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daily-coloring · 4 months

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Best of 2023 - Albums

Unbelievable year ... Fallen pop stars are returning, long time not seen artists are turning up in a best possible shape, producers making music under their own names, ... First of all I really enjoyed a few soundtracks this year especially Anthony Willis's Saltburn and Arnaud Rebotini's L'lle Rouge. Surprisingly I listened again on repeat a few DJ mixes too. Danny Tenaglia's new Global Underground was a pure treasure, James Zabiela's home session just made me dance for an hour in the living room, as well as Andy Butler's energetic set did too.

01. Roisin Murphy - Hit Parade - "If Hit Parade isn’t Murphy’s best album, it’s certainly her wildest and weirdest. Nowhere else is the scale of her ambition more evident than on the percussive and atmospheric “Free Will.” Murphy says she doesn’t believe in free will but that you should “just make believe that you can write the play” anyway. It’s yet another indelible statement that couldn’t come from anyone else." - Slant Magazine

02. Rebecca Black - Let Her Burn - "An acceptable stretch of Let Her Burn gives Black a chance to reform a persona she had never had any control over until now. As fundamental a shift as perhaps expected, Black warrants this change of pace but there is something inevitable about how these perspectives are formed and how retaliation to reactionary dogpiling a decade ago comes to the forefront. Working hard and pushing through with this half-hour debut LP is exceptional, with spotty highs and consistently solid mixes that give those electronic undercurrents a beat-worthy working. Destroy Me is a crucial highlight in getting to the core of reinvention but also in engaging with how buoyed Let Her Burn is by how much of an opposition it takes to the early works. Black has let her burn, whatever “her” was. Let Her Burn razes and destroys as much as it can, and it works as a successful, credible debut." - Cult Following

03. Sophie Ellis-Bextor - Hana

04. Clark - Sus Dog

05. Everything But The Girl - Fuse

06. Depeche Mode - Memento Mori

07. Mermaidens - Mermaidens

08. Kesha - Gag Order

09. Anna B Savage - in|FLUX - "So as a follow up to A Common Turn, this does feel like an album where, lyrically and thematically, we are dealing with an artist who has battled some of the previous demons, accepted the daily flux of life, and found a way to focus on the moments when life feels most complete. But in a musical context – Anna also seems to have taken that feeling, that love of contradiction, into the songs. At moments explosively ecstatic, at others wrought with emotion – and filled with influences and sounds from areas not explored on the previous LP – the album brings a bunch of disparate sounds and feelings together to create a powerful and impressive whole. Most impressive of all is the fact that, after an album that sent Picky Bastards into a spin for the whole of 2021, Anna has released something as good if not better." - Picky Bastards

10. HMLTD - The Worm

11. JMSN - Soft Spot

12. Orbital - Optical Delusion - "It’s an album of unlikely collaborations. Day One features the operatic talents of Dina Ipavic, while Are You Alive, sung by Lily Wolter of Penelope Isles, floats into moodier, more analog territory. Best of all are The New Abnormal (Golden Girls’ Kinetic turned inside out) and the anti-gammon state of the nation rant of Dirty Rats." - Record Collector

13. Spelling - SPELLLING & The Mystery School

14. Future Utopia - We Were We Still Are

15. CLT DRP - Nothing Clever, Just Feelings

16. Joy Wellboy - The Ones That Got Away

17. Pierre Rousseau - Twenty - Music for Etudes N°20 - Spring Summer 2022

18. Joyce Muniz - Zeitkapsel

19. Emiliana Torrini & The Colorist Orchestra - Racing The Storm

20. Thomas Azier - The Inventory Of Our Desire

21. Sofia Kourtesis - Madres

22. Not Waving - The Place I've Been Missing

23. Restive Plaggona - Ignis

24. Deichkind - Neues Vom Dauerzustand

25. Daughter - Stereo Mind Game

26. Daði Freyr - I Made an Album

27. Yves Tumor - Praise A Lord Who Chews But Which Does Not Consume; (Or Simply, Hot Between Worlds)

28. Surgeon - Crash Recoil - "Crash Recoil is probably about as close to a live Surgeon record as we’re ever going to get. Child views producing and performing as two disparate disciplines, which they are, and he goes about each in a very different way. This also means it’s about as close to a traditional pop/rock approach to writing and recording as you’re likely to find from an electronic producer, woodshedding tracks on the road and sharpening them to a diamond sheen. More bands and producers should think of adopting the approach as it clearly can yield stunning results, as evidenced by this glorious offering." - Spectrum Culture

29. Duran Duran - DANSE MACABRE

30. When Saints Go Machine - Rosy

31. Young Fathers - Heavy Heavy

32. Maps - Counter Melodies

33. Laurent Garnier - 33 tours et puis s'en vont

34. Benedikt Frey - Fastlane

35. ANOUK - Deena and Jim

36. Anthony Naples - Orbs - "The New York producer once known for muscular house and techno continues to drift into the ether, channeling ’90s chillout and dub techno into his singular vision." - Pitchfork

37. James Holden - Imagine This Is A High Dimensional Space Of All Possibilities

38. Hifi Sean & David McAlmont - Happy Ending

39. Tirzah - trip9love...???

40. Kelela - Raven

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pois0ned-soul · 6 months

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any idea how you ended up on under my blocked accounts list? I never added anyone there, also I have a clip of me trying to unblock you and it keeps glitching out. I felt a message might be fit after I noticed your post about some app recording/posting a video of yourself without you knowing/approving..I have experienced countless abnormalities across the web, you being a blocked account being one of them because I have never seen your page before. Nonetheless, my name is Nicholas, I too do play guitar and sing and from New York..I hope this finds you well and not alarming, I am just trying to learn more about how and/why Ive either experienced or happened to stumble across an unbelievable amount of truly sketchy shit..especially with web based interfaces/mobile devices. Sorry If I sound crazy I thought maybe you'd have some insight. My IG is NickPolaris and FB is Nicholas Polaris incase your curious if I am real lol

Wow that’s crazy but thanks for trying to un block me I appreciate it XD BUT yea that post I felt dumb cause I approved a setting on that app that allowed them to do that so I disabled it and no new views have been taken since XD

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amomentsilence · 8 months

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Four Strategies For Choosing The Right Vehicle Wrecker

When beloved auto gets to completion of its road, it's time to look at the solutions of an auto wrecker. Vehicle wreckers, likewise known as auto salvage backyards or junkyards, focus on taking down and reprocessing automobiles that are no longer in working situation. Choosing the right vehicle wrecker is actually vital to make sure a hassle-free as well as convenient method. In this particular write-up, we will certainly supply you along with four essential suggestions to assist you create the correct selection.

four Advice for Opting For the Right Car Wrecker

Picking the correct automobile wrecker is actually essential when it relates to eliminating your aged or even wrecked lorry. To create the method less complicated for you, right here are four vital suggestions to always remember:

Research study and also Online reputation

The first step in selecting the right automobile wrecker is to investigation as well as analyze their track record. Start by checking online customer reviews and testimonies coming from previous consumers. A respectable wrecker is going to have a favorable track record of providing decent prices, reputable services, as well as superb client service. If they have made use of the companies of a car wreckers Melbourne previously, you may additionally ask buddies and family for referrals.

In addition, seek wrecker backyards that are actually licensed and also covered. This ensures that they run within the lawful structure and also are responsible for any kind of damages or incidents that may happen throughout the removal procedure. A wrecker along with a solid online reputation and also appropriate references is actually most likely to deliver a problem-free and also trustworthy adventure.

Pricing and Quotations

The upcoming vital factor to consider is actually prices. Different automobile wreckers may provide differing rates for your automobile, relying on elements like its make, design, state, as well as need for its own parts. It's important to obtain various quotes from various wreckers to get a decent suggestion of the market value of your car.

Be cautious of wreckers that offer low or even unbelievably high quotes. Very low deals might signify a lack of openness or even covert charges, while abnormally higher offers could be an attempt to overcharge you. Select a car wreckers Melbourne that supplies a clear as well as affordable quote, including any type of surcharges for towing or even documents.

Eco-Friendly Practices

In today's eco mindful world, it is actually important to think about the eco-friendliness of the auto wrecker you pick. Responsible auto salvage lawns focus on reusing as well as suitable fingertip of hazardous components, like oil, coolant, as well as electric batteries. They recover and also reuse parts whenever possible, reducing misuse as well as lessening their effect on the setting.

Inquire the wrecker about their reprocessing process as well as whether they stick to ecological rules. Choosing a green wrecker not merely adds to a maintainable future but additionally mirrors their devotion to ethical business process.

Convenience and also Providers

Think about the advantage and also companies offered by the car wrecker. Some car wreckers Melbourne may deliver added solutions like free towing, support along with documentation, or perhaps same-day pick-ups. These value-added services may make the process a lot more uncomplicated and much less stressful for you.

Additionally, inquire about their plan for dealing with several vehicle styles, featuring cars, trucks, motorbikes, as well as even motor homes or watercrafts. A wrecker with knowledge in taking care of a large variety of cars is more likely to have the knowledge and also equipment required to successfully remove your vehicle.

Final thought

Picking the correct car wrecker is actually vital when it is actually opportunity to leave to your outdated or even broken lorry. Conduct detailed study, examine their online reputation, and also look at variables like prices, eco-friendliness, as well as comfort before deciding. A trusted wrecker will definitely certainly not merely give a decent cost for your vehicle however likewise give a ecologically liable as well as convenient remedy for taking care of it. Through observing these suggestions, you may make sure a smooth as well as worry-free expertise when dealing with an auto wrecker.

Deer Park

VIC, 3023, Australia

Email: [email protected]

#Right Vehicle Wrecker #Vehicle Wrecker #Car Wreckers Melbourne

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sunshinesydney · 8 months

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Four Strategies For Choosing The Right Vehicle Wrecker

four Advice for Opting For the Right Car Wrecker

Research study and also Online reputation

Pricing and Quotations

Eco-Friendly Practices

Convenience and also Providers

Final thought

Deer Park

VIC, 3023, Australia

Email: [email protected]

#Right Vehicle Wrecker #Vehicle Wrecker #Car Wreckers Melbourne

0 notes

kammartinez · 8 months

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By Bill McKibben

Of all the astonishing facts about our blithe remaking of the world’s climate system, the most astonishing might be this: if oceans didn’t cover seventy per cent of our planet, we would have increased the average temperature to about a hundred and twenty-two degrees Fahrenheit. That’s because those oceans have absorbed something like ninety-three per cent of the extra heat trapped by the greenhouse effect and our burning of fossil fuels. In the past hundred and fifty years, we’ve made the ocean soak up, on average, the heat equivalent of a Hiroshima-size nuclear bomb every second and a half; in recent years, that’s increased to five or six Hiroshimas a second.

But it’s not like that heat just gets locked away in saltwater storage. The energy in that heat manifests itself in many ways. It melts ice, for instance. It kills coral—experts have suggested that coral may be safer in tanks on land than in the Gulf of Mexico this summer. And it raises the sea level—at the moment, more than a third of sea-level rise is simply due to the fact that seawater expands when it warms. In midsummer, forty-four per cent of the world’s oceans were in a “marine heat wave.” That heat powered Hurricane Idalia until it crashed into Florida’s Apalachee Bay, a stretch of land that hasn’t been bashed by a major hurricane since recordkeeping began in 1851. Idalia was a tropical storm roughly twenty-four hours earlier, when it passed over Cuba. But the waters of the Gulf of Mexico are incredibly hot. In recent years, we’ve become used to these elevated readings and begun referring to the Gulf as a bathtub; earlier this summer, a buoy in murky, shallow seawater near the Keys registered a temperature above a hundred and one degrees Fahrenheit, a potential new world record. That’s hot-tub hot. Hotter than your blood. You can’t sit in it for too long.

Across the Gulf, water temperatures are averaging two degrees Fahrenheit above normal. And those high temperatures currently extend a hundred feet or more below the surface; this overheated water is the fuel that allows for what hurricane watchers call “rapid intensification,” the almost unbelievable acceleration of whirling winds. In a matter of twelve hours, Idalia passed through Categories 1, 2, and 3 on the Saffir-Simpson Scale, topping out as a Category 4 storm, before it made landfall as a Category 3. (Had it had more time over the open water of the Gulf, it likely would have kept strengthening; a natural cycling process, known as “eyewall replacement,” dropped its winds a notch just before landfall.) As its gales grew fiercer and spread out, it whipped up a ferocious storm surge along this magnificent coast.

And it is indeed magnificent. Cedar Key, an island community just off the coast, is where the most famous TV hurricane guy, Jim Cantore, of the Weather Channel, holed up to broadcast, wading through the storm surge with typical bravado. Normally, it’s a lovely, sleepy little town—the old Florida, far removed from, say, Daytona Beach or Disney’s Orlando. History knows it for two things. One: in 1855, a man named Eberhard Faber bought up many of its cedar forests, and if you recognize that name it’s because he used the wood to produce a great many of the planet’s pencils. Two: in 1867, a not-yet-famous John Muir arrived in Cedar Key toward the end of his “thousand-mile walk to the Gulf,” which had begun in Louisville seven weeks earlier.

Muir, as he walked, was mulling over a series of ideas that became the basis for an important strain of environmentalism, and his thinking reached a literal fever pitch in Cedar Key, where he came down with a bad case of malaria. Raised by a strict Presbyterian father who had forced him to memorize the Bible on pain of whipping, he was well versed in the idea that the world had been made for man. In his now classic text, “A Thousand-Mile Walk to the Gulf,” Muir wrote about this “pleasant plan,” in which “whales are storehouses of oil for us,” hemp was to be used in ships’ rigging, and iron was “made for hammers and ploughs.”

But in the aftermath of his illness, he began to question whether the world had been made for man alone:

During my long sojourn here as a convalescent I used to lie on my back for whole days beneath the ample arms of these great trees, listening to the winds and the birds. There is an extensive shallow on the coast, close by, which the receding tide exposes daily. This is the feeding-ground of thousands of waders of all sizes, plumage, and language, and they make a lively picture and noise when they gather at the great family board to eat their daily bread, so bountifully provided for them.

As he reflected, too, on the voracious gators and spiny plants that he’d encountered as he traversed a very wild Florida, his thinking grew ever more radical, postulating what might be the first modern biocentrism:

Now, it never seems to occur to these far-seeing teachers that Nature’s object in making animals and plants might possibly be first of all the happiness of each one of them, not the creation of all for the happiness of one. Why should man value himself as more than a small part of the one great unit of creation? And what creature of all that the Lord has taken the pains to make is not essential to the completeness of that unit—the cosmos? The universe would be incomplete without man; but it would also be incomplete without the smallest transmicroscopic creature that dwells beyond our conceitful eyes and knowledge.

For Muir, that world view was tonic. He eventually shipped out of Cedar Key on a journey that would take him to Yosemite and to the founding of the Sierra Club, our first great environmental group. Muir was an imperfect man, and his own organization eventually criticized him for holding racist views. But in moments of environmental despair, we, too, might find solace in the idea that

Our own good earth made many a successful journey around the heavens ere man was made, and whole kingdoms of creatures enjoyed existence and returned to dust ere man appeared to claim them. After human beings have also played their part in Creation’s plan, they too may disappear without any general burning or extraordinary commotion whatever.

