#i feel like cater would like rhythm games!

[chimura-arts]

1, 2, 3 SWAG!! ♦✨

[andshesaidwhat]

Cherry - Clay Beresford

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six |

Summary: Clay returns to The Silk Rose to see you again but, this time, you’re aware of who he truly is. He arrives with more of his questions and stories, but this time he pushes it a little too far…

Warnings: angst, arguing, descriptions of sex work, Clay can’t read the room.

Playlist | Masterlist

The smell of sweat and hairspray filled the air as you found yourself back at the club far sooner than you would’ve liked. You sat at your vanity, getting ready to begin the first set of your shift as Frenchie droned on about some creep who kept trying to slip her a fifty for a rule break.

“I told him that there was not enough hair on his head for him to have this kind of audacity,” she scoffed, reapplying her lipgloss. “If he was at least hot, maybe I would’ve flashed him a tit for a twenty, but I have no interest in catering to men who look like death warmed over…unless they’re offering to play my bills, now that would be a different story.”

You laughed as she ranted, amused by her mindless rambling. You’d take anything to get your mind off of the looming shift ahead of you. The place was crawling with the usual sleazy regulars, and the thought of entertaining them made your stomach churn.

Normally, it wasn’t something you would’ve minded. You would’ve known you could make a few extra bucks, and it wasn’t anything you weren’t used to…but then he came along.

How could you be content giving lap dances to sordid men when you could be drinking champagne and dancing to beautiful stories?

Damn him.

“What’s on your mind, sweet cheeks?” Frenchie asked, crossing her legs as she turned in her chair to face you.

You shook your head and said, “It’s nothing, French. Just some customer I had the other day.”

“Ah, the private room guy, eh?” Frenchie mused, wiggling her eyebrows. “I saw Sal hand you a big ole wad of cash afterward. You must’ve given him some performance in there.”

You’d been perplexed by the money at first, too. Of course, now, you knew that it was probably chump change to a man like him.

Clay Beresford.

You still couldn’t wrap your mind around it. What had the city’s hottest playboy been doing at a run down club on the Lower East Side? He was a billionaire for chrissakes, he could buy his own damn strip club if he wanted to. Did he think he was doing some kind of charity work, tipping extra to a girl leagues below his tax bracket?

Fuck that.

“He’s just another one of those men with their savior complex fantasies, trying to see more from this place than there is,” you shrugged, the bitterness in your tone palpable.

“Shit, doll,” Frenchie laughed, “with a tip like that, I’d let him save me any day he wanted to.”

You cracked an amused smile, shaking your head as you took off your robe and prepared for your set. Frenchie locked pinkies with you, wishing you luck before you made your way to the curtain at the back of the stage.

When it was time, the curtains opened and the warm lights hit you as you heard the whoops and cheers of the crowd. Bills immediately started flying as you began dancing about the stage, teasing and seducing as you went. You moved through the motions of your routine, feeling removed from it all, until you looked in the crowd and saw those striking blue eyes.

A smug smile crossed Clay’s face as he raised his glass to you in a silent toast, his eyes never leaving yours.

You tried to shake off the distraction, focusing on the rhythm of the music and the movement of your body. Still, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him as your mind raced with questions.

What was he doing here? Was this some kind of game? Was he trying to prove a point? Couldn’t he just hire his own strippers?

You tried to block all of it out, but those blue eyes stayed locked in the entire time. You’d looked back at him, just to make sure you weren’t somehow imagining it as you left the stage.

Your set hadn’t even been finished for an entire minute before Sal met you backstage to inform you that you had another private room booking.

It didn’t take much guessing to figure out who’d booked you.

With a huff, you made your way down the hall. You took a deep, steadying breath as you stood before room four again.

This is a transaction, you thought to yourself, I am just doing my job.

You entered the room to see Clay lounging on the couch again, as devastatingly beautiful as ever.

You turned on the facade, ready to perform as you asked, “Back so soon, pretty boy?”

Clay’s eyes sparkled with amusement as his gaze raked over you. His voice was rich and low as he said, “I couldn’t resist the temptation, Cherry. Besides, I wanted to see you again. You’re quite the performer, you know.”

“Come, join me. Let’s continue where we left off,” he said, patting the couch, offering for you to sit beside him.

“You know how this works,” you told him, shaking your head as you walked over to turn on the stereo. “I dance, you ask questions.”

You sauntered back over toward him, moving your body to the sensual beat of the music. Clay bit down on his lip, holding your gaze with intensity as you danced.

“I think I remember the rules, Cherry,” he smirked, his voice sultry, “but I have a proposition for you.”

You raised a brow, curiosity etching itself into your features as you nodded, “Go on.”

“How about I tell you a story and you dance for me?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees as he clasped his hands together. “I want to see you dance to my words, to feel the emotions they evoke in you.” He paused, his gaze lingering on you. “What do you say, Cherry?”

You felt your chest ache as your bravado momentarily slipped.

Hearing him tell another story was so tempting, but you didn’t like the way it threatened to make your heart flip — and you certainly wouldn’t let yourself be pulled into exploring his mind. You wouldn’t be roused to finding the story behind him and making something of it. That part of yourself was locked away.

“I don’t dance like that anymore,” you responded, trying to mask the sadness swimming through you. You rolled your hips seductively as you said, “Besides, that’s not the kind of dancing you paid for.”

Clay’s eyes softened, his gaze seeming to understand your reluctance.

“I apologize, Cherry,” he said, his voice sincere. “I didn’t mean to push you. I’m just…intrigued by you.”

He watched, intently, as you danced. His attention never wavering, even as his mind seemed to be reeling with something.

“Tell me, Cherry,” he began, after a moment. “What is it you’re running from?”

Ouch.

That certainly hit a sore spot. You didn’t want to think about your past. You didn’t want to think about the person you were or what turned you into the person you had become now.

“What about you?” You countered, trying to keep your tone playful. “What’s a beloved playboy celebrity doing in a small strip club like this?”

Clay nodded, solemnly, casting his gaze downward. He didn’t allow the slip in his demeanor to remain for long, replacing the small frown with a thoughtful look.

“I’ve always been drawn to the unpredictable, Cherry,” he said, his voice low and measured. “To the raw, untamed beauty of human nature.” He paused, his eyes looking up to meet yours. “Perhaps I’m just looking for something real in a world filled with illusion. Besides, everyone needs a break from the limelight every now and again.”

You cocked your head to the side and asked, “Is this not an illusion? We’re paid to fill the shoes of our paying customer’s fantasies.”

You slowly walked over toward him, placing your hands on the top of the couch as you leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Is this your fantasy?”

Clay’s breath caught in his throat as you leaned over him, his eyes locking onto yours.

“This isn’t a fantasy, Cherry,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “This is a moment of truth amidst the lies,” his gaze burned with desire as he continued, “but maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m seeking an escape. A reprieve from the life I’ve built around me.”

He leaned in, his lips almost brushing against your ear as he whispered, “What about you, hm? Is this your reality, or are you seeking your own escape?”

You threw your head back in exasperation, letting out a laugh as you said, “Don’t you ever ask normal questions? What happened to things like: what’s your favorite color?”

Clay chuckled softly, eyes crinkling as he gripped the edge of the couch.

“Sorry, Cherry,” he smiled, his tone tinged with humor. “I can’t help but be drawn to the deeper questions but, if you insist…” He paused, his eyes locked onto you. “Tell me, Cherry. What’s your favorite color?”

You stopped dancing for a moment and let yourself gaze into his eyes.

Those damned dazzling eyes.

“Blue,” you said, quietly, a small smile threatening to pull at your lips.

“Blue, huh?” Clay grinned, his features softening. “A color of depth and mystery. Just like you, Cherry.”

You know that you shouldn’t be indulging in this. Getting to know each other. It was reckless and idiotic and couldn’t lead to anything good. Still, you found yourself asking, “What about you? What’s your favorite color, pretty boy?”

“Red,” he replied, without a moments hesitation. His grin widened, admiration and playfulness dancing in his eyes. “My favorite color is red.”

You cocked a brow, your tone dripping with amusement as you asked, “Like Cherries?”

“Yes,” he responded, cheekily. “Cherries, passion, danger, love. It’s a color that represents all of the things we crave in life. Mostly, it’s a color that reminds me of you. The fiery spirit that burns within you, hidden under layers of meticulously crafted ice. You’re an enigma wrapped in a riddle.”

“Do you make habits of waxing poetic to every stripper you hire?” You quipped, smirking at him despite the way your heart was racing.

“I don’t make a habit of hiring strippers, Cherry,” he laughed, softly, “but, if I did, I imagine they’d all wish that they were as fascinating as you.”

The tension in the air was palpable. You could hear the drum of your heart beneath your chest as his hands itched to reach out for you.

You swallowed thickly, the need to create distance between the two of you urgent.

You stood back up, continuing to move to the music as you tried to calm the roaring storm inside of you. You were dancing on thin ice and, if you weren’t careful, you would surely sink beneath it.

Clay watched you, thoughtfully. His mind was transfixed, his eyes following the curves of your body. He couldn’t deny the magnetic pull he felt toward you, though he tried to adhere to the boundaries set in place. Still, he couldn’t stop from wondering of all of the possibilities.

“You’re getting awfully quiet over there, pretty boy,” you joked. “Run out of questions?”

“No, Cherry,” he said, laughing softly. “I’m just appreciating the view.” He slowly licked his lips, leaning forward. “I could tell you another story if you’d like?”

“Ah, another one of those poetic stories,” you sighed, giving him a playful grin as you spun around. “You’re paying for your time in here. If you want to fill it with your musings, be my guest.”

“Very well,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Let me spin you a tale of a woman who ran from her past, only to find herself entangled in a web of desire and deceit. The heroin of my story, much like you, struggled to maintain control — to keep her emotions at bay. As fate would have it, she found solace in the most unexpected of places, and love in the arms of a man who refused to be ignored.”

His voice was hypnotizing as he spoke and you stopped dancing for a moment, standing still with curious eyes locked on him — waiting for him to go on.

“In the end, Cherry,” he continued, the sincerity in his voice nearly sickening, “she learned that, sometimes, the greatest escape comes from facing the truth.”

His eyes searched yours, searching for a reaction — for answers.

A lump formed in your throat and you tried to swallow it down. Damn these men and their idealistic savior complexes. They think that they are the perfect hero, searching for their damsel in distress.

“Shakespeare is rolling in his grave, pretty boy,” you said, with less play in your voice than you’d intended.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it, Cherry,” he smiled, “but, then again, life has a way of writing its own plays, doesn’t it? So, tell me, do you ever wonder what your story would be?”

“I think we all write our own stories,” you told him, “and I don’t think half of them are as grand and you’d like for them to be.”

