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evermoredeluxe · 11 months ago

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How Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour Took Over the Entire World

By Chris Willman

By Alissa Gao for Variety

On the morning that Taylor Swift’s “Eras Tour” is about to begin a three-night stand in Dublin, the older gentleman taking charge of my passport at airport customs has clearly had his fill of Swifties, probably processing them by the hundreds already today. When I reveal myself to be one too — despite being arguably the wrong gender, inarguably old and lacking a telltale “Lover” mascara star over my right eye — his disdain is palpable. Suddenly, I’m getting way more screening questions than anyone not on a watch list should. “What do you like about her?” he sneers, peering up over specs.

This is probably the wrong time for me to point out Swift’s Irish heritage, or to assert that she is this generation’s James Joyce. (The original king of the Easter eggs, right?) I wouldn’t really go that far — I’m only on record as doing my best to certify her as this century’s Beatles. Trying to figure out how to answer him, the past 18 years of extolling Swift in print flash before my eyes. I end up murmuring the bare minimum: “Um, her songwriting.” This seems to disturb him further. He snaps back: “Aren’t they all the same song” — a slight pause, and I know what’s coming next — “about her breakups?” Then, abruptly, he stamps me through, sparing me a detour to Interpol for more grilling.

In the cab into town, the driver is blasting a local talk-radio personality sharing his dismay about the fans of an awful superstar taking over his country. The host reads an email sent in from a hater who says, “A year ago, when tickets went on sale, my partner and I made a reservation to take our kids out of the country this Friday morning. … Thank you for creating a safe space with your show.” I start to wonder if Swift might have met her match at the Cliffs of Moher.

But from my drop-off forward, the next three days are like living in a Swift-topia. The mile and a half to Aviva Stadium each night is like Disneyland when it shuts its doors early for an affinity group. Whether stopping in the pubs or walking through the charming neighborhood of Victorian brick homes adjoining the fancy new stadium, there’s that warm feeling of people who are united by one quality: They are all super in touch with their feelings — or else they wouldn’t be Swift fans. And they all are happy to stop on the street or over pints to talk about poetical expression. (Well, except for the occasional taciturn, invariably straight young male who has signified his supportive-plus-one status by wearing a jersey bearing the name of Swift’s Super Bowl beau, Travis Kelce.)

So it is that I end up chatting with a middle-aged gay man in a sequin-covered shirt whose female companion whispers to me, while he steps away to trade friendship bracelets with a 10-year-old girl and her mum, that Swift’s music just helped him through a difficult breakup. The girl then runs off to trade her homemade bracelets with a pair of high-helmeted Dublin policemen loaded up to their own elbows with friendship swag — unexpected accessories for long arms of the law.

All the stories about American Swifties swarming overseas to catch “The Eras Tour” turn out to be true: You couldn’t swing a neon golf club around here without hitting a Yank. Approximately one out of every five fans I approach is visiting from the States — and the jubilation they’re feeling about the night’s impending concert is compounded by the fact that nearly all of them financed a European vacation and a concert ticket for roughly the same amount they would have paid on a secondary ticketing site for a typical four-figure ticket to one of last year’s predatorily repriced U.S. shows.

Remember the venerable stereotype of the Ugly Americans, brusquely trampling over refined Europeans in their travels? Thanks to Taylor Swift, who has a gift for laying out global welcome mats, this is the summer of the Spangly American.

At the stadium on night one, just down the row from me are a group of millennials from New Jersey, several in glam unitards inspired by the “Lover” or “1989” portions of the career-spanning show and looking like they were costumed by Swift’s own designer, with fake jewel-encrusted microphones to match. I ask how many hours went into perfecting these nearly pro-grade outfits.

“About 80 hours for mine,” says Megan McLaughlin. “Hers probably longer,” she adds, nodding toward one of her sisters, Margo Steinberg. “She knows all the glues and the best gems.” Indeed, confirms Steinberg, “I was working on mine since January. And, yes, I did quit my job to finish it!” She adds, when I ask if she cares to share any secrets to a particularly good look, “You have to use the B-7000 glue.” (A third sister, Amelia McLaughlin, admits she resorted to buying her spangly dress off Etsy — “I was doing a PhD, but I had to match these girls’ enthusiasm” — while a fourth, Carolyn McLaughlin, skipped the glitter and went for a red dress that matches Swift’s from the “I Bet You Think About Me” video.)

Certainly, there is an element of cosplay to many of the fans’ outfits. Some have seen footage of the new segment Swift added to the tour beginning in April 2024 — devoted to her most recent album, the 31-song “Tortured Poets Department” — and have managed to manufacture gowns that look like they’re made of paper and feature lyric excerpts printed on them in script, à la Swift’s custom-made Vivienne Westwood dress. I meet a group of American women who became friends as literature majors in college who have “Tortured Poets”-themed outfits, one duplicating the Westwood dress and the other with handmade printouts of the latest album’s lyrics pinned all over her black dress, as if she were literally pulling pages out of Swift’s playbook.

It’s the devotion to lyrics, even more than glitter, that is most impressive about the bespoke outfits fans have concocted for the occasion. There are scores and scores of Swifties wearing homemade T-shirts — sometimes singular, sometimes matching with a friend, like walking Burma-Shave signs. Some of the messages are obvious, like the dozens of laddies wearing “It’s me, hi, I’m the husband/boyfriend/father, it’s me” shirts. (Bet that seemed really original at one time.) But a lot of them refer to more obscure songs or stanzas, as if every nearby street or stadium loge section is full of human Easter eggs, begging to be unpacked. It’s hard to think of any other superstar in the history of stadium tours who could have inspired as much fan-crafted clothing rooted in the power of words.

Combos of middle-aged mothers and their teen or 20-something daughters abound; some of them have seized on Swift’s mentions of her own mother, Andrea, to come up with their T-shirt ideas. On Lansdowne Road, I talk to a mum whose red-on-black shirt says, “Had to listen to all this drama,” accompanied by a daughter bearing the legend, “And here’s to my mama.” (This is a reference to Swift’s song “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things.”)

Later, in a stadium Guinness line, I chat up a pair of thirsty locals, the daughter’s shirt reading “I call my mom, she said …,” with the mom’s shirt completing the thought: “It was for the best.” (Damn it, I had to Google to recall that’s from a “1989” Vault track that came out last year.) I ask the daughter if she had to explain to her mom what she was wearing. “She’s 52,” she replies. “I don’t think she knows.”

Age is really no guarantor of not getting it — the popular #SwiftieOver50 hashtag on X proves that. Although outnumbered, plenty of older people are unaccompanied by a minor, or by anyone who has been a minor in the past 20 years. I approach a middle-aged couple, Jean Sebastian Conley and Natasha Gagne, again bidden by their matching shirts — “Who’s Taylor Swift?” and “Who’s Travis Kelce?” They turn out to be French Canadians who found their 206-euro SRO tickets to be a steal compared with the extravagant resale prices they briefly considered back home after being shut out of the initial on-sale. I ask what attracted them to Swift since, unlike so many others here, they didn’t grow up with her.

“I really fell in love with her with the ‘Folklore’ album,” Conley says, referring to her low-key Grammy-winning album recorded during the early months of the pandemic. “I think different audiences and older audiences found her through that and ‘Evermore’ because they were more singer-songwriter, a little bit rougher indie music, and that’s what we like most. So that’s how I got hooked.” For her part, Gagne says, “I like everything she represents. And when she redid all her masters, that’s where I thought she was a lady boss.”

It’s a reminder that, for however many mini-narratives Swift packs into the three hours and 20 minutes of an “Eras” show, there are really four or five years of backstory that feed into the audience’s shared awareness. When she sings the ominous ballad “My Tears Ricochet,” accompanied by a coven of stone-faced dancers, at least some fans will understand it as a distant reflection of her very public feelings about the men she considers her business bêtes noires, Scooter Braun and Scott Borchetta, who bought and sold (respectively) the rights to her first six albums, spawning much vitriol as well as four “Taylor’s Version” rerecorded albums to date.

When the dancers put their grins back on, Swift plays an ebullient excerpt of a very recent “Poets” bonus track, “So High School,” which every person in the crowd will know is inspired by Kelce. There are some breakup songs of recent vintage too — yes, Mr. Customs Man! — like “The Smallest Man in the World,” which may or may not have cost Matty Healy, the 1975 frontman and former Swift paramour, a night of sleep.

The whole tour is themed around not just the newer records but the rerecordings that have made every older album in her catalog feel improbably fresh. It was, quite possibly, the single most baller move in the history of the record industry … and led to the career-retrospective concept for what is already unquestionably the biggest tour in the history of popular music.

Any discussion of the charms of fandom isn’t meant to forestall discussion of “The Eras Tour” as big business. The numbers are fuzzy because Swift’s camp does not release grosses from her shows, unlike nearly every other artist at the stadium or arena level. Even when the tour wraps after 20 months on Dec. 8 in Vancouver, it seems likely those numbers will continue to be guarded with a zeal on par with the government of North Korea’s. Many industry experts believe the gross will approach or even surpass $2 billion.

What is known for certain — even without a confirmation from Swift World — is that she broke the all-time tour-gross figure when she hit the $1 billion mark, whenever exactly that might have been. The two trade publications that specialize in the touring industry have slightly differing estimates: Billboard calculated a cumulative gross of approximately $900 million when she took a break at the end of 2023, figuring that she would crack $1 billion shortly into the tour’s resumption in April, while Pollstar estimated that she had passed $1 billion by the conclusion of last year. Any way you guesstimate it, Swift took less than a year to break the previous record of $939.1 million, which Elton John grossed with his “Farewell Yellow Brick Road” tour across nearly three years of shows.

One source close to the production said early in the “Eras Tour” era that her average gross each night is $14 million. Others believe that is a highly conservative estimate, with a possible total that on at least some nights edges closer to $17 million. One remarkable aspect is that this does not include the revenue from any inflated resale tickets — which, as anyone who has tried to get tickets through Vivid Seats or StubHub knows, mostly have gone for several times their face value. It was little publicized, but Swift had “dynamic pricing” turned off for her ticket sales, possibly to avoid the controversies Bruce Springsteen encountered when the face value on some of his tickets leaped to the four-figure range upon their first sale. Swift left money on the table by not participating in the scalping of her own tickets, which had an average price of around $230 and topped out at $499, excepting VIP packages, which zenithed at $899 — all well short of what some other superstars ask nowadays. Of course, neither Argentina nor anyone at Wembley Stadium ahead of Swift’s opening night performance in June will be crying for her when she’s in reach of $2 billion without the resale inflation … not to mention the hundreds of millions of dollars in merch.

(This is extraordinary also because Swift hasn’t done any press to promote the tour, except for when she was selected as Time Magazine’s Person of the Year in December. But she doesn’t need to — the tour is constantly being celebrated on social media with every outfit change. And it’s also become so huge, it’s featured more A-list sightings than the Oscars, from Julia Roberts to Tom Cruise to Stevie Nicks, who had the surprise song “You’re on Your Own, Kid” dedicated to her in Dublin.)

Benson Boone, whose “Beautiful Things” is the most-streamed song of 2024 in the U.S. and the world, says he felt dwarfed when performing as the opening act at one of Swift’s seven shows at London’s Wembley Stadium. He has forever committed to memory the exact attendance figure he was given for the night: “89,497,” he says. “Just her stage alone is bigger than anything I’ve ever seen — 300 feet of it!” he says. “I took in every moment. It was cool for me to experience another artist’s world and learn from it. I want to work that hard and be the captain of my ship.”

Although it’s maddening to a media that likes official box office reports and can’t get them, it’s easy to see the wisdom in not flaunting those figures if you’re a superstar artist who counts on being seen as relatable. Swift certainly is proud of breaking records — she posted a tweet when “The Tortured Poets Department” spent its first 12 weeks at No. 1 on the album chart, one of only three albums in history to do so. But she’d rather count fan impressions than dollars. By the same token, she doesn’t publicize or confirm acts of generosity that leak out, like the sizable food-bank donations she makes in every city she tours, or the $100,000 bonuses that the tour’s 50 truck drivers reportedly got for Christmas.

An addendum to all this is how the “Eras Tour” film — released last fall, less than halfway through the actual tour — grossed just over $180 million domestically and $261 million globally, beating the records set by Justin Bieber’s concert film in the U.S. and Michael Jackson’s globally. Massive big-screen spoilers only heightened, rather than diminished, resale demand for the shows yet to come on the 152-date tour and helped precipitate the movement among Americans to head overseas, to make up for the supply found sorely lacking at home.

