#the love for the music is still there!!!! it's just buried under an infinitely heavy layer of mourning!!!!!

[ancientnames]

lowkey scared Lord Huron is gonna release another album and I won't even be able to listen to it. like at all. whatsoever. bc I know that if I listen to it I'll have a wholeass Breakdown and I cannot handle that right now

[scarecrow-supremacy]

Arranged Love | Pt 4

Thank you to Mrs. Hatake for requesting this prompt to me!

In which: f!reader is interested in being in a fwb like relationship, but is forced into an arranged marriage with the one and only, Hatake Kakashi. Both (y/n) and Kakashi only agree to marry for the sake of convivence. (y/n) with her needs, and Kakashi with his wish to revive his clan.

AO3 Chapter

Lime/Smut warning 

*Lime, but the next chapter will probably be smut ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)*

Infinite things I could hate about you

The way you walk

The way you talk

The way you capture my mind

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick...

You counted the soft noises of the clock, knowing full well that your alarm clock was bound to go off at any moment now. You could have gotten up to start your day early, but you, quite frankly, lack the motivation to do so. Anyways, it was your day off. Being productive is highly overrated... You mentally uttered. Why get out of bed when you could cuddle with your plush lavender body-sized pillow all morning? You groaned, your actions making your further realize how friggen lonely you felt within. If only the pillow could have been a person...

You glared daggers at the rose gold engagement ring upon your finger. Technically, you really weren't lonely. Hell, there was a part of you that would have preferred to be alone again. Why him?! Annoyed thoughts swarmed your mind, keeping you from attaining proper relaxation. Of all people...Why him? You pulled your pillow closer to your chest, burying your face into the cool silken cover and squeezing it tightly. Why, why, why? Your mind paced. It wasn't that you were thinking about him, Hatake Kakashi, so much. It was how you thought about him that filled you up with despair.

New feelings...shining in a new light.

What is wrong with me?!

Your eyes traveled to your stomach, your diary still opened up to the page you were writing last night. The whole diary idea was Kurenai's, back when you were made jonin, around the age of 14. She knew you weren't the best with opening up to people. So to let out your pains, she had recommended writing about them. And in honesty, you were glad that you had decided to take her advice. Writing did make you feel better. Ranting out all of your troubles without any worries of being judged. As of these days, most of your entries were about Kakashi or how you wanted to relieve yourself. It's almost concerned you that you wrote about him so damn much. Just shove him aside!

"Urg!" Your groaned, gathering the willpower to get up from your blanket cocoon and take a nice and warm shower, "Sulking won't do any good..." With a sigh, you entered your kitchen, telling yourself that you'd shower after grabbing something to replenish your hunger. It was glaringly obvious that cooking wasn't your forte. In fact, you were absolutely horrendous at it. Honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if you somehow managed to burn water while trying to boil it.  You, the woman dubbed Ibara-hime, the Thorn Princess, could not cook if your life depended on it.

After contemplating what you could make without burning your kitchen down, you simply made yourself a cup of your favorite herbal tea to energize your body. It wasn't much, but it helped wake you up.

Ding dong, the bell to your apartment rang. "Gimme a sec!" You called out the person, throwing on your flak jacket just for formalities. "Oh..." Your face fell, yet your stomach fluttered, "It's you–"

"Yeah, it's me," one Hatake Kakashi mocked the tone you had greeted him with, running his fingers through his silvery hair. You didn't want to think much of it, but his hair just looked so soft...

"What do ya want, Hatake?" You put your hands on your hips and pouted.

Kakashi groaned as he made himself welcome inside your quaint home, "I'm bored," He simply told you, plopping himself right in the middle of your couch. What a dick, you muttered, having to sit on a chair instead of the sofa. "Wahh..?" You whispered as Kakashi's eyes took in ever single bit of you. Your skin started to burn, although his gaze wasn't exactly giving off a positive vibe. "Stop eyeing me like that, Hatake." You mustered up the courage to spit out.

"Oi, it's not my fault," Kakashi sassed, "Take a look at what you're wearing, yariman." Slut, his deep and rich voice had called you.

Anger stirred up inside of you, along with embarrassment, causing your skin to feel as if it was on fire. You felt yourself get flustered as you looked down at your short skirt, which had rid up your legs, and lacy dark green bra that had been reveled by your unzipped vest. "O-oh!" You breathed, your hand going to zip up your flak jacket, yet was slapped away before you could. "What the hell, Hatake?" You flashed him a bewildered look.

Kakashi chuckled smugly, the smirk under his mask apparent, "Don't... I kinda like you dressed like this." He stated matter-of-factly.

"But you j-just," You stuttered out, "called me a..." you trailed off, averting you eyes. Urg, the audacity of this pervert, your inner self spoke. "Perverted idiot."

"Call me what you want," Kakashi grabbed your hand, "I'm your perverted idiot, forever." He laughed softly. Woah, he never acts like this...

"Did somebody drug you?" you sweat-dropped, unintentionally blurted out your thoughts, "You normally don't act like this."

Kakashi sent you a wary look, but you could tell he felt slightly hurt by your remark, "No..." he replied cautiously, "I just thought...it would be good to loosen up."

Your expression softened ever so slightly, "Oh..." the two of you sat in pin drop silence.

"You know," Kakashi ventured, "dark green is my favorite color."

"Hatake!" You yelped, instinctively covering your chest, "I'm going to take a shower!" You turned you back to your dreaded fiancé, stomping out of the room to go bathe.

"I might as well join you then," Kakashi shrugged, causing you to stop dead in your tracks.

"I'm sorry what?!" you exclaimed

"I haven't showered yet today."

"Urg..!" He's drugged, I'm sure of it... you thought, finally giving in to Kakashi. "Kitanai yarō!"

 "Well," Kakashi tapped his foot, carefully placing his flak jacket upon the silken sheets of your bed, "aren't you going to strip down?" He asked as he started to remove the cloth bindings from his thigh and ankles.

"Y-yeah..." you flushed softly, "J-just gimme a second." You dashed off, tossing my clothes into your basket of dirty laundry and grabbing a towel to wrap around your bare body, "Okay..." you mumbled, peaking your head out from the bathroom. The tension in the room was heavy and hot, almost uncomfortable. It was...something you had never felt. Hence, you couldn't put your finger on a way properly to describe the situation. Yet heat rushed to your core, even the tiniest smidge of arousal turning on your mind. You felt like your every movement was being recorded in Kakashi's mind. His gaze digging into your soul like a kunai in delicate flesh. Like his– No, no, no, no! No pervy thoughts, (y/n)! Stay classy, you ordered your mind, preventing it from trailing off. We have a dignity, remember?

You hesitantly got into the shower, testing the waters for the proper temperature. "Ahhh," you moaned ever so slightly, the raining down of the water slipping down your body and rejuvenating your sores from the previous night's round of nightmares. "Oi..." Kakashi started to speak as he entered the shower from behind you, ending up grunting incoherently. You shook your head, sighing in disapproval whilst rubbing from body wash into your soft (s/t) skin. You felt a pair of hands brush past your hair, reaching for the hair conditioner, "Rose and sandalwood, eh? No wonder you smell like a garden and incense shop." Kakashi breathed down your neck.

You tried your best not to look back at him, your heart racing for reasons you tried to reject. Nope! We can't be falling for him! You let out a slight gasp as Kakashi's hands found their way to your hips, tracing the gracefully toned muscles of your stomach. "Kakashi...what are you doing?" You whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the running water.

"I read your diary," you could practically heard the smirk on Kakashi's face, "I think I can help you with your needs..." Kakashi licked the helix of your ear. A shudder went down your spine, a foreign though crossing your mind. Maybe, just maybe, we could make this work... your mind ventured. "Kami, I've been having some problems myself, big problems..." Kakashi told you, his voice velvety coffee as he nipped at your neck. His hardening length pressing against your round ass. You could feel your walls start to clench; you were surprised that your body was reacting to Kakashi's touch like this.

No disturbance could get in the way of this exhilarating moment, right?

"(Y/N)! RAIDŌ ASKED ME OUT! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!" The voice of Mitarashi Anko screeched, she wandered into your bathroom, "YESS!"

"Anko..." You cringed, clenching your fists, "W-wrong t-time..." You moaned as Kakashi's finger teased your clit.

"What?" Anko called out, "I can't hear you over the water. Could ya speak up."

Kakashi pumped faster, "You heard her, louder." His intentions directing towards your moans, blessed music to his ears.

You sucked your breath, "N-never m-mind, Anko!" You managed to force out, trying your absolute hardest to not moan.

"Wait...Is that..." Anko's voice trailed off, "Kakashi's mask, and his..."

"A-anko! Pl-pleas j-just..." you bit your tongue, "go. Ju-just tell me l-later!" You begged her, turning to look at Kakashi with pleading eyes. Not now, Kakashi, you tried to convey with your widened (e/c) eyes.

"OH HELL NO! SORRY!" Anko cried out, causing Kakashi to pull his fingers out of you with a let down sigh. The smoke of Anko's hasty teleportation jutsu lingering for a few moments.

The mood had officially been broken. Thanks a lot, Anko, you mentally swore. But holy hell, you were about to get laid. Shamefully, you looked at the floor as Kakashi rinsed our your hair. "I–" you tried to speak, yet your voice faltered as you took a moment to observe Kakashi's face.

"Are you still in for it?" Kakashi raised his eyebrow; his left eye lidded.

"Oh! Uh..." your heart suddenly fluttered, "Y-yeah." You told him shyly.

Kakashi flashed you a smirk, "How about we just dry off, then..." He winked at you.

Yep, I'm convinced he's drugged... There's no other explanation...

Infinite things I try to love about you

They way you walk

The way you talk

The way you capture my mind

[power-chords]

Post-trip round-up, integration, thoughts (cut for length & some Heavy Shit)

WOW I needed that and I am so glad I realized I needed that. It has been well over ten years since I last took LSD, and my reluctance to indulge in psychedelics again was rooted in a long and complicated history that I don't really need to hash out here, but doing a mild dose of mushrooms last weekend gave me the confidence and conviction that I was ready.

Would it have been wiser to take a less bonkers dose for the first time in a decade plus? Probably! Do I regret a single moment of it? Not a whit! It's tough to overstate just how powerful, therapeutic, and restorative a good acid trip is, even an occasionally intense, uncomfortable one. I do not recommend eating multiple tabs of extremely good blotter on your first rodeo, but Adam's even more of a veteran psychonaut than I am, so I was 1000% well cared for, totally safe, and in a comfortable, familiar environment. In that setting, and in a positive frame of mind, acid is not going to throw anything at you that you are not equipped to handle. I would love to make this an annual or biannual thing.

The cool, funny, wacky delightful stuff:

Put it under my tongue at 10 AM-ish. Went to go listen to some music and doodle until it kicked in. I forgot that the come-up is like, do not make any fucking plans involving hand-eye coordination LMAO. I was trying to doodle Bowery Ballroom in an old sketchbook, and that devolved quickly. The markers were old so some of the caps were really stuck on there, and I wound up devolving into fits of laughter from the absurdity of pulling the caps off with my teeth.

Ink stains on my hands started writhing and trailing and were very cool. That was the first thing I noticed. I got very sad that I stopped drawing and making art, which was something I did all my life and almost went to school for but stopped doing as an adult. And then I realized I could start drawing again any time if I wanted to, and I didn't have to be GOOD at it or a proper artist for it to be worthwhile and fun. Felt immediately happy again.

Adam decided to watch Lethal Weapon???? I was like, Don't Like That. Even though he had headphones on and I couldn't hear anything. I am ambivalent about screens at best when I'm tripping, and at worst I don't even want to be in the same room with them. Guns and violence seemed comically, brutally stupid. Turned my back to the TV and continued drawing and writing until I could no longer hold a pen. Eventually Adam got on my wavelength and was like yeah, this is too much! (He took like, twice the dose that I did. I have no idea how he was even able to talk to me, but he managed!)

Felt the need to message Liana while peaking, picked up my phone, and saw that she had already sent me this:

I thought that was HILARIOUS (tbh it actually was, and it was not just the acid talking)

For the first few hours of teeth-grinding, reality-shearing intensity, Adam and I mostly lounged in bed with the shades pulled all the way up and the window open, cuddling and petting Ernie. Fantastic bonding experience for the whole fam.

Looking at every surface in the apartment became like looking at a stained glass ceiling, or an infinite mandala, or the muddied rainbows in oil-slicked puddles. It looked like Ernie's fur was breathing and someone had colored all over the white parts of him with a highlighter. Adam agreed with this assessment. Formica on the kitchen counters was bananas. So were the trees outside, rippling like celluloid and brighter green than I had ever seen them.

The two of us spent a good 15 minutes doubled over with laughter because Adam suggested a contraption for funneling Fancy Feast directly into Ernie's mouth, kind of like shotgunning a beer

Adam: "I can't believe I used to to this and get on the subway and try to do things with people." Me: "What? How did you even figure out how to get from Point A to Point B?" Adam: "I mean, we didn't, really. We usually got lost. It was fine, though." Truly, it's about the friends you make along the way!

The second half of the trip, when things are starting to mellow out a bit, is when you become a real rock star. I went outside for a walk around the neighborhood, and to sit in the park with my headphones on while watching kids play on the playground, and it was ECSTATIC. I was just overjoyed. My face still hurts from smiling.

Forgot that I needed money to realize my goal of obtaining a popsicle, so I had to detour back into the apartment and explain all of this to my husband before resuming the popsicle quest. He thought it was very funny, but sympathized.

Fresh air, popsicles and San Pellegrino on acid. On another level! 100/10.

Bathrooms still universally suck, LOL. -10/10. Not a fan of that bathroom while tripping face! Every time I had to pee it was like WELL here we go again into the Pink Squirming Hell Chamber (I am making this sound like more of a big deal than it actually was)

15 HOURS. 15 HOURS Jesus Christ lmao I did not stop seeing weird shit on screens and surfaces until like 1 AM. And even then, if I stared long enough, funky colors and patterns would re-emerge. It's a commitment. I feel happy and refreshed, but also totally exhausted. Definitely have to budget a full weekend of No Plans for any future trips.

The Heavy Shit:

There is some Cronenberg-level body horror right before the visuals get super rainbow-stained and stereotypically psychedelic, which sounds bad, but I promise it isn't. It's watching the veins pulse under your skin and change into very saturated colors, pores and hair and scars become very defined and wiggly, and as someone who has so much bodily anxiety related to my alopecia/IBS, it was weirdly... freeing? You get to experience all this stuff in an entirely new frame of mind, shedding judgment and old thought ruts. I remember thinking, "I do not need to feel shame about my body," and letting go of so much baggage.

At some point mid-afternoon I decided to retrieve my phone from the drawer again, and saw that I had a missed call and a voicemail from my dad. I decided to play it back, and he was just phoning to tell me that he was listening to a live version of "Sally Simpson" and Keith was doing this thing where he wasn't even touching the cymbals, and had I listened to that specific performance before and noticed the same thing, and wasn't he truly the greatest drummer that ever lived? "Anyway, no need to call me back, just wanted to let you know. I love my bubbie!" (His term of endearment for me.) And I went to go sit in bed and weep for a straight 15 minutes, the most cleansing, purging cry you could possibly imagine, while Adam hugged me and rubbed my back. I was overwhelmed, overcome by this feeling of cosmic Love and Connection with my family and my husband and all of my friends.

I had been sitting on and burying so much fear and distress from the past 18 months, the chronic, low-grade trauma that was worrying if COVID was going to kill my father, my best friend and closest confidante and the one person on earth who I feel truly Gets Me on a spiritual level, and all of that came out. Fully processed and released every ounce of grief. What replaced it was the absolute, unshakable faith that no matter what happens — including my greatest fear, which is inevitable, no matter how far off it may be — he will always be with me, and a part of me, in the music we both love, and I will never, ever lose that.

[pinknerdpanda]

Muddle Through Somehow

Word Count: 1,643 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Angst, Fluff, 2020 (even though I don’t say it specifically...you’ll see) Beta’d by: @princessmisery666 - I’d be lost without you. xoxo

A/N: Written For @arrowsandmixtapes for my Merry Manda’s Christmas “Drabbles”. I was so excited when I saw your request, Kansas. This is my favorite Christmas song and it couldn’t be more fitting for this year. I specifically reference the OG version by Judy Garland with the original lyrics, but if ya’ll haven’t seen the video of Adam Lambert singing this song, you need to. It made my ugly cry. But like...in a good way? (video is here) Hope you enjoy this lovely!

Muddle Through Somehow

It wasn’t necessarily the soft sound of footsteps approaching that startled y/n. It was the fact that said footsteps came from a person who usually made no sound at all. If she could hear him walking, it was because he was letting her.

Somehow that made the whole situation worse, which made y/n cry. Again. 

Y/n buried her face in her hands, shielding herself from view and trying to muffle the sound of her tears. It didn’t work. Instead, the sound of feet grew closer more quickly. A heavy, metallic hand landed on her shoulder, tugging her shoulder until she was facing him.

“Y/n?” Bucky’s voice sounded strained and rough - tired even. “What’s the matter doll?”

On a good night, Bucky got very little uninterrupted sleep. Judging by the creases in his right cheek, the squint of his eyes and the mussed hair on one side, tonight had been somewhat of a “good night.” Until she woke him up and robbed him of what little rest he had been enjoying. Y/n sobbed harder.

Bucky’s arms, one warm flesh and the other cool metal, wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her against him. The gentle vibrations of his soothing words tickled her cheek where it lay on his chest. Bucky’s fingers skimmed the length of her back as she held onto him like a life raft.

Eventually the tears dried, leaving y/n red-nosed and sniffing against Bucky, whose firm, reassuring grip on her never wavered.

“I’m sorry, Buck. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Her voice was hoarse and sounded painful as she mumbled the words into the cotton of his now tear-stained t-shirt.

Bucky pulled back then; only enough to look into her face while his hands found her waist.

“Sweetheart, you have nothing to apologize for.”

His stormy blue eyes searched hers as though he was trying to etch the sincerity of his words into her corneas. Even in the dim light, y/n could see the furrow of his brow and the concerned pinch of his lips as he regarded her. 

Before she could argue or respond, Bucky was guiding her into the kitchen. Pulling out one of the stools at the counter, he motioned for her to sit while he set about making them each a cup of tea. The silence that stretched on was comfortable despite the occasional punctuating sniffle. 

Turning, Bucky produced two steaming mugs and handed y/n the one with Snoopy dressed as Santa on the front. His own mug featured Woodstock donning an exceptionally long stocking cap. He took a sip and leaned across the counter, elbows resting against the cool granite surface.

“Now, you wanna tell me what’s the matter?” One corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched upward as he readjusted his grip on the mug. 

Y/n tapped her nails against the side of her mug, eyes trained on the steaming cup, as if she were concentrating on the tinkling tune against the ceramic. She screwed her mouth up to one side, trying to find the words to explain. 

The soft clink of ceramic on granite stirred her from her thoughts as Bucky placed a finger under her chin and nudged her gaze up toward him.

“Come on sweetheart. You can always talk to me.” 

His voice held a nearly undetectable tone of uncertainty; worry even. 

“I know. It’s not that. It’s just…” she sighed again, leaning into his touch as his hand slid to cup her cheek. “I’m just...sad. I feel like everything is upside down.”

Bucky frowned, his hand dropping from her face and she instantly felt a chill at the loss of his touch. Rounding the small counter between them, Bucky turned the stool she sat on to face him and held both of her hands in his.

“Have I…” Bucky inhaled sharply. “Did I do something?”

Y/n sighed, silently berating herself for making him think he’d done anything wrong. She squeezed his hands.

“No, baby. Not at all. You’re wonderful.” Y/n sniffed and pressed her forehead against his. “It’s just this damn year. It seems like everything that could go wrong has. I mean Christmas is what...a week away? We have the tree decorated, the stockings hung...everything looks so normal from the outside. But it’s not. It’s like all the things that bring me so much joy every year are just making me so infinitely sad.”

Y/n’s voice cracked on the last syllable and Bucky wrapped his arms around her again.

“I think it’s just really finally hit me that I’m not getting to spend Christmas with my family. And I get it; it’s safest to stay away, but it’s breaking my heart.”

“I know, doll.” He pressed a sweet kiss into her hair. “I know and I’m so sorry.”

Y/n pulled back and offered him a watery smile. “If I didn’t have you, Buck, I don’t know what I would do.”

Bucky pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and tilted her head up slightly. He returned her smile for just a second before kissing her gently. “I feel the same way, sweetheart. I’m the luckiest man alive. C’mere.”

Grabbing her hand, Bucky pulled y/n out of the kitchen and into the living room. Stooping down, he plugged in the tree and all at once the room shimmered with the warm lights meticulously wrapped around every branch. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat at the sight; just like it did every time. There must be some form of sorcery that went into Christmas lights that made them constantly emanate peace and joy no matter how sour her mood; y/n was sure of it.

Bucky then moved to the record player and dropped the needle, the faint scratch echoing softly as he returned to stand before her. 

“Dance with me?” Bucky held out his hand, eyebrow arched and a warm smile stretching across his face.

There was no hesitation as y/n moved easily into his arms and tucked her face into the crook of his neck. She breathed deeply, inhaling his warm scent just as Judy Garland began singing.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas Let your heart be light Next year all our troubles will be out of sight

Tears burned at the back of y/n’s eyes and she clutched onto Bucky tightly as he led her in a slow circle.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas Make the yuletide gay Next year all our troubles will be miles away

“This is my favorite Christmas song,” y/n sniffed. Bucky hummed above her in agreement.

“Reminds me of being a kid,” Bucky chuckled.

Y/n looked up and found a dreamy, bittersweet look cross his face. 

“I thought this movie came out after the war?” 

There was a time when Y/n avoided asking questions about the war and Bucky’s life before HYDRA. She hated seeing the pain in his eyes at the memories such things brought back. But over their years of being together, they’d both realized that avoidance only made the inevitable remembering hurt more. It was important for Bucky to retain those memories, even when they were painful.

“Yeah I think it did, but I may or may not have had a little crush on Judy Garland back in my day.”

Y/n scoffed, her eyes twinkling in the soft glow of the Christmas lights. “Really?”

Bucky grinned. “Yes, really. The Wizard of Oz was one of the first movies I ever saw. Dorothy from Kansas? She was a real looker. Those big doe eyes,” he whistled lowly and chuckled. Sobering quickly though, he leaned in, lips against her ear, and whispered. “But trust me, she ain’t got nothin’ on you, doll.”

Y/n shivered as he kissed her temple and pulled her in close again, continuing to lead her in a slow, graceful sway.

Someday soon we all will be together If the fates allow Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow So have yourself a merry little Christmas, now

As the song changed, the pair remained wrapped in each other’s arms, not caring if their steps matched the beat of the music. Between Bucky’s embrace, the warm glow of the lights and the soothing crackle of the record player, y/n began to feel the wealth of sadness that had been building inside her ebb away. 

Eventually the music faded completely, only the occasional scratch and groan from the record filling the air. Everything felt still and lovely and for the first time in a while, y/n felt whole.

Maybe this year has been nothing but trash heaped upon trash and the holidays wouldn’t be what they once were. But she had Bucky and the hope that someday soon things would go back to the way they were. And right now, that was all she needed.

“Bucky?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you. For everything. You said before you were the luckiest man alive and I don’t know about that. But I know for a fact that I’m the luckiest woman in the world. If I’m gonna have to muddle through somehow, I’m glad I get to muddle through it with you.”

Bucky smiled as he leaned down to capture y/n’s lips in a slow, sweet kiss. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you too, Buck.”

Their lips met again for a brief moment before a yawn overtook Bucky, forcing them apart. He grimmaced, sheepishly.

“Come on, old man. Let’s get you back to bed.” Y/n grinned and pecked Bucky’s lips once more before dragging him back toward their bedroom. 

