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intoafandom · 3 years

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Why I like Kevan Miller, Steven Kampfer, Trent Frederic, Torey Krug, Tuukka Rask etc and why I will continue to like them.

(Sorry this is soooo long but it’s the only way I can explain)

So last night I got an anon ask and the person was asking why I like Kevan Miller when he’s a republican and I mentioned how I would make a separate post explaining my reasoning better and now that I have the time and its no longer 3 am, now seems like a good time lol.

So I’m gunna give a backstory about the players above that I mentioned and why a lot of bruinsblr doesn’t like them (so people that may not be aware know the context of why people are upset/dont like them). Most of bruinsblr doesn’t like Miller or Kampfer because they’re republicans. Everyone on bruinsblr is allowed to dislike them if they choose to. I recognize I’m in the minority on this app when I say I like and support Kevan Miller and Steven Kampfer. People on here also don’t like Torey Krug for the same reason and because he follows/followed Trump’s twitter account (since trumps account got deleted, torey now follows the “trump archives” account). People on here don’t like Tuukka anymore because over the summer, during all the blm stuff in the bubble, Tuukka went on tv in the bubble for an interview with a hat that said “Boston police” on it (the interview also aired right after the Bruins Organization posted about how they stand against racism, so people ended up calling Tuukka a racist hypocrite.) Last night, people on here found out that Trent Frederic follows Trump supporters and republicans on social media, which is why he’s losing some fans on this app. There are probably more stories about other players that I’m not aware of as well but these will be the ones I’m focusing on for now.

I am NOT going to start talking about my political opinions or my position on social issues. My account is called IntoAFandom for a REASON. So I can escape the real world and go “into a fandom” and have some peace. That’s why i never reblog or like or post about any real world events or issues. I want my blog to be solely about things, fandoms, and people that I love and care about. I don’t wanna come on my blog and see how a bombing happened or if someone got shot or this president signed this executive order etc etc. i wanna come on my blog and fangirl about Bucky Barnes being a sweetheart with kids or how amazing Matt Grzelcyk is at “tight turns” etc etc. Hence the name “IntoAFandom.”

I’m getting a lot of questions as to why I still support these players and I’ll definitely answer those questions in this post. Just so my mutuals know where I stand on this.

Now obviously it would be super easy for me to just go “well the player is super nice so i dont care about their political views.” And while that’s partially true for me, its not the only reason. For me, the reason is much deeper than that. I’ve never mentioned or talked about or even said it out loud. I touched upon what I’m about to say in that anon ask I got last night, but I’m going to go into detail now. It’s kind of hard to explain and the only way I can describe it is to tell you about my hockey journey up until this point, and specifically the 2018-19 season.

So one day in April in 2018, I was on school vacation and I was very bored. There was literally nothing on tv. However, as I was scrolling through the channels, I saw that a bruins game was on. I had never really watched hockey before in my life and the only experience I could remember having with it was when my mom was obsessed with them in like 2013 and how she set up this whole contraption to try and watch a game when a snowstorm made us lose connection. So with nothing else on the tv, crippling boredom, and being a Massachusetts native, I put the game on. It was literally just starting and the national anthem was about to start. We were playing the leafs lmao and it was game five or six of the series probably. I cant really remember because I didn’t think I would care this much about hockey at the time of watching it. But what I do remember was how CREEPY Tuukka looked😂 He was just standing there alone with a huge spotlight on him, head down, wearing these huge pads and looking straight up terrifying. I literally started laughing because of how creepy he looked. And then he put his cool ass mask on and right there I knew he was my favorite player. And to this day he is still my favorite. Tuukka was the first hockey player I EVER knew and could remember by name. I gotta admit, at first I thought his name was “Tuuk Arask” because that’s what it sounded like whenever the announcers would say it, specifically Jack Edwards lol. But then I was like “wait is it Arask or Rask” and after looking at his jersey like 3 games later I finally realized it was actually Rask lol. And I was like “Tuukka Rask. So freaking creepy lol. He’s my favorite.” I also have to mention that I’ve always been a sucker for people that play positions that no one else wants to play. Like for example, when I first started watching football in like 2014, my first ever favorite player was Stephen Gostkowski because he was the kicker. He was super good and he was instantly my fav. That’s what Tuukka was like for me. This huge, tall ass, creepy ass, goalie who was playing super well. How could i NOT like him. I didn’t really bother to learn any other players on the bruins team since they got eliminated in the second round. I remember saying to my mom “I don’t want them to be out. I wanna learn more.” I wanted to know more about the game and 6 games, or however many it was, wasn’t enough. So for some reason, I followed them throughout the offseason and in late September/early October I started watching a ton of their older games on YouTube. Not super old obviously, but games from like 2013-2017 ish. Just whatever I could find. And it was so interesting. I tried to only watch games where they actually won so I wasn’t wasting my time lol, but not having to worry about the score helped me start learning the game and some of the rules, like what an icing was for example. So then preseason games started and I got more into it. And then the beginning of the 2018-19 season started. I still didn’t really know any players besides Tuukka, even though I was watching YouTube games. The YouTube ones were more for me to learn the game and the rules rather than players (however, looking back, I did notice that Kevan Miller was a freaking beast, but I just didn’t acknowledge who he actually was. I just saw a player going absolute sicko mode and being like YEEEEAAAAH). The second player I could actually remember by name was Danton Heinen. I noticed he was playing really well and I was like omg who is that and I learned his name and he became one of my favorites with Tuukka. Next was Anders Bjork. I remember I was texting my friends and was trying to make it seem like I wasn’t a complete amateur at hockey knowledge, so I was like “hey guys, Bjork is back in the line up😃” and so I always remembered his name. Next was Ryan Donato because he was literally AWAYS smiling. Every time he was on camera he was SMILING. I loved it so much he was like a little bean. And so he was one of my favorites and i had a top three with him, heino and tuuks.

Now I was watching games and slowly learning important names like Chara, Bergeron, Marchand etc but it wasn’t really on my radar to actually learn all the players because I hadn’t even done that with the patriots who I had been watching and loving for yeeeears. But that was until I decided to watch a behind the b episode. And I was HOOKED. I instantly began to love and care about every single player on the roster. This was in like February of 2019. And that’s when I started trying to name everyone on the team, including their numbers. I made it a mission. I remember writing out lists in math class because I was so bored and would rather try to memorize hockey players. And that’s when I found bruinsblr. It was march by the time I started to post hockey stuff. And i made an instagram account so I could started editing them. I’ve had this blog since 2014 and its seen many phases, but march of 2019 was when I changed it into a mainly bruins blog. And I remember not knowing what “bruins lb” was and i never wanted to tag it because I thought it was like a club or something that I would be intruding on😂 So I started posting and reblogging bruins stuff and posting sucky bruins edits on here and on my insta account. And I started watching every single behind the b episode from every season and I was literally obsessed with the team. And then Donato got traded and i was heartbroken cuz I loved him and I was like Coyle is gunna have to wow me to get me to like him and he DID and i LOVE HIM. But then I decided to have a top five instead of a top three. And it was Tuukka, Krug, DeBrusk, Pasta, and Marchy. They were the players I noticed the most. And Marchy started LICKING people how could i not choose him😂 So then the playoffs come and we beat the leafs in game 7 AGAIN (and I literally missed the first two periods because I was at my confirmation) But I finally understood all the memes about the leafs and I finally understood hockey and hockey culture by this point. I knew the rules, the players, the memes, literally everything. And then we make it to the finals and get lil nas x singing old town road before game 1 and we get JD wearing that stupid hat😂 and the two people from The Office (one of them wanted the bruins to win and the other wanted the blues) and it was all just amazing for me. Then we lost and i was devastated. And we had to see pictures of CMac sobbing on the ice and JD sitting alone in his stall crying and all of them were so sad and after that journey we just went through i was fvcking crying too. We didn’t win, but that 2018-19 season is SO special for me.

The people on this roster (minus gemel smith and lee stempniak) are EXTREMELY special to me. They TAUGHT me hockey. They turned me on to an entirely new culture. I got to experience my first real bit of hockey. I got to experience EVERYTHING about hockey with them (besides the cup) in this ONE season of hockey. I saw the preseason games in china, the halloween visit to to the hospital, Chara bringing pies to the homeless, them buying toys for kids in the hospital at Christmas then visiting them, the new years game outside against the hawks, trade deadline crushing my heart, every round of the playoffs, players pushing through crazy injuries, loving players, despising other teams, all the memes, all the jokes, all the players. Everything. The 2018-19 season is SO incredibly special for me because it’s the first time I ever experienced real hockey and watched an entire season. The people on that roster mean so much to me because of that. Now take a look at the names on that roster. Rask. Krug. Miller. Kampfer. Frederic. They all helped me experience my first year of hockey. Freddy in his first freaking game, getting into a fight😂 Miller and Kampfer were BEASTS on the ice. Krug being a SPECTACULAR little defenseman, quarterbacking the pp and sticking up for himself and SLAMMING thomas. Tuukka Rask being the brick wall. There is no way that I could ever dislike the people on that roster unless the did something suuuuuper bad. I don’t know if you would call it hero worship or whatever, but those people on that roster are so fucking special to me. Even ones like JFK and Vaak and Colby that didn’t play that many games. They still made an impact for me as a hockey fan. THAT is the main reason why I will never stop liking and supporting tuuks, krugger, kampfs, millsy, or freddy. Everyone on that roster has a special place in my heart and I’m not going to let their political views change or tamper with the incredible experience they gave me during that 2018-19 season. I wont ever love another team as much as I loved that specific roster. And no one is going to change that for me. I dont care about their political views or whatever. For me, the experience and the feelings they gave me trump anything i may or may not disagree with. That roster is so special to me, I cant bring myself to dislike any of those people. I will always like those players, no matter how republican or democrat or whatever. Political views dont matter to me when it comes to those players.

Now besides all of that and the experience they gave me, I do believe that they’re still good people even tho they may be republican. I wanna start with Tuukka because it literally doesn’t make sense to me. Tuukka is not even AMERICAN. I dont think he cares that much about American politics since im pretty sure most his family lives in Finland. People got mad at him for wearing a Boston police hat. But I think those people are forgetting that Tuukka has been in boston for soooo long. There have probably been multiple occasions where the police had to help him or the team for some reason or another (they are technically famous after all). Tuukka wearing a hat that says Boston Police doesn’t make him a bad person. He was probably just showing support to the people that helped support HIM as well as his family and teammates. I follow Tuukka on insta and he literally NEVER posts anything political. Probably because NEVER actually posts ANYTHING at all lol. Tuukka had been my favorite from the start and theres almost nothing he could ever do that would make me dislike him.

As for the other 4, and any other players on the team that may be republican (honestly i bet most of them are because 1) most hockey players are and 2) a lot of the guys are christian/catholic and most christian/catholic people are republican as well) I choose to believe that political opinions dont make you a bad person. I like to believe that it depends on the circumstances for every individual. Now I’m not gay or black or anything. Im an 18 year old, straight white girl. So obviously i dont know what its really like for someone to hate or disagree with my race, sexuality, etc. I saw someone say (sorry I forget who it was) that they keep thinking “well what would that player say about me because im gay. What would they actually think about me. I cant support them.” And honestly that’s extremely valid. I never thought about it that way before. So if Kevan Miller for example was out here posting a bunch of homophobic stuff like “i hate gays” or “gays are all stupid” or anything like that, then yeah my opinions on him would probably change in some way. But I follow him on insta and i know the stuff he post about. I have NEVER seen him say anything like that. Ive never heard any bruin say anything like that. From what I’ve seen, they all seem like super nice, sweet, supportive people when they’re off the ice. (I think it’s also important to mention that I follow EVERYONE on the 2018-19 roster. I follow all of their instas. Most of them dont have twitter, but I follow all the ones that do. It’s part of the whole “that roster is incredibly special to me” thing). I choose to believe that following republicans or being one yourself doesn’t automatically make you a bad person, especially when you consider the different circumstances that every individual is under as humans. We all experience different things and that always plays a role in how you act or the opinions you have or the people you support. Someone’s political opinions have never stopped me from liking people. Ive clearly shown that I don’t mind republicans at all, but that doesn’t mean im going to dislike democrats either. Most of the actors/ singers that i like are democrats. And it just happens that most of the athletes i like are republicans. The political stuff doesn’t matter to me. I just dont want it being slapped in my face 24/7. I dont care if you’re a republican or democrat as long as you aren’t constantly talking to me about politics or social issues or trying to change my mind on stuff. Hopefully you can try to see my point of view on this and UNDERSTAND why I like them. Again, I’ve never told my hockey story to anyone so please don’t try and invalid my feelings about the season or the players.

Please, I beg, please don’t comment on this calling racist or something. Please dont try and change me mind. Please dont tell me i need to educate myself. I know WHY i like these players. I know where they stand politically and who they support. But these players are too special to ME for me to actually give a sht about if they like trump or not. Honestly tho, feel free to give your opinion (especially if you’re gay or black or anything) cuz i dont mind hearing other standpoints as long as you aren’t mean about it or try to change my mind. If i change my mind, which i probably wont, I want it to be on my own terms. Please remember that we ARE still a hockey family 💛��💛

(Also I’m NEVER talking about this again. If anyone ever asks or something like this comes up again im just gunna link/ reblog this post)

(Also, thank you to whoever made it this far and actually read all of that. ESPECIALLY if you’re someone that doesn’t agree with me. Its good to hear multiple standpoints on this stuff.)

#boston bruins #bruins #torey krug #brad marchand #tuukka rask #jake debrusk #charlie mcavoy #patrice bergeron #zdeno chara #matt grzelcyk #kevan miller #steven kampfer #trent frederic

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avidbeader · 4 years

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CW: Voltron S8 talk, VLD S8 talk, Shiro’s marriage, ship wars

I’ve been seeing an influx of new VLD fans in the last several months – guess people have more time to watch shows – and it’s brought in a new wave of Sheith fans. And that’s lovely – having more people to create and cheer is a good thing. I know I’ve pointed a lot of people at “Sheith the Movie” so they can have just the Sheith (all 3.5 hours of their scenes with some context) if they want.

However, even if the new fans have been aware of how toxic the klanti shippers were (Klance fans who resorted to slander, harassment, and threats to both other fans and the show’s cast and crew in an attempt to force the studio to make their ship canon), I’m seeing some conflict crop up because some new fans aren’t aware of just how ugly things got in 2018, that most of the people who embraced Shiro and the random groom as a ship were the same people who had spent the previous two years attacking Sheith fans.

In June, we had Season 6. Keith and Lance interaction was at an all-time low. Keith said “I love you” to Shiro in what he thought was a dying confession. Yes, it was preceded by “You’re my brother (in arms)”, but interviews with showrunners like story editor Josh Hamilton made it clear that Keith was trying his best to encapsulate just how important Shiro was to him (without saying that they almost certainly had to include the “brother” line to give DW executives plausible deniability).

In July, we had the SDCC showing of Season 7’s first episode and the confirmation that Shiro is an LGBT character. Klance fans jumped all over the character of Shiro’s ex-boyfriend Adam, because in their minds he would be the key to invalidating Sheith. The media properly observed that Shiro and Adam had broken up over very profound issues and drew the conclusion that if Shiro were to get an on-screen romance in the remainder of the series, Keith was the obvious choice.

In August, we had Season 7. Instead of the heartfelt Shiro/Adam reunion klantis were salivating for, we saw Adam get killed in the Galra invasion. And the klantis rose up, hurling so many unjustified accusations of “fridging” or “bury your gays” over a minor character with a total of maybe three minutes of screen time, that JDS actually had to put his name to an unnecessary apology from the studio.

We also had Keith and Shiro’s backstory, showing just how close of friends they became after Shiro helped Keith join the Garrison, AND Keith saving Shiro yet again. While Lance and Allura continued to grow closer. Because it was clear that the producers had never once considered making Keith and Lance a thing, klanti fans went ballistic with their slander, accusing Sheith of being pedophilic and incestuous when neither accusation has any canon basis at all.

And in December, we got Season 8. Season 8 with a mostly new set of writers who didn’t do their research. Season 8 that tried to cram in too much excess content while finishing up a major plotline. Season 8 that finally showed that the producers had never fully thought through or sought input for handling Shiro, a character they’d originally planned to kill off, decided to make their LGBT rep when told to keep him, and then failed to pick up the strong story arcs he had in the first seasons. And because studio execs gave JDS and LM a single day to change their epilogue cards from minor characters to the main team, we got the very bad decision to marry Shiro off to a random character.

(And the character was random. Stills were leaked that showed Shiro kissing a character that had been seen once in the very first episode, but was too obviously a reference to a character in another series. It clearly didn’t matter to JDS/LM or the people above them who Shiro married as long as it wasn’t another main character. Because we’ve barely passed the point where we can have more than one character of a certain race in the main cast, much less multiple LGBT characters.)

Like they did with Adam, klantis jumped all over “Curtis” as their savior, because to them this should have killed Sheith fandom. And a great many Sheith fans did leave, angry and hurt, not because their ship wasn’t canon (very few Sheith fans expected more than an open ending) but because the concept of Shiro marrying some random character with absolutely no buildup undercut the notion of Shiro as a strong example of LGBT rep. Because those endcards erased every single character’s growth through the series, not just Shiro’s.

Media saw the ploy for what it was, a clumsy attempt to try and reach for a historic milestone when today’s audiences aren’t looking for milestones anymore. Today’s audiences want to be included in the entire narrative. No one talks about Shiro’s wedding as a good example of rep. In mainstream pop media, no one talks about Shiro at all, in contrast to the celebrations post-SDCC. When articles are written about progress in children’s media, Shiro is never included on the list. It’s only this past June, 2020, that DreamWorks shoved Shiro into the background of a collage of LGBT characters from their cartoons, WITHOUT his desultory groom.

