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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 10 months

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A Companion (Otto Hightower x Young Widow!Reader) Chapter 1

At the wedding of of King Viserys and the Lady Alicent Hightower, the father of the bride has an unexpected meeting with a young widow.

Series Masterlist Here

Pairing: Otto Hightower x Young Widow!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Warnings: discussion of spousal death

Author's note: PEEPAW TIME

Chapter 1: A Meeting

The Great Hall was full of laughing, happy people, many well on their way to true celebratory drunkenness.

Otto Hightower was not one of them.

He had been enjoying the celebration of his daughter’s wedding. But that was before his son, Gwayne, had gotten so raucously drunk that two members of the Kingsguard were required to force him back to his quarters. And before the bedding ceremony was called for, and despite earlier agreements, several pieces of Alicent’s ensemble had been left on the floor of the Great Hall.

It was enough to tempt him into a second goblet of wine, dulling his mind just enough for him to begin to enjoy the music – and to be grateful the Princess Rhaenyra had sullenly slunk away before she could shove any young maidens at him. Perhaps she had entirely forgotten about her plan to arrange his marriage or given up on getting her revenge.

Then again, perhaps not.

Otto passed the time observing the remaining guests, noting who had spoken to whom and about what. It helped him discern who would make a potential ally, who needed more convincing, and who needed to be removed from court. He had just dismissed the grumblings of two minor lords as inconsequential when his eye caught on two people – a man and a woman - that he did not recognize.

They both seemed familiar, yet Otto could recall no name to match their faces. Perhaps he had seen them in passing during the events preceding the wedding – the tourney possibly, or even the morning feast. Though if it had been one of those, he likely would have remembered them.

Still, something about them was scratching insistently at the back of his mind and bringing an unpleasant feeling to his chest. More so the Man than the Woman, but still. If they were somehow a threat, as his instinct suggested, it would be prudent of him to watch them closely.

The Man wore entirely ostentatious clothing, the dyes obnoxiously rich and bright. A gaudy purple shot through with the whitest white silk Otto had ever seen. He was clearly trying to impress his peers and ensure his house was recognized. Still, Otto could not quite place the heraldry, an irony he allowed himself a moment to delight in. The purple and white were relatively unique, but stars were so common that they offered no hint of who the man was.

Northern, most likely, judging by his thick dark hair, hard gray eyes, and stocky build. His features, individually, were well-formed, yet it made an unpleasant whole. A man of brutality and brutishness. A man who smiled rarely. And when he did, his smile likely indicated something wicked. A thoroughly unpleasant figure.

But the Woman – the Lady…

A pretty young thing. A very pretty young thing, likely only a year or two older than Alicent. She wore no heraldry save a small silver pin on her breast. Her clothes were simple, all made of dark fabric that could easily be mistaken for black if one did not look closely. Though she bore no ring on her finger, her hair was worn braided and pinned back like a married woman’s.

With the sinking feeling of both realization and pity, Otto realized that there was only one reason why she would be wearing such clothes at a royal wedding, of all places – she was in mourning.

Yet her companion seemed to hold no pity for her. They were far enough away that Otto could not hear the words, but from the deep furrow of the Man’s brow and the Lady’s tired, resigned eyes, he knew the conversation was not pleasant. He had only just made the decision to stay out of whatever family squabble this was when the Man turned to look at him, then seized the Lady’s arm, hissed something into her ear, and thrust her in Otto’s direction.

At least this did not seem to be the work of Rhaenyra. No, this was all the work of the unpleasant man. It no longer mattered what house he was from or if he could be used as an ally. It only mattered that he was desperate to raise his station, and that Otto did not like him.

The decision was easy to make – he understood her pain, having lost a love himself. He would be kind to her but would not impose himself on such a lovely young woman in mourning any longer than necessary to temporarily sate her companion’s apparent social climbing aspirations. No matter his promise to the King, or his burgeoning desire for a companion of his own, this girl deserved better than an old man. Once he spoke to her, perhaps he could even introduce her to more suitable bachelors.

For he certainly was not the match for her.

If you thought the nearly month-long journey to King’s Landing was insufferable, it was nothing compared to the cacophony that was the capital during a royal wedding. In the last five days, you were forced to endure a parade in the sweltering heat, three days of brutal tourney events, and a “woman’s breakfast” the morning of the ceremony, during which no one spoke to you. And at the end of each day, a grand feast in the Great Hall.

Not that you could partake in much of the exquisite and exotic food, for your good sister Sybelle would not let you eat more than a few bites in worry that you would appear gluttonous and unladylike. Any respite that would have come when she inevitably flitted across the hall to grovel at the feet of the well-esteemed ladies from better-known houses was quickly squashed when her husband – your good brother, Gryff – whisked you away to present you to suitors like you were a prized cow gone to market.

Fortunately, your mourning clothes and shy demeanor meant that very few of the men were enticed by you. And any that were interested were quickly put off when they learned how small and insignificant your house was and that there would be little benefit for them in a match with you. Lord Jason Lannister even expressed surprise that you had been invited to the wedding. Gryff’s sputtering after that had made your evening.

But the more you were rejected, the more insistent he became. Desperate was perhaps the better word. Either way, it led you here – standing to the side of the hall with a still-empty stomach and Gryff hissing in your ear like the viper he was.

“Six days,” he spat, the smell of alcohol lingering on his breath, “six fucking days, and you have yet to tempt even one suitor! From among the two score I’ve introduced you to!” He scoffed and took another swig from his goblet. “Soon, I’ll have to start offering you to young twats whose stones have not dropped. At least they won’t be able to tell how hard you’ve already been ridden.”

“You are vulgar,” you said softly, not entirely wanting him to hear you.

But, of course, he did. Gryff rounded on you, his face reddened and blotchy from his imbibement. There was no pity or warmth in his eyes. There never was. “Vulgar it may be, but if that is what it takes to find you a new husband so you can finally get off my land and stop draining my coffers, so be it.”

You took a deep breath, trying not to cry or scream. It wouldn’t be proper at an event such as this and would provoke even more anger from Gryff and Sybelle. While they would not dare to harm you, they had found several other cruel and creative ways to make you miserable. Best to calm the fire before getting burned.

“I have done my best. I have been kind and amiable of every man you’ve thrust me upon,” you knew your attempt at reasoning with him would likely fail, but at least you would have tried. Locke would not have stayed silent in the face of such insults, so neither would you. “It is not my fault that they are well-mannered and civilized and therefore do not wish to court a woman in mourning.”

Gryff barked a callous laugh, drawing the attention of several of those around you. For once, he did not notice; he only continued to sneer. “But it is your fault, good sister. You may recall that before we left, I commanded that you leave your mourning clothes behind. That you wear something more attractive. Yet you disobeyed me, just so you would have a good excuse to continue living off my generosity!”

In truth, it was because your lady’s maids had known how much you still grieved your beloved husband and refused the order their new master had given. Though you were grateful for their thoughtfulness, you were very close to wishing they had not done it.

Pressing your lips together to stop them trembling, you replied quietly. Weakly. “You know that is not true. Locke was – ”

“A fool to fall for your little act,” he interrupted, smiling triumphantly when he saw tears forming in your eyes. “Always so sentimental and trusting. He may have put on a convincing façade, but he was weak. I have no doubt he would have squandered our fortune and destroyed our reputation just to please you.” He leaned forward to whisper in your ear. “Perhaps it is fortunate, then. That he met such an untimely end.”

A monster. That’s what Gryff was. To say these horrid things about anyone was terrible enough, but to say them about his own brother?

Your revulsion was almost enough to make you throw yourself at the next man you saw and beg him to take you on. But you could not, for you still saw Locke around each corner. The bright smile he always bore when he saw you. The way he held you close and kissed you, propriety be damned. The way he looked at you as though you were the Maiden herself.

He was no fool. He was not weak.

He was a good man. A good husband. Your great love.

And he was gone.

The crushing weight of the grief shattered any retort you had. Not that it mattered anyway – something had caught Gryff’s eye. He seized your arm, making sure his nails dug into your skin even through the layers of black silk, and leaned in to again spit his venom in your ear.

“It seems there may yet be one man remaining who is wealthy enough to suit your tastes,” he laughed gravely. “Do try to make a good impression, or else I shall have to start sending inquiries to the heathens in Essos.”

With that, he shoved you away, towards a shadowy alcove against the far wall. Partially hidden amongst the dimness and the curtains was a tall man. A very tall man. Lean for his age, but with an erudite look about him that suggested his prowess was not of the body, but of the mind.

He was a man you recognized immediately, having seen him in a place of honor at every celebratory you had attended in the capital. Even without that knowledge, you would have immediately known who he was by the golden pin on his breast.

Otto Hightower. The Hand of the King.

And he was looking directly at you.

Oh, Gryff was reaching far too high. And now it seemed you would be the one to weather the fall.

But there was a spark of kindness in Lord Hightower’s eyes – eyes as wise and perceptive as an owl’s – that assuaged your fears enough that you did not tremble as you weaved through the crowd to reach him. Still, you turned your eyes down and prayed he would not recognize you from the pin you still wore. Pity given for your mourning was bearable, but the Hand would know…

You reached him before finishing the thought and lowered yourself in a curtsy. “My Lord Hand,” you began, thankful that, for once, you were able to speak for yourself, “I offer my congratulations to you and your daughter on this joyous occasion. You must be very proud.”

“Hmm, proud indeed.” He held out a large hand to help you rise, a kind gesture you had not expected from a man of his station. When you met his eyes, they were searching your face for something. He did not recognize you then, a relief.

“Thank you very much for your kind sentiments, Lady…?”

A short relief.

Steeling yourself for the pitying coos and well wishes you were sure were coming, you told him your name, then added, “Born of House Fenn, now of House Whitehall.”

And there it was, that hateful glimmer of recognition in his eyes as he remembered the story of the unfortunate girl from the swamps of the Neck, plucked from her humble origins among the crannogmen to wed the dashing young lord of Highpoint.

It was a story fit for a fairytale. That is, until it was over within a year, when your husband was killed in an ambush by the wild men of the Northern mountains. Gryff, your late husband’s younger brother and presumptive heir, was intent upon sending you back to the swamps before he was stopped by his mother, who insisted that though the marriage was short, you nevertheless had all the rights accorded to the Dowager Lady of the hall, and as the potential mother of the new heir – should you be carrying one. After all, you and Locke were truly, deeply in love, and there was no reason to believe his seed had not found root.

