this is a Kings of Leon post
Apr. 29th, 2010 05:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withimpunityDon't know who Kings of Leon are/don't care? SORRY. I'm going to talk about them/spam the hell out of them anyway. And ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shiplessheathen is probably the only person who will even know what the hell I'm on about, but that's OKAY. And if someone just happens to say, PHWOO WHO IS THAT THAR SEXY BASS PLAYER? Well, that'd be all right too.
And if you're thinking JFC, random much? You're not wrong. But also, I wrote fic. So there's that! And I've been wanting to paste their pretty faces in my journal for like, a year now anyway. This is not at all the epic post I wish I was making, just a "put a name to a pretty face" sort of post, in case anyone actually reads this. Haha. I should go to bed. Whatevs.
So you got Kings of Leon, right? Nathan, Caleb, Jared, and Matthew Followill. All brother except for Matthew, he's a cousin. Nathan's the oldest brother, Jared's the youngest. I'd love to do a whole THIS IS WHY I LOVE THEM epic spam post, but another day. Another day. Right now I'm just explaining who the fuck these two guys are that I wrote about.
Meet Caleb: (vocals)
Caleb is pretty.
Meet Nathan: (drummer)
Nathan is pretty too.
That's Jared. He plays bass. Shut up, Jackie. He's in the story too! And he's my favorite so whatever.
Caleb and Nathan have matching tattoos.
They used to get into some pretty wickeds fight when Caleb would drink, especially when he would drink whiskey. The most epic of the battles being the time Caleb pulled patches of Nathan's hair out and Nathan shoved Caleb into the wall and dislocated his shoulder and it wouldn't go back in. Apparently he's always been super double jointed or something and he had to have surgery and physical therapy to fix it.
And this:
Oh and they're from Tennessee/Oklahoma and their dad was an evangelical preacher and Caleb wanted to be just like his Daddy when he grew up, (he wanted to be a preacher) until Daddy became a raging alocholic and their parents got divorced. Then he thought, hey maybe I should be a rockstar and do a whole lotta coke. Probably.
So anyway. For your time:
Time On Me Is Wasted
Nathan/Caleb
1442 words
Teen
They can drink the same exact amount, stumbling into each other and throwing around four letter words, yet Nathan always has the better reflexes, better coordination, Caleb just a rag doll beneath his fist and feet.
Caleb never remembers -- how it started, how it ends. He only knows Nathan was there by the tenderness in his bones, the black and blue streaked across his skin like warpaint, the soreness all over, so familiar that he stretches his muscles just to feel the burn. He keeps saying he's going to stop, with the whiskey at least. They all know what it makes him, the things he does when he's got a fifth of Jameson and a good show warming his belly. It starts easy, celebrating with his boys, a few congratulatory shots together, but it always becomes more. There's always a party, or a playstation, or a girl trying to climb Nathan like he's a fucking tree. No matter, whether its a card game or a line of blow, Caleb's always the first one to lose his shit.
This time, Jared tells him, its because Matthew beat him at Texas Hold 'em. Apparently, he'd started saying things he didn't mean and Matthew tried to walk away, let Caleb wear himself out, but Caleb wouldn't have it, tried chasing after him, and that's when Nathan caught him around the chest and wrestled him to the ground. Caleb's pretty sure that's where all the bruises and the swollen lip and the feeling like he got a fuckin' double-wide dropped on him came from. Nathan always kicks his ass the best. They can drink the same exact amount, stumbling into each other and throwing around four letter words, yet Nathan always has the better reflexes, better coordination, Caleb just a rag doll beneath his fist and feet.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Caleb rasps out as he slides his legs off the edge of his bed, fingering his necklace so that the silver cross rests at the center of his chest rather than his back. Why the fuck does he keep doing this? His head feels like -- well it feels the same way it does almost every other fucking morning. Maybe one day he'll just put a goddamn bullet in his brain and be done with it. He fucking feels like death all the time anyway. God, he has definitely got to stop drinking so much. He sounds like a fucking rocktar drama queen just because he's got a little hangover and a couple of bruises.