LGBT fans, especially gay men, saw the ploy for what it was. Just as the media collectively set Shiro’s wedding aside when talking about positive LGBT rep, gay men spoke out against it. Too bad they didn’t get any kind of apology from DW and the best JDS/LM could say on their one appearance on an “Afterbuzz” was “But we tried! Something was better than nothing!”

And the majority of Sheith fans who remained in the fandom collectively jettisoned Season 8 and began producing even more content. There have been schisms and fallouts, mainly over whether/how carefully to tag for content that includes Adam or “Curtis”, but the fandom as a whole has continued to produce fic, art, vids, and merch. There’s a reason people outside the fandom groan “Sheith in 2020?” There’s a reason antis continue to push their lies about the ship. We haven’t let go of what we love, we continue to create, and we continue to attract new fans.

But most of us do not want to engage in any way with “Curtis” content unless a fix-it is involved (and sometimes not even then – for many of us, Season 8 does not exist). We don’t care about a character who had zero interaction with Shiro before the endcard, whose name isn’t even spoken once in the show’s dialogue – the only reasons we know it are the IMDB credits and one reference in the close-captions identifying who is speaking (and there’s stronger evidence to show that “Curtis” is a last name, not a first name).

If other people find enough of an attachment to this character to ship him, fine. You do you. But most Sheith fans expect those who support Shiro’s wedding to be klantis and therefore look to avoid conflict by minimizing contact. We do not forget. We do not forgive. We just want to be left alone to enjoy our ship in peace.

#voltron #sheith #ship discourse #a little context #why we don't want to interact with fans of Shiro's so-called wedding #because someone wanted to start up a fic/art exchange between Sheith fans and fans of that #and was bewildered that they got negative reactions to the idea #part of being a proshipper or ship-positive is staying in one's lane

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writernomore · 3 years

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Wake. Prolouge.

Quick A/n: Hello there I am back from the dead, I have decided to put onhold my ongoing stories and made another one called wake the one you’re about to start reading. You can get early updates in my wattpad .

Vivian MacQuoih or what they preferred to be called; Vinnie was a college student studying their major subjects that will allow them to work in a job in their prescribed setting and capable for the best of their abilities.

They had to move countries all alone on their own to a different country to study in Winston college, so their brother or you could say their twin brother took care of the house and helped their parents if needed be.

They would also be keeping in contact with their family as to not distance themselves with their family just because they were in a different country studying.

Anyways, Vinnie worked a job that helped paying their appartment rent each month and sent some money to their family- even though their brother Johan or JD told them not to and just said they should use it to buy something for themselves like clothes or a little treat.

Thinking back now they stare down at the clothes they wore, a hoodie and shorts that they always wore when their in closed doors because it was like a safe haven from all things bad and anything that disrupted their peace.

They needed it to be honest, running around with a bunch of homework in hand and some cardboard cartolinas they had to stuff in their backpack to write down a report they wrote down and write it with black markers and cut excess paper from the pictures they printed yesterday.

They never really thought about not making a powerpoint and lived to regret it now since making a powerpoint was easier since it was basically copy and paste, do research and just paste in the important bits because noone has time to read it all and it was easier as well since it would all be in their laptop.

Reaching in to the popcorn bowl they looked back up to the T.V and continued watching their movie, it was the weekend and thankfully their brother had sent them the full dvd cds of the Harry Potter movies along with some of their favorite snacks that their brother had miraculously remembered and along with some pictures of him and their parents.

Vinnie put them on their wall clipped onto a string along with different pictures they brought from home or pictures their brother had sent to them thinking they would miss home very much.

They were watching the 3rd movie Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, they weren't able to focus on the movie properly because they kept on losing track and paused the movie first to rack their brain if their forgetting for something, silently they pulled their phone out and checked their notes if they had forgotten to do something, and it seemed they had forgotten to write an essay.

"My gut feeling is always there to help me thankfully." they said to themself in a quiet tone.

They stood up and brushed off anything from their shorts and went to go to their room to get their notebook and pen to start writing an essay, the essay was about Books about fantasies and Action and write down if their beneficial and why.

The teacher from their Homeroom subject was very curious on the books they read and asked what kind of books some of the students answered Adventure, Action and Fantasy.

And the Teacher decided to ask the class to make an essay about Fantasy and Action.

Vinnie was getting tired so they just decided to resume the 3rd movie tomorrow since it was the weekend and they didn't want to mess with their healthy sleep schedule even though it was a tempting offer when all they wanted to do was just watch Harry Potter all night and probably go back to tumblr and binge the fanfics in the Harry Potter x reader tag, they weren't much biased towards the characters and read fanfics with any character they could think of because it gave off such feelings they long craved for.

But if someone were to ask who their favorite really was they would answer with the name; Viktor Krum.

He was one of the really nice characters, He was seen as scary and intimidating towards his other peers but when he was Hermione during the Yule ball they would've melted if they were Hermione and it was just absolutely cute when he asked for Hermione to write to him!

He didn't love Hermione for her body, It was her smarts, kindness and beauty.

They really grew high standards because of fictional men but they didn't really need to find the perfect partner, they just wanted someone who they could love and someone who would accept them just as they are and love them as they are.

They longed for someone like that, someone who would understand.

They snapped back to reality and realized they just finished their essay, they scanned it twice before closing the notebook and returned the notebook and pen.

They went back to the livingroom and cleaned up their mess and popped out the Cd and place it back in it's case carefully.

They turned off the T.V and closed the light in their livingroom they walked to their room and plugged their phone into the charger before going to the bathroom they went to their closet and took out a white tank top and long blue pajama wear.

Going over to the bathroom they opened the lights and went to undress and brush their teeth.

They checked if their alarm was set to wake them up early in the morning in case they would forget again and stay in bed late.

They pulled back the covers and layed in bed trapping themself in a little warm cocoon underneath their comforters.

They always had a little trouble in sleeping so they just stared at the ceiling but since it's been a few minutes now and it's getting them nowhere they threw back the comforters and walked over to the livingroom to just continue watching the 3rd movie.

'Screw sleep then' they thought as they watched all the Triwizard contestants dive down in the water.

Ever since the first movies had released they longed to be like one of the characters and to be apart of all their adventures.

So Harry Potter was like a big part of their life that helped them through thick and thin dressing up as wizards with their friends and waving the wands Vinnie and their friends made on their own, begging their parents to get an owl thinking they'll get their letter soon from Hogwarts.

Their eyelids getting heavy they slowly lied down on the couch and fell asleep.

........

They opened their eyes and was in a black void, looking down it was like there was water on the floor but it didn't feel like it since there wasn't this wet feeling beneath their feet.

They started to walk around the void, they know well they won't be able to get anywhere but they tried anyways to see it would get them anywhere.

"Hello." They jumped in surprise and turned around to be face to face with...a boy?

"Uh...Hi?" "You aren't much of a talker hm?" The boy- nah Entity said smirking down at Vinnie.

The entity stood up straight to it's full height.

Damn...And they thought they were tall being 5'11 but they just encountered people the same age and height as them since they don't go out to much at crowded places.

They didn't like crowded places that much...

"Hey!" The entity snaps their fingers infront of Vinnie's face, shaking their head they stared back up to the entity infront of them.

Now that you think of it, the entity has long jet black hair tied into a loose braid and eyes red like rubies he wore a seemingly majestic like outfit, white fabric and lined with gold and a cape designed to replicate the galaxy to top it all off.

Vinnie took a step back look at the man more with furrowed eyebrows.

'Stranger danger' They thought to themselves and tried looking around "Don't worry I'm not here to hurt you." The entity says looking back at them they had their hands up in surrender and eyes closed.

Opening their eyes there was this aura that surrounded them as they stared at Vinnie's soul with such malice "Atleast....not yet.." The entity erupted in dark laughter as it sent chills to Vinnie's spine as they took another step back and wrapped their arms around themself as in to protect themself or atleast in a sense of comfort.

"Why...Why am I here then?" they said to the Entity.

The entity crossed their arms and put a hand to their chin as if pretending to be in thought then looked directly at Vinnie and said "I don't know what do you think...Vivian." Vinnie stilled and stared at the entity with furrowed eyebrows and narrowed eyes "Don't call me that." they said with gritted teeth.

"Oh? Did I struck a nerve Vivian?" The entity once again started chuckling at their reaction.

"That name's dead." They glared at the entity.

"Hm...alright then.." The entity crossed their arms over their chest and sighed.

"Can we just cut to the chase?" Vinnie huffed and crossed their arms and looked away at the entity.

"Aren't you a snappy one." Entity chuckled.

The Entity snapped their fingers and they were floating on mid air, Vinnie made a surprised yelp and all the entity could do was chuckle and shake their head 'This one's going to be much more interesting than the others'.

The entity snapped their fingers again and Vinnie began falling, they screamed at them "Weird entity!" " It's Calcifer!" The entity just stared down as they fell with a horrified expression on their face, They looked down at Vinnie and smiled and waved at them.

As Vinnie was closing in with the hard ground....

They woke up.

------------------

This is what he have for now!

So how’d you guys like the prolouge I am not very good in writing but I know some stuff with what I shouldn’t and should do.

Anyways, Calcifer is just a dick here.

If you want more content like this. Consider giving me a follow;)

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you-a-southpaw-doll · 4 years

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Characters I Write For

*So, I decided to give y’all a list of the characters I write for. I’m doing this since I’ve written more than just Negan and JDM one-shots. And, I’m currently working on a Max from The Resident (2011) one-shot at the moment since I watched the movie again last night for the 12th time. I know that I primarily write for Negan and JDM, but when I get an idea for a story, I’ll tend to write it, regardless of which JDM character it’s for. I know that these aren’t all of the roles Jeffrey’s played over the years, but these are the T.V. shows and movies I’ve watched at least several times. If you would like to be tagged in any or all of the stories for these characters, just let me! I’ll happily add you!*

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Characters I Write For:

Jeffrey Dean Morgan

T.V. Shows:

The Walking Dead ~ Negan

Supernatural ~ John Winchester

The Good Wife ~ Jason Crouse

Extant ~ JD Richter

Texas Rising ~ “Deaf” Smith

The Secret Life of Marilyn Monroe ~ Joe DiMaggio

Shameless ~ Charlie Peters

Magic City ~ Ike Evans

Grey’s Anatomy ~ Denny Duquette

Weeds ~ Judah Botwin

Movies:

Rampage (2018) ~ OGA Agent Harvey Russell

Guns for Hire (2015) ~ Bruce

Heist (2015) ~ Luke Vaughn

Desierto (2015) ~ Sam

Solace (2015) ~ Joe Merriwether

The Salvation (2014) ~ Henry Delarue

They Came Together (2014) ~ Frank

Red Dawn (2012) ~ Sgt. Maj. Andrew Tanner

The Possession (2012) ~ Clyde

The Courier (2012) ~ The Courier

Peace, Love & Misunderstanding (2011) ~ Jude

Texas Killing Fields (2011) ~ Brian Heigh

The Resident (2011) ~ Max

Shanghai (2010) ~ Conner

The Losers (2010) ~ Clay

Watchmen (2009) ~ Edward Blake/The Comedian

The Accidental Husband (2008) ~ Patrick Sullivan

P.S. I Love You (2007) ~ William Gallagher

Dead & Breakfast (2004) ~ The Sheriff

Uncaged (1991) ~ Sharkey

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usermischief · 3 years

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Thank you for tagging me, @seven-oomen ! :D

1. When and why did you start watching Teen Wolf?

Uhh, I don’t remember that very well. The first time I watched TW was probably sometimes in the middle of s2, I think. I dropped everythin after watching 1 or 2 episodes of s4, then I picked back up around the time s5e8 (?) aired. I’m not too sure. The reason I started watching it in the first place was Tumblr and all the pretty gifs, I assume, because TW wasn’t that big in Germany. Not sure how it’s now, but I don’t think it’s that popular here.

2. Who’s your favorite character? Are you like this character in any way?

Stiles. I don’t know. I kinda do see a lot of myself in Stiles, but that’s not really the reason he’s my favourite character. It’s more about how much effort Dylan put into his character and how multi-facetted he is.

3. What’s your favorite season?

3b. For one, Kira is introduced. And then there’s Void. And Stiles. I enjoyed myself so much during that season. There’s a lot going on in the season that doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I still loved it so much. Pretty sure Dylan’s brilliant acting is a very big reason for my feelings about 3b. (I also enjoy 5a because it’s essentially Steo Season even though it’s a mess plotwise lol)

4. Is there a scene that is really emotional for you?

This one is hard. I don’t think I can narrow it down to one specific scene. A lot of Isaac’s as well as Stiles’ emotional scenes get me. Daniel and Dylan just know exactly how to get this brutally honest emotion across. Also, 90% of the Stilinski hugs are the best kind of torture for me personally.

5. Who’s your favorite villain?

Void Stiles (very closely followed by Theo Raeken). What I like about Void is that he doesn’t have a tragic backstory. He doesn’t even have a real motive. He’s just there to fuck shit up because he craves chaos, strife, and pain. That’s all there is to it. No vendetta. No desire for revenge after Noshiko locked him up. No ulterior motives. NO REDEMPTION ARC. Void was set free, he saw the buffet right and front of him, and he went for it. (He’s creepy as hell as well, so that’s a bonus).

6. What’s your favorite canon/fanon romantic relationship?

My favourite canon romantic relationship is... Boyd/Erica, and that wasn’t even shown as outright romantic. Other than that, I actually don’t like a single relationship shown on screen. TW couldn’t write a single desirable romantic relationship. My favourite fanon romantic relationship is Steo.

7. What’s your favorite canon/fanon platonic relationship?

My favourite canon platonic relationship is a tossup between Lori & Brett as well as Stiles & Lydia. My favourite fanon platonic relationship is Kira & Stiles (as of writing this).

8. If you could have one thing in canon that’s not ship related, what would it be?

I would protect Theo Raeken from the massacre he had to endure in s6. May his character rest in peace. No, seriously. His character arc is a hot mess. Nothing makes a lot of sense. Aside from the fact that empathy isn’t something you can learn in a single fucking day, Theo’s character was adapted to whatever the plot needed. He did things his character wouldn’t have done under normal circumstances. His character assassination started at the end of 5b when Theo suddenly shifted from “a pack is what makes an alpha powerful” to “I will be powerful by stealing the power of La Bête”. Theo is smarter than to be manipulated by Deucalion.

9. If you could have one thing in canon that is ship related, what would it be?

Nothing. I don’t want JD to touch any of my ships. Every single romantic relationship on screen was problematic as hell — and the only one who was portrayed as toxic was Jydia. So, no. I’m very happy that none of my ships has ever become canon. I like it this way. Thank you very much.

10. Tell us something positive about Teen Wolf!

The fandom is great. ;)

As per usual, I tag whoever wants to do it!

#tag games

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taylorroger-s · 4 years

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heartsick.

a/n my first (kinda) deaky fic!! IT’S A LOVE TRIANGLE LADS!!! i just kinda needed to write this? it has been a work in progress since february and i haven’t found the push to finish it until recently when i looked through my google docs and started finishing some wips. this is wild as hell man. kinda sad i cut it off right before THAT japan trip tho… part two anyone??

masterlist here!

people who asked to be tagged: @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @johndeaconsgf @cowparsleys

warnings : angst, curse words, some partying, briefest suggestion of infidelity, the whole shebang. 9.1k words baby

enjoy :)

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john had always loved your smile. the way your eyes crinkled at the edges and your dimples showed. the hint of white teeth behind your plush lips. he would walk heaven and earth just to make you happy.

now you were smiling that beautiful smile, but it wasn’t for him. it was for your newly minted fiancé.

you had met john the first day of secondary school. you were placed in the same french class, seated diagonal to him. the first time you heard his voice was about an hour into the lesson when the teacher said something you couldn’t remember, and deaky muttered a dirty comment. you snorted out of laughter, drawing his attention. when your eyes met his, john knew he was a goner.

from that day onward, the two of you were ingrained in each other’s lives. from birthdays to holidays, sickness and health, he was there for you as you were for him. it took it an almost ridiculous amount of time for him to realize his feelings for you.

the kicker was that he couldn’t tell if you felt the same. you were almost inhumanly hard to read, with a devilish grin and sharp wit. you treated most with the same cool attitude, same suave confidence that drove him insane. it didn’t help that you were also devastatingly attractive.

every time you showed interest in him his heart would race and cheeks flush, stumbling over his words to find a response somehow as witty as you. you were unafraid of eye contact, able to make deaky crazy with just a smirk and eyebrow raise.

for years, john had convinced himself that you were harboring feelings for him just as he was for you. it might have been true, you were always quite affectionate towards him and particular, giving you an unproportional amount of attention when around other people. but sometimes that would flip, and you would ignore him all together for hours. that didn’t stop him from twisting each bit of witty banter into a sign that you were in to him. only you knew your true feelings, but that didn’t stop deaky from speculating. from what he could tell, you were also horribly oblivious and most likely didn’t have a single inkling of his feelings.

despite this, your friendship was still good and sincere. john could put away his feelings to keep that alive, tiptoeing around the idea of being something more.

through either a strain of luck or misfortune you ended up going to the same university, growing even closer through shared classes and drunken nights. by then, deaky’s feelings had only intensified, while yours stayed a closely guarded secret. who knows? maybe you did have feelings for him. you sure as hell wouldn’t admit anything, and neither would john. so the two of you stayed in that limbo for ages.

until john joined queen. your world and, by association, his flipped upside down because of a certain blond haired drummer.

his first official queen gig. july 2nd, 1971. it was a college gig in surrey, and the first time deaky introduced you to his bandmates. he had joined the band in february of that year, but hadn’t let you meet his new bandmates quite yet. when the day finally came, you dressed up much more than you would for a typical rock concert. when you rolled up to deaky’s flat, john swore that his jaw hit the floor.

distressed leather jacket and tight black skinny jeans, with a low cut, patterned tank top. you wore high heeled, stained white combat books and silver stud earrings. your smoked out eyeliner just added to your addicting mystique, as did your blood red lipstick. compared to you, deaky looked like a broke college student, which he was. you looked even more like a rockstar than he did. john could barely believe his luck when you ran up and gave him a big hug, confessing how excited you were for him. it assured deaky that you were still his.

right?

you chatted excitedly during the ride about one of your various passions while he stayed quiet. it wasn’t like he was bored, quite the opposite actually. deaky could listen to you talk for hours and hours. he adored the way your voice changed pitch as you got more excited, the way you acted out your thoughts animatedly with your hands, and that goddamn smile you would offer him after pausing for breath. your eyes would show that rare glimmer of emotion. and it was all for him.

once you reached the venue, john was having second thoughts. he didn’t want to share you with everyone, which he was embarrassed to admit. he knew that the magnetic nature of his bandmates would draw you away from him, which was almost debilitatingly terrifying. he wouldn’t be able to stand growing apart from you. so he devised a small scheme to hold off the inevitable.

