#and stack it with every possible combination i think

[wisteriagoesvroom]

foaming at the mouth for that maxoscar fic already. 🧎‍♀️thank you for doing the lord's work

i-- thank you. been in such a weird headspace these past few weeks, i hope you enjoy the cake. (more cake theory and all that)

the fic = alter ego, for those curious

[starksweasley]

Chase // Poly!Marauders

Summary: You steal something that belongs to your boyfriends and they chase you all around the castle

Word Count: 1575

It starts with a brilliant, impulsive mistake. You don’t even know why you did it—what possible logic possessed you to snatch the newly minted Marauder’s Map from James Potter’s nightstand and bolt. Perhaps it was Sirius egging you on with that mischievous smirk or the challenge written all over James’s face.

And now here you are, weaving through the crowded halls of Hogwarts, the stolen map crumpled and warm in your palm. Behind you, James’s shout echoes like thunder. “Come back here, you little thief! That’s my map!”

“You’re dead when I catch you!” Sirius’s bark of laughter follows close behind, and you can almost feel his fingers reaching for the back of your robes.

You’re laughing too, exhilaration buzzing through your veins. Students leap out of your way as you dash past, skirts and robes flying. You narrowly avoid colliding with a startled Lily Evans, who’s juggling a pile of what seem like abhorrently long essays.

“What are you doing?” she demands, her green eyes wide.

“Improving my cardio,” you toss over your shoulder, breathless.

“You’re insufferable!” Lily shouts after you, but her voice is obviously tinged with a smile.

Further down the corridor, Severus Snape’s sneer materializes in your peripheral vision. He steps deliberately into your path, wand in hand. You manage to dodge his attempt to trip you with a well-placed foot, but not without a cheeky “Nice try, Snivellus!” over your shoulder. The indignation on his face is almost worth the trouble you’re in.

“Move, Snape! Don’t touch my girl,” James bellows, darting past the greasy-haired Slytherin without a second glance, his protective tone cutting through the corridor like a whip.

Turning a sharp corner, you spot your other boyfriend—Remus Lupin. He’s walking toward you, arms full of books, his expression placid as though he’s entirely detached from the chaos that is your life. Without thinking, you launch the stolen map toward him. It lands squarely on the stack of books in his arms.

“Hold this!” you yell before sprinting past.

“What—?” Remus blinks down at the unexpected burden. Then, James and Sirius leap around the corner, wild-eyed and determined.

“Moony, give it here!” James demands, his hand outstretched, eyes blazing.

“What is going on?” Remus manages to ask just before Sirius barrels into him with all the grace of a wrecking ball. They tumble to the ground in a heap, books scattering in every direction as Sirius sprawls over him with a groan.

“Merlin’s beard, Padfoot, what the hell?” Remus splutters, trying to shove Sirius off him.

“Sorry, Moony, emergency!” Sirius grins down at him, entirely unbothered by their undignified pile on the floor.

James skids to a halt beside them, pointing an accusatory finger. “She nicked the map before we finished it! And she’s getting away!”

Remus blinks, realization dawning. “That little minx." He shifts his gaze to the hallway where you disappeared, a glint in his eye. "She’s cleverer than the two of you combined."

"Rude!" Sirius retorts, brushing imaginary dust off his robes. "You’re supposed to be on our side, Moony. She’s making us look bad."

Remus snorts. "You don’t need her help for that, Padfoot."

“Exactly!” James exclaims, grabbing Sirius’s arm to haul him upright.

“Come on, Moony,” Sirius adds, offering Remus a hand. “We’re not letting her get away with this.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Remus accepts the help, dusting himself off. “I should have known better than to walk peacefully through the castle with you lot running around. Lead the way, gentlemen.”

And just like that, all three boys are after you like a stampede.

You zigzag through the castle, laughter spilling from your lips. It’s a ridiculous, joyous game of cat and mouse. James nearly grabs your arm in the Charms corridor but trips over a trick step. Sirius is close enough to tug at the hem of your robes in the Great Hall, but you wriggle away. Even Remus, calm and methodical, cannot quite match your adrenaline-fueled determination to evade capture.

As you race through the library, Madam Pince’s shriek of “No running in here!” echoes behind you. You throw an apologetic wave over your shoulder, narrowly avoiding a stack of books teetering precariously near the Restricted Section.

Finally, the chase spills out onto the sun-drenched lawn. You’re panting, the blood rushing through your head turning your cheeks a bright pink. But it’s three against one, and you’re cornered. Sirius blocks your escape to the left, James is on your right, and Remus stands solidly between you and the castle.

“You have to surrender now," James pants, a victorious grin spreading across his face. "Face it, love, you’re no match for us three."

"Three brains and still no chance," you fire back, panting as your grin dares them to close the gap. "That’s just embarrassing for you lot."

You're clutching at a stitch in your side when James lunges, catching you around the waist. You shriek and flail, laughter bubbling uncontrollably. Before you know it, he’s hoisted you into the air.

“You’re going for a swim,” he announces with mock solemnity.

“Don’t you dare, James Potter!” you cry, still laughing.

But he dares. Oh, he dares. With a triumphant yell, he swings you toward the lake and lets go. The cold water swallows you whole, and when you surface, sputtering and gasping, the boys are doubled over in laughter on the shore.

“You lot are the worst!” you declare, dragging yourself toward the bank. Sirius crouches and offers a hand, but his grin is wide and unapologetic.

“Truce?” he asks.

You’re not above a little revenge. Grabbing his hand, you yank with all your strength, sending him sprawling into the lake beside you. His outraged squawk is music to your ears.

“You’re absolutely insane,” Remus remarks from the shore, though his lips twitch with a suppressed smile. "But I suppose that’s why we keep you around."

James is clutching his sides, tears of laughter streaming down his cheeks. "Merlin, you’re a menace," he manages between gasps, pointing at you like it’s the funniest thing he’s seen all year. "And now Sirius smells like wet dog."

“Oi! Rude,” Sirius protests, slicking his wet hair back with both hands as he glares half-heartedly. "You’re next, Potter, so wipe that grin off your face."

“You wish," James retorts, stepping out of Sirius’s reach with exaggerated caution.

As Sirius resurfaces again, spluttering and cursing, you lean back in the water, wiping droplets from your eyes. "I’m the innocent victim here," you declare with mock indignation. "You three are clearly conspiring against me."

"Innocent, my foot," Remus says dryly, but there’s warmth in his voice as he kneels at the edge of the lake. "Come on, troublemaker. You’re going to catch a cold."

You eye his outstretched hand with suspicion. "Promise you won’t drop me back in?"

Remus chuckles. "Scout’s honor."

As you grab his hand and let him help you out, Sirius lunges forward with a wicked grin. "No one’s safe, Moony!"

And with that, he shoves you both back into the water, splashing James who's doubled over in fresh hysterics. Spluttering, you surface again, glaring daggers at Sirius. "You’re all really the worst!"

James, still laughing, finally steps into the lake with a theatrical groan. "Well, now I’m wet anyway. Might as well join in."

Before you can react, he’s diving in with a splash that soaks you further. The moment he surfaces, you pounce, clambering onto his shoulders with a triumphant giggle.

"That’s it! You’re doomed now, Prongs," you declare, wrapping your arms around his head in mock victory. He steadies himself under your weight, looking up slightly to glance up at you.

"Doomed, am I?" he chuckles. "Careful, Menace. You’re about one move away from being launched again."

You lean down, pressing a sloppy kiss to the side of his head, catching wet strands of his hair against your lips. "This is for being the sweetest idiot I’ve ever met," you tease, ruffling his already messy hair.

James flushes, but his grin remains intact. "Sweetest idiot? That’s almost a compliment, love."

"Don’t let it go to your head," you reply, laughing as he spins around, causing water to spray everywhere.

From the shore, Remus shakes his head, calling out, "If you two keep this up, we’ll need to fish you out by sunset."

Sirius smirks, now lounging lazily at the water’s edge. "I’ll fetch the fishing pole, Moony. Let’s reel in our Menace and her besotted knight."

James rolls his eyes dramatically, hoisting you higher on his shoulders. "Don’t listen to them. They’re just jealous they’re not as fun as us."

"You’re delusional, Prongs. They’re plotting your downfall right now."

Remus crosses his arms, his lips twitching with amusement. "Oh, she’s not wrong. If Sirius keeps scheming, you’re going to end up face-first in the lake tomorrow too."

"Don’t tempt me!" Sirius shouts, already pushing himself to his feet. "You know I can’t resist."

As he slowly steps into the water, James lets out a dramatic sigh. "Padfoot, I’m warning you. One wrong move, and you’ll regret it."

"Promises, promises," Sirius quips, wading closer. His grin widens, but before he can act, you splash him directly in the face, sending him stumbling back.

Laughter erupts from everyone, the sound carrying across the lake. You tilt your head back, smiling as James’s warm laugh rumbles beneath you. Moments like these, with your chaotic, wonderful boyfriends, make every stolen map and wild chase worth it.

[absolutedestinyapocalypsse]

the thing getting at me the most after finishing my second read through is john's desperate fear of consequences combined with the ability to wipe people's memories about it. like he accepts that there's conflict between the lyctors, but he doesn't want to/cant comprehend that anyone would have a grudge against HIM. he justifies cytherea's actions as her being overworked, not her having a very real reason to want to stop more lyctors from being born. his fear of consequences is also a fear of change. he's desperately clinging to who his friends were ten thousand years ago, and i think it's entirely possible that he's so desperate he would cut parts of them out that were changing/disagreeing with him. he already demonstrates complete willingness to violate their boundaries and erase their memories "for their own good". He thinks people can and should be fixed- he's frustrated that mercymorn won't let him "fix" her anxiety, he tells them to kill harrowhark or "fix" her. If he has the ability to erase people's memories to avoid anyone being mad at him/stopping his plans, to "fix" the parts of them that were unfaithful or might hurt them, in his eyes, I don't trust that he wouldn't.

imagine how many times over ten thousand years the last straw was pulled and one of the lyctors got fed up with him, or he got fed up with them. imagine how many times over ten thousand years one of the lyctors tried to talk him out of something or objected to some genocide or another, and he found their objection inconvenient. part of the horror of harrow's experience on the mithraeum comes from the fact that she is both in actual danger that nobody is recognizing, AND that she can't remember or trust her own perception of events. Is she hallucinating? is it the ghost? what reason would anyone have to believe her, if she can't even believe herself?

maybe that's the horror of every lyctor- never being sure if you're being manipulated in the normal gaslighty "don't leave me or i'll kill myself and also kill the sun" way, or in the brain tampering way. knowing and feeling a sense of fealty and love and faith in john, and never knowing if it's coming from you, or from some brain magic. Harrow doesn't remember gideon, but there are LOTS of signs that something is very wrong, that something is missing. Imagine how many of those would stack up over TEN THOUSAND YEARS

[jamminvroomvroom]

4k celebration

congrats on 4k love - your writing is absolutely worth all of the hype and even more!!! i adore your work and so look forward to even more people discovering it.

i was hoping to request a lewis fic?? i’m such a slut for a good enemies to lovers situation, so maybe along the lines of reader is a fair bit younger than lewis, but there’s been all of this tension btwn them and it all boils over one night (smuttyyyyy) 🥴

we made up.

LH x fem!rival reader - 4k celebration

in which you can never just bite your tongue

eeeeek i love this request! thank u sm anon for ur sweet words, ur so lovely i hope i’ve done this justice for you! writing for lewis terrified me so this might not be my best work but we move! more lewis requests to come, let me know what you think <3

songs to set the mood: stargirl interlude by the weekend & lana del rey

warnings: 18+!! minors go away!! smut, swearing, degradation, praise, dom!lewis, some switch!reader, implied age gap, slightly inexperienced reader, enemies to lovers, blink n you’ll miss it size kink

2.6k words

you hide admiration with a scowl, curling into yourself, as far away as you can get from him. the couch seems to get smaller and smaller with every overly intelligent, carefully thought out word he says. each sentence seems to be coated in a thick layer of i don’t give a fuck. you don’t know how he’s so good a toeing the line.

after six years in f1, you still couldn’t work out why you didn’t like lewis hamilton.

maybe it was his cool confidence, the way he never lacked composure, while you were called an unhinged, delusional woman by every incel on twitter for so much as breathing. maybe it was his sky high stack of trophies, championships, podiums, wins. you weren’t even halfway close to touching his records. maybe it was the way he was diabolically, inhumanly gorgeous, a truly breathtaking creature. you paled in every single way compared to lewis, so how could you even begin to like him?

it was silly, really, pathetic even, feeling such childish disdain just because he was better than you. he was older, more refined, iconic in every single way that you weren’t. perhaps you’d get there one day, but you simply weren’t there yet.

you’re sat beside him in the press conference, sharing the couch with him, alex, lando, charles and max. it wasn’t the worst combination in the world, but anytime you had to sit in front of a gaggle of hawk-eyed journos and a million cameras with lewis, something unfortunate usually happened. never by design, but you just weren’t very good at saving face in front of the mercedes driver.