Of course, “general burning” turns out to be precisely what we’ve done. By digging up millions of years of biology and setting it on fire, in the course of a century or two, we’ve managed to overwhelm the world that Muir saw. We’ve poured heat into the air and especially into the oceans, and now that heat is beginning to dominate life on our planet. We can still back off some: every pipeline we shut down and every solar panel we install contributes to fewer Hiroshima bombs exploding in the seas. But as Florida found out again on Wednesday morning, and the world rediscovered this brutally hot summer, we’ve already shifted our earth in the most fundamental fashion.

#climate change

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kamreadsandrecs · 8 months

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By Bill McKibben

But in the aftermath of his illness, he began to question whether the world had been made for man alone:

#climate change

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grain-my-beloved · 3 years

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Yknow what? I'd actually go so far as to say that, as much as ive seen it complained about, it's actually pretty hard to "UwU" or "Woobify" Grian within the context of yhs.

I mean. It's possible if you go really extreme with it, but it's hard.

Grian at his core is actually a primarily decent person most of the timeand is a primarily innocent party in most things. One who goes through a Lot.

If you really think about it Grian's moral compass isn't too far off normal basic human morality. He's often anxious and hesitant when faced with any involvement in criminal activity, he's frequently dismayed and offput by suggestions of violence (the less deserved the more dismay is expressed as well), he's disappointed and frustrated at seeing the people around him do fucked up things, he's almost always polite with a good head on his shoulders when faced with a kind or reasonable person. Even well into ts, long after first coming back to Japan, Grian is still incredibly uneasy and fidgety with the suggestion that he take part in violence, I mean, remember that time he, Taurtis, and Sam were tasked with killing Geode and Grian not only initially tried to refuse outright but then checked in shakily with the other two multiple times just to confirm if they were really going to kill someone. Grian's typically the character most likely in the entire series to be incredibly put off by and very hesitant about doing bad things (especially to people he's not one million percent certain deserve it).

And while one could argue that we can't really praise his moral compass for being hesitant about involving himself in crime/wrongdoing when he often ends up participating anyways. Actions speak louder than words and all. However I disagree. The fact that Grian vocally does not wish to be involved in this kind of thing and has proven to behave on the more reasonable and polite side when acting independently in relation to likewise level headed people....is Very important. In fact, in actual legal cases, oftentimes a factor in trying individuals is the question of whether they would commit the crime in question indepently or under normal circumstances. This is the basis for necessity, duress, and insanity pleas, amoung other's. People who would not act the way they did in a certain scenario under normal circumstances are often liable to be judged favourably in their actions. In fact, speaking of duress pleas, Grian's got a pretty solid one for a lot of his actions. The times Sam or Yuki held a knife to his throat or the times police threatened to kill him if he doesn't comply with orders or any alike incidents. In cases where duress isn't applicable to Grian's behaviour there are oftentimes incidents in which an outright case for violence in self defense can be made. In fact, most of Grian's circumstances leave him very viable to be judged sympathetically on a legal standpoint. The fact that he was a minor, the fact that he had no apparent history of violence or crime, the fact that he was in a severely abusive relationship with a criminal and entering said relationship marked the start of any sort of criminal behaviour from Grian, any criminal behaviour from Grian always being in a group setting never lead by himself, the fact that he always clearly and openly protests when pulled into these group settings, the duress and self defense pleas that are applicable to pretty much all incidents in which he does engage. Which are also all factors that can and should be accounted for on. a moral basis as well, obviously. And like, Grian has a reputation for being arrogant, cynical, and rude or whatever, but he's really not. He very rightfully calls out other people's horrible bullshit and makes snappy remarks towards his abuser but that's the opposite of a problem and Grian's proven himself more than capable of reasonable civility towards reasonable people. Grian just isn't the selfish arrogant disrespectful criminal that he's sometimes implied to be and in fact he's largely innocent- or absolvable, if you'd rather- in most of the things levied against him. Grian's not a literal saint giving to the needy and taking care of orphans in his spare time but he's a decent guy overall???

And hey, speaking of that super abusive relationship Grian landed in. Let's not forget the impact of that situation. Sam was undoubtedly abusive towards Grian. He threatened Grian's life various times, he basically told Grian he was nothing compared to Taurtis, he shoved plastic down Grian's throat and laughed when he choked, he got Grian locked up in solitary confinement through complete lies just because he thought it'd be entertaining I guess, he forced Grian to kiss an abnormally large amount of people against his will (some of these instances sam recorded despite being asked not to), he himself tried to make out with Grian without consent while Grian was sleeping in his own private room, he forcefully dressed Grian up in feminine cosplay meant to be ~attractive~ complete with fake breasts, he lied to Grian about the gender identity of someone Grian dated as a joke (his words) and lightly mocked Grian afterwards, he locked Grian in a basement for three days straight and it's unclear whether or not he was planning to let him out anytime soon, he dragged Grian into a closet with school staff despite Grian's very vocal distress and discomfort then scolded Grian for considering reported it when this staff member made uncomfortable comments on the outfit Sam had forced Grian into, Sam offered to give Grian to another guy who made a similar uncomfortable comment later on as part of some trade, he consistently dragged Grian against his will into criminal activity whether by threatening him, tricking him into participating, or just altogether falsely implicatng him, amoung Many other things. And every step of the way Sam did his best to completely gaslight Grian. He used every gaslighting technique in the book. Telling blatant lies (for example, "i would never stab taurtis", "you are taurtis", "grian's crazy and he stabbed taurtis"), he denies doing shit to Grian that Grian knows damn well he did ("i would never stab taurtis"). He hard projected his bs onto Grian (from blaming grian for 'making' sam do awful shit sam did to claiming grian actually fullstop did the awful shit sam did). He was just constantly trying to turn people against Grian (convincing yuki and taurtis to back him up in calling grian a bad manipulative friend and insisting he needed to apologize for 'making' sam horrifically abuse him. arriving in the police station and instantly without hesitation telling them grian was crazy and dangerous and pinning his own crimes on grian. having taurtis back him up and help scold grian for getting mad about being locked in the basement for days). Telling Grian he's crazy (taurtis incident again, solitary confinement incident, the time sam kissed grian without his consent while he slept and grian got mad). Telling everyone else that Grian's a manipulative liar (taurtis incident again, solitary confinement incident again). Yknow. Gaslighting. Sam was just so unbelievably abusive. In like. Every possible way. Which adds a LOT of trauma to Grian. That on top of his parents abandoning him as a little kid too because we couldn't leave it at severe abuse.

Grian's not a bad person. And he's certainly a very sympathetic person. Which is why it would be hard to woobify yhs Grian. It would be hard to make a very sympathetic very sad character egregiously sympathetic and sad. His whole arc is getting abandoned by his parents, going to visit his friends, and getting violently abused and forced into a multitude of disturbing activities against his will for an extended period of time.

One could argue that sure Grian isn't a bad person and sure Grian's got a pretty sad life, but certainly a lot of people are guilty of making Grian more helpless and scared and generally 'pathetic' than he is in canon.

To which I reply...not really?

Grian already doesn't have half the fight response people ascribe to him throughout the series. That was a whole other post but honestly Grian's response to traumatic situations is very frequently to cave to them and he's got a much stronger submissive streak than people often admit. I mean, Grian was asked to dress up as his best friend who just got stabbed "to make things less awkward and make me feel better" and he did it within ten seconds of being asked without the others even needing to threaten him at all. Grian does express quite a bit of despair, fear, and submissive tendency in canon when faced with dangerous or traumatic situations. And while it's possible to go a bit too far with that if you consistently leave out the token fight entirely, I see people swing way too far un the opposite direction way too often. There's a reason Grian never actually killed Sam in canon. There's a reason Grian never made a serious attempt to get him arrested for his crimes. There's a reason Grian never just left. When Sam found Grian after he ran out of the gym during the Taurtis incident? Grian didn't lunge for Sam. There was no serious altercation between the two. Grian scrambled back and tearfully babbled platitudes while shoving plastic down his own throat on command. And even beyond that, a lot of the interpretations accused of making Grian too helpless/scared/'pathetic' are works that involve Grian processing trauma years after the fact. Which. Even if Grian was the most aggressive on edge fighter in the history of trauma responses during the traumatic events? People don't process their trauma after the fact the same way they instinctively respond in the moment. Even if Grian never shed a tear throughout any of the traumatic ordeals he experienced, it would be far from unrealistic behaviour for him to still process after the fact by panicking and sobbing his eyes out regularly. Which, again, Grian wasn't even all that fight oriented while it was happening so panic and tears isn't even super far removed from his actual in the moment responses let alone processing after-responses. It's just. It's really hard to "UwU" Grian tbh. He's a decent person, he went through hell (his own words actually), and he was never even really very effectively aggressive when he did. And while it's possible to dip too far into that territory, far more often I see things swung egregiously far in the other direction.

#yhs #yandere highschool #yhs grian

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ephemerlskies · 4 years

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emerald dreams: REDACTED | kth

⇢ pairing: taehyung x reader

⇢ genre: series, blackmirror!au, angst, fluff, artist!taehyung, strangers to lovers, set sometime in a dystopian era of technology, taehyung is s o f t

⇢ word count: 4.5k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, memory loss, mentions of death, themes of grief/depression

⇢ summary: in a technologically advanced utopia where a memory can be stored as a data file in a chip inserted in your head, it was entirely impossible to forget anything. when you met taehyung, a young at heart yet talented artist, he garnished an odd familiarity, raising suspicion that some of your memories had been lost in the digital cloud, or worse, erased from your memory chip.

♪ playlist: IDK you yet - alexander 23 • 4 o' clock - v & rm • jamais vu - bts • the story - brandi carlile • moonlight - ariana grande ♪

╰ episode index: 01 | 02 (coming soon)

a/n: if you don't watch black mirror then just imagine that everything is technology based, even the inner mechanisms of your thoughts/mind/memories and social culture has centered around the automation of the human body. also the government is sleazy and controls literally everyone in this au >:) also, i'm going to try and update this weekly!!

Scenario No. 2: Re-test

You didn’t expect to be spending your weekly visit at your favorite coffee shop gasping for air in the single occupancy commode. An unsettling familiarity had reached into your chest and compromised the body of your lungs, now savagely hyperventilating for air, and seized control on the reins of every sensory neuron in your body.

First, it was the sensation of sound. That voice, that unusually specific coffee order, the soft lilt of politeness riding through his etiquettes of ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ struck right in your chest with a shockwave of deja vu, like you’ve heard that order before, a million times before perhaps. No part of you would let go of the fact that for some reason, this stranger was someone you knew very well.

And yet you had no idea who he was.

“Hi, how are you?” He smiled to ease the nerves of the overworked barista on this Sunday afternoon. Your ears picked up his husky, sweet tone through the scuttle of customers walking in and out of the shop and a commotion of side conversations that filled the room. It was quite noisy, enough so that it muffled any specific utterances, but the bass of his voice had met your ears with a strong posture of familiarity.

You looked over to the sweater draped over his frame that fit snugly against his broad shoulders. That was when your visual senses were overrun with the muted forest green of the knitted jumper. You’ve seen this color green. To be fair, green was always secured in your life abundantly through your own will. You had always loved this color and demonstrated this through small displays such as picking the green straw from a bundle of multicolored ones, or scanning over a set of shirts to find which one had the most green in it.

You surrounded yourself with a life full of green, but when this green sweater was paired with the voice there was a strange jolt of reminiscence.

It was not just a sweater, it was a sweater that you have touched, even worn before. And when he wore it, it wasn’t just any green. It was his green.

His figure drew closer to you as he waited at the side bar for his drink to be called, sending a waft of his scent to nullify those of fresh brewed coffee and pastries. Along with your eyes and ears, your nose now fell to the magnetism of this stranger.

He smelled of fresh evergreen with a bit of pinewood, mixing into an overwhelming oaky aroma. As the smells that resembled a tranquil forest ruminated through your lungs and your bloodstream, it weakened your body to a state of paralysis. Your motor skills were numbed to endow a series of mental backflips to figure out where this estranged attraction was coming from, and why it was him who provoked it.

Standing comatose in the middle of a populated coffee shop meant the clash of your body into another's was bound to occur. And of course, it was his body that bumped you out of the trance of obscured memories. It was his arms that held your shoulders steady so you wouldn’t topple over and spill your latte over yourself.

“Oh, sorry! Didn’t see you there. Are-” His eyes studied your aghast expression, “Hey, are you okay?”

This marked the compromise of your visual sensory. You looked right into his eyes, kind and concerned, and your surroundings had melted away into a whirl of unidentifiable colors. Your body was transported to a purgatory that rested between reality and a dream-like setting, which eventually molded itself into actuality before your eyes.

Redacted File No. 6

Suddenly you turned your head side to side and the territory that was once a café was no more, and had alchemized into a zone of unparalleled comfort. To your left, you were warmed by a wood-burning fireplace with stones crested along the frame of the pit. Your body was covered in a blurred canvas of forest green, and there were two hands holding your body gently and lovingly. It was a vision so incredibly clear and intricate it couldn’t be conjured through imagination or illusion, but a very real and vivid memory.

“Excuse me? I’m sorry… You’re okay right?” His jostling hands fainted the memory that swept you from the cafe. You blinked a few times before your eyes could refocus and land you to your present circumstances.

The man’s firm grip hadn’t abandoned your shoulders even though you regrounded your balance, which quickened the pace of your heart. They you earnestly, that even though you were certainly not going to fall over, he wouldn’t have let go. Without more than an array of unintelligible stutters to confirm you were okay, because you weren’t okay, you hobbled backward quite ungracefully to the privacy of the bathroom. After your rushed retreat, you tried to analyze the string of memories that pervaded your mind.

How do you know this man? Were these your memories? Or perhaps your memory chip glitched and downloaded files that didn’t belong to you?

The blunder of confusion racked your head with a slight tension headache. What was once a temporary occupancy of the restroom turned into a marathoned hideout until you could safely assume the stranger’s drink was made and he would leave the vicinity.

You checked your phone to count the duration of time spent. It had been about ten minutes since you pathetically holed yourself up, and it would be about five more minutes until you felt you could confidently emerge and escape.

You knew him, and for some reason it sent you into a fearful sequester.

Luckily, just last week you downloaded an upgraded storage plan which gave you access to all your past memories.

You activated the chip residing in your temple to trace every single unit in the archives, even the ones from as early as your birth, to see if anyone, including the likes of a passing stranger, a waiter that took your order three weeks ago, even a student from your high school class, resembled the man in the café. There were no records in your memory files of someone who echoed the same unsettling familiarity that this man had.

If the advanced technology that contained each capsule of every moment in time that you have ever experienced couldn’t give you the data on this man, then perhaps it was just an unusual coincidence.

One of those Twilight Zone-esque occurrences that isn’t deployed through factual evidence. Though you weren't entirely met with closure for this reasoning, it was enough to cope through the rest of your lengthened stay in the restroom.

What battered your precisely timed and nearly successful plan to avoid further interactions with this man was the light knock against the door. And it was the feeling of guilt that there must be other customers who planned on using the bathroom for its intended purpose that hoisted you up and had you reluctantly vacating the protected area.

Though, it was punishingly ironic that the one who had torn you from your sanctuary was the same person who put you there in the first place.

“Sorry,” He apologized about three times within the small window of time he’d been confronted by you and you already caught on to his habit of perpetual remorse, “Um, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I bumped into you and you kinda… freaked then ran and hid in the bathroom.”

If he weren’t so considerate to a stranger that was acting oddly evasive, this would have been easy. But he was considerate, and this was unbelievably difficult.

“Yeah um,” Your eyes sank down to rest on the comforting hue of his sweater, “I’m, uh, I'm okay. Thank you.”

He cleared his throat, dislodging the nervous laugh blocking his words.

