#i choose to believe i have peak taste in music

[ashcadence]

There are two movie soundtracks that have me in a chokehold right now. Which is The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, and Trolls Band Together... Which couldn't be possibly any more different from each other

[postguiltypleasures]

My Peak TV Journey *We Are Lady Parts*

This series is so great - I want more, though if there isn’t it’s worth noting that the second season also had something of a perfect ending, at least for one storyline. 

The series is about five young London based Muslim women, get together to form a punk band. The series is narrated by Amina, the band’s lead guitarist and last member to join. The first episode covers the band’s decision to get a lead guitarist and how Amina is selected. It also introduces the other members of the band, but mostly focuses on Saira. Saira founded the band and, after reluctantly admitting that they need a lead guitarist, wants Amina because she remembers her from when they were in the same school. (Amina vomited on stage while attempting to play guitar in a talent show, Saira got in trouble for trying to sell class furniture.) Some how this shared memory made Saira certain that Amina needs to be their lead guitarist.  Amina is reluctant to join both because of her bodily fluid infused stage fright and punk really isn’t her taste in music. She finally commits to the band when they help her channel her romantic frustration into a song, “Bashir with a Good Beard.” 

All of the band members are great distinct characters. They all have interesting family lives, and between the band mates there are friendship that feels both aspirational and believable. 

The first season was about getting used to the new line up while developing more of a profile. All the characters are interesting and root-able. They fulfill the creator’s desire to show that there are many ways to be a Muslim woman.

For an example of theses differences I like that Amina and her non-band-member friends are more conservative than Amina’s parents. (Though I hated her friend, Noor, and spent a lot of the series wishing Amina would dump her as a friend.) Hence how Amina wears a headscarf and in the first obsesses about getting married and her mother does not wear a headscarf and tries to get her daughter to not invest so much in how she “should be married or engaged by this point” while her mother warns her about being in too much of a rush to marry. It’s appropriate for children of immigrants to insist on parts of a cultural identity that their parents want to put some distance from. It’s a poignant display of how the diaspora affects generations.

The band is rounded out by Ayesha the drummer, Bisma the bassist and Momtaz the manager. Ayesha is shown being an aggressive and unfriendly gig worker, with a similar but friendlier dynamic with her band mates and brother. The only times she’s not that aggressive is in her romantic life as a semi closeted lesbian, pursuing women she is uncertain how to act around and terrified of members of her community, including her parents fining out and rejecting her. Bisma is in a loving heterosexual marriage and is a great mother even if her daughter justifies violently lashing out at teacher for egregious changes in the  curriculum. Momtaz books the band whatever gigs she can find or make, tries to get coverage and sells lingerie as a day job. She wears a full niqab because it makes her feel powerful and mysterious. (In the second season she visits family in Birmingham confirming that not everyone one in her family chooses to dress like that.) In someways she has this biggest, if hardest to articulate goals of anyone in the band. She wants her own label, a community, a life… If only she had more on which to build. 

As the band raises their profile they face more criticism, pressures and conflicts of interest. That the driving plot for the end of the first season and much of the second. An influential online writer does a profile of the band and while generally positive the band hates how they come off and they are faced with the wrath from people in their community who don’t know them as artists, but hate the idea that as punks they are rebelling against Islam. It’s an interesting development. As punks they are rebelling, but against what? They are Muslim, and they are public facing and provocative in a way is not associated with traditional Muslim women. But that doesn’t make them less Muslim. Their real target is their life in the UK and people there seeing them in stereotypical ways, the difficulty of the cultural divide. And eventually, they have to rebel against music industry types.

As a side note while watching this I also read Kathleen Hanna’s memoir Rebel Girl: My Life as A Feminist Punk.  In the second season, when Saira was seduced by a different manager by saying that she could get them gigs like openning for Le Tigre, I was reading about how broke they were while promoting their first two albums. This dissonance was kind of funny. (Also near the end Hanna mentions that in the long run she made more money with indie labels than the time Le Tigre signed with a major label, though that did support touring Le Tigre’s third album.)

I’m going to closes this by wring about the romances on the show, because the one plot that does wrap up in “this is a happy ending” kind of way is one of the romances.  As I said earlier, Bisma is happily married and I would like to see more of her and her husband raising their daughter. Momtaz is single and doesn’t date during the show, but in the second season trip to Birmingham, we see her come across an ex crush and being unaffected by him. Sara has a boyfriend who she doesn’t really open up to in the first season. He disappears in the second season and I didn’t miss him. Saira's creative and professional drives are more interesting than her romantic ones. In the second season she pursues her dream producer, who introduces her to one of the artist whose work made him her dream producer. It’s a bit of a disillusioning experience, or at least previews her disillusionment with their label. If it does get a third series I would like to see more of her personal life.

Part way through the first season, when Momrtaz introduces the band to an online, reporter/influencer with whom is Ayesha is immediately smitten. She acts shy and insecure around her in way that makes her general aggressiveness clearly seen as overcompensation. While this relationship is a nonstarter, especially after the article, it does set up her second season romance with Laura, a white woman from an affluent and accepting family that brings to the surface all of the reasons for her semi closeted existence, and how unready to change them she is.

Finally there is the sweet, rom-com romance between Amina and Ayesha’s brother, Ahsan. At first Amina and Ahsan are both pursuing graduate degrees at the same university, though in different departments. She is aware of him while he wasn’t of her. She ends up in the band after he passes her a flyer about the audition for lead guitarist as a favor to his sister. Ayesha gets him to take Amina on a date as means of encouraging her interest in the band. During the date, Amina brings up how she’s dating with the hope of marriage soon. Ahsan is put off by this and tells her he just wants to be friends over text message, leading to Amina’s bonding with the band by co-writing “Bashir with the Good Beard”. In the aftermath of this, while supporting Amina and the band, Ahsan does fall in love with her. It’s a classic “girl falls first, boys falls harder.” And I the second season their is a brief triangle that leads to romantic gestures and them coming together. It’s the happy ending that’s good enough if there won’t be more of the series. 

[talkingpointsusa]

Candace Owens might be the stupidest Daily Wire grifter

Welcome to the blog, I hate you already. (source: The Candace Owens Show at Daily Wire. Episode was posted on February 2nd, 2024)

Candace Owens is the only one of the major Daily Wire four that I haven't covered yet. This is because she was on maternity/"I pissed off Ben Shapiro" leave and she only got back from that early January.

Candace Owens isn't a true believer. She briefly ran an anti-Trump blog until she decided to "come out as a conservative". Coincidentally that coming out has made her quite wealthy. Also she paled around with Kanye West when he was at the peak of his antisemitic public outburst and is part of the Charlie Kirk sphere over at Turning Point too so she strays even further right than a lot of Daily Wire grifters with the exception of maybe Matt Walsh.

Anyways, lets get into it. Candace starts off the show by talking about groundhog day and then starts the show off by dropping a slur....I'm already annoyed.

00:20, Candace Owens: "But onto more serious news. People on X are saying the Nikki Haley is showing signs of clinical retardation on the basis of a post she shared. It's very serious and we need to talk about it."

Dropping a slur within the first 20 seconds of your show is wild even for the bizarre media ecosystem that we inhabit on this blog.

00:30, Candace Owens: "Plus, later on in the show we are going to be discussing Sexyy Red. Let me tell you, it pains me to have this discussion. I fought my producers for two weeks, it is an artist, and yes the time has come, we do need to cover her."

This is something that a lot of these guys do that I find really funny. Oh yeah, your producer forced you to do this. Definitely not you just sniffing around for clicks. No, your producers dragged you onto your show to do this.

Anyway, Candace really hates Sexyy Red.

02:06, Candace Owens: "She's kind of a big deal. But she became a bigger deal last week when I declined to cover her because I was so physically sickened by what I was looking at, when she hosted a baby shower for her second child and she was with her baby daddy."

This is so obscenely overdramatic. So this woman's baby shower got a little dirty, who gives a crap? A big part of her image is being pretty raunchy so it's kind of whatever. The thing that Candace is pissed about is a photo she posted of her "baby daddy's" head in between her butt cheeks. It's stupid

If this woman chooses to make that her brand identity, whatever. More power to her. It's not really my thing so I don't watch it. It's that simple. Also, if you have ever seen RM Brown videos you've at least got to respect Sexyy Red for giving us the glorious sound drop of Ben Shapiro saying "bootyhole waxed down".

03:35, Candace Owens: "What we are seeing right now is a decline in culture full stop, but particularly in black America."

Whenever these people talk about cultural decline I always wonder what era of culture they yearn for. Is it like a Leave It To Beaver type situation with the parents sleeping in separate beds or something? Also, aren't these guys supposed to be free speech warriors?

"I want free speech....as long as the speech being practiced is only stuff that I like."

03:43, Candace Owens: "So the question is; how does somebody this grotesque, somebody this filthy, get a platform? Certainly it can't be happening organically."

"I can't comprehend somebody who I don't like having a following."

Candace does realize that people on this big orb that we call Earth have different and varied tastes and as a result people you might not like sometimes become popular.

She plays seven seconds of the music video for Pound Town and laments the decline of civilization.

04:37, Candace Owens: "What culture is that? Who's culture is that? Please spare me this 'It's black culture.'"

This may come as a shock to Candace but absolutely nobody is saying that Sexyy Red is representative of black culture. I mean, yeah as a black musician she's certainly a part of black culture but there are other aspects of black culture that you can consume if you don't like Sexyy Red. Culture is a complex thing that doesn't only include music, let alone only one artist.

04:44, Candace Owens: "I'm so glad we're covering this by the way, this is what we should be doing in Black History Month. We should be covering black present because it matters more."

Didn't you just say that your producers basically had to drag you into the studio and you had a two week long battle so that you wouldn't have to cover this?

Also, Candace Owens has some pretty deranged thoughts on slavery so her saying that we shouldn't talk about black history is pretty on brand.

05:26, Candace Owens: "And so I looked into who platformed this young woman, actually. Who is the record company or the media conglomerate that's behind her. It turns out that first it was an independent record that picked her up in 2021 but in 2023, and the reason why she's starting to gain so much popularity, a media company called Gamma started distributing her."

The reality-based explanation for why Gamma started distributing her is that they simply saw that she had the potential to gain traction and thus earn money. Keep in mind that she went viral in 2018 and collaborated with Summer Walker in 2022, both before Gamma started releasing her music.

Gamma most likely saw that this person was getting popular online and decided to capitalize on it. That's how the record industry has worked since it's inception. Find new talent that has the potential to attract an audience and capitalize on it.

05:54, Candace Owens: "The two individuals that started Gamma, one of them came out of Apple, his name is Larry Jackson. And the second one of them came from Interscope Records, he has a ton of clout in the record community, the music industry so to speak. And his name is Ike Youssef. Lets keep following this, lets keep going down this."

You mean to tell me that this startup record company picked up a startup artist who was gaining traction? Man, something sinister must be going on here!

This right here is what happens when you have conspiracy theory brain rot and you need to try and make something out of nothing.

06:16, Candace Owens: "Ike Youssef, people might want to stand out and say 'OK, who is this guy?'"

Oh gee, really? I wonder why Candace Owens' audience would hear a name like "Ike Youssef" and instantly regard that person with suspicion. Hmmm....

06:21, Candace Owens: "Now when I hear the name Youssef it instantly singles to me that this person is either Muslim or Jewish, Arab perhaps."

Ah, bingo!

06:34, Candace Owens: "I remain convinced that a Muslim exec and a Jewish exec would never put a Muslim and a Jewish artist that was putting this sort of music on the airwaves onto their platforms."

First of all, that statement is seedy as all Hell because the implication is that there's a Muslim and or Jewish conspiracy to push music that Candace doesn't like onto the black community.

Second of all, could it be that the Muslim and Jewish community don't often consume that type of music? I know that there are a lot of Muslim rappers and a lot of Jewish rappers but those communities are pretty conservative over all and probably wouldn't consume music like Sexyy Red. Again, it's not a conspiracy, it's business.

Anyway, she objects to Larry Jackson being black because he's....platforming black musicians? She plays a clip of Larry Jackson being interviewed for the Huffington Post.

09:19, Candace Owens: "So what did we learn in that clip? Well we learned that Larry Jackson came from a two parent home, a stable household, parents married for 45 years. I did some more digging, he went to catholic school, he ran cross-country, he worked hard from the time he was young, he was winning awards because he had an interest as he was working in radio, got his foot through the door, did everything right in life so that when he got to the top he could feed the community filth."

Again, different strokes for different folks. Candace Owens isn't the objective voice of authority on music or really art in general. If people like it, who the Hell cares? Mind your own business and let people like what they like!

Anyway, she's done with this Sexyy Red story and now it's time to talk about Nikki Haley.

11:27, Candace Owens: "Honestly I don't even know where to begin on this Nikki Haley thing other than to say that I feel vindicated. I feel vindicated because a lot of people watch this show and I say things and people are wondering if I'm trying to be funny or mean but I'm kind of just reading the tea leaves. And regarding Nikki Haley, on the day she announced she was running I shared a story with you guys and I told you that it signaled to me that Nikki Haley is not that intelligent."

I'm not a Nikki Haley fan by any means but you probably guessed that already so I won't press the issue any further. However, Candace has this completely stupid story about Nikki posting some fan emails that she received. Candace thinks they are fake.

14:53, Candace Owens: "Nikki the screenshot you sent unfortunately, in that left hand corner, it says send."

Here's what I think happened here, I think this probably was a real piece of fan mail that Nikki's team transposed the text of onto some stock graphic representing unsent mail. That way you don't end up doxing some guys email without his consent.

They probably also changed this "Michael B's" full last name to just Michael B or used a fake name for the tweet because again, doxing some random guy who sent your campaign fan mail is a REALLY bad idea.

Again, I don't like Nikki at all but we've got to be fair here.

15:14, Candace Owens: "And unfortunately ladies and gentlemen this isn't the only piece of 'fan mail' that Nikki Haley shared. She also shared this, it's on lined school paper, notebook paper."

Again, they put the text from the real letter onto a graphic. Not everybodies handwriting is easy to read and using a graphic helps keep everything clear. Plus if you post the actual text of the letter you may end up revealing somebodies full name or accidentally posting an address on the envelope. Using a graphic helps keep everybody safer.

If I was Nikki I wouldn't have done this or at least found another graphic because of bad faith morons like Candace Owens, but it's obvious that this is what this is.

15:45, Candace Owens: "That was written again by someone who decided not to use their last name."

What would Candace rather have happen? Have Nikki dox her fans who send her messages? I feel like this is just Candace being intentionally obtuse at this point.

Anyway, this Nikki stuff has gotten old at this point. Onto the next segment!

18:22, Candace Owens: "Alright guys, moving on. So obviously, when the BLM riots took place and those of us who are willing to simply tell the truth about what was going to happen once you encourage criminality in the inner cities."

So, the story that Candace is covering here is that there have been a string of Walgreens closures in Boston that have led to community leaders speaking out.

The thing that the griftosphere has ignored whilst covering this story is the fact that these pharmacies provide vital prescription medication to the communities that they are located in. Many of the people living in these disenfranchised communities can't afford to travel long distance to receive their prescriptions. In short, Candace is arguing that people should be denied vital prescription medication because "That's what happens when you shoplift". Complete sociopath behavior.

19:15, Candace Owens: "While democratic rep Ayanna Pressley has never been accused of being bright, but this is exceptional, it is exceptional what he is doing here. She is condemning Walgreens for quote on quote 'racial and ethnic discrimination' because they made the business-wise decision to close their doors in Boston after losing a ton of money because they were being robbed."

Quite frankly, when peoples lives and vital medications are in the fray I don't give a shit about a multimillion dollar conglomerate losing money.

Anywho, she plays a clip from Ayanna addressing the house. Here's the full speech if you are interested in watching it.

21:38, Candace Owens: "She's actually very sure of herself in this utterly stupid analysis, condemning a business for moving out and saying that 'OK, well what's going to happen if we don't have access to diapers?'. Well you should have thought of that before you were robbing the diapers from their store, before you were robbing the food from their store."

First of all, I would like to see the stats that show that these Walgreens are experiencing large amounts of theft because Candace hasn't provided them.

Second of all, and this is the more important point, even if there are some thefts should people in that neighborhood who have children and or medical conditions be forced to suffer for the actions of the few? No!

Anyway, that's really it for Candace' show, nothing else interesting happens. She reads comments from her viewers, some of which conspicuously don't have their last names displayed in their usernames. I guess they were fake and left by Candaces' team.

Conclusion:

So, that was my introduction to Candace Owens. This particular show was a complete disaster and was also so utterly freaking daft. I mean, compared to other Daily Wire guys I would say that Candace is on the worse end (they are all varying levels of bad but still). The entire episode was covering absolutely meaningless stories interspersed with casual bigotry and conspiracy theory nudging. Anyway, cheers and I'll see you in the next one.

[pars-ley]

Try again

Pairing: Hoseok x Female reader

Summary: When your job lands you at one of the most famous Fashion shows in Paris, the last thing you expect is to run into an ex - the current most sought after model in the industry.

Genre: Exes to lovers / Smut / Fluff

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Model Hoseok / Dior Hoseok / Unprotected sex (you know the dealio, wrap it when you tap it) / Ever so slight exhibitionism / Nipple play /

Word Count: 2.3k

Beta: @birbdae​ thank you for looking over it twice because I’m so extra (sorry) and thank you for all your help.

Notes: This is for my secret santa project with @thebtswritersclub​ for @yutasgalaxy​ really hope you enjoy! And I also used my square “Jung Hoseok” from my summer bingo card for the @bangtanwritingbingo​ event.

Taglist: @mwitsmejk​ @vantxx95​

The lights go dim and excitement blossoms like spring in your stomach as your eyes remain trained on the runway. Phone at the ready to take notes for this month's fashion article you are in charge of. 

The first model comes out and cameras flash wildly, illuminating the outfit. You scribble away rapidly recounting everything to write up later.

Dior's highly anticipated fashion show, one you had been eagerly counting down the days till. Flying out to Paris was the perfect opportunity for you to mark one destination off your travel list and you have not been disappointed at all. From the architecture to the food, you are undeniably impressed and living one of your ultimate dreams.

It's time for the most awaited outfit yet, everyone was on the edge of their seat poised. You look over at your photographer, he's in position and eager, looking ready to spring.

The lighting and music changes and out walks the model all in black. That's all the detail you notice as your heart stutters and stomach flips as your eyes shift rapidly to his face. 

Jung Hoseok. How did you not know he would be here? 