“do you think the podium is a possibility this weekend?” someone from autosport whose name you can’t remember asks.

“i’m hoping so, just need to keep the mercs behind us again, but i don’t think that will be that hard.” you respond, without even a sliver of a filter. the material of the sofa shifts as lewis tenses up beside you, inhaling sharply at your blatant disrespect. somewhere beside you, lando sniggers, and max is rolling his eyes.

it was no secret that you didn’t have the softest spot in the world for sir lewis.

“that’s assuming your car makes it to the end of the race.” lewis clears his throat, speaking with confident conviction. you turn you head to glare at him, painfully unable to take what you give. alex slaps his hand over his mouth.

“at least my car isn’t so bad that i’d rather go and learn the alphabet down at ferrari.” you scoff. you avoid the eyes of your comms officer, because if looks could kill, you’d be six feet under already.

“i think we’ll leave it there.” tom clarkson suggests, and you stand from the panel and storm away on trembling legs with a terrible ache throbbing between them.

there’s something about the pettiness, the reasonless back and fourth you two always seem to partake in that leaves you in need of a cold shower.

-

turns out, you have to apologise.

you spend the better part of an hour being bollocked by your press team, who, for some reason, don’t find it particularly amusing that you’d somehow managed to insult the lewis hamilton, ferrari, and mercedes in the span of two sentences.

so, there you were, begrudgingly trailing towards lewis’s hotel room. it’s on the top floor, because of course it is, it’s him. he oozes expensive exclusively, naturally above the rest. you twist your rings nervously, increasingly terrified of being in a confined space alone with the gorgeous brit. your knuckles rap gently against the wood of his door, intentionally weakly. you pray he won’t hear you and that you can just disappear back into the elevator and into your room, to pathetically let you hands wander between your clenched thighs.

but god laughs, and the door swings open. lewis seems startled by your presence, just for a moment though, leaning cooly against the doorframe. his lips pull into a faint smile. two things alarm you. first of all, he’s shirtless, bare from the waist up, a plethora of delicious tattoos on display for you to feast your eyes on. secondly, and somehow even worse, he’s panting, clearly just back from a work out in the gym. he glistens with sweat, and your mind goes blank, apologetic words die on your tongue.

“something to say, angel, or are you just here to stare?” lewis teases, the words rolling off his tongue smoothly. you pray for the ground to gape open, swallow you hole, suck you into hot lava.

“well, i was gonna apologise but i don’t think you deserve it.” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest accusingly.

“didn’t think you knew how to apologise.” lewis grins sarcastically, mocking you.

“has anyone told you how arrogant you are?” you bite back, eyes narrowing.

“why don’t you come in here and i’ll show you just how arrogant i can be?” his voice has dropped a few octaves, seductive and low.

the proposition, the suggestion behind his words makes you fold immediately. you’d wondered for far too long about what he was like behind closed doors and under thick bedsheets, and if you had the chance at finding out, you’d be imbecilic not to take it.

you shove his muscled chest, pushing him back into his room. his hands find your waist, pulling harshly at the material of your loose t-shirt. he’s watching you intently, mesmerised by the angry flush on your cheeks tinging you pink. your eyes convey hunger, matching his, and you’re forcing him down to sit at the foot of his bed.

“why are you such an asshole?” you hiss, slotting your knees on either side of his so that you’re straddling him.

“probably the same reason you’re such a little bitch.” lewis growls, tugging you forward harshly on his lap. you feel his work out shorts ride up on his thighs, the material sensitive on your skin.

your pupils blow wide at his words, and you’re kissing him hard, teeth and tongues clashing messily. his lips are so soft, pillowy as they brush aggressively with your own and you lick wetly into his awaiting mouth. he’s addictive, minty, and you fall against his bare chest as he leans back into the mattress.

“i think you need to be taught some manners.” lewis grunts, flipping your bodies over like you’re nothing, and slotting against your body like a missing piece.

“i think the same could be said about you.” you breathe, sliding your hand under the waistband of his shorts. he chuckles quietly, the rumble reverberating through your own chest, cracking you open.

“try your best.” he whispers. your eyes roll back.

truth is, you’re not the most experienced person in the world. yes, you’re in your mid twenties, but a long term relationship with the worlds biggest loser and dedicating your life to a career in a boys club meant that you didn’t have the time to develop broadest set of skills. you didn’t have the luxury of letting loose in a nightclub with a stranger because if that information got into the wrong hands, you’d be slut-shamed off the face of the earth. so now, you found yourself a little bit lost under a literal sex god.

as if he can hear your thoughts, lewis pulls back.

“what’s the matter? do you want me to stop?” he’s softer than he ever has been with you, melting away in your hands, but you draw him back in, tightening your grip on the band of his shorts.

“no, no, i just…” the words die on your tongue. something in your eyes gives him all the information that he needs.

“do what feels right, good.” his nose brushes your jaw, kissing over it and you settle back into the moment.

“teach me a lesson.” you whisper, empowered in his hands, and he springs back into action, his demeanour slipping right back into what it had been.

“is that why you’re so bad in interviews? just want me to fuck some respect into you?” his lips tug amusedly when you nod rapidly up at him.

an experimental roll of his hips makes you keen, hand slipping into his braids and pulling hard. his eyes fall shut, lips parting to let out a soft groan, his eyebrows pinching from the rough pleasure. your fingers graze over the skin of his toned belly, finding sensitive skin that makes him shiver.

“you distracted, lew?” you taunt, with the only intention of riling him up.

his eyes snap open, hard and lacking any sort of warmth, and he tears your hands from where they rest on his firm body, swiftly pinning them above your head with one hand. he plants himself on one knee, balancing himself so that he can fiddle with the button of your shorts. he makes quick work of removing them, forcing the zipper down and skilfully manoeuvring them with just the one hand.

once they’re gone, along with the lace of your underwear, he forces your thighs apart, and slides his fingers along the seam of your cunt, slicking them up. you’re soaked and he momentarily falters, but he doesn’t let himself get too visibly affected.

“fuck, you’re so wet. been thinking about me, angel?” he teases mercilessly, as he rocks the first thick digit into you, twisting and curling until he finds the spot that makes you buck your hips.

“nothing to say now, hm?” lewis tuts, wetting his lips. the feeling of you squeezing so tight around just one of his fingers makes him choke out a moan. you can feel his hot breath fanning over your face, your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of him filling you up.

“more.” you breathe, stuttering over just one word. he revels in how he’s managed to reduce you to this so quickly.

“you sure you can take it, angel? so fucking tight.”

“make me.” you plead, parting your strained thighs even wider for him.

he lets go of your hands, snaking down your body to get himself closer to where you’re dripping already.

“keep them there.” lewis orders, and you grip tightly onto the pillows to exercise restraint.

lewis presses his forearm over the plush of your belly, holding you down as he adds a second finger, watching in awe as it slips so effortlessly into your pussy. you’re mewling, fighting to buck your hips but the firm press of his muscled arm keeps you in place.

“so pretty for me, angel, soaking my fingers.” he notes, entranced at how responsive you are for him.

“want you inside of me, lew.” you whine, knuckles paper white where you’re fighting off the urge to reach down and touch him.

“wait.” he snarls, ramming his fingers even harder, grinding against the soft spot buried deep. “you’re gonna cum like this first.”

with that, he removes the barricade of his arm, bringing his spare hand to your clit, the pad of his thumb drawing calloused circles into the bud. you lose it, grinding down on his fingers like a woman possessed.

“that’s it, sweetie, fuck yourself for me.” lewis encourages, voice gravelly and low.

sparks shoot down your spine, nothing but white behind your eyelids as he lights you on fire. you can’t warn him, the words lost to the tense air of the room as you barrel towards your first release. he eases you through it, not letting up even a little bit, but it pays off when you can’t help but writhe against the cream of the bedspread.

“god.” you croak, flopping limp as he pulls out, crawling over you.

“learned your lesson?”

“not quite.” you flash an exhausted grin, abandoning your grasp on the pillows to slide them down his thick frame.

you trace the lion adorning his shoulder, the compass, each piece driving you further into utter delirium. your hands graze his waist, snaking around his abdomen until you reach the cross, tracing it until you reach words that keep him going.

still i rise the cursive reads, and he shivers as you rake your nails over it.

“fuck me.” you purr. your hands slide under his shorts once more, gripping at the curve of his ass. you push the material down over his thighs, and he happily kicks them away, his inked hands roughly spreading you even wider.

“desperate little thing, bet you go home after every race and fuck yourself silly wishing it was me, hm?” he adjusts himself between your legs, his thick cock nudging against you entrance, drenching himself in the mess he’d made.

you gasp out a moan as he slides deep, taking his sweet time. you can’t even comprehend his words, totally consumed by the brutally enticing stretch of him, your thighs shaking at the delectable intrusion. he hisses at the sensation of your tight warmth, his head falling to rest in the crook of your neck. lewis licks over the sensitive skin, trailing open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. you feel the sharp graze of his teeth, gentle nips making you shudder on his cock.

“don’t leave a mark.” you choke, and lewis seems to get it, so he skims his teeth lower, sucking purple just over your heart.

you clamp down around him, allured by the tweak of pain, and it seems to spark something in him, his hips rolling into yours experimentally.

“you feel so fucking good.” lewis pants, his breath warm and wet on your neck.

“need you to move.” you plead, turning your head to capture his lips in an urgent kiss.

he pulls out, slamming back into you roughly, your tummy twisting with anticipation. lewis finds a rhythm that suits you both, hips hitting yours with every thrust, each one leaving you full and spent.

“gonna make sure you feel me for days.” he promises, yanking your legs over his hips. as he does, he hits deeper and you yelp, stars in your eyes. “when you sit in the car tomorrow, you’re gonna feel me and remember how to be a good fucking girl, not an attention seeking brat.”

you ramble his name, eyes flooding with tears of overstimulation, dumbfounded at how he seems to hit a new spot with every slide of his cock. he’s digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs, pulling your hips impossibly closer to his as he drives into you, as if he wants to become a part of you, moulded for an eternity. with the way your stomach knots, butterflies and adrenaline coursing through you, you’d comply; you’d let him do whatever he wanted to him anytime he wanted.

“‘m so close.” you whine, pulling on every part of him your hands can reach. a refreshed sense of determination builds in his eyes and he presses hard on your navel.

“so deep, can see it.” lewis slurs, eyes fixed on your belly.

those five words make you unravel, sending you hurtling over the edge. he can’t help but fuck you through it, hammering home while you spasm around him so tight that he struggles to move.

“fucking addicted to this pussy.” lewis groans, burying himself as deep as he can go.

you’re utterly enchanted as you watch him reach his release, gnawing at your bottom lip when his part in a moan, allowing gentle puffs of air to escape. his long eyelashes rest delicately over his cheeks as his eyes fall shut, your name spilling out of his mouth like a needy prayer.

you’re warm from the inside out, flushed and full when he settles, pressing his body weight into you completely.

-

two weeks later, you’re in japan, bored senseless in yet another press conference. lewis sits further down the couch, and you have to cross your legs every time he speaks. no one seems to notice, except him, of course.

when it’s your turn to speak, and you’re asked all about your little spat with sir lewis back in australia, you shrug, smirking.

“we made up.”

-

oof

-

taglist

@mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @formulaal @carlandoxlestappen

if you wanna be added or removed lemme know! :D

[captain-huggy-bear]

Would you write for Nico again? I think you did an amazing job capturing his personality 💗 maybe cuddling w Nico?

I will, I don't imagine i'd do it often? But I can see myself dipping my toes in and writing for him here and there! <3 I'm glad you think I got him right, my main worry was him feeling like a clone of some of the others I write for, I wanted to make sure he felt unique! Thank you for 800 followers! Blown away by how many people want to read my silly little hockey thoughts and how many of you support my feral Clayton ideas.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

He's been watching you for ten minutes now, just standing in your vicinity, pretending to be busy when in reality his eyes are on you at almost every second. Right now Nico is pretending to tidy up the pile of blankets you keep at the end of your couch, as if they're not already folded and neatly stacked. But his dark eyes keep darting to where you're laying, lip bitten between his teeth like he's holding himself back from saying anything. From asking something.

