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perpetual-fool · 1 year

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Old Music

I was looking up some of the music I used to listen to. It's unnerving how it still resonates with me. Like, I don't have a problem with something like Evanescence or Three Days Grace. Or even Relient K, which is sort of like clean version of Fall Out Boy ('Must Have Done Something Right' vs 'XO'). But, Jars of Clay, DC Talk, Thousand Foot Krutch, Pillar, Skillet, Red. Some of it is nostalgia, I'm sure. For instance, Jar of Clay was first album I ever listened to, and I still haven't heard anything else like it. But the Christian stuff is upbeat, hopeful in a way that other stuff just isn't. It's usually sex, heartbreak, pain, conflict. And sometimes love. But none of them are like 'this sucks, but it's going to be okay'. And yeah, that hope is a lie. I don't mean in the sense that there is no god. I mean in that religion sets itself up as the cure and the poison. 'All have fallen short of the glory of God', you deserve to burn, but god will forgive you, conditionally.

~Will the love continue, when my walk becomes a crawl?

Is there any real hope? 'No matter who you are, no matter what you've done, you are precious to me. You are not alone. We'll get through this together.' Where could that possibly come from? It could only be from each other. And I guess it's easy for me, sequestered in my little hole, to think people are fundamentally good. Which would sound strange to anyone who knows me. People's behavior appears to me to be insane and/or evil, and I've spent a lot of time trying to figure that out. But it doesn't make any sense to me, so I can't believe that. And it's easy for me to think that people who do harm are simply confused, barring a small number of exceptions. Like, even if someone genuinely doesn't care about the well-being of others, it should still be useful to act like they do. Or, capitalists destroying the world doesn't make sense, because that's where the money comes from. But to take an extreme example, could people have compassion for rapists and murderers? Not to forgive them, or to accept them in your life, but to think that even if they need to be contained for the good of others, they're still people. And people don't deserve to suffer. But maybe I'm just naive, never having been wronged like that. (And maybe I'm a bad person for not understanding how that feels.)

~You plead to everyone, "See the art in me"

And it's so easy to get right and wrong twisted up. Like, 'doing the bad thing is good actually, because blah blah the greater good. And it's harmful if you believe the wrong things, and it's harmful if you believe the right things but in the wrong way. And if you've ever made a mistake then you're a bad person. And doing anything good for yourself is bad because there are people who need things more than you do.' And I know I'm a freak. Other people do want vengeance, they do wish misfortune on those they don't like or think their enemy. And maybe they really don't care about the good of others. No one's going to think 'My enemy is my friend, and my friend has lost their way.' And maybe that's just not possible in this world, maybe scarcity, the mechanics of power, or the biases of natural selection just don't allow for it. And aside, 'lost their way' would probably imply that *I* know what's right and you should do what I want you to. Which really would mean 'what you are is not okay'. And my way is not your way, I have no right to tell you otherwise. Even with the obvious wrongness of religion and the concept of worship. People need love and acceptance, it's not their fault if that comes with fear and shame and hate. It's our fault for not providing something better. Even with UU stuff, there's still this reverence of the universe or whatever. Submission to a 'higher power', I think. As if that higher power is going to take care of you. It separates you from the thing, prevents understanding. But, if people can't look the abyss in the eye, if they need to believe that there's something out there taking care of them, then it would be wrong to try and take that from them.

~I wish you well, wish I could help, but I can't help you find yourself

This would all sound very strange to anyone who knew me in my youth. I went over this with a therapist once. When I lost my faith, I didn't just start over, tabula rasa. I flipped. All the same mechanisms remained, the condemnation just ran the other way. I didn't know what I was doing, but it was wrong to turn that on you. I'm sorry, Stevie. And I'm sorry I can't make it up to you. I would like to think, at this point, I could try to be that person. I could try to accept people for who they are, as they are, and do whatever good I can. I dunno, maybe get friendly with people at a UU place and ask if there's anything they need doing. Or see what kind of volunteer work might be in the area. But I still don't get along with people. Just asking people for what I need to understand them is enough to make them hate me. And anything I say gets twisted into something else. I still can't do anything right. I'm still a stupid piece of shit.

The only person I could do any good for is myself. This is a very strange feeling. People don't want you to accept yourself, do they? You're always supposed to feel bad about something or other. I cam imagine accepting someone else, and I can imagine telling them they should accept themselves. But turning that compassion on myself? I might tell someone else, you are not your mistakes. Hating yourself only causes needless suffering, being paralyzed by guilt only keeps you from growing. You don't have to be good enough. You don't need to deserve help. Bringing happiness would be the right thing to do whether you deserve it or not. And that doesn't change if that person who's suffering is you. You should do things just because you like them. You should try new things and make a fool of yourself. You should ask the stupid questions. And you should accept that there's some things you can't do. And that sometimes you may just not have the strength to act. And sometimes things are out of your hands. And still it would be no less right to ease your suffering, and add to your joy.

And I suppose I don't have an excuse as to why this wouldn't apply to myself as well. It's hard to change. I still don't want to be alone. I still want to connect. And this still means giving up on that, and accepting that everyone else is wrong. I had to burn through every possibility, every last hope to get here. If there was anything left that I could do to get someone to love me, I'd be doing that instead. And it's not like there aren't plenty of groups willing to trade acceptance for your soul. But none of them fit. I'm just built wrong, ya' know?

'I am alone. I look at the heavens and think them empty. And if not empty, I find the idea of worshiping whatever dwells there obscene. It doesn't change what's right. If there is nothing but what we make in this world, let us make good.'

- (https://youtu.be/a8ndQK9M--U)

There was one incident, a 'lesson' during youth group. The youth pastor was doing this demonstration with bite-size Snickers bars. He presented us with two, one still in the wrapper and one bare. He asked us to choose one, and the other would be thrown away. This was supposed to be a metaphor about our contempt for sinners and how we should tolerate them anyway, to phrase it as what it actually meant. But when he got to me, I chose the 'dirty' one. Someone said, probably jokingly, "Wow, A***** is more like Jesus than any of us!" But, I saw him unwrap it. I knew exactly where it had been. And the other one, still in it's wrapper, would still be clean when I pulled it out of the trash later. I could have both. That probably sounds like it spoils the metaphor, but I don't think it does. It doesn't make sense to me that people should be condemned for making mistakes or for being what they are. You shouldn't just be tolerated, you are not dirty.

~Unique voice among the many, in this choir. Tuning into each other, lift all higher

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impalas-r-important · 3 years

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Love of my Life - (5) Don't play games with me

Summary: Game night ends with a surprise

Warnings: N/A. Let me know if you find any that I should be listing!

A/N: I know Jody isn't a big player at this point in the show, and that Donna hasn't even been introduced. But I love them and we're just going to pretend for the sake of the story!

Series Masterlist

It was your turn to make treats for game night, so after you had showered and dressed, you pulled together ingredients for cookies and preheated the oven. Sam, Bobby and Nick were in the living room and Dean had just joined.

“Of course, you show up after we’ve cleaned the place.” Bobby remarked as Dean sat down. The boys all talked and laughed for a while, and you were glad to see that Dean was finally warming up to Nick. Once you put the cookies in the oven, you began to clean up.

“I’ll wash if you dry.” A deep voice offered. You looked up to find Nick holding out a dish towel to you, which you accepted.

“I’m glad to see Dean is finally speaking to you.” You gave Nick a side glance.

“Yeah, me too. He’s a really cool guy, I’d love to pick his brain sometime.”

The two of you worked like a well-oiled machine and were done with the dishes in no time. Dean couldn’t help but watch from the living room.

“Dean, are you even listening?” Sam snapped his fingers and frowned. He knew exactly what Dean was watching.

“Yeah, sorry. What’d you ask?” Dean blinked a few times, bringing himself back to reality.

“What games should we play tonight?” Sam opened up an old cupboard full of card and board games.

“I’m always down for a little poker.” Dean said as he grabbed a few decks of playing cards.

Jody filed in soon after and brought Donna with them, who had been visiting. You yelled hello from the kitchen and pulled the cookies from the oven.

“Smells amazing.” Nick leaned over the tray and inhaled, then reached for a cookie. You quickly slapped his hand.

“You gotta wait until the games start.” Nick gave you an exaggerated puppy dog look. “Sorry, not buying it. Sam’s been giving me that look for years. I’m immune to it.” Nick huffed in defeat and gave you a quick kiss on the forehead.

Jody couldn’t help but notice the new hunter who was strangely close to you. She approached Sam with a headful of questions. “Sam, did I just see some guy give Y/N a kiss on the forehead?”

“Yeah, that’s Nick. He’s been hanging around here for a few weeks while he heals up from saving Bobby’s bacon. He’s a decent guy, and he’s got it real bad for Y/N.”

“Uh huh…” Jody paused to think. “I guess what I’m really wondering is why hasn’t Dean ripped Nick’s throat out for even standing 5 feet from Y/N?”

“I’m sure he wants to. But Dean made his choice, and I reminded him that. I hated seeing Dean lead Y/N on like he might eventually get back with her someday.”

“But we all know Lisa’s just a temporary thing, right?” Jody looked to Sam for assurance, but he stayed silent. “Right?!” She emphasized.

“I don’t know anymore. I don’t think she’s right for Dean, but he hasn’t given any signs of leaving her. Maybe it’s permanent.” Sam took a drink of his beer.

“Oh.” Jody looked back over into the kitchen to see Nick leaning against the counter watching you with adoring eyes as you moved the cookies from the baking sheet to the cooling rack. “She does seem happy with him, and hell she deserves to be happy. But I gotta admit, Dean and Y/N seemed like they were perfect for each other. Like a match made in heaven.” She scanned the room to find Dean sitting on a chair in the corner next to Donna, trying his best to look invested in their conversation, but stealing occasional glances into the kitchen. Jody excused herself from her conversation with Sam and placed her hand on Dean’s arm, interrupting Donna mid-sentence. “Can I steal Dean for a sec?” Donna nodded and smiled, and Jody signaled for Dean to follow her out of the room. She sat down on the bottom step of the staircase. Dean followed suit.

“Everything ok, Jody?” Dean asked with concern in his eyes.

“I should be asking you that.”

Dean looked taken aback by her question and simply responded, “Well I’m just peachy,” before finishing off his beer.

“Dean, you don’t seem happy. Maybe it’s none of my business, but I think you and I know each other well enough that I can ask… What the hell are you doing?”

“What?” A confused Dean looked at Jody with questioning eyes.

“I’ll say it once and then drop it, because I’m not one to nag.” Jody took a deep breath and exhaled. “You belong with Y/N, Dean. I know it, you know it, everyone knows it. You were literally made for each other. The first time that I saw you with Y/N, I knew that she was the one for you. I saw it in your eyes, and how you spoke with her, how you touched her. It was straight out of a crappy romance novel.” Jody looked at Dean, who was avoiding eye contact. “So, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, or between Y/N and Nick, or between you and Lisa. But I know what I know, and I know that Y/N is the girl for you. You’re not really you when you’re not with her.”

Dean played with the label on his beer bottle and remained silent for a few moments, as did Jody. She wanted to give him the chance to talk if he wanted to.

“I’m still in love with her.” Jody could feel the pain dripping from his words. “I wake up every morning wishing that she and Sam had just rang the stupid doorbell instead of leaving for a year the night they came back. I would have left with them and I’m know I would still be with Y/N now. But I made a commitment that I can’t bring myself to break.”

“To Lisa?” Jody placed her hand on Dean’s back. He shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to contain his emotions.

“To Ben.” He answered and clenched his jaw. “I don’t love Lisa and I would have left the second I knew Y/N was back. But when Ben looked me in the eyes and told me that he thinks of me as his Dad, his real Dad, I knew I had to stick around for the long haul. I know firsthand how an absentee father can screw you up, and I can’t do that to him. But I can’t keep pretending that everything is all right.”

“I see.” Jody nodded. “Have you told anyone else about this? Sam or Bobby?” Dean shook his head. “Well, I can’t tell you what you do in this situation, but I do know that you’re a good man, Dean Winchester, and I’m here if you ever need to talk through things.” Dean nodded and Jody stood up, pulling him up by the arm. “Let’s go play some games.” She smiled and led him into the living room where the furniture had been pushed to the sides of the room to make room for the poker table.

“There you are!” You greeted as Dean and Jody joined your group. You could tell Dean was off as he sat down across from you. His eyes met yours and you immediately recognized the pain in his expression. Dean took a deep breath, picked up the cards he had been dealt, and put on a fake smile. At this point in his life, he was an expert at putting on a happy face, but you knew him too well and saw right through it. You were pulled back to reality by Nick putting his hand on your knee, signaling it was your turn. You gave him a sheepish smile and played your cards.

Your felt your heart being torn in 2 ways. For a long time, you thought Dean would be your forever, and you knew a part of you would always love him no matter what. But he was with someone else and showed no signs of wanting you anymore. Nick, on the other hand, was caring and had opened his heart to you quickly. He was handsome and funny and sweet, and any girl would be lucky to have him. You felt in the wrong because you knew that even if you pursued a relationship with Nick, you wouldn’t be able to give him all of you. Dean Winchester would always own a piece of your heart, a big one at that, and you were reminded of that every time you looked at him.

Hours had passed and it was getting late. You had all had fun, but people were filing out the door. You organized the cards into their proper decks and put them away. Sam helped you fold the table up and Nick and Bobby were picking up bottles and cans and clearing plates. You didn’t see Dean and assumed he must have left with the group but thought it was odd that he didn’t say goodbye. You said goodnight to the boys and headed up to your room. Dean had been off all night and you were worried. Your hand reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You scrolled down to Dean’s name and debated whether or not to call him. As you pushed your door open, you were startled to find someone sitting on your bed. You immediately went into defense mode, grabbing a knife from the top of your dresser.

“Dean?” You asked softly, putting down the knife and joining him on the edge of the bed. He was looking through an old photo album that you kept in the drawer of your nightstand.

“I remember when we took this. Sam was so mad that we stopped in the middle of the desert for one stupid picture.” Dean held up a picture of you sitting on top of his shoulders, pointing to the “Welcome to New Mexico” state sign. Dean was wearing a grey t-shirt and sunglasses and you had your hair pulled up in a messy ponytail. This was one of your favorite pictures. You made the boys stop so you could take a picture anytime you passed one of those state signs and were determined to get a picture with all 50 of them. Dean thought it was stupid at first, but he saw how happy it made you. Eventually he joined in, and the two of you would make silly poses next to each sign, leaving Sam to be the photographer.

“There’s still a few states that I need pictures of.” You took the book from Dean and slowly flipped through the pages. This album was one of your most cherished belongings, but you hadn’t looked through it for almost a year and a half. The memories that these pictures brought back were always happy at first but following closely behind was the pain of knowing that you and Dean would never be that close again.

“How many? Maybe we can take a few road trips and hit the ones you don’t have. Could be fun.” Dean suggested, raising his eyebrows.

You wanted to say yes, pack a bag, and leave right that minute. That’s the kind of thing the two of you used to do. But things were different now. Your smile faded, and instead of accepting his invitation, all you managed to say was, “Are you sure Lisa would be okay with that?”

Dean pursed his lips and nodded, silently agreeing that you had a point. He turned to look at you with desperation in his eyes and opened his mouth to say something before Sam walked in, breaking the tension.

“Hey, man, I thought you left. Thanks for helping clean up.” Sam said sarcastically as he flopped down on your bed. “Oh, man, I remember these pictures.” He took the book from your hands and scanned the pictures. “I miss these times. The three of us out on the road.”

“Me too.” You and Dean agreed in unison.

It was already late, but you and the brothers stayed up for at least another hour remembering stories about your past. You could hear Nick’s boot heavy on the stairs as he walked towards your room.

“Nick!” Sam yelled to get his attention.

Nick stopped and peaked his head in the door. “This must be the afterparty.” He smiled and you signaled for him to come in.

“Alright, you gotta tell us your craziest hunting story.” Sam demanded.

“Hmm…” Nick pondered and scratched his head. “Twin falls, Idaho, 2010. Four vamps, two werewolves, one ghoul, and two idiot hunters who thought they could handle it by themselves.”

“Sounds like the start of a crappy joke.” Dean chimed in.

Nick laughed and continued with his story. You all exchanged hunting tales until you grew tired and gave a big yawn.

“You know, my buddy found a case in Virginia. We could head out in the morning and help him if you guys feel up to it?” Nick suggested. “I’m dying to get back out there, even if I am limited.” He lifted his leg with the boot on it.

“I’m game!” Sam hopped off the bed. “I’ll go pack. Night guys.”

“Y/N?” Nick looked for your answer.

“Hell yes. I’m itching for a good fight.” You said sleepily.

“Sweet. See you in the morning.” Nick winked at you as he left.

“I’d offer for you to come, but…” You trailed off; your words directed at Dean.

“I know.” Dean nodded in acceptance. He readjusted himself to lay back on your bed, hands behind his head. “I miss hunting.”

“Hunting misses you.” You laid down next to him. “I mean, you’re Dean freaking Winchester. I’ve been told by a reliable source that some people call you The Ultimate Hunter.” You exaggerated your words and chuckled to yourself.

“More like the ultimate retiree now.”

You studied the ceiling and looked over to Dean, who had his eyes closed. It was at least 2 AM and you figured he was tired. “So, what were you doing in here tonight, anyway?” You figured you deserved an answer since he almost gave you a heart attack.

Dean’s breathing was slow and steady. “I don’t know. I just started walking and this is where I ended up.”

“Going through my stuff? You’re lucky I didn’t throw my knife at you. You scared the crap out of me when I first walked in.”

Dean smiled. “That’s what you get for beating me in poker tonight.”

“You mean kicking your ass in poker tonight?”

“Same difference.” He pushed you with his elbow a bit. The two of you lay in silence for a few minutes.

“You seemed off tonight.” You glanced at him.

“Just tired. Bobby’s couch wasn’t the most comfortable last night.”

“No, that’s not it. Are you feeling okay lately? You’ve been over here more in the past few weeks than you have in the past few months.”

Dean shrugged. “I guess it just sucks knowing that I’m being replaced.”

“Replaced?”

“Yeah. With Nick.”

“Uh, Nick isn’t replacing you.” Dean sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed.

“Sure feels like it. Sam has become fast friends with him, Bobby trusts the guy, and now the gang is going out on a hunt without me.”

“Dean, you know we’d love it if you came hunting with us, but you got out of the life and Sam and I are just trying to respect that.”

Dean rubbed his hands over his face. “But worst of all, I see the way he looks at you. I know that look because that’s how I used to look at you.” You looked down at the floor, searching for the right words. “Hell, I still do, Y/N/N.”

Chapter 6

Tags:

@vicmc624

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom

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karmasuna · 4 years

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》you have a crush on bobby pins

pairing; shinso x f!reader

genre; fluff

wordcount; 2235

synopsis; it’s shinso’s birthday and he gets a very peculiar gift from a mystery person.

a/n; wooooo it’s shinso day! this is purely self indulgent and also heavily inspired by this assclass karashuu fic by @/gwendee on ao3! they’re like my all time favorite writer yes i just-

“Happy birthday, Shinso!”

“Thanks,” the purple haired boy glances back at the girl who had just walked past time, giving her a small smile just to be polite.

He doesn’t know that girl, he thinks. Ever since he’s joined the hero course he’s been getting a lot more attention, which he guesses was to be expected. It’s not bad, he supposes, but it does stand in stark contrast from how they had treated him just a year ago, shunning him because of his quirk. It’s a nice change.

Coming to a stop in front of his shoe locker, he opens it only to promptly be hit in the face by an onslaught of gifts and letters. Shinso sighs.

“Isn’t this is a bit too much,” he mutters quietly as he bends down to pick them up, nose scrunching a little when he catches a whiff of all the combined perfumes the girls must have drowned their cards and presents in.

Behind him Kaminari whistles lowly, eyeing the small mountain. “Bro, you’re gonna catch up to Todoroki’s level in no time. That dude has two fanclubs just here at school, I seriously have no idea how he does it.”

Finally managing to get everything out of his locker he slips on his indoor shoes, tapping them gently the floor before looking up at the blonde, unamused.

“Take whatever you want,” he gestures at the pile. “It’s not like I would be able to eat so much chocolate anyways. I don’t even like them that much.”

“Sweet,” the blonde flashes him a grin, already fishing out a bag from his backpack and wasting no time with shoving boxes in. “You’re the best.”

“You came prepared, didn’t you.” Shinso grabs the cards and envelopes, scanning through the names to see if anything catches his eye. Unsurprisingly, nothing does so he just tucks them away in his bag. Of course you hadn’t put something in his shoe locker, that’s just cliché.

Kaminari shrugs, standing up and heaving the bulging bag over his shoulder. “Bakugo never wants his presents either, so I’m ready for it.”

When he gets to the classroom he’s greeted by a chorus of birthday wishes and another small stack of gifts on his desk. These elicit a genuine smile from him. They’re from people who know him well and it shows in the unique presents they had each picked out.

It’s sappy but the thought they put into the presents makes his heart warm, and he doesn’t even try to stop the fond smile creeping onto his face as he flips through the album Midoriya had given him, complete with cute little notes from everyone.

His eyes widen when he gets to the bottom of the pile, looking at the small pouch in confusion. There’s a few bobby pins inside and a small scrap of notebook paper, unfolding it to see “happy birthday” hastily written in chicken scratch. Clearly whoever wrote it was either in a hurry or didn’t really put any effort into the gift.

It’s a strangely thoughtful present, he supposes. Maybe now his hair would finally stay out of his face even when he does his homework after school and his hair gel softens just enough to let a few wisps constantly poke at his eyes.

Shinso thinks long and hard about who possibly could have given him such a peculiar gift even as the school bell rings, tuning out Aizawa’s announcements as he gets lost in his own thoughts, eyes scanning the room for any potential answers.

There’s no way it could’ve been a boy. Last time he checked none of them were beauty gurus, and he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t know how to even use a bobby pin either, including himself.

So it was most likely a girl then. He finds his thoughts automatically drifts toward you, but he shoots the assumption down before it can even become an idea. Sure, out of all the girls he was definitely closest to you, but he’s convinced that you only talk to him because you feel sorry for his antisocial ass.

He sighs, burying his face in his hands. Now that he had jumped onto this thought train he can’t stop thinking about those stupid bobby pins.

---

“Midoriya,” he later asks during class when he can’t take the curiosity anymore, “do you know if anyone in our class uses bobby pins?”

Midoriya looks visibly confused from his strange question, and Shinso honestly doesn’t blame him at all. “Aren’t they really common? I’m not sure, but even Eri has some.”

That wasn’t helpful at all. Shinso thanks him anyways, and moves on to see if Kaminari and his habit of “observing” girls would be of any help.

“Kaminari, I need you to help me find out who gave me bobby pins as a birthday present.”

The incredulous gaze he gets in response is definitely something he expected. “Um, what now?”

Shinso repeats himself, slower this time. The blonde still doesn’t seem to get it, so he pulls the small satchel out of his pocket and shows him. “Bobby pins,” he repeats, hoping Kaminari would connect the dots.

“Woah,” says Kaminari.

Shinso waits patiently to see if he had anything else to say. “That’s it? /Woah/?”

“I don’t know, man,” Kaminari peers at the little scrap of paper, studying the handwriting carefully. “I can help you ask around though. See what Jiro knows.”