The cameras flash even more wildly, every photographer wanting to get the best pic of the most sought after model on this runway. Your hand however hovers over your phone, unable to scribble away like you were previously, too distracted by his general presence.

Swallowing the panic you feel rising into your throat you glance at your photographer, his eyes are already on you, pity creasing his brow but a message in his eyes that says "Focus on your job and get it together."

You take a deep breath and compose yourself, making notes on the outfit and nothing more. As soon as your eyes hit the harness stretched across his broad chest however, your legs squeeze together tightly, as not only do previous nights of passion flicker behind your eyelids but the temptation for one last night with him is almost too great to bear.

As you watch him strut down the runway, face impassive and professional, your heart pulls in a thousand directions. Memories of the few years spent together cloud your mind, taking you to another lifetime when he was yours and you were his - before fame, before everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose hard, willing yourself to focus as you type wildly away on your phone, trying to stay focused.

The show ends a short while after your blast from the past's appearance and all you can think of is getting as far away from him as fast as you can. Before all your hard work of burying your feelings in an attempt to get over him is ruined by your self restraint.

As you head for the exit, a hand lightly grabs your arm. Turning you see a pretty young woman, a badge around her neck and a kind smile on her face, handing you an envelope.

"It's from Hoseok. He asked if I could make sure you get it." She said next to your ear so you could hear over the chatter of the other attendees.

You nod and mechanically take it. She's off through the crowd before you even get a chance to say thank you.

You head to the exit in a daze, clutching the envelope like it holds the answers to life's questions. As soon as you're out in the cool evening air you take yourself off around the corner of the building away from the scattering crowds. Your fingers fumble as you frantically rip at the envelope and open the piece of paper inside, instantly recognising his elegant hand.

Many love letters he would write to you with poetic words scrawled across the page, each sentence a meaningful lyric coming alive as your eyes danced across them with a barrier of tears waiting to fall. Those words tucked away in a box hidden deep in your wardrobe for those moments you wish to relive how he once felt about you.

You read and re-read the note, double checking the words are correct.

"I saw you as you came in, I always had the ability to find you in a crowded room and apparently that hasn't changed. 

I can't believe you're here. Please. Please, meet me at Guy Savoy at 7 o'clock tonight. I would love to see you and speak to you properly. I will book a table under my name. I really hope you show, you have no idea how much I've missed you."

That last line did things to your insides you weren't expecting. Your chest felt full and ready to burst open, love bleeding out of a fresh cut. Maybe you should just go back to your hotel and order room service, or go out for dinner with your photographer seeing as you were both here alone.

But you knew, even as you thought it, you knew you couldn't. You knew you had no intention of doing either. 

Folding up the note and shoving it in your pocket and went in search of your colleague to tell him you wouldn't be travelling back to the hotel with him. He wished you luck, even if there was a hint of apprehension in his tone, you ignored it and took a cab to the restaurant.

Sitting there waiting, your nerves were at their peak. You had chewed the skin along your fingernails until they were sore and you had now resorted to folding your napkin to make different origami shapes. Just as you didn't think your heart could take anymore, you picked up your bag but as you were about to stand and run away, you saw him. Walking towards you, shades on and the most familiar beaming grin that had always made your stomach flip. You couldn't help the pull of your lips, mirroring the same smile he wore.

He breezed up to you and wrapped you in his muscular arms, like a whirlwind his scent intoxicated you and jumbled your mind even further.

"You are a serious sight for sore eyes." he whispers in your ear before pulling away and pushing in your chair as you sit down in a daze.

"You're around gorgeous models all day, I doubt that." you reply, attempting to hide your blush.

He removes his shades and places them on the table, before pushing his fingers roughly through his hair. "Believe me, it’s not as glamorous as people think.”

There’s an awkward silence that falls on your table, with sly, shy glances from you both. 

“How’s it been? Your career I mean.” you blurt out, desperately trying to ease some tension.

He leans back in his chair and shrugs. “I can’t complain, at all. It’s going better than I could have dreamed.”

You nod, taking in how nonchalant he’s being. “I have to admit, I’ve been keeping track.”

“Of me?” he asks, shocked.

“Your career.”

“Really? I’m flattered.” his lips stretch into a toothy grin as a faint scarlet hue spreads across his cheeks.

“You should be very proud of yourself. You’ve accomplished so much, there’s no limit on how far you can go.” you find yourself saying all of this without meaning to.

He covers his face with his hands. “Ok, I appreciate this, really, coming from you this means so much, but I am more interested to hear about you.” he leans forward and places a hand on top of yours, the action causing your heart to soar. “What’s been happening with you? Are you still in the apartment?”

You nod as you take a sip of the champagne the waiter is pouring. “Yep, can’t bear to leave it, I love it there so much, a lot of memories too.” you add sneakily trying to gage his reaction.

His eyes soften. “Yes, we made a lot there.” his fingers entwine in yours, a movement far too comfortable for how long it’s been. "I miss it," he looks into your eyes so fiercely you're slightly taken aback. "I miss us."

Your heart inflates excitedly in your chest as butterflies swarm inside your stomach. But is this a good idea to rekindle an old flame, maybe there was a reason it was extinguished in the first place.

He senses your hesitation. "Are you with anyone?"

You shake your head. "No, I've dated but nothing serious. What about you?"

He laughs a bitter sound. "Same. I've not found anyone that could match up to you."

You hesitate again. "Hoseok…"

"Listen," he puts a hand up quietening you. "I know it was mostly me who instigated us breaking up in the first place but that is my biggest regret. I never should have let you go." he bites back the emotion in his words and swallows.

"But if you hadn't you wouldn't be where you are today." you add, squeezing his hand still clutching yours.

He makes a disgusted noise at the back of his throat. "I left my dream girl to follow my dreams and let me tell you, it wasn't worth it. If someone asked me to choose, it would be you. every. single. time."

He grabs your chair and slides it along closer to him. He reaches out to cup your face. "Please, let me come back." 

His plea does not fall on deaf ears. Your heart knows the decision it's made but you can't form the words to speak. Your libido overtakes the moment and you grab him by the collar of his shirt and crush your lips against his. The taste of him is so familiar and yet new at the same time. Sweet like butter as your mouths melt together as one. His arm around your waist almost pulling you off your chair makes you break away and giggle. The heat in his eyes is almost overwhelming, all your thoughts are no longer in your head but in your groin. He looks so good staring at you like that, like you are the reason for living, how could you not give into him?

"Come back to my hotel?" you whisper urgently.

He nods, throws some cash down for your ordered drinks, takes your hand and pulls you out through the restaurant. You jog along to keep up with his long legged stride. He flags down a cab and you're into it and moving off swiftly while his hands find you again. They roam your body, finding their way under your shirt and to your nipples. He rolls them gently between his fingers as his lips attach themselves to your neck.

His hand glides slowly along your thigh, up your skirt and just when he's about to reach the most desired area the cab stops abruptly, letting you know you've arrived. You groan with frustration but jump out, pulling him into your hotel and leading him up to the room. Your heart pounding so loud in your ears you can't think of anything, nothing but the taste of his lips or the feel of his skin under your fingertips and god, did you want to feel more. 

As soon as your door is unlocked you're on each other. Clothes can't come off fast enough and as they leave a messy path like a trail of breadcrumbs leading towards the bed. 

"God, I have missed you." he says as he glances down at your body before pulling you flush against him.

There's no time for sly touches or exploring, you're both too desperate to feel each other.

Your bare, naked flesh moulds easily together as he enters you, both of your moans echo out across the room. The feeling euphoric as it's what you know and yet what you are no longer used to. He moves inside you with a persistent, desperate rhythm as his hips wind in the most perfect way, hitting that sensitive spot every time and making your toes curl in consequence.

He looks down at you, a soft, determined gaze and says breathlessly, "I love you."

His words are your undoing, as you remember the sweet nothings he used to whisper to you while you were making love before. You unravel around him, blinded by pleasure as your back arches underneath him. He's quick to follow you as you feel his warm seed spilling inside you and you watch his face twist in pleasure, his eyes never leaving yours. The moment, so intense, almost too intense you had to look away.

Both of you breathless and riding on your high, lay back on the bed staring up at the ceiling. A thousand thoughts race through your mind as you panic that you've just made a huge mistake. What if his words weren't genuine? What if he leaves...again? What will you do then? You'll have to start over, all your hard work of pushing him aside.

Almost as if he can sense your rising doubt, his fingers entwine with yours, as he turns onto his side to face you, gently twirling a strand of your hair between his digits.

He watches you closely as if searching your thoughts, your eyes so open and vulnerable - letting him right in, wanting him to silence your fears.

He strokes your face and kisses you so softly your lips melt right into him. You want this. You want him. 

"Hey, I'm serious," he leans back, eyes burning into yours. "I want to come home to you. I want our life back, I want you, always."

Your panicking heart is soothed by his words and you relax and lean into his touch, your limbs softening against him.

"Please, can I have another chance?" he asks, so vulnerable and sincere any doubts are washed away in an instant.

"Let's give it a try." you reply.

He almost blinds you with his sunshine smile as he pulls you against him, his lips dancing happily with yours. And you lose yourself in him completely. You are his, utterly and completely. 

[honestgrins]

Can you write a Klaroline drabble where Caroline shows up in NOLA and shocks everyone but maybe Kol or Katherine when she says she's Klaus's wife? Cannon Caroline not original.

I Heard a Rumor

The club was filled with people and the chaos of a Friday night. Klaus preferred to avoid the rush of tourists, but Marcel kept the VIP lounge to a more tolerable set even during peak hours - usually.

“Don’t you just love this place?” Janet was hanging over the balcony to watch the crowds below, none too subtly pushing her ass back toward him. As one of the humans on staff to provide a live blood source, she was perfectly amiable to Klaus. He’d even become something of a regular customer for her given his penchant for the tinge of bourbon in her taste. However, it seemed she took the friendly flirtation of their transactions to heart, and she was testing his patience for more. 

Unfortunately for her, his patience was wearing thin. With a barely polite grimace, he downed the rest of his drink and made to stand. “It’s a bit rowdier than I like, love, so—”

She gave a rapturous giggle, only to fall into his lap and sprawl across him. “I like that you call me ‘love,’” she murmured, her mouth clumsy against his ear. “Let’s get out of here, and I’ll show you how much I like it.”

Rolling his eyes, Klaus was ready to speed out of there without bothering to set her back on her feet. The only thing that kept him in his crowded seat was the biting and all too familiar voice coming from behind him.

“Sorry, love, he won’t be available to accept whatever appreciation you have in mind.”

Both surprised — though for very different reasons — they turned to see Caroline Forbes facing them with a pageant-ready smile and murder in her eyes. She was stunning. Klaus couldn’t help a grin despite his earlier annoyance, and his brow arched in challenge. “Hello, sweetheart. Fancy meeting you here.”

Her jaw shifted almost imperceptibly to the left, but his companion didn’t seem to sense the rising tension as a threat. “Who the hell are you?”

Just like that, Caroline’s smile turned sharp with her fangs on full display. “I’m his wife, and you’re in my seat.”

The club was home to any number of vampires who heard her perfectly over the music, and more than a few froze at the sudden silence coming from him. The Klaus Mikaelson they knew would have reacted instantly, either with murder or some other violence, and they all seemed to wait for the ensuing mayhem. Even Janet finally grasped the discomfort of the moment, and she extricated herself from his lap with all the delicacy a human could manage. “I’ll just— Yeah, bye.”

Whatever show the club was waiting for, Klaus had more pressing concerns. “Shall we continue this interesting discussion at home?” he asked, though they both knew it wasn’t a question. Gently gripping Caroline’s arm, he flashed them back to the manor. He heard Kol and Rebekah meandering somewhere, and Elijah was likely on the premises as well. With that in mind, he brought her to the privacy of his studio and its soundproofing spell. Wisely, she waited until the door was shut to yank her arm free with a disgruntled huff. He merely smiled as he went to pour them some blooded wine. “That was quite the display you gave, sweetheart,” he said lightly, handing her a glass. “I have to admit: I didn’t see it coming.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped, setting aside the drink without indulging. His lips pursed; it was an excellent vintage, yet he was more perturbed at her outright refusal of his hospitality. Perhaps this wasn’t their usual spat to be easily resolved. Proving just that, she seemed truly distraught. “You promised to leave Mystic Falls, that my life was my own.”

“It is. I haven’t stepped foot in Virginia since that day.” Brow furrowed, Klaus felt an urgent need to reassure her. “I understand you need time to accept what I’m offering, and I am prepared to wait however long it takes. What on earth made you believe I’m encroaching on that promise?”

Last he heard, she wasn’t even in the States. They did chat by phone every so often, and when she’d mentioned a tour abroad, he had offered a list of his various estates that would be available to her should she wish. It was the caretaker of his dacha outside of Moscow who alerted him to her softening boundaries. He certainly had no intention of making her regret the change, let alone whatever caused this latest upset.

Watching him with suspicion, Caroline apparently wasn’t sure of his intentions at all. “Seriously? It wasn’t bad enough I ran into the stalkers you have ‘looking out for me’ in every city, but the one time I take you up on borrowing a place, you have the staff literally bowing to me. I wrote it off as a cultural thing at first, then I heard the whispers.”

“Though I refute your accusations of stalking, I will admit to warning some friends and enemies you are not to be trifled with in your travels. As for Dmitri, I merely asked him to welcome you as an honored guest, which you are.” 

She scoffed and crossed her arms in defiance. “Yeah, well, he wasn’t welcoming me as an honored guest. I overheard him chatting with his wife about meeting ‘the new mistress of the house.’”

Klaus shrugged, unconcerned. Satisfied the situation wasn’t more dire, he allowed himself to relax on his sofa, daring to pat the spot next to him. Caroline remained unmoved, and he rolled his eyes. “Perhaps the nature of your significance was lost in translation. You’re the one who came to my town and introduced yourself as my wife.”

“Because half of Russia thinks I am your wife!” With an indignant stamp of her foot, she seemed ready to tear her hair out — but she frowned more sedately at the blankness on his face. “You didn’t know?” 

Shaking his head, he honestly had no idea. “What happened, Caroline?”

Finally taking her drink, she dropped to the couch beside him with an embarrassed groan. “I stepped into exactly one vampire club, and people practically threw themselves out of my path. I assumed it was more of the same from you, until the guy I was flirting with was suddenly yanked away by a friend. He went white when he was told my husband would tear out his intestines and shove them down his throat.”

“A bit uncreative, that.”

“Klaus!”

“I don’t know,” he insisted, his frustration growing to match hers. Rubbing a hand across his mouth, he genuinely had no idea why anyone would think him married. Though he had many hopes and plans involving Caroline in his future, matrimony was a human tradition he’d never once considered. “Truly, this didn’t come from me.”

Sighing, she leaned back into the couch and nursed her wine, defeated. “Oh. Then, sorry for cockblocking, I guess.”

Klaus smirked at that, and he turned to face her more fully. “Are you really?” The lightest blush stained her cheeks, and he knew she was biting her tongue at the faint scent of her blood. Unable to resist, he reached his hand to rest on the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing into her hair. “New Orleans is a small town at heart, love, and you effectively announced yourself as my wife in the middle of town square.”

“To be fair, I thought you had told the whole world, and I wasn’t going to be the only one not getting laid because of it.”

“Ah.” He was torn between a wince and a laugh, so he settled for another sip of his drink instead. His other hand continued to massage her scalp, and he felt the tension slowly loosening within her. “I never meant to restrict your choices,” he promised. “Tempt you into choosing me, absolutely, but not like this.”

Finally, she relaxed into him, slouching until he could tuck her against his side. Some doubt lingered, though, he could tell. Perhaps it was a sign of growth on both their parts that he didn’t take offense and that she trusted him enough be honest. “But who else would want to spread a rumor like that about us? It’s not like anyone benefits if we really did do the Vegas wedding thing.”

His mouth twitched, and he flashed to the door, barely sparing a brief kiss to the top of her head. He tore it open, only for her to slam it shut again. Pressing her back to the wood, she kept a heavy glare on him. “Put those away, we both know you’re not going to bite me.”

With a reluctant growl, he forced his fangs to recede. “It’s not your blood I want at the moment, and it’s certainly not pleasure I seek.”

“Yeah, ‘cause revenge isn’t a pleasure for you,” she answered snidely. “Tell me what’s going on before you kill the blabbermouth.”

“This is something I have to do myself, sweetheart.”

“Hi, I might want to help! They screwed with both of us here, not just you.”

A half-smile formed without permission, the fondness he felt for her softer than he was comfortable acknowledging at the moment — especially when someone had proven all too willing to use their connection against him. “Few in New Orleans know about you, let alone your...effect on me. Only two would maliciously speak out of turn about that. And just one of those would dare to bind you to me forever, lest I be challenged to follow through.”

Her face was an open book to him, and he hoped she never lost that human nature to share every feeling she had as it happened. Confusion, calculation, consternation, they all boiled down to an annoyed scrunch of her nose. “Your family knows I exist, at least, I think so. I never actually met Elijah, but you two seem to have gotten over whatever grudge match was going on at home.” He gave a brief nod, fascinated at the determined way she thought it through. “I also doubt you told him about your fling with a baby vampire. Kol and Rebekah, on the other hand, probably didn’t need to be told.”

“Bekah still likes to complain that we defiled the entire wood within earshot,” he muttered, not that he could be particularly aggrieved at the memory of a sunny afternoon. “And you are no mere fling, Caroline.”

That lovely blush rose again, and she looked anywhere but at him as he crowded her against the door. Gently brushing the curtain of her hair back from her face, Klaus waited for her to gather herself. After a deep breath, she finally met him with a half-hearted glare. “Which Rebekah loathes, so she’s definitely not daring you to marry me by telling everyone else you already have.”

Silently agreeing, he hadn’t lowered his hand from where it settled on her cheek, and a thrill came when she leaned into it. “Kol, however, enjoys sowing chaos wherever he goes.”

“Yeah,” she groaned. “That sounds on brand, and I played right into it with this stupid payback stunt.”

“We always did share a flair for the dramatic.”

The laugh built in her throat before it burst out, filling the air between them until they were both smiling like fools. Her hands had curled into his shirt, one at his hip and the other over his heart. The slight tug of fabric was tempting, but he still kept his tentative distance. “I promised you time, and I meant it.”