You've been together long enough to recognise what he's doing or rather what he's not doing. Nico has a habit, a bad one, of wanting something but not wanting to bother you. Of waiting around in hopes that maybe you'll realise what he wants and offer it up freely. It's the one main area where he's a little emotionally constipated. You consider torturing him a little longer, letting him wait until he learns how to express his needs even though you know he wants badly to cuddle with you right now.

It's the big sigh Nico lets out combined with the way he looks over at you from underneath his lashes, strands of his brunet hair falling across dark puppy dog eyes as he bites his lip and all but pouts, that has you giving him exactly what he wants. You've never really been good at denying Nico anything because he's never really been good at denying you anything...and often denying him something was denying yourself.

"C'mere, you big baby." You open your arms wide from where you're laying and the moment you do he's dropping the pretence of folding blankets all but bounding over to you and throwing himself atop you as gently as a man of his size can.

"I am not a baby, Schatzi." He mumbles it into the crook of your neck, lips pressing against your skin. Nico's heavy on top of you but you don't mind, it's actually quite soothing to have the weight of him pressing you down into the cushions.

"You sure? Cause the sighing and pouting suggests otherwise." You whisper it back, not wanting to break the warm, cosy feeling settling over you as you hands run over his broad back, soothing strokes that have Nico sighing into you, body relaxing with each pass of your hands.

He doesn't respond, eyes feeling heavy, sleepy now that he has you where he wants you. Nico's lips press kisses into your neck on one spot, the only spot he can reach without having to move his head or neck. Refusing to move an inch. It tickles but you don't pull away, humming lightly as your fingers trail up his back to the nape of his neck. You knead the muscle there for a moment, pushing at the tight muscles of his neck, all the tension he's been holding there lately. He groans into your neck, nuzzling closer, settling nearer as if it's possible for him to burrow into your skin.

You knead at his neck until the muscles aren't so stiff, pliable and loose under your fingertips, nails trailing up and into his hair. It's longer at the moment, long enough that you can tug it slightly before your nails scratch at his scalp.

Nico is practically purring into your neck, little groans falling from him, a rumble in his chest that makes you huff out a laugh as his arms wriggle their way underneath you to pull you closer.

"You happy there, big boy?" He leans his head into you further when you press a kiss to the top of his head, Nico feeling the happiest he has in a while, the most relaxed after game after game of losses.

"Mmm..."

"You're literally a baby, Nico."

"I am not a baby."

"You keep telling yourself that..."

"Schatz." You think he was aiming for sharp and scolding but he's so content in your arms that it only comes out as a little mumble against your skin, lacking any bite whatsoever.

Nico might try to deny it, but sometimes he really was a big baby.

[transmechanicus]

Vampires who act like you’re insane for getting a job are just stubborn pricks without the psychic fortitude for job applications. Oh what’s that, i don’t need a job bc i no longer have food bills? Cool, cool cool cool, how tf am i gonna pay rent bitch? Or a mortgage on any place more cushy than an extant example of every possible violation of building safety code? You think nobody’s gonna do the math when i pay up with a different dead guy’s credit card every month? You’re cool with just never engaging with the progress of technology and digital infrastructure? You aren’t ever gettin concert tickets again that you didn’t pull from your lunch’s pocket? Stressful fucking life, i’m out here in the hospital basement making fat stacks and yoinking fresh bagged blood while you have an SI kill team breaking down the door of your condemned little duplex bc you do all your shopping via combination fraud, robbery, and homicide.

[threepandas]

Bad End, Hidden Heir: Part 2

Prev <-

A pounding headache and cave air, that's what I woke up too. The air was being choked, though, by familiar scents. All trying desperately to make the cold, wet, and softly echoing quiet, hospitable. It was nauseating in my current state. Weak and... drugged? Had I been drugged? I certainly hadn't been drunk.

So why did my head hurt so much?

Why did every motion, make my stomach want to rebel?

My limbs felt so WEAK. Heavy and useless. Barely budging when I try to lift them. To rub my head? Adjust the blanket? Sit up? I can't tell. Thinking... thinking is so hard past... the pounding in my head. The fog. I struggle to concentrate. God, that SMELL.

Like a perfume store combined with... with... ugh. Everything!

I could pick out individual scents I knew I liked, on their own, added to the nauseating chaos. My favorite potpourri was there. But so was the one I like for winter? Fall? That one I liked as a kid until I found Mrs. Tianna's blend...

And perfumes! Colognes! The clean products and scents I preferred the maids used. God it... it blended together like a trash heap. As though someone drove a carriage through a perfume shop at speed. Cloying and musk and spice and fruity and-!

I sucked air through my teeth, trying not to smell it, hoping to god I wouldn't TASTE it.

Finally I managed to pry my eyes open. Either hunger or thirst giving my the strength to push past the nauseating pain. I NEEDED to move. Find out what was happening. Survive.

My gaze... met the most elaborate embroidery I had ever seen. Tapestries had less art. Almost to the point of gaudiness. Possibly past it. It was...

It was everything I had ever said I liked.

Too anyone.

Puppies and flowers, history and art, books scenes and more. It kept GOING! Hideous and magnificent. Chaos. Unhinged. Flowing down from above me, along the rest of the curtains, for the canopy bed upon which I rest. So I would be surrounded by it all. Even the blanket... it was a sea of my favorite flowers, made eternal through string.

This wasn't something people just DID. Could just FIND. I could feel my panic under the muting pain and exhaustion. This was the work of YEARS. Obsessive, continuous, YEARS. Some of these threads cost more then certain house hold make in WEEKS! And for what? A secret canopy bed?!

I struggled, body barely able to obey me but trying desperately to assist. The blankets were heavy. The curtain around the bed equally so, thanks to all the embroidery. I.. I manage to roll. Squirm. Wriggle my way, undignified, to the edge. Flop over it and out from under the blanket. Too freedom.

The air is cold.

The scents WORSE out here. Now, I can see why.

It is a museum to all that I am. Every like carefully gathered in one place, every preference. Stacked and shoved together, with no regard for if they fit. Hoarded like a collection.

I can not even tell... if I am sitting, flopped down, on my favorite winter bedside carpet or just an exact copy. My entire life is shoved together and suddenly... suddenly I do not like any of these things at all. They feel dirty. Dangerous. Like they have betrayed me. I want to cry.

But I am nauseous. Hurting. Tired and thirsty. So very hungry dispite it all. I just... I just need to know what's going ON! This isn't... this isn't how the Game goes! Not for Protag-chan. Not for me! I know I changed my "character's" behavior... but...

I... I don't understand...

Try not to cry. It's... it's really hard.

I was right. I'm pretty sure this is the Caves of Spring in the northwest of the Duchy. The offical Heir has an estate near them. The stone looks like the cliffs I'd seen in passing.

Crawling is hard. My legs keep getting tangled in my fucking nightgown. My... my f.. favorite.. nightgown! I'm not gonna cry. Damn it. I'm NOT GONNA CRY. How dare he? How DARE he ruin even that? What did he DO to me!? When I was... was...

No, don't think about it!

Move.

A decanter. Needlessly pretty. I probably loved it as a girl, fresh into this world. Everything was so FANCY and I wasn't used to having money yet. Hadn't developed any real class or taste. It looks so fucking gaudy to me now. But God, it has water. Please... PLEASE let that be water!

I drag myself up on badly shaking limbs. Nothing wants to hold. Wrists buckling, knees giving, legs shaking like a new born lamb. My arms are so weak. But thirst... oh thirst is a powerful motivator.

I force myself to move.

The water is not enough. It is everything. Cold and perfect, I force myself to go slow. To not spill a single drop, as I collapse against the dresser it was placed upon. Letting my eyes explore my cage in the way my poor abused body can not.

There are thick bars buried deep into the bedrock, separating the "room" I'm in from the hall that leads away from it. And it IS a "room". Made in cruel mockery to resemble the luxury of the dukes estate. Perhaps even more aggressively decadent in certain aspects, though that isn't a good thing. It makes it border on a storage room, for how crowded with luxury it has become.

It is the reflection of an unwell mind.

And staring up at the portraits of myself I KNOW I never sat for? The countless sketches pinned up beyond the bars? I am in trouble. I... I should have run. Not sent Creep away. I should have been the one to run. Before it was too late.

I think... I think it might be too late.

Footsteps.

I want to escape. But where can I run? I am caged. I feel close and far away. My head hurts. My body hurts. Everything stinks and I am cold. Why? Why did you do this? The foot steps are calm and commanding. Even. They do not break stride.

I do not bother to watch my hunter approach me. The monster I can not escape.

I close my eyes to spare myself the pounding in my head. Drink more water.

He makes a softly dismayed sound, as though he was not the one to drug me, to leave me here. The door to my cage opens. Closes. Ah... such a heavy lock. Should I be flattered?

Crisp steps, the rustle of fabric.

"My lady, the floor is so dirty! You shouldn't be out of bed yet. I was just about to make you tea."

The AUDACITY.

Tea? TEA! Ha ha! After DRUGGING my tea? He actually expects me to accept a cup from him again?! He truely IS insane, isn't he?

I am scooped up without my consent, unable to so much a truely struggle. Placed gently on a plush chair, a tea table moved in front of me. A familiar cup. My favorite blend. Pretty little snacks laid out deftly on lovely little plates. I grit my teeth. Slowly tip my head up to glare.

He pauses when our eye meet... then shudders, some terrible look of pleasure dancing across his face.

"That's right... look at me~" he whispers, leaning entirely too close. "I'm all that you have now. So you'll HAVE too now! No more others. No more distractions. No more sending me away! People trying to get between us. Trying to take you away. I'm all that you need, My Lady. All you'll EVER need."

"Just look at ME, your loyal dog. And I'll take such good care of you. I promise~♡"

[missmists]

First bookbinding project a success. I think that my cat approves because he would not stay out of my photos. Five months in the making, but I couldn't be more pleased with the results.

I started with @armoredsuperheavy's amazing fanbinding tutorial to create a typeset of each work in @erisenyo's Burning Bright AU published on Ao3. Then had to reread the works in the new format and edit as I went to make sure everything was formatted correctly, (combined word count somewhere around 1.3 million) that took over a month all by itself.

I picked up a copy of Introduction to Bookbinding & Custom Cases by Tom and Cindy Hollander from my local library, to look at some detailed how to images and get multiple perspectives on construction methods. Excellent book, I do recommend.

My hunt for materials included a trip to Detroit with a side stop at Blick to look at decorative papers in person. Blick and the fine people at Hollander’s ended up having everything I needed to make covers. So between my brother kindly 3d printing me a punch cradle, making a DIY sewing frame of my own invention (courtesy of scrap lumber and a trip to the Lowe's hardware department), and three reams of late night printing, I managed to amass all my supplies.

Folding three reams of paper into signatures (the little bundles you sew together) takes about five days if you don't want to lose your mind or your place, and longer if you discover you need to fix things because that definitely happened. Then you get to unfold them to stab holes in them which is as terrifying at first and therapeutic by the end as it sounds.

Next came weeks of sewing books together, a magical process. I learned three new knots, repeatedly stabbed myself (because all forms of creation forcibly demand blood sacrifice) , and felt like I was roleplaying a monastic librarian from the time of Gutenburg. That's 600 years ago, 24ish generations, over 8million ancestors since then (by geometric progression, which excludes the possibility that any of my peasant ancestry is from small towns which is you know likely but I digress) and here I sat sewing pages together in a basement because story is the most sacred of human arts as it binds communities together and shapes perceptions of the self and our brethren, of outsiders allies and enemies, of the world as we know it and as it may come to be. Did I mention sewing books felt magical.

Then came the glue. So much glue. Multiple types of glue. All sticky. all stuck to me. I smeared glue with my fingers like a child.

At last it was time for the covers. Choosing combinations of the decorative papers and bookcloth and making sure I could get enough out of each material for what I needed. Precise cutting so many thanks to the architecture school professors who showed me how to properly cut chipboard. Then measuring and gluing, and more measuring, and more gluing. At last press a little groove by the spine and repeat eleven times.

Then I get to impress all my people with my latest and possibly coolest maker skill unlock, I am a book binder.