---

Later that day after school he takes the bag out and puts it on his desk, staring at the small note that came with. He feels stupid for having used up most of his birthday thinking about bobby pins of all things.

“I need to know,” he tells himself before pulling out his phone and dialing.

“The fuck you want, dipshit.” Bakugo picks up almost instantly, which Shinso is very thankful for.

“I need advice.”

“And you think I’m gonna help you like some shitty therapist? Fuck off, I don’t wanna hear you whine like a little bitch.”

Shinso waits a few moments, and when Bakugo doesn’t hang up he starts talking again. “I got bobby pins from someone in our class,” he begins.

“Why do I need to know this.” The blonde sounds angry on the other end, so he decides to stoke his ego a little.

“You don’t sugarcoat things, and I need you to tell me what I don’t want to hear. Not exactly something Midoriya can do.”

Bakugo snorts. “Damn right that shitty Deku’s useless. He’s fucking stupid.”

“Yes,” Shinso agrees, “so help me out here.”

And so he tells Bakugo everything. It’s not much given he really didn’t know anything about the mystery sender, but the blonde listens anyways, grunting occasionally to acknowledge his story.

“You have a crush on bobby pins,” Bakugo concludes when Shinso’s finished.

“Say what now.”

“You don’t know shit about whoever sent them but you can’t stop thinking about them. It’s pretty straightforward.”

The purple boy sighs loudly, not knowing what to say. Bakugo’s not wrong, really. It’s either that or-

“It’s either that or you have a crush on Y/N, since you obviously think she’s the one who gave them to you,” Bakugo says.

Shinso swears out loud. “I did not want to hear that,” he tells the other boy.

“Sorry. Maybe you shouldn’t have fuckin called me in the first place. This is a waste of time.” Bakugo doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“She doesn’t like me back.” At this point he doesn’t even bother hiding his crush on you anymore. If you were going to find out you would have ages ago.

“Why can’t you just ask her yourself and quit forcing me to listen to you whine like a little bitch.”

“Oh yeah.” He hadn’t even considered that an option. “I’ll definitely do that.”

“Cool. Can I leave now?”’

“Sure. Thanks, Bakugo.”

“I don’t want to hear your sappy shit,” is all he says before he hangs up.

Shinso takes in a deep breath before pulling up your contact and quickly typing in a message, finger hovering on the send button, contemplating whether he should send such a dumb-sounding message and potentially weird you out.

He’s still staring at the screen, his other hand going to brush hair from his eyes as he debates with himself.

Suddenly there’s a knock at his door that snaps him out of his thoughts and makes him jump, resulting in his finger accidentally hitting the send button. Groaning in frustration, he gives himself five seconds to wallow in his regrets before getting up to open the door, definitely not expecting to see you there.

“‘Toshi! I know it’s your birthday but it’s still Friday night, and you know what that means,” you grin at him, letting yourself in and flopping onto his bed.

He closes the door and nods, sighing with the motion makes his hair fall into his eyes again.

“Yeah, you’re gonna force me to watch Haikyuu with you again.”

You pout at him, scooting over to make space for him as you pull up the website on your laptop. “Don’t say it like you don’t enjoy it. I see the way you look whenever Yamaguchi gets to serve.”

“Shut up,” is all he says in response, but there’s no heat in his words.

“You aren’t denying it,” you say giddily, but your tone changes when you look at him and see him brushing hair out of his eyes again.

“Didn’t you get the bobby pins his morning? Use them, geez,” you say casually as if it were no big deal.

Shinso freezes in his actions, trying to process what you had just said. “Yeah, I did,” he says carefully, trying not to give way the way his heart was racing in his chest, “how’d you know?”

Just then your phone pings, you laughing when you see his message. “Mhm, I put them there. If you’re not gonna use them then give ‘em back, I don’t wanna waste any.

“Thanks,” he says, feeling oddly touched now that he knew it was really you. “I would use them but I don’t know how to.”

You raise a brow, surprised by this new information. “Seriously? Don’t worry, I gotcha. Where are they?”

Reaching over to grab a few from his desk he hands them to you, sitting still as you shuffle around to sit between his legs, carefully gathering the stray locks and twisting them gently. “Tell me if it hurts, yeah?”

His brain is short-circuiting from how close you suddenly are. He can practically smell your shampoo, and seeing you so pretty and focused up close doesn’t help him calm his heart at all.

Your lips look really kissable right now, he thinks to himself. If he just tilted his head up the smallest of fractions your lips would meet, but he’s too afraid of ruining your friendship.

“Damn, you really put a lot of effort into getting me a present,” he murmurs, “with the chicken scratch and all.”

“Shush, you know how bad I am with birthdays. Be grateful I got you anything at all.”

“Wow, I’m so touched,” he retorts sarcastically, rolling his eyes at how you had just blatantly admitted you didn’t remember his birthday, “guess this means I don’t have to get you that Oikawa figure for your birthday then.”

He chuckles when he feels you freeze up from his words. “What? You literally gave me your own pins and told me to give them back. What kind of a crappy birthday present is that?”

“No, please. I need my Tooru,” you whine, voice smaller than before. “I’ll get you something, anything I can afford, okay? Just tell me what you want.”

He hums, thinking about his options, waiting for you to get back to work on his hair before speaking up again. “Anything?”

“Anything my wallet can handle,” you clarify, mock glaring at him as you pull at the strands roughly, making him grunt in pain. “Okay okay, I got it, chill.”

“I don’t think what I want is going to hurt your wallet at all,” he breathes, studying your reaction to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable.

“Mhm,” you say, not really paying attention to his words as you slide the last bobby pin into his hair, “I’m done! What do you want then-”

You’re interrupted by him tilting his head up ever so slightly to press his lips against yours in a soft kiss. Gasping in surprise, you don’t even have time to react before he pulls back, rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully.

“Um, I’m sorry,” he begins, but this time you cut him off, throwing your hands around him and grinning.

“For what, stupid? Kiss me again.”

There’s no denying your words set his cheeks away, but he swallows before leaning back in to connect your lips again. Hands carefully snaking their way around your waist and pulling you even closer, holding you so gently as if he were afraid you would shatter or disappear.

“I really like you,” Shinso whispers when you pull apart, bumping his nose gently against yours.

“I like you a lot too, ‘Toshi,” you grin, “happy birthday.”

He hums in agreement, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Best birthday ever.”

---

“I should just give you my phone case or something for your birthday.”

“What the hell? Our phones aren’t even the same model!”

#bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha headcanons #bnha fluff #bnha imagines #mha imagines #mha headcanons #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinso x reader #mha shinsou #bnha shinso hitoshi #bnha shinso x reader #shinsou fluff #shinsou headcanons

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oneweekoneband · 3 years

Text

her Nebraska (1982)

In July I flew to Massachusetts with a plague on, and I felt that it was wrong, but my mother had begged and I’d been out of work for months. Mornings there I ran in long, uneven ovals on the same roads I’d memorized in high school. There’s no sidewalks, but the few feet of dirt between the craggy pavement and the open mouths of the fields serve all right for a single body in motion. When a truck comes up close from behind, the ground shakes, and I step away bouncingly from the street toward thigh-high yellow weeds and grass, and keep going. I was slowly picking my way back in that dirt, sweat-slick from only a plodding couple of miles in peak summer heat, and sucking the wet cotton of my mask in between my teeth on every inhale, when Taylor Swift announced she was releasing a surprise album produced by the guy from The National. Not the guy from The National, like, the voice, but the guy from The National whose photo was circulated on Twitter earlier this year as some kind of antifa super soldier, which isn’t the case, but would’ve been rad. First, I stopped dead to send some outraged, misspelled text messages, and then I ran home faster than I’d moved in years.

Tall, blonde, patrician pop star Taylor Swift is to me something like a cross-between a wife and a boogeyman. Bound we’ve been since we were really children. Time and its changes haven’t rid me of her, and what’s worse is I have never quite been able to wish they would, though I claim as much all the time. Countless hours of my one wild and precious life have been spent on endlessly analyzing the minutiae of Taylor Swift’s music, the mind that made it, the real world events which influenced it. And though all the while I have known she is only a person, and that people, while each strange and lovely in their own ways, are, in the end, mostly dull, needful in just the regular manner, the fantasy is better, the sick dream of a megalomaniac songstress, curious, thrilling, probably evil, and I choose that. I don’t know Taylor Alison Swift, born to this world in, I presume, the usual way. But my Taylor Swift? I’m a renowned expert. I’ve always eaten up stories—movies, music, celebrity news, the one my grandfather tells about falling off his bike once in Ireland as a boy and his face “cracking open like an egg”—like a starved dog. I’m obsessive about my interests, but not inclined to intense fandom, and certainly not fandom in the mode of the stan. For one, I’m too self-absorbed. But caring intensely for a famous person is falling in love with a ghost, and that’s all right—I mean, what the hell? We’re here together just dying... Let’s enjoy—but is an affair best undertaken with the knowledge that everyone alive has their own complex interiority, as unruly as your own, and that you, a stranger, are not in any real way connected to the lawless, blurry middle of that celebrity, and will never be. It’s freeing and fun to know this. I mean, these people are basically in your employ. Glamorous dollhouse dwellers. Acknowledging that uncrossable distance allows for a different, healthier closeness of pure imagination. My feelings, then, can comfortably be at once both fiercely intense and entirely silly. I am a foremost scholar in the art of the Taylor Swift who exists in my head. The real person raised in Pennsylvania I don’t know at all. I have some conjectures on the matter, and, as with all my conjectures, every hackneyed theory, each picky little opinion, I’m sure they’re perfect, brilliant, just absolutely right, but that’s still all they are. Taylor Swift, figure of the cultural imagination, is the Jodie Comer to my Sandra Oh in Killing Eve, annoying and pretty in frills, taunting me endlessly and holding us trapped together in a dance of most enchanting death. But the real Taylor Swift has favorite bed sheets and a social security number and a British boyfriend, none of which I have any desire to know about, and if I saw her at a restaurant I’d politely avert my eyes before, yes, dive-bombing the group text. There’s nobody on Earth I’d stand in line to speak to, but then I’ve been speaking to a certain figment of Taylor Swift for nearly half my life.

I went to a Taylor Swift concert the night before I moved into college in 2009. My father’s work friend, firefighter by day, near professional gambler by night, got comped tickets to the Fearless Tour stop taking place at the nearby casino, and he let me have them as a reward, mainly, for happening to be seventeen. Live in-person and performed acoustically, “Fifteen” made me cry. A few years after that, in the thick, sticky part of my first post-college summer, I wrote approximately twenty-three million words about her in these very pages. (”Pages”) At that point, Taylor’s most recent release was 2012’s Red, and the work I produced that long ago July about Taylor and her career, writing I was fairly pleased with at the time, feels now, besides just being extremely clearly written by a twenty-one year old, strange to me for the way it favors the sweet over the sour almost uniformly. There is a wholesome kind of ardor in that writing which maybe I’ve outgrown the ability to hold. Or maybe Taylor just proceeded to spend the next half a decade plus releasing one bad single after another, and it was taste—and trespasses against taste—and not some shift in my nature which altered the tenor of our bond. I have real love for my particular image, gleaned from public statements and published art, of smart, bizarre famous woman Taylor Swift, and I admire the bulk of her output very much. I’m just no longer so inclined to fawn. This is not to say I am here to offer a Taylor Swift hate screed. I couldn’t swing it, and, anyway, I’m not a pop feminist-for-hire circa 2010. But we’re older now. Things are different. At twenty-eight, twenty-nine this month—Taylor will, also this December, turn thirty-one—I regard Taylor Swift warily, like an ex with whom you have a tentative friendship, perpetually on the brink of falling one way or the other into hatred or delight, only to wobble back the opposite direction again at the slightest provocation, but still, despite best efforts, even, I regard her all the time.

folklore was released at midnight on July 24th 2020, but I was at a cabin in rural Vermont without Internet or cell service. I drank Bud Light seltzers with my mother while watching the eerie pandemic return of Major League Baseball, and when I got into a strange bed there I stewed, knowing there were people out in the world all over who were hearing Taylor Swift songs I never had, and that this was a fundamental wrong, a disruption in the balance of the universe. I listened to it the next morning in a Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot.

And folklore is great. That’s the terrible thing. Slightly less great, maybe, than some people have insisted, tricked, I think, by just the pronounced shift in sound. But it’s great. A little gift I asked for a thousand times and was still surprised to get, like a wife who didn’t expect her henpecked husband to ever follow through and buy the paraffin wax hand bath as-see-on-TV. For years, I’ve been halfheartedly insisting that Taylor had a great album in her. I’d say it even, perhaps especially, while she stubbornly fed me gruel. Or worse, gruel with the occasional whiff of something better. With a ripe, little raspberry dropped into the slop. The bright, villainous thrill of “Getaway Car” made me believe Taylor, my Taylor, was in there somewhere under the lacquer of sequins and synth, which, while not objectionable by default, seemed a costume, and an ill-fitting one. The lived-in world of “Cornelia Street” made those old scars sting. That gay “Delicate” video. When she did “Call It What You Want” on SNL and played guitar while wearing an ugly sweater. If the abominable “ME!”, lead single off Lover, was the stick, 1989’s “Clean” was the carrot. I was Charlie Brown, and Taylor my Lucy, yanking the football back again and again. Over drinks I still yelled that Taylor Swift’s next album would be, “her Nebraska”, referring to my favorite Bruce Springsteen record, and learned to live with that egg on my face for good. I suppose I even came to like it. There was something inherently funny in taking up, like, “blind faith in the as of yet untapped greater artistic potential of massively wealthy and popular singer Taylor Swift” as my totally inane personal cause du jour, and eventually it was a bit, a gag I performed to be obstinate and didactic, but way down somewhere awful near my kidneys I meant it the whole while. And then she did it. A pandemic befell the world and amid a sea of human suffering Taylor Swift remembered she can write. She wrote, and with a massive, crucial assist from Aaron Dessner, whose music on this record is sometimes so beautiful it actually angers me, as the last thing I needed in already perilous times was to be made to try and marry my uniquely perverse emotional responses to beloved divorced dad band The National and fucking Taylor Swift, she made an album which, if not her Nebraska, per se (I’ve come to realize that a major part of believing Taylor Swift will one day make an album I find as quietly devastating and gorgeous as Nebraska is knowing that no album will ever actually be Her Nebraska... That each will, rather, to me, be more and more evidence that it’s coming still, more proof that the limit is untouched, on and on ad infinitum, or at least until the seas take us into a place of salty peace.) is a shocking credit to all my hard-fought and deluded confidence. folklore is great. This fact has made me feel almost equally as disoriented from my understanding of the world as the time-melting COVID-19 lockdowns have, and it turned my Spotify year in review annual collective AI humiliation kink thing into a glaring indictment of my mental state, but still, I mean... It’s great.

In talking about folklore a bit this week, there are a number of specific topics I intend to cover—what a thrill it is to hear Taylor say “fuck”; Taylor’s terrifying birth chart; the astoundingly perfect bridge of “the last great american dynasty”; “because my ass is located at the back of my body”; the bit in last year’s “Lover” where deranged WASP Taylor Swift implies that to “leave the Christmas lights up til January” is some signifier of being a love-struck bohemian, when actually everyone who doesn’t employ domestic staff to take their lights down does this; how reputation is the best of the Taylor Swift records released in the latter half of the 2010s, actually, and the people who can’t see that are cowards—but intend mostly to let the muse move me where she will. Against the advice of my better angels, she—that tie-in marketing eldritch terror—always does.

#taylor swift #folklore

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mhaccunoval · 3 years

Text

i finallyyyy finished the explanations for my tlb playlistttt so come get yall juice

if you haven’t already seen my first (official) post about this silly little playlist then you are still in luck !!! here is the spotify and the youtube links !!! oh yeah also all of the songs are in chronological order (maybe not by month but definitely by year) because i had to be organized like that sbjhshsjbs

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❥ title

i mean. there isn’t much to explain about it but sbjshbsjhs it’s based on sam’s line “you’re a creature of the night, michael!” of course but i made it plural because this playlist is sort of a. general boys / movie playlist, if that makes sense??? but yeahhhh they’re all littol creechers who love the night >:o]

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❥ paint it, black — the rolling stones

so !!! i was kind of trying to relate it to the boys vampirism and. love of black clothes sbhsjbshjs but no. similar to the title, they. literally live in darkness because of not being able to go into the sun and because of the few lights in the lair but there’s also a sort of duality where being vampires in an internal darkness??? like. each of the boys takes heavy advantage of the benefits of being undead but i can’t imagine it’s without its faults outside of the lack of sunlight and such. i’m sure there’s a kind of uh. monster complex that follows it, especially with the way outsiders view them, which certainly fits with the song’s vibe of being washed with this sort of sensory overload to color and earning weird looks for it

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❥ riders on the storm — the doors

first of all, there’s a giant ass jim morrison poster in the lair therefore the boys definitely listen to the doors (if not idolize jim) so jot that down. but also !!! it has very Them vibes !!! i think the storm effects definitely relate to boys in how storms create a darkness that is soothing in its own way, and comes on strong, just like the boys’ presence. and. technically they Are killers on the road that Will kill a sweet family sbhjsbshjsb but no most of all the !!! “into this house we’re born // into this world we’re thrown” and !!! the found family that the boys have going. like, if you look at. vampirism as the house they have LITERALLY been born into it and been thrown into a whole new world, depending on each other for comfort and pleasure !!! oh also. they ride motorcycles so they’re also literal riders sbhjsbshjs (fun fact, according to genius lyrics: apparently it was the last song jim recorded before he died a few weeks later 😳)

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❥ love her madly — the doors

whole jim morrison poster and listening to the doors reasoning is sustained. HOWEVER for the rest of reasoning… perhaps it’s more straight up 95060 than anything but sbhsjbsshj the whole woman walking in and out of the audience’s life is very symbolic of michael being in and out with the boys, never really deciding whether he wants to fully join them and straining. all of his relationships with that indecision and sitting on the picket fence (those who sit on the picket fence are impaled by it). although, it could also be partly symbolic of that indecision, as he does find Some charm in the boys’ lifestyle and keeps finding himself drawn back enough to even consider partaking in it. also, if you wanna go the parko route, paul loves marko madly enough to go after the frog bros personally for killing him <3

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❥ walk this way — aerosmith

i am. blanking on how to tie it in other than being on the movie’s soundtrack (yes i avoided it and people are strange until the very end of making the playlist, but one of the evils got me clearly— have always ADORED people are strange though). but. i guess you can make the case that the song is full of innuendos and some scenes, like the feeding scene, are lowkey horny sbsjhbshjsbs and YES it’s the aerosmith version instead of the run dmc one because. i prefer this one and it’s my silly little playlist <3

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❥ the boys are back in town — thin lizzy

technically the boys never Left town but !!! *christopher walken voice* Boys !!! them cast ARE crazy and they’re ALWAYS dressed to kill, ready to spill some blood and pick a fight !!! yeah no it’s just a very fun song that i think really works to. represent their crazy lifestyle and infamy around town due to causing trouble !!! and you can almost say that in this scenario star is the girl who used to dance a lot and slapped the shit out of someone <3 just girlboss moments <3

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❥ xanadu — rush

hehehe… this started as the. desire to add more rush to the playlist for my own amusement but the more times i listen to it, the more i’m like “!!! it actually fits”… like. xanadu here is meant to a sort of utopia that’s long searched for, partly BECAUSE of the promise of immortality which !!! the boys have (unless. harmed in one of the ways at the end of the movie) because of their vampirism. like even if we don’t know the exact reasons they got turned, they all still, mostly indirectly probably, sought out that same principle. And the dining on honeydew and drinking the milk of ‘paradise’ is similar to their thrill-seeking tendencies and general enjoyment of being unable to die, leaving them to enjoy their undead lives to the fullest. not to mention, in [b part 2] (as genius refers to it) there’s talk of many, many years passing and waiting for the world to end, which we know there’s been quite a few years in between the boys getting turned and the movie, as well as i’m sure they sit back and wait on Some apocalypse, if not just to watch the world burn. in writing this, i’ve ALSO realized how it can be considered very Michael; he didn’t exactly seek this life out but he found it and indulged, only to be that “mad immortal man” towards the end of the song

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❥ runnin’ with the devil — van halen

i just van halen is neat sbjshbsjsh and would definitely be something the boys would actually listen to hsjbshjsb i don’t Necessarily think vampires are in any way tied to the devil but. here it’d be more like a metaphor of “taking a walk on the wild side” if you wanna call it that; also, they all truly live their lives like there’s no tomorrow (not that they have to worry about death until the very end), have stolen a lot of things just to get by (probably in life AND death), don’t bode well with the ‘simple’ life (likely including the idea of a nuclear family like max proposed) because of it’s lack of pleasures, and don’t exactly have any “love [that] you’d call real” unless you read into the subtext

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❥ hot blooded — foreigner

originally this was going to be another joke about the. lowkey horniness of the boys and the movie as a whole but i’ve realized in writing these explanations thus far and rereading the lyrics that it’s. it’s just michael-centric sbshjsbsh sam is “at the mercy of his sex glands” and so is the audience of both the movie and the song sbhsjbshsj like. michael finds himself attracted to star immediately and tries for two secret rendezvouses, with only one working, and. can be said that he also finds a fever running within him when he’s around david and the boys sbhjsbshjs i just 🙈

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❥ renegade — styx

renegade is my favorite styx song so i just said “fuck it” and added it sbshjsbshj but !!! you can say that, again, the boys live their lives on the wild side and. probably commit enough crimes to warrant dozens of sentences, some that would lead to death row (like, ya know, the. manslaughter) but they manage to get away unscathed. And the law man serving as an allegory to all of the people, including the frogs and grandpa, that want them dead for being vampires, with the bounty to be rewarded being the ridding of their trouble from santa carla

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❥ big shot — billy joel

mikey :o) … ok yeah he isn’t the. silver spoon in hand (nose) type but he’s LITERALLY the type to open his mouth and get himself deep in enough shit that a fight breaks out, potentially bloodied his eyes, nose, and/or fists. i don’t have much of an explanation outside of he is a himbo jock who pulled a “i didn’t know how to talk to my crush so i wrote a note telling them to get out of my school” except he said it with his fist instead of his mouth sbjshbshsj

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❥ boys don’t cry — the cure

pretty sure this is one of the ones i stole off of shovel (@/iswearimavamp) sbshjbshjs but i do love this song in a general sense too. in regards to the movie, like. none of the guys. obsess over masculinity or anything— and both david AND michael cry at different points— so that’s not necessarily an issue. but, there *is* still a lot of hurt and stepping on toes in many of the relationships in the film that can be stretched to fit, i would think sbjhsbshjs

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❥ highway to hell — ac/dc

this and back in black were some of the last two i put on here because i. wanted to make an ‘even’ 35 sbsjhsbshjs BUT, like with runnin’ with the devil, it’s about a devilish lack of care for one’s own life or the “status of their soul” and just doing what feels right or like the most fun, no matter if it lands them in hell or not. and !!! “my friends are gonna be there too” fits with the friendship within the boys’ found family and how they’ll all always be together, no matter what !!!

