#as long as they’re pretty white people and straight it’s okay!

[the-curious-curer]

Random rant: English fandoms especially is a weird place, on one hand you have people cheering for series romanticizing serial killers (Dahmer) and incest (House of Dragon) but on the other, people shipping gay teenage boys from anime get called out for “misogyny” and “ped0philia” and so on.

[skylarsblue]

★RDR2 Incorrect Quotes★

(If you see duplicates from my COD version of these? Shh, no you didn't) ★Border made by @fairytopea★

Ms.Grimshaw What are you doing, you oaf? Young!Arthur, staring at Y/N: They’re pretty. Ms.Grimshaw …and you’re ugly, now get back to work.

- (Pre-joining the gang) Abigail, trying to get paid: What’s your favorite color, John? John: Blue. No, green. Abigail: Awesome! I love learning about you. John: I fucked up, it’s yellow.

- Arthur, cutting a huge knot out of John’s hair: I fucked up, we gotta go bald. *head locks him still* Young!John, flailing violently: WAAAAAHHHH-

Seán: Psst, Lenny, ay mate, wake up! Lenny: Huh- Wh-what? What is it? Seán: I heard something outside the tent. Lenny: What? Seán: Like a woman crying in the distance, but I couldn’t hear her footsteps. Lenny: Okay?? What do you want me to do? Seán: Come look with me! Lenny: Hell no! Seán: Why not? Lenny: I got too much melanin and too much sense for that white people shit. You wanna let demons get you, be my guest, leave me out of it.

- (John HAD to have SOMETHING that captivated her, for humor’s sake? We’ll say he had jokes)

Abigail: You have to find my darling husband, I’m so worried about him. Arthur: Seriously, what do you see in that guy? Abigail: He makes me laugh.

- Micha: I've got the urge to say something. Arthur: And what's that? Micha: The N-Word- Arthur: WHOA-

- Bill: But seriously, is it your whole emo thing that she’s into or what? John: …yeah, long flowing straight hair, very emo.

- Karen: This- Hmm. Tilly: Be nice. Karen: I’m findin’ it. Mary-Beth: …it takes you that long to find- Karen: It does, it does.

- (O’Driscoll troubles) Kieran: Arthur we’re going to get murdered. We’re going to get murdered by a man who can’t tie a fucking bow tie. Arthur: At least he won’t torture us, can’t tie a rope either.

- John: Ugh, you know they’re gonna make us do one of those tacky family happiness photos that comes in the restaurants shitty frame. Tilly: Why are you so fucking negative all the time? John: Wh- uh- I just- Arthur: *slowly sucks tea through straw*

- Seán: Someone just said; “You’re a criminal!” Seán: *handkerchief on, gun in one hand, bag of money in the other* Seán: Well I’ll tell ya what, Sherlock Holmes. You are unbelievable.

- The Gang: Arthur is dying and Micha is a rat! Dutch, dancing with money: *insert that audio that goes “I don’t give a fuck cause I’m a ✨millionaire✨, I do what I want, middle finger in the air!”*

- John, drunk: You think the wind is ever tryna tell us something and we don’t know how to hear it anymore? Charles, loading up a drunk Arthur into a wagon: I just want you to stop saying odd shit.

- Abigail: If we lose, I’m gonna cut the judge. John: Wh- you brought your switchblade?? Abigail: Mhm. John: But they patted us down on the way in, where did you hide i- ohhhhhhh.

- Arthur: …you ever wish you could just, turn into a bird and fly away from everything? Charles: I think we need to get you to a therapist for depression. John: I’d wanna be a wolf. Charles: And we should get you psych evaluation for Autism.

- Sheriff: You seem like a reasonable and good natured person. Arthur: *looks around* And you look like you need glasses.

- Abigail: What would your father say?! Jack: Uhhh “I’ll fix it!” And then make it worse until luck comes around and makes it work, and then act like that was the plan the whole time? Abigail: …that’s my bad, I should’ve used a different phrase to express my disappointment.

- (I dunno why but John being super mean to some people is so fucking funny to me. I don't hate Bill, but bullying him is fun)

Bill: You enjoyin’ the wife everyone else paid to have? John: You mean the woman I never had to pay for? The woman who liked me so much, she didn’t ask for any money to sleep with me? In fact; she liked me so much, she married me? The woman who makes me a warm dinner and kisses me everyday? Mother of my child? John: I am enjoyin’ yeah. What about you, Bill? Bill: John: You enjoyin’ your lonely life, you unlovable sorry sack of shit? You enjoyin’ having to pay for someone to pretend they like you? Cause they never actually do. They hate you actually, like me. I hate you. Eat shit and die, Bill.

- Arthur: …him? Really? Mary-Beth Don’t be mean! Arthur: He looks like a rescue dog, Mary-Beth. Mary-Beth: I know, I like that! Arthur: ….you like that?? Mary-Beth: His pathetic wet eyes and general wimpy stature have captivated me. Arthur: *sigh* Whatever makes you happy.

- Bill: At the end of the day, Arthur. I am a MAN. Arthur: A MAN WHO’S GAY. You like fellers GETTHATTHROUGHYOURHEAD!

- Dutch: I have a plan. Hosea: You haven’t planned shit. Dutch: I’ve planned it.

- Hosea: Arthur! What on earth are you doing?! Young!Arthur: Getting rid of this demon. Young!John: *screeching and trying to get out of Arthur’s grip* Hosea: And why do you plan to get rid of him? Arthur: Because, Hosea! He woke me up by leaning over me and whispering, “I know what death feels like, it’s cold. Have you felt death?” Arthur: HE’S CLEARLY EVIL, HOSEA Hosea: That’s just how children are, Arthur. Dutch: He’s right son, put the boy down. Dutch, leaning and whispering to Hosea: But maybe we should buy a Bible just in case. Hosea: And a cross.

- (Modern au and suicide joke)

John: It’s not a phase! It’s a lifestyle, you just wouldn’t get it! Arthur: You think I didn’t go through the “I can’t tell if I want to kill myself or everyone around me” phase? Come on. John: What? I don’t wanna kill myself at all. Arthur: … John: … John: Should I- should we go talk to Hose- Arthur: We should forget this conversation happened. Take this Nirvana CD and keep your mouth shut.

- Abigail: …John. John: Yes, my angel? Abigail: You forgot something. John: No I didn’t! I took the list with me, checked it three times, even crossed things off when I put it in the cart! See, look. Apples, frozen hamhocks, cranberry juice- Abigail: John. You took Jack with you. John: Abigail: John: Abigail: John: SHIT I LEFT HIM BY THE PASTA SECTION Abigail: STOP STANDING THERE AND GO GET HIM!

- Jack: Pa, how did you get mom to marry you? John: Well son, I- John: John: I have no idea. Jack: Should I ask mom? John: I’ll be honest, I don’t think she knows the answer either.

- Charles: You did good back there. Arthur: Oh? Heh, nah, you did all the fancy stuff. I just helped. Charles: Don’t undersell yourself, Arthur. I wouldn’t be complimenting you for no reason. Arthur: Oh yeah? And here I thought you were just trying to fluff up my ego. Charles: Wouldn’t hurt to do when you work so hard, no? Arthur: Now you’re just being’ sweet- John: Can y’all wait til we’re done before you start your spiritual dick sucking? Arthur: Can you repent to the lord fast enough to save your soul in the time it’ll take me to throw you into the damn ocean, Marston?!

- Arthur: Do you even have a brain? John: Do you even have someone that loves you? Arthur: John: John: I heard it that time, I’m sorry. Arthur: This is what Abigail hears sometimes, just so you know. John: I heard it that time, I got it. I- I’ll just- Arthur: Whiskey, full bottle. The nice kind. John: Apology alcohol, got it.

-

NPC: My husband’s parents are so crazy. In-laws always are, huh? Abigail: Well, uh-

*John being an orphan* *John’s adoptive dads being criminals, one particularly off his rocker*

Abigail: ….aha, yeah;;

- Abigail: John Marston, you useless, foolish, stupid man! Bill: To hell with John! Abigail, suddenly with a very large gun: NO ONE INSULTS MY HUSBAND.

- Arthur, holding up a proper painting he actually put time and effort into: Could a depressed person make this? Charles: The painting: *a wolf in the rain laying it’s head over the body of a deer shot with an arrow* Charles: I’m, in fact, more convinced you have depression now. Arthur: …yeah this wasn’t the best evidence for my argument, huh? Charles: No. Not at all.

- John: What are you talking about? That’s completely normal, it’s like having opinions. just cause it doesn’t happen to you doesn’t mean- Tilly: No, John! No. It’s not normal to have that reaction to the sound of hearing metal on metal. John: No look, uh- Arthur! Arthur come here! Arthur: What now? John: What happens when you hear metal on metal? Like, a can bein’ rubbed with a knife. Arthur: Ugh, I hate that sound. It makes my damn skin crawl, like I got beetles underneath. Makes me wanna skin myself to get’em out. John: Right! See, Tilly? It’s not just me! Tilly: ????

Charles: …and you never got them evaluated? Hosea: In hindsight, an autistic diagnosis probably would’ve made more things make sense. But, what can ya do.

- Arthur after a dog didn’t positively react to him: Maybe this is my final straw. Charles: No. Arthur: It might be. Charles: It’s one dog. There are twenty that you stopped to pet along the way here, plenty more for you to pet after this. Arthur: You don’t understand, this is devastatin’. Charles: Arthur, please- Arthur: Utterly devastatin’, Charles.

- Arthur, tipsy: Just cause you’re gorgeous don’t mean I’ma do whatever you say. Charles: Drink the water, Arthur. Arthur: *grabs the glass* Yes, sir.

- (Got a Y/N one, also, modern Au)

Arthur: That’s the Aberdeen farm. Y/N: …what’s wrong with it? Arthur: What’cha mean? Y/N: The vibes, they’re off. Arthur: …the…vibes? Y/N: The energy, Mister Morgan. The vibe of the place. They’re off, they’re weird, wack even. I sense insidious and wretched wavelengths wafting from the aura of that property. Arthur: I see…well, to answer your question, it’s cause they are weird. And I ain’t even confirmed why cause I don’t really wanna know. Y/N: I see you can also sense the vibes are rank. Arthur: …sure, whatever that means.

- Micha: Well I think- Y/N: Well I’m certain no one fucking asked, Micha! Not a single damn person asked what the hell you thought, ever! In fact, I’m pretty sure you don’t think. I’m pretty sure your skull fills with all the bullshit in your organs, and it just spills out your mouth! Micha: Micha: I- Y/N: Shut up, Micha!

- Arthur, after Albert explains some super dangerous plan in order to get wild animals near him to photograph: You’re stupid, I like that in a man.

- Y/N: Bye Arthur, bye Karen, bye Hosea, bye Arthur. Sadie: You said ‘bye Arthur’ twice. Y/N: I like Arthur.

- NPC: Lovebirds, eh? Sadie: Arthur: Sadie: I’d rather eat a poison ivy plant with Holly Berries for dressing. *looks at Arthur* No offense. Arthur: No no, none taken. All things considered, I’d rather dive into a pit of tar and then drag myself face first through a plain of rotten chitlins. Sadie: Completely fair!

- Bill: I need you to realize you ain’t in charge here. Y/N: I need you to realize I don’t give a shit.

- Arthur: Hey Charles, uh, I got an Uhm…a spiritual question. Charles: Any particular reason you chose to ask me? Arthur: Uh well- I didn’t mean for it to be like that- I just- Charles: *sigh* What is it? Arthur: Do you know what it means when an elk stands up on its back legs? Charles: That means- Charles: WE SHOULD LEAVE, we need to leave, that’s what that means!

- Jack: …why are your boobs so big? Charles: They’re not boobs. Jack: Do you have to wear a brasier? Charles: *sigh* Arthur: He asked me the same thing a couple weeks ago, don’t think to hard bout it.

-

(Story spoilers!!) Y/N: I'm sorry, let me get this straight. Y/N: You picked up that man when he was a destitute child, grieving and starving. Taught him almost everything he knows. Y/N: Then, you did that with, what? Three others? In similar circumstances? Y/N: Created a sense of family and community, a strong bond between so many misfortuned people. With your trustworthy long term friend by your side. Y/N: And then. Y/N: One RAT. WHO IS OPENLY ANTAGONISTIC AND REEKS OF SUSPICION AS MUCH AS HE DOES HORSE SHIT, SOMEHOW CONVINCES YOU TO GO OFF YOUR ROCKER AND HARM YOUR GANG?! Y/N: Explain! Dutch: Dutch: Dutch: He praised me- Y/N: YOUR PRAISE KINK GOT YOU TO AIM A GUN AT YOUR SONS????

- Arthur: Naaah they’re an angel. Lenny: They punched Bill in the face. Seán: They told Strauss he was a waste of human material, in his own language, which they’re not fluent in. Mary-Beth: They framed Micha for a crime and got him put in prison again. Arthur: Like I said, an angel!

- John: Woman. (Translation: Darling.) Abigail: Moron. (Translation: Lovebug.)

Arthur: You tellin’ me they’re being affectionate right now? Jack: Can’t’cha read subtext, Uncle Arthur? Arthur: ???

-

(Insert Alcohol is truth serum reference)

Drunk Bill: Not to be gay, but you’re gorgeous bro. Kieran, afraid: You don’t have to be gay to appreciate a man’s beauty. Absolutely shit-faced Bill: Nah, like I’d fuck you, bro. Kieran, terrified: Okay, never mind!

- (How I imagine their first couple years together went)

Dutch: Dutch: Dutch: Dutch: How do you feel about me? Hosea, naked & beside him: ….we’re sharin’ a bedroll, Dutch. Dutch: Yes, but what are we, Hosea? Hosea: ….we’re both naked, alone, in a tent, Dutch. Dutch: That doesn’t answer my question. Hosea:

- (This one's sad, not funny, sorry-) John: You’re such a hypocrite, why is it that anything I do that you’ve done before that you get so bent outta shape?! Arthur: Because I’ve done it before you, John. John: So why do you think it’s fair to tell me not to?! Most people are proud when their younger brother ends up like’em. You don’t want anyone like you, is that it? Arthur: John: John: …oh. Arthur: Now that you got my point, will you take my god damn advice without a big fuss…please.

- John: She drives me insane! She somehow managed to make me the angriest I’ve ever been almost daily. NPC: Then leave her. John: The fu- no. What? She’s the wind beneath my wings, my darling wife, my beautiful angel. How the hell could you even think to suggest such a thing? NPC: But- John: Get outta my sight, you fuckin’ disgrace.

[lolamarlowe65]

just spent 10 minutes blasting cola (cause lana gets it) and imagining the lotus position with james…

OH FUCK anon you just gave me an idea

James Hetfield x reader

“𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓸 𝓲𝓼 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂.”

“It’s not just two horny humans anymore, it’s two hearts.”

one shot x reader

disclaimers : age gap (modern day james), smut, fluff, unprotected sex, cursing, smoking, for my romantic (but horny) james lovers, kids go back to ur parents <33

4.3k words

AO3 link

༄♡. 𖧹⋆✰

It’s a late Saturday night and my friend asked me to join him at the bar he sent me the address of. I don’t know this town very well. To be honest, I just came here because of him. I needed an excuse to move out from my old town and see something new and this guy I was talking with seemed like a good exit door. Truth is, this man is not as nice and good as he seemed. I’m the typical case of a woman manipulated and lied to just for sex. And even, I used him too in a way so if the sex is good what’s so wrong? But even this is bad. He only thinks for himself and himself only, not caring if I finish nor if I like it. He calls me, we hook up, he comes and then leaves telling me he’ll take me on a nice date next time. It never happened, and it will never do. I don’t even want to. I don’t even know if I want to stay here. So what am I doing here still running after him to be treated like shit? Here’s the answer, I just don’t have anything better to do. I don’t know anybody and I’ve got no idea how the people in this city are. So I go to every single one of his so-called “dates” waiting for a new day to start. When I find something better to do I promise that it will be passionate and most importantly; fulfilling. Fuck.

Standing in front of the bar I light myself a cigarette waiting for him. We usually have a drink and then go straight to it. Saying I’d need a drink to be able to hook up with him would almost sound like unconscious rape so I will not say that, I consent to this bullshit. But I definitely need something to drink to be able to listen to him and his tremendous fucking ego.

While I’m waiting I see this group of guys enter the bar. They look older than me, around their 50s maybe even if they definitely look younger than that. There’s four of them, one of them has long black hair nicely put back in a braid, another one has grey hair and wears a hat. To be honest, I just heard the third guy call him a “dumbass” so that’s how I’d describe him. This third guy has a very beautiful face, I must admit, with long curly salt and pepper hair. But this is nothing compared to the fourth guy. I think I have never seen a man that attractive, he’s quite tall and he’s got short white hair. He wears a black shirt that exposes his heavily tattooed arms. My fucking god he is hot. I can’t see clearly because it’s nighttime but I’m pretty sure he’s got ocean blue eyes. Which would be the cherry on the cake for my heart. I feel like I know them from somewhere but that might just be me. They’re all laughing and joking around and the fourth guy I was talking about notices me and says hello with a smile from afar. He must have noticed me creeping over them, shit. At least his smile is beautiful. I say hello back and leave them to enter the bar.