“Old man, huh?” Bucky smacked her on the ass, making y/n jump and giggle. “I’ll get you for that, my pretty. And your little dog, too.”

Like what you see? Want more? My SPN Masterlist is here, and MCU is here. Thanks for reading! :)

I am using my new and improved taglist. If you want to be added, Send me an ask with the list you’d like to be on. Weirdos are for everything, Heroes is MCU and Hunters is for SPN.

Weirdos: 

@hannahindie @amanda-teaches @ellen-reincarnated1967 @feelmyroarrrr @masksandtruths @princessmisery666  @jamielea81 @foxyjwls007 @becs-bunker @super100012 @shy-violet-soul @emoryhemsworth @impandagrl @donnaintx​

Heroes:

@arrowsandmixtapes​ @bethbabybaby​

[kickingstonesandbones]

ADA: Songs the BSD characters remind me of (even though no one asked)

I’ve recently watched all 3 seasons of the Anime, the movie and the OVA and have started reading the Manga from the beginning. Right now I am only at chapter 40 because I started reading like 2 days ago, so idk stuff that would happen after the Anime storyline (if it goes that much further than season 3 ending, I wouldn’t know). I based this off on either specific lyrics that made me think it would fit the character or a certain vibe I was getting from a character. For some characters it was easier, for some not so much lol It is why some characters have multiple songs that make me think of them while others only have one (if they even do have one, that is – but the ADA does, except for Katai). So please do not rip into me because you think a song might not fit them as well as I do, because I just have not gotten to the latest chapter of the Manga yet, so there are some characters I do not know that well yet but I wanted to do this for fun. Other than that, I hope you enjoy this list~ Also, feel free to add to my list if you have songs that I haven’t mentioned but think would fit the characters, if you want to~

My taste in music is also pretty broad and not limited to certain languages or genres (though I do have my preferences), so I will provide translations of the lyrics in different languages from English. The German ones (like Kontra K, Elif, etc.) were translated by myself (on the spot), for other languages like Romanian or Korean, etc. I had to look up translations on the internet.

Disclaimer: For the songs for Dazai, one might want to consider a TW, for one of his songs has extremely open-no-room-for-speculation suicidal lyrics. If this affects you, please skip that one, I will put that song last on his list.

And, well, because this is 12 pages long in the document, I will be making a cut here…

.

𝔸𝔻𝔸 𝕚𝕟 𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕝

💙 Wölfe (Wolves) by Kontra K 💙

It’s about so much more than just strength, it’s about solidarity and virtue / It runs so much deeper than your wounds could ever get / We’re walking through the fire together until the day we die […] /

And we are so infinitely far away from being perfect / But what doesn’t kill us will make us stronger / And hope dies last / It dies last /

A lot of the members have been through quite some shit, but they hold it together all the time and always pull through and manage to keep moving forward sooo (some random arsehole I talked to spoilered me about Yosano and Mori  -_-)

💙 Born For This by The Score 💙

A force that they can’t stop / They just don’t get it, I think they forget / I’m not done until I’m on top / I know I was born for this / I know I was born for this […] /

We are the warriors, who learned to love the pain / We come from different places but have the same name / ‘Cause we were born for this / We are the broken ones, who chose to spark a flame / Watch as our fire rages, our hearts are never tame /

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ℕ𝕒𝕜𝕒𝕛𝕚𝕞𝕒 𝔸𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕤𝕙𝕚

💙 Believe by Hollywood Undead 💙

I can’t believe / That when I breathe / That there’s something good inside of me / Just one good thing inside of me / So close to me / That memory / Of that one good thing inside of me / Just one good thing inside of me /

If I went out the back door, nobody would stop me / But, where would I go? / ‘Cause I ain’t never had a real home / So, what do I know? / So, I could keep runnin’, hide until they find me / But, what would that do? /

That he really hates himself that much and how insecure he is in his right to be alive not just simply because he is a living being really hurts to see.

💙 Face it by NF 💙

Don’t know how to face it / Let’s go back to basics / Yes, say what you mean, do what you say, but man I hate this / I just don’t know what I’m chasing, don’t know what I’m chasing / Yes, somebody told me / Life is something you don’t wanna play with / But I just keep on playing like life is just a playground […] / I look at myself and I ask what the goal is / Yeah, tell me what your goal is / I’m just so lost in emotions, I don’t even notice / I just slip into a place and I don’t think straight / Devil in my ear tryna tell me everything’s great / And in a year realize I’m in the same place / Running in the same race, same pace […] /

Get that sickness out my mouth / I feel like my train is derailing / I can feel it / Yo these words are only words until they actions / Words until they actions, strive on empty satisfactions / Yeah, the fact is I don’t know, fact is I don’t know /

💙 월식  (My Tragedy) by Taeyeon 💙

At the end of an empty day / Everyone busily returns from somewhere / In the red night sky / I disappear into the darkness little by litte / These many sparkling lights / There isn’t a single light that’s mine / Under the cold shade by myself / Like it wasn’t there from the start /

💙 Oceans by Jacob Lee 💙

I learnt to let go when I was younger / Scared of growing old / I would swim far into the ocean / And try to stay afloat / Until my lungs would cough up water […] /

I don't want love no more / Though it's the one thing I've been searching for / Though it's the one thing that I miss the most / Now I'm afraid to be alone / I learnt to grow old when I was younger / Scared of staying young / Afraid of the thoughts that I had conjured / That sat atop my tongue / Knowing I'd change the worlds opinion / If they would just, listen up / But they won't, now /

I feel worthless / Maybe I should open the drawer / Burn the pages / Write poems with the ash on the floor / Pour the ink, into the sink / And watch it drain from the shore /

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𝔻𝕒𝕫𝕒𝕚 𝕆𝕤𝕒𝕞𝕦

I know Dazai has a looooot of songs, but tbh I could’ve added at least another 15 because. There. Were. Just.  S O .  M A N Y .  T H A T  F I T  H I M  S O  W E L L ‼‼ (Well, at least the ones I could think of off of the top of my head right away.)

💙 Believe by Hollywood Undead 💙

Don’t you know, little boy, they’ll lay you to waste, man / Little do they know, every song is a lifespan / Yeah, they’ve taken one, but I’m takin’ my last chance / To hold all we know and let go with both hands / Though, don’t you know that plots are made from concrete / Right through the stone, can you hear my heart beat? / Beats through my bone, like no memory left me / Not for a second or a minute when I dream […] / My heart beats heavy in an open chest / And, I wanna say goodbye, but there’s nobody left /

I broke it all, and I put to the test / Put your hands in mine, and feel this emptiness / There’s no beat in my chest / ‘Cause there’s nothin’ left / No, it ain’t goodbye, its a last caress  / What’s another dream? / You could hardly sleep /

Makes me think of Oda aka the bond they had aka the admiration Dazai had for him.

💙 Face it by NF 💙

I ain’t sleeping lately / I ain’t sleeping lately / Yes, I know that I’m the only person that can change me / Maybe, that’s why I ain’t changing / That’s why I ain’t changing / I got too much on my mind, I guess I don’t know how to face it /

He obviously has a lot of issues, and I bet he still doesn’t think of himself as a good person. It strikes me as if he’s thinking that Agency Dazai is not much different from Mafia Dazai. “Your hands are black. Mafia black,” as Higuchi said. I think he did not deny it when she said that, so he doesn’t disagree with her.

💙 Rain by Hollywood Undead 💙

I don’t mind, no I don’t mind, I don’t mind the rain / Simple things and subtleties, they always stay the same / I don’t mind, that I don’t mind, no I don’t mind the rain / Like a widow’s heart, we fall apart, but never fade away (fade away) /

Run like a child, do you know where I came from? / No, I don’t, but I’m singing all the same songs / I’m alone, and you’re looking for your anyone / Does it hurt just to know that it’s all gone? / I can feel the pain in the words that you say / Hidden in the letters that were written to no name […] / Buried in red, white, and a side of some blue / Some will die too late, and somebody too soon / If he could come back, we’ll see what it cost him / We had to lose it all, just to know that we lost one /

💙 Lass mich lieber allein (better just leave me alone) by Kontra K 💙

Man, don’t explain the world to me, it isn’t perfect / And just as imperfect are also you, her and me / All of that isn’t a problem to me / But tell me, since when does hatred laugh so audaciously into my face? / But it’s somehow alright for me […] / Man, I wish for a minuscule part of naivety back / But it seems it’s somehow too late for me / Somehow already too late for me […] /

Already been wandering for so long, you forget / Who is worthy of sacrificing yourself for and for whom you better not do it / You run along the street of success without any luck (on your side) / But she walks out of hell into heaven only once and then right back / If you end up where you started then where is the meaning? /

Because I also have my baggage to carry all on my own / Just like all of the fuckers that think I’m living in heaven all by myself / But the fire and the flames in which I’ve been standing in for so long already / Man, they refuse to see them / But it’s somehow alright for me /

You better just leave me alone / Because when they carry you on their hands, they will (eventually) let you drop / I’d rather fall alone/by myself / Rather alone/by myself /

💙 Lies by Will Jay 💙

I'd rather tell myself if I ignore / These thoughts they'll go away / And my toxic friends have changed / Truth is I hate confrontation / Deal with it tomorrow / 'Cause there's nothing I can do / That's my favourite excuse / Feeding my procrastination […] /

And I think I just realised I would do anything / To keep hiding the pain I've been burying / That's why I tell / Lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lies /

💙 Du willst es (You want it) by Kontra K 💙

Only the good ones die young, and not long after the best ones follow / No idea, ask death why he thinks that I am so damn bad / Still here, we’re almost not worthy of heaven / Working day for day, only the hatred kills the pain / Life will shoot you in the chest but only ever hit your heart / Thank God that place in my chest has been emptied a long time ago […] /

We asked God, “why” / But the devil said, “doesn’t matter” / We’re swimming in a pool full of misery / But bring us another glass of it /

💙 Wie gemacht dafür (like we were made for it) by Kontra K 💙

Pretty normal, normal / Because you can’t get me, get me further down (the hole/ditch) / Than I’ve already been, you get it? […] / I’m going one-on-one with my inner demons, and I’ve been doing that for the past 13 years / I’ve been there, no matter what happened / Ask your gangsters, they know my voice / Have respect, respect for the realness / But fucking piss me off, and I’ll be sending you to heaven […] /

What pressure are you talking about, I inhale this city deep into my lungs / Put it on the beat and I’ll be giving you a new reason for your hatred /

Like we were made for it, we’re running through hell barefooted / We’re living rent-free in their heads, with the real ones, with the real ones / Like we were made for it, always loyal to my people / Swapping none of my friends for money, for the real ones, for the real ones […] /

If you’re my enemy, I’ll give you lead (bullets) / If you’re my friend, I’ll give you love / Because a wolf stays fucking loyal only to his family /

💙 Lonely by Nathan Wagner 💙

Is everybody lonely? / Is everybody scared? / Is everybody worried / That no one really cares? / See I'm afraid to love, but afraid to be alone / Still I wonder why my heart is always broke / What a way to live, let the fear take all control / Oh, this ain't life, no / I'm not alive […] /

'Cause I'm afraid to show the people who I am / I'm not special, I'm just a simple broken man / So I will hide my face with my picture perfect mask / Oh, this ain't life, no / It's just a lie […] /

If I looked you in the eye / And showed the broken things inside / Would you run away? / Would you run away? / If you saw my darkest parts / The wicked things inside my heart / Would you run away? / Or are you the same? /

The following one makes me think of Mafia Dazai

💙 Body Count by Grey ft. Thutmose 💙

I got a hunger, I got a fever / And it just won't quit / I got a temper, I got a bullet / With your name on it / Everybody wonders what it's like on top / I don't gotta wonder 'cause I call the shots […] /

My blood runs cold and my feet run faster / I still got heart, I hear a heart don't matter / Say what you want and it'll be your last words / It ain't a secret, I got a hit list / And baby, you're up next /

Stack 'em up, stack 'em up / Teach 'em not to fuck with me / Bag 'em up, bag 'em up / Let 'em know who runs these streets / Take 'em down, take 'em down / Count 'em out like one, two, three / Add a-na-na-na-na-na-na-nother one  / To the body count /

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T r i g g e r   W a r n i n g  !

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💙 Bullet by Hollywood Undead 💙

Gone too far and yeah I'm gone again / It's gone on too long, tell you how it ends / I'm sitting on the edge with my two best friends / One’s a bottle of pills, one’s a bottle of Gin / I'm twenty stories up, yeah I'm up at the top / I'll polish off this bottle, now it's pushing me off / Asphalt to me has never looked so soft / I bet my momma found my letter, now she’s calling the cops / I gotta take this opportunity before I miss it / 'Cause now I hear the sirens and they're off in the distance / Believe me when I tell you that I've been persistent / 'Cause I'm more scarred, more scarred than my wrist is / I've been trying too long, with too dull of a knife / But tonight I made sure that I sharpened it twice / I never bought a suit before in my life / But when you go to meet god, you know you wanna look nice /

We hit the sky, there goes the light / No more sun, why's it always night / When you can't sleep, well, you can't dream / When you can't dream, well, what’s life mean? / We feel a little pity, but don't empathize / The old are getting older, watch a young man die […] /

When you were young, you never thought you'd die / Found that you could but too scared to try / You looked in the mirror and you said goodbye / Climb to the roof to see if you could fly /

So if I survive, then I'll see you tomorrow / Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow

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𝕐𝕠𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕠 𝔸𝕜𝕚𝕜𝕠

💙 Brunette Ambition by Qveen Herby 💙

'Cause it's been three weeks and four days / No days off, just runways / I’m fucked up, I'll throw shade / Outwork you on a bad day […] /

On a mission, got no competition / It's hard to sleep with brunette ambition / Revenge is sweet, pussy: my religion / They say slow down, but I never listen /

Old me forsaken, these rules are for breaking / I get lonely with no new friends / Associate, but they can't relate / When you want the world, they’re uncomfortable /

This one is 50% lyrics, 50% overall energy of the song. Yosano is a bad bitch, and I love her.

💙 STFD by TeZATalks 💙    [Flash Warning for epilepsy]

I'm not here to take no names or reservations / I'm the devil telling Satan I'm just wild / Sit the fuck down / Imma kill it let me live just how I'm livin' / Ghetto heart with good intentions / I'm just wild / Sit the fuck down /

I'm chasing freedom for the fearless / I gotta do it 'cause I can't chase fear myself / I'm 'bout as broken as I confess / But better than most that lay cower / Proud of who they crowd / You don't know me / Coming to take your crown / Bow down / You know that I can do better, better / I don't need you to come in and show me how / Settle down / Cause you know that I can do better, better /

This song is mostly just the vibe for me. Quite…. unapologetic. Like the badass bitch vibe Yosano gives off, despite (or probably especially because of) her past.

💙 Nur mir (only to myself) by Elif 💙

Can’t believe what’s happening to me / Your words have manipulated me / I shouldn’t lose the connection to myself / Because otherwise your words will always stay with me / At first, you were there for me / But then you wanted me as your property […] / This city is big enough for the two of us / I have to share it with 4 million others anyway / I get onto the same train, stand on the same platform / Oh, everything’s profit (to you), everything’s yours /

But I only belong to myself, only to myself / Belong to myself, only to myself / Not to her, not to him, not to you /

💙 Disease by Hollywood Undead 💙

Our words are broken but they’re spoken aloud / So come together, come together again / The time is now, let Armageddon begin / They say beginnings always start with the ends / I say forever and forever, Amen /

Forget what you are / Forget what you feel / We stand apart but fall together / Nothing ever lasts forever /

We’re born to live, we’re born to die / We’re forced to swallow these pills and to never ask why / What I’ve become, why can’t you see / That everybody, everybody, everybody’s got this disease? /

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𝔼𝕕𝕠𝕘𝕒𝕨𝕒 ℝ𝕒𝕟𝕡𝕠

💙 The Wolf by SIAMÉS 💙

Each and every day / Hiding from the sunshine / Wandering in the shade / Not too old, not too young / Every night again / Dancing with the moonlight / Somewhere far away / I can hear your call […] / Ain’t no fairytale / What I see in your eyes / Awaiting your mistake / Not too close, not too far /

Honestly, finding a song for Ranpo somehow was harder than it should’ve been lmao Originally, this song is about addiction, but if you read them in the sense of it being about a criminal, whom Ranpo is about to catch, it makes more sense. I am sorry I can’t provide a better song for him right now djhfksjlhdfujhhgkfc

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𝕂𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕜𝕚𝕕𝕒 𝔻𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕠

💙 Fuck You by Silent Child 💙

Am I wasting my breath on you / Feels like my words are never getting through, yeah / I never said I hate you to someone so much before / I'm light headed when we talk and then you shut the door, god damn / Like what are we still talking for, yeah /

I really hope you don’t see tomorrow  / I tried to play nice with you / 'Cause all you ever do is try to fuck up my day / And you were successful / (But I know the truth) / No you don't have anything better to do / Everything you ever loved has tried to escape you / So why would I want anything to do with you /

Fuck you /

Don’t lie, he would blast this at full volume when Dazai fucks up his schedule again HAHAHA (I love their dynamic)

💙 Waiting by Zhavia Ward 💙

The truth is you don't even / Know what the hell you believe / But you should believe / Lions don't lose sleep / Over the opinions of sheep /

So if you're waitin' / To watch me fall / Watch me fall / Watch me fall / I'ma keep you waitin' / To watch me fall / Watch me fall / Watch me fall / I'ma keep you waitin' /

Empire State kinda view / And I'm up here with the crew / I got the feelin' that you wishin' / You could be up here too / Maybe I should feel bad for you / Be a little sentimental / But I don't, no I won't / Make excuses for you to hide behind /

This one makes me think of the time Fyodor tried to break him mentally by making that little girl sacrifice herself (Season 3), but he got back up pretty quickly again after having his ideals get shaken like that.

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𝔽𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕫𝕒𝕨𝕒 𝕐𝕦𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕚

💙 S.C.A.V.A. by Hollywood Undead 💙

Here's the massacre, a mausoleum fit for me / Lived a hundred years, a hundred years I didn't see / Gave all my hope away, isn't any left for me? / Bombs are splitting atoms, what can the future bring? / We can fill a million choirs and wait till children sing / We can walk a million miles and end up in the sea / And our lungs just keep filling and lying when we breathe / The world's filled with liars, liars like me / And I look at my child, it's finite, this feeling / Eyes blue like the sky, I see all of this meaning / I reach up to God and I ask if I'm dreaming […] /

Everybody says greetings and goodbyes / Everybody pays, no one knows the price / We know the price of sin, the sin of sacrifice / I know I'll sin again, but who can save me twice? / How much can we ask? You'll get the answer first / How much can we kneel with the air that chills the earth? / The air keeps getting colder, my knees keep hitting dirt / The innocent can cry without the guilty getting hurt / You ask who you love and you don't know, no, do you? / The spirit of God just passes right through you / You gave away heaven, handed right to you / And I can see it all, tell me, is it true? /

Fukuzawa is that anime character that’s visibly been through a lot of shit (and has done a lot of shit as well, even morally grey or black), which could be why he’s so stern and not a man of many words. Marked by life, if you will. He also gives off a very “wise man” kinda vibe right from the beginning, so I think that this song somewhat fits him because it is wondering about the state of the world and human nature.

💙 Courtesy Call by Thousand Foot Krutch 💙

This is your last warning / A courtesy call / I am not afraid / Of the storm that comes my way / When it hits it shakes me to the core / And makes me stronger than before / It’s not a question about trust / But will you stand with us? […] /

There’s a rumble in the floor / So get prepared for war / When it hits it’ll knock you to the ground / When it shakes up everything around / But survivial is a must / So will you stand with us? /  

This song just has that badass vibe. And no one can deny that Fukuzawa has a badass and intimidating vibe as well as he seems so stern and stoic most of the time.

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𝕋𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕫𝕒𝕜𝕚 𝕁𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕠𝕦

💙 Nesimtit by Mark Stam 💙

I don't have lots of cash / But enough for me to buy you an ice cream / For us to go on a walk / And for you to whisper to me in the waves of the ocean / I've taken some days from the border / And I put some behind the door, on ice / For cloudy weather / So that we can have them when the movie of life passes […] /

Let me be your lifeline / When your world is in the process of demolition / Let your dreams fly / I promise, we'll catch them somewhere around the sun /

Oddly enough, the Tanizaki siblings were just as hard for me as Ranpo… There aren’t really that many songs that would make me think of them. But this Romanian one made me (partly) think of him, I also think it’s cute and would probably fit him lol Especially the last four lines make me think of him and Naomi. After all, he’d even burn down the whole world if it was for her sake. All in all, this just sounds like him in the sense of a really supporting person/friend/brother.

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𝕋𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕫𝕒𝕜𝕚 ℕ𝕒𝕠𝕞𝕚

💙 You Should See Me In A Crown by Billie Eilish 💙

You say, "Come over, baby / I think you're pretty" / I'm okay, I'm not your baby / If you think I'm pretty /

You should see me in a crown / I'm gonna run this nothing town / Watch me make 'em bow / One by one by one / One by one by / You should see me in a crown / Your silence is my favorite sound / Watch me make 'em bow / One by one by one / One by one by one /

Naomi isn’t giving me the same “badass bitch” vibe as Yosano does, but she does have that “badass princess” vibe. Is that making any kind of sense? Like, she does not have an ability, but she is neither dumb nor completely helpless in all situations. So, there is a slight badass vibe, but not the “I can and I. W i l l . Kick your stupid. Bitch. Ass.” – so a…. “badass princess”? Because she also has that elegant aura about her. I hope I am making sense…?

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ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕦𝕟𝕠 𝕂𝕚𝕣𝕒𝕜𝕠

💙 2! 3! by BTS 💙

We know that you are happy right now / That you're slaying right now / You have all what you deserve / And we are so damn proud / But you're people, like us / You have spars, you get hurt / You get tired of the pressure / You get tired of the rush / God, thank you so much! / For giving us the chance / To tell you that we're here for you / And this will never change /

Lay on us / When dark times come and surround you / Our light will help you to get through / Our love is gonna heal you / Lay on us / The ones who would go to space to / Steal some stars just to give you 'cause it would make you feel good / We're gonna stay with you forever, until the end / We swear that we're not going anywhere / Yeah we're not going anywhere / We know the road can be so tough / But with holding hands / Together we take a nice deep breath /

Haruno strikes me as the kind of person, who’d be a really supportive friend, so I thought this might fit her. I have not seen much of her and her character neither in the anime nor in the manga yet, so I don’t really know whether this is any good or if it does her any justice.

On the other hand, I feel this song would also fit the Tanizaki siblings well.

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𝕄𝕚𝕪𝕒𝕫𝕒𝕨𝕒 𝕂𝕖𝕟𝕛𝕚

💙 Puste sie weg (blow them away) by Kontra K 💙

Love in the air – blow it away / 9mm on the chest – then blow it away / 3g on the mirror – better blow it away / And the wind will do the rest / Hate in the air – blow it away / Pressure on the chest again – then blow it away / Seven sins in my head – better blow it away / And the wind will do the rest […] /

Because everyone’s talking, talking, talking too much / But unfortunately never do it, do it, do it / And I don’t hate, hate, hate the player / But I’d rather kill a whole team by myself /

I’d rather have three, four warriors than one thousand “brothers” / I’d rather pick up cents from the ground than break bread with liars / I’d rather be broke like I used to be than be a part time dealer / I’d rather have a heart of gold than sharing with no one at all (no one) /

Hatred in the air – blow it away / Pressure on the chest again – then blow it away / Seven sins in my head – better blow it away / And the wind will do the rest /

Take the lyrics quite literally, “blow them away”. The feeling of this song fits him, I think, because of his sheer strength. He just blows away hatred, malice, etc. and is unaffected by any of it as his heart and his head stay innocent and pure, even if naive.