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❥ back in black — ac/dc

i can’t really think of an explanation that differs from highway to hell so just reread the above sbsjhsbsh

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❥ witch hunt — rush

OK !!! this is the song i’m the MOST excited to explain !!! right off the bat, moving pictures as a whole is an IMMACULATE album, absolutely love it. right so !!! this song literally SOUNDS like it belongs on the movie soundtrack; it has the same overtones and sounds as cry little sister and it’s just !!! and with the title, a witch hunt is BASICALLY what sam + the frogs went on in search of the lose boys, relying on little else but hearsay and catching glimpses at what was happening to michael, “confident that their ways are best” and moving along like a mob of three to get to the bottom of it. “features distorted in the flickering light // faces are twisted and grotesque” is very reminiscent of the faces the lost boys pull when they’re about to attack, and “they say there are strangers who threaten us” is symbolic of them being outsiders/outcasts that make everyone uncomfortable, even if You aren’t going to be their next victim. “the righteous rise with burning eyes” AND “quick to judge, quick to anger // slow to understand // ignorance and prejudice // and fear walk hand in hand” can apply to any number of characters, particularly the mains who are all pitted against each other, the humans fighting for their lives and the vampires fighting for their Right to live, neither taking into consideration the other’s perspective. i just… ADORE this song…

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❥ red barchetta — rush

this one was mainly just because of the car that grandpa keeps in the barn and both sam and michael’s fascination with it sbhjsbsshj and just to get more rush on here shjsbshjsbsh

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❥ maneater — hall & oates

one of the first songs to hit the playlist !!! because the boys eat people !!! they’re the lean and hungry type that only come out at night !!! they’ll be sitting with you but their eyes are on the door and if you want love from them, you won’t get very far !!! the beauty IS there but there are beasts inside that can rip your world apart !!! they’ll chew you up but also leave you begging for more :o)

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❥ hungry like the wolf — duran duran

the second song to have gone on the playlist !!! the boys are always on the prowl for fresh meat (in both the food AND turning senses) and they come alive while on the hunt, blood no doubt rushing through their veins (assuming it still can) !!! and in the movie, michael is the one they’re after for the turning connotation, all wanting a taste of him for themselves !!!

———

❥ subdivisions — rush

this rush song actually went on before the others shbsjsbshj but !!! it still fits just as well (certainly better than red barchetta)… the movie all takes place on the fringes of the city, “in between the bright lights // and the far unlit unknown”, and while it’s not exactly in the suburbs, there’s still little comfort to soothe the restless dreams of youth. there IS a drawing like moths into the city, for both the emersons and the lost boys, which is what ends up bringing all of them together, although it starts are cruising for action just to feel the living night. and just !!! NOBODY fits in !!! if you take the movie title as them being Lost instead of an allusion to peter pan, then you get slapped with thinking about what actually makes them lost and how they don’t conform in any way, shape, or form to just about. anything. and !!! the emersons are new, which immediately puts them at a social disadvantage, but they Also don’t seem too terribly great at making new friends in general so !!! “nowhere is the dreamer or the misfit so alone”!!!

———

❥ abracadabra — steve miller band

i just love this song for whatever reason. and i think the allusion to magic to very fitting for the hallucinations that david gives michael, putting a sort of magic spell on him if you want to look at it that way. not a lot of silk and satin going gone but plenty of leather and probably some lace in there somewhere ( ;o] ) … also michael DOES heat up like a burnin’ flame whenever his name is called and the situation with the boys just keeps going round and round with no exact end in sight, only the calling of desire

———

❥ separate ways (worlds apart) — journey

you would think i would have more journey on here ??? because i love them ??? but instead i stole this off of shovel too ??? it’s fine. time to be back on the 95060 bullshit sbsjhbsjhs we all know david Really wants michael to join them but. michael is reluctant, so that hesitance sets them worlds apart from each other— as if they weren’t already— and there’s still love between them, or at least the bgeinning sparks of it, even if michael refuses to act on them and only keeps pushing david away

———

❥ cum on feel the noize — quiet riot

just some boys loving to party <3 some boys with evil yet dirty minds, out of time singing, funny faces, and that have a lazy time <3 yeah no this is one they’d rock out to and someone would probably pull a muscle over because it’s just such a banger sbshjsbsjh

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❥ rebel yell — billy idol

Another stolen off of shovel sbjhsbsjhs also ever since it’s been pointed out to me that david looks like billy idol i’ve just been losing it a little sbhjsbshjs Anyway. they’d definitely idolize him to some degree, even if just for looks, and it certainly fits the way that they. most Definitely let out a rebel yell at the midnight hour if you know what i mean— *taken out by a sniper*

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❥ every breath you take — the police

would to believe to know i took it from shovel (i swear the last three where i say that will be rock you like a hurricane, livin’ on a prayer, and cherry pie sbshjsbsh) BUT !!! the watching every move is yet another. david keeping watch over michael and uh yearning from afar moment, heart aching the longer he’s away and the longer he keeps up this game of not knowing what exactly he wants to do

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❥ handsome devil — the smiths

ok THIS one was lent to me by ej (@/maybe-strawberry-blue) sbshjbshjsbs and let me tell you. this song (especially when paired with this charming man) is Very homoerotic, aka perfect for this movie shbjsbshjsbs like what got me first was “let me get my hands // on your mammary glands” and just. thinking about trans parko sbhsjbshjs but also in general the. “and i would like to give you // what i think you’re asking for” and “a boy in the bush // is worth two in the hand” and just sbhjsbshjs Everything. fits the ambiguous homoeroticism. And i think the boys would listen to the smiths (will elaborate more in the other smiths song explanation)

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❥ panama — van halen

i Told you all i think van halen is neat sbsjsshjb what can i say. the boys like fast moving vehicles, hard partying, and tender loving sbsjhsbhsj also forgot to mention that i think they’d all be :eyes: about pre-1985 david lee roth and i cannot blame

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❥ rock you like hurricane — scorpions

third to last shovel snatch sbshjsbh Here you can replace any one of the boys with the animals mentioned, as they’re always hungry and need to feed… they come out scratching and ready to win, willing to rock anyone who gets in their way like a hurricane— including with lust, depending on the situation

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❥ livin’ on a prayer — bon jovi

i actually can’t even manage an explanation for this one either just because of the song’s plot and how greatly it differs the movie plot <3 however it will stay because shovel said one of the boys (i forget which) would listen to it and friendship is more powerful than my small brain <3

———

❥ the queen is dead — the smiths

rightttt so here’s the deal, buds and duds. something in my gut just tells me that david would pull a me and. listen to this entire album on repeat, particularly bigmouth strikes again and i know it’s over when in dramatics bshjsbsjh BUT to make a case for the title track itself, breaking into buckingham palce— or really any major building— with only a sponge and rusty wrench would ABSOLUTELY be an endeavor the boys would get up to And they’d all pale (worse than normal) about finding out they’re the descendant of some royal. “oh, has the world changed, or have i changed” and “life is very long, when you’re lonely” is quite fitting of their immortality, which i can only imagine would leave them questioning how the world has evolved and, although they have each other, i’m sure living forever still can get a Little lonely. And they’d certainly celebrate the death of a royal (because anarchy <3). mostly i’ve just been listening to this song on repeat for days sbhjsbshj but, i think it’s the most. generally related to all of the boys, whereas like. cemetry gates would be more solely 95060

———

❥ need you tonight — inxs

my favorite inxs song… technically the 21st century Wasn’t yesterday when the movie came out nor when the song did sbhjsbshjs but there *is* a lot of sweating from desire and aiming to put that passion into use, very blatantly letting everyone know that sbjhsbshjs

———

❥ bad medicine — bon jovi

there’s just something so fun about this song… and while listening to it on the drive home, i was thinking about it from a 95060 perspective where. david’s a bit lovesick (hence the love like bad medicine) and the choir of voices in the bg, saying “that’s what you get for falling in love”, would be the other boys knowing he’s gotten himself in over his head over what was supposed to be a minor tease or a small fling (would be a real fun and poppy animatic i think)

———

❥ pour some sugar on me — def leppard

legitimately this started as a “haha what about my ‘what if the blood was kool-aid instead’ joke” and then i realized it was. a fair enough fit, especially with the feeding scene. except they’re actual vamps not just video vamps sbjhsbshjs anyway. sugar highs and red hot flames of passion for one another <3

———

❥ cherry pie — warrant

ok THIS is the last song i took from shovel and. my reasoning is pretty much the same as pour some sugar on me and. Friendship

———

❥ somebody told me — the killers

i wasn’t going to add any modern songs but. i thought it’d be funny if michael had had a girlfriend before leaving phoenix that looked a bit like david sbshjsbshj and then it only just added to angst sbhjsbshj

———

❥ you know what they do to guys like us in prison — mcr

i was reminded that vampires will never hurt you exists but. i went with my favorite mcr song instead because. vwnhy is more like ??? a vampire that fears themselves ??? so like. an edward cullen type ??? while ykwtdtgluip is more about the homoeroticism and community ??? i said what i said

———

❥ house of wolves — mcr

thank god this is the last song because i’m getting tired sbjshsjshb a little less homoeroticism, a little more general sinning and egotism <3

#pant rambles #playlist #ramble #in the last like. ten you can Tell i started getting tired

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theotherackerman · 3 years

Text

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

Summary: Historia Reiss could not have approached Mikasa Ackerman with the idea of joining a band at a better time. After a falling out with Armin Arlert and Eren Jaeger, Mikasa decides to take her up on her offer joining alongside Ymir Langnar (bassist), Sasha Blouse (drummer), and Annie Leonhart (guitarist). With their new keyboard player and lyricist, they set off on a journey that takes them away from their hometown. After winning battle of the bands, they score a record deal. As they set to record their first album, their past begins to catch up to them.

RATING: MATURE

Ships: Mikasa/Eren, Historia/Ymir, Levi/Hange, Armin/Annie, Pieck/Jean

Other Tags: Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, girls supporting girls, Alternate Universe, music inspired, their friendship is super important

NOTES: December 26th

PROLOGUE: TIS THE DAMN SEASON

Somehow watching Star Wars the day after Christmas had become a tradition for Eren, Armin, and Mikasa.Maybe it was because Christmas was rough for all of them. So they had made their own little tradition.

It had started in high school when Armin and Eren were in complete disbelief that Mikasa had n ever seen Star Wars. They had just exchanged gifts including a book Armin received from Eren about the special effects in Star Wars.

“How can you have never seen Star Wars? Didn’t we watch it with you when we were younger?” Eren asked her as he picked up wrapping paper from the floor.

Mikasa simply shook her head.

“Well we’ve got to change that. Armin, you still have the dvds?”

“Of course, I do. I’m not going to get rid of Star Wars.”

“Right, right. You think grandpa would care if we came over tomorrow?”

“Hey, what if I have plans tomorrow?” Mikasa asked.

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” Armin turned his head to the side.

“Well no...but..”

“Okay, great. So tomorrow at Armin’s place.”

And that’s how it had started. Mikasa wasn’t sure if she actually liked Star Wars or if she just loved her two best friend’s reactions to it. Armin and Eren performed their favorite lines as they watched. One time they had bought shitty cheap lightsabers to have a battle one year which resulted in both Eren and Armin getting a black eye.

The venue changed frequently, a different person hosting each year. No matter how bad things got, how many family members died, none of that matter.

Because every December 26th, it was time for them to settle in front of the tv and watch Star Wars.

Until this year.

This year, there was no settling in front of a tv.

There was no exchanging of gifts.

This year, there was radio silence between the three of them.

All because of what had happened last year. It was New Year’s Eve. Armin, Eren, and Mikasa had gathered together. Mikasa had her father’s ring. She was going to ask Eren to marry her.

She was kneeling in the kitchen but Eren’s eyes were numb.

"I'm just going to be honest with you, Mikasa. I just dated you so I could know what it was like to fuck you. And I have to say, you're as good as I'd thought you'd be. But now I'm done with this. You're just a slave who does what everyone else wants them to do. A people pleaser. I can't be with someone like that."

"Eren…" her voice cracked.

"I've always hated you, Mikasa."

BAM!

There was a connection of a fist to Eren's jaw. He stumbled back.

"How dare you say those things to her!" Armin yelled at him. Eren swung at Armin, hitting him. Armin punched Eren again.

Mikasa pulled Armin off of Eren and shoved him to the other side of the kitchen.

"I don't need you defending me!" She screamed.

And then Mikasa ran from the house.

And Eren spat blood.

And Armin disappeared from the house

But the box holding Mikasa's dad's ring sat on the table all the same.

Mikasa sat in her room, watching the steam rising off of her cup of tea. Her book of lyrics sat in front of her.

She wondered about Armin and Eren. How were they doing? Were they coping okay with Eren’s father dying last year…..No.

She took a deep breath as she looked at the blank page in front of her.

She and Historia had written thirty six songs as options for the new album but that didn’t matter.

She had to keep writing. It was a way out of her head while still coping with everything.

If she wrote, she didn’t have to think about her dead parents, Armin’s dead parents, or Eren’s dead parents. She didn’t have to think about Armin’s grandfather dying earlier this year and how Armin had to be alone this year. She didn’t have to think about Ymir and Historia still fighting and what that meant for the band. What did that mean for the band?

Write.

Just write.

She took a deep breath.

Just as she was about to write, there was a knock on the front door.

She could hear Levi talking to someone.

Was it his partner?

She wasn’t sure.

She was stalling.

She needed to focus on writing.

The door to her room opened. Only one person didn’t knock when they came over so she didn’t bother to look behind her. The thud sound of someone falling onto her bed and the smell of whiskey only confirmed what she already knew.

“Things didn’t go well?” Mikasa asked, now she was really stalling.

“Oh no, things went fucking great. Can’t you tell?” Ymir’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I went to get drinks with her sister and her. Her sister hates me. She thinks Historia can do better.”

“Did she say that?”

“No. She just...I don’t know. I think Historia told Frieda what happened last week. Maybe, maybe she’s right. Maybe Historia is better off with someone like Reiner or that farm boy…”

Mikasa put her pen down before turning around.

“You and I both know you don’t mean that. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I’ve never seen you feel sorry for yourself before. What did you say to me when all that happened? Pull yourself together. Fuck her sister. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is your feelings and Historia’s. Fuck everyone else.”

“I think I said fuck a few more times in there.”

Mikasa nodded before she turned back around.

It was a strange friendship they had.

It had started due to the fact that Historia and Eren were normally nominated for king and queen of the high school dances. Since they could not dance with who they wanted to, they ended up dancing with one another.

Then Historia had come up with this idea for a band. An idea that would cement Ymir and Mikasa’s friendship.

A knock came from the front door again.

“Mikasa!” Levi yelled from downstairs.

She looked over at Ymir. The other girl was currently wrapping herself up in Mikasa’s blankets. No one outside the band and Levi knew that Mikasa was back in town for the holidays.

“Mikasa!” She heard him yell again.

She took a deep breath before she left her room. Eren couldn’t be here. He didn’t know. Not to mention he probably never wanted to talk to her again just like she didn’t want to face him again. If he was here, she’d….

She’d do something.

“Sign the delivery paper so this man can do away,” Levi gestured to the man holding a box and a scanner.

“I told you, sir, it can only be signed by..”

“I don’t care.”

Mikasa signed the paper, the man handed over the package, and Mikasa closed the door. She pulled the tab to open the cardboard box. Inside she found a smaller box. She dropped the cardboard box. She didn’t open the smaller box.

She already knew what was inside and who had sent it.

“What is that?”

“My father’s ring. He returned it.” She held the box out to Levi who stared at her for a moment. “Keep it safe for me, will you?”

The older Ackerman just nodded. Mikasa picked up the cardboard box off of the floor and threw it into the trash. She didn’t notice the letter inside that had floated to the floor. Levi would find it hours later.

#mmtylif #my writing

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love-and-anarchy-au · 3 years

Text

Love & Anarchy: Chapter 18

good morning!!! it’s almost 2021!!(i know there are still 22 days of 2020 but i dont care xd for me we’re one blink apart from the next year). if you thought the last chapter was sad, just wait till you read this one!!!xd i believe this one is more painful than the last one as this one is the grief after the death of a beloved one. i have nothing else to say, i hope you cry with this chapter as much as i cried writing it JJAJAJA.

(ps: the songs that alec and james listen to is this one and this one; i personally recomend you to hear them to understand more what alec’s talking about <3)

REMEMBER THIS AU HAPPENS IN THE SAME UNIVERSE THAT THIS ONE

Find out what this AU is about here

Masterlist

Tag list: @healing-winston-pratt @dawniebb @obsidianfr3sk @nodrianbcyes @everyone-has-a-nightmare @magykaldealings @nobellrenaissance @cerenoya @cassin-the-assasin @cindersnightmare

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Words:

14,449

Part 2: A teen named Ace Artino

16 years old Alec

“James!”

“Ace?”

Alec collapsed in relief in James's arms.

“Oh God, you're alive,” Ace murmured against his friend's chest.

“Who isn’t?” James asked, anticipating where this conversation was heading towards and the reason for the impromptu visit. The boy gulped, and inhaled, as if preparing to face the news Alec was about to give him.

Alec lifted his chin and looked James in the eyes. Those gray clouds, streaked with lightning and thunder, so full of memories and perspectives. He saw phrases, fragments, images and memories, made of honey eyes and dark eyes; he saw himself and his girlfriend, like a mirror, a reflective photo album.

It was in that moment when his eyes filled with tears, again.

That was enough for James to understand who had died.

“That girl…” he whispered in a broken voice, and Alec hugged him, burying his face in his chest once again, this time to give James the minimum of privacy so that he would release his rainy tears without feeling observed. His chest contracted and relaxed a couple of times, until James pulled away, running his fingertips over his tear ducts. He sighed and returned his gaze to Alec's.

“You were there, weren't you?” James said, as he went to the kitchen to make coffee. Alec didn't need to answer, not with words nor gestures.

He had ran at the speed of lightning to James's apartment, moving everything around him with his powers, not caring if anyone realized how unusual it was for a door to open on its own, or for cars to stop abruptly, or Alec practically hovering a few inches above the ground. None of that mattered.

Nothing mattered now that Alexandra was dead.

Alexandra, with her bubbling, hiccuping laugh, her courage of steel, her raw honesty, her unbreakable loyalty. Alexandra, the angel and the devil, her music impossible to ignore, her genuine smile that was almost identical to Julieta's.

Alexandra, burned like a witch.

Cause I was a witch, Alexandra whispered.

More gallons of tears rolled down Alec's eyes, and he began to sob. James put aside his coffee and went immediately to look after him, to guide him to the couch and sit next to him to comfort him. They didn't say anything, because it wasn't necessary; they just stayed releasing pieces of soul tainted with pain, until the coffee pot whistled and James went to pour it in mugs and bring it to them.

Alec took the cup and sipped the bitter coffee. It was boiling, but he didn't care. He collapsed further onto the couch. James took a deep breath and stated:

“We will avenge her.”

Alec didn't frown, he just turned his stance to be looking at James and not at the ceiling. He took another sip of coffee as the remnants of his soul slid down his face.

His tears looked like glaciers.

“How?” Alec asked, his voice hoarse and rough as sandpaper. He sounded like his father and felt oblivious to himself. At least he wasn’t drinking beer.

James put the hand that wasn't holding his coffee on Alec's shoulder and rubbed it, comforting him. James's lips formed a sad, comforting half smile. His hair was still flawless and his posture too, he was not collapsed like Alec.

Alec admired James for how he remained untouchable even when the worst stones were being thrown at him.

He was just shrinking more and more alone with a small pebble thrown at his chest.

“We will start our revolution,” James announced, not smiling, because not even him was that callous. There was no encouragement or happiness or motivation in his words, only thirst and need: it was what they had to do.

To other people, James would have been a cold and cruel being (which he was) and they would have been offended, but Alec had known James for more than ten years now, so he knew that was his defense mode: pretending that nothing happened, turn anger sadness, and sadness into gasoline to fulfill his vengeful goals. That's how James was and always had been. He didn't seem willing to change, so he wouldn't.

Maybe Alec should learn from James. Be colder, more calculating. Choose his words as carefully as you chose your annual serving of tiramisu.

“Alexandra gave me this,” Alec said as he pulled out what Alexandra had thrown at him from her death cradle. It was a cassette, slightly burned in one corner and with the inscription, in Alexandra's round and unintelligible handwriting:

Listen to this until James dies (including his funeral).

James laughed, with a sad smile, as Alexandra’s last will was to bother him ‘till his death. He sipped from his coffee and said, in a lower voice “Put it on the speaker, please.”

Alec obeyed. He took the cassette with his mental hands, turned the speaker on, and placed the cassette in its corresponding slot. It would be a little in memoriam for Alexandra.

He pressed play and a thunderous guitar chord echoed through the apartment. Drums followed. The bass. The raspy voice. The sad lyrics disguised as anger to the rhythm of the song. Music as pain in its rawest state. Synchronized noises, thought and adored by who had been Alexandra Onitraze.

James and Alec interlocked hands, and never separated them. When the singer gave an agonizing scream, they shuddered because they felt as if that had been Alexandra’s voice and not the vocalist’s. That stinging feeling pricked their tear ducts and more rainy tears overflowed from their darkness and their clouds. They listened to the cassette, one, two, three, four, ten times.

Until Alexandra's soul told them that enough was enough.

Although nothing was ever enough for her.

It was four in the morning and James had managed to fall asleep. Alec was static as a statue, watching the fleeting, slow passage of time. There was no coffee left. There was no music anymore. It was just Alec and his depressing thoughts, drowning him in himself, as if his body was a sea and his soul, a mere human who couldn't breathe underwater.

Until someone knocked on the door and rescued him from the deep water.

Alec jumped to his feet and headed for the door, confused, scared, hopeful, feeling indescribable things. Who could it be at that time of night? James’ moms? David?

He didn’t know.

Alec opened the door and so did his eyes, which were narrowed so far. A skinny woman, with more bones than skin and eyes yellow as honey, was watching him from the doorway. The woman was wearing a rabbit fur shawl, probably, and was made up garishly. Her expression was tired and her lips were tight. In her arms, she held a large cardboard box.

It was Alexandra's mother.

“Alec?” she asked, as if she weren’t sure whether the name was correct.

“Yes, it's me,” Alec replied, trying to react as fast as possible.

The woman nodded and handed him the box. Alec took it, without a second hesitation. He remembered that he couldn’t use his powers in front of that woman, so he didn’t.

“My daughter, Alessandra, wanted me to give this to you,” the woman explained, briefly and concisely. Perhaps she had to work at those hours.

“Thanks,” Alec said, his voice cracking. “I'm very sorry for the loss of your daughter.”

The woman's lips tightened even more.

“Her destiny had been written since we moved to Gatlon. She was going to die in the streets, where she belonged,” said the woman and turned to leave. Alec said nothing about her opinion, and the woman left without pain nor glory.

Alec closed carefully the door and returned to the couch next to James, taking precautions not to disturb him.

He put the heavy box on the ground with his habilities and opened it. There were many things, probably all of Alexandra's belongings. He took them out one by one, with his mental hands: two red glosses (one matte and one liquid, according to the labels), chains (those Alexandra used on her jeans), two pairs of jeans (one full of patches and the other torn), three dresses, a black blazer. Alec took each one of the items, once again and infinitely, using his mind and not his hands.

All the way to Alexandra's blackish blue sweater.