“I believe that there’s magic in every day life, Cherry,” he said, softly. “Even the smallest acts can hold immense significance.” He paused, his fingers tapping on the arm rest. “You’re right, though, I can be overly romantic at times.” His eyes met yours, his voice low and earnest. “Your story may not be grand, but I suspect it’s far from ordinary.”

His words, these moments…it was all too much. You wouldn’t fall for these games. You knew how men like him worked. Your job be damned.

“You know nothing of my story,” you said, quietly, turning off the music as the timer rang. “You just pay me to fill whatever void it is you’ve got in your precious high end life. I’m just a fantasy to people like you, remember?”

You held his gaze, blinded by your building anger. You could feel the walls of your defensiveness closing in around you.

You walked toward the door, only pausing to say one last thing.

“Don’t come back.”

Clay watched you go, his face heavy with a mixture of regret and longing.

“Cherry…” he started, his voice pleading, but you were gone before he could finish — leaving him alone with his thoughts once again.

You hurried to the dressing room, changing into normal clothes and grabbing your things.

Frenchie gave you a questioning look, but you simply said, “You can have the rich savior men, I don’t want them.”

You walked out the door, barely stopping to grab the cash from Sal as you left. You didn’t need to count it to know that it was an obscene amount of money.

You went home to your apartment, trying to drown out the sense of emptiness you felt in the pit of your stomach. You never should’ve let his words affect you. You should’ve kept everything transactional. Guys like him just wanted a side project — something to entertain them.

You didn’t have any interest in being a part of their world.

————————————————————————

tag list

@haydensbbg @dinorawrss

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 18/08/2023

Rainbow Baroad

Season 7 Featured on: Os Bar​õ​es da Qualidade

Ripped by Pan

An early Season 7 rip? That can only mean one thing - its time to go to Brazil!

A very underappreciated yet always fun part of following SiIvaGunner is just how many different kinds of people are part of the team, and how many of them are able to share their unique culture to the rest of us. A lot of SiIva tends to sway toward pretty "global" experiences, like video games released worldwide or featuring celebrities and memes known all over the world. Yet there's always been exceptions to that, more niche jokes and more culture-specific rips not made to appeal to a global audience. During Season 1, for instance, we had the album Hatsilva Muku: Ripping DIVA, catering specifically to the Japan-centric Vocaloid crowd, and althroughout events such as the two King for a Day tournaments we saw South American music and memes represented through the Dancing Alien Team. Althesame, I don't think there's ever been anything quite like the Felipe Barão's Birthday takeover.

Felipe Barão and his brother form the band Os Barões da Pisadinha, which translates roughly to "The Barons of the Pisadinha". What's the Pisadinha, you ask? Put simply, its a very distinct rhythm of notes that's applied all over Brazilian Forró music, which is what the band performs. These guys, along with Forró music in general, are pretty damn popular in Brazil, a bizarre phenomenon wherin their music seems to be beloved despite being fully acknowledged just how much of it sounds the same.

Part of what made the SiIva takeover in their name so funny was just that effect - that it made EVERY rip sound the same, with the same opening progression of notes, same instrumentation, same jolly tone...yet at the same time, it was really amusing to follow! Everyone already knew each rip's joke to a tee, and the focus now became on discovering if the song ripped would sound good or not in that new instrumentation. For my money, Rainbow Baroad takes the cake as my favorite of the event. Rainbow Road Wii is already quite a nostalgic and happy-go-lucky track, and the kind of summery vibe that forró music brings just heightens those feelings more. Its hard to listen to this one without getting a big ass smile on your face! Every part of the original song is recreated perfectly in Os Barões da Pisadinha's style, with excellent layering of instruments on more impactful parts, great use of backing, and a surprisingly natural implementation of the Pisadinha rhythm.

This entire event and others like it fascinate me with just how unfamiliar I actually am with the source material. In a way, SiIva has always been a sort of gateway into discovering new kinds of music, new games, new everything - its an outlet of every creator on board to let others know whats dear to them. For some its a game franchise, and for some its a silly band from Brazil - hell, for the creator of the channel it was Maroon 5 with rips like Everyday Goodbyes (SiIvaGunner Band Cover). Even if you try describing SiIvaGunner as a celebration of video games and "pop" culture, you're never gonna be able to truly capture everything the channel's able to provide.

[viperwhispered]

hiiiiii!! how about 5 and 27 from the ask game?

Hiya, ty for the asks!

Let's see here.

5. If you could have any unique magic / signature spell in the game, which would you choose and why? 

Now this is a tricky one. Also, I’ve not made much progress in book 7 yet (I know I know), so I can’t say much for what we learn there in regards to the signature spells.

Cater’s signature spell is pretty fun. Assuming the copies are happy doing whatever (even if I wouldn’t be), boy would it be useful for like doing chores and in general just getting things done.

Trey’s signature spell also feels like one could do a lot with it if so desired (I really should read some meta on this ngl). Like, making medicine palatable? Or could I make food not trigger my sensitivities? Would be pretty nice.

Jack’s signature spell also feels kinda fun. I mean, a bit hard to use it without causing concern (assuming my current circumstances of living in the city, folks sure would jump seeing a huge wolf chilling about), but boy if it wouldn’t be a fulfillment of all those childhood games of pretending to be an animal of some sort.

On the other hand, with Kalim’s signature spell, one could do a fair bit of good in the world (assuming it doesn’t like start chain reactions of messing with weather patterns and things, which, realistically, it might). I mean, a whole river’s worth of water? That sure is more than just filling a swimming pool or two and could actually make a fair bit of a difference - tho I also don't exactly live in an arid area, so, some logistics would need to be involved there.

In general though, Cater's signature spell just feels like it could make life a lot more convenient. Tho now I really am curious about the whole “how much would they be me”, and what about sharing memories and knowledge and just… how does that work, exactly? Are they just simulacrums of some sort, basically? I need some deets here.

27. What drew you into TWST? What made you stay? 

What drew me: cool fan arts (especially Malleus as I recall), and a friend selling the game to me. I was a bit hesitant about picking up another mobile / gacha game, and also about the ages of the cast / the school setting (kinda starting to feel a bit old to fully relate to teenage drama, and it also adds some extra complications to how I usually view characters (namely, the self-shipping that tends to happen)).

What kept me: the multifaceted characters. They’re so distinct, with quite defining core features to a lot of them, yet also wonderfully layered, too. It also lends to some wonderful dynamics when you put all these different personalities together in all the various combinations and potential situations. It just makes for such an interesting and juicy web of interactions. This was also definitely part of how my friend was selling the game to me originally.

Also, the gameplay is pretty chill for the most part and I’m not feeling overwhelmed by a million dailies that I “must” do, so that makes twst relatively easy to keep going from a gameplay perspective. Though I really am here for the characters and the story, and don’t particularly care for the rhythm games or the guest room (mine’s so neglected ngl). So I'd be pretty fine with an even more emphasis on the visual novel angle.

And of course, let’s be real here, Jamil definitely is a not-insignificant contributing factor in my continued interest.

(ask game in question here)

[ironmist]

For the ask game: Sage and Aloe Vera. ♡

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is? Some musical pieces really reaches parts of me most other art mediums don't touch. Something about those beautiful melodies and rhythms does stuff to my soul. That being said, there are some statues/sculptural works and poetry out there that I've seen and certainly felt 'awed' by - though perhaps that isn't quite the same as the feeling I get when listening to music I love..? aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life? One perhaps 'mundane' thing in life I would love to be able to do is... to walk into a restaurant or cafe or bakery and just.. be able to EAT there without it being an issue. Having a certain dietary restriction just means I often have to plan ahead/can't just have a meal somewhere new 'on the fly'. I don't generally hold a grudge against eating establishments for this at all though; it can be extremely hard to cater for the vast amount of different dietary requirements out there, and it's something I've got used to and learned to live with over time. But if a proper, actual 'cure' is ever discovered for things like intolerances and severe food allergies, then yeah. It would just... be nice to go out anywhere and eat out spontaneously ^^

[final-girl96]

Joseph Quinn’s upside-down year

He’s gone from hustling for bit parts to playing a beloved character in one of the biggest shows on TV, thirsted after by fans and fellow celebrities alike. Inside the surreal year of 2022’s buzziest British breakout

By Jack King

5 December 2022

Coat, £1,970, Jil Sander by Lucie and Luke Meier. T-shirt, £7.90, Uniqlo. Hat, £325, Lock & Co. Hatters.Ben Parks

When Joseph Quinn took the call that would come to change his life for good, he was standing in his kitchen in South London. His agent was on the other end of the phone. “He called me, like, ‘Who’s that?’ And I was like, ‘What do you mean?’ So he goes, ‘I’m sorry, is that Eddie from Stranger Things?’” Quinn recalls. “I literally fell to my knees. Like, What? Are you sure? It felt like it’d just fallen out of the fucking sky.” It was November 2019. Only three weeks prior, in the very same flat, he’d recorded his first self-tape for the hit Netflix series with the help of his then-girlfriend and flatmate. “Obviously, at that point, I’m just fucking suspicious about the whole thing. This never happens. And here we are.”

Flash forward to today: after storming into the public consciousness as the sci-fi throwback’s latest anointed breakout, starring as punkish pariah Eddie Munson in Stranger Things series four, the 28-year-old has just flown out to LA for the third time in his what-the-fuck year. It’s a rhythm he’s still very much getting used to. Resultantly, we’re chatting over Zoom, myself in London’s Mile End, a short swim down the Thames from the unassuming world of his adolescence. “I love South London. I still live there – you get accused of heresy if you leave,” he jokes. “I might want to branch out somewhere different, because you don’t want to feel stagnant. But my life’s there: I went to school there, it’s where I met all of my friends.”

Jacket, £1,400 and trousers, £725, Etro. Shirt, £99, Boss. Boots, £1,750, Dior. Ben Parks

He scored his first job, on the 2015 TV drama Dickensian, in his third year at LAMDA (“I was a jammy fucker,” he says), the hallowed Hammersmith drama school where British acting royalty – Cumberbatch, Cox, Ejiofor – cut their teeth. It was while he was in his graduating class, in fact, that he met Fabien Frankel, then a first year, now enjoying his own rise apropos of the Game of Thrones spin-off House of the Dragon.

“It’s fucking hilarious,” Quinn says of Frankel’s new-found stardom. “We’ve shared similar anxieties about the ridiculousness of our situations.” The two are good friends; Frankel, for his part, brims with praise. “As much as it pains me to say, he was always just a brilliant actor,” he says of Quinn. “There was always some magic on stage. Sadly we’ve never got to work together, but we’ve always stayed close.”

Quinn’s early luck with Dickensian, as it turns out, was a touch premature; after that show ran its course, Quinn didn’t work for nearly a year. But an influx of parts eventually came his way: first a gig as a Stark soldier in an episode of Game of Thrones, then, suddenly, a job on stage opposite Olivia Colman at the National Theatre. “He is utterly joyful, naughty, and fun,” Colman says of Quinn. “He puts the work in. You know you’re in safe hands.”