“hey y/n? how about you stay out here. i can meet you backstage after. i think it would be better to experience it from the crowd.” your face fell slightly. you were excited to be part of the behind the scenes experience of a rock band, it was one of the few things you had yet to do. but you understood his concern. it made your heart flutter just a bit. you gave him a quick embrace and kiss on the cheek before going off to find some alcohol.

he breathed a sigh of relief as he watched you weave your way in between the crowd. he still had you to himself, even if it was just until the end of the gig. shoving down his feelings, deaky made his way to the backstage space where his bandmates were lounging around, going through their pre-show rituals.

roger was sitting on a drum case, a cigarette hanging precariously from his lips. his thin fingers tapped away on his thighs, cycling through the drum patterns he had memorized. brian sipped from a half empty beer bottle, eyes trained on the ceiling. freddie was hunched over a mirror, fluffing his hair with a frown on his face.

freddie turned to john, looking at his outfit with lips twisted in a look of disapproval. freddie was dressed quite extravagantly, while deaky had opted for a simple t-shirt and jeans.

“dear god deaky, what are you wearing?” john frowned, looking down at his outfit and then back up to freddie.

“uhh, clothes?”

“oh no, that won’t do.” he shook his shoulder length curls, waving a black nailed hand at deaky’s gig attire.

“please tell me why it won’t.”

“it’s so… plain. we’re queen for god’s sake! we have to look the part!” freddie waved his hands dramatically, showing off his tight leather jumpsuit, one leg in white and the other in black. his dark eyes were lined with smoky eyeliner, making his strong features pop even more. deaky just had his hair brushed, wearing a ‘the who’ shirt and bell bottoms.

john had to admit, he looked quite plain compared to the rest of the band. brian was wearing a sequined black top with batwing sleeves, and tight leather trousers. roger opted for an open floral blazer, with zebra stripe patterned trousers for no discernible reason. john looked more like a concert goer than a rockstar. but he wasn’t about to back down.

“i’m alright with the plain then.”

“one day… i will change your mind, mark my words.” freddie said with a mischievous grin. john just rolled his eyes, trying to suppress a smile. though he had only been a part of the group for a few months, they already felt like brothers to him.

deaky walked over to his bass, resting it on his lap. he absentmindedly plucked away to a random beat, letting the music cycle through him and calm him down. his eyes fluttered shut. he fell back on a memory to soothe his nerves. he thought of you, sitting with your head on his shoulder as he strummed softly on his bass. he could almost feel your hair tickling his cheek as you shifted to sit up and look at him.

“that’s beautiful.” you had said, toying with the ends of deaky’s long hair. your chin was rested on his shoulder, nose just barely touching his jawline.

“think it has potential.” your closeness drowned out any rational thought he could scrape up, but each brush of your skin against his brought him back to earth. you were a drug that sent him reeling with his head in the clouds, heart pounding at every sly look and smile. he was far, far gone for you.

“that’s some grade a bullshit john.” you pulled his hand from the bass and laced your fingers with his, tracing small circles on the back of his palm. that was his favorite memory of you. you were so relaxed and peaceful, which made him feel the same. it was always the last thing he thought of before he ever had to confront a crowd.

“you alright deaks?” roger asked, pulling john back from his memory into the gritty reality of the cramped backstage in that tiny pub. he nodded, taking off the strap of the bass and resting it against the arm of his chair. roger offered him his cigarette and deaky gave him a gracious smile, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke out through his mouth and nose. after a couple more puffs, they got the signal that it was time. john took one last pull before stubbing the cigarette out and picking up his bass. here goes nothing.

the small main room was packed, people standing shoulder to shoulder to watch them play. it was flat out electrifying. they cheered raucously as brian strummed the opening note of liar, freddie joining with vocals not long after. john scrunched his eyebrows in concentration during his solo, skilled fingers rapidly plucking away at the four strings of his bass guitar. after his part ended, he looked up, searching the crowd for you.

after just a moment, he caught a glimpse of you near the center of the crowd, dancing and singing along wildly. your face almost immediately brightened when you caught him watching, and you shot him a bright smile with some enthusiastic thumbs up. it made john’s heart swell, and he returned your smile. soon freddie’s iconic line “mama i’m gonna be your slave” and deaky rushed to his side to sing the “all day long” line.

every time he sang, he locked eyes with you, which gave him just enough confidence to sing in front of the crowd, especially since he had always considered himself a bad singer. you had always vehemently disagreed, saying that you absolutely loved john’s singing voice, but he couldn’t really tell if you were humoring him or not. for the record, you weren’t.

but only one song later, when john had nothing to play, he looked back at you, hoping to see you smile one more time. but you weren’t focused on him. you were focused on the drummer right behind him. deaky whipped his head around, stomach twisting when he saw the look in roger’s eyes. one that he had seen during practices whenever he would bring along a groupie. a lustful, dangerous look now aimed entirely at you from across the cramped stage, you being barely close enough for roger to see you with full clarity (he had atrocious eyesight). and you seemed to be returning his coy smile, even grinning and breaking his gaze when roger gave you a cheeky wink. john was so busy looking between the two of you that he almost missed his cue. this was going to be a long evening.

the rest of the show passed in a blur, one filled with sly glances and flirtatious gestures from across the room. but they weren’t for john, on the contrary. they were all for roger, who you were basically eye-fucking from the crowd. and he was certainly enjoying it. deaky was decidedly not. he could feel the regret pooling in his gut. you were just too irresistible to deny, and when you begged to go to his first gig, he couldn’t say no.

but now you were completely enamored by that blond casanova, one of john’s closest friends. that was when he knew that it was the beginning of the end. he could feel you slipping through his fingers. and it was absolutely terrifying. you had been by his side for so long, that a world without you next to him was unfathomable.

after the show, you came straight to deaky, almost jumping into his arms. he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in, placing a hand on the back of your head to hold you close. that was the same position you had been in after your highschool boyfriend broke your heart, or when your grandma died. deaky had held you close and let you weep into his jacket, whispering soothing words.

“deaks! you did so amazing!” you pulled back a little, placing a hand on his cheek. he melted into your touch, consciously aware of the goofy grin he must be sporting. you had such an intoxicating effect on him.

“i’m very proud of you, don’t you forget it.” your thumb slowly moved back and forth across the skin of his cheek, leaving a trail of warmth in your wake. john pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your back. he wanted to drink in that moment for as long as possible. but he felt you start to back up, and he knew exactly why. because over his shoulder came a cloud of cigarette smoke and expensive shampoo fragrance, and john let you go, even though it felt like you were being ripped away instead.

roger clapped john on the back, startling him. deaky looked over his shoulder and saw roger looking you up and down with a dangerous look in his eyes. he glanced between the two of you for a few moments, heart rate steadily increasing as time went on.

“you must be y/n, i’m roger, the drummer.” he took your hand, raised it to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of your palm. you were frozen in shock for a moment before responding.

“nice to meet you roger.”

“so you’re not a myth?”

“what’s that’s supposed to mean hm?”

“well, john always talks about you like you are some sort of goddess. we didn’t believe him for a long while, but now that you’re standing here? he certainly wasn’t exaggerating.” roger looked you up and down, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. you smiled, genuinely smiled at his words. john had never seen you so instantly smitten. roger had you, you of all people, in the palm of his hand.

“well aren’t you a flatterer.” you gave him a sly smile, giving roger a quick once over and a cocky eyebrow raise. deaky felt his heart crack just a little more. the two of you were so charismatic and confident that it was almost unfair. two people that bewitching should be forbidden from flirting with each other, in john’s opinion.

“only with gorgeous women.” john’s stomach flipped and churned, and he felt lightheaded. seeing you so clearly enamored with his best friend sent deaky reeling. he and roger had always had a special connection being the two youngest members of queen. they were extremely close, and roger was john’s best friend second only to you. john couldn’t imagine having both you and roger separate from him. it would break his heart.

while deaky was silently spiraling, roger had taken a step closer to you, nudging john just a little bit further away. as if he was no longer inhabiting his body, john took another step back, though every cell in his body was screaming to take you by the hand and head to his flat for one of your impromptu movie nights. but it was too late, even though john had yet to accept it.

after a few more minutes of lip bites and silver-tongued words, freddie waltzed over, announced there was an after party at the nearby pub, and pulled john to his side for the walk, leaving you next to roger. the door swung open as the small posse walked out, high on post-show adrenaline. john was standing in front of you, harnessing all of his willpower that wasn’t swept away by the cool summer night to not look over his shoulder, because he knew he wouldn’t like what he saw.

from what he could hear over freddie’s rapid story about some debaucherous party in his uni days, you and roger were pulling each other in ever so slightly as the seconds passed. every time he heard your airy laughter deaky could practically see the gorgeous smile that would adorn your features, the way your eyes would crinkle at the edges as the conversation drew on.

soon enough, they reached the pub, all primed and ready to get drunk in celebration of their first queen gig together. that would surely take the edge off of john’s steadily growing headache at roger and yours closeness. when he turned around, what he saw made him want to down at least three tequila shots to purge it from his mind.

you were bundled up in roger’s plush fur coat, despite the mild temperature. his arm was slung dangerously low across your back, nimble fingers tracing circles along your hip bone as you strode through the pub’s creaky wooden doors. you were laughing at something he said, a painted nail trailing down his chest. it was almost like no one was in the room.

what really hurt deaky’s heart was your myriad of traditions the two of you shared on every night out ever since his eighteenth birthday, that you had decided to ignore. one shot of cheap tequila, then a gin and tonic for the both of you. but while john was walking toward you with two shot glasses in hand, you were leaning into roger heavily while he whispered something in your ear, a glass of whiskey and a cigarette in one of his hands, the other on your thigh.

before you could see the hurt in his eyes, john turned, downed the shots, and walked towards the dance floor, determined to forget your awe-struck eyes as you looked up at roger. and it was just his luck that the song playing was “how deep is your love” one of your’s and deaky’s favorite songs to dance together. yet by some cruel twist of fate, he was alone, shuffling to the beat while stealing brief glances at you whenever possible.

two gin and tonics later, he had nearly forgotten about you and roger just across the bar as he bobbed his head to the music, sipping his drink every now and then. he was so distracted by the music that he barely noticed a tug on his long wavy hair, a habit you had picked up to draw his attention since he was a good few inches taller than you. it was clear to see you were a little tipsy by how heavily you were leaning against the bar, one hand gripping deaky’s bicep.

“deaks, i’m gonna head. it was a long night, and i really need some… rest. but i can’t tell you enough how proud i am of you okay? you are an amazing best friend and i am so happy for you. good night johnny-boy.” your words were a little too airy for his liking, and as he bid you goodbye, he could see why.

wrapped in rogers fur coat, you smiled as the drummer whispered something in your ear. john nearly dropped his drink, but instead stood back and stared as you left the bar under roger's spell. he could feel you slipping away, into the embrace of his best friend and bandmate.

that was the beginning of the end.

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“whatcha thinkin bout deaks?”

“huh?” john mumbled, eyes closed as your fingers slipped in between his wavy hair, forming a long braid against his back. he always loved when you played with his hair. it calmed him down immensely, which was desperately needed. he had tried to ignore that you were at queen’s recording sessions more often than not, cooly ignoring him- or at least in john’s mind - in favor of watching roger.

he could only hold on to the sick, twisted hope that you would see roger’s youthful promiscuity and let him go, sending things back to how it was before. but john was kidding himself. it felt like he had been from the start.

“you seem a little… distracted,” you mused, resting your head on his shoulder as your gaze shifted to the quiet tv program inching by on your beat up box telly. there was a stillness in the air, sharp and cool, sticking to your skin.

“‘m busy, that’s all. band is getting more popular, starting ideas for an album,” he murmured after a minute or two, placing his head against yours as an olive branch to break the alien tension surrounding the room. john couldn’t get the image of you in roger’s coat from his eyes, a smile he knew so well etched on your lips.

“that’s amazing john. i am not kidding when i say queen might be the greatest band ever conceived.” he just laughed, nudging your shoulder playfully. the same old pattern reborn once more.

“even more than the bee gees? marvin gaye?”

“okay, maybe not gaye,”

“you wound me, love.” you just smiled, slowly untangling yourself from the pile of blankets, tip-toeing over to the record player tucked in your bookshelf. john shifted to watch as you flipped through the impressive vinyl collection filling the empty shelves. you quickly turned once the needle was gently placed on your chosen song, holding out a hand to deaky with an eyebrow raised. after a few seconds, the song started playing, and john matched your soft smile.

listen baby, ain’t no mountain high

ain’t no valley low, ain’t no river wide enough baby

he pulled you gently into his arms, with one hand in the center of your back, the other gripping yours so tightly as if he was holding on for dear life. you either didn’t notice his desperate hold or declined to mention it. you just kept on whispering the words, slowly swaying back and forth to the relaxed beginning of the song.

‘cause baby there ain’t no mountain high enough

ain’t no valley low enough

john drew back, twirling you along with the rising tempo. your smile only grew, growing more goofy as your dancing continued. he could barely register the music, focused solely on the feel of your warm hand against his, the sweet scent you carried everywhere you went. you giggled at his dance moves, mirroring the exaggerated slow dance

ain’t no river wide enough

to keep me from getting to you babe

without warning, john dipped you, fingers intertwined. a beat passed as he simply looked at you, eyes scanning your face hungrily as if he would never see you again. you were so close, his warm breath tickled your cheek. your heart skipped a beat, and he could only hold tight as the song spiraled to its end. you cleared your throat and flicked your gaze from him to the record player. getting the hint, he slowly, deliberately lifted you back up onto steady feet.

deaky watched as you hurried to the record player. he could feel his stomach drop to his feet at your quick change in posture. did he make a mistake? did he overstep his boundaries? with each hypothetical his doubt and anxiety rose, rooted to one spot, incapable of moving while your back was turned. you cleared your throat, head lifting with you still facing the records.

“you should…”

“yeah, see you later then?”

“goodnight johnny-boy”

“goodnight”

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deaky was on his knees in the crowded backstage, various screws and wires around him as his deft fingers worked on adjusting his amp, making sure that everything was just right for the last show of their very first american tour. there were supposed to be more, but brian contracted hepatitis so the tour was cut short.

may eleventh, 1974, just under three years after john’s first queen gig, and your first time meeting the band. meeting roger. things had continued as he had expected. you at every gig, on rogers arm whenever free, often disappearing and returned some time later looking noticeably disheveled. time had made the pain less sharp, but the ache was still there. the ache for you to be by his side instead of roger’s.

john missed being close to you. they were across the atlantic ocean, muscling through long rehearsals and, as the evening before played out, two gigs in one day. in his distraction, a sharp edge scraped his thumb, drawing a thin line of blood that glistened under the lights. he muttered a soft curse, considering wiping the blood on his pants before hearing freddie’s voice in his head. “go change deaky, we can’t have you drawing too much attention!” john smiled to himself at the thought, winding his way through the faceless crew, searching for the dressing room. once he reached the door and reached for the handle, a noise came from the door that caused him to draw back his hand as if the handle was a thousand degrees.

it was a name. roger’s name. high and giggly, and certainly not in your voice. deaky wanted to throw up. he knew it. roger was like a brother to him but he couldn’t shake the wave of anger that coursed through his veins. john expected this to happen, though he knew it was wrong- so very wrong- to think the worst of his bandmate. your tear stained face filled his mind’s eye, bringing with it crippling waves of guilt. he didn’t want to get involved, it was your business. but goddammit john wanted you to see the truth.

his internal debate was cut short when you rounded the corner, absolutely stopping any brain activity in its tracks. you weren’t supposed to be there. they were in new york for god sakes, and you weren’t supposed to be there. his internal monologue snapped back into action, keenly aware of the activities most likely occurring behind that closed door.

“deaks!!! i’ve missed you! how has america been?” john barely registered the action as you threw your arms around him, squeezing him tight. every muscle in his body was tense with anger, guilt, sadness, that squishy feeling your presence always brought him. you loosened your grip after noticing his lack of reciprocation, but john quickly moved to pull you close, burying his face in your hair.

“missed you too love.” you drew back, bright smile on your face. but your focus was clearly no longer on john, eyes scanning the hallway behind him for a certain someone. a certain someone who deaky suspected wasn’t being as faithful as you.

“hey where’s rog?”

“he’s uhh… look, love, i think he might be with someone else right now. through that door. i’m so sorry. i’m here for you.” he had to force the words out. they scorched his tongue and hung in the air like thick, harsh smog. his heart dropped as your eyes widened, hands coming up to cover your mouth. some sick part of john was almost joyful at the prospect of your relationship with roger ending. you would certainly come to him for comfort, you would hang out more, and then his highschool fantasy would finally play out.

right?

“are you… but… john…” the way your voice wavered hammered a crack in his heart. a sharp stinging picked at his guilty cheer, slowly dragging him down to earth. this wasn’t anything to be excited about.