“Okay well, I was just wondering if you were all good. You seemed a little shaken up back there.” Frankly, he still sensed something about him was off-putting to you, but he tried to deny it for the moment.

Your assurances fell gravely short of convincing since you couldn’t even bring your eyes to level with his. The soft-spoken gesture of kindness made you feel like a helpless animal that would surrender at the slightest sign of danger. It was a fair assessment for you acted as though his accidental collision into you through a crowded space was the end of the world.

“Yeah, sorry. Thank you!” You chirped to imitate a normal reaction despite this tremendously abnormal situation. “I was just um… It's just one of those days, ya know?”

Then, it was his smile that cluttered your sensation of touch. He was standing a respectable distance from you, however, his smile touched you. It cornered you into blurting out something even more peculiar than the overwhelming deja vu that had been commencing the moment you noticed him.

“Do I-” You paused to lower your voice that could have outsourced to the collection of ruckus in the café. Now in a whisper, you continued, “Do I know you?”

He didn’t offer a voiced response, but an equally bewildered expression. You couldn't quite read what this implied so you assumed he thought you were crazy, maybe even a bit creepy.

“Sorry! Fuck, that’s so creepy. I’m just gonna go.” Before you had the chance to push past him and the billowing clouds of regret, he obstructed your path to the doorway with his body.

“No! I think I know you too. Like, I’ve never seen you but I remember you. Like… Like a dream.” He scaled the length of your body with his eyes, which only manufactured his intuition into an undoubtable certainty. “I know you. How do I know you?”

“Hell if I know. I’m just as confused as you.” You felt your body slumping into itself under his gaze. He was attentive to every detail of you, from the length of your hair to the twitch of your fingertips, making you feel over exposed to this stranger that wasn’t a stranger.

“Well, do you wanna maybe sit? Have a coffee with me?” He propagated his interest like there was no reason to be afraid which only intimidated you further. There wasn’t a real threat in his invitation, however accepting it felt like you were walking on thin ice.

The government agent standing guard with a perfect earshot of every conversation wiring through the small café didn’t help ease your nerves either.

“I really should be heading home soon.” Guilt worked quickly to try and compensate for the discouraged expression on his face, “But… if you give me your number I’ll call you and maybe we can go out for lunch or something?”

He traded his grim with excitement while pulling a pen from his pocket and walking over to the condiments bar to write his number on a napkin. You had no clue as to why, but the fact that he had a pen on hand was strikingly nostalgic, much so as every other detail you had acquired from him.

Although entirely unheard of, you felt like this new knowledge of him was not adding to the collection, but rather dusting old artifacts that had simply been forgotten. You weren’t learning things about him, but instead remembering them; the more you stood watching him scribble his name and number on the napkin, the deeper you entrenched yourself in this theory.

Not to mention, you couldn’t recall the last time someone favored using a pen over a keyboard and a paper napkin over a digital contact entered on your phone.

What kind of person carries around a pen in the age of modern technology?

“Thank you. I’m ___, by the way.” Your hand wavered a bit before holding out to greet him, and when his hand made contact, you could have sworn on your own life that this wasn’t the first time it happened.

This was no introduction. It was a reunion.

The fix of his gaze had suggested he too felt reminiscent with the feeling of your hand.

A shared inability to let go held your hands together, trying to harness a bit of recognition or recall a social function where you two might have met in passing. Neither one of you had shown any intention to pull away, which dragged the formality of shaking hands into a gesture of mutual wonder; now you were not so much exchanging a handshake but rather holding each other. Holding tightly, as if you were rediscovering a mass of feelings that would give you an answer.

However, the answer was not generous enough to make itself available to either of you.

It could have been hours until you were able to unriddle this strange sensation, so you made the preventative move of pulling away before the warmth concocting between your hands would produce a light sweat on your palm.

He too seemed to retract upon regaining his sensibilities, but there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he would have held on for longer, maybe even forever if necessary. If it would regroup the unattainable and partially inexistent memories into cognizance.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.”

Redacted File No. 12

You clung with desperate persistence onto the flaccid hand. Trailing up the arm was an indiscernible figure that had no features, no notable detailing, not even a vague outline of facial structure; just an ethereal glow that projected throughout the entire room. The nebulous haze terminated any identifiable aspect of the room except the hand you were holding, so you focused on the scant detail your eyes offered.

There was no specified context, no real evidence that you had to hold on, but something deep within you was urging for it. Some omnipotent instinct which prophesied that if you let go of the hand, you would in turn be letting go of the world.

You had to hold on.

However your hands wouldn’t obey you. Each time you tried to tighten your fingers, it felt as if the hand would continue slipping from your grasp. Or maybe, your hands weren't gripping at all.

They were numb, or paralyzed, and unable to execute your urgencies. The more force you exerted into your dire intentions, the easier it was for the hand to grow limp and melt through your fingers like liquid. It was frustrating, your willful attempts to hold on seemed to elicit the opposite effect as the hand, unowned by a certain being, resigned from yours.

“I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to let go.” You chanted through the tears, feeling as though that would somehow ignite a stronghold on the lifeless hand falling away.

But even so, it did fall away.

Perhaps the pain of it was that it wasn’t you who was letting go, but the hand that was being taken away from you. That you had been fighting a losing battle far beyond the prospects of your own decisions or control.

You begged for mercy, but were bestowed with your hands clean of what it was trying so desperately to hold onto. The hand slipped and when you peaked through the glaze of tears, your knuckles and fingers were gripping airy, cold emptiness.

“I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to let go.”

Soon you were captured in a perpetual aria of pleas to the ears of a God that would not listen. Unsettling despair had mutilated the illuminating glow of the room to bleak darkness. The world of colors had fallen absent akin to the cold hand vaporizing alongside the dispersal of light.

Then, everything was black.

Your eyes shot open with deep distraught.

The full moon flashed against your dampened face; half of the moisture sourced from a cold sweat and half from the heavy tears pouring from your eyes.

You knew the only explanation for this dream, which resonated more closely to a memory than a figment of sleepful imagination, was curated by the peculiar events that took place earlier today.

Soon, the dream drifted from your mind as consciousness took its place. Your tardy response to write the sparse remnants of it had left you with nothing but a distorted plot of what transpired during your slumber.

Widening your awakening through long sips of water had forced you into an obsessive rewinding of your memory files. It was a shame there wasn’t technology yet to store memories of your dream, or you’d have been replaying the one you just dreamt about a hundred times.

You scanned through a collection of moments in the afternoon when you first met Taehyung. The clear, digital picture of him glassed over your eyes, taking the place once inhabited by the moon, as you pressed the play button on the handlebar of functions.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.”

You rewound no later than a second after he introduced himself back to the beginning.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.”

Rewind. 0.5 x speed.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.” Said in a distorted voice from the ‘reduce speed’ function you equipped.

“Kim Taehyung.” You muttered to the empty room and the bright moon.

Sleeping was abstracted to an impossibility, and for the sake of your sanity, you walked over fish out the napkin in your coat pocket. It took you a while to move on from meticulously inspecting Taehyung’s handwriting.

The aimless effort to recall if it was the penmanship of some classmate had slackened to yet another unmet hope. Taehyung didn’t reside in your memories, but claimed quite an existence in your intuition. However, that wasn’t satisfying enough. You settled with the unsolved familiarity, though not before a lengthy wrestle between your eyes and the seven numbers scribbled into the napkin.

After dancing with the idea of it, you resolved some courage to finally dial. Each ping of the phone had you dreading for the automated message to inform you the recipient was not available at the moment, that you would have to hang up or wait for the tone to leave a message. Little by little your spirited nerve had depleted as you were now practicing what message you would leave Taehyung in his voicemail box, praying that it wasn’t full.

“Hello?” The sound of his voice interrupted the seventh or eighth ring, along with your rehearsal of the voicemail you assumed you’d have to leave being that the moon had been aging the sky into midnight.

“Oh! Oh, sorry I didn’t expect you to pick up.” After the chaotic pounding in your chest settled, you realized how nonsensical you sounded. Everything you methodically planned to say had been scattered by his unprecedented answer.

Instead of asking why you would call if you expected him not to pick up, he asked with a kind curiosity:

“Who is this?” He didn’t sound tired, in fact it sounded as if he had been hard at work preceding this call.

“Oh yeah! It’s ___, from the coffee shop. You remember me right?” Though you powered through, the worry was quite deafening. Taehyung seemed to pick up on it and diffused it with a gentle chuckle.

“Of course I remember.” On the other end of the line, he had been penciling a sketch on a blank page in his notebook.

The serenity of the stars and moon pinned on the navy blue sky never failed to spark inspiration. Taehyung was the type to refuse passing up a surge of an artistic muse, even if that meant he would shed a few hours of sleep from his routine. No matter the time or place, he always had a pen on hand to honor his heart’s unremitting passion.

He loved the moon and stars. He loved it so much as one would love a dear friend. He wished to be a part of the scenes of lights that hovered just out of reach, but could only settle on capturing a piece of the starry heavens on paper with his trusty pencil, sketchbook, and emerald-tinted muse.

“It’s late to be calling, but you’re lucky I was awake.” He said to hide how ecstatic he was you had actually called.

For someone you had just met, or at least you thought you just met, he threaded a flirtatious coyness in his response. It difficult to hush the winged eruption in your stomach because of that.

“Lucky, huh.” You repeated through a mumbled laugh, “I was just… I was thinking.”

“About what?” He had placed his phone on speaker mode and laid it next to his sketchbook.

There was a new inspiration that bore a louder siren than that of the moon and the stars. He sifted through the memory files throughout his day to the minute he first bumped into you, and though your face had been ingrained quite clearly behind his eyelids with each blink, he relied on the accuracy of a reference to perfect his drawing of you; not to mention he projected the image of your face to delight his undeniable attraction and to moderate the wildly romanticized version of you in his head.

Perhaps if he hadn't, he wouldn't be able to discern your face from the arena of glimmering stars scattered along the shaded skies.

“Just about how I think I was too quick to pass your offer.”

“Really?” That endearing lilt hope in his voice, the excitement expressed, acted as some puppeteer that manipulated the corner of your lips to lift into a smile.

No muscle in your body could ever be moved with the same conviction as it did when he was the reason for it. It bewildered you, almost to the point of frustration, as to why he had this power over you.

I just met him. I'm already getting this worked up? You thought how absurd it was you'd fallen this quickly, hoping it would ground you to the reality that he was still a stranger you hadn’t exchanged more than two conversations with.

Though, reality and memories and data files had all been obscured ever since you met Taehyung which was fascinating more than it was disorienting.

“Would you want to, maybe, grab coffee? Say next Thursday?” Your hand was subconsciously gripping the bed sheets, just like the way you gripped the disembodied hand in your dream, and awaited his response with full-blown suspense.

“I’ll see you next Thursday, ___.” Taehyung's confirmation put all your anxiety to rest, as well as your tightly clamped hand around the cotton fabric.

“I’ll see you.” You mimicked as if that would make the idea of seeing Taehyung again any less surreal. He laughed at this and brushed up a few finishing touches on his drawing.

“So just to clarify.” His pause gave entry for curiosity to wire through your head.

“Yes?”

“When you said you were thinking… you were thinking of me?” You wanted the upper hand to be reinstated with you, but your shy chuckle was no match to the smirk adopted on his lips that you couldn’t see, but you knew was there. You knew he was prideful when he swept the rug right out from under your feet, and you were right.

“Perhaps. And what if I was?” You framed your question to render your intimidation as flattery. Though, you had no idea how convincing this facade actually was and that it came off more suggestive than you had expected. There was a part of you that had fraternized with the romantic idea of Taehyung which might have registered your motive to reciprocate an undertone beyond platonic.

“Then that would be one thing we have in common.” He sounded responsive to your flirting and raised the bar significantly.

Your eyes and smile were directed towards the scenery displayed by your window, but they were not dedicated to the moonlit beauty of the diamond encrested sky. Though the midnight glades of stars were the ones to witness your smile, it was, without a shadow of a doubt, dedicated to Taehyung.

He was staring at the same moon, the same plot of stars, so perhaps you were looking into each other. When the moon twinkled, it looked awfully similar to a smile. Your smile.

For the moment, there was a radio silence that splintered through the two speakers of your and Taehyung’s phones. Even if the use of his hands weren’t engaged by his needful recreation of your face through his art, if his hands were left unused, he wouldn’t have mustered the discipline to end the call. Your unoccupied hands were trying to find any employment so you could have some excuse for not hanging up as well, not that there was anything else to be discussed.

Again, it felt familiar. The feeling of hesitance to be the first one to hang up despite the conversation’s recoil.

The cohesive idleness of you and Taehyung was unprovoked and ran out for about a minute. Neither of you had the intention to sever the virtual communion quite yet. The awkwardness of sitting in silence on the phone with a newly acquainted stranger was a delicacy compared to preemptively ending the call.

At one point, you were about to question if he had hung up; but the rhythmic and light breathing told you otherwise. And because of that mutual need to stay on the line, it seemed to be unreasonable to hang up, save for the yawn that eventually trimmed the call to an end.

“You’re tired.” He stated, now prompted with a yawn of his own upon hearing yours. “Goodnight, ___.”

“Goodnight, Taehyung.” Saying his name out loud sent you into that same blend of reminiscence and nostalgia.

His name was not unexplored by your tongue, that much was certain, and the thought of putting your entire life on hold to discover why it felt that way was a tempting venture. Why when he said your name, it felt like sitting in front of a wood-burning fireplace under the security of a green sweater and wrapped in safe arms.

More than that, you wanted to know if he felt all these things too.

“I’ll see you?” You asked instead of saying that dreadful word 'goodbye'.

“I’ll see you.” He repeated before reluctantly hanging up.

“___.” He whispered your name, hoping the inky sky would design it in the stars for the world to remember forever.

Hoping that the next hours, which would surely be spent on multiple sketched renditions of your face, would amount in some revelation of the mystifying familiarity. He believed shedding a few graphite imitations onto the surface of his sketchbook, soaked by the glow of moonlight, would somehow make him remember everything hidden in the dark compartments of his heart.

However, if it didn’t, he would be okay with it. Because at least he knew he would see you again.

“Meeting place: Silver Lining Café.”

“Thank you, Agent Park. Heighten surveillance on the two subjects.”

#bangtanarmynet #btswriterscorner #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts writing #taehyung series #bts series #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #artist!taehyung #rubycoast #emerald dreams: REDACTED

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ejzah · 4 years

Note

I would love it if you could do a story on everyone’s reactions when they find out Deeks and Kensi are finally dating back in season 6. I remember Callen naming in order everyone who found one by one. It was so funny.

A/N: So this takes a couple months after “Humbug”.

***

“So how was everyone’s weekend?” Kensi asked as she sat down behind her desk. She seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood that couldn’t be completely explained by the sunny day and the large cup of coffee she carried.

“Good,” Callen said vaguely. Rolling his eyes at him, Sam offered

“Michelle and I took the kids hiking.” He glanced across the room at his partner, suggesting that that was the proper way to spend a weekend. “What about you, Kensi?”

“Very nice. I spent a lot of time with a friend,” she replied, unable to hide a slight blush.

“Ooh, a friend,” Sam teased, his dimples showing. “Did this friend happen to be of the male variety?”

“Definitely male,” Callen decided. “I haven’t seen Kensi blush that much...ever.” Fortunately, Deeks walked in, whistling a cheery tune. He swung his bag onto his desk and greeted everyone cheerfully.

“You seem to be in an exceptionally good mood,” Callen commented.