I can’t believe it! While I was lost watching over those guys I didn’t notice this fucking asshole was 30 minutes late! Fuck it! I’ve had enough! I call him twice before getting him over the phone.

*”- Yeah baby I’m sorry I’m late.” he says in an unbothered voice. “I had something more urgent to do.” he adds.

“- Something? That’s what I am? Something? You fucking asshole! Could you at least have the fucking decency to tell me you will not come?” i answer, obviously pissed.

“- Hehe sorry!” he laughs slightly. “It’s okay, you agreed it was nothing serious between us so just go home and next time I’ll take you on a nice date.” he dares to say.

“- What the fuck? You think I want to see you again? Get fucked!” i yell.

“- Do whatever you want, it's not gonna change my life much, you’re too frigid for me anyway.”

“- Too frigid?? Maybe if you knew how to use your dick properly instead of shaking it around in my pussy to come after 30 seconds I would be more expressive! What the fuck do you know anyway? You probably don’t know what pleasure on a woman looks like since you’ve never been able to give it to them!”

“- Bit-” i hang up before he can say anything else.*

I also block his number, he already sent me a few messages. What the fuck? I know I was not thinking too much about this but I won’t accept to be treated like property. I don’t want to waste this time I spent alone outside so I decide to go inside for a drink before going back to the shitty place I’m renting. That’s decided, fuck this town, I don’t wanna stay here. I’ll go fool around the west coast or lose myself in some mountains. I’m an artist, I don’t have money so I’ll see what I can do.

Sitting at the bar drinking my vodka I notice the guys from earlier in the booth on the corner. The light is still pretty dark so I can’t seem to really catch their expressions. Whatever man. My time at the bar is just me looking at those guys while talking to the waitress who’s also been with a lot of assholes that just wanted to play with her. Her name is Hailey, we got along so well she gave me her number. I don’t wanna get drunk so I just sip my drink slowly to retard the moment I’ll have to go.

“- Hey girl, stop looking over they must have enough!” Hailey commands with a laugh.

“- What do you mean? Can’t even see them well from here.” i answer, taking a sip of my drink.

“- They’re the guys from Metallica! They had some shooting for a video to do around here that’s why they’re here. I can’t believe they’d choose to come to this bar out of all the ones in town. I must admit that they’re actually pretty normal humans!” she explains.

“- What did you think, they were aliens?” i say, completely unbothered.

“- When your band is that orgasmic, yes. Like I’d love to meet a human man that could make me feel like they do.” she laughs.

“- I’ll drink to that!” i say taking another sip of my drink.

“- You look completely out of this? You not into metal?”

“- Oh.. I very much am. It’s just… I don’t even know what to think anymore with all that happened tonight. And I mean.. It’s cool that they’re here and all but what do you want me to do. It’s not like I’m gonna become their best friend. Here they’re just four guys sharing a drink after work.” i chuckle.

“- I guess you’re right.” Hailey tilts her head.

Hailey takes the tray and goes in the back of the bar to serve some drinks. I’m left alone for some time trying to think about what’s next for me to come. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize Metallica before, I guess I can’t see very well in the dark. So the first one was Rob I think, then the “dumbass” was Lars, the fourth with the beautiful face Kirk and of course James. The tall tattooed one with the black shirt, no wonder I thought he was hot. I always thought so. Whatever era of his, I think he’s my ideal type. If you saw the guy I was supposed to meet with tonight you’d laugh at me for lowering my standards so much. But listen. A girl like me could never get a guy like him. Plus, to him I’m surely a young chick who doesn’t know what she wants. It’s wrong though, I know what I want. Something deep and passionate with somebody that’s not afraid of telling me they care about me. Something adult. It’s 2023 and I can’t believe guys like this asshole I was supposed to hook up with still exist. Okay if you want casual sex but be honest about it and get sex education for Christ’s sake. Now I want a man like James. At least a man that’s like how I would imagine him to be. I laugh by myself thinking about how dumb I am to think about this.

“- What’s so funny?” a deep voice asks me.

I almost choke at the surprise. Here he is, sitting next to me. James fucking Hetfield. I also see the other guys leaving the bar saying bye to me and James with a wave of hand. I turn my head to look at James clearly saying it all with my face. What the fuck is going on.

“- Nothing.” i cough. “Just silly thoughts.” i smile.

He is so beautiful. His face in the light is even more satisfying to look at.

“- Seems interesting.” he answers playfully.

I chuckle slightly. But I can’t wrap my head around why he would talk to me. I should be the one here all “stars in my eyes” asking him how he’s doing. Wait? Is he flirting with me? I turn my head to look at him in the eyes and go straight to the point.

“- James? What exactly do you want?” i ask, trying my best to stay composed.

“- I don’t know.” he holds my gaze. “What do you think I want?” he smiles.

“- A bouncy young chick you’ll never see again to blow you tonight?” i sarcastically answer. “If you want just that from me you can get fucked.” i continue.

I had my quota of assholes for the night and I don’t want to have the beautiful image I have of James to get broken too. Now that would really piss me off. I deeply hope it’s not the case. That he does want to fuck me but also to care about me. That he wants to be this passionate and deep relation I was thinking about. Or at least hear he wants to fuck me good and well and respect me. Just that. Just this would turn me on. Just this I would be willing to risk. I can hear James laugh at my raw words. At least he isn’t the type of guy to get his ego crushed because I talked coldly to him.

“- Not at all.” he stands up and puts himself behind me while approaching my ear. “I mean, I would love to make love to such a beautiful woman but certainly not use her and leave. I see things in a deeper way.” he whispers.

My eyes got bigger instantly. That’s all I needed to hear. I look into my pockets for the dollars I need to pay for my drink. I put them on the bar and stand up, taking James’s hand and dragging him out of the bar. His hand feels so good I can’t even explain the feeling. It’s rough but soft and the way he presses my hand into his to be sure he is not mistaking my gesture turns me on even more. It’s not just lust. There’s something so romantic about this.

Once outside the bar I stop, realising I don’t know where the fuck I’m going.

“- Where’s your hotel?” i ask, pressed.

“- Just at the end of the street.” he answers.

“- Kay, let’s go.”

I start walking confidently but James stops me and makes me look at him.

“- Are you sure about this?” James asks.

How thoughtful. I mean, it’s the bare minimum but I’ve never been asked that before. The guys I have been with didn’t give a shit. They could fuck and so they did without asking me if I was completely okay with it.

“- And you? Are you?” i answer.

“- More than anything.” he cups my face with hands.

He’s taller than me by a good head but I don’t feel threatened by his height. His hands feel so good and his eyes give me so much admiration, I just can’t resist.

“- James…” i almost whisper.

“- Tell me your name so I can beg for you. Because this doesn’t seem real.”

“- Y/n…”

“- So fucking beautiful.” he lets out. “Prove me it’s me real and I’m not just dreaming that the hottest chick in this town wants to go back to my room with me.”

I know what to do. I slowly put my hand on the back of his neck to pull him to me and just like that I kiss him. His lips are so soft and hot, I never felt such a thing while kissing somebody. It’s so overwhelming that my heart starts beating at an unhealthy beat. But also, it’s so peaceful, it’s exactly what I want to feel for the rest of my life.

I let my lips go from him and look at him, studying the blue of his eyes. Something changed. It’s not just two horny humans anymore, it’s two hearts.

“- Shit.” i hear James say.

He takes my hand back and this time, he is the one leading the way, being careful with every step I take for me not to be lost. I don’t know what he’s thinking and that makes me feel a mix of excitement and fear.

When we arrive in front of his hotel my heart starts to pound again. What is about to happen? Is he really in for it? If I mistook what he wanted from me I could at least say that I fucked Metallica’s singer. At least. That’s what I repeat myself. But the other part of my brain tells me to let go and see what’s gonna happen without any questions.

Waiting for the elevator to come he holds my hand tightly, like I am about to disappear into space.

The elevator comes and I am left here with him, just the two of us standing next to each other. The hotel is very big, so the elevator takes time and every minute feels longer than the other. Because I can’t touch him, because I can’t feel him. This highway to whatever is going to happen is the longest road I’ve ever had to take. But the best one yet.

As a way of waiting, I let my head rest on his arm next to me. His beautiful tattooed arm. But before I could really settle my head here James turns me around to kiss me.

“- I’m sorry, I can’t wait.” James almost whispers.

I moan into his mouth as a way to give my approval and he grabs me by the back of my thighs and wraps my legs around his waist, my arms going straight to hold the back of his neck. His lips derive from my lips to fall into my neck, biting the skin he leaves trails of kisses on. Fuck I didn’t knew I was that sensitive here. I need his lips on mine, I need his tongue to play with mine so I turn his head around with one of my hands, my lips practically begging at this point. As I deepen the kiss, I let his tongue enter my mouth and play with mine. God, it’s like he’s trying to look for all the places that make me feel good.

“- Wait wait James!” i exclaim.

“- What?” he answers, kissing my neck.

“- There’s cameras in elevators? Right?” i ask, afraid we might have been seen.

“- I couldn’t give less of a shit baby.” he responds immediately, letting a laugh out of me. “They can see a beautiful woman they’ll never have if they want.”

“A beautiful woman they’ll never have” what does he mean by that? What do you mean never have? I have no more time to be lost in my thoughts because the elevator just opened. James carries me through the hallway in the same position as we were in, my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms around his neck. One of his hands is on my ass, which makes me weaker than I would admit and the other is around my waist. I’m so glad that it’s late, nobody is walking around the hotel. I can also feel the hardness in his pants, teasing me just enough for me to get wet. I know what is gonna happen now, he’s gonna fuck me, and he’s gonna do it good. I’ve been waiting for this. And I can’t believe that none other than James Hetfield will do it. I’m so horny just thinking of it.

Opening his hotel room door he wastes no time to close the door and he drops me on the bed. Towering over me, he goes back to where he was before, kissing me, my neck and now the birth of my breasts. I push James's head slightly to have room to remove my shirt, which, when he understands my attention, does for me. My bra goes away at the same time as my shirt and here I am, topless, in front of a man that makes me feel so confused about my feelings.

“- Perfect. So perfect.” i hear him groan.

I moan at the touch of his soft lips sucking on my nipples. He bites them and sucks on them like he found a new instrument to play. I could come just because of this, this new feeling is incredible.

“- I want to make you feel so good.” James tells me, smiling.

I freeze and moan at his desire. Nobody has cared enough for me to do that. To want that. To care about my pleasure. James’s voice is so low and rough that it almost vibrates through my body, sending shivers to my heart and pussy. There’s nothing I can do. I want him. Whatever if he throws me out of his room after, I want him.

“- Can I?” he asks, his hands on the border of my pants.

“- Yes, but remove this before.” i answer, grabbing the end of his shirt.

He gets the message and lets me remove his shirt from him. What a beautiful sight. His body can tower over me easily, with his muscular back and broad shoulders. His tattoos I think are the best thing about this. It makes him look even more like a piece of art, and it contrasts his fit chest and stomach in the most beautiful way there is. He smiles at the way I look at his body. This smile, his tremendously beautiful smile.

James slides down on his knees right in front of the bed. He grabs my foot and removes my shoe, and does the same for the other. He then removes my pants to leave me only with my panties, my pussy throbbing at his gaze.

“- Even your legs are perfect. How have I not found you before?” he says, slowly kissing my legs.

I can’t think straight with James lips now kissing the interior of my thighs, getting dangerously close to my pussy at every one of his pecks. I slid my hand in his hair, avid for his touch.

“- James, please.” i beg.

“- Don’t beg darling. What you want I shall do. Tell me. What do you want?” James answers, languidly.

Breathing hard and shortly, I try to gather my words. I can’t believe this is happening.

“- Mmh…” i moan, trying to remove my underwear. “I want your lips…” i breath heavily. “Right here.” i finally say, resting my hand on my pussy.

James eyes glimmer as his gaze is fixed on mine. He doesn’t say anything but grunts in approval and removes my hands away from my panties, removing them by himself, leaving me fully exposed to him. His head dives instantly in between my legs like he’s been starving for it. Oh my god! That’s good! My hand in his hair, I keep him in between my legs, not wanting it to stop.

“- What a pretty cunt… what a pretty sight.” he whispers, latching on my clitoris.

This is the first time somebody eats me out. This is the first time I am feeling this and yet I know he’s better at it than average. His tongue alternates between my clitoris and my slit and my legs start to shake. But here’s the thing. I don’t want to come right now. I want to come with him. While he’s in me.

“- Ja..James!” i exclaim, lifting his head up with my hands. “I want you.”

James puts himself on his knees and kisses my lips softly. So desperate for him I open his belt and pants. James puts his fingers under my chin and locks his gaze into mine.

“- Look at you. So desperate for my cock. I’m such an asshole making you beg for me. I should be the one doing that. I should be the one begging for you to even deserve the desire you have for such an old man.” he says.

He finishes removing his pants and underwear and only now I realise how big he is. I have never had something like that. His cock is thick and big with a vein poking along the shaft. It looks more than ready to be in me. And this makes me even more horny.

I raise myself on my knees too and put my hands on both sides of his face.

“- I think I’ve got a taste for men who are older. Or maybe just for you. Because no man has ever made me feel what you make me feel. Just in an hour, you’ve made me more fulfilled than I have ever been.” i admit, kissing him.

Sitting on the mattress, James grabs the back of my thighs so I can sit on him and wrap my legs around him. I wrap my arms around his neck, again. This position we’re in, the lotus, is so intimate, like something you would do with your partner, not an unknown chick you’ve met an hour ago. My tits press against his chest and both our hearts beat at the same pace. His cock is teasing my entrance and his gaze is locked in mine.

“- I should find those boys and teach them a lesson. How dare they have the audacity not to make you feel fulfilled.” he kisses my neck. “This will never happen again as long as you’re with me.” he adds, his head buried in my neck.

Did he just ask me to stay with him? Did he just say that he wanted to be with me? I can’t even think about it more as I feel his cock entering me. It’s stretching me out. And it feels so good.

“- Fuck, this is so big!” i bite my lower lip.

I moan and he starts to move into me slowly, he’s so deep and I can barely hold it together.

“- That’s it babygirl, you’re doing good.” he tells me, removing the hair out of my face.

The way he talks to me makes me crazy. The way he holds me makes me weak. The way he looks at me makes me feel alive. This is what I meant when I said I wanted something passionate and deep. Talking about deep, the connection we have as his cock moves in and out of me is incredible. You can probably see the stars in my eyes. And I can see the fire in his.

“- Mhhh… James! AAahh!” i scream, feeling numb.

“- Oh y/n. Mmmh…” he grunts. “You are so beautiful bouncing on my cock like this.”

“- Stop… mmmh… stop telling me those things…” i let out in between whimpers. “Or I’ll be sad… mmh… when I have to go.” i add, hearing him groan as an answer.

I feel my release coming. I’ve never felt that good. The only times I have come before were when I was touching myself, it’s the first time a man will do it. And what a man. I will be sad when I have to go, I wish I could have sex with him everyday, I wish I could kiss him every minute. It might sound cliché to feel such things towards a man like him in such a short time. I said he’d fuck me and fuck me good. But he’s making love to me.

I see his face flinch and he kisses me.

“- I can feel you tighten around my cock...mmmh..” he says. “Come. Come for me baby.”

I can also feel his cock twitch in me. I know he’s about to come too.

“- James… mmmhh… please! Come in me! Please! Aaahh!” i tighten my arms around his neck, throwing my head into his neck, coming as i implore.

“- Fuck… you are so amazing.” he says, out of breath, coming deep into me, letting little whimpers out of me.

I can hear his heartbeat through his chest as his cock softens into me. This feeling is so peaceful and makes me forget about what is to come next. It makes me feel so important and cared for. It’s two hearts. And I don’t wanna leave. He’s making me crazy. Here, in his arms, in this position, I don’t want this to end.

“- Y/n.” he calls. “Stay with me.” he demands, his hands falling on my waist. “Stay with me. I’ll take you anywhere you want, give you everything you want. I know it’s selfish to ask you to leave everything so I can be with you but I need you. I don’t know how, I don’t know why. But I do.” he begs.

“- Oh James. I fucking hate this town. Take me anywhere you want.” i answer.

I was the loneliest and most bored woman on earth some hours ago. Now I’m the happiest and most fulfilled. I think, while James locks his promise with a passionate kiss on my lips.

༄♡. 𖧹⋆✰

A/N : the lotus like man i just want to do that with james it feels so deep! thank you anon because this gave me an idea for this oneshot, i wrote this with of course, cola in my mind because lana does gets it. i usually write stuff with rough sex and all but something more soft from time to time doesn’t hurt, hope you’ll love this anon, and everybody else (james you can take me anywhere) <33

[majorblinks]

when cameras are flashing (ive yujin)

(smut, idol yujin, daddy kink, age gap, choking, "quickie", oral, 5k words)

“So,” you say, and Ahn Yujin smiles brightly at you across the conference table. “How’d you manage to fuck up this week?”