“She is the torchbearer for the live industry,” says Andy Gensler, editor of Pollstar. “It’s nothing we’ve ever seen before, and it’ll be a long time before we see it again. Her timing was exquisite: The pandemic created this yearning and hunger for live entertainment like nothing else in our history, so she couldn’t have picked a better time to go out.” Pollstar called last year a “historic golden age” for touring, as the top 100 global tours collectively surpassed $9 billion — up 46% from 2022 — with Swift obviously contributing a significant chunk of that total. (This year, the trade reports that overall tour attendance is down, with flat grosses, representing a slight reckoning for the live industry that, obviously, isn’t impacting “Eras.”)

“What my partners and I talk a lot about is how it’s one thing to have a big tour in North America. It’s another thing to have an equally big tour wherever you are in the world and to do doubles and triples in these markets,” says Bernie Cahill, an Activist founding partner and manager of acts including the Grateful Dead and the Lumineers. “It’s an anomaly. It’s not normal. And don’t forget, you’re going into what I call asymmetric venues, which are venues that are not really built for music; these are venues that are built for football games or soccer games and can be very challenging to do music. And they get it right every time — Louis Messina [Swift’s tour promoter since her earliest days] and his team are world-class.” But for all that globe-trotting, he notes, “there are some artists that you see do a show and you know they don’t even know what city they’re in. I always feel like Taylor knows exactly where she is. She has a relationship with that city or that market and those fans and she’s connected to them in ways that are very authentic, that you can’t fake.”

The one big snafu in the rollout of “The Eras Tour” occurred in November 2022 when the Ticketmaster system melted down after too many North American dates went on sale at once, causing thousands of fans to experience long delays. The on-sale broke the all-time record for tickets sold in a single day at 2 million, but it also nearly broke the world’s largest ticketing platform. Swift herself was Teflon in this situation, as the blame fell on a ticketing system not capable of handling so much of the Swift-loving world at once. And although most of the problems people have with Ticketmaster are different from what fans faced in the “Eras Tour” debacle — mainly, hidden fees and monopolistic practices — it could have big legislative consequences anyway. Dean Budnick, co-author of “Ticket Masters: The Rise of the Concert Industry and How the Public Got Scalped,” believes that the Swift hullabaloo was the main catalyst for Congress enacting reform. “There’s no question that perhaps there’s gonna be some meaningful change in ticketing as a result of what people experienced with that on-sale.”

That sense Cahill spoke about of the singer making it clear to an audience she knows exactly where she’s at is in full force in Dublin. Swift introduces the “Folklore”/”Evermore” segment by suggesting that she had a spiritual locale in mind when she started writing that more intimate material, locked in during the first part of the pandemic. “It keeps me up at night all year long: Which era is the most Irish?” she half-jokes to the crowd. “I’m gonna make a case for it being ‘Folklore’ … This album’s imaginary world had a whole aesthetic — like I lived in this cabin in a really green, nature-y, moss-covered landscape. You see where I’m going?… Another thing that I think makes it more Irish than the other eras is, ‘Folklore’ was all about storytelling. And I know you hear this a lot, but you guys are naturally gifted storytellers, right?”

Later on, Swift will cement the local connection by playing, as a “secret” surprise acoustic song, “Sweet Nothing.” She doesn’t have to give the crowd any explanation for that: From the first notes, Irish Swifties will immediately recall that the lyrics reference to the coastal town of Wicklow. The real cherry on top of the show for locals at any international Eras Tour stop, though, comes with a customized moment each night during “We Are Never Getting Back Together” when the spotlight is put on backing dancer Kameron Saunders for a couple of seconds, as he blurts out something locally appropriate, and cheeky. One night in Dublin, it’s the Irish catchphrase “the neck of ye!”; on another, he yells out “pog mo thoin,” meaning “kiss my ass!”; the massive, knowing laugh that inside joke gets makes it clear this isn’t entirely an audience of American tourists after all.

But the basic theatrics and emotional currents remain consistent from show to show. If Swift is surprisingly reticent to make her “Eras Tour” numbers public, that may be, in part, her desire to keep the focus primarily on a personal fan connection. Music industry veterans are taken aback by Swift’s ability to be giant and intimate onstage. “She’s a master marketer of herself — and she is not afraid to be vulnerable to her fans,” says Michele Bernstein, who runs a consultancy that works with stars like Drake. Bernstein could almost be quoting the lyrics of “Mastermind,” where Swift describes herself in almost comically omniscient terms, then dives into a bridge about how no one would play with her as a little girl.

People like my guardian of the customs gate may complain about Swift’s songs centering on her romantic splits, but that subject matter magnifies her own insecurities and weaknesses, expressed in genuinely eccentric wordplay, in ways that keep the audience in thrall to someone they perceive as a humble underdog as well as a veritable cage fighter. She could do a $10 billion tour someday and still keep the crowd enraptured by how she measures up to, or rallies to exceed, the smallest man — or men, or Kardashians — in the world.

This plays out in the “Eras” show in all sorts of symbolic ways, like the new segment in the “Tortured Poets” section where she seems to have fainted from the vapors of failed romance. Dancers in tuxedos try to revive her while a swing version of “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart” plays over the PA. A pair of women dressed as nurses fit her with what looks like a majorette’s uniform — or, with all its off-white stripes, is it really meant to resemble a straitjacket? The resemblance is probably not coincidental. Swift fans know there’s nothing like a mad woman.

The most exhilarating moment that has been added to the show this year has her gliding down the ramp on a platform, appearing to anyone at floor level like she is levitating like the witch she makes herself out to be in “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” Taylor Swift: She was Agatha all along!

Yes, there is much to unpack. But in Dublin and in every other city where “Eras” has alighted, there is also pure inspiration for those who maybe haven’t always felt like they’ve had a voice, whether it’s her LGBTQ+ fan base or, well, women. It’s a modern transmutation of Beatlemania in which Swift manages to be all four Fabs, and a mirror, as well as object, of that gaze. You don’t have to be a woman to experience the explosion of pure female joy that takes place on a mass scale at an “Eras” gig, but for men, it doesn’t hurt to have a healthy sense of where you might sit on the female spectrum.

Outside Aviva Stadium, two young Londoners have formed their own two-woman straight-gay alliance: One is wearing a shirt with the hand- drawn words “You’re obsessive and crazy,” and the other’s shirt has the phrase “You’re gay,” each with an arrow pointing to the other. This echoes the original lyrics to Swift’s 2006 oldie “Picture to Burn,” which was rerecorded after some were offended by “gay” as a possible teen epithet. “I am obsessive and crazy, and she is gay,” laughs Zoe Gibson, pointing to her friend, India Day. “We want to bring back the original lyrics. We never found them homophobic — we want to reclaim it.” Day adds, “We’ve listened to her since we were 4 years old, so obviously there’s the nostalgia factor. But for me, she speaks on quite a lot of issues like gay rights and feminism, and all of her songs perfectly sum up the experience of being a woman.”

Some of the shirts are apropos for Pride Month. Seeing a boy of no older than 15 or 16 wearing a homemade “But Daddy I Love Him” shirt (the title of a “Tortured Poets” fan favorite), it’s easy to imagine some courage was required to don that apparel. Along the same lines, I spot any number of women making their own statement in shirts with the modified exclamation “But Daddy I Love Her.”

Gay or straight, 6 years old or 60-something, female or just female-allied, the crowd inside gets its sway on early in the show, with the arrival of the gentle, waltz-time “Lover.” It’s not one of the big set-pieces of this nonstop Broadway-style production — the spotlight is just on Swift and her acoustic guitar — but it might be the one where the entire audience feels like it’s at a four-minute campfire. No wicked witchiness here, just winsomeness.

Down on the floor, I’m seeing what amounts to a Taylor Swift mosh pit: gangs of two or three or five young women, ignoring the fact that Swift herself is just yards away from them on the ramp. They’re singing and acting out every last line to each other, as if the superstar isn’t even towering right over them. A waste of their euros? Hardly. Swift will capture their full attention again as the show proceeds, but in the moment, she isn’t just a superstar — she might be the world’s greatest community organizer.

#variety 2024 #variety #eras tour #taylor swift

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year ago

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Bus cuddles with iii pretty please

Your wish is my command 🫡

Running low

People already called III bossy and at times a little well big grumpy. Tonight however was topping all the charts. Three almost back-to-back concerts were taking a toll on everyone at this point. But when you add a missing guitar. Issues with the sound check and a pretty mediocre crowd at the last stop it all bundled into an absolute disaster.

The only thing keeping III in check was the fact that you were supposed to be waiting for him in the tour bus. Being an understanding boyfriend he had tried to convince you to not come because he knew that your job and studies kept your plate full. But the moment you sent him a screenshot of your tickets he felt as if someone had rolled a stone off his chest.

But the new problem was that the post-show wrap-up was taking way too long and III was convinced that not even his mask could hide the scowl on his face. “Can you frown any harder, lad? I feel like there will be permanent lines in the mask”, II snickered, knowing full well that he was playing with fire. “Fuck you”, III grunted, flipping his friend off. His leg bouncing even faster now. It felt as if someone was taking a piss at him with all of this. “Leave him be”, IV muttered and III knew that he could trust him to have his back. “He’s being a needy baby for his misses”, both II and IV fell into fits of giggles like stupid fucking school girls, only making III flip them off in the process.

So there was no surprise that it was III who took off towards the bus first. And in that moment he genuinely couldn’t give another flying fuck about his bandmates making all sorts of noises from behind him. He felt as if his battery was on the last couple percents and he was running around like a lunatic searching for the charger. Only the dim light had made III slow down slightly.

Something deep in his gut was telling him that you had fallen asleep while waiting for him. And he wouldn’t blame you considering the connected flights you had to take because this had been such a last-minute thing.

III carefully opened the little side room he usually occupied to find you curled up on your side. His shirt on your body. A light smile instantly flashed across his face as he reached for his mask before tugging his hoodie over his head as well. Thanking his brain that he took the extra time all the hold-ups caused to shower back in the arena.

Carefully to not disturb you too much III climbed behind you. Nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. Inhaling that familiar smell of you. The smell of home. His muscles instantly relaxed as he wrapped his long arms around your middle, pulling you tightly against his chest.

You grunted slightly, turning to face him, “Hey, rockstar”, you mumbled sleepily and III couldn’t help but lean in brushing his lips against yours, “Hi, baby”, he mused. You turned in his arms, frowning slightly at the worn-out expression on his face, “Is everything alright?”, your fingers brushed over his cheek and III instantly leaned into the touch. “The usual”, he grunted and you knew that he would talk about it when he was ready. Pushing him to speak would only make him cave into himself further. “I suggest cuddles”, you mumbled in return, “Big spoon or little spoon?”, looking up at him, you brush some of his wild post-shower hair away from his eyes. “Big”, III muttered, “Need to koala climb you”. You let out a chuckle, knowing that as much as he refused to admit it he was a sucker for cuddling deep down and moments when he leaned into it were always precious. So you didn’t waste any time, turning to your side, letting III once again warp you up in his warm embrace.

#sleep token x reader #sleep token imagine #sleep token x oc #sleep token iii imagine #sleep token iii x reader #sleep token iii x oc

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lavender-vixen · 5 months ago

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What kind of things does Patrick Hockstetter have in his room? Like random details?

