you don’t have to be a hero tomorrow for god’s sake-”

“I want to be a hero as soon as possible. It’s my fault for not being better, they wouldn’t have to do this if I would just learn-”

“No Finch! That’s not how this is supposed to work! You’re not supposed to be some machine! You’re not a soldier that does whatever they want! There is no reason to be working so stupidly hard, you’re going to keel over at this rate.”

She didn’t reply, tears brimming her eyes. She couldn’t stop now, she was so close to her goal. She was so close to being exactly the way they wanted her to be.

Keigo ran a hand down his face and scooted closer, gingerly pulling her into his lap and hugging her tightly.

“Finch, babybird, we have to stop this, your heart is gonna give out with the stress.”

“I-I c-can’t!”

She sobbed, her face buried in his chest. He ran nimble fingers through her hair, the feeling relaxing her slightly. Her heart was beating so fast he was concerned. This couldn’t be good for her physical health, let alone her mental health.

“Lets get you back to bed dove, have you ate recently?”

She shook her head into his chest but when he went to stand her hands clenched around his jacket.

“P-pleas- d-don’t le-leave me..”

He didn’t reply at first, trying to figure out what her problem was.

“I k-keep having n-nightmares, p-please d-don’t leave me a-alone...”

She whimpered. A coo erupted from his throat before he could even process it, his wings fluffing up and enveloping her.

“You’re safe birdie, I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere. Lets get you something to eat and go to bed ok?”

He had no choice but to pick her up as he made his way into the kitchen area, setting her down on the counter and pulling her shaking hands off of him so he could get something for her to eat. He had to force himself to let go of her but he knew she needed something to eat desperately.

After eating some yogurt and granola he picked her back up, holding her tight to his body before he had an even better idea than going to her bedroom.

“Hey Kore? Wanna go to my place? I think you’ll have a better time sleeping there.”

And so he flew them back to his apartment, holding onto her tightly before laying her down onto his bed. He knew it would feel safer for her, it would smell like him. He laid down next to her after peeling his jacket off and she curled up into him, letting him pull her close as her breathing evened and she fell asleep.

#hawks #mha #mha hawks #bnha hawks #bnha #keigo #keigo takami

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aerialflight · 5 years ago

Text

Storm the World with Reckless Abandon

Snippet #16

District 4 was a close-knit, viciously friendly place. They share the mindset of you’re whether with them or against them, sharks of the sea who follow the scent of spilt blood, especially if it’s theirs. They bare their teeth into grins and laugh with bubbly enthusiasm to mask the sharp canines ready to bite. They can be gentle, kind. But they’re a picky bunch, and don’t have much thought for outsiders.

There’s a reason they’re one of the Career districts. Their whole livelihood depends on being fearless, to be able to jump into the water and take on whatever creatures they face. To be hunters, patient with their nets and waiting for the right time to strike with their fishhooks.

Thrill seekers, every last one of them. If it weren’t for the fact the world around them was contaminated and limited, they’d eagerly explore more dangerous waters, discover another world beyond the shallow reefs.

Brea has been told her entire life she’s far too practical for any of that nonsense. Her father would run a hand through her hair and affectionately tease her for her strict nature. Her refusal to go in the water other than to fish had kids deeming her as boring. She gets her chores done on time, weaves out blankets with fabric traded from District 8, and repeats the day like clockwork.

Being chosen for the Hunger Games was a death sentence for a girl like her.

She wasn’t blind or stupid, she knew her chances were slim to none. And even if she did survive, she wasn’t sure she would want to in the end. To have that much blood coat her hands and never be able to scrub them off was a concept she didn’t want to understand.

In that train leading to her death, the older victor Mags had pulled her aside with deadly serious eyes, and slowly enunciated four words with absolute care, determined to give this one advice to her among the many she already had given through gestures and written word.

“Ally with the outsider.”

Personally, Brea thought the older woman was completely unreasonable to ask that of her. Because it was never going to happen.

The outsider – Ichigo she recalled, the name strange and foreign on the tongue – was the very definition of insane.

He didn’t understand the silent rules everyone followed, spoke out when it could get him killed, and treated killers like they were merely human. He moved too quietly and was wilder than anyone she’s ever met. As strange as he was, he fit right in with the Victors he hung around more with than with his fellow tributes. Not that it was encouraged for the tributes to interact or get close to one another, but it sometimes couldn’t be helped when training together.

But it didn’t seem to matter either way. The orange haired enigma acted untouchable to his surroundings and even if Brea did take Mag’s advice into consideration, it would mean having to watch her own back even more than she was now. The strong belonged with the strong, and Brea didn’t belong in that category. It would mean putting herself in the line of fire.

No matter how kind and gentle the old woman Mags looked, how dazzling and shallow Finnick Odair acted, they wouldn’t be standing here today if they didn’t have a streak of ruthlessness in them. Brea heard the stories, seen the clips. Living in a district so aware of how food chains didn’t just extend to the food they ate, Brea was rightfully wary of those who proved to be more than how they appeared. Blending in or standing out were methods of a predator, or a very clever prey capable of surviving.

Either was a dangerous combination and the Capital was pack full of such people.

She could see it in the other Careers who smirked in her direction with arrogant disdain. See it in all the other tributes whose eyes glinted with determination or desperation to live.

Human beings hunting down human beings in this game that Ichigo seemingly refused to play in. Like he was better than them.

That was what truly made him infuriating. He was a predator who didn’t bother to hunt, content in watching the rest of them struggle and not lifting a damn finger to take advantage of it. Brea knew it was irrational. She knew Ichigo as an ally would be a boon, but in some ways, he was even worse than the Careers. His above-all attitude was implied by his inaction and refusal to train.

It made her grit her teeth, resentment building by the day as he sat by and did nothing.

All of that, however, changed on the second day.

It was the District 2 Career who instigated it. The boy, Lance if Brea remembered correctly. He had been casually hefting the spear at the weapon’s section of the training room with Panthea, the blonde tribute of his own district, when his gaze was suddenly resting on the unmoving, sitting form of the outsider like a shark smelling blood in the water.

Hair at the back of Brea’s neck stood up as Lance swaggered towards Ichigo with Panthea gleefully grinning next to him. The District 1 tributes, who seemed to have formed an alliance with them to the surprise of no one since day one, trailed behind with a caution that Brea found to be rare in Careers. Thad and Ace weren’t such terrible people as Brea expected them to be. A lot quieter than the blond pair, that’s for certain. Still, the way they moved screamed dangerous as their footsteps were quiet and their countenance confident.

She didn’t know what to make of them yet. Their true colors would be revealed in the games though, Brea had no doubts about that.

The whole room was suddenly quiet as all the tributes started to notice the impending drama that was about to occur. Brea would bet her District’s entire food storage that the sponsors behind the walls were watching as well, holding their breaths and waiting to see what would happen.

Ichigo, who seemed absolutely oblivious to all of this, remained relaxed and sitting with his eyes closed. If it weren’t for the deep breaths the cavity of his chest were taking, Brea would be tempted to think he was peaceful as death. He remained so even as Lance loomed over him, grinning bloodthirstily.

“Hey, Outsider. Having a good nap?”

Ichigo opened one eye by a fraction, the color gold underneath the lighting. Taking in the sight of the Career, Ichigo closed it once more in a dismissing gesture that spoke volumes of what he thought of his fellow competitor.

“I was until you showed up brat.”

Everyone stared.

Brea didn’t know whether to gape or laugh in shock.

Lance stood motionless for a full second before swinging the spear he was still incidentally holding up to Ichigo’s neck, his movement quick as a viper and face red with rage. Everyone immediately tensed, the atmosphere turning strained to the point of suffocation.

“What did you call me?” Lance spat out, looking enraged and incredulous at the same time. Like he never imagined someone would be stupid enough to insult him while he was holding a weapon.

Like the maniac he clearly was, the outsider didn’t even flinch as he slowly reopened both eyes. He looked unimpressed.

“I called you what you are.” Ichigo shrugged, unconcerned how the movement jolted the blade so it would scrape against his neck. “If you’ve got a problem with it, then stop acting like one. Brat.”

He’s crazy, Brea thought somewhat deliriously. Or he has a death wish.

Lance seemed to think along the same lines, his grip on the spear so tight to the point one could see his knuckles turning pale.

“Do you want to die? Is that it? Cause I can make that happen for you.” He pressed the blade harder, just barely not breaking the skin. “It would be a mercy for someone as crazy as you.”

At that, the outsider’s inhumanely golden eyes opened fully, wide and unsettling as they pierced through the boy with a sharpness even more threatening than the blade on his neck. A feral grin was overtaking his features, for once not looking apathetic or what Brea now realized was boredom. He looked every bit as insane as Brea and everyone suspected him to be, untamed and animalistic with how sharp his canines suddenly looked.

“You can’t cut me. You’re afraid.” Ichigo said with utter certainty. His accusing stare dared Lance to deny it. “When you attack, you’re thinking “I’m afraid to cut them.” When you dodge, you think, “I’m afraid to get cut.”” Ichigo reached out a hand and tapped the blade pointedly. “There’s nothing but fear in your blade. And because of that, you can’t beat me. I called you brat because your resolve is weak.”

Without hesitation, Ichigo pushed the blade away from his neck with an ease that spoke of how little he thought of the boy, yes, boy in front of him. He stood up, his eyes never leaving Lance’s frozen figure. At that moment, the outsider looked so much older than he actually was. Never has he looked so separate, so much of an outsider than in this very instance.

In the dead silence, Ichigo took his leave, walking out of the room with his head held high and looking like a Victor already.

It was official. No way was Brea allying with a crazy who practically painted himself as a target after this stunt.