It’s barely professional, but you’re you - you’re past all that, over courtesy, propriety. Yujin’s manager clears her throat, levels you with an unamused glare. You cock your head, spread your hands out in surrender: “Look,” you say, “I’m just trying to get a feel for the situation.” 

“Oh,” says Yujin, in her carefree, entirely charming way. “Well, if you’re just trying to get a feel for it.”

You raise an eyebrow at her. She raises one right back, sweetly challenging. Hey, here’s how it goes with her: another day, another scandal. 

It’s actually kind of insane, considering Yujin is hands-down one of the most normal, sincere, well-intentioned celebrities you’ve ever worked for - and that’s a long list. It’s almost hilarious, that people go after her the way they do, because as far as you can see, she never does anything wrong. She’s practically angelic, by standards of fame. No boys, no bullying allegations, no benders.

Still - and you can say this, because you’re one of the best publicists in the game - being famous at her age and with her face is a largely uphill battle. Gorgeous enough to attract jealousy, genuine enough for all the people jumping through hoops to maintain their personas to despise her, young and talented and charismatic enough for the rumor mill to love her and hate her at the exact same time. There’s sympathy, and of course you have it - but then there’s that look on Yujin’s pretty features, in front of you now.

Nothing gets to her. You find it impressive, a little fascinating: there’s a reason she’s one of your favorites.

“And?” You lean back in your chair, gaze shifting from Yujin to her manager and back again. “What are we dealing with?” 

You’re observing Yujin carefully, trying to get a feel on how bad this is going to be - her long, glossy black hair falls over both shoulders, effortlessly flawless; the fluttering eyelashes, the dimple - then there’s the outfit, the tight white shirt, the pants, tapering in at her tiny waist; they’re an almost offensively vibrant shade of bubblegum pink, but she’s miraculously pulling it off-

Yujin’s manager clears her throat, again. 

You smile. If she’s bothered about you staring at her client, she can say it to your face. “Yes?” 

“There was a photoshoot,” says Yujin’s manager, eyeing you like she thinks you’re about to mount Yujin right there at the conference table - which is extreme. You’re a professional, you’re surrounded by obscenely beautiful people on the daily - and Yujin’s too young for you, anyway. It’s not even a question. Barely even a thought in your head. “Here, take a look-” 

Yujin’s manager passes her phone towards you, lets you swipe through the photos, and - well, shit-

Okay, it’s more than barely a thought in your head. 

“Hm,” you say, keeping your face studiously blank; it’s something you’ve perfected over the years, but still, Jesus. It’s a series of pictures of Yujin in this silky, slinky black two-piece - there are her thighs, the defined cut of her abs, the way she tilts her head, parts her lips; the camera loves her, but who wouldn’t - and it’s sex, it’s sin, it’s every dirty word wrapped up in one - but like you said, both Yujin and her manager are staring straight at you right now, and you’re a professional. 

You place the phone back down on the table, summon all the nonchalance possible. “Looks fine to me.” 

Clearly, you’ve failed, at least on some level. “Dial it back,” advises Yujin’s manager, disdainfully.

“Yeah,” echoes Yujin, cheerfully, fingers laced underneath her chin, dark eyes dancing. “Dial it back.”

You fix her with a pointed glance, cautionary. She’s always a little flirtatious, but that’s her thing, her trademark - it’s easy for the whole country to fall for her when she talks to everyone like they might be able to touch her if they play their cards right - but there’s something a little more obvious about it today, and you don’t know how to take it.

“Sure,” you say, relenting; you don’t know what game she’s playing and you’re not sure you want to. “What are people saying?” 

“People think it’s too suggestive,” says Yujin, raking a hand through her hair, the delicate point of her wrist only a little mesmerizing. “Or seductive, or something. Which is crazy, because it’s just me being hot and existing.”

Somehow all her comments come off as charming rather than arrogant - or she manages both, all at once. It’s that smile: goddamn irresistible. You get why she bounces back from every stupid scandal, and it’s not just that you’re helming the ship of her image. People hate her, they love her, they do both at the same time. Price of fame: it’s a fickle thing. The one constant is that it’s Ahn Yujin, and people never really stop talking about her - and in the end, for a girl like her, that’s the ultimate goal. 

“They’re overreacting,” says Yujin’s manager, but her eyes are back on her phone, her fingers suddenly flicking fast. “It’s not - ugh - I mean, it’s such an insane double standard, the way they treat you versus the way they - fuck, I’m sorry,” she says, right when her phone rings. “I have to take this.” 

“Go ahead,” says Yujin. There’s a goal, here - her eyes dart to you, smile drenched with intention - and she tips her chin up at her manager as she stands. “We’ll behave.” 

This gives her manager pause, right in the doorway. She holds her phone in her hand, lets her gaze do circuits between it and the two of you - but she’s responsible, so she doesn’t have a choice.

“You’d better,” she says, a warning meant solely for you; it’d be insulting, but she probably knows better than anyone how men like you act around girls like Yujin. “I’ll be back in, like, two minutes.”

Then the door’s clicking shut - the sound is like a latch to a coffin, a vault decimated and snapped right open - sealing you in, sure, but opening up something else entirely. Yujin runs her tongue under a canine, studies you like you’re the most interesting thing in the room; you can’t figure out her angle. 

“So,” you say, coolly - you’re trying to maintain some approximation of control. See, you’re far from the most fascinating sight in the vicinity; you’re on one of the highest floors of the building, and all the windows are spotless, glass gleaming - there’s a view to die for, streets and cityscapes and all that open sky - and she’s still looking only at you. 

“I think you’ll be fine,” you continue. You’re not that intimidated by a pretty little pop star, so you’ll hold her gaze. It’s one challenge you don’t mind taking. “It’s not that much to dig you out of. It’s not like the photoshoot was anything majorly scandalous - people are just blowing things out of proportion, but that also means it’ll blow over fast. Because, really, it’s like you said. It’s just you being - well - it’s just you existing.” 

Yujin looks mildly entertained by your fumble, like she knows it was an amateur move. “It’s just me being what?”

You pin her with a look, but she presses on, smile curling at her mouth - it’s a slip-up she’s not going to let slide. “Are you afraid to call me hot?”

“Afraid’s a little strong,” you say, dryly. “I’d say I’m being mindful. Respectful. Professional, if you will.” There’s that word again; you’ll hold onto it like a lifeline. 

“Oh, yeah?” There’s a turn she’s taken, something sneaking into her tone, something primal saturating her dark eyes. Yujin sits up straight, drops her elbows on the table, inclines her head like she’s assessing you. “You think admitting that you think I’m hot would be unprofessional?”

“Deeply,” you say, flexing your fingers so you don’t do something stupid like stand up, like walk over to her, like grip her hair in your fist and trap her body against the conference table. “It’d be a scandal waiting to happen.”

Turns out all your self-discipline is a moot point. Now Yujin’s the one standing from her chair, approaching you slow - there’s something about the way she moves her body, so aware of every dip and curve; it’s like a weapon she’s flaunting, a knife right to your jugular - and she stops right in front of you, propping her hip to the table. She’s standing, and you’re still seated. She’s not exactly short, but she’s tiny compared to you. You shouldn’t think about it, but you’re thinking about it.

“Like I care,” says Yujin, grinning. “Besides - there’s no scandal I could get in that you wouldn’t get me out of, right?”

“You’re feisty today,” you comment, still wrestling for the upper hand. “Does the threat of losing your career get you going or something?”

“I’m not going to lose my career,” says Yujin, airily, like she finds the prospect hilarious. There’s that arrogance, and it’s so much more enticing than it has any right to be. “And - no, it doesn’t. But watching you try to keep your cool while looking at pictures of me when it’s so obvious that you want to fuck me - yeah, I’d call that a turn-on.”

There’s that weapon, aiming and firing; there’s that blade, straight into your neck. There’s your lifelines, sliced to ribbons. “Who says I want to fuck you?”

Yujin laughs at that, full and musical. “Come on,” she says, and it’s a battle you’ve already lost. “Everybody wants to fuck me.”

Your eyes flicker over to the closed door. “Your manager said she’ll be back in two minutes.” 

“She’ll take twenty, minimum.” 

“This is a bad idea,” you warn, but it’s a half-assed cover, barely concealed - you’re not scared of her, but then there’s everything touching her would trigger. She’s got her weapons, but you’ve got your own. The flat of your palm finds her hip, and you won’t stand; you've got other plans. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.” 

“Why do I have to get into anything?” Yujin’s hands drop, and now she’s popping the button of her pants, sliding the zipper. “It’s just sex,” she says, watching your expression, perfectly cavalier. You grit your teeth. You don't go for it yet. “It’s not the end of the world.” 

“For a girl like you?” you ask, and now she’s dragging down her pants, revealing her panties, thighs, inch by mouthwatering inch. “It would be close.” 

You’re talking about reputation, about the ever-present threat of social suicide - she’s a perpetual hot topic, and just her face sends tongues wagging, so this’d be doomsday - but Yujin’s got her pants pushed down to her knees, and there’s an undercurrent to it, a desire that goes somewhere beyond sexual. You'll bite:

“What’s your angle?” you ask finally, surveying her. Ah, you’ll give her what she wants, but it’s the nature of your job: you need to find every possible way to spin it, all the light and shadow and nuance. “I’ve been your publicist for this long, and you just decided out of the blue that you wanted me to fuck you?” 

Yujin pauses, eyes glimmering, keening into your hand on her hip. “Most guys wouldn’t ask this many questions.” 

“I’m obviously not most guys.” You’re older, you’re smarter, you run her fucking career - if she falls, you do, too. “Are you done deflecting?” 

Oh, talk about light: Yujin tips her head, silky hair spilling over her collarbone, sunlight filtering in through the windows - she’s drowning in it, catching it in her irises like gold, her glint of teeth like there might be already cameras flashing - and slowly, you ease her up onto the table, until you’re sitting in front of her, right between her legs. She’s criminally gorgeous, she’s filthy, she’s everything; she’s staring down at you, deliberating, mouth curved in something like victory. 

“I guess I just realized that I’m getting the reputation of being slutty without actually having any of the fun,” says Yujin. “And I guess-” She plants her hands flat on the table, lets her legs part. “The first person I thought of to help me fix that was you.” 

“Smart choice,” you commend, your hands on her thighs, your thumbs already hooked into the waistband of her panties; you’re touching her now and you’re not sure how you’ll ever stop. 

“I always wanted you to fuck me,” Yujin says, letting the confession slip like it’s weightless. “I promise you it’s nothing new.” 

Well, and that’s-

That’s something that shuts your brain off entirely, reduces you to the tactile - you forget why there was ever a need to hold back, so you won’t; you’ve got your fingers on her skin, spreading, pants shoved to her ankles - you tug her panties down and flick your tongue up, and Yujin whimpers, “Daddy.” 

You stop short, focus flying to her face, and her dark-eyed stare slams right into yours.

“Yujin,” you say, when you finally manage to unstick her name from your throat - it comes raspy, a little ruined - but there’s her attitude, and all that tension between the two of you. The age difference, and the power, and there’s a dynamic, a connotation - and maybe you really should’ve seen this coming.

“Daddy,” Yujin exhales, again, voice tripping to breathy, needy - and, fuck, you think she’s gonna kill you. “I need your mouth.”

You don’t break your gaze on hers, searching - her hands tremble on the table, restless with an urge; she’s used to making demands, but she knows how to read a room. She may have instigated this, but now you’re in it: there’s a switch flipped, a shift in control. You’ve got both hands on the wheel, foot to the gas. She won’t get anywhere by being bossy with you.

“Fine,” you say, smile slipping dark. You can’t say you’re a man who hates having power. “But no touching me.” 

Yujin tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, nods quickly, frantically - it’s not good enough. You hold her eyes, dig your thumb harder into her thigh: “Words, please, Yujin.” 

“I won’t touch you,” Yujin swears. She’s so wet - you can still taste her cunt on your tongue, so you’ll take more. Your mouth’s so close she’s barely forming sentences, squirming with anticipation - “Daddy, I won’t, I just need you-” 

There’s an invitation, and you can’t pass it up. This is a girl who always gets exactly what she wants, and you’re not going to be the one to break that streak, so you lower her mouth to her pussy - there’s her clit, and she’s soaked, she’s mewling - and she’ll be pliant in your grip, in your tongue right where she needs it: “Daddy,” she’s saying, over and over, like it’s the only thing she can remember - oh, you kind of like her that way. “Daddy, daddy-” 

Yujin’s hips stutter like she wants to grind on your mouth, like she wants to dig her fingers in your hair and ride your tongue - but your fingers press into her skin like a warning, and her fists stay staunchly clenched at her sides, fiercely white-knuckled-

“Good girl,” you mumble, against her cunt, listening as Yujin’s moans tumble from her mouth. “That’s my good girl.”

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum-” 

She says it, but she doesn’t have to - her eyes are shut tight, her perfect face screwed up like she’s on the verge on collapse - she’s shuddering, she’s on a precipice, she’s so, so close-

You scrape your nails lightly down her thighs - I could hurt you but I won’t; there’s always an implication - and then Yujin’s cumming in your mouth. 

You'd let her settle, let yourself linger, but you really don't have the time: “Baby,” you say, and you’re rising, licking your lips - she tastes like something holy, but that’s a given. "We only have twenty minutes, so if you want me to fuck you, you better get moving.” 

“Can I touch you?” You’re helping Yujin off the table; you’re dragging her towards the windows. You’ve got an agenda here, and her fists are clenching, unclenching - she’s got her gaze trained on your cock straining your slacks. “Let me, please - I want your cock-” 

“Look at you,” you say - you nudge her until her back hits the glass, and she’s facing you, pants wrapped around her ankles - she’s gorgeous, she’s waiting; she’s impatient but tamping it down just for you. It’s those eyes, so expressive: if her mouth wasn’t saying it, you’d still know exactly what she wanted. “Asking for permission.” 

“Daddy.” 

“Yeah, baby,” you say: it’s not a relinquishment of power, it’s a reinforcement. “Get my cock out.” 

Yujin does, in record time - she’s keyed up, deliciously wired, but her hands are certain, don’t fumble a bit - you’re skipping lines and walking them right back, so you kiss her first, catch her mouth with yours: there’s a surprise to the way she loses her own breath against your lips, and then a surrender, a giving in - you’re grinning, devilish. You’re sure she can feel it.

When you pull back, she’s panting, lips slick. She can taste her pussy on your tongue and you know it. “Tell me,” you’re saying: you need to hear it. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” 

“I want your cock.” There’s not even any hesitation - Yujin’s so far past that. Hey, maybe she did know what she was getting into: she knew exactly the way you’d treat her. “Want your cock in my pussy, want you to fuck me, want you to make me cum around your cock-” 

There’s her perfect face, crumbling to pieces, pupils blown so wide they’re drowning her dark irises - you flip her around and skim your hands down her flawless ass, push her up against the floor-to-ceiling windows - it’s all so ruthlessly transparent, like you’ve gotten into a museum just to vandalize the art, mark it up and make it yours, destroy her encased behind glass - and Yujin’s soundless, so wanton and wet she can’t even form words, noises-

And then you slide your cock in her cunt, slowly, torturously, and her voice gets ripped right out of her throat. 

“Daddy-” 

Her throat - oh, there’s a corner to cut, a sculpture to tear up and ruin - your fingers wrap around her neck from behind, rendering her helpless, strangled. “Shh,” you murmur, sinister, low, “sweetheart - you don’t really want to get caught like this, do you?” There’s a thrill, there’s a high - you’ve got her against the glass like she’s suspended in thin air, and there’s her smile on a billboard across the street, there’s all those people who know her name crowding the sidewalks below - and she’s all yours. “Getting your little pussy fucked during a professional meeting because you’re just too slutty to control yourself?” 

Yujin’s shirt and bra are pushed up roughly, carelessly, her perky tits bouncing, nipples skimming the glass - she’s leaking all over your cock, and you’d hate to be the janitor after this, but at least they’re getting paid well - it’s all about scrutiny, about secrecy, hiding behind tinted windows and sunglasses and silver-screen smiles, and you’re destroying all of that just by using Yujin’s suffocatingly tight cunt, tensing your hand around her throat-

Your thumb digs into her jaw. “Answer me.” 

 “I - I don’t - I don’t fucking care.” She’s barely getting words out under your grip on her throat, between the lungfuls of air she’s chasing after, faint and flightless - “I don’t care, daddy,” she’s insisting, and her vehemence is fucking consuming, addicting - “Don’t care, I just want your cock in me, just need you to fuck me, just need you to make me cum, make you cum, fill me up-” 

“I’m not cumming inside you, baby.” 