1989, right?

an old boombox with cassettes scattered nearby, bands like joy division, nine inch nails, some darkwave staples.

it smells faintly of cigarette smoke, motor oil, something metallic, and his aftershave. his room is a mix of clean, minimalist order and chaotic, unsettling touches, like an organized desk but posters with disturbing imagery on the walls (which his religious mother does not approve of).

the walls have dark, dramatic posters. bands like the cure, depeche mode, and bauhaus. maybe a disturbing hieronymus bosch or francis bacon print. a few torn-out magazine pages of supercars or motorcycles taped haphazardly to the wall. a small corkboard with pinned polaroid photos, some of people or places that seem innocuous at first glance, others with cryptic, creepy vibes.

a sleek black desk with a couple of knives and lighters resting casually on the surface.

a well-worn black desk chair, slightly faded.

an unmade bed with dark gray sheets, maybe a faded quilt his mom made that looks out of place.

a few random cigarette packs and lighters scattered on his dresser (this pyromaniac collects lighters).

a collection of odd trinkets: bottle caps, animal skulls, pocket knives, and random screws and bolts from dismantled machines.

a baseball bat leaning against the wall, with the handle taped for grip.

a box of matches from a dinner or dive bar in a small fish bowl.

a beat-up sketchpad tucked into a drawer, filled with disturbing but skillfully drawn images, surreal monsters and dark abstracts.

a few dark flannels and distressed denim pieces hanging nearby, and beat-up sneakers just outside of the closet.

a pair of dark aviators hanging off a hook near the door.

a ripped pair of jeans stuffed into the bottom of the closet with the faint smell of gasoline.

a half-burned candle, wax dripped over an old photograph.

a hidden drawer or box under his bed containing polaroids and playboy magazine tear-outs of salacious images.

a half-empty bottle of something, maybe alcohol or an odd chemical, that he needs to get rid of before his parents find it

a mess of receipts from fast food restaurants, tower records, and derry bowling alley

his combat boots, forgotten by the doorway for him to accidentally trip over later

his landline with the extra long cord to reach his bed for late night calls with the gang or girls

a clock radio he took apart and put back together

a small, random stuffed animal his grandma gave him at birth barely visible under a pillow

crumpled concert tickets on his nightstand, which has random doodles sketched on it in sharpie

re-worn laundry strewn across the floor

a few hemp necklaces and rings spilling out on a bookshelf between spiral notebooks

#imagines #imagine #patrick hockstetter x reader #patrick hockstetter imagine #patrick hockstetter story #patrick hockstetter #it 2017 #it stephen king #stephen king #fanfic #asks #it movie #owen teague #bowers gang

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talaok · 2 years ago

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Hello, I have an idea.

how about something cute, about pedro and the reader at the Beyoncé concert, and Pedro being a little jealous and possessive, because of all the attention the reader is drawing to herself.

aries men are extremely possessive and jealous. LOL

Thank you. ♥️

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

The amount of attention the people around you were paying to Beyonce, the woman they had paid good money to see perform, had decreased exponentially since they'd realized " the Y/n fucking Y/l/n" (as Pedro had overheard one of them saying) was standing between them.

And when you had started dancing... well let's say the situation had only worsened.

Sarah, yes as in Sarah Paulson, Pedro's good friend, had hooked you up with tickets, and when you'd heard about it, you almost fainted by how happy you were.

I mean who wouldn't be, it's fucking Beyonce we're talking about.

You had dressed up, of course, a tight, silver, sparkly dress hugged every curve of your body, and as much as you had tried to persuade Pedro to do the same, all you managed to achieve was to paint one of his fingernails silver to match your outfit.

You both spent the first twenty minutes of the concert looking up at the stage in awe, and wondering how the fuck you got so lucky.

But now as you were dancing and screaming the words to every song at the top of your lungs, he was starting to come to the realization that a lot of people in the crowd were enjoying that same pretty outfit you'd put on, and not just him.

Like the two dudes in the row behind you, whose eyes were wandering a little too much for his liking.

But he didn't want to disturb your experience, so at first, he just started standing closer, reminding everyone how he was your boyfriend, and only he could touch you.

And when that wasn't enough, one of his hands found the small of your back, and god but the moment you turned to him and flashed that stupidly happy smile at him he felt like the luckiest man in the world, and forgot all about his worries for a while, loosing himself in the music.

Until a chuckled "dude!" made its way to his ears, and he turned around to see one of the guys he'd already spotted pointing at you as he elbowed his friend.

Yeah that's definitely a fucking no

All it took was for him to shoot them both a look, and suddenly their eyes were only able to point to the ground.

But of course, he knew that wouldn't be enough, so for good measure, he stepped behind you and brought his arms around your torso, hugging you from behind.

"hey there" you talked over the music, slightly out of breath

"hey," he kissed your sweaty cheek.

You were really going all in tonight.

Even under that lighting, he could see tints of crimson painting your cheeks

"what are you doing?"

"I'm just making sure people don't get to see more than they paid to"

"What?" you frowned

"don't worry about it baby" he shook his head

"no, I wanna know"

God, but he could never say no to you, no matter how much fun you'd make of him after.

"It's just people are staring at you, that's all"

"so?" you asked "I'm sure they're staring at you too"

An amused smile pulled at his lips "No see, they're... well they're staring at you a little too much"

"ahh" You smirked at that, finally getting it "So you're jealous"

"I don't know what you're talking about"

"Is that so?" you tilted your head, a mischievous glint to your eyes

"Yup" he nodded, "And for no reason at all I'm just gonna stay here for the rest of the night if you don't mind"

"Oh I don't mind" You smiled "just as long as you can keep up"

Image: @thesweetestdecline

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temperancelenore · 1 month ago

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It’s April of 2023 and I’ve undoubtedly just met the love of my life. I don't think I really understood love before this moment, not really. I’m not much a believer of love at first sight, but I know the overwhelming feeling I had when we met was a feeling of recognition. We’ve met before. We have taken this journey thousands of times across many lifetimes, and I’m sure my soul has been calling him Angel for longer than I could ever know. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a man but never thought could be wrapped up into one person. He looks like all of my imaginary boyfriends I had as a kid. He’s soft spoken, he’s gentle, not to mention he’s built like a Greek god. Everything about him is perfect, he’s just missing one thing: a social security number. That’s no big deal, I tell myself. We can figure that out later. I've never had much respect for this country or its rules anyway. After all, how hard can it be to get a green card or citizenship?

Really hard, apparently. He tells me his uncle has citizenship but it took him ten years to get it, not to mention the thousands of dollars it cost as well.

I knew very little of the hatred towards brown people in this country. Of course I knew it existed, and that it got a lot worse when a certain orange got on stage and called them drug addicts and rapists, an action that to my utter shock and horror- was met with a symphony of cheers. I pass it off as a boomer mentality and the lingering of racism from a past much closer than I realize, and tell myself that people with that mindset will all be left behind eventually. It's a dying breed, after all.

It’s our first date and we’re going to the movies. Whatever movie we saw probably sucked, because unfortunately any memory of that movie or even its name is not what I remember from this day. What sticks out in my mind is the strange feeling of being watched while we waited in line for tickets. I looked around, and to my deep disturbance I was right. There are several older men, middle aged white women, and even a group of teenagers that are looking at us with a glare I can't quite understand. Disgust? Anger? Maybe even fear? Am I dating the town weirdo and everyone else knows it except me? I squeeze my boyfriend's hand, and almost say something to him before I have a sudden realization that, before this moment, I had truly not even thought twice about: we are an interracial couple. Oddly, I didn’t think it would be a big deal in 2023, even in a small town in the south, but I was all of sudden very much aware that we didn’t share the same skin color, and that might be a problem for more people than I thought.

Over time I get used to these looks. It happens almost every time we go out and I hardly notice it anymore, unless somebody gets a little too close for comfort. Angel acts like he doesn’t notice it either, or maybe he hasn’t noticed, I can never tell.

In August of 2023, we are going to see my favorite band live in my hometown. It’s his first concert and I feel so grateful I get to be there to have that experience with him. I know it's going to be a good night. That is, until about halfway through the third band to play that night. The drunkest man I’ve ever seen in my life is sexually harassing two women in front of us. We scoot up, putting space between the belligerent drunkard and the girls. He gets as close as he can to Angel without touching him. He puffs his chest out like a bird, and says,

“You’re one of those fucking savages, aren’t you?”

I feel the blood rush to my face. I wish I could say I was angry, that I got in his face and yelled at him, threatened him, told him that Angel has been boxing since he was a child, but I didn’t. In reality I was more scared than anything. My boyfriend stays silent to keep himself calm, and so do I. The regretful silence is so loud, louder than the band playing in front of us, louder than my heartbeat pounding in my ears. The man tries multiple times to start a fight without throwing the first punch.

The drunkard's friends come to get him after an uncomfortably long time and apologize for his behavior. “Just keep him away from us, please.” “Yes of course, I promise he’s not usually like this.” I don’t care what he’s usually like, please just keep him away from us. Naturally, he sneaks away from his friends who are too busy moshing to notice and meanders his way back over to us. He sticks out his hand for my boyfriend to shake, as a faux truce. They do not shake hands. He tries another five times, repeatedly jutting his hand towards my boyfriend's chest. They still do not shake hands. He tries a different strategy to get a reaction, which I have to say was much more effective. He snakes his hand around my waist and attempts to pull me in for a hug. I am quickly whisked away, and Angel pushes the man down through quite a few rows of people trying to enjoy the show, who are now looking back at Angel and the man. His friends come and grab him again and I don't see him on the floor for the rest of the night. After the concert, I’m afraid he is following us.

Angel, who I have always known to be very level headed and gentle, rants on the way to the car. He’s so angry I could almost see tears forming in his eyes. He says he would’ve fought him, he wanted to hit him, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk being arrested because that would probably be the end of his life here in America. There was a security guard, maybe five feet away from us, watching the entire stand off take place without stepping a toe out of line until the drunk man hit the ground. We knew right there which side of history the guard was on.

It’s May of 2024 and my now boyfriend has been at Walmart for an alarming 3 hours. After another hour of sheer panicking and his family and I running around the store asking everyone who walked by if they had seen our person, the Walmart manager, tall, lanky, and ironically sharing the same skin tone as Angel, informs us with a smirk that he has been arrested for stealing bananas.

The woman at the window at the county jail doesn’t seem to be interested in talking to anyone except for me, and is particularly venomous towards my mother in law. I know it’s because she is a brown hijabi woman. I've figured out at this point how things play out when you don't have a bubble wrap layer of white skin around your body. The bondsman is also interested in talking to nobody but me. He asks me questions that make me feel like I am vouching for him not with the money I gave the bondsman or the papers I’ve signed, but with the esteemed value of my opinion of my partner as a white woman.

Angel comes home with us that night, but my sense of security is shattered. I don't let go of him for the rest of the night. I can’t even give a convincing portrayal of anger towards him. I can only think of how terrified I was that I didnt think I'd ever be able to touch him again, that God or the Universe or karma had decided I only deserved this one, short, blissful past year with my Angel.

We got very lucky with the deal we were offered in court, I think. Though I still don't think the court's time would’ve been wasted over a bundle of bananas if Angel's skin were a different color. The judge said if he goes through a sort of mental health rehabilitation program lasting 4-8 months, his record will be wiped clean. We take this deal, worried that the longer Angel's name was in the books, the bigger the chance that he could be picked up and shipped away from the only country he's ever known. While in the program, the counselor working with us sets up goals that we have to complete before he is able to graduate. The last item on the list is marriage.

Of course I wanted to marry him, and of course I did in November of that year. That very same counselor, who just so happened to be ordained, signed our marriage license. I can’t help but feel like our marriage is somehow now as real as everyone else’s. It wasn’t exactly on our own terms. Marriage was something we talked about looking forward to in the future, but not something we talked about doing any time soon. It felt like we were being asked to do this, it felt rushed, it felt somehow illegitimate, even though we all knew it was meant to legitimize Angels humanity to the higher ups in this program.

We certainly couldn’t afford a wedding, or even a fancy dress to go to the courthouse in. I’ve had my wedding dress picked out since I was 16 years old. As we drive to the courthouse, my husband promises me that I will have my day to wear that dress. I hope I do, but it feels like it gets farther out of reach by the day. Our wedding cake was a delicious cookie and cream cake from the same store that began all of this just 6 months earlier. This was the closest thing I've had to a wedding as of yet, but I still hope to one day tell that story too.

#love #literature #reading #romance #immigration #immigrants #couple #politics

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hecs · 2 years ago

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꒰͡ 𐙚 ͡꒱ 이희승，concert date.

ㅠㅠ ； you and your boyfriend, heeseung decided to go to your idol concert together.

౨ৎ p. �� idol!heeseung x idol!reader ౨ৎ ！ ⋆ established relationship, fluff, concert date, reader has a brother, kissing, PDA, (if there's more, pls let me know!) not proofread. ౨ৎ an ⋆ hahaha... another heeseung fic.. r we surprised? oh and i never buy a ticket before so i don't know how they work

your idol is doing a world tour right now and one of the shows is in Seoul. the public knew how much you loved them and you even covered their songs.

the ticketing day was hell. you and your boyfriend decided to have the VIP sit, you are not worried about the price, but you're worried if you won't make it. you hold heeseung's hand tightly as the screen says "loading" and tells you to wait. heeseung's thumb rubbed your hand and kissed it, trying to relax you. and it worked. you managed to calm down a little and wait for the screen to load to a new page.

you're jumping into happiness as the screen says that you made it through the waiting list and managed to get VIP tickets for you and heeseung.