Notes: So, I'm alive? For anybody who's still interested in this fic, thank you for your patience and really sorry it took so long to update hahaha. Final exams are kicking my ass and this just somehow came out. Do I regret not studying instead? Absolutely. Would I take this chapter back? Hell no. So, at least there's something good about exams. It's the best time to stress write lol. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy and thank you to those still following this fic!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

AO3

#Fanfiction #AO3 #Snippet #aerial snippet #Crossover #The Hunger Games #Bleach #Fic Idea #Crack!plot #Kurosaki Ichigo #Storm the World with Reckless Abandon

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ianalizz · 5 years ago

Text

To the Moon and Back

Disclaimer: If you like surprises, please do not read blurb!

Two past lovers encounter each other once again. While trying to distinguish the new boss and employee relationship they find themselves in strange encounters. Explosions and retaliations are the residue left over from their past. Both Mila and Harry wish to move on in order to work in a tranquil environment. The only way to acquire said wish is to talk out their past, but it seems like they can never get on the same page. Will they ever move on? Or will they shove the past in to the back of their minds in order to work harmoniously? One question that strides to Mila's mind is why did he come back? Short story! Hope you like it 🖤

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Also, I have a wattpad that you guys can follow: https://www.wattpad.com/Ianalizz?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_profile

Would I lose myself in him or would he enhance the better parts of my writing? Mila always wondered what would happen if the right guy swooped her off her feet. Now it seems so distant since she’s distracted. She doesn’t have to worry about guys now with her new job promotion being just in reach. It took three years to get (or almost get) to this point of her life. She is not going to let anyone ruin this for her. Not even the clueless barista at the coffee shop her boss loves. “Is this four pumps of caramel and one shot of coconut because I saw you do two caramel and two coconut. I’m going to need another iced coffee. I beg of you please make it right this time, my potential job depends on this order.” Her brown eyes pierce into the teenager and he simply nods and scoffs while taking her order back and replacing it. She mouths a loud thank you and walks out of the crowded coffee shop with a huge smile. As she says good morning to bystanders, they feel warm and can’t tell if it’s the well dressed brunette or the summer sun.

Mila makes her way into the tall glass building in the middle of New York City. The famous building is owned by Jeff Finn, one of the most famous writers in the country. The security guard greets Mila with a wave and she waves back rather aggressively while entering the elevator. Her excitement cannot be contained. She knew she was getting the job the minute it was presented to three interns: herself, snoring Steve, and Kelsey. Let it be known that Kelsey has been on maternity leave for three years and no one has heard of her since. There’s a rumor that she died, but according to her Facebook status she’s just... inactive.

The elevator dings on floor three and she leaps out while looking at her watch. Just in time, she thinks. Just in time to be early. A whole hour and seventeen minutes early. The front desk lady, Denise smiles as Mila leans over to say hello. “Hi, sweetheart. How are ya doing?” She asks with great concern.

Mila finds this confusing because it is obvious that she’s doing great. “Um amazing! How can you even ask me that Denise? Mr. Finn will give me the promotion and I’ll finally have,” She breathes deeply and almost tears up, “benefits.” She bites her lips and does a little dance showing her enthusiasm.

Mila slowly stops when noticing Denise’s facial expression. She reaches out of Mila’s arm, “Oh no. I thought someone would have told you.” Her thumb rubs Mila in a comforting style, but Mila jerks away slowly.

“Told me what? Don’t say that snoring Steve got that position! He talks out of his ass.” Mila’s voice grows into a whisper as Denise points toward the doorway revealing Steve. “G-good morning… man” She nervously says with a false smile.

Steve pulls out one of his apple air pod headphones and responds with a, “Huh?” and Mila thanks God silently.

She turns her attention to Denise, going back to their previous conversation. “Mila, no one is getting a promotion anytime soon. Jeff died last Friday.” Denise’s sorrowful eyes matches Mila’s. “I’m sorry, hun.”

Mila tries to make sense of this, but it hits her like a moving truck. “S-so... no benefits?” Denise’s shocked expression makes Mila feel the need to defend herself. “What? No one liked the guy.” Denise hits Mila on the hand like a child. “Ow! Okay, okay. I do feel for him and no one deserves that. No matter how rude and despicable they are-- were.” Mila recalls the times Mr. Finn would come to her cubicle and drop papers just to watch her pick it up and the amount of times he called her Mimi makes her gag to this day. She could have simply quit, but the pay was good and it will take more than a man to make her quit her dreams in being a published poet. Her current job was only phase one in her seven year plan. Let’s include the fact that we are in year 3 and still on phase one. Phase two was the editor position, but that dream quickly crumbled. “Iced coffee?” She hands the four pumps of caramel and one shot of coconut to Denise.

At work, she can’t get her mind off the editor position that’s still open. There has to be a way to get it. Part of her thinks it’d be easy to just pretend she already got the job and the other part of her doesn’t want to risk it. I mean, it would be easy. Just go in the editor’s office and start working. I’m perfect for the job. No one will have a clue. Except maybe for snoring Steve. She glances over to Steve who seems to be asleep and drooling. Okay, maybe he won't even notice. She gets up, careful not to wake Steve because if she does she’ll have to again hear the story of how his grandmother ice skated naked eight years ago on New Year’s.

She takes the elevator to the fourth floor where all the editors are. The last office on the left is where she believes dearly that she belongs. The only obstacle that was in the way was that Mr. Finn’s office would be diagonally next to hers, but now that doesn’t seem like a problem anymore. She walks in and her white heels clack on the dark hardwood floor. Her heart beats as she floats toward the desk, letting her fingers dance on the fine dark oak and slowly makes their way to the black plush chair. Her eyes envision her clients seated right in front of her desk and on the leather seats. She sits down on her dream chair and spins while laughing a little.

Suddenly, she hears Mr. Finn’s office door open and she ducks down under the desk. She hears footsteps approach the desk and she remains frozen in place, hoping it isn’t the ghost of Mr. Finn. The footsteps come to a stop right in front of her. The figure crouches down to her level of eyesight. The man’s green eyes locks with her as their faces are merely inches from each other. His grin turns into an even bigger smile when he notices her eyebrows raise. “Need help?” His British accent as thick as the tension in the room. He extends his hand.

Mila takes his hand and rises to her feet with the help of green eyes. “Thank you.” She lightly says while brushing off any dust on her blazer.

“No problem.” He says. He scratches his head before saying, “S-so, um. How have you been?” His face bright red and sweaty hands deep in his pockets.

“Fine. Yourself?” Her arms crossed and eyes are now attempting to burn him or make him disappear like in her poems she’s written about him, but it isn’t going to be that easy. “Good, good.” He runs his fingers through his curls and out of his eyes, gaining the confidence to say, “Look Mila,”

“Save it.” She cuts him off quickly while turning to exit, but in the back of her head she needs to know; why is he back? “W-what are you even doing here Harry?” Her lips press together as she cocks her head to the side waiting on his answer.

“Well, I…” She cuts him off again.

“Why would you think for one second I would want to see you again?”

“I didn’t mean to,” There she goes again.

“To what? Leave without telling me? Move to a whole other country without telling me?” Her voice bounces off the walls.

“Mila, I…”

“You what?” Just let him talk! Oh sorry. I’m getting too into this.

Finally, once Mila is ready to hear his excuses as to why he left two years ago, a knock appears at the door. The pair looks at Mr. Finn’s assistant, Griffin, as he pops his multicolored dyed head into the room. “Mr. Styles, you have a meeting at eleven with the board and where would you like the interviews held for the new editor position?” In between his flamboyant words Mila makes the connection as to why Harry is here.

Harry clears his throat and says, “I’ll be out in a minute.” With that Griffin closes the door and the pair regain eye contact.

“You’re replacing Mr. Finn aren’t you?” Mila questions with her shoulders hanging low. Although she is really vexatious due to the fact he left, deep down she wanted him to say he had come back for her. He nods his head while walking toward the door, opening it for her. She glances back in to the editor’s office longingly before kissing her seven year plan goodbye.

Walking back to her cubicle, she runs in to Denise who notices that Mila is nervously picking at her nails. “Oh so you didn’t hear yet?” Denise smiles.

“Hear what?” Mila shrugs her shoulders, but maintains her distinguishably sad posture.

“The new boss flew in last night and is rescheduling the editor’s position interviews! Isn’t that great? You’ll get benefits!” Denise starts to happy dance and notices that Mila isn’t doing so, therefore killing the vibe. “Uh uh, nope. No moping. You’re a shoo in for that job.” She states convincingly while wagging her finger at Mila.

“I don’t think so. It’s Harry.” Mila mutters.

“Why do you still have that asshole in your mind? It’ been two years.” Denise says throwing her arms in the air, but whispering yet shouting.

“No, Denise. The boss is Harry.” Denise’s eyes widen and she looks at Mila with such sorrow once again.

Mila has no choice but to drown herself in work. It distracts her from thinking of Harry and the fact that she might not even have an intern position by next week. Yelling at the boss on his first day isn’t really… recommended. The only thing keeping her going is the fact that she already paid the next three months rent in advance. At least that’s something she did not have to worry about. She’s also looking forward to the full moon tonight. Something about that circle in the sky always intrigued her.

The thoughts of Mila and the snores of Steve are interrupted by Griffin. “Steve!” Steve awakens belligerently with a low groan. “Boss-man would like to see you,” Griffin says. Is Harry interviewing for the position now? Mila thinks. She can feel her heart frown as well as her lips.

“I thought he was dead.” Steve says while wiping the crumb out of his eyes.

“New boss. Now wipe that drool off your face and look somewhat presentable. See you up there in 5.” Griffin says as he shoots Mila a small smile and Steve one more glare. Steve does as told and gets up, possibly to rob Mila of her temporary dream job.