“i’m so sorry love.” deaky stepped forward, arms open to embrace you, but your hand went up to stop him. your other hand was clutched tight to your chest. it was dead silent in your small section of the corridor, save for your irregular breaths and deaky’s heavy ones. your gaze was focused on the crack at the bottom of the door, breath hitching as your bright eyes followed another shadow. there weren't many words he could discern through the dressing room door, but that uncertainty only made the doubt worse. what could have caused the sudden quiet?

“don’t. i need to see him. right. now.” your spine straightened and you held your chin high. though you still sounded shaky, john could tell that your temper was about to boil over.

“alright, i’m right here if you need me. that menace doesn’t know what you can do.” he watched your expression as you took a shuddering breath, slowly lifting your eyes from the floor. tears clung to the corners of your lashes, stubbornly refusing to fall. deaky reached out a tentative hand, and you waited a moment before taking it. your shoulders relaxed as his fingers intertwined with yours, and john felt his heart swell just a little. maybe there was hope for him yet.

“thank you john, i mean it. you are the only thing i can depend on, apparently.” your weary tone made his hand squeeze tighter. deaky brought your clasped hands up and pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand. the soft smile that appeared on your lips gave him another boost. you were strong enough to not be broken by roger, and even if you were hurt, john would be there to hold you. with another deep breath, you reached for the door knob and pushed the door open, ready to see what john had been anticipating.

both of you were wrong.

freddie fucking mercury stood in front of a sitting roger, eye pencil in hand. they were both laughing, freddie clearly mocking some critic or interviewer he encountered. freddie stepped back, taking hold of roger’s chin as he admired his handiwork.

“gorgeous rog, our dear y/n won’t be able to keep her eyes off you.” freddie had a mischievous smirk, everything clicking together as john surveyed the scene. roger’s eyes widened, and he turned towards the doorway where you stood. the fear drained from your eyes and was replaced with anger. anger reserved specifically for john. you dropped his hand, curling it into a fist by your side.

“love! what are you doing here?” roger immediately hopped off his stool, racing to sweep you off your feet with an excited squeak from you. he held you in the air for a moment before placing you back down, making sure to pepper your skin with feather light kisses while he waited for an answer.

“freddie flew me out here for the rest of the tour…”

“something wrong love?” roger asked, genuine concern in his soft voice. deaky’s guilt was mounting by the second, manifesting as a dense weight collecting in the pit of his stomach. oh lord. he really messed up now. the look of seething contempt on your face was enough to make his entire world crumble.

he fucked up. he really, truly fucked up. john's growing fixation on yours and roger's relationship was driving you farther away. in that moment, he felt something break. your trust.

"nope, just waiting for a fascinating discussion with our dear john here. i love you little drummer boy." roger grinned, leaning down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. he seemed over the moon just to have you by his side, gazing at you with a childlike wonder. and john selfishly doubted that devotion. though an outsider would shrug off this fumble and move on, the dynamic that formed since you had met roger wrote this severance in stone.

roger wasn’t oblivious as john assumed when it came to your relationship with deaky. he noticed that john was in love with you, even if you couldn’t see it. so once the drummer picked up on your scorching glare, and john’s palpable guilt, his heart broke as well. there was no need for him to say the words. roger wasn’t mad, just disappointed that deaky would think so low of him.

“mind if i listen in on this fascinating discussion my love?”

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you decidedly avoided john until the gig began, and roger followed suit. deaky was wracked with guilt, stumbling through the show. his fingers slipped across the strings without much reason, causing fred to occasionally shoot a glance to get him back on track. the drums seemed a bit… louder than usual, aggressively perfect timing contrasting with john’s fumbling performance. the crowd didn’t seem to mind, but the band members were far from alright.

after the show, things weren’t much better. brian tried to catch deaky on their way off, presumably to give him an earful about their “god awful performance john, good lord” but he slammed the door to the bathroom shut and locked it before he had to face anymore reckoning. freddie was the next to demand an answer, taking the slightly more conservative route of screaming “pull that shit again or so help me god of rock and roll, i will break every…” and so on.

you didn’t bless john with your presence, but your absence spoke wonders. roger didn’t show up in front of the bathroom door either. once deaky crept out a vague amount of time later, the boys were far from calm, but there was no longer a threat of being burnt alive from their anger. the energy in the dressing room was horribly tense. brian and freddie seemed clueless to the reason for roger’s anger, both just focused on the show.

“wanna give us an explanation deaky?” brian muttered, leaning against a wall where multiple mirrors stood. john could see himself reflected in one of the smudged surfaces, brown eyes dark with a storm of emotions. roger was reflected in another, sitting with his elbows on his knees on a beat up couch. his face was a stony mask; completely unreadable.

“well uh… roger and,” john attempted to explain, but couldn’t seem to grasp the right words. each time he reached for something cohesive, it slipped through his fingers and he was left at square one. while deaky struggled with his words, freddie was getting impatient.

“i cannot deal with this sober. you two stay here and work out your fucking problems. better now than tomorrow morning. we’ll be at that bar across the street.” freddie declared, grabbing brian by the arm and pulling him out the door to mumbled protest. freddie silenced him with a loud hush sound, pushing brian out the door and slamming it behind him.

“so uh…” john started off, still not able to look roger in the eyes. instead, he focused on the reflection, dingy fluorescents shiny on roger’s dirty blond hair. but he didn’t seem angry. his body language spoke more of defeat and disheartenment. somehow, that hurt worse than your harsh words.

“look, i’m not mad. just disappointed that you think i would ever do that to her. i know she’s your best friend, but i love her and i would never hurt her like that,” roger was so sincere, locking eyes with john through the mirror. disappointment was certainly a word to describe the look in his eyes, along with sadness and just a hint of guilt. roger was guilty because as a younger student, there was a bit of infidelity present, and there was some weight to john’s concern. but he had grown, and he really loved you.

“i know, and i’m so sorry. you’re also one of my best friends, and i just got ahead of myself because…” john ran a hand through his long hair, gearing up for a confession of what he had known for years, but never had the strength to say out loud.

“you love her too. i know. i can’t and won’t try to change your mind, because i get it. and yeah, i haven’t known her nearly as long as you, but i love her so much,” roger’s voice cracked at the end, sending a similar crack through john’s heart. roger leaned back on the couch, a distinctly sad smile on his face. this was really all deaky had ever wanted for you. someone who loved you unconditionally, and just wanted you to be happy. someone who would never hurt you. john desperately wanted to be that person for you. but that ship might have sailed.

“yeah… i- i do. but now i think she wants nothing to do with me.” now it was john’s turn to break. losing you would hurt him irreparably, but maybe it would be the best for you. he wanted you to be happy more than anything. however, john’s selfish side yearned to tether you to him and never let go.

“just give her time, i’ll talk to her. you still are her best friend, she’ll forgive you.” roger felt weird to be comforting john when he was the one hurt. and it really hurt. because one: you were hurting, two: john, one of his best friends, caused it, and three: said best friend though he was capable of cheating so blatantly in such a serious relationship. roger watched deaky in the mirror as the moment stretched on, mind buzzing with all the events of the day.

“time… i think she still might be mad at me for breaking her calculator when we were seventeen, what if she never forgives me? because oh boy, she loves you, and i don’t know if she could let this all go…” john began to pace, messing with his hair even more. his gaze was unfocused, eyes sweeping back and forth across the room as he tried to gather his thoughts into some cohesive train.

“well, i forgive you. this tour won’t get any easier if we are at each other’s throats.” john nearly slumped to the ground in relief. he wouldn’t be able to stand losing two friends. roger got up from the couch, walking over to deaky. without hesitation, he folded him into a hug, clapping john on the back. conversation over, friend forgiven, and now you were the only uncertainty in deaky’s life.

“now come on, let’s go find y/n and head to the bar. after today’s gig, i need a strong drink or two.” roger sounded relieved and ready to move on from the days events, and john was all for it. but he knew that you would be in no mood to see him, and that would definitely put a damper on the evening. truthfully? he wanted to sleep. sleep, and forget the entire day preferably.

“you go on ahead, i don’t think she wants to see me right now.” john muttered, roger’s hand on his shoulder after stepping back.

“alright, take care deaks.”

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true to deaky’s word, you were not quick to forgive. it took six months for a major step towards healing took place at their “night at the rainbow” shows in late november, where roger infamously trashed his drumset on stage.

you had decided to accompany them for the uk and american legs of the sheer heart attack tour, so there had been a handful of shows you were present during where deaky was soundly ignored. he did an alright job of ignoring you, no matter how much it pained him. he had adopted freddie’s flair for the dramatic clothing wise by that point. roger was always ready to go all out, and you were almost always up for helping him get ready. john had walked in on you two in compromising positions multiple times, which definitely didn’t help your frosty attitude towards deaky.

but at the rainbow theater those nights, something was off between you and roger. from what he could hear, there was some wild misunderstanding before the first show, resulting in a major shouting match while the rest of the band waited outside the dressing room. some time later, you stormed out, leaving roger alone inside. freddie glared at john aggressively until he got the message to follow you and fix his mistakes.

deaky found you right in the wings of the stage, sitting on a spare amplifier while the roadies were doing a soundcheck. your shoulders were slumped forward, eyes trained on the dust streaked stage while chaos whirled around you. the sad eye of the storm.

“i know you’re there johnny-boy. and no, i don’t want to talk.” his heart unconsciously skipped a beat when you used his nickname, before plummeting back to earth from the gravity of the situation. you sounded more hurt than angry, and as to why deaky didn’t know. but he had waited so long for a chance at reconciliation, and this was the best chance he had gotten in ages. he wasn’t about to let it slip by.

“that’s alright. i’ll wait.” john took a seat on a box just a few feet behind you, crossing one leg over the other while he waited. he knew you long enough to understand that you would immediately clam up when interrogated. so he waited, letting you relax into his presence. after five straight minutes of silence, you finally spoke.

“he can be so stupid sometimes. all i wanted was to know how long he would be gone tonight, and he just snapped. i know you guys are under a lot of stress, but he was the one who asked me to come. i just want to spend time with him.” you sounded so defeated, but john couldn’t be more excited that you finally decided to really talk with him.

“yeah, he can be a real arse.” you chuckled to yourself at his response, lifting your eyes from the floor to focus more on the stage lights and various instruments being towed around.

“you could say that again. but… he really loves you. i’m sure you’ll be alright.” deaky had to force the words out, no matter how deeply he knew them to be true. he still was crazy about you, and jealousy ripped through his body when you mentioned roger.

“thanks for listening john. i know things have been a little… iffy between us. maybe a lot iffy. and don’t take this as forgiveness. but i miss my best friend. i am not ready to let your mistrust go just yet, but consider this… progress.” john’s heart swelled at your… well… acceptance of his mistake.

“i’ll take anything at this point.” you laughed lightly at his words, going quiet again right after. the moment was over. progress was certainly made, but the conversation just made john miss you more. that evening, roger trashed his drum set, fuming as he walked offstage when the show was done. you were there waiting for him and the two of you made up. the next day, things were essentially back to the way before the rainbow theater. but you would actually talk to john now. you would laugh at his jokes, tease him; progress.

things weren’t truly, totally, alright between the two of you until the very last show of the american leg, right before they went on stage. after the show, things were a little up in the air.

but before, everything became perfectly mended. john was getting ready in the dressing room, in the back of a venue in seattle he did not know the name of. the rest of the boys were there, goofing off as usual. brian was taking photos of roger posing with ridiculous faces, occasionally calling out directions for how he should look. roger was just laughing, fluffing his hair in front of a tall standing mirror.

john sat on a low sofa pushed against one of the cracked brick walls, you sitting on the other side. there was a tense silence in your side of the room, both you and john doing anything to ignore each other’s presence. they were heading to japan the next day, which means you were heading back home to the uk, and the boys weren’t going to be back until may.

john fell back to his pre-performance memory of you and him. without even knowing it, his gaze shifted to you. just as beautiful as ever. he could almost feel the soft brush of your hair against his cheek, the comforting weight of your hand in his. your whispered words from that day prickled his skin, sending a brief shiver down his spine.

“something you need from me, john?” you caught john staring at you with a wistful look in his eye, breaking his gaze almost immediately after making eye contact. you focused instead on the soft curls of his brown hair until he responded.

“just… antsy i guess.” john wouldn’t look at you once caught, glancing down to his fidgeting hands, freddie preening in front of the mirror, brian fiddling with his camera. he wanted to avoid a potential blowout, no matter how nice it felt to casually talk with you.

“you’re gonna do great. you always do great johnny.” he still couldn’t face you, but the sincerity of your words eased his spirit. no matter how much time passed without speaking, you would always find each other. and deaky was pretty sure he had found you once more.

“well i have my best friends here, i can’t in good conscience give less than my best.” john spoke as casually as possible, gathering the courage to finally look you in the eye. what he saw almost made him melt. you were looking at him with a soft smile that made his world right itself and revolve around you.

“you’re a good man deaky. and i forgive you. truthfully, i’m sorry as well.” a beat passed before you scooted closer to him, tension slowly building in the shrinking space between you. it was broken by you surging forward and wrapping your arms around john’s neck, inhaling his scent with deep, calming breaths. he fell stiff for a moment before embracing you back, almost shedding a tear as he tightened his grip little by little. the room fell away and it was just you and deaky.

“never apologize to me, love. i’m just glad to have you back.” john whispered breathily against your neck, closing his eyes for one long moment before he felt you soften your hold and pull back, stolen from the moment by roger taking a seat on your other side. he couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment of rejection, but the feel of you in his arms chased away the worries he might have clung to before the show began.

“so you two have finally made up?” roger said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. you leaned into him, resting a hand on his chest through the open vest he wore. the peaceful, dopey grin john had fell just a tad, but for the moment, just for a moment, he was content.

“i think we have, my love.” you responded lazily, pressing a kiss to the underside of roger’s jaw. that was john’s que to leave. he playfully ruffle your hair just like he once did to you as a teen, then reluctantly got up, walking over to where freddie fussed over his leather jumpsuit and shimmering wristlet.

after just a few minutes of having freddie fuss over john’s appearance, the band was called to the stage. you followed them to the door, giving roger a deep kiss and the rest of the band tight hugs. you whispered faintly in deaky’s ear before pulling away, to which he responded by just squeezing you tighter. he heard roger cough, and slowly released his grip around your waist.

“i’m very proud of you, don’t you forget it.” you smiled after john released you, somehow feeling bold enough to place a hand on his cheek. for a second, a river of unspoken words flowed from him to you, deflected smoothly by your emotional walls. john sighed, taking your wrist between his calloused fingers. he squeezed your hand, then let it fall to your side.

“never. i’ll see you soon.” he waved on his way out the door, sneaking one look over his shoulder just before turning the corner and being rewarded with roger kissing you in one last goodbye. splendid.

that show might have been the jewel in the crown of sheer heart attack’s american tour. john and roger were shockingly in sync, brian’s solos sounded better than ever, and freddie’s voice was clearer than it had been in weeks. they hit their groove, and the crowd could feel it too. their undeniable energy just raised the band’s spirits, and their last songs were met with cheers for an encore. after jailhouse rock, the second to last song, john was poised to start playing “god save the queen” until brian caught his eye and mouthed an agressive “NO.” note taken, but john shot him a questioning glance. with a huff, brian strode over to deaky, taking him by the upper arm and pulling him to the far side of the stage.

“what the fuck brian?” john angrily whispered, yanking his arm back once they were on the other side of roger’s drum kit. speaking of roger, he was standing by freddie in the center of the stage. you were standing clear across on the other side of the stage, mouthing a similar “what the fuck?” towards john, who just shrugged and looked confused. he was very, very confused.

“just shut up. you might want to hold on to something.” brian mumbled, clutching his red special a little tighter. deaky was about to bite back until freddie cut him off.

“before we go lovies, roger has a little something to say. so pretty boy, the stage is yours.” freddie spoke plainly, a teasing lilt to his words. he wriggled his eyebrows at roger, who simply swiped the microphone and stuck his tongue out at the singer. freddie retaliated by blowing a kiss and prancing over to where john and brian stood.

“fred, what the-”

“oh just be quiet and listen. our boy has a lot on his mind.” freddie cooed, still not dropping his playful tone. john was understandably agitated, while brian just stood to the side with the smallest of smiles on his lips. something was going on. just before john was able to demand clarification, roger piped up and handed john an answer on a golden platter.

“hey lads, so you know me, of course. who doesn’t?” roger joked with the crowd, sending a ripple of laughter throughout the ranks of their adoring fans. john was slow to catch on, still glaring at freddie and brian at equal intervals. both astutely ignored him, smiling at roger speaking downstage.

“but i’d like to introduce you to someone very special to me. y/n, can you come one out here?” uh oh. it all clicked for john. he knew what was happening, he knew what roger was going to ask. he knew what your answer would be. john knew that he was extremely close to running offstage and throwing up. but life had other plans, and life’s name was roger. he surged on, smile brighter than the sun as you slowly stepped onto the stage.

“this is y/n, my gorgeous, intelligent girlfriend,” roger spoke to the crowd, before turning his attention to a highly confused you. a wall of glass rose up between john and you; he could only stand by as roger got down on one knee in front of their cheering fans, all going ballistic at the prospect of what was happening to their idol, right before their eyes.

“honey, dearest, angel, my love. i was such a mess when we met. university student, head full of dreams and too much shampoo. but john brought you to his very first show with us and from then on, i knew it was over for me,” roger talked directly to you, the room falling away until everyone could only watch one of the most important moments of your life. your hands went up to cover your mouth, tears visible in the corners of your eyes. roger seemed a little worse for wear as well, blinking rapidly to keep tears from falling. john wanted to wake up from this terrible nightmare, but there was no stopping what was already in motion.

“you are the light in my life, my rock, and i don’t know how i survived that long without you. i am so ridiculously, embarrassingly in love with you y/n. and there is no one i would rather share my future with,” roger reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small, blue velvet box. with one smooth motion, he flicked it open, letting the burning stage lights glint off of simple diamond ring. your happy tears finally spilled over, and roger’s soft smile brightened as he spoke his final words.