“Maybe that’s because I had an exceptionally good weekend,” Deeks said, flashing a bright smile.

“Doing what?”

“Exercising.” He winked at Kensi, his grin playful.

“You’re this happy from exercising?” Sam asked, eyeing him dubiously.

“Yeah, it was very...invigorating,” he said, glancing at Kensi again who narrowed her eyes at him. She stood up abruptly.

“That reminds me, you owe me a sparring match.” Deeks followed her with surprisingly little complaint. As they left the bullpen, Callen watched them with narrowed eyes and then shook his head, chuckling.

“I can’t believe it, they actually did it,” he murmured to himself.

“Did what?” Sam asked distractedly as he looked down at his computer.

“They’re together.” He nodded towards the empty hallway.

“Kensi and Deeks? No.” Sam chuckled. “No way. We’d know for sure if they were.”

“You don’t think all that talk about friends and exercising wasn’t obvious enough?” Callen asked. When Sam continued to look dubious, he held up a hand and started ticking off points. “Ok, to start with, ever since Christmas they’ve been coming in at staggered times. They used to come in together all the time and never said a thing. They keep making pointed comments about their ‘extracurricular activities’, but neither of them seems jealous. Don’t you think that’s a little strange? I mean, Kensi usually gets jealous if a woman even thinks about touching Deeks.”

“Maybe...” Sam said, still sounding a little unsure.

“And, I heard them making plans on Friday to spend the weekend together. They clearly didn’t realize I could hear them. Some of the comments were...let’s just say, suggestive.”

“Damn.” Sam said, sounding a little stunned. “That means I lost the pool. I can’t believe I didn’t see it.” Callen shrugged, but seemed pleased that been the first to catch on. “How long has this been going on for?”

“Mm, I’d say around Christmas. Oh, did I forget to mention I saw them kissing out on the ice rink?” Callen added.

“You could have led with that, you know,” Sam said irritably. He shook his head again, then glanced down the hall. “I just hope it doesn’t distract them.”

***

“Ok, I have some things to take to the burnroom,” Nell told Eric, holding a stack of files. “I’ll be back in a few.” A few minutes later, she balanced the files on her hip as she reached out for the doorknob.

“Deeks!” Nell jerked back in shock at the sound of Kensi’s voice, half sigh, half admonishment. She stared at the door, barely breathing as Deeks responded.

“Sorry, I told you before I’m very sensitive there.” There was a noise that Nell very much hoped was just a kiss. After what seemed like a ridiculously long amount of time, he whispered, panting in between words,

“I thought, we agree-oh, you are so evil-not to do this at work.”

“It’s your fault for wearing those jeans,” Kensi said. There was a faint crashing sound-Nell hoped it wasn’t anything breakable. “Oh my god, you’re so ha-“

“Ok, and it’s time for me to go,” she muttered, giving herself a shake. Filled with a mixture of morbid curiosity and horror, she turned around and quickly started back down the hallway. Nell sincerely hoped she would be able to get the sound of their moans out of her head.

“Hey, I thought you were going to the burn room,” Eric said, passing her on the stairs. He was holding his tablet and seems headed for the bullpen.

“Um, yeah, but...something else came up.” She looped a hand around Eric’s elbow and pulled him in the opposite direction. He didn’t protest or ask what she was doing, which was good, because she had no idea what to say.

Half an hour later, when Kensi and Deeks finally showed up, looking remarkably put together but suspiciously chipper, she eyed them knowingly. Now that she wasn’t faced with the possibility of hearing something obscene, she found it somewhat amusing, and intriguing.

She also realized that both Kensi and Deeks had been way happier and ease the last couple months. She should have realized what was going on.

***

Hetty held back a smirk as she watched Kensi and Deeks walk into the bullpen holding hands. They were the first to arrive and clearly didn’t realize they were being observed.

Hetty had known something changed in their relationship the moment they returned from their shortened Christmas leave. Despite their best efforts to be discreet, it was obvious; there was a glow about them both.

Not to mention the fact that they kept trying to pretend they weren’t spending time together. She saw Kensi squeeze Deeks’ hand and then they separated, only then remembering to glance around them.

Hetty lowered her head before they noticed her. Apparently it hadn’t occurred to either of them, that the lack of physical contact was completely abnormal for them.

Holding back a sigh, she prayed that it wouldn’t interfere with their partnership, or their work. So far it hadn’t, but only time would tell. For now though, she intended to enjoy watching them squirm.

She would never understand how her very best undercover agents could be such deplorable liars when it came to their personal lives.

***

“You know, I think I heard Sam say he was going in there,” Eric said, stepping in front of the men’s locker room door, effectively blocking Nell. She frowned at him and he smiled back, like it was a perfectly normal thing to do.

“You’re acting weird,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“No I’m not,” he insisted, swallowing harshly under the force of her glare. “I just don’t want you to walk in on Sam changing. Or anything else.” As he said the last part, he had to hold back a shudder.

He’d been trying to locate Kensi and Deeks. They weren’t responding to his texts and as a last resort, he had checked the locker room camera. It was set to record, but they rarely used it for obvious reasons. He wasn’t even sure the team remembered it was there half the time.

Which would explain why when he’d checked the camera feed, he’d found Kensi and Deeks in the middle of a heavy make out session. There were some things you could never unsee. He held back another shudder.

“Is there something going on in there that I should know about?” Nell asked.

“No. No, believe me, you do not want to see what’s going on in there,” he said firmly. Rolling her eyes, Nell tossed her head back briefly and sighed.

“Please tell me Kensi and Deeks aren’t making out in there too?”

“No, of course no...wait, what do you mean in there too?” He stared at Nell, partially relieved that he didn’t have to keep this a secret from her and partially offended that she hadn’t told him before this. “How long have you known?”

Nell shrugged.

“Mm, maybe a couple weeks,” she said, then stared at the door, making an exasperated sound. “Seriously thought they would have more discretion than this.”

“This is Kensi and Deeks we’re talking about,” he reminded her. “So what do we do if someone asks where they are or if tries to use the locker room?” Eric asked as they walked back to OPS.

“Try redirection and if that doesn’t work, pretend we don’t know anything.” Nell decided.

“I’m happy for them,” Eric said after a couple minutes. “You know, aside from the part where I had to see Deeks shoving Kensi against a wall and ripping her shirt off.”

***

“Do you think they realize everyone in this building knows they’re together?” Callen asked a few weeks later as Kensi and Deeks left at the end of the day. They’d made up some ridiculous and totally unnecessary excuse for why they were leaving together, exuding an almost unbearable amount of sexual tension.

“I doubt it,” Nell said, then added, “And it’s not quite everybody. What about the motor pool and Granger?” Callen nodded.

“I’ll give you Granger, but not the motor pool.”

“How did they find out?” Sam asked.

“Apparently Stewart overheard them planning a weekend getaway. It spread from there.”

“Unbelievable.” Sam shook his head. “They couldn’t keep it a secret for even two months.”

“Oh, they’re young. Let them enjoy themselves,” Hetty said, coming up behind them suddenly.

“You’re blasé attitude wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you won the office pool, would it?” Callen asked shrewdly.

“Perhaps.”

“I was so close,” Eric said sadly and Nell patted him on the shoulder.

“Cheer up, we always have babies to bet on next.” There was a series of groans as they walked out together.

***

Thanks for the prompt, anon! Hope this is ok.

A/N: I don’t know if there’s any situation in which a camera would be allowed in a locker room, for obvious reasons. But it worked for this scenario.

#ncis la fanfiction #densi #post humbug #sam hanna #g callen #eric beale #nell jones #hetty lange #anonymous prompt #ejzah fanfiction

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yesloverboy · 4 years

Text

Baby You’re a Haunted House (Iwan Rheon!Mick Mars x Reader)

Requested: Anon

“Hi! Could you do a Mick Mars one shot where Mick and the reader are really close friends and they’re watching a scary movie at his house and she’s scared so he lets her stay over. And she has trouble sleeping so she sneaks into his room and they both awkwardly admit they like each other?”

note: finally, after an arduous hiatus brought upon by school, I have a new little request to add to the library. I’m a little rusty so I hope it’s up to par. I don’t deserve your patience, but I’m glad y’all have stuck around. :’) (also if anyone wants to change their taglist preferences, lmk)

word count: 3,219

[no warnings! just two idiots in love!]

tags: @lauravic, @lululovesgwtw, @kingbouji3, @oldschoolimagineblog, @thecrue, @colsonbakersnoseringmain

To say you had a stressful week would be an understatement. Despite your best efforts to hold it together, things just seemed to go completely wrong of their own accord. You burnt your toast at breakfast, found an angry pink parking ticket on your windshield, and spent the entirety of your day working your fingers to the bone. It could have been your sour mood, or the melodramatic attitude you had developed since waking up that morning– but the day seemed completely and utterly cursed.

Even as you leave your shift, you can’t help but stare bitterly at the sun as it dips lazily into the horizon, wondering what exactly you did to make everything feel so shitty. It’s a Friday for Christ’s sake and it seems as though you hadn’t even gotten the opportunity to look forward to the weekend, let alone make plans.

Speaking of Fridays, you think, eyes flitting down to the watch dangling loosely from your wrist. The hands point toward 6:45, making it known that you are running incredibly and unbelievably late. Flustered, you sprint to your car, keys jingling noisily between your fingers. You should have left at least half an hour ago, but there had been so much going on at work that you lost track of time.

“Shit!” you exclaim, jamming your key into the ignition and speeding recklessly out of the parking lot. Tires screech against the asphalt as a cloud of dust erupts from behind you, settling only when you skid out onto the open road. The sky quickly shifts from honey orange to dusky purple as you retreat from the glittering lights of the city, instantly becoming more relaxed at the sight of sparse houses and distant mountains.

You and your best friend, Mick, have a Friday night tradition of staying in and watching movies while the rest of his friends– and bandmates –go out to wreak havoc on the remaining population of Los Angeles. Mick is similar to you in a lot of ways; you’re both the strong and silent type, usually only speaking when spoken and always responding with a biting comment. The two of you met in a record store off Sunset Boulevard, quickly bonding over your love for the emerging metal scene and your hatred for cheap glam rock. Nothing was ever smoke and mirrors with Mick– no, he was raw and honest. Something you admire far more than you’re willing to admit.

Fingers tightening around the steering wheel, you suppress the feeling of your heart twitching excitedly against your ribs. You aren’t sure what’s been up with you lately, but every time you’ve seen Mick these past few weeks your heart has begun to skip along to an unknown rhythm. This new sensation makes you grit your teeth in frustration. Mick is your best friend, you have no reason to feel anxious around him. Right?

Typically, when something abnormal is going on in your life, your first instinct is to tell Mick, but you already know this isn’t the kind of conversation you’re prepared to have with him. These days, it feels as though Mick is the only person you can really be yourself around and you can’t imagine jeopardizing your friendship for the sake of talking about your feelings, of all things.

With a heavy sigh, you pull into the sloping curve of Mick’s driveway, hoping the walk to his doorstep will be just enough time to get your head back on your shoulders. You rap on his door with a heavy hand, listening to the sound of crickets thrumming softly in the distance. It’s times like this where you find yourself thankful that Mick decided to move outside of the Los Angeles city limits. Sure, the drive is long and the daytime traffic could be excruciating, but there’s at least some semblance of stillness in the air.

Mick pulls open the door, greeting you with a soft smile and bright eyes. Rather than wondering what took you so long, he gives your disheveled appearance a once over and simply asks, “Long day?”

You nod, the fatigued slump in your shoulders only getting heavier as Mick motions for you to step inside. Abandoning your jacket and keys by the door, you flop onto Mick’s plush sofa with a content groan.

“Sorry I’m late,” you mumble, voice partially muffled by the pillow pressed firmly against your cheek. At this point, you had been over to Mick’s place so many times that it was slowly starting to feel like your own. You roll on your side, arms cradling the side of your head as you gaze upward with glassy eyes.

Mick just chuckles and lifts your legs so that he can sit underneath them, allowing your calves to rest comfortably in his lap. His fingers ghost the exposed skin of your ankle, making your breath hitch uncomfortably in your throat. The gesture is so familiar and yet, you can’t help but feel as though it were the first time. To your relief, Mick doesn’t seem to take note of your sudden uneasiness, and instead picks up a video tape from the glass coffee table in front of you.

“I rented A Nightmare on Elm Street,” Mick grins, “you seen it yet?”

You sit up, eyebrows knitted in concentration as you study the tape, unsurprised to see that it’s a horror movie. The cover art depicts a young girl staring entranced at a set of knife-like fingers as they hover menacingly above her head. The guys in Mick’s band often joked about him being some kind of ghoul or vampire, and his love for the spooky and supernatural really didn’t help his case.

“Another slasher, Mickey?” you tease, shoving at his shoulders playfully. Just last week the two of you spent the night watching My Bloody Valentine, all the while jeering and laughing at every ridiculous mistake that the characters made. At this point, it may as well be a Friday night tradition.

Mick rolls his eyes, “Come on, Y/N. It’s not just a regular, old slasher. This guy is supposed to come after you to haunt your dreams and shit.”

“What? You sick of me haunting yours?”

“Never,” Mick scoffs, flinging your legs to the side so he can get up and feed the tape into the VHS player. “Not if it’s you.”

For the umpteenth time that evening, your heart leaps.

...

As it turns out, Mick was right, it wasn’t just a silly slasher movie– it was a fucking terrifying slasher movie. By the time that the television screen faded to black and the credits began to roll, you hardly noticed the way your body had wrapped around itself in terror. Gripping the blanket across your lap, you jump as the dark living room becomes illuminated in pale, yellow light. You peer behind a wall of couch cushions to see Mick lurking by the lightswitch with a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Jesus, Y/N, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were scared,” Mick grins, his expression infuriatingly smug.

You feel your face grow hot as your heart hammers noisily in your chest, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration bubbling from within.

“I wasn’t scared,” you insist, “I was just–just, uh, startled is all. Long day, remember?” Gesturing to your blanket enshrouded form, you hope that the dark circles under your eyes are enough to persuade Mick to say he’s ready for bed and leave you be.

“Speaking of long days, it’s getting pretty late. Why don’t you just crash here for the night?” Mick points to the digital clock on his mantle, the bright red numbers flashing 1:32.

You nibble on your lip wordlessly, trying your best to ignore the feeling of butterfly wings tickling your stomach and climbing into your throat. Mick has a point, it is getting late. However, in all your time as friends, Mick had never once invited you to stay over. Would this change things? Could it change things?

“Um, Earth to Y/N?” Mick steps over to your place on the couch a waves an impatient hand in front of your face, making you jolt upright. “What’s the matter? Freddy got your tongue?”

“You little shit, I swear to God I am not scared–!” your tangent is interrupted as a clap of thunder rumbles from somewhere outside the window, the panes rattling and shaking in protest.

A dramatic yelp escapes your lips before you have time to rationalize what’s happening, making Mick double over in laughter. With trembling hands, you pull the blanket up over your head in an attempt to shroud your humiliation from Mick’s taunting eyes.

“F-fine, you win!” you relent, voice muffled beneath the quilted fabric.

Mick pulls the blanket away from your face, his dark blue eyes glittering with amusement. “Guess we’re having a slumber party after all.”

“If you wanted a sleepover, you could’ve just asked instead of scaring the fuck out of me. We could have braided each other’s hair by now,” you grumble bitterly.