Coat, £3,200, shirt, £1,950 and trousers, £1,300, Prada. Shoes, £980, Church’s. Ben Parks

A steady trickle of work followed: BBC’s Howards End mini series, opposite Matthew Macfadyen; as the tragic revolutionary Enjolras in the Beeb’s not-a-musical adaptation of Les Mis, reuniting with Colman; under Steve McQueen in the first part of his critically acclaimed anthology film series, Small Axe. “I’ve been so lucky that I’ve not had to graft, and wait tables, and do the traditional catering jobs in between to keep the lights on,” Quinn says. “I’ve been fortunate enough, and savvy enough with my money just about, when things are looking a bit bleak, to book another gig. And that keeps the wolves from the door.” It was around the time of the London Film Festival premiere of his first major indie film, the psychosexual slow-burner Make Up, that he sent in his Stranger Things audition tape.

A few days after the call came in, he met the sibling duo who puppeteer Stranger Things, the Duffer brothers, over Skype. “They were very nice, and very kind,” Quinn remembers. “I was very disarmed by the whole thing. Kind of like, ‘Are you sure?’ And they said, ‘Yeah, we really want you to do it.’” In total, 287 actors read for the part, according to the Duffers, who describe the process as one of the longest casting searches they’ve ever had. “At one point, we remember getting nervous,” they say. Munson was abrasive and unlikeable on the page; they needed him to be lovable, without wanting to be loved. That confluence of traits seemed an impossible bullseye, until Quinn’s reels arrived. “Joe was hilarious and charming, but with an unpredictable, wild edge about him,” they recall. It was a no-brainer. The call was a formality. “He’s a director’s dream because he takes what’s on the page and sprints with it.”

Blazer, £2,360, and shirt, £500, Gucci. Ben Parks

Quinn’s anecdotes from those early days are cut with the sincere self-deprecation you might expect of a guy still scrambling to catch up with his own ascent. This is the stuff that Faustian bargains are made of, after all: over a billion hours’ worth of Stranger Things series four was watched within the first month of release. That’s a lot of eyeballs. “I was talking to Dan Cohen, the [executive] producer of Stranger Things, about it,” he says. “He talked about the over-nightness of these experiences now, with these streaming platforms. One moment you’re fine, and then it drops. It’s on in millions and millions of houses. After that, it just kind of snowballs.”

The first table read came next. “It was a very weird experience. I was sat next to the lovely Jamie Campbell Bower, who’s had experience in these bigger shows before,” he remembers. “Obviously, because everything has to be documented on this show, they were filming the table read to keep the fans satiated. The setup was that the pre-existing cast were on a very long table, and we were behind them, being kept secret from the cameras. We were shouting, delivering the lines to the back of the cast’s heads, which felt very odd.” Both he and Campbell Bower, as Quinn recalls, were “shitting it”. Following that, he had weeks of fittings, kitting him out in the idiosyncratic metalhead threads that form Munson’s outcast armour. He had his first day of shooting, and then… whiplash. “[Stranger Things co-director] Shawn Levy came out at the end of the day and said we’re going into… a lockdown of some kind,” he says. “A hiatus of two weeks. Which would’ve been nice.” It would be another six months before Quinn returned to set.

Shirt, £500, Gucci. Trousers, £924 and loafers, £650, Dolce & Gabbana. Ben Parks

What felt to him like a decade later, the show finally bowed to the masses. He watched the Stranger Things series four finale, wherein Munson goes out with self-sacrificial aplomb, with his little sister, dad, and his dad’s wife. Do they treat him differently now? “No, definitely within your immediate circle you hope nothing changes. It’s a very weird thing to comment on… [if] you take into consideration the actual fucking fresh hell that people are going through now, it feels like an arbitrary thing to feel threatened by,” he says. “Eighty per cent of it is amazing. Professionally, 100 per cent is amazing. 20 per cent of it is… fucking bizarre.”

Somewhere within that 20 per cent: the online drama between co-star Noah Schnapp and Doja Cat soon after the season aired, when the former publicly shared a DM from the rapper asking Schnapp to play Cupid between her and Quinn. “I’m kind of hesitant to talk about it really, because I didn’t do anything,” Quinn notes. “It’s not something that I put out into the world. But I do think she’s an incredible artist. It’s flattering.” This intrusive level of public scrutiny obviously comes part and parcel with sudden, incandescent fame. The tyranny of Instagram gossip and fans reading telescopic paparazzi photos like tea leaves are the unfortunate by-products of being at the top of the screen-acting game. Nevertheless, it must be difficult to adjust to. “People will weave narratives about you that aren’t true, I guess,” he says. “And I think accepting your powerlessness over that [is best]. If you’re going to correct people constantly, you’re going to end up exhausted.”

Blazer, £2,360, shirt, £500, trousers, £890 and boots, £1,230, Gucci. Ben Parks

But being famous, a term he loathes to use for himself, isn’t all bad. Take the sudden groundswell of cultish Munsonmania, perhaps no better demonstrated than at London Film and Comic Con this summer. “It was the first time I’d ever encountered the fandom,” he recalls. There were rumours that Quinn was “mistreated” by the staff during a meet and greet, blindsided by the sheer number of Munsonites, but he was quick to debunk them, a point he reiterates now. “It was very overwhelming. I don’t think the Con were prepared for the numbers. I certainly wasn’t.” In a viral video widely shared online at the time, a fan expressed their impassioned gratitude: for Quinn’s time at the Con, for bringing Munson to life. Quinn seemed emotionally overwhelmed, dabbing away tears with the inside of his elbow, barely conjuring a murmur. An outsider might conclude this to be the moment that the pin dropped. “I don’t want to sound too saccharine about it, but it is moving,” he says. “If you have a curiosity about people and storytelling, for a character you’ve created with the help of others… for that to resonate with people, it feels very profound, you know?”

And then there are the holy-shit moments. First up: in late July, he made his chat-show debut on Jimmy Fallon, though that came within a whisker of being cancelled. “I was sick before I went on,” he says. “I stupidly had oysters for lunch on the day, thinking that I needed some vigour and vitality and that’d get me through it.” Turns out his mind was playing tricks: that stir in the pit of his gut was the product of acute anxiety, per the show’s backstage nurse. But he still went on. He met Kevin Hart, “a consummate pro,” in the green room backstage. “The nerves just bounce off him, I think, whereas they were just leaving bullet holes in me,” Quinn says. A month before our interview, he was named one of Variety’s 10 Actors to Watch for 2022. Patton Oswalt introduced himself to Quinn at the swanky brunch coronation thereafter. “He just feels so many miles away from my life. For him to come up to me was very weird.”

Jumper, £1,050 and shirt, £680, Dior. Ben Parks

Stratospheric parts like Eddie Munson are a “lottery ticket,” as Quinn puts it. And at the end of it all, he’s effectively coming away with a blank check. Is he going to put his energy into indie roles, like the drama he finished shooting over the summer, Hoard, or is he marching up to the Broccolis to demand Bond? “Yeah, I’ve just got off a Zoom with Barbara, actually…” he jokes. “I don’t know. It’s such a fucking cliché, but it’s about connection to the material. With Hoard, I’m specifically excited for the director, Luna Carmoon, and the lead, Saura Lightfoot Leon. That’s a lovely experience, completely different to these behemoth sets. But you want range.” A judicious answer. Really though: Bond? “I think I’d be fucking stupid to say no to that,” he says, laughing. “But, come on, it’s not even worth entertaining.”

Even that is on the presumption that Munson’s Stranger Things journey is over. “Yeah, I’ve said I don’t know because I really don’t know,” Quinn says. “Shawn Levy has said it publicly. I think [his return] would be very, very, very unlikely. He seems pretty fucking dead to me,” he says, punctuated by a sharp chortle. He takes a moment.

“It’s just a beautifully written arc. The beginning, middle and end are so powerful as it stands, so I think to just crowbar him into a narrative… you don’t want him to overstay his welcome,” he continues, ever the diplomat, seemingly wary of disappointing the legion of fans who made him. But a sense of certitude undergirds his prudence; the feeling that, after years of cohabitation, he’s ready to let Munson go.

“He did the job that the Duffers wanted him to do,” Quinn says. “By no means am I ruling it out. That’s a decision for the grown-ups to make. But Stranger Things was doing fine without Eddie. I think they’ll be fine next season without him, too.”

PRODUCTION CREDITS

Photographs by Ben Parks

Styling by Fabio Immediato

Grooming by Brady Lee

Jacket, £239, shirt, £99 and Boss Bottled parfum, £86, Boss. Ben Parks

[catusbeanius]

I'm kinda a writer (I haven't released anything like fanfic, but I want to!) and, in my style, I like to describe little mannerisms and stims. So, I was thinking, how would I write the twst characters? More specifically, how do I think they'd stim?

This is coming from a neurotypical perspective based on my own stims, but you're free to comment your own!!

Heartslabyul:

Riddle: Now, I think Riddle would be pretty secretive about his stims. He might clench his jaw or something, especially before his character development. Afterwards, he might be more open. He probably analyzes his hands, feeling the bones and tendons. Perhaps rotating his arms and stuff. Maybe something with writing as well? Idk if it counts as stimming, but I'm fascinated by watching ink come out of a pen or graphite dispensing onto paper. But I think he'd enjoy handwriting things and keeps a journal for it :D

Ace: I think he's kind of restless and just wants to be in motion. He'll probably bounce his leg or fidget with something (like his magical pen).

Deuce: This man is always cracking his knuckles. He's just about figured out how to pop every joint in his body. Ace always judges him for it. Like Riddle, I think he messes with his hands a lot (from tending to hand injuries as a delinquent). He probably runs his hands over his hair and bites his cheek.

Cater: He canonically fiddles with his hair! I'm a big hair stimmer, so, what I do, is wrap it around my fingers and pull it around with my thumb and re-wrap it. It's kinda hard to describe. He probably fidgets with his phone case as well.

Trey: Idk Trey too well and I can't think of my own stims to give him.

Savanaclaw:

Leona: If lions are like cats, then he probably grooms himself by running his hands through his hair. He probably scratches things as well.

Jack: Could tail wagging count as a stim? I'm only half-joking. Like Trey, I don't know too much about Jack, and I can't think of anything to give him.

Ruggie: I think he'd stim with his feet. He'd probably shake his feet and stack them on top of each other LSKD Idk how to describe it.

Octavinelle:

Azul: This man... He gets my hair pulling LKSJF. Idk if hair pulling is always trichotillomania, but I don't think it is (for me, at least). I would've given this to Riddle, but I don't think he touches his face a lot. For me, I'll pull my eyelashes and eyebrows. I don't think Azul would pull his head-hair out unless he's particularly stressed (I imagine this isn't uncommon with the tweels, tbh).

Jade: .....I don't wanna know D: /j I have no ideas.

Floyd: Squeezing, ofc. No other ideas, though.