“so, would you please accept this ring and, oh, i don’t know… marry me?” you nodded rapidly before he even finished talking. roger started to stand, but you ran into his arms, sinking to the ground with your arms desperately wrapped around each other. the microphone rolled away from the happy couple, squealing with feedback before a roadie came and swooped it up.

john could barely stand as he watched you hold out a shaking hand to roger. he slid the elegant ring onto your finger, smiling all the way. you pulled him in for a deep kiss, nearly toppling roger over with your excitement. once you pulled back from him, john was nearly in tears himself. he had a tragically perfect view of your tearstained face. and there sat the biggest and brightest smile in the room, one john would march heaven and earth to see.

except that moment. he wanted to give into every selfish desire and break your heart so you would never want to see roger ever again. but he couldn’t. he just couldn’t. john loved you way too much to ruin your moment. roger’s proposal was something his good heart refused to ruin. but that smile.

that goddamn smile.

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first “deaky” fic (team deaks or team rog??) so yeah. hope y’all enjoyed. i actually liked writing from the boy’s perspectives. lmk if you’re down for a part two ;))))

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leah-halliwell92 · 4 years

Text

Too Much Love Can Kill You

Summary: Soul marks are found through touch and song, one must sing to find their half and touch completes their connection. To reject your mark is to sentence them to death. You have been on tour with Brian, Roger and Rufus for a year and have known them for nearly four. What happens you find out along the way that you are the mark of one Brian May?

(Smut warning...you’ve been warned)

Prologue – Chapter 1– Chapter 2 – Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 – Chapter 5 –Chapter 6 – Chapter 7 – Chapter 8 – Chapter 9 – Chapter 10 – Chapter 11– Chapter 12 – Chapter 13 – Chapter 14 – Chapter 15 – Chapter 16 – Chapter 17 – Chapter 18 – Chapter 19

Previously:

You didn’t push him away as he pulled you close pushing his hand up your shirt to place it on you bare back. You held his head to your chest in a hug as you let the day’s events go.

“We’re going to need a long holiday after this,” you say into his hair.

He laughs and nods before his own shoulders start shaking.

You felt the wetness of his tears through your shirt and soon the real sobs of the day’s events hit. You sent a silent prayer of thanks you had finally found Bri and another asking for a speedy end to touring so you could both sleep in peace.

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Chapter 20

~Time Skip to Rehearsals~

You laughed as Adam and Rufus fooled around the stage during rehearsals. You were currently on break meaning water and restroom, if needed, and keeping the boys from burning the stage down. All was going well you were sitting with Brian your bass still over your shoulder as you ran your fingers over the neck plucking at random strings every now and again to keep from your loose muscles to tighten up.

“I’ve a stupid idea,” Rufus said sounding like a kid at Christmas.

The gang gave him the floor interested in what this idea was.

“For ‘Love of My Life’ (Y/N) and Bri should do it together,” Rufus said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Nope,” you said and reached for your water bottle.

“Come on (Y/N),” Rufus said almost begging blue eyes large and puppy like.

“No way darling pup not happening,” you say and take a drink from your bottle.

“Why? It’s not like it’ll suck,” he said with a raised brow.

“Because it’s Bri’s time with Fred you dolt,” you say with pursed lips annoyed.

The suggestion doesn’t annoy you, it’s the song he wants you to sing with Brian.

Rufus deflated at that but you felt the gratefulness run through your bond like sweet honey. All comfort and care, as you came to his defense.

“I’m not saying no Rufus,” you say gently, “Just make sure this idea doesn’t light up your ass because the fans didn’t like it. Well...there will be people won’t like it but the backlash won’t be as bad if this is planned out as it should.”

Roger looked to Bri who nodded sharing a micro-conversation about it.

“I’ll be right back love,” Brian said and stood leaving the stage for the “restroom”.

Roger followed making sure no one saw.

“What are you thinking?” Roger asked as soon as he caught up to his friend.

“Having (Y/N) sing isn’t a bad idea Rog,” Brian said in thought.

“No it’s not, she’s brilliant Bri and we all know this,” Roger said with a laugh.

“The question is which song, with who and when,” Brian said still in thought.

“That is a good question for the rest of the guys later, right now we need to head back and finish rehearsing for tonight’s concert,” Roger said and nodded to the stage.

Brian nodded and followed his friend out.

Rehearsals after that went by without a hitch. Everything went as expected music and tech wise much to the relief of everyone involved. This meant that a break for mental and physical prep was taken. It felt like time had flown by as they prepped, in what seemed like the blink of an eye they were on stage playing their hearts out as they usually did.

And just as quickly it was over and a week’s respite could be taken before they were to go the next and final town. This afforded you some time with your mother, and perhaps your father before leaving. Back in your hotel, Brian kept his arm over your shoulder or his hand on your back or hand. No matter where you both went he kept contact with you. So much so that you felt a rather suggestive emotion coming form him every time his hand touched your skin.

His innocent veneer did not sway you whatsoever, you knew what lay beneath that boyish attitude and knew you just had to do something about it. The lap dance could wait for home, but maybe you could do something while still on the road that didn't require too much excitement. Both because exhaustion is a thing and two...you really aren’t fond indulging him to be more vocal with Roger, Sar and Rufus literally down the hall from you.

So that evening, when everyone had gone to bed or to do their own thing after the concert. You’d made your way to your room in the suite after a light dinner and got comfortable in a thin tank and a clean pair of underwear. Bri was finishing his nightly routine in the bathroom when a sudden idea struck you.

You made your way to the bathroom a suggestive grin on your face.

“What’s all this then?” Brian asked after rinsing his mouth and placing his tooth brush next to yours on the counter wearing only a towel.

“Noooooothing,” you say suggestively as you push him to sit on the lidded toilet.

He kept his eye on you as you turned the shower and sink on before settling on his lap wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Hello,” you said as you got comfortable.

“Hey,” he said with a grin running his hand up and down your bare thighs, “You look like you’re up to something love.”

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. But before you could say anything else you were surprised silent by a searing kiss.

You moaned into the kiss.

He ran his tongue over your lower lip asking for permission.

You gave him access to your mouth and moaned as his hand made their way under your shirt and up your back. You pulled away and pulled the shirt over your head allowing him access to your neck and chest. You ran your fingers through his still wet curls as he seemed to take permanent residence on your chest just above your breasts as he pinched and tugged at a nipple with one hand while keeping you close to him with his other arm.

You moved to stand, giggling as he tried to keep you on him, and worked your underwear off.

“Aren’t we needy,” he said letting the towel fall to the sides before pulling you to stand between his legs.

You smirked and retook your place on his lap purposefully, and wantonly, grinding on his erection receiving the most delicious low rumbly moans from him as you rotated your hips.

He pulled at your hips grunting at the friction before getting desperate and patting your bum.

You got the hind also getting desperate and stood lightly handling him with care as you guided his member to your entrance.

You both let out a hiss at the feel of him entering you.

He held you still basking in the feel of you around him and your warmth around his member.

You moaned and couldn’t take not moving anymore. You started shifting your hips craving that friction that would give you bliss.

Twin moans were heard as you swayed your hips faster his hands on your bum purring you on as you hand held on to his shoulders as he took control of your movements.

“Bri,” you moaned as he moved your hips before a gasping at the feel of his mouth on your breast as he searched for a nipple to suckle.

Brian kept the beat loving the sounds that would come from you over the sound of the running shower and sink. Your gyrate hips seemed to have a mind of their own when you felt a hand go between you his long fingers searching for that bundle of nerves that would take you over the edge.

You moaned and Bri could sense that you were close. You felt his thumb on your clit running circles over and around it making your moans hitch as you got closer to the precipice. You moaned your release and felt him coming after you.

You slumped onto him breathing hard as you rode your orgasm together. Whether or not you were heard by the rest wasn’t so much a concern and you couldn’t really remember why you’d been so worried in the first place. All that was ringing through you was the buzz of your orgasm and the emotions that flowed through the now fully opened and established bond.

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#brian may #roger taylor #sarina taylor #rufus taylor #adam lambert #brian may x reader #roger taylor x sarina taylor #2019!brian may #2019!roger taylor #brian may imagine #brian may fic #present day brian may x reader #present day roger taylor #present day brian may #queen fic #queen band fic #soulmate fic #too much love can kill you

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xxisxxisxxis · 3 years

Text

Preview: Gateway Drug | Part Ninety-Four

"Gee, can't imagine where I learned to hate condoms in the first place." She sarcastically adds.

"Fuck if I know, you were telling me to take the damn thing off the first time we even had sex, little miss, 'I'm a virgin', 'this is my first time,' which looking back now is so obviously bullshit." I scoff.

"I was until you fucking corrupted me."

"My apologies, I didn't realize I was creating a cum monster whose main ambition was to procreate."

"And I didn't realize I was creating a codependent junkie." She doesn't hesitate to throw back at me and we're both silent just enough for Amber to cut in.

"I am going to give you two homework." She says, sighing, glancing at the clock.

We're out of time.

"I want you two to write each other a letter, one that doesn't involve putting one another down, and I want you to pick a time--any experience or memory with on another--that you consider the happiest you've been with each other, and I want you to mail them to each other, and next visit you'll read each other's letters back to one another to remind that person what they wrote. Sound easy?"

We just look at each other, not saying a word.

I didn't want to waste my time writing something for her that she'd just rip up without reading, and I knew she would, and I could see she didn't want to do that, either.

I sit and stare at my blank paper. I'm great at song writing...but love letters?

I think back to the last love letter I wrote for Viv...the one in the back of her Bible I gave to her.

It kind of hurts that one of the last physical confessions of love I gave to her was practically a suicide note.

I close my eyes and groan, rubbing my forehead.

Fuck.

I try to think back to my happiest time with her over the last years.

Like flicking through the index of my mind--as best as I can, at least…

I let out a heavy sigh as I flip from channel to channel, chewing my gum, getting frustrated when I can't find anything interesting to watch.

"Are you gonna find a channel and stick to it or are you gonna keep flipping through the same channels and expect programming to change in a matter of seconds?" Vivian asks in a borderline snap, getting aggravated with me.

I just roll my jaw and turn the T.V. off, tossing the remote onto the coffee table.

"I didn't say turn it off, Nikki, you can watch T.V., just pick a channel and stick to it." She sighs, her Bible still in hand, the pad she's using to take notes in, in her lap.

"No. You just read your shit in peace and quiet. Sorry for the interruption." I reply, passively.

"Nikki, turn the T.V. back on and watch it."

"I'm good." I state.

"Ugh, you are such a whiney baby." She mumbles and I raise my brows, looking at her.

"I'm a what?" I ask, and she looks at me.

"A whiney baby."

"A whiney baby?"

"Yeah." She says it surely.

I'm grabbing her socked foot that's in my lap, making her squeal, her Bible and notepad falling in the floor when she kicks at me as I start tickling her foot.

"Nikki, stop!" She laughs out, sitting up and trying to fight me off of her.

"No, I'm a whiney baby remember?" I remind her, letting her foot go, getting on top of her, my hands moving to her waist, making her laugh again, trying to push me off of her.

I lean down and kiss her exposed neck, and stop tickling her, instead wrapping my arm under her, pulling her against me, settling between her legs.

She sighs and kisses me when I lean down to her.

Once we pull away for air, I run my thumb over her lip and she blinks up at me, slowly.

I can tell she's thinking, "what the hell is this? What are we doing? We aren't dating, we're not just friends, though, so what are we, Sixx?"

I don't know, either.

I'd tell her that but I don't want to freak her out or something.

I like her, a lot...more than a lot…

"What is it?" She asks me, and I realize I've just been staring at her.

"I, uh...I'm not really seeing anyone else anymore, you know?" I say, hoping she gets the hint, and she raises her brows a little.

"Oh." She replies.

"Not that it's a big deal or anything." I add.

"I wasn't thinking it was." She shakes her head a little...but I can practically see her doing little mental cartwheels and screaming out with joy.

I just smile at her, kissing her again.

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @edwardtriggerhandzz @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @xpoisonousrosesx @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @lilmou5ie @emariehorror @divaanya @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @abaldboi @liith-ium @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @ytwahsog @scarecrowmax @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @cruecifymesixx @meetthesixxter @arianareirg @gingerspicetalks

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#gateway drug #nikki sixx #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction

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queensdivas · 4 years

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Family Christmas!

Alright Alright! Just got done watching 6 Underground and Jesus so many shorts and fics are coming. But of course after the requests and update on the great mazzello are updated. But doesn’t mean I can’t start the outline!!!

Thank you @not-john-watsons-blog for this request cause I thought it was super cute and just in time for the season!!!!!

If you’d like to request something please do so and if you want to be tagged let me know!!!!

I hope you all have a wonderful holiday this year!!!!!

Masterlist

Taglist!

@leah-halliwell92 @mexifangorl @i-live-for-queen @its-funny-til-its-not @brianmydear @bonafiderocketqueen @filmslutt @queenwouldyourathers @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

The House of Christmas

By G.K. Chesterton

This world is wild as an old wives' tale,

And strange the plain things are,

The earth is enough and the air is enough

For our wonder and our war;

But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings

And our peace is put in impossible things

Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings

Round an incredible star.

To an open house in the evening

Home shall men come,

To an older place than Eden

And a taller town than Rome.

To the end of the way of the wandering star,

To the things that cannot be and that are,

To the place where God was homeless

And all men are at home.

Do I regret our elopement? No. Never in a million years do I regret our elopment in Blyth during his tour up around there. But I regret not being able to sit down to meet the rest of his family besides his mother. According to what I’ve seen in his photo albums. He’s got a bunch of aunts and uncles because his family is known for ummm. A lot misfire is exactly what I think is the right word for it. Now one of his Christmas presents I’ve unveiling tomorrow would be considered a misfire to most but to me I’m extremely excited.

Our three hour drive was coming to an end as we reached his home just right outside Leicester England for some big Christmas Eve tradition that’s been breaking since he started with Queen. Which was three years ago so not only am I meeting most of his family for the first time, and not being around for three years, we’re kind of screwed!

I rubbed my eyes a little as I sat up in the car to see John was tapping his hands on the steering wheel at the light. Gosh, it was only a three hour drive yet I felt like I’ve been asleep for about two weeks!

“Well good morning sleeping beauty.” John had his cheeky smile on as I looked over at him to then pull down the visor to make sure I didn’t look like absolute shit. We’re good!

“Sorry I fell asleep. The car was toasty and you know that listening to really jazzy Christmas piano always makes me relax.” Going into my purse to apply a fresh layer of lipstick.

“Relax Iris. You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Yeah well I’ve never had to meet a family before with us being married already so you can understand my nervousness!” Growing up in an orphanage then not being adopted can cause a little different mentality. But no sob story! It’s family time!

“Iris. They’re going to love you no matter because you’re the only women who has stuck by my side longer than most. Like c’mon you already survived a tour schedule like mine so I knew you don’t plan on making a run for the hills.”

“That you’re aware of Deaks.” Smirking at him as we turned into the driveway of the house to see a bunch more cars were all lined up. Before we even climbed out of the car he leaned over to cup my face to start leaving kisses all over my lips then trying to make his way down my neck. Going to be honest we haven’t done the deed since I found out because I’ve been getting cold feet, not sure why.

“John I don’t want to smell like sex meeting your mother.” I pried him off me with a little disappointment groan coming from him. He’ll know tonight and hopefully he’ll understand especially after the idea how I’ll be unveiling this idea. I got John pair of baby shoes, and his mother a cute onsie that says “Grandma’s spoiled angel”. Thought it would be appropriate and hopefully if things go well tonight they’ll enjoy the surprise.

We climbed out of the car as we heard the house was blasting with Christmas music, laughter, and even the sound of popping champagne bottles. What kind of parties does this family enjoy throwing for the holidays? He grabbed the box of gifts as I wrapped my scarf around my neck as we began approaching the house. Before we walked inside I stopped in front of him as I grabbed the box from him, putting it down on the ground then giving him one long kiss.

“I love you John. I know I’ve been acting a little funny these past few weeks. I promise it’s nothing you done because you couldn’t do anything. Except when you accidently dropped the coffee machine right next to my feet.”

“For the hundreth time Iris it was a complete accident!” I always remind him that because seeing him so angry just makes me giggle! I cupped his face again for a quick peck as we saw the light coming from the house.

“HEY! YOU TWO LOVEBIRDS GET IN HERE!” A women screamed as we let go of each other to then begin our journey into the world of what most people say a family hell hole. Never experienced one of these before so get ready Iris, a cultural shock is about to happen.

We walked inside the house to see everyone condensed into the living room, children running all around the place, and what looked like an old man sleeping soundly on the recliner. How is that even possible.

The whole room went dead silent as every single person looked directly at John and I with our layers of coats making us look stuffed. I gulped as I began unzipping my coat till a little girl came running down the stairs.

“UNCLE JOHN!” She screamed as she wrapped herself around his leg.

“My goodness Aurora you have grown!” He laughed as an elderly women came out of the kitchen in a minnie mouse apron. She starred down John as she came marching out of the kitchen, even the child walked away from John. Is she his mother? I’ve always been told (by Chrissy) that if a mother doesn’t approve of their chosen girlfriend then it’s game over oh my god!

She stood directly infront of John as we both looked at her in absolute fear from the fact she might pounce at us! I light wrapped hands around his arm just incase I have to use him as a human shield to protect our child. Sorry John I love you but this baby is a whole lot more important and I know you’d do the exact same thing for me.

“John. You’ve gotten much skinner.” Ya know what no! If I can carry a baby in my body for nine months then I can handle any mother come at me! Okay! Here we go!

“Mrs. Deacon. I’m Iris. I’ve heard such wonderful things about you.” Coming from behind John to hold my hand up to her ready to shake it. She looked directly into my soul as she manuvered herself infront of me with a facial expression I couldn’t even read. She gripped my hand then placed her other one ontop of it. Is his when the mother pile drives you into the floor!? Oh dear God she’s going to kick my ass!