I have to say though, it can be a pun, especially the part of “9mm (gun) on the chest” would be most obvious for it (especially considering that the “on the chest” part does not specify in German whether it’s your own chest or you are holding a gun to someone’s else’s chest lol). In general “puste xy weg” means to blow it away with the air out of your mouth, but colloquially it can also mean gunning down something or someone. And if you apply that meaning to every single line with “blow it away”, the meaning turns around from not letting it bother you to killing it, which I find interesting with this character. (Because he definitely has great potential to actually kill someone with his ability alone.) Though what I thought when I heard this song was that it might fit him with the meaning of him letting nothing bother him.

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𝕀𝕫𝕦𝕞𝕚 𝕂𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕜𝕒

💙 Alaska by Elif 💙

Sometimes I’m thinking, I’m going insane like everyone else / They said I’d be going nuts and yeah, I’m starting to believe them / -7°C, I’m walking through the city park by myself / The down jacket is keeping me warm, but in my heart, there’s Alaska /

I don’t know what love is / No matter how much of it I get, I need more of it / It’s tearing me apart on the inside / When I, once again, don’t know where I’ll be getting it from / Even my therapist says, he doesn’t know any further / My dark side, it’s stronger than the good one / My youth was poisened, the future is uncertain / It is how it is yeah, it is how it is /

💙 Godsent by Smash Into Pieces 💙

I used to share, I used to care / The good in me is gone I'm bad / I used to give, I used to feel / The things you did will never heal / Take a look at me now / See what I've become / I will no longer feed the machine / Can't control the monster in me, no / The way that I feel / Makes it harder to breathe / When I'm thinking about you / The monster is real /

This makes me think of her in the Port Mafia.

💙 Boomerang by Smash Into Pieces 💙

I've been gone for a while now / But only to gain my power / I've been fighting my demons / And I'm back up on my feet (and now) / The harder you fall down / The stronger you come back later / Now I feel like an army / And I've only just begun /

This one in turn makes me think of her in the Agency.

💙 Circles (제자리) by G.Soul 💙

Oh, we know the ending / No matter how you escape / Here again / Always come back to me / Back again / Eventually / Here again / Why is it so hard to leave? / Here again / We always stay here […] / Answer me, I don’t know, no / Just don’t know / You’re getting stuck / Forever / Oh, we know the ending / No matter how you escape / Here again /

This makes me think of what Kouyou (I hope I am remembering her name correctly) was saying about her as a flower of darkness, as she was kind of turning in circles (no pun intended)–between wanting to be in the light and “accepting” that she only belongs into the darkness–at the beginning before she finally joined the Agency.

💙 Excuses (변명) by G.Soul 💙

I told you not to be too good to me / That it would make it too hard on you / No matter what you say now / I don’t hear a word of it […] / Even though I may be making a mistake / Even though I may regret this as time goes on / Baby, I think that we should just end it here now /

Even though the song in total has a different vibe (and story lmao), these parts of the lyrics makes me think of Kyouka telling Atsushi that there is no saving her, and that the light is no place for her (directly after saving her from the Port Mafia). It kinda makes me think of the part, specifically, where Atsushi suggests going on a “date” and at the end of it, Kyouka wants the last place they go to to be the police station.

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𝔻𝕒𝕫𝕒𝕚 & 𝔸𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕤𝕙𝕚

💙 Sing To Me by Missio 💙

Somehow I got nominated as a king of sadness / Got so much I know that I could even feed the birds / And that's why / I prayed, I prayed, God sent me right to voicemail / It's like, all day my vanity is for sale / Take it away, my head is in my own hell /

Sing to me, I am not doing well / Getting tired of my own words / Sing to me 'cause I can't hear myself / Through the loudness of my own hurts / Call me selfish when I say this, say this / I'm kinda helpless, and I need you / Sing to me 'cause I'm not doing well /

Somebody told me that there's two sides to this life / I think I might've chosen darkness over light /

These two are two sides of the same coin, but no side is brighter than the other. I feel like they are kind of mirroring each other in the way they feel about themselves, which is why these lyrics mirror both of them towards each other as both are in need of salvation as they’re drowning in their own minds. Dazai is just better at hiding it from Atsushi.

💙 Namae wo yobu yo (Call A Name) by Luck Life (Season 1 Ending) 💙

I was searching / For the reason I’m able to remain as myself / If there’s a version of me / That exists within your heart / That even amid the darkness on this long, hilly road / I feel I can become a new me / Able to make my way through / So that each of us, walking our individual moments, can keep on smiling / So that we can keep moving forward, exploring the meaning of life together / I’ll call out a name / Your name / So that you can remain who you are /

Technically, lyrically it’s the entirety of the song, but I will not write down all of it lmao And it’s the Atsushi and Dazai parallels here again. It’s not just the ending with the animation that shows it for me, but the lyrics reflect both of them in them as well. I absolutely loved this ending. I never ship characters as I do not care about that, but I really love these two (separately)~ (What they mean for each other aka what they might mean for each other in the future [peace of mind/finding worth for Atsushi, and a reason to live for Dazai, etc.], how they’re already helping each other [Dazai helping Atsushi with feeling worthless, and Dazai finding a bit of piece of mind], etc. etc. etc.) I haven’t loved 2 characters in an anime as much as this in quite a long time (The last time was Kougami and Akane in Psycho Pass) as I find making up characters as complex as them and make them fit together as well as them/make them complement each other/balance each other out is actually pretty hard to do really well.

.

Making up this list took waaaaay longer than it should’ve. (I did not include Katai because I couldn’t think of a single song for him, sorry.)

[starryseo]

mayhem. [2/3] | seo changbin

pairing ↠ changbin x gn!reader genre ↠ more chaotic roommates interactions; humour + fluff wc ↠ 2994 summary ↠ one of changbin’s many talents is getting revenge. warnings ↠ swearing, suggestive remarks a/n ↠ need me a man like bin :(

read: mess (part one) | MAYHEM | purify (part three)

series masterlist

You’re pretty sure you could hear Changbin cackling outside your door before it was even seven in the morning. As soon as your shrill alarm sounded, he kicked open your door, screaming, “Wake up, bitch!”

You drowned out his constant wake up, wake up, wake the fuck up, baby by rolling over and burying yourself under your duvet. The alarm was adding to the unholy cacophony happening on the other side of your safety blanket and you prayed for some escape plan to come to mind, but Spiderman wasn’t swooping in any time soon to save you. You doubt he’d be able to stop Changbin in this mood, anyway. Alas, you mentally prepared your dying words, praising everyone you’ve ever met except your screeching devil of a roommate and Jisung who you know spilled coffee on your previously-white shoes despite his vehement denial. You know. 

When your warmth was violently ripped away from you, leaving you quaking and exposed to Changbin’s icy wrath, you curled up, covering your ears with your hands because the asshole still hadn’t shut up.

He pulled your hands away easily - completely undeterred by your resistance - only to lean in close, and then closer, to whisper, “Rise and shine, fucker.”

You were not above pleading for your life - fully prepared to sell your soul, or even sacrifice someone (the devil probably wouldn’t accept Jisung, so Hyunjin would have to do) - but Changbin was ruthless and dead-set on making this your worst day. He had to avenge himself. Redeem his dignity. His manhood was at stake here, goddamnit.

After finally turning your alarm off, you turned back to Changbin who had thrown open your curtains. You hissed when the light hit your eyes, not at all prepared for the sun to scorch your eyes. Anguished, you grabbed onto your blanket once more, burying yourself under its momentary comfort. Instead of tugging away your cover like you expected, Changbin hauled himself on top of your bed, shaking your body this way and that, poking and prodding and pinching until you threw your duvet away and groaned, “Fuck off!”

He was straddling your legs, holding onto the top of your duvet so you couldn’t cover yourself again. You were so tempted to knee him where it would really hurt but, with the devious state he was in, he’d probably feed off of the pain and pay it back tenfold. Masochistic asshole.

He waited for your groans to stop before he jumped off your bed. “If you’re not out in 10 seconds, I will pour water on you.”

He sang a countdown, too much glee in his voice, and you let yourself mentally plan his murder in the five seconds it took for you to stand up. Usually, these ploys would have you huffing laughter - your phone’s storage was overflowing with videos of waking up Chan in increasingly annoying ways (pouring water, slathering butter, swiping jam on him) - but being on the receiving end of his schemes didn’t seem like fun. No more tricks on poor Chan. No more.

He nodded when you were up, saying “Follow me” before marching out of your room. Reluctantly, you trudged behind him and, when your heavy-footed dragging irked him too much, he grabbed your arm, and hurried his pace, running to your impending demise.

You have no idea how early he woke up to clean the living room but it was spotless. All rubbish from yesterday was tidied away, the blankets were neatly folded over the sofa and the tv was dusted? Despite your current situation, you were very proud that your work yesterday paid off: Changbin had finally learnt how to clean up a place. Now you could fairly assign chores (because right now he was in charge of food and that either involved inviting Woojin over to cook, or getting takeout).

“Wow,” you drawled, admiring how tidy the table was, “Love what you’ve done with the place!”

“Yeah, no thanks to your lazy ass,” he replied quickly, grabbing the same apron you had made him wear. “Dress up, babe.”

Hurriedly, you put it on, hating the way he smirked after. You crossed your arms, grumbling under your breath about how much you can’t stand this 4’2 piece of crap.

“At least read it,” he nodded to the apron, “I made an upgrade.”

You uncrossed your arms, looking down to see Changbin’s shitty handwriting scrawled over the clothing. You squinted, trying to decipher the words, but Changbin’s writing was barely legible upright, you hadn’t mastered reading it upside yet. “What’s it say?”

You looked up to see him merrily snapping away pictures of you. The asshole. You crossed your arms over again, glaring at him as he laughed. “Too late for that,” he let out another snicker, “this one’s my favourite.” He turned his phone to show you a picture of you looking straight at the camera, eyes narrowed and lips pursed because he had taken it as soon as you realised what he was doing.

“If you do everything I say, I won’t send it to the others.”

“Bitch.”

“According to the apron, you’re my bitch, actually.”

He started off easy enough - the calm before the storm, you reckon - telling you to make breakfast first. You contemplated making something fancy, cook up eggs and hash browns - maybe bribe him into easing off such a deadly payment, but he wouldn’t sway, so you settled with pouring cereal for the two of you.

You made sure to put extra milk in his so it would go soggy more quickly.

When breakfast was done, he watched you wash the dishes, sitting himself on the counter; he had the audacity to video call Felix as you cleaned up. Facing the phone towards you, you blatantly ignored Felix and Changbin’s laughter. “C’mon, y/n, at least say hi to him!”

“Yeah, y/n! How are you this fine morning? Lovely day, don’t you think?”

“Why the fuck are you even awake?” you grumbled, rubbing the soapy sponge around the bowl extra hard, imagining it wasn’t Changbin’s stupid face.

Felix shrugged, not that you could see, before replying, “Was bored.”

“Oh, oh! Show him your clothes!”

“Yeah, show me your clothes!” Felix perked up, “What’re you wearing?”

You turned away further from him, but Changbin was persistently nudging your side with his foot. “Nothing,” you grumbled, flicking soapy water on Changbin and he sputtered, viciously rubbing his face when nasty droplets fell there.

“Okay, you’re clearly not wearing nothing,” Felix huffed, “unless you’re not wearing trousers? I can’t see there, Changbin move your phone!”

“No! What the hell, ‘Lix, obviously I’m wearing trousers!”

“For now,” Changbin added, and he snickered when you glared at him, “I’m kidding, relax.”

“Sure you are,” Felix muttered, rolling his eyes. “So, what’s up with the clothes, then?”

“Chanbin’s an asshole is what’s up,” you said, finally done with washing the dishes. You faced the phone - better to get the mockery over and done with now - and you watched as Felix’s face contorted into a tight smile before the dam burst and his laughter was booming through the speakers. You groaned when he showed Jisung - who actually stopped playing PS4 just to see what was so amazing - and the asshole joined in on the laughter. A great start to the morning, really.

In between laughter, Felix asked, “how much for the apron?”

Just your dignity you replied as Changbin yelled, “not for sale!”

“I’ll take it!”

When you entered your bedroom with Changbin, you were appalled with yourself. His room - well, prior to yesterday - was infinitely worse than your own still, but yours wasn’t far off. Clothes were precariously hanging off your desk chair, textbooks were scattered in all four corners of your room, to-go cups and bottles were peeking out from under your bed. It was dreadful, put lightly.

“Alright, dumbass, I’ll get bin bags, you start picking shit up.”

“How about I get the bin bags and you pick things up?” you asked, already crouching to pick up empty food wrappers, knowing his answer. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he left.

He came a few moments later with the black bags, ripping one off and holding it open for you to dump what you had gathered in. You went around your room, throwing your rubbish into the bag. Changbin, strangely, was helping you, too, kicking bottles and takeaway boxes closer to the bag so you could bin it. He even cleared out your bin, and you paused in your clean-up as he put a new bin bag in. He scoffed when he caught you staring silently, “M’not helping you out anymore, now.” He rolled his eyes at your pout, standing by the door, “Hurry up, this shit ain’t cleaning itself.”

Once the floor was cleared of all rubbish, Changbin told you to take your bedsheets off. He left to throw the bags away and returned with clean sheets - neon covers that he bought as a gift because he knew the bright colours would be an eyesore in the morning - and you sighed when he put them on the bed.

You took your time removing the dirty covers, and Changbin huffed at your pace, whining, “Hurry up, you’re no fun!”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing your pillow and hitting you with it once - then twice because you called him a little bitch - before he took off the pillow cover and tossed it over his shoulder. He also started taking off the bed sheet and you couldn’t help but stop, just watching the way he actually helped you out. Again. When he saw you stop, he grabbed your pillow again, moving to hit you, but you quickly pulled away your half of the bed sheet. “I’m done, I’m done!”

After replacing the old sheets - by yourself, because Changbin had already helped you too much - you began clearing your desk. You busied yourself with sorting out old papers and notebooks, things you’d keep and things you’d bin, humming along to the music that Changbin had put on. Your back was to him, but the sound of things shuffling about eventually coaxed you into turning around to look at Changbin.

For the third time that day, you stopped. He was cleaning? Again? He was moving things on your bedside table, wiping the wood down before putting the objects back. He was even thoroughly dusting away your lamp.

Enough was enough.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“What you should be doing too,” he answered swiftly, not even looking up as he finished his work, “I’m getting the vacuum.”

He left promptly after, leaving you awe-struck. This couldn’t possibly be the same Changbin you had known for years, right? There was no way this was the same Seo Changbin that had sat on Hyunjin for 2 straight hours for absolutely no reason, the same Changbin that ate an expired cake, threw it up on Chan, then continued eating it. No way. Some alien must have cloned him overnight, or maybe shapeshifters were real, who knew? The only thing you knew for sure was that that wasn’t Changbin.

When he returned with the vacuum and proceeded to plug it in and start cleaning that side of the room, you were convinced something traumatic must have happened to the real Changbin overnight. But you had heard nothing from his room last night, so what the hell was going on?

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed, jumping up and pointing at him. Your shriek had Changbin hurriedly turning off the vacuum, facing you with a raised brow. “You’re possessed!”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“Cut the shit, demon, I’ve watched Buzzfeed Unsolved, I see through your lies.”

“What? Can you just hurry up?”

“Not until you let me exorcise you.”

“You wanna exercise together? I have some ideas-” The lewd smirk he shot your way had you immediately cringing.

“Exorcise,” you emphasised - because if Changbin was going to sell his soul to anyone, you wouldn’t rule out a sex demon, “But I take it back. You might be a nicer roommate than Bin.”

“Okay first of all, rude. I’m an amazing roommate,” he started, shaking the vacuum in hand to prove his point, “and secondly, if I was a demon - which I am neither confirming, nor denying - why would I let you exorcise me?”

“To throw me off?” You shrugged. So, the sex demon had more brain cells than Changbin, you gathered. He was already shaping up to be a better roommate than Changbin (who you were definitely not going to miss), maybe you could use his new smarts to your advantage. “How good are you at computer science?”

“I do physics?”

“Why does that sound like a question?”

“Because why not?”

“Stop answering my questions with questions!”

“Or what?”

Maybe he wasn’t possessed, because he was still an asshole. Maybe consecutive days of cleaning were really getting to him.

You hadn’t cleared Changbin of being a demon just yet, but your room was significantly tidier. The floor was vacuumed, desk was dusted; Changbin had even managed to scrub away at a coffee stain on your floor - the mark had been there for so long, this accomplishment practically confirmed your demon theory.

You admired your now-spotless room, the cleaning was surprisingly therapeutic and you were thankful Changbin had made the day enjoyable. You thought, for sure, this would be a day in hell because your roommate was never one to miss a chance to get revenge on someone. And, after what you had done to him - or, well, made him do - you thought you were a goner. But Changbin didn’t hide your phone and your laptop was safely on your desk. He had blackmailed you with absolutely nothing, yet you did his bidding. He was definitely a demon.

After a quick retreat to the bathroom where you messaged your friends to save you from this demon, you joined Changbin in the living room.

You: a demon has taken over bin and im probably next, see yall in hell

Felix: get freaky w the demon before u die 

You: why the fuCk would i do that??? 

You: also, no bc it’s in bin’s body so ew 🤢🤮

Felix: oh fuck even better im omw 😫😫

He was relaxing on the sofa, sprawled over the furniture, but he had left enough room for you at the end. When you sat, he placed his feet in your lap, snuggling further into his blanket burrito.

“I put pizza in the oven, should be done in 10. Wanna pick a film?”

“Yeah,” you drawled, picking the remote up from atop his chest, “you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Think your dusty ass room is getting to me,” he replied, scrunching his nose and sniffing, “why do you keep asking?”

“Because you helped me clean today. I thought I’d be dead - or at least begging for it - by the end of today.”

“I can have you begging for-”

“Oh my God, stop.” You interrupted whatever crude remark the sex demon was conjuring. “You’re definitely not okay.”

“I’m fine. I helped you because I know you’ve been busy, okay? Now stop asking stupid shit, stop with your demonic bullshit. Y’know I’m not actually possessed, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” - no, you didn’t - “but, like, are you sure? No fever, or headaches?”

Changbin being considerate was a rare occasion - unlikely, yet possible - but to err on the side of caution, you needed to disprove your demon theory. You reached over to check his temperature and he shuffled away as best as he could despite being wrapped up like a demonic little gift. Like a present from the devil himself - how kind.

“For the hundredth time, I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” you shrugged, facing the tv to find a film, “how do you feel about a horror film?”

“Fucking impartial,” he groaned, “and now I’ve got a headache!”

“Can demons get ill?”

“I wouldn’t fucking know!”

“Oh, so this is your first possession?”

“Dear God-”

“Isn’t that blasphemous?”

He sighed.

You were happily eating away at your pizza, watching a romcom - the demon was already feeding off of Changbin’s lifeform, you weren’t going to fuel its fire with scary shit - when several knocks sounded at the door.

You looked to Changbin and he turned to you, both of you shrugging. He faced the tv again and you put the volume higher to drown out the knocking. You hadn’t invited anyone over, so they weren’t your problem and this love triangle was much more interesting.

When someone on the other side of the door started shrieking - not saying anything coherent, literally just screaming all high-pitched and deafening - you groaned, pausing the film.

You threw open the door, the what the hell- dying on your lips when you say all of your friends at the door. Felix was still screeching until Seungmin whacked his stomach. You all simultaneously winced as Felix was winded, bending over in pain, letting out a weak ouch.

“Is that pizza?” Jisung asked, sniffing the air, “It is! Lemme in-”

“Shut up,” Chan nudged him away, before immediately moving into your home, “We’re here to help.”

You stepped back - not even bothering to try stopping 8 grown men from entering, “Help with…?”

“That monstrosity,” Hyunjin replied, pointing to Changbin who had sat up, still wrapped up tightly.

“For fucks sake, y/n. Seriously?” Changbin yelled, emerging from his safety roll. “I’m not a fucking demon!”

“That’s exactly what a demon would say,” Jisung retorted without skipping a beat.

“That’s what I said!” You replied, shutting the door behind them.

“Alright,” Chan clapped, and you all readied yourself, Changbin rolling his eyes and looking as exasperated as ever, “Grab him.”

[sabineelectricheart]

An Excitingly Boring Rainy Night

Summary: Sylvain and Byleth spend a night in with their daughter. It rains.

Rating: K - Intended for general audience 5 years and older. Content should be free of any coarse language, violence, and adult themes.

Words: 2700

Notes: Parenthood fluff. It’s nice once in a while, too.

When Byleth married, she heard two warnings. The first, from almost every guest to the reception, was that her husband was a skirt-chaser and should not be trusted. She did not take it seriously. The other, which was whispered to her ear by her mother while they sneaked a peek inside the church, just before the march began to play.

Her groom was smiling brightly, laughing as his best man scowled and her grandmother demanded them to be quiet.

“You are in for a lifetime of excitement, dear. He is jovial, full of energy.” Sitri said, a pleased smile dancing on her features. “Sylvain is just like your father in that sense.”

The infinite wisdom of her mother’s, born out of experience and self-reflection, has not failed them in this instance. Life with Sylvain had always been unorthodox, even when they were just friends. From snippets of life amongst the 1%, with expensive restaurants, opera tickets and impromptu trips to Brigid, to the simple and sweet, like flowers at her workplace, massages when her back hurt and stay-in dates just because. Every day was a, usually pleasant, surprise with that man.

It was all fine and good when it was just the two of them, but when Byleth got pregnant and had a little girl not even seven years ago, things became an entirely different sort of chaos. Unrestful nights and busy days became the norm as their daughter required most of their attention. Neither parent really mourned the loss of life they had before. Being the cool couple without children was awesome, but they loved their daughter more than life itself. Having her was worth any sacrifice, lest of all their high life they led before.

So, with all that, it often came as a surprise when they had a quiet evening at home, when nothing special happens. Nights like these were rare for Sylvain, and he thinks he will never really get used to it.

Isolde was sleeping peacefully in her bed. The dishes from dinner were clean and drying on the sink as the redhead sat in his office looking over questionnaires and tables on consumer preferences for his new client at his advertising firm. His wife was sitting on the couch flipping through history books, preparing next week’s classes for her annoying but lovable teenage students. The crackling fire and sounds of the rain hitting the window were comforting, though lulling the man to sleep. 

Cracking his neck, Sylvain shuts down his working notebook and rubs his amber eyes. He loved his job but he severely underestimated the number of papers he had to sign and review, he thought it would all be about coming up with creative ways to sell people crap they do not need. Glancing at the watch on his wrist, he notes the late hour and decides to call it a night for work. He could always get his intern to do it later. 

Byleth knows that her husband is done with work for the evening based on three things. The first is the loud groan that comes from his office which signals he is stretching his back and closing off whatever he was doing. Then he would peek his head into the living room. The messy ginger hair making an appearance as he checks to see if she is still awake. When she is not, he will scoop her up and carry her to bed. If she is awake, though, he moves to step 3. 

Jumping into her lap. 

The 1,86-meter-tall idiot which she has come to love collapses on the couch right on top of her. 

“Sylvain!” She scolds as she moves her arms to protect the book.

He does not respond and instead snuggles up to her ample chest. He eyes the open pages of her book and scrunches his nose up in disgust. 

“Really, princess? We aren’t in school anymore. You don’t have to keep reading about Loog’s rebellion.” The redhead points out, as if it was a revelation which would set her free.

Rolling her eyes, Byleth marks the page and set the book down on the table so she could turn her attention to her ginger husband. 

“Yet, it has not left the school curriculum since you and I graduated, so I still have to teach it.” She says, a little forceful. “And, before you ask, no, they haven’t figured out new things about a war 1800 years old, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t brush up on the old stuff.”