Scarabia:

Kalim: I think dancing counts, kinda! He's probably not break-dancing every time he gets excited, but I think he vibes to imaginary music.

Jamil: He's probably more reserved than Kalim, but I think he dances a little, too. He probably fidgets with his hair and the accessories in it!!

Pomefiore:

Vil: Nail care, or something. I think it started as nail-biting and picking at his skin, but he turned it around! Maybe some other grooming habits.

Rook: Man, idfk. Yapping? /j Probably humming or something!!

Epel: I think he's like Ace and constantly wants to move, but is a little restricted by Vil. I like to think Vil redirects it instead of fully shutting it down, but likely not :(

Ignihyde:

Idia: He probably drums his fingers or something (from playing rhythm games). Like Cater, he'll fidget with his phone/tablet case. I also think he likes pushing buttons (in a literal way) since he uses keyboards a lot!! Since he likes cats, I think he likes petting things and running his hands over them.

Ortho: He's a robot :( But, after Book 6, maybe he'd gain a few stims? I think he'd mimic the stims he sees.

Diasomnia (My boys!!):

Malleus: I think he's pretty reserved. I can't think of any canonical fidgeting, so he probably bites his cheeks and stuff. Ik he's said he gets uncomfortable in unfamiliar clothes, so maybe he messes with his clothes, too? Like, making sure his gloves are in place and smoothing down his jacket.

Silver: He probably touches his hair or rubs his eyes.

Sebek: He wants to bite shit (same). He'll nibble on his pens, his nails, his cheeks, etc. He tries not to in front of others, though.

Lilia: I think he hums! As well as all the above /j Meeting past Lilia kinda throws a monkey-wrench into my ideas since they have to survive his development. Actually, he might be like Idia. Except he pets his children's hair. That's an adorable thought LSKJD

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my silliness!! Lmk your thoughts

[folkloristico]

1, 9, 10, 13, and 14 for the writer ask :)

Hi, thank you for the ask!

1. What part of the writing process is the most enjoyable?

Okay, so, this could be an unpopular opinion for the writing community, but I love editing! My editing shifts from light-editing to heavy-editing based on the first draft (sometimes I just go with the flow and write everything that comes to my mind, even if it means ending up with a horrendous prose), but whichever the case, I enjoy the process. The way I do it, I already have the story—its skeleton, so to speak—and here it comes the fun part—I can focus more on the choice of words, on the rhythm (something I still don’t have a full grasp on in English), and add all those silly little details that make the fic pop up.  

9. What inspired you to write your first fic?

Foolishness of youth, probably. xD I always had a keen imagination and I would enjoy making up scenarios in my head; I was barely a pre-teen when I started writing a fic which was a crossover between Pokémon and Naruto, and my main reason was that I thought it would be fun to make my favorite characters interact. For years, the only thing I was interested in was writing down every idea that poked at my mind, as a way to give it a form and a meaning, I guess? In the years, my interests shifted and my skills improved, but my main goal has always been giving myself everything I wanted. I wouldn’t be writing for mostly dead fandoms if this weren’t the case.

10. Why do you continue writing fics?

What I just said—basically, creating something that caters to all my specific needs. That has been, and I hope always will be, my main goal. However, another thing that keeps me going is having the chance of interacting with readers/writers that share similar headcanons/ideas as mine. I don’t really ‘do’ fandoms because they’re too messy for my liking, I despise the drama, the wars, etcetera. Fanfics have given me the chance of meeting people that I really enjoy talking to. To me, interaction is a big part of fanfics and I’m glad every time a reader reaches out to tell me they enjoyed my stories.

13. Describe your writing style. If you were to participate in an anonymous fic writers guessing game (like The Masked Author), what writing habits do you have that would be a dead giveaway that it’s you?

This is a tough one! My writing style changes depending on the language I’m writing in. My style in my native language is very descriptive, you can put any word literally anywhere and it helps a lot set a rhythm. In English, on the other hand, my style isn’t personal just yet, I think I need more time to get there. For obvious reasons, writing in my native language is my comfort zone, especially if writing internal monologues/heavy introspective pieces. I did translate some of those into English and while I think they’re decent, it feels forced.

However, I do have a tendency of using the same expressiond/choice of words. I particularly like when I’m reading an author and a part of their vocabulary casually slips into mine.

14. Share a snippet.

Daphne smiled. “As much as I favor magical academia, I do have a keen interest in the humanities.”

“And what do the experts in the humanities say?”

“I was more interested in what you had to say.”

Griffin pursed her lips in a thin line. In all honesty, she didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what she would do if the situation speculated by Daphne were to happen. Daphne had been clever in suggesting Faragonda as the person whose life was going to oppose everyone else’s, although it was no secret that Griffin and Faragonda had a special bond, a complex relationship that could be traced back to their high school days. Nor was the fact that Daphne had admitted between the lines that she was aware of the disagreements between Griffin and her father a surprise considering that neither of them had made any effort to conceal it, and moreover, Daphne had a natural penchant for catching the unspoken words squashed in the silence of her parents. Marion and Oritel seemed to be under the impression they could deceive Daphne, but Griffin wondered if it wasn’t the other way around.

“May I deduce by your silence that you have no answer to the dilemma?”

“I suppose you have one?” Griffin retorted, somewhat on the line of a challenge, though she was curious what Daphne’s answer would be.

(The only thing I enjoy more than writing about Daphne? Writing about Daphne through Griffin’s POV.)

[allsonicgames]

Mario & Sonic at the Rio 2016 Olympic Games (Wii U)

Original Platform: Wii U

Original release: 24th June 2016

Available to buy: No

This game does away with the Wii Remote requirements, allowing you to use any controller. It seems like it should benefit the game, but all the controls are massively simplified and there’s no motion control whatsoever – even when it would be useful. Games just use two buttons, catering to those who want to use a Wii Remote on its own.

The progression of this game is even worse. First you have to play five single events to unlock tournaments, which is the main way to play the game. In tournaments, you play as your Mii against other Miis, playing three rounds of a sport. If you end in the top three you get a medal. It’s extremely tedious and you only get to pick from three sports at once. It also makes it feel like the developers didn’t want to make a Mario & Sonic game as the game seems to be almost entirely lacking in the aesthetic of either.

After around 5 medals, you’ll unlock the Hero Showdown, which is a decent multiplayer mode, although takes far too long. At 25 medals you unlock the ability to use Mario and Sonic Amiibo to unlock the Mario League and Sonic League, which is just playing a few games with a texture swapped (like the table tennis table or volleyball ball) with a Mario or Sonic icon.

The sports themselves are not good. The biggest highlight is rugby. It’s a fairly in depth sport and it’s all kept intact, and is a lot to fun. Rhythmic Gymnastics is another highlight, as it’s a decent rhythm game. Archery I had high hopes for it after the Biathlon in the Sochi game, but as it doesn’t use the gyro, it loses all appeal in this. There are only fourteen games, too, so not a big selection.

Dream events are also gone, instead Football, Rugby and Volleyball have “dual” variants. These are all the same: attack opponents to build up your score, get a goal/try to bank them all. They’re not very creative and aren’t a lot of fun.

This is a pretty poor game and just really annoying to play.

[real-jane]

bug and bear

[steve rogers x fem!reader]

summary: you’re set to marry a man you’re not sure you even like, but the person going to all the appointments with you is your life-long best friend.

words: 3.5k

a/n: I got inspired for this watching Toscana on Netflix! the whole idea of helping someone with their wedding while you pine for them… one of my fav tropes. this is my first time writing for steve 👀. enjoy!!

—

He’s attended every appointment with you–choosing flowers, cake tastings, all four caterers (since your mother wasn’t convinced that your idea of a food truck would properly serve a hundred guests, it was thanks to Steve’s meticulous notes that she finally came around… hundreds of dollars saved, too)--and never once complained. 

Your friendship started with playing hide-and-go-seek around your neighborhood the first day your family moved in next door. Steve has been game for whatever you asked since. Friends in a way which makes ‘best’ feel insufficient, and far more fierce about vouching for you than your own brothers ever were. Steve’s a part of you.

The alterations place tried to chase him away for your dress fitting, but you needed his opinion! ‘It’s bad luck’–who cares? Your girlfriends had gushed over your dress when you first tried it, to a degree that you couldn’t remember if it suited you until you were standing there in the damn thing six months later, staring at yourself in the mirror. Steve didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to. He just leaned forward, arms braced on his knees, and smiled. 

His gentle demeanor has grounded you the entire wedding planning process, so when your mother signs you up for a ballroom dance class… he’s affable. He’s unbothered. Of course he’ll go, of course he’ll wait, of course he’ll be your partner when the attendees are unevenly matched, of course he’s good at it, too.

But he isn’t your fiancé, and that’s why you’re fucked. 

Said groom begs out of appointments with such frequency that sometimes you forget to even tell him about one. Did you mention the dance class? Or are you prescient, able to intuit his answer without needing to bring it up? Why would your own fiancé ever willingly join you for something that wasn’t his idea?

Why did Brock ask you to marry him? That question keeps you up at night, as he snores from the other side of your too-large bed. 

You’ve been with Brock since college. You don’t remember what it feels like to get butterflies, just from the way he looks at you. His attention is certainly not as piercing as Steve’s softest gaze, because that man has never had an unsteady blink when you rely on his eye contact for reassurance. He probably wouldn’t blink, ever again, if that was what you needed. Brock doesn’t seem to mind how often you’re around the blond; time and again, he’s said how faithful you are, how loyal. He didn’t agree to Steve being in your wedding party, however, and it’s probably for the best because if Steve stood behind you while you told Brock you’d love him forever, it would feel like a betrayal of a relationship which never was. 

Loyalty to Brock feels an awful lot like mutiny when you’re swaying in circles with the man who keeps his promises. Steve’s hand is warm at the small of your back. When you take an unsure step, he squeezes your joined hands. ‘You can stand on my feet,’ he whispers when the instructor steps out of the room to take a call. If Brock were here, he’d be dragging you along with no discernable rhythm or form.

It’s not that you don’t get along with Brock; you root for the same sports teams, you like the same music, you both like to cook and he’s taken you on some of the best trips you could ever imagine. Sex is infrequent but fine. He’s just not… that nice to you. He says he loves you like he’s forecasting the weather. He wouldn’t let you put the soles of your new dance shoes on his dress shoes so you’d stop tripping. So.

You let yourself slip into the daydream. 

Stepping up onto Steve’s shoes, pressing your chest to his. Leaning your cheek against his chin. Closing your eyes. He’s humming, just a soft little tune. You’ve laid against his chest sobbing, before; touch is not an unfamiliar shared experience. Just not around Brock. Not because Brock would care. You’re not even sure your fiancé would notice. But–

“You don’t like him.” 