Steve hasn’t come back and it’s already past clock out time. Mila has to do last minute touches before she can leave her desk. She skims the window to take in the scenery of the sun setting. The yellows, oranges, and pink mesh together to create intangible beauty, humans barely deserve to look at it. She looks at her reflection and notices that she isn’t the only one there. She turns back swiftly and sees Harry yet again. “Oh hi?” She questions more than says.

“It’s 5:37. What are you still doing here?” He questions while leaning on Steve’s desk.

“I just had to do some work before the... before I leave.” She packs up everything on her desk and grabs her purse.

“Before the full moon?” His voice, light, almost hesitant. “I remember you wanting to finish everything so you can focus on your writing under the moonlight.” He smiles to himself losing eye contact with Mila.

This small talk and walk through memory lane breaks Mila’s heart all over again, but she can’t be mean to her new boss. “Yeah. Anyway, I must go. Good night.” He looks at her directly one last time before moving out of her way.

“Good night, Mila.” She passes him and walks out, not looking back. He stares at her, hoping for one more dose of her brown eyes, but he is left craving.

Now in sweats, fuzzy socks, a Southern Connecticut State sweater and no makeup, Mila sits on her fire escape waiting for the muse of the moon to unleash the breathtaking and wishful words. C’mon moon. Give me something. How about her eyes danced as she searches for… Nope. Human nature is… No. Two years is a HUGE AMOUNT OF...Nada. She can’t seem to focus. All she can think about is how her ex boyfriend is now her boss and she might possibly have to find a new job. Maybe I can work as a barista. I’d be the best damn barista in the… Nah. As if on cue, an unknown number calls Mila. Maybe talking to a tax scammer can clear her mind. “Hello?” Her monotone voice earns a familiar chuckle from the other side.

“Glad you haven’t changed your number.” Harry mumbles over the phone taking Mila back a little. He had saved her number all this time. “Listen, I wanted to apologize if it seemed like I ambushed you with my presence today.” His voice is dim. There is a pause between them. Harry’s side of the phone captures the pops of his fireplace. Harry can also hear the wind howling through Mila’s side. “I’m also sorry that I left.” Those words takes Mila’s breath away. “It was selfish and I can never forgive myself for hurting you. It was never my intention. Seeing you today took me back to before and it,” he gulps before saying, “and it tortured me all day. I just hope we can work past this. Good night.” With that, Mila is left with the dial tone and inspiration.

Her fingers cramp up begging her to stop typing and editing, but she has to or else the moment will be gone. She can see her reflection on the laptop screen and her smile is ear to ear as she finishes up her last line. The moon came through for her tonight like it always has.

The next morning, dreadful. The elevator doors ring as they open up to the third floor revealing Griffin. “Mila! Yes, Mr. Styles has been looking for you! Go upstairs and meet him right away.” He chimes pressing the fourth floor button and walking out, barely giving her time to acknowledge him or even breathe.

She does as told and walks slowly toward his office, and of course she can’t help, but to take a peek into the new editor’s office to see if Steve really got the position. As she peers in, her eyes spot Harry sitting on the desk with his legs up revealing his Chelsea boots and his phone in his hands. Confusingly, she enters capturing Harry’s attention. “Mila!” Taken off guard, he stumbles back with the chair and falls over.

Mila rushes to his side in a fit of laughter. “Oh my God. Are you okay?” She asks in between giggles. Harry joins her with a chuckle that’s infused with a groan of pain. She looks at him and extends a hand, “Need help?” She questions. Harry smiles and accepts her kind gesture.

As soon as the chair is back into place, Harry commands Mila to sit in it. She awkwardly does as Harry goes around to the leather chairs across the desk. “How do you feel?” He asks while sitting down slowly.

“I think I should be asking you. Are you sure you’re okay?” She now seriously asks. He nods and points to her with his hand, directing the question back to her. “Well, I feel pretty good. Why?”

Harry can’t hide the huge smile any longer and says, “I’ve considered deeply who deserves this editor position and you earned it.” Mila’s face doesn’t know if it should smile, roll her eyes or frown. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“I am. I would love this job, but I can’t help but think that it’s because of our history. Therefore, I do not want it if it’s coming from you.” She wants to earn this job and she genuinely believes she did, but it seems so given to her if it’s by an ex.

Harry stands up, flabbergasted at what she just said. “Mila, look it was between you and Steve. Kelsey doesn’t work here so we ruled her out. Steve? Snoring Steve?” He knows about that? “He was fired yesterday because of the five hour security footage of him sleeping in the janitor’s closet.” He comes closer to Mila’s desk and leans over, using his arms to balance him leaning over Mila’s face. “You were the only who came close to earning this position. If you even think for one second it was magically handed to you because of some past feelings, you’re wrong. This is a business, so do your job.” Harry says sternly and turns around slamming his office door. Mila believes that she has earned this job after what Harry said, but how he said it makes her feel a fire in the dark places of her heart. He didn’t have to scrutinize her in such an impassioned form. I’m taking this job, she thought, and then I’ll take his. Whoa there, Mila, what happened to the plan?

The next few days involve work and longing looks between Harry and Mila that morphs into rolls of eyes and scoffs. They haven’t spoken since Harry’s big blow up and to be frank, Mila doesn’t mind not talking to him. She’s done it for two years, she can handle it. You know who can’t? Big boss man Harry. He can’t stand watching her and not being able to speak to her, so he enters her office. “Yes?” She acknowledges him without looking directly at him. He hasn’t step foot in her new office since he gave her the job and now realizes that she has made it her own. The original poetry on the wall he recognizes from times Mila would read to him at night. The empty shelves were now stacked with her favorite books from To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee to Pillow Thoughts by Courtney Peppernell. On the pale gray wall there are wooden picture frames that matches her desk with her family in them. She looks up when she realizes that he hasn’t said a word and it is because he is in awe of how much this empty room changed within days. “Yes?” She asks once more.

“Oh, well I was stopping by to apologize.” He says nervously playing with the sleeves of his button down.

“You’ve been doing that lately.” Mila puts her pen on the desk heavily to place her attention on him.

“I didn’t mean to explode like that. I just don’t want there to be a problem between us because of our past. I owned up to my mistakes and you still treat me so cold. Can we both grow up and put this behind us just to have this a decent place to work.” He says, finally letting go of his sleeve and making direct eye contact with her. He can almost feel himself burning from the inside out with the look she’s giving him.

Mila sucks her teeth and contemplates before she nods her head toward the door, signifying him to close it. He does as so and turns to her as she walks around her desk and sits on it. She crosses her legs and let out a breath. “I would love to, but in order for that to happen we must clear the air. Talk about everything and then leave it behind. It’s the only way I can move on and I’m betting the same thing goes for you.” She feels proud handling this so maturely. It’s true, she wants to get along for the sake of their jobs.

He inches closer and sits on the leather couch. “Do you want to start or should I?” He looks up to her gaze and fights the urge to remove the strand of loose hair covering her eyes.

“Well…” She elongates the well and raises her voice high and hops off the desk walking toward the window wall that has the most perfect view of the busy streets and billboards hoping the flashes of light and speeding cars would distract him a bit.

“What did you do?” He tilts his head while his eyes dilate.

Mila hesitates before saying, “I was just so angry at you and I-I…”

“Mila,” He warns.

“I called the board and said that you called me on my personal phone late at night and I found it completely inappropriate and I’m sorry.” She rushes her words and turns to Harry, who practically jumps off the chair causing it to scrap the floor.

“You what?!” Harry snaps and looks at her in disbelief. He inhales deeply and exhales loudly.

Mila can feel her face heat up because of the embarrassment of her retaliation toward Harry’s outbursts. “We can fix this. All I did was leave a message, they probably haven’t heard it.” She says.

“It’s useless.” He whispers putting his face in his hands. “Hopefully I’ll just get a warning or something.” Harry knows a warning is far from reach. Calling an employee of the opposite sex late at night and suddenly giving her a job promotion in his first two days isn’t really a great impression. Harry knows his job was on the line, but he doesn’t want to worry Mila.

“No, no. I have a plan.” She has that determined look in her eyes that Harry is all too familiar with. He begins to protest, but Mila’s brain is already calibrating. There is no stopping her now.

They both make their way to the elevator and head toward the second floor where the board member's offices are. Mila ignores Harry’s pleas to stop her from getting him in anymore trouble. “Okay,” Mila says. “We can’t let them see us or they will know somethings up. We have to crawl past front desk and see where they forwarded my call.” Mila knows her plan sounds strange, but 78% of the time they work, which are good odds for her.

They did as so. Mila leads the way and Harry follows her past the front desk. Harry respectfully attempts to keep his eyes toward the floor and not toward Mila. Mila’s positive that Harry’s tight pants would have ripped by now. They continue to crawl until they are out of sight. “How do you know they won’t be in their office?” Harry questions with a whisper.

Mila tries to come up with a softer way to say, I called again today to report you, but the front desk said they would be in a meeting until eleven. “Not important.” That works, too. “Now check those offices on the left and I’ll check the right ones. We’ll cover more ground.”

There are five offices Harry and Mila must check and only seven minutes to do so. The first office for Mila was dark and only lit by what she assumes was a blueprint mistake. The light source is a small and narrow window place awkwardly on the far left corner of the office. Mila tries to keep her mind on the plan, but the multiple cat painting hanging on the wall distracted her just a tad. Focus Mila. She tells herself over and over while nearing the phone. She picks it up and dials 1, which automatically directs her to the voicemail box, but no luck. The second one for Mila is also a dead end, but Harry’s second one is the winner. He feels the need to listen even though the little voice in his head tells him not to. Which is me. DON’T DO IT HARRY. IT ISN’T GOOD. He ignores and listens to the message.

