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jdgo51 · 6 months

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Getting to the Root of the Problem

Today's inspiration comes from:

I Don't Know Who I Am Anymore

by Carole Holiday

"'If I had an hour to solve a problem, I’d spend fifty-five minutes thinking about the problem and five minutes thinking about solutions. ~ Author unknown, but sometimes attributed to Albert Einstein

Sometimes it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what’s wrong. I mean, you know in a larger sense that your world has been turned upside-down, like pink koalas and purple kangaroos should be hopping outside your window, or like big, fat snowflakes should be falling and sticking to the sidewalk on a sweltering summer day.

Somehow, in the throes of trauma, the wildest upendings seem acceptable. As if you’ve been expecting this theater of the absurd to roll into town. (After all, it was absurd that this hospital bed was now a fixture in the living room along with the strangers and syringes that accompanied it.) But when it really comes down to the minutest details, can you articulate why this loss hurts so deeply? I mean, what exactly is the problem?

Jesus knew how to cut through the marshmallowy fluff and reveal the real villain. To pluck the prize at the bottom of the Cracker Jack box. To tease out the splinter instead of just applying a Spiderman Band-Aid over that dark sliver in your thumb. Jesus drilled down to the heart of the matter by calling out the heart of the asker. Like a hot knife gliding through your best chilled cheesecake.

Enter the Pharisees, Scribes, and Sanhedrin. Let the ancient rendition of Truth or Dare begin, in the Gospel of Mark, chapter 7.

“We’ve got a problem here, Jesus. Your crew of misfits doesn’t wash their hands before they eat. They’re just pawing at the picnic — passing out loaves and fishes willy-nilly. We do have a rule about that, as you should know — ahem — that is, you should know if you really are a prophet.” (I mean, these Hebrew Mensa members traveled long, dusty miles from Jerusalem and that’s all they’ve got? That’s their best shot?)

Jesus brakes.

“Whoa. Hold on a minute. Aren’t you the ones who deny your mother and father support — won’t give them a mite — because your money is already cinched up in that ‘Devoted to God’ pouch? What law could be more devoted to God than ‘Honor your father and mother’? You trade the Word of God for your traditions. You trample God’s intentions. You say that the problem is handwashing. I say you need a heart-washing.”

For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of. — Matthew 12:34

That’s what you call exactly the problem.

And the followers of Jesus were not immune to His laser focus.

The earliest teachings of this unorthodox Galilean are exactly that — unorthodox — and feature Him excavating the root problems of surface sins.

Jesus’ take on the old laws confounded His listeners. Consider these lessons from Matthew 5:

It’s not just that murder is wrong. It’s that unresolved anger toward your brother or sister is wrong. (vv. 21–22)

It’s not just adultery. It’s lust. You know how you looked at that neighbor’s wife? Yep. That one. (vv. 27–30)

Yes. It’s divorce all right. But more than that, underneath divorce, it’s like your hardened heart forces a wife into adultery in future relationships. It’s condemning her. Compromising her. Casting her aside as collateral damage. (vv. 31–32)

It’s not just revenge. It’s stinginess. (vv. 38–40)

Time and again, He calls out the problem underneath the problem. Time and again, He calls out the problem underneath the problem.

My friend understood that well. Sitting across from the always elegant and eternally wise eighty-two-year-old grande dame, I spilled my guts. Florence Littauer, an accomplished author who had ministered to women for four decades, owned an aura reminiscent of the tulle-wrapped, very pink, and very glittery Glinda, Oz’s famed Good Witch of the North. And I, a trembling Munchkin, was counting on her kindness. The imaginary wand she waved would undoubtedly reflect that kindness, but I was still nervous. Although I had known her for years (or perhaps because I had known her for years), I suspected an edict was forthcoming.

Florence listened, speared the last grape in her chicken salad, dabbed the corners of her mouth oh so delicately, and with her index finger wagging, distinctly opined, “Your problem is, you think you have no value apart from that man.”

Ouch. There it was. That was it. Bull’s-eye.

You feel worthless.

More specifically, worthless without him, a phrase that fits as perfectly as your best little black dress.

That’s not a match for your particular situation, you say?

You’re probably right. It may not be. Perhaps our losses don’t resemble each other’s in the least little bit. But see if completing this sentence with your words offers clarity. Imagine Florence speaking to you. (Side note: it’s helpful to throw in that finger-wagging thing too.)

“You think you have no value apart from _____________.”

That job? That bank account? That relationship? The success of that superstar child? That home? That car? That title? Those dusty trophies lined up against the window ledge? That perfectly beating heart that pumped you through two elite marathons? Those long-awaited and longed-for Louboutin shoes?

Recalibrating your worth when you lose something temporal you’ve attached it to proves debilitating. And it doesn’t really matter which temporal thing becomes the object of your devotion. All will fail because all are, by definition, fleeting.

Working in a local “stone soup” homeless shelter, I recall a day I manned the clothing trailer. I struck up a conversation with a chatty middle-aged client, as we called the visitors, who took his time poring over the donated jackets hanging on the rack. He pulled out a rather natty plaid coat, propped it up for me to see, and announced, “I wore one like this when I was somebody.” My soul tore a little for him as I helped him into the sleeves and reflected on the lesson he was teaching me at that very moment, as I was still stuck searching for that old relationship that I’d worn when I was somebody. Neither of our garments fit.

These spiritual misappropriations and misplaced self-assessments in light of loss happen in all stratas of society — rich or impoverished, privileged or marginalized. I think the marginalized just may be more honest about it. Hence, natty-plaid-coat-man with the easy confession rolling off his tongue, unknowingly calling out the got-it-all-together volunteer hiding her spiritual snags behind a laminated-lanyard ID tag and rows of hand-me-down coats stuffed into a double-wide.

The movie scene running through my mind cuts to Jesus gathering the children to Him, deliberately corralling the littlest littles and placing them center stage while the disciples, clueless, strut around in the wings, jockeying for position and elbowing each other out of the way, so as to avoid tripping over their extra-long egos.

Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven. — Matthew 18:3

Well played, Jesus.

The upside-down Kingdom of this tough-but-tender Rabbi never fails to flip social structures on their haughty heads."'

Excerpted with permission from I Don’t Know Who I Am Anymore by Carole Holiday, copyright Carole Holiday.

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virgorisingmusic · 8 months

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#5: you did what you wanted to do

How do I know if I like these colours? I can like colours and not want to wear them. If I shop in a rush, I’ll end up buying clothes I don’t actually like very much. Am I enjoying this person or do I like that they’re enjoying me? Am I enjoying these fries? I would prefer them with ketchup. The crispy ones taste best. I don’t like Burger King.

I like beige, brown, black, white, muted green, and grey-blue. I think I expect to be affected by colours the same way I’m affected by music and writing. I love Subway but the thought of them making eggs and breakfast food makes me sick. I don’t have to do things I don’t want to do. Sometimes I do. I don’t like waiting for my sister in the airport and watching her come down the escalator and waiting for her luggage on the carousel because it’s always the last bag to come around. I don’t want to think about why I don’t enjoy it, but I just know I’d rather wait for her in the car. It’s unpleasant to think about why I don’t like certain things. Yorkshire is my favourite English accent because of Sean Bean. I’ve always thought Cillian Murphy was very beautiful. As of recently, I love sea foam green.

I know what I like - I think doubting what I like and trying to analyse why I like and dislike things is partly an issue with my own intuition and sense of self. I’m barely the person I’m going to be. I’d be nearly empty if I was a glass of water.

I met my brother (whom I had never met before) at work the other day. I didn’t get the advice of friends before I opened my mouth. I sold him a card and said, “Your total is $8.96, and I think I’m your sister!”

It didn’t go the way I had planned and I ended up feeling really horrible for around a week afterwards. Throughout my childhood, I had spent a lot of time imagining the day I’d meet one of my three other half-siblings, and I forgot it could go a way I didn’t favour. How do you separate desire from expectation?

I shouldn’t have said anything.

Only expecting what you desire seems nice and empowering; however, it seems the more I want something, the universe conspires to keep it from me. I’m teased by confidence and punished by our funny little world.

“This is going to work out for me,” turns into, “I should’ve known.”

“It didn’t work out because I never deserved it.”

Figuring out how to trick the world is funny. Oh, I absolutely do NOT want to win the Lotto 649 Gold Ball Jackpot… It would SUCK if this artist I love listened to and adored my song and asked my band to go on tour with them…

But there are people on the opposite end of this theory who say you have to act like you already have what you want in order to get what you want. This makes me wish I was a magic girl - 22 and magic. Sometimes I think 20-year-old girls are magical. I felt magical for one day when I was young, actually. I had just discovered Google and I went on a website (kind of like this one, if it wasn’t actually this one) that had a bunch of spells, and I picked one that was supposed to allow me to hear my cat’s thoughts. I looked at Levi’s in his sweet green eyes and said some words. When it didn’t work, I thought I just had to wait a bit for the spell to kick in. Sometimes when bad things happen, I think about that day and wonder if those words ended up eternally cursing me, but I know sometimes things just don’t work out because I don’t truly want or need the things I say I want. I don’t need to know my brother. I don’t want to know him. I hope I never see him again, actually. I understand that may be confusing to some people, but I already have a brother and sister whom I love very much, and I don’t ever think about how they’re not my father’s children.

When I told my mom I said something stupid to my father’s only son, she said,

“You did what you wanted to do at that moment.”

I didn’t have time to overthink or analyse the pros and cons in my journal. I did what I wanted to do, and doing what I want to do has been a massive theme in my life since that day. I’m trying harder to defend my intuition by letting it lead me through situations like that one. I still feel I shouldn’t have said anything; it was uncomfortable and awkward for both of us. But now I can say I’ve met him and I never have to anticipate meeting him ever again. I joked that my workplace lost a customer that day.

What doubly upset me about the situation was that I made someone uncomfortable. I did what I wanted, but it was at the expense of someone else’s comfort. I just had to know, though! You’re buying a card at a gift shop and your long-lost sibling is your cashier. You're selling a card at a gift shop and your long-lost sibling is your customer. I've watched so many Hallmarks that my life is slowly becoming one.

I don't really care anymore, but I can't help but think: if we had a different backdrop behind that major life event, would it have turned out differently? Someone's workplace isn't the right setting for a messy family to reunite, but I couldn't not say something. It's just unfortunate that huge, life-altering events don't wait for perfect moments. They come as they come.

…

My sister got engaged this week and her wedding colours are going to be white and sea foam green.

Emily

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fencesandfrogs · 3 years

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sea shanties, work songs, tiktok

so apparently tiktok and sea shanties (technically they’re usually sea folk songs, based on the ones i’ve heard, which is not many) are having a moment and as someone who’s always been a fan of work songs, esp. sea shanties, i just wanted to take a moment to talk/think about them.

[this is abt 1.4k words with a lot of music, incl. 4 embeded videos. i included this break because scrolling past long posts is annoying but like. there’s some good music to listen to in here even if u don’t want to read the whole thing.]

call & response is a pretty common musical idea. i’m not sure at all, but i’d wager a good deal that it’s probably some of the oldest stuff we have. but, like, if you’ve ever sung anything in a group, it’s there. the classic call and response is shorter, but i just want to also say a lot of music can be thought of as call and response, like verses/choruses, etc.

i think it just speaks to a human desire to participate in music. many people know what i’m talking about here (maybe most? i come from a musical family so i don’t have a good breadth of experience but i’ve met very few people who don’t jive to music), and so we make this little welcoming come sing with me environment.

anyway, so work songs are a type of music meant to coordinate labor. a lot of work songs are formed by slaves, because for a work song to be helpful, you need to be doing work that requires coordination.

sea shanties are a specific type of work song that use the general structure of the american slave work song combine with irish, scottish, and english folk music.

folk music as a whole is a wider genre that overlaps a lot with work songs, especially as you start to turn to industrial work songs and cowboy work songs and the like which have a less specific rhythm than sea shanties specifically.

musical edification complete, i’m going to focus on sea shanties and industrial work songs b/c that’s what i listen to the most.

so call and response. sea shanties usually have a soloist part that’s a bit more musically complex, and the response is “simpler”. i’m not here to talk abt music theory or why they developed like that, but you know when you’re bad at singing, having a simple part to join in with is positive. hits the warm gooey spot of participating in group music. here’s a recording of blow the man down which i think demonstrates this quality really well:

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(it’s a pretty popular shanty which is why i picked it. the “truth”of my argument is not at all universal, and it’s not just about speed, but also the rhythm, melody, etc.)

anyway there’s a lot of shanties and what typically comes to mind is drunken sailor which i know “all” the words to (as much as anyone can) but you’ll see theré’s no call and response

what do you do with a drunken sailor

early in the morning

right? that’s not a call and response, it’s just repetition. lyrically, its a call and response:

put him in bed with the captain’s daughter

(that’s my favorite line bc as kids we didn’t understand it so it made us laugh)

but musically you’re not having a back and forth. and so they’re things everyone just gets to sing together.

and that brings me to more industrial work songs. my favorite is sixteen tons, because i’m a basic bitch, and the line “saint peter don’t you call me cause i can’t go” is eternally stuck in my head. here’s a full version:

youtube

so as you can see, there’s no call and response, but the melody is relatively simple. it’s repetitive, the range is decent, and it’s got a really flexible tempo (the video i chose is pretty moderate, but here’s a fast one (and this is pure performance), and i swear i have a slower version on my computer but i can’t find it for the life of me).

(aside: one thing to notice in the johnny cash version is the backing. his is far more complex than ernie ford, and that’s because it’s dropped all pretense of being a work song. work songs don’t have much behind them because they’re almost always a capello. this isn’t super relevant to the discussion i just wanted to point it out.)

so mining work songs are generally like this (see black waters, another favorite of mine), and it’s not hard to see where folk music as a genre develops:

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i just really like this song it’s probably not the best example.

on the other hand, other folk music maintains the structure. lets look at oh susanna (i hate this version, but the vocals are very clear so uhhh here’s a random cool fancy one listen to this it’s super cool).

the whole thing is fairly repetitive, it doesn’t have a strictly definite end, etc. the melody is still pretty simple, although i will say, having sung this in a choir, it can get more complicated in arrangement pretty easily.

anyway, this becomes bluegrass which is basically the folk version of country, here’s callin baton rogue which is absolutely one of the best songs to ever be written. this version is done by garth brooks, country singer, but listen to that fiddle and tell me it’s country.

(this is future matthew with an edit just to say, like, i’m not trying to establish a *strictly* factual chain of music genres here. bluegrass is, i believe, related closely to jazz & blues, while country was formed directly as an opposition to jazz & music history is really complicated.)

you get a lot of ballads here, eg ballad of john henry. i’m not going to say that’s good. but uh there’s a lot to filter through and i’m supposed to be working on my computer science assignment not doing an exploratory discussion of work songs and associated genres.

so this brings us to scottish/irish/english ballads. the clancy brothers are a popular band here, my mom had them on in the car a lot. here’s the work of the weavers for a slower song, but a good one, and here’s moonshiner, which is both a good song and takes me to my next point: sea songs, folk song, and tiktok (see its almost the same as the title it’s a joke).

i’m happy to see folk music making a resurgence. it was really a shame that we spent such a long time listening to not singing friendly music. that’s not a diss on any particular genre (except for edm fuck edm, everyone who makes dance remixes should have their music liscences revoked), because in isolation every genre is fine, but then you take it all together, and there’s a lack of the group singing, safe for bad singers, simple to play, music as a wider genre.

when did we stop singing lullabies? i mean i assume we still sing them to children, but how many do you know? how long has it been since a song like you are my sunshine has been popular? *caveat that i don’t listen to the radio, but if you have a counter example, make sure you think about how long it is and how large the range is and how complicated the rhythm is, etc., because that all is part of it.

at the camp i used to go to, we would sing bohemian rhapsody walking down the hill to the waterfront. someone would start it, and those interested get to join in sometime around “easy come easy go", but then you get to a guitar solo, and the thing kind of fizzles without a backing track.

and that’s what i mean, i mean people keep singing together, and wouldn’t it be better if more people made music that was meant to be sung? i mean sure you can gather your friends and sing anything, but will it resonate in the same way “what do you do with a drunken sailor?” would? will everyone be able to sing it, will it sound okay if you sing it badly? why did we stop making music that sounded best when we sing it the way we always have? why did we stop listening to it?

anyway i don’t have a deep take on this except like folk music is really good, and traditional songs exist for a reason. since i’ve focused really heavily on america and gaelic tradition, because that’s what i listend to growing up, and therefore can speak about in a qualitative sense, i would like to just leave this south african lullaby here, because my mom used to sing it to me, so it’s got a real soft spot in my heart. i didn’t really talk about lullabies because again comp sci assignment but they’re related, so anyway, this has an english translation in there which may or may not be the standard? but you can know what it means too:

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#folk music #work songs #bluegrass #sea shanties #lullabies #music #mine #txt #19th #January #2021 #January 19th 2021 #q #essay

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punkpal · 4 years

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Get To Know Me Better! (tag game)

@tidal-wav3s thanks for tagging me dude!!