Thus, Gryff had you confined to your rooms until your moon’s blood arrived – or didn’t. You were allowed no servant but the guard he had commanded to watch your every move and were forced to endure extensive examinations by the Maester daily. And when your moon’s blood came, Gryff had a carriage waiting to take you back to your father.

Unbeknownst to him, your good mother had sent a letter to both your father and Lord Stark at Winterfell. As a crannogman whose title of nobility was scoffed at by those outside the swamps, your father could do very little to help. But with Lord Stark also on your side, Gryff could not dismiss you so easily. He could, however, appeal the Lord of the North’s order to the only higher authority available, requiring that all involved – except you, of course – journey to King’s Landing to present the case to the King himself.

After hearing both petitions, the King – and Otto Hightower – had not only commanded that you be allowed full rights as a widow, but placed restrictions on how Gryff could treat you. Namely, he could not banish you from his lands or force you to remarry.

He could, however, make your life at Highpoint so miserable that you would wish to leave and be desperate enough to get away from him that you would marry of your own accord. It was something he and his wife were more than happy to do.

Still, as miserable as you were there, it was Locke’s home. The lands he loved so much he spent four whole days showing you the whole of it. And you quickly grew to love it, too, despite it being so drastically different from your home. It became your new home. Aside from the ring he gave you, the land was one of your only reminders of the great love you had lost.

How could you abandon it just because of two unpleasant people?

How could you marry someone else, like Locke had been nothing?

Even if you could, how were you ever to find a husband when every man you met looked at you as Otto Hightower did now?

His brow was furrowed above his water-blue eyes, and his mouth was pursed in thought. No doubt trying to find the words to offer you his pity, as if you had not already heard everything there was to say.

“I am very sorry for your loss, my lady,” he said gently. At least his voice was lovely enough to make the repetition of the words you had heard a thousand times more bearable. “I lost my wife only two years ago. To lose one you love so dearly… is a pain without description. I confess that, when I first heard of what happened to your husband and what was done to you, I could not understand why the Gods would do such a thing to someone so young and innocent and…”

He nodded, seemingly to himself. “I prayed for you, Lady Whitehill. In fact, I still do.”

Then he turned away, looking past you and into the crowd. Had he not still been holding your hand, you may have taken it as a dismissal. You almost wished it was as you felt his fingers tighten around yours and his face turn from pensive to grave. But the second most powerful man in Westeros was holding you in place. Gently, but still. Who were you to disobey him?

“I am surprised I forgot his face,” Lord Hightower mused, only half-speaking to you. “He is easily one of the most unpleasant men I have ever met.”

You turned, following his gaze back to Gryff, who was doing a very poor job of pretending not to be watching you. Turning back to Lord Hightower, you saw his lip curled in disgust. Something about that expression on the face of such a serious, incredibly important man tickled something inside you that you thought had died with Locke.

So, you laughed. Short and weak, but still a laugh. The sound drew Lord Hightower’s eyes back to you, and he smiled curiously. “I did not intend that as a joke, Lady Whitehill. Was I mistaken?

“No, forgive me, my lord.” You shied away from him, looking down at your joined hands. “It is only that I don’t often hear people speak of him with such… honesty.”

“Yes,” he murmured as he, too, looked at your hands. After a moment, he dropped his and crossed his arms behind his back. “He is not a man I would expect to tolerate criticism.”

You sighed, briefly missing the contact, the warmth of his hand. “He is not a man who tolerates many things. But criticism is one that… none at Highpoint dare even contradict him.”

Lord Hightower looked at you thoughtfully, as if you were a puzzle he couldn’t quite sort. “I have had the misfortune of meeting many such men, and I am very sorry you have had to meet even one.”

He was quiet for a while. Long enough that you began silently crafting your farewell and considering how you would explain the fruitless meeting to Gryff. He would not be happy with this particular failure, and you could not decide which of his threats he would follow through on – offering you to mere boys or to Essosi men. Either would likely take you far from home and had no guarantee that your situation would improve. Perhaps –

“Why did he bring you here?” Lord Hightower said suddenly. When you lifted your head to face him, he was again looking not at you but at Gryff. His face betrayed nothing, but a dark gleam in his eyes sent a chill through your blood and yet… made you feel safe. Protected. Like you could tell him the truth.

A foolish feeling. You could tell no one the truth. Telling the truth meant leaving Highpoint – leaving Locke – and that was something you would not do.

“He brought me for the wedding,” you lied. “He thought it might cheer me.”

It was the worst lie you had ever told, though you’d never been very good at them. Though this one was particularly bad. Not only had you not been particularly convincing in your delivery – your voice wavered, and your smile was too tight to be sincere – but Lord Hightower had been at Gryff’s petition to send you away. According to your father, Gryff had been in fine, horrible form. So, Lord Hightower knew better than most that your good brother would never do anything for your sake.

And the fact that you were pretending he would apparently made Lord Hightower very, very angry. It seemed as though the shadows of the alcove itself swirled around him and darkened his eyes. Still, you felt safe with him. You knew instinctively that his anger was not directed at you.

Yet you did shrink away slightly when he turned that dark gaze on you. “The King expressly forbade him from forcing you to marry.” His voice had taken on a low, sharp quality, which you were reasonably certain had often made Lords and Generals quake in their boots. Indeed, you were sure you would do whatever he wanted, so long as he asked it in that voice. “Has he disobeyed this? Did he bring you here to find a husband against your will?”

It was hard to meet his eyes. “He…” you swallowed, summoning every bit of your will to not tell him the truth. But even if you did somehow manage to lie convincingly, you did not doubt that Lord Hightower would nevertheless be able to see right through you. This was a political mind at work, the keenest in the realm. He likely knew the answer before he ever asked the question. Which meant…

What he was actually asking was something different. Something he dare not speak aloud in the presence of others? No, not that. He was the Hand of the King, and this was the Red Keep – his territory. You doubted there was anything he would fear to say here, save open treason.

What was it?

If this was a political move, he must want something from you. Locke had once told you when you were alone in your chambers sharing a bottle of wine after one of his taxing journeys to Winterfell, that amongst lords and kings, nothing was ever free. There was no charity.

And yet, you could not think of a single thing Lord Hightower would want from you. You had no wealth of your own, nor did your father in any meaningful way, and Gryff would not part with a single sliver of copper. You held no alliances of your own outside of the crannogmen, and you doubted they would ever be of any help to him or the King. That left only… yourself.

He could not possibly want you. Yes, he was a widower, but his loss had also been recent. He told you himself how much it had pained him.

Even if he was in the market for a new wife, he would not want some penniless widow from the Neck. With his family name, position, and new status as the Queen’s father, he could choose any woman he wanted to wife. Though if he was looking for a distraction rather than a marriage… you did not let yourself consider it. He had made no advance on you, and his eyes held no sign of lust. You had seen lust in Locke’s eyes, burning like silver flames. There was no such flame in Lord Hightower’s eyes, only pity and concern. And something gentle, almost like hope.

Was it possible that his daughter’s wedding had made him feel charitable? That he had seen a sad young widow and decided that it was in the spirit of the day to help someone in need?

Help.

That is what he was asking – if you wanted his help. If you said ‘no’ right now, even knowing what he knew, he would walk away.

But if you said yes – if you asked for his help?

The Hand of the King was a powerful ally, the father of the Queen even better. If someone who could as easily grant Gryff the wealth and reputation he so craved as he could ensure it never came to be offered his support and protection, you didn’t know what would happen. But perhaps it would be better.

“Yes,” you whispered. The word could either save or damn you, but you said it either way. “He wants rid of the responsibility of me, so much that he’s willing to give me to anyone who shows interest.”

His dark expression was interrupted by a brief flash of confusion. Before you could inquire about what had disturbed him, he leaned down towards you. A strategic move. Anyone looking at you would merely see a man attempting to charm one of the last women remaining at the end of the celebration.

“Forgive me for my forwardness, my lady,” he paused to look you over again, “but I admit I find it hard to believe that no man has shown you interest.”

Another veiled question. This one easier to decipher.

You ensured you were positioned so that Gryff could not see your face before answering, for you knew you could not hide your smug smile. “The mourning clothes help with that,” you admitted, “as do carefully timed tears.”

Lord Hightower seemed to relax at that and smirked at you conspiratorially. “I imagine the prospect of a permanent association with your good brother is the most effective deterrent.”

It was not a deception for Gryff’s benefit when you began to laugh together. You had not laughed with someone in so long nor felt as comfortable around another person since Locke died. Not even with your good mother. She tried, but she could not separate you from her grief for her son, so laughing with her was a sheer impossibility.

The realization sobered you instantly. This moment was a gift, yes. But the very fact that a moment of laughter with a stranger was the happiest you had been in more than a year and would likely remain so for some time. You would be returning to the North soon, back to a life with very little joy.

It was as though Lord Hightower could read the thoughts in your eyes. His own smile fell, and he again took your hand. “When do you leave the capital, my lady?

“We will remain several days more,” you answered, the words tasting like bitter wine. “Gryff is eager to make alliances and raise his standing.”

“Hmm,” Lord Hightower hummed as he absentmindedly stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. From how his eyes darted back and forth ever so slightly, you knew that brilliant mind was formulating some kind of plan.

Unfortunately, it seemed he would not share that plan with you.

He simply raised your hand to his mouth to kiss it as a proper gentleman does, the hairs of his beard tickling your skin, before looking at you once more. “You may tell Lord Whitehill that I was thoroughly charmed by you.” Something about the way the corner of his mouth quirked up made you think it was not entirely a fiction. “I suspect that will satisfy him well enough that he will be less… overbearing, at least for a while. In the meantime, I shall endeavor to find a more pleasant solution to your woes.”

Your heart quickened with anticipation and hope, something you had not felt in a long time. While your instinct was to ensnare him in a tight embrace and perhaps even kiss his cheek, you forced yourself to remain civilized, simply squeezing his hand tightly in thanks before letting go and curtsying to him again.

“My Lord Hand, I cannot find words to express my gratitude,” you said breathlessly. “I have known such kindness very little of late.”