Hello, I would love to speak to a board member. My name is Mila Castillo and I’d like to report one of your employees. My new boss and I have history. I tried to keep it out of my mind, but I can’t. Especially with him calling me at an unreasonable hour on my personal phone. It was completely inappropriate and I’m hoping you can deal with this. Thank you. Call me back.

Harry’s breath feels like it’s been punched out of him. He deletes the call and walks over to the door, but upon opening it, Mila runs in and shuts the doors. “Board members! Hide!” She whispers. Harry opens the supply closet filled with coats and brooms and grabs Mila by the wrist, pulling her in with him. As soon as the door closes they can swear someone entered. Mila and Harry have no choice but to stand chest to chest in this small supply closet. Mila looks up at him, “Did you find it?” Harry only nods and looks away from her eyes. “And you listened, didn’t you?” Mila wants him to shake his head no, but based on his current expression she already knows the answer. He nods again. “Look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking and I…”

“You were right.” He announces in a faint voice, cutting her sentence short. He moves back into some coats, maintaining a few inches from Mila. The silence in the closet makes Mila want to wish herself out of the situation, but wishful thinking can only go so far. Once Harry realizes there isn’t anyone in the room he leaves in a hurry. Mila stays in the closet a little longer hoping to catch the next elevator up.

Harry has been in his office all day with a closed door and Mila feels guilty. She can’t help it. Harry’s words keeps entering her mind as she tries to work; Can we both grow up and put this behind us just to have this a decent place to work. They echo repeatedly until she finally builds up the courage to knock on his door. A deep, “Come in.” is her cue to enter and so she does.

She walks into Harry’s office slowly and sees him looking out the gigantic window that matched Mila’s. He turns to her and offers that false pressed smile that no one wants. Mila closes the door and it vibrates the whole room. “That’s a heavy door.” She says chuckling the awkwardness away. Or so she thinks. Little did she know her chuckling summons more awkwardness. “Okay, I still think we should talk in order for us to work.” She speaks her mind and only hopes he would do the same.

He looks at her and nods, “I do too.” Mila grins, but it soon turns back into a straight line when he says, “When should I schedule our appointment.” He sits down on his chair and pulls himself closer to the desk to take a look at his calendar. “I’m free tomorrow after lunch.”

“Appointment? This isn’t some business deal, it’s about us.” Mila argues.

“You were right. On the phone. It was completely inappropriate and I’m your boss.” He says with such conviction. Mila cannot believe what she is hearing. She scoffs as she turns around and walks right out of the door, slamming it harder this time.

At home, all Mila can do is lay on her bed and think. She looks up to the white ceiling and throws her pillow up then catches it. The bed squeaks every time she uses all her force to throw the fluffy pink pillow up with both hands to the ceiling, but it fails to touch it every time.

Once she gives up, she grabs her phone. She looks at her recent call list and looks for the unknown number Harry called from nights ago. She presses it and breathes out preparing to have the talk with him. Unfortunately she gets his voicemail; You’ve reached Harry Styles. Please Leave a message: “Hey, hi. Listen, um. I’m sorry. I know what I said on the voicemail must have affected you and I didn’t mean them. I was just mad. I get mad and retaliate, you get mad and explode. We’re not perfect. I’m still getting used to this boss and employee relationship and still trying to figure things out. You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I sat on my fire escape and contemplated if quitting would work, but you’re right. We both earned these positions and the only way to get through this rough patch is to talk it through and leave nothing in the air. So schedule me for tomorrow after lunch please.” Mila giggles at that last part and hopes that Harry can find it in his heart to not leave her guessing in the dark on where they stand.

The night falls and the moon isn’t as radiant as when it’s full. Especially with the fog and the rain. Mila thought the pitter patter on her window would help her focus, but tonight lightning accompanied with thunder ruined the mood. Mila blames her horrible writing on the night sky. She attempts to write on paper, but soon realizes why she hated it. Crumbled pieces surround her on the gray covered bed and hardwood floors. Her mini trash can from five below overflowed with loose lines of poetry. Her mind yearns for a break from this depressing session. She finally agrees and goes into her kitchen to grab a water bottle from the fridge. As she chugs it down, she grabs her phone from the kitchen charger and realizes that she has 2 missed calls from the unknown number. She curses under her breath and attempts to call him back, but it goes straight to voicemail. She hangs up and regrets her willpower and rule of no phone while writing.

Unexpectedly a knock appears at her door. She goes to open it and reveals a drenched Harry. She takes a moment to figure out her words, but Harry comes in abruptly. “I can’t wait until tomorrow at lunch.” He says dripping on to the floor. Mila didn’t care that he’s making a mess at this moment. She closes the door and turns to him. “We need to talk and you said fire escape in your message so I was hoping you still live here. Can we please talk?” He says breathlessly. She nods and drinks the rest of her water to calm her sudden dry throat.

After Harry changes into Mila’s extra large SCSU shirt that she would normally sleep in and her brother’s basketball shorts that he left the last time he was here, she lit the fireplace and gave him a blanket to get him warm. He protested on all of that, but Mila was not letting him get hypothermia on her watch. After putting his clothes in the dryer, she finally sits on her plushy couch, joining him. “So,” She starts off, “let’s talk.” She leans her head on her hand which rests on the top of the couch.

Harry admires her soft features he hasn’t seen in years. The fresh face girl has rosy cheeks and plump pink lips that are foreign to him now and he can’t take it anymore. What other reason would he have to walk in the rain than to tell her his feelings that he has been fighting the moment he saw her again. “I,” He says barely audible. He looks at her eyes getting more than a dose and he’s suddenly in a trance. Mila snaps her fingers in his face returning him back to reality. “I left.”

In a flash, Harry remembers the day particularly. Mila and him were a few months in to their relationship and were at a good place. They were never in love, but almost there. Harry and Mila started working straight out of college as interns in a publishing office. It was exciting, adventurous, perfect. Almost like high school where the principle can’t catch you sneaking around. They were both hard workers though and that did not go unnoticed. They were both recommended for the manager position in Eastern London. Harry was the one that got it. Mila would have been supportive of her boyfriend, but what Harry doesn’t know is that Mila dropped out of the running so Harry can have the opportunity of a lifetime. She believed their relationship was strong enough at this point to overcome obstacles such as distance, but she wasted a wishful thought. Unfortunately, what Mila encountered was Harry leaving without telling her. Slowly they became emotionally distant to complement the physical distance. It was simply easier to forget about each other.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mila’s eyes become glossy as they relive one of the most heartbreaking part of both their lives. The tears threaten to come down, but she puts her chin up and tries to gain control again.

Harry can’t look at her because he knows if he does, he’ll break. His eyes stare at the warm flames trying to distract himself, but once he hears her gasp through the tears, he crumbles. “I knew you gave up that job.” He admits. She looks at him with such confusion. “That’s why I left, because I knew that you giving up that job meant…” He can’t finish that sentence because the fear of him being wrong all these years haunts him and it just can’t be true because leaving would have been for nothing.

Mila sniffles as she calls his name for the first time since she found out she was his employee, “Harry?” He shuts his eyes moments before turning toward her and having a tear stain his pale cheek. “It meant I loved you.” She confesses. Their eyes now can’t look away from each other. “You were scared that I loved you?” She questions.

Harry nods and bites his bottom lip trying to fight back anymore tears before saying, “And I didn’t know if I loved you so, I left.” The truth behind his words makes Mila feel peaceful inside. She isn’t wondering what she did wrong anymore. It feels like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. Harry finally feels like he can breath thin air. “And I’m really sorry. Walking into your office today, I noticed that a lot can change in a short amount of time. You decorated it and it look unrecognizable. Maybe we both are too.” He says removing a piece of hair that always manages to cover her eyes. She takes her hand to return a favor and wipe his tear with her thumb gently.

“Maybe it’s good. A fresh start. It seems like we need it.” While their hands touch one another slightly, they never want to let go of each other or the moment. “So,” Mila chuckles lightly, this time comfortably with no awkwardness at all, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Harry smiles and tells her to go on, “I know you’re my boss and everything, but can I not call you Mr. Styles. I mean it’s weird, isn’t it?” He laughs along, placing his free hand to his chest as if he’s having a laugh attack.

“Harry is fine.” He smiles at Mila and lets go of her hair finally

While waiting for Harry’s clothes to dry, the romantic comedy, The Kissing Booth, played on her living room TV, keeping them busy. Mila decides to grab her laptop and give writing another chance tonight. She sits with Harry on the couch and types away. “My God Mila, don’t you ever take a break?” Harry teases. Mila retaliates by throwing him a throw pillow. He lets out a whine, “Hey! Just because it’s in the name, doesn’t mean you should throw it!”

Just then, the dryer buzzer goes off and Mila puts her laptop on the ottoman. Harry watches her walk to the hallway with a smile plastered on his face. His eyes look down toward the laptop which has her files open. He doesn’t mean to pry, but if a file had your name on it, wouldn’t you? He grabs the laptop and open the Harry files. The last update to it was 5 days ago, when Harry called Mila. He opens the document and the little voice returns; HARRY C’MON! DON’T DO IT, but Harry doesn’t listen.

Bitter green eyes.

Ones that burn you from the inside out.

You disintegrate and put your molecules back together.

Just to be broken again.

Pall pink lips.

Like all the others.

You melt and become lost at sea trying to find yourself.

Just to be lost again.

-Mila Castillo

Harry cannot fathom what he just read. He turns as soon as he hears a creak coming from behind him. He makes eye contact with Mila and she automatically knows what he’s done. “Were you snooping on my laptop?” She puts the basket of his clothes down on the dining table and places her arms crossed against her chest.

“Did you really mean those things about me?” Harry stands up still utterly shocked at her piece. He walks toward her. “Mila, what was all that about? Bitter green eyes? Pall pink lips? Is that really how you felt about me just days ago?” He questions towering her now.