"Hey," Caleb doesn't look up from his face buried in his hands when he hears Nathan's sandpaper voice in the room. He imagines he looks just about as fantastic as Caleb feels. Nathan beats the shit out of him, but Caleb, he usually gets in a few dirty moves of his own. He wonders how much of Nathan's hair he ripped out this time, or if Nathan will have a raised, puffy gash on his cheek like that time Caleb bit him so hard he broke the skin.
"Get the fuck out," he grumbles and scrubs at his face with his knuckles. It hurts when he takes a deep breath, hurts so much his vision whites out and he wants to cry, wants to puke. He feels like he's going to pass fucking out. Great, probably cracked a rib. "I hate your stupid ass." He drawls, his words bleeding whiskey hangover and Tennessee and not a trace of sincerity.
"How bad is it?" He feels the mattress sink next to him when Nathan sits down, feels Nathan's fingers curl around the back of his neck. His breath smells like fruit flavored tums. Caleb shrugs and sweet fucking Jesus, he shouldn't have done that. It feels like someone just shoved a butcher knife through his back, up between his ribs and twisted.
"Mighta cracked a rib," He mutters under his breath. "Christ Nathan, take your fuckin' boots off 'fore you start kicking the shit outta me, fuck." Nathan's hand slides down his neck, down the slope of his spine, rubbing a soothing pattern on Caleb's bare skin.
"Get you some advil?" Nathan asks. He doesn't apologize and Caleb doesn't expect him too. He's the one that started the shit, it's his own damned fault. He wouldn't want him to anyway. So Nathan doesn't say he's sorry, doesn't apologize for blacking Caleb's eye, for busting his lip, for sticking his boot in Caleb's gut and cracking his rib. He's just Nathan, big brother. He takes care of Caleb.
"Advil is going to do fuck all for this and you know it. Get me a goddamn vicodin." He looks up finally and shit, Nathan's face is all fucked up. "Jesus, what the hell -" He reaches out with his left hand, hurts less when he moves that one, and touches his fingers to the long gash running diagonally across the right side of Nathan's face, skin raised up, caked with dried blood.
Nathan shrugs and obviously his ribs are fine, because he can do that without wanting to scream or kill himself, motherfucker. "There was a broken bottle involved. I think. You know," He waves a hand dismissively. "Details are fuzzy." Yeah, Caleb knows.
"Christ," He winces in sympathy. Its just, yeah he might have a broken rib or something, but that still can't feel good. He runs his fingers around Nathan's head absentmindedly, looking for any patches he might have yanked out, turns Nathan's head from side to side to check for more scrapes, pushes his chin up to check for bruises around his throat. He'll never forget the time Jared and Nacho had to pull him off of Nathan, how quickly he'd sobered up when they thought Nathan had stopped breathing.
"How do you still fuckin' love me after this shit?" Caleb mumbles as Nathan pushes two pills into the palm of his hand. Caleb takes the water bottle Nathan offers him and swallows them down at once, his stomach almost rejecting them. Nathan reaches out and pushes Caleb's hair out of his eyes with both hands, the same way Caleb does himself so many times a day, a stupid nervous habit.
"Cause you're my brother." He says. "You're a fuckin' idiot, a goddamn asshole, and like, a motherfucking psychotic serial killer when you're on the whiskey. Sometimes I think 'well shit, Caleb's finally gonna kill me this time.' But then we wake up and we deal with this shit and you're still my brother and I'm still yours. And we never say sorry, because we're not. We're brothers. The fuck else are we supposed to do?"
Caleb's still looking at him like he doesn't get it. Like yeah, they're brothers, they're blood, but that's just it, right? That doesn't excuse him from taking a broken bottle to his own brother's face, and god that's going to leave a huge fucking scar. Caleb shakes his head. "No, man. No. This ain't - you can't. Not after..."
Nathan sighs, his glasses slipping down his nose a little bit, and he palms the back of Caleb's head, bringing their foreheads together. "Shut your mouth, Caleb." He says and Caleb closes his eyes on instinct, letting Nathan's mouth press against his. His lips part, going on that same, intrinsic instinct again, and he feels Nathan's tongue sweep inside his mouth, stirring a fire in his belly. Caleb plants his hand in the center of Nathan's chest and pushes him off.