Fav color: Lots of people get surprised when i say this but pink has and always will be my favourite colour.

Last song I listened to: Four Walls - While She Sleeps

Fav musicians/bands: God i have so many but the first few that come to mind are Parkway Drive, My Chemical Romance, Five Finger Death Punch, Green Day, Architects, All Time Low, A Day to Remember, Hellions, Slipknot, Secrets, Ocean Grove, Korn, In Hearts Wake, Awaken I Am, Whilst She Sleeps, Slowly Slowly, Young Lions, Trophy Eyes, The Plot In You, Queen, The Maine, Linkin Park, Hands Like House, AD/DC, Evanescence, Dream On Dreamer, Asking Alexandria, Crown The Empire, Camp Cope, Bring Me the Horizon, System of a Down, Disturbed, The Used, Brand New, Blink-182, Bad Omens, Tonight Alive, Stick To Your Guns and lots lots more. When i was putting together this list i was gonna make it a max of 10 bands but then i kept thinking of more and more and eventually i just had to stop otherwise this list would become novel length. Basically the consensus is i like lots of music and any of the band i reblog shit from are favs.

Last film I watched: Sicario and it was shit so take my word and don’t fucking bother.

Last tv show I watched: I just finished rewatching The Umbrella Academy season 1 to get myself psyched for season 2. I also just finished watching the netflix mini series documentary ‘Unabomber: In his own words’ which was pretty good. And I am also currently binging The Office (US) and am just starting season 8.

Fav original character: So i am writing (admittedly mostly just in my head although a little less then a quarter has been written as a rough draft on a word doc) a rather length fantasy/vampire novel. Its part romance, part drama, part revenge fantasy, part anarchist vigilante revolution au and tbh part me just self projecting my trauma and dysfunctional life onto my characters... And whilst it likely will never see the light of day because of my lack of motivation to write the entire thing down and instead just reference it when i am day dreaming. I really vibe with the alternative universe as an escape from the real one i am living in and i have a vested interest in the characters i have created in it. And whilst there are numerous ocs from this that i have put an alarmingly long amount of time (literally years) into developing all of which i love and adore i do have two favourites. One named Taylor who is a gay 2946 year old idiot/himbo (vampire obviously). He is hot, sweet, kind, caring, funny, understanding, stubborn, the mum™️ friend, a romantic fool with a a hint of mummy issues and anger problems and a complete fucking allergy to guilt. And the other is his prodigy/person he turned vampire named Meredith. She is 354 year old hot mess and is kinda the opposite of him in that she is homicidal, manipulative, cunning, devious, fearless (almost to a fault), strong willed women. Who is very smart, has a strong/forward and somewhat off putting personality, low key a bit of a bitch but is very protective of those she loves and has good morals and the desire to right all wrongs even if through violent revenge if she sees fit. She is the leader of a criminal underworld revolution seeking to bring revenge and justice to the powerful and untouchable evils of the world. And he is her loyal side kick that lets her run the show as she is a natural born leader, but also works as a the voice of reason and logic to her. All the while having his own sub plot of being torn between chasing his love interest despite the danger it possesses. Or sacrificing his own desire for connection and love for fear of the consequences despite it meaning living a sad and eternally lonely life. Thats just a very brief summery of those two. They have a very close but complicated relationship with each other, like annoying siblings but imagine if you had to live with your siblings for centuries. And they all have there flaws (some more obvious then others) as well as dark, morbid and tragic histories but it makes them what the are today both the good, the bad and the downright problematic. And yeah i’d like to think one day i will write this out properly and others will read it and connect to or relate to these characters. Maybe love them, maybe hate them, maybe initially hate them, like is designed with Meredith, but come to truly love her once they begin to understand her and see her potential thats hidden under layers of ‘don’t fuck with me’. But until then they are my characters to play around with and build upon and thats exactly what i intend to do.

Sweet, spicy, or savory: Sweet!

Sparkling water, tea, or coffee: Can i say hot chocolate or juice?

Pets: Living with me is my son and best friend Gideon (he is a adult black male cat i adopted a year ago and he is the best thing that has ever happened to me.) Living with my sister is my family cat i grew up with named Maisey (she is a snobby fat cat with a beautiful coat and i love her although i don’t think she loves me/or anyone.) And then at my mums is her puppy Newfoundland Bentley (basically god combined a dumbass and a dog and made him) as well as my brothers turtle Pedro and my axolotl Voldemort (can’t fit his huge tank in my apartment so he stays with mum.)

I’m tagging: @bilvy @revradio @cxmeterydrxve @angryqueercrypted @prettyyy-boyyy @disenchanted-mona-lisa @burymeinpink @thotfrnk @r1ghtbackatitaga1n @solelll @gothbtchz @highhighhopless @re-imagine @x-give-em-hell-kid-x @greendayer @dramaticallydepressed @lyricsinmyblood-bloodinmylyrics & @imsopunkrxck obviously this isn’t a obligation, do this tag game only if you want. And if you weren’t tagged but wanna take part then do tag me in your own and i will read and like it as i love learning about my followers passions and interests!

#also this is the first time i have talked online about my alternate universe story and original characters #if you like what you hear and wanna know more as what i wrote was only the tip of the iceberg in regards to what there is to know about them #then hmu and ask any questions you have because i'd love to talk more about them because obviously they are both old as fuck #and therefor have a lot of back story and theres so many different aliments to the plot with a whole lot of side/sub plots #and other characters and i have done a load of research so as to have all of the stuff that i wrote based in the past to be historically #accurate and just yeah i know no one cares but if you do then please ask me about it because i have so much more to say!#also don't judge me even though i deserve it lol

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lauwrite1225 · 4 years

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Broken Crown || Finan x OC || Chapter 11

Summary : Since the day he has been enslaved, Finan never thought that he would have to face his origins. But when an old friend made her arrival to Wessex, the Irishman is forced to deal with his past.

Other chapters

English isn’t my first language, if you see any mistakes, tell me :)

Warning : fluff ??

11|| FIRE

The tavern was calm, the silence only disturbed by the sound of the four warriors talking at a table in the back of the hall.

“Do you think he will accept, Lord?” Osferth asked, turning the content of his bowl with his spoon.

“It's not like he had other choices.” Shrugged Uhtred. “I doubt the Danes aren't already preparing another attack.”

“The walls are strong.” Sihtric noticed. Indeed, a great part of Navan Fort’s walls were in stone. In some parts rocks had fissured and logs were maintaining the ramparts, but it was still strong enough. “They could hold.”

Uhtred shook his head. “They would make a siege.” The Dane turned to Finan, next to him, who was half listening to the conversation. Feeling Uhtred’s gaze, he lifted his head. “The city lives of trades, without it, the population will starve.” He continued, tilting his head in wait for his friend’s approbation.

But Finan vigorously shook his head. “The city has been built to survive such situations.” His three friends stared curiously at him. He sighed and briefly looked around them, to be sure no one was listening, before leaning forward. “There's a crypt under the castle. By it, we can have access to a cave which opens in the forest at the north of Navan Fort.”

“But they could enter the city by this passage then.” Uhtred said, eyebrows furrowing in a skeptical expression.

“No. The opening is hiden behind a waterfall and just a small number of people knows the existence of it. And anyway, the cave is a real labyrinth.” He explained, waving his hand in the air.

“How do you know all of that?” Finan looked up to Osferth, the monk seeming surprised by Finan’s knowledge.

“As surprising as it seems, I had an education, Baby Monk.” He frowned, pointing the youngest warrior with his finger. Osferth playfully smirked at his friend before taking a spoon of his oatmeal.

Even though Finan always had been a reluctant student, he knew how to write and read which had intrigued Uhtred when he discovered it. He justified it by saying that his mom tried to make a monk of him. The explanation had always been enough for his Lord, who assumed that Finan’s battle planning skills only came from a sharper mind than he pretended to have. But the truth is that the Irish warrior had been raised to be a King. And even if it was true that his mother tried to instill him a pious spirit, his father inculcated him the art of battle. And as much as he had hated him, he knew he was still alive only thank to the hard training he pushed him to do.

Their discussion ended with the sound of the door opening. The light drew Ailis silhouette, her hair shining at the sun until the wooden door was closed again. Finan studied her as she walked toward them, the skirt of her dress waving at each of her paces. It wasn’t the first time she saw her rid of her armor, but yet he couldn’t help but relished how the cloth was perfectly falling on her hips. Ailis was a warrior and years of training didn’t gift her the heavy curves of some whores he had crossed the way, but the grace with which she walked played almost an illusion. Only the white lines on her bare arms could warn that a warrior was hiding behind those manners.

She took a chair on her way toward them and sat at the end of the table. A serious look was forged on her face as all the men stared at her.

“What is it?” Finan asked, concerned by her expression.

She suddenly seemed aware of her expression and so, she shook her head before sighing. “It’s nothing.” She smiled, but Finan could see the lie behind. However, he said nothing and just nodded. “You spent the morning here?” She asked.

“We did, Lady.” Osferth replied, pushing his now empty bowl. It was past midday now and it had been only few hours since the four men had woken up, enjoying the warmth of a bed after a long travel. “Not that we wouldn’t have enjoyed to visit, Lady.” The former monk smiled.

She smiled back at him, a more sincere and soft one that made thin lines appeared in the corner of her ocean eyes. “Well, I think you’ll have to visit anyway.” She leaned back in her chair to take a letter stuck in her belt. “I just got a word from the King. He organized a banquet tonight, and you must take part of it.” She explained, handing the letter to Uhtred.

Finan glanced alternatively to Ailis and his Lord until he gave back the paper. “Does it mean he’ll accept?” The Dane Slayer asked.

“I hope so.” She shrugged, her brows furrowing in concern.

“Have you talked to him?” Finan demanded then. She briefly looked at him before pinching her lips.

“I did.” Her answer was dry and he didn’t try to go further again. “Anyway, there will be some high Lords, you should all try to look decent.” She said, pointing their dirty clothes and faces, with an amused smile. “I’ll get you some clothes and you…” She stood up from the chair and walked to Finan, putting both of her hands on his shoulders. He turned his head to her, meeting her eyes as she leaned a little above him. “You should bring them to the river.”

She rose an eyebrow waiting to see if he knew what she was talking about. A warm smile grew on Finan’s face and she squeezed lightly his strong shoulders, however he felt like they could melt under her touch. “I will.”

The river wasn’t far from Navan Fort. It was running from the forest at the north, falling there in the waterfall Finan had mentioned earlier, to the south, crossing fields and little woodland. Some were beautiful and peaceful place he had enjoyed to go in his youth.

“Good.” She said, walking back. “Tonight then, before the sunset.”

…

“The ale is watered down.” Sihtric grimaced as he put down his cup.

“It’s war, the men need to be sober Sihtric.” The youngest warrior rolled his eyes.

“They are Irishmen, Osferth, they only fight when they are drunk.” The Dane replied, leaning toward his friend with a smirk.

The two laughed before looking at the third of them, but Finan was to focus to stare at the huge table at the other side of the room to laugh with them. Conall could be miles away from him, he’ll still find that he was too close anyway.

Sihtric and Osferth shared a concerned look. Only the three of them were at the guests table, with the lowest lords. Uhtred was next to Ailis at the royal table, probably discussing the agreement that Conall finally accepted.

“Finan… Stop staring at him like this or they’ll think you are planning to murder him.” Sihtric said, talking quieter.

“Maybe I am.” The Irishman snapped, stabbing his food with his fork as he narrowed his eyes.

“Stop troubling your mind with this Finan. If you do, you’ll be stuck in Hell with him.” Osferth whispered and it made Finan frowned. The only thought of being stuck in all eternity with Conall made him want to become a monk and pray until God forgives him for his sins.

Finan huffed before angrily bit in his meat. He used to love banquets, ale that flow afloat, the loud laughers and the unbelievable stories of the drunkest. But he could definitely not enjoy this, not even for old times’ sake.

In fact, nothing here gave him the want to cheer in memories of his life here. Years he wondered what he would feel if he ever had to come back here. He hoped that maybe, he’d feel like he was home, despite all the tragic events. When they bathed in the river earlier, like he had done a hundred times years ago, he didn’t feel any nostalgia. Maybe it was his anger towards Conall that was eating him from the inside, ruining all the good memories of a time he should cherish.

And as his eyes fell on Ailis, her face cold without her smile, he remembered her conversation with Osferth on the road to Aeglesburg. How she seemed so uneasy to call Navan Fort “home”. It was where they grew, where they learned what duty was and how their future was already written. And when Finan didn’t follow it, Ailis did and she seemed to be unable feel home here anyway. This castle, full of the ghosts of their joyful days, was now just a bunch of stones and woods.

The room suddenly ushered, bringing him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Conall up, rising his cup.

“Lords, friends, I’d like to thank my dearest friend, Lady Ailis, for the long travel she made to bring us the solution we needed.” Conall started a huge smile spreading his lips.

Finan’s grip on his fork tightened, his brother’s hypocrisy was angering him. Conall had no remorse of how he dared speak to her the eve and now, he was acting like nothing happened. No excuses were made, not even in private of what he knew. But Ailis simply smiled at him before turning to look away. Their gaze met, just a second, but well enough for her to see the irritation of Finan and give him a disapproving look. It didn’t last more, Conall continuing his discourse.

“I’d like to thank the men she brought back with her too.” He turned to Uhtred at his left. “Uhtred of Bebbanburg and his bunch of warriors.” The Dane Slayer bowed his head a little but Conall didn’t stop here. “What a strange band. A Dane, a monk and a traitor.” He smirked, looking toward Finan at one corner of the room.

All eyes fell on the three men. Finan’s blood was boiling, and Conall seemed to be more than amused to see it. Dealla, sit at the King’s right frowned, looking curiously to her husband.

“Isn’t it funny, an Irish slave saved from his tragic destiny by the Dane Ragnar Ragnarsson! The man he used to fight on the battlefield.” Finan’s mouth opened, not expecting Conall to say such things. Next to him, Osferth and Sihtric looked at each other, stunned, before turning to Uhtred who seemed as confused as them. Only Ailis was as pale as a ghost, her eyes opened wide in the void. “For how long have you been a traitor for him to have the kindness to save you?” Conall dared ask, taking care to look right into Finan’s similar brown eyes.

Finan suddenly stood from his chair, making it fall behind, a loud noise echoing in the throne room. He was holding the fork, still in his hand, with so much strength, his knuckles were white. He wished he could jump over the tables and threatened to kill him with it, as he saw Uhtred do with Guthred years ago. But instead, he stuck it violently in the table before leaving the room.

He walked in the corridor, his fists so tight his nails were sinking into his flesh. He heard footsteps behind him coming fast, but he stopped only when his name was shouted. He turned back to discover Ailis, her breath heavy after running to him and a confused expression.

“Finan…” She started but he cut him.

“How does he know? Who told him?” He asked, almost shouting as he raised his hands in the air.

Ailis remained silent for a moment, looking everywhere but not him. “I am sorry. I… I didn’t think he would turn it against you.” She said making him huffed of exasperation.

“What did you expect Ailis?” She looked up to him as he walked a little toward her. “He hates me as much as I hate him.” He articulated.

She said nothing but Finan could see the pain behind her eyes. The pain of the horrible truth and hearing it was making it even more real. He sighed, knowing she didn’t mean any of it.

“Ailis, things will be never be like they were before. We both made unforgivable mistakes.” She folded her arms and looked down. Finan made a step toward her, comforting her by putting his hand on her arm. “When all of this is over, I’ll leave with Uhtred.”

She suddenly raised her head. “You’ll leave?” She asked, almost gasping.

“Of course, I will.” He confirmed. “I am no fool Ailis! The longer I am here, the closer I am to death. So, what could keep me here?” He questioned her, his finger graving the bruise on his cheek remembering the strength with which Conall punched him.

She opened her mouth slightly, but nothing came out of it. Instead, her hand joined his, her delicate fingers meeting his on his bruised cheek. Her blue eyes were more mesmerizing than ever as she brushed his skin, careful not to hurt him. And suddenly, Ailis crashed her lips against his. He froze, the only feel of her mouth, soft and hot, having importance.