“Better luck next time, I guess,” Mick flicks off the lightswitch with a devious grin, leaving you enveloped in darkness, “Sleep tight, and don’t let the interdimensional sleep demons bite…”

“Oh fuck off,” you squeak, uneasiness creeping on you as Mick leaves you alone in the blackness of his living room. Living closer to the city’s epicentre, you can’t even remember a time it was this dark in your apartment, let alone right outside the window.

Bundling yourself into a tight cocoon, you try to let the rare patter of California raindrops soothe you into unconsciousness. Just as the fuzziness of sleep starts to curl around your weary mind, another clap of thunder rattles through the walls of Mick’s house, your eyes snapping open in fright. You attempt to regulate your frantic breaths, chanting sweet nothings of normalcy and security to no one in particular. But, no matter what you do, nothing seems to unprickle the hairs standing rigidly on the back of your neck.

Rolling over, you decide to face the room in the hopes that your tired eyes will eventually adjust to the darkness. The shadows seem to squirm and shift as your spine tingles with paranoia, making you curse yourself for ever agreeing to stay in the first place. You groan internally when you realize that, in the time you’ve spent anxious on the sofa, you probably could have made it home by now.

Goddammit, Mick.

Ignoring the oppressive movement of the shadows, your eyes wander toward the hallway. The position you have on the couch gives you a direct view of where the curve of the hall snakes into the door of Mick’s bedroom. More than anything, you wish he had stayed out in the living room with you rather than retreating to the confines of his bedroom. It would have been completely unfair to ask that of Mick considering it’s his house, but you can’t help it. You hadn’t been this afraid of the dark since you were a kid and, as far as you knew, Mick wasn’t scared of anything.

The longer you lay scrunched up on the couch, the more tempted you are to just barge into Mick’s room and see whether or not he’s still awake. Minutes feel like hours as you debate the odds of Mick being mad–or worse, weirded out–at the sight of his best friend shaking him awake in the middle of the night. If Mick were having the same problem you probably wouldn’t be upset, right? Then again, there was a better chance of hell freezing over than Mick actually being afraid of the dark.

Deciding you can’t handle being alone a second longer, you swiftly untangle yourself from the comforting embrace of your blanket cocoon and place your bare feet on the cool, wooden floor. Shivering slightly, you hug your arms around your shoulders protectively and pad toward Mick’s bedroom, a nervous lump knotting in the back of your throat.

You approach the white door apprehensively, wondering for a brief moment if testing your friendship like this is even worth it. With a hefty sigh, you abandon all caution and pull the door open, a soft breeze rushing forward and tickling your face from the sudden movement. Heart thudding unceremoniously in your chest, you find yourself faced with the sight of your best friend sleeping soundly in a tangle of black velvet bedsheets.

Lying flat on his back with arms crossed securely over his chest, Mick slept like the dead, looking just as peaceful and twice as forbidden to disturb. A soft smile ghosts your lips at the sight of Mick looking so unwound and at rest. He was always a high-strung individual, that much is true, and watching him sleep so soundly made all your anxieties from earlier feel unbelievably not worth the effort. The realization that Mick’s face alone is enough to settle your nerves makes your heart hammer out a strangled pulse of adoration, twisting your stomach into a knot.

Inching away slowly, you decide that it’s probably for the best if you just saunter back to the couch and squash your feelings. Mick deserves a good night’s rest, not a lovesick best friend who is becoming blindsided by her feelings. Cursing your heart for being so fixated on the trivial human need for intimacy, you take a step back and immediately bump right into Mick’s dresser.

“Fuck,” you hiss as the dresser’s wooden frame trembles noisily against the floor.

To your horror, the man in front of you begins to stir. Raising balled fists to his eyes, he wipes away the sleep and glances over to the source of the sound in a haze of weary confusion. Your heart plummets to the ground as his eyes find yours in the darkness.

“...Y/N?” he mumbles, as he rises stiffly from his pile of blankets like a mummy from a sarcophagus. “Am I dreaming?”

“I was just leaving,” you squeak, hoping beyond hope that Mick would be tired enough to think nothing of his best friend suddenly creeping into his room in the middle of the night. Turning on your heel, you attempt to reach for the door knob but are immediately halted by the sound of Mick’s voice.

“Wait–” Mick calls out, his voice faint, “stay.”

You suck in a breath, grateful that the cover of night conceals the cherry red flush of your cheeks. Taking a tentative step forward, you find your fingertips gingerly clinging to the cool metal of the doorknob in worry. Swallowing the lump in your throat, it feels as though you might be the one dreaming.

“Mickey, look, I can explain, I, uh–I was just…” you stumble over the words of your confession, eyes now well-adjusted enough to see Mick’s expression go soft, almost as if he were concealing a smile.

Mick chuckles at your embarrassment, his gravelly voice making your heart flutter involuntarily. “You were scared, weren’t you?’

“Yeah,” you sigh, not bothering to dig an even deeper hole, “I guess I was.”

Staring down at your bare feet, you allow a beat of silence to pass between the two of you. Mick says nothing, only stares, and for a moment you squirm at the thought that you may have overstayed your welcome. The thought alone is enough to make you cringe.

Mick clears his throat, startling you out of your compulsive rumination. Peering up like a scolded child, you watch him scoot toward the far end of the mattress and straighten out his wrinkled duvet with a lazy hand.

“Well don’t just stand there,” he grins, “get in.”

“Seriously?”

Mick rolls his eyes and pats the empty space for emphasis, “Yes, seriously. Freddy can’t get ya so long as you’re with me– scout’s honor.”

“As if you were a fucking boy scout,” you snort, unable to let your previous feelings of shame conceal the utter ridiculousness of the present situation. Here you are standing at the bedside of your best friend with a bleeding heart, and he’s already prepared to bandage you back up.

“But it’s the thought that counts, right? Now hurry your ass up, I want to get back to sleep.”

Your feet seem to propel you forward of their own accord and, before your neurotic brain can shift into overdrive, you’re already nestling into Mick’s bedsheets. You hum comfortably, the velvet still warm from where he had been sleeping. Every inch of the fabric smells of him, and it takes the last shred of your willpower to not just let your feelings leak straight out of your mouth and onto deaf ears.

“That’s easy for you to say, Mickey,” you tease weakly, “you’ve never been scared of anything.”

“I get scared sometimes,” Mick confesses, “I just wouldn’t want you to ever think differently of me because of it.”

You don’t need to see Mick’s face to know that he’s frowning.

Emboldened by his sudden admission of vulnerability, you turn on your side to face him. Mick’s eyes are fixed firmly on the ceiling, as if all the answers to life’s deepest, darkest questions could be etched somewhere in the popcorned pattern.

“W-what do you mean?” you meant to sound confident, but your voice comes out as barely more than a whisper.

To your disbelief, Mick turns over as well, his deep blue eyes shining through the shadowy bedroom like the frothy caps of a stormy sea. You can practically feel your heart reaching out to him, begging to pull you under and keep you there.

Mick’s hand finds yours somewhere beneath the velvet sheets and gives you a gentle squeeze, his warm palm enveloping your cold one in an instant.

“There’s something I want to say but I’m afraid…” he whispers, voice as delicate as spun sugar, “...I’m afraid I’ll lose you if I do, and I don’t wanna lose you.”

For a moment all you can do is blink, your mind reeling from the implications of what your best friend may or may not be admitting to you. You know that you need to say something quick, but your tongue turns to sand in your mouth.

Mick’s hand still entwined with yours, you take the opportunity to move in closer. Slowly you close the gap between the two of you, leaving nothing but the space reserved for the halo of mutual body heat forming around your place in the sheets.

“I think I know what you mean,” you bring Micks hand to your chest and let the frantic pulse of your heart do all the talking.

Without warning, Mick gives you a gentle kiss on the nose. The touch is so faint, you’re almost worried you may have imagined it.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, Mickey?”

“I think I love you.”

Your free hand rests gingerly on your best friend’s cheek, and for the first time that night you find yourself unafraid of what comes next. His face is red hot to the touch, and you wonder if anyone else knew Mick could be so warm.

“You sure you’d want to do a crazy thing like that?”

Mick just chuckles and shakes his head, “Nothing feels crazy when I’m with you.”

“Then I guess I’m just gonna have to love you, too.”

#hello!#i'm kind of back for now #sorry to be so shit #the dirt #the dirt requests #motley crue imagine #motley crue oneshot #motley crue #mick mars #tommy lee #nikki sixx #vince neil #iwan rheon #80s #80s rock #the dirt netflix

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after-lauhgter · 3 years

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Hey dude, I really like your music taste so do all the music questions that you didn't already answer 🌚

OK DUDE HERE THEY COME (except 1,6 & 14) ... ok lets do number 1 again What's a song you've been listening to a lot lately? as the world caves in by Matt Maltese, if I get high by nothing but thieves, and literally anything off waterparks’ new live album, that thing makes me feel so ALIVE bc like LIVE MUSIC Is there an album you recently discovered and are obsessed with it now? well waterparks live in the uk obviously but if the last 6 months count as recently, then the new abnormal by the strokes. its... absolutely breathtaking. I don't have words. 0 words. except these dudes know what the fuck they’re doing. and then I found the devil and god are raging inside me by brand new and jeeesus. literally Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ was my most played song in 2020 AS IT SHOULD BE bc its EVERYTHING this album is THE SHIT. every song is just *chef kiss* like there's limousine (omg limousine) and you won't know and not the sun and AHH listen to these albums omg Put your playlist on shuffle and show the first 10 songs. No cheating. i assume “your playlist” means all my saved songs so Topography by Civilian (pls go listen its SO great) Na Na Na by mcr yees issa classic Du schreibst Geschichte by Madsen omg geeerman just saying by EDEN (pretty pretty pretty) Westerland von den Ärzten another classic letdown by nothing,nowhere. sad but the good kind of sad The Man by the killers making fun of toxic masculinity gives me LIFE Graffiti by CHVRCHES YES and death stranding by CHVRCHES too YES SO GOOD simmer by Hayley Williams, a queen How do you tend to discover new music? If you do at all of course I do enjoy what Spotify suggests, like my weekly mix brought a lot of bops in the past, although sometimes it just sucks lets be real. I also like the artist- or album-radio, when I wanna find something similar to an album but not the album. and another thing I lovvve is when artists I like recommend music, for example, have you seen dallon weekes instagram stories? THE TASTE? bc yes, someone who writes music like that MUST have a superior taste in music and he fucking does.

What app do you mostly use to listen to music? Spotify :) Is there an artist that you feel ashamed of listening too? I can't think of anyone so probably not What is your favorite album cover art? omg. I have to go with more than one. so there's where the mind wants to go/where you let it go by I the mighty, one of my favorite albums of all time, and I'm going to say it how it is, I LIKE THE COLORS. the blue-ish imagine with the red omg. look at it pls. Also fandom by waterparks looks SO COOL. again the COLORS and I love the art for Isola by Kent. I recently discovered you wouldn't believe what privilege costs by civilian and I think that cover is pretty cool too. well and then there's petals for armor by Hayley Williams, the cover art is so fucking powerful Jesus I get goosebumps just thinking about it. in case you don't know about it, long story short: there's been a lot of shit going on in Hayleys life in the past. relatable imo. then they made after laughter and its been like u know what fuck it we’ll just laugh and dance through the pain. together. and I LOVED the vibe omg it gave me so much. but for Hayley it kinda postponed REALLY dealing with shit. she came home from touring with AL and she also got divorced during the AL era and everything's shit and out of all that came petals for armor. and in it she reclaims femininity, being alone, being powerful, being a women, everything. and ah yeah we were talking about the cover art, the cover is her, having a line of squares on her face, three of these squares are tattooed on her fingers though bc its where her ex husbands initials used to be that she got covered up. WHAT A MOVE. THE POWER. (if anyone is interested in hearing Hayley talking about/explaining all this, I really recommend watching her interview with zane Lowe. its SO GOOD basically free therapy) How much did your parents influence your music taste? a. lot. my dad listened to a lot of “dad rock” you may call it, I guess a lot of dads listened to stuff similar to this. Deep Purple, the police, simple minds, Green Day, Billy Talent, the scorpions and things like that. what influenced me the most tho was the beatsteaks (german band, very good), die Ärzte (german band, very good) and LAST BUT NOT LEAST the fricking blues brothers. my favorite movie (not the 2000 remake, go watch that in hell where it belongs), a great, charismatic band, unbelievable live performances. very big WOW from me. Do you own any vinyl? don't get me started omg. I DO. I wish I could take a photo but my records are at my parents house so ill just name my favorites. -after laughter and brand new eyes by paramore -violent things by the brobecks and their song boring on 7inch (this is very rare ok) -razzzzmatazzz by idkhow in gold :) -may death never stop you by mcr (my first one, I bought it first and then bought a record player for it, that's how it started lol) -omg the black parade is dead by mcr, this was never available on vinyl until record store day 2019 (?) and I hunted that bitch like idek what it was insane but I found a super cute small record store and the owner didn't have copies of it bc NOBODY DID but he fucking CALLED THE LABEL even though it was way too late and he asked if they'd send him a copy and THEY DID I FUCKING OWE THIS MAN -and omg Isola by Kent (in Swedish tho bc the English version was never pressed on vinyl) this was intense. I searched for like 2 weeks and then, on google results page 8 or something, I found what could've been the only copy on the damn internet and it was very expensive but its MINE NOW -my signed vertigo vinyl by EDEN, its clear and on side D it doesn't have music but a little message engraved it the vinyl IT IS CUTe -Placebos MTV unplugged! I am so I love with this album. SO. in love. and one day, when I was in Berlin to see palaye royale, back when we had concerts, I walked by a random record store and they have like 4 records left bc they were closing or idk and the only one displayed in the window was this one. tell me about FATE Do you own any cds? not many. sometimes when im at the store and I see ones I know or like, I just buy them and put them in me moms car bc I want her to listen to them. or when I find a cd by a smaller artist I enjoy, I buy it just to push the nachfrage. HI i am HERE and I WANT this music Is vinyl really better than listening on a digital device? im not gonna be that middle aged white male audiophile that hates on our generation for using Spotify. bc its great. I think its just different. I mean im sorry I don't carry my record player on the bus with me, pls forgive me for using my phone? having immediate access to most of the music that is out there? wow. what a concept. I love the internet. YES TECHNOLOGY. but. vinyls are... different. I feel likes its a different kind of listening. I feel like youre rly LISTENING. and that way isn't better, or right, and im not saying it works like this for everyone. but when I put a record on, my only activity at that moment is listening to music, I sit down and I listen. to the entire album. so skips and no pauses, bc that's how it works. and I think that sometimes, that can do a lot for you. if you let it. and besides that, physically owning a record makes me happy on a level nothing else really does. fuck I love music so much and when I fall in love with it, I fall hard. and then owning a copy of it, something I can touch, something that is MINE, putting it in my little shelf, looking at it every few days and just being in love? fantastic feeling. What is a genre of music that you tend to go to for comfort? sad shit. I feel like I can get great comfort from the sad shit. or maybe just slow shit. and songs that mean a lot to me and have been around me for some time, they have this other level of comfort. like for Emma, forever ago by bon iver for example. I have a playlist, maybe I'll reblog this again and link it ;) Do you tend to like poppy upbeat songs, or more intricate and interesting songs? both. sometimes I wanna have complicated stuff and analyze the shit out of lyrics and instrumentation, sometimes I just wanna v i b e If you have a favorite band or artist, tell us about how you got into them I liked paramore before but when they posted the video of them performing last hope at reading? it was over. when Hayley sang the bridge it was over. now im a die hard fan and I never looked back Is there a song that came out this year that you like? maybe after reading all this shit you expected a list but somehow I can't. where do u even start. but the answer is definitely yes. THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING I COULD GO ON FOR DAYS

#asks #music #i guess #not me putting I guess after my tags all the time #I like guessing #questioning everything is a lifestyle

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japanessie · 5 years

Text

MY FIRST STORY on Hey! Hey! NEO! with Downtown 30 Sept 2019

MFS was so excited over this one. Must be an honour to be invited to be a guest for these famous comedians, eh?