“What?” She sounds so horrified that you can’t help but laugh, and the sound rings cruel, sharp; people call you cold in this conference room, sometimes, conniving, callous. It’s nothing, to you: you do what needs to be done and you keep it at work and work alone - or you did, until her. “What? But - daddy, please, daddy - please-” 

She's being too fucking loud - you’re bottoming out inside her pussy relentlessly, recklessly - you’ll spin excuses later, or you won’t. The worst thing anybody can do is talk, and you’ll talk over them: your PR training wasn’t for nothing. You could manipulate the apocalypse out of the press as long as you find the right angle. You weren’t lying, earlier: anyone catches her like this and it’d be close. 

“Doesn’t matter how much you beg for me, Yujin.” There are caveats, barriers you won’t cross; not with a girl like her, not yet. “You might be fucked up enough to risk your career just for a load inside your cunt, but I’m not. Your career is my career, sweetheart. If you fuck up, it’s all on me.”

It’s like the atmosphere is electric, wired with sex, sensuality - anyone who walks into this room after this is going to know exactly what you’ve been doing to her - anyone on the sidewalk who so much as glances upwards is going to see-

“You don’t wanna fill up my pussy with your cum?” Yujin’s cunt is so tight that she’d probably be able to convince anyone of anything, and then there’s that voice, throaty and heated, letting filth pour as easy as her moans. “You don’t wanna use me as your - fuck - your fucking cumdump, daddy?” 

That’s a question she’s posing and precariously, a proposition so tempting you’d call it fatal - but there’s your fist around her throat, there’s you in control, drafting rules, contracts. You're too experienced to fall for it. You’re on the clock even when you’re not. You know just how far to take it and when to pull it back.

“Nice try,” you say, and your hand presses down on her neck in a warning, your cock burying in her pussy in an emphasis, “but I’ve been on this scene a long time, Yujin. Your pussy’s great - but I’m sorry, baby, my career’s just a little bit greater.” 

It’s so degrading - it’s you, older and condescending and cutting her down to size with a smile - and she loves it, she lives for it. You shouldn't have expected anything less.

“You think I’d give it all up for some slutty little pop star?” you press on, and you’re rubbing it in, salt in the wound: “You idols are all the same.” Another thrust, another moan: here’s how it goes with her. “All that fucking ego.” 

Her whole body’s tightly wound, a spring coiled and ready to burst - she’s so wet around your cock, she’s so ready - “Daddy,” Yujin begs, syllables rasping prettily, and even the way she gets fucked is like music, “I’m gonna cum - gonna cum on your cock-” 

There’s no acoustics that could ever do that voice justice, no photoshoot that could ever capture that body, every creamy curve, her ass as your hips thrust - the arch of her back, the column of her throat, architecture made soft and breakable and shattered - your hand drops to her clit-

“Cum for me, baby,” you murmur, and shove her tits against the window: if the world wants to see Ahn Yujin like this, all they have to do is look up. “Cum for daddy.” 

She follows the order so easily it’s practically compulsive; it’s the sound of your voice, your fingers on her clit, your dick pounding at her cunt, it’s everything - and Yujin’s whole body contorts, convulses, slumps against you as she cums, a high noise trapped in her throat. It’s some attempt at your name, or at least the one she’s calling you now. 

You nip at her neck on the comedown, allow her to ride it out. “Get on your knees,” you murmur, then you let your teeth sink. 

It barely takes a second - she’s not even coherent - but Yujin’s neck arcs, gives you access; you’re not sure she understands a word until she’s falling right out of your arms, off your cock, dropping dutifully to the floor. You can’t fight the smile: she’s so easy, in this context and no other, her shirt shucked up and her pussy slick, glistening, her mouth opening expectantly like she’s just waiting for you to use it. Your hand finds her cheek, suddenly soft: she’s been good, she deserves it.

“Yujin.” 

Yujin doesn’t say a word, just lets her jaw slacken, her eyes wide and wondrous, gorgeous; you see the dimple flicker in her cheek, an aftershock, betraying her own satisfaction. She can’t even control herself. Her thighs are still trembling, expression mildly dazed. 

“Sorry I couldn’t cum in your cunt, sweetheart,” you say, loftily. It’s hardly genuine, but she’s too sated to care. “You think I can settle with your mouth?”

There’s that dimple, deepening; she’s somewhat incapable of saying no to you, and that’s a new development, that’s something you’ll prove over and over again - Yujin jerks forward, and wraps her salivating mouth around your dick. 

Her tongue’s sloppy around your cock, spit-strung, messy, like she’s so well-fucked she doesn’t remember how to work it - it’s your job, so you’ll take it all into your own hands; hey, it’s what you’re used to, it’s the part you were always meant to play - there go your fingers, digging tight into her hair, forcing her jaw deeper, forcing tears from her brilliant eyes-

“You better swallow it all,” you tell her, low and dangerous; your nails scrape her scalp, and she chokes around your cock at the feeling - it’s that hint of pain, humiliation, her on her knees in your conference room. “You wanna be good for daddy, don’t you?” Your hand finds the back of her head, shoves your cock down her throat. “Then swallow.” 

You cum so much you can hear the wet, huffy noise in Yujin’s mouth, the air through her nose - and she swallows it all, even as you pull out and it clogs her cheeks, and she’s staring at you with glassy, impish eyes like she’s got something to prove-

And then it’s all gone. 

“Good girl,” you tell her, a little wrecked. Hey, she fucking deserves it. 

Yujin trails a finger around her mouth, licks off the remnants of your cum, looks up at you through her eyelashes. It’s obscene, it’s dirty, it’s hot - and that’s your last thought before you drag her up from the floor and catch her lips with yours, because you can’t be bothered to come up with anything else. 

She tries to talk, slurring against your tongue. “You just-” 

“I don’t give a fuck.” 

“In my mouth-” 

“Yujin.” 

It’s something about your tone, accidentally petulant rather than bossy, exasperation soft and unmasked - all of a sudden Yujin’s laughing right into the kiss, her arms wound around your neck, the sound half-delirious, glorious. 

“You were so wrong,” she mumbles, licking hot like she’s readying for a round two. You’ve got her face in your hands, you can’t get enough of her: if you could you’d freeze time and indulge her, over and over again. “This is the best fucking idea I’ve ever had.”

She’s kissing you again, right back in it, and, well - you can’t really say that you disagree. 

-

“I think you were heavily exaggerating, by the way.” 

“Hmm?” 

“You don’t have the reputation of being slutty,” you say, a hand in her hair, watching the sun illuminate her eyes. That’s the thing about windows, all this glass and open space: they show off views, but they’re also creating them right in front of you. “I’d never let it get that far.” 

Yujin grins at you. “I know,” she says - she’s returning to form, letting the moment close. She’s back on top. It’s probably a good thing that you’re right there by her side. “You’re good at your job, or whatever.” 

“Now, you being slutty in real life-” 

“Shut the fuck up, old man.” 

Okay, you can’t possibly be that much older than her. “What happened to daddy?” 

“Daddy privileges are revoked on account of you being fucking annoying.” 

“That mouth,” you say, considering - there are ideas taking shape, but you’ll let them dissolve. You’ve already used up more time than you should have. “What would your fans say?” 

Yujin tips her head back and laughs. “I don’t care,” she says, smiling, and that’s the best view of all. “I have you to deal with that.” 

-

You and Yujin are on opposite sides of the conference table when her manager gets back, but neither of you are fooling anyone. Sure, you’re both remarkably cleaned up, stitched back together - but the room smells like sex, and her hair’s just a little fucked up, and you can’t stop looking at her; her dark eyes glint right on back, one leg demurely crossed over the other. 

“I don’t even want to know,” says Yujin’s manager tightly, firmly in the doorway, like she’ll get contaminated just from stepping into the room. 

“Good,” you say, “because you can’t know. Legally. I made her sign an NDA.” 

“What?!” Yujin’s manager splutters, irate, and Yujin laughs loudly, prettily, head tipping back, clapping her hands in the air - she laughs like her own amusement is something to spill over and share with everyone in the vicinity, alluringly infectious, and - yep, you get why the whole world is obsessed with her. You’ll join the club. 

“I’m kidding,” you put in, grinning at Yujin as she stands, lips puckering to hide her own mirth. “You remember what a joke is, right, Jihyo?” 

“Jesus,” mumbles Yujin’s manager. Hey, you and Jihyo came up in the industry at the same time, you’re not opposed to bringing out first names in the conference room with her - and you think any semblance of professionalism is pretty much gone at this point. “You know this is how rumors get started, don’t you?” 

You wink at Yujin as she goes to Jihyo’s side, towering over her almost comically. Jihyo may barely hit five-three, but she has enough behind-the-scenes pull and power to start or end anyone’s career with a snap of her fingers. You'll placate her, for everyone's sake.

“Well,” you say. “It’s a good thing my job is to get those rumors to stop, then.” 

“Like, how convenient is that?” Yujin tacks on, chirpily, flashing her dimpled smile at Jihyo. 

Jihyo’s eyes dart from you to Yujin, clearly agitated and annoyed in equal measures. It’s sort of bad already, but here you are pushing her buttons anyway; you’ll walk it back. 

“It’s already happening,” you tell her, because it’s not exactly up for debate. “Might as well get on board.” 

“This is your jurisdiction, buddy,” says Jihyo, throwing her hands up - it’s as close to a stamp of approval as you’ll ever get from her. “I’m not touching this.” 

Your eyebrows raise, and Yujin covers her laugh with her palm. “Uh, I sure hope not.” 

The innuendo, the scent of sex, the way you swear there’s a hickey forming on Yujin’s throat - it’s too much for her to handle all at once. “You two are fucking insufferable,” declares Jihyo, pretty mouth in a scowl; not a lot fazes her, but this is pushing her limits and hard. “I’m going to get permanent brain damage from being around both of you together. Yujin, come on.” 

Yujin wiggles her fingers in a wave, sends that adorable dimple your way. “Bye, daddy,” she calls to you, and pulls the conference room door shut behind her. 

In the retreating distance, you hear Jihyo choke on her own breath, audibly appalled. “What did you just-”

Oh, after all this, maybe it doesn’t really matter who hears. You’re you, you can talk your way out of anything - and then there’s Yujin, who wears fame like it’s something designer, something inherited by birthright and tailored just for her. She’ll never be out of the spotlight for long. She’ll always bounce back, in the end.

Plus - you can admit it now, since there’s no point in a trite thing like shame - there’s something so satisfying about the idea that you’re the only one who can get her out of this kind of trouble, but you’re also the only one who got her in it in the first place. Like you said: it’s all about power. You’ll keep it, you’ll nurture it. Yujin, to her credit, doesn’t seem to mind that at all. 

(She’s never been more right: it's just so fucking convenient. You’re pretty sure it’s a match made in hell, but a match nonetheless. You'll take it.)

-

The next time you see her is a week or so later, and it should shock you, but it doesn’t. She drops by, unannounced, unburdened by bodyguards or company representatives or Jihyo, shows up in your office doorway in jeans and a black top, hair tied back and bare-faced and heart-stoppingly beautiful.

“Hey, baby,” you say, like it’s instinct. It’s probably about to be. “How’d you manage to fuck up this week?” 

“No fuck-ups yet,” says Yujin cheerily, eyes trained on you as you round the desk. “I was kind of hoping you could help me get a head start on that.” 

Look - this is still probably a bad idea, or it would be, if you were anyone else. It’d be so difficult to find a way to spin this, if you were found out. She’s one of the most famous celebrities in the country. People are just begging to ruin her, to see her fall from grace. It’d be so easy for this to be a complete fucking disaster. 

(Ah, well - it’s pretty fortunate that she’s got you, then; she’s in very, very good hands.)

“You’re in the wrong place,” you tell her, blithely conversational. There’s a smirk unfurling at the corner of Yujin’s mouth - you know what kind of game you’re playing. “It’d actually be great for your career, I think, if you’re only fucking me and no one else.” 

“Is that your professional opinion?” 

You press your palm to her cheek, drag her face to yours; you skip her lips, drop your mouth to her forehead, instead. Yujin flicks her glittering eyes up at yours, her dimple winking at you. She’s not short, but she’s small next to you - you think she might like it that way. 

“Yep,” you say. “Whenever you want to avoid a scandal, call me.” 

“Ugh,” says Yujin. “You’re lucky I think you being possessive is hot.” 

You’re missing a reckoning by inches, skirting the end of the world by a thread: alright, you’ll let it happen. You’ve got a girl in front of you and you think you’ve met your match. You’ve got all that power, but she does, too - you’ll never say it out loud, but it’s possible she’s got you wrapped around her finger, she’s got you breaking rules. It’s all very delicate, this thing you’re getting into. 

“Sweetheart,” you say, and watch as her grin cracks wide open, sun through all those open windows - there’s no sight in the country that compares. “I think we’re both getting lucky.” 

Yujin groans, but then she kisses you, and that’s where you’re drawing all your last conclusions: you think you wouldn’t mind risking everything as long as she’s with you. 

-

<3

[altrodent]

Cycle

Part I: Vessels Vixen

Pairing: (Poly!) Sleep Token x (F!)Reader

Genre/Warnings: This chapter is mainly Vessel x Reader for lore build up!! Fluff, a made up character for plot is womanizing, flirtatious Vessel, decent amount of cursing

Summary: After kicking out a bunch of jerks at your work place, you become the savior of a certain masked man

(A/N): I’ve tried rewriting a story involving Sleep Token at least a dozen times now, and this is my last attempt for the first part and probably the best, so I hope you enjoy! 🥲🩷

It’s very common to find me working for extremely long hours as well as doing all the chores while blasting my ears off with an old pair of headphones. I do work in a record shop anyways, so what else would I be doing? Once I moved out and on my own I’ve had nothing to do, so I help this elderly couple maintain their shop so they can enjoy their- what should be- retirement.

The town we live in is decently small, but still big enough to include fascists and douche bags of every variety. More specifically, a group of men called the ‘Southwind Snakes’ by the men and just plain ‘perverts’ by the women- me included. Almost every day they end up either trying to wreck the shop, wrecking the shop, or trying to fight with other customers- which those fights usually end up leading to the shops wreckage. Today wasn’t any different.

As the climate got colder, the rain got heavier, and when the weather is shitty, so is the amount of patrons. The elderly couple were packing their bags, ready to go home before asking me“Are you sure you don’t want to just close up early, sweetie? The storm’s looking pretty bad.” Shaking my head, I respond “It’s alright, I’ll hold down the fort. Have a good day you guys.” I wave them off as they head out into the curtains of rain, just as they’re about to pull out I hear one of the worst sounds in the world; the ‘Southwind Snakes’ shit mobile. It’s the ugliest pick up truck I’ve ever seen, and of course it’s sitting front and center in the swamping parking lot. Josh and his goons enter the store and make a beeline straight for my counter. I groan, putting my headphones aside “How can I help you?” He puts one of his greasy hands on the counter “You can help me in more than one ways, doll” he smirks cockily, moving his one hand out to the side so one of his accomplices can five him. “If it doesn’t include helping you find something, or jamming a stick up your ass, then I can’t help you.” I blink blankly at him, his face turning into one of offense “Whatever, prude. Do you have the CD’s we ordered?” I roll my eyes, walking to the back wall, and bending over to grab a box from the lower shelf. All I hear is inappropriate giggles from the childish men, I frustratingly clench my teeth before walking back and handing him the box of CD’s. “Here you go. Need anything else?” He takes the box, “I could always use your number, if you’ll give it to me this time” he winks sloppily “Yeah, no. If you don’t need anything else from the store then have a good day.” He huffs loudly, exiting as his goons follow.

As I was returning to my work, I hear him yelling outside, “Jesus Christ, what now…” I run to the window, to see him berating a person who must’ve run into him. I usually don’t want to get involved in that douche’s antics, but when he starts hurting people verbally or physically I’m usually keen to stepping in. I walk outside in the frigid rain, by the time I get outside, Josh has already turned it from a verbal altercation into a physical one. “Get the hell out of here Josh, leave ‘em alone!” He seethes at me before hopping in his fuck truck. “Hate that fucking guy… are you okay?” I turn to the person, and offer them a hand. Through the thick sheets of rain I see the person look up at me, wearing what appears to be some sort of white facial covering. Looking down I see their hand, painted in some sort of black material snail into mine, obviously shaken by the situation. I help them up, “come on inside, I’ll get you warmed up.” They nod as I lead them into the store, the sudden warmth enveloping our now freezing and soaked skin. I wipe the rain off my face, “I’m sorry you got caught by Josh, he’s so damn rude all the time.” The person takes the cloak like garment off their shoulders, revealing a set of well toned shoulders. “You shouldn’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault, I should actually be thanking you.” He turns to me, I advert my eyes as best as I can, but it’s not helping that there’s now a shirtless man in my store, dripping with the aftermath of the storm. I get a decent look at his intricately beautiful yet grotesque mask, and catch myself before I end up staring for too long “I- uh I think we have some extra towels in the back, stay right here, I’ll be back!” He nods, giving me a comfortable smile, I quickly turn on my heel and head to the back.