It comes out of your lips too fast, on a quick exhale like your mouth knows something your brain hasn’t realized. Steve doesn’t say anything. He rubs a circle over your spine. You try to pull back, to look up at him, but he holds fast. The instructor returns to the room and you hastily step down, catching your heel. Thanks to his steady grip on your hand, you manage to avoid falling, but the woman running the class gives you a disgruntled snort. 

Class is dismissed without Steve looking you in the eye once. He’s still at your elbow, but he’s quiet. He doesn’t turn the radio on in the car. He stares at the road. You can't bring yourself to break the silence, but all you want Steve to do is tell you whether you’ve made the right assumption. The street lights come on and the sky darkens, and you’re glad you can’t see the blank expression on his face anymore.

Two blocks from the apartment you share with Brock, he pulls over, shuts the car off, and rubs his chin. You fidget with your ring. He can’t help but clock your movement, and he grasps your wrist, interlacing your fingers like he usually does when you’re driving long-distance. Steve brings your hand closer, studying the bespoke diamond. 

“You’re not a diamond girl,” he murmurs. Finally, finally… he looks at you.

Two decades of friendship zip through your brain on a reel. Every time he’s given you that look, stripped of any teasing or inside jokes, distilled into one composite realization that Steve Rogers has always looked at you like that. Like you’re sunshine, or something rare and precious. But not a diamond, because he’s right. You hate that ring.

He leans back in his seat, letting your arm drape across the console so he can keep a tight hold on your hand, and he doesn’t look away. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you peep, when he sighs for the thousandth time. 

“You were too excited, bug–how could I? The promising quarterback asked you out! I wasn’t sure your feet were ever gonna touch earth again.”

“Steve–I’ve been seeing him for almost a decade!” Heat rises in your cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me the second you met him?”

He frowns. “Don’t think I haven’t been counting the days,” he says, and your heart lurches. 

“You should’ve said something.”

“Would you have listened?” Steve bites his lip for a second like he doesn’t want to let you know the whole truth. He thinks better of it, squeezing your hand. “I don’t have to live with him, buggy, so what does it matter? If you’re happy, I’m golden, you know that.”

You sink into the passenger seat. The inside of his car blurs into a landscape of watery glowing lights. 

“It’s just–” he stops. You turn your head away from him so he can’t see a droplet zing down your cheek. He plays with your engagement ring, twisting it. It doesn’t fit you but Brock never bothered to try to get it resized, so you figured you’d wait and get it sized with your wedding band. “This feels like the end,” Steve says.

“Tell me not to do it, then.”

He balks at the challenge just long enough that it hurts. “I’ll support whatever choice you make,” he says, knifing you between the ribs with his nobility. 

This isn’t your best friend, who drove three hours to help you move into the dorms freshman year and gave you all his unsolicited opinions about placement of your unironic Shrek poster. This isn’t Steve, who tells you if your spaghetti sauce needs more garlic, or your plants need less water, or your car needs an oil change. Whoever this is, he’s not the Steve you… you love. He’s hiding behind good intentions, and it is painful enough trying to riddle through your own muddled feelings about your impending wedding without him coming up short for reason, too. So, you push open the passenger door, and rip your hand out of his hold.

“Bug–” You slam the door on his pleading call, striding down the sidewalk in your flip-flops, with your dance shoes dangling off two fingers and your phone clenched in your fist so tight you’d surely shatter the screen (if it weren’t for the heavy-duty cover Steve bought for you). His door opens and shuts behind you, and he’s running after you. You’re at the corner when he catches up, snagging your elbow. “Listen to me–” he breathes. 

“What kind of girl am I?” you demand, forcing him to follow you over the crosswalk. Your tears are furious, and your feet ache. 

“Hey–”

“Steven!” You rip your arm free, dodging around an annoyed older couple who you nearly barrel into. “You exploded my life,” you say, swiping your hand under your nose. “You think I can marry a man I know you hate?”

“I don’t, honey, I don’t.” He pulls you to a bench and forces you to sit with his hands on your shoulders. He kneels in front of you.

“Oh my god! Do you know how many people spit on the sidewalk?”

He rolls his eyes and cups your cheeks. “You’re hysterical. I’m–shit, bug. I envy him.” Steve wipes away the fresh tears, and he chuckles at the stunned look on your face. “You’re my world. My buggy. How could I interfere in your happiness? Even if it hurts me not to. You’re allowed to make choices without my influence, and you should. Hmm? You went three hours away for college without asking if it was gonna rip my heart out of my chest.”

You can’t help the hiccough of a laugh. “There she is. It wasn’t very nice of you, you know.”

“You don’t own me,” you manage, despite the smile which threatens your cheeks. 

“I’m acutely aware of that, thank you.” He brushes your cheekbone. “I’m… trying. To make peace with the idea that You and Me aren’t always gonna be attached at the hip.”

“You did follow me to the city, you stalker.”

“You begged me for months!”

“You caved!”

“I did,” he says. His cheeks flush. Steve’s eyes can’t decide which of yours to study, but his stare is intense. “I don’t know what I’m doin’, here. But all I know is, if it was my name in curly script that you hand-wrote on a hundred invitations, you couldn’t keep me away from one second of planning our day.”

“I can’t even get rid of you now,” you say with a sad smile. You pull one of his hands from your face and press it between yours.

“So.” He shrugs. “Where is he? Huh? I feel like I’m the proxy for a dead man.”

You sigh. Your thoughts coming straight off Steve’s lips. “He says I’m better at ‘all this’ than he is. He ‘trusts me.’” 

“He’s–fuck.”

“You’re cursing a lot, bear.” 

His face lights up at the affectionate title. “I’m sorry I haven’t been truthful.”

“Lay it on me. Please.”

Steve promptly sits beside you, shoulder pressed to yours. You loop your arm with his and wait.

“I… yeah. I hate him,” he admits. “Brings out the ugliest parts of me. I never got jealous when you dated in school, but he made you draw a line, and I assumed (incorrectly or not) that it meant one day you’d have to stop talking to me. Which–when I called you from the bar? Remember that?”

You smile. “The day after Sam’s birthday? When you were shouting over the aggressive ABBA sing-along?”

“Yeah. I called Bucky, and I told him I needed him to take me out and get me wasted, and not ask me any questions.”

“He succeeded. You were barely intelligible–”

“Brock talked to me.”

The way your eyes widen has him nodding right away. “Yeah. He told me to play my little game, because you were never gonna leave him.”

“When the fuck did he say that?”

“After you told me he didn’t feel comfortable with me being your Man of Honor. I approached him on Sam’s birthday while you were doing the cake prep. Told him I hoped there were no hard feelings, that I was happy for you guys… he laughed in my face. He’s got a real ugly side when he drinks, bug.”

You swallow hard. “Jesus. I sent our invitations out before the party.”

“Yep. Which is why I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. The panic you would’ve had after two margaritas…”

“I would’ve gotten sick.”

He rubs your arm. “You were already so stressed out–”

“I had a panic attack at the post office. Mom had to pry the box out of my hands in front of a very concerned postal worker.”

“What–you did?”

“That’s why I cried when you handed me a drink,” you snort. Your head falls onto his shoulder. “Can I ask you a question? No frills.”

“Shoot.”

“Would you feel differently if I was engaged to someone you liked?”

“Hmm.” He glances down at you, but his face is shadowed with the street lamp behind him so you can’t fully tell what he’s thinking. But he points at your ring and holds out his hand. You slip your fingers into his without question. You know every groove in those fingers, by touch. He lifts your ring towards the amber glow. 

“No. I wouldn’t. I’d still lose you in every way that matters.” Your blood thrums in your ears as he works the massive diamond from your finger with ease. “If he knew you at all,” he murmurs, “there would be a garnet on this finger. 14k gold, small band. Initials engraved in the band–E.M.R.”

“Bear,” you breathe. The corner of his mouth turns up. He wiggles the end of his pinky into your ring, and then leans forward so he can kiss the imprint of the stone on your skin.

“But then–I’d be pretty pissed if he proposed with my grandmother’s ring,” he says softly. “You ever thought about it, buggy?” When he looks at you next, he’s so close to your face that you shiver. It doesn’t take much to press your forehead to his.

“At first, no… especially with our moms always talking about it,” you say. He laughs. “But you asked Peggy to prom senior year and I thought the earth was gonna fall out from under me.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Once I went off to school, I dreamed about you showing up at my dorm in the middle of the night to tell me you needed me. Breaks were worse, especially Summer when I could set my watch by your morning text, asking me what we were gonna do that day. But you grew up quick, and way less awkwardly than I did, and there was no way you’d ever, ever like me. So, when I met Brock, and he was the first guy besides you to ever think I was worth spending time around, it sorta felt like my only chance. I think… I think I knew you didn’t like him when I brought him home that first time. I convinced myself that you wouldn’t let me move to the city with Brock if you didn’t like him. I still can’t believe you moved here, too. Or that you’re here, right now–”

He kisses your temple, and your throat closes off for a second. “I have loved you since you hopped outta that moving truck when we were ten. I wanted to ask you to Prom, by the way, but you told me you were gonna go with Carol and Maria.”

Your eyes flutter open and you glare at him, mouth agape. “We’re idiots.”

He laughs. “Yeah, bug. A pair of dumbasses.”

“God.” Your fingers trace his jaw like it’s new territory. “I–I don’t think I like Brock, either.”

“No?”

You shake your head. “He’s not–whatever. He’s not you, Steve, and that makes him deficient in every way.”

He sits back from you, carding a hand through his hair, almost like he doesn't believe you. “What are you going to do?”

“Ask me.”

“What–”

You cup his cheek. “Not to marry him.”

It takes him two seconds to get with the program. Steve holds the engagement ring which is wrong for you between two fingers. He slides off the bench and kneels on the sidewalk once again, making you cringe, but at least you can see his eyes again—nearly green from the lamplight. He rubs your knee with his free hand. 

“Don’t put this back on. It’s not right for you to be with somebody who doesn’t jump at the chance to watch you learn to waltz.” When he smiles, your whole future settles into view. “But if you want to spend every day feeling like someone breathes because you do, then… I know a guy. And I know a ring, with my name on it. And if you’re game… could be your name too.” 

The lights bathe the entire street in some kind of magical glow, and this is exactly how you dreamed of Steve Rogers when you were a smitten teen. Well… not with his knees on concrete, with another man’s promise in his hand, but with that sweet smile… offering you a world which was always yours. You just didn’t know it until he offered. 

“My mom is gonna be pissed,” you breathe. “She just picked out her dress.”

Steve’s face breaks into a triumphant grin and he swoops his arms around you, twirling you around and around until you’re dizzy with laughter. When he sets you on your feet again, he hugs you so tight that you can feel his heart thumping. 

“She will get over not hosting a hundred person party. Your mom loves me, bug,” he murmurs.

“It’s easy to love you. Wait—“

He hovers over you, so tempted to kiss you, but he holds off when you touch his lips. 

“Once I give it back. Then I’ll kiss you.”