He smiled and reached for you before folding his hand behind his back again. “That, my lady, is a tragedy in itself. Once that I swear I will do everything in my power to end as swiftly as possible.”

“Thank you. I…” words failed you entirely. “Thank you so much.”

“It would perhaps be wise to save the majority of your thanks until after I have discovered a solution,” he jokingly chided. For a long moment, he simply held your gaze. “Now, as much as I hate to do so, I believe it is time to return to your family. I have much work to do.”

“Of course,” you said with another curtsy. There was more you wanted to say, but it was too much to sort through in only a moment. So, you gave him another smile and turned away.

As you walked back toward Gryff – who was looking sinisterly pleased – you were amazed to find that, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t dreading tomorrow.

Otto left the Great Hall immediately, though it pained him to do so. But he had not wanted to tell her – raise her hopes too soon – that he was fairly certain he had already found a solution. Perhaps the perfect solution.

But he wanted to pray on it first.

It was too late to call a wheelhouse to take him to the Great Sept. Besides, the servants deserved the night to celebrate, as well. So, he made his way instead to the Royal Sept, which had the added benefit of being close to his own chambers.

The Sept was empty, thankfully. It was quick work to light a prayer candle and to place it on an altar Otto had not knelt at for years – the Maiden’s.

“I come to ask your guidance, Holy Maiden,” he prayed aloud. “There is a young widow who needs my help. Very desperately. I believe I can aid her – I know I can aid her. But I must be sure that I am acting rightly.”

He sighed, staring at the gently flickering flame of the candle. “When I first considered her plight, an answer came to me almost instantly, as if it were an instinct. But I worry… I worry that if I choose to enact it, I will be acting not out of charity and generosity but selfishness.

“She is young and very beautiful, and I believe she has a keen mind. And she understands! She knows what it is like to lose a great love – a true love. She is like me; she does not want to marry again. But it seems for both of us that there is no other option. Would it not then… would it not be right for us to marry?

“We can fulfill the desires and expectations of those around us while remaining devoted to our lost loves. I would expect her to fulfill no wifely duties, nor would she expect me to perform mine as a true husband. We would be… companions to each other. Someone with which we can share a life of contentment without feeling as though we have betrayed those who are gone.”

Otto sat back on his knees and looked up at the face of the Maiden. “Would doing so be a sin? Marriage is supposed to be the true joining of souls in holy and eternal love. That is what I had with Madelyn and what I believe she and the late Lord Whitehill had. Would it not betray the very idea of our past marriages to seek the same again?”

He sighed and dropped his head. “I would, of course, not force her hand. If I propose the plan and she refuses, I will dedicate myself to helping her some other way. But I cannot deny that this seems like fate, that the two of us would find each other. So please, Holy Maiden. Please, tell me if I am right.”

For what felt like the entire night, Otto sat on the floor of the Sept, watching the candlelight dance across the marble floor.

Then the dancing stopped.

Bewildered, he looked immediately at the candle. It was still lit, but the flame did not waver. Instead, it was perfectly still and seemed to grow taller and taller.

As if a cool hand lifted his chin, Otto turned his gaze up to the Maiden’s face. Somehow, she seemed to be smiling. A trick of the light, perhaps. But if the light itself was something impossible… Otto snuffed the flame with his fingers, which did not singe as they touched the fire.

He had never received a more explicit answer from the Gods.

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arueternity · 1 year

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Dom? Sub? Switch?

Some NSFW for the Sleep Token boys..Bro I honestly don't know...<3

Vessel

Vessel is a dom-leaning switch, only begrudgingly allowing you to dominate him if you ask nicely enough.

As a dom, he follows whatever he feels is natural, yes he cares about you and checks in but he takes and takes whatever he wants.

His favorite thing to do is to have you coming on his cock over and over again. Your sobs of overstimulation are music to his ears as he pounds your cunt like he owns it.

Because he does, he owns everything of you, owns your body, mind, soul, and orgasms.

The room is filled with the sounds of your wet cries, body burning up with pleasure. The wet squelch sound of your cunt adding to the ensemble of moans and groans. Vessel’s hands tighten around your throat, staring you in the eye while plunging his cock deeper into you. His sadistic chuckles drawing you closer to his demand. “Think we can hit 6, pet? Give it to me. Give me it now.”

Pure dom, but a lazy dom if anything. But not in a bad manner

He’ll just sit back and watch as you struggle to get off on his thigh, uncaring if it's taking forever or not. He just enjoys the view of your wetness ruining his black jeans.

Maybe he’ll help you by bouncing his leg to add that extra bit of sensation

Maybe he’s decided it's enough and he wants the real fun of feeling you wrapped around him. But yet again, he’s only guiding your hips in a slow grind.

A gentle sigh falls from his mouth, head tilted back with a gentle hum. II’s grip on your hip releases to take another long hit from his vape. “C’mon darling, don’t keep me waiting… Don’t have all night.” You whine and crawl forward to rest between his legs. His cock stood proudly, precum beading at the tip, anticipating the warmth of your mouth. With a small eye roll, he leans down exhaling and blowing the flavored smoke into your face. “Atta girl…”

III

This creature, yes I called him a creature, is a switch. His energy allowing him to bounce back and forth between whatever he feels at the moment.

Most of the time this is sub but sometimes it is him wrapping his hand around your throat with a gentle squeeze.

For the times he actually wants to sub, III is a whiny mess of a person. Begging for you to touch him, touch his leaking cock.

He craves anything you’ll give him and more, wanting to feel your mouth around him as he’s edged for hours on end.

The tears pooling out of his tears, his sobs for you to stop mean nothing but a strong encouragement.

His eye rolled back at the tight grip you had on his cock, his legs kicking in an attempt to squirm away. III’s pathetic whimpers doing nothing to affect the hold you have. His cock kicks and twitches with the sensation of needing to come. “Fuck please! Please! No more I’ll be good!” You chuckle and move your hand, letting his throbbing cock hit his stomach. “No sir, you said that last time… 3 more edges, and then I’ll think about it.”

Pure dom, pure soft dom. It’s always the shy ones too…

When the two of you are together, he’s filling your holes and head with soft praise telling you how well you’ve done.

IV will lay kisses all over your body, worshipping you as he would Sleep. But also punishing you if you were to disobey him.

He doesn’t like brats, or so he says.

Brats are… well he’s a tamer, forcing you to submit and obey his words with praise and rewards.

IV’s fingers gently brush your hair behind your ear, eyes holding so much adornment for you. “You’re doing great baby, such a good girl for me…” You mewl at his words and raise your hips to meet his gentle thrust. He chuckles and shakes his head, pushing your hips down. “You’ll take whatever I give to you… Just sit and let me take good care of you”

Switch, there’s no leaning or anything. V sits directly in the middle.

As a sub, he’s more of a puppy than anything, following orders with only a little bit of a bite back.

Gentle whines and twitching when you fuck your strap into him, he’ll try to hold his noises back but can’t when you hit the perfect spot.

As a dom, he is laid back. Allowing you to do whatever you want till it pisses him off.

Then he’ll wrap you by the throat and stare you in the eyes, dragging the submission from you.

His favorite thing to do when domming? Collar you and decorate you real pretty with his cum and show you off to the others.

“Look at you, such a slut for me huh?” V grins, smile shown due to his masked being pushed up. The studs of his prince albert drag across your face, precum and cum spreading at the action. “Yeah can’t wait to show you off to the others. Give them a turn at that dripping cunt of yours.”

#original character #sleep token #sleep token iv #x reader #imagine #sleep token ii #sleep token iii #sleep token vessel #headcanon #sleep token x reader #smut #smutty #idk what else to tag #purrtoken

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garadinervi · 4 months

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The Art Ensemble of Chicago: Four Evenings of Great Black Music, The Studio, Los Angeles, CA. From: Individual Collective: A Conversation with Senga Nengudi, by Allie Tepper, «Living Collections Catalogue», Walker Art Center, Minneapolis, MN, 2019

#graphic design #typography #art #music #flyer #poster #art ensemble of chicago #rhino records #senga nengudi #allie tepper #walker art center #1970s #1980s #2010s

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agirlwholovesrockstars · 5 months

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you ain't woman enough

☆ EDDIE MUNSON'S MASTERLIST ☆

❣ AGATHA'S MAIN PAGE ❣

Summary : some crazy diehard fan claims to steal your man, of course- you won't let that happen

Word Count : not too long, I hope

Warnings : 18+ Rockstar!Eddie Munson x FEM!reader, language, reader and Eddie are both (25) also they're MARRIED to each other, no use of y/n, Gareth is (18), Jeff is (20) mentions of a fan having self-harm history, the lunatic fan (I named her Delancy, she's 18) can be very invasive, disrespectful, delusional and too obsessed with Eddie, alcohol consumption, mentions of pregnancy at the end, I think that's just it tho

What to Expect : angst and fluff teehee

Note To Reader : guys, you're not going to believe this because my fever just bounced back again making me suffer once more 💀 (but I'm good right now don't worry)

Author Note : LOVE LOVE THIS SONG SO MUCH- OF COURSE YOU KNOW I'VE HAD TO MAKE A FIC WITH IT ;)) (idk if I feel satisfied about this fic but here it goes)

You and Eddie have been together for ages

A bit dramatic, isn't it?

But no, seriously, it's like you spend a lifetime every minute, hour and seconds being with him

Since high school, Eddie thought it's cruel joke when you talked to him for the first time

He had a bit of time to grow on you back then, but when you finally get to know him when he unsheds his layers of showing the tough act to people at school

He is actually very sweet

That's where it all took off

You're always been there

The Hellfire Club campaigns, The Hideout sessions, the best part is that you we're also there when he got his long-awaited diploma

Wayne loves you, gosh, Eddie can still vividly remember the teasing moments that make him so freaking embarrassed when it revealed that Eddie has a crush on you

It's the most silliest confession that you both shared to each other, giggling at the same time

It's also wholesome in a way that you feel like yourself when you're with him than you're own

That's says something

You watch him grew to become one of the highest paid rock bands all of time, Corroded Coffin

Back in graduation in college, he said that he'll marry you and you'll be on his side while he's touring around the world

The words you told him never left his mind

"Always keep your dreams alive, Ed's"

You both love metal music, films, obviously certified nerds, always excited when you're both talking about your favorites

I mean- what's not to love?