“It’s very lovely to meet you Iris. Please come and get acquainted with everyone. And please call me mom because Mrs. Deacon makes me feel so old.” She began walking me through the living room to see everyone making room for his mother and I to sit down. Looking back at John as he just stood there with his bag of presents in complete utter shock.

“So Iris. I’ll try to quickly introduce everyone before I have to back to into the kitchen to make sure dinner isn’t burned to a crisp. Sitting on the reclriner is great grandfather Phillip. To the left of you is who you would consider your cousin Jessabell and her husband Thomas. They’ve got their children running around here somewhere by the names of Ezekiel, Nathaniel, and Esther. And then to your left is great aunt Piper and great uncle Samuel. Now their children are Booker, Sam, Tara, and then their youngest being Natalie. I’d tell you more but I have to get back into the kitchen.” Trying to remember all these names makes me feel drunk I can’t even drink a glass of wine to help me with this whole meet and greet. God is it weird I kind of need John to bring some sort of easiness at the moment.

“It’s lovely to meet you all.” I squirmed out of my coat for John to grab it and place it behind the couch. He then sat down next to me as I grabbed his hand as he began smiling and greeting the aunts and cousins.

“Wheres your family Iris?” I believe Aunt Piper asked if I remember correctly.

“I umm. Never really had a family till I met your nephew..er if that’s the right word.” They leaned forward in their chairs so eager to listen.

“Let me guess. It was one of those situations where you rebelled from your parents because of them not liking the beatles.” They laughed as my grip around John's hand went a little tighter. I know this stuff still shouldn't bother me but there’s a reason why I don’t enjoy talking about my past because I sadly don’t have one. But at the same time when I do have to meet family and they these kinds of things, I just enjoy coming directly at their necks with this line.

“Well I wouldn’t know teenage rebellion since I never had parents.” With the biggest smile on my face as they sunk back into their chairs as I believe Aurora brought us two cups of water. She climbed up on top of Johns lap.

“Are you my new Aunt?” She asked as I gave her a small nod.

“Yes. I plan on being the coolest Aunt you’ve ever had in your life!” Grabbing her from Johns lap to put her on mine. I bounced her on my legs a little as she was laughing her little head off.

“Dinner is ready!” His mother yelled from the kitchen as she darted off my lap into the kitchen. Everyone went into the kitchen as I sat on the couch with my thumbs going in small circles. I’m still extremely nervous and the fact that ham is now the main course and me being pregnant is making me nauseous. And trying to hide this from John is just the greatest idea I ever had in my existence!

“Feeling better?” Nodding as the smell of that ham slithered its way into the living room and around my nose. My stomach twisted in every possible way but I took in a deep breath to try to hold it back.

“Iris. Is there something you’re not telling

“Are you two planning on joining us or run off?” I think that was one of his uncles came into the room as we got up from the couch to walk in.

I sat down next to his mother as everyone began passing around the serving bowls of mashed potatoes, cranberry, ya know the usual Christmas meal. The rolls were placed infront of me as I grabbed one then the ham appeared before me. Oh boy. I bit the inside of my cheeks to grab one thing of meat and passed it along. Just keep it down! Crap I can’t even have wine to help with the whole stomach thing!

“So John. How’d you find Iris?” The green beans were next as I scooped some onto my plate as John swallowed his roll he had in his mouth. I think they’ll enjoy our little meet and greet story yet I somehow find it a little embarrasing still.

“I was out with the boys one night with a few of our first performances. She was at the bar with her friends and I noticed her from the stage. When we got done I started talking to her and well.” My cheeks were beginning to turn red from what was going to come next.

“This guy came up and was trying to tell me that he already had eyes on her from the other side of the bar.. She punched him in the face when he tried to take my seat.” My hnads covered my face as all the eyes landed on me in complete embarrasment. He kept trying to take his seat what was I supposed to do? Just John get pushed around? Dear God.

“You punched someone?” His great aunt asked as I slowly nodded my head. I promise I don’t believe violence isn’t the answer for everything. But he was literally going to throw John from his seat and I couldn’t just let that happen!

“Awesome!” I moved my hands away from my face to see everyone nodding and then his uncle clapping at what I did. Phew.

“So Iris. What do you do for a living?” His mother asked me as I ripped off a piece of my roll.

“I’m an art teacher at St. Gerard in Basingstoke.” I began diving into the green beans as the rest of the table began chit chatting.

“You know something Iris. It’s been quite sometime since I’ve seen John so bubbly and happy. Not sure if he’s told you that his father died when he was young, and when it happened he changed. Became a brand new person who was afraid to get too close to people. But now to see him here playing with his cousins, it’s really wonderful to see him smile. Enough about that depressing matter, you’re an art teacher?” I nodded as I leaned forward to watch John laughing with the cousin that I don’t think I’ve put a name to a face.

“Yes. At first I just wanted to be an artist for most of my life, but found teaching much more fun.”

“I used to be an artist. Maybe after dinner we can swap some sketches.” She smiled which made my heart feel all warm.

“I would love that.”

The rest of the dinner was getting to know his family, turns out John wanted to be a race car driver as a kid, had a very large interest in all kinds of flowers, and threw his cat down the stairs to see if it would land on all fours. It worked of course because that cat lived on to hate John for the rest of his life. While they were telling me this, I could tell John was completely embarrased but I still found it absolutely hilarious.

“Now John was a lovely child of course, but also extremely sassy which he got from his father more than me. I assume you know about his sassiness?” His mother turned to me as I smirked on his face.

“Of course. Our first date was to see MASH and when the ticket person asked if he needed two tickets. He straight up told him. “Oh my god you can see her? I thought she was just a figmant of my imagination.” Then did that stupid cheeky smile and the guy almost wouldn’t let us in.” John nodded as his mother chuckled a little as I finished the last of my Christmas pudding on my plate.

“Alright I say it’s time for presents!”

We sat down in the living room where himself and his mother sat down with me on the couch as everyone grabbed their gifts. They all began putting their gifts in the middle of the room but no name much be attached, consider it a secret santa yet John and I had no idea. That tends to happen when you’re busy with music and being a primary school teacher. None the less were about to be a very busy family.

The little girl began passing out presents to everyone as she was eager to open hers and even everyone elses. She placed Johns in his lap as he was eager to open his since his curiosity was going absolutely wild. I was given a small box that even got me a little curious as well because truth be told i wasn’t expecting to get anything from anyone.

“We want you to open yours first Iris.” His mother told me as everyone was starring at me again. I ripped apart the wrapping paper apart to see it was a jewlrey box which kept me in even more suspense.

“Even though you just became apart of the family with the rest of us, we’re glad you became apart of it. We thought John was going to grow old alone.” It was a beautiful cameo necklace with a dark gold chain, the pendent was a dark blue with a white marble cut out of a woman on it. I was almost brought to tears as no one in my life has ever given me anything like this before.

“You..you..you’re going to make me cry.” I laughed a little as I got it out of the box to hold it up.

“John. Should’ve told me you’re family was going to make me cry.” I laughed as he helped me to clip it as I kept looking down at it.

“Alright let’s keep going! By the way. I’m cousin Booker from Exeter.” He crawled infront of me as he passed John his gift as he recognized the wrapping paper from our little apartment. The rest of the presents were passed out to everyone as John was in complete curiosity of why giving him the present now instead of on Christmas. His mother had the same wrapping paper as well as I sat there waiting for them to open it.

We finally made it over to John who was eager to open his box. He tore the wrapping paper to shreds immediatly as I kept my smile at bay as much as I could. He’s not expecting this and I know damn well the rest of the lot isn’t as well! Please find the little shoes adorable please find the shoes absolutely adorable!

He opened the box as confusion waved over him as he picked up the little white baby shoes. Looking at me. Back at the shoes. TO me..the shoes..to me..the shoes! C’mon John I know you’re smart! The shoes dropped as the rest of the room waited for him to say it or for it to finally click!

“We’re..you..we..” It looked as if he was going to pass out right infront of us till he pratically threw himself ontop of me as everyone began freaking out.

“I’m going to be a dad!” He smiled as I moved the hair out of his face as cousin Booker pratically pild ontop of us.

“Now do I get to be the cool uncle or what?” Wait what? That..that’s not how that works..at least that’s not how I think it works. Oh well!

“Wait get off don’t squish the baby!” John barked as we looked over to see grandma holding up the onsie in front of her.

“It says Grandma’s spoiled Angel!” Mother cried as I managed to get John off me to see her just starring at it.

“Hope you enjoy being a grandma!” I told her as she put the onsie on her lap to give me a very big hug! Her only son to have her first grandchild has completely made the fact that him and I didn’t have a true wedding has been completely forgotten! Phew.

#john deacon fluff #john richard deacon #John Deacon #John Deacon 70s #John Deacon Christmas #john deacon x reader #John Deacon x oc #Queen #Queen Fan Fic #Brian May #Roger Taylor #Freddie Mercury #Queen Fic #John Deacon Fic #It be some cute shit I think #john deacon fluf

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heoneyology · 4 years

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Same anon! Let me just say, I love many groups and I don’t consider myself an army because I have seen more immaturity in the fandom, just to be clear. I have a feeling people will assume I’m one of those ‘Not every army’ people. Lol So, just to be clear there. I’m actually on the older side (late 20’s) so it pains me to see bullying on any side. I think as far as BTS goes, their way of dealing with toxicity is to pour out more positivity instead. 1/2

(2/2) I mean look at Taehyung. He’s said for everyone to love all members equally and what do fans still do? Become solo fans. Again, I’m not trying to say BTS has no power but to say ‘they need to be called out’ or ‘Zico needs to call BTS out’ is childish to me as well. Toxic fans will be toxic fans, unfortunately. Look at Exo JD stuff recently. People fucking protested a grown man marrying. Exo has called out toxicity, but it still occurs in the fandom. That’s all I’m trying to say.

if anything I feel like I’d get the “you’re not an army/not a bts fan” thing more lol since I call the fandom out on their shit way more kaljsdfkd. I’m 26 though and I know at one point I was an immature fan, too, but this fandom goes to the utmost extreme sometimes and it’s really hard to watch. especially knowing that a lot of their fans are on the younger side, and progressively get younger the further into america they spread (I had a girl last year check into one of my hotels I manage that looked to be about 6-8 years and she was wearing a jungkook shirt).

I get the whole killing people with kindness thing, especially since bts advocate for such great things, but I feel like the point of my last message was missed 😅 maybe I wasn’t clear since it was 2am and I was answering while tired.

like I said, I don’t think calling their fans out is childish at all. their fans are the root of the problem here. they are in a position of power and are idolized. their words mean a lot to many people. even just addressing something as serious as the toxicity and bullying and death threats in their fandom is a game changer. yes, exo has called out toxicity and it still exists (albeit the protesters were few in number if you’ve seen the photos) and yes taehyung has said to love all the members and there’s still solo stans. I am not saying that it’s going to fix the issue let alone have any immediate effect. but it’s still better than letting them do whatever the hell they please. a lot of the toxicity in the fandom for army comes from the fact that bts is always number one. always on top. it’s an ego issue. if the boys continue to stay humble but refuse to tell their fans they’re doing a shitty job of doing the same, then their fans are simply going to act the way they always have. just saying something can mean quite a bit. that’s what I’m trying to convey.

but no, I’m going to have to disagree with you, it really is not childish to call their fans out when it’s their fandom. they can’t control every single person, I understand that, but speaking out is worth something in this situation rather than them seemingly walking around saying their fans are great and campaigning for anti-bullying when a majority of them act the way they do. army are the reason many americans don’t take kpop seriously, because all they see are ravenous teenage girls who are willing to rip each other’s throats out. people outside the fandom want bts, who preach the peace that they do, to acknowledge that their fandom is not peaceful. they want bts to acknowledge it as other groups and idols have.

now the comment of “Zico needs to call BTS out” like you said, that is childish. I don’t expect zico to call another group’s fans out. that’s just asking for drama. my tag to my reply last night was referencing the fact that I, myself, had an anxiety attack because of the bullying and death threats he was receiving from army. he doesn’t need to call anyone else’s fans out.

#anon #answer #Anonymous

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johnradams · 5 years

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About

I’ve been here for a WHILE but I wanted to make an about so here it is

My name is jay, I’m 16. I currently identify as bi. I’m autistic and have a service dog named Max. I live in the US.

I typically post about theatre, but my other interests (which will come up from time to time) include:

Photography

ASL

History

Service animals

Autism

Things I need tagged:

dog death

ace discourse

I also write things. This is my ao3. I am always taking prompts for:

Heathers (JD centric works!)

DEH (Conner centric works, really only angsty content for him!)

War and Peace/Great Comet (Anything besides anatole ships.)

Hamlet (No incest, Hamlet/Horatio fics mostly)

Jedams

I can also be found at the following:

@Granolagraphy on instagram (Photography Acc)

DM me for personal instagrams/twitters/etc.

Finally, I love having friends and my dms are always open. I ask that I’m not approached in a creepy way.

#about #about page #sorry to those of you who have been following!#I just felt like REBRANDING

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hystericalcherries · 5 years

Text

aeon (1/6)

Pairing: Keith/Lance Words: 8.5k Rating: M Warnings: mild violence Tags: Post-Season/Series 07, quantum abyss, Flashbacks, Flashforwards, Prophetic Visions, Visions in dreams, Mind Control, Dimension Travel, Boys Being Boys, Falling In Love, Mutual Pining, Gay Keith (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron) when the going gets tough... the tough write fix-it fics, Allura (Voltron) Lives, because fuck you jds and lm

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Summary:

Keith does not leave the quantum abyss untouched.

“Home can be anything, you know,” Lance says in lieu of a conversation starter.

Slivers of moonlight filter through the blinds above their heads, casting lines of truth across the sheets. Lance tilts his head forward and a band slides over his eyes, catching the ocean in them and drawing Keith into their rolling tides. And as distracted as he is, he doesn't put up a fight when a hand clasps his own, reeling them heartward.

“Home is just something you can come back to.” His knuckles brush against the soft fabric of a nightshirt, the v-neckline falling loose to reveal a sharp collarbone, and Keith feels his breath hitching. “Something that keeps you grounded.”

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Time, like most things in Keith’s life, has always been a luxury he never could afford.

It passes him by when he sits on the roof of his third foster home, knees skinned and wide-eyed, yearning for a place among the stars. It slows down when he’s seated in a cockpit, knuckles curled over the smooth leather of the controls, ever pliant to his direction. Every blink, every beat, every stride— he survives each second, waiting for the next with bated breath and clenched fists. He abides by its rules, taking his cue and going through the motions, hoping beyond hope that there’s something at the end of this long tunnel.

Time is different in the quantum abyss. Different in that it is a house guest, coming and going as it pleases. It visits Keith, embracing him like a long, lost friend, gifting him its presence and exchanging stories of a past he doesn’t remember and a future he doesn’t know.

It shows him things. Things that go far beyond the cluster of neutron stars that surround him, expanding into the Blue Lion’s shield and his father’s smile, mirrored in the eyes of his newly found mother. It colors the fur of his wolf, bounding along the stretch of a beach he’s never seen, sand shifting under his feet as he walks through a footpath framed by tropical leaves. Some of them are secondhand images, the rocking of his mother’s arms and the curd taste of vrepit sa, and others, the stinging bite of a glowing hand aimed at his heart and the sweet laughter of his team over a distant fire, are scenes he lives and relives, over and over again.

“It’s coming,” his mother says, eyes snapping to him and finding his own already looking back.

The dark stars awake, exhaling life into this corner of the universe, casting them into its shadow of light. It stretches and stretches and stretches, fingers exploring Keith, running a thumb over his lips and down his chest. It closes his eyes with a kiss, promising secrets in return for his time.

Keith gives it.

Water surges up to grasp his ankle, wet fingers running up and down his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Grains of sand shift underneath him, following the curves of the shore and his body. Something warm and thrumming with life presses against his side, nestled under his chin and tickling his nose. It smells like citrus, vibrant and alive.

“Hey,” says a familiar voice, low-pitched and rolling with the distant sound of waves.

“Hey,” Keith says back automatically.

“I’m glad you stayed.” A hand weighs heavy over his stomach, skimming over his chest and up his neck, aiming to brush through damp hair. A hum vibrates his throat, brazen in its pleasure over the intimate act. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

He does not leave the quantum abyss untouched.

It lingers, seeping deep into his skin and fitting itself into the tight space between his ribs. Unable to wedge his fingers through the cracks and pull it from his chest, he lets it stay, breathing around the radiation it emanates. With every heartbeat it contaminates his existence, slinking into his bones and voice, bouncing off warped pieces of organic debris whenever he walks or talks.

He has started calling them flashes. Flashes of light. Flashes of time. Flashes of life.

They happen in ambiguous intervals, gripping his mind on a whim and refusing to let go until he submits to its desires. When he walks the waking world it flares up, a rush of wind and the weightlessness of falling, and when he drifts off to sleep it slinks past the curtain of his eyelids, phantom limbs clinging to him and his own voice yelling shut up and trust me.

He watches his mother slow to a stop in front of him, eyes glazing over in a far off look. Her hands suddenly go lax and the crate of supplies in her hands slips, and it is only the quick reflexes of their newly acquired Altean companion that saves it from this planet’s abnormal gravitational pull. Her body goes rigid just as her face goes slack, a paradox of existence that reflects in the yellow of her eyes, neon in the absolute darkness of space.

Careful, he makes to touch her elbow. “Mom?”

Like a flick of a switch, she returns. Her eyes snap to him, wild and fierce, brows angled in an expression that he’s seen in the mirror. The stillness around her recedes and recognition shines through.

“Keith.” It’s soft, almost like a prayer. “You’re here.”

He nods, taking her hand. “I’m here.”