Is there really towels in the back? Probably not, but I needed to get out of there before my face explodes from all the heat. But, lo and behold, the owners do keep some decently clean towels in the supply closet, so I grab one for each of us. I take one more heavy breath before heading back into the stores floor. Almost immediately as I enter, he asks “Is this you?” My brows hitch before I hand him a towel, “what do you mean?” His splotchy arm points toward a picture of me and the owners a few years back hosting a huge metal concert. It was like our states Coachella, or Sick New World. “Yeah that’s me, in all my… goth glory.” I giggle softly, I had done mine and the couples makeup in a goth style. “They love matching with me, and they always thought my makeup was ‘pretty’” I smile softly, his eyes gently weaving into my distracted appearance “I think you look ethereal” Blinking obliviously at how naturally he complimented me, “I’m sorry, what-?” He turns to me, still entirely topless “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate of me to l say wasn’t i-“ “No! No-“ i interrupt, flustered “Sorry- no, you’re fine! I’m just honestly not used to compliments…” he tilts his head “‘Not used to compliments’? Do you not get complimented often?” With hands on my hips, my cheeks puff slightly as I exhale “In this town? Not really.” He take a step forward “Well, maybe that’ll change…” his black painted mouth smirks cheekily, one of my brows raise in confusion “Me and my friends just moved into town, if they like you as much as I do, they’ll be all over you.”

I blink rapidly, obviously confused, my face heating with blush still trying to figure out what he means by ‘like me as much as he does’ and ‘all over me’. I stand still, overcome with confusion, he laughs brightly, stepping ever so closer “You’re very cute, I don’t know how people here don’t tell you more…” our faces become extremely close, all my senses disappear, the only thing being processed is the extreme volume of my hearts rapid beating. He leans in slowly- oh my god, it’s really happening. I only met him today, but I mean hey- *Honkk* we both snap out of our trance. He laughs softly “That must be them.” I back away, embarrassed “I’ll see you again, right?” I nod warmly “Good” he quickly kisses my cheek, my hands go numb at the surge of romantic energy coursing through my system. He pulls back smiling, some of the paint on his lips now transferred to my cheek, making him chuckle. He turns to leave, putting his cloak on when I speak, “(Y/N)…” his head turns slightly “I know you didn’t ask, but that’s my name…” I smile awkwardly, what if he didn’t know your name- “Beautiful…” he whispers under his breath “I’m Vessel.” He walks out to the parking lot, leaving me alone. I think I’m in love.

[autisticlenaluthor]

Supercorptober - Kara

TW: Grief

There’s a plastic pillow Kara sleeps with every night. It’s blue and crunches when laid against, with a thin white case that falls off whenever jostled. It’s so flat— flat like a pancake or another sheet. At least, that’s how Eliza tries to justify it when Kara catches her trying to throw it out while cleaning her room. 

Kara takes the thing back with a speed she didn’t know she possessed and returns it to her bed, making sure it’s known that she is keeping her pillow for as long as she lives. She needs it the way she needs air, and that explanation is bursting to escape. It’s the last thing she has, her last real connection. But there’s no way to say that, no way to ever give its meaning justice when Kara knows Eliza will never truly get it.

Because she was in the waiting room when Kara went with Casey and the EMTs who took a sleeping Lena, still in her bed, up to the helipad on the roof. She didn’t see the helicopter (the life flight, as the hospital called it) and all the medics standing around it, waiting for Lena’s arrival. No, Kara was the one who felt the frigid wind rushing through her hair, prickling at her face from such a height, it made her nauseous just to stand. 

She was the one who felt the chilling loneliness. That indescribable twinge in her chest as she watched them move, counting down seconds in her head until Lena was taken from her. Kara had stood, on an island by herself, surrounded by people, as she watched her best friend be slowly and strategically transferred from her bed to a stretcher, where she was strapped down at the legs, stomach, and chest. She’d been holding her breath when they made the switch, and has been clinging to it ever since. 

When Lena was finally moved, Kara was the one who was handed the plastic pillow she had been lying on for three weeks straight when Casey carefully swapped it out for a clean one. Kara took it and hugged it close to her chest, while Casey adjusted the blankets and stroked Lena’s cheek with her palm. 

Six months later, and Kara’s still hugging that pillow every chance she gets. 

She doesn’t have Lena anymore. She doesn’t know if anyone does.

But she has the thing that kept her best friend comfortable. And on the days when the world seems especially quiet, it makes it that much easier for Kara to keep looking for her.

She sees her in twilight skies, when the air is filled with stars and the orange sunrise after another sleepless night. In the bracelet that hangs from Kara’s wrist, made of string now tinted brown from dirt and wear, so unlike the vibrant green and orange thing it was three years ago. It makes Kara cry at first when she sees a picture of how it used to look; so pretty and put together. But like so many other things, she learns to be okay with it. Because to be loved is to be changed and nothing has changed her more than Lena. 

Lena’s nowhere. But she’s everywhere. 

And suddenly, Kara is eleven years old again, thinking about the girl who bought her vending machine candy and made friendship bracelets with her to distract her from the fact that her parents were dying. She’s looking for Lena in every stranger on the street and every shadow she passes. Wondering if one day, she’ll get lucky and sprain her ankle or break a finger and see her in an Urgent Care waiting room.

She looks for signs the way she does with her parents.

When two bluejays land on Kara’s windowsill on the first day of spring, she knows undoubtedly it’s her mom and dad coming to say hello. And when she spots a double rainbow while walking home from school with Alex in a thunderstorm, she can feel it’s the two of them looking out and making sure they get home safely. 

But with Lena, they’re a double-edged sword. It stings when she’s reminded of just how much she doesn’t know and it stings when she’s hit with the reality that maybe Lena really is gone and maybe these moments aren’t just the universe letting her know she’s alright.

It hurts in ways she’ll never be able to explain to lose both parents in an instant. But for all that pain, at least Kara will never have to wonder again if it’s real. She’ll never fear for the day she’ll be told they were out there all this time but now, they’re dead. 

Kara thinks back to that evening on the helipad more often than she’ll admit. When she’s alone in her room, hugging Lena’s pillow close (the last thing she touched. The last thing of hers) it becomes increasingly harder to filter out those thoughts. 

It was never an emergency. They were transferring her to another hospital– one in Metropolis that the Luthors had bought for her. It was a newer facility with doctors who had bigger names and researchers who in seconds, could put the ones in Gotham to shame. 

Casey had said it was better this way. It meant they’d get to say ‘see you later’ (not goodbye, never goodbye) – a luxury not every loved one gets. And perhaps this hospital was an act of love from the Luthors. They were putting Lena’s needs before theirs, and that had to stand for something. 

Kara doesn’t know.  She doesn’t know anything, except that Lena’s a hundred miles away, or in another world, and still, she consumes her.

She’s the reason Kara checks out medical textbooks from the library that she studies instead of her homework. She’s why Kara gets on her knees before bed and for the first time in years, prays to a God she isn’t sure she believes in anymore (because what kind of God could allow one person to lose their world so many times?). She asks for Lena to still be alive because she deserves a chance to get away from all the hatred in her life and to finally live for herself. She asks for her to be healthy and in remission, with the beautiful, thick hair, she’s spent the past three years missing. 

And even though it feels selfish– her problems pale in comparison to cancer, Kara asks for a sign. A real one to show Lena is still out there. 

In the weeks that follow, she feels ridiculous for hoping. It’s like throwing a penny into a fountain and asking for a thousand dollars– those things never come true.

Until one day, she stops at the library after school instead of going home. The librarian stops her before she can find the non-fiction section and asks Kara to come to the front desk. 

Kara does as she’s told, wrapping her fingers around her backpack straps as she waits to be told she’s finally been caught on overdue books or she’s being kicked out for coming in without an adult. But there’s nothing. No scolding. No reprimanding. 

“You’re always reading those medical books,” the librarian says instead. “So I set one of these aside for you. I thought you might find it interesting. Came in yesterday.” 

She pulls out a magazine and hands it across the table to Kara. It’s thick like a book with glossy paper– the kind of thing they keep in doctors’ offices and hospital waiting rooms. And when she sees the cover, Kara nearly faints. 

It’s Lena. Fourteen-year-old alive Lena. Lena, who has short, dark curly hair. Lena, who is free of her NG tube and central line, who wears makeup– real makeup, and freckles on her cheeks from finally going outside. 

Lena Luthor - the Medical Marvel of the Oncology World, the cover reads. The most incredible nine words Kara has ever seen.

She can’t help the way she beams down at the photo. Her heart pounds so hard it feels like it could beat right out of her chest, but Kara doesn’t care. Lena is alive and she’s okay. 

For the first time in seven months, Kara feels like she can breathe again. 

[sparkles-and-trash]

When Keigo was 16 he kept getting in trouble with his handler at the Commission and gets sent to «voulenteer» at an animal shelter.

It started when he pierced his own ears, then he dyed his hair bright red to match his wings, and when he finally got busted reading files he had no business reading his handler put their foot down.

However, Keigo was rarely allowed outside of the Commission on his own, and secretley he looked forwards to a few hours without handlers and in company of some cute animals.

He hadn’t had the chance to meet many, but he goes in with a positive attitude as always!

What he didn’t expect was just how freaking attached he would get to the little creatures.

Not just the cute puppies and kittens, but the wildlife ones who were there for treatment as well.

He cried for the first time in years when he and the vet running the shelter released a now healthy possum that he’d gotten especially attached to.

After a while Keigo was allowed to run the night shift himself, as there was nothing to do besides keeping watch, and Keigo were just two years away from being a full fledged pro hero anyways.

He’s a little nervous the first night, but he truly has no reason to, because it all goes well.

Until there is a president knock on the door, that is.

Keigo knows there could be people coming in with animals all times of the night, so he sharpens a feather and carefully opens the door to peek out.

It’s hard to see the person outside properly because of the rain and the dark, but it’s clear that whoever it is isn’t bigger than Keigo, and is holding something gently in his arms, so Keigo opens the door.

The person stumbles inside on shaky legs, and Keigo is shocked to see it’s a boy, probably around his own age, gently cradling what looks a lot like a baby racoon.

The boy himself is wearing a oversized, ragged, and most of all wet hoodie, and his skin is shockingly pale, his turquoise eyes standing out in stark contrast to his pale skin and white hair.

He was kinda really pretty.

Also really skinny, pale and shaky, but most of all, pretty.

After a little back and fourth between them, mostly consisting of Keigo trying to understand the pretty boy’s raspy, quiet voice, but after a while Keigo has the raccoon in a warm and safe cage and have called the owner of the shelter.

Just as he’s about to turn around and thank the stranger, he realizes with a sinking feeling that the boy has already left.

Luckily, it doesn’t take that long until Keigo gets a second chance.

Two nights later, a familiar knock on the door makes Keigo’s wings fluff up and he excitedly runs for the door.

Once again the pretty boy is standing there, this time he’s carrying a small cardboard box filled with way too young kittens.

«Someone just left them,» the boy says in that quiet voice of his, and Keigo’s heart squeezes.

«I got it,» Keigo say with as much reassurance he could muster, and as he took the box from the boy he noticed just how thin and freezing his hands were.

Keigo had a feeling the boy wasn’t keen on accepting any charity, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare him off again, but luckily he thinks quick.

«Could you help me with them? Just for a few hours!»

The boy looks startled, but after a few beats he finally nods.

So together, the boys carefully warm up the tiny kittens, feed them some bottled milk, and make sure there’s no visible injuries on them.

When the sun starts rising, the boy gets antsy, and Keigo tells him it’s okay if he needs to leave.

«I could use your help again tonight you know?» Keigo adds shyly as they’re about to part in the doorway.

The boy looked up trough his fringe, meeting Keigo’s eyes straight on.

«Really?»

Keigo smiled.

«Yeah! They’re a lot of work, and it gets really lonley here at night anyways.»

The boy nodded slowly.

«I’ll try my best,» he said hoarsly, and Keigo nodded.

«One last thing?» Keigo added nervously.

«Yeah?» the boy asked, already halfway out the door.

«What’s your name?»

The boy looked paniced for a second, before he whispered the answer.

«It’s Touya.»

Keigo beamed.

«Cool! I’m Keigo!»

Touya actually smiled a little at that.

«Yeah, you told me that already Birdie.»

Keigo blushed and ran a hand trough his hair.

«Heh. Right.»

Touya smiled shyly before he dissapeared into the first signs of dusk.

Keigo was already looking forward to the next night shift.

For the next few weeks the boys kept this little routine up.

Keigo would sneaking buy some takeout and insist he got too much and didn’t want to throw out the leftovers, and Touya would pretend to believe him.

They would talk about very light and unpersonal topics, but they still get to know each other slowly, and get more comfortable around each other as they work with the kittens together.

When Keigo’s voulenteer period is close to ending, he’s real sad about it.

He tried to beg his handler for more time there, but the upper heads of the Commission flat out refuse.

Keigo hated himself for waiting until the last night to tell Touya. He was such a chickenshit.

He hates himself even more when he finds a letter on the doorstep when he arrives.

The tattered envelope only has one word on it.

«Birdie ~»

Keigo takes a deep breath, and opens the letter.

«Hey Birdie.

I’m so sorry for leaving this way.

I know you know my situation better than you want to admit, and you probably know that it’s a risky one.

I won’t tell you much, for your own sake, but I needed to say thank you.

For treating me like a person, and for pretending like you didn’t know I was starving, or that I needed a safe place to spend the nights.

I’ll never forget your kindness Birdie.

- T»

Keigo’s heart breaks for a million reasons that night, for the boy without a home, for the friend lost, and for the death of the warm feelings he’d been experiencing for the first time.

For the next two years Keigo kept that letter with him, the memories of the pale boy with the pretty eyes who was his first real friend one of the reasons he got trough the last gruelig years of Commission training and hero prepping.

A bit ironic, all things considering, but Keigo had no way of knowing that, yet.

Yet.

[dandelionwhisp]

Prized, Precious You

A Silver Bullet Mafia au

Silver Bullet au by @jackplushie

CW?: mentions of guns, mentions of blood and mutilation but nothing descriptive or graphic! a little swearing? (very little)

uh- hoo boy, this is a LONG ONE. theres a LOT of dialogue in this fic for a reason and i hope it isn’t hard to read bc of it! i wanted to get a certain context across and i think i accomplished in a way. this allowed me to lightly practice the speaking patterns of several characters in twst for future reference so i hope they were okay. (i am very open to character analysis’ and criticism!!) this went on far longer than i intended so i hope it doesn’t bore you! with that being said, please enjoy!!

————————————————————————

You gazed upwards, facing the man before you irritably.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll tell me what you know.” He threatened, pulling a gun upon the counter.

You paused your glass wiping and sighed. “Sir, I don’t think have the information you may be looking for and even if I did, it’s because I know what’s good for me that I wouldn’t spill a thing.” Your eyes glanced from his gun to the perpetrator. “I’ve been around long enough to know that they have far worse punishments than whatever you might have in store for me.”

“Oh you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” Wind blew softly against the door chimes, almost as a warning. “But I know what they’re capable of and it’s not pretty. You must be new around here cuz’ trust me, they aren’t people you should be messing with.”

“So you do know who I’m looking for.” A smile split his face as he rose the gun to your head. “All I need are their names and I’ll let you go. Give me a peek of the security cameras too and I’ll give you a reward~ Who knows, I could help your dingy bar go through a life-changing transformation!”

Despite the gun aimed towards your skull and the bubbling fear in your gut, you knew what your answer was. “I already told you.” Gripping the cloth and glass till your knuckles turned white, you stared the man down. “I don’t have the information you’re looking for. You’re asking the wrong person. All I do is run the bar and serve the drinks. Please, leave.”

“I see.” The soft click of a gun echoed. “I see you’ve made your choice.”

Eyes shutting, you prepared for the inevitable.

‘Oh well, better an instant end rather than a tortuous one.’

The door bell jingled.

Bang

You opened your eyes, not to an instant death, but rather to another’s screams of pain and the clatter of a gun atop your bar.

Oh crap. Blood. Everywhere. It coated your counter and spilled onto the floor as the man who had been threatening you a moment before held his wrist in anguish, his cries echoing into the night.

A bullet hole. Straight through the hand that had been holding the weapon to end your life. Your ears rung from the screams and gunshot as the stench of blood made your head swim.

The glass you had been holding shattered from the death grip you had it in and it cut your hand, drawing blood. “Ah-” You stumbled back, but instead of meeting the hard wooden floor, warm gloved hands caught your fragile figure gently.

“Ma pavure chéri(e)!.. We’re so sorry for not arriving sooner.. I promise everything will be okay now. The ugly man won’t hurt you anymore mon petit trickster.”

You gazed around your surroundings hazily as the familiar mesh of languages spoke kindly to you.

“Jade! You need to be more careful! Look at what you did- they’ve hurt themselves because of your terrible aim-“

“Now now Rosehearts, that was no mere blunder I assure you. After all, I’m sure you can agree that none of us would have been quite satisfied with giving him such a quick passing.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever be agreeing with that slimy eel but he’s right. No one leaves unscathed when they mess with our herbivore.” A gruff voice interjected.