"You're ready? sweetheart?"

"Yeah"

You gave him 360° turn to your full ensemble for the tonight's show

Oh, he was stunned at it, he takes a minute to process

"Well?"

"You look fantastic- I mean- hot, super super hot"

You snort "Okay, let's go rockstar"

You've prepared yourself for this since the beginning, the moment that Eddie got himself big time at a record label

You know what you're in for

You're ready to face it all, the tabloids, loads of paparazzi everywhere, awestruck fans that recognize the both of you walking in the streets of L.A

You also know once you entered this business, there's no longer privacy that you knew before

The fandom that Eddie has is like a freaking movement almost like an activist, every false lies, rumors, gossips, they defend him with his bandmates

You adore them, really, grateful for it

The head of the official fanbase of Corroded Coffin is really nice and respects everyone of you, even treat you like normal human beings

They organized parties when it's time for an occasion like Corroded Coffin won a Grammy, New Year's, when someone in the band has a birthday, it's really great

Sometimes, you wish every fan is just like that, or sometimes even not a fan, you wished they'll treat you kindly

While eating lunch with Eddie at a local diner downtown

"You know, there's a young girl keeps looking at our spot for like 30 mins now" Eddie is wearing Ray-Ban black sunglasses as he quietly speaks as he takes a sip of his coffee

You had a mouth full of philly cheesesteak as you turned around to find what your husband is referring to

There, you spot her, when you catch her eyes, she simply look away shyly

You hum as you shrug "It looks like she wants to say something"

"Oh, boy, here she comes"

Before you can react to what he just said, she's now standing to where you both seated but she gave a distance for personal space that leaves an impression to the both of you

Eddie caught a glimpse of the young girl's wrist with marks of healed pocks, you saw it too, he watches her intently but when he saw how genuine her eyes are, he knows this isn't some weird fanatic

You cleared your throat as you smile at the young girl

"Uh- hi, I'm so very sorry, if I made you both uncomfortable but I- I just want to express my gratitude, your songs really helped me a lot and ever since I stopped doing it for 5 years already and I feel a whole lot better and uh- your love story has always been my favorite- it's very inspiring and I've always been looking up to the both of you and uh- yeah thanks for everything" she leaves at that

the young girl went on and on with her slightly ducked down too shy to even look at the both of your eyes

"That's really sweet" you say with twinkling eyes as you kept your eyes on the young girl

"Wow, see- this is why I'm doing this! I will keep on making music when something like that happens! I can help people!" He beams exhilaratingly with a smile

"Eddie, haven't you realized you've been doing this since highschool?" You hold his hand across the table

"Yes, I know and I will do what I do best" he winks and you by that look

You know he's gonna make this interaction memorable

"Hey, kid"

The young girl almost can't believe the Eddie Munson called her out

"We appreciate you so much" he says as he picked the whole new latest album from his bag

Young girl is appalled, felt weak on the knees almost, you giggled at her reaction

To make everything go insane, he even signed the album cover

You hand it out to her "We're so proud of you"

She takes it with shaky hands as she laughs "I-I'm sorry, I'm freaking out inside, thank you so very much"

"You'll be the first person to hear it"

"I'll listen to it once I get home, I will never forget this day in my life!"

You and Eddie both chuckled "Treasure it, sweetie! You deserve it!"

"I love you both so much, you have absolutely no idea! um- I'll be attending your show this coming Saturday" you shyly added with a grin

You squealed as you look at Eddie with excitement, he took his glasses off

"That's very metal, dear" he makes a rock n roll sign as the kid does the same time, both shared laughs

You watched the kid happily as she runs over to her parents with the album in hand as they become starstrucked when they saw both of you, waving at their daughter

You sigh in content "Isn't that just awesome?!?" You slam your hands on the table feeling giddy

Eddie throws his head back in laughter as his mind replays the endearing interaction earlier

"My manager is going to kill me after this"

"Oh, yeah right- you weren't supposed to reveal your latest album yet"

"I doubt it she'll not spread it to everyone"

"I'll drink to that"

Turns out, both of your guts we're right, the young girl didn't leaked the whole ass album for the whole world to hear

The tour was going fantastic, the crowd roars, screams, cheers everyone is going nuts once the band came out the stage

The after-party is your favorite part when the set is done, it's just you, Eddie, Jeff and Gareth hanging out

It's like old times, the difference is that all of you are a part of public figures now

But, no, never once or anyone of you let that get into your head, you don't want to believe or let yourself be aware of that "I'm a celebrity and you're nothing" type of shit, all of you remained humble since day one

No wonder why people adored you so much

Jeff finished his degree last year, now he's got himself a babe beside him, Gareth only have 2 years left at his college

He is so sick of it already, but he won't stop until he finally graduated

"Now, I get it why- Eddie feels so fucking drained after college" Gareth groans as he sats down next to you

"But my tutoring while on the tour bus helped, right?" You gave him an sympathetic smile

He smiles tiredly "Yeah, I'm just so exhausted but I'm almost there"

"That's the spirit!"

"Man, I don't know how you do it, are you getting enough sleep?" Jeff chimes in as he drinks his beer as he awaits for his friend to answer

"I don't even remember when's the last time I got a good night's sleep"

"Your time has run out" a voice rudely interrupted your conversation

You, Jeff, Gareth turn around at the girl who is standing closer to you

Jeff and Gareth shared confusion looks to each other

"Excuse me?" You say as look at her directly

"I said he's done with you"

"Who?"

"Eddie"

Jeff makes a face and Gareth is unamused, offended by it

You tried your best to be polite as you wave your hand in front of her dismissively, maybe it's just some girl who mistakenly thought you're someone that she knew

"He doesn't love you anymore"

Who is this person? You think to yourself

You laugh incredulously as you lean forward, Jeff and Gareth looked at you and thinks why you're aren't doing anything to be mean just for once

They're watching the nicest argument ever

"You have to let him go" she says as she crossed both of her arms

"Why would I do that?"

"So, I can take him"

You, Jeff and Gareth looked at each other with knowing looks as you tried to keep your composure stable

The bartender is clearly knows what the fuck is going on and couldn't help but to bite back a laughter as well

"Ooh- okay, hot shot- gimme a sec" you say with a mockery on your voice as you bit your lip to stop bursting to any second

You kick Jeff and elbowed Gareth to stop them from snickering

"Hey, Francis" you paid for the tabs, you treat the guys for the drink tonight

"You didn't have to-"

"I insist, you always gave me fine drinks and you never let me pay? Come on- take it"

The older man smiles and sighs and muttered a small thank you

All of you go down to your rotating circle chairs, but before you left her, you twirl around with a teasing smile

She became annoyed at you, you didn't even know what the hell she's annoyed at you for

"Sorry to burst your bubble, you can't do that"

"What makes you think that I can't?" She snaps and it makes you amused

Jeff and Gareth make a teasing "Oooh's" as you flipped the guys off behind your back

"Because-" you looked at her from top to bottom

She really wasted her beauty for pulling a stunt like this?

"You aren't there yet"

You know, she ain't gonna understand that phrase because she's young, you didn't even bother to explain what it means so you turn heel and left her at it

You wiggle your fingers at her as you wave goodbye and she watches the three you finally booming the streets with the loud cackles

At the backstage, 10 mins left before the show starts

"Eddie! Stand still!" You say as you fix his outfit

"I've been performing for years and I still get nervous" he says with a unsure smile

"That's totally normal, Eddie, once you get out of there and feel all of the people energy and literally once you start singing? You'd be great like you always do" you say as you finish doing touch ups to his look

He didn't replied, he instead hugged you

"Oh" you got startled at his sudden action but you melt with it

"Thank you, sweetheart"

"Anytime, Ed's"

A frequent knock is going on the door, almost breaking it, he swung it open- he got cutt off by someone

"Alright, alright! I'll be there-"

"Where have you been?!? I've looked for you everywhere!"

"What-"

"Didn't you missed me?!?"

You lean onto your side of the doorframe with arms crossed as Eddie looked at you for help almost like he's saying "Do you have any idea who is this person?!?"

The young lady who you encountered last night meet your eyes, you swore you saw the fire ignited once you came into the frame

"What is she doing here?!?"

Eddie is so perplexed as he continues to look at the random girl and you just smirk to yourself

She reached for Eddie's hand as he became so stunned at her action and you raised both of your eyebrows at her boldness

The audacity of this person is wild

"Honey? Care to explain, please?" Eddie is obviously trying to let go of the grip that she's holding onto him

"Oh, I just met her last night and how rude of me not knowing your name- if you even had one" you sarcastically speak up, it's very comedic to watch her face crumpled up to your smugness

"It's Delancy"

"Yeah, right- Delancy!" You act like it was the most interesting information ever

Eddie is watching you with a wolfish grin, he finally understood it

"I'm here to support my boyfriend" she lOviNgLy looks up at Eddie, the situation doesn't even get worse from there as he looks at you through his bangs as he purses his lips together

"Sweetie, before you can get to him, I'll have to move over and I'm gonna stand right here"

"You can't!"

"It will be over my dead body"

Eddie finally got away from the hold as he looks at her with fake sympathetic smile with a pout as he throws both of his hands in defense

You glanced at the corner and saw the security guards probably looking for her

You lean closer as you say "So, get out while you can" you nudge your chin towards the guards and she panic as she runs away

"Oh my fucking god" Jeff jogs as he tries to catch up his breath

"Give me a minute" Gareth holds up a finger as he pants

"So, she's the girl that you little shitheads talking about, huh?"

Both of the young men nod as they chuckled slightly

"Can't believe she got herself inside" you scoff as you shake your head

"Hmm, maybe there's a way to end this ridiculousness" Eddie smirks as all of you looked at him in confusion

The show is exhilaratingly amazing, Eddie called out for you, is this his plan?

You shyly get up on the stage as the crowd cheers for your name

Once you walked closer to Eddie he pulled you in for a kiss

You're surprised but managed to recover as you wrap your arms around him as you kiss him back

Jeff whistles as Gareth clapped aggressively

The whole crowd screamed harder as Eddie pulled you closer more to him as if that were possible, you became flustered as you break the kiss from running out of breath but Eddie?!? Kept stealing kisses as you giggled

"My beautiful wife everybody!" Eddie announces in the microphone not caring if your lipstick is all over his face

"Thank you guys for the insane night! We love you! We appreciate all of your support! Take care and we'll see you soon! Keep on rockin'!" Eddie left with that as Jeff and Gareth came onto your side as they join you for a bow before all of you waved goodbye and exit the stage

The interview is happening in the morning after the last night's show

"Have you heard about the rumor? There's basically a young girl claiming your husband, Eddie, to be as her boyfriend? What is your comment about this?"