"M'sorry 'bout your face," He says, the words stubborn and foreign on his tongue. They are brothers and maybe that means never having to say you're sorry for stupid shit, but he's pretty sure you aren't supposed to kiss your brother either. Fuck, he hasn't been one for following rules for quite a few years, why start now?
"Sorry 'bout your ribs," Nathan smirks. "Want me to trash the boots?"
"Fuck no," Caleb scowls. "My favorite pair, asshole."
Then Jared's screaming in the hallway, and Jesus on the fucking cross, Caleb's going to kill him. He's going to wait until he's one hundred percent sober and he's going to rip that kid's fucking head off. "Hey assholes, I'm fucking starving! Who wants to go to the Waffle Hut with me, bitches? I'm buying! Caleb -" He stops inside Caleb's door, where his and Nathan's foreheads are still touching. "Well, morning sunshine." He grins behind his sunglasses. "You know, you two should really just kiss and get it over with. MATTHEW WHERE IS YOUR FINE ASS, I WANT TO BUY YOU SOME HASH BROWNS, HUSSIE."
"Shut him the fuck up," Caleb growls, closing his eyes, and Nathan runs his fingers through his hair one more time before he stands up, hopefully to find a roll of duct tape or a tranquilizer gun for the little shithead with a megaphone voice.
"WAIT UP JARED," Nathan shouts instead, grinning as Caleb squeezes his eyes shut tight, like that will keep the noise out. "I NEEDS TO BE FED, BOY."
Caleb curls up into the fetal position and pulls the comforter over himself. He fuckin' hates his brothers.
shiplessheathen is probably the only person who will even know what the hell I'm on about, but that's OKAY. And if someone just happens to say, PHWOO WHO IS THAT THAR SEXY BASS PLAYER? Well, that'd be all right too. And if you're thinking JFC, random much? You're not wrong. But also, I wrote fic. So there's that! And I've been wanting to paste their pretty faces in my journal for like, a year now anyway. This is not at all the epic post I wish I was making, just a "put a name to a pretty face" sort of post, in case anyone actually reads this. Haha. I should go to bed. Whatevs.
So you got Kings of Leon, right? Nathan, Caleb, Jared, and Matthew Followill. All brother except for Matthew, he's a cousin. Nathan's the oldest brother, Jared's the youngest. I'd love to do a whole THIS IS WHY I LOVE THEM epic spam post, but another day. Another day. Right now I'm just explaining who the fuck these two guys are that I wrote about.
Meet Caleb: (vocals)
Caleb is pretty.
Meet Nathan: (drummer)
Nathan is pretty too.
That's Jared. He plays bass. Shut up, Jackie. He's in the story too! And he's my favorite so whatever.
Caleb and Nathan have matching tattoos.
They used to get into some pretty wickeds fight when Caleb would drink, especially when he would drink whiskey. The most epic of the battles being the time Caleb pulled patches of Nathan's hair out and Nathan shoved Caleb into the wall and dislocated his shoulder and it wouldn't go back in. Apparently he's always been super double jointed or something and he had to have surgery and physical therapy to fix it.
And this:
Ah, yes, brotherly love in all it's twisted glory. In the latest issue of Rolling Stone, their cousin and guitar tech Nacho recounts a recent fight between brothers Nathan and Caleb. "I ran into the kitchen, and Nate and Caleb had handfuls of hair, just rolling in the grease in front of the stove." The two were separated, but Nathan continued on, shattering a $7,000 mirror in his brother's bedroom and stabbing Caleb's mattress repeatedly with a kitchen knife.
Oh and they're from Tennessee/Oklahoma and their dad was an evangelical preacher and Caleb wanted to be just like his Daddy when he grew up, (he wanted to be a preacher) until Daddy became a raging alocholic and their parents got divorced. Then he thought, hey maybe I should be a rockstar and do a whole lotta coke. Probably.
So anyway. For your time:
Time On Me Is Wasted
Nathan/Caleb
1442 words
Teen
They can drink the same exact amount, stumbling into each other and throwing around four letter words, yet Nathan always has the better reflexes, better coordination, Caleb just a rag doll beneath his fist and feet.