Biting her lip, Caroline nodded. She didn’t let go of his shirt, either. “Does it have be all or nothing right now?” It was half a whisper, the barest hint of whine in her voice endearing. “Because you smell really good and it’s been a long time thanks to your stupid brother, and I might have missed you more than I realized, so can you just kiss me alrea—”

There would be consequences from the rumors of their marriage, and more than just those Kol would face. Caroline would be a target, either for those seeking Klaus’s favor or those out to destroy him. Her presence or absence from his daily life would be a noted occurrence, and more rumors would arise should they be seen with others instead. New pressures would exert force on the evolution of their relationship, something he had measured in decades and centuries without such attention. But they could deal with those consequences in time, together.

Later.

[dreamiesdotcom]

celestial | h.rj

Summary: To attribute full sight and still have the ability to describe things to someone who's never seen them means that you've felt the world deeper than anybody else.

Word count: 2164

a/n: idk whats up with me and midnights

Renjun's first question goes like this: "What does the pool look like?"

Naturally, Jeno panics; how do you explain a pool to someone who's never seen it? He's been so used to seeing it on a daily that he didn't even pay mind to the details. He debates on describing a rectangle, and then describing the waters, and then whatever the hell his 12-year-old mind could come up with. Naturally, he fails.

For him, you saved everything that day. You grabbed Renjun's hand, intertwining your fingers before grazing the water. "Do you feel that?"

"What exactly am I supposed to feel?"

"The water. Do you feel that constant flow and the relaxing cold?" you laughed then, patient even for the moody boy. He huffs out his cheeks and nods, you let go of his hands. "That's blue, Renjun. The water reflects the sky, and a pool is like a little ocean. An ocean is like a world filled with blue."

He tries to think of it, vast and endless fields of freedom. He couldn't, though; all he's known about the sky is that it was blue, and that blue is associated with sadness. He takes advantage of the fact that someone's willing to answer his question, and he asks again, "Is it scary?"

"Mhm, for some, it is. I'll let you in a secret, come here." You nod, and then he tilts his head to the side. He hears a splash, and doesn't expect it once he hears your voice after — "I'm actually scared of swimming pools."

"Didn't you just go in?"

"No, that was Jeno. I'm here." You poked a finger on his left arm, and he could tell you're wearing that cheeky grin. His stance softens. "I'm just beside you."

###

It was morning, the sun was shining and the scorching summer heat was kinder than everyone expected it to be. Somewhere around the room, Chenle and Jisung successfully trapped a sleeping Jaemin in a domino prison, Jeno's trying to convince them why this is such a bad idea and Mark is getting scolded by Hyuck. The TV fades to background noise, the plan of cooking extra pancakes long forgotten. Renjun leans his head on your shoulders, "What does the night look like?"

It felt like an odd question to ask as the sun is halfway to its peak, but Renjun's curiosity piques in no time. You hum for a bit to think, "The night is very different to a lot of people."

Very different for a lot of people... yeah, many things in the world are like that. He figured it out years ago when you told him about the swimming pools, and the airplanes, and the rollercoasters. He figured it out when you talked to him about books, when you taught him about colors, about shapes.

He still doesn't know what different looks like, and what importance it holds.

"Hyuck loves the night. You hear his laughter, right? He likes going on adventures and feeling the wind. I think, to him, the night looks like a harsh passing of the breeze you felt when we went out on a drive." He takes in your words. These days, he gets better with understanding metaphors — he learned that blue is not just a shade of sadness, and that sky doesn't always mean blue — he understands your words better. "But me... I just sleep. I don't like the night very much."

"Huh?"

"Have you ever been in a silent place, Jun?" you asked softly. "Not the silence you can fill with music. I'm talking about blank, emotionless silence; the one that echoes. The one that haunts you. The one that makes you feel alone. That's what the night looks like for me."

Renjun wanted to nod, and he wanted to say yes because he's been in that silent place for the longest time. It's all he's ever known, and it's all that he's ever seen; it's the only thing he sees — black, echoing, loud nothingness.

He didn't, though.

Instead, he asks a question, "What do you think about the night?"

"I think it's a question." comes quickly in a reply. "I still don't know how a nightmare town gives life to dreamers, but it does. It's a question I do not want to know the answer to."

Renjun knows of the stars and the sky, and you'd tried to explain their light by telling him what blinding comfort was — think of all your loneliest moments being washed away by the fire I told you about, and that's pretty much it, 'jun — and he knows of the big, gazing moon that changes shape now and then. It's what makes up most of the night, Jeno had said, so he knows that too.

What he doesn't know is why it seems so vicious to you, and what he doesn't know is that if he could see, would he have chosen to close his eyes to not witness such complex sadness.

###

It's at times like this when solace blooms in his heart. The rest of the world seems to be fast asleep, but he's so awake, so aware, so alive. You sit beside him, yet again brought him to the place you and Jaemin frequents in, and he ignores the jealous feeling in his chest. It's at times like this that Renjun realizes he's falling.

"Your smile must look beautiful," he wonders out loud. "Can you please tell me how your smile looks like?"

"Me?" You replied nonchalantly. Your chuckle passes as cold as the night breeze, and he wonders how the poet would write themselves as poetry. The blankness of your words dulls the hope in his eyes, "I... don't like it. My eyes... they always look tired. I always look tired. I hate myself."

For a moment, he dwells on his thoughts — Jaemin's brought you here, and you're more frequent here together, and he's seen how you looked against the glimmering stars. Did he fall in love? Did he want to keep you all to himself, like a little secret? Did he want to kiss you until all spite of yourself vanishes from your soul? Jaemin must've, Renjun knows. He knows because even blind, he's aware of how beautiful you truly are; not only he's heard it from his friends, but he feels it strongly. He couldn't see the city lights that he's heard of so many times, but he knows you shine brighter than them.

Hell, he couldn't even see you — he couldn't even see anything, but he knows you do. He knows you are. You think he's wrong, that he's more gorgeous, but he reaches for your hands.

He doesn't know what beautiful looks like. He just knows that it's breath-taking, soul-stealing, ethereal, and you.

"I think you smile like euphoria. I think you smile like the sound of music boxes, those with lovely tunes," he says, eyes closed and breathing fast. "I think... "

'I love you.' oh, how he wished it's easy to say those words. He purses his lips. "...you're one of the most beautiful people I've ever met, right next to my mother."

Beside him, you chuckled and held his hands. "You're sleepy."

"I am. Right now, I'm sleepy and I know you're beautiful." He squeezes your hands, looking at the direction he knows you're at. He lets out a shaky smile, "Tomorrow, I will be wide awake and I'd still think you're stunning."

It's at times like this that Renjun realizes he's falling. It's at times like this that he fears how much he can't wait to crash.

###

Renjun's biggest fear among many is that he'll never feel like this again.

He fell too hard. He fell too quickly and too harshly and he's only noticing it now when the impact makes itself known and he couldn't stand up. He knew that he was scared, he knew that he was afraid then, but only now did he know what it truly meant to be terrified; when he's sitting beside you on the roof, feeling the wind pass by, and he couldn't help but wonder what if it's not us, but I can never love the person meant for me because they're not you?

It's a silly thing, maybe. He did not believe in many things and fate is not one of the few he believed in. He thinks that love is something you choose for yourself — it's something you decide on your own. He thinks that the only problem in 'not being made for each other' is that you relied too much on what the stars wrote, and didn't write your story on your own. What even are these stars, aside from unknown giant speckles of light? Why should they decide someone's life?

He adores them, he knows, and now he can't help his curiosity: "How do the stars look like tonight?"

"They're bright. Very bright."

He swoons at the content sigh you let out before speaking, and he lets himself indulge. It's at moments like this when he lets himself feel, where he relishes in the adoration he nestles.

"They ought to be," he whispers to himself. "They gotta be bright if they're trying to outshine you."

Giggles fades to laughter, and genuine words burn forced. He could almost taste the bitterness of your words, "You haven't seen me."

Does he need to?

"I don't need to," he concludes. "There's so much more to you than what I couldn't see."

Because it's true. All those years you held this something in you, a piece of an old soul and an unknown heavenly something you ignored just so you could spite yourself. You had this way with words, this certain understanding of the world that he's never found in someone else. Renjun thinks that to attribute full sight and still have the ability to describe things to someone who's never seen them means that you've felt the world deeper than anybody else, and to know that the world is cruel but still choose to keep your eyes open is something that should be admired.

Right now, you're the closest to him you've ever been, and he bathes in the feeling of your lips hovering above his.

"I'm a mess, Huang Renjun."

"You're an art in progress," he whispers back, eyes fluttering shut as you close what little distance you have left. "But even half-made, you're a masterpiece."

###

If somebody asked Renjun if he ever saw this coming, he'd say "Why the fuck would you even ask me that question?"

Alright, jokes aside, never in his mind did he think life would turn out this way. First of all, a lot of unexpected things have already happened, but he's stubborn so of course, that doesn't convince him. He should've felt it coming, but of course, he refused to. After all, why would he even think of his best friend laying beside him on his bed, talking about random things all night in every way domestic? Why would he even think of you two being together, whispering sweet nothings to each other? He's guilty of doing those, yes, but that doesn't mean that he knows the answer. In a spur of the moment decision, he asks another question — "Why'd you choose me?"

"You're the only one who wanted me—IT'S A JOKE! Hey, hey, I was only kidding," you laugh, finding so many things entertaining about the fact that he's unamused. He preens at the soft kiss you placed on the edge of his lips, and then even more when you whisper, "You're the only one I wanted."

Normally, this is where his heart would do those weird flips and antics. This is the time where he'd feel like he's in another world, like he's invincible and oh so lucky to be thoroughly adored by the person he loves so much.

It's only that sometimes, Renjun feels unreasonable. He's sensitive and insecure and it's so much easier to find flaws in himself than to appreciate the things that made him who he is. Sometimes, he needs to ask some things he's not exactly sure of, things much like: "Even with... even with my eyes... like this?"

And it's you, and it's never dull when it's with you, everything is always beautiful and poetic. He doesn't know where that voice was coming from, but he hears it in his mind, and it tells him to trust you.

A butterfly kiss on each of his eyelids. A hand warm on the top of his hands. The rain pours heavily outside but it's muffled enough that it's calming, and all that he can think of is warm, so warm, so loved. You hold your foreheads close and keep them close for seconds, before you press a soft kiss on his lips, "Your eyes are beautiful, my love."

And for once, Renjun's not afraid to ask — "How do they look like?"

Beautiful and so much more.

"As if something straight out of a magical dream, because you are. You are magical," you whisper, breathing in slow intervals. "You are the closest to celestial a human could be."

[mugi-chan]

I was just watching some animation and opening and I was like, what the twisted Bois will do if they catch MC singing some song of our world? Not only Disney like, even Grim, that come back at Ramshackle singing "Believer of the imagine dragon" and run(or fly) to find help cause thinking that you are going to overbolting? Or Rook that hear you singing "le festin" and start to walk whit you trying to guess the song 😂 and choose you who will be the most funniest 😂 P.s.: love your writing :,3

ლ  Tea Order: Vice Dorm heads: Woah what kind of song is that? 

ლ  Warnings: None!

ლ Shop owner notes: Trying to think what songs would fit the vice dorm heads where kind of hard 工ｴｴｪｪ(;╹⌓╹)ｪｪｴｴ工 Also I had like the biggest writers block for the past week and suddenly I got inspo to write during school like... bruh

You were helping Trey out for the next upcoming unbirthday party 

Trey tasked you with doing the mixing of cake batter 

As this was most of the time a really long and boring task you were quietly singing to one of your favorite song 

Trey was focused on decorating that he didn’t notice your singing at first 

But once he finished decorating one tier of the cake he overheard your singing 

He didn’t say anything at first letting you finish your song 

“That’s a really nice song, what is it?” 

“Oh it’s (f/s)”

Trey was thinking if he heard that song before but drew blank 

“I never heard of the song” 

“Well I don’t expect you to it’s a song that I don’t think this world even has” 

This peaked his interest 

He knew your world has different taste then any of their countries

So he took this as a perfect time to get to know your world better 

“So how those the song go?” 

You were happy that Trey wanted to know more about your world 

“Well it kind of goes like this” 

You started to sing the song but soon got really embarrassed and stopped mid way to cover your face. 

Trey wrapped his arm around your waist resting his forehead on yours

“Aw come on it’s really good, can I hear more?”

Still embarrassed you reluctantly agree

Giving out a helping hand is always needed for Ruggie 

Trying to deal with Leona and the rest of the dorm is stressful 

So you decided to help Ruggie out with some chores 

You two were on top of Savanclaw dorm doing laundry 

As you were putting up the laundry you were singing one of your favorite songs 

Ruggie being the cheeky little hyena he pretends he can’t hear you 

You continue singing until you realize Ruggie was just sitting there smiling

“Aw don’t stop (y/n) that song is really good!”

“Y-you heard?!” 

You started to grow shy and turn away 

Ruggie just laughed as he got up

“What song is it? I never heard of it” 

“It’s (f/s)” 

“Ahh must be music from your world” 

You two discussed the music that your world might think is good

“Shishishi, one day if you do get back home you should bring back a CD full of your worlds music” 

You agree, hoping one day that you can go home but find a way to come back to see your lovable goofball hyena 

The next day you could hear Ruggie sing the exact same song you were singing 

“Ruggie how can you remember the lyrics already?” 

“Shishishi, well I’m just that good” 

You nudged his side laughing with him. 

(Sorry Ruggie was short I ran out of Ideas)

When Grim first busted into the mostro lounge, jade was going to scold him from busting into the mostro lounge until he saw how distress he was

“Oya oya Grim what seems to be the problem?” 

“(y/n)! I don’t know what’s going on but they’ve been muttering to themself for a while in a strange language!” 

Now this confused the octa trio 

What? A strange language and muttering to themselves? 

Azul put Jade in charge of this since clearly Grim is in distress and (y/n) is his s/o 

Plus this could make for a good deal, who knows what Azul can get out of this 

Jade clearly disapproved of that reasoning but that will have to wait

His main focus is on you 

When he got to Ramshackle dorm everything looked normal nothing out of place

Opening the door everything still feels normal, nothing still feels out of place

But who knows what could happen

Entering the kitchen he saw you preparing a snack muttering to yourself 

He sees why Grim was worried

He didn’t understand the language you were singing to 

A playful smirk appeared on his face as he leaned down behind you 

“What a nice song your singing there my little guppy” 

You shrieked as you turned meeting face to face with Jade

“Oya oya, Is my little guppy scared?”

“No you just scared me!” 

“Apologies” 

Jade explained himself on why he was here

A small oh came from your mouth 

You gave a small glare to Grim as you explain what you were doing 

“Ah I see, may I hear more of it. I may not understand it but your voice is cute” 

You rolled your eyes as you went back to what you were doing

You were brushing Jamil’s hair as Jamil had a pretty stressful day

Brushing his hair made him calm 

And you singing, oh he feels like he may be in heaven

But this song you were singing, it was strange 

You sang in a language he has never heard of 

All of these weird intonations 

And words he can understand but not know the context for it

How very strange these songs were for him 

He let you continue singing as he was trying to decipher what you were singing

Alas he drew blank

Once you finished singing the song Jamil asked you about the song

“Oh, the song? It’s like a pop song from my country” 

“Ah I see” Jamil leaned back letting his back meet your chest

“Do you want to hear more?” 

“I would like to know the meaning of the song” 

A smile crept on your face as you explain the meaning behind the song as you started to braid his hair.

If you think Jamil had a nice soothing voice, your right 

But Jamil also thinks your voice is very soothing as well

It helps him relax

A very familiar language echo across the Pomefiore halls

Could it be? Someone in here speaks French as well? 

Rook went to the hallways trying to find the source of the voice

Drawing near the end of the hallway he was met by his beautiful and wonderful (y/n)

Oh just seeing you there felt like an angel just fell upon earth and took interest in Rook

He hid from you knowing how much you dislike having an audience 

The song was so beautiful, majestic for his ears 

Deciphering the words he could understand parts of it

Derniere Danse? What was his sweet (y/n) trying to say?

Your last dance? Oh my, is something wrong?

So much questions forming around his head as he decipher the words

None of these were making sense

Once you finished singing Rook clapped scaring you

“That was beautiful my love, truly magnificent!”

A small blush crept on your face as you tried to look away from his gaze

Rook plopped himself right next you snuggling close to you

“What songs was that?” 

“Oh just a song that I knew for a while”

“I thought you told me you never spoke French?”

“Well I may not know French but I can sing it”

“I still think it’s beautiful, may I hear more?” 

You nodded allowing Rook to be comfortable as you try your best to sing french songs

Heck you tried to sing the theme song from Ratatouille

But did Rook care? Nope! He’s just happy that his love is speaking… well singing in french

The forest is a great way to get away from all the noise that NRC produce

Rowdy first years, light music club noise, and Sebek

Lilia was at light music club so you had time to yourself

And walk in the woods are nice to have 

Hearing the nice calm forest gave you a place to talk to yourself about all your woes and talk about your own world without anyone asking a million questions about the world

I mean you don’t mind answering questions but sometimes it can be tiresome and annoying at times

But there will always be this one thing that will always resonate in you

(f/s), a song you know the lyrics for and the only you can still remember as it have been ages since you last saw your world

Singing said song always bring peace to your just like the forest

What you didn’t know was the Light music club ended early so Lilia was looking for you

Once he did he spotted you in a clearing in the woods singing to yourself

My my my what a strange song you are singing, clearly Lilia drew blank as the song was so strange yet seems so familiar to him

He waited for you to stop singing to appear next to you

Of course scaring living soul out of you

“My my, what a beautiful song you have, mind if I ask what it is?” 

“Lilia you’re here early!” 

“My club finished earlier than expected” 

“Anyway what was that song you were singing?”

“You heard?!” 

“Of course”

Oh no did Lilia do something wrong? 

You were trying to hide you face in embarrassment as you didn’t want Lilia to hear it 

“What’s the matter (y/n)?” 

“I didn’t want you to hear me sing”

“Oh my love don’t say that I love you singing it’s beautiful” 

Lilia gently grabbed your cheek resting his forehead on yours

“I don’t mind if you sing it a hundred times, it’s beautiful”

Would you like to order something? Look at our Tea shop rules first!

[dabidagoose]

What's your fave video game sountrack(s)? =^o

Ok that is a very loaded question so this is gonna be a long ass response, I hope you're prepared for what you've done.