Disclaimer: I did this with a lot of help from FujiTV onscreen captions and Google speech capture technology wherever possible. My ears can’t do this 100% on their own LOL. Not to mention listening to this a countless number of times! Hundreds! I also rephrased things liberally here and there. The photo collages only serve as a summary. Surely a lot of things were misheard too. Sorry for all the mistakes and fails 🙈 . Here, I picked some parts of the lively conversation and left out the rest that I’m so hopeless at. Words in italic or bracket are my own addition. I also selected some Japanese words to remember and left out the ones I’m not ready for. Sorry it makes things look messy.

A bit of background…..

DOWNTOWN is a popular Japanese comedy duo from Hyogo consisting of members Hitoshi Matsumoto and Masatoshi Hamada. So, this means, they use a lot of Kansai-ben. I can’t even pass standard Japanese, let alone Kansai dialect LOL.

MY FIRST STORY held a lottery for Fan Club members to attend the recording at FUJI TV, Odaiba City on 23 Sept 2019. I didn’t apply because I knew I would not be able to understand things on the spot. Not to mention I had no money to go anyway 😂. Congrats to those who got picked to go!

——————————————

MFS the “handsome"band?

Hitoshi Matsumoto: You guys are kinda like "Visual Kei”.

Hiro: (surprised) Really??

Hitoshi Matsumoto: Very handsome*.

* Not sure if he mentioned someone’s name or what with it.

Masatoshi Hamada: EH? (…looking at Hiro’s face…)

Everyone: (laughs)

Hitoshi Matsumoto: But I’m sorry ok (…putting his hand on Nob…), you are the least popular, I understand that*.

* Oh my God, that’s brutal (but I’m still laughing). Sorry Nob.

Everyone: (laughs hysterically) Nob: (smiles and nods*)

* Aww…. Nob is so gentle & accepting. It’s not like he’s ugly though. Far from it. Especially if you’ve seen him in person. But it’s hard not to look super “unpretty” when sitting next to pretty boys like Hiro, Teru and Kid'z.

Masatoshi Hamada: But first, they debuted seven years ago.

Hitoshi Matsumoto: Since we know nothing about it, were you guys already this good-looking from the band’s formation time?

MFS members: (… err… how to answer this one?…)

Hiro: (…awkwardly..) I guess so. Maybe.

Masatoshi Hamada: Any huge place you guys want to perform in*?

* Actually I’m not really sure what he said. Just guessing ….haha.

Hitoshi Matsumoto: (putting his hand on Nob again) Any problem with him*?

* Kinda like any problem with having a not-so-handsome guy in a band of handsome guys? OMG, brutal LOL

Everyone: (laughs)

Nob: (..somewhat startled…. what, me?)

Hiro: (raises his hand and laughs) No, no. We’re not that kind of band. He’s fine.

Hitoshi Matsumoto: (nudging Nob) Don’t take it to heart, eh? Don’t take it to heart *.

* Not sure if that’s what he meant. Just guessing … huhu.

Everyone: (laughs)

——————————————

Hiro is such a chatterbox, they think he should just enter a grand competition

Hitoshi Matsumoto: (to Hiro) You’re such a talker*! (pretending to look annoyed) Are you going on R-1 Grand Prix or what!

* 喋り達者 / shaberitachisha (?) / master talker, chatterbox

Everybody: (laughs)

Hitoshi Matsumoto: I can’t even talk at all (when Hiro talks)!

Hiro: (laughs) No, no! I’m not going on R-1!

*R-1 Grand Prix is a popular competition where entertainers compete with each other making jokes or whatever funny things to win the title of champion.

* LOL Do you think Hiro talks too much?

——————————————

The Downtown guys know Hiro’s parents very well and are particularly good friends with Mama Mori

Masatoshi Hamada & Hitoshi Matsumoto: (bowing to Hiro in respect to Mama Mori) Send our regards to your mother.

Hiro: (bowing back) Thank you.

* Mama Mori did background narration for the comedy duo for many many years.

Hitoshi Matsumoto: I’ve been to your father’s concerts too.

Hiro: Ah, thank you so much (bowing to Matsumoto-san)

* Sorry, I don’t really understand everything else 😕. Matsumoto-san also mimicked Papa Mori’s onstage self-introduction but I couldn’t capture what was the joke… huhu 🙈.

——————————————

MFS team’s penchant for pranks & Nob’s heart of gold

Masatoshi Hamada: You guys like pranks very much, don’t you?

Hiro: We are mischievous with each other, either with the members or the staff. We do some light-hearted* “hidden camera” thingy. Playful**. Playing stuff on each other (laughs)

* 軽い / かるい / karui / light

* *遊び心 / あそびごころ / asobigokoro / playful

Masatoshi Hamada: (pointing at Kid'z and Nob) It was labour intensive* on you two.

* 骨 / ほね / hone / labourous

* 粗大な / そだいな / sodaina / grand

Kid'z & Nob: (smiling & nodding together)

Hitoshi Matsumoto: Well, keep telling. About the after party and all.

Masatoshi Hamada: You did that in Taiwan!

Everyone: (watching clips of Kid'z and Nob being pranked)

* ネタバラシ / netabarashi / spoiler

Masatoshi Hamada: (patting Nob) That’s horrible, ne~? Did you feel it was really serious, that being overseas?

Nob: Well, I didn’t know a word (of Chinese). So, I was like, “Could I have brought this powder with me or what?” (gesturing being shown a packet of powder with his hands).

* 粉 / kona / powder

Everyone: (laughs)

* Both Matsumoto-san and Hamada-san couldn’t believe what they heard.

Masatoshi Hamada: (walking up to Nob and tapping his body)

Hitoshi Matsumoto: (reaching for Nob too & repeatedly slamming his hand up & down) Then you (should) just clearly* DENY** it!

* 明確 / めいかく / meikaku / clear, firm, solid, assure, precise

** 否定する / hitei suru / deny

Nob: (looking blurred & clueless)

Everyone: (laughs)

Hiro: (astonished at how goody-two-shoes Nob can be) You don’t say, “Could this be my powder?” in that situation!! You didn’t bring that, right?!

Everyone: (laughs)

Hiro: In order to do that hidden camera prank, we firstly had to go on a special* trip to Taiwan. Then we had to add one Live performance to it too.

＊わざわざ / waza waza / specially, doing something specially rather than incidentally

Hitoshi Matsumoto: So, you did not do that onwards from that Taiwan live show?

Hiro: Yup, it was the other way round.

Audience: Eh??!!

Masatoshi Hamada: (referring to the clip) That (felt like) half a year…

Hitoshi Matsumoto: (…looking at Nob…) Dang! THAT entire time you were getting nothing BUT scolded* (by those actors?)?

* 恨まれる / uramareru / get scolded, get cursed ~ from the word 恨む / uramu

Everyone: (laughs)

Nob: (smiling and shaking his head)

* OMG, Nob is unbelievably nice! He’s not bitter at all.

Hitoshi Matsumoto: You’re the stuff for Wednesday’s Downtown*! (laughs)

* Wednesday’s Downtown is their famous comedy show.

——————————————

Why Teru was never picked for pranks?

Masatoshi Hamada: (puts hand on Teru) You are the only one who has never been pranked?

Teru: Yes, that’s right. I don’t know, (…looking at Hiro….) do you hate* me or something?

* Aww 😍…. so all this time, Teru actually feels being left out by Hiro 😮? He was like, Hiro, why you never want to pick me 😕?

嫌わる / kirawareru / be hated ~ from the word 嫌う / kirau / hate, dislike

Hiro: No, no! The thing is, if it’s him (….pointing at Teru…), it wouldn’t be as funny.

Everyone: (laughs)

Masatoshi Hamada: How is that?

Hiro: He’s like (…still pointing at Teru …), whatever that’s happening*, he is unperturbed most of the time **.

* 起きる / おきる / okiru / get up, rise, occur, takes place

** 動じる / どうじる / doujiru / move, shift, motion

Teru: (laughs)

Hitoshi Matsumoto: Aah you know, my eyes can see around and filter out for certain* who’s funny and who’s not.

* 確かに / tashikani / certainly, surely

Note: I only guessed the rest of his sentence LOL

Everyone: Ok (…. anticipating Matsumoto-san’s verdict….)

Hitoshi Matsumoto: (…looking at Teru “scanning” him with a very serious face…) This one so totally NOT funny.

Teru: (…covers his face in embarrassment…)

* Spot on 😄! Teru oh Teru. When he tries to be funny, he just becomes corny & awkward instead. Strangely, when he’s not trying to be, that’s when he’s accidentally downright hilarious 😂

Everyone: (laughs)

Hiro: You may stop it right there * (laughs).

* Haha, so, it basically just stops there with Teru. Pranks may not work well on him because of his non-reaction to abnormal situations 😄. But a true bromance story 😍. Hiro spared you all these times because he knew your character so well, Teru 🤗❤️💕.

* Aww... Teru was so embarrassed to be branded unfunny 😄.

——————————————

I don’t fully understand the joke where they asked Teru if he had some prank ideas on Hiro 🙈😭

*Disclaimer: Below is my best guess.

Masatoshi Hamada: (putting hand on Teru) How about your own?

Hiro: (realizing Hamada-san’s intention) For me?

Teru: (scratching his head) Hmm

Audience: Aaahhh!!

Hitoshi Matsumoto: (to Kid’z & Nob) Do you have something good for (prank) ideas?

Teru: (pointing to Kid’z, Nob & himself) The three of us are setting it up*. (nodding)**

* 仕掛ける / shikakeru / set up

** Does that mean “Yes, we’re thinking of pranking Hiro” 😍 ?

Hiro: (wide-eyed & taken aback by Teru’s answer) Holy cow! !

Masatoshi Hamada: Ah, good (….making a hand gesture as if putting something into something else….)*

* Don’t know the words he said here. Sorry 🙈.

Hiro: That’s not even a hidden camera thing!

Everyone: (laughs)

Masatoshi Hamada: You 3 guys can (shackle) him down and ….

Hiro: (looking at Hamada-san) That’s not even…!

Nob: (pretending to …hmm…. pour water onto something?)

Hiro: Normally I would already be complaining*!

* 訴えます / uttaemasu / complain

Hitoshi Matsumoto: Maybe make it like Masako-chan’s* hair or something (gesturing 2 pointy things on his head).

* If Matsumoto-san meant Masako-chan as Mama Mori, then I guess he was saying to tie Hiro’s hair into two girly piggy tails like his mother likes to do during her comedy skits as まーちゃん (Maa-chan).

Everyone: (hysterically laughs)

Hiro: (waving his hand & shaking his head) Ehh! How are you even going to get close to doing that?!!*

* Lets’s take Matsumoto-san’s suggestion LOL 😂 😂 😂

* Hiroki, you cunning little one! You’re so NOT wiggling your way out of this LOL

——————————————

How was that, my fellow MFS fans? I hope the rough idea is there even if I couldn’t get the thing 100% right.

Help and corrections are very much welcomed. Hehe!

Would love to hear your feedback about this talk. Do you think MFS is visually pleasing to the eye? Does Hiro talk too much? Do you feel Teru has no funny bones? Do you want to see Hiro getting pranked?

Oh wow! To me, I can see why DOWNTOWN is such a popular comedy team in Japan. They truly are hilarious! Thank you Matsumoto-san & Hamada-san.

#my first story #maifasu #teruki nishizawa #hiroki moriuchi #nobuaki katou #japanese comedy #kid'z didn't say a word

71 notes · View notes

etlunainmorte · 4 years

Text

🖤 I See My Future Before Me 🖤

***

“May I have the honor of this dance, my lady?”

"I long to see such things as those you have probably seen. I want to experience everything and I wish to see them with my own eyes. See for myself what these poems of mine describe. But, the idea of doing those things alone,… do not please me, at all.”

“Would I be selfish if I ask you to accompany me, little wanderer?”

“Those scars,… symbolize the true enjoyment and will that you felt doing that special something you adore. Those feet, my Lady,… I would kiss,… over,… and over again,… if I could,… ”

“What matters is that you still have precious people around you, my Lady. You must focus on not losing them, as well.”

“Those feelings you have for me, I’m afraid we do not share them mutually.”

"I do feel obliged to tell you that I’ am not the person you seem to know. I’ am neither a good person, nor a hero you consider. In fact, I’ am the villain of your story. And I, may I add, only helped you because you seem so,… useless. Why would you even take up this massive commission in the first place? You are not as half as strong as the weakest Devil Hunter here to begin with. You are just a weak human who relies on others for survival."

“I choose,… POWER!”

"ENOUGH!"

You woke up to the sound of his frightening voice that seemed to rattle the whole place. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness inside your room as you hysterically felt for the things around you. And when your cold and trembling hands reached what felt like the soft and smooth bed covers you haven't used for what seemed like ages, your heart felt like it would shatter. You know he was there, just outside your dark and suffocating room, and you knew full well that if you get up, walk to that door, and open it, you will see him.

But, at the same time, you knew you can't.

How you've wanted so much to go to him, to throw yourself at him, to embrace him, and tell him that you love him very much but, you know you can't.

"I choose,... POWER!"

Those were the words that he told you after you bore your whole, fragile heart to him. It,... hurt you, and you knew you would be lying if you said it didn't. It hurts, and you could never deny that fact.

Then, darkness. You couldn't remember anything else after that. What happened after that? And how long ago was that? A week? A month? A year?

You tried to move an inch, however, an unbelievable sensation of pain hit your mid - section, your arms, and your legs. You covered your mouth, trying to stifle the scream of horrified pain that tried to escape from it as you heard some more, incomprehensible noises outside. It seemed that he was not alone. There were others,...

... but you didn't have any idea who they were,...

... only that they sounded familiar.

With a huge amount of effort, you carefully sat up as you propped up on your elbows, still feeling the excruciating pain in your body. You carefully swung your right leg off the edge of the bed first, followed by your left one. When you felt the coldness of the floor through your toes, you slowly put your feet down, then tried to stand,...

... only for you to collapse and scramble on the floor. You swiftly covered your mouth once more and closed your eyes as you stopped yourself from screaming and crying.

Everything hurts. Everything.

You remained on the floor curled up like this as your tears fell silently from your face. Your arms on your stomach and your legs folded, you stayed there, embracing the coldness and loneliness and waiting for those ear - shattering sounds to subside. And when they finally did, you took a deep breath and tried to stand once more. It became awfully quiet but, you couldn't care less. At least, they were gone. He was gone.

And that was entirely better compared to him pushing you away and physically and emotionally hurting you yet again.

With a slight limp, you made your way towards the door, and,...

All of a sudden, you heard it - a knock. On your front door.

Your hand abruptly left the doorknob as the knock became more and more impatient. You were about to go back to your own bed, cover yourself with those heavy bed sheets, and pretend that you didn't hear anything, when you heard a familiar voice.

"(Y/N)? It's me! Are you there?!"

It's her!

Despite the pain in your stomach and limbs, you flung open the door and sped towards the front door, ignoring the mess in the living room and even failing to notice your precious antique record on the table. You grabbed the brass doorknob, flung open the door, and,...