Bottom to top in the stack or left to right at the bottom are: These Things Written  These Things Unsaid with Without Consent These Things Known with A Third Chance (or a First) Oh, The Way Your Makeup Stains My Pillowcase That Love You've Been Looking For  All I Need Is To Be Struck (By Your Electric Love) To Open Every Door to Night, To Meet Each Rising Sun (my favorite) Love Is In the Hair (fanart of this one originally lead me to read the series, thanks @ash-and-starlight) Lessons in Proper Asset Management Tangled Up With You  To Be Named, To Be Known (To Be Loved)

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty. Ch. 1

A Homelander X F!Reader fanfic

A/N: I am writing this alongside another fic so sorry for the publishing schedule altho I got 2 chapters done, this is my dadlander fic and hyperfixation explorations

Sypnosis: Homelander never wanted to remember you again, but after welcoming Ryan into his life, he thought of you, and the lie that tore you two apart, but now... thinking back, thinking of your betrayal-- was he perhaps wrong about who the father of your unborn child was? Did you perhaps told the truth all those years ago? That it was his.

Tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, OC characthers, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter One

Blue

It had been by pure chance, whether it had been a combination of forced reminiscing and exhaustion that Homelander had thought of you after all these years; These meetings had been proven wasteful of his time, nothing the PR and Digital Marketing departments could come up that was good enough, and somehow he had gone from irritated to just defeated.

He sulked in his chair listening to their meandering voices brainstorming potential ideas as to how Ryan’s new origin story had to be developed and handled, whether it was too squeaky clean or absurd, how much could they risk offending the child, how much of his mother should be kept from the public (not that they were very aware of the fine details, as Homelander had been more than just vague about it, he had simply no intent to divulge about his son’s conception, upbringing or his mother’s fate) Homelander would never allowed the public to look with pity or fear at his son, he would not allow them to brand him as a murdered over an accident– he could still hear his son weeping and shaking in his sleep, waking up in a fright, seeing invisible blood in his hands.

Homelander had grown overprotective of the boy, he was made indestructible but his mind and heart were glass, still pure and uncorrupted by the awful world they inhabited, he would never allow anything else to taint it and bring him nightmares– so this had to be perfect.  

To make it worse, the kid was growing impatient and depressed, forced to stay in the tower until this story was concocted, he couldn’t attend school or interact with other children until he was trained and learned his lines, making his father increasingly more paranoid that his son was slowly growing resentful. 

“Mister Homelander… what if we base Ryan’s mom off one of your other ex-girlfriends?” A rather tired intern had muttered– preferably somebody dead…”

The room shot daggers at the nameless intern but Homelander simply sat in silence and gave it a thought, he had plenty of unsuited mates disposed and handled in the past, the amount of NDA issued made for a small but noticeable stack alone, he looked at the table and the box of cannolis that the group had been munching on, looking at the small printed italian flag on the box’s side.

That he thought of you for the first time in years.

You had been his new personal chef, your interactions minimal as you brought him his meals, he hadn’t known at first how heartbroken you’d look as he returned half touched dishes over and over, it had become a competition against yourself to make him eat, every leftover morself a cause of grief, as if your honor and ego had been beaten mercilessly with every dirty plate.

One evening, Homelander sat on his couch watching a documentary by Orson Wells, he hadn’t noticed you there as you brought him dinner, the way you looked at him with spite waiting to throw the most likely untouched plate of pasta back at his face, it would get you fired and possibly killed but you couldn’t take it anymore. You were a chef, a professional, you had turned down a dream job and left the restaurant you loved for the honor of being Homelander’s personal chef, the job that would open you a thousand doors but it was without reward now it felt like your biggest mistake, no matter what you made he fucking hate it but offered no feedback, you had no clue what he wanted, what he disliked and liked, what he craved, or how he liked his meals– he simply left your food untouched.

Diverting his gaze from the film, he noted your food and that you were still there with a block of pecorino and a grater in your hands.

He stood up with a groan, lifting the silver cover to reveal boring pasta and bolognese sauce, it wasn’t styled exceptionally, it didn’t even look too appetizing, it was just some fresh linguine covered in meat sauce, he stared at you as if this was some sort of joke but your dead eyed expression was off-putting.

“Would you like some fresh cheese, sir?” Your voice might as well have been automated.

Frankly he didn’t want any cheese but pasta had to be eaten with cheese, he gestured for you to grate watching an off-white pile form on top of his pasta with no intention of stopping.

“That’s enough” he said sharply, he took the plate looking at the mound and then back at you who was still in the room, he wrapped his fork with the pasta doing his best not to stain his suit.

You just wanted to save the time with coming back to pick up the insults, but there he took the first bite of this homely dish heis eyes opened up, there hadn’t been anything special, you simply had taken some left over pasta and brought a jar of your grandma’s sauce, a recipe she had guarded fiercely ever since she stole it from some italian friend’s mom many many years ago, you adored this recipe, it had been the reason why you fell in love with food, you loved visiting your grandmother when it was time to jar the sauce, and when she served you a humbled serving of bolognese– he gave it a second bite letting the tangy and fresh sauce wash over him.

And that’s when he finally noticed you for real, how closely you watched him eat, smiling as he took another mouthful and mixed more of the fresh pecorino, there had been something warm about this meal, it lack pretense, it was something that no high end 5-star restaurant would serve but it tasted… warm.

From that point on, he looked forward to his meals, wanting to see what the fuck had you done to make food taste worthy of his body, noting you would personally deliver the meals after he failed to clean the plate on the previous one, he hadn’t even known your name but he noticed you.

You were cute, your voice had gained some warmth since that awkward first impression, he could tell it was these homemade meals that tasted the best, as if you put everything you had to make them taste delicious, there were no frills with these, just good homemade fair, made with love, he had began asking for things he had been curious but never served as if they were above his status like meatloaf, carbonara, shepherd's pie, etcetera. These were the kinds of meals the families he’d seen growing up behind the screen would eat, he had been the first to strike a conversation.

You listened, you talked, and before he knew it, he had found himself asking for your company at the dinner table. You were hesitant at first but he was handsome and charming, but above all he was the Homelander! While apprehensive you still took to his offer just to smugly enjoy seeing him enjoy your food, proud that you had triumph in this battle where so many had been defeated, you’d cracked the code and god it felt good.

It became part of your weekly schedule, having dinner at his penthouse and chatting about anything, he loved talking and eventually it became apparent that it wasn’t because he was in loved with his voice but simply… he hadn’t got anybody who enjoyed listening to him, you were attentive, you responded well and even if you weren’t sure about something you weren’t going to let him feel as if you weren’t approachable anymore, you were more than happy to hear him explain to you a topic because his eyes gleam like those of a small kid telling you about something new they learned at school– in truth you loved how happy he became when he could rambled about things, as if nobody in the world had ever given five seconds of their time to let him talk about strange events from history and his theories, tonite he wanted to talk about the Dyatlov Pass incident and star formations that he was sad that he couldn’t see from New York, wishing you could see how the sky looked like from his cabin.

You’d spend more and more time in his home as the conversations grew more frequent, as he wanted to hear more about your interests and hobbies.

Thinking of how cute you looked while baking, how cute your laugh was, of the way you always held him after long days, that first real date, that first time you held hands, the first shy kiss after dinner.

As he took a long whiff to catch some of that gentle sweetness, he thought of the last day you were together.

That sound.

The thing that’s the size of a bean.

The anger, his heart shattered, all the colors of the world had dissipated when he saw that tumor growing in your stomach, he wanted to hurt you as much as you did, to shut you up as you threw excuses, begging him to believe you.

But that thing wasn’t his.

It couldn’t be his.

You said it was his, that the baby you didn’t even know was inside you was his, but he couldn’t be the father.

His eyes widened, he stood up and left the room, his mind focused on your name. They had tried getting his attention but could only give up as nobody would dare to chase after him, Homelander found himself entering the analytics offices towards the first chump he spotted.

“Can you find me information on a former employee?” He said firmly, the junior staff jumped at his seat nodding frantically– their name was Y/N L/N.” he said quietly.

The staffer didn’t have to do much work, you were easy to find, your name attached to Brooklyn’s most loved pizzeria for the last couple years, your face on their socials, and even a video from some food channel following what it was like working in Brooklyn’s hottest pizzeria had you in it, your shop had been listed as the best two years in a row, Homelander couldn’t bare looking at your face, but he asked for an address.

That night after spending time with Ryan who seemed to be sulking more and more, as he watched him eat his dinner, he thought of you, the kid was meandering whatever was on his plate didn’t feel appetizing, his meal was no different from what it was served in a high-end restaurant and the kid had no desire to eat it, he wanted Ryan to have the finest things when all he wanted was to have his mom’s tacos– his son opted to head for bed early skipping dinner all together, it was almost 10 pm, a heavy feeling had been boiling in his stomach since that meeting.

Taking flight all the way to some red brick Brooklyn projects, hovering about until he encountered you.

Time had been kind to you but you looked tired, the glow in your skin now dulled, your appearance unkempt, your clothes worn and old, your shoes the nicest thing you worn but they still creased and dirty, you looked beyond exhausted, your eyes half closed and your arms dangling on your sides as you carried a couple grocery bags, he looked around at the constructions and rubbish, at the hooligans and wannabe gangbangers, and the rancid smell. Hundred buildings all the same, he wanted to get closer as he watched you walk alone in those sticky white painted brick walls, you stopped suddenly by one of the brown doors, there were only four other doors in that floor, waiting patiently, an old lady opens the door, you two exchanging pleasantries as you handed the lady two of your grocery bags, a small dog came to say hello and then… there she was.

She was small for her age, she didn’t jump with excitement or say much to you, just a slight bow to the old lady and she walked in front of you as you said goodbye, only stopping two doors down.

Your apartment was small, two small bedrooms, small kitchen and barely sparsely decorated, but it was clean and tidy, your daughter dropped her school bag, and headed for the bedroom while you moved to the kitchen, never really talking to each other, he found himself flying closer just to get a perfect vision of that child.

She was a mini-you, taken so much from you, whoever the father was it didn’t seem to have mattered in the end for the kid got nothing from him, she changed to her pajamas as you sat on the couch after throwing away your uniform to the floor.

You two talked briefly, you didn’t read her any stories before bed or kissed her good night, you simply stared at each other and talked while you stretched your feet.

The little girl entered her room, a tidy space, books piled up on the floor in sharp stacks against the wall, a desk containing some electronics and a couple stuffed animals.

She was a cute thing, just like you had been once, her hair short and her straight bangs covering most of her face, too long for it too be safe, she had your complexion and jet black hair, she sat on her desk turning the desk lamp and picked her Kindle up, looking at her clock then back at her Kindle, she sat there for a couple minutes digesting some pages until it was almost midnight, before heading to the living room– you’d passed out on the couch, she took your phone and put it to charge fidgeting with something before leaving it, turning the TV off, and finally turning around to slip a quilt on top of her mother.

Homelander almost felt sorry for the kid, after all you had done to him only to neglect your child, you were just as much of a scumbag as he had imagined, he had had enough wanting to fly away until he saw the little girl staring back at him.

The lights were off on the home, and it was dark with the streets below shaded piss yellow, he looked around wondering if there was something nearby that caught your daughter’s attention but she was staring straight at Homelander, she forced the window open peeking her small frame slightly out the window, in the dark starless night while strangers made a ruckus a couple streets from here, a bright twinkling of pale blue illuminated your home.

He got closer, something caught in his throat as he came only a meter away from your daughter.

She looked so much like you but her eyes even as they lost their unnatural light were so blue, as if the entire ocean lived in her eyes.

The curtains slid shut, his chin flicked in surprise as he caught the small figure plainly ignoring him, he was loved by all, especially children! Even those whose favorites were Noir, A-Train or Maeve loved him! Yet this little girl had just shrugged him off and ignored him, simply returning to her bedroom to shut the second set of blinds and jump straight to bed.

Homelander was left dumbfounded, not once had he seen such disinterest and callousness from a member of his safest demographic, so he stood in mid-air pondering about killing both of you briefly, just as the heat from his cheeks cooled down, he stared at the now sleeping brat, wondering about that inhuman blue light that glossed her big round eyes.

[sucka4pain]

𝑌𝑂𝑈 𝐴𝑅𝐸 𝑀𝐼𝑁𝐸~!♡︎

𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒!𝑇𝑜𝑘𝑦𝑜 𝑅𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

Pronoluge Chapter 1

ᴡᴄ: 3.1ᴋ

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠/𝑇𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠: 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑢𝑚𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑏𝑎𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑑, 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑡𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑐 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒈𝒐 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒈𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒅! 𝑩𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒌!!

Free….

What does it mean to be free?… How does it feel to be free?…What even is free?…

Thoughts running through her head as she was packing her bags and trying to ignore all of the screaming that was coming from the living room downstairs under her room. Everything in her room is now empty, but it wasn’t like this before..no it wasn’t. Back then, it was full of her favorites colors and aesthetics.