They don’t say much about it, but both are aware of the threads that link them together. His father had tied the first knot, linking them by blood, and the Blades, through trials of forbearance, had secured the second. Now the flashes anchor them, a single point, absolute in a world full of variables.

So they stick together, stepping back into a world governed by time, following its orders to march along a linear plane, and letting the vacuum of space seal them into an Altean pod, depressurizing and locking the abyss’ byproducts into their lungs. They watch silently as the pod’s navigation system leads them to a castleship made by a dead king, crumbling under the weight of a friend turned traitor; all it takes is a snap, betrayal in the name of good, and the world is tilting off its axis, spinning faster and faster as Voltron fights its own twisted image. Time passes and passes, skipping a stone over a great lake of stars— skipping one, two, three.

And for Keith, it is nothing. He has watched time fly by for two years, hardening his skin and broadening his shoulders; he has lived days as short as an hour and as long as a week, inhaling in the dawn and exhaling the dusk. It is just another moment in the sea of many.

It is nothing, until it’s not.

Without warning the large expanse of space is too loud, too vast, too much. Life on the back of the celestial whale had been muted, a peaceful isolation that he doesn’t appreciate until it’s taken away from him. Reality comes crashing down like a clash of swords, sparks jumping as metal slides against metal, aiming to slice and dissect. Warships surround them, clouding the atmosphere of Earth in a timeline never considered; hysteria crawls along the edges of their voice and wistfulness in their sighs, in time to the ominous beeps of their oxygen levels.

And he takes the mantle of leader once again, wearing the Black Lion’s pelt like a second skin. The others step up beside him with not a blink of vacillation, following him whilst totally unaware to how much he’s changed. The weight of it is heavy and some days he feels out of place, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He tries his best to stitch himself back into their lives, but his fingers fumble with disuse, hypothetical needle pricking him and staining his work with blood.

And the flashes, they persists, trying to convince him of a life that isn’t his.

For as long as Keith can remember, he’s known he was different. A temper that flares like molten fire and a talent that could have him flying, upwards and onwards, across the night sky. He's been nothing but problematic his whole life— it starts with him climbing out the window of his first foster home and getting caught by the local sheriff stealing canned beans from the general store down the street, and ends with him getting lost in the stars he shot for. He is a boy conceived in the throes of chance, bred for the taint of war, and suspended in the cockpit of space. Wild and detached. Endlessly adrift, searching for a reason to bleed.

But the flashes say different. They tell a story filled with rising suns, holoscreen calls and a family found.

He doesn’t know what to believe, but he knows what he wants.

A ribbon of moonlight cast over the crest of a nose, highlighting pools of navy, zoetic like a cradle of stars. It comes with a feeling, timid but yearning. A seed, newly planted, breaching the surface and stretching towards the light.

He extends a hand—

Home.

—and grasps nothing.

Life on Earth after is nothing like life on Earth before.

The world had been cotton-edged when he first woke after the battle, fuzzy in a disorienting way that makes his nerves buzz and eyelashes flutter in the rays of new day’s sun; shapes sway in a colorful charade that eventually merge together to form the familiar faces of those important to him. Aches cramp up his muscles, a distant throb that a doctor had affirmed would heal with time. Time spent restlessly laying in bed as he listens to what his mother and Kolivan have to report about the state of the universe. Medical staff skitters around the two, unable to meet either of the Galrans’ gazes when they talk about newly found Blades and high-profile rebel groups taking back what was stolen from them. It keeps Keith grounded, hand buried in the soft mane of his wolf, anchoring him to the now.

A week and he’s deem fit for discharge, walking out of the hospital ward with his mother at his side and his bayard at his belt, ready to be thrown back into the fight— only to find out that there are none left.

The damage done to Earth is glaringly obvious the moment he steps a foot outside. Scorch marks burn into runways while decimated and overturned vehicles alike litter its path, fritzing wires and broken glass giving a simple stroll a dangerous edge. Buildings sag in their seats, missing chunks out of their sides where lazer blasts had struck true, left unprotected by a rudimentary particle shield and humankind’s own inexperience. The people appear even worse for wear, faces drawn and ashen; military persons walk with purpose around the ruin, uniforms ripped and weapons drawn, towing away rubble and guiding lost-looking refugees.

The planet is grieving and they are only a fraction of its whole, attempting to pick up its pieces.

(“It reminds me of Daibazaal,” Kolivan had said to him one early morning while they wait for the rest of the base to wake. The sunrise paints over his usually harsh features, softening the puckered skin of his scar and the hard ridge of his brow. “From what your Blue Paladin had divulged, Earth had shined like our planet once did, before the comet brought it crumbling to its knees.”

Keith had paused, head tilted. “Were you there— when it happened?”

“No.” A deep breath, pained but strong. “It was many decapheebs ago. However, the story has been passed down through our ancestors. Every Galra know the story of our planet’s end. It is the reason we still fight today.”

A blink and he was a ghost looking over his mother’s shoulder, down at the blade that’s placed in her calloused palm. The moment weighs heavily in his mind, a burden given and a duty shouldered, taken on by oath of blood. A figure looms over, the shadow of a beast tamed by war; they have many titles, many names, but Keith knows only one. Father, a young Krolia whispers, kneeling in the decaying relics of an empire, what do we fight for?

To the west, the Black Lion overlooked its pride. “Let us hope Earth does not make the same mistake.”)

It takes two months to finish cleanup, even with the help of the Lions. Sterilized by war, the Galaxy Garrison is a mere extension of the surrounding desert; a man-made mountain turned canyon, draining of hubris. Rebuilding what Sendak destroyed will take time, a currency that inflates in periods of trouble, dragging down the empty pockets of the castaways of strife. It’s a costly endeavor and even with contact of whatever remains of the coalition, it might not be enough.

Leaders and followers alike swarm him with this fact, pulsing in a beat that’s deleterious to his sanity; they want control and they want knowledge, demanding it from where he stands on the dais they put him on. It’s frustrating, how they try to tie him down; he pulls against the rope, a runaway searching for freedom. He had found it in the cockpit of the Red Lion, accelerating until they were one and the same, a bullet shooting out of a pistol, piercing an alien planet’s stratosphere in a blaze of condensed water and Altean alchemy. It had felt right back then, rivers of clouds buffeting armored plates with the intent of inching his ribs apart and grasping for his heart, trying to reclaim what rightfully belonged to the stars. Faster, he would chant, impatient now that the universe is spread out at his feet, faster, faster, faster.

Now there are responsibilities that go beyond him, all under the jurisdiction of Voltron’s astronomical shadow, and he is only one of the five gateways to that power.

Someone must say something to their superiors because he is put in charge of a new training regiment for the MFE recruits, a precaution turned requirement. It’s Shiro who first mentions it, sitting at Keith’s bedside with a bouquet of flowers Keith doesn’t bother asking about. His new arm levitates just below where the junction of an elbow should be, glowing faintly under the fluorescent lights of the room, soothing the scarring warlords have carved into him. The request ends with a robotic hand on his shoulder and, “I wouldn’t ask of it if I didn’t think you could do it.”

So Keith agrees. A nod and he’s in charge of Earth’s only space infantry, renewed and steadfast. A last defense to a planet on the edge of collapse.

“At ease,” comes Commander Iverson’s stark direction. Keith looks on as Garrison recruits shift to parade rest, gaze unwavering forward even as the red paladin walks through their numbers. Lieutenants, sporting bands of valor on their shoulders, march behind him, the precise clips of their steps barricading any option of retreat. “This is Cadet Kogane and he will be heading this operation.”

A few eyes flicker to Keith.

“You have been trained for space exploration, not in militant strategy, and you’ll need guidance beyond what Earth can provide you. Kogane has more than enough experience in the area— his time with both Voltron and the Blade of Marmora will give us an edge that our normal combat routines lack. You few have proven your worth in paving the way for what could become the norm in the Garrison’s combatant regiment, so I expect not to be disappointed.”

A brisk salute that even Keith reciprocates and the commander about faces, leaving.

Once the door slides shut behind him and his entourage, all eyes of the room snap back to Keith and he tries not to bend at the weight of them. Like a brick to the temple, it hits him. Whatever they take away from this experience could either save them or damn them. It’s a lot, being the deciding factor of life or death. What if he forgets something? What if it's not enough? What if—

Someone clears their throat.

Awaiting his order, the recruits are lined up along the perimeter of the room, varying in age, color and body type. A few of the faces he vaguely recognizes, abstract characteristics he remembers passing him by in these very same halls years prior. A scatter of freckles and straight-cut bangs. Dreads and a chiseled face caught in a blank expression. Straight-edged glasses and petite hands. Light brown hair and a pointedly unimpressed frown…

He takes a step forward, shoulders back like and head high, thinking of Allura as she pilots the Castle of Lions and Shiro as he walks up a docking ramp. “We’ll be starting tomorrow at oh-seven-hundred hours. All training equipment will be provided, so come ready to work. Dismissed.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, birthed from the terseness of his words, but all it takes is for Keith to raise his eyebrows and they are saluting back and filing out of the room. A few send him looks over their shoulders, whispering to each other, but he ignores them. Ignores them until the last of them are gone, leaving only Keith.

“You know,” a familiar voice starts just as he’s about to leave himself. “When they first said that you had come back, I didn’t really believe them.”

Keith turns.

“But,” James continues, standing just outside the perimeter of the mat, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He looks exactly the same, bangs sweeping over the arch of his left eyebrow and a thin upper lip curling in a smirk. “Here you are. I’m not surprised, not really, but god, it makes me angry. You really had to prove you were better than the rest and get caught up in some galactic war, huh?”

Annoyed by the silent undertone of those words, Keith rudely asks, “Did you need something?”

The boy’s eyebrow ticks, but his face is composed mere seconds later. Without any fanfare, a small holoscreen is slipping out the folds of a bag and thrust into his hands; marked with the Garrison’s logo and having no pass code, it opens to a desposity of files, each with a military photo and a corresponding list of statistics. The detail put into it is superlative, giving a number of categories that range from dexterity to psychological analysis. Every member of the class is noted within the digital archive, with maybe the exception of Keith himself.

“Thought you might need something to base your regiment on. I don’t want this to be a complete waste of time and I’m betting you don’t either. Think of this as a peace offering.” When Keith doesn’t say anything, James’ eyes narrow. “It’s not that hard to understand. You want to defeat the Galra and I want to keep Earth safe— two goals with the same outcome. We don’t have to be friends or anything, but it’ll be in both of our best interest to put our difference aside and work together for once.”

Keith considers it. A mutual cooperation doesn’t sound completely terrible, but still something doesn’t feel right. Something that the other had said…

“What do you mean? Two goals with the same outcome. We both want Earth safe.”

“Keith,” the other says and it’s a shock, how his own name can be said in such a way that it makes him want to flinch. Pity had never been an easy pill to swallow. “We both know that you never cared for anything permanent.”

Rust coats the curved blade twisting in his gut and he stumbles back, unprepared for the pain that follows.

Unaffected, James nods and shoulders his bag. “See you tomorrow.”

The exchange ends just as it quickly as it begins, leaving Keith unhinged. He feels called out— for what, he doesn’t know—but it had him being pushed under the scope, magnified and focused to unimaginable degrees, only to find the results wanting. His body vibrates, buzzing for talk, for action, for something.

It takes only a thought for his bayard to materialize and form its commonplace sword. It takes another thought to realize that he can’t find solace here; there are no gladiators to battle against, no programmed levels to best, and no invisible mazes to run through. The Galaxy Garrison might be leading humanity into a new age, but it still lacks the basic commodities Keith had taken for granted on the castleship. His grip tightens and then loosen, weapon dematerializing.

He looks down at the holoscreen.

His own face, young and sporting a split lip, glares back at him.

Past the memory, his reflection sits. Two sides of a coin, forged in the fires beneath this planet’s crust but branded by a long-dead star’s radiation. Somewhere along a comet’s tail as it passed through this solar system, a divergence was made. It’s two feet planted on the ground but a gaze to the sky. It’s the alien blood that runs through his human veins. It’s a blade underneath his pillow. It’s the controls of the universe’s strongest weapon in his blistering grip. It’s what do we fight for? and who better than the very best?

Earth may be different, but so is Keith.

When his father passes away, Keith loses the ability to build a home. Instead, he builds bridges. He keeps to the space in-between, never taking that final step for fear of falling. Suspended in a loop, kicking up dust as he follows the skyline in search of an elusive end. Something that he can call his.

Keith makes bridges he can’t cross.

Like all things, life goes on.

A semblance of normality settles over Earth and its residents, putting together the pieces of what was torn apart. Buildings rise from the ground and people with them. Families, diminished in size and changed through trauma, attempt to flower from their recently upturned roots. Routines are revived as society takes its first breath through the trailing smoke of funeral pyres, looking less to survive and more to live.

At Shiro’s urgence, Keith and Krolia do the same and move into his apartment on Garrison grounds.

The space feels empty despite its modern furnishing and newly-stocked kitchen, but the two don’t mind, finding that it’s a better alternative to a dusty, old shack that holds too many painful memories. Not that their new home doesn’t have its own ghosts, for something still lingers of the man that smiles at them from the many photographs littered around the place. And though Shiro doesn’t say anything about it, it’s hard to ignore the wistfully sad look that overtakes him when Kosmo finds a set of keys between the cushions or an extra pair of glasses on the kitchen counter. Nonetheless, he doesn’t relocate to the captain’s quarters on the Atlas, keeping to his humble abode with its somber memories.

It takes not even an hour to transfer what little belongings they have from the Black Lion and try to fill up the space, conjuring a future in what remains of the past. Day by day they live, trying hard not to stumble.

Everyday, he wakes and does what’s needed of him. He’s showers and trains and teaches and salutes, habitual as he fits himself into a mold. There are no complaints, not when he leaves no room for them, mouth downturned in an impressive frown. It’s tedious, but Keith bears it, knowing that it is in this niche which he is most useful.

He doesn’t see the rest of the team as often as he’d like, what with their busy schedules, but there are glimpses; a passing smile as a lieutenant escorts Allura and Coran into a another conference and a quick greeting from the Holt siblings before they’re off, fumbling with a treasure trove of blueprints they carry, tempered by the side-hug Hunk bestows and fist bump Lance gives before the both of them are being called by their families.

Keith tries not to feel hurt by how easily they drift apart.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Shiro tells him over breakfast, somehow knowing exactly what is wrong despite Keith having not said a word on the matter. “There’s just a lot going on. Everyone’s still trying to find their balance.”

Keith just crosses his arms and shrugs noncommittally, pretending he doesn’t realize how petulant he must look. “It’s fine,” he says. “They can do whatever they want.”

“Keith, you’re allowed to care.”

The other’s tone, gentle and supportive, has Keith unwinding the knots in his muscles with a sigh. He looks to his friend and then away, fixing his gaze to the group of students huddled together under a tree in the Garrison’s main quad. One of them says something he can’t hear and the rest erupt into laughter. “Yeah, I know.”

“Things will work themselves out, just you wait. Okay?”

“Okay.”

And like about most things, Shiro is right.

As days pass, so does the madness. Walking through the barracks of the Garrison is still weird, but it gets easier to ignore the whispers that follow his form, snagging onto his borrowed clothes, tracing the outline of his scar and burrowing deep into his pores. The walls don’t press upon him as much, sparing his lungs a great deal of effort when it comes time speak, and the polite murmurs of paladin from men and woman twice his age no longer makes his skin crawl. It becomes commonplace to cut through the base and see the lions, behemoths in their own right, sitting in the shadow of the human-altean hybrid Atlas; all silent observers to the going-ons of the base and the people that call it home.

People congregate, fulfilling the genetic deep need for interaction during mealtimes in the cantine, talk bubbling into something casual and among individuals made close by circumstance, stark against the backdrop of wreckage that still sits outside their windows. Faces become more familiar in that distant sort of way, crossing his path frequently enough to garner a nod in greeting or a vocal acknowledgement; it’s almost similar to time at the Garrison before Voltron, but different in that the attention is based on earnest admiration over his actions rather than grudging revere over his skill.

It’s then that the team comes back together.

Pidge is the first, dropping herself into the seat across from him as he eats breakfast, already halfway through a conversation she expects Keith to participate in. “I just don’t understand how an entire military base could be so stupid. It’s a wonder things ran so smoothly without me before now.” A huff and then, belatedly, “Hi, Keith”

“Hi,” he says past the initial surprise, followed almost immediately by small, pleased smile that he hides behind his hand. “What’s got you in such a mood?”

“Oh, nothing!” The girl stabs at her hashbrowns, cutting with vengeance, and he remembers her doing the same to the food goo back at the castle. “It’s just that everyone in the technical department has their heads shoved so far up their butts that it’s a miracle they can see the tabs on their computers! Can you imagine thinking that a single-sideband modulation is enough to broadcast a signal from one solar system to another? Absolutely crazy.”

He opens his mouth to try an attempt at consoling, but is interrupted by a tray heaped with food nudging against his own and a sturdy body is pressing up against his side.

“What’s crazy,” Hunk begins around a full mouth, brandishing his spork like a baton, sending a glop of oatmeal to the floor and to splatter on a passing figure’s shoes, “is how you think a double-modulation is necessary at all. You’re just salty that people are agreeing with me. We didn’t need it for the castle in deep space and we don’t need now. Like, think about it, what would we even— oh, hey Keith.”

“Hi.”

Ignoring the spluttering Pidge undergoes at his previous words, Hunk turns to fully face the red paladin and it’s just like it was before, easy. As if it hasn’t been weeks since they last had a real conversation and only hours. “Haven’t seen you around. That class of yours keeping you busy?”

Keith shrugs. “I guess. Depends on the day.”