A flash of lighting followed by the sound of thunder captures both of their attentions. 

Sylvain grimaces as he buries his face in her neck. It is foolish of him, but he fears thunderstorms. When he was a child, rain meant staying inside, and staying inside meant having no escape from Miklan. Ironically, years later, when he was already dating she who would become his wife, it was also under heavy rain they had to drive to Conand, to identify his brother’s corpse after he died at a police shootout.

Knowing such a history, Byleth hugs him and tries to distract his attention.

“M’tired but I don’t want to go to bed.” The woman mumbles softly as she plays with her husband’s hair.

He chuckles softly. Snuggling on the couch sounded like a wonderful idea to him but he had something else in mind. Climbing off her he walks over to the radio in the corner of the living room. 

“Sylvain?” She asks, wondering why he left her embrace.

He shushes her and turns on the radio. The sounds of an old song began playing full volume through the room, drowning the sound of thunder outside.

“I Put a Spell on You.” Sylvain says, waltzing over to his wife, holding out his hand.

Byleth raises an eyebrow and lets out a small laugh.

“Name of the song, darling.” He answers an unasked question. “My mother had these tracks on repeat when I was a kid.”

“I really can’t see your mother liking any music, lest of all romantic jazz.” She wonders, thinking about the infamous harpy of her mother-in-law. “Who do you wager she put a spell on? Your father?”

More ridiculous than Mrs. Gautier swaying through the room listening to I Put a Spell on You is having Mr. Gautier dancing with her. Many stories ran around about her in-laws, none of it any good.

Sylvain shrugs and gestures his hand, asking her to take it. 

A bit of late-night dancing did not happen often anymore and it would be great revisiting it. Grabbing his hand, he pulls her off the couch. One hand coming to rest on her waist and his other holding her hand up high. 

“I would have thought you’d have gotten bored of these songs.” She points out, knowing full well her husband’s musical tastes veered towards contemporary, high-energy, top 40 songs he could listen on the radio on his way to work.

“Well, blasting Yummy wouldn’t exactly be what I call romantic, even if appropriate when I see you in this negligée.” He says as he twirls her around and making her laugh.

Both of his hands slink down to her waist as he pulls her closer. Swaying to the soft tunes of the radio and the muted rain outside. 

“I didn’t know how much missed this.” He mumbles softly, his big amber yellow eyes meeting her green ones.

He looked tired but still full of love. The years had passed but, at this moment, it felt like they were back at the monastery where they went to college, that it was Establishment Day again and they were dancing the night away. It might be a little downmarket from the fancy gowns and the soft-falling snow, but dancing together in her pyjamas was just as romantic and joyful as far as she was concerned.

Another loud clap of thunder makes her jump in surprise.

Sylvain chuckles and pulls her closer. “Don’t worry, I got you princess.”

Byleth rolls her eyes and wrap her strong arms around his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss. His hands squeeze her hips lightly as he moves to deepen the kiss. 

“Daddy?” A sleep voice calls from the staircase.

The sound of their 6-year-old pulls them apart. Sylvain has a small pout on his lips as he was already thinking of what the two of them could do before his little girl decided to interrupt. 

“Mummy?” She calls over once more.

“What’s wrong, Isolde?” The mother walks out of Sylvain’s grip over to her tired little girl who had small tears falling down her cheeks. 

“I’m scared.” She tightly hugs the stuffed teddy bear Sylvain got her a few months ago.

Picking her up, the woman presses a small kiss to her cheek. 

“Is the thunder scary, sweetie?” She asks.

Isolde nods and rests her head against her chest. Sylvain’s annoyance quickly disappears as he reaches for his daughter. 

“Come here, princess, there is nothing to be afraid of, I promise.” The father coos.

Isolde climbs out of her mother’s arms to get to Sylvain’s. She was definitely a daddy’s girl with the way she grabbed at the man. The woman watches it with curiosity, as in her family, she was more taken with her mother, while her brother and father stood as a unit. Amongst their in-laws, her husband was the favoured son, but he did not appreciate too much either of his parents’ company.

Thunder rolled across the sky causing Isolde to hide her face into Sylvain’s chest. 

“I’ll protect you, don’t worry.” He whispers softly in her ear as he rubs her back soothingly. It was one thing he dearly wished when he was a child, and now he is happy to provide for his daughter.

She looks up at him with those big tearful eyes making her father melt away like putty in her tiny hands. He hates seeing Isolde cry. Wanting to distract her, he eyes the radio that was still playing music.

“How about I teach you to dance?” Sylvain offers.

Her head perks up at that. Setting her down, he grabs her hands. 

“Now, for a proper dance, the boy bows to the girl.” He grins and bows dramatically making the girl giggle at her father’s goofy grin. 

“You never did that for me.” Byleth points out, playfully.

Sylvain looks over at her and scoffs playfully. “That’s not true, I was nothing but a gentleman during our first dance.”

That is a lie, of course. The college boy got rather drunk on their first Establishment Day, then asked for her forgiveness on his dick moves throughout the year, cried a little and then asked her to a sloppy dance through the ballroom.

Rolling her eyes, she cannot wipe the smile off her face as Isolde bows to Sylvain. Standing up straight he grabs both of her small hands. 

“Here, princess.” He lifts her so her feet rest on his.

She seems a bit nervous as the tall man moves, her feet not on the ground nor any arms propping her up. 

“Don’t worry, darling, daddy won’t let you fall.” The cheering mother says as she sits on the couch, holding her stuffed toy.

The girl nods and looks up at Sylvain. To the tune of old jazz music, he begins to dance around the room. Isolde squeals as her father waltzes her around the room. 

“You’re doing great, honey!” The doting parent says proudly as he tries to spin her. “You’re a natural.”

He picks her up in his arms and kisses her cheek. 

“My little flower bud is so talented.” He looks at his wife with a wide smile.

“She really is, isn’t she?” She rests her head on her hands as the redhead dances around the room with his daughter in his arms. 

Sylvain became a whole new man when Isolde was born. He still had that carefree and devil-may-care attitude that reeled most people’s nerves, but anytime he was with the girl, he was transformed into the most serious and focused man this side of the Oghma Mountains. Everything the girl did or say made him proud. His eyes just shined with delight when she would look at him or call for him. He loved her to pieces. This was his daughter. His little flower bud who he had to love and care for and he adored every moment. 

“Rain isn’t scary.” The man proclaims as the music come to an end. “Did you know that little ducklings love the rain? They all walk joyfully through the water, like one big party. It seems really cool, right?”

He brings her to the window. This is the first time in many years the man voluntarily looks out when it rains. The girl presses her small hand to the cold glass and pulls it back quickly. She looks to her father, still unsure about it. 

“You know what you can do only when it rains?” He offers, instead.

Isolde shakes her head as Sylvain smiles.

“You get to splash and play in the puddles.” He says, in that fabricated excitement parents used to cheer their children up. “Tomorrow how about we go out and play in the puddles? You can run and jump around like a real little duckling.”

The girl claps and nods her head. 

“Honey, don’t you have a meeting with a client tomorrow? And Isolde has school in the morning.” Byleth points out, as she usually did as the grounded, serious parent.

It might be a little cold of her, but it was better that the girl has no expectations rather than getting her hopes up, only for her dad to be stuck at work. The man frowns for a moment but the girl’s sad eyes pull his attention back. 

“It’s going to rain tomorrow morning, too, so the puddles will be there when I come back for lunch. I can take an afternoon off for my little flower bud.” He peppers the girl’s face with light kisses, making her squeal with happiness. 

“Sounds perfect, Sylvain.” Standing up, the mother rests her hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get this one to bed so she won’t be grumpy when tomorrow comes.”

Byleth bops Isolde’s nose and she giggles. Her eyes were drooping from tiredness and as much as the man would like to stay up with her, he knows his wife is right. 

“It’s my turn to take care of it, princess. I’ll meet you in bed.” Kissing her cheek, the man heads off to the child’s room.

Ghosting her cheek, the woman clears out the living room and makes her way to the marital bed. She wonders what her Grandmother Rhea, the one who most often dragged up the man’s sordid past, would say if she saw her grandson-in-law with her great-granddaughter. Probably nothing good, as she still was not over her daughter’s wedding, and that was over thirty-five years ago.

Climbing into bed, she waits for Sylvain’s return, but soon the weight of the long day’s work threatens to overtake her consciousness. Her eyes close but she keeps herself awake.

A few minutes later, the man opens their bedroom door carefully and shuts it quietly. He quickly changes into pyjamas and climbs next to his wife in bed. 

“Hey, Sylvain.” She whispers tiredly.

“Oh darling, I thought you were asleep.” He wraps an arm around her figure and turns to face the woman. “You must be exhausted. Are you still having trouble sleeping?”

“I was just waiting for you, dear.” Her words string together as Byleth could barely keep herself awake. “I wanted to say goodnight before bed.”

Sylvain squeezes her waist and leans down to kiss her forehead. 

“Sleep, my love.” He whispers.

Snuggling up to his chest, she finally lets herself fall asleep. 

“I love you, my princess. Thank you for giving me my wonderful family.” With another kiss he closes his eyes and falls asleep with his wife in his arms, dreaming of what was to come.

If every night was as boring and uneventful as this one was, then he would live out a lifetime of happiness.

*_*_*_*_*

Fire Emblem Masterlist

Three Houses Masterlist

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Christmas Short Story Exchange

Wolves Without Teeth

Fandoms: Life is Strange, Life is Strange 2 Characters: Sean Diaz, Lyla Park, Daniel Diaz, Chloe Price, David Madsen (mention), Brody Holloway (mention) Tags: Post-Redemption Ending, Post-Save Arcadia Bay Ending, light angst with happy ending, mentions of depression/antidepressants, reminiscing, ambiguous/open ending, POV heavy, pretty scenery and dogs and ghosts

And I run from wolves breathing heavily at my feet And I run from wolves tearing into me without teeth

♪♫♪♫♪♫

*

Millions of stars lit up the vast, deep indigo canvas of the night sky along the coast of Oregon. It was a quiet, peaceful night, the kind that was made for intimate strolls and heartwarming conversations and marveling at the beauty of the ocean, hand in hand, barefoot on the shore, accompanied by the light April breeze and the soft whispers of the waves. It was made for campfires and laughter, grilled fish and cold beer, and acoustic guitar covers of songs that people don’t listen to enough on Spotify, even though they really should - it was a night made for moments ephemeral and eternal at the same time, a series of overexposed polaroid images in the sand. 

However, for the young man driving under the endless rows of majestic pine trees, the night was but a spectacular backdrop for his hours spent on the road. Slightly more memorable than the day before, and infinitely longer than any other day of the past week he’s spent driving, one hand on the wheel, the other one either stroking the gentle crosswind with a cigarette between his fingers or buried in the thick, brown fur of the adolescent wolfdog snoozing on the passenger’s seat, curled up like a content, well-fed little roll with her favorite blanket between her front paws. 

That night, he was holding onto the wheel with both hands. Eyes fixated on the highway, his anxiety was skyrocketing in his chest, flooding the back of his mind with dark thoughts and his head with an unbearable migraine, building up slowly but steadily, creeping into his skull, even the empty - and otherwise numb - socket of his left eye. Not that he was a stranger to headaches, but unlike all his past encounters with nasty migraines, this time he had no idea what to blame: the cigarettes, the lack of sleep, all the synthetic food he shoved down his throat the past few days, his ridiculous deadline drawing near by the minute… Or perhaps the fact that for the first time in fifteen agonizingly long years, he was back on a road he never thought will see again. 

The only difference was that this time, he was on his own. There was no comforting presence beside him, no hula dancer figurine on top of the dashboard, no excited chatter coming from a kid high on adrenaline on the backseat. It was just him and the shores of Oregon, his sad music and his snoring dog (who wasn’t exactly the chatty kind, which, honestly speaking, never truly bothered him; he adopted her for the very same reason) and this stubborn, intrusive, demanding migraine that seemed to have made a cozy little home for itself in his forehead like it was meant to live out the rest of its life under his skin. And somehow, it managed to grow even stronger when out of the blue, the music was interrupted by the steady, low buzzing of his phone.

All of a sudden, violent waves of frustration crashed down over him as he took a quick glance at the device’s screen. Tightening his grip on the wheel until his nails started digging irritated crescents into the faux leather, he grit his teeth while staring at his phone, its buzzing resonating in his temples as if someone was trying to drill into his brain. The buzzing lasted for a solid two minutes before the screen would finally turn dark again and the pulsating sensation in his temples quieted down a little - only giving him a few moments of calm and quiet, though, as his phone started ringing again the moment he was about to sigh in relief.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”, he grunted loudly in anger, waking the peacefully sleeping wolfdog pup with either his hoarse voice or the annoyed dash of his hand as he reached out for his phone to pick up the incoming call and be over with it as fast as possible. He knew exactly what’s coming for him, and he was in the mood for anything but fighting with his best friend on the phone right now. 

“What the fuck, man?!”, hissed a young woman on the other end of the call with a furious whisper-shout, as soon as he pushed the green button. “Are you being serious with me right now? Where the fuck are you, Sean?”, she hissed, and Sean heard a door slamming shut behind her, most likely the backyard door, to be precise, as she stormed out of the kitchen for a smoke.

“You knew I’ll be busy this weekend”, much to his surprise, he magically managed to keep his voice calm and his words collected when he answered after a few moments of hesitation. “I DMed you and I also texted the group chat yest-”

“Yeah, and I thought you’re just trying to back out of going to Walmart with us!”, his feeble attempt of coming up with explanations was met with an angry snap from the young woman. “And I actually can’t believe that we’re having this conversation? Like I can’t comprehend the fact that for whatever fucked up reason, you are actually ditching your own brother’s birthday weekend”, she scoffed, lighting up a cigarette with two impatient click-clacks of a cheap 7-Eleven lighter. 

“I have a deadline, Lyla, and it seems like you’re the only person who can’t accept that”, answered Sean with a deep, resigned sigh, only trying to resist the sudden urge of smoking for a brief second before he rolled down the window and reached for his cigarette case. “I talked to Daniel about it, alright? He was the first person I called”, he murmured under his nose, shoving a crooked cigarette between his lips. “And to be honest, I still don’t understand why you guys insisted on throwing this huge ass party for him for an entire weekend... Y’all know he prefers his PS4 and pizza over twenty of us being all over him for three days, right?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was me who’s about to ruin his birthday! Fuck, man, thanks, now I can see that it was me all along”, Lyla let out a burst of dry laughter, more threatening than the sharpest blades in the world. “You are unbelievable, Sean.”

“I’m doing everyone a favor by skipping, y’know”, said Sean, sticking his hand out the window, unleashing the tiny smoke-dragons of his cigarette into the night. “‘Cause let’s be real, we both know that it’s me who’d ruin his birthday” he added with a shrug, making Lyla snort in disbelief.

“I can’t think of a single reason why his favorite person in the world would do that, so please enlighten me with your wisdom, Sean-Wise”, suddenly, her tone softened, bringing a massive lump to Sean’s throat. 

“The last thing he needs right now is his useless, depressed brother”, he answered quietly, unable to resist the suffocating grip of anxiety on his neck. “And thankfully, he understands that his useless, depressed brother needs to submit an unreasonable amount of work ‘til next Wednesday, so… Yeah. We’re both doing each other a favor, to be honest.”

“Sean, I… Useless? Why would y- What do you even… Hollup for a sec” sighed Lyla, slightly frustrated, as a small voice suddenly called for her. “Yes, baby, what’s up?”, she said, words and smile warmer than the morning sun, and Sean couldn’t help but smile too when he heard her switch to Korean the next moment, most likely reaching for her daughter Hannah, and gently pushing a strand of dark, silky hair behind her ear like she always did. 

“Sorry for that, Miss Thing is getting cranky because she only ate five times today”, Lyla returned to the call after a good minute, and Sean could clearly see her roll her eyes as the door shut close behind Hannah. “So where were we…”

“You were about to give me a Ted Talk on self-love because I called myself useless”, said Sean with a faint smile, before carefully flicking the cigarette butt out the window. Lyla didn’t answer immediately, at least not with words - her silence, on the other hand, was heavy with worry, a calm before the storm Sean knew too well. After all, thirty-three years of friendship teaches a thing or two about another person, especially a friendship like theirs was. 

“You know, I had a feeling this is gonna happen”, when Lyla finally broke the silence, she couldn’t conceal the sad, resigned bitterness in her voice. “At least tell me where you are, man…”

“I’m in Oregon… Driving along the coast, actually”, Sean answered, giving his dog an affectionate scratch behind the ear, and making her turn her all-knowing, golden eyes from the night view on him. “Don’t worry, I’m not alone. Chestnut’s here too.”

“Dude, she didn’t even bark when she heard my voice”, said Lyla, with a very obvious and even more dramatic pout on her face. “But wait, what the fuck are you doing there? In Oregon?”, she asked, and this time, it was her confused frown that Sean could see crystal clear as if Lyla was sitting right next to her. 

For a brief moment, he truly wished she was.

“I’m chasing ghosts”, when he spoke eventually, it felt as if there was someone else talking with his mouth, unseen powers forcing the air out of his lungs and his tongue and teeth to form the words that echoed for a seemingly endless moment in the car and inside Sean’s head. 

And before he could even blink, the echo sunk even deeper, into the darkest pits of his scarred, hurt, lonely soul, as he found himself staring at the unmistakable silhouette of Arcadia Bay in the distance after a slight turn in the road.

*

He spent the night at Otter Point, in his car, right next to the very same visitors plaque he broke down at, for the first time since fleeing Seattle on that nightmarish afternoon all those years ago, to a man he just met - a man who changed everything, although fifteen years later, Sean wasn’t sure anymore that it was for the better. He wasn’t sure whether he’d still be alive at all if it wasn’t for Brody and his golden heart that night, but he was certain of one thing: that compared to all the horrible things that happened to him, to them, death would’ve been but a merciful release.

Death didn’t come for them, however, at least not in its form that’s known to most people. Instead of taking them, it decided to befriend the Wolf Brothers and tag along on their journey, from the suburbs of Seattle to the iron gates of the Mexican border - and after that, the lifeless, ashen grey walls of a suffocatingly small prison cell in Washington. It was there that night too, in Sean’s car, a worn, cherry-red station wagon just like Brody’s, and inside his head, too, buried deep under the quiet, unsteady chaos of his thoughts. It was in every breath he took, every pill he swallowed, every minute he spent awake wondering what is he even doing, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing that could make it go away, that could make death change it’s stubborn mind and to leave Sean Diaz alone, because, throughout the years, it simply grew too fond of him.

And with time, Sean just… Accepted it. He accepted being handpicked by death itself and stopped fighting it because no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, to get rid of it, to pretend that everything was fine, nothing helped; nothing but the acceptance and the handfuls of numbing bitterness he consumed at least two yellow tubes of each month for the past, God knows how many years. Of course, things could’ve been a lot worse, and Sean was fully aware of that - he knew that he was extremely privileged for being able to settle back into society relatively easily after being released from his sentence of nearly two decades spent in one of the country’s biggest federal prisons. 

Frankly speaking, it wasn’t about settling back into society as much as it was about doing something he secretly always dreamed of, even before the story of the Wolf Brothers began on that chilly Friday afternoon, in a completely ordinary, perfectly average October of a past, long-lost life. In fact, if someone told sixteen-year-old Sean that everything that’s about to happen to him will eventually lead to a new life in which he is a comic book artist who gets paid for drawing the weird shit in his head, sixteen-year-old Sean would’ve probably laughed until his stomach hurt and happy tears started rolling down his cheek.

And yet, there he was that morning, on top of a hill above the Oregon coast, moderately enjoying his cheap instant coffee in the back of his station wagon (and after a glance at his peaky-faced reflection in the mirror, extremely judging his lack of self-discipline regarding taking care of his beard) while waiting for his tablet to charge fully so he can proceed with the next strips for the fifth chapter of The Adventures of the Pack. Chestnut was running around in excited circles, chasing grasshoppers and butterflies and occasionally, her tail, not particularly minding either her owner or the breathtaking view of the coast, and along with it, the quiet town of Arcadia Bay. 

At first, he didn’t even think of making a stop at a seemingly insignificant place like Otter Point on his not-so-spontaneous journey - for some much-needed inspiration or for bittersweet reminiscence, he wasn’t entirely sure anymore -, but while going through dozens of maps and routes and painful memories on a sleepless night before his trip, he stumbled upon a picture Daniel sent him for one of his birthdays spent in prison. A picture from Away, to be precise, of a cozy little bonfire and four people with marshmallow sticks in their hands and tipsy smiles on their faces - a picture that kept him up awake for the whole night, with tears stuck halfway in his throat, desperately trying to fight their way through the walls Sean has built around himself. And the moment he saw David in the picture, he decided that after all the phone calls and visits and almost fatherly check-ins from the man throughout the past fifteen years, the least he can do is stopping in David’s hometown for a quick page or two on his way down South. 

“Man, it must be tough being you”, Sean chuckled as he put his empty mug on the small writing desk in the corner of his on-the-go bedroom, looking at Chestnut playing in the dry dirt alongside the road with a wide, amused smile on his face. “Careful, though… I’d rather not break my neck trying to rescue you if you fall down” he added, climbing out of the back of his car with nimble reflexes, the sudden movement answered with excited bark coming from the wolfdog pup. 

“Would you look at that”, said Sean with an impressed little snort, walking up to the fence and bending over to rest his arms on it, eyes roaming the endless, unbelievably blue ocean and the gentle waves washing up against the pale sands of Arcadia Bay’s shores. “Can’t decide if it’s beautiful or the most boring shit I’ve ever seen, to be honest… What d’ya think, huh?”, he raised his eyebrows, peeking down at Chestnut yelping next to him, and giving her a loving scratch behind the ears. “Come, check this out”, he beckoned to the visitors plaque next to them with his chin, patting Chestnut’s side gently as he stepped up to the laminated board, full of colorful images of the local wildlife and the town’s various attractions. 

“Yeah? That’s where you wanna go?”, he laughed, as Chestnut suddenly stood up on her rear legs, front paws propped against the plaque, curious golden eyes fixated on the picture of Arcadia Bay’s imposing lighthouse. “Y’know what, why the fuck not, we got all the time in the world… At least ‘til next Wednesday'' Sean sighed, looking up from the slightly faded photograph to the actual lighthouse in the distance, peeking out from countless majestic pine trees, its bright, white light rotating with a slow and steady speed on the opposite end of the bay on top of a cliff.

There was something strange, something unsettling about the tall, robust tower that Sean couldn’t exactly put his finger on. He found himself staring at the lighthouse as if it held all the secrets, all the answers to all the questions he’s been searching for all his life - he couldn’t move, he couldn’t blink, he couldn’t even catch his breath for what felt like an eternity, even though it was but a mere moment. As if something was calling him, an invisible, eerie force locking his eyes on the lighthouse, Sean just stood there petrified, and if it wasn’t for Chestnut and her eager little woof startling him back to reality, he probably would’ve stayed there like that until sunset.

“Yeah, why the fuck not”, he murmured under his nose, shaking his head like he just woke from a weird dream as he turned away from Arcadia Bay and walked up to his car, trying to ignore the uncanny tingling in the back of his head - and the unmistakable feeling of being watched by a pair of all-seeing, otherworldly eyes.

*

It took surprisingly long to get to the other side of the bay from Otter Point. By the time Sean reached the lighthouse, the sun was high in the spotless blue sky, radiating its warm light so dazzlingly he had to shield his eyes with his hand as he exited the car. He parked the station wagon in a small clearing surrounded by fragrant, sky-high pine trees, at the bottom of a meandrous set of wooden stairs half-eaten by the soil, and began his short hike up to the lighthouse with Chestnut trotting by his side. The forest around them was peaceful and bustling with cheerful and welcoming Spring life; they saw busy bees and chirping birds and dancing butterflies everywhere as they made their way uphill, following the glimmering sunspots on the ground.