“And since he wanted to find out who we were so badly why don’t we give him exactly what he wants Shishishishi~”

“Fufu~ What an excellent idea~ I’m sure our lovely bloody friend here would agree? What do you think, Malleus?”

“While I find that prospect wonderful, Lilia, I do wonder if we will be able to hold back enough to leave some of him intact for everyone to share.”

“I don’t really care...As long as I can send in a camera to watch it happen, it doesn’t matter to me...” Someone mumbled just barely above a whisper. “Just make sure you guys.. take your time. Or the reward won’t be a worth an end game prize..”

Voices bounced off of your bar walls as your hand ached and head spun. Since when did so many people come in? Ugh that blood is gonna be a pain to scrub out- And will that man please stop screaming—“Ah! Your hand is all cut-! Here let me help! Jamil- oh you’ve already got it! Thanks Jamil you’re the best!”

“Yeah yeah just give me the supplies.. I’ll get the glass out and wrap their hand..”

You groaned at the stinging sensation of the ointment and the fear induced headache that still won’t go away as a rich voice continued to whisper words in a french and english jumble to comfort you.

“Oi! Your screeching is so damn annoying! Shut the hell up unless you want your other hand to have an equal sized hole in it-“

“Hey you’re not gonna get your hands on him before I do! I’m gonna drill his head into-“

“Alright Ace, Deuce, gag him to make him be quiet. And don’t do anything else! You two have absolutely no self control whatsoever and if you disobey it’ll be off with your heads.”

“Wow~~ so many people here today! This is #amazing!! Wait wait I need a pic of that cute expression! I’ll post it and we can show everyone what happens if they try to touch our precious bartender!~”

With your hand properly wrapped, you buried your face into the fabric of the man who caught you in an attempt to stabilize yourself mentally and physically. “Shhh c’est bon, c’est bon~” The voice cooed.

“Alright now, as per contract rules we will all have a chance to demonstrate to this man the consequences of his actions.” A silver-haired man with an equally silver tongue spoke smoothly while narrowing his eyes at his suffering form. “However will Pomefiore please take the dear back home? They look near faint and need rest immediately.”

“Very well.” An impossibly soft and delicate hand brushed against your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen from your eyes. “Oh the poor dear is shaking. Let’s take them home Rook. Epel is already waiting there now.”

“Of course Roi du Poison, after all, I do recall Monsieur Cherry Apple expressing his extreme protest at not being able to ‘teach him a lesson’~ Ah what beautiful passion he has!” The voice- no- Rook, you corrected yourself as you remembered his short cut hair and glowing green eyes, commented, gently taking you up into his arms.

Vil, as you recalled the nickname, scoffed. “I wouldn’t call it so much as passion rather than improper recklessness with the way he speaks and acts oftentimes.” The man, although you remember him as quite critical and stern, especially regarding the quality of your establishment (and you yourself)- reassuringly stroked your head while speaking to his right hand.

Honestly, you had originally assumed he didn’t like you due to his criticisms despite the fact he had come by more than once to chat.

“So as per the deal, Diasomnia will be taking him in first, correct?”

“Yes, and we will take him last. After all, I doubt you’d all have much left to play with after Floyd gets his hands on him. It took everything just to get him to stay behind at Octavinelle. He’s in a terrible mood.”

“I don’t know if him being in a bad mood is worse for the victim than being in a great one.”

“At least it’ll make sure he won’t be let off easily with how he chose to act on our neutral ground.” Someone growled.

A sweet liquid made its way into your mouth and you drank without protest as all the strength left you from prior stress.

“A... potion..?” You drawled as your body immediately began to feel heavy.

“Yes, a sleeping one to help you relax and there’s an extra component as well for later. Don’t worry darling, we’re here to take care of you, not harm you.” Vil hummed softly. “After all, you kept quiet despite being threatened and we must show our gratitude for all your service.”

Sparkling ruby eyes met your own sleepy ones. “Yeah! I’m sure you were really scared and I’m sorry we caused you all this trouble. I promise to send a bunch of gifts to make up for it!” A smile split the strangely bright man. You finally recognized him to be Kalim, someone with quite a lot of power in the mafia world but always joyful despite the circumstances of his lifestyle. “Thank you for everything!!”

“Hey Kalim, they’re tired, try not to yell.”

“Okay Jamil! Bye friend!” He called out.

The clacking of boots along your bar floor echoed and the hunter took you away from the threatening voices of your common patrons and muted wails of your perpetrator played behind you.

“Don’t worry, if you think it hurts now, wait until we take you to Savanaclaw. Shishishi~ That wound will feel like a paper cut in no time!”

“Mmm I agree. I may have gotten to take the first shot, but I am excited to try out a couple new concoctions I’ve developed. My brother and I await eagerly for your arrival.”

“Uh huh.. Even Ortho seemed to look forward to watching him suffer... I can’t say I don’t feel the same though.. This is gonna be even better than my shows. After all, the screams and blood are real this time.”

While you did feel pity, if it weren’t for the way he treated you, then maybe, maybe you’d a little more feel bad for him.

I warned you... I told you they weren’t people to be messed with.

Was your last thought before slipping into the warm embrace of sleep.

...

The next morning you found yourself having a difficult time recalling last night’s events with a small headache, recollections of hazy conversations and a bandaged hand.

Still, you made your way to work as always like the model miserable citizen you are, and hoped the bar wasn’t too much of a mess since you didn’t remember cleaning or closing up properly.

Sparkling. The bar was sparkling. From floor to chair to counter, it was spotless beyond recognition. You reeled back in shock as someone caught your falling figure.

‘Wow, talk about deja vu..’

“You seem to have a common reaction of falling backwards when surprised. Be more careful now.” A rumbling voice straighten you out as you turned to meet similar but not exact, shining green eyes and black hair.

“Oh... Tsunotar- ah, Malleus?” You mumbled in confusion as you accidentally called him by the nickname you gave after he refused to tell you his real one. It took a pale faced Ace, Deuce, and Epel plus a screaming Sebek to find out his highly feared position.

“Yes it’s me. How is your hand? Is it still in pain from last night?”

“Last night?... Um.. actually I don’t remember much from last night. My hand is a little sore though but not too bad. I can still serve you a drink if you’d like.”

“I see... That’s good then.” He nodded, seemingly knowing something you don’t. Naturally, you didn’t pry. “And I would love a beverage. Just-“

“-tea, am I right?” You interrupted with a smile. “You don’t tend to drink alcohol especially this early in the day.”

He chuckled. Not many people tended to interrupt him, especially if they knew who he was. “You know me well, child of man.”

“You’re still calling me that huh? Not that I mind but you’re human too aren’t you? A strange nickname if you ask me.”

He only kept grinning in mild amusement while holding the door for you to enter your pristine bar. A heavenly apple scent wafted greeted you as you walked in. You’ve learned at this point to not question kind gestures and sent a quiet thanks as you began making Malleus’ tea.

A few other recognizable faces sauntered in throughout the day, looking much more.. refreshed than usual, talking about how much fun they had with whoever made the grave mistake to offend them the previous night.

Wiping down a glass, you gazed upward lazily towards the playing news. Some poor man was found mutilated beyond recognition near the area. You shuddered internally, knowing full well the.. ‘attackers’ were most likely sitting and chatting casually right in front of you. Though... that coat he had been seen wearing looked familiar... but you decided you’d rather not dwell on that. Better to not recognize someone you knew for any reason when they ended up like that for crossing the wrong people.

It wouldn’t be the last time you’d wake up disoriented and forgetful of the night before.

Each time, the next morning your bar would be clean and a familiar face would be there to greet you.

Each time, a different scent would fill the air, perhaps.. covering another more, metallic one.

Each time, they would ask about your health and of last night- which you wouldn’t remember- as they hummed in response, expressing some sort of... approval or confirmation.

Each time, the news would report the horrifically disfigured bodies found just outside your area and it wouldn’t take very much to guess who was behind it, or why they would allow the evidence to be broadcasted.

Once. You asked once, what the individual had done to be used as a warning. You were met with silent, unnerving smiles and a consolation that they were bad people. You almost laughed. The worst people were very much the ones with grins plastered on their faces before you and a drink in their hand.

Sometimes you surprised yourself with the way you could carry yourself so nonchalantly amongst the arguably most dangerous people around.

But it’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid. Not of them and definitely not of anyone else. Because you are always protected. Always, watched. But you don’t need to know that. Just do what you’ve always done best.

Make the drink.

Dance around their questions.

Patch them up.

Keep your mouth shut.

Stay as you are, because it was curiosity that killed the cat and no amount of satisfaction will ever bring it back.

Since getting to know these people, you might forget a lot of things. But don’t ever forget this, dear prized and precious bartender.

Ignorance,

is bliss.

[honeym4rk]

another mark friends-to-lovers au lol

part of the same storyline as my previous post !!!! where mark and oc are best friends in the same friend group in high school and oc starts falling for mark even though he likes to play into the running joke that they're some perfect couple.

i think i might make this another series of oneshots bc i... am not ready to write a whole full blown fic yet AHAHAHAH we'll see lol but i just wanted to put this up in case i never touch it again

here's the previous post!

---

It’s almost as if Mark wants to continue proving you wrong. Because as much as you think there’s already so much about him that’s attractive, endearing, hot, whatever; he seems to pile on even more labels and traits that make you want to melt into a puddle of nothingness. It's like he's aiming to become one of those... multi-hyphenates that the teachers in school like to talk about.

He got his stupid Driver’s License. 

And to be honest, you never really thought it was hot that people could drive- it’s literally just operating an automobile, a routine of turning the steering wheel and hitting pedals- so what about it could possibly ever evoke any sense of attractive quality to it?

Maybe you’re just biased because it’s Mark who’s driving right now, after so long of boasting about how he got his license and how he’s already “reeeaaalllyyy good”. You sit in the passenger’s seat as he drives you back home from another day at the Library, and you buckle your seatbelt just a little tighter, holding onto it in fear as he starts the car to pull out of the parking lot.

He punches at your shoulder lightly, “Hey! I promise I’m fine! Look, I can do the one handed thingy!”

“Literally, don’t. Isn’t it dangerous, or something?”

“I mean, kinda, but I swear I’ve got it down. See?”

And got it down, he does- and you can’t lie and say it wasn’t cool. Maybe even hot. His hand on the steering wheel, he turns around to look behind the car, leaning in a little closer to you, and you have to will yourself to look away from the concentration on his face, and how good he looks with his hair out and not hidden by a cap, his circle-rimmed glasses resting on his nose. Your eyes land on the knife of a jawline he has, and then they naturally travel up to his lips that are so incredibly pink and plump-

“Cool, right?” He manoeuvres successfully, and makes a straight to send you home, and you gulp, staring straight at the street in front of you. It’s almost as if his stare has a weight of its own, crushing you, pressing you to squeeze into the car door. It’s so embarrassing that you’re secretly harbouring all of these feelings, they’re so…. strange, and maybe even inappropriate since you’re just friends.

“Okay, fine, it is pretty cool. Now you just have to get me home in one piece.” You laugh, and just pray, that for the love of God, you can just get through another day without getting flustered over something stupid like this.

“Oh yeah, I wanted you to listen to this! Unlock my phone and go into my Spotify, it’s the top playlist.”

He hands you his phone, and continues, “You remember Phony Ppl, right? They had that song you liked with Megan Thee Stallion? Well, I found one of their new songs and someone in a YouTube comment said it was sampled on the first song in that playlist, but I swore it sounded like this old 5SOS song.”

Huh. Funny. The very first song in the playlist is titled ‘I Didn’t Mean To Turn You On,’ and you literally want to punch yourself in the face. You press play.

It’s a funky disco-beat- Mark’s recommendation playlist for you has been full of these songs lately. 

“Hmm, it’s fun! I love the synths, they’re going crazy. Also, love your car’s stereo? Wow!”

You’re starting to really like it, it’s groovy, it’s fun, and then she starts singing, so you look at the lyrics on his phone- they’re not synced to the song, so you just scroll, skimming through in curiosity. And in huge, bold, white letters, almost to mock you,

You read me wrong. I wasn’t trying to lead you on. I want a friend. I didn’t mean to turn you on.

Haha. Oh my God. Hahahaha. You nod your head in awkwardness, but then try to play it off by looking like you’re just doing it to the music. 

“Right?! It’s such a bop, man! And yeah, sometimes I have to stop myself from playing the music too loud. If not I can literally feel the vibrations in my fingers. Okay, anyways, the song itself is like, seven whole minutes, and gets kinda repetitive at the end, so you can just skip to the next one. Just listen to the intro!”

‘Nowhere But Up’ sounds pretty similar to the previous song, it’s pretty clear they did sample it, yet they’ve definitely made it their own since the vibe is completely different, and the lyrics are still on the screen, and Wow! They do not get any better.

So, like hold on, you, you wait, so you want me to chase you through this song? Huh, you sound crazy, you sound crazy. The last thing I remember is you said that you want me.

You chuckle sardonically before you can even stop yourself, and you should’ve seen this coming, but he asks you what’s so funny and you have to come up with a lie on the spot.

“Oh, no, the bass is ridiculously good! That part in the intro? It’s so good. This part.” You replay the part, and he agrees, “Yeah! Their bass lines are always so sick.” There is a moment of silence shared just to listen to the music, and the suffocating feeling of his eyes on you is back for a brief moment before he continues to tap the rhythm on the steering wheel, head bopping to the beat.

Then his phone buzzes, the ping interrupting your moment of solace, and you see the text message notification from Karina before he can even ask who it is. 

[karina ☺️, 2002] heeeey wru

Your heart drops to your stomach- it’s almost as if this is the perfect storm of events and it’s not even just your confirmation bias, almost as if he did play those songs to unknowingly reject you, no- almost as if he knew you how you felt, almost as if he was deliberately trying to shut you down. 

“Ooooooo! Karina just texted you.” You wiggle your eyebrows and try to force as much excitement and curiosity as possible for someone that just got their life and soul sucked out of their body. 

“Oh, um,” Mark, too, looks pretty shocked. “Can IIIIIIIII open it?” You stare intently at him, waiting for his answer, stare right at his face like he has something to explain to you. Which, he doesn’t, not necessarily. But you still feel this way anyway. He licks his lips, as if in contemplation.

“Yeah, sure. What’d she say?” 

“She just asked where you are. Are you supposed to be anywhere right now?” Hands clammy, you click on the notification. At first glance, it does look like they’ve been talking quite a bit- they even texted each other ‘gn’ three days ago. Everything is sending you into a frenzy, and you’re trying to convince yourself it’s just a normal thing people do. Friends do. You’ve texted Yeonjun ‘goodnight’ before, and it doesn’t mean anything. Where does he have to be? Are they supposed to go on a date? Where could they be possibly going on a Saturday Night? 

His voice cuts off your train of thought- “Oh, shit!” His voice cracks, and there’s just so much panic packed into the tiny space of his car, “I’m supposed to be in some Zoom Call right now, it’s for the project we’re doing. Uhhh, tell her I’m on the way home right now, I’ll be there in 5 minutes.”

You type away, and all the fear that struck terror in your soul seems to have deflated, yet it’s left your heart palpitating. You feel so stupid for feeling so worked up about this, it’s crazy. Never in your life had you thought you’d be overcome with jealousy, even if it was for a tiny moment, but you suppose that it’s really just the uncertainty that spurs it all. 

You know, since you don’t know how he feels about you. No clue at all about whether or not he reciprocates whatever stupid crush you have. He literally just recommended two songs that were about turning someone down. But then again, when has he ever sent cryptic messages through his song choices? It’s totally unlike him, and your leaping-to-conclusions- brain is just incredible at making complete nonsense of anything that’s happening. 

God, you need to convene with Minji and Ryujin again. Your hand is itching to whip your phone out to send a text, why in front of Mark you’re not too sure, maybe the desperation really has gotten to you.

“Can I take the call at your place? It’s only going to be, like, thirty minutes max, I think.” He’s come over multiple times, it really isn’t that big of a deal. It’s fine. Your mom likes him. Haha. 

“Yeah, sure, I think my mom’s home and she probably wouldn’t mind.”

The next song has started.

“Great, thanks! Oh, this was the last song I wanted to show you, the 5SOS one? Do you hear the similarity? Like the chord progressions, and the rhythm? It’s not the same synth sound, I mean, duh, it’s a guitar, but yeah.”

When you’re talking to your girls, do you talk about me? Do you tell’ em that you love me the way that I’ve been loving you?

You are seriously going to punch yourself in the face later.

---

LOL yeah um let me know what i should do with this fic should i try to flesh it out and write a whole story that really flows or just post the random scenarios agashgahee

also the songs are: i didn't mean to turn you on - cherelle nowhere but up - phony ppl girls talk boys - 5sos

go have a listen!!! they are such boppy songs lol.

[lespetitesmortsde]

break my little imodna heart?