The one with an “A” painted on it.

Alec squeezed it against his chest, not staining it with his sadness.

Or maybe yes.

Alec put it on, smelled the perfume that Alexandra used to wear, which was still present on the cloth, and continued.

At the bottom of the box, there was music.

Vinyl, cassettes, CDs. Many, many CDs. There were vinyls of Italian music, classical music, old rock & roll, modern rock & roll, orchestras of works, symphonies of violins, grunge, pop, drums, cumbias, maracas, strings, basses, everything everything everything. The CDs were less varied and were limited to what Alexandra used to listen to: out of tune guitars, shrill drums, low bass, scraped vocals.

What Alec wasn't expecting were the cassettes.

They had no specific genre. They were mixes. Pop with classic, cumbia with rock, grunge with violins. They were unthinkable, strange, singular mixtures. Sides A and B, intertwined, each with poetic and apt names like “When the clouds swallow you”, “For the waves of the coast”, “Bbs” or (the one that generated a lump in Alec's throat, and a burning in his eyes, as well as an irrepressible emotion in his chest): “For those who know that coffee is drunk with fries, and flying is only possible near the sea.”

It was an exclusive mix of piano and metal.

Alec laughed, and lost control of his tear ducts.

All this time...

I know, Alexandra laughed.

Alec sighed, soul touched, and realized there was only one thing left at the bottom of the box.

It was an envelope.

Alec approached it with his flesh and blood hands, and spread it open using his mind. There was a piece of school paper, translucent, drawn by Alexandra's tangled calligraphy. The date was from one month ago.

“Aceyyy,

How you doin ', darling? If you are reading this, then I must be dead (I don't think you've been in my room looking for this, as it was very well-hidden; and if I'm not dead, then stop reading this pleaseee) . Whatever, let's suppose I'm dead as prodigies rights so, this letter is a proper goodbye after my (probable) non-proper death. I knew I was going to die young, as I was a free woman and a prodigy. Chances were against me. Luckly, I had enough time to face my imminent death and make some good friends that will became my family.

Oh Ace, my love! I hope you didn’t watch me die; it must have been so painful…! Anyways, I just wanted to say that I love you. Thank you for absolutely everything. When my days were dark and awful, you were a ray of light that shone in my heart. When James and I discussed 'bout music, you chose music for us (though you sometimes betrayed me and chose James' music, that wasn't nice Alec>: ”(). You're so incredibly and amazingly powerful, you could build this world to your own desire. I envy you, as I wanted to change this world but I guess I won't be able to…

Don’t be sad, Ace. You’ve already been sad for the last ten years (or, from my pov, your whole life). Besides, you’ll always have James by your side, right? He might not be as warm as I am, but I know he loves you as much as I do so, if you need anything, just ask him. Though he will be there for you at any moment, please stop him from committing some insane thing he threatens to commit in order to free prodigies (we all know you’re the sane one in this family, Ace; he can’t deny that xd). You two are different, but so alike in many aspects, I mean, you both are so clever, handsome, lonely...dear Goddess of the Skies, I love you both a lot. When I say "a lot", I mean A LOT. You guys are my whole world, thank you for being my family.

Look at me now, I'm sobbing so hard. I hope you never have to read this letter but I know the probabilities of this are so little ... I just have one thing to ask: could you keep my records? My mother shall give all my stuff to you, but I'm just asking you to keep my music. I know you aren't a big fan of the music I listen to, but please, please, could you keep them safe? I don't trust anyone else to have them and treat them with the care that they deserve, so, Ace, my love, just keep them with you, OK?

I guess I have nothing left to say. Don’t forget me, maybe ..? I know, I'm just your first girlfriend of many (probably, you're so handsome and intelligent that you'll find a girlfriend in three seconds counting from now) however, I believe you cared about me as much as I care about you. Ace, honey, just ... be yourself. Do it for me. For Julieta. For James. But mostly, for yourself. Don’t let anyone tell you what to do. Please don't get killed (let it be for being a prodigy or for your beloved revolution). You have still a long life to live and you deserve it. Do you still have to change the world, right, my love?

You’re so full of dreams, hopes and expectations and power: you can do anything you propose to yourself. You are a little man with a head full of ideals of liberty and anarchy and rights and everything. The world is yours, my little Acey.

I love you! I love you!

Always yours, from hell to heaven and back,

Alexandra Onitraze.”

Such a sad and happy smile was on Alec's face.

His tears were urban stars now; Alec was sick of having his cheeks wet from the pieces of his aching soul dripping from his eyes, but he knew that made him a human and not a monster.

Oh my Alessandra, Alec thought, sad and happy.

He would always have something to seek comfort from, at least.

Julieta's rosary, worn over the years, but always hidden beneath his clothes; although every day he believed less in God and no longer went to mass, he did want to feel his sister next to him. The rosary represented that.

Alexandra's letter, ready to be worn out over time, read and reread millions of times.

Alec knew many things, but at this very moment he had only one certainty.

He would not let the world forget Alexandra.

He looked at James, who was sleeping peacefully next to him.

And he knew exactly how to avoid that.

#love & anarchy #love & anarchy au #ace anarchy's backstory #alec artino #ace anarchy #alexandra onitraze #james roselo #ace artino #before renegades #renegades au #renegades fandom #marissa meyer #my au #au #reblog #writer on tumblr #read #fic #fanfiction

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sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years

Note

Well I imagine Liam did that because unless your name is Niall horan or Harry styles interviewers only care about his one direction days they discuss his first album success the ask about 1d and if he tries not to discuss the band people assume somethings wrong between him and the boys and answering questions about them/ praising them apparently leads people to think his album wasn’t good enough and he wants clout. Even though it was his band too and he can discuss it however he chooses.

In regards to age difference Liam is only 6 years older than his fiancé, Taylor was 4 years older than Harry when they dated, not to mention he’s also been linked to Caroline, Nicole scherzinger, and coucou who might I add is 8 years older than him. You may not like his music or his actions but we can’t praise Harry and shame Liam when the behavior is pretty much the same.

alrighty i wasn’t even going to respond to this at first because we’ve had this debate so many times and i am truly tired of having it so point blank period. i’m not a fan of liam. i don’t like his new music and i don’t really care about him so if that’s an issue for you then you can just stop following my account and we can both save some time and go our separate ways!!!! but what you said about the age thing caught my attention so i wanted to address that.

when i talk about big age gaps in relationships being strange to me, there are three things i consider: how old each person is in relation to the other, where they are at in their lives, and how does all of that affect a power balance in the relationship.

you mentioned harry’s past relationships, which have had larger gaps, and i’m glad you did!! however, you’re incorrect in saying i praise harry and shame liam for the same behaviour, because the behaviour is not the same. in a relationship with a large age gap, the fault always falls on the person who is older. i don’t care how mature you think someone is, or how grown up they seem, because you, as the older person, should be able to remember what you were like at that age, realize how much you’ve grown, and see that that younger person is at a different stage in their life.

so let’s talk about those three things i mentioned shall we!! to begin in broad aspects, i don’t think age gaps in relationships are inherently unhealthy, depending on how old each person is and what stage of life they are in. a four year age gap is illegal and predatory when the two people are 15 and 19, but at 28 and 32? that’s perfectly fine, because it is 1.) legal!! and 2.) a gap where both people are still in the same stage of their lives!! each person has finished puberty, maybe gone to university, maybe has a career, maybe has an apartment, but either way: they are both within the same stage of their lives. a 6 year age gap between a 14 year old and a 20 year old is predatory. an age gap between a 26 year old and a 32 year old?? could be a little big, but they’ve still completed a lot of the same milestones!! they’re both adults, they’ve both made it through their early 20s, they’ve both been out of school and seen the world!!

now. liam is 26 and his girlfriend is 20, and they started dating at when liam was 24 and she was 18. at 24, liam had been in the spotlight for roughly eight years, released multiple albums, gone on multiple world tours, made millions of dollars, and had become recognizable by sight, if not by name.

and his girlfriend had just graduated high school.

try to wrap your head around that for a minute. think about what you were like when you graduated high school. how you saw the world. how you thought you knew the world. think about how a month before, you had to ask permission to use the bathroom. think about how a lot of people graduating were still growing, still developing, and still learning how to think for themselves.

let’s say liam wasn’t famous. let’s take fame out of the equation. if he were a regular 24 year old, he’d maybe be graduated from university, moved out on his own, maybe had a job working in an office, or at a company, or something. he’d be paying rent, making connections, and be living an adult life. and his girlfriend wouldn’t even be able to legally drink yet.

think about the power imbalance there!! think about an adult man, looking at a newly 18 year old girl, and pursuing a relationship with her. and this 18 year old girl, listening to a man with a car, and a job, and an apartment, and so many other big, adult, grown up things, telling her she’s pretty, and mature, and lovely, and all these other things that make her feel special. because she’s not like other girls her age. she is special.

now throw in liam’s actual life at 24, the millions he has, and the fame, and realize how that power imbalance triples. think about how maya was around 10 years old when one direction formed. think about how she’s seen liam in the news and on magazines and on a pedestal for over half her life. and none of this even mentions that he has a child, who his girlfiend--now fiancee--will become a stepmother to. at 20 years old.

and that’s not to say that liam hasn’t been on the lower end of a power imbalanced relationship!! i haven’t forgotten that cheryl cole is 11 years older than him, meaning that when she first met liam on the x factor when he was 14, she was 25!!!! and then less than 10 years later, they had a child together!! in my opinion, that’s grooming, and it’s awful, and i don’t think it’s right. but that doesn’t excuse liam’s behaviour here.

which is why, as i said, i don’t consider harry’s relationships and liam’s to be in the same category. harry and caroline’s relationship, with him being 17 and her being 32 (?), has creeped me out since i first heard about it at 13. it was wrong. it was a huge power imbalance. i’m 22, and i consider an 18 year old a child. how could someone in their 30s see a 17 year old and think it’s okay to pursue a romantic and sexual relationship with them? they haven’t even finished puberty. they’re a child.

harry and taylor, as well, had a larger gap, and it does make me feel a little off when i think about it. granted, they were both doing the same thing and so relatively at the same time in their lives--touring the world, releasing albums, dealing with paps and press--but it was still a larger gap and not something i would do.

idk anything about nicole scherzinger, but as for camille, the same thing kind of applies in my opinion?? it was a larger gap, yes, but they were both adults, both fully developed, both at relatively the same place in their lives, and hadn’t just become legal.

with age gaps, i find the older both people are when it happens, the more acceptable it is, because after a certain point, you’re at the same stage in your life and are thinking about the same things and have the same goals. and this is all a matter of opinion, so you can have yours, but you cannot convince me that liam, a father, dating a girl who had just graduated high school, is not creepy. the age gap of 6 years isn’t what’s bad-- it’s what stage of life they’re at.

and that’s my opinion!! i went a lot longer on this rant than i meant to because i wanna put it to bed!! i’ve gotten so many asks about liam’s relationship every time i say i don’t care for him or i think it’s weird and i’m done so!! this is it!! take it or leave it!!

#i bolded the important parts lmao because i know i said a lot #tw: age gap #anonymous #ask

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writingforyourpleasure · 4 years

Text

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Characters: GERARD WAY x Reader

Link to chapter four : https://writingforyourpleasure.tumblr.com/post/616411340391759872/on-the-road-again

Warnings : None

Author’s note: Hello ! Hope you’re all doing okay during those strange times ? Sorry for not posting but I had my en-of-the-year exam, but it’s now done and , I only got a few homework to hand-over now and my second year in college’ll be done !Here you go thank you to keep reading .

5. “ Pun-master “

You woke up, feeling something or someone moving in front of you . You started to groan at the uncomfortable feeling not wanting to get up just yet.

“And what owe me the pleasure to be assisted by your presence tonight sir Way?” You said while looking for plates.

The mass finally moved away , listening to your complains .

You woke up what felt just five minutes later but probably was in reality hours after it. Your eyes fluttered slowly as if they were disconnected from your brain. A light shine from the outside was peeking through your tinted window as soon as you truly started to wake up , you realized that Gerard wasn’t here anymore.

“Right…” You breathed out to yourself. Honestly you didn’t want to wake up. You were scared , scared of overthinking this , and because of that you actually was overthinking it . Your brain wasn’t playing on your favor . You didn’t knew how you were gonna survive today. The worst was, you didn’t knew how to act with Gerard , what happened yesterday night wasn’t that big of a deal, really , but again ; you were overthinking it . You just wanted to act normal with him , and was prying your brain to not let you down once you’ll see him. You felt so stupid for having a crush on one of your coworker and friends. You got up and hoped for the best.

You got out of your nest , only to find that you were alone in the bus and that you already had arrived into the next parking’s venue . You went directly to the kitchenette and groaned realized that you guys were short on coffee. You finally resigned yourself and went for the shower.

You got out of the bus a dozen of minutes later to find the parking lot empty except for the security that was already keeping everything on check. You checked your phone to see that it was 3pm . You had enough time, to get yourself a coffee somewhere and not stressing about when to comeback since you didn’t had to repeat with Dex or anything. You put back in your , old black Green Day’s hoodie, pocket your phone . You’ve dressed yourself as unfashionable as it is socially allowed , your laziness was clearly reflecting itself through most of your actions today. You put your headphones on , listening to the last Fever 333’s album and searched on google maps for the nearest Starbucks, once again a reflect of your laziness you figured.

You arrived to the welcoming smell of dirty beans being ground and hot milk.

Once you got your order you looked around for a seat since the place was pretty full, luckily you got one in front of the glass and on both sides what appeared to be two couples . Great. You hope that you’ll be lucky and won’t have to witness the same amount of smooshing in both of them. The teenage one , on your right , were the ones all over each other, with the boy groping at every part accessible of his what-you-presumed-to-be his girlfriend. The one on your left were two men in suits holding each other hands while talking , you sat facing the widow and the other empty seat. You got out of your backpack your sketch book and a pencil starting to draw people passing by while music took you in other world. A tap on your shoulder took you of guard , you got off your headphones .

“Yes ?” you turned around your head to see who was trying to get your attention.

“Hey, is this seat taken ?” Dex was smiling down at you with a big smile.

You said nothing instead kicking the seat in front of you, back to the glass for them to seat.

“I feel like it’s been a while since we talked .” Dex said sitting and looking expectantly at you.

“What are you talking ‘bout we talked just yesterday.” You said not looking up from your sketch book.

“Don’t play dumb y/n , you know what I mean. Like just the two of us ?” Dex sighed , seeing that you decided to not play cooperative . This time you did look up to your friend with a blank expression . Watching their eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It’s true , lately you tried to somewhat distance yourself since you were trying to figure out what the hell was happening with Gerard and you knew that being close to Dex would not help one second . Your friend knew how to read you even when you tried to hide something as well as you could. You had thinked that if Dex was about to ask questions it would make it weird since you were all working together . If you fucked up at any moments , you’ll have nowhere to hide and sometimes it can be a great deal of pain . But apparently you didn’t succeed not to make it awkward since your friend was not so happy that you act a little colder than usual . You were already fucking cold to any strangers , so to be cold to them was shitty. You sighed and run a hand through your now greasy hair . You needed to take a shower quickly , maybe it could wait after the show .

“Hey earth to y/n, hellooo?”

“Huh yeah sorry I was gone for a few…”

“Yeah no shit .”

“Sorry… like for all of it it’s true I’ve been kinda avoiding you guys.”

“Meh it happens , I mean it’s okay we all got our own problems.”

Dex tried to stay warm inside of the Starbucks but you could sense that being against a cold ass window wasn’t helped them to get the warmth that provided the Starbucks.

“I’m so cold….” They whispered as they took a gulp from their drink.

“Well….then stand in a corner .” You replied taking a large gulp of your hot drink too.

“What-Why ?”

“Think..”

“No….. please tell me it’s not because of what I think dude.”

“Coz’ corners are 90 degrees.” You said with a smug smile.

“Ho god …. Ok you know what maybe it’s for the best to be socially distant haha. It is so bad please do not do that again?”

“You’re asking way to much to the pun master .”

“More like the master of fucking nothing y’mean .”

“What did you said peasant , I think I didn’t quite hear that ?”

“Ho nothing .” said your friend smiling like a fool.

“Y/N I’m still fucking cold !” Said your friend trying to warm themselves up by rubbing strongly their arms.

“And how is that my problem , my dear?”

“Someday I really am going to kill you , y’know?” Told Dex between their teeth, with a little grunt along the way.

“Y/N , Can I borrow your scarf? I’m seriously freezing. ”

“Well I can’t turn into a heater for you now can I? So do you want me to set you on fire? Because, I mean it’s still an option? Like I have my lighter right here so….?” You joked while giving them your scarf.

They gave you a warning glance as if they believed you . Then on a very exasperate note they sighed and said :

“Why are you like this?”

You both laughed at that getting some curious looks from other clients. Once both of calmed down you try to get serious talking about the elephant in the room .

“Hey , can I ask your advice on something?”

“Absolutely , but I only advise communication, homosexuality, or murder.” Answered your friend earning a smug know-it-all smile out of you.

You were about to start to get off of your chest the whole “Hey I think I may or may not like the lead singer of the band for which we’re working for.” They cut you off.

“WAIT!”

“Yeah ?”

“Are you absolutely positive this isn’t dangerous or something?” They looked very serious about this , which had the reflex to make you roll your eyes deep inside your skull.

“I’m 95% sure, but yeah, I’ve failed fourth grade math so…” You decided to answer her stupid question with a stupid answer.

“Ho okay then we’re good I failed second grade! So just before we start , how long will this take ? I got to pick up my dog at the salon. «You both laughed at that. «No but like seriously we’ll have to go back to the bus eventually . Maybe tell me along the way back?”

“Alright , alright” You both got up from your seats and finally got out of the Starbucks.

“So huh, you remember when we got the 1 week break , alright?”

“Right. “

“Well huh, me and Gerard started talking by text pretty often during this time.”

“Ho. Did you now ?” They said waving their eyebrows in a suggestive way.

“No not like that calm down, you demon fuck .”

“Always a pleasure to fill my responsibilities.”

“You weirdo….” You whispered under your breath.

“Ho do not act if you aren’t even weirder man ! “

“Anyway, I just , I don’t know . I think, I think I may like him y’know?”

“Well it’s pretty comprehensible , I mean he’s hot .”

“I’m not talking about this you twat!”

“Ho c’mon you can’t say he isn’t !”

“Haha ,He is , I ‘ve sight too I’d let you know. It’s just not the point here .”

“You do? Sorry it’s hard to tell when you dress yourself like that .

“You bitch!” You choked on your drink , coughing violently.

“I’m just kind of dreading to really assuming the whole ‘hey by the way I’m hitting on you’ I don’t want to make it weird during the tour , when we’re not even at the half of it. And I don’t wish for everyone to see that I am hitting on him. I’m not ready.” You explained to Dex , not really wanting to expose everything you and Gerard said or do , foremost because there’s not that much to say

“Maybe not hitting on him is a good call since if you do I’m pretty sure he’s gonna freak out hearing your lame puns.”

“May I recall to you that I’m the pun-master AND the master of pickup lines ?”

“You completely suck at pickup lines, bro.”

“No I don’t !”

“The last time you tried one of you’re pickup lines was on this poor cute girl in Louisiana when you said ‘Are you Google –“

“CUZ YOU’RE EVERYTHING I’M SEARCHING FOR !!!”

“Yeah no wonder it didn’t worked !”

“I’m a genius , you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

“You wish . So why are you’re feeling attracted to the guy ?”

“Well you see my kink is when people actually care about my feelings and what I have to say. And Since I know him he seems to correspond to this criteria , so I find it pretty attractive and hot since it’s my main kink.”

“Yeah , too unrealistic. Settle for bondage like the rest of us.”

“Where you ever nice Dex ?”

“2012, worst year of my life.” You laughed at what your friend said . “No but more seriously y/n, just let it happen y’know? And when you have the feeling that both of you are having a moment then maybe hit on him but stay subtle y’know?”

“I just want him to take me out…”

“Like, on a date or with a sniper ?”

“He’ll have to surprise me .” You both laughed before changing the subject to the little surprise you’ve both had planned for Max, since he was spending all of his nights and days working on your band , you wanted to do something nice for him. You bought a cookbook a few weeks ago for him as a present for the occasion, he often baked pastries as a distressful way to exhale from work time. Even though the bus condition made it hard to cook anything big it already was a good start. And you bought some bottle of Irish hard cider, since he had said it was the best thing he ever tasted when you all took a vacation to Dex family house there. After getting back to the bus everything went pretty fast , but the talk with Dex about Gerard was still playing in your mind. Ames saw that you were lost in your thoughts most of the time and ask you several times if everything was okay, you tried to act like you didn’t knew what he was talking about and you all moved on with your day . Mikey, Frank , Gerard and Ray were already in your bus when you had come back from your coffee session, and they yelled at you for not texting them and taking them with you. You brushed it off saying that next time you would. Gerard had tried to share looks with you during the day but you were too much caught up into your head to notice.

The show this night was nice and almost too short even if you guys took a ten minutes on My chemical romance planning since you played a special song. Once you were backstage Ames and Billy started their routines taking everything off stage to let place for the boys. To go faster Max offered to help them. It gave you and Dex a chance to run to the bus to prepare your little plan. You took any cushions , pillow and anything fluffy you could find , when you were done the bunks were quite a mess but you didn’t want to think of it since you still had to prepare the hard cider and the cake you brought from the Mark & Spencer’s not having too much time to find anything else. By the time everything was served , you knew that My chem was done with their show too , so you decided to prepare them a part too , you made a point to serve a apple juice instead of the cider for Gerard , not wanting him to feel excluded or anything. Max had been held backstage by Billy and Ames who were your dearest allies as ever.

You installed yourself with every plates and drinks giggling between the two of you alone in the bus to stupid jokes.

A knock made itself hear through the bus and Billy appeared into the kitchenette area before being followed by Ames and Max , who where looking at you with huge smiles spread across their face and a snort from the three of them.

“What the fuck did you do with our beds ?” Asked Max between a laugh.

“Well we did a pillow fort !” Answered Dex.

“Isn’t that a little childish ? “

“Does it means you don’t want to join us ?” You asked Max.

A silence swept through the bus.

“…Move over .” Said Max entering your huge pillow fort and already going for the cake and drink.

“Wait there’s a party and you guys didn’t told us about?! “Said Frank entering your bus.

You handed a plate in his direction , earning a smile from him before he arrived by your side as well as everyone else too.

Frank was on your right while Gerard was on your right and all of you were in a cercle eating and joking about stupid stuff.

“Hey you look better than this morning it’s good to see.” Whispered at your side Gerard offering a sweet smile before readjusting a few locks behind his ear.

“Well It’s because in the end we migrate towards comfort , and I realized that I am most comfortable around you , all of you.” You said returning a bright smile to the man.The night went along before Frank spoke up .

“Guys how are you gonna clean this mess to sleep tonight ?” Painful groans made themselves heard from all of you.