But why now is it blank and lifeless? What happened to make it all go blank? It felt as if it was a beautiful piece of art, that eventually began to be torn apart bit by bit from her family and relationship which she still hadn’t recovered from.

Growing up wasn’t the best either. Dealing with bullying due to her appearance, getting a job at an early age just to have her parents take every penny she earned and using it for their own selfishness, having a boyfriend in middle school and thinking he was the person who truly cared about it but oh boy she was wrong. He was the complete opposite of what she imagined her relationship to be like.

The relationship she imagined it to be was like a scene you would see in an anime. The main character falling deeply in love with the side character and they eventually get together, making it look just so perfect…maybe a little too perfect.

‘I hate this…I hate it…please, help me…’

The thought running through her head as she finally finished packing her bags. The floor underneath her creaked as she took steps to her door, opening it and peaking her head out to make sure that her parents aren’t upstairs. Once the cost was clear, she quickly yet quietly walked to her parents bedroom and got inside.

‘Okay…I hope it’s still in the same spot..’

She thought before walking over to her parents dresser, making sure to watch her steps. As she was walking, she accidentally stubbed her toe onto one of legs of the bed frame.

‘Fuck..!..’

She mentally cursed and her movements froze as she heard downstairs suddenly silent, too silent. The sounds of footsteps coming up the stairs caused her to panic and quickly got under the king sized bed her parents shared.

A hand covering her mouth, making sure to keep quiet so she doesn’t get caught. The footsteps stopped right in front of the door as a shadow loomed under the door. All she heard next was just grumbling and words that she couldn’t make out due to them being slurred.

Her parents were drunk, it was a daily thing with them. Constantly drinking until they possibly drop dead, but of course that didn’t happen yet.

Once the shadow has walked away from the door, she quietly sighed in relief before sliding out from under the bed and quickly crawling over to the closet. Reaching for the small brown crystal knobs and opening up the black doors. There was a black box that she new was underneath all the clothes that was stacked on top of it.

‘Yes!…it’s still here..’

She thought before carefully taking out the box and opening it. There was a safe inside. Her fingers placing themselves on the black knob and twisting it then stopping it a few times at the right number combination.

As she put the knob on the last number, she got it opened and her eyes gazed over the cold hard stacks of cash that laid in it.

Relief washed over her as she closed the safe and picked it up, holding onto it for dear life as she stood up. Her legs moved and made her way to the door, peaking out to the quiet hallway and running back to her now empty room.

Nothing left in the room besides a sheet-less mattress, an empty closet, and all of her posters ripped that she did from her anger that was bottled up and finally popping out.

Stuffing the safe in one of the duffel bags she had, putting her two duffel bags on her shoulders and her backpack in her hand. She took her phone out, putting her headphones in and playing some music. The melody and best passing through her ears from her headphones as she made her way to her window.

The house she lived in was about a two story house. Wasn’t too big but also wasn’t too small. She cracked open the window and sat on the window sill with both of her legs dangling on the outside as the back heels of her shoes hit the brick wall. She turned her back to face her room one last time before looking down at her ground below her and jumping down.

When she jumped down and landed on the grass, she stumbled from the quite far jump but managed.

‘Run…run like how you’ve imagined…’

She thought before her legs quickly moved, sprinting through the wet grass and drizzling rain. The music in her ears was the thing that tied it all together.

Running away from your home in the rain while listening to music, feeling free for once. But, that isn’t what free really means. Being free means that you are living your best life with no problems to deal with. If she really was free, she wouldn’t have all these problems and trauma.

But why did it have to be her that had to deal with it all? Why did it have to be her? That’s what she wants answers to.

Out of all of the people in the world, she just had to be chosen for this life that she doesn’t want. It only causes her more pain and suffering. She continues to run until she made it to a train station. Despite it being late, the train station was still opened. Walking over to the ticket slot and buying one that would take her out of the city and to another. She went over with her ticket in hand and stood by the train.

It was quite chilly outside since it was drizzling but the clothes she was wearing is enough to keep her warm for a while. The train passing by her and many others standing by in the speed of light, it was beautiful since the train was covered in cherry blossom art.

The train came to a stop and the doors opened. People coming out of the packed train and she walked in after those people have left. She managed to find a seat and sat down with a small sigh leaving her lips. The train did get packed pretty quick but it was no problem for her since as long as she has her music then it’s fine.

It felt calming, maybe a little too calming but it was better than she had expected let alone imagined.

Hours and hours have gone by and the train finally came to a stop, the speakers saying her destination and she stood up along with some other people who were on the train. She made sure her bags were with her and walked out of the train, her nostrils taking in the relaxing earthy atmosphere from the rain that lingered in the air.

She started to walk around the empty streets, lights coming from building signs and the stars lit up the dark streets. It was stunning, almost like a fantasy dream. Her legs made her stop at an apartment complex. The outside was unreal. Magnificent was the best word to describe it in her mind.

“A red carpet? A little too fancy for my humble ass..”

She mumbled before walking in, her hand gripping the golden handle and pulling it opened. The inside was definitely something that didn’t even look real. It was too perfect. A big white chandelier hanging from above with gold and white marble walls with a white tile floor that had the logo of the building in the dead center of the floor in black.

“Hello and welcome to the Inashoji Paradise! How may I assist you?” The front desk person spoke to her as she made her way over to him.

“Hi, I would like to get a room?” She greeted the polite man as he flashed her a smile, showing off his pearly whites and typed on the keyboard.

“Alright, do you have an id? Since you are minor by the looks of you, you must have an id.” The man spoke and looked up from his computer screen and at her.

She gulped thickly as she didn’t have an id, at least not yet. “I-…don’t have an id, but I do work! I have a job and I do part time online.” She spoke.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to need some kind of id. I can’t let you.” An apologetic expression placed on his face.

“Please. I really need this. I’ll do anything.” Her voice desperate for help just to get the apartment room, making the desk man sigh.

“Okay, I’ll give you a room, but, you need to at least have a school to go to. Cause you can’t only just have a job.” He said, finally giving in.

“Thank you.! I’ll make sure, thank you so much.” She thanked him frantically as he handed her a card.

“That’s a school I recommend and it’s really close by, it’s just a five minute walk to it.” A smile placed on his lips and he gives her a key to her room.

“5th floor, room 306 on the left. Enjoy your stay.” She took the key and card, bowing to him then walking to the elevator. She got in and pressed the button to the fifth floor. The doors shutting and the elevator moving up then stopping with a ding. The doors opened up and she walked out, looking at the door numbers until she reached room 306.

She put the key inside the key hole and twisted it, a click snapping and the door opening. The room was really good looking, it even smelled nice and fresh.

Her feet moving towards the bedroom and placing the bags on the floor.

Plopping down on the mattress, the soft surface making her sink into it and she looked up at the white ceiling.

“I wonder how that school is gonna be like.” She mumbled to herself and closed her eyes, her body falling limp and going into a deep sleep.

The sunlight flashing through the curtains making her groan from the sudden flash. She looked at her phone.

7:23 a.m.

‘I guess I should go to that school and sign up.’

Rubbing the sleep away from her eyes, she sat up and stretched her arms out. She went over to her duffel bag, taking out some clothes and going to the shower. The shower was relaxing, the nice not too hot water hitting her skin as she felt warm take over the coldness that she was covered in from the rain.

After getting out, she dried her hair and body then put on some sweats and a hoodie. It was still pretty chilly out so she didn’t want to get cold again. Stepping out of the apartment and to the elevator and making her way to the main floor.

“Good morning, Y/n!” The same desk person from last night greeted with a warm smile.

“Hey, good morning….” She dragged before looking down at his name tag. “Fujisiko.”

He let out a small laugh which was pretty cute. “You need directions to the school?” He asked.

“Yes please.”

“Alright, I’ll have someone cover for me and I’ll take you down there and help you get set up. I went to that school so I know everything about it.” A cheeky smile as he stood up, getting a co-worker to cover for him and walked to the main entrance. He pulled the gold bar handle and offered her to go first.

“After you.” She thanked him and walked through with him behind her. Small puddles on the ground from the rain of the night before as they walked in comfortable silence.

“This might not seem appropriate to ask but, how old are you?” Y/n said breaking the silence.

“Oh, I’m 45.” He replied giving a smile which made her look at him in shock.

“What?!…I thought you were at least in your early twenties, you look so young!” She exclaimed.

“Working out and staying on a Healthy balanced lifestyle keeps the skin lookin silky smooth and young.” He said with a shrug.

‘In order to stay looking young, I gotta work out and stay on a balanced lifestyle? Noted…’

She made a mental note and kept walking with him in comfortable silence.

“Alright, here we are!” He said as they made it to a huge building.

“Woah…” She mumbled staring at it.

“Come on, I’ll take you to the main office. If they ask, I’m your dad, okay?” He said to her and she looked over at him with a nod.

He may not look like her father but he does act a little like one.

‘Is this what it feels like to have a dad that actually is nice?…’

A thought popped up in her head before snapping back to reality and quickly following behind Fujisiko who was way ahead of her.

They walked into the building and was greeted with many eyes.

‘Of course people are staring…’

She thought. But then again, Fujisiko has a velvet red and black suit with a gold name tag, black dress shoes, tall, half up half down black hair, brown eyes, a few tattoos, and had a Rolex.

She had her head down to try and avoid the gaze of those around.

“Isn’t that Kowada Fujisiko?!”

“Holy shit you’re right! I heard he’s the owner of Inashoji Paradise!”

“But that’s a really expensive apartment building!”

“Is that his daughter?”

“There’s no way it is.”

She grumbled to herself hearing them whisper only for them to finally make it to the main office.

They walked to the principals room and walked in. The principal looked up and stood up then bowed.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Kowada! How’s the business going?” The principals raspy voice spoke with excitement as Fujisiko.

Fujisiko nervously laughed and bowed in return.

“It’s nice to see you again after many years, principal Juro!” A smile appeared on his lips.

“Oh? and who is this little one?” He asked looking down at Y/n.

“This is Y/n! I want her to enroll here! She’s my…daughter.” Fujisiko said.

“Wow, never knew you had a daughter! Although she doesn’t really look close to you but who am I to judge?” He shrugged and sat back down and offered the two to sit which they did.

“Alright Y/n, what’s your full name and what grade are you in?” Principal Juro asked Y/n.

“My name is L/n Y/n and I’m a sophomore.” She replied.

“Perfect! I’ve been looking for another student to add to the sophomore class. I hope you don’t mind, every class is full of males except gym class. Gym class has very few females but at least you won’t be uncomfortable only being surrounded by males.”

He said as he started typing on his computer, putting her information into the school system. The printer make some noises and a paper came out. He grabbed the paper and handed it to her. She looked down and it was her classes.

First period: Algebra II

Second period: ELA

Third period: World History

Fourth period: Physics

Fifth period: Business Class

Sixth period: Gym

Extra: Advisory (only 30 minutes!)

Seventh period: Free Hour

Fujisiko peaked over her shoulder and his brows twitched in confusion.

“She’s a sophomore, why does she have junior and senior classes?” He asked and looked at the principal.

Juro crossed his arms and leaned back in his rolling chair.

“Well, since I looked up her name and got her records from her previous school she has amazing records. Also, those classes are the same classes that she was taking in her previous school.”

He explained making Fujisiko nod.

“Go to the front desk lady and let her bring you a few pairs of our uniforms. If you want pants you can just ask her for it instead of a skirt. Even though the pants are strictly for the males only, I’ll let you have them.” He said with a smile and the two stood up and bowed, thanking him before leaving the office.

They made it to the front desk lady and she looked at them.

“What can I do for you?” She asked.

“I would like a few pairs of the uniform…but instead of the skirt, can I get the pants?” Y/n asked.

She raised a brow. “The pants are strictly for the males.”

“Principal Juro said that it’s okay for her to get it.” Fujisiko said making her hum and stand up.

She walked to the back and came back with three pairs of the uniform top and three pairs of the uniform pants.

She handed it to them and smiled slightly.

“Hope to see you tomorrow early young lady, have a good rest of your day.” She said and the two walked out.

“How do you feel?” He asked Y/n as they walked away from the school campus.

“What if I don’t fit in? What if they start bullying me all cause I’m the new student? Or if they look at me weird because I’m wearing the boys uniform and not the skirt like all the rest of the girls?…”

She rambled making him look down at her as they walked back to the apartment complex.

“Hey, hey hey, it’s gonna be alright. You don’t have to worry about anything. If they do something let me know.” He reassured her making her slightly calm down.