“Yeah, I feel that. Sometimes I’m so busy that I feel overwhelmed, and other times I have so much free time that I don’t even know what to do with myself.” It’s a tell of their time together in space that Hunk doesn’t press him for details on his class, for which Keith is thankful. “They have me and my dad working on the coiling of the Atlas’s main inductors. It’s slow work cause of the size of them, but we’re getting there. Hopefully it’ll stop the Atlas from shutting down secondary functions when in full mecha-mode. Then it’s straight to work on altering the zero gravity chambers.”

Pidge pouts. “Man, I’m so jealous. You get to work on the Atlas while I’m stuck teaching idiots basic coding back at home base.” She cups her chin, elbow nearly in her mashed potatoes, and sighs dreamily. “What I wouldn’t give to see what’s hiding in that ship’s mainframe.”

“Hey, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be— most of what we do is test out the system.” He lets out a gruff noise from the back of his throat, a cross between a scoff and whine. “It’s so annoying because we have get clearance for every one we do, which is a lot. Ever since they set up a connection between Atlas and that robobeast, things have been on edge. I mean, I totally get it — no one wants to be responsible for the termination of Earth’s only connection to the universe, but, still, it makes my job just that much harder. Dad’s going crazy over it and the limitations of what we can do. Clearance and all that, you know.”

Keith pats the boy on the bicep. “That suck, big man. Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s whatever.” But he sends Keith a smile before perking up considerable. A sparkle that Keith recognizes shines in the dark brown of his eyes. “But it does mean that whenever something does slip through the clearance, I’m the first to know.”

Pide, the youngest and most susceptible to the yellow paladin’s gossiping ways, cocks an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Hunk nods enthusiastically. “Her pod is a few doors down from the engine room. People are always going in and out.”

And Keith, though never one to dip into the rumors that run their course through the base, can’t deny the curiosity that spikes at the mention of the mysterious girl found at the apex of the robobeast’s heart. “Is she awake?”

“Not that I know.”

“Do they know why she was in the robobeast at least? Why it attacked Earth? Who sent it?”

“Not sure, but Romelle did say that she looked familiar, so she might be from the colony— though it’s already been so long since she left that she can’t be for sure. Still, how many colonies of Alteans are there in the universe? I’m guessing whoever took them is the one behind all this.”

That’s been the hook to a great many theories over the subject, Keith’s included. By this point, it isn’t of a matter of what but a matter of why. The reason behind the attack that nearly cost Earth everything is still a well-kept secret and will probably remain so until the Altean girl wakes from her self-induced hypersleep.

“I can’t believe this,” a voice declares loudly from Keith’s right, startling him and drawing the attention of not only their huddled group but that of the tables surrounding them as well. “We have our first ever gossiping circle as a team and I’m the last to be invited.”

It’s Lance, because of course it is. Standing tall and casual, hands on his hips and lips pursed in the usual fashion, the boy cuts a vibrant figure against the pale backdrop of the facility.

At his side, stands a girl.

“Oh yeah, this is my sister, Rachel. Everyone, Rachel. Rachel, everyone,” he introduces— unnecessarily, it would seem, because anyone would have to be blind not to notice the similarities between the two. The resemblance is uncanny. Both sport long limbs and the same sun-kissed skin, clear of any blemishes or imperfections. When she smiles in greeting, dimples appear in the apple of both cheeks, eyebrows arching in a familiar grin that has even Pidge casting a second glance. “But seriously, are you guys gossiping without me? How rude— you know I live for the drama.”

Hunk, the only person capable, chuckles. “We’re just talking about that new Altean girl.”

In unison, the newcomers shove their way into seats on either side of Pidge, tilting forward with matching expressions of intrigue. Keith quells the urge to lean back in response, sharing a look with the girl unfortunate to be squished between them.

“The one they found in that thing you guys fought?” Rachel asks, voice pitched high with excitement and flowing with the same lilt as her brother’s. “Everyone’s saying that she was in league with that Sendak guy.”

Pidge makes a pained face. “Better not let Allura hear that. She’ll freak.”

“Yeah, she’s already stressed enough as it is,” Lance says quietly, eyes soft in the way it always is when concerning the princess. “We don’t wanna make it worse.”

“Yeah, best just to stick with our assignments. I’ve seen how crazy stressed Romelle is lately. With Allura working with the new admiral, it’s up to her and Coran to try and find where the colony has gone. There weren’t any new leads last time I asked.” Hunk licks the back of his utensil, eyes flickering across the cantine and stopping at various individuals, be they civilian or military. “I hope nothing else goes wrong. We’re kinda sitting ducks as it is.”

“Kolivan is doing his best to reunite what’s left of the coalition. Once that’s reinstated, I’m sure everything else will fall back into place.” Keith, says, trying his hand at reassurance. “Try not to sweat it.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

After that, the topics digress into something lighter. They exchange stories, recounting first meetings and divulging in embarrassing mess-ups, laughing when they all start to one-up each other and the anecdotes get more and more outrageous. It seems like both Lance and Rachel have an endless cache of embarrassing stories to tell and it doesn’t take long until Keith’s smothering a laugh into the sleeve of his uniform.

Eventually, the morning sun rises high into the noon hours and the obligations of the world start calling them. It’s too soon when Hunk’s pager goes off, signaling the end of his breakfast and their time together. Lance whines and Keith secretly wants to do the same when Pidge joins the engineer when he collects his belongings and gets up, trying to convince them to stay. But it’s all for nought because all it takes is another beep from the pager and they’re gone, promising to make time for another group meal even as they wave goodbye.

“So,” Rachel starts once it’s just the three of them, pushing her brother until she’s seated directly in from of Keith rather than diagonally. “You’re the famous Keith Kogane I’ve heard so much about.”

Unsure what her tone means, Keith proceeds with caution. “Yeah...”

“Is it true that you sucker punched Iverson and got expelled?”

“Ray,” Lance hisses.

But the girl is shameless, instead leaning forward, chin propped on her steepled fingers. She eyes him and sends a wicked grin his way, sharp like shrapnel. “I just wanna know if all the rumors are true. Iverson didn’t always have only one good eye and what I hear is that you’re the reason behind it. How about it? Are you up to the hype or is my baby brother a liar?”

“Baby brother,” Lance scoffs, offended. “We’re only—”

“Yeah, I took Iverson’s eye out.”

The sibling squabble stops before it can start, and Keith’s left with two very different expression angled his way; while Lance’s jaw drops in surprise, his sister’s drops in uncontained glee.

“He wouldn’t tell me the truth about Shiro. No one would,” he clarifies, focusing more on Lance and his utterly stupefied face. Honestly, he had thought this had been common knowledge after he left, spread through the student grapevine, and it feels odd talking about it now. It was so long ago and explaining why he did what he did feels like an out of body experience. “You know… back when everyone still thought the Kerberos crew was MIA. I was just really frustrated and well, Iverson was there and… yeah.”

“Oh my god,” Rachel says in the stunned silence that follows. “Oh my god, you’re exactly like Lance says. Unbelievable.”

Now, Keith has never really cared about what’s been thought of him by his peers. It had never mattered before. But he can’t deny his curiosity as he watched the blue paladin shoot his sister a look of utter betrayal, as if this interaction breached some unspoken contact. He wonders what his teammate had to say about him and if it differs to what would be said of him now.

Another side-eye, slow and sly, is thrown his way, accompanied by the rise of a signature eyebrow and smirk. The girl tips on her elbows, chin raised and closer than he normally lets strangers be. “You really are all that, huh. I guess I can see the hype.”

They have the same eyes, Keith thinks idly, a blue so dark it looks black

Then all he can see is brown curls and feel lips pressing to the apple of his right cheek. Across from him, Lance splutters, hands flailing as he says something in rapid Spanish, embarrassed on Keith’s behalf. Her responding giggle fills up Keith’s personal bubble until she moves away, nonplussed as she stands and responds back in kind before giving her brother a kiss on the cheek too. Another Lance-ish grin and she’s skipping away, ponytail swishing with the movement.

It takes a minute or so for Lance to reboot, flush receding. “Sorry about that. Rachel thinks anyone with fancy hair is fair game.”

The ghost of fingers skims along his cheek, tucking a long strand of hair behind his ear, and Keith fights against the urge to chase after the miniscule flash. Instead, he clenches his fists and stares hard at the other boy’s forehead. “She thinks my hair is fancy?”

Lance bristles suddenly. “Don’t get any ideas, Mullet.”

“I’m not.”

“Good.” A pause, filled with the talk of others, and then Lance is glancing over at him, lips quirked just enough to entice an excited flip of Keith’s stomach. “You wanna take the lions out for a spin? First one to the Atlantic wins.”

And isn’t that the bulk of it? Their relationship, two opposing forces that revolve around one another, waiting for that precise moment to either clash or conjoin. Lance, who fits so easily into people’s lives—seemingly without any effort at all too— sneaking his way into Keith’s, uncaring of the tight squeeze. It’s contradictive, how they can butt heads one moment and then share a smile the next.

Nevertheless, he has the intention to accept the offer, because it’s been a while since anything has got his heart racing and there’s nothing that does the job better than flying. Every intention to pipe up a witty remark just to see Lance react and then take a running head start to the lion hangars while the other boy was distracted thinking of a suitable comeback. It’s second nature, the push and—

—pull of hands around his stomach, secured tight as he guides a hoverbike faster. The wind is strong and merciless as it snags at his hair, coming loose from the strap of the goggles he wears and curling erratically at his temples. The body seated behind him presses flush against him, chest to back and legs straddling warm leather, while a chin juts over his shoulder and a smile skims over the shell of his ear.

There is no destination, just a direction, always forward and never back. Forever forward, on and on and on. It’s nice and he’s happy, filled with content and a desire for it to never end.

“—kay? Keith?”

Like a whip, he snaps back. Gone is the upward sweep of handlebars, the press of palms against the base of his ribs, the wind buffeting his face— all the tell-tale signs of a joyride, shared with a someone who he can’t put a face to. In its place, the distinctive rush of a crowded canteen.

It takes a moment for him to recognize that he’s been asked a question and a moment more to realize that he has to answer.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” The lie rolls off his tongue without a hitch, floating in the air and saturating the atmosphere with its flimsy misdirection. It’s starting to become difficult to keep his breathing steady. “Actually, I just remembered that I have to pick up some equipment for my class tomorrow. Can we do a rain check on the race?”

Lance blinks. “Oh, um, yeah. That’s totally— of course. Next time then.”

“Next time,” he agrees, distracted. Then his body is on autopilot, knees unbending and back straightening as he stands, the eyes of the many digging into the back of his skull. He leaves before anyone can notice the way his fists clench, knuckles going white, holding back a dam of memories that aren’t his. He doesn’t look back.

By the time his class starts two hours later Keith has mostly calmed down. It’s time spent doing cardio drills, working up a sweat until all he can focus on is the burning sensation in his muscles and the accelerated beat of his heart. It leaves no room for anything else, narrowing the world into a single point, and that’s exactly how he wants it.

His students must notice how on edge he still must be, because when they walk in and he’s adding another ten pounds to his already maxed out barbell, not one advises against it. Even James, who always seems to have something to say, keeps quiet and simply nods when he brusquely instructs the lot of them to pick up a staff and pair up. They leave him be, though not without the judgmental look or two as they pass his station by.

But, in the end, it’s not enough.

Not enough because even as he lays there, shirt plastered to his skin and the cushion of the bench molding to the trembling slopes of his shoulders and back, the flash somehow sneaks back. It hides in plain sight, stalking the length of his arms and tensing as they push the bar up and away from his chest, locking his elbows in a strain that isn’t healthy. Hides until he’s holding his breath, trembling under the weight and a second to utter collapse, only to surprise him with a reveal of phantom hands, transparent and long, following raised veins to the bony bend of his wrist.

Carefully, as if they were real, the hands run a thumb over his pulse, applying pressure until Keith feels like jumping out of his skin. A beat, loud and clear, reverberates through his body. It makes him want to let go and be held. But the weight of the bar nearly chokes him at the thought, recoiling in the suddenness of it all, and has the ghostly hands evaporating in a puff of smoke. Gone just as quick as they came, and he’s left with a bursting chest, gasping for breath.

No one notices his blunder, but it shakes Keith all the same.

Keith asks Allura about the flashes.

It takes a while, not because he’s gearing up to bring the topic forward, but because Allura is a hard person to catch in the months following the battle for Earth. It seems like everyone everywhere wants the princess’s focus, grabbing her outside of conference rooms and tailing behind her in hallways, proposals and questions alike dripping from their lips. It’s progress, imperative for the success of human and Altean kind alike, Keith knows, but still inconvenient when he’s tracking her down for a private moment.

But Keith is nothing if not determined, forgoing pinging her comm and scheduling time in favor of simply cornering her as she’s leaving the base headquarters after a meeting he saw her walk into an hour prior. He glares as the entourage that follows her, daring them to do anything other than watch as he grabs his friend by the arm and spirits her away.

“Keith,” she greets with a muted smile, following him down the outside corridor and to the south quad where a lone bench sits under a yellow palo verde. “To what do I owe the surprise? How are you?”

But Keith has no time for such pleasantries. Now that the moment has arrived, to finally receive an answer to an immortal question, he can’t focus on anything else. Making sure there’s no one within hearing distance, he makes his stand, feet shoulder width apart and arms crossed. “I need your help,” he tells her without preamble, pushing all the frustration from the last few days, weeks, months into his words. “Something’s wrong with me.”

The change is immediate. Pale eyebrows furrow and dainty shoulders square, kaleidoscope eyes zoning on him with intensity that matches a burning nova in the woes of death. “Tell me.”

So he does.

She doesn’t interrupt him when he speaks, merely sits there, ankles crossed and hands clasped delicately in her lap, and listens. Listens as he recaps his time in the quantum abyss. Listen as he recounts how the dark stars rose and set infinitely, blurring time in its most basic sense. Listens as he talks about the flashes, how they take over in the absence of sense. Listens to his frustrations at its perseverance, to its unyielding hold on his life. Listens to his want of its end.

“And this has been going on since you returned from the abyss?” she asks when he’s done.

He slumps next to her. “Yeah, and it’s only gotten worse since we returned to Earth.”

It’s quiet between them. Keith spends it anxiously rubbing his thumb over the jut of his knuckles, waiting to be reassured. Because if anyone can solve this, it’s Allura. Allura, one of the few remaining relics of the Old World, is a medium by which the universe communicates through. Whatever has happened to bring him to this moment must follow some precedent, something to pursue and procure.

“My people believed time was an limitless thing,” Allura begins after Keith has rubbed his skin raw, voice even and slow. “Something that the Life Givers had bestowed upon us in the age of chaos. Only those who knew the ancient art of alchemy could hope to understand its ubiquitous attributes. Some, like my father, even got close— discovering a source of energy that went beyond the simple science known previously.”

“Quintessence.”

Allura nods. “A substance with the highest known energy per unit volume in the universe. It has the power to alter and warp reality, creating rifts that might otherwise not exist. We saw as such with General Hira and her immoral troops.”

He remembers. The fight for the trans-reality comet and its precious ore, wanted by those who wanted peace in every reality, but only accomplished in tearing it apart. He also knows that the subject is still a sore one for the Altean, a reflection of what could have been if things had been different.

“It’s thought that quintessence ties us to this world. That it is merely a means of creation, not the origin of it. It’s something to be harnessed, like with the Lions and your bayards— but you can’t have power without limitations. You need something to counter it, to maintain it...” She clears her throat. “I believe that the abyss may be a pocket of what used to be the beginning of our universe. A pocket that doesn’t follow the natural order of time and instead uses quintessence to warp it, existing in an almost limbo state. Trying to balance between past and present. But in all honesty, this is only a guess. I’ve never heard of anything like this, from my father or Coran otherwise.”

The information is a welcomed addition to the nothing Keith already knows, but it’s not a solution and he’s says as much.

Her eyes flicker downward. “No,” she says quietly, “I suppose it’s not.”

“But there is a way to stop this, right? Something you can do?”

The girl hesitates.

And doesn’t that just get his temper going. The girl who should have the answers, silent in the face of the question. “You don’t have anything,” he accuses just shy of harsh, breathing hard through his nose. “Nothing to help me?”

Allura covers his hand with her smaller one, flinching when he jerks away from the touch. “Keith, it’ll be alright. I’m sure we can figure this out. Together, with the help of the team—”

“Oh no, we are not telling the others about this.”

“What? Why not? I’m sure they would want to know.”

“If I tell them then I’m going to have to tell them what I’m seeing and…” Anxiety curls at the points of his ribs, unbridled and uncalled for, when he thinks about the flashes and what they might means. The thought of such private scenes translating from mind to reality, of being spoken into existence, is too much for him to handle. “I can’t— I refuse to do that.”

“I’m sure no one will judge you for what you see. Whatever it is, we don’t yet know if it’ll even come true. If you’ll just—”

“No, Allura.”

They stare at each other, stubbornly trying to convince the other to have their way. It doesn’t last long because he knows that Allura’s moral compass won’t allow her to do anything in disagreeance to his own well-being and that forcing him to do this will bring her in direct contradiction with such Altean ideologies; she looks away first, frowning in such a manner that it cracks her symmetrical face, and the win goes to him.

“Alright,” she agrees grudgingly. “I won’t tell the rest of the team, but,” she adds quickly when she catches him letting out a breath, “you’ll come to me if they start getting worse. Of course, I’ll be looking into any surviving Altean archives to see if I can find anything that might explain this phenomenon, but any changes at all and I’m the first to know. Okay?”

“Okay.”

They shake on it, like its some big business deal.

“And am I allowed to ask what the visions entail?”

She looks to be genuinely curious and it elicits a fight or flight response in him, not that he acts on either of them. But it still has him tensing abruptly, boots scraping against the dirt in a involuntary twitch.

“No,” he says and that’s the last of it.

Until it’s not.

#voltron #dreamworks #vld #Voltron legendary defender #vld lance #vld keith #voltron keith #voltron lance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #klance #laith #after the disaster that was s8 i though itd be best to bring this up #aeon #writing #chomp chomp goes the raptor

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