"(Y/N)?!" She said, looking so shocked upon seeing your appearance. "What happened to - ?!"

But, your friend wasn't able to finish her sentence as you threw yourself at her and cried your miserable little heart out. Your friend wrapped you in her arms and allowed you to let it all out on her despite not knowing the things that happened to you.

"T - take me," you sobbed. " ... away from here! P - please, Patty. P - please!"

***

XXXIII

***

You stared at your tired face in the mirror of the bathroom, pulling at a particularly dark and large bag under one of your eyes with a finger and looking at the pale flesh underneath it.

With a frown, you left your eye and looked closely at your hollow cheeks. You clicked your tongue as you noticed that they've gotten a bit thinner in just a few days. But, what really caught your attention was the few strands of hair that covered your forehead. You reach out with your right hand, brushing your hair with your fingers and slicking it up to confirm your suspicion,...

... and you were right. You were a hundred percent sure that there were only a few about two weeks ago but, now, it almost covered half of your head.

White hair. Or more accurately, silver - grey hair.

You couldn't help but sigh as you let your hair go. You slightly stepped away from the mirror and grabbed your shirt from the counter, putting it over your head and wearing it, covering the large, ugly scar on your stomach. Then, you grabbed your sweat pants and wore it, effectively concealing the equally huge and ugly scars on your thighs. Finally, you went back to your bedroom and grabbed your long - sleeved turtle neck from your bed post, wearing it and covering those bruise - like scars on your arms.

Tying the end of your long hair and tossing it to your back, you finally went out as much as you hated it. And only then did your day begin.

You were like that for nearly three months after you left Red Grave, and it was rather safe to say that during that period of time, you have easily become an angst magnet with legs who only eats, breathes, and sleeps, somehow.

Somehow. Not to mention your tears' nasty habit of pouring from your already tired and battered eyes every night before sleeping.

During those first few weeks of crying, the only things that came to your mind were the torturous thoughts and painful memories of what happened between you and him. The moment your mind made the huge mistake of conjuring his image, you couldn't help those awful tears from coming out. Hell, you even thought that you could never move on from that.

But, alas, you were wrong.

For the next few weeks after those angst - riddled sessions of crying, well, you still cried. Not only because you could still perfectly remember how he looked like and how his voice sounded like after all those weeks ago, no. It was because you felt yourself and the world around you getting heavier and heavier, and as each day and night passed, you felt yourself getting weaker and weaker to the point of breaking down. Your wounds were not healing as opposed to those times when they healed in a heartbeat. Your agility seemed to have deserted you, and the happiness, if there was any, that was left in your heart seemed to have abandoned you, as well. You were getting thinner by the day, and now, oh, fuck, now, you have white hair. Yes, your once thick and lustrous (H/C) hair was rapidly turning white. Which could only mean one, no, two things.

Number one: he was able to obtain the entities inside you that gave you immense power and kept you immortal for ten whole years.

And number two: now that these entities were gone, you were rapidly getting weaker, kind of like a side effect after all those years of taking in all the damage that should've ended your life in a heartbeat.

No, weaker was the more gentle way of describing what was happening to your body.

If you were totally being honest with yourself, you would admit that, yes, you were rapidly, and alarmingly, getting older.

But, who cares, anyway? After all, nobody would even notice. All those years of doing good to others did nothing to alleviate your pain. All those years of saving others did nothing to save yourself from your inevitable fate.

All those times, and effort, and years, of crossing the oceans and exerting your body to its limit and beyond just for that one mission, and that one man, that, you thought, could save you from your own misery and give you the future you, so, craved for, did nothing to ease your slowly dying heart and stop your abnormal aging.

You shook your head as you chuckled at the thought.

No, you were not simply getting weaker or older. You were dying, and you knew it.

But, when?

Ah, it didn't matter, did it?

"It doesn't matter anymore." You whispered as you absent - mindedly stared at the spoonful of cereal that was drowning in cream before your very eyes.

"Ah, sorry?" Patty, who was at the other end of the table, also eating cereal, asked as she peeled her eyes off the television.

You put the spoon in your mouth and ate the cereal, smiling as you did so. "Nothing." You muttered after swallowing the food.

The young, blonde woman raised a questioning eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Perfectly fine." You lamely replied as you took another spoonful of the sugary breakfast.

And this made Patty even more worried than ever before.

Ever since seeing you injured and broken like that, Patty had no other choice but to yield to your selfish request of being taken away from that place. And how could she ever refuse you? Not when you cried and begged like that, no.

Still, it was so hard for Patty to see you like that: crying your eyes out for nights on end until you fall asleep, refusing food most of the time, hell, even refusing to go outside and enjoy the sun. During those torturous months, she witnessed how your voice became hoarse and your throat worn out due to constant crying, she saw how your once healthy body changed drastically due to self - imposed starvation, she even watched helplessly as the sweet face of her friend morphed into something that was truly unrecognizable.

Depressed, unhealthy, and perpetually tired,...

... this is the (Y/N) that she never thought she'd see in her entire life.

And Patty knew, sensed, the cause of all this life - threatening sadness. You may not have uttered a single word about it, and she never forced you to, but the way you stopped listening to old love songs ( she once saw you turning off the radio at the first lyrics of the song, End Of The World ), the way you ignored the movies you once adored watching with her ( and that was Titanic she was talking about ), and the way you changed the topic at the mere mention of the word love ( once, she hasn't even finished saying the accursed word when you cut her off by introducing the topic of weather, of all things ), she became a hundred percent sure,...

... a certain man,...

... had the audacity to break your heart,...

... to the point of angst, anxiety, and depression.

Of course, upon realizing this, Patty did the best that she could to cheer you up. As much as you hated it, she forced you to have movie marathons with her just to keep you from crying each night ( she chose horror and gore, of all things ), made you do some crazy and unnecessary stuff with her to keep you preoccupied ( like eating a whole tub of ice cream by yourselves, making all kinds of DIY crafts from the internet, and doing make up tutorials, to which you were both horrible at ), and even made you compile hundreds upon hundreds of Dante's stolen shots that she took into one scrapbook just for the sake of fun ( and some did make you laugh, to be honest, like that one where he was giving himself a pep talk in front of the mirror, or that one where he was wearing mismatched socks ). She did everything she could think of just to help you divert your mind off the thoughts of whatever happened to you with that certain man.

And obviously? You only got worse.

And Patty could not take any of this, any more.

"Okay, that's it." The blonde said as she stood up and made her way towards you. She sat on the chair next to you and practically snatched the spoon from your hand just to get your attention. And she was successful.

"Patty - "

"(Y/N), listen to me," Patty began, cutting you off the moment you tried to complain as she grabbed your shoulders. " ... I know it's hard. I know how hard it feels when someone you love left you - "

"Wait, I - !"

"NO! Stop talking for a while and listen to me!" Patty almost screamed. "I mean, you've cried enough for him! You've neglected yourself far enough! Look at you! You barely eat, barely sleep,...

"(Y/N), you've gone too far, and I hate seeing you like this! I want you to move on! Forget him! Live for your own sake! Please!"

You understood your friend perfectly. You knew that Patty only wanted the best for you, and you could understand perfectly well that, due to your carelessness within the last few months, you have unnecessarily made the girl worried.

And you felt really guilty about it.

With a sheepish smile, you gently took her hands off your shoulders and clasped them together, keeping them joined with your own. You bowed your head down low and placed your forehead on top of your clasped hands as you let your emotions take over you.

"(Y/N) - "

"How I wish I could tell you everything. But, I know it won't be that easy." You told her as you looked up once more. "So, I'll just show you." You simply said as you stood up, letting Patty's hands go as you gestured towards the empty drawing room you spent the most time in during your stay in the Lowell Villa. It was a beautiful room, actually, with smooth wooden floors, cream - colored ceiling, pastel wallpaper - covered walls, and a pair of huge glass doors that allowed one to view the breathtaking island, its white sand, exotic trees and flowers, and the ocean, itself.

If things were normal, you might have enjoyed sunbathing there. You might even consider making a sandcastle of your own, one with pointed roofs and numerous windows, complete with a guardian dragon. You could also easily see yourself taking a dive in that astounding blue sea, then staring at the coast from afar. Or simply enough, you could picture yourself collecting all kinds of seashells buried there on the fine, white sand, just waiting to be found.

However, things were different for you. And difficult.

You knew you could no longer enjoy the simple things of being a normal human, and you knew it's too late for you to even enjoy it now. Your time was running out, and you finally decided to let your friend take a look of what you have become before it's too late. You owed her, and you don't want her to keep guessing. You must tell her the truth, no matter how difficult it was.

And when you grabbed the edge of your long - sleeved shirt, pulling it over your head and taking it off, removed the shirt underneath, and took off your sweatpants, leaving only your underwear, Patty could not help but gasp at the terrible state of your body. Almost skeletal and extremely pale, skin dry and slightly cracking, not to mention those unspeakable bruises on your limbs and stomach that looked as if you were skewered by something really sharp and huge, Patty immediately sensed the horror of what you've been through during your time in Red Grave.

The young, blonde woman shook her head and closed her mouth as tears streamed down her pretty face, unable to believe her own eyes at the pitiful and horrifying sight before her.

However, the pain of finally seeing you has only just begun.

"There was a time," you began as you positioned yourself in the middle of the room. " ... when I lived as carefree as anyone could." You said, then raised your arms and brought them down to your face. Patty realized that you have began dancing. But,... "I was very powerful. I thought nothing could defeat me." Something was wrong,... "But, I'm wrong. For these powers,"

Something,... was definitely wrong.

As Patty watched you moved, she noticed how,... raw,... your movements were. Almost as if,...

" ... they are not mine. They are for someone else."

And she was right. For the moment she saw you struggle with the moves, and jumps, and twirls that should've been a piece of cake to you before all this, she finally realized,...

... you have completely lost the ability to dance.

"I have searched,... for such a long time for this person." You went on. "I have waited,... longer. Far longer. Then, I found him. And I,...made a mistake." You stumbled one more time and tripped, hitting your head on the floor. But, you don't care. Still, you stood and went on. "I,... fell in love with him. Fell in love,... with the man,... who never cared in the first place. And when he took my powers for his own,... along with it, he took my heart,... he took my soul,...

" ... he took,... my life.

" ... but, I'm here. And still alive. But, I'm dying. Slowly and painfully dying. He took my strength,... and in return,... I took away his pain,... and his death,… and made them my own."

And after one last fall, you remained lying on the floor for a few moments. Too exhausted to go on dancing, you slowly and carefully sat up, allowing yourself to calm down and relax.

"No matter how much I try to deny it, no matter how much I hide the truth, the fact still remains." You said as you looked up at Patty. "One of these days, and it won't be long. You'll call my name, and I'll be gone. And when I do," You stood up and went over to your friend, who was now silently crying. " ... I want you to remember me how I was, and not like this." You, then, wrapped your arms around her and allowed her to let all the tears out on your shoulders. "I don't know how long I have left but, when the time comes, that's it."

"Please tell me you're lying!" Patty sobbed. "Tell me this is all a nightmare! Tell me this is not real!"

Your emotions overwhelmed you the moment you felt your friend's body trembling against yours. You closed your eyes and held her tighter. "Hey, at least there will be one less ugly burden in the world."

"(Y/N), YOU'RE NOT A BURDEN! STOP LYING TO ME! SAY YOU'LL WATCH MORE MOVIES WITH ME! SAY YOU'LL AGREE TO MAKE DANTE COME TO ALL OF MY BIRTHDAY PARTIES! SAY WE'LL GROW OLD TOGETHER AND LAUGH AT HOW SILLY WE LOOK AS OLD AND WRINKLED WOMEN! (Y/N), PLEASE! DON'T LEAVE ME, PLEASE!"

The tears just flowed and flowed, and you allowed it. You allowed the emotion to overwhelm you for the very last time. You even ignored how your heart twitched in pain at the prospect of dying alone without having to enjoy your own life at its fullest.

Well, you did fulfill your mission.

It just wasn't your idea to be a disposable vessel.

And just then, a silly idea came to your mind. You made Patty look at you and pinched her cheeks.

"Ouch! Hey - !"

"Cut my hair, will you? I want to look as fashionable as you." You smiled at her as you pointed at her stylish pixie cut hair ( she ditched the long curls the moment she hit the legal age ).

"(Y/N), I don't think that's - "

"Come on!" You smiled gingerly at her as you emphasized how ugly your hair was. "Do it for me, please?"

A few moments later ( and after putting your clothes on ), you were made to sit on a chair as Patty brushed your hair and started parting it.

"How short do you want it to be?" She asked you.

"Up to you." You answered.

"Okay. I won't cut it too short, though."

"I leave everything to you."

Patty sighed as she started cutting parts of your long hair, letting its (H/C) strands fall on the smooth floor of the drawing room.

"I must say, I really envy you, (Y/N)."

"What?! Why?"

"Because you have long and shiny hair! And you're just letting me chop all this beauty,..."

"My hair? Beautiful? Come on! Look at it now! I would even bet you everything I have to prove to you that it's,... hey, Patty?" You called as the girl stopped cutting your hair for a brief moment. And as you were about to look up, Patty held your temples firmly to keep you from moving. "Hey!"

"Umm, (Y/N)?"

"Yeah?"

"If he is here right now, what would you tell him?" She asked you in a slightly different tone that you didn't really take notice of.

"Why would you ask that now? It's pointless! He is probably somewhere in the other part of the globe, having loads of fun and forgetting everything about me - "

"(Y/N), I'm serious here!" Patty interjected. "You don't want to go without letting it all out, right? I mean, if you wanted to say anything, now is the time. Not later, not tomorrow, now. What would you say to him if he is here right now?"

" ... nothing." You simply whispered. And could anyone really blame you? If he's here right now, would he even lend an ear to you after everything that went on between the two of you?

You heard Patty sigh behind you. "Okay, let's do this one more time. If I'm him, what would you say to me?"

What's with this girl all of a sudden? "Alright! Alright! Since you're insisting, I might as well tell you.

"How are you doing? Are you,... uhh,... eating well? Sleeping well? I hope you're not,... doing anything rash and careless,..."

"Yes, and?" Patty prodded on.

You sighed and went on. "Umm, whatever happened between us in the past, I want you to forget everything. Live freely on your own, do everything you can to make yourself as happy as anyone could be. I want you to forget about me,... and go on. Find,... someone else who is,... worthy of your love and protection."

There was a moment of silence as Patty stopped cutting your hair for a while. Then, she combed through your hair once more as she parted them again in the middle. "Is that what you really wanted to say? Forget about everything? Forget about you? Find another person to love?"

You felt your eyes widen as they started to sting, yet again, with your raw emotions. You closed your eyes and simply let those tears fall.

"I'm so tired of pretending that everything's okay." You whispered, your head bowed down low, and your tears falling onto your neatly folded hands on your lap. With a deep breath and a sob, you finally let it all out. "I missed you so much, V! So much, it hurts. I still love you,… despite everything. I tried to get you out of my mind, to forget that I've known you. To forget that I have fallen deeply in love with you for the very short time we've been together. And it hurts,... so much,... to know that I will not be able to see you again, that I will not be able to talk to you again. That I will never hear your voice again as you read to me your favorite poems.

"If I could only go back in time, I would prevent all the pain and suffering from happening. I will tell you to run as far away as you can from that place. I don’t care what happens to Red Grave! I will,... save the both of us from that huge blunder. Maybe then, we could start all over again, to get to know each other again. Maybe we could take another shot at it.