(ok there's a tl;dr at the end if you want it sorry for this lmao)

FIRST POINT my immediate thought was the Ikenfell soundtrack (actually my immediate thought is I can't fuckin' choose they're all amazing but. then ikenfell). On the personal side, I was pretty much obsessed with the game for like three months straight, and i fuckin' love aivi and surasshu's music. I am also a simp for chiptune so jot that down. Moving past what may very well just be personal preference there are some incredibly interesting musical choices and impeccable choices story-wise that hit just. SO fuckin hard. Like emotionally. I won't elaborate on to the context and why the song works so well but the final battle theme is absolutely SPECTACULAR. (I could elaborate though so. ask if you will and i'll write another spiel on why it breaks my heart and soul). But also to reference a less-plot relevant piece I'm gonna bring up Alchemy is for Everyone. The squish bass sounds at the beginning are SUCH a fun environmental sound, it is really just NOT a sound I hear often which makes the track really stand out. And it fits SO perfectly for all the slimes and just. It's so WET. I love it. Makes me wanna wriggle. Which ok is probably also personal preference on reflection because my friend hates a wet song that I love but. Ok it's GOOD. Anyways continuing to the melody the fuckin PITCH bends. This is digital music at it's peak. We get the fun sounds. We get the fuckin pitch bends. Which are so fun because having slightly out of tune notes is such a fun feeling. It's a little off kilter, it's a little different. It's just SO funky and sounds so awesome to bend those pitches just a little bit, take full advantage of the medium and play around with it. Now I'm gonna talk a bit about why I love aivi & surasshu's music so much which. Ok so I believe(?) they coined the term "digital fusion" where you're mixing all these fun fresh digital sounds with real instruments/more traditional sounds and it can work SO fuckin well (for extra musical literature on this subject I'd like to suggest Yoann Turpin and specifically Chip Ship). Which we already get a taste of that where the pitch bends are playing on piano but it really kicks in when the violin takes over the melody and it's SUCH a graceful instrument in comparison to all this funky/awkward stuff we've had. The dichotomy is fuckin awesome. The violin is like a graceful victorian socialite ballroom dancing in after these pitch bends just pinned their arms to their sides and wiggled their hips around. We then get a third spacey instrument (I. have no idea what it is.) and it is. SUCH a switch. We have moved from awkward and stilted to almost too perfect and graceful (I forgot to write before but the high piano at the violin adds so much) to a moment of awe and discovery. We are now exploring the universe, the world of science and alchemy, and it is fantastic. The song almost seems to have it's own little narrative, and this is just a backing track for exploring one of the buildings!!!! This is within the first couple hours of gameplay, it is incredibly non-plot-relevant but SUCH a piece of art. I am absolutely in a slime ball watching amazing science happen so precisely and it is. so fuckin cool. And I could probably go off about every single other song, but in the interest of keeping away spoilers and finishing this post before 2 am, I will not. (Addendums because I can: this is less wet than the one my friend hates, and also this song is MOIST. I would also like to mention It's Showtime and Between the Lines as other song favorites but if I went into them I would never sleep.)

Okokokok. So. So SECOND point (I'm. so sorry.) I looked at my video game music soundtrack (I have two main soundtracks one for just every music but I didn't want to overwhelm it with VG music so I made one just for that that has ENTIRE soundtracks from almost every game I've played which. oops.) and I found two other contenders based mostly on I Really Liked The Games. The Oneshot soundtrack and the Night in the Woods soundtrack. Ok I'm gonna talk about Night in the Woods first cause HOLY shit. holy shit. The fucking astral songs. Those are fucking masterpieces. Such a simple ensemble but it creates such an INTENSE atmosphere. I really love instrumental music can you tell. I specifically want you listening to Astral Train for this one (played it for my senior recital and even though I had to play the violin part on clarinet I maintain it was one of the best choices I've ever made), but we the way the layers blend together is a fucking masterpiece. Since this song had to be designed so that any layer could play alone and each one could join in any order, each part of the quartet has to be interesting, but they still all must blend together and so they each get melody moments but the harmony/bass lines have to be interesting as well and. They ARE. This is such a hard task and it's accomplished SO. INCREDIBLY. WELL. (Side note: also makes for a good ensemble piece for, say, your and your friends' senior recitals, so everyone gets fun parts, a chance in the limelight, and a chance to rest, haha totally irrelevant note right there definitely no connection to my real life). With Astral Train we really get this cool ghostly train feel and through all the Astral pieces we REALLY feel the absolute intensity of Mae's dreams and the music creates such an immaculate vibe. It is unmatched. The rest of the soundtrack contains plenty of bops in a variety of genres too, where the bass songs have to be both playable and fun (Die Anywhere Else my beloved), and we get nostalgic and mischievous music fit for this ragtag team. This is the feeling I've had hanging out with my teenage friends at 10 PM in a parking lot. It is absolutely perfect for this video game. The music is SUCH a bop and really emotionally connects to me cause the game is such a bop of a plot. It is truly fantastic. (Addendum: Ok listening to Gregg rn and. Holy shit bop. I love him. I love this)

Ok now onto Oneshot, which, admittedly, does not have as strong a holding on the podium as these other two do, but curse me for having been emotionally destroyed by the video game because now I am emotionally attached to the music too. But, again, ATMOSPHERE. I am once again gonna be speaking in the interest of spoilers here, so I hope anyone who's finished the game will forgive what I'm not saying, but the entire landscape of this desolate planet is just SO much. The world is so simple and empty, and yet awe is often mixed with this feeling of despair. This is incredibly fitting for Niko, for the hopeful little pal they are, and creates an incredible effect. (I included specific song reccs for the last but I don't quite for this - so I'll just say now that I'm listening to On Little Cat Feet). The visuals are fairly simple, the map small, and just looking at the game the world feels incredibly small. But the music makes it all seem so vast. We really get put into Niko's shoes (or their little cat feet I suppose), and get to see this world for the vast, terrifying, but incredible place it is. The music makes you feel like that child seeing a new world for the first time, (this isn't spoilers past the first chapter but I'm warning you anyways) even though you are meant to be a god, you are still made to feel small and the world still large. The music does so much of this work, and it's incredible. Throughout the soundtrack the underlying angst, the despair, remains present, and the game has so much more impact for the music. No game is incomplete without it's music, and Nightmargin does a fantastic job creating this music for Oneshot. I haven't analyzed the actual music instruments/structure so much, but it's those instrumental sounds again tearing at my heart strings again. I would also like to recommend this game beyond the soundtrack, since it is an incredible story, with some puzzling gameplay, and it has made me feel how no other game has. It is a masterpiece of a game, and I implore everyone to play it through. Get hints if you need to, or play alone, just make it to the Ending. You'll know when you're there. (Addendum: I think I'm very repetitive here but I refuse to edit it so you have to live with this. Anyways gonna say it again: Play Oneshot!!)

Now I have chosen three game soundtracks that had a story that incredibly connected with me, and music to bolster that story and those emotions in incredibly meaningful ways. But there are so many others with great music, but that didn't necessarily connect on such an emotional level. Portal and Portal 2 have fantastic soundtracks, Celeste has beautiful music, Underhero has some funky and spectacular beats, Undertale and Deltarune are famously incredible (although I also did emotionally connect with them... but they're already talked about enough. Lancer beloved.), Clam Man is just. Fun., Oxenfree is also incredibly atmospheric and spectacular, Sewer Rave just has nice beats, and Minecraft is nostalgic as all hell. There are so many games to choose from, that from the moment I saw your question I knew I would be writing a far too long Tumblr post to answer you, because it feels an injustice to just answer one without reasoning, or without bringing to light all of the other amazing sounds I've discovered.

To finally answer your question, I think Ikenfell deserves the top spot in my heart. My instinct was right, there's fresh sounds, great musical structure (see: Between the Lines that I didn't elaborate on), incredibly emotional sounds, and fantastic storytelling within the soundtrack. But I love all of these other soundtracks, so I must bring them up. For they also have spots in my heart.

TL;DR - Ikenfell wins but I also love Oneshot and Night in the Woods and many others so I don't know what to say chief (lies i have too much to say)

[oneweekoneband]

her Nebraska (1982)

In July I flew to Massachusetts with a plague on, and I felt that it was wrong, but my mother had begged and I’d been out of work for months. Mornings there I ran in long, uneven ovals on the same roads I’d memorized in high school. There’s no sidewalks, but the few feet of dirt between the craggy pavement and the open mouths of the fields serve all right for a single body in motion. When a truck comes up close from behind, the ground shakes, and I step away bouncingly from the street toward thigh-high yellow weeds and grass, and keep going. I was slowly picking my way back in that dirt, sweat-slick from only a plodding couple of miles in peak summer heat, and sucking the wet cotton of my mask in between my teeth on every inhale, when Taylor Swift announced she was releasing a surprise album produced by the guy from The National. Not the guy from The National, like, the voice, but the guy from The National whose photo was circulated on Twitter earlier this year as some kind of antifa super soldier, which isn’t the case, but would’ve been rad. First, I stopped dead to send some outraged, misspelled text messages, and then I ran home faster than I’d moved in years.

Tall, blonde, patrician pop star Taylor Swift is to me something like a cross-between a wife and a boogeyman. Bound we’ve been since we were really children. Time and its changes haven’t rid me of her, and what’s worse is I have never quite been able to wish they would, though I claim as much all the time. Countless hours of my one wild and precious life have been spent on endlessly analyzing the minutiae of Taylor Swift’s music, the mind that made it, the real world events which influenced it. And though all the while I have known she is only a person, and that people, while each strange and lovely in their own ways, are, in the end, mostly dull, needful in just the regular manner, the fantasy is better, the sick dream of a megalomaniac songstress, curious, thrilling, probably evil, and I choose that. I don’t know Taylor Alison Swift, born to this world in, I presume, the usual way. But my Taylor Swift? I’m a renowned expert. I’ve always eaten up stories—movies, music, celebrity news, the one my grandfather tells about falling off his bike once in Ireland as a boy and his face “cracking open like an egg”—like a starved dog. I’m obsessive about my interests, but not inclined to intense fandom, and certainly not fandom in the mode of the stan. For one, I’m too self-absorbed. But caring intensely for a famous person is falling in love with a ghost, and that’s all right—I mean, what the hell? We’re here together just dying... Let’s enjoy—but is an affair best undertaken with the knowledge that everyone alive has their own complex interiority, as unruly as your own, and that you, a stranger, are not in any real way connected to the lawless, blurry middle of that celebrity, and will never be. It’s freeing and fun to know this. I mean, these people are basically in your employ. Glamorous dollhouse dwellers. Acknowledging that uncrossable distance allows for a different, healthier closeness of pure imagination. My feelings, then, can comfortably be at once both fiercely intense and entirely silly. I am a foremost scholar in the art of the Taylor Swift who exists in my head. The real person raised in Pennsylvania I don’t know at all. I have some conjectures on the matter, and, as with all my conjectures, every hackneyed theory, each picky little opinion, I’m sure they’re perfect, brilliant, just absolutely right, but that’s still all they are. Taylor Swift, figure of the cultural imagination, is the Jodie Comer to my Sandra Oh in Killing Eve, annoying and pretty in frills, taunting me endlessly and holding us trapped together in a dance of most enchanting death. But the real Taylor Swift has favorite bed sheets and a social security number and a British boyfriend, none of which I have any desire to know about, and if I saw her at a restaurant I’d politely avert my eyes before, yes, dive-bombing the group text. There’s nobody on Earth I’d stand in line to speak to, but then I’ve been speaking to a certain figment of Taylor Swift for nearly half my life.

I went to a Taylor Swift concert the night before I moved into college in 2009. My father’s work friend, firefighter by day, near professional gambler by night, got comped tickets to the Fearless Tour stop taking place at the nearby casino, and he let me have them as a reward, mainly, for happening to be seventeen. Live in-person and performed acoustically, “Fifteen” made me cry. A few years after that, in the thick, sticky part of my first post-college summer, I wrote approximately twenty-three million words about her in these very pages.  (”Pages”) At that point, Taylor’s most recent release was 2012’s Red, and the work I produced that long ago July about Taylor and her career, writing I was fairly pleased with at the time, feels now, besides just being extremely clearly written by a twenty-one year old, strange to me for the way it favors the sweet over the sour almost uniformly. There is a wholesome kind of ardor in that writing which maybe I’ve outgrown the ability to hold. Or maybe Taylor just proceeded to spend the next half a decade plus releasing one bad single after another, and it was taste—and trespasses against taste—and not some shift in my nature which altered the tenor of our bond. I have real love for my particular image, gleaned from public statements and published art, of smart, bizarre famous woman Taylor Swift, and I admire the bulk of her output very much. I’m just no longer so inclined to fawn. This is not to say I am here to offer a Taylor Swift hate screed. I couldn’t swing it, and, anyway, I’m not a pop feminist-for-hire circa 2010. But we’re older now. Things are different. At twenty-eight, twenty-nine this month—Taylor will, also this December, turn thirty-one—I regard Taylor Swift warily, like an ex with whom you have a tentative friendship, perpetually on the brink of falling one way or the other into hatred or delight, only to wobble back the opposite direction again at the slightest provocation, but still, despite best efforts, even, I regard her all the time. 

folklore was released at midnight on July 24th 2020, but I was at a cabin in rural Vermont without Internet or cell service. I drank Bud Light seltzers with my mother while watching the eerie pandemic return of Major League Baseball, and when I got into a strange bed there I stewed, knowing there were people out in the world all over who were hearing Taylor Swift songs I never had, and that this was a fundamental wrong, a disruption in the balance of the universe. I listened to it the next morning in a Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot. 

And folklore is great. That’s the terrible thing. Slightly less great, maybe, than some people have insisted, tricked, I think, by just the pronounced shift in sound. But it’s great. A little gift I asked for a thousand times and was still surprised to get, like a wife who didn’t expect her henpecked husband to ever follow through and buy the paraffin wax hand bath as-see-on-TV. For years, I’ve been halfheartedly insisting that Taylor had a great album in her. I’d say it even, perhaps especially, while she stubbornly fed me gruel. Or worse, gruel with the occasional whiff of something better. With a ripe, little raspberry dropped into the slop. The bright, villainous thrill of “Getaway Car” made me believe Taylor, my Taylor, was in there somewhere under the lacquer of sequins and synth, which, while not objectionable by default, seemed a costume, and an ill-fitting one. The lived-in world of “Cornelia Street” made those old scars sting. That gay “Delicate” video. When she did “Call It What You Want” on SNL and played guitar while wearing an ugly sweater. If the abominable “ME!”, lead single off Lover, was the stick, 1989’s “Clean” was the carrot. I was Charlie Brown, and Taylor my Lucy, yanking the football back again and again. Over drinks I still yelled that Taylor Swift’s next album would be, “her Nebraska”, referring to my favorite Bruce Springsteen record, and learned to live with that egg on my face for good. I suppose I even came to like it. There was something inherently funny in taking up, like, “blind faith in the as of yet untapped greater artistic potential of massively wealthy and popular singer Taylor Swift” as my totally inane personal cause du jour, and eventually it was a bit, a gag I performed to be obstinate and didactic, but way down somewhere awful near my kidneys I meant it the whole while. And then she did it. A pandemic befell the world and amid a sea of human suffering Taylor Swift remembered she can write. She wrote, and with a massive, crucial assist from Aaron Dessner, whose music on this record is sometimes so beautiful it actually angers me, as the last thing I needed in already perilous times was to be made to try and marry my uniquely perverse emotional responses to beloved divorced dad band The National and fucking Taylor Swift,  she made an album which, if not her Nebraska, per se (I’ve come to realize that a major part of believing Taylor Swift will one day make an album I find as quietly devastating and gorgeous as Nebraska is knowing that no album will ever actually be Her Nebraska... That each will, rather, to me, be more and more evidence that it’s coming still, more proof that the limit is untouched, on and on ad infinitum, or at least until the seas take us into a place of salty peace.) is a shocking credit to all my hard-fought and deluded confidence. folklore is great. This fact has made me feel almost equally as disoriented from my understanding of the world as the time-melting COVID-19 lockdowns have, and it turned my Spotify year in review annual collective AI humiliation kink thing into a glaring indictment of my mental state, but still, I mean... It’s great.

In talking about folklore a bit this week, there are a number of specific topics I intend to cover—what a thrill it is to hear Taylor say “fuck”; Taylor’s terrifying birth chart; the astoundingly perfect bridge of “the last great american dynasty”; “because my ass is located at the back of my body”; the bit in last year’s “Lover” where deranged WASP Taylor Swift implies that to “leave the Christmas lights up til January” is some signifier of being a love-struck bohemian, when actually everyone who doesn’t employ domestic staff to take their lights down does this; how reputation is the best of the Taylor Swift records released in the latter half of the 2010s, actually, and the people who can’t see that are cowards—but intend mostly to let the muse move me where she will. Against the advice of my better angels, she—that tie-in marketing eldritch terror—always does.

[multishippingtrashfire]

If you are still doing hannigram prompts maybe when will trys to cook for the first time. Thank you for your time

YAY My first Hannigram one. 

I personally feel like, despite what a lot of other people say, I just feel like Will can cook. I mean think about it, he spent a lot of time alone as a child (and you gotta eat somehow), he’s from Louisiana and spent time moving around the South (that’s very significant if you’re from the Southern USA), and lastly, Will downplays everything he does, so I could totally see him saying he couldnt cook, when actually he can prepare some pretty good food. Would it be fancy and french, like Hannibal? Absolutely not! Would it still be good? Fuck yeah

All that is to say, Will, in a more stable mental state, would be cooking (likely a Gumbo or Jambalaya, with beignets for dessert and some good ole sweet tea), and Hannibal would drop in on him unplanned, and just be kinda shocked. 

I’ll set this as that sweet spot where Will was more put together and still seeing Hannibal, so I’d say during “Naka-choko” (S2,ep 10)

---------------------

These days, it was rare for Will Graham to find moments of peace. In an effort to slowly bring down the Chesapeake Ripper, to bring down Hannibal, he had to live in the darkest corners of his mind and Hannibal’s on a daily basis. So when Will was able to have even a moment of waking consciousness, where he could simply exist and not think, he cherished it. 

Today, Will decided to spend his time cooking. Despite having lived in Virginia for years and very rarely becoming homesick, in this moment he missed the spice of Louisiana. He missed the earliest moments of his life where all he and his father did was fish. The wafting smell of Creole dishes in his house, the savory taste of it from the first bite, the labor of love and relaxation that went in to the dish. From the stress of everything, those nostalgic moments are the ones he wants to return to. Will had dreamt about sharing some of these moments with Abigail. 

So, that’s why at this moment, Will was listening to some older music, letting his gumbo simmer, while he enjoyed a beer. The smell of the food cooking was enough for him to feel immediately less tense. With the knowledge that Hannibal was having dinner guests this evening, he felt he could relax enough to not have perfectly gelled down hair, and he could forego the button down shirts. He opted instead for a casual t-shirt, too worn to be seen in public at this point, even before Hannibal and some sweatpants in a similar state. The dogs were wiggling around the kitchen, silently begging for any pieces of sausage Will saw fit to spare (hint: it was a good amount).