He hands her a piece of paper.

“Here, it’s my number. Whenever you need me or just wanna hang, I’m always available. But, I’ll text you my working hours so that you know when to not text me, understand?”

His voice changing from soft to suddenly strict and stern, making her gulp and nods. He laughed and ruffled her hair.

“Get a good nights sleep, kid.” He said and went back to the front desk.

A sigh leaving her lips and she went back to her room. Once she made it to her room, she plopped down on the soft mattress.

“I hope it’s not too bad…”

She mumbled before closing her eyes and falling asleep, while thinking of how her day is going to go.

Tag list: -@reiners-milkbiddies, @melou008.

(Let me know in the comments if you wanna be added!)

[papayafiles]

i have a draft from ages ago that goes "god i wish i could time travel ten years into the future to see how many world championships lando norris has won" but the more i think about it, the more i think that if i did, via some crazy scifi shenanigans, end up in the future, i would do everything possible to avoid finding out the wdc results. and it's the same reason watching a replay of a race where you already know the results never hits as hard as waking up at the crack of dawn to watch it through a laggy grainy livestream, frantically livetweeting or liveblogging every lock up and overtake, heart in your mouth, the rest of the world falling away, fully locked in on 60 laps of cars just vrooming around and around in loops. because a huge part of this sport is the anticipation, the hope and the faith and the possibility. the not knowing is painful, and the thought that my driver's entire career could pass without that coveted championship—that i could follow him for years into the future, and never get to watch our wildest dreams come true—literally haunts my nightmares. and i know it's a possibility—it happened to so many promising young drivers, due to circumstance or luck or timing or talent or skill or any combination of the above (see daniel ricciardo)—and i know that becoming a world champion is such a rarity, but despite all that, at this moment in time, i'm convinced that lando is a future world champion.

and i think that kind of belief, the whole i don't know where it came from or how i ended up here but i believe it so absolutely this is borderline religious, is a part of what makes being a sports fan so much fun. it's what makes this such a special, magical, incredible experience. getting into sports is the last thing i thought i'd do; i spent my entire childhood not really getting it, because if this is just a game, then why are people losing their heads over something that's not even real? and i have a whole separate monologue about exactly why i think sports are so compelling to so many, which i won't get into in full now, but one of the best parts of it all is getting to believe in something that much. having faith, holding faith, keeping faith over time: the odds are stacked against literally every athlete, because this whole career path is so treacherous and random and slippery; so many things could go wrong so fast, half a tenth of a second and it's all over, but i'm still here, and i believe in my driver always. that's been proven through his past results, obviously, but it's also: i chose him, or he chose me, or some cosmic combination of events occurred circa austria/silverstone 2023, and now i'm in this for life.

i honestly feel so bad for people who have never experienced this kind of fan/fangirl experience—and really, i see it a lot, particularly with the whole internet irony epidemic we're in, people who make fun of fans of any celebrity for being sooo parasocial and cringey, for feeling such magnitude of emotion over someone we don't even know, who has no idea we exist, etc etc etc and it's like: i really don't think that's the point? of course the version of lando who lives rent free my head is different to the real 24 year old british adult man probably fast asleep in his monegasque bed rn. when i blog about him and i call him my little guy and my future world champion and my favorite person in the world, that's a version of him who exists in the gray space between the real person, his public media personality, the fervors of my f1/lando norris obsession, everything i've read or written about him, every image or video i've seen, every night i lay awake dreaming about him, etc. and that version of him is my guy. the experiences that led me to the place and the person i am now, one inextricable from the past year-and-a-half of living breathing and loving this sport so much all my friends know i'm a die-hard fan, is special and is mine and is more important than a simple "lol she thinks she knows this millionaire." i lay no claim to the man himself, but this experience, these emotions, this faith, this community and these memories—they're all mine.

one of these days i will watch him cross the finish line in abu dhabi in first place, and i will hear his uncontrollable screams of joy over the radio, the way his voice goes up higher when he's happy and his accent comes in stronger and he suddenly sounds young again, and he'll thank the team back at the factory and he'll thank will and he'll thank his parents and his siblings and his family, and i'll be sitting over my laptop in my lando hoodie sobbing into my hands, and he'll pull into that first place spot and climb out and stand on top of the car that brought him there, and he'll put his fists up in the sky and i'll watch him, and the entire grid will come around to hug and congratulate him, max and oscar and carlos and all the rest of the drivers who love a story and love a new champion and love him, and then he'll take off his helmet and his hair will be all crazy and there will be symmetric balaclava lines on his face, his ears will be flushed red, and he'll be smiling so big and wide, all wild, infectious joy, jenson or nico or hell even david coulthard will do the post-race interviews and they'll ask him how he feels and he'll respond with something that will be plastered on my twitter timeline and then i'll watch him raise the trophy on the podium with this sense of elated disbelief in my chest, and i'll log on here and say "is this real IS THIS REAL" and "i can't believe this is REAL" and "oh my god. oh my god this is actually happening THIS IS REAL MY DRIVER IS A WORLD CHAMPION" and the national anthem will play and he'll throw his head back still grinning and still happy all golden and glowing and radiant, having won it all, and i'll cancel all my plans to cry on the internet about it. it'll be miami 2024 all over again, but magnified and elevated on every single level. and i don't even want to time travel forward and find out for sure when that moment will come, because honestly, i'd rather not rob my future self of the unbelievable feeling when it finally hits, when lando norris world champion passes from the realm of daydreams and manifestations and uncertain tremulous maybes, to certainty, reality, the undeniable truth. to: this is the timeline we're in, and god am i glad, god is it the best one. all those years of waiting and hoping and dreaming and fearing, holding this so carefully in the palms of my hands as if it's a possibility i can make true, somehow, if i just think about it hard enough, delicately enough, cheering him on with everything i have, and now. and here. the champagne pop on the podium, the alchemy playing on repeat, he's getting sprayed from every direction, that ginormous world champion trophy, the shine of his reflection in the gold, the instagram post, the message of gratitude that i'll want to get tattooed onto my eyelids, the tribute video and his name engraved in the annals of history, the entire mtc roaring his name, grandstands of fluro rising to their feet, lando norris formula 1 driver race winner world champion, my guy forever. i want it all. i can't wait i can't wait i can't wait but i will, i'll wait as long as it takes, and this is real to me, to me it's already been written, i'm just waiting for that chapter to arrive. because it will.

[therobotsarestuckinmyhead]

AHHHHHH i love your writing so much like holy fuck its so banger 😭😭😭 the fact that you write gender neutral Cybertronian reader is like the nectar of heaven for my transgender ass ‼️ (AND UR SWINDLE WRITING IS TOP NOTCH RAHHH)

THANK YOU SO MUCH‼️ you have no idea how happy this makes me, kicking my feet as we speak.

i write in second person so it always ends up being gender neutral— i just didnt like using y/n a lot because when i read fics with y/n, i always end up thinking of y/n as a separate character instead of a self insert 😂 hence why i use second person.

either way, i'm more than happy to be inclusive :3 i am an ally <3 i think everyone should be allowed to simp over fictional robots in peace, this is a safe space. us perverts should stand united.

about to rant about swindle below...

AS FOR SWINDLE, he's extremely interesting to me. I JUST DON'T KNOW WHY. he's so lovable in a way. i can't explain it but i get so, so many plot ideas with Swindle alone.

HE EATS MY BRAIN AND I CAN STOP IT.

how is he a part of a combiner team and running an illegal arms operation all while looking like the most adorably pathetic Decepticon i've ever laid eyes upon (just look at that picture)??? i don't know how he manages that. was Megatron just completely fine with his illegal arms gig? it must've been his full-time job before he became a Decepticon— funding the movement when it was just a terrorist organisation.

he also must have had an amazing team of lawyers and a really good auditor he's close with- but thats assuming the Cybertronian financial system is based off of human ones. unlikely but again, theres not much light shed upon us about the Cybertronian economy.

this means you could write a reader who's...

a fellow Decepticon who owes him cash so you're doing his bidding and he is the worst employer out there, getting paid scraps </3

or a fellow Decepticon who's his partner in crime and doing all the advertising for him, the ultimate Decepticon scammer duo

OR an Autobot 'partner-in-crime' who's trying to help him tap into the wider Autobot arms market, slow-burn business relationship cause reader is only doing this cause they get a commission from Swindle with every Autobot purchase

another Con-mech, there could be a whole ass rivalry and it would just be the funniest shit ever because you're competing to see who can sell better illegal weapons the fastest

an angry customer out for blood: Decepticon, Autobot or Neutral.

a weapons engineer who Swindle is trying to take advantage off so he could sell off your produce at cheap— he's trying to get you on board by charming you and its working either really well or horrifically bad, no in between. Decepticon or Autobot.

a rich, high-ranking Decepticon official who he's dating cause you're stacked in cash and he's currently broke, you know he's with you cause you're keeping his business afloat but hey, you like them pathetic (i did this one as a crack fic lmao)

a lawyer (who's either with him or trying to bring him to justice in the post war scenario).

if the lawyer is with him then you could go full on Saul Goodman. "I LAUNDRED HIS MONEY FOR HIM, I CONSPIRED WITH HIM AND I MADE MILLIONS"... "FACT IS, WALTER WHITE SWINDLE COULDN'T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT ME.". ending is the two of you are together where you belong, in jail <3

a corrupt government official or auditor who's taking bribes from him. pre-war era.

the possibilities of canon-complicit plot lines you could make up with this guy is insane and all of them are mad interesting. hence why he eats my brain, every single plot line possible is really unique too.

i think the human version of him would be a crypto guy ngl. or maybe even a stocks guy. not sure which, maybe both but one thing is for sure, he's a finance dude. the annoying kind.

except TFA, TFA Swindle has his shit together. he's definitely a stocks guy if he were human.

thats all about Swindle from me.

[princessfbi]

hi! how about 9 or 14 from the prompt list, if they inspire 🩵

14. Person A idly playing with Person B's hair while they sleep

Eddie isn't surprised Buck passed out. He'd driven them and the Jeep full of wedding supplies all across town to pick up every little detail that they could possibly need for every single scenario that could ever happen while single handedly stressing out more than bride and groom combined.

Honestly, it was a miracle they made it to the hotel in one piece with Eddie offering to drive several times even with his arms full of cake for the rehearsal dinner because Buck's knuckles had gone bloodless by how tightly he'd been gripping the steering wheel. But with their packages delivered and Maddie and Chimney spending some much needed alone time before dinner, Eddie had been able to convince Buck that it would be good to unplug in their room for a few hours and let the wedding planner take care of the rest.

So after everything, Eddie wasn't surprised Buck had passed out. What had surprised him had been the sight of the one king bed that greeted them when they keyed into their room. They'd been booked for two beds. Two separate beds with a healthy space in between them. Not one massive bed in the center of the room with a pile of pillows stacked in the center for sharing. It could've been nothing or it could've been the single thing to finally crack Buck's resolve.

Eddie had turned to Buck half expecting his eye to twitch but Buck had just slumped and turned to Eddie with a shrug.

"I don't think I can walk all the way back down to the lobby," Buck had confessed, sounding exhausted. "Do you..."

He trailed off and Eddie's neck went a little warm when he knew what that meant.

He'd cleared his throat and made a valiant effort of appearing unbothered as he shrugged back. "I don't care if you don't."

Which had been all the permission Buck needed to face plant on the bed. Eddie was pretty sure he'd been out before his shoes even hit the ground after Buck kicked them off.

So, no. Eddie wasn't surprised Buck had passed out. And stayed passed out even as Eddie eventually slipped onto his side of the bed and pulled up his phone to occupy his time until he had to rouse Buck to get ready for dinner.

But another thing that had surprised him had been how one minute, Buck had been dead to the world, and the next, he'd somehow pressed himself up against Eddie's side.

Eddie didn't even think Buck had even really woken up in the process, scrunching and burrowing until he'd pressed his face into Eddie's hip and settled. Eddie had sort of froze, lifting his brows as he stared down at the way Buck's hand had tucked up between them until his fingers were shoved under Eddie's thigh like he was seeking the warmth of his skin.

He probably had been. Buck was notoriously cold blooded with the way he'd shiver even in the shade. Which meant it didn't mean anything. Buck had been tired and stressed and cold and somehow he'd unconsciously sought out Eddie in his sleep because Eddie was safe and warm and steady and so hopelessly head over heels for his best friend, it was pathetic.

That part wasn't a surprise.

The way Eddie's chest brightened and bloomed with another kind of warmth when Buck had practically melted against him when Eddie's fingers had given in to the temptation and combed through his curls hadn't been a surprise either.