Mila maintains her position and her eyebrow furrow as she states, “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, but that’s my priva…” Harry’s lips connect with hers, cutting her off. Surprised, Mila’s eyes open wide, but closes slowly as she melts into the kiss.

Harry grabs her waist pulling her in closer and Mila wraps her arms around his neck playing with his brown curls, pulling him closer also. She feels the kiss activating every single part of her body from the hairs standing up to the tingles in her spine. Harry pulls apart gently leaving Mila begging with her eyes, but keeps their foreheads connected as he whispers, “I guess your poetry is fictional.” They smile at each other for a little bit before reattaching their non pall lips.

In that moment Mila realizes that the full moon isn’t her only source of power. The words to describe this sensation of warmth between their bodies run through her mind as she pulls him closer by the hem of the shirt. She might have loved him at one point and this kiss may be epic, but the truth is she is living in the moment and hoping to forget it tomorrow when Harry is her boss once again.

Harry, drunk off the kiss, stumbles a bit trying to secure his balance. He pushes Mila into the wall gently to help him obtain good footing. Although, this is taking lots of focus from Harry’s part, he can’t erase the fact that he left something out of the story. He came back and the only reason he would ever come back is because he still loves her.

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captainjellyart · 7 years ago

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id like to know the 'full story' if its not a problem....! if u dont wanna post it here or whatever dont worry tho cause it's understandable!! i hope u feel better super soon, no matter what happened...!

wahh i tried re-uploading the livestream onto dailymotion but it exceeded the upload limit oops ;;

i’ll just try and write the explanation under the cut. its gonna be long af, but i dont wanna leave out any details because i dont want people to take this story the wrong way. (sorry mobile users lol)

TW: animal death.

about a month ago, me and my roommate went and got two baby bearded dragons from a pet store. i was planning on adopting/rescuing an adult one, but we were looking on all the adoption sites, and we calculated that just straight up getting one was cheaper at the time. the particular pet store we went to has a reputation of not taking care of their animals, but it was sort of an impulse trip. (the trip to go get them was impulse, but i have lots of experience with bearded dragons and have been planning on getting one of my own for a while now.)

my roommate got the male, “Spam”, and i got the female, “Vienna”.

we kept them in the same tank for a couple weeks, but we kept an eye on them in case they started showing aggression towards each other. they never did, but we eventually separated them anyway. Spam wasnt eating as well as Vienna, so we fed him separately-- but then Vienna was the one who wasnt eating well, so we tried to feed her separately. Spam got better, but... Vienna didnt.

after a couple days of feeding her through one of my un-used t-shot syringes, one day i burst out crying because i thought she was dying. i called multiple vets, and only one was available asap.

we took her to the emergency vet, and the doctor didnt say we were doing anything wrong in particular. she just said she was in critical condition, and she had less than 50% chance in surviving. she gave us the option of putting her down right then and there, or try to nurse her back to health (which could take weeks). me and katie desperately wanted to help her, so we decided to take her back home with the medical supplies provided by the vet.

this was around the time when i opened up the emergency commissions, because the vet bill was super high. i borrowed money from my brother, and he needed to be paid back asap. for the next couple days, we fed her the prescribed medicine every hour on the hour. we did daily treatments and gave her a ton of TLC.

but,,, when we thought she was finally getting better,,, one day, she slowly passed away in my hands.

i havent felt so much of a failure in a long ass time. i beat myself up for being so stupid as to buy a sickly animal from a pet store which i knew had a bad reputation for carelessly breeding their animals, and i hated the fact that i supported such a corporation. but after a day of sobbing, i came to a conclusion.

the more time i spend mourning over her, the less time i spend saving another family member.

the next day, we held a little funeral with my roommates in our yard. i decorated the box i put her in, and we all had a ceremony in her honor. as soon as we buried her; we all went immediately to get another one.

i didnt talk about any of this publically for a while, and i wasnt planning on doing so, because i know this story story so far can rub some people the wrong way. we absolutely loved and adored Vienna, and we did everything we could to keep her healthy and alive. i mourned and had closure on her behalf, and im still mourning. remember that everyone mourns differently, and i dont want anyone to think i didnt care about her or think im simply replacing her.

now with that out of the way: again-- i wanted to adopt/rescue, and i didnt mind getting an adult. but at this point, we already had a setup for a baby beardie and it was going to be a while before we were able to upgrade. but all the adoption sites didnt have any beardies that were under 1 years old, so i did my research and went to a place where they took wonderful care of their animals.

i asked if there were any older beardies, but the only stock they had were these fresh babies that they just got the day before. i was skeptical on getting one, since i didnt wanna fuck up because baby beardies are super super fragile. but i couldnt leave without one, so we picked one we fell on love with and checked out.

again; i dont want anyone to think that im simply replacing Vienna. but since Vienna lived such a short life, and she came from such a terrible birthplace-- in honor of her struggle, we named this baby after her. thus; this new baby is dubbed “Vienna the II”. i know people are going to think its stupid, but i was already attached to the name and i wanted to try really hard to keep her name and memory alive.

so- in case anyone was wondering why “Vienna” is so much smaller now, and why we call her “the second”-- this is why. keep in mind that every animal we take into our lives; we are 1000% dedicated to keeping for the duration of their lives. they arent just pets, they are family to us. please respect the memory of Vienna the I.

oof, sorry for the sad sob story. if youre wondering why im so inactive online nowadays, its because im having some relapses in depression and im giving as much TLC to my animals as i can at the moment. ill be a little more active soon.

#tea talks #shoot i just realized that this is going to be on my art blog #frick #send asks like these to my main blog as to not clog up my art blog please lmfao #long post #Anonymous

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catradoracore · 6 years ago

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so uh, just in case

anyone cares about why i have “finally, for the love of god stopped posting dumb vent shit in ur account!” its not because i’ve been doing better lmao, unfortunately, it’s bc ive just been dumping in on my insta so it disappears after a while. yeah. oh and apologies for peeps on mobile :(

anyways. yeah, two weeks ago was a very rough patch in mental health for me. without getting super into details; someone following my insta called the police and then i got to visit the hosptial. fun times were had by all, 11/10 would do again.

but jokes aside, i no longer use my instagram! and life sucks and everything in This House is monitored!!! my devices shut off at 9:00, my anxiety has recently been getting to the point where i have vomited after therapy.

for some reason my hands started shaking while typing this, so in all seriousness i think i’ll end the post here. sorry for being so inactive. school is really out here beating my ass. see yall soon i guess.

#vent #my hands are shakingggg #-and not to get all edgey on u kids #but lik. God. I havent eaten sht and i wish i would be excited!!!#Bc halloween is comin #babey!!! And i loterally have a gf but nothing is good enough for my stupid ass lmao.#yep anyways bye #original post #text post #hospitalization #someone wanted to have that tagged if i remember correctly??#Its not reallt a thing but i can do my best lmao #pls read the tags dont yell at me or sometjing ha #DO NOT FUCKING REBLOG.#rambling

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caeliri · 7 years ago

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Rising Tides, Crashing Skies

[[ This story takes place in January of this year, prior to the ending of the events surrounding the Symphony of Silvermoon!]]

Beyond the walls of Silvermoon the scattered seeds of chaos came into full bloom. Even in the Dawnspire, peace was evasive, and in the shadow of multi-colored banners of the houses that bent the knee to House Truefeather, unrest still haunted the stone-lined streets. Those who had not fled to the Evergrove to seek refuge within the Dreaming Gardens remained in the Citadel itself, settled in alleys and causeways less used, out of sight of the supposed King’s retinue, and unhappier for it; in the wake of unrest that rocked the capitol, less light was laid upon their plight, their lords and ladies heads were turned ever towards the crimson-stained streets of Silvermoon, waiting with baited breath for the tide to turn a thousand ways, each calamitous in its own way.

It was a crime Dame Caeliri Dawnsworn was guilty of herself.

In the aftermath of Baal’s attack on the Dawnspire, she’d forgone returning to the shattered remnants of Summerglen - heart too heavy to face the fel-ravaged ruins of a home once wreathed in sunlight and spring blossoms - and turned her eyes towards Silvermoon, and allies with more social sway and coin to aid her cause. Just like all of them, she’d been swept away in the flood waters of a citizenry divided and enraged. The crimson cobblestones of Silvermoon were bathed in blood, and for the first time in her short life she was aware of it, and she was frightened.

When Telchis called his bannerlords home to the Dawnspire to stand at his side and ready themselves for the days to come, she’d gone willingly away from the worry of the city, hoping that the rolling hills of Quel’thalas’ countryside might pry away the lingering fear and ease the tension that held her slim shoulders ever taut.

It had not.

The appearance of the Sun King’s retinue, in lieu with conversations had in the past week, only served to unnerve her further, and though she’d stood tall at Telchis’ side, drenched in the colors of a brilliant dawn - the colors of her fresh-forged lineage - stalwart and proud against the oppressive air that seemed to ensconce the throne room, the armor she’d encased herself in could not uproot the anxiety that thrummed through her veins. Though the meeting with the so-called-King’s retinue was short, throughout the tense moments she often found her sea-green eyes wandering to the place where Tyril Sunspear should have stood, clad in gold and sable, a statuesque figurehead of justice and honor, and to see his space filled - even by familiar faces - made her heart ache.

Released from the tense meeting with the Sun King’s courier, Caeliri picked her way through the rubble-wracked streets of the Dawnspire, plated boots picking a careful path in elsewise aimless wandering. She could have retreated to the infirmary, her home away from home, where she was Dawnward Dawnsworn, a skilled mender and a steady, hopeful, helping hand to those who had seen better days - but being in those hallowed halls required an attention to the weak and wounded that she could not give, and she would never stand to offer those who suffered less than her whole, undivided, unmuddled attention.