TIME SKIP...

you stood behind the railing, your left hand was around his neck while heeseung's right arm wrapped around your waist. a big smile plastered on your face. anyone who sees you knows right away that you're having a great time.

you were enjoying the show too much to not notice how Heeseung's focus was on you the entire time instead of on the idol performing meters away from him. but people noticed. they noticed how his eyes softened every time he looked at you, they noticed how he looked like he fell in love with you all over again. they noticed how he looked so happy with you, how he's like a whole different person with you.

they were giving some speech, and you finally looked to your left, meeting with your favorite pair of bambi eyes. "finally giving me some attention, princess?", he raised his eyebrow with a smirk growing on his face. you chuckled, "You're the one who wants to go here with me, so suck it up", you stick your tongue out. you could feel him squeezing your waist after you said that. "yeah whatever", he said, playfully rolling his eyes.

you turned your head towards the stage, admiring them. "they're crazy. I can't believe I finally got to see them. it feels like a fever dream", you said, your right hand covering your mouth. you kept on saying something but heeseung couldn't concentrate on whatever you were saying, his whole focus and eyes were on your lips.

"I was jealous that my brother could go last year, he kept on-", when his lips were finally on yours, heeseung could swear that he felt a wave of relief washing over him. heeseung brings his left hand to your waist, bringing you to him. you were surprised but your right hand felt like it was moving on its own to his nape, pulling him as close as possible. his head tilted to the side, deepening the kiss.

as much as you and heeseung wanted the kiss to last longer, the need for oxygen is disturbing you two. the both of you pulled away and heeseung rested his forehead against yours. sound of heavy breathing could be heard coming from you both. heeseung grinned at you, leaning in to give you some quick pecks all over your face except your lips. "heeseung! it tickles", you let out a giggle. "and lastly", he spoke before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

man, you could say that the media were having a field day that day. you and heeseung became a popular topic on Twitter after the clip went viral. But, it's not like you both care anyway.

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restinslices · 1 year ago

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Hi I’m the anon who asked about the popstar one! (Loved what you did btw) If it wasn’t too much of a problem I love if you could do the Lin Kuei boys + Syzoth too!

Me finally getting to my requests?! Who would’ve thought. Everyone got around 300 words besides Syzoth, who got 400. Why? No further questions.

Bi-Han

You can change him? Well I can accept him as he is! You don’t like the murders? Grow up! The atrocities are a part of him and I’ve decided they’re funny :D

I know the Lin Kuei are a part of Earthrealm but are they allowed to have technology?

For the sake of this, imma say technology is very very limited

With that being said, what do you mean you're a pop star? It's not that he doesn't know what it is, he just doesn't get why. All the things you could be doing and popstar is where you landed

I don't wanna make it seem like everyone is supportive but him but this is Bi-Han. He's going to judge

He's the Grandmaster so he's always busy. Going to concerts isn't happening and honestly? He doesn't give me the vibes of someone who's a fan of concerts

He doesn't hate your job, he just genuinely doesn't get it

Remember how I said Kung Lao will give you brutally honest advice? Same goes for him. You can always trust the truth to come outta him (unless it's about the father he let die but anyway)

I don't see him doing anything special. I don't see him buying posters or tickets or streaming or concerts. He cares for you but doesn't see the need to do all that.

If he did stream he'd probably just put the video on repeat on his phone and go do other shit. At the same time though, do they even have cell service? Where is Lin Kuei HQ??

Absolutely refuses to add ice or snow to your set for an MV. Be a team player. Damn. Stop thinking everything is beneath you.

“That is entirely beneath me” “aight, I guess you don’t want me beneath you”

He apologizes for his outburst (I was making that joke happen by any means necessary)

I just think he's the most nonchalant about dating a celebrity. Probably forgets you're a popstar

Loses a piece of his sanity everytime a Lin Kuei ninja loses their mind over you. Actually wants to join his father in the afterlife. How y'all even seeing these performances? Y'all sneaking off?!

You're disturbing his peace but hey, it is what it is

Kuai Liang

Also doesn't understand why that job, but he's less judgmental than Bi-Han. Not everyone can defend Earthrealm.

I also don't see him doing a lot. He's busy and also he's just not interested in being around a bunch of sweaty ass fans. Nothing against you

If he did buy your merch I think he'd set it in like, a box. He only bought it to be supportive. He's not gonna hang it up or anything. To be honest, he might give it to the rest of the guys (Johnny, Kenshi, Kung Lao, Raiden and Liu Kang)

I see the Lin Kuei as private and not really interactive when it comes to normal citizens so I honestly don't know what to say for them 😭

I don't even know if Kuai Liang likes pop music. Him and Bi-Han give me the vibes of someone who listens to white noise to past time

Like Bi-Han, he's nonchalant about the whole celebrity thing.

Probably doesn't even have a phone. He probably got an old ass mp3 player. What are you doing with that?

If your songs are more calm and chill, I can see him liking it when you sing while he does something

Popstars wear dramatic ass outfits and this is definitely when he starts judging you

“How does it look?” “It… looks”

He's used to practical outfits so I think he subconsciously spots all the ways your outfits could injure you

“You could be easily spotted” “That's the whole point”

Will he add fire to an MV for background effects? Possibly. He has to have nothing else to do and be absolutely bored out of his mind to do so. Bi-Han says no out of spite and “this is beneath me”. Kuai Liang initially says no and has the same “this is beneath me” thought process, but he folds easier. There's certain things he is absolutely not doing though

“I am not saying 'get over here’ for you” “You're so not fun”

This relationship feels like a hostage situation but oh well

Tomas Vrbada

He wants to be as stern and serious as his brothers but we all know I babygirlify him so it's not happening

He doesn't have a phone but he asks Johnny to use his and have your shit on repeat for the views

Idk why but I feel like he's a Twice stan so he's no stranger to pop music. I have no reliable sources for this

I could see him buying pins and keeping them in his pocket since he can't have it on his outfit

I don't think for any of the brothers, your fans would know you're dating which is something they'd want. They're assassins. They can't be all over the internet.

Doesn't go to concerts because he can't. Such a sad life

Gives background smoke for effects cause he's a team player

Wants to be the first to hear anything you're working on

Gives you honest advice but nicely

I think he has conflicting feelings about you always being in the spotlight. He loves that you're happy but is also worried because that comes with danger and if smth were to happen, there's a good chance he wouldn't be there

I feel like Tomas can lowkey sing (once again no reliable sources present) so karaoke? karaoke.

You could talk him into doing a collab but it'd never be released. It'd just be for you two

He wants to keep up with everything you're doing as it's happening but once again, no phone. Instead he just checks in with you whenever he sees you

The most aware out of the brothers that he's dating a celebrity.

Probably the brother you'd feel the most supported by because he's the most expressive (?). He makes his support very known and doesn't question why you're doing what you're doing

He doesn't give me as much Ken energy as Johnny does, but he still gives me “Ken only has a great day if Barbie looks at him”. Like I said for Johnny, you're Barbie regardless of gender

Syzoth

Does Zaterra or Outworld even have popstars? For comedy sake, imma say not exactly

He was ran out of Zaterra and he was working for Shang Tsung, so even if they do he had no time to actually enjoy music

So when he hears you're a popstar, he has no idea what you're talking about. You have to genuinely explain what your job is, what you do, what's a tour, what's merch, etc. etc.

Like the Lin Kuei Bros, he has no phone. He doesn't understand technology at all. He's like a grandpa fr, so his interactions with your music is slim to none when it comes to music videos

Explain it to him as many times as you want. He doesn't get it.

You have to actually show him the video on your phone. You have to show him any merch you have so he can pick whatever he wants and you can sneak it to him

Prefers you singing for him live rather than watching a music video but he watches them anyway because you're really proud of them

Like Tomas, he likes little pins or other little trinkets

Since he was in a traveling circus, he knows what performing is but you're getting paid and treated fairly which he finds fantastic

He is slightly worried tho from his time being in said circus. You have to explain that they're two different things (sorta, not really) and you're ok

Has no idea what's going on but is supportive anyway

He tries really hard to understand Earthrealm customs and culture to better understand you. Is he successful? Probably depends on the subject

He doesn't get merch at all or why it's so stupidly expensive. If you weren't giving it to him for free, he probably wouldn't buy it to be honest. He likes that you're proud of how it looks but why is it necessary for success? He just doesn't understand it

Concerts he somewhat gets. The idea is cute but once he sees videos of people fainting, he swears he's never going to one of those

Does not want your fans to know you're dating him. Does not want to be in any of your videos as himself or a lizard. Wants nothing to do with the spotlight. He has trauma with being known.

It'll take awhile to explain to him what fan culture and memes are, but he's ready to learn for you.

Idk if I wanna write more silly shit or angst shit. I guess we’ll find out next episode

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ofstoriesandstardust · 11 months ago

Text

crystal clear on a star lit night (javi - twisters)

note: wrote this for funnies and on a whim trapped in the post-Niall Horan concert parking lot. enjoy! :)

summary: You and Javi kiss for the first time on the lawn at a Niall Horan concert.

word count: 795

Tyler tells you all casually one morning that an old bull riding friend-turned-radio DJ had extra lawn tickets to Niall Horan’s show in Arkansas if you all wanted to drive up there to catch the show.

You choke on your coffee.

“Wasn’t he that guy in One Direction?” Dani muses.

“That silly British boy band?” Javi asks with a curious glance. “All the girls in school liked them.”

“Niall is Irish.” You choke and the group turns to you. “And unless someone wants to risk suffering bodily harm, we’re going.”

“I’ll load the truck!” Kate says with a bright smile over the rim of her mug.

“It’s gonna be a long drive, ain’t it?” Lilly mutters.

All in all, it doesn’t even end up being that bad of a road trip. The two hours are filled with the rare sight of you on aux, taking One Direction requests, and Kate telling you about how she used to secretly buy their albums.

Boone and Lilly fight over the snacks and you think Tyler’s eye starts twitching when you make the car sing What Makes You Beautiful, but the lot of you have had way longer stretches with everyone in worse moods.

Boone and Lilly realize they know the opener, Del Water Gap, dancing their way across your guys secluded area of the lawn. Kate dances with you during the opening songs and you think you even catch Tyler bopping his head a few times, despite his insistence that he did not like this type of music.

When Niall slows down the show, opening it for the acoustic set, you find yourself seated next to Javi. You wrap your arms around his, tucking your head into his shoulder.

“Having a good time?” He whispers as Niall begins to play The Show.

You nod. “The best.” You pause for a minute. “Did you know it’s been ten years since I’ve seen Niall?”

A smirk forms on his face but there’s no real smugness hidden behind it. “You’ve told me that four times.”

You shrug, feeling your face go hot. “I’m just excited, s’all.”

Javi smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you turn back to the concert.

You clutch him a little tighter, both missing the knowing looks of your friends from behind you.

While you and Javi had both separately realized your more than platonic feelings for the other, you both had told your friends separately that you didn’t think the other returned them.

And despite their, in their opinion, fairly obvious meddling, the two of you stayed teetering on the precipice of something more without ever actually becoming something more.

It’s when you squeeze Javi’s arm, realizing Niall is playing This Town that Javi realizes.

You’re not even looking at him, the action done out of reflex. He’ll tell you later that this is when he realized he couldn’t spend a second more without kissing you and when you ask why he didn’t then, he’ll tell you it would’ve been a crime to disturb you when you were so happy.

(Boone jokes Javi was afraid of risking major bodily harm if he had interrupted the concert to kiss you.)

So there, on a dewy lawn in the middle of Rogers, Arkansas, after Niall has concluded the show, does Javi kiss you for the first time.

You let out a surprised noise in the back of your throat as he does, his hands finding purchase on your hips, tucked into your belt loops. The soft fabric of your sweatshirt rubs against his fingers as he feels you tug on his shirt, pulling him ever so closer to you. The once-cautious kiss goes further as you tilt your head and the whooping behind you could never be mistaken as cheers for the man who’d just left the stage.

Niall’s encore couldn’t have a come at a better time, saving Javi from a charge of public indecency as you pull away, nudging your nose with his. “Look,” You whisper. “I told you it wasn’t over yet.”