The sensation slowly faded and his eyes were meeting hers again. His heart was beating so hard in chest, he thought it could explode. She was still close to him, enough for him to feel her breath. He was confused, by this kiss and yet, when her fingers left his cheek, he knew he needed more.

He took her face between his calloused hands and kissed her. She gasped, surprised by his move, but she quickly kissed him back. Lips dancing, fingers sliding in strands of hair, they were alone in this corridor, but if they hadn’t, it would have made no difference. This feeling that neither of them had ever felt for each other was consuming them and nothing could stop the fire.

After a moment, both of them breathless, they parted. Slowly, they were drifting back to reality. Finan removed his hands, letting one ran along her arm, his fingers caressing hers.

“I should go back.” She said softly stepping back.

She didn’t let him time to add something, she was already walking to the room, leaving him alone in the corridor.

…

Ailis fingers traced the curves of her lips, deep in her thoughts, she could still feel Finan’s ones even though they only kissed the eve. The scene repeated itself in loop all night in her mind and each time, she knew she shouldn’t have done it. Now her feelings weren’t a small ember, it was a big fire, invading her heart and head. But Finan was right, he would leave soon and she couldn’t hold him here.

“Lady Ailis.”

She blinked several times before crossing Sihtric’s gaze. The Dane was handing her a flask of water.

“Oh, thank you Sihtric.” She took the flask before hanging it to the saddle of her horse.

She and the four warriors were at the stables near the gates, readying their horses to leave for the south. Conall having accepted the peace King Edward proposed him, they now had to go into the lands the Danes had established and start negotiations.

She unlaced the reins of her horse and joined Uhtred outside, avoiding Finan who was staring at her from where he was patting his mare. She frowned at the sunlight but quickly got used to it.

“Ready to leave.” Uhtred asked her, already perched on his mount.

“I would have enjoyed some more days here, sleeping in a real bed.” She joked, passing the reins over the horse’s neckline. “But I guess we don’t have much time.”

Uhtred chuckled lightly while shaking his head. “With luck, we will be back soon.”

“Let’s hope.” She finally said, in a sigh as she mounted her horse.

A/N : FINALLY THEY KISSED !!!!! Jesus chirst, i wrote this scene months ago, having a total other idea of how it would happen, but I’m well satisfied by this version hehe. Next chapter will be from interesting POV (still 3rd person, eh don’t worry lmao)

Tag: @geekandbooknerd @sihtric @queen-manning @naihqh @kelly-fasel @cloudjuumpers @limenal @amyyreblogss @othermoony and @queerbroceliande

#broken crown #finan #finan the agile #finan fanfiction #fanfiction #The Last Kingdom

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simeonstans · 4 years

Text

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

PAIRING: Satan/You

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 1287

SONG: V - Sweet Night

╰☆╮

On my pillow

Though the Devildom was surrounded by complete darkness at every hour, though the Earth was a scary place at night, though you're in literal hell, you felt the safest near the blonde beside you. Earlier that day he’d invited you to visit a gallery opening, afterwards going to a mini cafe to refresh yourselves, which led to you then checking out some street performance, then again going to a mini street market and eating some small street food. What was planned to just be a small visit to see an artist finally making a name for themselves, led to an entire day of exploring with Satan.

Can’t get me tired

Now you're walking back to the House of Lamentation, arms linked together and leaning your head onto Satan’s shoulders. Small giggles escaped from your lips at a dumb joke he made. Your events made you tired. All you could think about was taking off your shoes and cuddling with your pillow. Just a couple blocks away, you brought your scarf up to your nose. The day was chilly, so you just wore a long tan coat and a nice warm scarf. Satan, also decided to switch into something that’d also keep him warm, both making you accidentally match outfits. “We’ll be there soon, we’re not too far away Y/N.” he reassured you.

Sharing my fragile truth

“It’s late. Do you think they’ve forgotten about us and locked the door, they've been locking us out lately?” “Well, with that, I still hope the door is open.” He replied to your worries. Though it was late, though you both were surrounded by darkness, the Devildom was just waking up. A restaurant had a small band playing out front. You tugged at the blondes scarf, pointing at the band playing a ballad. “Shall we?” he pulled the two of you closer to the band, unlinking your arms. He rested one hand on your waist and the other was locked with your other hand.

Cause the window opened one time with you and me

He led the dance, it wasn't too extravagant, just you two both looking at each other with smiles on your faces. The band walked over closer to the two of you, as if they were playing for just the two of you. You rested your head on his chest, hearing his heart pound in perfect rhythm with the music playing in the background. His chin was on the top of your head.

Now my forever’s falling down, wondering if you’d want me now

You haven't been in the Devildom for long but you didn't mind the atmosphere. You didn't mind not seeing the sun anymore. You didn't mind endless bickering between the brothers. In fact, a wave of content came over you. Like a soft, silk blanket barely brushed against your entire body. With demons that could kill you at any second, that could really just manipulate you and torture you for an eternal, you felt the most ease. Yes, while Lucifer ordered that Mammon would be the one in charge of you and your well-being, while you were scared endlessly your first week, the days continued on. And you began to form bonds and relationships with each of the brothers, beyond more than just a pact. With the entire fiasco of Satan and Lucifer switching bodies and feeling the warm sun hit against your skin. As refreshing as it was feeling warmth from the sky, it wouldn't have been the same if you were there without the brothers accompanying you. Throughout your entire time in hell, you’ve grown a lot closer to the Avatar of Wrath. The boy had a rather short temper, yet he would always try to control himself and involve himself in such calming activities, taking in stray cats and finding them homes, going to museums and art exhibits, going to cafes. You’ve grown feelings for him. “Satan,” you whispered, shutting your eyes just to take in the music being played for you. “Yes?”

“How could I know,

“That one day I’d wake up feeling more?” “I beg your pardon?” He hummed, in reality you’ve already gotten his interest by the time he laid his eyes on you. It just took the demon a while to ask you out. He’d already suspected that you had an interest in him as well, your question actually confirming his suspicions. “I think I like you. A lot.” you confessed, letting out a breath.

But I had already reached the shore, guess we were ships in the night.

You moved your head up to face him, meeting his green eyes. “Do you… do you like me, too?” Your voice slightly shaking. The two of you constantly went out, and he’d always get you a souvenir from wherever you went. So far in your collection, you had a quetzalcoatl plushie from the Devildom’s zoo, a key ring from an aquarium, a penny pressed with an engraving on it from a museum, a small memo pad with Van Gogh’s paintings on the cover. You two would constantly flirt. You knew how he flirted, he’d constantly tease you, he’d brush his hands against yours, he’d link your arms together, he'd find ways to touch you. You noticed he asked Asmo how to braid hair, so the next time you both went on a picnic, he asked to braid yours. It was sloppy and he did two different braids, but you kept it cause he worked hard on it. He recommended books for you and gave you a playlist to listen to while reading the book. His smile became more gentle, his eyes going from an opened and shocked expression, they tamed into soft clouds.

“I’m wondering, are you my best friend?”

He responded, a small pain in your chest. Did he just view you as a friend? The band continued on, more eyes looking at the two of you. Though they couldn't hear the two of you speaking, it felt like you were broadcasting your confession to the three realms all at once.

Feels like a river’s rushing through my mind

“I wanna ask you if this is all in my head,” Satan continued. A deep sigh, he looked up at the sky and you did too as if you were hoping to find your answer in the blank void on top of you. He looked back down at you, his hand leaving yours to lift your chin to face him. He leaned in closer and you felt his breath against yours. His lips brushing against yours.

My heart is pounding tonight, I wonder

“I like you, too. A lot.” He closed the small gap, shutting his eyes and moving the hand on your chin to the back on your neck. You, in shock, stared at him wide eyed.

If you are too good to be true

He pulled away to look at you. Still in shock about his sudden move, he left out a chuckle.

And would it be alright if I

“I’m sorry. Be mine?” he asked, his eyes still remained soft as he looked down at you. Snapping out of your trance, you nodded. And this time you initiated the kiss. “I’m yours.” you responded, the two of you caring less about the hour of the night and instead you both share a kiss in the middle of the street in front of some small restaurant and their band. The two of you separated and continued with your dancing. No words were spoken between the two. Everything was already said and done, every piece was in its place. You were both where you needed to be. With each other, holding each other on a chilly night.

Pulled you closer

#obey me #obey me satan

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a-kookie-with-my-tae · 4 years

Text

Decalcomania (Part One)

Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x SoundcloudArtist!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: None. Smut in part two.

Word Count: 3,608

Masterlist. Part Two

Your stomach heaves with laughter as you watch your best friend almost drop the mixing container he was trying to toss around like a seasoned bartender. Almost falling into your drink on the counter, you sit down on the stool before looking back up at the man who put you in this condition. Jimin. He was in far worse condition than you, considering he had a few drinks himself before you had arrived, and you’re now both on your third glass.

Wiping the tears that blur your vision, you attempt to calm yourself. Here you are, sitting in a private bar with your best friend. Your best friend who may or may not be a member of the biggest boy group of our era, BTS.

You stare at him, recalling how you both had met.

You were at a karaoke bar, pretty drunk and Jimin was there to blow off some steam after the weekend of performances. He was in disguise at the time, and your tipsy brain didn’t think anything of it. You don’t remember much before the moment he recognized your voice, though. You were singing some old pop song when you locked eyes with him, recognition in his features even though you didn’t know each other. At least, you didn’t know who he was.

You had recently gained a big following on your SoundCloud account, which made your songs pretty popular. You’ve never shown your face, but you have a pretty distinct voice, which is why you never tend to sing in public. Except for this time.

He said he recognized your voice because one of his bandmates is a fan. He didn’t specify who, and you never asked. You didn’t want to know the rest of them, you didn’t really want to know him. They live a completely different life, and you knew yourself too well to risk acting like a complete idiot and fangirling over them.

Until Jimin asked you to help him finish a song. He loved your work, and was having trouble finishing his. You agreed, and kept in touch ever since then.

Now, three years later, you’ve helped him write many songs, and still haven’t met any of the other members. You fear that if you do, the Chim that you know, and the Park Jimin heart throb will become one person, and for now you’d like to keep them separated.

You’ve explained this to Jimin many times, but even now, especially when he’s drunk like this, he doesn’t quite understand. To be honest, neither do you. But, you won't relent on this subject.

“Y/N-ie…” Jimin sings, hugging me from behind as I sit on the stool. He always gets like this with alcohol, he gets all lovey. But, he hasn’t started doing all the augyo yet, so you know it’s not cut-off time.

“What, Chimmie?” You ask turning your head to face him.

“You listen to our music right?”

There’s that word. Our. You know he doesn’t mean the songs you wrote together, but his band. As much as you try to keep them separate, times like this he forgets.

“Yes, yes I do, Chim.” You smile, deciding to let it go for a night.

“Well, what’s your favorite song from this album?” He says, resting his head on your shoulder.

You think about this for a moment. “Bulletproof: The Eternal is definitely my favorite group one.”

“Why?”

Again, you ponder for a moment, trying to piece your words together carefully.

“It talks about how we aren’t alone. How no matter how big you guys get, or how many stadiums you sell out, the reason you guys have such an impact is because of ARMY. How you love each one of them because they saved you from the dark place you were in, and in return you are going to save them. I love that concept, how even though we don’t meet face to face, we still mean something to one another and affect people’s lives in big and amazing ways.”

“What about solo song?”

You smile knowing he wants you to choose Filter. You had spent many months over video chat and emailing files back and forth to create that song. It was your baby, your proudest creation with him thus far. But, there’s another song that just hits you in ways you can’t explain.

“I can’t pick Filter, Chim, we wrote it. That’s cheating,” you say, laughing.

He just mumbles into your neck. You already know what he asked, even if you can’t understand the words.

“I’d have to pick My Time.”

He picks his head up at this. “Kookie’s song? Why?”

He’s curious as to why you would pick a member you haven’t met over him, you can tell. Chim is always jealous and clingy when he’s drunk, but it’s one of the things you love about him. All platonically, of course. He’s like an older brother to you, and on many occasions has he called you his little sister. You didn't have any siblings, he was the closest you had.

“Are you jealous, Oppa?” You really don’t want to explain the reasoning behind picking that song, so you try to distract him, just as you do every time he mentions Jungkook. You don’t want to admit to him that Jungkook is your bias and every song he sings just makes your insides light up in a way that makes you feel alive. That your heart flutters at the sound of his voice, and the lyrics he sings relate to you in a way you never thought any song except your own could.

“You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you. You only call me Oppa when you’re drunk, sad, or trying to change the subject. That’s only your second glass so I know you’re not drunk, and unless you’re secretly depressed as fuck and good at hiding it, I think your’e trying to change the subject.” he pulls away and turns your stool so you’re facing him. “Why won’t you tell me why you picked Kookie’s song?”

His eyes squint at you while your face flushes with heat.

“I-I…” You look down, trying to think of something.

All this is interrupted by loud knocking at the door.

“Jimin-ssi…..” An all-too-familiar voice sing-songs through the door taht causes your eyes to widen even more with fear. You’d know that voice anywhere.

It belongs to your favorite person in the world, Jungkook.

Okay, that might be an overstatement. But, he is your favorite member of BTS, besides Jimin, of course, but you don’t count Jimin. Jimn is your best firned, someone who is completely separate from the other members due to knowing him very personally for a number of years. Jimin is just, Jimin.

But, as of right now, you are contemplating murder becuase he is opening the door.

“Ya, Kookie! What did I say about calling me that? You’ve known me for how many years and still! The disrespect…” Jimin continues on, but his words fade as you focus on the angelic face before you.. He is ethereal, that’s the only way to put it. His skin has a golden glow, and a smile that lights up the room in your eyes. His light dimples are on show as he laughs at his hyung, eyes crinkling in a comforting way.

Fuck. He’s even more beautiful in person.

“...right, Y?N?” The sound of Jimin mentioning you snaps you out of your daze as Jungkook directs his gaze at you. You subconsciously hold your breath as his eyes widen in surprise. He obviously wasn’t expecting you here, with the way he came in. His face flushes at the realization that there’s someone else, albeit a girl, in Jimin’s room.

“Um, I don’t know. I guess it depends on context.” You try to formulate a proper response, but not knowing what Jimin said made you have to create a vague one. Hoping that his drunk mind won’t notice, you avert you gaze from Jungkook, face flushing with heat.

“Context? He never speaks to me like a friend, Y?N! We’ve known each other for 8 years and you still are so proper! That’s so rude!” Jungkook doesn’t laugh at him this time, attention focused solely on you. This makes you flush even further.

“He’s obviously doing it to get a reaction. He’s teasing you because you’re friends, so it’s not disrespectful, it’s actually kind of funny.” You keep you eyes on the glass at the table, trying not to make eye contact with the hypothetical love of your life.

“Well-”

“I’m sorry, Hyung. I didn’t know you had a girl over. I’ll leave you two alone…” Jungkook starts to trun back toward the door when Jimin starts laughing. But not normal laughter, no. He looks like he’s about to pass out from how funny the idea is.

“Wait… You think that Y/N and I are…? No, oh my God. she’s like my little sister, Kook.”

Jungkook’s freezes and turns around.

“So, you guys aren’t about to fuck?”

This causes you to choke on your drink, making Jimin rush over to you in worry while you have a coughing fit.

“Jungkook, you almost killed her with that foul talk.” He turns to give Jungkook his best pout. “That’s my best friend, you meanie. Plus, Rogue and I would never happen like that. We know too much weird shit about each other.”

Your eyes widen in shock when Jimin lets your stage name slip. Slowly turning toward Jungkook, you meet his gaze, his eyes wider than your own.

Jimin gasps when he realizes what he did.

“Oh, my goodness. Now you’re both gonna be hella nervous. Y/N, did I mention that Jungkook is who introduced me to your music? He’s the reason I recognized you and we started working together. And don’t think that I didn’t figure out who your bias is, little miss ‘My Time’...”

Both of you stay frozen in shock as Jimin rambles on neither moving a muscle as you gaze into each other’s eyes in shock.

Jimin finally gets the hint that you both are no longer listening and looks at you both.

“Shit, you guys both need a drink. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

This breaks whatever spell the two of you were under and you turn your stool back toward the counter top, downing the rest of your tequila sunrise. Or, whatever weird combination jimin created to try and make it. In your peripheral, you see Jungkook sit in the stool next to you. Not that he had much of a choice. The mini bar only has three stools and you are conveniently sat right in the middle.