#fanfict mcr #frank iero imagine #frank iero x reader #gerard way imagine #gerard way x reader #mikey way imagine #mikey way x reader #ray toro imagine #ray toro x reader #gerard way fanfic #gerard way fanfiction

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abstractanalogue · 3 years

Text

Capratone, The Asteroids & The Metronoids (for Beginners)

Tracks & Traces #13: I’ve been planning to write about the music of Capratone, The Asteroids and The Metronoids for sometime and have finally gotten around to it (somehow its been almost 3 years since the last T&T). The link between these bands is Andrew Lyster (now living in Brussels) and as I will explain, he kindly answered some of my questions for this hybrid Tracks & Traces. Since originally publishing this piece Richie Kelly of Capratone has also similarly added valuable information I would never have been able to share otherwise. Usually I just depend on my memory, the records, press cuttings and any surviving notes I took from the times but as I got deeper into the story there were too many question marks about line-ups (pre-Capratone), the issue of a possible ‘lost’ Capratone album and don’t even get me started about The Metronoids! At time of writing most of this music is hard if not impossible to find streaming online and I couldn’t even locate any band photos or videos either. Which is all the more reason to write a piece to mark their existence and hopefully spark a revival of interest. When I was putting the finishing touches to the article I did discover there is now at least some music from The Asteroids on YouTube. Not long after I originally shared this piece, Joss Moorkens of Capratone sent me two band photos, the first line-up (L-R: Fiachra, Joss, Andrew) and as a four piece with Richie Kelly (below).

I first saw Andrew Lyster play (vocals/guitar) when I caught The World of Pugh in a venue I only went to once, Dillinger’s. Like many things from those days it’s long gone but it was a bar with a small stage (up some stairs?) somewhere off Dublin’s Capel St. (18/3/94). As I totally forgot who was in the rest of the band I’ll let Andrew take up the story.

“The World of Pugh was the first group where I wrote songs. I think it started around 1993. Originally it was Keith Swan on drums and a fellow called Brian McEleney on bass. Then in 1994 I brought some songs in and Brian took off to be replaced by Niall Brown (who was also the singer and guitar player for The Moustaches). Niall played bass for World of Pugh in the form where we had songs and did gigs.”

I’m sure someone like Joss Moorkens (then drumming with Tucker Suite) had told me about TWOP and the name had struck me (there was a very cool hand drawn flyer for the gig). They played bottom of the bill with Tucker Suite, Budge and Schroeder’s Cat, all part of a very exciting little scene at the time. Less than two weeks later I happened to see TWOP again on a bill with The Moustaches at a house party on Middle Abbey Street. The Moustaches, who sadly never released anything, were also part of this same scene (in my mind anyway). As I recall, this latter show was on the second or third floor of a semi derelict space in which a friend of both bands was living as a caretaker. Andrew has now told me that he and Keith Swan actually lived there and it was where TWOP rehearsed. I remember sitting on an old mattress and really enjoying the atmosphere (a cymbal was tied to a rafter). I do remember that TWOP had a real sense of humour on stage with some crowd involvement going on. They never had any releases but might well have recorded something (I’ve also heard tell of an unreleased album by The Moustaches!). This would be the last time I saw them play, perhaps it was even their last show? It would be another year before I would see Andrew onstage again.

While researching this piece I did find an Irish band family tree which shows that Andrew, Joss, Fiachra Lennon and Brian Gough were in a band called Mudshark (1991-92), which was not actually their first band. Again, Andrew gave me some more information which I thought was worth sharing and clarifying about these early days.

“Brian Gough (later in Mexican Pets) had been in an even earlier band than Mudshark with me called The Foots. This band only played one gig in a pub in Dun Laoghaire in 1991. Our friends had to listen to the music from the street because they were too young to get in. After The Foots broke up I think Brian went on to another group called Harvey, and then Tucker Suite with Greg Barrett (later in Joan of Arse) on bass initially. Greg then did Schnorbitz with Joss, and had a cool band called Giraffe Running.”

Andrew’s next band would be Capratone (vocals/guitar) along with Joss on Drums and Fiachra on bass. Regarding song-writing Andrew told me, “For the most part I would write the songs and we would try to make them better by all writing our own parts through rehearsals. One or two were group written from stuff that happened in rehearsal.” I first saw them in another venue off Capel St. supporting Schroeder’s Cat at Behan’s Bar (previously The Fox & Pheasant) (3/4/95) and again just ten days later at The Plough with (surprise surprise) The Moustaches and Schroeder’s Cat. I would get to see this line-up play quite often on local bills until Sept ‘97 (more on this later). I recall they also played a short tour around Ireland with US band The Make-Up (April ‘97).

In early ‘96 they tried to record an album with producer Marc Carolan. Andrew told me it was to be called, “Le Plus Roll, because we felt our music was more Roll than Rock. I can’t pin down the exact date of the recording, but my guess is that it was in 1996. We had 2 days in a studio somewhere in Rathgar. It was a 24 track ADAT studio. I think it had a Soundcraft desk. The highlight equipment-wise was an incredible Ampeg bass stack that belonged to some professional band. Its sound was so authoritative and great that by the end of the long first day’s recording, when I had crawled into bed, I was woken up a couple of times by LOUD auditory hallucinations of Fiachra’s P Bass blasting through that thing. Marc, and the three of us all worked really hard for the two days, we did manage to record and mix all the songs we came in with, but I think the short time-frame worked against us capturing the right aesthetic. The means of production were expensive to rent and we couldn’t afford to record even in a project studio like that for more than a day or two.”

Luckily, one of the songs, ‘Homeward’, ended up on the Irish band compilation album, Zip Up Your Boots For The Showbands (1996). I always loved this intricate and explosive song and a whole album like this would have been quite something. The only place online you can hear it now is on a radio show I made for Dublin Digital Radio about bands that played in Dublin’s Attic venue. I must point out the musicianship of Capratone, it may not have been so obvious in the more noisy Tucker Suite but Joss was such an amazing and distinct drummer and both Fiachra and he so easily locked together. They created a lot of space for Andrew’s vocals and guitar for these catchy and very inventive songs to really flow.

At some point in late 1996 Richie Kelly joined (on right in pic) on guitar and they played as a four piece. At some other point Andrew left but as the band continued things must have been going really well musically. According to my notes the last two times I saw Capratone play was at the start of September ‘97, supporting The Sewing Room and Luggage at Dublin’s Mean Fiddler and then a headline show in The Funnel venue at the end of the same month. This doesn’t mean they stopped playing of course but for whatever reasons I didn’t see them again. Things don’t stay static, I did get really into electronic dance music and clubbing the following year but continued to see guitar bands as well but gigs would clash, allegiances, circumstances and tastes change, choices have to be made.

At some point this second line-up hooked up with Dublin label Folkrum Records (run by Dan Watson) and they recorded a mini album, The Art of Go, which was released in early 2000 (CD only) and produced by Simon Kenny aka Si Schroeder. At that stage Joss and Fiachra were still in the line-up with Richie and Eric Sexton (on guitar). I wasn’t sure if any of Andrew’s songs survived after his time with the band (on the Capratone page of the old Folkrum website he only gets thanked for the name) so I needed to ask him about it, “I didn’t write anything on the LP called The Art of Go. There was a strange overlapping series of line-ups in Capratone but when I left I think Richie Kelly (who was a recently arrived guitar player joining the original 3 piece) took on the song-writing job. As far as I know those Art Of Go tunes were all of his making. Richie went on to make a few attempts at recording subsequent line-ups of Capratone.” According to Joss’ short biog of the band on Last.fm, by the end of Capratone the line-up had changed completely from the original one.

Since I published this piece Richie Kelly has been in touch and has kindly provided more detail about joining the band and how his role and the line-up evolved. “I saw Capratone in 1996 and was blown away. Even before the show ended, I wanted to join but that seemed unlikely. It turned out that Andrew’s song-writing was taking a new direction and he had decided to add a second guitarist. We were connected through an extended friend group and apparently word had gotten to him that I was as enamoured with The Beach Boys as he was. We bumped into each other and started talking music and I must have auditioned and joined the band shortly thereafter. At some point I brought a song to the band and we added it to our set (with my vocals). I started contributing more so when Andrew decided to stop playing, we just continued. We added Eric Sexton, a friend and former bandmate. The Art of Go was recorded by Simon Kenny with basic tracking done over a weekend at a large room in Joss’ father’s business. Simon and I continued vocals and overdubs at his flat in Donnybrook.”

Surprisingly none of this music has made it onto YouTube or anywhere else online that I could find. It can be bought on Discogs, which is how I got my hands on it about two years ago. In my opinion it works really well as an EP, with a few really engaging tracks but with some filler too. The best for me would be ‘Clozer’ which sounds like a lost classic and musically is a more full bodied version of the band heard on ‘Homeward’. ‘Free Jazz’ is pleasingly upbeat and cruises along on Beach Boy vibes. They do sound quite American (Pavement and bands of that ilk) at times (as did Capratone mark 1) but this was very much the sound and influence of the times, everything still comes down to the quality of the song-writing. The band broke up a good while later, sometime in 2003 without anymore releases. At some stage Richie Kelly moved to Brooklyn, New York and started a similar sounding band there but with more brass, Sport of Kings. He even re-recorded ‘Free Jazz’ and made a video for it. The influence of Brian Wilson is clear on this song in particular, they cleverly re-use The Beach Boy’s ‘Cool, cool water” line in the song (also present in the original version). Apart from some positive reviews of their only EP, Logic House (2011), there is little sign of the band online either but at least you can check out their excellent video for ‘Free Jazz’ (see below). I did find just one image of Capratone at this time on the Folkrum website, which I have enlarged below. Richie is the golf club carrying member.

In my original piece I wasn’t sure what happened to Capratone next so Richie can take up the story, “The Art of Go attracted the interest of Shifty Disco, who released all of the Elephant 6 stuff in the UK. We set about making a full length for them which we were calling Aviation High. Simon Kenny was initially set to record but was so busy with other projects, I asked Andrew to do it and he agreed. Drum and bass tracking took place in a studio in Dublin. Andrew and I indulged our love of tinkering at his family home while recording my parts and mixing. The result is a pretty high fidelity Capratone record. Shifty Disco preferred the super compressed Capratone of the previous record and passed. We trudged along with some line-up changes after that. The most stable line-up though was myself, Cian Synnot on drums, Fiachra McCarthy on guitar and Michael Stevens (of Groom and many other excellent bands) on bass. As Joss said, no original members were left by the end of Capratone. I believe we kept the name simply because we couldn’t come up with a new one, apparently I have a problem naming things. When I ended up opening music studios and practice spaces in Brooklyn after moving there, I asked Joss if I could use the name of his label Scientific Laboratories because I loved it so much and couldn't think of an alternative.”

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I think it’s well worth including here what happened with Richie’s next band Sport of Kings. “My love of fidelity only increased as the years continued except my focus switched from The Beach Boys to Steely Dan. I because obsessed with doing an indie rock version of their music and Sport of Kings took that direction. The initial line-up was drums, bass guitars and Fender Rhodes and then we added a horn section and a drummer from NYU’s Jazz Program who were incredible and took things to a whole different level.”

“After our Logic House EP, we made a full record (15 songs to be called Queer Theorem) with Michael Leonhart of Steely Dan as producer and occasional synth/horns/vocals contributor. This was essentially a dream come true for me. Initial tracking was done by me at a studio in Brooklyn and painstaking overdubbing, vocals and mixing was done by myself and Michael at his mixing room in the city. Ironically, we recorded yet another version of ‘Free Jazz’ with Michael. I’m not sure why I keep rerecording it but it might have something to do with Andrew and I finding out Brian Wilson used to record ‘Proud Mary’ every time he went into a new studio to check the sonics. I think I now have 4 completed versions!”

“I put an enormous amount of effort into Queer Theorem but it took so long that by the time it was ready, many band members were so in demand by big artists that they had little time to give. Keeping a 7-piece band of amazing musicians afloat proved too difficult and I disbanded the group rather than trying to recruit new musicians. I had also taken that level of fidelity to its conclusion and I returned to looser music after moving to Portland, OR.”

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The next ‘band’ Andrew founded was solo project The Asteroids. I don’t think he ever presented it live but there was just one release, an exquisite three track 10″/CD, Moonlight Music For Beginners, which was released on Joss Moorkens’ Scientific Laboratories label in 2000 (the same year as The Art of Go). You can listen to what has to be my favourite song, ‘Nine Lives’ at link below (the other two songs can helpfully be found on the same channel and I’ve linked them here). According to the sleeve notes it took two years to record, with I assume Andrew playing all the instruments and doing the programming etc. I was sure to pick this up on vinyl at the time and have cherished it since. The amazing paintings on front and back were by the artist Niamh McGrath.

‘Nine Lives’ is so laid back, rich in instrumentation but for me it’s all about Andrew’s vocals (Alan Kelly of The Last Post also provides additional backing vocals). The lyrics prove to be the real earworm for me, “Who is the man, who has done this to you?” with an unexpected lyrical twist at the end. The song has somehow burrowed its way into my consciousness and over the past 20 years has been liable to play in my head at any time. ‘Return Of The Moonlightman’ is more sparse and based again around the vocal arrangement, a second deeper voice (John Parkinson) enters the fray about halfway and it goes to another level with a lovely gradual close. ‘The Great Escape’ is dominated by a really warm organ sound that pulls you along. This one in particular reminds me of Brian Wilson, one of Andrew’s touchstone influences. It’s one of those releases which has dated really well in my opinion and is pretty much unknown I think (I don’t know how many were pressed or sold). There was so much promised with this release and frankly it’s something of a shame it was not followed up at the time. If Andrew had been signed or whatever then things might have happened differently but like all of the bands I’ve written about in this series, we’re lucky to have what we have and the music will last forever. You can still find it for sale on Discogs and it can be played and purchased on iTunes and Tidal. There was one other song from this period, ‘Lunar Doo Wop’, released on a compilation CD included free with the first Foggy Notions magazine. I vaguely remember it but can no longer find my copy (the title tells us all we need to know!).

Sometime in 2005 or later I bumped into Andrew and he gave me a CD from his latest group The Metronoids. It was a two track disc in a plastic wallet (no cover artwork or personnel details) called Petroleum. Today this doesn’t even exist on Discogs never mind anywhere else! Until I asked Andrew about it I wasn’t sure if this had simply been a promo but he told me there was artwork etc. The reason I probably never saw it for sale is that I left Dublin in 2005. For a bit more information I had to dig into the data on the CD itself and found that the track names are simply ‘Petroleum 1 & 2′ and for what it’s worth the genre on iTunes comes up as Blues (not sure how this gets assigned). It’s a pleasant listen (the more spirited second track is my favourite) but it surprised me very much to find it was all drums/percussion and obviously nothing like what he’d done before. This would be the only release under the name, which I imagine is pretty rare to come across.

I obviously had to get Andrew to explain The Metronoids to me, “This was a project I really enjoyed. Done in 2004/5 with Joss and Marc Hayes (drummer from The Moustaches, Boxes). It was always a real pleasure to be in a room with those two guys. I think we did a handful of rehearsals and one recording session. The idea was drum improv within premeditated structures. All three of us played drums. I think I got the notion to do a project that required a different kind of listening from my love of the CD called Guitar Solo by Annette Krebs.”

I wasn’t aware of this at the time but Andrew, Joss and Fiachra briefly reunited as The Lamps in 2005 but as far as I know while there were some live gigs there were no releases. Since then Andrew has told me he is currently working on two new music projects, “One with Fiachra Lennon is called Fig/Astro, it started in 2018, we should be finished an LP this year. He wrote a bunch of instrumental tracks and sent them to me. At his request I turned the instrumentals into songs, and the productions are evolving from there with both of us working on it via WeTransfer. He is a real natural musician so the songs have a very solid foundation. It was refreshing to write songs this way from track to song, rather than from song to track as I had always done previously. My own LP has been in the pipeline since 2009 when I wrote a load of songs and set out to record them in-the-box. Some of the songs went through over 20 productions. Working on a finite group of productions over a long period, under the microscope of Digital Audio Workstation has really allowed me to discover how to do my own thing. The work on this solo album takes a lot of focus.”

After Capratone Joss would go on to play with Joan of Arse and The Dudley Corporation and guest on many other releases, most of these can be found on his impressive Discogs entry. When I was doing my research for this piece I was excited to find an old Souncloud page for The Asteroids I never knew existed, it has two unreleased tracks which date from about 2014 but Andrew said the music since then has been become more abstract. Fiachra meanwhile has a bulging Soundcloud page full of his own demos that is very worth exploring too. Both of them are also on Twitter, The Asteroids and Fiachra. It will have been a long time coming but I’m looking forward to the next new releases from both these artists.

Sometimes the best things take time.

Stephen Rennicks

#capratone #the asteroids #the metronoids #andrew lyster #fiachra lennon #joss moorkens #richie kelly #folkrum records #the art of go #moonlight music for beginners #sport of kings #the world of pugh #dublin #music #1990s #2000s

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mickmarstookmyheart · 4 years

Text

Camping?

Here is one of the promised filler chapters!!! I'm quite satisfied with it!!

Before joining Ozzy's Bark at the Moon Tour the boys still have at least 30 concerts throughout North America. This starts 26th of March 1983. The new album Shout at the Devil comes out 26th of September 1983. The boys join Ozzy 16th of January 1984

1 April 1983

"Really, (Y/N)?" Nikki pouted after hearing your wonderful idea. You were sitting on the side of the stage. Looking at the boys getting ready for the concert to start.

"Are you drunk? Or is this your normal state? Do I look like who enjoys being in the wild?" Vince ranted pointing at himself, one of his hands on his hip. The connection between the two of you upgraded after Doc threatened you if you don't stop your little fights, he will find a new photographer and a new singer. So it was both of your mission to be cool with each other.

"I hope it's just some of an April's fool joke." Mick sat beside you on the stage offering you a bottle of beer.

"I like that idea!" Tommy smiled and laid in front of you, placing his head in your lap. Mick just killed Tommy in his head but didn't say a thing. After that night at the club, you hardly spoke to each other. You were both wasted and you were too honest which each other and it scared Mick. He never told anyone about his real feelings.

"Finally someone! Thank you, Tommy." You said before taking a sip from your drink.

"Even if we agree to this when we will go? We have concerts almost every if not every other day. It will be impossible to make it happen." Vince said, still not liking the idea to sleep with bugs in his bed if he will even have a bed in the tent.

"Do you guys even listening to Doc when he tells about the tour dates? You guys will have a concert tonight and one on the 3rd of April in San Francisco. Then you only have to perform at the US Festival at the end of May. We have almost two months!"

"See, Vince?! Someone at least listens to the teacher." Nikki joked. You hit him in the arm, making Tommy snicker. Vince just rolled his eyes before going on the stage and join all of you.

"I'm not going if there won't be girls or at least some alcohol." Vince declared. Mick sighed and rubbed his eyes. Mick didn't approve this camping thing either. He wasn't sure his back will tolerate the hard ground.

"(Y/N), I don't think it's a good idea. We have to make the album and do concerts..." Mick started when you glared at him.

"So you are talking to me, now?" You asked.

"Oh, come on. Don't be like this." He rolled his eyes. He knew he acted jerk with you, but he wanted to be away from you and the only option was being an asshole.

"Me? So I'm acting strange?"

"Woohoo. You really need to get laid, guys." Nikki said seriously. Your face when red both from the anger and the embarrassment. "Hey, don't hit me, again. DOC, SHE IS BULLYING ME!" He screamed and Doc appeared.

"Nikki, can you stop yelling early in the morning? And (Y/N) how many times do I have to say that if you hit them hard enough at first, you don't need to do it again?!"

"Doc, whose side you are on? Vince asked the manager.

"No one's. I'm Switzerland." He told before leaving you there. He then came back grinning. "Anyway, you are going to that camping she is talking about. We already discussed every detail. You will get a week to get yourself some girls who you want to bring with yourself cause there won't be anywhere you are going other than (Y/N). And I don't think she will sleep with any of you. Then you will leave and I will have the best week of my life." He laughed before disappearing.

"Hate me if you want. But I was only the one who came up with the idea. Doc just made it happen." You started to feel guilty. But you knew that it will be good for them before going on the real tour promoting the new album, then the tour with Ozzy. The boys looked shocked instead of Tommy who stood up and was jumping from happiness.

"We are going camping, dude!" He boxed Nikki in the same arm you hit. His face flinched from the pain and the news.

"Stop it, T-Bone. Don't give her confidence." He gestured towards you.

"You will get paid for this, (Y/N)." Vince said it from your back. Mick just scoffed and left the stage along with Nikki and Vince.

"Why are they like this, T-Bone?" You asked him, playing with the bottle. He sat down next to you, pulling you in a sideways hug.

"Because they don't know fun." He said smiling.

Almost two weeks later

"So, where are your girls?" You asked crossing your arm leaning on the bus. You were in charge of driving, but it wasn't a problem for you. You liked driving, mainly those long road trips to the sea.

"After we mentioned camping, they all ran away screaming. So thank you (Y/N)." Vince murmured dropping his bags down. Nikki put his bag down and sat on it.

"You could just lie, you know? As you always do." You closed the door of the bus and put the keys in your pocket. You searched for another one in your bag. You walked away to the car which you will use.

"So we aren't going on the bus?" Vince asked.

"What for? If it just the five of us it's meaningless to use that big ass bus. So we are taking this beauty." You patted your new car which Doc bought for you as a welcome present.

"Oh for the fuck's sake!" Vince cursed sitting on his bags as Nikki did. He was already drinking to be able to cope with this trip. He offered the bottle to Vince who accepted it gratefully. You heard a honk and a car parked beside the bus. A joyful and goofy Tommy jumped out of the car running towards you.

"We are going on an adventure. ADVENTURE! ADVENTURE!" He was scantling while spinning you around in the air making you giggle. When he put you down he tried to high-five with Vince and Nikki but none of them was open to it. They looked miserable.

"Hey." Mick mumbled as a greeting and took the bottle from Vince's hand.

"Hey, man!" Nikki greeted Mick. Mick headed towards the bus when Nikki stopped him.

"Aren't we going on the bus?" He asked.

"No. We are going with that." Nikki pointed at the car right beside you. You can read everything from Mick's face. To be honest, he wasn't so happy about that. You bit down your lip and closed your eyes thinking this camping wasn't a good idea.

"Cool." Mick growled and passed next to you. He tried to open it but it was still locked. "Mind opening the car?"

"Sorry." You mumbled before he packed all his stuff and got in the front seat.

"ROAD TRIP! ROAD TRIP!" Tommy was the only enthusiastic. Seeing his happy form made you smile a bit. At least the two of you will have a good time.

"Are you ready, guys?" You asked them when all of you sat in the car. Luckily, it was a bigger one so you all fit in smoothly. Mick sat beside you and the rest of the boys sat in the back, Tommy between Nikki and Vince. When you looked back Tommy was smiling and looked like a five-year-old. Vince was staring out of the window, not saying a word. You couldn't see Nikki but you were sure he wasn't in a good mood either. So let's go.

On the road

"(Y/N)? Can we please stop? I have to pee!" Tommy begged.

"Again? We have just set off from the gas station!" You bumped your head on the wheel.

"But it was already 20 minutes ago and only Vince and Nikki went to pee."

"And why didn't you go also?"

"Cause, I didn't have to." He pouted. You were already going crazy with them. You thought they did it deliberately to make you rethink this camping. But they won't achieve even if you will end up in a yellow building.

"He won't stop until he pees." Vince said putting his sunglasses on.