He was enjoying his peace and quiet, which is why he wasn’t prepared for the knock at this door, or the barking that ensued from his dogs. Instantly, Will was reminded that he had no neighbors for miles, that just a few days ago Randall Tier had burst through his window, and that this could be another killer sent by Hannibal to harm him. No Hannibal would never truly give anyone Will as a sacrificial lamb. Will belonged to Hannibal and Randall wasn’t aware enough to know he’d been sent to his death. 

Knock, Knock, Knock

Will steeled himself and made sure to grab a knife from his kitchen counter, shushing his dogs as he made his way to the door. 

On his porch was Hannibal Lecter, in his usual thick wool overcoat and burgundy scarf, looking at Will expectantly. Hurried to answer the door and assuage his dogs curiosity at this visitor, Will opened the door. 

“Hannibal” 

“Good evening Will, I apologize for the terrible imposition, but I was in the area.” Hannibal lied with such grace, a part of Will wondered if he believed them himself. “I figured, I would stop in to see how you were doing; how the window repairs were coming along.” There, just like that Hannibal had to lightly mention he and Will’s shared secret of Randall and what really happened. And the courting gift Hannibal left for him in the aftermath. 

“Oh, well I’ve just boarded it up for now.” Will answered in a tone, that he hoped conveyed nonchalance. “Would you like to come in?” Will asked but he knew Hannibal would say yes, his interest peaked from the moment Will had answered the door, as to Hannibal, Will was not culinarily inclined, so smell of the house came as a surprise. 

“Yes please” Hannibal’s eyes were cold but his mouth lifted into a barely visible smile as he stepped inside. “Are you cooking?” Will hoped his nonchalance was better than Hannibal’s, but he was doubtful.  

“Yeah, I was feeling a bit nostalgic.”

“Gumbo?”

“And beignets. The dough is just resting right now.” Will said as he led Hannibal to the kitchen. 

“I did not realize you were such a chef. I’d even say you led me to believe you could not cook.” Hannibal said peering into the simmering pot and running his eyes over the clear bowl where the dough rested. 

Will snorted. Hannibal wanted everything from him, every memory, every secret, every hobby, everything. Will was his to posses. 

“Well, I don’t do it very often. Plus, why should I cook when a culinary artist is available.” Will took a swig of his beer, hiding his smile. He caught a small part of Hannibal’s too. 

“May I?” Hannibal asked, gesturing to the spoon on the left of the pot and in the moment Will felt bashful. He knew a great amount of detail went into every dish Hannibal prepared, every flavor present with intention, a story in every bite. And Will’s gumbo was just a dish to enjoy, to taste good. 

Will nodded hesitantly. A small part of him wanted to comment that the meat wouldn’t be Hannibal’s usual preference, but he choose to abstain.

Hannibal drew the spoon to his lips, taking a slow mouthful. His eyes slid shut and he hummed. When they opened, they we alight with something else. Passion? Adoration? Hunger. 

“I must say Will, that is quite delicious.” He cocked his head to the side, observing Will, as if there were more surprises to come. 

“No notes?” Will cocked his eyebrow in return, feeling a slow burn build in his stomach under Hannibal’s gaze. 

“No.” Hannibal smiled fully this time, and in that moment Will was reminded of the beast within him. “My compliments to the chef.”

_______________________________________

Yes, I looked up how to make beignets and gumbo for this. 

[rockthingsbymeg]

Can you please please write something for the prompt list you just reblogged for the prompt Are you my secret admirer, the one that’s been sending me all the flowers and notes?” with Slash? Love your blog and writing so much! 💖

Hope you like this love

Sorry it took this long to get out

It  was just ten minutes after Hazel got home from work that her doorbell rang. She walked to the door, confused as to who it could be, and opened  it slightly, peaking outside since she didn’t have a peephole.

A  mailman stood on the other side with a bouquet of jasmine. “Miss  Harper?” He questioned. Hazel nodded. “This is for you.” He extended  them with a smile.

Hazel  opened the door a bit more so she could take them. It smelled amazing  and, once she held it, she realized that it wasn’t a bouquet, it was a  vase. She thanked the man and closed the door behind herself, holding  the flowers to her nose and smelling them again.

A  small smile graced her lips as she made her way to the living room,  setting the vase down on the small coffee table so it could get enough  sunlight. A little note scribbled with a white pen on a black paper  caught her eyes.

I want your love let’s break the wall between us

Hazel smiled. Aerosmith. Good taste.

[…]

The little gift had kept a smile on Hazel’s face through out the week and a question on her mind.

Who sent it?

It  ended up slipping away from her mind, like many other things did. She had spent a lot of that week’s time with Slash and it always seemed to make her forget everything. What hour she was supposed to get in at  work, when to call her mother…

It only popped up in her head again when the band came to her place to hang out and Steven noticed the flowers.

“These are pretty.” He smiled as she handed him a beer.

“They really are.” She smiled, looking attentively at each flower to make sure none of them looked bad.

“Where did you get them?” Duff asked, not really remembering seeing flower shops around the Strip.

“Oh, someone sent them to me.” She shrugged, taking a seat besides Slash on the couch.

“Who?” Axl asked from his spot on the arm chair, eyeing the flowers curiously.

“I don’t know really.  The only thing that came with them was a little black paper with some  Aerosmith’s lyrics on it.” She answered.

Axl was looking at Slash now. He had seen the guitarist buy some black paper sheets one day after rehearsals.

“What did you do with it?” Slash asked, taking a sip from the bottle of Daniel’s that she had given him.

“It’s on my mirror. I thought it was really cute.”

Axl noticed Slash smile. And so did Izzy. But none of them said anything.

[…]

The same thing happened a week later. This time it was on a weekend and Axl had popped up to hang out.

The same mailman  delivered the flowers. This time it was a vase of red carnations, not  that Axl knew. The same black paper came in between the flowers and this  time, lyrics to Rolling Stones “Miss you”.

I’ve been sleeping all aloneI want to kiss you

Well, I’ve been haunted in my sleepYou’ve been starring in my dreams

Axl watched as Hazel grinned widely, looking between the paper and the flowers.

“What are these?” He asked, eyeing the vibrant red color.

“Carnations.” She answered, setting the flowers on the kitchen table.

Axl was silent for a bit, thinking. “Don’t flowers have meanings to some people?”

Hazel  was silent for a bit, looking at the carnations and the jasmine in the  living room. “Yeah. Jasmine represents modesty, love and sensuality. Red  carnations symbolize love, pride and admiration.”

Axl  hummed comprehensively. He watched her leave the room with the small  paper between her fingers, making her way to her small vanity and  placing it next to the other.

The redhead started thinking to himself.

[…]

It  was the third week a vase was delivered to her door. This time, Guns n’  Roses had came to hang out while her mother was visiting. Hazel sure  had been having an interesting afternoon. Between filtering the stories  that the guys told and blushing at the embarrassing stories her mother  told while she hid against Slash, she had been having a good time.

The doorbell rang and Hazel made her way to it, being greeted by the exact same mailman.

“I  think I should start having some cookies here for you. You’re always  the same one to show up.” She smiled widely, accepting the vase of  sunflowers as the man laughed and agreed with her. “Oh my God they’re so  beautiful!” Hazel grinned, thanking the man with a small nod and  closing the door.

“It’s your secret admirer again?” Axl asked with a teasing smile.

Hazel  rolled her eyes, leaving the sunflowers on her living room window  before returning to the kitchen were everyone had settled.

“Secret admirer?” Her mother asked curiously. “You didn’t tell me you had a secret admirer.”

“It’s not a secret  admirer…” Hazel blushed, trying to dismiss the whole thing. She was,  though, well aware that it was a secret admirer.

“What do you call someone who secretly sends you romantic gifts?” Izzy asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Get bent Stradlin…” She mumbled as her eyes fell on the black paper that had come with all the other vases.

I wanna love you and treat you right;I wanna love you every day and every night…

“So,  lyrics from who this time?” Slash asked and Axl eyed him sideways,  trying to get any hint that the man actually had sent them.

“Bob Marley.” Hazel grinned, biting her lower lip.

To outsiders, Hazel  didn’t seem the kind of girl to like reggae, but to those who knew her  closely, they knew about her passion for the reggae rhythms.

And Slash knew them  better than anybody, because despite not knowing, he was the only one  that Hazel allowed to see her fully enjoying reggae music. While the  others saw her humming the songs and tapping her feet to the beat, Slash  got to listen to her sing them and dance to them. Around her kitchen in  the morning when he crashed on her couch. During weekends when he  stopped by at lunch. During summer afternoons when none of them felt  like going out..

Axl saw Hazel’s mother look adoringly between Slash and her daughter. Mother instincts aren’t wrong are they?

[…]

The  fourth time Hazel had gotten flowers, it had been a different guy  delivering them and she came into the living room with a small smile on her face while looking down at the orange roses.

“Your secret love again?” Slash asked from her couch, smiling adoringly at her happy face.

“Yeah.” She said, walking up to her living room window and setting them down on the small table near it.

She  looked for the small paper that always came along and soon found it.  She picked it between her fingers and as soon as she read the very first  words, a gigantic grin formed on her lips.

Slash  bit his lower lip to prevent his growing smile. “Which song?” He asked.  Pointless. He knew which it was. It would have been weird if he didn’t,  considering he both played the song and wrote the lyrics on that small  piece of paper.

“Sweet child o’ mine.” She said, walking up to the couch and straddling Slash, not thinking twice about the action.

They’d  always been pretty close, so this wasn’t weird for them. Not even when  she rested her head on his shoulder while she reread the words.

She’s got a smile that it seems to meReminds me of childhood memoriesWhere everything was as freshAs the bright blue sky

“What  do those stand for?” Slash pointed to the flowers. Once again, a  pointless question. He’d heard her talk about flowers so many times and had actually read a book on the matter before choosing each flower he  had gifted to make sure he got it all right.

“Orange roses stand for desire and passion.” She said quietly, curling up into his arms. She felt safe and at home.

Slash smiled, running his hands over her back.

[…]

Axl walked into his room to find Slash going through his records.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked, and although the singer sounded mad, he was just confused.

“Do you have Queen’s A Day at the Races?” Slash asked, still flipping through the records.

“Yeah.”  Axl said, walking up to the box where he kept them and easily finding it. “But why do you want it?” He smirked mischievously before he handed  it to Slash.

“Want  to check something on the lyrics of one of the songs.” Slash explained  trying to get the album. Axl ducked way from Slash’s hand.

“Why?” The redhead teased, cocking his head to the side. “Need more lyrics to write to Hazel?”

He  saw Slash’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush for a split second before his expression turned cool again. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t  lie shithead.” Axl smirked victoriously. “I saw you buying the paper  last month. And why else would you drive up all the way to the place  where the only flower shop around here is every week?”

Slash sighed in defeat. He wasn’t in the mood to try to lie to Axl. The fucker just ended up knowing anyways.

“Okay, yeah, I’ve been sending her the flowers. So what?” He shrugged.

“Sap.” Axl joked, though  he knew he himself could be worse. “Just grow some balls and tell her  already.” He handed the recorded to Slash.

He flipped it open and looked at the lyrics of the song he had in mind. Teo Torriate, one of Hazel’s favourites.

“Fuck you.” He simply answered, handing the record back to the lead singer and leaving his room.

[…]

Since the last vase of flowers, Hazel had been trying to guess who had been giving her these gifts.

It was someone close to  her. They offered her cases instead of bouquets, which Hazel preferred  since it didn’t kill the plants. The lyrics belonged to songs and  artists she loved. The meanings of the flowers had been clear. Well, not  much for the sunflower, considering it wasn’t necessarily a romantic  flower, but she liked to believe they had chosen it because they knew  she loved them.

She didn’t knew many people who seemed to be that interested in flowers and she really only talked to Slash and his mother about it.

Very few people knew she liked reggae. Only her closest friends, like Slash and the rest of the guys knew.

Slash…

Hazel smiled at the  thought that he might had been gifting her these, but she quickly  shrugged it aside. This was too sappy for Slash and also, he wasn’t  interested in her.

It stung, but it was the truth.

She continued to try her  guesses, but her mind ended up going back to Slash every once in a  while, so she just gave up. Whoever it was would have to approach her if  they wanted something.

[…]

Slash took in a shaky breath as he stood on Hazel’s doorway.

Just grow some balls and tell her already…

Those word had stayed in his head. What did he have to lose anyways?

Her friendship you idiot!

Slash didn’t believe  that his feelings were one sided anymore. He knew friends didn’t cuddle  the way they did. He knew friends didn’t give each other lustful looks  across the dancefloor at parties…

With that in his head, he knocked at the door.

It felt like forever  until Hazel opened the door, but it probably took her around thirty  seconds or even less. Her face was one of shock as she was met by Slash,  holding what she recognized as a vase of gardenias with a little black  note sticking from between the flowers.

Her eyes met his as her mouth hung open in slight shock.

“These are for you.” He smiled tenderly, extending her the vase.

Hazel  picked it up and looked down at the white flowers before looking back up. “Are you my secret admirer, the one that’s been sending me all the flowers and notes?” She asked with a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Well… yeah.” Slash said, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy smile. “Can I come in?” He asked.

“Fuck, sure.” Hazel laughed, letting him walk inside.

She settled the flowers in the little table by the door where she kept her keys before turning to look at him.

Slash  understood that she waited for a small explanation. “I know you love  flowers and the whole meaning behind them, and I wanted to give you  something that would make you smile… even if you didn’t know that I’d be the one doing it.” He explained, pulling her by the waist. “Because I  really like you…” He smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear.

Hazel  bit her lower lip to suppress her grin before leaning up for a kiss. He  was quick to respond, moving slowly and deeply against her until they  had to break apart for air.

“You should have said something sooner…” She mumbled, wrapping her arms around his head.

“I  wasn’t sure if you liked me back. I didn’t to ruin what we had…” He explained, swiftly picking her up. “But we’re going to have a lot of  time to make up for what we lost.” He smirked, kissing her again.

Hazel smirked between the kiss. Sure as well they would, because there was no way she was ever letting go of him again.

——

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, reblogs, comments and any kind of way you show me you liked this are endlessly appreciated💛

Requests are open.

Let me know if you want to be tagged so you know when I post things.

It was just ten minutes after Hazel got home from work that her doorbell rang. She walked to the door, confused as to who it could be, and opened it slightly, peaking outside since she didn’t have a peephole.

A mailman stood on the other side with a bouquet of jasmine. “Miss Harper?” He questioned. Hazel nodded. “This is for you.” He extended them with a smile.

Hazel opened the door a bit more so she could take them. It smelled amazing and, once she held it, she realized that it wasn’t a bouquet, it was a vase. She thanked the man and closed the door behind herself, holding the flowers to her nose and smelling them again.

A small smile graced her lips as she made her way to the living room, setting the vase down on the small coffee table so it could get enough sunlight. A little note scribbled with a white pen on a black paper caught her eyes.

I want your love let’s break the wall between us

Hazel smiled. Aerosmith. Good taste.

[…]

The little gift had kept a smile on Hazel’s face through out the week and a question on her mind.

Who sent it?

It ended up slipping away from her mind, like many other things did. She had spent a lot of that week’s time with Slash and it always seemed to make her forget everything. What hour she was supposed to get in at work, when to call her mother…

It only popped up in her head again when the band came to her place to hang out and Steven noticed the flowers.

“These are pretty.” He smiled as she handed him a beer.

“They really are.” She smiled, looking attentively at each flower to make sure none of them looked bad.

“Where did you get them?” Duff asked, not really remembering seeing flower shops around the Strip.

“Oh, someone sent them to me.” She shrugged, taking a seat besides Slash on the couch.

“Who?” Axl asked from his spot on the arm chair, eyeing the flowers curiously.

“I don’t know really. The only thing that came with them was a little black paper with some Aerosmith’s lyrics on it.” She answered.

Axl was looking at Slash now. He had seen the guitarist buy some black paper sheets one day after rehearsals.

“What did you do with it?” Slash asked, taking a sip from the bottle of Daniel’s that she had given him.

“It’s on my mirror. I thought it was really cute.”

Axl noticed Slash smile. And so did Izzy. But none of them said anything.

[…]

The same thing happened a week later. This time it was on a weekend and Axl had popped up to hang out.

The same mailman delivered the flowers. This time it was a vase of red carnations, not that Axl knew. The same black paper came in between the flowers and this time, lyrics to Rolling Stones “Miss you”.

I’ve been sleeping all aloneI want to kiss you

Well, I’ve been haunted in my sleepYou’ve been starring in my dreams

Axl watched as Hazel grinned widely, looking between the paper and the flowers.

“What are these?” He asked, eyeing the vibrant red color.

“Carnations.” She answered, setting the flowers on the kitchen table.

Axl was silent for a bit, thinking. “Don’t flowers have meanings to some people?”

Hazel was silent for a bit, looking at the carnations and the jasmine in the living room. “Yeah. Jasmine represents modesty, love and sensuality. Red carnations symbolize love, pride and admiration.”

Axl hummed comprehensively. He watched her leave the room with the small paper between her fingers, making her way to her small vanity and placing it next to the other.

The redhead started thinking to himself.

[…]

It was the third week a vase was delivered to her door. This time, Guns n’ Roses had came to hang out while her mother was visiting. Hazel sure had been having an interesting afternoon. Between filtering the stories that the guys told and blushing at the embarrassing stories her mother told while she hid against Slash, she had been having a good time.

The doorbell rang and Hazel made her way to it, being greeted by the exact same mailman.

“I think I should start having some cookies here for you. You’re always the same one to show up.” She smiled widely, accepting the vase of sunflowers as the man laughed and agreed with her. “Oh my God they’re so beautiful!” Hazel grinned, thanking the man with a small nod and closing the door.

“It’s your secret admirer again?” Axl asked with a teasing smile.

Hazel rolled her eyes, leaving the sunflowers on her living room window before returning to the kitchen were everyone had settled.

“Secret admirer?” Her mother asked curiously. “You didn’t tell me you had a secret admirer.”

“It’s not a secret admirer…” Hazel blushed, trying to dismiss the whole thing. She was, though, well aware that it was a secret admirer.

“What do you call someone who secretly sends you romantic gifts?” Izzy asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Get bent Stradlin…” She mumbled as her eyes fell on the black paper that had come with all the other vases.