Gareth chimes in with a smirk on his face as he leans over to steal a moment in the camera "No comment" he says as Eddie, Jeff snickered as you chuckled as well

"Yeah, I did, I even interacted with her- she seems....interesting"

"Interesting for a therapy" Jeff adds as the three man crack up to his joke

"She even said that Eddie looked at her at the concert last evening" the interviewer spoke up as you can watch Eddie genuinely reacted to this

"Oh my god" Eddie rubs his face as he hides his face buried on his palms as he tries not to laugh

"Well, a man looks at things sometimes that he doesn't need, I think she's referring to what happened at the backstage-"

"I took a second look-" Eddie narrows his eyes at you

"But he's in love with me" you point to yourself ignoring your cheeks blush

"Exactly" Eddie grins as you held his hand

"She even said that the kiss that happened was a fake"

"I don't know where that leaves her" you shrug at the interviewer

"You know where you stand"

You chortled at the interviewer's remark, knowing that this will even more pissed her off

"Precisely, I know where I stand" you agree as you nod

"And there you have it, folks, The Corroded Coffin, it's such a delight to finally to get to talk to you all and the man of the hour, Eddie Munson with his wife, Jeff and Gareth the icons behind the band, Thank you for tuning in!" The interviewer wraps it all up

"Please, do invite your fans to come on over to your tours"

"it's our pleasure, to share our music around the world and all we wanna do is just inspire people" Eddie smiles at the camera while he always pulled you into his side, you love that he never fails to show you off

As the airing ends, Eddie whispers to your ear

"Let's make her even more furious" Eddie bites his lips as he could think for a conniving idea

You snorted at him with a playful smile

"Telling to everyone that you're having a baby" he winks

"Eddie!" You push him playfully on the chest but he laughs as he carries you and spins around at the studio

But he ain't wrong with that, you'll even consider it later ;))

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fic #loretta lynn #you aint woman enough #agirlwholovesrockstarsfics #Spotify

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i-didnt-hate-it · 18 days

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I didn't hate Abigal, it was a lot of fun!

I was sick the week Abigail released, so I'm just watching it now because I'm not going to see the new Planet of the Apes, I haven't seen any of them yet.

Now THIS is how you do a Dracula's daughter story.

If you know anything about the movie going into it, you know what's coming, but they make you wait for it to actually happen. Making Hitchock's bomb a cute little girl? Bloody genius.

Abigail is a fun, exciting, bloody vampire movie. It's got to be hard to make an original and unique vampire movie these days, but I think Abigail did a good job of blending a Gothic tone with a modern gorefest vibe.

The soundtrack was pretty good, not quite outstanding, but not bad. The use of music (a la Tchaikovsky) was fun and really set the mood.

The casting was great. Giancarlo Esposito was very Giancarlo Esposito-y, Kathryn Newton was funny and made me want to watch Lisa Frankenstein even more (new horror queen?). Kevin Durand was great as "the muscle." Dan Stevens looked like he had a lot of fun. William Catlett and Angus Cloud were both solid. But of course the standouts are Melissa Barerra, definitely a horror queen, and Alisha Weir in the title role. It takes skill to make an audience believe a 12 year old girl is actually a centuries old vampire, but Alisha did it.

Spoilers below.

I feel like others might disagree, but I honestly loved the pacing of the movie. With how long it took for them to show Abigail as a vampire, it really gave time to get to know the characters.

The way they set the tone really somehow made it feel like a classic Universal horror, but it also felt fresh and modern too. Little things like the creepy basement, the rats(?), the big library, the statue garden thing. It really felt like they were in a house that someone had been living in for a looooong time.

I honestly love how two people died before Abigail ever bared her fangs. It really helped sell the idea that she was just playing with them. And the black guy didn't die first! It is kind of sickly ironic that Angus Cloud's character was the first to go (RIP), but I mean, bro was an absolute idiot.

I'm still not sure who my favorite character is, I really just loved the ensemble. I will say, I figured out the Rat Pack joke before Peter, not too long before, but still before.

I love when modern monster movies reference the lore, but make it their own. Like they reference all the stuff that kills vampires but only a couple of them actually work, the rest are just part of the legends.

I wasn't expecting to actually root for Abigail toward the end, but I loved the respect the was shared between her and Joey.

Those Ready or Not guys really love making people explode like bloody water balloons. I mean, what a way to go, I guess.

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steveyockey · 6 months

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film critic angelica jade bastién being swarmed by the beyhive (who is of course attempting to put her out of a job) over her negative review of the renaissance tour film which I think is an incredible piece of writing wholly appropriate for the time,

With “Formation” from 2016’s Lemonade, Beyoncé alchemized the aesthetics of Black radicalism. In the video, she is splayed out on a cop car in New Orleans that descends into murky waters. In her Super Bowl performance from that year, she and her dancers were decked in an all-black ensemble with raised fists meant to evoke the style of the Black Panthers without the group’s moral clarity and political conviction. When Beyoncé uses their aesthetic along with the words of Malcolm X, it behooves audiences and critics alike to hold her to a greater standard. Her apoliticism should not slide by. It should be noted that Renaissance is playing in Israel, which has led to “Break My Soul” becoming an anthem of sorts for Israelis waving their flag in screenings. Beyoncé has yet to make a statement about Palestine. But this silence is itself a statement. Perhaps she isn’t apolitical so much as an emblem of Black capitalism and wealth that seeks to maintain its stature. Renaissance: A Film demonstrates that Black joy isn’t inherently radical. In fact, without a sense of materiality, Black joy becomes directionless and easy to co-opt by the varied forces of power that are fueled by anti-Blackness. Beyoncé is an icon who has carefully maintained a sense of accessibility to anyone, anywhere, for any reason. Black musical traditions may have the potential for radicalism, but Beyoncé’s neutrality demonstrates they aren’t inherently that way. More than anything, Renaissance is a testament that Beyoncé is a brand that stands for absolutely nothing beyond its own greatness.

#I just posted her piece on camp so it’s no secret I enjoy her work a lot and read her whenever I can #angelica jade bastién

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madamlaydebug · 10 months

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𝙹𝙰𝚉𝚉 :. many know the great nat king cole for his vocal performances; but his piano skills were just as amazing if not better.

style: the muse of the music, the vibes of the diaspora, the ascension of art; the mood-myriad of styles, the amazingly talented skill in the nation of Nat.

Note: Nathaniel Adams Coles (known professionally as Nat King Cole), was an american singer, jazz pianist, actor, tv host, businessman, entrepreneur, visionary, innovator & icon. his music career began after he dropped out of school at the age of 15; & continued for the remainder of his life. he found great success & recorded over 100 songs which became colossal hits. His trio was the model for small jazz ensembles which followed. he also acted in films, on television & performed on broadway. He was the first black man to host an american television series. He is also the father of the great Natalie Cole. Is there a better soundtrack to be by the fireplace with the ones you love than this gent? Smoother than eggnog, he’s a crooner that’ll warm your heart.

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zoekeating · 3 months

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Dear Listeners,

It’s winter break here in Vermont so my son and I have been out on the slopes every day. For many years I have stayed away from fast slidey sports because I was afraid of injuring my hands. If my hands don’t work, how do I make music? But among the many bits of advice I’ve gotten in my parenting journey, “be into what your kid is into” has been one of the best. My lad needed someone to ride the lifts with and I needed to overcome my fear and learn how to fall properly, so here I am.

I found that skiing is not all that different from rollerblading, which I learned to do in Central Park the summer of my junior year. I brought the skates with me on my year abroad in Florence. On weekends there was this amazing city to explore but buses and museums and cafes cost money. And whenever I roamed the quiet streets and parks alone, I would be perpetually harassed, groped and even flashed by pathetic men. But rollerblading was free and, bonus, I am already quite tall, so with skates I was at least 6ft2in. No one ever messed with me on skates. I adapted to the cobblestones and explored all of Florence with exhilarating freedom.

One Sunday, as I was enjoying the expanses of asphalt in Parco delle Cascine, I came upon a group of folks on old-school rollerskates. They had a boombox and were dancing, just like the skaters of Central Park but without the sequined hot pants. They waved me over and exclaimed over my weird skates. They invited me to join them and for the rest of the school year, I spent every Sunday afternoon I could with the rollerskaters. We would gather, dancing and skating around obstacles, and once we had critical mass, tear off along the Arno and into the old city. We’d skate past the David, circle the Piazza della Signoria multiple times and whizz down the marble collanade along the Piazza Republica, ending in a bar, still on skates, for an espresso or aperativo. Those are some of my best memories of my year in Florence.

I continued the skating when I moved to San Francisco, zooming most days through Golden Gate Park to the beach and back again. Sometimes I’d join a similar group of mad skaters on Friday nights to roll fearlessly down hills and through tunnels. Skating was always a great source of joy. But then I moved away from the paved environment of the city and I transitioned to music full time. After acquiring a broken finger from an Evil Door and being shocked at how much that tiny injury impacted my ability to play, I quit skating.

Fast forward to Vermont. Like many people did during the pandemic, I got back on skates except this time with padding, wrist guards and a helmet. And then, as my boy learned to snowboard, I learned to ski. We still ride the lifts together but now he zips down black diamond trails while I ski carefully down the easy ones. He is mystified as to how I can bear to do the same runs over and over but I like it that way. It’s like a meditation. I focus on perfecting my technique and try to make each turn better than the last. It feels similar to one of the things I enjoy about playing the cello, which is noticing tiny details and gradually polishing them. How can I improve this one phrase that I have played thousands of times? It never gets old or boring for me.

I hope it never gets boring for you either! Next week I’ll get back to work improving my old songs and figuring out to play some of my new ones in time for my concerts in March.