"Goddamn. Then I will stop right here and you can do it, Lee." You pulled the car away and turned around to face with Tommy. Vince sighed and got out of the car so Tommy can get out, too. You glanced at Mick who was sleeping peacefully.

"(Y/N)?" Nikki asked surprisingly chilled. "Do you really want to do this?" You turned back.

"Yes, Nikki. And I know that all of you wished me dead, but we thought that it might help you. To be in nature and relax before the big tour starts and you won't have any free time. And I completely understand you." You said to him looking in his eyes. He slightly smiled.

"Then, I will try to enjoy this. If you really want this. And we don't want you dead, (Y/N). We just don't like it when we are controlled, you know." You smiled from what he has said and relaxed a bit. When Tommy finished and you set off again, he poked your back.

"What is, Tommy?" You gripped the wheel and sighed.

"Can you please turn on the radio? I'm bored." He asked you shyly. You glanced at Mick who was still sleeping and you hesitated.

"He won't wake up. He sleeps like the dead." Vince stated liking the idea of some music. Finally some enthusiasm!

You happily turn on the radio thinking Mick fucking deserves it after acting like this. Journey's Don't Stop Believin' song was on which was like the perfect for this trip and situation. You all were singing the lyrics, though you let the high pitch notes for Vince. Nikki was doing the air guitar and Tommy air drummed or drummed on your shoulder. Mick snorted at first then opened his eyes.

"Can't I have a proper sleep just once?" He complained. You were quite angry at him for not being happy for a second.

"Mick, please just at least try to enjoy this trip. Pretend or I don't know." He rolled his eyes and gave you the biggest fake smile you ever have seen. "Guess, it will do. Thanks." You were truly smiling, ignoring Mick just pretended it.

"DON'T STOP. BELIEVING!" All of you sang from the top of your lungs including Mick who was just murmuring it, but you were sure you could see him smile a bit. Well, it was getting better and better.

At the camp

"So? How do you like it?" You asked sniffing in the air, filling your lungs with fresh air. It was a bit forecast, but the scenery was breathtaking. The river, the mountains, and the forest all around you.

"And where we will sleep? In that house's garden? I'm sure the owners will be happy." Mick mumbled.

"We will sleep in that house." You said pointing at the adorable wooden house. It had a pool also and a fireplace, too.

"What?" Nikki asked not processing the thing you said.

"We will sleep in that house. Didn't you think that I will sleep in a fucking tent, right?" You smiled packing your belongings up and headed towards the house. The boys were all staring at each other. Tommy was happier than before, Mick relieved a bit and Vince and Nikki were truly happy for the news.

"So there are four rooms. I don't care who sleeps where I will just only need a room and I will even go with the smallest if you think." You told them, looking around in the huge house. The windows were big and you had a perfect view of the river from the kitchen and the living room.

"Four rooms? So I guess, someone will have to share." Mick said looking at Nikki and Tommy. They high-fived and told you that they will sleep in one room. You offered them the biggest one for sharing. You have out the keys and went up to the upper floor and walked at the end of the corridor, taking the last room. Mick was following you along with Vince.

"Get away, singer. This room is mine." He sent death glares towards Vince who huffed and went into the room beside yours. Mick glanced at you but he didn't say anything. Since you didn't turn around you didn't see him looking at you. Mick sighed and opened his room's door which was in front of yours and entered it.

You took the fliers from the table and read it through to find some programs and places to go nearby. You have already planned campfires, swimming in the pool, and there is even a jacuzzi. Your lips curved into a smile when you saw that there will fireworks and a fair in the upcoming days. This will be so much fun. The only thing that bothered you was Mick's attitude. You were disappointed, to be honest. You couldn't find out why he was so moody with you but it was your intention to ask it from him during the week. When you finished reading you heard a knock on your door.

"Come in." You yelled. Tommy stormed in the room and jumped on the bed. You manage to roll away just in time. He started to tickle you, making you giggle. "Tommy, stop!!" You were trying to catch your breath. Nikki, Vince, and even Mick came into your room. Mick was watching you jealously at how happy were you with Tommy. Maybe it will be best if you and Tommy get together. Vince and Nikki also sat down on the bed and laid down. Your head was on Vince's chest and your foot on Tommy's belly. You were all tangled somehow. When you were about to sit up all of you fell back down giggling. And Mick was watching it. Just watching it.

∆

Next chapter

GUYS!!! I'm seriously crying how good this chapter came out and that I won't ever be (Y/N). This is my favourite one so far!! Let me know if you liked it.

Tag: @leatherandheels

#motley crue #80s music #80srock #rocknroll #vince neil #glam rock #nikki sixx #tommy lee #mick mars #mick mars imagine #mick mars x reader #motley crue x reader #motley crue imagine #i want to be (Y/N) so badly

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downn-in-flames · 4 years

Text

and it was like slow motion

What do you do when the one who means the most to you is the one who didn't show?

{prequel the first to and all the pieces fall}

notes: this is just a short little one-shot prequel to a novel i've got in the works - it's an alternate universe in which voldemort doesn't exist and james + lily don't get together during their seventh year. the novel picks up about three years after they've graduated hogwarts, and this one-shot takes place in september 1978.if you can't tell by the title and summary alone, this fic is heavily based on the moment i knew by taylor swift, and the series as a whole pulls from the red, reputation, and lover albums. :P

read it on: hpft | ao3 | ffnet

She'd be lying if she said she didn't pick this dress out specifically for James.

He'd always liked her in yellow, always told her it made her look like sunshine. And she'd always flushed at the compliment, unsure if it was meant to be friendly or meant to be something more.

She's now almost positive that it was the latter.

The sweetheart neckline is also for his benefit; it shows off her cleavage just enough that she knows he won't be able to resist glancing at it every so often, and she'll obviously call him out on it, and he'll stammer out some sort of excuse, and she'll respond with something coy, and…

She's getting ahead of herself.

But she can't really help it - she hasn't seen the bloke since graduation, so it's natural that she'd be a little overeager about the thought of seeing him again.

She watches as her reflection runs her hands over the fabric, making sure every last inch of it is in place. Her red hair falls down her back in waves and her makeup is mostly natural - nothing like the sort of stuff she's gotten used to - but it's enough to make her look like she's positively glowing.

There's a knock on the door, effectively startling Lily from her trance of watching herself in the mirror.

She knows, objectively, that it's not James - James has never been great about getting anywhere on time, he was at least somewhat better while he was Head Boy, but that was only for official things. Anything else, and he was useless.

But even despite that logic, she feels hope rise in her chest anyways.

When she opens the door though, there's no tall, dark-haired boy behind it. Instead, there's Marlene and Dorcas.

"Hot damn," Marlene says, in lieu of a normal greeting. "You look like you're trying to stun someone."

Dorcas snorts at that. "Let me guess, he's about yea tall, plays professional Quidditch, perpetually has sex hair, name rhymes with Hotter?"

Lily flushes at the call-out.

Arguing with her would be entirely useless - Dorcas is completely aware of how much she'd come to fancy James in their last few months of Hogwarts.

"You're going to succeed, you know," Dorcas tells her. "Potter could barely keep his eyes off of you in Hogwarts robes, much less this. He'll be goddamn speechless."

"I'm honestly surprised this is the first time you're seeing him since graduation," Marlene adds. "Quidditch training can't be that time-consuming, can it? You two were practically attached at the hip by the last month of school."

Lily shrugs, trying her best to keep her face impassive. "I dunno, I guess it's just a big adjustment for him, getting used to the whole professional athlete life."

"Yeah, I suppose."

But the truth is… she doesn't fully get it either. She's written to him five or so times since graduation, asking about life and training and casually suggesting that maybe they grab dinner and catch up with each other, if he's got a free night any time soon? And yet, every time, her owl has returned empty-clawed. He's not responded to her once. She knows full well that he was always terrible at responding to his mum's letters at school - he got more than one half-hearted Howler about his lack of response - but… five times?

She supposes she can ask him about that when he gets here today. Or, at the very least, decide on a better form of communication where he'll actually remember to answer her.

Because despite all of the letters going unanswered, she knows he'll be here today. This is different from a short blurb of a letter - this is a party they'd all had planned since the first of September last year. A reunion party when the Hogwarts Express left King's Cross for the first time without any of them on it. They'd talked about it constantly all year.

She combs back through her memory of seventh year, through the many, many times he said he'd be here today - he wouldn't go back on that.

Her little flat is decorated perfectly for the occasion - red and gold balloons all over, just like their House colours, and lots of sweets available, just like the ones the trolley witch always comes around with. And the, of course, a fair bit of alcohol, which is decidedly not just like the Hogwarts Express, but seems to be a necessity at a post-graduation party.

Marlene and Dorcas sit on her couch, poking through the candy selection on the table in front of them, and Lily's just about to join them when there's another knock.

It's Remus this time, and he gives Lily a big hug as soon as she opens the door for him.

"It's so good to see you, Lil," he tells her.

She beams at him. "You too."

"I keep feeling like I've forgotten something," he laughs. "Shouldn't we be on a train right now?"

"Shit, I'm supposed to be running a prefect meeting right now."

"I'm sure they're all awfully lost right now, without either of their Heads," Remus replies.

"Oi, Lupin, stop talking about school and come pour yourself a drink!" Marlene yells from the other side of the flat, and Remus' attention is diverted.

"McKinnon, you haven't changed one bit."

"Well of course I haven't," she answers reasonably. "It's only been three months - how much can someone change in three months?"

"Hey Marley," Dorcas says to her, "remember that summer you left Hogwarts straight as an arrow and came back loudly announcing to everyone you knew that you were 'gay as hell'? Because I'd say that's a pretty big change for three months."

"I was never 'straight as an arrow'," Marlene retorts. "I was just heavily closeted - there's a difference."

Dorcas shrugs, then throws her arm around her girlfriend. "Fair enough."

"Evans!" Through her still-open front door she hears the all-too-familiar voice of Sirius Black yelling her name - she briefly entertains the hope that James will be walking up to her doorstep with him, but when she turns her head to see him, it's just the one.

"Black," she replies with a grin - even though she's disappointed that James isn't here yet, she's undeniably excited to see Sirius as well.

He spins her around in a tight hug as soon as he crosses the threshold into her flat - honestly, she can't believe a full three months have passed since she's seen him. He gives damn good hugs.

"I've got to say," he says, appraising her after he sets her back down, "you pull off Muggle clothes infinitely better than wizarding ones."

She's got a whole closet worth of elaborate and increasingly risqué wizarding dress robes that would likely beg to differ, but Sirius can't know about those (because he'd surely ask how she's managed to get her hands on all of those, and that's a question she absolutely cannot answer for him), so she just laughs and agrees with him.

"I never did much enjoy Hogwarts robes."

"Neither did I, Evans," he replies with a grin. "Neither did I."

Then he turns his attention to Remus, who's still standing on Lily's other side. "Moony, long time no see," he says, and there's a slightly devious look in his eyes that makes Remus flush.

Lily makes a mental note to figure out what that's all about eventually.

Mary arrives a few minutes later, then Peter after that. Everyone pours themselves drinks and makes themselves comfortable all across Lily's living room, stealing chairs from her kitchen or sitting on the floor as they all trade stories and memories.

"Remember our first train ride to Hogwarts, Evans?" Sirius asks her. "Remember what little shits James and I were?"

Lily thinks back to that day, back to that exchange in the train compartment where she'd so passionately defended Snape to an exceptionally obnoxious James and Sirius. It's a strange memory to think back on, purely because of how tainted it's become. The boy she'd protected turned out to be a closeted blood purist who called her a nasty slur and condoned attacks on her friends, and the boys she'd been yelling at grew up to be the good ones, and the ones she's actually friends with now.

"We were all little shits," she clarifies.

"Speaking of Prongs," Peter chimes in, "where is he?"

Lily's almost glad someone else brought up James' absence - she's had her eyes on the door almost constantly for the past fifteen minutes or so, just waiting for him to walk in. She hopes no one has noticed that, but knowing her friends, at least one of them has.

Sirius shrugs. "No fucking clue. He's usually late, but he's not usually this late. Not to mention that it's, well… "

"It's Lily's party, and James's ability to be on time only exists specifically for her?" Marlene finishes, none-too-subtly.

"Yes, exactly that."

Lily tries to act more nonchalant than she feels. She's not going to acknowledge the sinking feeling that's started in her gut, not going to give it any power over her while she's supposed to be enjoying time with her friends. He's just running later than usual, that's all.

"It's fine," she tells them. "He'll get here when he gets here."

She's greeted with more than one slightly suspicious look, like they don't believe she's as casual about his tardiness as she seems, and she immediately feels the need to turn the attention away from herself. They're all acting like she's made of glass or something, and she doesn't like that one bit.

"How has James been lately?" Mary asks. "I haven't heard from him once since graduation."

She's looking at Lily as she poses the question, like she's expecting Lily to have seen him more recently. Lily doesn't want to admit that she hasn't heard anything from him either, if only because acknowledging that means coming to terms with the fact that maybe she's no different from Mary in his eyes.

But maybe no one's heard from him. Maybe he's just stopped talking to Sirius and Remus and Peter as well and it's just an everyone thing as he adjusts to his new training schedule.

"He's doing pretty good," Peter answers, not picking up on the fact that Mary's question was aimed at Lily and not him. "He spends most of his time training or with his teammates though - I've only seen him like four times all summer."

Four times. Peter - and presumably Remus and Sirius too - have seen James four times since graduation. She hasn't seen him once - hell, she hasn't even gotten a single letter. And clearly, yeah, he is busy, but he's not too busy to see his other friends.

She'd really thought, after graduation and that last night before they left Hogwarts, that they were in a good place. That his feelings for her were the same as hers for him - he'd certainly made it seem that way, at the very least. After all of that, why would he decide to stop talking to her - and just her?

"He's too good for us now," Sirius says, and the smirk on his face says that he's being sarcastic, but his words hit Lily with full force.

She hadn't really let herself consider that option before, the idea that James would somehow move on - move past - his school friends, ditching them entirely for a new life. He'd never made any sort of indication that he was planning on doing that at school, had never said anything that would make her believe he thought himself above the rest of them after signing his Quidditch contract.

She doesn't want to believe he'd be that person.

But time is ticking, and he's still not here.

***

The hours pass by, and Lily's trying her best to enjoy herself, sipping at a butterbeer and laughing along with everyone, but really, she just wants to be alone.

She looks around the room - everyone's talking and laughing, but it's still obvious that there's one thing missing. That there's one person missing.

And in that moment, the truth finally sinks in.

Despite his promises and the fact that all of his other friends are here today, James isn't coming today. Something has changed between the two of them, a total about-face from their last interactions, and he's decided to cut her out as a result.

Sirius's earlier sarcasm was a thin mask of the truth - James is probably too caught up in his new glamorous professional Quidditch lifestyle to give a damn about some girl from his Hogwarts days anymore.

And as usual, she's put her faith in someone who's decided that the best option is to crush it under their heel.

She feels a tightness growing in her chest, and suddenly, the desire to be alone becomes a need. "I'm going to the loo," she says abruptly, interrupting whatever conversation that she was only halfway paying attention to her, setting her bottle down on the table in front of her and leaving the room as fast as she can without acting suspicious.

She goes down the hallway and closes the door behind her.

There, in the bathroom, she tries not to fall apart, fingers gripping at the edge of the bathroom sink tightly. She stares at them, watching her knuckles go white.

"He said he'd be here," she says hopelessly, to no one but herself, her voice barely above a whisper.

She knows it's stupid, because he said he'd be here months ago, and things change, and he's incredibly busy with Pride of Portree. But he'd told her, with her hands in his and a look of utmost sincerity in his eyes, that he wouldn't miss this party for the world.

And like a fool, she'd believed him.

She looks back up at the mirror, at the single tear running down her cheek, and her jaw sets. She should've known better than to let herself care this deeply about someone again. She shouldn't have given James this power over her, the power to cut her this deeply over something as little as blowing off a party.

Fuck. She swore, after Snape, that she wasn't going to give anyone else the potential to break her like that. She wasn't going to let herself fall for anyone's stupid tricks or lies anymore.

And… maybe that's the problem. Nothing about James has ever felt like a trick, or a lie, or like he's ever anything but what he appears to be. That's one of the things she likes best about him, the fact that he's unapologetically himself and doesn't waver from that.

The idea that he's changed so much in three short months - from the boy who'd become one of her best friends and trusted her with all his biggest secrets, to someone who wants nothing to do with her - feels like such a sudden and unexpected shift. Especially when, as Marlene had pointed out just a few hours ago, it's not like the rest of them have changed much since school ended.

But it seems that's exactly what happened - she really can't think of any other plausible explanation for all of this. And really, she should've realised it a while ago.

She curses herself, again, because why the fuck did she not see this coming? Why did it take three months, multiple unresponded letters, and a no-show at a party for her to realise James doesn't really care about her the way she'd let herself believe he did? Why did she let herself get blinded by affection and feelings and rose-coloured glasses, only to get herself hurt again?

Petunia, Severus, James. She's been through this shit three times now.

And this time, she's done with it - she's had enough. She's done letting people in, letting them have such a profound piece of her heart, because clearly even the people she thinks are somehow different and better turn out to be exactly the same as everyone before.

She wipes the tears from her cheeks, determined not to let herself continue to cry over someone who doesn't deserve it.

There's a soft knock at the door and Remus' voice comes through from the other side. "Lily?"

"Yes?" She wills her voice not to crack - and it doesn't. If nothing else, her Order work so far has really done wonders for her acting abilities.

"We just - I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Of course. Despite her best acting, James's close friends have always had a bit of a sense on when something's really wrong - her abrupt departure from the party seems to be no exception. She's willing to bet more than one of them followed her down the hall.

She gets confirmation of that when she opens the door and is face-to-face with both Remus and Sirius. "I'm brilliant," she tells them, hoping like hell that it's not too obvious that she was crying just a few minutes ago.

"Evans, I've got no clue why he didn't show today," Sirius says. "I mean, we've definitely talked about it recently, so it's not like he just forgot about it."

Lily doesn't miss the subtle elbow from Remus at that, a small jab of you're not helping.

"It's fine," she lies. Even though it's not.

But what else is she supposed to say? That the one person whose presence meant the most to her is the one who didn't show up, and that it's finally shown her just how much he doesn't care about her anymore?

"No, it's not," Sirius argues back. "It's real shitty of him to just not show up to something we've all been planning for a year with no explanation to you whatsoever."

And secretly, she agrees with him. But she also refuses to let him know that she cares that much.

"It really is," she tells them, brushing her hair over her shoulder. "He's got his Quidditch career to pay attention to now, and like you said, he's too good for us - too good for me - now. That's fine, I really don't care."

She'll keep saying that out loud until she starts to mean it.

If not letting herself care about anyone is the way she stops getting betrayed, than so be it. She'll be a heartless ice queen if that's what it takes.

Both Remus and Sirius just look at her, slightly aghast, and Lily thinks to herself that, at the very least, a shocked look is better than a pitying one.

"Lily - " Remus starts.

"Let's get back to the party, yeah?" she says, and the nonchalance in her voice feels less faked this time. "I want to watch Peter get his eyebrows get burned off in Exploding Snap for the thousandth time."

***

The next morning, after everyone's left (because of course everyone else ended up getting too plastered to Apparate home and ended up crashing on the floor of her tiny one-bedroom flat), she goes about the process of cleaning up the apartment from the mess they'd made the night before. She's long since abandoned the yellow party dress in favour of an oversized T-shirt and pajama shorts, and she waves her wand and watches as the empty bottles and cups pile themselves in the bin, the balloons deflate and follow suit, and all her cushions right themselves again.

Then she sets down her wand, because she wants to do this next part by hand.

When she'd moved into this flat, she'd covered the walls of her living room with pictures of her Hogwarts years. The room is filled with images of her laughing and smiling with friends - and somehow, James is a nearly constant fixture in all of them.

And so, one by one, she removes every single one of them from her walls. Every single photograph with his stupid face gets put into a pile of memories she no longer wants to be confronted with every day.

But as much as she just wants to get rid of them permanently, she can't quite convince herself to part with them just yet. So she summons a small black storage box from her closet, piling them all inside and closing the lid neatly on top. Locked up in a box, just like she's locking them all away in her mind.

She carries the box into her bedroom, shoving it as far under her bed as she can manage. It can stay there and collect dust for… Merlin knows how long. And maybe one day, when she truly and completely stops giving a fuck about James Potter, she'll find it and laugh and shove it into the bin for real this time.

The rest of her Sunday is spent deep-cleaning the rest of her flat, writing an update to Dumbledore, and perusing the Sunday edition of the Prophet for anything interesting. The sun is low in the sky when an owl comes knocking at her window, bearing a tiny, rolled-up scroll.

She opens the window for just long enough to take the letter from the owl, before sending it on its way. She unfurls the note, revealing one messily-written line in black ink.

I'm sorry I didn't make it yesterday. -J

She looks at the letter - if it can even be called that, it's barely even a sentence - and answers it aloud with words she'll never send.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, too."

#hp fanfiction #jily fanfiction #jily #james potter x lily evans #angst #jily angst #jily fic #harry potter fanfic #and when you get me alone it's so simple #that's the series tag for all these things related to this one novel and all the one-shots that have spiralled out of it #because i have no self-control and this universe has run away from me

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roseskiesandbutterflies · 4 years

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Killer Queen - Chapter 9: Coming Soon

Summary: Arabella Ruth White is the fifth member of the Marauders. And life at Hogwarts certainly isn’t easy. Especially when you have alcohol, relationships, unhealthy music obsessions, a fake stage persona, weird ass friends with weird ass problems and actual school all thrown into the equation. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name. I will always update on Wattpad first.)

Warning(s): none that I can see

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26 @bijoukitty ask to be on my taglist!

Inspired by: A Night At The Opera, various Marauders headcanons I’ve seen on Pinterest, this quarantine business, The Boy Who Killed God by @sirius-black-killed-god on AO3, All The Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 on AO3

Word count: 4.3k+ (holy shit)

A/N: I beg of you follow Ruth's advice on how to handle a record because some people do it Wrong. Don't be one of those people, please. Somehow, she's 16 now which is weird, but not that weird seen as she is literally a figment of my own imagination. This chapter is over 4000 words long which makes it the longest thing I've ever written.

I’m thinking about changing the point of view again. I’m currently in first but I might change it to third. First is good for funny scenes like in this chapter, but it’s not ideal for the deeper stuff I have planned later. Yes, I have a plot. Shock horror. But we shall wait and see on that one. If I do change it, I won’t edit the previous chapters to fit it because I really can’t be bothered.

Everyone, please stay safe because of what's going on and stay optimistic and occupied. For example, I'll have more time to write! It's a scary time but it will pass, like everything does at some point. OK I've gotten too philosophical. I shall stop now. This chapter is sponsored by me calling Dr Brian Harold May 'Clog Man'. This chapter title comes from Queen's 1980 album, 'The Game'.

“Good morning, peasants!” I declared as I quite literally swept into Transfiguration that morning, a crown perched precariously atop of my head, my robe billowing behind me. My dearest courtiers trailed along in my wake, begrudgingly carrying my belongings. How generous of them, I thought to myself, as if they had had any say in the matter in the first place. My loyal subjects celebrated my entrance and I gracefully sat down in my assigned seat, feet on the table, chair tipped back at precisely the right angle. I didn’t want to fall and get a concussion, now did I? Especially not on that day of all days.