I wanna love you and treat you right;I wanna love you every day and every night…

“So, lyrics from who this time?” Slash asked and Axl eyed him sideways, trying to get any hint that the man actually had sent them.

“Bob Marley.” Hazel grinned, biting her lower lip.

To outsiders, Hazel didn’t seem the kind of girl to like reggae, but to those who knew her closely, they knew about her passion for the reggae rhythms.

And Slash knew them better than anybody, because despite not knowing, he was the only one that Hazel allowed to see her fully enjoying reggae music. While the others saw her humming the songs and tapping her feet to the beat, Slash got to listen to her sing them and dance to them. Around her kitchen in the morning when he crashed on her couch. During weekends when he stopped by at lunch. During summer afternoons when none of them felt like going out..

Axl saw Hazel’s mother look adoringly between Slash and her daughter. Mother instincts aren’t wrong are they?

[…]

The fourth time Hazel had gotten flowers, it had been a different guy delivering them and she came into the living room with a small smile on her face while looking down at the orange roses.

“Your secret love again?” Slash asked from her couch, smiling adoringly at her happy face.

“Yeah.” She said, walking up to her living room window and setting them down on the small table near it.

She looked for the small paper that always came along and soon found it. She picked it between her fingers and as soon as she read the very first words, a gigantic grin formed on her lips.

Slash bit his lower lip to prevent his growing smile. “Which song?” He asked. Pointless. He knew which it was. It would have been weird if he didn’t, considering he both played the song and wrote the lyrics on that small piece of paper.

“Sweet child o’ mine.” She said, walking up to the couch and straddling Slash, not thinking twice about the action.

They’d always been pretty close, so this wasn’t weird for them. Not even when she rested her head on his shoulder while she reread the words.

She’s got a smile that it seems to meReminds me of childhood memoriesWhere everything was as freshAs the bright blue sky

“What do those stand for?” Slash pointed to the flowers. Once again, a pointless question. He’d heard her talk about flowers so many times and had actually read a book on the matter before choosing each flower he had gifted to make sure he got it all right.

“Orange roses stand for desire and passion.” She said quietly, curling up into his arms. She felt safe and at home.

Slash smiled, running his hands over her back.

[…]

Axl walked into his room to find Slash going through his records.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked, and although the singer sounded mad, he was just confused.

“Do you have Queen’s A Day at the Races?” Slash asked, still flipping through the records.

“Yeah.” Axl said, walking up to the box where he kept them and easily finding it. “But why do you want it?” He smirked mischievously before he handed it to Slash.

“Want to check something on the lyrics of one of the songs.” Slash explained trying to get the album. Axl ducked way from Slash’s hand.

“Why?” The redhead teased, cocking his head to the side. “Need more lyrics to write to Hazel?”

He saw Slash’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush for a split second before his expression turned cool again. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t lie shithead.” Axl smirked victoriously. “I saw you buying the paper last month. And why else would you drive up all the way to the place where the only flower shop around here is every week?”

Slash sighed in defeat. He wasn’t in the mood to try to lie to Axl. The fucker just ended up knowing anyways.

“Okay, yeah, I’ve been sending her the flowers. So what?” He shrugged.

“Sap.” Axl joked, though he knew he himself could be worse. “Just grow some balls and tell her already.” He handed the recorded to Slash.

He flipped it open and looked at the lyrics of the song he had in mind. Teo Torriate, one of Hazel’s favourites.

“Fuck you.” He simply answered, handing the record back to the lead singer and leaving his room.

[…]

Since the last vase of flowers, Hazel had been trying to guess who had been giving her these gifts.

It was someone close to her. They offered her cases instead of bouquets, which Hazel preferred since it didn’t kill the plants. The lyrics belonged to songs and artists she loved. The meanings of the flowers had been clear. Well, not much for the sunflower, considering it wasn’t necessarily a romantic flower, but she liked to believe they had chosen it because they knew she loved them.

She didn’t knew many people who seemed to be that interested in flowers and she really only talked to Slash and his mother about it.

Very few people knew she liked reggae. Only her closest friends, like Slash and the rest of the guys knew.

Slash…

Hazel smiled at the thought that he might had been gifting her these, but she quickly shrugged it aside. This was too sappy for Slash and also, he wasn’t interested in her.

It stung, but it was the truth.

She continued to try her guesses, but her mind ended up going back to Slash every once in a while, so she just gave up. Whoever it was would have to approach her if they wanted something.

[…]

Slash took in a shaky breath as he stood on Hazel’s doorway.

Just grow some balls and tell her already…

Those word had stayed in his head. What did he have to lose anyways?

Her friendship you idiot!

Slash didn’t believe that his feelings were one sided anymore. He knew friends didn’t cuddle the way they did. He knew friends didn’t give each other lustful looks across the dancefloor at parties…

With that in his head, he knocked at the door.

It felt like forever until Hazel opened the door, but it probably took her around thirty seconds or even less. Her face was one of shock as she was met by Slash, holding what she recognized as a vase of gardenias with a little black note sticking from between the flowers.

Her eyes met his as her mouth hung open in slight shock.

“These are for you.” He smiled tenderly, extending her the vase.

Hazel picked it up and looked down at the white flowers before looking back up. “Are you my secret admirer, the one that’s been sending me all the flowers and notes?” She asked with a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Well… yeah.” Slash said, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy smile. “Can I come in?” He asked.

“Fuck, sure.” Hazel laughed, letting him walk inside.

She settled the flowers in the little table by the door where she kept her keys before turning to look at him.

Slash understood that she waited for a small explanation. “I know you love flowers and the whole meaning behind them, and I wanted to give you something that would make you smile… even if you didn’t know that I’d be the one doing it.” He explained, pulling her by the waist. “Because I really like you…” He smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear.

Hazel bit her lower lip to suppress her grin before leaning up for a kiss. He was quick to respond, moving slowly and deeply against her until they had to break apart for air.

“You should have said something sooner…” She mumbled, wrapping her arms around his head.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked me back. I didn’t to ruin what we had…” He explained, swiftly picking her up. “But we’re going to have a lot of time to make up for what we lost.” He smirked, kissing her again.

Hazel smirked between the kiss. Sure as well they would, because there was no way she was ever letting go of him again.

——

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, reblogs, comments and any kind of way you show me you liked this are endlessly appreciated💛

Requests are open.

Let me know if you want to be tagged so you know when I post things.

Thanks @sodalitefully and @onlyaxlrose for beta-reading this💛

[dukeofdogs]

You liked the Netflix show and want more stuff from The Witcher universe? Here’s Thronebreaker: The Witcher Tales.

Did you like all the strong female characters that were in the show?

Well, let me introduce you to Meve, the queen of Lyria and Rivia. She's just as badass as her cintrian cousin Calanthe  in my humble opinion she’s a whole lot better. She’s a strong single mom who just wants to get rid of Nilfgaardians that invaded her kingdom. Did I mention that she wears a golden full plate armor? (no boobplates in sight!). The. coolest. female. protagonist. in. games. since. forever.

Or maybe you fell head over heels in love with Jaskier?

Yes? Then you're going to love the Duke of Dogs, Earl of Mutts, High King of Huckleberries, His Trampy Highness, His Sparky Lordship, the one and only - Gascon. He's just as charming and funny as Joey Batey's Jaskier, but he's way way waaaaaaay cooler.

Or maybe you like soft men who only live on the respect-your-queen juice?

Meet Reynard Odo, the most loyal friend you can have. (his relationship with Gascon is just as funny and wholesome as Geralt and Jaskier's!!!). And not to spoil anything but this fella has some feelings for his queen 👀

Perhaps you have a good taste in music? Well, every song on Thronebreaker soundtrack slaps. Main theme? Slaps Taming a Stray? Slaps Retribution? Slaps Duke of Dogs? Are you chopping onions? Cause I’m about to cry!

"But, ma'am, how can this game be this cool, when we aren’t able to play as a witcher?! Surely this queen can't beat a monster all by herself! The Witcher world with no interesting monsters to kill is no fun at all!"

You think a horde of monsters can stop Queen Meve and her army from taking back her kingdom??? Give Thronebreaker a try and see for yourself that no wivern, drowner or an ancient swamp goddess can stand a chance when they meet Queen Meve!

"Okay, fine. But how can a war story focused mostly on politics be fun?" you might ask. Well, believe me or not, it truly is entertaining! Each choice you'll make during your adventure will have consequences later in the story. You have the power to decide how the history will remember you. But be careful! Most of the times you'll be choosing between lesser and greater evil.

"Hmmm, that sounds fun. But why is the gameplay based on Gwent? I hate cardgames!"

My dear friend, it might look like Gwent, but it surly doesn't play like a typical card game. This one will make you believe you are actually leading your army into the battle. Imagine if Heroes of Might and Magic III had kids with Puzzle Agent, slap a story written in the spirit of Sapkowski's books on it and you'll get the masterpiece that is Thronebreaker! And if you find the gameplay dull and just want to enjoy the story, you can skip battles on the lowest difficulty level!

"I'm still not convinced. I don't know why would I invest my time into a story that doesn't have any characters from the show..."

Oh boy oh boy! This is the only game that takes place in the books timeline (or as you might prefer: during the timeline that will hopefully be included in the show). A lot of the characters already introduced in the show makes appearance in the game too! By playing Thronebreaker you'll meet a better version of Eyck of Denesle, there's a fun Geralt and co. cameo taken straight from the books. Keep your eyes open and you'll even notice a certain dragon-friend! And I promise you, the rest of the gang you’ll get to know is very well written and you’ll grow to love them all.

You like cool views and gorgeous graphics? By playing Thronebreaker: The Witcher Tales you'll be able to visit some neat places such as: a breathtaking lands of Lyria and Rivia, the snowy peaks of Mahakam, Yennefer's homeland - Aedirn (bring a sunscreen with you it might get hot and full of Elves there insurance not included). Visit Shrek's cousin in the exotic swamps of Angren now and you’ll get leaches for free! This magical trip can be yours for just 30$ (or wait for a sale and get it for 15$!).

Perhaps you want to make some great friends?

Well, Thronebreaker fandom despite being very small is one of the best communities you can find. Check out our discord server now and you’ll get the best TB memes for free!

Oh, and a cute pupper can join your team and will eat snacks from your hand during battles!

"WHERE CAN I BUY THIS GAME???" Thronebreaker is available to purchase on GOG.com, Steam or PS4/XOne. Keep in mind that by buying the game on GOG you'll get some neat freebees for Gwent! and all your money will go to the beautiful folks at CDPR!  

[go--ask--alice]

Exordium

It Started With a Kiss

[Author’s Note: The next three posts will be a continuation of a single event. They take place over the course of one night. It’s been broken up into three smaller parts.]

This is Alice and The Joker’s very first encounter. She had devised an intricate plan to sneak into The Grin & Bare It and come face to face with the man she’d been obsessed with for most of her adult life. After entering the club and making her way to a back storage room, she quietly snuck up to the area she knew J’s office resided. Everything almost ended before it began when a guard came upon her near the stairs. Alice played the “lost little girl” card and managed to get away from the guard with just a stern warning. When she finally found the correct door she was shocked to find it partially open. Peaking inside she found him. The Joker, sitting at the private bar, with his back to her. Summoning all her courage, she quietly stepped inside and laid a soft kiss to his pale cheek. Time seemed to stop as she waited for him to react. This was the moment that would ultimately seal her fate. She just didn’t know yet which direction it would lead her.

🃏 Joker

👑 Alice

------------

💋

🃏 *Turns to see where the kiss came from with a stern face* To whom do I owe the pleasure of this… little peck?

👑 *Jumps back a bit and extends a hand tentatively.* That would be me Sir.. it’s a pleasure to meet you, sorry for invading your personal space so boldly. I.. well I just couldn’t help myself. *Turns a deep shade of red at being so bold.*

🃏 *Looks around to see if you came with any goons or companions.* So… *snarky tone* is it just you? Or do you have some friends waiting in the wings. *I clutch my cane as I look you up and down curiously*

👑 No.. no Sir. Just me.. is that alright? I hope I’m not getting anyone in trouble by being here? *Turns around to the door.* Well it was open and I knew you’d be in here, I just couldn't resist getting a glimpse of you.

🃏 *I smirk. I love having my ego stroked* And how did you just know I’d be in here? Why are you such a fan of the Clown Prince? I don’t exactly have a traditional fan club. One might think you’re a little… mad. *Walks around you slowly taking you in.*

👑 *I turn my head to follow as you move around me.* Well people talk. I just happen to pay attention to what they say, or sometimes more importantly what they choose not to say. *I stand a little taller.* And I wouldn’t call myself a traditional person. I like to seek out the strange and different. You Mr. J, have both those qualities in abundance. It’s very… appealing. *I give you a wink as you pass infront of me agian.*

🃏 Well aren’t you a brave little chatter box. *Cackles* Flattery will get you everyhere *Pins you to the bar but then reaches behind you for a glass and starts pouring a drink* How rude of me! Can I get you something?

👑 My apologies.. I tend to ramble on when I’m nervous. *My heart rate spikes as you pin me. You’re so very close.* Umm.. a drink? *My brain goes a bit fuzzy.* Something sweet? You pick Sir, dealers choice.

🃏 *So many dangerous concoctions come to mind but I contain my eagerness.* Do you like cherries? *We only have scotch at this bar. I’m the only one who drinks back here. It’s a private space so I decide that if you like cherries I’ll have to throw something sweet together for you using it.*

👑 Oh I love cherry! But please nothing too strong. I’m not much of a drinker.

🃏 How about a “blood and sand”? *I start mixing it in front of you licking my metal teeth* I’ll go easy on the scotch… what was your name?

👑 Hmm interesting, that sounds delicious! *I try to concentrate on watching you mix the drink but my eyes are glued to your mouth, your tongue sneaking out makes my knees go a little weak* Oh goodness! That is so rude of me! *I extended a hand.* Malice, well.. Alice really. But Malice just sounds so much more, I don’t know? Intriguing.

🃏 Well which is it doll face? *Chuckles* Or do you have split personalities? *Licks liquor off fingers and hands you the drink.*

👑 Well it’s really up to you I guess. But Alice is just fine. *I’m staring at your mouth again as I take the glass from your hand, my fingers barely grazing yours.* Looks delicious! *I take a small sip.* And tastes even better. Thank you!

🃏 Up to me? *Chuckles* We just met and I’m already making decisions for you? You want to know what I think? I think you have very, very good manners. And that part is Alice I don’t think I’ve met Malice just yet. *Cackles*

👑 *I raise my glass to you.* That Mr. J, is a very wise observation.

🃏 So… maybe I should call you Miss Manners instead. *Picks up your hand and kisses it.*

👑 That’s sweet, but really Alice is just fine. *A giggle escapes my mouth as you kiss my hand. I hold my breath, not wanting you to let go.*

🃏 Ok Alice it is. You can call me Mr. J if you like. *Snarls as I notice a henchmen walking by.* Excuse me. It’s hard to find good help these days. *Walks over to the henchmen laughing. As he laughs back I stab him in the neck with a pen and watch as he wriggles around spurting blood onto my shirt and pants. I walk back in removing my shirt.* Sorry about that little… interruption. Now where we’re we?

👑 *I nod, mouth hanging open.* Mr. J it is then. *I swallow hard as you growl at the passing henchman. Hoping he’s not the one to blame for me wandering into your private room.* I’m not actually interrupting anything am I?? *I back up til the bar hits my back.*

🃏 Ohhhhhhhh no no no not at all! *I start wringing my shirt out over the sink.* This is going to stain! *Growls* So… Miss Alice. *Removes pants and shoes and walks to a skinny closet removing another shirt and pants.* Tell me a little bit about yourself.

👑 Oh Mr. J you need to get those clothes into cold water if you want any chance of getting those stains out! Me? Hmm what’s there to really say? *Tries desperately not to stare as you undress infront of me.* There isn’t much of any interest about me, especially compared to someone like yourself.

🃏 I find that hard to believe. *Stares at you.* Do you happen to be good with getting stains out? I must say that I try to be careful but sometimes…

👑 Well I’m honestly a bit of a home body. I love to read. I’m good with my hands. *I step up to the sink next to you.* And yeah, you need to soak those is cold water and wash them immediately or they’ll be ruined!

🃏 *Watches you as you approach the sink. My hands start to tremble as the water turns on and you submerge the clothes underneath.* Good with your hands? Please…elaborate.

👑 *I let out an honest laugh.* Well I like to make things. I enjoying cooking, fixing things. I have an eye for detail. Ofcourse there is a whole other list of things I enjoy doing with my hands, but I don’t know if I should be so bold? Atleast not just yet. *I smile up at you.* Have any kind of soap back here?? You need to treat these stains fast or they’ll set.

🃏 *My mind is spinning, you may prove useful if I can trust you. I have been needing a woman’s touch around here although I will never admit it. I have been eating take out every day for the past month. I have been throwing clothing away and holding houses of couture hostage for replacements. Now if you could do laundry that would save me having to hold designers at gunpoint* I think we have something. *Sets dish soap in front of you.* How’s that? *Leans in to watch you work.*

👑 Hmm it’ll have to work.. *I squeeze the soap onto as many of the stains as I can, working it into a good lather.* Alright, you need to let this sit for a little while then it must be washed right away. I still can’t promise the stains will come all the way out. *I can feel you leaning over my shoulder, it makes me break out in goosebumps having you so very close.*

🃏 Are you cold? *I lean in closer* You have goosebumps. *I trail my finger over your arm and smile.*

👑 No.. not at all. I’m actually rather warm. *I can feel the blush creep up my neck. Just feeling your fingers trail over my skin is burning me up.*

🃏 *I turn my head into you slightly as I notice you flush. I can see that I’m having an affect on you and it makes me snarl. I’m like a tiger with prey in my sight.*

👑 *Hearing you snarl behind me is almost more than I can handle. I feel my knees buckle and I push away from the sink to give myself a moment to breathe. I’m practically panting as I try to avoid your piercing gaze.*

🃏 Say! Since you waltzed in here like a curious kitten. How would you like to stay a while? I need someone who can prove useful to me and I don’t know why, but I like you. *Points a finger shaking it like mad and laughing. My laugh becomes a devious cackle.*

👑 *The shock must be written on my face.* You want me? To stay? Mr. J, I don’t know what to say!! *A huge grin spreads across my face, my eyes alight.*

🃏 Well… don’t just stand there woman. *Growls* Make yourself useful. *Turns back and grins.*

👑 *I jump at your command* Umm what would you like me to do sir? I’m afraid I don’t really know my way around here too well. Would you give me a tour? *I put on the puppy eyes for you, hoping it will illicit another touch from you. I’m hopeful but I don’t want to press my luck.*

🃏 *Looks at watch and then back at you.* I’m a bit short on time doll. This will have to be quick. *Grabs your wrist and pulls you into the club.* This is The Grin & Bare It, pretty self explanatory no? *Squeezes your hand a little.*

👑 *Nods, taking in all the lights and sounds. I squeeze your hand back on reflex.*

🃏 *Pulls you roughly into the back office.* This is my office. *I lean on a large heavy wooden desk.* I come here to get a full view of the club. *Points to surveillance cameras.*

👑 *You practically drag me back through the door. I step around the desk to stand next to you, the cameras are all busy with movement.* Wow, that’s a lot of people… how do you manage this whole thing? You don’t do it alone, do you?? *I lean into one of the monitors, transfixed by the dancers swaying to the music.*

🃏 *I decide I’ve got a little more time when you show interest in the operations. My ego is swelling again as you mention the management of the club and the implication that it’s difficult.* You know it’s something I just take pride in. *Leans in to look with you making an insane face.* It’s quite the operation, but I believe that good employees should be rewarded, and I get rid of my bottom 10% monthly. I make sure they get a nice… “severance package” Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!