March 15 - ArtYard in Frenchtown,NJ

March 16 - Underground Arts in Philadelphia, PA opening up for my old friend The Sleepytime Gorilla Museum

March 17 - Le Poisson Rouge in NYC

March 21 - St John’s Cathedral at the Big Ears Festival in Knoxville, TN

And one more

April 6 - Unitarian Univeralist Church in Burlington VT, accompanied by mesmerizing visuals by Alex Reeves

also, outside my solo work on April 7 I’ll be a part of composer Randal Pierce’s ensemble, performing his live soundtrack to George Méliès’ silent cinematic masterpiece, A Trip to the Moon

6:30 and 8:30pm shows

More about all the events happening in Burlington around the eclipse

Thank you for listening and please wear a helmet when you are going fast.

celloly yours, Z

#cello #eclipse #bigears #rollerblading #skiing

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wroteclassicaly · 2 years

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Warnings: Language, self-esteem issues, a whole shit ton of angst, sadness, and so forth!

A/N: Literally have no idea what this is, only able to explain it as a product of my mood right now. I might do a second part? This is unedited, it has no title, is written as a flashback, and might not make sense, but I hope it’s still okay? It’s pretty intense, so I understand if it’s not liked or it’s upsetting. Idk if I’m even making sense rn.

Anyways…Love y’all! ❤️❤️

~*~

You thought you’d looked pretty. Robin had assured you a dozen times over—that yes, you had ‘it’ going on. Whatever ‘it’ was. But if you could have predicted that spending nearly two hundred dollars of your work paycheck to be ignored and embarrassed by your own foolish assumptions would be the end result, you would have not bothered and used the money to catch a bus to Chicago and bury your sorrows until you forgot your own useless name, that no one seemed to want to remember. Hawkins High Prom for the class of 86’, an event that you always assumed you would have attended with your best friend Eddie Munson, but instead leaving you to being arm in arm with former graduate Steve Harrington.

And that powerful confidence that you felt when you’d slipped into your gown and checked your hair and makeup, it vanished into voids unavoidable the second you and Steve stepped into the outrageously decorated gymnasium, and you saw regret through his hazel eyes, a nostalgia to missing out on having his former flame be in attendance to his own prom with him, and how he immediately sought out Nancy Wheeler across the gym, dressed in a flowing lavender dress and clinging to Jonathan Byers. You felt as if your guts had been eaten by stomach acid, only worsening once you caught Eddie holding Chrissy Cunningham close enough that there wasn’t any space between them. She looked like an Angel with her strawberry blond curls and pink gown, Eddie’s hair curlier than you’ve ever seen it, all black ensemble and a simple pastel pink rose pinned to his shirt. His rings adorned his hands, which splayed along her waist, swaying her in a suave grace that he must’ve learned beforehand. Or maybe, maybe you had never known him at all…

Steve had taken you to the dance floor not long after he couldn’t bear to watch his ex anymore, and you tried, you really fucking tried to keep that mouth watering burn from your throat, the stings that prickled your vision until it became blurry, but you failed. You wanted to say, “Steve, can’t we just keep dancing? Can you just hold me?”

But that wasn’t your reality. This was. They all wanted each other and nobody wanted you. Steve ended up stealing glances at Nancy and Jonathan, forgetting you were practically clinging to him and struggling to breathe through an oncoming panic attack. And you, you’d tormented yourself by watching Steve look at Nance, then you’d forcefully stared Eddie and Chrissy down, convincing yourself you were okay, only to remember by a physical and mental blow—no, you’re not.

Whoever was managing the music made you sick, because who in their right mind played two slow songs in a damned row, then topped it off with Total Eclipse of the Heart. Did they want to poke fun at those without partners here, or make everyone sad after Hawkins nearly burned to the ground? As the hours dragged on, the entire night fusing together, your one source of happiness being from watching Vickie and Robin together—you had wished for your flask that you didn’t even think to bring, ironically thinking Steve would look at you this time and not see his ex-girlfriend. When you originally propositioned Steve after you’d both discussed your mutual pining pains, it had been your loss of virginity, more great sex, and plenty of welcomed distractions. But you being you, you had gone and developed more than a few strings to that no strings attachment deal.

What does it say for being in love with one person and so deeply connected to another that you can’t decipher if it’s love or something else? You were thankful when those lovey dove ballads end and Steve excuses himself to (probably find a drink someone where that isn’t cafeteria made punch) use the restroom. That was short lived, however, as Eddie and Chrissy, linked hand in hand, invaded your space. Her perfume and his familiar cologne made your stomach roll. She was beaming beneath that rouge blush—happy, content, more like herself than the cheer captain she pretended to be.

You struggled with another emotion through it all—guilt. She had never hurt you, she loved your best friend without judgement, and you would die for Eddie, just as you almost did in the Vecna battle, so his happiness outweighed your wants and needs. He was okay and that’s what had mattered. He was graduating with a beautiful girl, both deserving of futures that were wonderful, whether that be apart or together. Their coupling hadn’t stopped your friendship with Eddie, but it also hadn’t stopped your crying yourself to sleep every night, watching them longingly, wishing Eddie would give you a little more free time like he used to, that his songs at The Hideout, that his ultimate, otherworldly solo had been dedicated to you, that his beautifully wild eyes were just seeing you.

And then came the guilt from being in love with your best friend, with someone else, and fucking Steve Harrington so you would be able to function like a normal human being and not sob uncontrollably everyday. You knew what you had signed up for, so falling for Steve and whatever bond that had grown (apparently, just on your end), bit you in your pathetic ass. Eddie had interrupted your self-loathing, a comment meant to sound genuine, serving to make you irate and avoidant.

“You look nice.” Was what he had said. Chrissy agreed with that beautiful smile.

His statement was like a dagger in your chest, dragging up and down, effectively gutting you. You didn’t mean for it to come out fast, or at all, for that matter, but it slipped off dejected, bitter. “No, I don’t.”

Another dose of irony, you’d thought, as Cinderella’s ‘Don’t Know What You Got’ began to play in echoing speakers.

Eddie hadn’t gotten the chance to say anything else, you halting his word formation, leaving it resting on his tongue’s tip. “Is Rick out of the slammer yet?”

His brow had raised into his hairline, practically. “Think so. Why?”

“Just need some shit.” You’d shrugged a nonchalant shoulder after responding, the strap of your dress too itchy.

You chose to think Eddie’s concerned stares were non-existent, that even Chrissy looking worried for you was your hopeful imagination. It’s not like you hadn’t gotten high before. Granted, it was always from Eddie and it was always just weed. By the time Steve was back and providing conversation between the gaps, your entire dress had started to suffocate you. Divine intervention came in the form of another song—albeit—slow, you’d taken it over standing there any longer.

You didn’t ask Steve where he went, didn’t answer his attempts at asking if you were okay, or if you wanted to ‘go to the bathroom’ with him. You’d simply settled for resting your cheek near the cove of his freckle spattered neck, pretending that he wasn’t seeing Nancy in your eyes, that your waist wasn’t hers beneath his large hands. Steve had felt it before you realized, moisture soaking his shirt collar, slicking his skin. He’d pulled back and thumbed your cheekbone, hazel irises widening in realization.

“Fuck, Y/N, are you okay?”

You couldn’t stomach his pity, your eyes had cast another dart to Eddie and Chrissy, whom were forehead to forehead, together. And then Nancy, her gaze had shifted to Steve and you. It had made you drop his hold like a hot iron, awkward and shrinking back.

“Honey…” Steve had tried gently, tone laced with a gentle coax. “M’ so sorry.”

You’d exited your prom in a hasty retreat, ignoring Eddie’s panicked acknowledgement, Steve’s following footsteps. Trashing your high heels in the garbage on the way outside, you had already began to pull at your dress’ back, the zipper too high for your reach. The asphalt was cool against your stocking clad feet, that stupid pedicure was laughing up at you. Your chest had expanded in size, ribcage being dusted to ash by a vice squeeze, one that threatened to have your entire chest cavity caving in. The way your throat had closed around pleading words that fell into the void, panic settled in and exploding, demolishing you in the process.

People were stumbling all over, kissing, happy, horns were honking, and you stood in the middle of the open double doors where Wham’s ‘Everything She Wants’ was booming in vibrations from inside the gymnasium, invading your anxiety attack as a fucked up soundtrack to your misery. Steve’s hand had clasped over your shoulder when you remembered how your cries had started getting more noticeable, anguished.

“Fucking dress. I’m so stupid! Off, get it off! I hate it! I hate this!”

Steve had not felt more powerless in his life, not since Nancy had broken his heart and fell for Jonathan. He didn’t know what to do to reach you, so he had unzipped your gown halfway to help you try and breathe a little easier. It didn’t work. You had went right for ripping the expensive fabric at every thread you could get your hands on, pawing at it until it became tattered on your body. Your hands had ripped your hair into disarray from its updo, smearing your lipstick and carefully applied shadow into smudges as it mingled with your tears.

You were babbling and what Steve did catch on your fragmented language, it caused tears to fill his eyes, stomach feeling as if he’d been sucker punched, his mouth opening and closing.

“Why doesn’t anyone want me?”

And you’d walked away, arms wrapped tightly around you, holding yourself.

You, nor Steve hadn’t seen Eddie’s rush outside, stopping short and breathless, in angry awe of the entire scene, throat tight and lashes wet. He watched Harrington’s head bow, that coiffed mane in perfect disarray, hand swiping at his nose. Both men were frozen, in disbelief. You were broken and no one had realized just how much…

~*~

Tagging:

@littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @ethereal27cereal @thisishellfire @inklore @indouloureux @gothbitchshit @corrodedhawkins @pinkchubbiebunnie @likedovesinthewnd

I’m sorry if some of y’all don’t want tagged. I didn’t know who to tag in this. :/

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hldailyupdate · 11 months

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There’s a palpable sense of excitement at Wembley Stadium as the crowd – adorned in pink cowboy hats, glittery boots and multi-coloured feather boas – wait for Harry Styles to take the stage. Tonight is the pop superstar’s final show of a four-night residency for the last leg of his spectacular Love On Tour dates.

Brassy opener Daydreaming kicks off the night with Styles – high energy as ever – running laps across the stage, flaunting his black-and-red embellished ensemble to the adoring crowd. The former One Direction star breezes through the openers which include the shimmering Golden, with the crowd chanting back every word of its catchy chorus, into the groovy Adore You and mellow Keep Driving, closing out with the rockier tones of She.