“Alright, same rules apply, okay? No running along the edge, it’s rocky down there”, said Sean when they reached the top of the stairs, grabbing Chestnut’s collar the very last minute before the pup could just storm off to explore the uncharted territory. “Stay… Staaay…”, he raised his eyebrows as the pup looked up at him with giant eyes full of excited sparkles, wagging her tail like the clearing in front of her was the last one on Earth to roam.  “Good girl. Run along now, but carefully, please”, he said after a moment or two, as he let go of Chestnut, watching her dart off as a fired arrow with a proud, fatherly smile on his face before following the pup to the clearing.

The lighthouse stood tall on the edge of the cliff, watching over Arcadia Bay like a robust, all-seeing guardian. Seeing the tower up close, Sean felt the same magnetic energy that practically hypnotized him from all the way across the bay, only this time, he felt it ten folds stronger, as he stood there and stared at the lighthouse, tilting his head back as much as he could to take in the breathtaking sight in all its mesmerizing entirety. It felt like he arrived in another dimension where time didn’t work as it did on his own; as if a heavy, velvety curtain fell on the world, closing around the cliff and creating an odd, languid void where the pace of time just wasn’t the same. It was quiet, yes, peaceful, even, but at the same time, the air was strangely disturbed, unsettling and mysterious - and eerily inviting.

After what felt like half a lifetime of staring at the lighthouse, Sean noticed a worn bench on the edge of the cliff. He watched Chestnut sweep across the clearing, very much occupied with chasing something that looked like an azure-blue butterfly at first glance, before walking up to the bench and sitting down on it, turning his gaze towards the magnificent view of the bay below him as he reached for his cigarette case in his pocket. With the first puff of bitter smoke, he closed his eyes, and for a while, he just listened to the waves crashing against the rocks at the bottom of the cliff and the squawking of a few stray seagulls circling around the lantern room, before bringing himself to unzip his backpack and pull out his tablet and sketchbook from the messy depths of it.

He only hesitated for a brief moment before he put the tablet back in his bag, and along with it, his deadlines and professional responsibilities, settling with his trusted sketchbook instead. He preferred drawing on actual paper with an actual pen anyway, and he felt like procrastinating a little before letting his work swallow him in one bite. Flipping through dozens of pages of unfinished drawings until he finally reached a blank page, Sean started sketching Arcadia Bay with strainless ease, his eye constantly moving back and forth between the sketchbook and the view until the chaos of thin, black lines started to come together and he didn’t have to look anymore.

And this is when the time truly stopped around him, as it always did when Sean took the pen. It was just him and his vision of the world under the sun, and of course, Chestnut running around the clearing, her lanky, brown form always somewhere in the corner of his eye. 

“You’re really pressed about this butterfly, aren’t you”, he chuckled as Chestnut ran across his feet relentlessly, making Sean look up from the content little wolf he’s been sketching for a while without even realizing that he started adding it to the drawing. He didn’t even notice anymore, since this was the case with many, if not most of his drawings - as if he was physically incapable of finishing a drawing without wolves in it, or for that matter, drawing for someone who wasn’t his brother. 

“I mean, it’s a pretty fucking stunning butterfly if you ask me”, answered a mischievous voice beside him, completely out of the blue, startling Sean so unexpectedly that he almost fell off the bench.

“De puta madr-!!”, he exclaimed in fright as he turned his head, and the next moment, he found himself staring at a young, slim girl, leaning against the crooked fence on the edge of the cliff. “I mean, ugh  Jesus. Sorry, I didn’t see you there” he added quickly, clearing his throat as he looked the girl up and down, wondering how long has it been since she got there - and most importantly, how in the world didn’t he notice her when she arrived. 

“It’s kinda rare that anyone does, to be honest” shrugged the girl, stepping away from the fence, piercing blue eyes shifting from Sean’s colorless face to the sketchbook in his lap. She was tall and slender, wearing ripped jeans with a leather jacket and a black beanie, electric blue hair framing her narrow, elfish face. She looked like she was in her late teens, early twenties, maybe, and even though Sean was certain he’s never seen her before, somehow it felt like he’s known the girl for his entire life. “What are you drawing? Can I see?”

“Sure, take a look” he said, scooting over a little so the girl could sit next to her. “It’s a… I don’t even know what, that started off as a landscape sketch” he explained, scratching the inner corner of his empty eye socket and suddenly wishing he put on his eyepatch before coming up to the lighthouse. The girl, however, was way too invested in his sketchbook to even notice that there was something unusual about his appearance, and even if she did, she didn’t seem to be taken aback by it - or at least she didn’t feel the urge to stare, unlike most people Sean has met throughout his life.

“This is really cool, dude” the girl said after a while, looking up at him with a wide, impressed grin before turning her gaze back to Sean’s drawing. “Are you like, an artist or something?”

“Artist is an overstatement but yeah, I draw comics for a living” Sean answered, reaching out for Chestnut when he noticed the pup is running towards him. “This one isn’t for work though. It’s a… Gift. For my brother”, he added, his smile suddenly fading with the words, and not returning even when Chestnut wriggled her way in between his legs and placed her head in his lap, staring up at him with giant puppy eyes. 

“Something gives me the impression that he’s the small one”, the girl chuckled, pointing at the younger wolf on Sean’s drawing, chasing a butterfly on the edge of the cliffside looking over Arcadia Bay, next to his bigger, scruffier, one-eyed brother, relaxing under a pine tree.

“I have no idea what makes you say that” said Sean with a faint smile on his face, gently fondling Chestnut’s head in his lap. “The older I get, the more it feels like it’s the other way around, to be honest”, he sighed quietly, feeling his entire chest harden all of a sudden as he took a glance at his sketchbook between the long nails of the strange girl next to her.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” asked the girl bluntly the next moment, carefully closing Sean’s sketchbook and putting it between them on the bench. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in Arcadia Bay before, and that’s pretty shocking considering that we’re talking about a town of 200 people where nothing ever happens…”

“Yeah, I’m just traveling. Thought I’d drive through town and check out the view from here” Sean answered, and as he pulled out another cigarette from his pocket, he couldn’t help but notice the sudden sparks of longing in the girl’s eyes. “You want one?”

“Not gonna lie, I could kill for a smoke… But no thanks. I… Can’t”, the girl gulped, watching with eager eyes as Sean reluctantly put the cigarette in his mouth. “Oh, no, it’s okay, I don’t mind. The smell’s gonna do the trick” she said, exhaling the smoke of the first huff with a strange, almost euphoric smile as Sean lit his cigarette at last.

“Oh man… You got some superior shit right there” she said, her smile slowly growing into a content, wide grin. “But anyway… As much as Arcadia Bay is the most boring shithole in the whole wide world, I hope your trip was worth it in the end.”

“Sounds like you lived here for a while, huh?”, Sean asked, eyebrows raised, to which the girl let out a sarcastic snort. “Oof. That bad?”

“There are no words to describe just how bad, my dude” the girl answered, shaking her head and wrapping her arms around her long legs pulled up to her chest. “I’ve been stuck here my whole fucking life. Wanted to leave since I was fourteen” she continued, the playful cheer suddenly leaving her voice and leaving behind gloomy shadows on her face. “Should’ve gotten the fuck outta here the first chance I got”, she said sourly, planting her chin between her knees and staring blankly in the distance, to a faraway place Sean couldn’t follow her to - and even if he could, he wouldn’t want to.

“So why didn’t you?”, Sean blurted out before thinking twice, but before he could even think of a way to apologize for possibly having crossed a line, the girl laughed out loud and dry.

“Have a wild guess, dude. ‘Cause of love, of course”, she snorted again, only this time, sarcasm was replaced with something much darker in her tone. “I was just waiting for the right time y’know. Back then, I had no idea that no such thing exists. Not for anything, not for anyone. There is just you and time, and time is nothing but a massive fucking trap, waiting for you to get stuck in it” she said, eyes darker than the coldest nights of winter. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to explode like that.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for anything”, Sean shook his head, placing his burnt-out cigarette butt under the bench next to the previous one. “I’m just not sure I get what you mean.”

“No worries, I wouldn’t expect you to get it anyway” the girl shrugged, and the next moment, she turned her gaze to Sean, all-seeing blue eyes staring right into his soul. “You know, people hardly ever come to the lighthouse anymore, except when they should be somewhere else. And even if they come, they barely notice me. It’s nice that you did. And that you listened, too. I’m not sure where you’re supposed to be now, but I’m glad you’re here” she smiled, patting Sean’s hand with a surprisingly cold palm briefly, retreating almost immediately as he shuddered next to her.

“Yeah, I’m glad I took a little detour too” he smiled back at the girl before his glance wandered off to his sketchbook lying between them on the bench. “But I think I should get going now. I’d love to stay and chat, but… I’m ridiculously late already”, he added, a concerned frown taking over the upper half of his face, and a bewildered grin the lower, as somehow, at that moment, he realized there’s a chance that perhaps he has given into the nonsense of his own depression slightly more than he should have in the first place. 

“Yeah, you probably are”, said the girl with a playful wink, standing up from the bench and stretching her long arms above her head. “Man, what a spectacular fucking afternoon. I mean, look at the Sun. Such a radiant bitch boss, for real”, she declared lovingly, making Sean laugh out loud for the first time in the past few days, or even weeks, maybe.

“Need a lift?”, Sean asked the girl as they turned their backs on the lighthouse, and started walking towards the staircase leading to the small clearing at the bottom of the cliff. 

“Nah, thanks, but I’m not done here yet”, the girl said, shoving both her hands in the pockets of her skinny jeans. “Got some wandering to do, y’know… Contemplating the beauty of Spring and all” she looked at him with a somewhat shy smile, and Sean decided not to risk crossing any more lines with any more questions. 

“I guess this is where we part ways then” he nodded his head when they reached his station wagon, waiting patiently next to the tourist map of the cliff. “Enjoy contemplating the beauty of Spring, I guess?”, he smiled at the girl, opening the door of the passenger’s seat for Chestnut.

“Yeah, thanks, man. You take care too, okay?” answered the girl, and the next moment, before Sean could say anything, her eyes suddenly widened. “And don’t forget to sketch up a cool portrait of me or something if you got the time, will you?”

“Stop reading my mind, a’ight?” Sean laughed, waving at the girl before sitting in his car, a sudden burst of energy washing over him as the door closed behind him. The urge to drive as fast as he just can was stronger than he’s ever felt it before, but somehow, he managed to control it, closing his eyes and leaning back on his seat for a long, silent moment before reaching for his phone. Swiping away dozens of notifications, he then opened his contacts and pressed call on the first name on top of the list - the only number he’s ever called, really. 

The ringing stopped right after he pressed his phone between his ear and shoulder, and turned the car key under the steering wheel. 

“Hey enano. I’m on my way.”

*

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Hey! Thank you for reading! ❤

This short story is my contribution to a Christmas Short Story Exchange we did with my best friends. (It is also my first ever fanfiction in English!) I was writing for one of my best friends who got me into Life is Strange years ago, so when we pulled each other’s names and I found out I’m writing for her, I immediately knew that I’ll work with the Diaz brothers and Chloe. 

2020 Christmas Short Story Exchange Word count: 5353 | Written December 22nd-27th. I’m on AO3 now! Head over for more fanfictions. ❤

[charmandhex]

It’s not that Lup ever took any of it for granted. The path of her life has taught and retaught Lup the value of small wonders over and over again. Freshly plated French toast, with the outside perfectly browned and crisp and the interior soft and custardy, accompanied by a generous drizzle (for Lup) or a small lake (for Taako) of warm maple syrup. Sunrises on a hundred different worlds in hundreds of different colors, the skies an infinite canvas painted in vermillion and seafoam and eggplant and midnight, distant suns gradually illuminating the world stretching out before her. Moments with all of them together, quiet moments, peaceful moments, where they could put aside the circumstances that had forged them and simply be a family. She’d been fighting for that, for both family and world, when she’d left in pursuit of the Phoenix Fire Gauntlet.

And she had clung to those thousands of memories during those ten long years in the Umbra Staff, thousands of minute anchors to join the six adamant. They had helped to ground Lup as she waited in stasis, when even the passage of time itself seemed too distant to be real. They had fed her, warmed her, cloaked her in love and flame until that fateful moment of freedom, and the Phoenix took flight once more.

So, no, certainly, Lup had not taken it for granted during her childhood and her studies and her impossible century.

But it all seems to mean so much more now.

The first time she holds a knife in her hand in her new body, it’s almost clumsy for a few moments as she carefully adjusts her grip just so. The wooden handle seems to welcome her hold, and the wood grain might be smooth enough not to notice, for one not paying attention. She lines up the onion, careful, prepared for the first cut. Chop. The sound is delightful, almost musical in Lup’s ears, twitching as the sound turns over in her mind. Of course she’s heard it thousands of times since the Day of Story and Song, as she’d insisted on being in the kitchen with Taako as he cooked (not that he’d insisted any less). But there’s something different about the way it hits her now, knowing she is responsible for it, the one in control of it. She moves again, careful still for the next. Chop. Chop. Chopchopchopchopchop. Chop. She’s giggling with delight by the time Taako turns around, an amused smile on her twin’s face.

Laundry. It had never been Lup’s favorite chore. Specifically, the folding of it. Perfectly drawn arcane symbols were easier to come by than a well-folded fitted sheet. But now. There’s the satisfying snap of Barry’s jeans as she folds them in half. The lavender scent from their preferred brand of soap permeating the room. The friendly warmth rising from the basket of clothing Lup had impatiently dried herself. When Lup reaches into the basket for the next item of clothing, her hand brushes against Taako’s impossibly soft blue sweater. And Lup freezes. She slowly draws the article of clothing out and studies it cautiously, as though the delicate knitting might tear under the weight of her gaze. After a few breathless moments (was it surprise or forgetting to breathe again?), Lup buries her face in the sweater, humming to herself at the feeling. And Lup nearly cries when Istus presents her with an equally soft sweater of her own two days later.

The world itself seems brighter and Lup more connected to it than perhaps she has ever been to one single place. It seems a series of small miracles, and everywhere she looks Lup finds herself adding to that list. Warm raindrops on her skin with the scent of a storm heavy in her nose and with the deck of the Wavehumper steady beneath her feet. Wind toying with and tangling the soft strands of her hair as she stands high in the pillars of Raven’s Roost. The endless rhythm of waves crashing at water’s edge only feet from Chesney’s. The endless blanket of stars still to be learned that are best visible from the moon base. The way life continues on even following death, fungi feeding on decay that Barry eagerly points out and fire-scorched lands dotted with the green of new growth that Taako reminds her of. The world... the world is a remarkable place, and Lup loves exploring it.

And her family. Her family and friends, lively and vibrant and growing by the day. How could she ever forget them? How could she not commit even the smallest details to memory? There’s the flash of light against fresh paint on fingernails and the way Magnus sticks out his tongue just so as he concentrates, flecks of color dotting his face along with scars Lup is slowly hearing the stories behind. Sailor’s calluses once again hardening Davenport’s hands, paired with a well-known firm grip and the briny smell of the sea pungent and sharp. The warmth and joy ever present in Merle’s gaze, no matter what changes he’s seen, reliable as the earth beneath his fingernails and feet, and the certainty in himself and his life clear in his stance. New lines that make an unfamiliar map of Lucretia’s face that Lup will surely learn, paired with the familiar ink stained hands and the ecstatic laugh.

And Barry. Barry has had her heart for so long, longer than Lup could even tell you, having fallen thoroughly in love before she’d even realized she’d slipped. There’s the warmth of his embrace, solid and soft, surrounding and supportive, and so very, very loving. There’s the way he gets so intently focused on his work, either in Reaper duties or their, ah, scientific extracurricular activities afterward, and his brows and nose scrunch up in the cutest way possible. There’s the way the music of the piano rises up around him, enveloping them both in sound and love.

And Taako. Her heart. Always her heart, through time and space and life and loss. There’s the way trust passes between them like a river, flowing eternal and unwavering, and the gentle, almost unceremonious pop of Disguise Self being dissipated. The way she can still trace every freckle on his face in unmistakable, if slightly altered constellations, the way she can know his mind with a look in his eyes. There’s the way they move through the kitchen, fluid and meticulous as a dance, intuitive and comfortable even after a decade apart. There’s the feeling of his arms tight around her, never losing her again, matched by her arms around him, reminding him that he’s never truly alone.

Lup really has never taken anything of her life for granted, not during a life lived on the brink of losing it all nor a decade where it seemed she had. But now, in her new body, in her new and joyously final life, well, there really is so much out there to love, each and every day.

[missnctyukhei]

NCT U Reaction: Their GF seeing their dick for the first time

request: I was going to request if you could write Ten in the NCT U reaction to their GF seeing their dick?

warning: smut / sexual themes

a/n: I know this topic is similar to my previous reaction and the request was only for Ten but my head is full of ideas of different scenarios. And I know I could write this all also for NCT 127 but I love the U-Unit so much because of Jungwoo and Lucas. :D I hope you like it still and this time I have also Ten and Kun in this. YAY!!! :D 

Taeyong

Your eyes were closed and you enjoy the wind that slides through your hair. With your hand you reach out of the car to play with the drafts. You wanted to capture that moment and you wanted never ever back into your boring life. You open your eyes slowly and see the landscape quickly pass you by.

A hand grabs your thigh and your eyes turn to the driver's side. Taeyong gaze was focused on the street. One hand was on the wheel, while the other continued to walk up your thigh. You enjoy every single one of his touches. The summer days were so intense with Taeyong and you wish that this feeling would never go away. The last few weeks have been marked by passionate kisses and touches. Even with the thought of him, it begins to tingle everywhere in you.

"We're here!"

The car came to a stop, Taeyong parked on a cliff. Your gaze turned to the right and you are looking at the endless expanse of the sea. It was amazing, just beautiful. Slowly you get out of the car and sit on the bonnet.

"It's perfect."

Your gaze was still focused on the view and you realize that Taeyong had positioned himself in front of you, when his two hands were placed on your thighs.

"Just like you."

He just breathed these words and it was not long before you found yourself in an infinite kiss. Taeyong pushes you further down until you lie with your back completely on the bonnet. He pushed your skirt up and your panties down. There was no better place and no better time to have sex for the first time in your relationship. Everything was just perfect. Everything was perfect with Taeyong.

While you were still in a heartfelt kiss, he opens his jeans and pulled them down with everything. You notice how his head positioned itself in your entrance. You sit up and look down. He was hard and ready to penetrate you at any time. You get wet only by the sight of his dick and you took him to push it into you.

Kun

"Is Kun not here?"

You ask in surprise when Jungwoo opened the door for you. You are back earlier from your vacation and have decided to surprise your boyfriend.

"I think he's in his room."

Jungwoo smiled and stepped aside to allow you to enter the dorm. You thanked him and gently knock on Kun's door. But there was no reaction. You enter the room carefully, which was darkened. Only a single source of light came from an angle in the room, but you didn’t know what was going on. With slow steps you went to the light and you saw how your boyfriend sit at the laptop with his headphones. His hand moved up and down in the same rhythm, his eyes fixed on a video.

"Oh my god!"

You scream in fright because you realize what Kun was looking at. He watched a porn while he jerk himself off. Kun closed fast and startled the laptop and threw off his headphones.

"Y/N!"

He threw irritated everything aside and pulled quickly his cushion over his stiff member.

"I thought you would not be back until tomorrow."

You throw your bag beside and sit down in Kun's bed. You give him a loving kiss and reach for the upholstery.

"Maybe I should finish what you started?"

Kun's hands came off the pad and you slowly push it aside. His dick was hard, his testicles swollen. The vein on his penis glows blue and stands out.

"Relax."

You push Kun gently into the bed sheets and put your hands around his cock.

Doyoung

"I didn’t thought that La Boheme was such a good opera. It was a really nice evening."

Your hands clasped your clutch and with wide eyes you look up to Doyoung. He looked so tall and powerful in his dinner jacket, that your knees became super soft.

"I'm glad you liked it so much."

His voice was so gentle that it was almost a whisper. He bent down with his upper body to you more and more. With one hand he grabed your hip and pulled you closer to you. You breathe deeply and close your eyes until you feel Doyoung's lips and yours. You give yourself to him with your whole soul and body until you two separate from each other. His forehead was still on yours and your breathing was heavy.

"Do you want to come in for some coffee?"

Doyoung straightened up again and looks at you with a big smile.

"I would love to come in."

At first everything went so slowly. You pull out your key of your bag, unlock the door and suddenly you're lying almost naked in bed with Doyoung. His tongue is no longer buried in your mouth, but plays with your most sensitive point in your middle.

"Oh god ... oh my god ... it feels so good!"

Your fingers buried themselves firmly in the bed sheets. Doyoung slowly raised his head and sat up between your legs.

"Are you ready for me?"

Doyoung looks at you expectantly as you sit up and wait until he finally pulled down his pants. He tries to open the condom pack as you slowly pull his pants down. His cock was perfect, big and thick. You could not wait to have him inside you.

Ten

"I think that's enough for today."

Ten turns off the music and dabs the sweat off his forehead. You have been training with him for weeks on a new choreography and you have fallen in love with him as well.

"Are we going to eat something now?"

He turns to you and smiles. You nod and pack your things together. You two go to the dressing room and your ways separate, as they is separated by gender. You take off your workout clothes and take a shower. It was already late and nobody was there anymore.

You turn on the shower and let the lukewarm water trickle over your body. You close your eyes and in your head takes a movie place as Ten touches you and kisses you all over your body. You realize that not only your skin get wet. Immediately you turn off the water, dry off and quickly put on your fresh clothes. You didn’t want to go out to eat anymore, you just wanted your boyfriend in your bed.

You pack your things and go out of the dressing room. You wait a few more minutes, but Ten just didn’t show up. But then you hear his voice singing "Baby don’t stop". You open carefully the door of the dressing room. Ten removes his clothes from the closet, his lips moved to his song, his towel was placed over his shoulder. He was completely naked and your eyes were staring straight at his body. You never saw him so pure and natural. And as he leaned forward on the bench, his upper body was not the only thing that fall forward. His best piece came to the light now and it took all your attention. You watch your boyfriend for a while and watch his dick resonate with his body. But before he pulls up his shorts, you harrumph. Ten automatically conceals his midsection, but when he saw you, he relaxed again.

"What are you doing?"

He laughed broadly and his shoulders relaxed.

"Maybe we should skip the food."

You close the door behind you and go to Ten. He dropped the towel that covered his dick and received you with a kiss.

Jaehyun

The Surya Namaskara had become a daily routine of yours. Although you attend a yoga class twice a week, you try to do a few more exercises in the morning to become more flexible.

Jaehyun and you have been dating for a while, but it was the first time he had spent the night with you. But much has not happened yet. After Jaehyun came to see you after his training, you cooked something for him, but he was so exhausted that he fell asleep in front of the TV.

You woke up before Jeahyun and he looked so peaceful as he slept deeply next to you. You try to get quietly out of bed and put on your yoga pants and a sports bra. You roll out your yoga mat in front of the bed and start with your exercises. After a few Surya Namaskaras you stay a few more breaths in the downward dog until you return to the position of the child. But suddenly you hear a soft sigh that almost sounded like a moan. You straighten up and look surprised backwards. Jaehyun sat upright in bed with a big grin, his hands buried under the covers, but they moved.

"What are you doing?"

You turn around with a laugh and try to guess what happened under the blanket.

"You look so good in your yoga pants and in the downward dog."

He leans his head back, but his gaze was still fixed on you. You straighten up slowly and climb over the bed to Jaehyun.

"Do you want to tell me what you are doing under the blanket?"