👑 So, was Mr. Bloodstain in the bottom 10% this month??

🃏 Precisely - you catch on quick Alice! *Grins and points to dancer in a cage* See that? They are a handful, always getting greedy, always developing…. problematic inclinations. But they are a necessary element. They entertain the sort of characters this club attracts. Thoughts?

👑 *I eye the dancers up, I feel a pang of something in my gut. Not jealous, but envy maybe that they are able to catch your eye. Even if it’s fleeting and problematic.* They seem very popular. Definetly a nessacary evil I suppose. So Mr. J when you asked me to stay, did you mean here exclusively? And how much time do you spend on the premises?

🃏 *Stares at you intensely.* Well I don’t want to… hold you against your will. I’d like it if you became key staff, with me. Of course I understand if that doesn’t work for you.

👑 Oh no! You misunderstand me! I want to stay! I was just curious.. *I turn away, knowing I’m turning red again.* I guess I was just wondering how much time I might get to spend well, with you?

🃏 You want to spend time with me? *Grins* Well. That. Is. A. First!

👑 Well silly, you are whole reason I snuck myself back to your private bar. *I catch myself from rolling my eyes at you.*

🃏 Did you just call me… silly??

👑 Just with all those pretty girls out there, I didn’t think you’d want to spend any time with me.

🃏 *Smiles* Well… No one out there has taken blood stains out of my shirt before.

👑 *I blink a few times* Ye-yes Sir I did..

🃏 You are lucky you are so beautiful… you should see that last guy who called me silly. *Cackles and pulls out a switchblade.*

👑 I hope I’m not overstepping any lines with you Mr. J.. *I lean up onto my tiptoes.* But I find you to be incredibly beautiful.. *I give you a small kiss on the cheek.* ..in a very powerful, masculine, dangerous way of course! *I give you a wink.*

🃏 *A fire burns inside me when you kiss my cheek. It’s so hot that I roll my neck back and purr. I grab your hand and pull you to the stairs and down to the garage.*

👑 *As you drag me behind you I blurt out.* Oh god.. I’m so so sorry.. I shouldn’t have done that…

🃏 *Drags you without saying anything, walking with purpose.*

👑 *I almost try to pull away, but you turn and the look in your eyes makes me have to catch my breath, it’s feral and dangerous.*

🃏 This is my car. *Points to purple lamborghi.* Get in. *Still staring at you with my chest heaving.* Don’t make me say it twice.

👑 *I hastily climb into the passenger side and sit. I nervously buckle myself in, still so unsure of your intentions.*

🃏 *I lean over your body and check to make sure you buckled yourself in correctly and then stop to hover over you with my lips inches from yours.*

👑 *I can’t even think straight with your mouth so very close to mine, the urge to lean forward and really kiss you is so strong.*

🃏 *I pull the lap belt tight and grin.* Can’t have you falling out. *And with that I peel out.* We are headed to my humble abode so I can complete the tour you so graciously asked for.

👑 *I giggle* Well aren’t you the full service type! I like that in a man.

🃏 I think we are going to get along Alice…*Looks you up and down as I park then opens your door.*

👑 Oh I sure hope so Mr. J. *I met your hungry stare, positive that you’re seeing the same look on my face.*

🃏 *Takes your hand.*

👑 Such a gentleman..

🃏 *Smirks* Welcome to the hideout!! *Massive mansion.* I trust you have discretion?

👑 Oh of course Sir. For my eyes and ears only!

🃏 Mmmm…. indeed *I pull you up the stairs, walk in and drop my blazer onto a chaise lounge.* Are you hungry? Thirsty?

👑 You seem so very eager to get me alone Mr J. *I follow behind you as quickly as I can, trying not to trip up the large staircase.*

🃏 *Snaps at you.* What are you saying? That I’m a common pervert?

👑 Oh never! *I step very close, looking up at you.* There is nothing common about you.. *I reach out and put a shaking hand on your chest.* And I don’t believe you want me to answer that question sir. What I hunger for may shock you.

🃏 You are quite the flirt my sweet. *Clutches your hand.*

👑 Oh you have no idea my dear.. *I raise our clasped hands and place a kiss on your ring.* So you going to show me more of this extravagant home of yours??

🃏 *Hands shaking as you kiss my ring. I want to devour you.* What would you like to see first doll?

👑 You alright Mr J?? You’re shaking a bit..

🃏 How about the living room?

👑 *I think for a moment.* Honestly? The kitchen! I live for those huge old fashion kitchens. I bet yours has every bell and whistle available!

🃏 *Thinks ‘holy shit I hit the jackpot’ and gets excited. I practically carry you into the kitchen.* I haven’t spent any time in here but I think you might like it? *It has every appliance you can think of. I open the fridge and pull out a pie.*

👑 *I’m practically drooling.. it’s honestly embarrassing.* Do you have a butler’s pantry?? *I’m way to excited.*

🃏 Want a piece? Sure - it’s over there. *Points*

👑 Mm what kind is it??

🃏 Blueberry.

👑 *I’m barely paying you any mind as I enter the pantry.* I could do so much with a kitchen like this. I swear it’s bigger than my first apartment!

🃏 *Has a bit of blueberry on my lip.* Great - consider this part of your domain. Don’t burn anything, I hate the smell of burnt anything. *Makes a sour face.*

👑 *I peek my head back out of the doorway* Blueberry? That sounds delicious! Oh.. Sir you seem to have a bit on your lip. *I run my thumb over your bottom lip before licking it clean.* Yup. Definetly delicious.

🃏 *Flinches at first when you touch my lip.* Let me have another taste. *Grabs your thumb and sucks on it.* That is quite good. Think you might like to bake in here?

👑 *I can barely surpress the moan that threatens to escape my throat* What..? *My brain went foggy feeling your lips on my thumb.* Oh yes baking! Absolutely! I could do so much with this kitchen!

🃏 Here… *Hands you a frilly apron.* You should wear this when you are in here. It’s for show. I don’t cook! *Laughs* Except barbecue, that I can do. *Winks*

👑 Heh! For you? Sure I’ll wear it! *I mumble.* ..and I’d very much like to kiss the cook…

🃏 What was that doll?

👑 Huh? Oh nothing.. *I shake my head* How about the slice of pie? I am pretty hungry.

🃏 *Cuts you a slice and passes it to you, then watches as you eat it.*

👑 Hmm Mr. J… Where do you keep your forks? Hah I don’t want to make a mess, you know blueberries stain just as bad as blood!

🃏 You can make a mess if you want. *Grins* They are over there. *Points to drawer.* Wait don’t open that one. The other one.

👑 Oh really? *I drag my finger through the dark purple filling.*Whose gonna clean up that mess? Huh? *I lick my finger clean, then grab two forks from the drawer* You gonna help me eat this?

🃏 *Grabs a fork and eats right out of the middle. I grab you suddenly and then put you up on the counter. I grab pie and smear it on your shirt.* You should take that off before it stains. *Stares at you.*

👑 *I stare at you, dumbfounded.* Well fair is fair.. I’d hate to see you ruin two shirts tonight. But oh well! *Grabs a handful of pie and swears it across your jaw and down your chest.* Looks like you have to take off yours too! *Pulls my top off revealing a dark purple lace bra.* Your move clown..

🃏 Careful Alice. *Looks down at your bra.* That is my absolute favorite color.

👑 Careful what sir? *I use my discarded shirt to wipe a bit of pie off your nose.*

🃏 Careful calling me names. You can call me Mr. J or something more comfortable once I get to know you better. *Takes off shirt letting it drop to the floor.*

👑 I’m sorry Mr. J. It won’t happen again. *I stare unashamedly at your exposed chest.*

🃏 See something of interest?

👑 Hmm yes sir. You. You look good enough to eat. *I bite my bottom lip as I look down your pale muscular body.*

🃏 *I pull your hand to my body and exhale.* So eat if you’re hungry. *Smirks and starts biting the pad of flesh between your wrist and thumb.*

👑 *I use my other hand to pull you closer to me, your body is flush with the counter between my open thighs.* Sir!! That tickles!! *I try to pull my wrist away, but you’ve got me in a death grip.*

🃏 *I dip down and start nibbling your neck.*

👑 Oh god.. *I wrap my hand in your hair and pull you back til we are face to face agian. Panting, I whisper* Mr. J… please, please kiss me…

🃏 *I chuckle.* So very eager Alice, yet so very very polite.

👑 Oh you have no idea…

🃏 *Grabs you by the back of the neck and kisses you.*

👑 *I melt into your kiss, my body feels like jello as your lips move against mine.*

🃏 *I pull back and put my finger under your chin. I kiss the side of your face and your chin.*

👑 *I’m gasping for air as your lips gently brush my skin.* Oh.. oh Mr. J…

🃏 Take a deep breath Alice. *Chuckles*

👑 *I let out a slow exhale and laugh.* Sorry.. I just can’t help it. You do something to me, I can’t think straight when you’re this close to me.

🃏 *Pours you a glass of water.* Drink.

👑 *Takes a small sip.* Thank you. Again, I’m sorry. I just got a little over excited.

🃏 So…. Tell me, did you put that bra on just for me? *Snaps your bra strap.*

👑 That is a very likely possibility. *I jump as you snap my strap.* And you know Mr. J.. this bra is part of a matching set.

🃏 Show me, I want to see those pretty little purple panties.

👑 Oh my Sir.. that is a bold request. *I push you back slightly and hop down from the counter.* You want me to put on a little show for you?

🃏 *Pulls a chair up sitting in it backwards.* Do it *Heavy breathing*

👑 *I take a deep breath.* What have I gotten myself into.. *I mutter mostly to myself. I run my hands down my chest, pausing to brush my finger tips over my hard nipples, the purple lace not leaving much to the imagination. I slowly pop the button on my tight black jeans, with shaky hands I lower the zipper.* Tell me what you want to see Mr. J.. I need to hear you say it.

🃏 *I growl as I watch you touch yourself.* Put on a show for Daddy J. Let’s see those panties.

👑 *I lean forward, resting my arms on the top of the chair your sitting on, I’m almost nose to nose with you.* You wanna be my Daddy, Mr. J?? *I kiss the tip of your nose.*

🃏 *I use my cane to hold you in place* Little fucking tease… *I’m hard now as you hover over me.* I think you need a daddy, don’t you?

👑 *I pull away and stand back up.* Only if you promise to be my Daddy. I wouldn’t want anyone else. *With very calculated moves I inch the tight jeans down my hips, once they are to about my knees I turn away from you and bend over at the waist. I make sure to give you a nice view of my lace clad behind. I wiggle my hips as I stand back up, kicking the jeans off my feet.* Well now what Mr. J?? You seem to have me at a disadvantage in the clothing department.

🃏 *I stand up and make an effort to look at every single inch of you.* Since you asked so nicely. *Removes pants, socks and shoes throwing them over my shoulder as I stare at you. I’m standing in my emerald green silk Gucci boxers.* Miss Malice… it’s so nice to finally meet you.

👑 Mmm well aren’t we quite the matching set? I’d have guessed that was your favorite color.

🃏 *I’m all over you in an instant inhaling the scent of your hair and skin.*

👑 *I wrap my arms around your slender waist.* Oh god.. you feel so good against my body…

🃏 *I start sucking on your neck softly.*

👑 *My nails dig into the flesh on your hips.* Oh fuck Mr. J.. please.. I need you. *I moan openly as your mouth goes to work at my neck.*

🃏 *I suddenly pull back away from you.* I want to know how many times you have thought about this very moment. With my mouth on you, my body pressed up against you, in your pretty bra and panties *I snarl and grab my erection.* How many times did you touch yourself thinking about it?

👑 I’m almost embarrassed to answer that.. *I giggle at the thought.* I’ve thought about your body on mine for so very long. I’ve even dreamt about it. *I run my fingertips along the edge of my panties.* You like the idea of me touching myself while I think about you??

🃏 *I grab a pair of kitchen sheers and walk toward you. I press my cock onto you looking down as it touches the crotch of your panties and then I look up at you and snip both sides of the panties salivating as they fall away from you.* It’s my favorite idea right now.

👑 *I reach forward and run my hand ever so slightly over the obvious bulge in your boxers.* May I touch you sir?

🃏 *I purr and push forward.* Yes you may. Yes you fucking may.

👑 *I run my palm over your hard cock.* I’ve thought about touching you like this so many times Mr. J But it’s so much better than I could have ever imagined. *With my free hand I run a finger along my wet needy pussy, when I pull my hand up between us it glistens in the light with my juices.* If you would care for a taste sir, *I lean in so very close to your ear.* ..then I suggest you show me some more of this beautiful home of yours. Preferably a room with a bed.

🃏 Teasing me again Alice? *I pull your hand towards my mouth and pop your fingers into my mouth* Mmmmm…. My little baker dangling the icing in front of me? *Scoops you up over my shoulder abruptly and carries you up a long spiral staircase up to the master bedroom.*

👑 Oh Mr. J.. I live to tease you. *As you carry me up the stairs I take the opportunity to get an eye full of your tight muscled ass as I hang upside-down over your shoulder.*

[margot-stanley]

                               INTRODUCING MARGOT STANLEY

[BEANIE FELDSTEIN, F, SHE/HER] who’s that? oh it’s {MARGOT STANLEY}. i hear they’re {17} and a {JUNIOR} at {CRAWFORD COUNTRY DAY}, have a voice like {SHOSHANA BEAN} and are part of {THE CANARIES}. they’re known to be {+AMBITIOUS, +TALENTED} and {-SELFISH, -JUDGMENTAL}. some people say they remind them of {a strict schedule, a loud mouth, show tunes and power ballads, never letting them see you cry, and always speaking your mind}. only one way to find out! [ria, 26, pst...smh]

BASICS

Full Name: Margot Marie Stanley

Nickname: N/A

Birthday: September 16

Age: 17

Zodiac Sign: Virgo

Hometown: Westerville, OH

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Grade: 11th

School: Crawford Country Day

Occupation / Activities: Student / The Canaries

LIKES/DISLIKES

LIKES: being the best, strict schedules, accomplishing a goal, working smart, sutton foster, musical theater, opportunities to showcase her talent, people magazine’s ‘sexiest man alive,’ attention, praise, romance, tea (the drinking kind), 

DISLIKES: rejection, being undermined, sports, high school, body shaming, social hierarchies

TL;DR BIO

Margot Marie Stanley is the daughter of notorious choreographer Dakota Stanley and suburban local Monica Lerner-Stanley. While her parents are technically still married, their marriage is...non-traditional to say the least. Dakota resides in Los Angeles where he takes many male lovers while Monica remains in Westerville, taking care of Margot and engaging in affairs of her own. It’s an arrangement that works for them, even though Margot hates it. Margot has a one track mind and her sole goal is to finish high school and book a one-way ticket to the big apple where she will pursue her Broadway dreams with a vengeance. In the meantime, she will continue bulldozing her way through community theater productions and trying to take over the Canaries so that maybe they can actually win for once.

FULL BIO

Margot Marie Stanley is the daughter of notorious choreographer Dakota Stanley and suburban local Monica Lerner-Stanley. Monica was the definition of someone who peaked in high school. In her hay day, she was popular, she was beautiful, and boy could she dance. After high school, she went to college for dance where she met Dakota while he was teaching a seminar. They had a whirlwind romance but ultimately, they went their separate ways. Years later, by chance, Dakota was back in Ohio for a dance competition and they reconnected. At this point, Monica was a hasbeen. Still beautiful and still a joy to be around, but her life hadn’t amounted into much at all. She was working as an administrative assistant at Howell Dentistry by day and a Breadstix waitress by night. But something about her charmed Dakota and now that he was older, he was ready to settle down.

Monica and Dakota got married and shortly after gave birth to their first and only child—Margot. Monica’s parents were always skeptical of the marriage and relationship because...well...anyone with eyes could see that Dakota was clearly gay. Monica, desperate to be loved and to have a family of her own, had overlooked the obvious signs and had chosen to be with the only man who had ever promised her commitment. Overtime though, the truth came to light and the couple was faced with an important decision: divorce or...stay together. It was the 21st century and weirder things had definitely happened. So, choosing the non-traditional route, Monica and Dakota decided to stay legally married for Margot’s sake (and for tax-purposes), but they opened their relationship.

Dakota moved to Los Angeles where the dance industry was booming and kept a long list of young, up-and-coming gay men as company. He called them his “business partners,” but Margot knew a sugar baby when she saw one. Monica, on the other hand, kept her affairs more low-key. She stuck to online dating and never saw the same man twice, but the revolving door of lovers that came through their house did build a little bit of resentment in Margot.

When it came to her parents, especially her mother, Margot often felt like the adult. Her mom was a mess and her dad was emotionally awol, so it was always up to her to pick up the pieces when things got complicated. Sometimes she wished they would just get a divorce so she wouldn’t have to dodge questions about them and make excuses for why her dad was in LA while she and her mother were in Westerville, OH. She wished they would just get a divorce so both of them could get a shot at genuine happiness.

Dakota and Monica didn’t see it that way though. Sure, their marriage was void of love, but they got to share the one thing that mattered to both of them the most: Margot. Even though they were separated, both Dakota and Monica considered Margot to be their greatest creation. Dakota poured money and resources into his daughter, enrolling her in dance, singing and acting lessons from an early age. Dakota Stanley made stars and winners and he’d be damned if his daughter wasn’t one of them. Monica, on the other hand, saw her daughter as a best friend. They were a team and no matter what happened, she believed they would be okay as long as they had each other.