“And?” His ears perk up, and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’m yours.”

“Better get you home, then.”

“You are home, bear. Since we were ten.”

“If you don’t stop that, I might cry.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Come on.” You nod towards the prior block, where he is parked. He tucks Brock’s ring into the toes of your dance shoes, and practically skips back to his car. He pulls open the door for you, and jogs around to the driver’s seat. You’re hardly buckled before he’s peeling out.

–

Brock isn’t home. 

Leaving is easy when you look around a place where you lived with a person, who never liked your taste much. Staring at art he chose, and the colors he likes, and the fireplace he refused to use so he’d never have to clean it… it’s strange that you would ever have thought this was a life you could settle into comfortably. It’s not Steve’s place, which is filled with antiques from going upstate in the Summer with you, and funny paintings found at flea markets, and the constellation motif he let you paint on the ceiling of the bathroom when you both had one too many tequila shots. Nothing about Brock’s apartment draws you in, or makes you want to stay.

You set the ring on the counter, spotless from his meticulous cleaning routine, with a short note vague enough to leave Steve out of it, and clear enough to let him know that you’re calling off the wedding.

Then, you take your wedding dress out of the spare room closet where you buried it behind golf clubs Brock never used. Turns it out was bad luck for your impending nuptials for Steve to see you in it. 

When you descend the front stairs of your building, Steve is leaning against his car, nervously tapping his foot. 

“How’d it go?”

“He wasn’t there. I have no idea where he is. Haven’t heard from him all day,” you realize. “Couldn’t think of anything else to take.”

He clocks the garment bag over your shoulder and holds out a hand for it. “Ooh, you grabbed the gown,” he says appreciatively, hanging the hook over the ceiling handle behind the driver’s seat. 

“You never said you liked it on me.” You wink when he turns on you with panic. He scoffs.

“The things it made me think of were not gentlemanly to say at the time,” he chuckles, sitting in the driver’s seat again. Once you’re seated, he leans over and kisses your cheek. “You didn’t wanna grab clothes, or anything?”

“…Steven, I have two drawers of clothing at your place, and most of the time I’m over, I steal your shirts.”

That makes him grin. “What’s mine is yours, bug.”

“Your… lips?”

“Especially those.”

You’ve dreamed of kissing him since puberty. An embarrassing amount. Your first kiss was abysmal on principle, because it wasn’t with Steve. This kiss is twenty years of loving each other at arm’s length, demolished. He’s gentle, and the angle is difficult across the center console, but boy if it doesn’t feel like he was put on this earth to kiss you.

Part 2

--

thanks for reading! :)

Kate’s masterlist - Marvel Masterlist

[timemachineyeah]

I think there's an interesting kind of girly media that is either aimed at men or gets a large male audience (especially a cishetero one) that is like...

I mean, one. I personally often like these shows/games/etc. So it would by hypocritical as fuck for me to slight any man for liking them. So this isn't me being like, "these guys are creepy" or whatever, because I don't actually think that's the case.

Instead I think it's just a really good example of how being raised in a certain media atmosphere often means you need an entry point (or perhaps sometimes and excuse) to explore media outside those boundaries. And how that can become fraught when the systems that created those isolated media towers are themselves fraught.

So, you get this stuff that offers men a safe way to explore really girly shit that acts as a ladder from one window to another, or a plausible deniability that allows them to let their guard down.

It's ironic/subversive (My Little Pony). It's gritty (Madoka Magica). It's a waifu collector and surprisingly hardcore video game (Love Live!).

Where then when you go into the fandom spaces and discussions there, often what becomes really clear is just that

like

these guys like cute shit. They have clearly wanted an excuse to talk about costume design and ponies and magic and dresses and pop songs. They may be coming at it from a different angle than me, but they clearly like it for the same reasons underneath.

And obviously with My Little Pony that was accidental. But I think there's something interesting about media like Love Live! that is specifically and purposefully catering exactly to that.

Actually, Love Live! is a masterclass is plausible deniability. On paper it is PG rated and in tone it is indistinguishable from the kind of thing you'd see aimed at tweens on the Disney channel. The fanservice is there, but it's so tame as to be the anime fanservice equivalent of, like, a Victorian lady almost showing an ankle.

So the franchise gets to plausibly chaste. They get the plausible deniability of being like, "oh, no, we thought this would be popular among teen girls" even though that is clearly not their target audience.

Meanwhile the dudes get to be like, "I just like hot anime babes", or "I just think it's one of the best mobile rhythm games" when clearly if they wanted those things, there are other more direct sources. If you want hot anime babes, there are hundreds of other saucier things you could watch. If you want a good rhythm game, there are many good rhythm games.

Like, they are there for the cute pop songs and costumes. And, yes, the characters, which are part of the package. But they are fans of them in the exact way girls are fans of boy bands and pick their favorite. Like, this is an incredibly girly activity they are partaking in.

But there's this genius layer of marketing and psychology at play to sell this incredibly girly kind of entertainment experience, that of course men would also want to have sometimes, to men in a way they feel comfortable with.

Which, like, I am absolutely positive the reverse exists. I just think it's interesting.

[curryandbread]

Can you do hcs for how the dorm leaders would react to falling for a male student in their respective dorms? Would they deny it or accept it?

TWST Dorm Leaders falling for a male student headcanons

Thank you for requesting!! Hope you like it!

TW: Mentions of homophobia

Riddle Rosehearts

He’d be absolutely confused.

The way he acts around you is iffy, why can’t he stay normal whenever you’re in his radar?

When he does realize he’s falling for a man such as you, he starts to become a lot more cautious and quiet around you.

He doesn’t know what to think. He grew up in such a conservative household, he’d feel like he’d be in the wrong here.

He was not exposed to such topics such as these, he spent nights tossing and turning on his bed,, thinking of how he’s going to handle these strange feelings.

“Why am I feeling this way?” “I feel like wanting to stay by his side more...” “Is it wrong? Is something wrong with me??” Riddle asks.

“Silly. That’s love, Riddle. You’re in love with him.” Trey chuckles, both of them talking at the dorm’s kitchen with the support of a candlelight.

Riddle would probably deny it for days, for some reason it just doesn’t feel right to him.

But as he let Trey’s words of reassurance and wisdom sink in, he started accepting it.

The next time he sees you, he musters up the courage to invite you out for a one-on-one unbirthday party with him. But of course as Cater from afar sees it, it is something more than just an unbirthday party.

Leona Kingscholar

Holy cow this man will probably deny it in a flash.

He’d be out like a light as soon as his body hits the bed. But for the first time, he’s grown to just stare at the moon from his terrace.

“How did it come to this?” He thinks.

The fact that you’re a dude, it gives him more reasons why he stays up at night. It had to be you out of all people.

He’s grown to be open to those kinds of things, he can be good at times. He knew that it was okay.

But at the same time, he recollects his thoughts and tells himself that it’s just not him.

As much as he wanted to let this out, he’s been used to keeping everything to himself as if it’s a matter to be handled in his own hands.

He could, but he just wouldn’t. He can only bench these overflowing feelings from you.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul never came to a conclusion that he’d get along with the topic of love, not even his brains foresaw the situation he is in now.

He’s aware of what he’s going through. But he also had to think twice if it was okay.

He never knew he’d discover something so vital to his whole being, and he thanks you for that.

He had second thoughts when he thought of telling Jade about this. It feels like he’ll meet his doom if he does tell Jade.

Azul slowly opens up to accepting his feelings towards you. Knowing there wouldn’t be any harm in loving you.

Day by day, he’d look forward to see you drop by at the Mostro Lounge. There are days where he’d wish you’d chime in at his VIP room to have a little catch-up after his overblot situation.

He doesn’t want to rush, nor does he want to let it stay with him. For now, he’ll go at his own pace.

He would hope that you’d share the same feelings as his.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is delighted that he found something so special that makes him look forward to a new day! It’s like he has a little alarm clock.

He doesn’t mind falling for you! However he won’t easily hint this.

He will wholeheartedly embrace and accept it for loving a man! In fact, he’s proud that he’s discovered more of himself.

When you’re not around, he would babble about how his day was spent with you to Jamil for a while, I mean, a while.

Jamil kinda gets annoyed with all the things Kalim tells him everyday and would just tell Kalim to “Just get together with him already!”

He doesn’t mind that you find out either. He’ll be waiting for an answer if ever though. He won’t be able sit still until you give him a response.

He wants to drink coconut juice with you all day, would even offer to give you a magic carpet ride with him. A whole new woooorld~

Vil Schoenheit

First of all, he found you absolutely beautiful. He’s never seen a man so charming.

He felt the need to be there with you as much as possible no matter what. Your presence intoxicates him, and he likes it.

When you exchange your greetings with each other, he’d just fall more into the warmth of your bright smile.

And yes, he’s not backing down on these feelings pressed onto him. Nothing can stop him. He knows what his heart wants.

He just won’t show it easily. But he would just shower you in nothing but compliments which leaves you thinking if he’s actually just being nice or something else.

He’ll give you simple things for you to remember him. A vase of flowers ordered from a high-end flower shop somewhere, a luxurious pack of skin care products! Anything that Vil can get his hands on that pleases you!

When the right time comes, he will most likely bring out the best in him, whatever it takes to keep you by his side.

Idia Shroud

“Is this a joke..?! This is no romance anime..!”

Yyyyyyeah. He’d deny it. No way is he gonna let you know about this.

Idia literally has social anxiety issues, what more if he realizes he likes someone; a guy!

His brain would just explode right then and there. He’s acting like a shoujo manga character and it’s sooo not like him.

He’d definitely hide this from Ortho. Ortho would be one to either scold his brother for being too dense, or pressure him to death.

He honestly doesn’t mind liking men, but to him it just feels off so it might not sit well for him in the next few weeks.

He’d drown himself in rhythm games and mangas, trying to brush aside that weight of obsession towards you.

Overthinking controls him.

Malleus Draconia

He’d be fascinated, for a creature such as him to experience such a thing called love.

He does take a liking to you after all, so what’s the point in hiding it?

He’ll happily embrace these feelings for you. He’s never felt so alive when he’s with you.

He wouldn’t tell anyone about these feelings, but it is painfully obvious to distinguish what’s on his mind.

He can never truly understand such feelings, however he’ll do what it takes to never let this falter.

Regardless of his feelings, he spends every second of his life with you as he indulges his feelings for you.

There will be a thought coming from the back of his head that it feels out of place to love a man. However he is not that shallow.

Lilia fully supports him, thanking your existence so that Malleus does not feel alone.