Your eyes dropped to his midsection and he pulled slowly his hands out. You pushed the blanket aside and you were suprised as his erected member jumped towards to you. Your hands stroked softly his shaft while you look closely at his dick.

"Did you jerk off when I was doing yoga?"

Your eyes and hands were still fixed on his dick. He stroked your hips with his hands and watched your body closely.

"I just warmed up for you."

Winwin

Sicheng and you decided to spend a quiet evening. Your boyfriend decides to play a bit of Overwatch while you put your head on his lap and go through your feed on Instagram. But after time you got bored and you wanted to do something else.

"Can we do something together?"

You look up while Sicheng has his eyes fixed on the screen.

"I'll play only one round."

His reaction didn’t really change and his fingers were still firmly on the controller. You sigh and look back at your smartphone, but it felt like you had already seen everything on the internet. You turn on your stomach and put your chin on the thigh of your boyfriend. Your sight was focused on his middle and you wonder how well his dick would look under the pants. You could not stop staring and you realize that you are getting slowly hornier. Sicheng was still in the game but you start to massage his best piece.

"What are you doing Y/N?"

He let out a nervous laugh and for the first time that day his look escaped the screen.

"I want to see what is behind this packaging finally."

You kneel down in front of him and play with his waistband.

"You can’t wait another 10 minutes?"

He tries to devote his full attention to the game again.

"No!"

You stick out the tongue and pull his pants down further. A soft groan escaped Sicheng's mouth.

"Y/N ... I ... I only want ...."

He could not talk anymore, because you already had his best part in your hand. You didn’t think that his delicate body was followed by such a magnificent dick. You lick with your tongue over his glans before you take him completely in the mouth. Sicheng groaned loudly and set the controller aside.

"I think you won the game."

Jungwoo

Jungwoo was innocent and you enjoy that you also have such an innocent relationship. He will take you out eating ice cream, you take with him long walks and spend the evening cooking dishes from around the world. It was a wonderful time and you were incredibly in love with Jungwoo.

One night you two lay in bed and enjoy the togetherness. You and Jungwoo tell stories about your life. You could talk to each other all night. But in that moment, you feel even more attracted to him and had the desire to come even closer to him.

"Jungwoo?"

Your voice suddenly became higher. You were not sure if the topic was appropriate. He looks at you wide-eyed and waits for your next sentence.

"I want to get closer to you. What do you think about us going a step further?"

Jungwoo was almost paralysed and in that moment you became more insecure.

"Yes, we can do it."

His voice was also higher than usual, but very softly. Your faces approached slowly and Jungwoo stroked his palms over your arms. You put your hands under his shirt and lay your palms also on his chest. Your kisses were so innocent in the beginning, but in time your tongues moved faster and you catch up the desire that you have missed so far. With the increasing movement your clothes fell also off and finally you two were still in underwear there. Jungwoo bends over you and looks at you with wide eyes.

"Do you really want to do that?"

You run your hand over his cheek and nod. Then you release your bra and pull down your panties. Jungwoo watches you closely and you could see excitement in his eyes. After lying naked in front of him, he pulled down his underpants. You are watching his movements exact and somehow it turned you on that he took his dick in his hand and pushed himself slowly into you.

Lucas

Lucas and you have been dating for three weeks now. It was summer and you spent a lot of time together. But now the school has started again and it is difficult for you to see your boyfriend every second.

You wait impatient in front of the Frozen-Yoghurt-Shop. You could not wait to see Lucas again. It seemed like forever since the last time you kissed him, even though it was only hours ago.

"The school uniform looks so hot on you."

Suddenly Lucas stood in front of you and came slowly towards. His face came closer to yours and his lips came so close to your ear that they were almost touching.

"Were you a good girl too?"

You just nod, because you lost your words completely. He gave you a kiss that you have been waiting for so long. Then he took your hand and pulled you away.

"Where are you going?"

You follow the steps behind your boyfriend. Lucas does not say any word and brings you on to a side entrance. He leads you into a room that acts as a warehouse.

"What are we doing here?"

You continue to ask in the hope that Lucas will give you an answer soon. But your boyfriend does not say anything and pushes you to the cartons. His lips touch your neck and his long fingers were everywhere on your body.

"Are we allowed to stay here?"

You look nervously to the door and hope that nobody from the warehouse staff would come in. Lucas ignored your questions and massaged your breasts.

"Show me that you are a good girl and give me a head."

His words reached you while his face was still buried in your neck.

"What if someone comes in?"

You were insecure and your eyes kept turning to the door. Lucas has straightened up and looks deep into your eyes

"No one is coming in. We hide behind the boxes."

He take your hand and pulled you further into the room to find an angle that was hard to see.

"Get on your knees!"

As you follow his orders, he pulls down his pants. And as soon as you got to your knees, his best part jumped towards to you. You had to swallow, you've never been so close to a dick. But Lucas one was pink and beautiful, it was fascinating.

"Take him in the mouth."

As you follow his words, a groan escaped him and he closed his eyes.

Mark

"Is that good?"

His fingers stroke over your pink pointed thong. You moan and drop your head backwards. He pushed the fabric aside and rubbed his palm over your clit.

"You are so wet. Just for me."

Mark whispers in your ear and rubs his fingers up and down. Your eyes are closed and your mouth is wide open. You enjoy every single touch and you feel that your orgasm got closer and closer. Then Mark took a finger and pushed him slowly inside you.

"Mark ... oh my god ..."

Your eyes are opening again and your fingers are cramping into his biceps. His fingers became faster and his eyes watched every single reaction in your face until you reached your climax.

"You're so beautiful when you come."

He stroked your cheek and sealed his gesture with a kiss.

"It was amazing. I wish I could return the favor."

You sit up slowly and stroke your strand of hair out of your face.

"Well you could do the same to me."

He smiled and pointed to the bulge in his sweatpants. You nod and bend over him. You wander with small kisses along his body and pull with one hit his sweatpants up to the thighs. His dick lies down on his stomach and Mark is watching exactly what you are doing. You sit on his thigh and stare at his magnificent piece. He was slightly curved, but you didn’t mind.

"It's enough if you rub your hand on it up and down a bit."

Mark was getting impatient, but when you saw his dick for the first time, you don’t want to do it anymore by hand.

"And what if I ride you?"

You stand up and take his cock so far in your hand that you can introduce him at any time. Mark moans and his eyeballs turn backwards.

[millennial-star-gazer]

Grey Days( reuploadfrom dragon-shield-maiden account)

Grey Days

Vera's May Prompt Challenge 2018 Prompt(s)9when on dragon-shieldmaiden): "Don't leave me! (Sort of implied in an angsty sense of the word) Genres: Romance, Fantasy, Friendship/Family, Angst/Drama Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy(due to this being from Natsu's/E.N.D's Perspective), Gothic fiction, and Poetry

Characters: Natsu/E.N.D, Lucy , Gray, Diamara, Igneel and Zeref Pairing: Nalu/Endlu (Natsu x Lucy/ E.n.d Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: K+-T for some violence, references to death, mature and dark themes. Reader Discretion is advised for those younger than 12 or 13 years and/or anyone who may not at the level of development (maturity) to handle such heavy subject matter . Side note: Please use your own judgement and proceed with caution before deciding to read If uncertain as to whether you're comfortable with such themes.

Summary: Without his most precious star and father's light, the demon of hellfire is lost—all days perpetually gray. For the loss of his beloved really does drive the heart mad. A retelling of the events surrounding Natsu's/E.n.d's transformation (chapters 503-505) from his perspective in poem form. Title taken from the song of the same name by Chelsea Wolfe. Originally  For Vera's May Prompt Challenge and  Nalu angst week 2018 on previous accounts . Nalu/Endlu

A/N: Hey guys, it's your girl Millennial Stargazer (formerly known as twishadowhunter/ comsicdragonqizard/dragon-shield-maiden/star-crossed-dragon! I'm finally back under a new name (on fanfiction and tumblr as millennial-star-gazer) after months of forced hiatus due to personal extenuating circumstances (which can be explained via private message for those who already don't know why) This time it's an reupload of an installment in the wonderful universe of Fairytail—an angsty gothic little ditty retelling the events of chapters 503-505 and other related chapters mostly from Natsu/E.n.d's perspective which was originally as an entry for Vera's May Prompt Challenge and for Nalu angst week 2018 on my previous dragon-shield-maiden account (tumblr). As you may know, the title is taken from the evocative song of the same name by the lovely Chelsea Wolfe which has heavily inspired the poem.

Yes, I know there's been a lot of poems on my profiles, though I do also write other kinds of non-poetry works if my ongoing fics Tantric Flames and the Draconic Demon -soon to be reuploaded by the way- among others are anything to go by). Also partially by Within Temptation's The Heart of Everything plus the musical body of works from Peter Grundy (Bury My Heart) Brunuhville (River of Tears), Nights Amore (This Dreadful Emptiness , That Which is Called Void, Twisted Goa: Lone Deranger , and A Billion Stars Will Die Today) and Adrian Von Ziegler (Ashes, Twisted, Heaven's Touch, One, My Everything, Ethello-iel and Even in Death) who are all incredibly talented composers in their own right that you should check out! (The songs can be found by by clicking on the song titles or via google. Also see below for "Grey Days" if on Tumblr)

Anyway, I don't think y'all need me warning you that spoilers are present when it's already pretty apparent. Without further ado, here's the poem. Don't forget to let me know what you think by leaving a leaving comment/review. (Links to everything below, sidebar and bio if on tumblr plus Fanfiction profile). Enjoy!

Disclaimer: As you all know by now Fairytail does not belong to me, but the most honourable Hiro-sensei instead, for whom without this labour of love wouldn't be possible.

Read More Here:

1. Grey Days

A. Tumblr Version

B. Fanfiction (Click Here:) (or here:https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13112482/1/Grey-Days-Reupload-from-dragon-shield-maiden)

2.  The Rest  Of My Writing 

A.  Master Fic Rec Post(Click Here:) (or herehttps://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179665258923/master-fic-rec-post:) 

B.  Fanfiction  Profile (Click Here): (or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/11384058/)

More to follow.  Links can also be found in bio and  top blog parts (if on desktop)

"Grey and holy You said it was the first time Like the morphine You take it all away Pretend it's okay The grey days" (Chelsea Wolfe: Grey Days)

“A lifeless lover was the high mountains” Where we tried to reach the stars The moon, the ways beyond It was the purest love of all”

(Draconian: Pale Tortured Blue)

“If all else perished, 

and he remained, 

I should still continue to be;

 and if all else remained, 

and he were annihilated,

 the universe would turn to a mighty stranger

(Heathcliff: Wuthering Heights)

"Natsu!" The screams of his celestial maiden Oh how, they call to the dragon of fire through the darkness piercing the shadows of his subconscious Severing the ties that bind

His eyes open The Gods of Time themselves defied Damaria decimated in the blast Scorch and crimson stains through tattered remnants of fabric on skin All within the blink of an eye

Natsu's attempts to rouse the motionless angel in his arms fail when she does not stir Scarlet tears a ghastly sight No single heartbeat , nor breath of life he can hear Vital signs so pined for falls on deaf ears The perceived second loss of the brilliant star in his universe drives him over the edge enough to fully awaken the infernal power within

Flashes of the two's life together before the demon's very eyes River of tears flowing like cascading rain A grief-stricken kiss of on the zodiac wielder's forehead of farewell A piece of his soul here now dying right along with her Oh how the agony of her absence cuts right down to to the bone Soulmates , would-be lovers torn asunder The great divide all together just too much for the demon of black flames’ unholy, forlorn, heart to bear How could it not be when the iridescent light of a billion stars was blotted out from the midnight sky? Never to shine again

Oh, how the cursed fates are cruel

"Zeref, where is Zeref?" The name of the fire demon's accursed brother spilling from his lips over and like a non-nonsensical mantra as if he's a deranged mad man Onward the song of Igneel trudges Any with prying eyes from afar

may just see infernal darkness incarnate annihilate all

those who block his path fall at his feet in firey wake Driven by bloodthirsty instinct to obliterate the creator

Forward E.N.D marches on the hunt in search of his so-called dear brother Eye for an eye Tooth for tooth Raging thirst for the other's blood All in all vengeance apparent

The thought of meeting his inevitable demise just barely crosses the prince of hell's mind yet he cares not For without his the light of his father and  most dear  com he is lost, all days perpetually gray No tomorrow in sight Totality of his desolate existence an infinite void Devoid of meaning just the same

Reunited they all will at least be in the the golden fields of Avalon after his spirit departs

Just Lucy wait, Natsu tells himself in his arms she soon will be on the other side when he crosses the threshold Watching over those so precious together Instead of her buried along with his heart six feet underground Side by side at last Apart nevermore

A figure, there standing in the distance the son of Igneel finally catches a glimpse Is it the one he's been searching for? No, just the ice devil slayer himself Former brothers in arms , comrades in life Mortal foes now, team mates no longer Infernal hellfire and ice will clash A rift far too vast to mend Shattered remnants of a fraternal bond beyond repair All for naught Natsu's goal of sanguinary retribution clear Purging the world of the one who started it all Even it means cutting down almost any who stand in his way The loss of etherious's beloved really does drive the heart mad Delerium not overcome

Oh, but little does the demon know that his most

precious star lives

If only he could see how she still breathes Alive and well

Alas he does not

All is not lost

In the end, who alone will stop the volatile discord? Who alone will be brave enough to be up to the task? Oh, who alone will stop the clash?

Fic tag squad: @writer-appreciation  @nunnatheinsanegerbil @mautrino @rougescribe @goddesofimortality  @phoenix-before-the-flame  @nalufever  @petri808 @thecelestialchick  @nalu-natic

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed! Just a few housekeeping notes in terms of clarification and reminders.

1. "Scarlet Tears" is one of the literary metaphors used in poem alluding to the blood stains under Lucy's eyes after Diarma attempted to scratch them out-unsuccessfully I might add (Thank God lol). The whole bit about regarding the stars being blotted out overall symbolizes Natsu's/E.N'D grief who feels that the world—or his world at least— has become that much less brighter without one of his best friend's light. Not to mention his existence ceasing to have meaning in the wake of so much loss—especially just one year after Igneel's death. Yes, he loves and cares for his other friends a great deal—especially Happy-, but losing them (with a few exceptions like said cat ) isn't quite the same as losing Lucy to death— at least not to the point as being as soulcrushing. I am by no means trying to downplay how much he values others in life—just offering my take since naturally the loss of someone is only futher magnified based on the nature of the relationship and how close you were which is no different for our favourite dragonslayer. In the end, Natsu/e.n.d ultimately would much rather be with Lucy and Igneel in the afterlife watching over their other friends in the afterlife than be without the former in the realm of the living—once he's had a chance to destroy Zeref with his bare hands (most likely using fire and whatever else he has at his disposal—Natsu I mean.) Just so you know ?.

2. To anyone who were following my other works on previous accounts , The Draconic Demon Within is a semi-au Nalu/Endlu fic in which it follows the original timeline of events from the manga and anime up until chapter 478 or so where Natsu saves Lucy from certain death by intercepting Jacob's attack just in the nick of time. After his brutal defeat is where the plot of TDDW deviates. In this fic, the original Team Natsu(Natsu, Lucy, Happy) soon gets word that the Tartaros has remerged with resurrected members and forged an alliance with the Alvarez empire they've (save a few such as Brandish)— all while overthrowing Zeref in the process now that they've gained total independence.

Natsu and Lucy are then lured to Tartaro's new base of operations (in part because said dragonslayer wasn't about to let his girl go barging in alone what with her being one of the people he's most protective of for obvious reasons and all) where they subsequently learn from Tempester that his (Natsu's) life is no longer tied to his brothers —which comes as a shock to you know who that it was mind you—; all this before an incantation is recited from a particular tome to fully awaken the demonic aspect of Natsu's identity from within now that the seal is broken. Pretty sure you guys know the rest for which the rest of the plot unfold as more chapters are posted. Just thought you guys should know in case anyone had any questions about the original timeline of the Fairytail series fits in with TDDW. I'll be sure to post this within the bottom A/N notes in the one chapters in the process of revison of said fic. Side note: I hope to start reposting while also uploading new chapters for both this fic, Tantric Flames and others in the works ASAP.

All right y'all, that's it for now. Be sure to let me you know what you think by leaving a review/comment and don't forget to give the rest of my writing a read once posted/. (Corresponding links above in this post, in sidebar and bio if on tumblr. Also on my Fanfiction profile)! Many thanks once again to all who've been supporting me thus far (including my friends/mutuals, followers and readers)! Until next time—take care!

[avegetariancannibal]

“Je me souviens”

PLEASE NOTE: There is character death below. But life after that, as well.

Hannibal was no longer aging.

Will pointed it out to him one day when they were walking through the market and had stopped in front of a shop window.

"Look at us," Will said, looping his arm through Hannibal's. He nodded at their reflection. "When did I catch you?"

"The moment we met," Hannibal told him.

Will laughed and elbowed him playfully. "I mean my hair is as gray as yours now. When did I catch up to you? You look just the same."

“There’s a plateau when it comes to aging,” Hannibal said as they resumed their walk through the bustling market, still arm in arm. “A man of fifty looks quite different from a man of forty, but a man of fifty could be the twin of man aged sixty years. It is like a period of idling, when the face, hair and body are deciding just how quickly they want to barrel towards complete entropy.”

"By my count, you're sixty-four now," Will said. "That's past the idling stage."

"Am I?" Hannibal asked, genuinely surprised. "I suppose I stopped counting. That means you owe me a rather sizable backlog of birthday gifts. I can't remember getting even one from you."

"You said you had everything you could ever want," Will reminded him. He lowered his voice. "The night we killed the Dragon together."

"So I did," Hannibal agreed. "No birthday gifts ever, then?"

"Perhaps one," Will said, moving to step around in front of him and press a kiss to his lips. He winked and added, "Young man."

***

Of course, he didn't believe at first that he'd stopped aging. Everything aged. Even diamonds would eventually degrade to graphite. But one night, as Will lay sleeping beside him, he had to consider it. Will was as beautiful to all of Hannibal's senses as he ever was, but no longer appeared to be his junior. If anything, a stranger might deem Will the older of them both.

If he had to make an estimate, he would say he'd stopped aging some time after he was arrested. He might have been fifty-one when it---whatever “it” was---happened. He might have been a bit older. If he were still a practicing doctor, or had access to one he trusted, he could perform tests. A bone density screening might have given him some clue, or not. He didn’t have quite the scientific curiosity he once did.

What he had was Will, and that was infinitely better.

***

Twenty-two years and just over four months passed from the day of his realization to the day he had to keep vigil at Will’s bedside.

"You're not going to fight off the Grim Reaper," Will said. His hand was so small and frail as Hannibal held it between his own. "I'm going to die in this terribly boring, usual way."

"Nonsense," Hannibal said. "You'll live forever."

"In your memory palace," Will said, rolling his pale eyes. Sarcastic even then.

"I can't guarantee there's an afterlife," Hannibal said. "So I'll have to live forever and keep you. What is a soul but the memories we hold inside us?"

Will laughed until he began to cough. Hannibal moved to fetch the oxygen mask, but Will waved it away.

"Imagine me as a young man," Will said when he'd caught his breath again. "Leave this rickety old body in the past where it belongs."

"I love your rickety old body," Hannibal said. "I love every possible iteration of your body because it is yours."

Again, a roll of the eyes. "As a favor to me, then. I want to be thirty-nine or forty again. And get rid of this forehead scar, would you? That's the one I never cared for."

Hannibal brought Will's hand to his face and kissed his knuckles. "Shall I keep the belly scar? Or only the ones we sustained together as we killed the Dragon?"

"I'll leave it up to you," Will said. "One last birthday gift... from me to you."

Hannibal crawled into bed beside him, careful not to jostle him too much, and lay his head on the bird-thin breast that shuddered with every weakened heartbeat. Will started to make a joke about being in bed with a much younger man, but gave a sharp little gasp before he could finish it, and then nothing else.

***

The world shifts. 

Hannibal's world shifts. He lives only in the present tense now.

He takes Will's ashes to Giardino delle Rose and pays a gardener to look the other way when he buries them under the feet of Folon's sculpture of a man seated at a bench.

Will appears beside him, young again and dressed unseasonably in a heavy winter coat. He looks around, squinting at the mountains in the distance, then at the sculpture.

"So this is Florence," he says. The sun is bright and golden on his face. There is no scar on his brow. "Wish you'd brought me when I was actually alive."

"I thought we had more time," Hannibal says. When regret wells up, he pushes it back down and focuses again on the now. "This garden is an old favorite of mine. Inspired by French gardens of the 1800s, yet not so antique that it didn't welcome a Japanese oasis designed by the architect Yasuo Kitayama."

Will nudges the sculpture's foot with his own. "And this guy?"

"A piece titled Je me souviens."

"'I remember,'" Will translates. "Very meaningful, you sap."

"I've always been fond of symbolism, as you know," Hannibal says. 

"You could've just tossed my remains in the ocean," Will says. "Or you could've eaten me, as unappetizing as I was. If I'm going to live in your mind, does it really matter?"

"If I'm going to live forever," Hannibal says with a shrug, "it might matter to me someday."

***

For the first hundred years, he shows Will everything he's ever wanted to show him. Some decades and places are more open-minded than others. They hold hands in public when doing so in the flesh would get others chased off the streets or even arrested. They make love in the sanctuary of Hannibal's mind, rutting on chapel floors and up against museum walls, invisible to all but one another. Which isn't so different from how they were together all so long ago.

Over the next hundred years after that, Hannibal finds himself defying his own commandment to live in the present.

Or perhaps it's not so much a defiance, as it is a kind of exercise. He wants to make certain he can still recall the entirety of his past with Will. He wants to know all the details are still there, just where he left them.

He meets Will for the first time all over again. He doesn't allow himself to change a single detail, as tempting as it is to imagine himself reaching out to brush the hair off Will's brow, right there in the middle of Jack Crawford's office.

He also enjoys going back to the night Will confronted him in his kitchen, his eyes cool and dark, hands steady as they held the gun. He wants to ravish Will then and there, bite up and down the length of his throat and be grasped so tightly in return that his flesh bruises. But it wouldn't be true to what actually happened.

He ducks out of the memory and into the autumn woods behind Will's old house. Will is waiting there for him, ankle deep in leaves as he strips out of his clothes. The belly scar is gone, but the scars on his cheek and chest are still there. They fuck so obliviously and for so long that the falling leaves all but bury them.

Afterward they doze side by side until they find their voices again.

"Have you tried to meet anyone else?" Will asks.

"You would know if I had."

"Humor me."

"I haven't and I don't care to. I have you."

"In your mind."

"There's no difference between body and mind. Not for me, or us."

"So, you haven't gotten laid in over two hundred years?"

"Nobody calls it that anymore," Hannibal says. "I find my liaisons with you more than satisfying."

Will laughs up towards the trees. "Surely nobody calls it that, either!"

Hannibal rolls over onto his elbows so he can gaze down into Will's face. His gleaming hair reflects glints of red from the setting sun and his cheeks are ruddy from exertion. His eyes are the darkest slate blue of the cold Atlantic.

"I'm fond of you," Hannibal says.

Will grins up at him. "I should hope so."

"I would forget every piece of music, every work of art, every magnificent landscape I've ever seen just to make room for you in my memory. You may become as expansive as you like. Live dozens or hundreds of lifetimes. I'll remember them all."

Will reaches up to trace Hannibal's mouth with his thumb. "Don't be lonely."

"I couldn’t be," Hannibal says. "I have you."

He bends down to kiss the crooked bridge of Will's nose, crooked precisely to the same degree it was in life because Hannibal remembers him down to a fraction of a millimeter.

"Do you remember my dogs?" Will asks.

"I believe so."

"Can you bring them to me?"