Jimin goes back behind the counter to continue mixing whatever monstrosity he was creating before Jungkook knocked.

You sit in silence as Jimin continues to ramble on about whatever things drunk Jimin thinks of. Jungkook is a stone statue next to you, not moving a single muscle een as Jimin sets a drink in front of him. You’re too afraid to say a word and break the deafening silence between the two of you, as you have drowned out Jimin’s words long before.

He listens to your music. He knows who you are, the deepest parts of you, for he has heard your songs, your lyrics, and that fact has you frozen, afraid to say a single word in the possibility that you might say something wrong.

He knows you, but only as Rogue. And why does that fact bother you so much?

“So…” Jungkook tries to break the ice between you two, stll staring at the filled glass in front of him. “You’re Rogue…”

His sentence seems more like a question than a statement, and maybe it is. Maybe the fact hasn’t quite registered in both of your minds that the other is truly sitting right next to them. Maybe that ‘maybe’, is a little more definite.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” is all that you can muster up, speaking in the smallest voice that you ever have. You down the new drink that Jimin has set in front of you, which is somehow even more disgusting than the last, and turn towards where he stands in the middle of the room, apparently doing karaoke now. Surprisingly, even drunk, Jimin still sings like an angel. You smile at your best friend, enjoying his softness while it lasted. He’s usually way too hard on himself, you know that better than anyone, so it’s nice to see him so… free.

“I can’t believe that I’m sitting next to you right now…” You barely make out what he says, probably because he never meant for you to hear it. You turn towards Jungkook, face flushing to match his own once he realizes he said that out loud.

“I should be saying that. You’re the World’s Most Handsome Face of 2019 according to TC Chandler. Not to mention you’re not only South Korea’s, but America’s hot shot. The world literally breathes for you and you’re saying you can’t believe you’re sitting next to me?” You barely register the words you say as they come out of your mouth, the alcohol hitting you more than you thought after downing three glasses in the past five minutes.

His face flushes even more, if possible, as you say this, his mouth resembling a fish as it opens and closes in shock to your words. He looks out at Jimin to avoid your gaze.

“Well, I mean, it doesn’t feel like I’m all that…” He stutters a bit in his nervousness. “To me, it feels like I’m the nervous fan and you’re the big celebrity. And nobody’s ever met you, or even know what you look like. Do you know how it feels to obsess over someone’s music and be the only fan to know who they are?”

He stares dead in your eyes at this last statement, his words rendering you the speechless, stuttering one.

“I just…” You can’t look away from his eyes. They’re like chocolate orbs swirling with warmth and wonder, you could get lost in them forever if you really wanted to.

He looks away, breaking the trance you were in. you turn towards Jimin, thinking that if he’s out of your sight, it’ll be easier to speak with him, pretend he’s not Jeon Jungkook, the boy sweetheart of the world.

“I’ve listened to you for almost two years now,” he begins, still not looking toward you. “You didn’t have a following then, and your music may not have been the most professionally made, but I heard what you were saying, I connected with it. I watched you improve and felt… Well, I felt like I connected with you. That I understood you and you understood me.”

You smile. “That’s the most beautiful thing that I’ve ever heard about my music.” You turn towards Jungkook, staring deeply at him even though he still wasn’t looking at you. “Thank you, Jungkook. Really, I mean it.”

He looks up at you then, smiling back at you. “You’re welcome.”

You’re met by a moment of silence, both of you just staring at each other. The world around you starts to disappear and all you see is him. But, not the Jungkook that you’re used to. This is the real him, not the one you see on television.

‘Ahem.” Jimin breaks you both out of your daze as you jump in your stool. You face towards him, face flushing red once more. “Does this mean you’re gonna steal my co-writer now? Because I really like her.”

Jimin hangs around you, arms draping over you as he pouts at his other best friend. Jungkook’s eyes widen at the information he just recieved.

“Wait, Y/N is your ghost writer? The one helping you that you wouldn’t tell us about?”

“Well, yeah, maybe…” Jimin pouts even more, looking at the floor instead of Jungkook. “She didn’t want to meet you guys, thought she would embarrass herself or something. But, the truth is I didn’t want you guys to meet her either. She’s my best friend, and I didn’t want you guys taking away the little time that I get to spend with her…”

You coo at his cuteness. You know it’s time to cut him off now. Nonetheless, you still place your hands on his arms that are wrapped around your shoulders. “Aw… Chimmy…”

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow at your skinship. Is he… jealous? No, he’s probably just confused. You scold yourself for even thinking that someone like Jungkook could be jealous of someone else hugging you. You just met the boy, for Christ’s sake.

“We should probably get this one to bed…” You start, bringing Jungkook’s attention to you.

“No…” You hear a whine from Jimin as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You giggle lightly as his breath tickles your neck.

“Chim, it’s almost 3AM and you have to get up at 8 to start recording, so you need to get to bed.” You’re used to acting like a mom around Jimin when he’s like this. Makes you feel like one, too.

“Fine…” He agrees, but makes no move to let go of you. You try to gain his attention only to hear soft snores next to your ear. You smile as his goofiness. Not tired, my butt.

You turn your gaze back toward Jungkook. “Could you help me with this,” you ask, gesturing toward a sleepy drunk Jimin. He smiles before standing up and wrapping Jimin’s arm over his shoulder then picking him up bridal style. The sight makes you stifle a giggle, bringing a fist to your mouth.

Once You both get Jimin tucked into bed, the room is once again filled with an awkward silence. Your eyes wander everywhere but Jungkook, trying to stop yourself from saying something stupid without Jimin here to save you.

“So… you’re Rogue,” he says, still staring at Jimin’s sleeping form. The music from the karaoke is still running in the background, creating a soothing ambience. You turn towards the machine and unplug it, shrouding the room in silence, other than the sound of each others breathing and Jimin’s soft snores.

“Yeah.”

“And you help him write songs?” Jungkook meets your gaze, eyes brimming with criousity about you.

You pause.

“Yeah.”

At this point, you don’t know if that’s the only word you can remember how to speak, but it sure seems like it.

There is a beat of quiet. No movement, no words. Just the two of you looking at each other. You open your mouth to speak your parting, but Jungkook speaks before you can.

“I know we just met, but can I ask you a favor?”

You pause, questions filling your head as your brows furrow. You don’t have time to respond before Jungkook starts rambling.

“I mean, it’s just that I really like your music. Like, really like your music, and I’m kind of stuck? I don’t know how to phrase it…” He scratches the back of his neck as he bites his lip, looking at the ground. “I released a teaser song a few months ago named Decalcomania. The fans were all so excited for it and, to be honest, so was I. But, after the teaser came out, I couldn’t finish it. It’s like something is missing and I don’t know what.”

You nod your head as you watch him, instantly recognizing the song he is talking about. You have had many ideas for a response song, but you don’t want to tell him that.

“It’s just…” he pauses, pursing his lips before looking into your eyes determinately. “Will you help me finish it?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. Jeon Jungkook just asked you to help him finish the song that you’ve spent months fangirling over? First Jimin, now Jungkook. Who’s next? Billie Eilish?

You honestly had no idea your music could even reach someone like him, someone who seemed so untouchable. And yet, that’s exactly how he feels about you. That you’re unfathomable, unreachable to him.

“Okay,” you say, nodding slightly. “I’ll help you finish it.”

Jimin had surprised you earlier with plane tickets. This weekend was their last batch of concerts before their break back in Korea. Luckily, you’ve studied the language vigorously in your avid listening of kpop, little does he know. But, he wants you to come back to Busan with him so he can show you around Korea during his break. ‘It’s only fair,’ he said once you arrived. ‘You’re showing me around your hometown, so I want to show you around mine.’

You smile at Jungkook. “I’ll be showing Jimin around Savannah this week before the concert, and I’m flying back with him because he wants to show me around Busan.”

You see his eyes widen at your answer.

“I don’t know if you want to work while you’re here, or not. But, I will be in your hometown for the next two months if you want to work together some more then.” You head towards the door, not trusting yourself to be around him anymore. Your face remains serious, but the flush in your face will ultimately give you away if you stay. “I’ll have Jimin give you my number when he wakes up.”

You open the door and pause, looking back at him. “Goodnight, Jungkook. It was nice to meet you. I think we’ll have a good time working together.”

Then, with a smile, you left, leaving a poor, shocked, bunny standing in the middle of Jimin’s suite.

That was three weeks ago.

#bangtan #jimin #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook one shot #smut #fluff #jungkook smut #reader #soundcloud

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leahxx129 · 4 years

Text

The Last Descendant (Sam Winchester x Reader) pt.3

Summary for pt.3.: Michael left Dean’s body but it’s not quite the time to celebrate just yet. The archangel has already destroyed the planet in one reality and he intends to do the same in yours. To the younger Winchester’s astonishment, you may be a key person in preventing another apocalypse... the question is, are you willing to help?

Warnings: cursing

Word count: 2.555-ish

PART 1. PART 2.

Turns out that Mary and Bobby did have a lead, although Dean didn’t quite need saving. It seems as if Michael just left his body. Naturally, nobody dares to believe this will have no consequences in the future, but currently they are too relieved to think about anything like that. And too focused on the unfolding situation. They’ve discovered a mark on Dean’s arm and Cas has gone through his memories to find the thing that left it. According to a small shred of a memory, the spear of Kaia Nieves’ doppelganger from the bad place is the weapon which was able to harm the infamous archangel. This is why he wants it. Which means the Winchesters need to get it first. But their encounter with Dark Kaia doesn’t go as planned – she refuses to give them the spear and disappears.

Sam opens up a beer for Dean, Cas and himself in the war room, while Jack is doing some research besides them.

„I’m telling you, man, that chick is a savage! Next time you’ll join us, okay? There’s no way she’ll be able to take on two grown-ass men and an angel at once.” Dean grumbled to Cas after taking a sip from the bottle.

„Well, she’s successfully managed to take on two grown-ass men already, I’m not so sure the difference would be huge with a third party.” Sam comments, earning a glare from Dean.

„Don’t be a buzz kill, Sam, okay? We’ll find her and that time, we’ll take that damn spear at all costs.”

„What if…” suddenly Jack speaks up „ …what if I say I might know a better solution? One that only requires taking it temporarily?”

„That’s the plan, Jack. We take it, kill Michael, then return it.” Cas responds before anyone could react.

„No, I mean take it for an even shorter period of time than that?”

The three men stare at him with the same completely puzzled expressions on their faces.

„Whatcha got in mind, kid?” Dean asks curiously.

Jack’s eyes light up and his signature childlike smile appears.

„I’ve been reading a lot about this man called Samuel Colt lately. I know he made that gun of yours which can kill almost anything and-”

„Yeah, but if you really read a lot on him, you know it can’t kill an archangel.” Sam cuts in. Jack patiently listens to his argument then goes on.

„I know, that’s why I said almost. But here is this book I’m reading now... It mentions that Colt secretly had a son that kept his bloodline alive. Maybe we can find his offspring and have them replicate the weapon.”

The Winchesters’ eyes widen in surprise, leaving Castiel to be the only reasonable person in the room.

„This is great, Jack, it really is, but I’m not sure if the offspring even knows who their ancestor was or what he did. To be honest, I highly doubt they would be able to perform what you described.” he says.

„Well, if there is anyone who can help us with some information, it’s Ketch.” Sam responds excitedly, immediately reaching for his laptop.

The next fifteen minutes pass without a single word being uttered by any of them - the only sound is made by the rubber band Dean attempts to entertain himself with. Finally, the laptop signals the arrival of a new e-mail. Everybody gathers around Sam, eager to see what Ketch has come up with. It’s a link to a Men of Letters shared drive. Sam’s hand is almost trembling as he clicks to open it. The screen floods with different articles, pictures and journal entries about people who are somehow connected to Samuel Colt.

„OH MY GOD!” the younger Winchester yells out in shock as they reach the part about the offspring currently alive. He is hypnotized by your picture taken at just fourteen years old, only days before your family was slaughtered and you disappeared.

Dean and Cas look at each other, then Sam.

„Sam? Do you know this girl?” Dean asks calmly as he can see how deeply his brother is affected by the sight appearing on the screen. Before he could reply, Jack jumps in.

„Hey…isn’t this the girl that spent a few nights here? I was in my room a lot, because I didn’t want to bother you, but I really do think she looked like this little girl in the picture, you know, only older.” he asks innocently. This seems to snap Sam back to reality. And Dean’s expression of utter disbelief helps too, of course.

„I was possessed by an archangel and you took some chick here to hook up with?! Man, this feels like Elwood, Indiana all over again, when I was abducted by fairies and you had a one-night stand with a hippie chick! The only difference is that now you supposedly have a soul!” he shouted.

„Relax, dude! Nothing like that happened, okay? Due to an unfortunate series of events, she had to crash here for a few days. And just so you know, she helped with research on Michael.” Sam seems genuinly offended even by the mere thought of him hooking up with a woman instead of looking for his brother. In spite of the woman being as fierce, beautiful and smart as you…

„Research, huh? Is that what you call it nowadays?”

„Dean.”

„Okay, okay. Say, I believe you. But how did you two meet anyways? Did you hit another dog?”

„DEAN!”

„Okay, I’m done.”

„So, what are we gonna do now? We have no clue where this girl or Dark Kaia are.” Cas interrupts the bickering between the two brothers.

„We call Jody, have her put out an APB on them, simple as pie.” Dean says matter-of-factly.

„Why put out an APB on Y/N if I can just call her?” Sam asks smugly.

You close the diner’s door and instantly spot Sam. Not because of his height, but rather because he has a certain presence you’ve grown to know and would be able to recognize anywhere. He smiles at you as you approach him.

„Sam Winchester, in flesh and… clothes? Odd.” you greet him.

„Ha ha, very funny. How long am I gonna listen to this? It happened only once and I was drunk.” he waits for you to put down your helmet and leather jacket, then hugs you tight. The whole interaction lasts longer than it usually does between friends, but shorter than between people more than that.

„Well, just as long as my memory serves me well.” you answer when he lets go and you are able to breathe fresh air into your lungs. You have always found his scent and proximity intoxicating in a way.

You sit down across him in the booth and decide to get straight to the point.

„You know, I gotta be honest with you. I got a little worried when you called last night. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you know I enjoy our phone calls, but we never speak twice the same day… and then the request for this little meet up didn’t help either. So… what’s up?”

Before he has the chance to say anything, the waitress appears to take your orders.

„I’d like an espresso and there will be a vanilla latte for the lady with almond milk and sweetener, thanks.” Sam delivers your favorite type of coffee without batting an eye.

„Nice, Winchester! I didn’t know you memorized it.”

„Yeah, I did. But you know, there’s one thing I can’t quite recall that you told me…” he puts down a folder infront of you. You look at him confused but flip over the cover regardlessly. Your heart sinks as you take in the picture you thought you’d never see again and read the title ’Last living descendant: COLT, Y/N’. Your heartbeat and mind start to race frantically, not a single sensible sentence comes to you for long seconds that seem like an eternity to both of you.

„Where’d you get this?” you ask, your voice sounding strange even to you.

„Doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” either you’re imagining it, or he looks a little bit hurt.

„What was I supposed to say, Sam? Huh? Thanks for saving me man, oh, and by the way, my real name’s Colt, but pinky swear you’ll never tell anyone?!” your voice comes back and maybe even rises a little.

„I don’t know, okay?! But you had plenty of chances!” his tone matches yours. A couple of people turn around, hoping to see a good little public confrontation unfold, but your cold stare makes them uncomfortable and they quickly look away.

„Oh yeah? Like when?”

„Like when I asked you about the vampire blade! Or when I-„ he hesitates for a moment then says it out loud anyways „ Or when I held you at nights.” he looks directly into your eyes and you can’t bring yourself to break the connection.

„Well I’m sorry, Sam, I really am. But you know something? Ever since I can remember, my family and I were moving to another part of this continent every six months for safety reasons. All the things that haunted my father in hopes of revenge or just to exploit our legacy never rested and consequently we didn’t either. After my family… died, I decided I didn’t wanna live that way. I was sick and tired of running. So, I pulled a Houdini, dropped the name and settled down. Made a living by carrying on the family tradition. I just wanna live in peace and quiet, keeping up my disguise. And telling people my secret isn’t exactly the high defintion of that.”

„I thought I wasn’t just ’people’.”

You open your mouth to reply, but the diner’s door opens once again and Sam stands up, his expression changes in a matter of seconds. You take this as an alarming sign, and you stand right nex to him.