Instead, the upheaved streets gave her an avenue to attend her thoughts where there was little chance she would be bothered.

What would they do, if the Sun King came to demand the Lord of the Dawnspire and all his vassals take a knee and swear their allegiance?

What would she do - betray her oaths and take a stand, or fall in line to preserve her words, and sacrifice her beliefs for a promise made? Which was worse; to be an oathbreaker, or to compromise the beat of her heart and see injustice flourish due to inaction?

Parapets once proud and stalwart littered the lower reaches of the Citadel, destroying homes and business in their fall; an irony, perhaps, but one lost on the woman of twenty-one summers.

She had no faith in this would-be King or the future he seemed keen to forge; a future of isolation, cruelty and oppression that promised no deviation from the current course, where those in power spat pretty lies upon the citizenry to veil their own misdeeds. Caeliri did not believe this man whose blood bespoke some supposed right to rule would free them from corruption; the key to the shackles that bound the people of Quel’thalas would simply change hands, and never find use or offer freedom.

“HEY!”

Her head snapped up, sending a sea of cinder-colored hair right into her light of sight; in the space of time it took her to lift her hand and sweep it away, her path was blocked by a shoeless sin’dorei whose ruddy, freckled cheeks were flush a shade of scarlet that put the streets of Silvermoon to shame. His lips were pulled back in a near feral flash of teeth, and there was no kindness in their bearing.

Already her mind was wheeling, trying suss out what she’d done to offend the stranger who barred her path, and the words that left her lips were bright but hesitant, struggling out beneath the wave of frantic thought, “Can I… help you…”

“Yeah, you can help me -- by getting off your ass and getting to work,” the man snarled, drawing in air to force his chest to seem broader, his shoulders higher; they were of a height, Caeliri and this stranger, but he was thicker built - his only option to be imposing was to puff up like a peacock.

“I’m… sorry,” she ventured, caught off by the anger snapping on every syllable - but she didn’t get to finish.

“You’re sorry?” His words became harsher, honed down to a vicious, venomous edge, bitterness and mockery both shining through the sharpness, “Doesn’t look like you’re sorry, galavanting around the city in all your fine clothes while we’re sitting in our own shit, starving.”

Caeliri’s lips moved wordlessly, eyes wide and blinking as she fumbled for words-

“Sorry doesn’t put food in our bellies or roofs over our heads.” There were eyes on them now, a dozen, perhaps more, from dirty faces on the roadside, perched atop downed parapets or crouched in the shadow of the ruined monoliths, exhaustion tugging at their eyelids. Their drooping lids, however, could hardly hamper the bitterness that swam in the blazing green sea of their gazes.

Her belly churned quite suddenly, every set of eyes upon her forming a craggy, sharp stone in her gut. They plunk, plunk, plunked into her belly, sending bile foaming up along her innards and Caeliri could feel herself shrinking back.

They were, all of them, refugees from Summerglen; they had come to the Citadel in panic and pain as Baal’s armies carved their dreadpath through the Dawnspire, and here they had remained, among the ruins of the capitol, eager for the remnants of their ruined lives. She recognized them not by the patterned vests and simple, bright clothing they wore, but by the loss that haunted the edges of their eyes, and the burning hot guilt she felt gush through her veins. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as the man carried on, all of his anger and helplessness and loss and grief boiling over on to her in a roaring wave she could not run from.

“Some fuckin’ Kin’taris. You abandoned us. You left us to die!”

She hadn’t.

She hadn’t meant to.

She was following orders- the Archon’s orders - to remain where she was stationed in the Citadel proper to fend off the oncoming assault. Summerglen should never have been a target of the demon’s warpath, it had seemed safe enough at the start, when Baal’s forces drove hard against the Evergrove and the Anchorage. She’d sent word to her soldiers to rally, to guard the borders, to evacuate the citizenry and they hadn’t left. They’d been too proud, too stubborn, too untested against the looming tide of violence; Summerglen had never seen war come to its shadowed vales, and like the lady who led them, they were blinded by their ignorance.

What more could she have done?

“Where the fuck have you been?! Not a person, not a single one, seeking their Kin’taris has heard a peep from you from since we came! You came sweeping down from your high tower like some fairy-fucking-tale princess, with all your pretty promises and platitudes, and then what?!”

Caeliri winced - hard. Her face contorted into a grimace, and her shoulders rose as if warding off an oncoming blow, but it had already been dealt. Pretty promises, platitudes, it was the same thought she had of the Sun-King and the noblesfolk of Quel’thalas, the very people she’d swore to oppose.

That was how this man saw her; that was how the people of Summerglen saw her.

Ice and fire took turns running rampant through her veins, the sickness in her gut seeming to fuel the flashes of disparate temperature as they raced from ear-tip to toe-tip, causing sweat to stipple on her lower back and scarlet shame to flare across her cheeks. Her eyes were eager for the ground, for the tips of her polished boots or the uneven stone below, but she held them even - and blessedly held the tears she felt begin to prickle behind her eyes at bay.

Caeliri had allied herself with the Reformers, stood against the Imperialists, gave her heart and soul to seeing the corruption of Quel’thalas at last be brought to heel, and those who abused the weak and disenfranchised pulled down from their high, lordly perches -- for what? What did that matter if her own people sat in stasis, surviving on the scraps of the Citadel’s generosity, eeking out a half-life in the shadows of their once-great capitol while she played hero halfway across the country?

“Then--” she interjected at last, though her voice was soft and meek, a mouse’s squealing against the man’s roaring rage, trying, desperately, to offer some defense, to make him understand her thoughts, her desires, her intentions, “--I joined my countrymen in assuring the nobility--”

“We’re your countrymen! You left us to suffer!”

She hadn’t.

She hadn’t meant to.

She had been ashamed, awashed in grief, for the lives lost, for the damage done, for all the dreams - hers and those of the townsfolk of Summerglen - that died the day Baal’s army diverted their path through the wood, keen on wreaking as much havoc and devastation as their wicked hearts desired. There had been nothing she could do -- she’d rode out to try and join the fray, but it was not a battle to be won.

It was a massacre.

And in the aftermath, when she passed into the smoldering vale to view the ruined remnants of her home -- she saw the bodies, broken, buried, bled, their blood swimming through the spaces between the cobbles, like crimson fingers reaching desperately through the veins of the city. She’d smelled the sulfur, the scorched skin, the burning hair, and seen the festering fissures carved into the earth. Agony was hot on the air still, the remnant sounds of spirits caught in their final moments echoing in her ears like a thousand nails drawn against slate.

“Do you even give a shit?”

A lump had long formed in her throat, a thousand words she wanted to spit back at him held at bay, balling around one another, over and over, until they were a tightly wound mass of writhing words and withheld sentiments. All of her defenses, all of her fear, all of her own perceptions, she held them behind her thinned lips, kept them captured and subdued, and forced a phrase up through the thicket in her throat, until it came hard and fast onto her tongue and leapt from her lips, steadfast and true; “What would you have me do?”

Silence swelled between them, tense and awkward, and the man who stood across from her clamped his mouth shut, both blonde brows diving down into deep furrows just above his fel-green eyes.

“...What?” The word was warbling on his tongue, steeped in uncertainty and confusion.

“I can not undo what has been done.” Drawing in a deep breath, Caeliri lifted her chin a fraction of an inch, staring the man down. She was aware of the glimmer that glinted in the sea-green spanse of her irises, but it was all she could do to hold the tears at bay; she could no more undo her expressiveness as she could unmake all her mistakes.

“I can not turn back the hands of time and stop Baal’s armies from marching on Summerglen - I can not ride out to the village and drag every man, woman and child from their home. I can not unspend the days I have spent making allies with men and women who have the means and the morals to put their gold to good use in efforts of restoration and revitalization. So tell me - what would you have me do?” There was a waft of anger at the edge of her voice, but the question was not mocking or cruel - it was frustrated, but earnest.

“I want you to do your job,” he spat back, bristling now that words were finally coming back his way.

“My job is to serve the people of Summerglen, the people of the Dawnspire, and the people of Quel’thalas -- tell me, what ails you most? What can I do, in this moment, to serve you?”

Her response caught him off-guard, left him standing there, his anger dampened - but not extinguished - and his face cycling through a spectrum of emotions that were hard to place. Another silence passed between them, interrupted by the swelling murmur of the attention they had drawn, but Caeliri was unrelenting; ever the first to speak, the first to strike down silence and fill the air with whatever words she could fathom, regardless of their needs or purpose, she held fast, waiting for his response.

“We just… want to go home,” he conceded at last, the heat in his voice reduced to a simmer, “we want to rebuild our lives, bury our dead, and just… pick up the pieces. Your soldiers won’t let anyone past the city gates.”

“Summerglen is …. Unsafe, still,” she ventured, voice even and calm, “but if that is your desire, I beg you wait a few weeks more -- once the village is safe… we will begin to rebuild. This I swear to you,” she lifted a hand, crossing it over her heart, and bent neatly at the waist into a deep bow the left her hair sweeping against the stones at their feet.

Rage reduced to a rumbling from a roar, the man sucked air in through his teeth, flicking his eyes away; when she rose up to her full height once more, his face was screwed up tightly, his shoulders tight and taut, and his hands wormed their way into his pockets. “Believe it when I see it,” was all he added, before skulking back to the others, whose attention slowly faded from their Kin’taris, returned to their own internal affairs.

Drawing in a deep, quaking breath, Caeliri turned from them, back up the path from whence she’d come, strides long and powerful and swift, eager to be away from the sharp bite of shame still snapping at her cheeks, and to put her promise into motion.

Returning to her rooms, in the Citadel, Caeliri slammed shut the door in her wake, moving with purpose to the small writing desk pressed against the wall below the window. The sound startled her phoenix from her reverie, making Grace swivel her head to scrutinize Caeliri with one glowing, white eye. The crest of feathers along her head rose up, curious and agitated all at once; she could feel the tense that twisted through Caeliri’s guts, and she did not like it.