Suddenly six dogs come spilling out from Will's old house, tails high and waving like flags as they bound through the leaves. They tackle Will with slobbery kisses and happy barks. They haven't seen him in centuries. Hannibal conjures a chain of sausages from his memory and hands them to Will for the dogs.

"If this is your afterlife," Hannibal says, "then I suppose it's theirs, as well."

***

More centuries go by. Hannibal spends a much of the time on one beach or another with Will, sometimes with Will's five dogs and sometimes not. They go to Greece and Italy hundreds of times, and Australia, too. They visit Japan often. Once in a while Hannibal brings them to his best approximation of a beach in Florida, as he's never bodily been there.

He also takes Will to rivers and streams where the fishing is good, and he thinks up wonderful catches for him.

"Bring me to Havana again," Will says. "Go there yourself, for real, and bring me with you. Smell the food and hear the music for me, and not just in your memory. Live there for me."

"It doesn't exist outside my mind anymore," Hannibal tells him. "And in the dusty pages of whatever books still survive."

Will frowns. He's up to his hips in the water of some fabricated stream, casting his line in arcs like a spider throwing out a strand of silk. "I notice you don't take me with you into the real world anymore. Is it that bad?"

"Not everywhere," Hannibal says. "There are still beautiful places, centers of some culture. They're simply harder to reach than they once were."

Will smiles at him. "Good thing you have such a good memory, then."

"Good thing," Hannibal agrees.

***

Hannibal meets Will again for the first time in John Crawford's office. They talk about eye contact and building bridges, just as they did a thousand years ago.

"I loved you from the start," Hannibal says, and brushes the hair off Will's forehead.

Will frowns at him. "Is this how it goes?"

Hannibal thinks. He's revisited this memory so many times, turned it over in his mind as he would a pleasingly smooth stone in his palm. Each time, he replays it just as it truly happened.

"It all changed so slowly," Will says. "I bet you don't even remember when my voice started to sound like your own."

Hannibal gets up from his chair and paces the length of the office. John Crawford gives him a quizzical look, so Hannibal dismisses him from the memory.

"You don't remember exactly how my voice sounded," Will says. "You naturally replaced it with your own, over time."

"I only need to focus to bring it back!" Hannibal snaps, louder than he means to. He kneels down at Will's side and takes hold of his hands. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't lose my temper."

Will smiles down at him. "I've missed arguing with you."

Hannibal bows his head into Will's lap, lets his hair be combed through with gentle fingers. "I'm sorry."

"It's been a thousand years, Hannibal," Will says, his voice mostly his own again. "You've replayed and reenacted every conversation we've ever had, over and over and over again. Not even you can be expected to have a perfect memory after all that time and repetition."

He looks up to meet Will's eyes. "Then what do I do?"

"Revisit the one memory you've been avoiding for ten centuries," Will says. "Revisit the truth."

Hannibal scoffs. “Avoiding? I’ve never been one to run from the truth.”

“Says the man who never went back to his family home,” Will says. “Who is, incidentally, the same guy who jumped on a plane to France after gutting me.”

“I was running from the law.”

Will laughs, but it's not a cruel sound. “Oh, come on. Your memory can't be that bad even now.”

Hannibal stands up and takes Will's hands in his own to pull him to his feet. "Fine. Then tell me where we're going."

"To my grave," Will says.

***

It takes him a little over three weeks to get to Florence, but that's barely any time at all to a man who seems to be living forever. He hasn't ever been back to the precise spot he buried Will, despite his love for the gardens.

Of course the gardens are long gone now. The roses most likely stopped blooming nine centuries ago, or more. Je me souviens is long gone, as well, although there are scraps of what might be bronze in the place that might have been the bench.

He sits amid the rubble and calls forth Will's spirit.

Will gives a low whistle. "Wow. What a dump. It's really fallen apart since last time, and it's hotter, too."

"Have some respect," Hannibal says, gesturing beside him until Will sits. "This is sacred ground, after all."

Will bumps shoulders with him. "Wanna make out? Close your eyes."

He does as he's told and feels Will climb into his lap, feels Will's solid weight settle against him, and feels familiar lips against his own. They kiss under the blazing sun, in afternoon temperatures that anyone still living nearby is wisely avoiding. Hannibal digs through the sedimentary layers of his memory to call forth the smell of the cologne Will used to wear. Instead, he dredges up the salty, metallic tang of blood.

Will pulls back and gives a satisfied sigh. "I only wish we'd done this when I was alive."

Hannibal pushes away the memory of blood and gives him a soft smile. "What, kiss on your grave? I don't think that's the sort of thing one can do when one is still alive."

Will holds his face in his hands, looks deeply into his eyes.  "Oh, Hannibal," he says. His expression is so kind, and so sad. "This isn't my grave, and you know it."

***

The past came rushing back at him like a rising tide and deposited him on the rocky beach far below the bluff house. He spat out a lungful of the Atlantic and picked himself up despite the pain that gripped his body.

He found Will twenty yards away, face down on the rocks. The waves relentlessly came for his legs, reaching a little further with each surge, trying to pull him back into the sea.

Hannibal stumbled toward him, pressing a hand as best he could to the bullet wound in his gut. He was certain his collar bones were broken, and several ribs, but it hardly seemed to matter. If he could just get to Will, everything would be all right again.

He dropped to his knees and forced himself to take a moment to feel around the vertebrae in Will's neck. If anything had broken, moving him could be disastrous. If he had even survived...

Will jolted at his touch and turned onto his side himself. His face was flayed open from his right cheekbone nearly down to his jaw, but he was alive and nothing else mattered.

Hannibal laughed with relief and moved to lay Will's head in his lap. "We're alive," he said. "We're alive together."

"I feel like I'm drowning," Will said, his voice hoarse.

"You've surely taken in some water," Hannibal told him.

Will gave the smallest shake of his head. "No, I---"

Will coughed then and a great quantity of blood came up with it. The smell of it filled Hannibal's senses, as salty and vital as the sea. Hannibal's doctorly calm abandoned him. Panic rose in a spike that made his body feel colder and more numb than even the sea had left it. His hands shook as he pressed them against Will's ribs, exploring.

"I can barely breathe," Will said, his voice little more than a wheeze.

"Your lungs are punctured," Hannibal said. His gaze went to the house far above them. If he could get back up there... "I'll call for help. I'll turn myself in again. Will, I'll get help, you have to hold on."

He started to move, but Will clutched at his hand. "There isn't time for that, Hannibal."

"There's time," Hannibal said. "We have our whole lives ahead of us."

"In hell, perhaps," Will said. He laughed weakly and brought up another cascade of blood. His face was paler than the full moon that watched over them from its loft perch. Still, he managed to smile. "Promise you'll meet me in hell. Or... or heaven, if we even remotely deserve it. Do... do you believe in an afterlife, Hannibal?"

"Not with any degree of certainty," he said. "We live on in the memories of those we leave behind."

"Then one of us will have to live forever," Will said. He winced and gasped as something in his body failed him. "Oh. I don't think that's going to be me."

"You will live," Hannibal said. He brushed the wet hair off Will's brow and held the left side of his face in his palm. He could feel the pulse fading under the pale skin at Will's temple. "I'll give you an entire life---an entire life and an afterlife, as well."

"W-with you in your memory palace?" Will asked.

"If you wish," Hannibal said. "You can grow to be an old man."

Will nodded. "A good, long, boring life, just the two of us sounds...it sounds..."

"He's gone," a voice says behind him. "That was the moment he went. The moment I went? It's all a bit confusing, if you ask me."

Hannibal glances back to see Will, as he looked in his seventies, in the pajamas he'd once conjured for him.

Will settles himself down onto the rocks, sitting beside the body of his younger self and Hannibal.

"I forgot you died then," Hannibal says.

"You didn't forget," Will says. "You ran from it. Don't try to tell me you don't do that, either. You can let him go now."

Hannibal kisses Will on his cold lips, wishing he'd done it just once when Will was still alive, and eases the body out of his lap. It doesn't take long for the frothing waves to reach them, and to take its prize to a watery grave far out to sea.

When Hannibal looks up again, the Will sitting beside him is young. There are no scars on his face. Most of the bluff has long since eroded and there's no sign at all of the house that once perched there.

"Can you bring me my dogs?" Will asks.

A small white terrier with brown ears and a larger, auburn-haired dog appear before them, grinning and wagging their tails. They bound through the shallower edges of the water, splashing each other in some joyous game.

"I know you had more, but those are the only two I remember with any clarity," Hannibal says. "I'm sorry. After a thousand years, the details escape even my mind."

Will calls the dogs over, rubs their heads and scrubs over their fur with his fingers, laughing and happy as if they were truly there.

"We are truly here," Will says. "Or truly enough. If there's no difference between body and mind, then there's no difference between your mind and my body, is there?"

Hannibal leans to the side and rests his head on Will's shoulder. "What happens now?"

Will shrugs. "I dunno. Nobody's ever lived forever before. I guess we'll just find out, won't we?"

"Together?" Hannibal asks.

"Together," Will promises.

-end-

[scgdoeswhat]

Lost - Jake x MC

Summary: Jake struggles with the aftermath of what happened that last night on La Huerta.

Rating: PG

Words: 970

Author’s Notes: This is based off the third ending (I still haven’t ended the book, btw.) I purposely left my MC’s name (Cris) out of this because Jake, in my headcanon, hurts even more when he thinks of her name. I was feeling relatively emo through the weekend, partly because of the news of Avicii’s death (RIP Avicii.) I’m not big on EDM, but I can appreciate his music and it reminded me of a couple important people I knew and lost who were also big in the music industry. The lyrics from “Wake Me Up” were in my head as I wrote this.

The vortex.

That look in her eye.

Their last kiss.

Jake shot up in bed, sweat drenching his entire body.

The sheet pooled at his hips as he sat upright, nothing but darkness streaming in from the window. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, the outside Louisiana humidity somehow percolating the indoor air. The weather was not unreasonably warm and the temperatures were still mild for spring, but none of that seemed to matter to him. His vivid dreams – or were they nightmares, he thought – were always too stifling.

He took a few deep breaths, letting the cool nighttime air settle over his bare-chested frame. It would be of no use trying to go back to sleep tonight. He had learned from previous episodes that lying back down would only bring more memories from that last night in La Huerta. His mind would flood with everything that happened, down to the very last detail.

Was there anything he could have done differently? Did he not try hard enough to change her mind? Was he simply just not good enough?

The evening replayed in his mind as it always did, and he knew his questions were foolish. He knew she was special, but just like everything in his life, it was not meant to last for him.

There was nothing he could have done differently. There was no amount of pleading that would have been able to change her mind. Despite his own misgivings about himself, she always showed him that he was everything to her and more.

But this wasn’t about her or him or being destined for each other. This was bigger than both of them. As selfish as she wanted to be, as selfish as he wanted her to be… her selflessness was one of the reasons he had fallen so madly and deeply in love with her. And that’s why he had to let her go – not that it was ever his choice to make in the first place.

Jake threw a shirt and some jeans on, and out of habit, moved soundlessly through the hall. He continued down the stairs and out the patio door to the backyard of his grandparents’ house. They had both passed during the time he was on the run, but his Grampa was adamant in his belief that Jake was as loyal as he was and would never betray his country. They had left their Pearl River property to their grandson, somehow knowing he would one day come home a free man.

The house was eerily quiet these days with him being the only occupant and was the complete opposite of his recollection growing up. He remembered telling her about this place when he had found her after she fell out of the helicopter. ‘Soulmates’ had been a foreign concept to him before she entered his life, and now, the ironic thing was that he could feel the emptiness in his soul ever since she had vanished into the pillar of light.

Jake took a seat in one of the deck chairs under the stars, watching them twinkle above him, almost mockingly. It was as if the heavens held onto this great secret and he would never be able to access this information. Mindlessly gazing at the vast cosmos above him, this was when he felt the most at ease these days. He imagined that in this circumstance, she would be looking down on him from above, wherever she may be in the infinite universe.

This started to become a regular affair ever since he moved in. His heart was continually heavy and there was nothing he could do to make the pain stop. Reaching into his pocket, he held his phone in his hand, eyeing the device with a solemn expression.

Taking another deep breath, he pressed play and listened to the recording again. And again. And again.

Silent tears streamed down his face. He didn’t know how many times he had listened to her recording since she sacrificed herself, but it was never enough. After the fourth time tonight, he put his head in his hands as the sobs racked his body. It was like a ton of bricks that hit him every time he woke up, the realization that she would never be in his arms again.

When all the tears had finally dried up, Jake looked up at the sun breaking through the darkness as dawn came. Another sleepless night had come and gone, yet the world continued to awaken, not stopping for one man’s broken heart and soul.

Jake dragged a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes in the early morning light. It was almost a year and a day since their rescue from La Huerta. It was also almost a year and a day from their handfasting ceremony. He sighed dejectedly, pulling out the ribbon that drew their hands together for what was supposed to be forever.

The slim piece of finely woven cloth held so much promise that day, and even now, he swore he still could feel the binding wrapped around both their hands. If there was any possible way he could travel through time and space to find her, he would have undertaken the journey but he knew where she had gone, he could not follow.

Jake had been lost, until her. Always on the move, then always on the run – not knowing exactly what he was looking for. The weight of the world almost threatened to bury him but she had lifted the burden off of him and unknowingly placed it upon herself. With her, he had discovered his place in life and found what the definition of being home truly meant.

And now that she was gone?

He found that he was lost all over again.

FIN.

[drmorbius12]

Solypsia, Warrior of the Watchers

(Vision 7) The Story thus far: Preface The following Book of Stanzas or Runes was found at the bottom of a deep cave, covered in several layers of heavy dust, ash, and rock.  The cave was discovered only a few years ago, within the ruins of a monstrous ancient stonewalled complex.

The edifice appears to have been built over the cave itself, and placed in such a way that it would have been almost impossible to find without knowing where to look.  It may simply have been by chance that it was found at all. As such, the book could be as old as the cave, especially in view of evidence that suggests the cave itself was artificially carved from the living rock, and that the book was found lying at the bottom-most layer. When, by, and for whom, it was written, and for what purpose, is unknown. Thanks to enormous work and effort, you can now read the text from this book, although, unfortunately, the translation is as yet, incomplete. P.S. The discoverer and translator of the book was of the opinion that the Book is Myth and not a Chronicle of History.  Never the less, feel free to draw your own conclusion. P.P.S. The text that follows is a very rough first translation. 1. The Beings of Light 2. The Watchers 3. The Dark Ones 4. The Warrior 5. The Bent Soul 6. The Power 7. The Battle 8. The Revenge 9. The Instrument of Creation 10. The After Myth

1. Beings of Light When the Cosmos cooled and conditions were Right, There came into existence Beings of Light. Strung together by pure Energy, They could think of a thing and that caused it to Be. They wielded their powers and from chaos brought Life, Carving out worlds like sculptor with Knife. To further their work, they created the Watchers, To guide and protect the Creatures they Fathered, And nurture existence so those Creatures Might, Make lives of their own and bring them Delight. On one of these worlds they created a Race, Of Creatures with powers of beauty and Grace. Given these powers to control their Domain, They could live life content and exist without Pain. But a world without pain can only be Myth, Since joy without sorrow cannot Exist. There are always the ones who never seem Right, And prefer dark shadows to the world of Light.

2. Watchers

Since time out of mind the Watchers have born Witness: There are beings in this world with powers almost Limitless.

Many can control the urge to Destroy. But some have gone beyond the boundaries of Joy.

And turned to pain in such exquisite Detail, It makes even the Watchers turn a lighter shade of Pale.

It is such foes they set themselves Against. In the hope that someday the Great Liberation will Commence. 3. Dark Ones

The Dark Ones are hiding down in the Deep, Spinning their terrible webs of Deceit.

They're the ones who's Toll must be Paid, So that their terrible plans may be Laid.

Regurgitated in cold blood Curdled, From the mouths of Gods who did not want them in their World.

These Dark Ones stand in shadows Contrived, They hate the Watchers and plot their Demise.

And if the Bent Soul can turn the Trick, They're one step closer to a world Thick

With Pain beyond the realm of Thought, Past rivers deep with suffering Untaught.

Beyond all possible chance of Recall, Snuffing out the lives of All,

Who stand against those constantly Seeking To gain the World for their own Keeping. 4. Warrior

The fire in her soul burns Unquenchable. The elimination of her enemies will be deadly and Sequential.

The powers she's discovered inside her small Frame, are unfamiliar and yet ready to be Tamed.

The Watchers chose her for a very special Task: They want her to discover the One Behind the Mask.

But first, there is a score to be Settled. Her enemy is powerful and will test all her Mettle.

There is the one they call the Bent Soul, the one she needs to Beat. But she must make sure she has enough Majik buried in the souls of her Feet.

She would dearly love to engage him in combat to the Finish. He is the one who is causing her kind to Diminish. 5. Bent Soul

With yellow fangs and foetid Breath, The Bent Soul stops with thoughts of Death.

A hulking presence in the Dark. Evil mind and devil's Spark.

He can smell that she has passed his Way, But hasn't guessed what game she Plays.

To strike her dead and eat her Soul, Is what it takes to pay the Toll.

He has no doubt that she is Strong, But knows that she has not been Long

At wielding powers new and Strange, Like new born babe that's yet Untrained. 6. Power Lightly she steps to her own sad Song, Contemplating her life as far as it's Gone. That morning she woke from Dreams of Strange Power That threatened to engulf her mind's bright Tower. The peaceable lake at the bottom of her Mind Roiled beyond control in a frightening Sign. Held in a trance, unable to Move, Looking out with a gaze she could not Undo, She became rooted in stone as she stood looking Out From the lofty high walls of the Great Redoubt. Her mind took a leap from rampart to Sky Leaving body behind letting out a great Cry. Of a sudden her vision telescoped to Infinity, She saw her self suspended on the edge of Eternity. Looking down on creation she realized that Soon, Darkness would creep across the bright Moon. And seep into every corner of her small World, Damning the wise, killing as it Unfurled. Spreading poison upon the pure running Waters Her people depend on to live and to Prosper. Along with this vision came powers Anew, And lifting her up, 'cross the world she Flew. And suddenly she knew with her deepest of Mind, How to complete her task and be ready to Find, The one that she hates with all consuming Desire, Who plans her Extinction in a bloodbath of Fire. 7.  Battle The Bent Soul is hiding somewhere Nearby, Thinking that she will be easy to Spy. Not suspecting that she has undergone Transformation, and is ready to effect a great Conflagration. With pain so sharp that it makes him Stagger, He picks up her scent and thinks now he can catch Her. His great bat-like ears quiver with delight At the sound of her footsteps as they fall in the night Every nerve in his psyche is taut as a bow. His toe claws dig in as he crouches down low. "The plan is so simple", the Dark Ones said, As they spoke without voice deep within his huge head: To rip out her soul in one vicious strike And fly back to their realm with the prize held tight! "But she's no fool", her mother once cried, As she spoke to the darkness just before she died, At the hands of the Bent Soul on a night of blood lust. Long ago, in an age now covered with dust. Held tight under arm she cradled a babe that twisted in struggle to escape the hot blade. And that very same child now grown to great stature, Is ready for revenge served with hot molten anger. With new found sight in the nth dimension, Sees him crouched for the kill as though caught in suspension. Leaping from shadow he swoops for the kill. Not knowing she already sees that he will. And now a bright Light shines forth from her soul, Blinding the Bent One beyond his control. Sending him reeling with such a sharp force, That he stumbles and falls like a wounded war horse. With laser-like focus she throttles her beams, And burns a dark hole in the Bent One's dreams. Screams of pain and cognition of loss, Are so great that the sound bounces off the hard rocks, To shake the foundations of all within range, So that even the Dark Ones down in their caves, Instantly know the Bent One has failed: The Warrior's soul will never be jailed, Down in the deep where others they've caught, Live in a world where hope is for naught. Neither living nor dead only serving to feed The obscene blood desires of those who are keen To keep them trapped as long as they can, Locked in malice away from the Sun. From higher realms The Watchers cry out With the joy and the sorrow of those who, no doubt, In spite of their triumph with the Warrior they have chosen, Weep for a once innocent soul long frozen, In shape that defies all reason and logic, To wander forever in thought so demonic, That only The Watchers can dare to witness The dancing dark hatred that lurks there in earnest. 8. Revenge Now the Dark One's can see All that Transpires Gazing into their pale Green Fires. Seeing together through each other's Mind, Seeking to stem the turn of the Tide, They reach down into the dark smoking Husk, of the Bent One as he lies cold in the Dust. With collective sigh they touch the one Spot, that still pulses dimly: they've found what they Sought! The only thing left that shows any Breath, Where they might bring him back from the worst kind of Death: Cast into a Void, where Nothingness Reigns, where even the Watchers couldn't Feign, Not to fear that which was solely Created, even before Spacetime was Inflated, To contain a Dark force that aches with strange joy, for that which only the Beings of Light may Employ. 9. Instrument of Creation The very Instrument of Creation, The Horn of Light, that can only be winded by a Being who's life, Exists on a plane of Infinite surface, Where the Sounds of the Universe Throb with a Purpose. So The Dark Ones burn with rank jealousy, Unable to fathom what the Great Music could be, Caught in a song they cannot Contain, Not hearing the Harmony needed to sustain, Creation as we know it, and failing to see, That as hard as they try they will never succeed With endlessly plotting for ways and designs, New methods to bring down Creation Divine, And steal the Great Instrument so that they may become Masters of all, and Subject to none. 10. After Myth Who are the Music Makers and what gives them strength? What makes them tremble, what makes them think They give birth to a world by wielding pure sound, But never look back as the echoes rebound So the Universe unfolds propelling us all Into paths of the Music We never foresaw. A melody played out eons ago We are unwitting notes caught in the flow.

-Here ends the translation of the first section of the Book

[irenemarkone]

Part Two of my sleep-deprivation fuelled angst-fic

TW: sewerslidal thoughts

He broke the kiss quickly, placing both hands by her shoulders and saying, "This isn't right."

She blinked at him and said, "Why the hell not? You had no qualms about seducing me before."

He frowned and said slowly, "Because… you don't love me. I know you don't." She smirked (he was seeing himself in her more and more and it scared him) and said, "Wasn't it you who told me 'what's that got to do with it?'"

He couldn't deny that logic.

She tugged him in for another kiss, harsher this time. He returned the kiss and as he gave an inch, she took a mile.

---

Their first few encounters were strained and almost cold, purely filling the emptiness she felt with something resembling companionship. He accommodated her in every way he could because he couldn't imagine losing her after all this.

He kissed her, he held her, she made it so he could feel what she needed and he always did his best. She always left right after, never lingering in his arms for long. He supposed it was best for her, but each time, he found himself wishing she would stay.

He wished he could tell her, but he knew she would hate him for it. Sometimes he felt her probing, and it was all he could do to keep her out.

Being with her felt like ecstasy, but when he remembered how it came to be, the scarce bits of positivity vanished and left behind a hollow sort of sadness. Now that he could have her, every part of him begged for her, but deep down he knew that she didn't want him the same way. He knew he was a distraction, but he could never refuse her.

Slowly, their encounters grew warmer, and their walls began to fall. She let him hold her for longer afterwards, staring listlessly at the void as he made it his task to cover her body in gentle kisses. He tried his best to show her what he couldn't say, with soft caresses and eagerness. He tried not to say anything at all, in fears that she'd remember herself and who she was with, or simply that he would mess up. If he did let something slip, it was always her name, gasped or sighed or moaned.

He was careful to keep it that way over the course of the next million years, but she always made it difficult. "Q" never sounded better than when she said it. Her touches were like lightning, when she decided to touch him at all. She was art and music (melancholy as it may be) and beauty and strength, all in one. The small bit of sensation she allowed herself to feel shone from her like sunlight, and he basked in it.