„Dean! I thought we had an agreement.” Sam says exaspiratedly.

„Dean? As in, your brother Dean?”

„Yeah.” he responds instead of Sam „Pleasure.” he says curtly.

„Same here. And who would this gentleman be?” you turn to the man in the trenchcoat.

„I am Castiel, Sam and Dean’s… heavenly associate, if you know what I mean.”

Oh, you know very well what he means. And he must pay for that dearly.

You run a quick estimation in your head and decide to take out Dean first as he seems the most dangerous. Nobody expects your reaction, so using the element of surprise, you kick Dean in the abdomen and in the process, you take out your knife from your boot. If Sam isn’t fast enough, you stab the angel right in the heart, but he grabs you from behind and turns you around so that he could stand as a human shield between you and your victim. This way you are only able to leave a scratch. A lady’s scream cuts through the air.

„FBI! We’ll handle the matter, just evacuate the place!” Dean regains his presence surprisingly fast and starts shouting. „Everybody - GO! Guests and staff alike! NOW! Move!” he doesn’t have to tell the people twice; they flee in a blink of an eye.

„Sam, let go of me!” you order „You don’t understand-”

„Oh, but I do, Y/N! Angels massacred your family! It’s all in that paper.”

„Then that’s exactly why you should let go!” you practically scream at him. He finally abides by you, but when you turn around, he envelopes you in a strong embrace.

„Sam?! Please…If I don’t kill as many angels as I can, I’m gonna go crazy…” the desperation in your voice in undeniable.

„No, you won’t!” he whispers into your hair while stroking the back of your neck with his thumb. You can’t stop the flood of hot tears washing over your face, which are eventually soaked in by his plaid shirt. „I won’t let you. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

You have no idea how long you stand there like that, clinging onto each other. But when you part, you realize that Dean and the angel have already sat down to the table and are checking out the wound.

„Relax, he’s not gonna die.” you comment, sitting down in the booth across them, wiping away a few leftover tears.

„But I’m not healing.” Castiel manages to say through gritted teeth.

„You are. Only a lot slower than usual and with a lot more… pain.”

„What did you do to him?!” Dean demands in a stern tone.

„Nothing. It’s just the blade.”

„You made it with magic, didn’t you?” realization hits Sam all of a sudden. Oh, well. It’s not like they are the first ones to discover.

„Yeah. Combined with weaponry, I can create marvellous things.” you admit „Besides, what do you think, where did that little boyband of yours get the idea to do so? Or even some prototypes?”

Their eyebrows fly up.

„You mean the Men of Letters?”

„Uh-huh. But let’s spare the chit-chat, shall we? What do you guys want from me? ’Cause I doubt you just wanted to let me know you caught me in my lie.” you say bitterly while looking at Sam.

„Okay, sure.” Dean agrees „Let’s get right to it. We need your help.”

„Can’t say I’m surprised….”

„As Sam may have mentioned, when the son of Lucifer was born, he opened up this other dimension and-„

„EXCUSE ME?! Sam never told me that!” you stare daggers at the person in question „The son of Lucifer?! Oh my God!.....I-I’m so out of here!” you jump to your feet and grab your helmet, but Sam’s voice stops you.

„Y/N! Please, wait! It’s not about him, or even Dean anyomre. It’s about the world. It will come to a terrible end.”

„That is of course if you refuse to help us.” Dean adds.

Even though every fiber in your body screams for you to leave, you slowly sit down.

„Go on.”

„So…this other dimension, this other world – Sam and I were never born there. This means that the apocalypse went down and Micheal defeated Lucifer. But he scorched the planet in the process. He got over to this world and plans to do the same thing. We only know of one weapon to stop him, but the owner is from another dimension, too, and she’s not very cooperative. The plan is to get her land the damn spear to us so you could replicate it and we’ll kill that son of a bitch with it.”

You think everything you’ve just heard carefully through and weigh things in your mind.

„You sure it’s replicable?” you ask.

„It runs on some sort of magic so yeah, we believe it is. But you’re the expert, you’ll see for yourself.” Sam replies.

„You have any idea where it is now?”

„According to a dear friend of ours, Sherriff Jody Mills, it’s with its owner in the nearby woods, about twenty miles from here.”

„I’m not gonna leave my bike in the woods.” you say incredulously.

„You don’t even have to. You’ll come with us in the Impala and Jody will arrange an officer to take it to the station. It’ll be in good hands, don’t worry.”

„I hope your right. ’Cause if I find a scratch on it, I can assure you that shit will go down.”

#Sam Winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam #sam x reader #SPN #supernatural #fanfic #spnfic #series

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mender-emilia · 4 years

Photo

The Wedding at Silverbell

It was a modest turn out for the intimate ceremony, to be expected in such short notice. A few citizens of Riverford made the trip as well as locals from Silverbell's Goldenleaf Village. Some other familiar Holt faces mixed. The mood was casual as the chapels bell rang six in the evening.

A violinist and cellist played soft background music in the back of the crowed as the last of the stragglers found their seats on the long wooden benches that flanked each side. Aylin quietly appeared and she bent to whisper to Arianna, each Barlowe girl. Aylin left once more, heading back toward the Inn, Ariana and Evelyn excitedly left their seats, to follow the way Aylin had gone. A sign that things were very close to beginning.

Gidion stood, somewhat nervously. The man, having fought in War and waded through blood and sweat, somehow more nervous now. He glances back toward the crowd, witnessing Neresh, an old friend. As well as members of the family staff. His father had attended leaving two open spaces for his sisters to rejoin him soon. He flushed, slightly, looking over towards the group. They left, no doubt, to retrieve his bride.

The Priestess Cateline, a kind, elderly woman they'd both known when so much younger in Hearthglen stood patiently, wearing a kind smile. She survived still today, a peaceful expression on her face. A silver stud glittered from each of her ears, the only jewelry worn.

The current song, many likely having not taken much notice of-- suddenly stopped. A new song began, one with a bright sound and specific pacing. With a practiced ear, Cateline raised her arms to indicate all should stand. Gidion could hardly contain the smile that crept upon his features at the more familiar tune. He, subconsciously, adjusted his suit jacket.

First to be seen from around the corner was Evelyn, marching slowly and carefully one foot at a time. Her dress though still of blue satin was shorter and had a more age appropriate bataeu neckline. Still it was a more grown up style and she wore it well. Her bouquet of giant white roses, daisies and ivy clasped between both hands. Once Evelyn got a quarter of the way there, Ariana turned to corner. A vision in the Barlowe House blue of her long satin gown. Golden waves pinned with baby's breath and ivy, she marched with a touch more grace to her steps, smiling softly. Only Gidion saw the playful wink on Ariana's face, teasing her brother in such practiced subtle way. With a deep inhale, he practiced the lines in his head, a vow written wholly for her. But - the young man found it hard to concentrate, his heart beating fast.

Then in perfect time, Aylin appeared, her turn to make the slow march down the aisle, the twin of the bride beaming excitedly. Her dress matched the others but had a gold embroidered detail to bring a touch of Holt to the gown. Her dark hair was down in soft waves with braids around the crown of her head laced with baby's breath. The song, staying the same, however reached the more lively bridge and Emilia turned the corner.

Made of delicate lace she wore a ballgown style dress, long sleeves of intricate detail that was clearly tailored well to fit and flatter her slight frame. A long veil shrouded around her, though it was translucent and only added to the elegance of the ensemble. Her raven tresses were pulled into an updo of dark waves, a crown of budded white roses and ivy rested on her head. Her eyes shone through the lace, her gaze on the man who waited for her ahead. Her smile was unmistakable as it beamed and she clutched her bouquet of white and blue roses and eucalyptus.

She made her slow and nervous march to her waiting fiance, she finally took her place, a soft blush on her cheeks that wasn't caused by cosmetics but his charming presence was revealed as she dipped her head and allowed the veil to be pulled back freeing her view from obstruction. She placed her hands in his own, as she exhaled a ragged breath, her heart clearly racing but happily.

Gidion was, just as she, smiling so widely. Never had such joy shone on his face, all of the tarnish from war and strife removed. He nodded once, unable to resist a quiet laugh of happiness that bubbled up. If he'd seemed nervous prior, none of that shown on his face now. Upon seeing her, any concern or worry gone. He mouthed, silently, 'Hi, Beautiful.'

The Priestess Officiant looked out, sagely toward the onlookers. "Everyone, you may be seated. We are gathered together on this day to witness and celebrate the marriage of Gidion & Emilia. We come together not to mark the start of a relationship, but to acknowledge and strengthen a bond that already exists. This ceremony is a public affirmation of that bond and as their dearest family and friends, it is our honor and privilege to stand witness to this event. Marriage is a commitment in life, where two people can find and bring out the very best in each other. It offers opportunities for sharing and growth that no other human relationship can equal, a physical and emotional joining that has the promise of a lifetime."

Lowering her head, Cateline began a prayer. "Let us bow our heads in prayer to the Light. It is by its grace that we are able to gather everyone here today. We ask that you help Emilia and Gidion to remember the strong love that they share. To work that love into practical things so that nothing can divide them. May their love always inspire them to be kind in their words, considerate of the other’s feelings, and concerned for the other’s needs and wishes. Increase their faith and trust in the Light. Bless their marriage with peace and happiness and make their Love fruitful, both here and in eternity. Amen."

The woman continued. "Your relationship will take more than love. It will take trust, to know in your hearts that you want only the best for each other. Dedication, to stay open to one another, to learn and grow, even when it is difficult to do so. And faith, to go forward together without knowing what the future holds for you both.”

Gidion, her hands in his, squeezed gently, nodding once. Emilia was listening, of course, to every word, but she didn't spare a glance from Gidion's face. Each word found her heart and reaffirmed her reasoning for standing there. She hoped her smile said as much.

Cateline wore a small smile on her warm features, seeming pleased by the dramatic pause, looked between the two, as it to command their attention. "May the promises you make to one another today, be lived out to the end of your lives. Tomorrow can bring you the greatest of joys, but today is the day it all begins. Gidion and Emilia, do you, with your family and friends as your witnesses, present yourselves willingly and of your own accord to be joined in marriage?"

Their words gently laced over each others as they both answered softly. "We do."

The Priestess nods, continuing. "Both Emilia and Gidion have prepared vows to one another, to be shared in presence of the Light and those they cherish most." Her eyes cast toward the male, signifying his turn.

Pausing for only a brief moment, while holding Emilia's gaze Gidion finds words come to him almost immediately, without hesitation. He needn't have worried at all. "What I love most about you is your kindness and compassion, I vow to encourage you to let yourself shine through your dreams and look forward to helping shape our lives together into the adventure that we will take. Your soul shines down on me and I vow to tend to you - to keep your soul bright. Today I take you to be my wife and promise to help create for us a life of honesty, fidelity, trust, and love. To love you not as some idea of you, but as you truly are. To grow with you, learn with you, and to live out our days hand in hand."

Cateline looks towards Emilia, that look of peace ever-present upon her matronly face.

Emilia's turn to take a soft breath her large bight eyes linger within Gidion's, not searching for words but lingering in this special moment if only for a couple beats. His words had inspired a slight glisten to find her bright eyes. "Gidion..." her tone soft and affectionate as she kept her gaze locked upon his. "... a young Lady often dreams of this day. They dream of the flowers and the dresses. They plan the menu over and over for years of wistful thought. So often I have wondered who would be the man I'd stand across from in this moment. Would he have kind eyes and a warm smile... would he stand tall and strong in the Light and for our Kingdom. Would he have a way with words that is was simple but impactful, a way to calm my worries and encourage my dreams. I wondered if he would look at me with love, would treat me with respect and commit to me with devotion." The woman's smile grew. "I'm so blessed and proud to find the answers to all those questions today... are yes."

Moving to quietly retrieve the two wedding bands, shimmering and gold. Cateline places the smaller, thinner of the two within the hand of Gidion. The thicker, sturdier band within the soft touch of Emilia's palm. "Having this love in your hearts, you have chosen to seal your vows by exchanging rings. From the earliest times, the circle has been a sign of completeness. The rings that you have chosen to wear have neither beginning nor end, much like your love for one another. They are a symbol of the words that you speak today."

"Gidion, take this ring, place it on Emilia’s finger, and repeat after me... I give you this ring as a symbol... Of my love and faithfulness to you."

Doing as instructed, Gidion slowly lifts her hand, and moves, gently sliding the shimmering ring upon her finger. "I give you this ring as a symbol... Of my love and faithfulness to you." Emilia inhaled a silent but sharp breath as the gold band nestled neatly next to the diamond ring she already wore. Then toward Emilia, "Emilia, take this ring, place it on Gidion’s finger and repeat after me... I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness to you..."

Perhaps only he would notice a slight shake as she lofted her other hand and eased his ring on to his finger in return. "I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness to you..."

The pair starred affectionately into each others eyes as Cateline spoke once more, their wedding rings securely in place.

"Having pledged their fidelity to one another, to love, honor and cherish one another in the presence of this gathering and by the authority vested in me by the light, and the crown, it is my honor to now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Gidion happily, eagerly, presses that kiss upon her lips. It lingered long enough to share his love, to carry the weight of the moment. A hand, now baring a ring, moved to rest gently at her side. Emilia allowed a single tear of joy to stream down her cheek, returning the kiss to her now husband.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my honor to be the first to introduce you to: Lord & Lady Gidion Barlowe."

Evelyn knew her job and rushed forward to toss a handful of white and blue rose petals at the pair as the strings once more began to play. The couples fingers laced together as they turned to face the crowd that clapped happily for the pair.

{ @gidion-barlowe / @ariana-barlowe / @feathers-of-a-dove / @householt }

((A special thank you to Gidion-Mun who is endlessly patient with me and who allowed me to have (and butcher) his beautiful words. <3 Also, this information is IC and canon, if you feel your character would have been at the wedding, but OOC got in the way, feel free to use this as IC info.))

#Within The Light #Wedding Day #Lord & Lady Barlowe

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races-erster · 3 years

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Hey guys. So I haven’t been having the greatest time lately, and I really need to vent, but there’s too much to fit in the tags, so I decided to make a regular post. This’ll still be tagged under ‘personal’ and everything will be under the cut. I wanted to apologize before hand for clogging up your dash with my issues, and by no means does anyone have to read this if they don’t want to. I just really need a place where I can feel safe enough to share my emotions.

So, as many of you know, I have a condition called Complex Regional Pain Syndrome in the entirety of my left leg, from my hip down to my toes. It’s a chronic nerve pain disorder. I’ve been diagnosed with it for two years now, but we think I’ve actually had it for 6 years and no one realized what it was. The last time I got hurt (I’ve had 8 ankle injuries total), I ended up tearing one of the ligaments that moves my foot and I was on crutches and in a wheelchair for a total of six months. Because I couldn’t get my foot to move, my crps began to get worse and worse until I couldn’t even lightly put my foot on the ground without being in excruciating pain. I was also heavily bullied during that time by people that I thought I could trust (my marching band and it’s instructors) which really hurt my self-esteem. I was eventually able to move my foot and I was able to start walking again because of my physical therapist (who is an amazing man. he’s my actual hero).

Sorry for the recap, but the current deterioration of my mental state has resolved around my leg. 6 years ago when I first hurt myself, I started to gain weight because I was unable to properly exercise. I was exempt from gym classes for the rest of the year and the only “exercise” I was getting was from physical therapy. Then I started to get hurt more and more, which resulted in me gaining more and more weight. I especially gained weight during the 6 months I couldn’t walk. Over the last 6 years, I’ve gained around 60 pounds. This has really started to fuck with my mind. I wish that I could like how I look, but then I see pictures of myself from all those years ago and I, unfortunately, cant stand how I look. I know this is a very touchy subject for a lot of people, and I’m sorry if this is brining up bad memories, and I will be tagging this with a trigger warning just incase.

I’m not going to get into the nitty-gritty of the bullying I encountered, but I will say that it has cause a lot of problems with my mental state. Aside from my family, I only had one person in my corner for 6 entire months. No one would talk to me because they didn’t want to be seen with “a faker.” Everyone thought I was lying about my injury and the problems that it caused within my nervous system. Anyone who associated with me was a new target for everyone to pick on, so people that I had been friends with since kindergarten left me to fend for myself, which, I can’t blame them I guess. If I could have found a way to escape the judgement of over 200 teenagers and 40 adults, I would have.

I have no idea what’s brining up all of these memories. It’s been a year and a half since I’ve been able to walk again, but for some reason my brain has been drudging up all of these terrible things. My leg has been absolutely killing me lately. Since my brain sends the signals through my nervous system, every time I’m upset or stressed my brain sends signals to my leg and makes it feel like hell.