Great timing anon, because I was in the midst of this little pile of trauma when your ask came in. Death, abandonment, angst, etc. Post-resurrection.

You could read on AO3 if you prefer: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51497527

Anchor

She wakes up with her head in Imogen’s lap, Imogen’s fingers combing through her hair as she jolts up from a sharp crack across her cheek.

She wakes up and there’s a gnome-looking lady with white hair and a scar across one eye leaning over her, studying her. The gnome pulls back, but her brow remains furrowed.

She wakes up and FCG’s voice is incredibly loud in her ears. “Laudna! You’re back!” and he sounds thrilled, exuberant, and she’s filled with confusion. Her eyes dart around the room and there’s someone pretty who looks like they might be familiar, wielding a bow and aiming an arrow straight at her.

FCG draws her attention back to them, “Are you back? Are you okay?”

Quieter, moving from behind her to beside her, Imogen asks, “Is it you?”

There is not enough time to think no space to breathe there isn’t – Is it you? Or is it –

Chetney jumps in, “Say something only Laudna would know, quick!”

She looks at Chet and struggles to say something, for her vocal chords to rub, for the air to pass through them. She looks over at Orym and then back to Chetney.

Rocking back and forth on his wheel, FCG frets, “Uh-oh, she can’t speak?”

And finally, finally, her voice works mostly like it’s supposed to. It comes out weaker, wispier, and so much rougher than she recalls it being for a long, long time. “I don’t…” she looks around before settling her gaze on Imogen. “Have you found anything else out about your mom?”

It feels like the room collectively lets out a strained breath.

She’s introduced to the strangers treating her like a bomb with an unknown timer. When the gnome says it’s just her, that Delilah isn’t around anymore, Imogen lets out the most relieved sigh. But she’s not so sure that getting rid of Delilah could be that easy. And despite Imogen’s assurances, she doesn’t trust these people, not the ones she was sacrificed for.

She wakes up and she is groggy for most of the day, feels more dead than she usually does, floats around on auto-pilot, made easier when she’s holding Imogen’s hand.

It’s getting harder to hold Imogen’s hand. Oh, Imogen is there and treats her gently when she’s within reach, but there’s a distance between them now. She can feel it in her shadow, creeping up through her boots, when Imogen moves away and lets others come between them.

Her attention feels foreign, translucent. She can focus on the conversation for a couple of minutes at a time, even contribute a little, but she loses the time and space in between. One moment they’re in the house she woke up in. The next they’re out on the street. Then she’s in the castle. They’re going to eat.

It’s like she blinks and–

She wakes up and there’s potato soup in front of her. The others purposefully left the spot beside her for Imogen, but even though she feels delirious, like reality — if this even is reality — bends in waves around her, she knows Imogen like no one else does. She knows that her friend, her best friend, first looked for any other seat than the one beside her.

And her heart breaks when Imogen finally sinks into the chair, accepting her fate.

She’s pretty sure it doesn’t happen in real-life, that it’s the echoes of her resurrection, but every so often she hears Orym’s voice around the periphery. You deserve to be more than a footnote in Delilah’s story.

Please. Come back.

There are people here who need you.

And they’re lovely words, truly, she would love for them to be real, to be honest, to be truthful.

But the only person who ever came close to needing her, and doesn’t actually need her at all, can’t wait to get away from her.

She’s left wondering what the point of it all was. They wasted precious time coming after her, fighting off Delilah, traipsing around the horrors of her mind, boxes open and emptied. They used up precious favours for someone who will only hold them back.

She was already dead.

Why is she back?

She doesn’t have an answer and she doubts any of the rest of them have much of one either.

She wakes up and she doesn’t know why.

Lady Vex’ahlia gives her a ring, says it will protect her, but she can’t help wondering what for? Everyone has already put far too much effort into getting her undead again. But Orym tells her to take it and his words calling her back to the land of the living drift back through her head, so she slips it on her finger.

The weight is different from the ring Imogen gave her. Maybe she’ll need to give Imogen’s back, even though she loves it and she’ll miss being able to look at it and touch it.

Maybe this ring will help her bear the loss of the other one.

The group is getting ready to go to bed in the castle and she’s fine with that, she wants them to have a comfortable night. But she can’t. She can’t do that. No matter what all they’ve done for her, she can’t do that.

She’ll spend her night alone. Try to get her thoughts into some sort of cohesive thing. Maybe in the morning she can be who they remember her to be. Maybe in the morning, they will say goodbye and they will leave her behind now that they recognise how weak she is, how much of an anchor she is, dragging them down, down, down to depths unknown.

At some point, Imogen tries reassuring her that they’d do it again, that it wasn’t a big deal, that she’s not a nuisance. Imogen even says she missed her. So much.

Her traitorous little heart sinks its talons into that too deeply, pulls it too sharply into her chest.

When the time comes, it will hurt to remove it, like bisecting her heart and plucking it right out from her ribcage.

She tells them to have a restful night, that she’s going to go sleep by the Sun Tree. Wants to let some of the hope and healing seep into her bones from its roots.

She wakes up and there are fancy sheets strewn along the ground and the whole lot of them are sprawled across them underneath the tree. Fearne is cuddling Orym. Imogen, maybe because she was once more pushed into her old normal place by everyone else, is beside her. Imogen’s head is on her shoulder.

Maybe she didn’t want to be alone, after all. Maybe it’ll take more than one night to wrestle her thoughts and her mind back to the land of the living.

Maybe she can have this one indulgence as a departing gift.

She is exhausted, but she lies awake long past when everyone else falls asleep. Her heart thuds sluggishly in her chest.

Imogen against her is a comfort, one she does not deserve, of course, never has, but in the last thirty-odd years, she’s learned to take the rare good things when they come along. Not to ask questions. And the last two years have been great. They’ve been the best.

When she is left behind, reliving those two years will sustain her for decades, if not more than that. She can live a week, a month, inside each step they’ve walked together.

She could live a year within the confrontation between Imogen and Delilah in the tree, could go without food if only there’s the echo of Imogen shouting out, “Delilah Briarwood, we’re going to sunder you.”

That all means so much. Imogen was so angry. She glances down at Imogen now, eyes closed, the tiredness more apparent in sleep than when awake. She hopes Imogen rests well.

Orym’s voice and Orym’s voice alone once more ripples through her head.

She wakes up from being dead and the only question that haunts her is why didn’t Imogen try to bring her back.

[firethekitty]

okay you reblog a lot of albums ive never heard of and am curious about but it’s hard to get myself to sit down and listen to a whole album so please please, Top Ten-ish Songs To Get To Know You kind of list? pretty please?

i literally daydream about people asking me stuff like this LOL. so this is hardly a comprehensive list of all my favorite songs ever but here are some songs that are really important to me!!! this got REALLY long so i put it under a read more

1. meet me in the woods by lord huron

my absolute favorite song Ever like of all time. means everything to me. i could listen to this every single day and never get tired of it. INSANELY fun, incredible vibes, makes me want to go outside and shoot a beam into somebody. lord huron is an Experience. all their albums are concept albums and there’s actually a fair amount of lore going on. on the physical CD for strange trails it actually has the characters’ names next to their respective songs

for meet me in the woods, it sounds very upbeat and happy, but listen closely and you’ll realize it’s not quite as it seems… in-universe, it’s narrated by a woman named francine lu, and the song has the same chords as the first track of the album (and another of her songs) “love like ghosts”. she also narrates “the night we met”, easily LH’s most famous song. francine lu is not having a normal one. what’s her problem? listen to find out…..

2. crystals by of monsters and men

this was my favorite song ever for about 6 years until meet me in the woods ranked just a tiny bit higher. sooo fucking fun, itches a part of my brain that’s only accessible via icelandic stomp & holler. makes me very happy and always cheers me up! of monsters and men was the first new (at the time) band i ever really discovered on my own without hearing about from my parents or other people, and i’ve been listening to them ever since (almost 13 years!!) they are incredibly important to me and i highly recommend all of their albums

3. sunblind by fleet foxes

relatively new but became a favorite as soon as i heard it. this is also one of the most Me songs i can think of on top of just being so fucking gorgeous and raw and heartfelt. this song is a tribute to deceased musicians who influenced robin pecknold (the lead singer and songwriter for fleet foxes) and how their music is pretty much the reason he’s even alive today. my favorite lines are “only way that i made it for a long time / but i’m loud and alive, singing you all night”. this entire album is sincerely a masterpiece and i highly recommend listening to it all. fleet foxes have really beautiful and unique lyrics, they remind me of mitski’s lyrics in that they’re very poetic and personal and emotional but still subjective enough that you can connect them to your own life

4. this must be the place by talking heads

specifically the stop making sense live recording, which i still half-refuse to believe is a live recording because it’s just THAT fucking good. whenever someone says david byrne can’t sing i direct them here, because he does sincerely have an incredible voice and he simply Chooses to sing weirdly bc he’s a quirked up white boy with autistic swag.

this is just a really sweet and romantic song from a band that otherwise stays far away from love songs and it works extremely well. this entire album is fucking incredible and easily the best live album of all time. half of them are BETTER than the studio recordings, and you can also watch david byrne leap straight up backwards like a full 4 feet

highly recommend watching stop making sense just the entire film

5. vein of stars by the flaming lips

back in 2014, i watched a very beloved streamer play a game called “space engine”, in which you explore as much of the universe as we’ve theorized to exist. this was a little before copyright laws got so fucking strict on youtube and twitch, so mr. vinny vinesauce could play any music he wanted while planet-hopping. one of those songs was vein of stars, and it’s been one of my absolute favorites ever since.

the flaming lips are definitely an acquired taste. wayne coyne does Not have a very good voice and it can get extremely grating, especially to someone who hasn't heard them before. but when it works, god it works. this song is so pretty and nostalgic to me, always calms me down whenever i’m In A Mood. it’s nihilistic but not in a depressing way, more like “yeah maybe we aren’t here for any particular reason, maybe there’s nothing after this life. there’s nothing we can do about that, so why worry?”. very peaceful. REQUIRED listening when stargazing

6. good old-fashioned lover boy by queen

one of the first songs i ever truly hyperfixated on. unfortunately i listened to it SO fucking much it kind of ruined it for me, but i still do really love it. i may not listen to it that often anymore but i felt obligated to put it here bc it had a Profound Effect on my developing brain

7. too much time by john vanderslice

the year is 2012 and you're halfway through the newest episode of the hit podcast welcome to nightvale. cecil announces the weather. little do you know that you will carry the next 3 and a half minutes with you for the rest of your life. this one is just absurdly nostalgic to me (and not to mention incredibly vash the stampede coded). beloved song!!!

8. waltz for zizi & the real folk blues by the seatbelts & mai yamane

well it’s no secret that i think cowboy bebop has the greatest anime soundtrack of all time and one of THE greatest soundtracks of all time Ever. this is just an objective fact actually.

i believe this is because the seatbelts and specifically the composer yoko kanno studied real jazz, blues, and bebop to make the ost. like it's not just "jazz-flavored", there is genuine, deep respect and you can hear it in every single track. waltz for zizi gives me physical goosebumps every single time i listen to it, it's absolutely perfect. i've made it a ritual to listen to every time i visit the shore at night and go stargazing. sincerely transcendent experience

9. cuckoo song by cosmo sheldrake

hhhhhrrr this entire fucking albummmm hhhhhhhrhhhhrhhhaauuuuUUUUOOOGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHH!!! AHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

back during my final semesters of college, i had to take a course for art degree seniors. we’d pick something we were passionate about, make art for it, and it would be hung up for a week in the exhibition room. i chose birds of course, but wake-up calls inspired me to shift that choice to something more important than just random funny bird drawings. i focused on bird species that have gone extinct within the last 60 years because wake-up calls is made almost entirely out of endangered bird songs.

i’ll be honest i can barely listen to this song or anything on the album because i WILL literally start sobbing like in real life. cuckoo song in particular just makes me start crying every single time i listen to it, it’s like a magic spell. it’s not even necessarily sad but just viscerally bittersweet. the art for the album is made by flora wallace. here’s the spotify canvas i made a gif just for you 👍

10. take you back by orville peck

and finally………….. the song that made me realize that i actually DO love real country music a lot, and that the derivative “bro country” sub-genre that developed in the early 2000s has absolutely destroyed any positive opinion of country music in society. we NEED to go back, and orville peck is more than doing his part. this is the first song i ever heard by him and it's just so goddamn fun. i am completely unable to not sing along to this when it comes on

not only do i highly recommend orville peck but also any country music from the 50s and 60s, especially marty robbins, charley pride, conway twitty, and of course mrs. dolly parton. and later country rock/folk rock bands like america and creedence clearwater revival. it’s SO good i’m so serious

orville peck is the only modern country singer i can think of who's not afraid to bring back the harmonicas and whistling and steel guitars and whip cracks and yeehaws. it's fantastic. he's also gay and an outspoken trans ally. i believe this gives him the power to revive country music from the dead 🙏

[naneun-no]

Hello! I was just reading your ask replies and thought I’d send one of my own:-)

Sometimes I wonder if I’m reading too much into jikooks relationship w/ each other - they clearly are good friends! But sometimes I think maybe I’m just seeing things, when it comes to something perhaps “more”.

But then when instances happen like jungkook starting his live (on white day no less) at 8:11pm (when we think that 11/8 or 8/11 is an important number to jikook) I’m like hmm ok…. And there’s been so many other things like this, surely it just has to be TOO big of a coincidence ?? Because it keeps. happening.

I can think of many times this number has popped up, even like one time Jungkook included it on his Instagram story when it wasn’t even that time in Korea when he posted it.

I just don’t know !! I never know what to think haha. it’s not just number theory that makes me believe in jikook but it’s one little subtle thing that seems to keep cropping up

I hope you have a lovely day:-) thanks for reading my jumbled ask

Hey there 😊 thanks for sending!

Yeah, I think for a lot of people, it’s the suspicious moments for them that just keep adding up, you know? To be honest, all the theories can sometimes be a little much for me. Not to say there’s nothing to them, they just seem to rely so heavily on cultural nuances that I don’t completely understand or have context for, and to be honest, I never needed them to see something going on between them. It was just the very obvious stuff that stuck out to me, which is that:

They do seem like best friends. But when said best friends also seem like they’re probably very likely both queer/into men, and also sort of seem into each other, then it’s not out of the realm of possibility to wonder if something more is going on. They do a lot of things that best friends do (watch the same tv shows, have a billion and one inside jokes, spend so much time together that their other friends mix up their names, always gravitate to being in each other’s space). They just also do things that seem kind of… sexually charged sometimes? (Getting visibly distracted/flustered by attractive pictures of each other or flashes of skin, checking each other out pretty obviously, biting each other on the neck hard and long enough to leave a mark because the other wouldn’t stop spinning them around in their arms 😬, posting sexy thirst trap birthday wishes for each other, calling each other sexy, touching each other much more than strictly necessary, just straight up flirting wow there are a lot of these).

And it’s just… usually when you have two best friends who are sexually attracted to each other, that’s a pretty solid foundation for a pretty solid relationship. For most people it’s kind of a no-brainer, actually. That’s not to say the relationship will inevitably last forever, if it’s even official enough to be a relationship. That’s for them to know and define, not us.

I’ve accepted that we’ll probably never really know, and that’s okay. I want them to be safe, and happy, and at peace more than I would ever want my suspicions confirmed. I don’t really need them confirmed anyways — I have fun watching original content and the occasional Jikook serotonin-boosting compilation, and joking around on here with other people who see and appreciate their magic with me. It doesn’t have to be that serious. Welcome to the club 🥰

[tuzesdays]

"pinky promise?" for the yn verse besties :^) ((bc charlie is silly enough to pinky promise))

they really are

WORDCOUNT: 708 | Into the Y/Nverse | Platonic

It only takes one shared glance to decide what they’re doing.

“Race you!”

“Wh- hey!” Viper bolts after Charlie, legs working double time to overtake their stupidly long stride as they wave over their shoulder. “See you guys in a bit!”

The rest of their group laughs at the enthusiasm. By now they’re pretty used to Viper breaking their usual stoic behavior to go act like a child with Charlie – now that the two of them (three of them, counting Dakota) are talking to their coworkers more, it seems like everyone’s stopped being intimidated by Viper. It’s kind of nice.

Charlie and Viper skid into the front room of the laser tag area, Viper lagging a split second behind. “I WIN!”

“You and your stupidly long legs!” They try to grapple each other, and Viper ducks low to poke at Charlie’s stomach. “Quit making me run!”

“I didn’t make you do anything! You could’ve just lost!”

“Not a chance.”

The two of them push each other like bratty siblings while paying for entry. Here, they have a choice: compete for the most hits while on the same team, or go on opposite teams and hunt each other down. Both are appealing. Both have them glaring playfully at each other.

“Got a coin, Lili?”

“Uhhh…” they dig around in their pockets. “I have… uh, a fidget toy and my staff card?”

“Gimme the card.” Viper takes it, holding Charlie’s staff ID between their finger and thumb. “We flip this. Picture side, and we go on the same team.”