What was maybe the biggest surprise of them all had been when Eddie didn't stop petting Buck's hair. He'd tried. He'd tried really hard, curling his hand into a fist in his lap to keep his fingers to himself. But every once in a while, Buck would twitch and jerk and Eddie's fingers drifted back until he was carding through those curls and Buck would settle once again.

Send Me There's Only One Bed Prompts

[jadetheblueartist]

Inform me on your recent hyperfixation

I want to know it all no holding back 📝

THIS IS GONNA BE KINDA RANDOM AND OBSCURE AND I DONT KNOW FACTS SO MUCH AS IM JUST THINKING ABOUT THEM ALL THE TIME

These ikea plushies make my heart explode.

I tried to get Djungelskog (the bear) a year or two ago but for some reason I thought they weren’t available in the US? And also didn’t ship there? Neither of these things are true in the slightest so now I want him so bad. I love plushies SO SO MUCH (I’m wondering if they’re a special interest of mine bc I just realized that is a possibility and it makes so much sense, I have over a hundred plushies in my room rn fhdhdjdjjfjfjsjdhd) and I also love woodland creatures so djungelskog checks all the boxes. I also have this build a bear

who I think would love an older sibling so it works out very well

The second guy is Blahaj, and I recently discovered him as my shark fixation grew more. He’s a bit of an icon (both of them are pretty popular on Pinterest which is how I found them teehee) and I adore him. He’s just a little guy and apparently perfect for hugging which is GREAT for me. The only hugging I get/desire is from plushies (touching humans makes me wanna explode- in the bad way) so he would be a perfect addition >:)

As Christmas is coming up, my mom keeps asking me for gift ideas, and these are the only things I can think of. They are consuming my every waking moment and taking over my brain. In fact, as I’m typing this I’m in the middle of moving around the furniture in my room so that I can close my bed in on three sides and stack plushies on the sides so that I can have a plushie nest. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together.

And actually for one side of my family, we combine Christmas and Thanksgiving so there’s always the possibility that one of these guys could be acquired sooner than expected (tho it’s unlikely probably bc I added him to the list later teehee; but no matter- there is no wait to long for djungelskog and blahaj)

But yeah I vow right here that one day in the future I will acquire these babies, one way or another… eeeeevil laaaaaugh

Do you have any good name ideas for them?? That’s always the most difficult part about getting plushies (and I can’t just keep naming them after tmnt characters 😭)

Alsooooo I want YOU to inform ME about YOUR most recent hyperfixation (if you wish ^^)

[beneathsilverstars]

you could. probably think if some characters are texture eaters and if so which textures they would prefer or what reactions they'd have over disliked textures

@kimdokjafan replied

I would love to hear what you have to say about the party's food preferences! Things like favorite food, things they dislike/won't eat

i started answering this anon and then got this reply, so i'll combine them. got really long lol, food is such a complex topic!

bonnie enjoys the multi-textured fish head, so they're probably big on texture! i think they're starting to have enough cooking experience to get put off when a texture isn't correct. like the problem isn't the texture itself but rather that rice should not be like that, they overcooked it, yuck, ugh! they would probably make a new batch if possible. however, they're also used to eating what you have because it's all you have — sometimes the nice neighbor drops off her shitty mac n cheese and it's better than nothing, or you mix up salt and sugar for today's bread but you're almost out of flour — so they'll try to come up with a new use for the fucked-up batch where the weird texture works better, or just eat it themself. unpleasant, but better than serving it to someone else or wasting it! as for what they enjoy the most: lots of different textures mixed together, like a salad or deluxe burrito. and chewy things!

we know bonnie's favorite foods are pineapple, rice, and samosas. i'd say they love sweet things as most kids do, but they're really starting to prefer a little more complexity to their sweet treats, like the tart acidity of pineapple. rice is a great favorite bc it's a comforting plain staple, but it can also be used in such a variety of dishes, as the entire base or to add texture! bonnie likes spicy, sour, etc... bring on the flavor! honestly i don't think there's many ingredients they don't like, it's more often a case of that flavor doesn't go there, why would you do that??? maybe they haven't grown into bitter vegetables yet.

siffrin also likes the fish head, so they really enjoy a fun texture, and they like trying new foods as they travel — but when they don't like something they hate it. but they also hate to raise a fuss! so if they're eating with other people, they'll try to just eat around the offending element without making it too obvious that's what they're doing, and then claim they're just not that hungry. if they're by themself, they'll spit it out and rinse out their mouth and eat something crunchy. they don't like tomatoes, which is convenient bc they also don't like when sandwich bread gets soggy at all. they don't like mushrooms or caramalized onion. they enjoy super crunchy things and a nice thick soup!

we know malanga fritters are presumably his favorite. i think he likes mashed potatoes too. fish, of course, and hearty stews. he loves clam chowder! he used to be a big sweet pastries fan, but post-canon he pivots to fruity sweetness bc he can't stand caramel-marshmallow-candy sweetness anymore, and even fruit's on thin ice. most of his disliked foods are about the texture, not the taste. but he's also really sensitive to associations - if he coincidentally gets sick after eating something, eats something badly seasoned, etc, it'll put him off of that taste for a while even if he doesn't remember why.

iirc isabeau wasn't into the fish head. he likes simpler and more predictable foods! he gets yucked out by overripe fruits, but luckily it's usually pretty easy to tell if a fruit will be good. if he does accidentally bite into a bad one, he makes a face and swallows it as quickly as possible, and asks if anyone else wants the rest before he donates it to the local wildlife. he likes fluffy breads and nuts! he's the kind of guy to pack a stack of pb&js and an apple for lunch every day, just buying a different flavor of jam each time he runs out. he doesn't like anything too spicy or bitter! probably a cheese fiend too.

mirabelle isn't super particular about textures, but she is pickier about tastes; she doesn't like a couple common vegetables, like green beans and cooked carrots, and a couple common sauces, like mustard and marinara. she doesn't like nuts, but sometimes eats them anyway because they're so popular in dormont's house for some reason and she gets tired of refusing to eat them, and now she sorta hates them even more but also will absentmindedly stand there munching on them? in general if she doesn't like a food she's served she'll still try to eat enough to be polite, but sometimes can't manage it. some foods she loves are honey, olives, and apple pie. she does love plums too, but it's less that they're objectively her favorite taste and more that they're her thing. it's fun having a thing!

odile likes delicate textures like flaky pastries and watermelon, and doesn't like purely glop-based foods like oatmeal, though it's tolerable with a crunchy topping. she really enjoys a good meat, like a nice herby steak or buttery pork belly. she doesn't dislike sweets, but she doesn't indulge in them in often; when she does, she prefers lemony desserts or bitter chocolate. she finds most foods tolerable at least, and especially likes sharp flavors, like vinegar and vodka!

[aois-amaterasu-painting]

Black B- PASS- Special Issue - The GazettE - NINTH Reference book - (part 2 - song comments & lyrics translations)

1. 99.999

Uruha: "This time, since it's our ninth album, we wanted to make it a culmination of everything we've done so far. We wanted the SE (sound effects) to convey that as well, so we incorporated sounds from the SEs used in the past eight albums in a way that's noticeable. It was quite a challenge to collect all the past SEs, cut out recognizable parts from each, like 'DISORDER' from the album 'DISORDER', and blend them in without breaking the harmony. Overall, we aimed for an industrial sound that might be harsh to the ears when listening casually but would really elevate the mood during live performances."

2. Falling

Ruki: "We had already decided to make a music video for this song, so I had a specific tempo in mind from the start. The song was created with the visuals in mind. I told the video production team that I wanted to show a car crashing and being destroyed, and we developed the story from there. Initially, the plan was for a burning car to fall, but that was deemed difficult. We only make a music video once every three years, so I thought it would be fine to go all out this time (laughs). So I expressed my hope for the highest possible budget from the start. In reality, the costs were more about the three days spent filming rather than the car itself. Watching the car burn, I wondered, 'What are we even filming here?' (laughs)."

.

Falling: lyrics translation

Since how long Do you know how long it’s been? Together, let’s leap into the depths of chaos now so we can become intertwined Falling down Deep in to the dark

Distorted screams unraveling the past; I’m losing my Mind I covered my weary eyes Stuck in my head the ghosts of my past haunt me and drive me mad Where did I come from?

In those swirling depths, my thoughts may be an escalating contradiction but In those swirling depths, my thoughts are the cherished shadow of my former self

Scream if you can’t handle the crushing weight of rejection Suffer now that you’ve seen what you were like back when you’d lost yourself

We just believe in ourselves to die I know you were the same Together, embracing the same pain we’ll break It’s all right if we smash to pieces and scatter To be reborn again I’m gonna fall

Distorted screams unraveling the past; I’m losing my Mind I covered my weary eyes Stuck in my head  this shrill, noisy racket

Inside me Something’s changing I see an ending Take it all in I’m gonna fall

I watch the sadness slowly disappear

We just believe in ourselves to die I know you were the same Together, embracing the same pain: it’s only temporary Don’t forget that this is not the end So come on, let’s open our eyes and fall

We just believe in ourselves to die

Sometimes it’s okay to be broken

...

3. NINTH ODD SMELL

Ruki: "This song was created around the same time as 'Falling', so they feel like two parts of a whole. This song went through four transformations before it was completed, and the fourth version felt just right. I wanted a really good guitar riff. It combines elements that evoke Nickelback, the generation of Skid Row, and our own generation's nu-metal influences. Next, we added visual kei elements. I think it will work well live, and it feels like a song that truly represents the recent sound of the GazettE."

.

NINTH ODD SMELL: lyrics translation

This soul can never die

First 「disorder」 is an ignorant blade Heresy raising its middle finger in rebellion

Reverberation running rampant heading towards the ninth stair of desire Second 「nil」 the future that tore through the darkness Nameless lights

The grim precursor soon becomes Stacked up, wriggling Rubbish

Draped in crimson despair crawling from the murky depths A tower of fear and doubt looks down upon the world

Poison gripping your voice as the days jumble around you Your heart painfully being sliced to shreds Exhilarating in the feeling of destruction Filled with strange distortions You fight your way to the 13th stair So embrace the black black black darkness

[Die] We fucking never die This soul can never die We fucking never die Can’t never die

Both hands spread wide take one finger away Moving towards the end But, still partially entangled, you’re held back from flying

And now here, joined together It's figure has taken shape Ninth: “The proof that we lived”

Until it melts and scatters Melting my rusted heart Our clamoring voices may reach their breaking point But we won’t stop as long as we can impact you So take it, take it, take it, take it

[Die] We fucking never die This soul can never die We fucking never die Can’t ever LIE [Die] We fucking never die This soul can never die We fucking never die I won’t ever lie

Worship the idol Inside me

...

4. GUSH

Reita: "The song has a rough feel and isn't the type to exert pressure. I think it's necessary to have a song like this on an album—neither too intense nor too quiet, but something that gets your body moving. It's similar to 'INSIDE BEAST' in that it's not particularly difficult and serves as a good warm-up at the start of a live show. The chorus also warms up the vocal cords. I imagine it being more suited for the early part of a live performance rather than later."

.

GUSH: lyrics translation

The thing that’s reflected in my eyes is A widescreen puppet But I wonder if you’re actually something more You’ve adapted to feeling out of place By wearing the world’s view of Normal Spouting out whatever you think they want to hear

Gush over  you made good use of your eyes Gush over  since you’re being judged by their rules Gush over  when you turn to face them, they’re dazzled Gush over [they offer you] mindless wild applause

This high-end [life] is lively Compared to the one you had before But the impressive illusion is crumbling The uninspired solution of most of the world is just to Buzz Swarming to gather the sweet nectar [you provide]

Gush over  you turned and lavished them with your Vogue performance Gush over  they’d devour it even if it wasn’t allowed Gush over  with an adoring look in their eyes Gush over  [offering] mindless wild applause

Today you’re adrift, alone, in a swamp that can’t be completely disguised Your celebrity is only the illusion of breaking free and escaping to beauty

Your crumbling illusion is Dope

Gush over  you turned and lavished them with your Vogue performance Gush over  they’d devour it even if it wasn’t allowed Gush over  with an adoring look in their eyes Gush over  [offering] mindless wild applause Gush over  you made good use of your eyes Gush over  since you’re judged by their rules Gush over  when you turn to face them, they’re dazzled Gush over  [they offer you] mindless wild applause

Today you’re still alone in the swamp that can’t be completely disguised Despite that, you still seem like a decent person No matter what popular opinion may say

...