More so, she did not like whoever made her mistress feel that way.

Caeliri slid her fingers over the upturned feathers, smoothing through the licking flames unburnt, smoothing and soothing the phoenix all at once. No more comfort was offered, though - her hands were quick to grab parchment and paper, pulling the pale sheet into the shaft of light the window let splay across the deep cherrywood desk. With a breath, she put pen to paper, and wrote:

“Citizens of the Dawnspire, Soldiers of the Sunguard, Once more I must beg you to aid me…”

All Things; Peace - pt. 1 All Things; Peace - pt. 2 Ruin Rising Tides, Crashing Skies A Cry for Help

#fallow fields and hallowed hearths #the dawnspire #summerglen #the sunguard #caeliri #world of warcraft #moonguard #legionfall

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allgasnosxc · 4 years ago

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He Had an R.V., a Camera and a Plan to Document America. Was That Enough? Andrew Callaghan, 23, built a following with his YouTube series “All Gas No Brakes.” This month, he announced that he’d left the show. Here’s what happened.

Since 2019, Andrew Callaghan, 23, has been crisscrossing the country in a beat-up R.V. with his two best friends, documenting the absurd, outrageous and infuriating aspects of American life.

“All Gas No Brakes,” his popular YouTube show, features dispatches from the road and conversations with Bigfoot hunters, protesters, porn stars, Proud Boys and lots of partyers, from Bourbon Street to Burning Man.

Through his reporting, Mr. Callaghan — 6-foot-3, with a mess of curly hair and a uniform of oversized taupe suits — has earned a following of 1.7 million on YouTube and thousands of paid supporters on Patreon.

But recently, fans have been wondering if his show is over. He hasn’t posted on YouTube since mid-November. The show’s social media accounts have been inactive for months. His podcast last released an episode on Jan. 15. “What is happening to All Gas No Brakes?” one fan commented below the show’s last Instagram post, in January.

On Tuesday, March 9, fans were met with a cryptic message posted to the “All Gas No Brakes” Instagram account. “Sorry for the lack of content … the team is still working on a secret project that we can announce soon,” the statement read. “In the meantime we’re officially taking the show international and we’re looking for correspondents from around the world.” Soon after, Mr. Callaghan issued a statement on his personal Instagram account.“I am no longer associated with All Gas No Brakes,” the statement read. “I no longer receive any of the Patreon crowdfunding, YouTube monetization, or any other income. My team, Nic and Evan, who lived in the R.V. and created the original material with me, are also no longer involved. We have no control over any AGNB pages or future of the show.”“I signed an employment contract without reading it,” Mr. Callaghan added. “Lesson learned.” Hitting the Road Mr. Callaghan started “All Gas No Brakes” in the fall of 2019. He’d graduated that year from Loyola University New Orleans, where he’d been accepted on a full scholarship.

As a teenager in downtown Seattle, he’d covered the Occupy movement, Juggalos, the online black market known as Silk Road and Seattle’s rap scene for his student newspaper.

“He’s always surrounded himself with odd people and been really able to talk to very odd people and allow them to feel seen and comfortable in ways some of the oddest among us don’t always feel,” said Owen Borges, 24, a filmmaker and friend of Mr. Callaghan’s who briefly worked on “All Gas No Brakes.

”During his senior year of college, Mr. Callaghan filmed a series called “Quarter Confessions,” featuring interviews with inebriated people on Bourbon Street. The series earned him coverage in Loyola’s student newspaper.

“Wherever he went, a moderate crowd would follow, some for a chance in front of the camera, others just to watch the spectacle unfold,” a reporter for The Loyola Maroon wrote in 2019.

When he graduated, Mr. Callaghan knew he wanted to take his interviews on the road. The summer after his freshman year, he’d hitchhiked across America for 70 days, meeting all kinds of people. But to do that full time, he’d need money: for transportation, to hire a video team, and basic living costs.

Mr. Callaghan connected with Doing Things Media, a company founded in 2017 that had built a network of popular meme accounts, in the hopes of brokering a partnership.

The founders, Derek Lucas and Reid Hailey, monetized the accounts by producing branded content, selling merchandise and licensing videos. At the time, Doing Things was interested in making more original content. Mr. Hailey said he had seen Mr. Callaghan’s videos from New Orleans and felt that his work could be a fit for the brand.

“I was like, ‘Yo, if you guys buy me this R.V., I’ll make a sick show out of it and it’ll be a cultural exploration of America,’” Mr. Callaghan told Vice in a video from January. “That’s how it started: I convinced a company to buy me an R.V.” (He declined to comment for this article.)

In addition to the R.V., Doing Things offered Mr. Callaghan a salary of $45,000, plus additional money for equipment and production costs, and later, profit-sharing, according to people involved in the agreement. They hired two of Mr. Callaghan’s childhood best friends, Nic Mosher and Evan Gilbert-Katz, to help make the show. All Mr. Callaghan had to do was sign a contract. It was a no-brainer.

The group set off in the fall of 2019. Mr. Callaghan, always dressed in his signature suit, interviewed people at Burning Man, the Area 51 raid, a Flat Earth conference and a festival for furries (people who dress up as anthropomorphic animal characters for fun); the tone of the show was often humorous. As Mr. Callaghan’s audience grew, he started to get recognized at events.

Doing Things pushed the crew for higher output but continued to grant Mr. Callaghan creative control.

Political News or ‘Party Content’?

In late May, the crew traveled to Minneapolis to cover the protests after the killing of George Floyd. Mr. Callaghan felt that many news outlets, in focusing on looting and fires, hadn’t captured the anguish of the protesters.

“It wasn’t so much of me being like, ‘Let me get political because I want to get more of a liberal audience,’” Mr. Callaghan told Vice. “It was like, ‘Media is not covering this. The media is not talking to the people causing destruction in Minneapolis and figuring out why.’”

His followers relied on him to make sense of the events. “The Minneapolis video set the show to a completely different level,” said Nate Kahn, 24, a podcast producer and videographer in Los Angeles who worked on “All Gas No Brakes.” “It basically went from funny one-minute Instagram clickbait to an actual boots-on-the-ground news source.”

According to people who worked on the show, Mr. Hailey asked Mr. Callaghan to focus on “party content” rather than news. “Reid from Doing Things was constantly pressuring us to make the show less political,” said Mr. Kahn.

Still, “All Gas No Brakes” continued to cover current events: anti-lockdown protests, a Proud Boys rally and the protests against police brutality in Portland.

Mr. Callaghan, in partnership with Doing Things, also entered into a development deal with Abso Lutely Productions, helmed by the comedians Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim, to turn the show into a longform project.

When shooting for that project began in October, Mr. Callaghan was still expected to produce content for Instagram and YouTube on the side, according to several people who worked on the show. Doing Things continued urging Mr. Callaghan to stick to humor, rather than news and politics.

“Andrew wanted to prioritize the things he cared about and was inspired by — the conditions of the pandemic, the end of the election cycle — rather than just crank out content for the purpose of being monetized by Doing Things Media,” said Lance Bangs, 48, a filmmaker and director in Portland, Ore., who worked on “All Gas No Brakes.”

Mr. Callaghan and his two best friends were parking the R.V. in Walmart lots and showering only when they could. “They were truly a three-person team making everything,” said Mr. Bangs.

Doing Things had started a Patreon for the show. Mr. Callaghan received 20 percent of the profits from the show and another 20 percent was split among other members of the show; Doing Things received the remaining 60 percent. (The company confirmed the figures.)

“It was a 360 deal where Doing Things owned everything Andrew did,” Mr. Kahn said. “They offered him a ‘promotion,’” he explained, but it included a six-month extension of his contract. Mr. Callaghan had also signed over the rights to the brand’s intellectual property and the name “All Gas No Brakes” to Doing Things.

‘This Is Not the End’

By the end of 2020, the relationship between “All Gas No Brakes” and Doing Things was strained. The crew wanted to produce independent journalism; and didn’t feel they could do that under the umbrella of Doing Things.

“We are always thinking about how to turn our social presence into a product,” Mr. Hailey told The Hustle in November of last year. “Can we make a game? Can we make a beverage?”

Mr. Callaghan’s image became commodified as merchandise. “I remember being in my house and seeing my best friend’s face on air fresheners, Hawaiian shirts and I.P.A. beer cans,” said Mr. Kahn. There were also action figures. Mr. Kahn said the pressure to produce content and the loss of control over the brand began to take a toll on his friend. “He was incredibly stressed,” Mr. Kahn said.

In mid-December, Mr. Callaghan asked for a larger portion of the Patreon earnings and to get out of his contract, which was set to expire in February 2022. A few days after the request, Doing Things locked Mr. Callaghan, Mr. Gilbert-Katz and Mr. Mosher out of the “All Gas No Brakes” social media profiles, citing a security issue.

“Andrew said this was a punishment for us not creating enough content for them and he wished he never signed the deal,” Mr. Kahn said.

In February, Doing Things sent a letter to Mr. Callaghan saying his job would be terminated if he didn’t produce two pieces of Patreon content by March 1. The company fired Mr. Gilbert-Katz and Mr. Mosher, and tried to get Mr. Callaghan to hand the show over to a new host. He refused, and on March 4, he was fired too.

“We’re really bummed it didn’t work out with Andrew,” Mr. Hailey, the C.E.O. of Doing Things, said in a statement. “He was the heart and soul of the show. It was a special moment in time and we’re excited we got to be a part of it. We wish him the absolute best and we’ll be watching along with everyone else for where he goes next.”

Mr. Callaghan is still working on the longform project with Abso Lutely and Doing Things. And he’s assured his fans there’s more to come.