Despite being a longtime choreographer for Vocal Adrenaline, Dakota Stanley would’ve rather died than send his own child to a public school. Monica never would’ve been able to afford tuition for Crawford Country Day on her own, but with Dakota’s money, it was possible and then some. On top of all the workload that came with attending one of the top high schools in Ohio, Margot’s schedule was packed with lessons that took place outside of school. She worked with top choreographers and highly sought after vocal and acting coaches, all with the intent to train her for her destiny—Broadway. Ever since she was a little girl, her father instilled in her the desire to be a star. When she got a little older and it became obvious that she had talent, Dakota poured a hefty portion of his expendable income into resources for his child. Monica, having shared some of those dreams when she was younger, supported Margot fully...although she feared her daughter would one day be disappointed.

Margot didn’t share her mother’s fears. Sure, she appreciated the concern, but she was going to be a star. It was as true as the grass was green and the sky was blue. She had worked hard for it her entire life and all that effort wouldn’t be for nothing. It couldn’t be. Up until Margot was about thirteen, she moved through the world confidently and with an unmatched certainty about her future. It wasn’t until her audition for Young Cosette in a Lima Player’s production of Les Miserables in the eighth grade that she got her first taste of rejection. Bryan Ryan, an unforgiving community theater director, had not been shy or kind when he told her that she didn’t look like a star and then promptly handed the role over to Kenna Giardi.

The comment and subsequent loss cut Margot like a knife. Luckily, she was strong and she still believed in herself. She didn’t need some washed-up, wannabe theater legend telling her what she looked like or what she could be. However...the further she got from that incident and the less she snagged lead roles...the more she feared that he’d been right. The theater community was small in Ohio and she quickly learned who the power players were. Because of this, it wasn’t lost on her that she didn’t look like Kenna or Gigi Stone or Ivy St. James. But she could sing circles around them all and she was a better actress by a landslide...at least in her eyes.

Each time Margot didn’t get a role she wanted, she became a little harder and more jaded. She just had to get through high school. Maybe her small town in Ohio couldn’t see her for the star she was, but New York would. People that mattered would, and as far as she was concerned? No one in Ohio mattered, especially not the girls she was in constant competition with. Margot’s superior attitude didn’t aid in her making friends, but who needed friends? Certainly not her. So Margot kept to herself. She auditioned and participated in the Lima Players productions as they came, she went to her lessons, and she did what she could do make sure she was a featured soloist for the Canaries. She was outspoken and bold and never shied away from giving her unsolicited opinions because as far as she was concerned, she knew best. If only the Canaries would just listen to her...then maybe they’d have an actual shot at earning a nationals title.

[moonscngsarchive]

bitch do every single one of our ships u feel like doing for that last meme thank u

i bet u thought i forgot hoe .... u rly thought huh !

 ok. .. . . besley first. 

who hogs the duvet: beck oof

who texts/rings to check how their day is going: ummmm i feel like neither? i feel like they would eventually become big on letting the other know that they were safe somewhere when they’re apart for some reason ? the inner machinations of my mind r an enigma.... but i know blake texts him stupid shit like “today is the new moon have u set and manifested your intentions” at 3:45 on a wednesday NO ONE ASKED!!! 

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts: BLAKE i’m sorry beck

who gets up first in the morning: prob beck.... blake stays up all night looking @ her real tru luv (the moon) 

who suggests new things in bed: i don’t feel like either one of them would be like “👉👈 can we....” i rly feel like they both just wing it 100% of the time

who cries at movies: blake :/ 

who gives unprompted massages: beck ?? i think. unless he had a rly rough show or smth then blake would try to be nice.  

who fusses over the other when they’re sick: this is probably a time both of them would be sweet to the other.... so i say both here. they’re the most comfortable w/ each other when one of them is weaker akdmsfaksmgadsf

who gets jealous easiest: BOTH!! but beck . it’s beck.

who has the most embarrassing taste in music: i feel like beck has secret favorites. blake takes herself too seriously fmadsfmam

who collects something unusual: i feel like beckham probably collects beer tabs or broken glass idk he scares me

who takes the longest to get ready: blake. and then she’ll just decide not to go lmao.

who is the most tidy and organised: u m blake no question

who gets most excited about the holidays: neither, they both don’t believe in commercialism/pagan tradition but i know blake puts up a xmas tree

who is the big spoon/little spoon: beck is big spoon :-)

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports: BOOOOOTHHHHHHHHH OF THEM. i feel like blake normally wouldn’t be competitive against anyone BUT beckham. 

who starts the most arguments: lmao..... it’s a toss up. a shit show luv xx

who suggests that they buy a pet: blake would just bring one home. it would be a stray with one eyeball and mange and she would be like “this is my grandma from a past life that is astral projecting into this dog and she lives here now”

what couple traditions they have: i imagine in my head on every anniversary (they probably don’t know an exact date, so rotate picking one day out of the year that they choose is their anniversary like the queen does w her bday fkasdmf) they go find an old abandoned road and try drive quick enough to see the other side of the moon or go see a show at the venue they met @ : ) idk i feel like they try. also their tradition is acting like they don’t like each other.

what tv shows they watch together: i thought abt this so hard. i know they watch unsolved mysteries, probably twin peaks. i also feel like blake likes to watch the crown to fact check everything and beck acts like he hates it but then starts asking her questions. 

what other couple they hang out with: is this... even a question. savannah & brooks ! 

how they spend time together as a couple: fighting or being really nice. no in between. also making fun of other ppl.

who made the first move: did we decide that? KMFDKSMGANS i feel like it was mutual. probably beckham though.

who brings flowers home: neither. lol

who is the best cook: blake ! i feel like she would rly try :( and beck probably burns jello 

BAVANNAH !! 

who hogs the duvet: brooks and he denies it

who texts/rings to check how their day is going: i feel like both do. they’re annoying and r probably like “how are u? where are u at today? what do u need from me?” hate them

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts: i feel like brooks would rly try but savannah would obliterate him. they probably have competitions every year and he continuously loses. 

who gets up first in the morning: brooks, for sure. he never sleeps. stays up too late and wakes up too early and has a coffee iv somwhere probably.

who suggests new things in bed: brooks most likely lmao they probably don’t have sex until they’re 36 tho

who cries at movies: my angel ms savannah . and brooks puts it on his instagram story

who gives unprompted massages: brooks, probably, just 2 ****

who fusses over the other when they’re sick: savannah !! i know it in my heart. brooks always thinks he’s dying.

who gets jealous easiest: BROOOOOOOOKS

who has the most embarrassing taste in music: savannah :/ i’m sry girly

who collects something unusual: i feel like savannah collected weird stuff as a kid fkasmdfasm idk where that vibe came from but i’m sticking w it

who takes the longest to get ready: savannah again..... mdmfmdfm

who is the most tidy and organised: SAVANNAH .A;D,FSKDF IM SORRY. brooks is privileged and had a maid i know he leaves his shit everywhere.

who gets most excited about the holidays: ok i do feel like this is both of them.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: brooks is a very secretive little spoon and makes savannah sign an NDA that she won’t tell beck

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports: brooks !! is!! very!! competitive!!!

who starts the most arguments: um .  brooks again he’s an aries

who suggests that they buy a pet: this is savannah : - ) i love her

what couple traditions they have: idk abt traditions but i feel like they probably have a lot of rituals... like he has to play w her hair for her to fall asleep or smth. now i’m emo.

what tv shows they watch together: i know they watch gilmore girls together i kNOWWW ITTTT and brooks probably made her watch breaking bad.

what other couple they hang out with: if u know u know he heh eheh

how they spend time together as a couple: very touchy feely, a lot of affirmation, naps and watching tv, probably staying up too late playing board games or watching home movies from when they were kids

who made the first move: um literally neither and that’s the worst part

who brings flowers home: brooks ! ! !

who is the best cook: savannah bc brooks is again privileged 

ok last but not least.... brasher :/ i’m scared

who hogs the duvet: they have separate duvets like europeans to avoid conflict 🥰 but brynn probably just gets underneath asher’s anyway

who texts/rings to check how their day is going: both ! i feel like both of their days are really busy, so it probably varies but i know they both do

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts: also feel like this could be both. i feel like they’re both sentimental, but brynn is probably more creative. 

who gets up first in the morning: asher for sure. brynn pulls all nighters all the time.

who suggests new things in bed: also think this is asher akmfmsadf brynn is vanilla

who cries at movies: brynn omg 

who gives unprompted massages: again i think this is brynn ? asher’s always stressed lmao

who fusses over the other when they’re sick: BOTH and they’re both big weenies

who gets jealous easiest: asher when they were younger, brynn as adults.

who has the most embarrassing taste in music: dis brynn. she still loves abba ?? ?

who collects something unusual: brynn collects 100 yr old diaries of strangers from thrift shops bc she thinks they’re romantic and asher thinks they’re all haunted

who takes the longest to get ready: probably brynn bc she procrastinates 

who is the most tidy and organised: this is probably asher. brynn is unknowinging slob, she has to be really intentional abt cleaning up after herself akdsmfaskmd her mind just moves too quick ! 

who gets most excited about the holidays: brynn x29389283. she decorates and goes all out.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: i feel like brynn is just always laying on asher somehow, idk abt cuddling but she’s just always koala’d on him. 

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports: they’re both competitive, they’re fire signs y i k e s 

who starts the most arguments: asher :( sowwy

who suggests that they buy a pet: idk why but i feel like this is asher. brynn probably is too anxious abt giving a pet a good life akmfdkamf

what couple traditions they have: date nights r probably big and they’re probably always leaving handwritten notes to each other 🥺

what tv shows they watch together: they’re probably really into limited series documentaries and get really offended when the other watches an ep without them. i also think they rly like bbc kamdfkasdmf

what other couple they hang out with: they’re hermits prob but mabye one of asher’s clients? ? ? idk.

how they spend time together as a couple: i feel like ever since they lost time while they were apart, they just like to literally be around each other even if it’s doing nothing. that made me emo adkfmadsf. they prob like going on night drives like when they were younger.

who made the first move: back in the day ?? asher for sure.

who brings flowers home: :( i feel like they both bring home things for each other. also this question feels sexist idk why

who is the best cook: i honestly don’t know bc brynn is always moving so fast and asher is rich so ... .. . i’m stumped. neither? 

[greenygreenland]

Wannabe Chapter 6: Star Wars x Reader

'𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗜 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝗲...'𝗖𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗜'𝗺 𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂. 𝗜'𝗺 𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗜'𝗹𝗹 𝗱𝗼 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗱𝗼, 𝗜'𝗹𝗹 𝗱𝗼 𝗶𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂.' -𝗥𝘂𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗔𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗬𝗼𝘂, 𝗠𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘄 𝗠𝗼𝗹𝗲

pt 1

Sitting in the back seat of a taxi should have been a treat after sprinting like a track star through the city. It should have been a relief to finally rest their achy legs and catch their breath, yet...(Y/n)'s anxiety peaked. She hated sitting still in one place because it meant the one thing she wanted to avoid: being a sitting duck. As the cab zoomed through the street, (Y/n) kept her gaze focused on the brightly coloured lights. 

"Didn't know clones could have girlfriends." he said with a friendly chuckle. (Y/n) pulled her cloak further over her face with a wry frown as Fives offered a grumpy scowl in reply. "She's not my girlfriend." 

"That what's gotten you down?" 

(Y/n) and Fives shared an unamused side-glance. "No." There was a bad taste in Fives's mouth. "Can't you just drive?" 

"Sure." There was a playful smile on the driver's lips. "Whatever you say." 

The taxi pulled up to 79's without problem. From where (Y/n) sat, she already felt the vibrations of the music and energy rippling through the bar. There were many people she knew in there, some of which she didn't want to see at the moment. Fives was the first to exit the taxi. He would have paid if he could, but he didn't have credits because clones didn't get paid. (Y/n) dug through her pockets and produced the few credits Shaak gave to her for her previous mission. 

"No tip?" the driver inquired. (Y/n) offered an apologetic smile. "Apologies sir. I'm kind of broke." She climbed out of the back seat and onto the streets. She shared a short glance with Fives, who almost smiled before his gaze flickered over to 79's entrance. Clones mingled with the occasional twi'lek under the dim lighting of the bar. Some drank to their legions, giving hearty laughs and hoping for a better future. It was a Monday, so of course the bar was packed with clones drinking their sorrows away. "You don't have to go inside if you don't want to." said Fives, eyes all tender and soft. "I know you don't like crowded places." 

(Y/n) frowned. "Will you be alright? You said Nala Se drugged y--" Fives tried for a grin wile rubbing at his temples. "I know, but I'll be fine. I just need to find Kix." (Y/n) nodded in understanding and Fives was quick to disappear into the rowdy bar, leaving (Y/n) on the streets. She quietly leaned against the wall, sluggishly folding her arms over her chest. 

"What are you doing here?" 

The stern voice made (Y/n) jump five feet in the air. Her gaze snapped up to the tall clone and she could have sworn a chuckle came from his lips. His cybernetic eye seemed to stare into her soul as a short sigh escaped her lips. Oh, great, she thought. "I don't know you." Wolffe rolled his eyes like the sassy man he was. 

"Cut the act. I'd recognise that shirt anywhere." (Y/n) stared at her dark blue shirt, where the classic Mandalorian hexagonal design in silver sat. (Y/n) huffed. "I didn't think I'd ever see you at a bar." 

"The boys' idea, not mine. And you know General Plo, he told me it would be 'good to loosen up a bit'." He took a sip of his drink and settled on the vacant spot against the wall. "You don't sound good. Sick?"

"Something like that..."

"What're you doing here di'kut?" 

"You don't want to know--and I'm not an idiot." 

"Actually, I do. I have all night." 

(Y/n) looked up at Wolffe with a sad frown. "I can't, Wolffe."

"You know you can tell me anything."

"I know, but...I just can't. Not this one." replied (Y/n). Wolffe took a sip of his liquor, unbothered. "And why is that? Did you somehow get caught up in Skywalker's business again?" (Y/n) shook her head. "It's complicated." 

"How so?"

"I don't want you to get caught up in this. Someone is out for my head right now because I know something I shouldn't." She heaved in a deep sigh. "If I get you involved, you could die too Wolffe--and I don't think I could ever live with myself knowing I hurt you." Wolffe folded his arms across his chest with a hard look on his face. "Well," he paused as if to prepare himself for whatever he was about to say. "To be truthful, I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing I could have prevented the potential death of my vod."

(Y/n) almost smiled. Vod, it meant sister, or brother, in Mando'a. It wasn't often Jedi were held in such a high respect such as that (mostly due to the Code), so this meant more than the galaxy to her. "Wolffe." She pursed her lips so tightly they turned a shade of white. "I trust you, and I know for a fact that the feeling is reciprocated, but what I need you to do now is trust me with everything."

Wolffe mimicked (Y/n)'s grim expression. "Where are you going with this?" She took a hold of Wolffe's free hand and gave it a good squeeze. "Trust me. Please." He was silent in thought, a look of doubt washing over his stern features. For a moment, (Y/n) thought he'd say no, but a simple 'okay' was all she heard. (Y/n) took a step closer to Wolffe and motioned for him to lean down. "In my room, I've written all the information needed to know. The code is three-two-one-nine." She spared a glance over her shoulder and caught sight of Fox and his boys exiting a ship. Wolffe followed her gaze as she rubbed a hand over her temples. 

"Don't tell me they're involved." he grumbled. (Y/n) frowned. "In a way." Wolffe looked as though he had eaten a whole lime. He placed a hand on (Y/n)'s back and guided her towards the bar's entrance. "The back door's over there. Want me to stall?"

"If you can. Thanks Wolffe."

"You can thank me by not dying, di'kut." 

(Y/n) weakly smiled before disappearing into the crowd. Strobe lights lit her way, reflecting off helmets and illuminating the dance floor. She shimmied across the floor and tangoed towards a booth. As she turned to dodge the prying eyes of Jesse (he had a vague idea of who she was), a hand gently took hold of her wrist and lead her away from the lights and heavy chatter. The warmth his hand held was more than enough for (Y/n) to know exactly who he was. 

"Fives." He stealthily lead her through the back doors. "We have to go, like, now." he quietly said. The duo emerged onto a balcony the size of a regular street, where speeder bikes sat lined up in neat rows. The balcony would have been a picture-perfect setting with the view of the stars, but the Coruscant Guard questioning a clone off to the side ruined the vibe. If (Y/n) could properly think straight, she would have made a run for it with Fives on a speeder. 

(Y/n) placed a hand to her head. The galaxy was spinning and all she could think to do was lie down on the ground and take a century long nap. Fives started up a speeder, giving it a good rev. It blinked to life and he hopped on. (Y/n) climbed aboard the back, thankful for the fact that it had two seats. Fives kicked off the balcony as fast as he could drive. "Are you okay?" he shouted over the wind. "There is a disturbance in the Force. I don't know what it is, but it's...dangerous."

There was a beat of silence as Fives drove into the underground levels. The descent was short and filled with zero chatter neither could break. Keeping their heads was beginning to prove a task unworthy for the both because damn was so much going on at once. "I told Kix to contact General Skywalker and Rex to meet us here." He steered the speeder towards a platform and landed the bike behind a pile of dusty crates. "They should be here soon." 

The two sluggishly dismounted and walked through a crack in the double doors just large enough to fit a person. "I'm just going to sit here." (Y/n) mumbled. She eased herself onto a dusty crate as Fives rubbed at his head. He scanned the area until he stumbled upon a panel in the wall. He flicked a switch and the warehouse glowed with newfound light.

The anticipation and pure agitation rolling off his shoulders disturbed (Y/n). It wasn't like him to display deep negativity like that. He was the one to make other people agitated or annoyed with his dumb jokes and jabs. "Don't think too much Fives." quietly said. "Once they come, everything should be alright. They'll listen." 

Fives shakily met her gaze. "Do you really believe that? Do you really believe they won't turn us in? Sure, they--they may not hurt us, but that doesn't mean they'll believe what we have to say." (Y/n) wanted to refute from the bottom of her heart, but a part of her couldn't deny that trusting in her friends laid a potential threat to their safety. Rex's loyalties laid to the Republic while Anakin's laid to both the Order and the Republic, along with the people he held close to his heart. 

"It's not a matter of who they will believe," (Y/n) said, "but of what they will choose."

Footnote: The password to your room is ironically the dates of when Order 66 was created and when it was executed. 3219. 32 = when it was created. 19 = when it was executed.