Caleb never remembers -- how it started, how it ends. He only knows Nathan was there by the tenderness in his bones, the black and blue streaked across his skin like warpaint, the soreness all over, so familiar that he stretches his muscles just to feel the burn. He keeps saying he's going to stop, with the whiskey at least. They all know what it makes him, the things he does when he's got a fifth of Jameson and a good show warming his belly. It starts easy, celebrating with his boys, a few congratulatory shots together, but it always becomes more. There's always a party, or a playstation, or a girl trying to climb Nathan like he's a fucking tree. No matter, whether its a card game or a line of blow, Caleb's always the first one to lose his shit.
This time, Jared tells him, its because Matthew beat him at Texas Hold 'em. Apparently, he'd started saying things he didn't mean and Matthew tried to walk away, let Caleb wear himself out, but Caleb wouldn't have it, tried chasing after him, and that's when Nathan caught him around the chest and wrestled him to the ground. Caleb's pretty sure that's where all the bruises and the swollen lip and the feeling like he got a fuckin' double-wide dropped on him came from. Nathan always kicks his ass the best. They can drink the same exact amount, stumbling into each other and throwing around four letter words, yet Nathan always has the better reflexes, better coordination, Caleb just a rag doll beneath his fist and feet.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Caleb rasps out as he slides his legs off the edge of his bed, fingering his necklace so that the silver cross rests at the center of his chest rather than his back. Why the fuck does he keep doing this? His head feels like -- well it feels the same way it does almost every other fucking morning. Maybe one day he'll just put a goddamn bullet in his brain and be done with it. He fucking feels like death all the time anyway. God, he has definitely got to stop drinking so much. He sounds like a fucking rocktar drama queen just because he's got a little hangover and a couple of bruises.
"Hey," Caleb doesn't look up from his face buried in his hands when he hears Nathan's sandpaper voice in the room. He imagines he looks just about as fantastic as Caleb feels. Nathan beats the shit out of him, but Caleb, he usually gets in a few dirty moves of his own. He wonders how much of Nathan's hair he ripped out this time, or if Nathan will have a raised, puffy gash on his cheek like that time Caleb bit him so hard he broke the skin.
"Get the fuck out," he grumbles and scrubs at his face with his knuckles. It hurts when he takes a deep breath, hurts so much his vision whites out and he wants to cry, wants to puke. He feels like he's going to pass fucking out. Great, probably cracked a rib. "I hate your stupid ass." He drawls, his words bleeding whiskey hangover and Tennessee and not a trace of sincerity.
"How bad is it?" He feels the mattress sink next to him when Nathan sits down, feels Nathan's fingers curl around the back of his neck. His breath smells like fruit flavored tums. Caleb shrugs and sweet fucking Jesus, he shouldn't have done that. It feels like someone just shoved a butcher knife through his back, up between his ribs and twisted.
"Mighta cracked a rib," He mutters under his breath. "Christ Nathan, take your fuckin' boots off 'fore you start kicking the shit outta me, fuck." Nathan's hand slides down his neck, down the slope of his spine, rubbing a soothing pattern on Caleb's bare skin.
"Get you some advil?" Nathan asks. He doesn't apologize and Caleb doesn't expect him too. He's the one that started the shit, it's his own damned fault. He wouldn't want him to anyway. So Nathan doesn't say he's sorry, doesn't apologize for blacking Caleb's eye, for busting his lip, for sticking his boot in Caleb's gut and cracking his rib. He's just Nathan, big brother. He takes care of Caleb.
"Advil is going to do fuck all for this and you know it. Get me a goddamn vicodin." He looks up finally and shit, Nathan's face is all fucked up. "Jesus, what the hell -" He reaches out with his left hand, hurts less when he moves that one, and touches his fingers to the long gash running diagonally across the right side of Nathan's face, skin raised up, caked with dried blood.
Nathan shrugs and obviously his ribs are fine, because he can do that without wanting to scream or kill himself, motherfucker. "There was a broken bottle involved. I think. You know," He waves a hand dismissively. "Details are fuzzy." Yeah, Caleb knows.