Now you may wonder what on Gaia’s green earth I am on about, you may begin to question my sanity, you may finally start to piece the clues together and realise I am in fact, a total nutter. About time you did, if I’m completely honest with you, darling. However, like most of my shenanigans, the reason for all this was a well-founded one, if I did say so myself. For Twas my birthday, my sixteenth birthday to be precise, and that meant I got to be queen for a day. Not as long as I would like but hey ho, it was better than nothing. I had all the time in the world to take over the world so being queen could wait for now. Even better than this temporary monarchy, becoming sixteen came with plenty of hobbies I could now I enjoy legally, such as having sex, smoking and drinking wine in a restaurant. As if the law had stopped me before. Following the law is for the weak and my mother did not raise me to be anything of the sort.

Now as a queen such as myself, it is my regal responsibility to keep up appearances, which, to put it simply, meant to look pretty damn fabulous at all times. Hence why I was sporting a magnificent golden crown enchanted to stay on my head for the whole day and matching robe-cloak-thing. You know what I’m on about. Personally, I was rather pleased with my attire. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for one Minerva McGonagall.

An exasperated sigh from the front of the classroom was reluctantly followed by, “White, dare I ask why you are not in proper uniform?” she gestured vaguely at my majestic outfit.

“It would certainly be rather daring of you, professor,” I replied, without missing a beat. A classic raised eyebrow went my way, so I let out a sigh of my own before saying, “Tis my sixteenth birthday, dearest Minnie. If I have to attend lessons on such an occasion, then I must be allowed to dress appropriately.”

“And you consider a crown half as big as yourself to be appropriate for school?” her wonderfully Scottish voice quipped back.

“Why of course ma’am, you see it’s what I like to call my thinking cap,” I grinned broadly at her before joining a giggling Sirius who had gone to great lengths to keep it all in.

But nothing in this godforsaken world, and I do not say that lightly, could have prepared me for Minnie’s response: “Then perhaps it will do you some good.” She turned to the blackboard behind her to begin the lesson I had partly succeeded in delaying.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t doing so well. I clutched at my chest as if I’d been shot, and believe me it felt like I had been, and dramatically fell into the arms of James, as he was the unfortunate soul who sat next to me. I weakly reached up to touch his face as they do in the muggle movies, made a mental note to remind him to fucking shave and heaved out, “Jamie, I won’t last much longer but there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What, my darling? What is it?” he asked, faithfully going along with my foolish antics as always, the poor sod.

“I…love…” I whispered before going limp in his arms as if I was dead.

“Ruth, my love, no!” he hugged my ‘corpse’ while sobbing rather profoundly.

Sirius leapt to his feet (I had to open my eyes slightly for this bit) and declared, “What do you mean ‘my love’? Ruth has been the love of my life since I first laid eyes on her!”

“You foul fiend! Ruth was the second reason for my very existence after Evans, thank you very much!” James too jumped up, leaving me to flop onto the stone floor with an ungraceful ‘ugh’. I could sense Lily’s annoyance from the other side of the classroom.

James and Sirius both grabbed their wands, pointed them at one another, but instead of cursing each other, they used them like fencing swords. Just before Sirius could ‘stab’ James, I myself jumped up and cried, “Wait!” at the same time Minnie yelled, “Enough!”

Naturally, we took no notice of this.

Both boys turned to look at me, only for me to say, “I don’t love either of you. I love Remus!” I pointed at the boy in question who in turn smirked his classic smirk.

He opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by an infuriated Minnie, “I said enough! Sit down, all three of you or it’s detention for a week!” Now I was pretty sure she was only letting us off because she was well aware that if I was given detention on my birthday, I would certainly not go. I’d like to think it was because she loved us dearly, but my mother didn’t raise me to be a liar either. Considering the circumstances, a.k.a. my huge fucking party I had planned for later on, I did what I almost never did.

I sat down.

Not without a snarky “ooooooooh” of course.

Naturally, Minnie wasn’t all that impressed with my reply, “Evans, swap seats with White, please.”

Naturally, I wasn’t all that impressed with her reply either, “Professor, are you seriously going to move me on my birthday?”

“That is correct.”

“Miss, that’s not fair, I haven’t even done anything that bad, we’re all in one piece, aren’t we? Besides, why is it only me that’s getting moved, what’s up with that?”

“You’re not the only one I’m moving, I’m also moving Evans, am I not?” she snapped, not at all pleased with my outburst, “Now please move seats, you are disrupting my lesson.”

I pouted like a little child on the naughty step, grabbed my stuff together and plonked myself where Lily had been sitting, next to a girl who had only started in September, from Greece or Italy or somewhere. I suddenly realised Lily was now sitting next to James, so I felt the need to apologise, “Sorry, Lily!”, I said in a similar manner to a kid who was forced to say sorry to their sibling after hitting them. She just shot me a reproachful look which had me fearing for my life for a second, before turning to the lesson that could finally begin.

Obviously, I wasn’t exactly keen to take part in the lesson, so I opted for attempting to get to know my new desk partner, “You’re the new girl, right?”

I was met with a blank stare and confusion from both parties until something clicked for me: if she had just moved here from another country then she probably didn’t speak much English.

Well shit.

I tried again, simplifying my language but hopefully not sounding too patronising, “Are you new?”

The poor girl still strongly resembled a deer in headlights but nodded, “Yes?”

“What’s your name, darling?” I was determined to get to know this girl, she seemed nice enough and, knowing from experience what it felt like to be the new kid, I felt a strange urge to help her.

She cocked her head to the side in confusion, now looking like an owl of some sort. It was at this point where I gave up and just waved her off, “Don’t worry.” If Minnie was as adamant about me staying in this seat as I suspected, I’d have plenty of time later to try and talk to this girl. Maybe when she knew a bit more English. Or maybe I could teach her some? Well saying that I’m not sure how good of a teacher I would actually be. I’d probably be more of a nuisance than a help.

The rest of the school day carried on in a similar fashion, with the usual jokes played out in a more dramatic manner than usual. Fine by me. The end of lessons couldn’t come soon enough but at last, they were over. Meaning I could finally, finally, open my damn presents.

Well, I say presents, but me being the impatient bastard that I am, I actually opened most of them that morning at breakfast. Which involved about a year’s supply of chocolate, a 10-pack of condoms and no less than three boxes of tea from various posh shops in London. And a hell of a lot of magical alcohol, which was far better than the muggle stuff, but we don’t talk about that. There was only one present left and that was the one from the woman who birthed me. I realise that I have led you under false pretences of sentiment towards my dear mother, and while I do in fact over her greatly, this is not the case. It was actually because our family owl, Bob (don’t ask me why he’s called fucking Bob, Rhea named him), is quite possibly slower than a bloody snail and took the whole day to fly from Cromer to Scotland.

I ran up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, which is saying something considering I don’t run for anything, and there it was, laying on what was basically my bed when Kingsley wasn’t around, wrapped in shining gold paper, my birthday present. Instantly I got a huge sense of déjà vu, as I knew exactly what it was.

A vinyl record.

Because what else do I do with my spare time these days?

I carefully picked it up, observing it in the stream of November sunlight coming from the window. Judging from the size and weight of it, it was definitely an album, my excitement increasing tenfold. I opened it as carefully as possible to discover that it was indeed Queen’s new album. Their iconic crest was printed on the front in a loud colour scheme of orange and pink. The title was written in black cursive: ‘A Night At The Opera’. The whole thing, though relatively simple in its design, screamed regalness.

I was so mesmerised by it that I didn’t even see the envelope on the bed until I very nearly sat on it. My mum’s familiar handwriting addressed me on the front of it and inside was a card with the most gorgeous watercolour print of the Cromer Pier which had me missing it terribly. I opened it to read what she had written and I couldn’t wipe the grin off of my face.

To Ruth,

Happy birthday, darling! It’s hard to believe you’re 16 now, I still see you as my gorgeous baby girl! I know I can’t see you on your special day, but half term is less than a month away – you’ll be home before we know it!

I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done, and we all love you very much. Have a wonderful day with your friends!

Lots of love,

Mum, Rhea and Luke xxx

P.S. Don’t tell Mum but I got you a sort of magical cactus from Diagon Alley but I’ll give it to you when you come back – Rhea

P.P.S What Rhea forgot to tell you is that the cactus was my idea, I just didn’t have any pocket money left after going to the sweet shop - Luke

I smiled at the message and at my siblings’ additions at the bottom and found myself missing them more than I anticipated. I put on my bedside table, next to the magical photo us the boys and me which never failed to make me laugh. It was of us knee-deep in the Great Lake, around the July of our third year. James had his back to the camera but still showed his face and his lopsided grin; he was carrying Sirius over his shoulder like a fireman, the latter of which was showing his middle finger to the camera as best he could. Peter was mid-fall in front of them, just seconds before face-planting the water. Remus was to the right of them, trying his best to avoid getting wet from Peter’s inevitable splash, his face all screwed up in an attempt to protect his eyes. I was trying to hoist myself up onto Remus’s shoulders, which wouldn’t have been so difficult if he wasn’t so fucking tall, even at 14 he was a giant. The photo was magical, so we were all moving around as we had been at the time. I was lucky enough to have caught the exact moment I pulled my wand out and cast the aguamenti charm, aiming at everyone’s head but more importantly, James and Sirius’s hair. The photo was an endless cycle of me jumping up, casting the spell and being chased around by everyone before going back to our original positions.

I reluctantly turned away from the treasured photo, picked up the album and turned to run to the Room Of Requirement so I could listen to the artistry I held in my undeserving hands. Somehow, my close good friends beat me to it; there they stood in the doorway, carrying my dear record player between them with wide grins on their faces, not altogether dissimilar from the one James sported in the photograph.

I wondered for a second how the vinyl got itself onto my bed, and how the boys knew they had to get my record player, but then I realised my mother must have told them in advance. She may have been a Hufflepuff, but I do sometimes think she would have made a fine Slytherin. Surprise kids, I don’t have a prejudice against the entirety of Slytherin house, just the ones who are, quite frankly, dickheads. Not my fault if that’s the majority of them.

They popped my dear baby on the floor and sat down various surfaces: the floor, their beds, Remus’s lap (*cough cough* Sirius *cough cough*). I ever-so-carefully removed the vinyl from its sleeve and placed it onto the turntable, only touching the outermost edges so as to not get grease into the grooves of the record. Now, I can’t be ruining it already.

“I hope you know we love you enough to carry that thing all the way here,” Sirius whined, mopping non-existent sweat from his forehead using’s Remus’s poor jumper. The audacity he had to refer to my precious record player as ‘that thing’. I didn’t hit him, which is very unlike me, but I refused to sink to his level. Twat.

“Thank you darling but I think, in the midst of wanting to show off your varying levels of strength, you all forgot you could simply levitate my baby here,” I flopped onto Remus’s bed (by far the cleanest one) as Peter repeatedly smacked James with a pillow, “What did I say, James? What did I fucking say?”

Poor James just groaned at him to stop, arms up in a quite frankly pathetic bid to protect himself. He looked at me helplessly, but I just shook my head with a cheeky smirk on my face, “Nope, you got yourself into this mess, I’m not getting involved.”

Sirius, on the other hand, was laughing so much that Remus had to move him from lying against his chest to having his head in his lap to prevent him from hurting himself. I was half-convinced that Sirius was in fact having a heart attack but at this point, I was not nearly drunk enough to put up with his bullshit. Oh yeah, forgot to mention we each took a shot after breakfast seen as it’s my birthday, only increasing our chances of getting alcohol poisoning within the next weekend or so. But let’s be honest, I’m only using my birthday as an excuse to drink more alcohol at eight o’clock in the morning.

A few more smacks and one case of concussion later, we had all calmed down enough for me to play my goddamn record. Suspense hung in the air as the tiny crackles of an unused record sounded, followed by a crescendo of lightning-fast piano. Definitely not what I expected from a song entitled ‘Death On Two Legs (Dedicated To…)’, until Brian’s slightly menacing guitar burst through the speakers. The rest of the carried on in a similar fashion, fancy piano and angry guitar combined with lyrics I could only describe as savage. I made a mental note to look at the enclosed lyrics later on to see what exactly Freddie was singing, as even for my standards it was rather mean. I also couldn’t help but wonder who this was dedicated to and what they had done for Freddie to sing about them in such a manner. Must be quite the dickhead. Maybe someone like Snivellus. You can’t get much worse than Snivellus.

The next song was called ‘Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon’ and I couldn’t help but giggle throughout it. It felt very vintage, the singing was distorted somewhat, but it seemed more as if they were taking the mick out of the genre. It was a little thing, hardly a couple of minutes long, and soon transitioned to ‘I’m In Love With My Car’, which I distinctly remembered from the B-side of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. That song will never fail to make me laugh. How a man can be so attached to his car, I’ll never know.

Those comedic masterpieces were followed by ‘You’re My Best Friend’, which I fell in love with within the first five seconds. The adorable little piano, the adorable little lyrics, the adorable little bass, okay I could go on like this for hours, but the point is that I loved this song and would gladly be its friend, were it a person. Yeah, I may have been a tad tipsy, might have had something to do with the shots we took between lessons on top of the one at breakfast. I had wanted to maintain a state of slight tipsiness throughout the day. Moving swiftly on.

‘39’ was next, and it was safe to say that I wasn’t expecting any of it. At first, the guitar made me chuckle, then the realisation that it was just vocals, guitar and fucking tambourine, and then the fact that it was almost certainly a county song about space. Brian was singing, of course it was Brian, and I seemed to have forgotten how talented a singer he actually is. And a songwriter because let’s be real, there is no way in hell that anyone in the band apart from Clog Man wrote this.

‘Sweet Lady’ came after that, which contrasted ‘39’ so much that it basically gave me whiplash. To be honest, I should have seen that coming seeing as that was how Queen seemed to work, a heavy rock song followed by something completely different and so on and so on. You’d think you’d grow tired of constantly changing styles but somehow Queen pulled it off magnificently, as they did with pretty much anything they set their minds to. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, don’t get me wrong it was a cool song, just not quite my cup of tea. I felt a little bit guilty about not liking it, but I forced myself to remember that I didn’t have to like every song on the album in order to be a fan.

‘Seaside Rendezvous’ was the next song and the last one on side A. I found it very quirky and much more to my liking. I could easily imagine myself going for a stroll down the beach back at home while humming this. And potentially dancing to it down the pier. Although I would look quite the crackhead as no one else would be able to hear it; but since when did I care about looking like a twat? I was already friends with plenty of twats, I stopped caring years ago. Somewhere in the middle of the song, there was a part that sounded like an orchestra of some kind, but I could tell Roger had something to do with the woodwind section, which led to some rather interesting images in my mind. Make of that what you will. The tap-dancing part made me laugh because I highly doubted that any of them could actually tap dance, leading to me wondering how to the fuck they did that. My brain also thought it was necessary to conjure up some cursed images of Brian tap-dancing in his clogs. Fucking hell, what was wrong with me?

As quickly and carefully as I could, I flipped the record onto the B-side, which started off with ‘The Prophet’s Song’. I was so naïve to think that ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ was long; this bad boy was all of eight minutes and basically a musical on its own, worthy of the likes of the West End or Broadway. The absolute artistry of the lyrics and the music quickly made it one of my favourites so far, which was saying something as I loved the whole damn album anyway. There was a good couple of minutes of straight acapella, mainly just countless overdubs of Freddie singing ‘no I know’ at various different pitches; then Roger and Brian joining in for a chorus of ‘la la la la la’. It was strangely creepy, and I had yet to figure out if that was their intention.

That then flowed almost seamlessly into ‘Love Of My Life’, a melancholic ballad that was as beautiful as it was sad. It didn’t take me long to work out that it was a harp rather than an acoustic guitar, I grinned at the mental images of Brian learning the harp for the sake of this one song. Surely if he’d known how to play it all along, he would have shown off his musical prowess much earlier.

Naturally, the next song flipped this whole vibe that had just been created on its head. ‘Good Company’ was its name and it involved a whole band created solely by Brian’s guitar. It seemed funny to me, but I didn’t know why. A bit like with ‘Sweet Lady’, I wasn’t all too sure if I like it or not. I did notice Brian singing again; it was nice to hear his voice on the record more, not to diss Freddie or Roger in any way, shape or form. Now I wanted to hear John sing and we would be good to go.

The last proper song on the album was, of course, the absolute masterpiece (or as Sirius liked to call it, ‘an utter fucking bop’) that was ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. Considering the sheer amount of times we’ve listened to the record since it came out, it wasn’t all that surprising that we knew all the words off by heart. This was including playing all five minutes and fifty-five seconds of it while James was in the shower, so he didn’t spend hours in there and use up all the hot water. The rule was that he had to be out by the time the song had ended, or we would send Lily the picture we had of him with his hair all wet. And he would die before he consented to such a thing. Trust me, it’s not a particularly flattering look on him. I had to remind them to resist the urge to jump around when the rock bit came on, you know what I’m on about, so as to not damage the vinyl already.

The last track was a guitar rendition of ‘God Save The Queen’, which was outrageous as it was excessive. Just layers upon layers of guitar, I would forever be impressed by Brian’s skills. Sirius, however, was still moaning over his restricted movement.

“But why can’t we jump? It’s so much more fun that headbanging alone,” Sirius whined like the petulant child that he was. I had to give him at least some credit, he may have an impressive amount of muggle knowledge, but he was still a pureblood and a Black at that. He could be so naïve sometimes.

“Darling you have to understand that it’s a sensitive little thing. If you jump, so will the vinyl, which will scratch it and it will jump at awkward times,” I explained, to which I was met with blank stares as if I was speaking in bloody Welsh. I sighed, perhaps a little more dramatically than necessary but if that doesn’t some up my whole life then I don’t know what does, and tried again, “Like with my Sheer Heart Attack record? Where it jumps during Brighton Rock and Killer Queen?”

“Ohhhh,” understanding washed over his and James’s faces because let’s be honest, if you think Sirius is oblivious then clearly, you’ve never met James.

“Yes, ohhhh,” I repeated, taking the mick out of the stupid buggers. Hey, it’s my birthday, I’m allowed to do whatever I want.

Which reminded me of the party I had planned for later. Well, I say party, it was going to be more of a ball than anything. A birthday ball, if you will. What can I say, I have a flair for the dramatics, sue me.

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certifiedskywalker · 5 years

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Monster Among Men - Jaime Lannister

I was listening to 5 Seconds of Summer’s album Youngblood while I was trying to think about what to write. Then the song Monster Among Men came on and it hit me.

Jaime Lannister broke your heart. Years later, would he do it again?

The Westerlands had always been your home, even when it truly wasn’t. You had grown up in the in the Riverlands, under your family’s House name. The flowing streams and rivers of your homeland were serene, that much was true; but it was never enough for you. In your younger years, your mind often drifted to the rolling hills and rocky cliff sides of the West.

At first, your family was concerned. The Westerlands were a strange region, full of riches and mystery. Many Houses in Westeros had relocated to the area in search for the fabled veins of gold that bled life into the land. As a result, many old Houses of Westeros had faded from existence and out of the tomes of history. When you clarified your mind was not caught on the idea of coin but rather the adventure of it all, your family seemed to calm.

On your sixteenth nameday, the gift of the title of handmaiden was granted to you. The idea of serving a Lady and being on their beck and call was not the most appealing. It wasn’t until you were told who you were to be a handmaiden that your excitement grew. Cersei Lannister was to be your holding Lady. That fact required you to pack up your valuables and march off to the Westerlands; you would be living at Casterly Rock.

You had only heard tales of the seat of House Lannister, and none had done it justice in your eyes. The glorious castle stood proudly on the cliff, just as it’s owner stood strongly at the top of the heap. The golden sun shone down on the stronghold and you could remember how the sight lingered in your minds eye for weeks after.

What you had not prepared yourself for was the Lannister’s themselves. You quickly grew close to Cersei, as you were her handmaiden. Granted, you could only get so close. The young Lady Lannister was secretive and you did not what to pry into whatever ties she had got herself caught up in. Tywin was kind to you, happy that his daughter had a friend; even if you were obligated to be there. The youngest Lannister, Tyrion, was talkative with you. He found you interesting and you would often exchange books with each other in your spare time.

It was Jaime that gave you trouble. Rarely did you even see the developing young man, but when you did, you tripped over your own thoughts. His flowing blond hair and emerald green eyes started to fill your dreams at night, the longer you stayed at Casterly Rock. You had never spoken to him before, due to his cold gaze putting you on edge; but there was something about Jaime Lannister that just drew you to him. Maybe it was the fact that Jaime had already been staring at you whenever you glanced over or maybe it was just his good looks. Either way, he barely spoke to you. You became so interested in him, you turned to Cersei. You would ask her simple questions about him. Soon those questions became more frequent as Cersei showed more interest in you the more time you spent with her. The two of you soon bonded over conversation of her brother. She was your friend.

Your relationship, or lack thereof, with Jaime took a turn one night during the week long celebration of Tywin Lannister’s 46th nameday. While the head of House Lannister was not one for wild parties, he held one in the great hall of Casterly Rock to appease his lavish family members.You were tasked with spending the night beside Cersei, to make sure she wouldn’t drink unabashedly around the rest of the Lannisters.

Despite the fact you were glued to her hip, Cersei managed to get herself lost in a sea of drink. As you desperately searched for her, you bumped into a warm, solid wall. You let out a breath at impact and started to fall backwards. If it wasn’t for the strong arms that instinctively wrapped around your waist, you would have hit the floor.

“Oh, beg my pardon, Ser-”

“Not a Ser, not yet,” a smooth voice replied. You looked up and your gaze fell on Jaime Lannister. There was a smug grin playing on his lips as he glanced down at you. It was the first one of the smiles you had seen on his lips, at least on the smiles he directed at you. The sight of that alone made your heart race, and the fact he was holding you made you feel faint.

“Sorry, Lord Lannister I-”

“You know you can call me Jaime, you’ve lived here for a year now.” As he spoke, he straighten your back, but kept his arms snugly around you.

“Jaime,” you murmured, saying nothing more. He nodded, his smile fading slightly as he let his arms fall from your waist. When he cleared his throat, you took the brief moment to fix your wrinkled gown and then looked back up at him. His green eyes were already on you.

“Looking for my lovely sister?”

“Yes, she seems to have wandered off. I was told to watch her around the wine but she managed to evade my eyes.” Jaime nodded, the lightest of smirks on his lips.

“She has a habit of doing that.” Jaime glanced down the hallway where you both stood and then back at you. “I can help you look for her, sparing you from my father’s anger.”

“Thank you, Jaime,” you said with a soft smile, “is there anywhere she may have gone?” Jaime pressed his lips into a thin line as he thought. His brow furrowed and you couldn’t help but stare at his chiseled face. Your eyes saw every little tick he made and you loved the way his eyes lit up when his mind caught up with his thoughts.

“Yes, follow me.” He extended a hands towards you and you gladly took it. Jaime led you past happy party guests and through halls of the stronghold you had never ventured down before. Your heart was racing as he tightened his grip on your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as you darted past a group of guards. After walking away unnoticed, Jaime stopped you before a heavy-looking wooden door. Your nose screwed up as you sniffed the air. The sweet, tantalizing scent of baking pastries flooded your senses and you glanced up at Jaime. He smiled at you brightly before pushing the door open. You followed behind him as he walked inside the kitchen.