“This is not the end,” he wrote on Instagram Stories last week. “It’s a new beginning to a truly independent and bright future for all of us. Stay tuned. Love y’all.”

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callmetippytumbles · 7 years ago

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Pick a song for every letter in your URL

I know I am late AF with this post, so much for that resolution. I have finished the Spotify playlist I made for this days ago, but I just have not sat down and written this part. I am doing it now. This post and all subsequent productive posts are brought to you by the new ADHD meds that I am testing out on a Sunday.

I was tagged by @lizzybeth1986 and @maxattack-powell. If you tagged me as well, I am sorry I did not mention you here, it got lost in my activity feed.

I am not going to tag anyone else, because I am hella late, but if you want to do this tag feel free to do so and tag me.

Here is the list. Yes, I talk about the tracks because I am extra like that. I used to do music reviews in college and I still like doing that. The music review part is below the “Keep reading”. I made a whole playlist though so I will not link to any songs. See below.

C--Cadillac by Miguel This song is fun and one of my favorites from the Get Down soundtrack. I watched this during that dance competition scene, and I too would like to do the Hustle to this song in a scene-stealing dress. A--Alright by Kendrick Lamar This song gets heavy play. Especially if I am just going through it and I just need to be encouraged. Sometimes all you need to hear is "We gon' be alright" to make it. Love this song. L--Lovely Day by alt-J Okay, so there are a bunch of covers of this song. I love the original by Bill Withers. I like the Jill Scott version. I chose to share this one. I think it is because of the tone and feel that this version brings as opposed to the others. First, it's sonically different. The other versions are upbeat and lean into that feeling of the song. This one doesn't do that. It's haunting. The song plays like everything in your life is shit. Just terrible but because this person is in your life you can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and you can make it through. This song is not something you play in anticipation of the beginning of a good day. Instead, the song is something that you play to make it through that day. (Many TRR fans will connect to that feeling. It should be on all of your angsty playlists.) L--Lookin Ass by Young Money, Nicki Minaj Look I know men can be trash. I like to play this when I need a reminder. The n-word is all over this song. If that is not your ministry, then this song is not for you. I like it because its a woman calling men out that want to judge women but are in no position to do so. I live for that.

M--M I L K by Leikeli47 This song is perfect for working out and just feeling yourself. I play this when I am working out but need a reminder that I am working out for me. The base and beat is just hypnotic and can pace a run or a speedwalk. E--Every Man Has a Woman Who Loves Him by Yoko Ono Say what you want about Yoko Ono, you have to admire her artistry. I like her music. This is one of my favorite songs. When I read reviews of Double Fantasy, a lot of them shit on Yoko Ono's contributions even though she is on ALL of the tracks, produced the tracks (including the tracks that Lennon leads), and wrote/co-wrote them. Double Fantasy is intended and created as a joint album. It was designed to be a conversation. That's why the tracks alternate. That aside, I am drawn this particular song. The straightforward lyrics, and that guitar that echoes and chimes in the background. The music, like the actual organization of the instruments on the track, is impressive. The instruments from synthesizers to the base, the guitars blend in a way that is layered but not excessive or cluttered. This is a track that is very well suited to Ono. Her vocals match the mood of the song. The song is a delicate song about a woman and led by one. Definitely deserves a listen.

T--That's All by Genesis The song is mesmerizing. The grand piano, to the drums to the base build to make this constant pace that sticks with you. It has excellent repeat value. Phil Collins vocals really match the frustration of the lyrics. I--I'll Call U Back by Erykah Badu This track is on one of Erykah's mixtapes. This song is an exhale. Everything from the beat to her voice, to the mood, is about chilling. Erykah is very unbothered on this track. She'll call you when she calls you. A song that is this deliberately mellow could easily meander and play for several minutes, but that isn't what happens here. It's very short. That is a deliberate choice too. She is not going to spend a lot of time or energy to reclaim her time. Unlike Lookin' Ass which is about telling a man off aggressively, this is shooing someone away and going back to doing you. Play this track when a debt collector tries to call you and fuck up your day. It's fun. P--Plastic 100°C by Sampha Sampha is the kind of artist that has an incredibly unique voice that is used a lot for features. He was the man singing along with Solange (who is a Cancer like me, won't stop claiming that) on “Don't Touch My Hair”. Also, he features a lot on SBTRKT tracks (like “Something Goes Right”). His features are good, but his solo songs deserve way more shine than I feel they get. This song has a sense of drama to it even is the instrumentation is really delicate and lush in contrast. It was written after he lost both parents to cancer and he found a lump in his throat while his career was growing. Before I found out about the events of his life that inspired this song I kept thinking of intense vulnerability, how scary that really is but opening up and exposing yourself despite that. He sings "It's so hot I've been melting out here/I'm made out of plastic out here/You touched down in the base of my fears." You hear the panic in his voice. It's a gorgeous song. Like its waiting to be turned into a songfic. P--Phantom Punch by Sondre Lerche This is kind of a departure from his usual very thoughtfully arranged, very romantic fare. This man is a FUBU romantic. He is a romantic that writes for romantics. This song is still about someone who is infatuated with someone. It's just really lively with a focus on electric guitars and synthesizers. It makes you as giddy and filled with energy as Sondre is. Y--You Come Through by PJ Harvey I am a person that likes a ballad, plenty of my favorites come from artists that are not known for them. I think why I enjoy if not prefer ballads from artists that do not always set out to do them because it's like being let in on a secret. You are seeing an artist expose themselves in a way they don't usually don't. This is one of those tracks. PJ Harvey is a force of nature. You are more confronted by her work than you are entertained. This song is entirely different. It could be viewed as a confession of love and mourning a love lost or even both. The lyrics leave a lot of room for interpretation. What is unquestionable is the vulnerability that she conveys during the performance of this track. The track is bare and stripped so that her vocals are the focus and not the music backing them. Her vocals are softer and restrained as opposed to at full force. This combination creates the effect that you get as a listener that you are an interloper on her private thoughts and emotions as well as becoming as vulnerable and exposed as she is. It's beautiful.

T--Transit by Robin Hannibal I noticed that I chose a lot of deceptively simple songs that are quite complex, like vanilla. This track leads with the drums. You hear the drums in the track before the keyboard or Robin's vocals. The lyrics are about a complicated relationship. "Break up, just to make up" are some of the words to this song. While the relationship described is complicated, the arrangements don't seem that way. The song doesn't sound fraught or in a state of panic. Robin is not in any kind of emotional anguish while performing this track. It's calmer and mellower. U--Until Then by Broadcast Until Then is a song on an album full of beautiful, stand out tracks. The Noise Made by People is a delightful album and worth a listen. It's very nostalgic without going full-on throwback in a way that seems like a poorly executed 60's costume. The album feels like it should be the score and soundtrack to some kind of play, but it isn't. Until Then feels the most like a track that could be sung in a theatrical production. The climax just hit, and all of the characters have reached ruin, and this is the song they are all singing before the plot tracks their recovery from said ruin. This could be a reprise sung by a musical theatre group or sung on the album by Trish Keenan. Both work. M--My Love by Jill Scott I have to say; I do not really like songs that intro with a conversation break and not the song starting. I can do a quick sample but do not interrupt the music. I am here for the music. I can make an exception for this song. My Love is about a woman who finds out a man that he may have been on again/off again with is marrying another woman and she is confused by this. I may have played this on repeat after the TRR1 finale. Halle may have too. Jill croons "My love is deeper, tighter/Sweeter, higher, flyer" comparing herself to the woman the man chose to marry but this is quickly followed by "Didn't you know this?" like he should have known better. It's not mournful like "I miss this man so much." Jill don't play that. The tone is more like "you dared to choose her and not me, and you knew better." It's poetic, soulful and lush. Even if Soul is not your thing, this song could still find its way to your catalog. B--Blind by TV on the Radio TV on the Radio is what happens when you let art nerds start a band. This song is on the Young Liars EP. It's the longest song on the playlist, clocking in at over 7 minutes. This song uses that time to kind of lumber around the issue presented in the lyrics. It's about a guy who suspects his girlfriend may or may not be cheating on him. The words go through all of the questions, the doubt, action and inaction that happens when confronted with that kind of situation. This track features organs, a droning beat that builds as lead singer Tunde Adebimpe sings with a voice filled with melancholy and ambivalence. It's a compelling track. L--Lost in the Plot by The Dears If Adebimpe in the last song sings with a voice with melancholy and ambivalence, Murray Lightburn of The Dears sings like is either about to have or recovering from complete emotional upheaval. His voice is just filled with such intensity and fervor you are forced to reckon with whatever emotions he is dealing with. This song in particular really showcases this. By the time he is shouting "It's the same old plot", you are just as over everything as Lightburn is. E--Elephant Woman by Blonde Redhead Elephant Woman is the opening track to Misery is a Butterfly. The song is about being broken emotionally as well as physically. It was reportedly inspired about when Blonde Redhead lead singer, Kazu Makino, being thrown off her horse and severely injured as a result. It grapples with feeling betrayed by something (but can easily apply to someone) you love and struggling with the damage after the fact. It's set to beautiful and haunting strings and whirling guitars. You ache when Makino delicately sings "Now inside and outside are matching." It's beautifully crafted and magnificent to listen to. S--Sleeping Ute by Grizzly Bear While it feels weird to close a playlist with a song that was an album opener, this just feels right. If you are someone who likes guitar riffs (looking at you @lizzybeth1986), this song opens with some great ones. It's a song that deals with restlessness and seeking reprieve from chaos. The arrangement reflects those themes by opening with trashing cymbals and guitars that sound like they are on top of each other and it mellows into a calmer melody as the drums fall back and the guitars come into foreground like the calm after a tumultuous storm.

#tagged

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