I’ve just gotten tired of all of it. I’m tired of walking with a limp the majority of the time. I’m tired of having all of these restrictions. I want to be able to run and jump and do all of these things that I despised before. I hate having to use an e-stem every few hours to get the swelling in my leg to go down. I just wish that I could be like everyone else. I want to fit in with people. I hate that I want to be different than who I am right now, but at this point in my life, other people’s words and hatred have brought me down. I wish that I could look at myself in the mirror and be proud of who I am. I know that I’ve overcome so much adversity and issues within the past few years that I should be proud of myself, but all I seen is a girl with a leg that hurts on the daily and only reminds her of her failures.

I just hate being in pain all the time. I hate that my foot is always either freezing or burning. I don’t like how I can have a really good day and then the next day I can barely move because of the pain. I just wish that it would all stop.

I’m sorry for being such a downer right now. I think that after this is posted, that I’ll feel better honestly. I’ve been afraid to talk about all of these feelings bubbling up again because I don’t want to burden my family. I know how hard it was for them to see me not able to walk for so long (and then have to see my brother have spine surgery all in a few months). Anyways, um, if you read this, thank you for listening to my problems. I know that I talked about a lot of things in this post, and a lot of them are hard to grasp and incredibly sensitive to people. I guess, that I just want to end this post by saying that without all of you, I don’t think that I’d really be finding joy in anything. You guys have all helped me one way or another, whether you know it or not and I am eternally grateful to each and every one of you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

#sorry again about clogging the dash #please dont reblog #personal #tw body issues

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ofillyria · 4 years

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I have been toying around with A LOT of WIP ideas recently and I’m not really sure where I want to focus my energy or which ones I want to add to my WIP list or make intros for. So I figured I’d make a masterlist of all of my ideas that I have a rough plot and character list for so y’all can peruse! If there’s one that jumps our at you, a few you like, or any that you have questions on please please flood my inbox! There’s no better way to get me jazzed about a WIP than to send me asks! I’m putting them under the cut since there’s so many!

NIGHT TWELVE: Vi crashes into enemy territory and is taken in by the army. She's given an assignment: win the heart of the wealthiest woman on the planet to procure war funding. But she's already fallen in love with her superior officer.

DAVID’S PEAK: In the small, Oregon town of David’s Peak people are being mysteriously abducted, and blame is placed on possessed park ranger Diane Atwood. She has a choice: prove herself innocent by finding the real culprit, or say goodbye to the friendly voice in her head.

YOUNG DEMONS: After failing her first spell Cecily Young swore off magic. Her power is building, brewing. The repressed magic is manifesting as a hurricane set to destroy Louisiana in a month's time. She must find a way to expel the magic in time, without tearing herself apart in the process.

THE GODLING TRILOGY: Lea is the firstborn child of Morpheus, making her the most powerful godling in a millennium. Which means she’s the perfect scapegoat for Zeus to send to do his dirty work. Including murdering the ancient being known as Nyx, who’s determined to plunge the modern world into eternal night.

BERSERKERS: Gal pals turned fearsome warriors. When the clique dons their fur coats they gain the strength of the animals they wear. It’s time for revenge on selfish exs, bigoted teachers, and abusive parents,. That is, if the consequences don’t catch up to them first.

THE BLITZKRIEG BREAKER: When Teddy’s clock repair shop becomes both the epicenter of a magical war and the London blitz, he is tasked with keeping a strange device out of the wrong hands. In a world filled with demon dogs, falling bombs, and a mysterious shapeshifting witch it’s hard to know which threat to focus on.

HELL’S EMPTY: Sometimes, the dead get restless. There are a few who manage to slip through the cracks and back into the world of the living. On autopilot, the soul takes the first available body and become a zombie. Over time the body, incompatible with its new soul, will begin to decay. Desperate to live, but falling apart, these creatures seek new fresh bodies to enter, even it means killing to get them. Luckily, hell, like any good business, has a lost prevention specialist. And she’s ready to go hunting.

WASTELANDERS: In a post apocalyptic wasteland, a team of two girls band together to fight to survive. When crossing the desert from ration station to ration station they encounter a man on the side of the road, he claims that his car was stolen with his young daughter inside. The two girls venture to find the lost girl in a no holds barred rescue mission through deadly dive bars, life or death road races, and russian roulette tournaments.

TRAGEDY ANNE: Anne, a bandit known for terrorizing the rich folks of Round Rock, caught wind of the local mine owner’s plan to blow out the dam. Even if it means washing out Round Rock in the process. Anne wants to save her hometown but no one will listen to a lying, cheating thief.

SOUL: SOLD: Six years ago Jac sold her soul to a demon so that she could say goodbye to her mother. But now her contract is up and she only has a week before she becomes a demon herself. The plan: find the family heirloom, use it to barter with the crossroads demon, and avoid damnation at all costs.

AMELIA BRIGHT PETSITTER TO THE ABSURDLY RICH: Amy loves her job: nice houses, free food, and cute puppies. But when she’s accused of stealing jewelry from a rich client everything falls apart and her reputation is destroyed. She has to prove her innocence. Hopefully, before the super hot CEO she’s dogsitting for returns from a business trip.

THE TEMPEST PROTOCOL: Mira’s mission is to study the defunct pleasure planet which orbits a black hole. But the mission is overturned when the owner of the planet returns and kidnaps Mira’s team. Mira has to rescue her crew before they are all swallowed by the looming void or murdered by the psychopathic resort owner.

THE ELECTRIC PIGHT - Winona is an archaeologist that studies the fallen society of the 21st century. When her brother returns home severely injured, she’s determined to use old world medicine to save his life even if she has to travel for days to find it. But the way to the city of old is guarded by militiamen, cannibals, and rabid dogs. Winona’s attempt to save her brother and prove her theories right might kill her first.

WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD - Bee has been demon of the month over nineteen thousand times. She’s assigned a meager corruption mission and saddled with a newbie demon. Now, she’s determined to prove to Satan that she doesn’t need a partner. She has to find a way to kill her ‘husband’ without it looking suspicious. All while corrupting the perfect 1950s suburbia around her.

HELL FIRED - When one of the groundskeepers for the underworld goes on maternity leave her coworker has to find a suitable replacement. So they set up a reality show competition and the last person standing wins the role of right hand man to Hades’ right hand man. Which is sort of an honor.

ARTEMIS AND APOLLO - Agent’s Artemis and Apollo have been working together for nearly twelve years. He’s the impulsive rogue and she’s the one who actually gets the job done. But now that she’s getting married he’s worried the agency will realize his incompetence. Instead of fighting it, he’s determined to make their final mission together the wildest ride possible.

FUN FUN AT THE BOARDWALK - Daniel works at the Santa Cruz boardwalk and knows for a fact it’s haunted. The giant stuffed animals have started to roam at night and recently, one tried to kill him. He has to round up a team to help him fight back but first, he has to make people believe him.

VIENNA - After being exposed to radiation from the sun an astronaut returns to earth to find that she is imbued with starlight. She’s recruited into an organization of mutants and tasked with rounding up others like her. But the more she uses her powers to render outside threats inert the more she risks burning out and turning herself into a black hole.

10 PERFECT DATES - Katherine Day’s website claims she can set up the most romantic date possible just for a small fee of $200. Rory, an investigative journalist, is determined to prove this offer a scam. So they buy 10 and ask Katherine to be the one to join them on these so-called ‘perfect’ dates. Rory thought this would be a disaster worth writing about, but the only problem is Katherine herself seems like the perfect person for Rory.

SOUL SEARCHING - A witch and her disembodied wife search for a body that can house the wife’s soul. The witch becomes a spiritual guide to people in comas, entering their minds and helping them through to the other side to open a space for the wife to have a body again.

CRITICALLY MISSED. After the death of David’s father he invites all of his childhood friends back to his childhood home for a reunion game of dungeons and dragons. When they start to fight they are interrupted as they are pulled into the game. The old friends are forced to fight off giant spiders, ogres, and long buried resentment. If they die in the game do they die in real life? And is an epic takedown worth risking your brother’s neck?

These ones don’t have titles yet so I’m just gonna give some comps so you get the vibe:

WES ANDERSON x THE HALF OF IT - Mindy’s life is going exactly how she wants. She has perfected her waffle recipe, a successful b&b, and no friends. But when her mom decides to get remarried Mindy is faced with the reality that the world goes on without her even when she constructs an eden for herself. So she enlists the help of a childhood friend to teach her how to deal with change.

STRANGER THINGS x PARANORMAN - Ryann drowned, and was resuscitated minutes after being declared dead. Now the kid sees ghosts: unmoving, unblinking figures staring at a singular location. Ryann must discover why the spirits are back and what it is they want that’s in the Courthouse.

TOMB RAIDER x UNCHARTED - The Bloodright Chalice is the last unrecovered piece of known treasure, and Kel is determined to find it. With the help of a tagalong history nerd, she must fight off mercenaries, navigate perilous terrain, and withstand the draw of a magical artifact.

KICKASS x DAREDEVIL - Kimberly Price is trying to be the hero her powers deserve, but her moral ambiguity keeps leading her off track. Upon discovering an underground crime ring, Kim discovers her big break and that the mob boss, a mutant like her, can break any bone in her body with his mind.

INCEPTION x ARRIVAL - Dr. Parson has been having dreams recently of waking up next to a woman who he doesn’t know and she claims to be his wife. His new research partner on the particle accelerator is revealed to be the very same woman he’s been dreaming of since the beginning of the project. He knows more about her than he should and it feels like an abuse of power, but he cannot help but fall in love, or rather stay in love. But how can he be honest when it would paint him as insane and ruin both his relationship with her and his plans for the project?

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #writblr #writing #allwip

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vivilove-jonsa · 5 years

Note

For the Jonsa Dialogue Prompts: “Just let me have like, three seconds to pretend everything is okay before we go back in there.”

Thank you @mynameisnoneya1991 for the prompt! This one took a spooky turn on me which I figured you might not mind despite our mutual feelings regarding mannequins 😱🎃

Sansa tugs her cardigan closer and flips her ponytail, trying to pretend she’s perfectly cool being here in Baelish’s House of Wax Wonders. Honestly, this is giving her the creeps but she doesn’t want to admit it. They’d laugh at her if she did. It’s just a wax museum. Yes, the displays are frightful. It’s nearly Halloween and she expected that. But do they have to be so life like?

That’s the point, silly.

But why do some of them feel like they’re almost alive? Almost like their sightless eyes are following her?

“Are you scared, kitten?”

She jumps but it’s just Jon and she can see the concerned look in his eyes. He’s not going to laugh regardless of her answer.

She feels his hand brush against hers and she can’t help smiling. Her boyfriend is the dreamiest. Pouty lips and sad dark eyes, black curls slicked back with his leather jacket’s collar popped, he’s every girl’s teenage dream, she thinks.

Oh, some girls would rather have a soc for a boyfriend. Sansa had thought she was the same once upon a time. But Jon Snow’s a greaser from the wrong side of the tracks. He’s also the sweetest boy she could ever hope to know at heart. He’s devoted to his friends and helps his single mother make ends meet with his job down at Hobb’s Diner after school. Her parents had not been very pleased when they’d started dating…until they’d got to know him.

“No, I’m not scared,” she squeaks.

He doesn’t believe her and keeps holding her hand. He looks around at where Pyp’s pretending the Bride of Frankenstein’s about to get him, making the others howl with laughter. It’s hard fitting in with Jon’s friends sometimes. They’re nice to her but she knows they view her as an outsider the same way Jeyne and Robb and Theon probably view them.

“You’re mine, and we belong together

Yes, we belong together, for eternity…”

She sighs hearing the strains of the Ritchie Valens’ ballad coming from the next room. She’d rather be alone with Jon than at this museum tonight, maybe at the drive-in or listening to the radio in his car.

“How about we leave these losers to Dracula and see what’s in there instead?” He can read her like a book.

“Okay,” she giggles before they duck out the door without even being noticed.

What a relief. It’s nothing scary in here. It’s actually a modern display of just regular people at a county fair much like the one Wintertown has every autumn. It really does resemble it. Maybe Jon will take her to it next weekend if she suggests it.

At the center, there’s a Ferris Wheel and Sansa’s surprised they went to the trouble to put one inside the building. Wax figure teens are riding it, their expressions reflecting laughter or terror depending on how well they’re enjoying the ride.

Nearby, there’s a carousel where wax figure kids are eating candied apples as they ride their horses for eternity.

There’s a carney game beside that with a boy throwing a pitch to win a prize for his girl. She can tell the ball’s on target and the girl’s going to get her pink teddy bear. It makes her happy to see.

The green grass underfoot is artificial but it almost smells like real popcorn in here.

There’s even a small stage off to the side for performances like their own fair has every night when it’s in town. That’s where the music’s coming from. There’s a speaker hooked up behind the wax figure band.

“You’re mine, your lips belong to me

Yes, they belong to me, for eternity…”

She’s smiling now, more at ease. The figures are still creepy if you look too closely but the more every day setting doesn’t bother her so much as the Chamber of Horrors did.

“Look, it’s our turn for a spin, kitten,” Jon says with a devilish wink before pulling her into the lowest car on the Ferris Wheel which sits empty.

He just wants to make out, she knows. That’s okay. She loves the way it feels when he’s holding her close and kissing her the way he does. They’ve been going steady for five months now. She thinks she’s almost ready to go all the way although she’s not told him yet.

“Hello, there,” a voice says behind them just as Jon’s leaning in for his kiss. “My, aren’t you two a perfect pair.”

Sansa nearly jumps out of her skin but remembers her manners as opposed to Jon. He looks ready to punch the man.

“Hello. I’m sorry. We were just…looking around.”

“It’s fine,” the man assures them. He’s older, maybe almost her parents age with some grey around his temples. His smile is friendly but it doesn’t seem to touch his grey-green eyes. “This is my museum and I love for children to come and have a look at my creations.”

“You’re Mr. Baelish? The man who’s made all this?” Jon asks.

“Yes, that’s me. And you two fit in very well with my little carnival display, I must say. You’re like a modern-day Romeo and Juliet, aren’t you? But with a happier ending, let’s hope.”

It’s sort of odd the way he says it as he rubs his hands together. Sansa thinks she’d like to get out of the ride’s seat and rejoin their friends. Jon must feel the same although she doubts he’s scared. He never acts like anything scares him.

“Well, we’d better head on, mister, so…” Jon begins to say.

“Oh, no. You’re not leaving yet, I hope. I’d love for you to stay. Your girl is a beauty and her hair is such a pretty red. I don’t think I’ve got a redhead that can compare in this whole place, miss. And I need a greaser for the Elvis set I’m working on but maybe you like it here better? All you kids love Elvis these days and I want to keep you kids happy. Won’t you please come and see? I’d love to get an opinion on it.”

Mr. Baelish, the wax sculptor, comes closer and something’s very wrong. He’s pulling something out of his pocket. Sansa’s heart is pounding. She wants to scream and run away. He’s going to kill them. He’s going to make them part of his exhibit. He’s…

“Sansa?! Sansa, wake up!”

She’s being shaken roughly awake and her eyes flutter open. She sees Jon’s anxious face hovering above her. No leather jacket or slicked back hair. His curls are wild and unruly and he’s just wearing a black sweater.

“What…”

“You were having a nightmare or something, sweet girl. I think you fell asleep on the ride over here.”

She blinks and rubs her eyes. This is not the 1950s and no strange little man from the wax museum is threatening them. She’s in the backseat of Robb’s SUV. They’d all been out for drinks earlier and Theon had suggested something spooky tonight.

“God, what a freaky dream.”

Jon nods and cups her cheek although he doesn’t know what she dreamt. He’s just understanding that way. “Are you alright? Theon bought the tickets but we don’t have to go inside if you don’t feel like it.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m sure that…” She trails off as she sees the sign above: Baelish’s House of Wax Wonders.

She wants to tell Jon they shouldn’t go in but all their friends are waiting. She remembers hearing something about the original owner being convicted of murder decades ago. He was later executed, she thinks. Robb and Theon have been jazzed about seeing the old wax museum for weeks now that it’s reopened. It was probably just their talk over dinner that had prompted the dream…but part of her has to know.

She walks through the doors with her friends, her hand linked with Jon’s. It’s horror stuff mostly, more modern than anything they’d have seen in the 50s. It’s dumb but the life like figures still manage to make her uncomfortable.

Doesn’t matter. That was just a dream earlier.

But then, she hears music.