“You sure did tell me.” He says and you snort, pressing one quick chaste kiss on his lips before making him stand up to dance with you.

After the close of the show, for real this time, Tyler is surveying the crowd, trying to figure out the quickest way out when you tug on his sleeve. “One more for the road?”

He laughs, leaning down to press another kiss to your lips. “Darling, you can have all the kisses on the road. And off. And whenever.”

Someone clears their throat from behind you and you both turn, glancing at Dani as she starts ushering you both after Tyler.

“Just so we’re clear — no sex in the back of truck.”

#twisters #javi x reader #javi x female reader #twisters javi x reader #twisters fic

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aki-shun · 2 years ago

Note

I don't know if you will accept this but can I get an Male Idol Mc x Savanaclaw. Fans of savanaclaw members pay for a special fan service with him. And as services can I ask Mc to wear a skirt or a dress.

Umm- After getting my life and other things in order, I went back to tumblr and started writing. I don't know if it was because of this or the cold I had, but I had a hard time writing and I drew a few sketches to make up for it, I hope you like it.

I don't remember if the gender of Jack's siblings was mentioned, but it is implied that he has a little sister and a little brother. Anyway I hope you like it

TW: Eng is not my first language, Feminization(?) not smut, but a little bit spacy drawings ;), maybe not but really a bit spacy, reader is a male but just used 'you' so you can read to if your a female or anythink-,Written by a writer who forgot how to write

Leona

Shit-I signed his hand with the veins I drew most beautifully.

Leona is a wealthy individual. That's why he has all kinds of products, whether limited edition or not. What do other people think of him? Rest assured, no one wants to turn into sand. That's why everyone in the palace is silent about this. The two rooms that the Cheka are not allowed to enter belong to Leona. The first one is his room, the second one is the room he reserved specifically for you. Of course, he has your products in his room too, but he still has a separate room for more and some special pieces.

Most of your concerts are at Sunset Savanah. Because your manager likes the amount that self-indulgent Leona pays for the 'personal space' he reserves for himself at your concerts. (No, your manager is not Azul or Ruggie). Regardless of your special events or fan meetings, he pays a premium for his own private 'fan event' meetings, let alone attending them all. At the end of the work, your manager is as happy as Leona :)

And again, at such a time, you accepted the request of your dear fan, who provided nearly 40% of the money you earned, to wear a skirt. Dear Seven- he was looking at you with perfect admiration but also like a mouse he was about to grab in his claws. After a few seconds of silence, he approached you, lifted you into the air and held you in his arms. Since this was the nth date you had stopped counting, you were used to this kind of thing. In fact, you liked receiving such behavior from such a person, whether it was because of his perfect face, wealth or perfect body.

If you feel uncomfortable, just let me know. No, I'm not disturbed. You just surprise me more and more every time. Aah~ then it's because your pulse is excited huh~

His face moved a little closer to you with his smug grin. He definitely had a face that could make him famous. No matter how flirtatious Leona was, he was trying not to get over the Idol-Fan relationship. (And yes, he still made you sit on his lap but- who wouldn't want that). One of his naughty hands tugged at the waistband of your skirt.

Leona. Your voice had a slightly harsh tone. Hahaha I'm just kidding but you know this will happen one day. Nothing like this will happen between an Idol and a fan. Who said our relationship would be Idol-Fan when that time comes?

He leaned into your right ear and said, 'You won't be an Idol forever and I won't be just a fan forever.'

Some feelings begin to arise in your heart because you are experiencing a scene that only weird writers can write. Maybe you can attribute it to the long time you spent with Leona, but my option is the first option :)

Jack

His siblings were always listening to you and they were constantly pressuring his younger siblings to take them to your concert. Your tickets weren't expensive, but they weren't cheap either.

One day, his siblingss came to him in a hurry. They showed him the screen and it showed that his new concert was near where they lived. Since the tickets had just gone on sale, they were cheaper. (I've never been to a concert in my life, so I don't know much about ticket prices, sorry). Moreover, there was a fan event for the first 30 ticket buyers, and their siblings didn't want to miss it. So he bought the tickets.

He wasn't your listener before the day of the concert, but after the concert is over - now you have a new fan, but he doesn't accept it. When it came to event time, it wasn't a big deal. It was a simple thing where there was some sort of meeting and talking to the fans and stuff. It was him and his siblings' turn to talk, and they were babbling on about how much they loved you until that moment.

[Name]-san, my brother runs away from me whenever I try to make him wear a skirt. Because this thing was so girly. I don't want to wear those stupid skirts! No, you're the stupid one!!

Great, his siblings are fighting in front of a stranger (you). You stop them while the fight is about to get more heated.

Why do you want to force your brother to wear a skirt? Because when he tries to wear trousers, he cannot remove his tail properly. That's why I wear a skirt for his, because it's easier. I'm not a girl! Only girls wear skirts! [Name]-san, can you show my brother that it is easier to wear a skirt? Let me show him..? Yes, would you wear the tail you wore with a skirt like in your concert in the City of Flowers?

Okay, your shocked, but if you reject your fan's request, you may get a lot of criticism from your manager, who is looking at you suggestively through the door. (That manager works for us, my friend 🙂).

O-okey, of course.

Jack is a little further away, just waiting for his siblings to finish their work. There is no more!

WHY IS THE SKIRT SO SHORT? Damn that tail you use looks like his- YOU SHOULD NOT EVEN TRY TO SPIN AROUND THAT TAIL. He's happy that you're such a kind idol to give your siblings a nice farewell hug. NO, HIS TAIL IS NOT WAGING. IT'S JUST THE WIND. YES, DON'T YOU KNOW THAT THE WIND BLOWS EVEN IN A ROOM COVERED WITH WALLS ON FOUR SIDES!? NOW YOU KNOW!!

These were his thoughts :)

Ruggie

I couldn't draw a skirt in this pose and since I was too lazy to draw a new reference, imagine that there was a skirt in this picture (!)

He is a listener who listens to you with pleasure. But don't you think your tickets are too expensive? This makes his hyena heart ache. It just so happens that one of your tickets flies into his hand while he's walking on the street. No, it wasn't in anyone's back pocket. That ticket floated in the wind and fell into his palm :) Moreover, it was not such a simple ticket.

Ruggie is a fan like a fan. Just a more frugal version. That's why we should make the most of this ticket for all our fans. Even if they can't see it.

◜Time skip because I have a brain that can't function properly anymore due to the flu I had😔◞

He may have forgotten that people other than him have this ticket. But that won't stop him.

[Name]-san, could you wear a nice skirt for us fans? We'd love to see this.

Yes yes [Name]-san. We would like to see this.- a fan A cute skirt with ruffles would be really nice. What do you think [Name]-chan 😊-M Manager..! How long have you been here? *whispering 😃-M (Ugh, that look again. I definitely have to change that manager somehow [those who support the manager to stay, raise your hand✋])

Oh Big Seven! Can I take a photo of [Name]-san??-a another fan A great idea! Why don't we include some of these pictures in your new photo album?-M Manager- Come on [Name]-chan, give us some nice poses!-M This bitc- *Don't worry, no one heard it

Our beloved Ruggie now has new home screen images.

⫯ Since I did it in a bit of a hurry, the pictures are only for the white-skinned reader, but if requested (I will do it even if not), I will also edit the images for the dark-skinned reader. If anyone wants, I can tag them when I post. Just write in the comments whether you want to be tagged or not ^^

#twisted wonderland #Idol!Au🌙#twst #disney twst #male reader #twisted wonderland × male reader #twisted wonderland × bottom male reader #bottom male reader #savanaclaw #twst leona #twst jack #twst ruggie #savanaclaw x reader

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milla-frenchy · 5 months ago

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Get to know your moots

Thanks for the tag @yxtkiwiyxt @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ace-turned-confused @thundermartini @joelmillerisapunk 🙏❤️

what's the origin of your blog title?: Milla Jovovich in the 5th element, and also I wanted people to know why my grammar is awful 😶

favorite fandoms: ppcu

OTP(s) + shipname: Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling

favorite color: black

favorite game: tlou (both games)

song stuck in your head: spite - Omar Apollo. I’m obsessed with it

weirdest habit/trait?: I have a ton, but none of them are weird (to me 😁)

hobbies: video games, tv shows, writing fics, listening to music

if you work, what's your profession? law related

if you could have any job you wish what would it be? if I could I wouldn’t work tbh. But I think I’d be happier if I worked in a bookstore or a flower shop

something you're good at: listening, I think. And if I’m invested in something I need it to be perfect, so if someone asks me to do something, it should be nicely done

something you're bad at: I don't always know where my boundaries are until I realize I crossed them, and it's too late. I'm done with the thing or the people that asked too much of me and I disappear (and I didn't even see it coming)

something you love: calm. Being at home, quiet

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: honestly when I’m comfortable with the person, I can talk about everything

something you hate: a lot of things, I can be super grumpy 🙃 Yesterday I was at the movies. Some people were talking too loudly, others were eating during a silent scene and I just wanted to throw them out. In general I don't like noisy people and I hate rudeness. I’m not comfortable with intrusive people or when people come too close to me physically

something you collect: tickets (plane, activities done while traveling, movies, concerts…) I live in nostalgia, and keeping them is a need for me

something you forget: I have a very weird memory. I can remember some details from 15 years ago, and forget something you told me 2 min ago. I still don’t know how this damn memory works

what's your love language?: acts of service, listening, being there when they need me

favorite movie/show: the silence of the lambs, seven, narcos, friends, luther, the last of us, 6 feet under

favorite food: we have some really good meals with cheese and potatoes in France (raclette, gratin dauphinois, tartiflette…) and I love them. And pasta never disappoints (I love italian food)

favorite animal: I’m a cat person, but I’m fascinated by orcas

what were you like as a child? I was quiet and shy, already anxious af and didn’t want people to know it

favorite subject at school? english, geography, history

least favorite subject? maths and sciences. I feel dumb af when it comes to that

what's your best character trait? I’m a good listener, I think. When I love, I love hard. If my friends are attacked I feel like my heart is ripped in two

what's your worst character trait? I overthink everything. And when I don’t, I don’t give a fuck. Which is very disturbing, even for me 🤯

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be? I’d stop working and lie on my couch. But today’s a good day, I work from home, so it’s ok

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet? Honestly if I could travel in time I’d just want to see my mom again

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!): raider!joel @toxicanonymity is my roman empire. I said it a million times, and I’ll say it again 😍🖤

I’m working on a list of my all time favorite fics that I will share soon, I hope. I have old lists here

npt: @aurorawritestoescape @iamasaddie @toxicanonymity @604to647 @schnarfer

@sawymredfox @iknowisoundcrazy @baronessvonglitter @bonezone44 @magpiepills

@pascalssbabyy @tateypots @sunshineispunk and whoever wants to 🙏

#tag game

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heartbreakgrill · 2 years ago

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Black Paint; Vessel (Sleep Token)

a/n: i am so fucking proud of this and i hope you absolutely love it. pls don't anyone tell brittany or else i'll fucking kms. thx.

description: brittany broski and friends go see sleep token. the group's energy catches the attention of the band.

warnings: alcohol, smut, cringe wattpad y/n moment.

“Hey, guys, welcome back to the Broski report. I’m your host, Brittany Broski.”

She rambled the words out breathlessly, smile void on her face. I stifled a laugh from the seat beside her, especially as I knew the camera frame would then focus on me.

She slammed her palms down onto the table, peering over at me with a blank expression, “Bitch.”

“I know,” I shrugged. My lips were pursed together, shoulders shaking as small giggles forced their way out of my nose.

“Bitch!” She tilted her head from the microphone so as not to disturb the sound mix.

I pressed a hand to my lips, dying of laughter now. “I know!”

“Listen,” she pointed at the screen behind us, “there is no fucking time for introductions because this bitch…just ruined my life by introducing me to yet another GROUP masked men I will not and can not have!”

“I know,” I nodded solemnly, still giggling. “I’m so sorry for what I have done to you.”

“Sleep Token,” Brittany yelled. I flinched from the volume, eliciting a soft, “Oh!”

“Sleep Token, guys,” she repeated. “Listen…before we even begin, we have a disclaimer for you horny sluts.”

I licked my lip as I silenced my laughter, looking seriously to the camera. “We do not condone the search for the identity of this band. Let them exist peacefully. If you know who they are, and you comment it on either of our platforms, anywhere, you will be blocked. Be respectful, shut the fuck up, and keep the mystery alive, kay?”