5. THE MORTAL

Uruha: "When I created this song, I was inspired by the theme of AI and a mechanical worldview, giving it a bit of a sci-fi feel. Choosing the sounds was smooth. We included inorganic voice-like sounds throughout, adding a subliminal sense of lifelessness to complete the track."

.

THE MORTAL: lyrics translation

She’s gone Cross a red line A quiet night That moment is pushed away What did you live for?

Lie on the color of sin Indistinct impurities sink to the bottom

She’s gone Cross a red line The remnants left in those hands

Laughing with innocent dead bodies and circling lies The hollowed personality, sculpted in superficiality Ugliness, ferocity, insanity, farce All around, the sound of bells Fills the air with contradiction and fades away

In hell Endless sorrow Unceasing pain that cannot be shed [One final] breath as I die, sinking down There is no answer

[She’s gone]

The day even laughter was stolen

In hell Endless sorrow Unceasing pain that cannot be shed [One final] breath as I die, sinking down There is no answer

...

6. Utsusemi (虚蜩; "Emptiness")

Aoi: "Utsusemi comes before Sonokoe wa moroku, serving as a bridge. It's not a transitional track, but it carries meaning in that context. This album must have been challenging for Ruki to create. Considering that, he placed Utsusemi in the best spot. Initially, I felt this song left a faint impression. We couldn't listen to the album in its final order until the very end. I kept wondering about Utsusemi, but when I finally listened to the album in sequence, it made sense."

.

Utsusemi: lyrics translation

I can't go back anymore No matter how many times the sun sets Even if I am burned by the dawn There is nothing left but this vow

If my wishes overflow, it hurts Can you make me forget somehow? Will I always remember nights like these?

Embracing sadness, in a dream-like state Scattered by the wind Even my reason to live I look for the pieces that I can’t pick up There’re only traces of you

Even if by enduring these wounds I knew I could see “the future” I still wouldn’t be able to smile I’m wasting away remembering My heart is unable to escape I’m simply blank Wordlessly they begin to fall These tears of guilt that flow I say farewell to you At the depths of the revolving lantern Every time I remember, I want to disappear

Alone, when the evening cicadas cease their cries And so I watch the reddening sky Trapped in a cage my love can’t reach [you]

Embracing sorrow, dissipating Even the endured days Barely resonate With the distant voice that encircles pain

Don't cry, it's over now The cicada shell that fell upon the sand was profoundly sad So very much like me

...

7. Sonokoe wa moroku (その声は脆く; "That Voice Is Brittle")

Aoi: "This song feels like it captures the delicate aspects of the GazettE. While the GazettE is often associated with intensity and rawness, there's also a delicate side to us. Creating a ballad best-of album reminded us of the beauty of these kinds of songs. Everyone carefully crafted their instrument approaches and the atmosphere of the sounds. It's a song that aims to captivate without being overly forceful, maintaining the unique feel of the GazettE."

.

Sonokoe wa moroku: lyrics translation

I’ve lost sight of “someday” Alone to the bitter end Weakness and sadness fill my heart Always more fragile than anyone else’s

Hey is there an end When will the grief disappear? If it hadn’t been for the promise we made that I couldn’t keep Maybe I could smile

What’s the use I can’t find it Who am [I trying] for I’m broken I’m just drowning in my dreams I can’t even see myself now

Pain piles on I’m pretending when I say that I’m not lonely I can’t hide the feeling of desolation and close my eyes Your words just…

Hey Is there an end When will the grief disappear If it hadn’t been for the promise we made that I couldn’t keep Maybe I could smile

“I want to be strong” My hope is that tomorrow will bloom with you

Hey Is there an end Sorrow isn’t eternal May the fragility I can’t hide Be just like this song

Pain piles on Worn out Too many years to count When I remember I want to be able to smile again

...

8. BABYLON'S TABOO

Uruha: "I want people to experience the world we created. I used various methods to bring my envisioned image to life. In the album, this song holds a similar position to '13STAIRS[-]1' from the past. It's a song that gradually builds up but retains a dark atmosphere. I'm satisfied that I could express my own unique 'darkness' rather than typical gothic or horror vibes."

.

BABYLON’S TABOO: lyrics translation

Spill it all Laughing at the forsaken in the vicinity What those eyes saw Was a feast discarding the weak

Sinister persecution Babylon’s Taboo Oppressed and uncertain, they remain bystanders. 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」* Are you testing me?

「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」 Sinister persecution Babylon’s Taboo Oppressed and uncertain, they remain bystanders. 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」 Are you testing me? 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」

The glaring fiction and lies, Flickering in pitch black beauty. Reflecting murkiness, even the depths of the depths Fate I accept

This is Babylon’s taboo

Observing black eyes I can’t forget this humiliation Black eyes looking down [on you] I fucking can’t forget this day

In vain Even sanity has become uncertain This is a curse In vain Even releasing hatred feels uncertain. My curse

The glaring fiction and lies, Flickering in pitch black beauty. Reflecting murkiness, even the depths of the depths Fate I accept This is Babylon’s taboo

Observing black eyes I can’t forget this humiliation Black eyes looking down [on you] I fucking can’t forget this day

Sinister persecution Babylon’s Taboo Oppressed and uncertain, they remain bystanders. 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」 Are you testing me?

「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」 Sinister persecution Babylon’s Taboo Oppressed and uncertain, they remain bystanders. 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」 Are you testing me? 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」  My curse

*In the "Child's Play" series, the phrase "Ade Du Damballa" is a voodoo chant meaning "Give me the power, I beg of you!" It is used for the supernatural transfer of a soul into a doll, transforming an innocent doll into the malevolent Chucky. This chant is central to the series' theme of combining human evil with the guise of a child's toy, driving its horror narrative. Damballa is a loa in Haitian Vodou, although "Ade Du Damballa" chant is fictional.

...

9. Uragiru bero (裏切る舌; "Traitorous Tongue")

Kai: "I think people of our generation will feel a sense of nostalgia when they listen to this song. It touches on a nostalgic feel that we've experienced. I'm curious how the younger generation, who might not be familiar with this nostalgia, will perceive it. Will they find it new? As for 'reverse diving' (a concert move), 'headbanging' has been mainstream, but I wonder how many young people understand 'reverse diving' these days."

.

Traitorous Tongue: lyrics translation

Daft’Back stabber’

I was drowning [in a sea of] viciousness stretching as far as the eye can see The last trick was the smile you saw that day

That face contorting into a twisted, grotesque expression is just…

[Daft’Back stabber’]

Am I still smiling? Tangled in a web of spite I fall into the trap of writing and rewriting, over and over again

[Daft’Back stabber’]

Are they all [just] an imitation of God? I don’t even have a tongue to bite off

Even when I wish for death, my dream doesn’t die my immense dream

I can’t hide the fact that [my dream] is just one big naïve joke

So we fall because of our mistakes, [but] 「We won’t die」

I can’t envision perfection based on my inexperience Even now, [nothing but] dull superficialities fall from Your tongue that just keeps on wagging Cultivated by your offenses

[Daft’Back stabber’]

Am I still smiling? Tangled in a web of spite I fall into the trap of writing and rewriting, over and over again

[Daft’Back stabber’]

Are they all [just] an imitation of God? I don’t even have a tongue to bite off

Even when I wish for death, my dream doesn’t die my immense dream Before long the remnants of time will reduce you to a crazy mess of loneliness, choking on your own tears

So we fall because of our mistakes, [but] 「We won’t die」

...

10. TWO OF A KIND

Kai: "To me, this is the most GazettE-like song on the album. It embodies the essence of the GazettE after absorbing various influences. The way the key changes and the overall structure is surprising and has a quirky feel. The part where the A-melody features a four-on-the-floor rhythm is a playful touch that feels very GazettE. Other bands might take a different direction, but this playfulness is our style."

.

TWO OF A KIND: lyrics translation

Scenes flash through my mind, Merging with you, my kindred soul Negative feelings that I can’t wipe out Vividly begin to throb.

Scenes flash through my mind, Merging with you, my beloved. Negative feelings that I can’t wipe out, Resurface as if resurrected

Falling and then exploding—the filthy me. Falling and then exploding—the filthy voice.

Will these wounds from youth, forgotten yet remembered, Heal when we open our hearts to each other?

Now I understand that righteousness is meaningless Two of a kind souls, knowing the same pain Seemingly destined, they intertwined

Within our reach, endlessly Pure and unclouded tomorrow awaits Each time we shared our scars, the future we saw Seemed to sway almost as if dancing

This pain is given by fate

Scenes flash through my mind, merging with you, my kindred soul Negative feelings that I can’t wipe out vividly begin to throb. Scenes flash through my mind, merging with you, my beloved. Negative feelings that I can’t wipe out, resurface as if resurrected

Falling and then exploding—the filthy me. Falling and then exploding—the filthy voice.

You are the reason for samsara—my only light. Two of a kind souls, knowing the same pain Seemingly destined, they intertwined

Within our reach, endlessly Awaits an unclouded tomorrow Each time we shared our scars, the future we saw Was illuminated by our dreams Vast and endlessly blue With our hearts joined as one Forever remaining unblemished

...

11. ABHOR GOD

Reita: "This is a notable song (refer to the band interview for more details). I think it will be the easiest song to get into during live performances, reaching the peak of excitement at the end. Whether we can share this feeling with fans will only be known after performing live, but I hope we can somehow make it happen (laughs). There were many keywords—fun, easy to get into, a bit intense, not too dark, and not too exhausting for the ears. It was a challenge, but we finished the song the night before recording the drums."

.

ABHOR GOD: lyrics translation

It seems this Light is being stolen away from me The Glow reveals the secrets written here Good bye Before regret begins to spread even more Let’s raise a toast [to the] Goat

Maze, God, Devil, My life As I’m crawling up from the bottom My song of victory rings out

Kill off My lust my pride My anxiety over and over again [My lust my pride My anxiety yeah]

[Come on]

I strung up my quivering, trembling nightmares TOO FAST TO LIVE, TOO YOUNG TO DIE I swear by the beat bursting my eardrums that I can still do it TOO FAST TO DIE

[Malformed] Malformed imperfect world

Kill off My lust my pride My anxiety over and over again [My lust my pride My anxiety yeah]

[Come on]

I strung up my quivering, trembling nightmares TOO FAST TO LIVE, TOO YOUNG TO DIE I swear by the beat bursting my eardrums  that I can still do it It won’t end I even strung up my quivering, trembling God TOO FAST TO LIVE, TOO YOUNG TO DIE I swear by the beat now [fading] to embers that I can still do it TOO FAST TO DIE

My song of victory rings out: My life It’s my life

...

12. UNFINISHED

Ruki: "I love melodic songs, so this came naturally. However, it was only possible after 'DOGMA'. If we had been asked to release this after 'SHIVER', it would have been impossible. I restrained myself from making the structure too complex. The members advised against key changes and abrupt drops, which I tend to do. It was initially bright but gradually turned minor (laughs). It's a straightforward song, making it a bit challenging, repeating the chorus, and avoiding the impression of laziness. But this approach was due to the influence of 'DOGMA'."

.

UNFINISHED: lyrics translation

These shaky words I’ve crossed out so many times Will never be enough to fill my broken days So I engraved into my heart The value of your confidence and Your complete faith in me

You always put up with my tears And at the same time walked alongside me

I will take your precious hand And show you something more than dreams Together, we’ll take my silent wish into the future You have my word

I gather together [and treasure] these passing days And pour out all the love I have So keep believing in me completely I’ll stitch into my heart The reason for your faith in me

During that time when I ran away You were the light that shined on the path I took I can’t even tell you in words How many times you’ve saved this heart

I will take your precious hand And show you something more than dreams Together, we’ll take my silent wish into the future You have my word

Countless times I held tight to my hopes I want to show you the future

I take that hand and now we begin to walk

Until we finally reach eternity My fervent wish is to keep heading towards the future with you That will never change Since you are the reason I’m alive

All scans are from The Archive (rad-is-more) Interview translation is ChatGPT. Lyrics translations are Defective Tragedy Blog but I changed The Mortal, Utsusemi and Two of a Kind lyrics translations quite a bit. Babylon's taboo was a nightmare because I know the lyrics are wrong on the DT blog but idk how to actually translate it properly, but I used these blogs translations also ( 1 , 2 ), basicly I was looking at 6 different translations picking the best lines .... but the only thing I'm certain of is the dorodoro line... However after hours of breaking my brain trying to solve this I got an epiphany that these lyrics are about the black eyes that reflect both the black murky depths of his soul as well as observing the society at large... something like that