It was only when she came to him and kissed him slowly, cradling his face in her hands and filling the space around them with the soft glow of contentment, that he finally let it slip. He had broken the kiss and let his mouth wander along her jawline when he caught himself muttering against her skin, "You'll be my undoing, Kathy-"

If she thought anything he said was odd, she didn't betray it besides the slightest of pauses before she tilted her head back. He laid a heavy kiss over her pulse(?) and given her silence, he thought nothing of it.

Moments later, with her legs draped over his shoulders and her hands buried in his hair, she grew curious and probed for his feelings. She was taken aback by the adoration that filled his actions, so much so that she overlooked the remorse and the guilt. It wasn't long before she ignored the physical feelings entirely and probed deeper, reading his thoughts and even living through them like a holonovel.

She didn't know what she expected, but she certainly hadn't expected to hear 'I love you' in so many ways. She saw all the times they'd been together, even some instances before she was Q, only he thought of telling her every time. She dug even deeper and felt it for herself, and it was genuine, although it was twisted and confused from an eternity of not feeling anything at all.

She withdrew from his thoughts like something had burned her, shoving him away with wide eyes. A split second of confusion flashed across his face before he realized what she did, but she didn’t stay long enough for him to call after her.

She didn’t find him again for a couple million years, and for once, he felt every miserable second of it.

---

Kathryn had forgotten just how much change could happen in a million years, and when she went back to exploring, she found that almost everything was different. The human race had gone extinct. She was surprised to find that she didn’t want to look back and see what had happened.

She left the Milky Way and rediscovered some of the worlds she had lived on, seeing the races she’d befriended had evolved or gone extinct. She simply befriended the new ones.

She hated how much of Q she heard in her own voice, so for a couple hundred years she hid in the Continuum, playing the role of the scarecrow, the truck, even the road and the sun that burned in the sky without end. Now more than ever, she could understand why Quinn had wanted to die. She couldn’t fathom how one could spend eternity like this; she hardly even felt pain anymore. The only thing that came close was the dull ache left behind whenever she remembered her crew, and even that was slipping away. She went back out into the universe and found another species to aide, trying desperately to find some small fragment of purpose again.

Whenever she didn’t quite feel like showing herself for a millenia or two, she spent the time conjuring stars and scattering nebulas through space, creating beautiful sights but never life. She crafted entire galaxies, star by star, watching them turn in the void before holding them in her hands and vanishing them with a thought.

When she finally showed herself, she was always benevolent, refusing to toy with lower lifeforms like the other Q had done. She solved some of their problems but never allowed herself to get attached.

She filled entire corners of the universe with wondrous stars and anomalies, braiding the fabric of space and undoing it just to do it all again. Time slipped by with her hardly noticing the centuries, but at the same time she felt every minute pass with agonizing clarity. Time was also beginning to be a bit of a nuisance, so she spent another million years mastering it.

She explored every aspect of existence itself, down to the most minute detail, until one day(?) she realized there was nothing left to explore. She wandered around in denial, thinking that surely there must be something left, but over the course of another century her fears were confirmed. She'd mastered it all.

For a couple dozen years, she even tried to kill herself. She knew that if a veteran Q like Quinn couldn't manage it, then she couldn't possibly hope to, but now all she had was time so she reasoned that it couldn't hurt to try.

She hurled herself into a blackhole only to come out completely unscathed. She teleported into the center of a supernova, turned into a microbe and found some antimatter to smack around, and even provoked a species calling themselves the God-Killers. Nothing did the slightest bit of harm (not even the God-Killers, but there was no real surprise there.)

She gave up after trying everything she could, spending a century floating aimlessly between galaxies. She would have felt hopeless if she could feel anything at all.

---

She found Q in the Continuum, sitting on the steps to the front porch and staring out at the road. He had foregone his usual Starfleet uniform, dressed instead in a drab tan suit with a green tie. It took her a little by surprise, seeing him fit into a landscape rather than defy it. It was almost sad.

She stepped closer and said with a bit of the smirk (that she couldn't muster the hatred for), "I've got to admit, the uniform wasn't half bad, but green makes you almost look dashing." He looked up at her before she sat down next to him, and said with a hint of a smile in his eyes, "Who are you and what have you done with my beloved Kathy?"

A small smile spread across her face. She hated to admit it, but she'd missed talking to someone who didn't revere her as a god. It made her feel almost human again, and as that thought occurred to her, her smile faded.

"Did you mean it, Q?"

His smile dimmed, and he looked back out at the road as he answered, "Wasn't it you who observed that I might be a lot of things, but I'm no liar?" They sat in silence for a minute (or an hour or a decade, time was slippery in the Continuum) before he said with a dreadful lack of theatrics, "I meant it. I still mean it, as much as it pains me to admit."

She rested her elbows on her knees and said, "I don't know if I love you. I don't even know if I still can." He nodded slowly and began to say something but she interjected, holding up a finger and saying, "I'm not finished." He nodded again and let her continue.

"But being with you… is truly the closest thing to normal anymore." She chuckled a bit at her own statement and said, "Imagine, calling anything to do with you 'normal'. I never thought I'd live to see the day."

She paused for a second(?), staring at the road and counting the molecules in the space in front of her before saying, "I might not love you… but I'll be damned if I lose the only person I can be around anymore."

A small smile snuck its way onto his face and he said, “I can definitely live with that, for now.” If she could feel the minute bit of melancholy in his voice, she didn’t show it. She simply smirked and said, “Don’t test your luck.”

---

Kathryn was different.

Q knew it would have been foolish to expect nothing to change. It was only natural, after all, for a person who had been so unceremoniously gifted (ha) omnipotence. But she reminded him more and more of himself, and for the first time, he could almost understand why humans had found him so frustrating.

She was infinitely more nihilistic than she'd ever been, smothering the emptiness under sarcasm and searing kisses. The Indiana lilt never truly left her voice, but her whispered promises and wagers were refined with a silver tongue that easily rivalled his.

She grew bored more and more easily, sometimes spending millions of years at a time in the Continuum just to see what changes would await her once she left. This game quickly grew tiring, however, because with omnipotence she found that she already knew, even before she looked. She'd look anyway, occasionally making herself known to the civilizations that arose there. Despite Q's urging that it would be infinitely more fun, she refused to lord over them, still clinging to the last shreds of her humanity. He loved her for it.

She had always been the perpetual ice queen but where before there was warmth behind her eyes, there was nothing but a reflection of time and space. She braided starlight into the copper hair of her corporeal form, soared through the void as if it had always been her home, but there was an odd detachment in everything she did.

She gave herself the duty of protecting life (although Q argued that life was insignificant), and earned the gratitude of so many systems. It wasn't long before he joined her in her visits, causing his usual amount of mischief and getting a rise out of her. She was careful to make sure these encounters never turned into a tug of war where there might be collateral damage, but Q seemed intent on pushing her buttons.

Q had experience, countless lifetimes more than Kathryn did, but if he was an unstoppable force, she was an immovable object. However, their squabbles never went past playful banter and the occasional flung anomaly, and in the end, he always stole a kiss.

But there was always something off. When he held her, she felt almost hollow. Her thoughts and feelings were tainted by her ever-present grief, and no matter what she said when they were alone, he knew that if she had the choice, she would have died along with her crew. He could see it in the way she watched life down on the planets: she envied them. She envied mortality.

He told her he loved her almost every day (second? century?) and while she had begun to say it back, whether it be muttered against his cheek or thought to him as they watched the galaxies turn, he couldn't believe her. She felt nothing for him outside something resembling friendship, and it was beyond his extensive powers of imagination to think otherwise.

He supposed that he should have felt lucky to earn her friendship in the first place, but along with the desperate selfish part of him that always wanted more, another part mourned with her.

Occasionally she still asked him to hold her, and of course he could never refuse her anything, but he couldn't help but think that he never wanted it to happen like this.

He always thought that one day he'd arrive back on Voyager, possibly after she'd found a way home despite the crushing odds, and after some witty banter he'd ask her to dinner. Or maybe she'd ask him for help with some dilemma (unlikely) or she'd just want to talk (even more unlikely).

As much as he jested, as much as he'd flung Starfleet ships into the furthest reaches of what they knew, he'd quite forgotten how oddly fragile humanity was.

They stood in the void, watching the galaxies Kathryn had conjured. Q absent-mindedly wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned into his touch and relaxed with a ghost of a sigh. Her melancholy washed over him and he didn't fight it.

[hejin57-blog]

MUSIC MASTERS: CD ONE -----

For those interested: I’ll be posting segments of my Music Masters series through this tumblr account.  Due to the nature of the story, song links will be linked where relevant.

Anyway, on with the story.

-----

-----

WHITE KNUCKLE RIDE: PART ONE

-----

Music is truly a marvel of human invention.

In essence, it's nothing more the configuration of sounds in a set pattern, sometimes produced through our vocal cords, or often times through contraptions consisting of nothing more than strings and pieces of metal and wood.

But the beauty of music is not in how it's created, but in the inevitable result. It is a deliberate pattern of sounds that can be interpreted in an infinite number of ways, and loved by people all over the world, if not throughout the known universe.

Michael Kay is one of those people.

And this is his story, his white knuckle ride; in all it's long playing glory.

-----

-----

It was in all likelihood very frustrating to be the neighbor of Colleen Kay.

As a relatively hard-working twenty-something, Colleen peacefully came and went from her Washington Heights apartment when work demanded her to do so. She waved at the neighbors when they waved first, usually acknowledged the postman, and put long and stressful hours at her nursing job. So one could only assume that in the hours she wasn't home, there should be nothing but peace and quiet.

If not for her afro-headed brother, of course.

It was just another typical afternoon for Michael Jason Kay, the spotlights in his room practically high-beams, and his music so loud that it seemed to warp the walls of his room with each bass strum.

Taller than most boys his age, Michael Kay flowed like water, his red sneakers burning up the dance floor with each step. As the pumping disco beat pulsed around him, he bounced back and forth with near perfect sync.

Though his room was small, it was big enough to fit the configuration of colored spot lights he had bought to emulate the heart of a disco dance floor. The room lit up with a turquoise glint, reflecting off his tan skin as his large orb of hair bobbed and his record player continued to play its soulful melody in the corner.

Eyes closed, lost in the music, Michael could feel words just beginning to escape his lips as he descended into boogie wonderland.

"Got canned heat in my heels tonig-"

Unfortunately for him, those next words never came. Instead, a voice seemed to pierce the wall of noise. A very familiar voice that he hated to hear on days like this.

"Michael! Can you please turn it down just a decibel, please?!"

Michael's eyes snapped open, and he felt his hips sway out of his control. They bounced against his dresser, nearly knocking over his prized lava lamp. Michael reached for it like a clumsy ape, catching it just in time and then proceeding to groan audibly as he pulled the needle off his vinyl copy of Synkronized.

Switching off his strobe lights, his face soured. Thanks to his always wonderful sister, the moment was gone.

Michael stepped out of his room, hands buried in his pockets as he whined.

"Oh come on, Colleen! That was my jam! I was in the moment, you know? The moment!"

His sister's tone of voice was nothing short of uninterested. She was clearly far more concerned with fixing her curly black hair in the mirror.

"Well that's too bad.", she began, as Michael plopped down on the couch nearby. "Because until you have enough money to go ahead and soundproof your room, there's only so many of your moments I can take. And let's not even get started on the other tenants."

Michael grinned to himself. "Oh come on. I don't play it that loud."

His toothy smile had close to no effect on his older sister. She simply picked up her work notepad from her desk before dropping it right on Michael's stomach.

"I'm not here to argue with you, little brother. Now I need you to run down to the store for me and grab what's on the list. And only what's on the list." she stated, as poured herself a glass of water from the tap. The heat still permeated in their cramped apartment in these final days of summer.

"What!? Why can't you just do it? You're supposed to be off today, and I have a dance routine to perfect." Michael protested.

Colleen simply put her hands up as she shook her head with frustration. "I had off. But Christy decided to get sick yet again, and we need the cash for next month. The least you can do for me is this one tiny task."

His sister reached for her beige coat, checking her baby blue scrubs in the mirror for stray stains. "I'm sure it'll only take you ten minutes, tops."

Michael let out a long sigh. He stuffed the note in his pocket, grumbling to himself as he headed for the front door.

"Yeah. Ten minutes I could be using practicing some killer moves..."

-----

If there was but one solace of having to walk the six blocks out to the grocery store, it was that Michael's music could always come with him. As a listener of the classics, having been bought a vinyl player by Uncle Rob on his seventh birthday, Michael Kay still understood the importance of modern music players. He grinned to himself as he shuffled through his various disco and funk songs, the mental play list already forming in his mind.

It was but two days away from the end of summer vacation, but the seasonal colors still prevailed over the New York City skyline. Michael was never one to control his urges, his feet shuffling slightly and his shoulders popping as he walked along the sidewalk to his destination. Even in the busy street, not a taxi cab driver cursing nor a dog barking would interrupt him from his self-imposed sound zone.

As Michael Kay walked, he was far too engrossed to pay attention to the Dust Bowl; an old skate park in the neighborhood always populated by teenagers, local or otherwise. His headphones offered privacy away from the city's ambiance, and thus he continued to grin to himself as he went along.

So naturally, he couldn't hear the sound of skateboard wheels grinding against asphalt, even as this one particular set skidded off the rail and to a halt as he passed by the fence separating the Dust Bowl from the sidewalk. A set of dark green eyes watched him from beneath a tangled mess of brown hair as he remained oblivious. She scanned him up and down; noting his huge black afro, his red sneakers, navy blue jeans and the piercing colors of his tie dye shirt, which was embedded with the design of a pitch black vinyl record.

Then all of sudden, she winced under her breath, instinctively holding her hands up to her ears as a jolt of sound broke her from her train of thought.

It wasn't his appearance that bothered her. He looked like a moron, for sure, but she could ignore that.

No, it was the infernal noise going through his ears. A high-pitched singer was like a wailing ghost invading her eardrums.

To most people, the music coming from someone's headphones over sixty feet away wouldn't be a bother. Because even at the loudest volume in a much closer proximity, Michael Kay's music would come off as an unintelligible mix of squeals and whistles.

And on top of that, the heavy, dark blue headphones guarding her ears would have guaranteed she wouldn't hear anything but hard guitar strums and bleating punk rock beats.

Except that this girl wasn't like most people. She grimaced through her green lipstick as she propped up her skateboard, the sound of his music grating at her ears painfully. It was like a stereo in the other room; she couldn't hear it perfectly, but she could still hear it.

She watched him like a hawk as he passed by, his music thankfully getting further and further away. After another few seconds, and he was out of sight, and the disco strings, now out of mind.

But the girl still spit out venom, as a few other skaters passed behind her, unaware of her plight.

"Oh great. The disco circus is in town."

-----

Michael Kay surveyed the covers in front of him, a gleam in his eyes as he grinned. Looped around his right wrist were Colleen's groceries. However, as she had time and time again before, she forgot how much the groceries actually cost.

And so with all the essentials covered, Michael decided that a little reward was in order. And thus, here he was, patrolling the aisles of Audio Empire, the most prolific music store in his immediate Washington Heights neighborhood.

Though he owned a great many albums on vinyl, Michael always had room in his tiny closet for one more. As he flipped through everything from The Whispers to Barry White to The Bee Gees, he wondered what particular artist tickled his fancy today. It didn't take him long to spot something of interest; a rare special edition cut of Parliament Gold. Michael grinned at his luck, inadvertently talking to himself as he hurried towards the cashier.

"Oh man, Rob would love this. I bet he memorized every single bass line."

The words were low, but a moment later than they were still enough to make the boy's expression slowly sink.

If there was one thing that made him more unhappy than being forced on grocery runs, it was remembering Rob. Michael looked back at the aisles as he stood in line, his mind visualizing his first trip here. It coalesced into a vivid memory, the image of his uncle with his pulled down cap and large bass guitar case on his back thrust into Michael's mind.

This was back when his hair was of normal length, and he still remembered the warmth of Rob's hand on his shoulder, and the joy in his eyes upon being bought a copy of The Jacksons' Destiny.  

This album had been Michael Kay's very first vinyl record, and it was this purchase that ignited in him a love of disco music that would follow him for the rest of his life.

Though these memories were happy, there still remained the painful fact of the present.

Michael Kay hadn't seen his uncle Rob since he was seven years old. Rob, and these memories of him, seemed like a world away.

"...Howdy, and welcome to Audio Empire! How can I help you today?"

Michael's mind was practically glazed over. He nearly jumped out of skin when the girl repeated herself.

The afro-headed boy blinked. In front of him, a blond cashier with distinctly lightning-shaped earrings and a blue checkered blazer smiled as politely as she could as she waited for him to respond. He laughed awkwardly, placing his chosen album on the counter.

"Oh! Most definitely! Just picking this up." he replied. The girl ringed in his purchase as he shook his mind out of past thoughts.

"That'll be a dollar fifty!" she exclaimed, her tone clearly excitable now. Michael handed over a crumpled dollar and change.

She waved as her register dinged. "Come back real soon!"

Michael largely ignored her upbeat attitude, but that didn't seem to affect her much, as she seemed just as eager when the next customer approached the counter behind him.

Michael stepped out of the automatic doors as he popped his headphones in. As the music overtook him, he felt the overwhelming need to move his body again. Canned Heat was calling to him, and he switched to the song.

"No interruptions this time." he said to himself, a dumb smile forming on his face as the song lit up his soul.

-----

The walk back was relatively short, but it gave Michael enough time to loop Canned Heat more than once. Though it was getting pretty windy, Michael didn't mind one bit. He was distracted again, moving to his own tune as he practically danced along the route back to the apartment.

Michael always thought that if John Travolta could make walking look funky, he could too. Of course, most of his fellow pedestrians probably wouldn't agree. Luckily, the streets were mostly empty this afternoon.

It had been a good half hour, but that was nowhere near enough time to make the girl at the Dust Bowl forgot about Michael's music. As he absentmindedly passed by the fence, the messy-haired skater girl was once again assaulted by a piercing interruption of foreign music. It was like another channel in her head, spilling into her punk rock song like a pool of sludge into clear water.

She sat up from the stone bench, ignoring the other skaters in the bowl below as her gaze focused on the afro-headed idiot from before.

"Not this junk again." she groaned. Nearby, a boy clad in shoulder length dreadlocks responded mockingly.

"What junk? You talking about the way you skate, girl?" he chortled, too busy laughing to himself to notice her approaching in his direction.

He barely had time to react as she stepped hard on his board, forcing its center of gravity upward and tossing him off completely. He tumbled down into the skate bowl, scratching himself a bit, but it didn't seem to phase the girl one bit.

"...maaan! It was a joke!" he exclaimed, pulling himself up and rubbing his now scratched arm as a few other skaters chuckled at his plight.

"You new here?" one of them said, being kind enough to help the boy up. "My advice to you: don't joke with Kim. I'm pretty sure her sense of humor is MIA."

The boy simply replied with a nervous smile, wondering what crawled up her spine to make her so irritable.

Meanwhile, Kim was now much closer to the fence separating the Dust Bowl from the sidewalk, watching the afro-headed boy twirl around a lamppost like a moron to the sound of his music.

Reaching into the trash nearby, she was able to find a serviceable soda can, and her expression softened with confidence. Focusing her eyes under her brown bangs, she waited for the perfect moment.

And it was just as Michael Kay began belting out lyrics that she found it. With a strong swing, the can went catapulting over the fence.

"I used to worry about the fut-"

The words were unable to fully escape his lips as the can made impact with the left side of his face. He yelped like a dog as he almost fell off balance, twirling awkwardly as he just barely regained his footing.

Kim laughed under her breath at the sight.

"Score."

Once he began to really feel the pain, Michael simply nursed his eye as he looked downward, picking up the stray red can and wondering what exactly had happened.

"Hey, what gives!?" he exclaimed, looking around but not immediately finding a culprit to blame. He was speaking loudly over his music, his eyes now focusing on he can in his hand as the pain in his eye started to subside.

"Going around throwing that...canned heat?"

The words sort of slipped out of his mouth. For a moment, he focused away from the pain, and from the can in his hand. When he really looked at, it reminded him of the same red-orange on the cover of the single version of Canned Heat. The album itself was pushed up against others back in his room closet.

But for some reason, the image really spoke to him this time. It coursed through his mind, enveloping his senses to the point where the imagery began to associate with sensation. In a way, it connected directly with the music playing in his ears.

And so, like he had done many times in the past, Michael focused on the music. He let his mind drift into another self-imposed sound zone. He could hear the strings, the vocals, the soft clanging of the drums. He listened to the bass, closing his eyes and imagining every strum going through every fiber of his being.

He saw heat. Or at least, a visual representation of heat. It manifested in his mind as the shimmering mirage one might seen in a desert, though it glowed with red-orange intensity like the art on the Canned Heat single.

Strangely though, it felt real. The shimmering heat became less like a dream and more like a sensation. Seconds later, and his right hand began to heat up.

The chorus blared with intensity. Michael opened his eyes as they echoed through his eardrums.

-----

-----

Amazingly, the heat was now all too real.

Michael's expression went wide, as what was left of the can dripped down his palm like it had been melted by a death ray. His right hand was now sheathed in the same shimmering red-orange aura, which burned bright enough to make him squint. He wondered what he was seeing in front of him, or perhaps it was just that the can had just given him one hell of a concussion.

When he blinked, and the heat was still there, it was obvious this wasn't a hallucination.

And so, Michael reacted naturally.

"Oh man!" he cried out like a small child, shaking his hand wildly as if to remove the fiery aura, but to no avail. "Get it off! Get it off, get if off, get it off!"

The heat seemed stuck to him though, and grabbing onto the fence yielded nothing more than a loud sizzling as it began to melt away at the old metal. The remains of the can had been vaporized at this point.

Almost by instinct, Michael reached for his headphones with his non-burning hand, pulling one off and then the other as he continued to stare in disbelief. And in the instant the music was not playing in his ears, the shimmering heat aura seemed to fade away. Like someone pulling the plug on an amp, it was simply gone.

Michael did a double take, looking around. A few pedestrians stared at his general oddness, but it appeared that no else noticed the shimmering red-orange heat that enveloped his hand just moments before. And if they had noticed, neither people walking nor skaters nearby seemed to care. Michael felt beyond confused, but it was at this point that he finally noticed the girl through the fence, who glared at him in some sort of disbelief.

She was only somewhat surprised at this sudden display of power, oddly enough.

Their gazes met, and Michael took in her appearance. She had very messy, shoulder length brown hair. Her ensemble consisted of heavy green lipstick, a purple tank top, toxic green pants held up by a dull orange belt, and bulky combat boots. Despite her intimidating appearance, she was still a girl, that much was certain.

Spotting the curiosity in his eyes, Kim was quick to turn aside. She wanted nothing to do with him now that his detestable music was off for the time being.

And though she was some twenty feet away now, Michael could have sworn that he heard the few words she mumbled under her breath as she walked away.

"Another Music Master. Wonderful. Because that's exactly what this crummy neighborhood needed..."

Michael pressed himself up against the bars of the fence, but now Kim was clearly out of reach. The words echoed in his head. Had his hearing always been this good?

Music Master.

That had to be exactly what she said. Michael mouthed the same words, his mind beginning to fantasize a possible meaning. Did it have something to do with what had just happened?

He debated calling out to the girl, but judging by her attitude, it didn't seem worth it.

Michael turned away, now looking at his once prized music player with creeping apprehension.

There was a connection between what had happened and the song that had been playing in his ears, that much was for sure. Was it safe to even try listening to Canned Heat again? And if Michael did even dare to try it, what if something worse happened? He imagined bursting into flame.

Michael then gulped at a grim thought. One that was far worse than the prospect of his afro being lit up like an effigy.

Was it ever safe to listen to any of his music again?

Fast forward to the next track....