“Kay. Moving on! Sleep Token!”

It was my first time being on Brittany’s podcast. I was honored to have been asked, considering she didn’t often have anyone join her. But, considering I’d introduced her to the band I was currently hyper-fixating on, she needed me to provide my personal testimony. We spent most of the video appreciating their music, pointing out our favorite drum parts, lyrics, and Vessel vocals. Of course, we thirsted over the band, too. Why wouldn’t we have? They were hot as fuck and we were just girls.

And, of course, the video blew up. Her podcast segments normally did, but this one reached new numbers even she could not have predicted. At one point, trending on TikTok was a video of me saying, “I would literally let this man do dirty, nasty, terrible things to me that my mom would disown me for. Things only bitches did in that fucking town of Sodom and Gamora. God would literally come down and rain hellfire over my apartment after I got done with that man.”

I wasn’t necessarily embarrassed by the videos that came out after my clip went viral, but it was a little silly. I just hoped the band didn’t have secret accounts that they stalked fans on. I would never want to know that- but Ijust hoped and prayed it wasn’t sure.

Soon after we posted the video, the band announced a new leg of a North American tour.

And, of course, we spent a shit load of money to get tickets.

The months drug on before it was finally time for the concert.

“Shot?”

Brittany held out the glass vial towards me, a knowing smile- brows raised, round eyes suggestive- egging me on. Not that I needed it- tonight was the perfect night to get trashed. Of course, with Brittany, that was most night’s. When we had filmed for the podcast? Oh, we were smashed.

“Duh, bitch.”

I took it from her hold, wrapped my forearm around hers, and shared a low cheer before taking the shot. Our other friend Sarah Baska, was ordering herself something at the bar. Meanwhile, the liquid burned the back of my throat, sliding down my chest in it’s fiery path. A natural lightweight, I felt warm immediately. It was also just really hot in here.

I then ordered some mixed drink. Sarah got more, harder liquor, as per usual. And, Brittany did another handful of shots for the road. After, we headed for the stairs, giggly and anticipatory. We spent extra money on a private box, both to shake our asses in a spacious area, and to be able to enjoy the concert without being bothered by fans the entire time. It was nice getting photos with them and meeting people who looked up to all of us. But, tonight, it would be nice to just exist as normal people at a normal concert. Besides, we were all here for Sleep Token. I wanted them to get all the worship that they deserved.

Not that this was a normal concert. This was, in any devoted fan’s words, a night of worship to the god of Sleep. This was a ritual. Tonight, I would be shaking my ass extra hard for the little dancing vessel’s on that stage who were so fucking attractive, I could drool.

We found our seats quickly. I was grateful for the space away from the thick, sweaty crowds- it was hot in here, even though I was wearing next to nothing. I really didn’t want my makeup- done heavier than normal thanks to Britt- to run. I did, however, hope that Vessel’s paint would smear a little extra from this heat. That was hot.

We sat down in our seats for a few minutes, gushing about finally being at this ritual. I sipped at my drink, finishing it faster than I thought possible. I tended to drink heavier when my pulse rate was this high. My chest was really warm now, and I enjoyed it. It loosened me up quite a bit. I wasn’t really introverted, but I had anxiety when it came to these situations. Liquid courage was always nice to have.

I shed my jacket on the back of my chair, exposing my midriff and bare arms. It cooled me down a bit. Brittany was rambling on about Vessel and some video she’d saw on TikTok the night before. I went to reply to her, to ask to see the video, when a staff member interrupted us, “Excuse me, ladies-”

We looked up him expectantly. His voice was quiet against the loud chatter of the crowd and the pre-show playlist thumping through the speakers. I leaned in close to him and strained to hear his next words.

“These seats have food and drink service. Would you like anything?” He graciously held out a menu.

We nodded enthusiastically and ordered another round of shots and cocktails. Just as he returned with the tray of drinks, after we occupied ourselves by watching a handful of videos on Brittany’s phone, the lights dimmed for the opener. I tipped the server as I joined the crowd, on my feet, hooting and hollering. We quickly down our shots.

The opener was pretty good. Brittany, Sarah, and I danced along to the songs, clapped when gestured to, and took a few embarrassing pictures for us to regret in the morning. I liked to spin in circles as I danced, rotating my hips to the beat. I made a stank face while doing so, drink raised to the sky like an offering. Brittany and Sarah would hype me up, pretending to swipe stacks of cash over me like rain, leaning into my momentum with hollers. The more I moved, the more the alcohol took over. I was completely lost in the music.

When the opener took a bow, Brittany, Sarah, and I screamed, loudly. Loud enough that the opener noticed us. They waved up to our seats. I jumped up and down, splashing my drink over the railing, on the floor below. I waved wildly. The opener then blew a kiss and I nearly melted. I felt like a little girl at a One Direction concert. It was awesome.

As the crew began tearing down the openers set, and putting together Sleep Token’s, more music streamed through the speakers. The server scurried off to get us more drinks.

Because the opener had noticed us- twice- a few people in the crowd turned to look up at our seats. Now that the overhead lights were back on in the venue, a bunch of fans started calling out our names, waving excitedly. As they did, I Wanna Dance With Somebody started playing and the energy in the venue lifted completely.

I set my drink down in my cup holder, needing both hands to go absolutely feral over the song choice. As the first verse began, I grabbed Brittany’s fingers in my clutch, serenading her through viscous screams. I swayed from foot to foot, hitting each beat with my hips. As Miss Houston sang, “My lonely heart calls…” I grabbed the railing from behind me, leaned myself over it, back arched and head upside down, towards the crowd. Everyone freaked out at the stupid move I did. I was sure to see clips of it in the morning.

Then, the chorus started, and we jumped around like raging lunatics. We clapped our way through the song, entertaining the crowd like we were the real show. Eventually, the crew seemed to be finishing up their work onstage. The music started to fade, the lights dimmed, and the stage lit up with bright blue. I picked my drink back up, screeching my head off as the music started.

I swear to god that the band could hear us screaming from our side of the venue, jumping around like children, holding onto each other like we just might fall over. We were louder than, probably, the rest of the crowd. They started with Chokehold, which made me nearly lose my sanity. Vessel strutted out onto the stage like a literal god, rings shining in the light, blackened skin already slick with sweat. I bounced up and down to every beat, waving my hands with the crowd, spinning in circles, downing my drink like there was no tomorrow. I didn’t focus too much on how good he looked, caught up in the music. But, god, did I know he looked insane.

At one point, Brittany and Sarah turned their phone flash on. They switched between that and taking videos on their phones, giving me all the spotlight. They made it like I was the fucking main character of the concert. And, I loved every second of it.

At one point, the bassist noticed our flashing lights and mini dance circle. He pointed up at us, nodding his head in appreciation. I screamed my head off in response, gripping the railing and whipping my hair. He raised his hands like he had to defend himself from my energy and slunk off to the other side of the stage. Brittany pointed the camera in my face, “How do you feel?!”

“I’m shitting my pants right now!”

The concert went by quickly, too quickly. IV interacted with us a bunch, too, especially after he’d scream his lyrics and we’d go wild. Vessel, unfortunately, avoided our side of the stage. He was so lost in the music which was, honestly, amazing to witness. His silly dances combined with his insane vocals made for a great show.

By the time The Offering started up, Brittany, Sarah, and I were absolutely trashed. I wasn’t too far gone because I was started to sweat out what was in my system. Yet, I was nowhere near sober. Anyways, maybe it was because we were being obnoxious and loud due to our drunken states- Vessel finally noticed us. It was at the beginning of the song, when he sang, “Take a bite…’ It came out like an animalistic growl, chilling the audience.

He pointed his hands towards our balcony, though I’d like to think he was really just pointing at me, and whispered the sultry lyric. I melted to the ground, head thrown back as I yelled. Brittany grabbed my bicep to ensure I wouldn’t fall any further. She and Sarah hoisted me back up. We cackled into each other’s shoulders annoyingly. Then, as the drums picked up, we began moving with the rhythm again.

Before we knew it, the concert was over. Vessel raised his hands in a bow. Then, he looked around the crowd, found our seats again, and shot us a small smile. I took the opportunity to blow him a kiss, enthusiastically throwing it through the air towards him. He grinned in response, looking to his feet as he shook his head, before slinking backstage.

I plopped back down into my seat, already cracking open a water bottle. My chest heaved for air. I didn’t even know how to process anything that had happened. All I knew was, “I need to eat so many fries right now,” I breathed out, sweat slicking my skin. I sipped the water slowly. I could feel myself sobering up more and more. I was a little more conscious, but so damn hungry.

Sarah was talking to some people next to us who she knew. Brittany sat beside me. “Vessel literally wants you,” she said, nonchalantly, like she had read it in that morning’s paper. “Like…holy fuck.”

I cracked a smile and wiped a bead of sweat off of my brow. I checked my reflection in my phone. Luckily, my makeup had stayed intact. I replied with a silly tone, “Don’t even get me excited like that. It’s rude.”

“No, cause, he kept looking up here after The Offering,” Brittany said in a matter of fact manner, again.

“Really?” I sat up in my seat, “No way! I must have been dancing too hard to notice.”

“Oh, you were shaking your ass,” she snickered with a grin.

“Ugh, he’s fucking sexy,” I continued on. We stared at the stage for a moment in one of those silences where neither drunk girl could really formulate any relevant response. Then, I kind of tossed my weary arms around, “Well, doesn’t matter. I bet he, like, doesn’t even date.”

“No, but he def fucks,” Brittany emphasized. We leaned into each other, laughing loudly.

Sarah turned to us at the sound. She plopped down beside me and went to add to our conversation, but the familiar staff member who’d been supplying our drinks was interrupting again. Though, this time, he didn’t have a tray of alcohol.

“Excuse me, ladies,” his favorite phrase. We all looked up at him, curious. He didn’t have to speak so loud, considering the venue was clearing out, so it was easier to hear. Whitney Houston was playing again.

“The band is wondering if you’d like to come backstage for some refreshments?” He asked so casually that it took my brain a moment to process the information.

I managed to play it really cool, but internally, I was basically shitting my pants. Brittany, however, gaped at the worker. She slowly turned her head towards Sarah and I with a wild look in her eyes, seeming like she might scream at any given moment.

Sarah snorted, “What fucking fanfiction did we just get thrown into?!”

“I don’t know, but I fucking love it,” I gushed back, staring at the worker. “What the fuck.” He shrugged back at me.

Sarah shook her head with an amused grin, waving off the worker, “Listen, yall go, have fun. My friends offered to let us go out with them, so I’m gonna split off. I don’t think I could mentally handle meeting them right now. I think I’d, like, puke all over them.”

“But, then you could say that you’ve puked on Sleep Token!” Brittany smacked Sarah’s shoulder, reaching across my body.

“Go!” Sarah shoved back, squishing me further between the two of them. “Go, so you can say that you puked on Sleep Token.”

“Yeah, I fucking will,” I pushed up out of my seat, an eager energy in my bones.

Brittany and I followed the worker down the stairs, clutching each other’s arms. He ushered us through the remaining crowd gently, though we had to stop to take numerous photos- and make the occasional TikTok- with fans. They gushed about our dance moves, our podcast episode. It made everything feel even giddier. We eventually made it up to the stage, where we were guided behind these large black curtains disguising the dimly lit area of the sides.

The crew worked hard on getting everything packed up, put away. We skirted between all of them, trying not to get in the way of it all. I kept checking my reflection in my phone’s front camera to ensure I looked okay. Most of the sweat had soaked itself up and my perfume was long lasting. Hopefully that was enough to rizz up Vessel. Not that I was counting on that. It would be awesome, but I was actually excited to have a conversation with all of them. I would soon learn that was not what he wanted from me tonight.

We went down another set of stairs and stopped before a closed door. Behind it, we could hear music playing over a speaker, a few sets of voices cheering and chattering. The worker knocked, kindly, and the voices cut themselves off.

“Come in!” A thick British accent called out.

I took a deep, drunken breath as the worker turned the door knob. And, my stomach dropped when he pulled open the door.

Sleep Token sat, lounged out across their dressing room, on various couches. They wore those familiar masks, their stage costumes- save for a few layers- and clutched some drinks in their blackened hands. My eyes found Vessel last, who was leaning against the counter of the vanity, a drink sat beside his left hand. He had shed his cloak, so visible to us was his paint-smeared chest and back. I tried not to let my eyes wander too much- but they did.