[matchamorphosis]

MS ROSIE THAT HEADCANNON OMFG MAY I PRETTY PLEASE REQUEST DADDY ARI- maybe like hes busy with work but youre really needy so he lets you ride his thigh i lub mean daddy ari🥺<33333

𝐶𝐴𝑁𝐷𝑌 𝐶𝑂𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐷 𝐶𝐻𝐸𝑅𝑈𝐵

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || Ari hasn’t been paying you much attention and so you take matters in your own hands as well as your short cherry skirt.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || smut smut smut

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || alt. AU — daddy!ari levinson × [black//woc]fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || 18+ nsfw, thigh riding, masochism, kinda dark!ari, spanking, hair pulling, lots of edging, tons of crying, Ari is a big meanie :(( MINORS DNI — 18+ INTERACTION ONLY

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 || candy by doja cat

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || yes jasmeen of course you can!! 🥺💗 i’m gonna make daddy!ari extra mean and dirty for you and i’m gonna add a little bit of bratty reader cause in this house we love mean daddies and spoiled brats! 💗💗💗

Ari’s eyes follow the screen to the stacks of paperwork in front of him. all this was due by the end of the week and he still didn’t file the information from the online form to the files laying on his desk.

there were times where Ari broke some work related limits of hours upon hours of desk work fueled by caffeine and your kisses of encouragement but then again he did have his limits.

these were those times but no matter how much he promised himself he’d take a break, meaning to check up on you and see what you’ve been up to. although time seemed to pass and Ari hadn’t realize that that side note was forgotten three hours ago on the account of his mind relentlessly kept on reeling him back into his paperwork.

the large coffee mug you made him at a pottery class sits besides a stack of files is pushing its fifth refill of the day as Ari pours the remaining bitter black liquid from the coffeepot. the dark black liquid flowing into the yellow painted, honeypot shaped mug.

it makes him smile at the memory of when you gifted it to him, wrapped in sparkly wrapping paper he presses kisses all over your face in gratitude. he always complained on needing a mug since he always dropped them and he was certain to never drop of break this special mug his princess made him.

its sudden with the loose grip he has on the coffee mug that the coffee spills over the brink of the mug and onto a few papers. the action causes Ari to blurt out an aggregated scold before fanning out the papers soaked in coffee to the side near a fan.

sitting back down on his chair his eyes look over the work he has completed. stapling and putting away documents that have been signed and filed out as well as closing off tabs that weren’t important anymore-

he still has more work cut out for him

his rushing thoughts and swift hands bearing a pen and the other a computer mouse, his head shoots up as a rhythm like knock echoes at the home office door. “come in,”

the low rumble of his voice speaks out as his eyes and attention to back on the papers in his grasps. sipping on his black coffee, slightly sweetened in his desired cream and sugar packets, his focus and eyes stick to his paperwork.

the door opens to reveal you, slightly irritated and desperate for attention from your daddy. you were certain with your presence and the way your heels clack against the flooring he would lift his head up. adjust the small glasses on the brink of his nose and acknowledge you, tell you that you look cute today or stop writing all together but it doesn’t spark interest to him at all.

thin spectacles on the brink of his nose, loose curtains of hair rest on the sides of his face. as you take steps closer you can see the worn out exhaustion in his blue hues and the deep darkness of his under eye bags. daddy hasn’t slept great in days, always joining you in bed in the early morning hours and waking before you can. so now knowing that your mission for attention might not be the best idea, you know when your daddy gets like this.

it’s best to leave him work but it wasn’t healthy for him to overwork. it’s stress none stop about getting work done cause it wasn’t good for daddy! and despite you feeling a burn in your belly that you wanted to deny and push aside for him...

even you had your limits of being deprived from his embraces, praises and touches.

a solid three days it’s been that Ari has been glued behind his desk. it irked you how demanding his job was but you had to be his supportive princess, he needed all the support and encouragement. even if it meant to ignore the wetness in between your thighs that needed to be catered and handled by your daddy then so be it...

maybe you can get a bit of attention, a morsel of affirmation from him and you’ll be set to go. maybe you shouldn’t have worn the outfit you have on if you now just want a praise of two but you don’t hesitate to get comfortable. settling in one of the form fitting arm chairs at the far corner of your daddy’s office near the towering bookshelves and his hanged degrees.

admiring how smart and brave your daddy is with his degrees, certificates and honors as you play with the little charm bracelet he gave you. throwing one smooth leg over the other your mini skirt rakes up to reveal your upper thighs but still covering up what little you’re trying to hide. you liked dressing up pretty for daddy and he did to, today was no exception cause you were planning on cheering him up.

when he would finally realize you were here- you roll your eyes as he takes another sip of coffee. taking all your necessities that you stuffed in your Strawberry Shortcake book bag, you laid the elements of entertainment on the coffee table in front of you near the plush armchairs.

one of your lisa frank coloring books being thrown across the expansive wooden tabletop, you take out your bright vivid gel pens and pastel markers from your coloring pouch. and by taking out you unzip the pink pouch and turn it upside down for it all to fall on the table.

the clashing plastic crash of your coloring tools against the polished tabletop alert Ari- his head shooting up as his eyes meet your distanced body uncapping a scented marker and opening a page of the coloring book.

“princess? I didn’t see you, what are you doing here?” his voice breaks as he drops the pen in his hands briefly, softly smiling as he sees your face driven in concentration. his smile deepens when your nose doing the cute little scrunch thing when you’re unsure about something but plan on figuring out.

hair styled in one of your complicated yet sophisticated hairdos, his large sweater he allowed you to wear since the morning still adorns your bodice comfortably. knees bended, he sees them bare but an outline to a crimson red skirt falls on your hips.

it’s a shame Ari couldn’t get up and scoop you up in his arms, play and color with you for a bit without the ball and chain of his work holding him hostage at his desk.

“so now you notice i’m here,” your voice lightly snaps but it’s mellowed as your lips pull into a pout, pulling the strings of his heart. a sense of guilt rises in his chest because he knows he hasn’t been caring for you properly these past few days. without the little moments of meals and getting ready for bed he hasn’t been spending time with you that much.

“don’t be like that princess. daddy just has alot of work to finish-” but you still shake your head, confusing Ari as you cross your arms over your chest.

“but I don’t want daddy to work! daddy works forever! I want special time!” you whine, your eyes tearing up as you slam your hands against the table. making the coloring books, pens and markers quake at your mercy.

at this moment Ari’s at your mercy, and if he permits you to continue this stirring frenzy who knows how much he’s going to spend away from his work to calm you from a potential tantrum. so the words that come out of Ari’s mouth make you hault your next actions of crying and screaming-

the simple notion of, “come here princess, bring your coloring book with you. we can work together,” makes your tears stop falling and your body rising to leap towards him. grabbing your things quickly and making your way to your daddy. it’s now that he sees you in your outfit that has his eyes sticking anywhere else but yours.

a smirk curling your glossy, cherry painted lips you turn around for him so he could see your little ‘outfit’ the flow of your skirt tempting to rise up at the bottom curve of your ass but you’re hoping to save the surprise do what’s underneath it later, “do you like my skirt daddy?” you say, your eyes tracing his and he only but stares at anything else but your eyes.

the rich gleam of your thighs and long legs, the way your chest peaks out through the fabric to his sweater, your tempting glossy lips and those damn heels...

his response is his hands patting down on his thigh, enough to practically make your heart jump at the sight. it’s been that long since you’ve sat on his lap but then again you constantly need to be on it.

a moonlight smile pulls at the corner of his lips when you drop your coloring books and markers on his desk. making sure to not mess up his paperwork with yours, Ari moves his papers to make way for your things.

sighing happily when you settle your bum in between both of his thighs to get comfy. sweet scent of strawberries and cream from your shampoo wafting to his nose and the stark fruitiness of your scented markers mixing with the coffee steam from his mug marry together.

the two of you do your separate jobs peacefully, with the exception of you reaching for his honeypot mug to have a lick of coffee that he tsks at you. moving the mug away from your grabby small hands.

“that’s a big people drink sweet pea. i’ll give you a juice box if you’re thirsty,” but you just shake your head and get right back to shading with your colors.

“daddy may I please play my hello kitty game?” your perky voice starts as you start coloring the detailed tiger cub. emphasizing on the may and please, your daddy was a sucker for good manners and etiquette.

shifting against only his right thigh now, your back hunches to reach the desk with difficulty until he shift to get you comfortable. continuing coloring but your eyes leave once in a while to stare at the keyboard Ari’s fingers clack with each key, “not now princess.” Ari hums and you frown sourly.

the online hello kitty theme park game would be an excellent way to have you distracted as he works but at the same time Ari doesn’t think it’ll be healthy for you to invest that much screen time. and besides he’s working on it, leaning your head on his bicep you let go of that unwanted answer and get back to color tinting and detailing.

Ari files in the margins of the paperwork and writes everything out as you do with your coloring sheets. as the minutes turn into hours, his mug once again being filled with coffee and your sippy cup filled with your juice. you finish coloring page after coloring page and Ari stack after stack of paperwork.

leaving you halfway done with your one hundred and seventy-five page Lisa Frank coloring book and your daddy only one stack of field files. the amount he managed to finish has him impressed of himself and grateful to his special good luck charm sitting perfectly right on his thigh.

“daddy look at all the pages I finished!” you cheer as you pull out the coloring book for him to look over, practically bouncing on his thigh from excitement. the dazzling brightness of your wide toothy smile bringing a large smile to Ari’s face as he takes the coloring book to look over at your hard work.

flipping each page, the drawings and outlined sheets were more colorful and detailed than the last and Ari was indeed speechless and at awe. proud of his creative princess and her clever unique technique with scented markers and glitter gel pens.

“princess these are gorgeous! I have a little artist on my hands don’t I?” Ari grins and his words make the wide smile you have crinkle as your eyes dash away from his flustered.

your bashful state makes Ari chuckle but his eyes don’t pull away to continue analyzing and admiring your work. you indeed did an excellent job at coloring and Ari thought you’d struggle a bit with the detailed sheets of Lisa Frank. the refrigerator tonight will be decorated in these latest masterpieces, he’ll make sure of it.

and you know what? you deserve a reward.

Ari thought and he bends to the side to open the second compartment of his desk just above his organized files. pulling the drawer open, his hands roam over the pens, staples and office supplies in search for the treats.

stopping his short search when his fingers grab the bag of heart shaped lollipops he at times rewarded you when you listened to him extra carefully. he grabs one and brings it up to your eyesight, enjoying how your eyes light up and follow the lollipop with each motion.

starlight eyes widen and focus on the cherry lollipop in your daddy’s grasp then stare up at him again, “is that for me daddy?” you words drip in eagerness, wanting to taste the sugary sweet artificial fruit against your tongue.

Ari’s eyes playfully squint against your mischievous ones, his fingers undo the wrapper and disregard it aside on the desk. wonderstroke eyes looking over the bare heart shaped lollipop, you can smell the tangy cherry and your mouth waters.

although you don’t expect daddy to take the lollipop in his mouth. a pout pulling your lips as you rock against his thigh for a taste and you stop once your daddy takes it out with a smart delightful pop!