"But, I know that everything is inevitable. I have,... fulfilled my mission for you. I gave you back what you rightfully own. And I know that this is irreversible.

"I,... love you,... so much, V. But, please, go away from me. I don't want you to see me looking like this, going rapidly old, skin crumbling, dying. I will accept that someday, you would find the perfect person to love and protect until your last breath. I would even accept that someday, you will forget about me and everything that happened between us.

"So,... go. Do everything that I told you: travel the whole world, watch all kinds of movies, eat popcorn and lots of junk food, go fishing and catch a boot, win the stuff tiger. See the world that your poems describe. Go,... and do all of those with the person you will love and cherish,... until the end.

"And I'm so,... sorry. For everything. For all the hurt. I'm sorry."

You sighed deeply, unable to believe how wonderful it felt to truly let everything out. Your chest heaving up and down in a rhythmic pattern, your whole body finally relaxing, you closed your eyes,...

... and smiled.

"Goodbye, V. I will,... never bother you,... anymore."

"There. You look perfect." Patty answered, seemingly in jest, a few seconds later as she brushed the hair off your shoulders. "Could you stand up for me, please?"

You did so, your head feeling a bit lighter. You reached up with your hands and felt for your now shoulder - length hair.

And it felt really nice.

"Could you please, turn around so I could see you?"

You slowly turned, and,...

***

🖤 Again, a special thanks to @harlot-of-oblivion for teaching me how to convey some important messages with the flower language. 🖤

🖤 @la-vita , @gothghoulfrend , @micaelagua , @yepps , @ceruleanworld , @vergils-daughter , @beyond-the-mirror , @diabeticsugarush , @shadowrosess , @lessy86 , @bettybattaglia , @heaven-on-a-landslide , and @krazy06 . 🖤

***

There was a moment of silence as Patty stopped cutting (Y/N)'s hair for a while. Then, she combed through her hair as she parted them in the middle. "Is that what you really wanted to say? Forget about everything? Forget about you? Find another person to love?" She asked.

Her head bowed down low and her shoulders slightly trembling, she answered with an achingly weak and vulnerable voice.

"I'm so tired of pretending that everything's okay. missed you so much, V! So much, it hurts. I still love you,… despite everything. I tried to get you out of my mind, to forget that I've known you. To forget that I have fallen deeply in love with you for the very short time we've been together. And it hurts,... so much,... to know that I will not be able to see you again, that I will not be able to talk to you again. That I will never hear your voice again as you read to me your favorite poems.

"But, I know that everything is inevitable. I have,... fulfilled my mission for you. I gave you back what you rightfully own. And I know that this is irreversible.

"And I'm so,... sorry. For everything. For all the hurt. I'm sorry.

"Goodbye, V. I will,... never bother you,... anymore."

Patty slowly turned behind her after those words that her friend uttered. Then, she turned back and brushed the hair off (Y/N)'s shoulders. "There. You look perfect." And she's not lying. The girl looked,... perfect. "Could you stand up for me, please?" Patty waited for (Y/N) to stand and watched as she felt for her brand new hair style. "Could you please, turn around so I could see you?"

She slowly turned, and,...

... her eyes widened in shock at the familiar figure standing before her,...

... of a person,… a man,... she thought she would never see or hear from,... ever again,...

“One of these days, and it won’t be long,

You’ll call my name and I’ll be gone,

Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well.

... and so,... thee came,..."

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

#devil may cry 5 #vitale sparda #i see my future before me #v x reader #v x you #chapter 33 #the disposed vessel

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peachyromanoff · 4 years

Text

X Æ A-12 VS The State of California

Happy Mother’s Day to those who have already mothered their children into adulthood and to those who are just starting their maternal journey. Many have become parents during this quarantine, some have given birth to their first child while other’s are simply adding onto the family tree. One new mother, in particular, that I would like to bring up is Grimes. If you haven’t yet heard, Canadian musician Grimes, had just given birth to her very first child earlier this week with her partner, Elon Musk. The baby was first introduced to the public when Musk took to his official Twitter account to announce the birth of his newest child. Musk also went on to answer questions asked about the newborn, as well as release two of the only publicized photos of the couple’s first baby together. The picture featured the newborn with presumably filter-placed face tattoos—which is very fitting for the couple at hand. When asked what the long awaited offspring’s name is, Musk promptly answered what has to be the most abnormal, yet expected baby name. You see, Grimes and Musk have a very... interesting relationship, one that has been scrutinized by the public more than once. In the simplest terms, they’re unconventional, yet they fit each other in the strangest way. What I’m saying is, no one was exactly shocked when Musk stated that their baby’s name is “X Æ A-12.” Looks like a math equation, doesn’t it? It’s unique, definitely, but I can’t imagine the kind of trouble their kid will have later in life with a name like that—especially since they have a loudmouth billionaire for a father. While the name is unconventional, it’s also technically not legal—in the state of California. A rep for the Office of Public Affairs of the California Department of Public Health, recently stated that the child’s name would not be allowed. “Vital records must be completed with the 26 alphabetical characters of the English language and appropriate punctuation such as hyphens, apostrophes, periods, and commas." So, sorry to anyone in the state of California that had intentions of stealing Musk and Grimes’ baby name, looks like you’ll have to name your kid something boring like Sarah or James, like the rest of us common folk. Before you ask, yes, it is actually possible to pronounce the name, X Æ A-12. Musk and Grimes both released their take on how to pronounce their baby’s name, and where it came from.

“•X, the unknown variable ⚔️

•Æ, my elven spelling of Ai (love &/or Artificial intelligence)

•A-12 = precursor to SR-17 (our favorite aircraft). No weapons, no defenses, just speed. Great in battle, but non-violent 🤍

(A=Archangel, my favorite song)

(⚔️🐁 metal rat),” Grimes stated on Twitter. Though, her understandably tired state had her accidentally mess up one of the bullet points, to which Musk promptly corrected with “SR-71, but yes.” Thanks, Musk, that definitely cleared things up. As for the pronunciation, both had different takes on it—which is a great start, if you ask me. When featured on the Joe Rogan Experience, Musk stated that the X is “like the letter, X,” Æ is pronounced “ash,” and A-12 is said the exact way it looks. Therefore, meaning the baby’s name is, "X-Ash-A-12.” Though, Grimes stated in response to an Instagram comment that the baby’s name is pronounced, “—just X, like the letter X. Then A.I. Like how you said the letter A then I." So, it seems that there’s two ways to pronounce the newborn’s name, that surely won’t complicate things in the slightest, I’m sure. Despite the couple’s complicated explanations, many have taken to calling the baby “Ash Archangel.” Which, to me, sounds just like an anime character—how unbelievably fitting for the couple’s aesthetic. Overall, I can’t blame the couple for wanting their kid to stand out, but God, couldn’t they have just named the kid Lyle or something? They’re already the child of a man known for his haphazard acid trips that cost him millions and a woman that performs her own eye surgery to help her depression—was naming the kid after a line of code really necessary? X Æ A-12 really put Blanket Jackson and Apple Martin to shame, good for them. I wish that kid the best of luck, Lord knows they’ll need it.

#elon musk #grimes #music #opinion #my writing #writing

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bakugous-abs · 5 years

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Hello, hope you guys are doing great! I really love your writing and I was wondering if you could give me a Bakugou x reader scenario where he pines after her in class everyday and she's so oblivious, but it's obvious to everyone in class till the point where it gets so annoying, they just lock them in the classroom till they make out or something? Thank you so much, and have a nice day!

~Admin Eun

Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t one to openly express his emotions, and almost always would he keep his emotions other than raw anger or passion inside his head. He didn’t like to show weakness, and to him having any sort of romantic feelings towards anyone was a sign of such weakness he resented. Still, despite the fact that he tried so desperately to keep any feelings at bay, a girl in his class just so happened to bring the damned feelings out of him. Katsuki would like to tell himself that he concealed his emotions well, but the truth was that he couldn’t hide his affection towards (Last Name) (Name) to save his life. Everyone noticed it—well, everyone except (Name) herself, that is. The way his voice would soften when he talked to her, or even the fact that he’d let his steel guard down whenever he was near her…Whatever it was, it was clear that he had a soft spot for her, no matter how much he’d try to deny it. And deny it he did, telling himself that romantic feelings were stupid and meaningless and he’d be better off alone for his time in high school. Sure, there had been boys and girls alike who confessed their feelings for him, but he could care less. In both middle school and high school he’d get a confession at least once a week, but these people to him were naive and didn’t have the slightest clue of what they were getting in to—not that he ever gave them a shot, that is. Not a chance in their lifetime that was far below his own.

This fact made his evident feelings towards (Name) all the more confusing. What was so special about her? And this wasn’t a question rooted from jealousy or spite, but instead genuine curiosity. It wasn’t like she was abnormally talented or at the top of her class—yes, she was a profoundly adamant aspiring hero, but it wasn’t anything record breaking. She was cute, but in a gentle way and certainly didn’t look like the type that would catch Katsuki’s attention. She was a bit oblivious to some things, and in turn she was extremely mellow to others and was generally that way to most things that presented itself in her life.

But…Perhaps this is why Katsuki was so resolute on (Name) and not anyone else. Perhaps her soft nature attracted him to her, or maybe it was something completely different. The boy himself wasn’t even sure why she out of all people made his heart beat and his palms sweat. It made him angry whenever he’d catch a glimpse of her smile and feel himself jump at how utterly enchanting he found it. After a few weeks (Or perhaps it was months? He wasn’t keeping count.) he finally said, “Ah, fuck it.” and decided for himself that if his dumbass heart was going to have these feelings, he might as well just go ahead and act on it. His theory was that anyone would be lucky to have him as a boyfriend, so of course she’d agree to a date with him, right?

Well, not exactly. The first day he tried to hint a date with her, she completely brushed it off.

“Hey,” he grumbled as he walked up to her, the sound of students enjoying their lunch break white noise behind him. The only thing he could hear was the pounding in his ears and the only thing he could see was (Name) look up at him curiously, eyes inviting and bright. “Oh, Bakugou! Hello!” she chirped, giving him her full attention. Whenever he felt both her and her friend’s (Raccoon Eyes and Frog) eyes on him, a layer of sweat began to form on his brow line. What was he thinking? Well, obviously he wasn’t thinking or else he wouldn’t have approached her out of the blue in the public eye. Still, he found himself spitting out a jumble of words before he could even contemplate it.

“G…Go out with me this weekend, dumbass!” he shouted. His classmates that surrounded her either let out an audible gasp or a laugh and it made his face turn red in both anger and embarrassment. (Name) pursed her lips a bit, pressing a finger to her cheek in thought. The action was so innocent, yet it made him blush at how cute it was.

“Go out, huh? Well…How about we all go out? That could be fun! Mina, do you want to come along?” (Name) started to converse with her friends, leaving Katsuki jaw slacked in shocked. Did she really not understand what he was insinuating? He saw as her friends nervously tried to decline, obviously understanding Katsuki’s internal motives.

“Urgh, just…Forget it, damn it!” He let out a huff of frustration before he turned to leave, ignoring (Name’s) shouts of protest.

Try as he did, Katsuki couldn’t seem to catch a break. He didn’t know if she was stupid or just intentionally playing him, but either way it made him want to blow things up out of sheer rage. The humiliation he felt was comparable to the time when he was captured by a villain and that stupid Deku had to be the one to save him, and that was a bold statement.

“Just be straight with her!” Kaminari groaned. “Seriously, it kind of hurts to watch.”

“Shut the hell up! I’ll kill you, dumbass bastard!”

“I’m just trying to help!”

Katsuki was on the verge of picking a physical fight with Kaminari, but to the electric blonde’s relief, his attention turned to (Name) who had just exited the classroom. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, smiling when she caught Katsuki’s gaze. “Bakugou! Hey!” She jogged up to him with a smile, her text books held tightly to her chest. His friends beside him held in a chuckle when he shot them an icy glare.

“I was actually just looking for you, but turns out you found me instead!”

He gulped, his mouth parting only slightly. “Yeah…”

From a spectators point of view, this was simply too mortifying to watch. His friends started to physically cringe whenever Katsuki would mumble out some half-brained response, and truthfully it even made them feel kind of bad to see someone like him act like this.

“Ah, (Last Name), follow us. We wanted to discuss the test with you, is that cool?” Kirishima asked, grabbing Katsuki by the wrist and walking towards the classroom. The girl smiled, nodding. “Sure, of course!” Kirishima allowed Katsuki and (Name) to enter the classroom, the two only a few feet in before the door slammed behind them. Sero was quick to tape the door shut before shouting, “Shoot me a text when you’ve finally done what needs to be done!” The group left directly afterwards, all laughing as they did so.

“The hell? What do you dumbasses think you’re doing!!” Katsuki roared, going to blow up the door. (Name) dropped her books, immediately grabbing his wrist. “No no, Katsuki don’t blow the door up!” she cried. She pulled him back as hard as she could, the force causing Katsuki to turn and slam into her chest with his own. The impact caused the two to stumble back, (Name’s) back against the edge of a desk and Katsuki’s body pressed against hers.

“Ow,” she mumbled, hands on Katsuki’s shoulders. She seemed to shrug their closeness off, but the alternate felt his heart pound out of his chest. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the fact that he had been itching for a situation such as this for longer than he’d like to admit, but Katsuki found himself leaning forward. His lips touched her own, and as soon as he realized what he had done he jumped away.

“W-What the hell was that, dumbass?!” he barked, covering his mouth.

“What—?! M-Me?! You kissed me, you…You…!” (Name) sputtered, face red and gestures flustered. The two were met with a heavy silence before Katsuki sighed. “Fuck, you…You seriously didn’t fucking pick up on anything?”

“What? What are you talking about?” (Name) whispered, voice shaky.

“You really are a dumbass, for fucks sake…” (Name) was about to retort back before Katsuki finally made himself make eye contact with her. He stepped towards her, actions wobbly. “Obviously, I…I feel that you’re…More tolerable than the other dumbasses. A lot more tolerable, that is…So much that I, um, shit.” Katsuki cursed under his breath, lowering his head. (Name) didn’t respond, the boy feeling himself start to shut down at the lack of answers from her. Before he could though, he felt two hands press against his cheeks, raising his head up to meet the gaze of (Name) herself.

“Bakugou, do you like me?”

He almost fell over. “W-What are you, stupid?! What the hell do you think?!” His voice was harsh, but it was only because he wanted to distract her from his unbelievably red cheeks. (Name) stared at him for a moment before breaking out into a bright grin.

“Why didn’t you just say so? You’re so cute, Katsuki,” she purred. He started to yell at being called ‘cute’, but before he could she pressed her lips against his, pulling his figure towards her hastily. He was caught off guard, a rare feat for him. He felt his back press against a desk as she started to kiss him deeper, rougher. Even though it embarrassed him to be in such a vulnerable and submissive place, he still had to appreciate the fact that he could finally kiss the lips that he had been distracted by for a while now.

Sero, Kirishima, and Kaminari all took a while to recover from their laughing fit. Truthfully, they were just being Katsuki’s friends and messed with him. Surely their stupid joke wouldn’t go anywhere, right?

“Ah, it’s a text from Bakugou. I bet—” As Sero unlocked his phone, he was silenced at what his friend had sent him. Three pairs of eyes all rested upon a picture of both Katsuki and (Name), the two clearly disheveled. If they looked closer, they would even be able to see the array of hickeys that rested on (Name’s) neck. The picture was followed by another message.

‘get fucked, shitheads.’

#admin eun #bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x rader #kacchan #kacchan x reader

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