III stood from the couch, excitedly dancing his way over to the door where we stood. The worker abandoned us. “‘Ello, darlings!” III called out.

He hugged Brittany first, bent down because of his insane height. As he did, I couldn’t rip my eyes from the slits of Vessel’s mask. I somehow knew that he was staring at me- probably because his distant gaze burned my skin. Then, III was pulling me into his chest, “It’s so lovely to meet you…”

“Brittany,” she gestured to herself, then to me, “Y/n. Dude, thanks so fucking much for having us! We had an absolute blast. Your performance is just- wow!”

IV and II approached us next, as III pulled us a bit further into the room. III busied himself with pouring us each a drink as we introduced ourselves to IV and II.

“We’re so glad you had a good time worshiping,” IV cracked, hugging Brittany, “makes it all the more worth it.”

I grinned at his words as he embraced me, too, still occasionally glancing at Vessel. II added on, “Sure you’re exhausted from all that dancing. Have a seat.”

III wrapped an arm around Brittany’s shoulder, passing a drink to her hand, as he brought her onto the couch beside him. IV and II moved to stt back where they had been, probably assuming I was following. I clutched nervously to the drink III had given me. I may be drunk, but not drunk enough to not act stupid in front of men I wanted to fuck. The nerves were crashing down me instead, making me stoic, overthinking my own breathin.

I looked back at Vessel, again, who had been quiet thus far. He held out a hand, an offer for me to come sit beside him. I hesitated, for just a moment, before taking it. His fingers were warm, even his rings, and I noticed that black paint smudged itself across my skin as I took my hand from his. I leaned up against the counter beside him as I admired the paint.

III, IV, and II struck up a lively conversation with Brittany, full of teases and easy topics. I watched until I felt that burning stare on the side of my face again. I looked up at Vessel, a small smile forming across my lips. He returned the expression.

“Lovely to meet you, Y/n,” his voice was just as deep as his singing tone. It sent a shiver down my spine.

I shifted on my feet, glanced around, before returning his gaze again. “You, too, Vessel,” I took a sip of the drink in my hand.

He chuckled down at me. My knees rocked. “So…you like Whitney Houston, yeah?.”

My face turned beat red at the realization that he had seen a lot more than I hoped. I pressed a hand over my face, groaning, “Oh, god. You saw that?”

Vessel brushed his shoulder against mine. More paint took it’s place there in my skin. “I saw everything.”

I crinkled my nose, “Ugh, that was just…I don’t claim to be a good dancer, just so you know.”

Vessel shrugged, “I beg to differ.”

Shaking my head at his words, I waved him off, “Don’t even…I just, like, throw myself around like a fucking rag doll.”

“No,” he drug out the word, deep voice reverberating in my chest, “no, you have some rhythm in those hips.” His head tilted down as he eyed my body.

There was a beat of silence that passed between us. I examined his mask. I think I knew then that I wouldn’t be leaving until this man fucked me senseless, but my foggy, drunken brain thought still that maybe I was just being delusional.

It wasn’t until he opened his mouth, again, that I was certain. He drug his tongue over his bottom lip, as though he was searching for the right words to say. My eyes followed the wet, pink organ with a blank stare.

Vessel thought for another moment before leaning his mouth down towards my ear. He pressed his hand against my hip, fingers curling around my bare skin exposed there. His breath was hot against the side of my neck, though I shivered again. “I want to see how those hips would move on me.”

I flushed, bright red again, the alcohol making the heat on my blotchy skin worse. Vessel pulled away, a smirk ever-present on those pink lips, black staining the outer edges. It took all of my self control not to lick it clean, right then and there. I wanted him- needed him. And, he knew it.

Vessel searched my eyes with that curl in his lips. I was unable to come up with a proper response. But, I think he found what he was looking for in my dilated pupils and rising chest. “Be a good girl for me? Yeah?”

Vessel offered up his hand again. I entwined my fingers in his, my own smile finally finding its place on my mouth. Vessel took my cup and chugged it, tossed it into the trash, and led us from the room.

I followed like a puppy-dog, hot on his heels. He guided me so carefully, looking back occasionally to ensure I was okay. Then, he threw open a door at the end of the hallway we traveled down. It was dark in the room, with only a small lamp in the corner to illuminate our hushed desperations. Vessel locked the door behind us after he ushered me inside. He spun me around and forced himself against my chest, pressing my back against the door. It knocked the wind right out of me. My chest rose and fell as I took rapid, deep breaths. Vessel held me by my hip, again, thumb brushing against my bare skin gently.

“Is this okay?” He whispered as he brought a hand to my face, cupping my cheek.

I barely nodded, entranced by the stare coming from behind his mask. I had enough focus to touch my hands to his chest, though, running my fingers up and down his toned stomach. The paint smeared beneath my knuckles, revealing more of his pale skin. I watched it mix with our sweat with hopeless admiration in my gaze.

Vessel looked down at my hands, too, a smirk still present on his face. But, then he forced my chin up, so my eyes were on his mask, and said, “Use your words, darling.”

“Y-yes,” I shuddered, voice breathless.

Vessel pressed me harder against the door as our lips met, tongues clashing against teeth, hungrily. We moved together so easily, entranced by the other’s taste. I gripped at his sides, pulling me into him, arching my back to press my chest against his. Vessel’s hold tightened, too, and he ground my hips against his.

I felt him get hard, quickly, the loose material of his pants allowing his erection to fully grind against my thigh. He was whiney, all gasping breaths, low moans, as I drug my fingers down his chest, dipped them through his waistband. I nearly got to feel him, but Vessel grabbed my hand harshly in his, slamming it up against the door, above my head. My eyes shot back open in surprise. I don’t remember closing them.

“S’all about you right now, darling,” he demanded, words against my lips.

Vessel shoved his head into the crevice of my neck, nipping and tonguing at my flesh. My eyes dropped shut again, head hitting the door in a way that would probably hurt tomorrow. I had a feeling all of me would hurt tomorrow. But, I didn’t care.

Vessel drug his fingers up my arms, leaving goosebumps in his path, trails of black paint like a roadmap amongst my freckles. He slid the straps of my dress down past my shoulders. Then, he kissed his way down to the arch of my breasts. He rolled the material between his teeth and sunk to the floor as he drugged it down my body. Vessel was on his knees below me.

Vessel looped an arm around either of my thighs, nearly pulling my entire weight onto his shoulders. I clutched onto the top of his head, feeling some of his hair slip out from the cap he wore beneath his mask. It was soft, though just a bit sweaty. He glanced up at my bare breasts, smirking devilishly now

He admired my face as he said, “I watched you worship me all night. It’s my turn to pray at your altar.” STOPPED HERE.

My head hit the door again as Vessel sunk his tongue into me. He had managed to tear my underwear down with his teeth and they were now laying across the room. I ground my hips into his face, back arching each time his nose would then rub against my sweet spot. I tried to be quiet at first, though small gasps and moans slipped from my bitten lips.

But, then, Vessel stopped, eliciting a whine from me. He chuckled, lips slick from me. He darted his tongue out, smirking as he cleaned his mouth. He tilted his head in disappointment, “You were so loud for me earlier, darling. What happened to that good girl? I want to hear how good I am making you feel.”

I nodded, dazed, brows furrowed, fingers digging at his hair. The cap had fallen off his head at this point, but the mask managed to stay on. I was grateful it did. The mystery alive energized both of our primal desires..

Vessel watched my face as he pressed his tongue back up into me, running the tip of it down my entire core. I moaned, loudly, back arched into the cold air, nipples hard from the temperature and arousal.

He chuckled into me, making my thighs shake around his head. Vessel pried me back open with his fingers bruising my skin. He continued on until I was close. I vocalized my point of no return, and he hurriedly spoke, “Don’t. Be a good girl and wait. For me, okay?”

I nodded wildly, clenching my stomach to deny myself of the orgasm. Vessel gently set my feet back on the ground. He guided me by the hips towards a counter. Easily, he picked me up and set me on it. It was freezing cold against my bare skin, but his warm hands, tongue, were on me soon enough. I took the opportunity to unlatch his belt, fingers moving hurriedly. Vessel moved to help me, tugging the pants down his thighs.

Vessel then pushed me back from him, taking control again. He pushed my legs open further with his bare knee. Then, he grabbed me by the hips and tugged me down till my back was flat against the counter. His hand splayed across my thigh as he pushed himself inside of me.

He was sloppy, quick in desperation as he fucked me. But, every thrust he pushed into me was strong, deep. Vessel wrapped my legs around his waist, securing me by the hip. His other hand drug itself up my chest until his fingers were wrapped around my throat. Black paint smeared most of my skin. There was even a ring around his mouth where the paint had transferred from his skin to my own. I don’t know how we would manage to keep this rendezvous a secret from everyone else with the state we were both in. But, right now, I couldn’t care.

Vessel leaned himself overtop of me, his forehead against my chest. Though, he was dominating me, he was so caught up in the pleasure that he was starting to quickly come undone. I touched his back, nails digging into his skin. He tossed his head back at the sensation, neck exposed to me. I eyed the veins protruding from his skin.

He smirked at me when he noticed I was staring at his neck. He growled, “Take a bite.”

I held one hand, tightly, to his shoulder, keeping him steady as he fucked me. But, I gripped the back of his head with the other. I was slow at first, nipping at his neck gently. Vessel’s thrusts were becoming sloppy with each bite I took. I was close, too. So, I opened my jaw further, taking a pinch of his skin between my upper and lower canines. I bit down, hard.

“Fuck!”

He quickly pulled out and came on my stomach. As he did, I felt myself come undone. Vessel pressed his forehead against mine as we rode out our high. We came down from the top and he gave me a sloppy kiss.

There was a bitter cold left on my skin as he stepped back. I hugged myself, finally taking in the black paint covering my skin. “Oh, god,” I laughed.

Vessel pulled his pants up. He looked at my body, grinning, “Fuck. That’s so hot. Darling, if we had more time…”

“I know,” I smiled up at him.

“Here, there’s a bathroom over here,” Vessel spoke as he finished buckling his belt. He offered me his hand.

I followed him into the side room. He found a washcloth on the side of the sink, clean and unused, and wet it with warm water. Vessel gently pried my hands from covering my body and busied himself with wiping down my skin. He focused on what would be visible: My arms, neck, hands, face. I watched him while he worked. It was fucking hot when he was dominating, disgustingly dirty. But, this, this caring demeanor? I’d fuck him again in a heartbeat.

When he was finished, he rounded up my dress, shoes, and underwear. He turned away, without a question, while I dressed. I was no longer nervous, so I wouldn’t have minded if he watched. But, he was respectful.

“Okay,” I breathed out, pulling my final dress strap back up and over my shoulder.

Vessel faced me. I was finally able to take in his face and had to cover my mouth to stifle my laughter. He frowned, slightly, confused by my laughter. “What? What is it?”

I touched his shoulders, forcing him to face the mirror. His head pulled back in shock at his appearance.

I kept laughing and Vessel peered down at me with a tilted head. “Keep laughing, darling.”

“I’m sorry,” I shrugged, “it’s fo fucking funny.”

“What’s funny?”

I yelped, trying to duck out of the way as he jolted towards me. He caught me by the waist, rattling me around in his hold. I giggled, loudly against his chest, trying to twist out of his hold. His mouth was near my ear as he teased me, “Not so funny now, huh?”

I rested my forehead to his shoulder in my fit of laughter. Vessel calmed his movements, just holding me against him now. “It just goes to show the mess you make out of me,” he murmured against my ear, lips pressed to the shell.

I looked up at him and pointed a warning finger, “Don’t do that.”

“I know,” he huffed as he tossed his head back in frustration. “We should be getting back.”

“Sadly,” I wrapped my arms around his neck.

He admired my face for a few moments, silent, until he smiled softly, “Can I get your number?”

“Maybe,” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know, I kind of like to just fuck and dump, ya know?”

“I won’t let you do that, darling,” his voice dropped low again.

“Okay, you’ve gotta stop doing that or I’m never going home.”

Vessel cupped my cheek in his hand, nearly void of paint, “I’d be okay with that.”

“I’m gonna walk away now.”

Vessel didn’t let go, however, as I made a move to step towards the bathroom door. In fact, he held me tighter. He pressed another kiss to my lips. “Can’t go anywhere looking that, darling,” he twisted me around to face the mirror, long arms cradling my waist.