“You’re mine and we belong together

Yes, we belong together, for eternity…”

Her skin is covered in goose flesh in an instant and that tingling sensation racing up to her spine.

“Sansa? You look like you just saw a ghost,” Jon says, staring at her concernedly.

“I…” She stares back at him. How can she tell him of her fear? They’d never believe it. “Just let me have like 3 seconds to pretend everything is okay before we go back in there.”

“Back in there? What are you talking about? We’ve never been here, sweet girl.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” she murmurs.

Her brother and their friends are following them this time and they don’t get it. They don’t feel that chill from the tinny sound of Ritchie Valens crooning away over a set of antiquated speakers. She wonders if they can smell the popcorn as they laugh at the wax figure children still eating their candied apples.

And all of them look right past the redhaired girl with a ponytail in her cardigan being kissed by the greaser with dark, inky curls on the bottom most seat of the Ferris Wheel.

They don’t know why Sansa screams and then faints over wax figures at a pretend carnival in Baelish’s House of Wax Wonders.

They don’t get it. They never will.

#jon x sansa #jonsa #jonsa fanfiction #dialogue prompts #halloween-ish #mynameisnoneya1991

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darkredehmption · 4 years

Text

A Retreat

#SL #ARetreat

Written by @DamagedBrother and @PanwerePredator

***

Hadrian:

I flung away the cords for the cardiac monitor with a snarl.

Thankfully, at five o’clock in the morning, there were no doctors or nurses rushing in to tell me not to. I probably shouldn’t have. Most mornings, the incessant beeping as my heart raced out of control was the only thing that pulled me from the nightmares that triggered it in the first place.

But every time I heard the frantic beeping it just reminded me where I was. What had happened. And that even now, Amos had a grip on me I couldn’t seem to shake.

Getting off the bed, I was relieved when I didn’t stumble, my legs finally strong enough to keep me upright as I stalked toward the bathroom. The simple shirt and sweats I’d been given by the doggen clung to me with sweat. Cranking on the heat, I peeled off the clothes and tossed them into the wash basket, then stepped into the spray.

The heat chased away the chill that came with the nightmares; the terrors Amos had soaked me in and made me live through night after night. Turning my face up into the spray, I tried to imagine the fears, the insidious whispering, running down the drain. But even if I stood here for hours, I knew they weren’t going anywhere. That tonight I’d go through the same routine of trying not to sleep, failing, then waking in terror.

My fingers curled into fists as I held in a soft, angry sob.

Zsadist:

I’ve been on a mating ceremony high that I almost forgot to check in on our patient, Hadrian. Fritz was about to bring him down some fresh clothes, but I grabbed them from the Doggen and headed straight for the PT suite. I needed to check on the male, and well...I had a proposition for him. Hadrian was an important part of this family whether he wanted to believe it or not, so if I could, I would prefer to have him close. I mean, he wanted to help us fight lessers.

When I rounded the corner I instantly tightened, I could feel that something was wrong. Tossing the clothes on the bed as I follow the trail of dirties to the bathroom door. Pausing as I listen to the shifter’s heart racing followed by his heavy breathing.

“Hadrian…”

Chest rumbling as I spoke, eyes flashing to the handle as I murmur. “You alright?” Scrubbing a hand over my nape. Of course he wasn’t alright. Fuck, I was never good at this kind of shit. Letting out a soft sigh. “I brought you clean clothes…” Eyes the shirt and sweats that were scattered on the floor.

“Can I come in…?” I didn’t like the idea of the shifter being upset. “I...know what it’s like to be someone’s prisoner.” Gazing at my slave bands. “Spent most of my life as a slave, taken away from my parents as an infant.”

Hadrian:

It wasn’t until Zsadist was at the door, saying my name, that I even realized he was down here. With the water running, not to mention my racing heart and fractured headspace, my hearing and sense of smell was limited to the bathroom. Glancing to the door, I took a deep breath and tilted my head into the spray, washing away any trace of tears.

The water might’ve washed away the lingering stench of fear, but I knew it clung to the sheets I’d tossed and turned in. Knew that Zsadist was well aware of the nightmares that’d chased me from the bed. Then there was the fact that he knew what it was like. Hell, he’d had it worse than I had; held as a slave and used for decades by some mistress monster. I’d endured Amos for barely a couple weeks. But it didn’t change the fact that it felt like a piece of my soul was missing. That Amos had taken it with him to whatever section of Hell he was now in.

Reaching for a towel, I wrapped it around my waist before clearing my throat. “Come in.”

Trying to straighten, I didn’t flinch as the male came in. He filled the smaller space, not just with his size but the strength of his personality. His golden eyes gleamed, watching me through the last tendrils of steam that wafted through the room. I glanced away and cleared my throat again.

“We… we don’t have to talk about it. I… I don’t know how to,” I add quietly. “The fact is I should be grateful I’m alive. I should be dead,” I said flatly, moving toward the door. “An animal to call isn’t supposed to survive the death of their master…”

Master.

The word was revolting, even in my head. My Beasts rumbled their discontent. All except my Lion, who remained painfully quiet.

Zsadist:

Finally I was let into the bathroom, seeing the male clearly even with the steam that surrounded us. I listened to him as he made his way out. He didn’t want to talk, and I understood that more than anyone. I spent decades not wanting to talk to anyone.

“I kept her skull beside me on the floor, where I slept.” I blurt out.

Nice one Z. Way to fucking scare him even more. Scrubbing my hand over my scarred face as I exit the bathroom, reaching for the fresh clothes that I brought down, and tossing them at the shifter.

“I went back to kill her, and took her skull home with me as a reminder. So that every time I looked at it I knew she was dead. Knew that she couldn’t come back to hurt me anymore.”

I was unloading a lot on the poor male, which was something I really didn’t do. Hell, I haven’t even told Mal all the dirty details of my past.

“But even then, even with her dead, with her skull beside me, I still had nightmares. Constantly worrying that she would come back and take me. Enslave me once again.” I didn’t want to mention that Amos made me see her, then again he probably already knew.

“So I get it. I get what you are feeling, and I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m just…” Pauses as I touch the edge of the stretcher. “I’m glad you are alive, Hadrian. I did everything in my power to make that happen.”

Hadrian:

There was a sentence to stop you in your tracks. And despite myself, my need to take those clothes to a private room and dress like I could hide what I was feeling under layers, I paused.

Zsadist had never said much about his past. The slave bands tattooed around his wrists and neck told the world only a snippet of the story, and while I’d yearned to know more, I’d never pushed for that tale. It wasn’t something you asked of someone. It was something they shared when or if they were ever ready.

Listening to the male’s confession, I wondered if that would’ve made any difference for me. It was doubtful. For one, vampires of Amos’ breed didn’t leave anything behind in death. Other than the foul memories they’d created. Comforting as Amos’ skull turned paperweight might’ve been, it wasn’t part of this reality. And Z himself knew, it didn’t stop the nightmares.

Finally looking up to meet his eyes, I chose my words with care.

“You would know better than anyone what it means to serve another,” I agree. “I just…” I groped for the words, to try and help him understand. He’d given me this insight into his past, and I wanted him to know that I was grateful. For the fact I was living when I should’ve been dead. “When a lycanthrope is bound to a vampire,” I managed finally, “their will is forfeit. Your… mistress…” The word tasted foul on my tongue. “She owned you, but… your body, right? You… you still had the ability to tell her ‘no’, even if she possessed the means to overpower you… right?”

It sounded crass, and cruel, and that wasn’t my intent, so I ploughed on.

“With Amos… he didn’t just own my body. He owned my soul. My mind. Every thought if I wasn’t careful. Every fear, like they were books in a library he could pick up and read. If he ordered me to kill you,” I whispered, remembering that particular nightmare he’d inflicted on me, “then I’d have been helpless but to do it. Even if my heart didn’t want to. I /had/ to obey. The metaphysical bond…”

I shook my head and looked away. Bitterly ironic as it was, I’d have preferred to be a pet to Zsadist’s mistress than an eternal servant of Amos’ will. At least I could’ve defied orders. Had a will of my own. Against the magic that had bound me to Amos, I’d been less than nothing.

“It feels like he took a piece of me with him,” I whispered finally, looking back up to Z’s golden gaze. “It feels like he’s in hell, and whatever part of me that was bound to him was dragged there too. And you…” I stepped closer to the male, oblivious to the towel that was my only covering and the water that still gleamed on my skin. “...you are the /only/ thing that kept me here. The only good thing in my life…”

And the only thing that kept me from walking off into the darkness, and letting it claim me. The bond I felt to Zsadist, for what he’d done, went beyond gratitude and friendship. I owed him my life.

Zsadist:

I take in a deep breath as Hadrian’s words hit me hard. Yes, we both dealt with similar things, but it was still different. The only thing I could do was be there for him. Hadrian was the first real friend I ever had. Sure, I had my Brothers, but I never took the time to talk to anyone else. To truly find myself a friend. Though at this moment I was very grateful that we met, even though it involved me stabbing him in the chest. My lips twitched at the thought.

“There was no telling her no. I could scream it all I want, but it still happened by force.” Nods. “But yeah...I get what you mean.” Scrubbing a hand over my nape. “You were truly enslaved to him.” Looks away as I process it all.

“Well, I’m sorry I’m the only good thing in your life. Cause hell, I’m nothing special.” Snorts at that. “But if what you are saying is true, then I have a proposition for you. If you are physically up to it, I’d like to show you something.” Says as I take in the male, wondering how he’s been feeling.

I glanced at the clothes that I tossed aside when I entered the room. “Maybe put those on.” Smirks as I move to stand out into the hall. It was times like these where I wished I smoked, like Vishous, give me something to do with my hands. Instead I just awkwardly leaned against the wall, waiting for the shifter to get dressed.

Hadrian:

I snorted at the idea of being ‘physically up to it’. If it meant getting out of this med wing for a while, I’d body crawl my way out the door.

Nodding my acceptance, I caught the clothes thrown my way and barely waited long enough for the vampire to leave the room before I ditched the towel, throwing it into the same pile as my sweat soaked night shirt. Dragging on fresh, clean clothes helped me feel a little more… well, not ‘human’ per se, but definitely closer to normal than I’d been feeling before my shower.

Pulling on a pair of boots, I glanced back toward the med suite and suspected the docs and their team would know I hadn’t skipped town. Besides, wasn’t like I could go far. I barely knew where this place was.

Emerging from the suite, I nodded to Zsadist as he pushed off from the wall and fell into step beside me. A comfortable sweater had been among the ensemble of clothing brought down, the kind with big pockets at the front, and I stuffed my hands into them as we walked.

My ears picked up the faint sounds of life though a few doors, though largely, the tunnel was quiet and empty.

“So… what are you showing me?” I managed, my voice soft enough as to be part of the tunnel ambiance and not break it.

Zsadist:

Scrubbing a hand along my skull trim as I head down the tunnel, in the direction towards the garage. “Ah...you’ll see soon enough.”

Not like it was some big surprise, I was more worried that the male would decline my offer if I just straight out told him. So figured it be better to let him see for himself, and for me to explain once we arrived.

There weren't many around, which made this a lot easier. Brothers on rotation, the King in his study, and Doggens busy cleaning the Mansion. So naturally we just slipped outside without anyone noticing.

The cool night air caressed my face, taking a moment to breathe it all in as we headed for the woods behind the mansion. We had a good amount of acres to give us some nice land to roam. Which was great since we wanted to be far away from civilization.

Then I see it.

The cozy cabin that was originally designed for me when the Brotherhood all moved to the manse. You know, back when I was a black eyed bastard and didn’t want to be around anyone. Well, things changed. Moving here changed me, and I decided to not distance myself from the Brothers who meant a lot to me.

I only hoped that there wasn’t a pallet on the floor. Should have given it a look before I brought the shifter here. Oh well.

“This cabin belongs to the Brotherhood. It was originally supposed to be mine when we moved here.” Grunts. “I...wanted to know if you’d like to have it, to be close to us.” Rubs at my neck.

“I know it’s not much, but the Doggens and V can fix it up anyway you’d like. And you can even keep your apartment in the city if you want. I mean fuck, the Brothers have other places they call home. Just thought this would be a nice place for when you start fighting with us.” Nods as my eyes take in the view of the lake.

“Lots of room to run…” I barely let out.

Hadrian:

Rather than push for information, I simply nodded. Some part of me trusted Zsadist, almost more completely than I trusted myself. I didn’t challenge, didn’t question. Instead I just kept pace with him, until the night air reached out to stroke at my skin and I shivered in relief and anticipation.

As if waiting for the glimpse of freedom, of the world beyond, my Beasts all stirred, lifting their heads and breathing in the scent of the trees, the earth. A full moon was maybe a week away, and I felt the faint thrum of power as that moonlight hit my skin. Moving toward the tree line, I wondered if the vampire could sense how grateful I was. Even if I was tired, this was what I needed; the crunch of grass and branches under foot, the stars above and the call of wild things.

Then, amongst trees and shadow, the smaller structure emerged. A wood cabin, the scent around it undisturbed. The trees and woods embracing it rather than rejecting it. And then the Brother’s offer.

I glanced at him sideways, unable to hide my shock. Then I was looking at it again, trying to imagine… And it wasn’t hard to do. A moon was only a week away, and I wasn’t about to stay in the manse for it. But here? Amongst trees and the wild? I could actually run. Let my wolf hunt. My cats prowl.

Stepping closer, I swallowed the lump in my throat as emotion rushed me. This small slice of peace and paradise… Z was giving me that. Offering it to me.

“I can live here? By myself?” I whispered hoarsely, not trusting myself to be louder. “‘Cause… that’d be fucking beautiful,” I manage, finally reaching the side of the cabin and putting my hand to the wood. It was rough and scratchy and cool and I loved it.

Zsadist:

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Somehow I let myself believe that the shifter wasn’t going to accept my offer. To think that maybe he was fed up with all of this, all of us, and wanted to just be alone.

But that wasn’t the case at all.

“Yeah. It’s yours. I discussed it with the others and they don’t have a problem with it. It’s actually safer for us and you, to have you close. Lessers love to track. Which also reminds me, Vishous wanted to add some extra security to your apartment. If you want to keep it.”

Nods as I gaze at the cabin. “It needs some work, but it isn’t dirty inside. The Doggens have always kept up with keeping it clean even though it was vacant.”

I dig into the pocket of my dark jeans, retrieving a key, and handing it over. “So if you know what you’d like...it can be furnished. There is a working kitchen as well as two full bathrooms. Even the upstairs bedroom has a balcony. So let me know what you’d like, or Fritz, and it’s done. And if you don’t...they will just order you stuff.” Chuckles.

Hadrian:

Somehow, against all odds, I’d managed to find another home. A place to recover. Where it didn’t matter how loud the nightmares, no one would have to hear me.

Accepting the key, it was still warm from Zsadist’s body heat as I curled my fingers around it and held on. His words provoked thoughts I hadn’t ventured toward yet, and unbidden I thought of the apartment downtown, the floor to ceiling windows and marble kitchen countertops. Not to mention the panic bedroom still drenched in fear.

“Can… can the doggen go there too?” I asked quietly, looking back to Zsadist. The moonlight touched his golden eyes and made them unbearably, breathtakingly bright. “To… clean.”

Clean away the stench of Amos and the terror he’d soaked the place in. Vishous could wire the place to high heaven. He could make it a backup location for the Brothers when they were downtown for all I cared. But I couldn’t go back there yet. Not until every essence of Amos had been scrubbed away.

“The moon is coming,” I continued, turning away from Zsadist and his perfect gilded gaze, instead looking up to the waxing moon. “You’re sure the Brothers are alright with me running wild under the moon out here?”

Zsadist:

I blinked at the shifter’s words. “Of...of course they can. I’ll make sure I tell Fritz right after we head back.” My golden eyes flickered up to the evening sky, taking in the bright moon that was due to be full soon.”

“Yeah. The doors to the mansion lock with a code, and I’d like to think your...animal friends can’t punch in said code.” Chuckles slightly at my joke.

“They know, and probably will make sure their shellans stay inside when you are running around out here.” I let my eyes meet the shifter’s once again. “Then again, that leopard of yours is a big softy.” Says with a snort as I think back to that night when...you helped me stay grounded. Having a good friend like that stay close, sounded like a great idea to me.

“Well, I think it’s time we head back…Unless you’d like to stay and explore a bit.” I left Mal resting in bed, and didn’t know if he was up or not. I’d hate for him to wake and not see me there after the shit he just went through.

“I’m really glad that you want to stay…” I breathe.