“Cersei hardly eats to begin with, why would she be in here?” You questioned as Jaime shooed the kitchen staff out. The cooks and cleaners frowned but listened, knowing that they would be chewed out if they didn’t.

“When Cersei drinks, she becomes peckish. It’s something I’ve noticed myself after suffering through this party each year.” Jaime walked over to where small buns were cooling on a rack. He picked one up and broke it in half. You peered at him as he ate and wondered if he hated all the parties held in his glorious home. “Here.”

You were pulled from your thoughts as Jaime extended a hand towards you. Glancing at it, you saw the other half of the sweet bun between his fingers. You took it with a soft word of thanks and chewed slowly. It still seemed odd to you that Cersei would run to the kitchen after indulging in one too many chalice fulls of wine; but Jaime was her twin brother. He knew more about his sister than anyone else ever would.

“Do you always have to look so nervous?” A light dusting of pink spreading across your cheeks at his blunt question.

“I-I hope not,” you stuttered, “I am just worried for Cersei.”

“You truly care about her?” Jaime took a step towards you, his eyes darkening ever so slightly. His voice was low when he asked, which tightened the knot in your stomach.

“Why, yes, I do. I feel that she is a friend.”

“Cersei doesn’t have friends,” Jaime said simply, “she’s only doing as father told her.” Your brows furrowed at his words as your heart ached at what he meant. “Don’t take it to heart, Y/N. Cersei doesn’t care about anyone except herself.”

“She doesn’t care for you? Or your father?” Jaime turned his head at your questions.

“She only cares when she’s using you,” he whispered bitterly, “even then it’s only so much.” His tone dripped with hurt as he spoke to you and the sound made your heart ache. “Have you ever cared about someone to the brink of wondering why, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you whispered almost immediately. You quick reply seemed to catch Jaime off guard as he looked at you, almost urging you to explain. “He doesn’t seem to care about anyone else….I guess you could say he’s similar to Cersei in that respect. He’s hardly said a word to me in the time that I’ve been near his side.”

“How do you know that he doesn’t care?” Jaime took a step towards you, “maybe he doesn’t speak because he’s scared.” Another step.

“He doesn’t strike me as one to get scared easily, especially by someone like me.” You gestured to yourself and Jaime cocked his head.

“With your beauty, I feel that any man would be terrified of you. The idea of hurting someone like you would be a haunting thought.” Another step and he was looming over you.

“Are you haunted then, Jaime?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. He let out a breathy laugh that brushed against your skin like a ghostly hand. “Demons cling to my back everytime I steal a glance at you,” he replied smoothly. You couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on your lips. Jaime smiled too, but you could see the glints of fear in his eyes. He glanced at the kitchen door, as if to make sure no one was watching, then turned back to you to press his lips to yours.

Melting into his touch, you let his hands clutch your hips and pull your body flush to his own. His warmth spread to you and you could feel his heart pounding in his chest. You reached a soft hand up, cupping his jaw as your lips moved against his. He let out a groan as he pushed the backs of your thighs against the countertop.

“Jump,” he mumbled against your lips. You bent to his will and pushed yourself up on the table. Jaime wedged himself between your legs, his rough hands moving from your hips, up your arms and to your neck. He was only two years older than you, eighteen, but the Lannister boy kissed you with such experience that it made you weak.

You trailed your fingers from his jawline and into Jaime’s long hair. Gently pulling at the blond strands, he let out a low moan at the feeling. You smiled into the kiss which Jaime hungrily intensified by tangling his tongue with yours. The two of you were so caught up in each other that you didn’t hear the kitchen door open and close.

However, you both did hear the clapping. Jaime pulled away from you at the first loud slap. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for the source. Finally, your eyes landed on Cersei, still in your red party gown. Her bright green eyes burned like wildfire and you felt a pit in your stomach start to form. You glanced at Jaime, waiting to see what he would do or say, but he remained still and silent.

“What a surprise,” Cersei drawled, “didn’t I tell you, Jaime? A little whore, desperate to spend the night with you.” You cheeks burned with white hot embarrassment at Cersei’s stinging words. Glancing over at Jaime, you saw the shame plastered across his face. “You do have anything to say for yourself, Y/N?”

“Why?” you asked, tears welling in your eyes. Your gaze shifted between Cersei and Jaime that is, until, Jaime met your sorrowful eyes.

“Y/N...I...I meant-”

“Come, Jaime, father will want to know that my handmaiden has been compromised. How disgusting it is to be harassed in this way.” Cersei turned tail and marched out the door, each step seemed to make her feel more proud. You turned to Jaime, waiting for him to finish, but the words seemed to have left him entirely as he followed his sister out of the door.

It had been a long time since you had thought of that night. In part because you wanted to forget about it happening, that and you hadn’t the spare moment to dwell. The War of the Five Kings was at its end and your family was trapped in the Riverlands. They did not wish to flee their homeland, leaving you stranded there with them.

Now, you were held up in your House’s stronghold as Lannister forces surrounded the moat that was acting as your only defense. You gazed out across the amassing sea of red and gold armor, wondering why you had once thought of the Westerlands as your home. All your memories of that place were now tainted by Cersei’s unending reach. The guard beside you shifted, his armor clinked as he did, drawing your attention to him.

“What is it?” You questioned, your voice laced with concern.

“Three horsemen approaching, it looks as if they wish to parlay.” You peered down at the three figures, the moonlight catching their armor plates as they walked. Then, upon seeing a head of shining blond hair, your breath caught.

“Lower the gate,” you murmured coldly.

“My Lady, I don’t belie-”

“Lower the gate.”

As you walked out on the lowered gate, you hugged your cloak closer to your body. The air was starting to grow more and more cool as the weeks passed. The cold wasn’t the only reason why you tugged the cloak more snugly over your shoulders though. Soon, the three men came into view. The two on either side of the man in the middle were fully armored.

It was Jaime who rode his horse between them. When he reached the end of the bridge, he clambered off his horse. He seemed off-kilter when walked; his left arm didn’t sway with the same amount of control his right one did. No longer did long blond hair obscured his features; his hair was cropped short and his face had aged. Yet, he was still the Jaime you had fallen for all that time ago at Casterly Rock.

“Y/N,” he started as he walked across the bridge, closing the gap between you. The guard to your left reached for his sword but you raised your hand.

“What is it Jaime? You know that the Riverlands are sworn to the Starks. My family will never submit to the Lannisters.”

“House Tully is loyal to the Starks, your House has few ties to them. There is still time for your family, Y/N. I came here with an offer.”

“How do I know that this isn’t some sick trick? Even the most immoral and simple tricks are used by your family. How can I trust a monster like you?” Jaime’s jaw dropped slightly at your words, knowing the time that you were referencing. He simply shook his head.

“I meant what I said that night,” he said softly, “every word.”

“That’s strange, I don’t remember you speaking that much,” you hissed. “I was scared. I knew, from Cersei had said about you, that I was going to be so bad for you, Y/N. You were, you are, so beautiful and kind, I knew that anything between us would end horribly. I just didn’t expect for Cersei to end it when it was just beginning.”

“You didn’t know what she was planning?”

“No,” Jaime said sternly, taking a step towards you, “never.”

“Then, then why are you here? To apologize?”

“Yes, and no,” Jaime said, looking back at the army behind him. “My father tasked me with controlling the Riverlands. I don’t plan on disappointing him. Align your House with the Lannisters and I can spare your family.”

“Why do you care about my family?” You asked, your voice low with distrust. Jaime sensed it and closed the gap between you. He reached out his right hand and brushed his warm fingers against your cheek. You gazed down at your feet, not before catching a glimpse of the golden hand attached to his left arm. It seemed that more about him had changed than you had originally thought.

“I won't break your heart again, Y/N,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to see me as a monster among men anymore. Let me save you and your House.”

“Jaime…” your words fell away when his thumb skirted across your bottom lip. You flashed back to that night; all the pain, the tears and being forced away from Casterly Rock. Then you remembered the heat, the kiss, and the love. You felt your fragile heart fall back into place as you stared into his shining green eyes.

“Alright,” you whispered wearily, “I accept your offer on behalf of my House.” Jaime let out a held breath in relief before leaning in and pressing a searing kiss to your cheek. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough. You were going to give him one more chance.

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izzy-b-hands · 4 years

Text

Phantom, Chapter Five

The boys are, as the saying goes, in the shit now.

Namely, the shit of stopping a lot of terrible things, including the end of the world.

But if anyone can do it, it’s our lads.

Right?

My love to all who read/like/reblog.

“It’s only people,” Freddie said, as much to himself as to his bandmates. “What’s left of them. That’s fine.”

“I don’t know what we’ve stumbled upon,” Brian said. “But maybe this is the time to go and get someone to help us with it.”

“We don’t even know how to get out of here,” Roger said, dropping Brian’s hand and walking carefully up to the lectern, as if the skeletons might jump up at him. “The time for help was...”

None of them wanted to say it out loud, but they all knew what Roger was going to say. The time for help had been a good time ago now, when they’d first found the skull, or when they’d managed to rescue Freddie from the floating couch.

Now, they were on their own, no matter what else might happen.

“What are you doing?” Freddie asked Roger sharply, watching him as he set the book on the lectern.

“What? It goes there,” Roger said matter-of-factly. “It needs to go there. I’d be in trouble if I didn’t put it there.”

His face twisted into a worried, strange look. “With who though? It isn’t my book. He doesn’t know I took it.”

“Who are you talking about?” Brian asked.

“I don’t know,” Roger replied, and dropped to the floor.

Freddie set the board and ring on the floor of the room, and ran to Roger.

“He’s breathing,” he murmured. “I don’t think he hit his head horribly hard. It didn’t sound like it.”

“Even so,” Brian gulped. “We need to see if we can’t crawl back out of that tunnel. We are in over our heads.”

The sound of the ring skating over the board echoed, and John grabbed it, carefully bringing it over to Freddie and Roger, who Freddie had pulled into his lap as he sat on the cold stone of the dais.

Brian joined them, but his eyes returned to the darkness of the hallway they’d just come out of it. It was the only way out of the room, no other new hallways came off of it.

John flicked his lighter on again, and they stared at the board.

“R, E, A, D,” John read off the board. “No. We aren’t having Brian read that book. Whatever you need us to do, it can’t involve that.”

“Maybe I could though,” Brian considered. His eyes had glazed over, and he was already moving to the lectern, past Freddie and Roger.

“What are you doing?” Freddie spat. “Stop that! This isn’t the time for jokes; you get back here and help me with Roger.”

“He’s going to be fine,” Brian said with a smile. “We all will be, after.”

“After what?” John asked, just as his lighter flickered out.

The couldn’t see in the dark, but the sound of chanting, painfully loud as it echoed around the room, let them know he had opened and was reading from the book.

“Stop him,” Freddie instructed John. “I’ll keep Roger covered, if you can get that book away from him.”

“But-”

“Have you not always said that just once, you might like to give Brian a slap out of frustration with him?”

“I have, but-”

“This is the only time I will ever say that we should come to blows,” Freddie interrupted again. “Knock him out of whatever the fuck is happening to him, and get that book closed!”

There was no way to avoid toppling Brian into the nearest skeletons, and John shuddered as he tackled him away from the lectern and heard the bones clattering around them.

“Let me go,” the voice that came from Brian’s mouth wasn’t his. It was deeper, and angry. “You have no idea what you’re doing. My son didn’t either.”

A light appeared at the opening of the hall, and John, Brian, and Freddie turned to look to it.

A small boy, maybe six years old, smiled at them. He held a candle in his hand, which was enough light to see that he couldn’t possibly be alive.

“Thank you for the help,” he said kindly. “We don’t need to use the board anymore. My daddy doesn’t like those anyway.”

“I don’t,” the voice from Brian said, and it used Brian’s body to push John away.

Brian, or rather, whatever was inhabiting him, stood and went to the boy, scooping him up in a hug. “You’ve done so much better this time. I’m sorry I had to punish you, for your first try.”

“It’s okay,” the boy grinned, and were it not for the rest of the situation, it might have been heart-warming. “I needed to learn how to do better. And you told me-”

“Death can teach us so much,” the voice coming from Brian and the boy said together.

“You killed your son?” Freddie asked, disgusted. In his lap, Roger was trying to stir.

“He had to!” the boy stressed. “I was supposed to bring him four people, and I found them, on the road. It was all cold, and they were scared, and I brought them here so they could be safe. We gave them food and they got cocoa and everything!”

“But what happened after that?” the voice asked sternly, adjusting so the boy rested on his hip.

“I made a mistake,” the boy said. “I had to get them down into the tunnel, and I didn’t know how to do that. So I told them I’d lost a toy down here, but they wouldn’t go!”

The boy kicked a leg out in frustration. “So, I made them go. I got one of my daddy’s helpers to hit them all with a crowbar, but he hit them too hard. They wouldn’t wake up when we pushed them down here, and then we couldn’t use them any more.”

The boy wiggled to get down, and walked over to Roger as soon as his feet touched the dirt. “That’s why it’s really good your friend is waking up. Hello! We need you to be awake for this, please!”

“Who the fuck are you?” Roger asked feebly.

“This is the child we thought we were helping,” Freddie said sharply. “But it was all a trick, wasn’t it?”

The boy clapped his hands, the candle in his ghostly hands effected by nothing he did. “It was! I knew my daddy had hid bits of me all over, and people like to help and find things! And you all were so nice after I didn’t throw you against the wall with the couch like I wanted to, so I knew you would do anything I asked.”

“What now?” Freddie scoffed, an arm around John as John crawled back over to him.

“Now,” the little boy said, walking past them to the lectern. “We finish the book! And when we do that, everybody gets to start over!”

“What does that mean?” Roger asked.

“Means you guys, and everybody else in the whole wide world, get to learn like I did!” the boy crowed triumphantly. “Death taught me that I have to be careful, and smart, so I can help my daddy with things like this. He wants the whole world to learn from death, so we can do better and not hurt each other.”

His little face fell a bit. “Like my brother Nigel, in the war. He didn’t get to come home, and we tried to ask him to come home, but he wouldn’t. But now we can make him! I’ll get to see him again, and we’ll play all day, and he won’t go anywhere, right Daddy?”

The thing in Brian made him nod. “And maybe boys like these will learn you shouldn’t be so trusting.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t kill your children for being roped into and mucking up cult shit,” Freddie spat.

“Cult?” the thing in Brian made him frown. “We are not a cult. We’re truth; a new chance for everyone. When our first attempt failed, my friends saw the reality of it all. They chose to end their lives, knowing that their shared energy could bring me back. To my boy, my Linden. To make this right, and let the world burn, so that it can learn.”

“I...” Freddie paused, then shook his head in frustration. “I’m just a singer. I’m supposed to be recording an album right now.”

“You can still do that,” the voice said, and it hurt to hear something so taunting coming from Brian of all people. “After, when things are new again.”

“No,” Freddie said, and stood slowly, helping John and Roger up with him. “I don’t want to do that. We’ve put hard work in already, and I’m not letting that go to waste. More importantly, we have friends and family out there-”

“And you can’t fucking touch them,” Roger interrupted wearily.

Freddie nodded. “Now, what we really need is our friend back, so you’ll need to go.”

“You can’t make me go,” the voice laughed.

But Linden, still at the lectern, looked hurt. “Maybe they could have him back. So they aren’t scared when they die.”

“Dying isn’t scary,” the voice said. “We’ve been over this, how many times-”

“It was scary for me!” Linden protested. “It really hurt! And it took you so long to make me stop breathing.”

Tears appeared in Linden’s eyes. “You said it wouldn’t take that long. You said because you had big hands and I had a little neck, it would be fast. And you said I’d see Mummy again, and I didn’t, and I keep calling for her and she never shows up. And neither does Nigel. But the only people around here were all your helpers, and they kept asking what was taking me so long, and why hadn’t I found anyone else so you could finish what you’d started.”

The tears bubbled over, and Freddie resisted the urge to jump as Linden walked over to him, and wrapped his cold arms around his leg. “And all I wanted was you and Mummy and Nigel, or someone to play with me at least!”

Linden looked up to Freddie, tears streaming down his face. “I’m sorry. You were nice to me, and I tricked you. I bet you would have played with me.”

His heart broke, and from the sad sighs from Roger and John, their hearts did too. “We would have, Linden. Or we would have tried to help you find your mum, and your brother.”

Linden hugged his leg tightly. “After, will you still play with me? Even though this was my fault?”

“We will,” John replied softly. “Can’t let you hang around this arsehole for eternity.”

Linden giggled at that, one hand clapped over his mouth. “You can’t say that!”

“We can,” Roger chuckled. “We’re grown ups, so we get to say those nasty words, about nasty people, like your dad. He tricked you, did you know that?”

Linden looked to his father, still inhabiting Brian, and nodded slowly. “But I didn’t before.”

“And that’s okay,” Roger said. “You’re only little, so you wouldn’t know. Dads are supposed to help you, make sure those things don’t happen to you. And they aren’t supposed to hurt you, or make you do things like this for them.”

Linden pressed his face against Freddie’s leg, and looked utterly despondent.

“You already know that though, don’t you?” Freddie said gently.

Linden nodded.

“If you help us get our friend back, and stop your dad, then I think your mum and Nigel would be able to find you,” John said.

Linden sniffled, and nodded again, confidently.

“This is adorable,” the thing that was Linden’s father, or some version of him, smirked. “But useless. You intend to stop the necessary end of the world with a child? Instead of wasting your time, why don’t you use it well, and ask any final questions you might have for me, before I finally finish this world.”

“Why Brian?” Roger asked. “Why not any of us, instead of him, to possess?”

“As simple as a want,” the thing replied. “He found the book, but couldn’t read it. He was curious, and frustrated he couldn’t identify the language in it. He wanted to be able to read it. I latched onto that want, and then...”

It grinned. “He could read it! Magical, isn’t it?”

“You took advantage of him,” Freddie growled. “His being curious, wanting to learn, wasn’t consent for you to take over him.”

“And yet, here I am,” the thing said happily. “Now, keep Linden quiet for me. He’s done very well, but I don’t need him for this bit.”

They shuffled away from the dais to rest on the dirt floor, watching as the thing inside Brian moved him back to the lectern.

“Now, where was I?” it said. “Yes, here-”

Before it could speak again, John ran and tackled it down again, holding Brian down, even as the thing made him fight back.

Roger raced over and grabbed the book, tossing it to Freddie, who knelt and handed it to Linden.

“You know how to get out of here, and even if you didn’t, I think you can get out no matter what with that nifty ability to move between the walls,” Freddie said. “Take it and run.”

Linden nodded, and stopped only once to look back at them before going off down the hall. His little feet made no sound in the dirt as he ran.

“Your book is gone,” Freddie said, helping John away from Brian without taking anymore knocks to the face. “So now what? You can’t finish your stupid task, and we still need our friend back.”

“Rational thing would be to give up, leave Brian, and go before the shame really sets in,” John said.

Roger nodded. “God, I can feel the second-hand embarrassment already. You should just go.”

The thing in Brian turned his head to the hall, then turned back, and pounced on Freddie.

He kicked and fought, but Brian’s hands were tight around his throat. He thought of Linden in that moment. What a horrible death for such a young child, what terrible fear to have as one’s last moments.

He could barely choke out any words. “Brian, you must be able to hear me.”

Brian’s eyes were still rolled back into his head, teeth gritted, as he squeezed at Freddie’s neck.

“You’ll have to sing everything on the next album if you keep this up,” he tried again, gasping for breath in between the words. “I know you don’t want to do that.”

There was a flicker. Brian’s hands loosened just a touch.

“I don’t blame you for this,” Freddie said. “Not even this, right now. You were tricked, we all were. Like Linden. All he wanted was to help his father. All you wanted was to try and read a book written in something you’d never seen before. There’s no need to punish helpfulness, or curiosity.”

Brian’s eyes rolled back down, and his mouth softened.

“I don’t know how else we can get you back except for you to fight your way back,” Freddie admitted. “Please come back. I won’t tour with some quasi-demonic previously human entity from beyond time, I have my limits.”

Brian grinned, and laughed, and his hands dropped from Freddie’s throat. Then, pure terror replaced his joy, and he scrabbled away off of Freddie.

The thing that had been in him was barely visible, a glimmering white ball of light, bumping around the room.

“Don’t let him back in,” Freddie said, crawling over to Brian. “It’s okay, but you can’t let him back in.”

“I was trying to kill you,” Brian whispered. “He wanted me to kill you.”

“I know,” Freddie said. “But you didn’t, and it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“It isn’t fine at all!” Brian sobbed, breaking down into tears. “Oh my god, Freddie-”

He interrupted Brian with a fierce hug, and kept an eye as the light bounced around the room, occasionally veering towards one of them, making them duck away.

“I got it!” Linden’s voice echoed down the hall. He had returned, without the book, but with a small urn in his hand. “I had to find it, I’m sorry it took so long!”

“What are you doing?” Roger asked him.

“Making Daddy go away,” Linden said simply, as if they were discussing the weather. “Just like he did with Mummy. I know that’s why I can’t find her.”

Linden muttered a few phrases, in a language that didn’t come close to familiar to any they had heard before, then threw the urn to the ground. The ashes in it scattered, and as they did, the light scattered away too.

Linden smiled nervously. “I never did that before. Only watched Daddy do it. But it feels like it did when he did it to Mummy. All empty.”

He wasn’t wrong. The room felt empty, except for them, and Linden. The dark was still difficult to see in, but the sense of foreboding that had filled it previously was gone.

“You’re sure he’s gone?” Brian asked softly, turning in Freddie’s arms to face Linden, wiping away his tears.

Linden nodded happily. “He’s gone.”

Linden looked past them, and shouted. “Mummy! You were right, she found me!”

John smiled. “Told you. I bet she wants you to go with her, doesn’t she?”

Linden nodded. “And Nigel’s there!”

He started towards the other end of the room, then stopped. “But you all can’t stay in here. You’ve got to get out.”

“Is there a way out other than the tunnel, Linden?” Freddie asked.

“It’s lots of walking, but there is,” Linden replied. “I’ll be right back, Mummy! I’m going to let my new friends out.”

Freddie helped Brian to his feet, and helped him so they could keep up with Linden as he led the four them back out down the hall, and then another, and then-

“Now, you have to do this in the right order,” Linden instructed seriously. “You hit this brick, then this one, then this one, and-”

A new hallway appeared as what had previously been just a wall split open. “There’s a door at the end, and it’ll take you outside to a ladder you can climb up, but then you’ll still have to walk back to the house.”

Linden sighed. “It’s only past the shed, but I’m sorry you have to go all that way.”

“That’s okay,” Freddie said. “Thank you for the help, Linden. You’re a good little lad, and very smart and helpful.”

“Thank you,” Linden said, and he looked absolutely tickled. “Are you okay going the rest of the way alone?”

“We’ve got each other,” Roger said, and helped Freddie shoulder an exhausted, stumbling Brian. “We’ll be okay. You go see your mum, and give her our love, will you?”

Linden nodded, and they turned to watch as he trotted back down the hall, disappearing bit by bit the further away he got, until he was gone completely.

#text post #LeeH writes #Queen band fic

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