I reached for the washcloth and wiped off my face. I faced him again and cleaned up his mouth, just enough so that it wasn’t completely obvious he’d eaten me out. We spent another moment teasing each other, eliciting more giggles from my throat. But, we figured we should get back.

So, he took my hand again and led us back down the hallway. I flushed red as soon as the door was pulled open, considering the entire band and Brittany snapped their heads towards us.

“Way to leave your sister!” Brittany exclaimed, holding up a cup of what could only be whiskey. “Dude, you’re missing out on some insane stories right now. Come, sit.” She patted the couch next to her.

I glanced up at Vessel as I took my hand from his. II, IV, and III greeted me with kind eyes and small greetings. “Hey, sorry,” I said as I plopped onto the couch. “He was just showing me the, uh…”

We hadn’t come up with an excuse. So, my words fell off my tongue with no resolution. Vessel shoved his hands in his pockets, quickly stuttering out, “Backstage. Just the backstage area. She wanted to see how everything works.”

Brittany nodded, oblivious to the elephant in the room. “Dope. You’ll have to show me next.”

“We can do a group tour,” IV offered.

Everyone agreed, enthusiastically, and we all stood to pile out the door. III and I were the last ones seated. I met his dark eyes, smiling kindly at him. His gaze dropped to my thighs, brows raising beneath his mask suggestively.

I followed his eyes down. Where my dress had ridden up my thighs was a long line of smeared paint, not to mention reddened hickies that were starting to sprout up. I pressed my lips together and quickly tugged the material down over my legs.

III patted my knee as he stood, “You were the one going crazy during The Offering, love.”

I gaped after him as his words lingered in the air before me. Vessel stood just beside the door, awaiting my presence. As III passed by him, he took Vessel by the chin and tilted his head.

He tsked at the bruising bite mark on Vessel’s neck. I shoved my face into my hands, face beyond burned.

III whispered, “Take a bite.”

It wasn’t until a few days later, when Brittany and I were hanging out, looking through concert videos with nostalgia, that she found out. I was nervous to tell her. Besides, Vessel and I were starting to see each other, so I didn’t want to expose his private life too much. I trusted her, but I just overthought it all. Apparently, though, I hadn’t enough overthinking.

I had just made a post on Instagram, making the photo we took with the band the cover photo for a dump. It blew up immediately. Brittany and I were reading comments as they came in, dying of laughter at some of the shit people were saying.

“No, hand placement is so real!” Brittany exclaimed. She shoved her phone in my face, showing me the zoom-in of Vessel’s hand on my hip. I blushed and shoved it away. She kept scrolling.

“Wait,” her voice trailed off.

I glanced at her and watched as her brows furrowed. She tapped around, zoomed in a bunch, scrolled through comments. I looked back to my phone just as a new comment began blowing up with responses and likes.

User- so is no one gonna talk about vessel’s paint on y/n’s thigh and her very obvious sex hair?

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

#sleep token!vessel x reader #sleep token x you #sleep token x reader #sleep token #sleep token smut #brittany broski

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stnkiconverse · 11 months ago

Text

you're going to do it, and you're getting away with it. you know that.

Ch.2 - The Plan

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genre: psychological horror (in a way), creepypasta, supernatural thriller (in a way)

pairing: none. (yet ;) )

WC: 1.8k

content warnings: echoes in the static contains scenes and themes that may be disturbing or triggering to some readers, including: graphic violence and murder, mental illness and psychological distress, suicide and self-harm, domestic abuse and strong language.

Reader discretion is advised.

Yes this has to do with Greepypastas. Yes, Creepypastas will pop up and make appearances, it's basically a reader insert into the Creepypasta word.

do not repost my work anywhere, I only post in Tumblr.

The memories of what Frank put your mother through came rushing back immediately after the funeral, as you watched him kiss another woman and drive away without a shred of remorse. The image burned into your mind, solidifying your decision. This man, who had driven your mother to despair and death, could not be allowed to continue living his life unpunished. You would make sure of that.

Back at your apartment, you sat in the dark, the glow from your laptop screen illuminating your determined face. Research became your life. For days, you delved into the dark corners of the internet, reading about unsolved murders, the meticulous plans of serial killers who evaded capture, and the critical mistakes that led to others getting caught. You learned about creating believable alibis, the best ways to dispose of a body, and methods to make remains unrecognizable. Each article, each video, was a piece of the puzzle, slowly forming the picture of your plan.

Your notebook filled with scribbles and diagrams, each page more detailed than the last. You mapped out potential scenarios, rehearsed alibis in your mind, and memorized procedures to avoid leaving any evidence behind. You even went so far as to research the forensic techniques used by police, understanding what they looked for and how to avoid detection. The perfect murder took time and patience, you reminded yourself. This was not something to rush.

---

Taking cash out of your bank account bit by bit was the first step. You knew that large withdrawals might raise suspicions, so you took only small amounts, ensuring that no one would notice. This money would be used to buy everything you needed without leaving a trail. The cashier at the hardware store didn’t look twice as you paid in cash for gloves, bleach, a lighter, a shovel and a glass knife. Each purchase was a step closer to your goal.

You carefully selected each item. A wig to change your appearance, contact lenses to alter your eye color, bigger clothes to hide your frame, men's shoes that were at least two sizes larger than your own, gloves to avoid fingerprints, two bottles of bleach, a glass knife, a lighter, a shovel and an axe. Each item had a purpose, each step a piece of the puzzle. You made sure to purchase the items from different stores and at different times, never raising suspicion.

The last item was a concert ticket, purchased with a credit card, deliberately leaving a digital footprint. This ticket was your alibi, an essential part of your plan. You chose a local concert for the night you planned to kill Frank. On the day, you would post about it on all your social media accounts, labeling it as ‘a personal day out.’ The ticket and posts would place you far from the scene of the crime, or so you hoped.

---

You began quietly stalking Frank, a shadow in the background of his life. At first, you followed him from a distance, memorizing his work schedule and noting his habits. Frank was predictable, his routines almost painfully mundane. You observed him at the house where your mother had died, watching for times when his new girlfriend wasn’t around. Those were the days you would strike. You noted the time he left for work, the days he stayed late at the station, and the evenings he spent alone at home. Your observations were meticulous, each detail recorded in your notebook.

You were careful to avoid being seen. You parked your car several blocks away and walked the rest of the distance, keeping to the shadows. You dressed in inconspicuous clothes, blending in with the surroundings. On more than one occasion, you felt the thrill of fear as Frank glanced your way, but he never seemed to notice you. The adrenaline was addictive, fueling your resolve.

Your determination was unwavering, though it took a toll on you. About twice a week, you found yourself breaking down, overcome by grief and the weight of what you were planning. The memories of your mother, her laughter, her kindness, and her pain haunted you. But each time you remembered the cold, uncaring look in Frank’s eyes, the way he had dismissed her death as if it meant nothing, your resolve hardened. This was for her. You had to do it.

---

In the flower shop, you tried to maintain a facade of normalcy. Lisa and the regular customers could tell something was off, but you brushed off their concerns with forced smiles and excuses about stress and exhaustion. You were not your usual self, and it was impossible to hide it completely, but you hoped it was enough to avoid suspicion. You continued your work, arranging flowers and helping customers, but your mind was always elsewhere, consumed by your plans.

Lisa, ever the observant friend, approached you one afternoon as you were preparing a bouquet. "Y/N, are you okay? You seem a bit... distant lately," she said, her voice full of concern.

You forced a smile, placing a vibrant red rose into the arrangement. "I'm fine, Lisa. Just a lot on my mind. It's been a rough few weeks, you know?"

She nodded sympathetically. "I understand. If you ever need to talk, I'm here for you."

"Thanks," you replied, grateful for her concern but unable to confide in her. The less she knew, the better.

---

The plan was to kill Frank in his own house, the place that had been a prison for your mother. The idea of ending his life there felt fitting, poetic in a dark way. You imagined the final moments, the look of surprise and fear on his face, and the sense of justice it would bring. The phrase “You only have one chance” repeated in your head whenever you thought about it. There could be no mistakes.

You didn't perform any trial runs, convinced that everything would go perfectly. You were thorough in your planning, confident in your ability to execute it flawlessly. The phrase "You only have one chance" was a constant reminder of the stakes. The pressure was immense, but you believed in your plan and your ability to carry it out.

---

As the day of the murder approached, you made final preparations. You accepted that you wouldn’t be the same after this, but it was a price you were willing to pay. For your mother, you would sacrifice your own peace, your own soul, if necessary.

On the day, you would wear the wig and contacts, change into the larger clothes, and don the men’s shoes and gloves. You would carry the glass knife and the axe, tools of retribution. You would ensure Frank was alone, and then you would strike.

---

The concert ticket was in your pocket, a reminder of your carefully crafted alibi. You would post about the concert on social media throughout the day, creating a digital trail that would place you miles away from the scene of the crime. It was a simple yet effective plan, and you felt a strange sense of calm as the day approached.

That morning, you woke up earlier than usual, the weight of your mission pressing down on you. You looked at the mirror, your reflection almost unrecognizable. You had not slept well in weeks, and the dark circles under your eyes were a testament to the nights spent planning and grieving. You practiced your expressions, ensuring you could smile and seem genuinely excited about the concert when posting on social media.

You spent the morning going through the motions at Petals and Posies, trying to keep your mind off the evening's events. Lisa chatted with you about mundane things, the latest neighborhood gossip, and the plans she had for the weekend. You listened, nodding and responding appropriately, but your mind was far away, replaying the plan over and over.

---

As the afternoon wore on, you began to prepare. You double-checked your bag, ensuring everything was in place. The wig, contacts, oversized clothes, men's shoes, gloves, glass knife, axe, lighter and bleach – each item was checked and rechecked. You couldn’t afford to forget anything.

Your hands trembled slightly as you donned the disguise. The wig fit snugly, changing your appearance dramatically. The contact lenses felt strange at first, but you quickly adjusted. You looked in the mirror, seeing a stranger staring back. Perfect.

You then continued you contour your face to the point where there was absolutely no trace of you.

You left your apartment, making sure to post a photo of the concert ticket on social media with the caption "A personal day out. Time to enjoy some music and relax!" Your friends and few followers liked and commented, wishing you a fun time. It was surreal, knowing what you were about to do while presenting a façade of normalcy to the world.

---

Arriving at Frank's neighborhood, after having walked to it, there was adrenaline already making itself present. The men's shoes were heavy and uncomfortable, but they served their purpose, making your footprints untraceable. You moved silently and quickly, your heart pounding in your chest as you approached the house.

The house was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning unit. You slipped around to the back, using the spare key you had taken from your mother’s belongings to let yourself in. The familiar scent of the house hit you, a mix of stale air and Frank's cologne. Memories flooded your mind, but you pushed them aside. This was not the time for sentimentality.

You moved through the house, your senses heightened. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of fabric seemed amplified. You made your way to the kitchen, where you knew Frank kept a spare bottle of whiskey. If he was drinking, it would be easier to catch him off guard.

The sound of the front door opening made you freeze. Frank was home. You listened intently, hearing the clink of his keys as he tossed them on the table, followed by the familiar sound of his heavy footsteps. He was heading to the living room.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. This was it. The moment you had been planning for weeks. You felt a surge of adrenaline, your body ready for what was to come. The phrase "You only have one chance" echoed in your mind, a reminder of the stakes.

---

You peeked around the corner, seeing Frank settle into his recliner, a bottle of whiskey in hand. His eyes were closed, and he looked relaxed, oblivious to the danger lurking in his home. You tightened your grip on the glass knife, the cool weight of it grounding you.

Silently, you moved closer, your heart pounding in your chest. You could hear your own breathing, shallow and quick. The distance between you and Frank closed with every step, each one bringing you closer to your goal. Your mother’s face flashed in your mind, her smile, her laughter, her pain. This was for her.

As you stood over him, you hesitated for a brief moment, the enormity of what you were about to do hitting you. But then you remembered the bruises, the fear in your mother’s eyes, the indifference in Frank’s. Your resolve hardened.

You moved both of your hands towards Frank, the urge to immediately kill him being immense, but no. You’re gonna make him suffer, even if it’s just for a bit.

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#creepypasta #fandom #slenderman #slender mansion #creepypasta fic #creepypasta x reader #new fic #horror #psychological horror #supernatural #supernatural thriller #jramblesaboutsoap #j’s fics!

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