Hadrian:

Giving the cabin one final, long look, I nod slowly and turn around. My fingers curl around the key even tighter, feeling the metal bite into my skin. Managing a faint smile, I move to stand by Zsadist, matching his pace as we head back toward the mansion.

“I’m grateful you offered,” I admit, thinking of what this future could be like. “I’ve spent my life running from what I am and vampires and… it still did me no good. Now I have a place amongst vampires that… that want to help me. Protect me.” I actually managed a short chuckle. “Oh how times have changed…”

Shaking my head, I stepped around a tree, trying to fill my lungs with the scent of the forest before I returned to the sterility of the med wing.

“So… thank you. Thanks for…” I looked up, meeting those golden eyes as we paused by the door. “...keeping me alive. And giving me a reason to… keep going.”

My smile was a little more real this time. A little more at ease. Because tomorrow I was moving into that cabin. The med team could visit, if they wanted, but considering I was still on the grounds it wasn’t like they could go nuts. And I needed it. Needed this.

And somehow Z had known.

“You’re a good friend.”

#SL #ARetreat

#SL BlackDaggerBrotherhood

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ubernoxa · 4 years

Text

THE DARE

A Guns N’ Roses FanFic

Chapter 6: A Under the Stars

The lie came of Delilah’s tongue like she had rehearsed it a hundred times.

Delilah held the piece of paper with the lie written across it. They stood in front of a pay phone that was located a couple blocks down, so that they couldn’t be traced back to the apartment.

Delailah remained frozen in front of the payphone until Mags spoke, “You will be fine. Just read the lie right off of the paper.”

At first Mags wanted to roll her eyes and call Delilah a wimp or goodie two shoes, but she quickly realized that she couldn’t. Delilah was practically shaking as she picked up the phone and dialed her parent’s number. Mags placed her hand on Delilah’s back to hopefully calm her shaking.

“Sanderson household, Gabe speaking,” Delilah slimed eternally thankful that one of her older brothers had answered the phone instead of her mother.

“Hey Gabe its Delilah,”

“Hey Delilah, How’s baking going? Why are you calling? Do you need someone to go pick up some extra food or something?”

In fear that Gabe would continue to ramble, a family trait that they all wished they didn’t inherit from their mother, Delilah interrupted him, “No I didn’t end up baking with Beth today. I am actually helping out at a food kitchen that I stumbled upon while on a morning walk. Someone was handing out fliers and I offered to help out. That is actually why I called, can I talk to mother or father? I am assuming father is at Church so is mother there.”

Delilah hadn’t noticed Mags scrunching her face whenever Delilah said mother or father. It sounded odd the way Delilah said it, in Mags opinion.

“Good afternoon Delilah,” Delilah could feel her heart begin to freak out as she heard her mother’s voice. The last time her heart felt like this was last night...with Duff. A stupid smile crossed Delilaha’s face as she thought of their moment.

“Good afternoon mother. I would like permission to volunteer at a food kitchen. They really need my help, and I feel like God lead me to this woman who was handing out the fliers asking for help,” Delilah read the lie right off of the note that she held.

“That sounds wonderful Delilah. When will you be coming home?” Mags let out a sigh at Delilah’s mother’s reply.

“So that’s the thing. They need my help until 3 AM making the bread, so they offered for me to stay the night in the church,” this was the part that Delilah was worried about. This was the part where she was worried that her mother would ask her to bring Gabe or Mark, or tell her she couldn’t go all together.

“How kind of you. What’s the address? I could send Beth and the rest of your friends over to help out.”

“No mother, that wont be neccisary. I feel like this is a journey that God wants me to go on by myself. Mother, I don’t know the best way to say this, but I feel like this is the perfect opportunity for me. I want to completely focus on giving with no distraction.”

“That is complexity understandable honey. We all need to find ourselves and go on our own spiritual journeys. All I ask is for you to be safe, and be back ontime tomorrow afternoon to help prepare dinner,” her mother responded before saying that she loved her and looked forward to seeing her tomorrow.

“I can’t believe that worked!” Mags cheered as she wrapped her arm around Delilah’s shoulder.

The girls entered the apartment which was currently filled with the guys getting ready. It was absolute chaos.

“This is normal, the yelling?” Delilah asked over the music the guys were playing to get ready.

“Yeah, usually they’re more drunk though,” Mags said before throwing Delilah the shirt and pants she picked out earlier.

“Go find a closet or something to change in. The guys will probably be using the bathroom to get ready. I gotta run to my brother’s truck to grab some shoes for us,” Mags said before heading out the door.

“I’d offer you my room, but Axl is getting ready,” Izzy startled Delilah as he spoke.

“You can change behind the couch though if you help me scotch it forward just enough,” Delilah smiled at Izzy’s words and helped him move the couch forward just enough for her to hide behind it and change.

Delilah squirmed on the ground as she tried to get the pants Mags had picked out for her on. It was a struggle as she had never changed into clothing while hiding behind a nasty couch while also lying on the ground.

“Why the fuck did ya move the couch Izzy?” Delialah could recognize Axl’s voice anywhere.

“Del is changing,” Izzy simply replied while sitting on the couch where Axl quickly joined him.

“How’s it going back there Del?” Delilah already rolled her eyes at Axl’s question. She half expected him to look.

“Great, thanks for asking,” she sarcastically responded as she got her shirt over her head.

“Izzy, I’ve always like this couch,” There was something about Axl’s tone that Delilah didn’t like.

“Why? It’s a piece of shit.”

“But it’s great for fucking chicks on. Something about the busted springs or worn down fabric I guess,” before Axl could continue talking Delilah shot up behind the couch.

“Are you serious?” Axl let out a laugh as Delilah quickly made her way across the room

She bolted across the room earning laughs from Izzy and Axl.

“Did you finally tell her about the couch?” Mags walked into the room fully changed.

“You knew?” Delilah screamed earning a couple of laughs. By now the whole band was watching the scene unfold.

“Yeah, sorry Del. I was gonna tell ya later. I just didn’t know the right way to tell you that half of this apartment has had sex with a girl on the couch,” Delilah decided to join Mags in laughing in hopes to defuse the situation. She didn’t want to make that big of a deal about it. Plus it wasn’t like she was naked on the couch. It still was disgusting and she made a note to remember to take a shower later

Del then quickly followed Mags into the kitchen, “you look good.” Delilah smiled at Mags words as she looked down at her Bowie shirt and ripped jean pants Mags helped her find.

“You too,” Delilah replied as she watched Mags apply some makeup.

“Oh hey, I got these for you. You can probably sneak into the bathroom before one of the guys take it again,” Mags handed her the black eyeliner and foundation with a smile. Delilah thanked her for the gifts and headed towards the bathroom.

Once inside she tried to ignore the fact that the eyeliner and foundation looked brand new which meant that Mags probably stole it for her. It was a nice gesture, but the theft part made Delilah feel dirty, but not as dirty as the couch.

“You need any help?” Delilah jumped around Duff’s voice. She must have figured that he had been watching her hold the eyeliner unknowing of what to do with it.

“Honesty yeah. Foundation is pretty straight forward, but eyeliner. Like I get it the eyeliner is to line the eyes hence the name , but how do you apply it properly. Are you supposed to hold it a certain way or are you supposed to do the top or the bottom of the eye first?” Delilah’s rambling was quickly interrupted by Duff’s laughter which filled the bathroom.

“Want me to apply it for you,” he pointed towards his eyes which were neatly outlined in eyeliner.

Delilah nodded earning a smile from Duff.

He let out a light chuckle

“What’s so funny? Is my foundation messed up?” Delilah quickly turned around to check for imperfections.

“No, no you look amazing. I was laughing at the fact that you’re going to have to sit on the sink, so I don’t have to bend over...a lot,” Duff insisted as he turned her around. He hadn’t noticed how much shorter she was than him until now.

Smooth Duff real smooth. He wanted to kick himself as the words left his mouth.

Delilah prayed that Duff couldn’t see her blush as he complimented her. She hoped the foundation covered most of it. Before she knew it she was sitting on the sink and Duff was gently applying the eyeliner. Every once and a while, his calloused fingers would dance across her skin causing her heart to flutter.

“Why are you so good at this? I can barely draw a line without messing it up,” Delilah moaned as Duff moved onto the other eye.

“Well Dely, I used to be in a punk band before guns. Now hold still,” Delilah barely heard the words he said as he currently had both of his hands rested on her thighs as he spoke. She hope he couldn’t feel her forever increasing heartbeat.

“I was pretty still,” Delilah interjected.

“Dely, you were pretty, but you were not anywhere near still. You were almost as bouncy or twitchy as my drummer,” Duff teased back. Delilah could barely stay still as he massaged his thumbs into her inner thighs as he spoke.

To say she was lost for wards was an understatement.

“I like the shirt by the way,” Duff added as he worked on her left eye.

“Thanks, this guy was telling me about this Bowie guy and we listened to an album or two, and I really liked it,” Delilah commented as she caught a smirk form on his face.

“Oh, this guy sounds pretty cool,” Duff joked back as he finished her other eye.

“Nah, not really. He plays bass, so talk about a loser,” Delilah teased before leaving the bathroom.

In no time all of them, minus Izzy, were on their way to the bar. Delilah asked Izzy why he couldn’t come, but all he said was that he was preoccupied and Mags immediately made Delilah drop the conversation.

“Are we meeting anyone there?” Duff asked the group to hopefully escape his conversation with Steven. Steven has been relentless at keeping Duff occupied with pointless conversation where they talked about pure nonsense.

“Nah, the girls are working tonight,” Axl sadly replied.

Delilah’s heart sank as she heard Axl’s answer. Other girls? To her, he doubts were confirmed right then and there. She obviously wasn’t good enough for Duff.

Duff watched as Delilah hunched her shoulders over.

He internally cussed himself off and squeezed his way through their small group to stand next to her.

“Have you ever had a good beer before or just the stuff that tastes like piss,” Duff asked attempting damage control.

“Nah just piss,” Delilah smiled back at the blonde.

“Well this bar we are going to has one of my favorite beers, I’ll have to get you one,” Duff felt a sigh of relief fill his body as Delilah smiled and nodded back to him.

Time quickly flew by when they got to the bar. Duff bought Delilah a beer, with the money she assumed was from their gig the previous night, and it actually didn’t taste half bad.

Duff quickly realized that Axl’s warning was real when Steven wouldn’t leave his side when they walked to the bar. At first, Popcorn talked to Duff about actual band things, but the conversation turned into what was on Steven’s mind that very second. Duff’s frustration with Steven continued to grow as he insisted on sitting next to Delilah in the booth, making it almost impossible to talk to her. Steven’s antics weren’t by any means subtle, but they were effective.

Duff watched as Delilah danced in her seat to the music that was playing. When she shook her head, her curls flew from side to side.

“The song is by the Clash. The band playing is doing a pretty good cover,” Duff felt like he had to yell over Steven and Axl as he attempted to talk to Delilah.

A very drunk Mags glared at him from across the table, but he could barely hear what she was saying, nor did he care.

Delilah sent a smile towards Duff, but remained silent as Axl and Slash talked amongst themselves. She felt like she was surrounded by them like she was on an island or something. With Axl to her left, and Slash to her right, Steven across from her and Mags next to him, there was no way to talk to Duff.

Delilah turned towards Axl and shot him a confused look. Did she hear him say something?

“Slash is grabbing another round. Need more?” Axl was only inches from Delilah’s ear when he spoke sending shivers down her spine.

“Nah, I’m still working on this one,” Delilah put on a fake smile as she answered him. She looked over towards Duff who looked like he wanted to be anywhere, but sitting next to Mags and Steven.

“Looks like Duff is having a lot of fun,” Axl pointed towards Duff who looked over towards Delilah and mouthed something she didn’t understand.

She turned towards Axl who was laughing at Duff’s comment. Delilah watched Axl mouth something back. From what Delilah could dicifer, he mouthed something along the lines of sucks to suck.

Slash came back to their table with three more beers and handed them to Delilah and Axl.

“Wanna dance?” Duff quickly shot his head in Mag’s and Delilah direction only to be relieved when the guy who owned the voice asked Mags to dance, not Delilah.

“You should sit next to him,”

Delilah looked over at Axl and shot him a confused look.

“Why?”

“In a couple of seconds Mags will be on the dance floor, and Steven has been eyeing the girl at the bar all night. You two will finally get some alone time,” Axl replied before taking another sip of his beer.

“Why are you being nice, I pegged you as more of the annoying piece of shit guy in the band,” Axl laughed at Delilah’s comment.

Just as Axl had predicted Mags was on dance floor, and Steven headed towards the bar.

“You better be careful or with a mouth like that, you’re going to hell,” Axl replied back.

Delilah faked a gasp and placed her hand on her chest pretending to be offended. “But I’m just a good Catholic girl, I could never go to hell,” Delilah said before heading over towards Duff.

Axl remained frozen for a couple of seconds trying to process what she had said. He didn’t know why his brain was stuck on the way she said ‘good girl’, but he liked it.

“Well that was weird,” Slash replied before taking another sip. Axl was almost startled by the guitarist’s words.

Weird.

Weird was a good word for it.

“Is this seat taken,” Duff smiled as Delilah came over. About time.

“Yeah, by you,” she smiled as Duff’s words.

“So, overall thoughts on the beer?” Duff noticed the beer that was in her hand.

“Really good, but the music is even better!” Delilah cheered back as she threw her arms up in the air.

“I’m glad you like it!” Delilah’s heart practically melted when he smiled.

“Want another?” Duff stood up to go back to the bar, but immediately noticed a change in Delilah. That’s when it clicked. This was probably the second bar she had ever been to, maybe she needed a break.

“Or follow me. The night is still young,” Duff offered his hand. Delilah looked over at Mags who was happily dancing with the guy who asked her earlier. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?

She quickly took his hand and followed him out of the bar walking past Steven who was talking to some girl, Duff was relieved for the first time that Steven was distracted.

The two of them then headed out of the bar into the crowed streets of Sunset Strip. Delilah felt Duff’s arm wrap around her waist as they walked toe and toe. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw this many people in the streets.

“Where are we going?”

Duff simple retuned a smile and pulled her in closer to him.

“I was thinking Beijing,” Duff could barely hold in his laugh as he heard a groan escape Delilah.

“How do you feel like Iceland?” He asked receiving another groan from Delilah.

“Too cold,” she moaned.

In not time the two of them arrived outside his apartment complex and Delilah followed him up the stairs.

“There is always Seattle,” He said as he opened the door reveling his cramped apartment. Once again he received another groan from Delilah as plopped down on the floor making sure to keep her distance from the disgusting couch.

“Isn’t Seattle known for terrible weather? Cold, windy, rainy? Honestly the only thing that entire city has going for it is their football,” Duff smiled as he walked towards the kitchen.

“You like football? I didn’t peg you as the sport type?” Duff yelled from the kitchen in the apartment.

He dug through the fridge and pulled out some vodka.

“All my brothers played,” Delilah replied when he came back into the room. Brothers?

Delilah watched as Duff opened the door and motioned for her to leave the room.

“Where are we going now?” Dilalah asked as she was leaving the apartment.

“Wait no, don’t fucking answer that,” Delilah groaned as she followed him upstairs.

“Watch your fucking language Dely, and well since you asked,” before Duff could finish listing off cities Delilah interrupted him with a load groan. Duff’s laughter filled the stairway as they climbed up to the roof.

The two of them sat on the roof that overlooked the strip and talked quickly jumping from one topic to the next.

“Noo you didn’t,” Delilah gasped as Duff told her about the time he died his hair blue.

“Yeah, thought it was very punk,” Duff shook his head as he took another sip of the vodka and passed it to Delilah.

“I think you could pull it off, blue hair,” Delilah tried to hide her laughter.

“Wow you are a terrible liar, you couldn’t even hide your cute giggle,” Duff teased as he pulled Delilah onto his lap. She took another small sip of the vodka and her face scrunched at the burn as it did every time.

Duff’s laughter filled the air, joining Delilah’s.

The strip might have been loud and filled with music filling the air, but neither Duff nor Delilah could hear that. To them it was as if they were on their own island. An island where Delilah didn’t have to leave tomorrow. An island where they never had to worry about where their next meal came from. An island that was all theirs.

“Dely, I would appreciate it if you would kiss me right now,” Duff purred into Delilah’s ears right before they kissed under the stars.

#80s rock #duff #duff mckagan / oc #duff fanfiction #duff fanfic #the dare fanfic #the dare #gnr #guns and roses fan fiction #slash guns n roses #guns n’ roses

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