Fans are also treated to bouncy love-song Daylight, followed by a throwback to the One Direction days with Stockholm Syndrome – its brash guitar riffs pierce through the crowds’ extra-loud reception to it. For the more intimate part of the show, Styles moves forward to the extended stage – waving to fans, giving them thumbs-ups and blowing kisses throughout as a show of gratitude, something which is mentioned earnestly throughout the evening.

Truly the biggest surprise of the night comes with a performance of Sweet Creature – a delicate, moving track from his debut record. Twinkling acoustic guitars accompany Styles’ heartwarming lyrics about finding comfort in a person, a sentiment that is undoubtedly shared by many in the crowd. Styles makes a point to start his shows by encouraging people to “please feel free to be who you’ve always wanted to be”, setting a precedent that, for at least the two hours you’re in his house, you’re welcome to be you – whatever form that might take.

Tender renditions of Matilda and Love of My Life further ease the pace before launching into the ‘disco section’ of the night with funky, drum-laden single Satellite, jazzy Late Night Talking and Cinema, into the grand brass-heavy Music For A Sushi Restaurant. There’s barely any time to recover before fans are boot-scooting their way into the feel-good anthem Treat People With Kindness. As Styles begins the joyous performance waving a Pride flag across the stage, many more pop up across the arena shedding light on this beautiful safe space that they’ve managed to carve together.

Treat People With Kindness is mixed in flawlessly with the mega-hit What Makes You Beautiful, and although hard to verify, it feels as if every single person in the crowd is singing along (if they weren’t already!). Grapejuice provides a well-earned breather as Styles flawlessly croons through the jazzy track; leading into a mesmerising performance of Fine Line where he provides his strongest vocal performance yet, holding high notes as great big horns crash into a crescendo.

Our encore begins with Sign of The Times, Styles’ epic debut single performed here with fireworks and a crowd that has not relented its energy. Fan-favourite Medicine carries this on but it’s As It Was, the synth-heavy lead single from Harry’s House, that takes the evening to dizzying new heights.

In an adorable closeout moment, the song begins with young fan Sandler providing the iconic “C’mon Harry, we wanna say goodnight you” intro, making way for a euphoric performance that brings Harry Styles’ triumphant run of shows to a close. During his final night at Wembley, Styles proves that no matter who you are, there’s always space for you at Harry’s House.

GAY TIMES rating: ★★★★★

via Gay Times. (19 June 2023)

#harry styles #harry update #love on tour #love on tour 2023 #gay times #article #june 2023

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callofdooty69 · 3 months

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happy (late) valentine’s day !!

to celebrate, here’s a little blurb for steddie because i wanna switch it up a bit🤞

cw: talk of alcohol, minor profanity, mlm ship

****

despite the assumptions, eddie wasn’t a very big fan of parties. there were always too many people that he didn’t know, or people that he’d rather not know. he went to the occasional party during a holiday or for some kind of celebration, but other than that he would rather sit in his trailer and play guitar.

it was the valentine’s day of 1986 and the only things you could see for miles were heart decorations, ribbons, and lights along main street. the high school was filled with stickers on lockers and the pungent smell of flowers throughout the air, couples scattered across the halls while expressing way to much PDA for eddie to be comfortable with.

he didn’t know what all the fuss was about. it was just some stupid lovey dovey holiday that held no meaning other than corny love and romance. he told himself that he hated it because of the thought that it was a waste of time, but it’s obvious the real reason; he didn’t have anyone to share the day with. being the “freak of hawkins high” doesn’t exactly get you laid, and even though he craved affection as much as the next guy, he knew that he wouldn’t get it any time soon.

he had other things to make him happy, to focus on and turn to when he needed it. he had people that cared about him, like his uncle, the kids, steve and robin. he had the D&D campaigns, his music, his band. he had things.

there was just something missing, and he knew exactly what it was.

it was steve.

———

steve nervously straightened the collar of his crisp white shirt, glancing around the room as the valentine’s day party buzzed with laughter and chatter. he had spent hours preparing for this evening, wanting everything to be perfect. as the host, he wanted his guests to have a great time. he wanted eddie to have a great time.

he knew eddie wasn’t necessarily the “party” type of guy, but it never hurts to shoot your shot and invite someone you’ve been in love with for the past year to a party that he probably won’t go to.

as if on cue to drag steve out of his thoughts, eddie entered the room with a charismatic grin, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on steve. "hey, steve! thanks for inviting me, man. this place looks awesome," he said, approaching with a warm hug.

eddie, as always, was exuding confidence and style in his meticulously curated outfit for the evening's festivities. he wore a tailored black suit that hugged his frame perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and trim waist. the ironed shirt underneath was adorned with a subtle pattern, adding a touch of sophistication to his ensemble. completing the look was a sleek black tie, expertly knotted at his throat. his polished leather shoes gleamed under the soft glow of the lights, completing the outfit with a sense of refinement. his outfit spoke volumes about his taste and attention to detail.

steve didn’t think he had ever seen anyone look so beautiful.

"hey, eddie! i’m really glad you could make it," he replied, feeling his heart flutter at eddie's presence. "can i get you something to drink?"

"yeah, that would be great. surprise me!" he said, flashing another smile before they walked towards the makeshift bar.

steve watched him wave to the other people he saw in the crowd, feeling a surge of nervous energy coursing through him. he knew he had to make a move tonight, or he might never get another chance. taking a deep breath, he followed eddie, hoping to strike up a conversation.

as they reached the bar, steve turned with two glasses in hand, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "i hope you like whiskey," he said, handing one glass to the latter.

"whiskey's perfect, thank you," eddie replied, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.

they chatted for a while, exchanging stories and laughter as the night wore on. steve found himself mesmerized by eddie's easy charm and infectious laughter, feeling more drawn to him with each passing moment.

suddenly, amidst the laughter and animated conversations, there was a loud crash as someone bumped into eddie, causing him to spill his drink all over his pristine white shirt.

"watch where your going, asshole!" the man exclaimed, eddie’s eyes widening in horror as he looked at the stain spreading across his abdomen.

“oh my god, are you alright?” steve exclaimed with furrowed brows and glancing at the other’s now red and white shirt.

eddie tried to hide his disappointment, forcing a smile as he shrugged it off and turned. “it’s all good, accidents happen.”

but steve wasn't having it. "no seriously your shirt is, like, ruined. i'll go grab a towel," he said, already moving towards the kitchen.

eddie watched him go, feeling a mix of frustration towards the man and gratitude for steve swirling inside him. he couldn't believe his luck - his chance to try and impress steve ruined by a spilled drink.

a few moments later, steve returned with a damp towel in hand, looking sheepish. "here, let me help you clean up," he said, gesturing towards the stain on eddie’s shirt.

eddie sighed, resigned to the fact that his shirt was beyond saving. "thanks, but i think it's done for," he said, trying to hide his disappointment.

steve frowned, his brow furrowing in concern. "i feel terrible, is there anything i can do to make it up to you?"

eddie hesitated for a moment, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "actually, there is one thing you could do," he said, his heart pounding in his chest.

steve looked at him, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "what is it?"

eddie took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "do you... do you mind if i borrow one of your shirts?" he said, gesturing towards the staircase.

steve’s eyes widened in surprise, a slow smile spreading across his face. "of course, c’mon." he said, his enthusiasm infectious.

steve felt a surge of relief flood through him as he led eddie towards the staircase, his heart pounding with anticipation. maybe this valentine's day wouldn't be a total disaster after all.

as they reached the top of the stairs, steve rummaged through his closet, searching for a shirt that would fit eddie despite the fact that he probably had none small enough to fit him. "here, try this one," he said, handing eddie a clean white shirt.

eddie grinned, slipping the shirt on with ease. "thank you, steve. you're a lifesaver," he said, admiring his reflection in the mirror.

steve couldn't help but smile back, feeling a warmth spreading through him at eddie’s gratitude. Maybe this was his chance to finally tell him how he felt. he felt a surge of courage welling up inside him. tonight was the night he would finally lay his feelings on the line, no matter the outcome.

before eddie walked out the door and back to the party, steve took his hand before speaking. "hey, can i talk to you for a second?" he said, his voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in his stomach.

eddie turned towards him, curiosity flashing in his eyes. "of course, big boy"

steve took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts and calming his mind from the nickname before plunging ahead. "i know this might be a bit forward, but... i've really enjoyed spending time with you. and i was wondering if maybe... you'd like to go out on a date sometime?" he said, his heart pounding with anticipation.

his eyes widened in surprise, a dark red and a smile spreading across his face. "are you serious? i'd love to!" he exclaimed, his enthusiasm contagious.

eddie felt a rush of euphoria wash over him, unable to believe his luck. maybe valentine's day wasn't so bad after all.

walking back into the party, hand in hand, steve couldn't help but feel grateful for the spilled drink that had brought them together. sometimes, fate had a funny, shitty, weird way of working things out.

as they danced the night away, surrounded by friends and laughter, they knew that this valentine's day would be one to remember.

****

AHHHHHH i actually love how this turned out !!! let me know what you think 😌

anons, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

- 𝓀.𝒿

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escape-the-real · 5 months

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The Lost Crown: A Tale of Rebellious Royalty. (Fantasy Au x reader)

Drabble, Characters are 18+

Synopsis: Y/n has been held prisoner by their ruthless uncle. Will they be able to escape tonight?

Word count: 2,128

Includes/mentioned: Toga, Shigaraki, Dabi, Magne, Spinner, Hana, Bakugo.

Key: (T:) - Translation, (e/c) - eye colour, (s/c) - skin colour, (h/c) - have colour.

Warning: Angst and mentions of death.

⚔︎- Chapter One: The Prisoner's Escape-⚔︎

Y/n stood at the tower window, typical, I know. Far down below, the courtyard bustled with busy working people. Unlit lanterns clang gently against the thick stone wall in the swaying motion from the gentle breeze. That same breeze wafted the smell of a whole hog turning slowly on a spit above the fire. An ensemble of performers from the town spun brightly coloured ribbons over their heads. And Y/n knew that inside the castle, players, jugglers, singers, acrobats, and whores waited to do their duties.

The Yami no dōmei (T: Dark Alliance) Stewardess, Himiko Toga, bounced across the courtyard. She threatened a couple of worker boys who were doing more looking than working.