“Awesome, okay.”

Viper tosses it pretty high up into the air and doesn’t bother catching it, letting the card fall to the floor and settle on… the barcode side. Opposite teams it is.

“I call blue!”

“Of course,” Viper rolls their eyes. “I’ll be on green.”

“Yeah, duh.” Charlie sticks their tongue out at them, which is returned. “First to get shot loses!”

“First to shoot the other one wins.”

On a nice day like this in the middle of a vacation period, the attraction is packed with people. There are seven strangers on Viper’s side that they don’t bother talking to – they’re not at all interested in being a team player today, they just want that hit on their friend. They suit up with a harness and connected laser gun (and have a quick thought about certain people they would never be able to play this game with) before the timer begins counting down and they brace to run out into the neon-lit darkness.

Three, two, one…

So long green team, Viper’s got a competition to win.

There are four teams, one coming from each corner of the arena: Blue, Green, Yellow, and White. The vests flash red when they’re hit, and stay red until the player heads back to a ‘respawn point’ somewhere in their corner of the room. Viper dodges around the White entrance and heads straight toward Blue. “Oh, Lili~!”

They hear a familiar laugh off to their right and point their gun in that direction. “Marco…!”

“Polo!” Charlie darts out from behind a barricade, missing their shot at Viper as they run. “Aw no!”

“Keep running, Lili!” Viper gives chase, firing at them as they race around the arena.

Dodge, dodge, weave, bolt. Charlie’s stuck in a straight shot to the next barricade. Viper lines up the shot as slowly as they dare.

Victory.

Later – ‘after the game’ later, once they’ve managed to catch up with the rest of the group in the arcade – the two of them sit crossed-legged on the floor, backs leaning against a wall as they watch an intense DDR competition play out. Charlie puts their elbow ontop of Viper’s head just to be annoying. Viper pokes them in the side.

“We should do this more often.”

Viper looks over the group cheering on two dancers. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Charlie grins. “I didn’t think you’d like this stuff that much!”

“The get-togethers? Yeah, me neither.” They huff, like whatever enjoyment they’re getting out of group outings is against their will. “But it’s not so bad. Just a lot.”

“… You’ll tell me if it ever gets to be too much, right?”

“Sure.”

“Pinky promise?”

Viper snorts and offers their hand. “Pinky promise.”

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Okay, everyone, it’s here. Nish Kumar’s 2022 show Your Power, Your Control, on TV for everyone to see. If there’s anyone who wants to see it and can’t, send me a message or a non-anonymous ask and I’ll send you a link. Anyone, really. I really, really want everyone to watch this, and I am happy to share with absolutely everyone. I say this because I know what the culture’s like on this site, how people think “Oh I don’t know, I haven’t talked to that person before, I can’t just message them out of nowhere, it would be weird.” It won’t be. Even if I’ve never interacted with you before and we’re not mutuals or anything, if you want a link, ask. I want to spread this. Though if you live in the UK and are able to, you should watch this through official channels (Sky and Now TV) so he’ll get whatever support he’ll get from viewcount.

I saw this show twice last year. Once in mid-May in New York City, and once in late July in Montreal. When I booked tickets for his show in NYC, I didn’t know he was going to take the show to Just For Laughs in Montreal. If I had know that, I wouldn’t have booked the NYC tickets, because NYC is an 8.5-hour drive away, and requires crossing a national border, while Montreal is two hours away and in the same country as me. However, I’m glad I bought those tickets before I knew. Because the NYC show was amazing, and it was worth seeing twice. I hated the NYC trip, overall. My dad and I spent all day Saturday driving there, then slept on my brother’s uncomfortable couch (he was briefly living there at the time, so at least we didn’t have to pay for accommodation, which was nice), then spent all day Sunday driving back. I’d never been to that city before, and I didn’t like it, with its crowds and its skyrocketed COVID rates but no one was wearing masks, and its general atmosphere that I just hated. I hated every moment of the trip during which I was not in a room with Nish Kumar. And the whole thing was still worth it. And then of course I saw it again in Montreal. That’s how good a show it was.

The show changed a bit in the couple of months between the two I saw. The most notable being that in NYC, he complained about comedians who use their platform to be a dick to minorities, and then shouted: “Fuck you Dave Chappelle, fuck you Ricky Gervais!” In Montreal, he did the same routine, but this time ended it with: “Fuck you Dave Chapelle, fuck you Ricky Gervais, fuck you Jimmy Carr!” I am a bit curious to see if he leaves all those names in on the filmed version, particularly the last one as he was hanging out with Jimmy Carr on Katherine Ryan’s couch for her Backstage TV show not too long before this, it might fuck that up a bit.

The shows were mostly the same though, you don’t tend to take a show from England to NYC unless you’ve got your material pretty well worked out. The Montreal one did have some references to the fact that an Off Menu episode was recorded live at that same festival earlier that afternoon, and most of his audience had been there (I hadn’t been – I’d considered it because I like Ed Gamble and James Acaster, but the ticket price wasn’t worth it for a podcast I don’t listen to). He made a bunch of jokes about Ed and James, and then after some particularly harsh making fun of them, he added, “Obviously I’m just kidding, I love those guys, they’re my friends. I meant what I said about Gervais and Carr, though.”

Oh, there was something else that happened in Montreal but not in NYC. In Montreal, he was doing the part of the show where he explains that online abuse happens to everyone in the public eye, but it gets worse the more levels you are away from what’s thought of as the “default”. Then he started listing levels of “default”: white, straight, male, heterosexual, able-bodied, etc.

As he did so, I became very aware of my best friend, who was sitting next to me. I had dragged my best friend to Montreal with me, because I loved the show so much and I wanted him to see it too. He, however, is not into stand-up comedy. He’s not into any of this sort of thing at all. I’ve known him for 20 years, I met him because we were teammates in high school, and then after high school we took over as coaches, and we’ve now run a wrestling team together for many years. He is a 35-year-old (now 36) white straight guy who’s been an athlete all his life, and he looks it. He’s really cool for a jock, I swear. He’s a nice guy, he’s a feminist, he’s worked with me for many years to try to fight against the fucked up culture in sport. But he doesn’t, you know, look it. He looks like a jock. And he is a jock. He did not look like he belonged in a Nish Kumar gig. I didn’t realize how much he’d not fit in until we actually go there, and we sat in the front row of the 128-seat room, and everyone else looked like an artsy nerd, and I guess I looked like whatever in-between thing I am, and my best friend looked like a guy who should be in a sports bar and not in a Nish Kumar gig.

Anyway, when Nish Kumar started listing all the definitions of default, I felt slightly awkward, because my best friend is all those things. Now, I want to be clear, because Nis Kumar gets accused of this all the time and it’s fucking horrible when people say that shit: he was not deliberately making the rich straight white men in the room uncomfortable. He wasn’t saying “Fuck those people for being the default”. He was saying “It’s a fact that those people being the default mean, all else equal, they’ll get less online abuse than a visible minority for doing the same shit.” When I saw I felt a bit awkward, I mean that in a sort of affectionate way, when you’re sort of affectionately “called out” by a part of a comedy show, not that Nish Kumar was genuinely making his room an unsafe space for rich white men. Nish Kumar does not hate rich white men! Some of his best friends are Ed Gamble.

But I knew it was already a bit awkward for my friend, so when Nish started listing “straight, white, able-bodied, heterosexual…”, I put a hand on my friend’s shoulder, in a kind of reassuring way. Nish Kumar saw me do this, and stopped talking to laugh. Nish Kumar. Nish Kumar laughed, because of something I did, with the trademark wild infectious Nish Kumar laugh. Then he asked me, “Do you know that guy?” I said yes, and he said oh good, because it had looked like I might be just taking a guess about what he’s like based on his appearance. And that interaction with Nish Kumar is in the top ten coolest fucking things that’s ever happened to me.

So those are my personal stories from seeing that show. I know what it was like in May 2022, and I know it was like in July 2022, and I’m very curious as to what it was like in October 2022, which is when it was filmed. Both times I saw it, it ended with an extended routine about how fucked up it is that Britain worships some old lady (queen) and some special song (national anthem) and the big towel (flag). After that routine, he says, wouldn’t it be weird if she died while I was on stage? When people ask you where you were when the queen died, you’d have to say you were in a theatre, listening to a comedian be, if anything, too respectful about her.

…So even though I’ve seen the show twice, I’m guessing there will be at least a bit of stuff I haven’t heard before in the filmed version, because he’ll have to have rewritten that by October. There was also some stuff early in the show about Boris Johnson that was pretty current to when I saw it, I guess that’ll be different in October too. I’m looking forward to seeing that.

This post has been my preamble before I watch the long-awaited actual special. Just a place to record my thoughts going into it. I’m going to actually watch it now, and see how it compares to my memory of it. My memory of it is of one that did perfectly what I love in comedy – cover important personal stuff and cover important political stuff and tie the two together. Any show that does all three well, while also being funny, immediately becomes a favourite of mine (for another show that does that well, see Ahir Shah’s Ends, which just won the Edinburgh award and I’m very pleased about that). And God, it was fucking funny. Nish Kumar started the energy high, and I remember that both times I kept expecting him to at least start to run out of steam, and he never did. Never slowed down for a moment. Shouted at the crowd at a million words a minute, like he couldn’t wait to tell us everything he had to say, because it mattered and because it was worth saying and because it was funny enough to merit the time and space. I remember losing my breath laughing over and over and over, both times. I am prepared for the fact that some of that came from the atmosphere in the room and it won’t hit quite as hard through a screen. But still, it’s brilliant material, everyone needs to watch it. Like I said, message me for a link. I am here to spread the good news of Nish Kumar.

Also, happy birthday, Nish. It's a good day for comedy.

[ganymedesclock]

Okay @ruthlesslistener I promised I’d get you back for the good meta so, Pale King emoting and body language headcanons, here we go! This is just sort of a disorganized ramble but I didn’t want to make it a bullet list due to its long-windedness.

I think he ends to leave an extremely aloof/deadpan impression on people thanks to his monotone whisper-voice that only very rarely cracks into a genuine emotion,

(and it does crack when he does that; he just does not have a smooth voice. Though, uh, hesitate to rush to make fun of it because part of why it’s so rough and echoing and bizarre is because wyrms use sonar. He can kill a mundane bug and stun a large creature at close quarters by ‘shouting’)

but his actual poker face is, ironically, terrible. The fact that he has basically no experience with wyrms or ex-wyrms and little self-awareness of what wyrm physiology or quirks tend towards means that he basically only hides his emotions by a fortuitous combination of that he tries to shame and/or rationalize himself out of having them in the first place (thus, suppressing his body language as much as possible) and that his social cues are alien to others.

When I’m writing him, I tend to take a lot of inspiration from a cat in terms of facial expressions. He stares a lot, often without obviously blinking; he has a notable prey drive that even if he’s not hungry or intending to hunt means he tracks fast objects and his response time is nightmarishly swift.

Since anatomically he’s almost nothing but spine all the way down, he’s extremely bendy and even kinda compresses by settling onto himself most of the time; his canon sprite is small but he can stretch out or periscope up on his coils to about Lurien’s body length. Pre-fall of Hallownest PK finds this absolutely mortifying and limits himself extremely to highly constrained movements any time he’s not in a life-or-death fight; both “not king yet” PK and RFR-timeline postgame PK do it a lot more, especially the latter after he cuts his robes and basically gives up on keeping his weird shrimp body out of people’s attention.

His face is almost entirely a rigid, inflexible plate. His eyes can blink and squint and such but even so, some of the way they blink is unsettling; he has three separate eyelids. I stand by the headcanon that his actual ‘mouth’ and jaw (complex pedipalps/mandible array with lots of rasping blades and little sharp stuff) is tucked under the point of his ‘face’. Opening his jaw fully means that his eyes are stuck pointed up at the ceiling and away from whatever he’s biting, but his wyrm self had the same problem basically all the time. His mouth assembly is highly dexterous and can operate by feel just fine.

Because of this whole de-emphasized face, he’s actually a lot easier to read if you know the tricks to look for. He talks with his body language more than anything facial and the former recontextualizes the latter. Squinting can be like a happy blink from a cat- “guard down, I’m comfortable,” or it can be an expression of contempt, and that contempt can be passive smugness or it can be “you are seconds from death”.

Happy blink PK is going to be otherwise relaxed and usually won’t have his face/eyes pointing straight at whatever he’s with; if he’s super relaxed he’ll unspool from his tense posture and spread out bit by bit, like how a very relaxed hamster will go flat as a pancake. Pretty much the only person who has this privilege reliably is White Lady, where half the time they’re together and not busy he’ll just be somewhere in the same space as her either with his back facing her or completely sprawled out somewhere near her “feet” (where her roots meet the ground- he likes to feel the pulse of energy flowing around there, it soothes him instinctively)

Preening/arrogant PK tends to have his head lofted; he’ll also relax there, but stay upright and the relaxation is basically patronizing whoever he’s talking to rather than a gesture of trust. His body is more tense and able to respond; which works as he is often arrogant in combat.

A pissed off PK is distinct from the others in that his head stays down the entire time and tends to make very unbroken eye contact with whatever the source of his anger is. If he’s sitting straight the hostility is still theory and not ‘practice’; if he’s hunched forwards towards a more horizontal / (all ‘sixes’) pose then he may or may not actually be about to follow through but he is probably thinking about what your entrails would taste like.

Progressively in RFR PK’s body language opens up a lot more and he starts making more casual gestures with his posture and with his hands especially. He also starts using face journeys as a form of communication (e.g. making eye contact with someone, looking at a second person, and then back to the first with a fractional eye-widening = ‘get a load of this guy’).

He does all of this without thinking about it and actually is mortified to have attention drawn to it long after he’s entrenched this as a habit. Now all of Hallownest knows you have feelings, shrimp. You have failed.

[moonstonedrawsrandomly]

Dearest Ewe 1

Redemption Au

“-and that’s all I have to report, My goddess Fernilla”

Moses the lamb kneeled in front of his goddess. The Hare looks down at her humble servant, a white haired Ram with a missing horn and a scarred ear. He has just returned from securing their cult, the white Wings. He is littered in cuts and bruises but he still stands strong infront of his goddess.

“Excellent. Head to the infirmary. You are dismissed”

He gets up to leave but then his goddess stops him.

“You have been returning from your crusades with more injuries lately. Sounds like you enjoy your time at the infirmary”

She smirked. He turns to her.

“I do not enjoy my time there. But there is a lamb with pink hair. I guess I fancy her”

“Ah, I see. Well, I’ll keep that in mind for later. Your dismissed”

She said and Moses left. He walks through the village. People usually avoid his gaze or hide from him entirely. He is, after all, the goddesses right hand man. He makes his way into the infirmary.

“A-ah. Moses, it’s good to see you again.”

“I need to get patched up”

“I’m sure you do. Riley, can you-“

“I want Noelle”

“Yes, but Noelle is busy with two other patients-“

“Then give them to the Riley girl. I demand to be treated by her”

“…okay…”

She turns around from her desk and looks at the other free people working. Noelle had her hands full bandaging the patient.

“Noelle, I’m gonna have you come take care of Moses”

You can see Noelle take a sigh and then apologize to her patient. They understand as Riley takes over. Moses was already sitting in the bench waiting for her.

“Took you long enough. Such terrible service.”

He said. Noelle usually doesn’t bother to speak to him. The only thing that comes out of his mouth are insults. She doesn’t entertain them, she just gets straight to work. She cleans his wounds, pulls out any debris in them, adds medicine to them and patched them up. He had multiple.

“You’re going fast. You’re trying to get rid of me?”

He said with all seriousness, but Noelle was almost done. She saves her energy for her other patients. She applied the last bandage and stood up.

“Alright, you are all patched up. Please be careful next time, Moses”

She gets up to throw away the old bloody cloths and he grabs her wrist.

“I don’t appreciate you ignoring me, Noelle. You know, I think you don’t like me…is that true?”

Before Noelle could answer, a patient comes in screaming. It was a little one. She dashed over to them, breaking Moses’s grasp.

“Oh no! What happened little guy?”

“He scratched his leg pretty deep! He wanted to be treated by his favorite nurse!”

Noelle takes him in his arms and puts him on a bench. She goes through the process a lot slower with him. Moses notices angrily.

“-and let’s get you a bandage for this. What color you want, Champ? Green or blue?”

“Blue!”

She said as she stuck a blue bandaid on his leg. Moses hated that she would rather allocate all of her time to others. He hated the fact that she wouldn’t talk to him or go out of her way to talk to him, he hates how he talks to others with a sweet and loving voice and he hates how much easier it is for others to talk, chat, and even flirt with her. It sickens him.

But at the same time, he loves her for that. He loves how kind and caring she is with others, how she smiles and laughs with other followers and just how beautiful she is in general. Sure, they’re both lambs, but something irritates him when another male walks up to her and can make her laugh.

“I should be the only one who can make her laugh…only me…”

He thought as he leaves the clinic. Walking back to his home, wondering how he can get her to love him…

TBC