"Christ," He winces in sympathy. Its just, yeah he might have a broken rib or something, but that still can't feel good. He runs his fingers around Nathan's head absentmindedly, looking for any patches he might have yanked out, turns Nathan's head from side to side to check for more scrapes, pushes his chin up to check for bruises around his throat. He'll never forget the time Jared and Nacho had to pull him off of Nathan, how quickly he'd sobered up when they thought Nathan had stopped breathing.
"How do you still fuckin' love me after this shit?" Caleb mumbles as Nathan pushes two pills into the palm of his hand. Caleb takes the water bottle Nathan offers him and swallows them down at once, his stomach almost rejecting them. Nathan reaches out and pushes Caleb's hair out of his eyes with both hands, the same way Caleb does himself so many times a day, a stupid nervous habit.
"Cause you're my brother." He says. "You're a fuckin' idiot, a goddamn asshole, and like, a motherfucking psychotic serial killer when you're on the whiskey. Sometimes I think 'well shit, Caleb's finally gonna kill me this time.' But then we wake up and we deal with this shit and you're still my brother and I'm still yours. And we never say sorry, because we're not. We're brothers. The fuck else are we supposed to do?"
Caleb's still looking at him like he doesn't get it. Like yeah, they're brothers, they're blood, but that's just it, right? That doesn't excuse him from taking a broken bottle to his own brother's face, and god that's going to leave a huge fucking scar. Caleb shakes his head. "No, man. No. This ain't - you can't. Not after..."
Nathan sighs, his glasses slipping down his nose a little bit, and he palms the back of Caleb's head, bringing their foreheads together. "Shut your mouth, Caleb." He says and Caleb closes his eyes on instinct, letting Nathan's mouth press against his. His lips part, going on that same, intrinsic instinct again, and he feels Nathan's tongue sweep inside his mouth, stirring a fire in his belly. Caleb plants his hand in the center of Nathan's chest and pushes him off.
"M'sorry 'bout your face," He says, the words stubborn and foreign on his tongue. They are brothers and maybe that means never having to say you're sorry for stupid shit, but he's pretty sure you aren't supposed to kiss your brother either. Fuck, he hasn't been one for following rules for quite a few years, why start now?
"Sorry 'bout your ribs," Nathan smirks. "Want me to trash the boots?"
"Fuck no," Caleb scowls. "My favorite pair, asshole."
Then Jared's screaming in the hallway, and Jesus on the fucking cross, Caleb's going to kill him. He's going to wait until he's one hundred percent sober and he's going to rip that kid's fucking head off. "Hey assholes, I'm fucking starving! Who wants to go to the Waffle Hut with me, bitches? I'm buying! Caleb -" He stops inside Caleb's door, where his and Nathan's foreheads are still touching. "Well, morning sunshine." He grins behind his sunglasses. "You know, you two should really just kiss and get it over with. MATTHEW WHERE IS YOUR FINE ASS, I WANT TO BUY YOU SOME HASH BROWNS, HUSSIE."
"Shut him the fuck up," Caleb growls, closing his eyes, and Nathan runs his fingers through his hair one more time before he stands up, hopefully to find a roll of duct tape or a tranquilizer gun for the little shithead with a megaphone voice.
"WAIT UP JARED," Nathan shouts instead, grinning as Caleb squeezes his eyes shut tight, like that will keep the noise out. "I NEEDS TO BE FED, BOY."
Caleb curls up into the fetal position and pulls the comforter over himself. He fuckin' hates his brothers.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-29 11:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-29 04:25 pm (UTC)YAY for someone knowing who I'm gushing about, anyway! \o/
you know that I could use somebodyyyyy.
Date: 2010-04-29 02:33 pm (UTC)Re: you know that I could use somebodyyyyy.
Date: 2010-04-29 04:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-29 04:51 pm (UTC)I love their songs but didnt follow their life but it sounds so interesting!
i think I might read this later! XD
no subject
Date: 2010-04-29 04:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-30 12:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-25 05:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-26 10:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-15 02:00 pm (UTC)Kings were my pocket band for so long and sometimes I hate that they're not anymore but not today because I get this.
I love the relationship between Caleb/Nathan and this really shows their dynamic so well. and also your Jared is like the greatest thing ever and yes, Matthew does have a fine ass! ;D
This is definitely one for my memories! Thanks for sharing :)