"Hurry up, you useless bloodbags. His Royal Highness will arrive shortly and see you doing absolutely nothing! What do you think he'll do then, huh?" she let out an insane laugh, watching them scramble at the mention of his mere title.

Y/n didn't so much as laugh. Too often they have seen Prince Shigaraki punish those who had mistakenly displeased him. They shake their head at the remembrance of the screams of the punished. Quickly, Y/n thought of safer memories of their mother telling them tales of the great dragons who protect the innocent. Fascinating creatures they were to Y/n, ever since they were a child.

"Today is the day and this time," Y/n thought fiercely, "this time Shigaraki will let me come down from this tower. He must!"

The Maya blue-coloured sky dimmed into a lavender. A shade of pink outlined the black, twisted trees of the forest. Y/n watched the colors of the sky dance together. Looking below once more, the lanterns were now lit. Almost as if they were scaring away the darkness from the courtyard. All was ready. A distant trumpet sounded. A line of ghost-like lights could be seen floating along the forest road.

"He's here! He's here!" shouted Toga.

At the sound of her voice, the drawbridge went down with a low creaking and moaning. The line of lights came closer and revealed torch-lit horseback riders. Some carried torches, while others carried flowing banners. There was a great clatter of hooves and blaring of trumpets as the riders crossed the drawbridge.

Only one man drew his head up slowly towards the tower as the riders thundered into the courtyard. Y/n stepped back so fast that they almost tripped over the rug. As the curtain fell back into place, a shiver racked down their spine before saying to themselves, "I see he has not forgotten me."

The prince came to visit Y/n only once in a blue moon, so every one to two years. And even that was too many times for their liking. During Prince Shigaraki's last visit, Y/n had been denied permission to walk in the corridor outside their room. Remembering this made Y/n hold their chin up high and stubbornly. This visit, Y/n meant to challenge him. They prayed that their courage wouldn't leave them.

Y/n knew The Prince usually stayed for several weeks, entertaining his many guests with brawls, drinking, many acts, and feasting. Then he would return to his court of villains, and what little peace was back to the small palace. Y/n gritted their teeth as they knew that during those several weeks, maybe even tonight, he would seek them out.

Waiting, Y/n paced the floor of their bedroom tower. The fine fabric of silk wisped around their body at each turn. Nervously, they played with the lace that trimmed the silk garment. The hours passed. Laughter and music floated up from the courtyard, but Y/n would not go back to the window. They made themselves sit on an uncomfortable padded stool.

They were still there when the door opened. Magne, who was Y/n warden and maid, ducked inside the room. The man behind her was not as tall but lean with narrow shoulders. But it was his face that drew the focus. It was pale, scratch-littered, with sunken eyes that looked like two blood droplets, and a dark expression.

"Well? Stand up and greet your Prince!" Shigaraki snapped.

Y/n stood up and forced themself to hold their head high in defiance. They met his icy look without flinching, which most cannot do. But Y/n could tell that he was not pleased with what he saw.

"They grow more like their mother every day… How could Hana marry an American is beyond my understanding. Look at their h/c and s/c!"

He made a sound of disgust and moved away from them.

"If they didn't bear the birthmark that Hana did, no one would recognize them as one of us!" he said.

Magne let out a laugh, but she stopped when The Prince spun to glare at her. Y/n remained where they were, they didn't dare speak. They couldn't.

"Still, they have the upbringing and bearing befitting one of royal blood. If they went down amongst the commoners, they just might…" His voice trailed off while he scratched at his neck. "But we'll see that doesn't happen, won't we Magne?"

Yes, My Lord," Magne said.

Y/n looked at her maid with eyes that seemed to blaze e/c. Prince Shigaraki inhaled deeply. He turned away.

"Does they not speak? Toga cut out their tongue?" He asked Magne.

"Yes, they speak," she said sourly. "And it's sharp like a dagger too."

"ah, I see. So, they are stubborn then? Willful?"

"Yes again My Lord. For all the time we've had her, you'd think they were the royal highness." Magne said with a sneer.

Prince Shigaraki frowned. He looked back at Y/n. "They grow like a weed. Soon they will propose a threat to my throne. Something will need to be done… It will be decided before my visit here is done."

Magne threw a barbed glance at Y/n. They felt their dislike for their maid once more and knew that she wouldn't miss the long climb up the tower steps if they were gone.

After one last pensive look at Y/n, Prince Shigaraki stalked out as Magne followed suit by shutting the door. Y/n rushed across their room to the closed door and pressed their cheek against the wood. Their heart sank as they heard the loud click as the door was locked from the outside.

"Someday… sometimes," Y/n promised themselves fiercely, "they'll forget."

Then the hot anger Y/n felt left them, and they slid to the floor. What had Shigaraki meant? Y/n wondered. What would he do to them before he left? Y/n shuddered. All their efforts to escape had ended in embarrassingly quick captures by Shigarki's goons. Now, despite the risks, Y/n knew that they must try again.

Deep in thought, Y/n didn't hear the lock click again. The moving door caught them by surprise. Y/n rolled over quickly to keep from getting hit as it swung open. Magne came back in, muttering to herself. Y/n remained where they were, hidden by the opened door. Sudden hope made their heart skip a beat, and they held their breath.

"Oh dear heart, probably on the bed pouting again," Magne complained.

She saw the food tray across the room and went to go grab it.

"No more climbing those stairs, I'm done my leg day for the night. I will be downstairs enjoying my evening of ale!" She called into the bedroom.

When she didn't get an answer, she grunted. A few more steps lead Magne to the arch that led to Y/n's sleeping quarters. Muttering to herself once more, she peered inside.

For a quick moment, Y/n's body felt glued to the floor. Then suddenly they were up and out the wooden door. One good pull swung that heavy door shut. Y/n used both hands to turn the enchanted quirk-cancelling key. They stopped to listen. They could tell that Magne was pounding on the door. They also knew that no one could hear her. Even in the downtime of the palace, it was hard to hear beyond the thick wood. Tonight would be extremely impossible.

Y/n descended the winding staircase cautiously, even though they felt like rushing down with joy. From previous efforts to escape, they knew that the stairs branched out like roots of a tree in many directions. Y/n took one of the left corridors that led to the art gallery that overlooked the great hall. The noise below was deafening to their ears due to hearing little each day.

Y/n hid behind the folds of the monstrous tapestry. The guests and singer were downstairs but Y/n knew that the singers would soon return to the art gallery for their moments break. Quickly, their e/c eyes scanned the crowd.

Y/n saw no one they could trust. Their father was assassinated by Shigaraki's right-hand man and bounty hunter, Dabi before they were born. And their mother died soon after Y/n's birth. "Uncle" or Prince Shigaraki had kept them locked away and hidden in the palace as they grew older. The servants had been chosen for their loyalty to him. Any guest who happened to catch a quick glimpse of Y/n's face at the window thought that it was a gosht haunting the tower.

Toga had taken great delight in passing along that story. Y/n's mouth curled into a smirk of satisfaction as they thought of the punishment that his servants would get in the morning due to their escape. Their gaze left the guests and went to the servants.

"…Servants…" Y/n muttered to themselves. They watched the servants buzz around, tending to guests. Y/n brows creased in thought.

"They are wearing clothes used only for their work in the palace. Nothing can be taken home… They have to change somewhere, downstairs?" Y/n thought.

Ripping down a tapestry and flipping it around, Y/n made a makeshift cloak. It covered their face and only trailed slightly on the floor. They hurried down the steps and into the throng of people in the great hall, hoping that they would be mistaken for a commoner who provided the acrobatic acts. No one stopped them. Y/n walked quickly out of the great hall and down a lower corridor with the same success. Everyone was too busy working, drinking, and or playing to pay attention to them wandering around. Near the courtyard, they found what they were looking for. On one wall were multiple clothes of different sizes on pegs. Y/n searched around until they found a worn frock and rough shoes, they appeared to belong to someone on the kitchen staff.

Quickly stripping off the cloth they had on now, they pulled on the escape disguise. Y/n crept back down the hallway and stopped long enough to put their silk garments in a deep vase where they would not be found. Then, pulling the cloak back around their face, they slid out the door into the courtyard.

Y/n moved around the fringes of the bustling crowd, keeping to the shadows. Only once did they turn aside to avoid running into Toga and found themself looking directly into the eyes fire breather hired as an act. His ruby-red eyes stood out from the painted mask, they seemed to stare right into Y/n's heart. Y/n stared back, unable to move. Then the crowd shifted, pushing them along. Y/n wriggled and thrust their way back into the shadows. When they looked back, the fire-breather was gone as if he disappeared into thin air.

"Hurry," Y/n told themself over their pounding heart. Desperately they searched for a way out without being detected. That's when they saw a wagon off by itself, being loaded with empty ale barrels. Y/n waited until the men finished loading the wagon and prayed that it would pass the drawbridge unchallenged. The men waved the driver a merry farewell, that's when Y/n scrambled into the back and squeezed themself between the barrels.

Y/n pulled the tapestry completely over their face and became a shadow themself. Y/n lay perfectly still, hardly breathing for fear of getting caught. The wagon rattled and jostled across the courtyard slowly. When the challenge came, Y/n clamped their teeth together to keep them from chattering out loud. Then the granting voice of the gatekeeper, Spinner, came ringing out. Along with a few cheerful insults to the driver. The driver yelled back, roaring with laughter, and the wagon creaked onward through the gate.

The wheels rumbled over the boards and onto the dirt road, leading to the dark forest. As the twisted trees appeared, Y/n jumped into action and slipped out the back of the wagon, dropping to the ground. Triumph tingled through Y/n, pushing away all fear that once resided. Y/n started walking through the tree line and that walking turned into a run.

"I'm free. I-I'm finally free!" Y/n called to the night.

Thanks for reading, hope it was enjoyable!! Make sure to stick around for ⚔︎- Chapter Two: The Dark Forest-⚔︎

#bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #anime fanfic #fiction #bnha #bakugou x reader #anime #Shigaraki #Toga #Bnha fantasy Au #Barbarian Bakugou #Spinner #The Lost Crown: A Tale of Rebellious Royalty #Kiribaku #Dragon Kirishima #MHA #Fantasy #@escape-the-real

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