“open up for daddy princess,” and you don’t need to be told twice as you open your mouth so Ari could place the heart lolli in your mouth. “tongue out sweet girl,” and you stick your tongue flat out, making Ari smile at your good listening skills.

your glossy lips closing around the sweet candy on a stick, you hum at the sweet taste, “thank you daddy,” Ari simply kisses your forehead before patting your head, getting straight into work.

despite the candy he gave you, you’re still upset he still is ignoring you. by all means you could color as many pages in your coloring book for eternity but they never gave you the same satisfaction then the attention daddy gave you.

being deprived of it, you’ve also been deprived of his cock.

locked away in the depths of your shared bedroom you couldn’t just replace his thick fingers with yours. your pink silicon toys with his cock because they didn’t reach the golden spot he easily could reach. and you couldn’t rub your panty clothed pussy against one of your pillows and pretend it was Ari’s body.

no matter how much you wanted to touch yourself at times- hell you wanted to touch yourself when you were in your playroom this early afternoon. Ari obviously wouldn’t notice since his head was deep in paperwork but you knew you couldn’t break one of his golden rules.

right now daddy was right here, you were sitting on his very lap and compared to him you were a little thing in desperately critical need to be taken care of. your slicked cunt wasn’t going to stop over-examining your daddy’s big arms that caged you in. his large hands that held the pen that looked so small in it as he wrote. his wide muscular chest that you rest your back against.

not to mention the soft and tender caresses of his one hand rubbing your thigh through your fringed scarlet red skirt. soft lips pressing gentle kisses on your hairline here and there along with the scratch of his thick beard. the soft spoken praises he whispered in your ear as you colored quietly for him.

daddy himself made you needy, very needy. because as much as you could sit still and color quietly and be his good girl you desperately wanted to grind your cunt against his thigh.

but then again who were you to ask for permission?

the sudden shift your body has against his thigh doesn’t ring any bells or blast any alarms since he just thinks you’re simply shifting to find a comfortable position.

wandering fingers trace the veins bursting from your daddy’s flexed hands and forearms that grip his pen as he writes. as well as the other that’s hooked around your belly to keep you still, finding the perfect rhythm to roll your hips against ari’s thigh.

holding in a whimper you suck on the lollipop hard, picturing the heart shaped lolli has the tip of his cock but then again it just makes you drip pathetically against your daddy’s thigh even thinking of that. the burning pleasure vibrating at your core as your hips continue to rock onto the denim of your daddy’s jeans. the slick of your pussy soaking your panties and the honey seeps through the crotch of the thin lace thing.

as much as you’re doing a good job at keeping your little sounds to yourself and throwing Ari off at your dirty work as you carry on coloring he isn’t oblivious to the wetness that is drenching his thigh nor your ongoing grind you have on it.

no matter how considerable you told him earlier that you were coloring the page you’re working on for him and how adorable you looked grinding your desperate cunt on his thigh.

you didn’t ask for permission

Ari’s sure if he could lift your body away from his thigh they’re would be a wet patch stained on his jeans. he can hear the sloppiness of your wet folds and slick with each rock your hips have. the smell of your arousal filling his nose, the cherry in your breath as you let out a little whimper. feeling the loose string of your orgasm building in the pit of your belly beginning to tighten as you roll and rock your hips to the lace that makes you melt.

“stop it,” Ari’s low rumble commanded, his hands still writing something but his eyes dash from his work to you. eyes closed and face clouded in lust as you persist your grinding. head and conscious tucked away in your dirty little dream world. Ari doesn’t let the fact that you’re sucking on the lollipop like it’s his cock or the little moans that sound like high pitched hums.

he gave you you’re a reward and he can easily take it away

oblivious of your daddy’s true intention you moan when his hand lands on your head, stroking through your hair until he takes a handful of it and pulls your head back. a gasp escaping your lips, your eyes open and the grind you have on his thigh comes to a crashing stop at the painful tug.

“daddy let go!” you loudly whine. your eyes watering at your ruined orgasm and your hair potentially getting ruined by your daddy’s harsh hold.

another cry escapes your lips when ari pulls your head back even more, causing your back to arch as his breath wafts against your earlobe. “daddy told you to stop, princess. is my little princess a dumb baby or is my little princess too busy fucking herself on daddy’s thigh to listen?”

the coarseness of his remark makes you shiver, a whimper and cry leaving your lips as your eyes water as the hold he has on your hair tightens.

“get your filthy cunt off of my thigh and keep coloring that picture for me. can you do that for me or you going to wander and get lost in that whorish brain of yours?”

rapidly nodding your head up and down and lift your hips over his thigh, your need to please and answer his question quickly makes him chuckle into your hair. although you’re still whimpering and pouting over your ruined hair, you spent all morning making it cute and perfect all for it to be ruined with a single tug from his large hands.

hot bothered breath and searing lips grazing against the shell of your ear causes your wetness to seep and drip onto your rubbing thighs. catching you in the act, Ari’s free hand pulls the skirt above your hips, expecting you to wear some kind of tiny lace panties but you aren’t wearing anything.

blue eyes don’t meet any scandalous undergarment, just your plump ass and your dripping cunt desperate for his touch. desperate for a release and his attention, his hands examine the flimsy material for a skirt that deliciously hugs and covers your hips.

feeling your daddy’s stare on your princess parts, it makes your heart jump and thump when his hands grab at your ass. kneading the flesh of it before gripping the waistline of the cherry red skirt.

“daddy-?” another gasp escapes your lips when a loud tare ripples throughout the room and the weight of cold air hitting your slicked, exposed pussy.

Ari grunts as he takes the fabric of your now ripped skirt and throws it onto the floor without a care, all he wants to see is your pussy. a large hand comes down to slap your ass, enjoying the way it bounces back like it’s a response. it has all the blood and lust flowing down south to his hardening cock.

“do daddy a favor princess and shut the fuck up before daddy makes you,” the threat makes you whimper, the lollipop in your mouth swirling sweetly against your tongue as your daddy pinches and gripes handfuls of your ass. slapping the flesh and watching it bounce, he wants to dig his teeth in your peach flesh.

“take my sweater off. I want nothing on what’s mine. do you understand?” Ari groans in your ear as his hands glide around your hips to dip into your cunt, his fingers stroking your folds and not believeing how wet you are. “oh and princess, the heels stay on,”

whimpering and following his order quickly, grabbing his sweater from the helm and lift the heavy wool material of the sweater above your head. body fully bare and under the heat of his burning glance, you drop the thick article of clothing in your hands on the floor. leaving the heels on as he commanded, feeling the lust filled burn of his stare intensify as you rest your hands together on his knee waiting.

waiting impatiently for the matter for his next command. the smell of the baby oil and sweet strawberry lotion he rubbed on your curves earlier that day hits his nose and he moans. you look, smell and- as he takes his fingers in his mouth and moans- taste like candy.

hearing the sudden sound of a heavy metal buckle of his belt loosen, Ari’s hard cock rises up and hits the hard muscle of his belly. an untamed groan escapes oats his lips when you turn your head over your shoulder to see him rubbing the tip of his cock with his thumb.

those starlight eyes that usually gleam in their faux innocence stare back at the fire in his eyes and you pout. wanting to touch daddy’s cock and taste him on your tongue. but your eyes tear up when he takes his thumb and suck the white cum into his mouth, not leaving enough for you to taste.

it makes you whip your head away from his handsome smug face. Ari doesn’t ignore the sniff out of you as he sets sight of your bare body in front of him. resting your elbows and body weight on the desk your arched back leaves loads of space for him to glide his hands through. running delicious shivers throughout your spine before he slaps your ass again. stinging and burning but your cunt creams in pleasure as you bite your bottom lip.

“my slutty princess wasn’t wearing a bra under daddies sweater? no panties under those scraps for a skirt? fucking knew you looked too good. wanted daddy to find out and ruin your tiny pussy, didn’t you? wanted to distract me from work? nasty little girl thinking she can get what she wants.”

not daring to let out another moan, his hand still gripping your hair loosens as his free hand rises up your waist to pinch a nipple. “answer me slut. you get nothing if you don’t,” his hiss rings and normally you would laugh at him in this state. telling off his stupid hunchmen on the phone as you got all hot and bothered as he yelled at them, making them beg for his forgiveness.

now you’re on the end of that anger; and you don’t mind it one but as his large calloused hands grab the fragments of your ripped skirt on the floor before analyzing your bare body arched pretty and posed for him. in nothing but your big girl heels with your cute lacy white socks, his cock is painfully hard now as the tip paints his abdomen in precum.

“yes daddy. I wanted you to fuck me. I wanted you to stop working because you haven’t touched me and I want cummies! I deserve cummies!” you cry but the words are too sloshed and unreadable from the lollipop in your mouth.

it’s quick that Ari takes the stick and pulls it away from your mouth with a swift and perky pop! a loud whine excludes your lips from his sole action but it’s replaced with a gasp as Ari slaps your mouth, “shut your big brat hole up before I stuff it shut myself,” and you moaned at him, fucking moaned at the threat.

it leaves him just as speechless as you, you’re face wafting in the heat of your embarrassment and you cower when his smirk curls deviously done on you. Ari wants you to cry- God he wants to rip your heart out and bandage it up with his cock

“dumb babies like you get what daddy gives you. nothing else, now grind on daddy’s thigh princess,” his rough command makes you freeze, not even daring to breathe for a second.

wondering if he’s being serious, and it’s as if he could read the confusion buzzing in your head he decides to clear it up. the harsh and stinging spank awakes you from your overthinking session and you get to work. working to gain the same pleasurable friction you were enjoying moments ago.

your hands gripe the edge of his desk till your knuckles bulge out around your soft skin. rocking your hips against the roughness of his jeans, this time no panties are in the way as your slickness flows freely. lubricating your folds and soaking his thigh with your juices, it makes him chuckle when he feels your wetness soak through the fabric onto his thigh. you’re so pretty and obedient he could fuck your till you couldn’t think or stand.

“do you think you can finish your coloring page before you cum princess? show me how good you are at coloring.”

Ari’s artificially sweet remark makes you whimper, just as artificial as the cherry heart lollipop you were licking. not hesitating or wasting a minute, you quickly grab your coloring book and markers and get straight to work.

thankful you didn’t have to color much, one good thing leading you to this moment you could feel your orgasm nearing. the high peak that you’re getting closer and closer to, you want to jump off the cliff and dive into the waves of your pleasure. who knows what daddy would do if you didn’t finish your drawing on time, you needed to fucking cum.

you always got what you fucking wanted regardless what daddy thought, but maybe you spoke to soon-

“please princess, daddy knows you can grind harder on that. show me how much of a slut you are for daddy’s thigh,” you whimper at his command and obey immediately.

grinding harder against him, his teeth biting the soft bit of ear as his fingers roll your hard nipples. slightly wincing and deeply moaning, you can’t help but allow him to make you slip in that space of mindless obedience.

daddy always made you a moaning wet mess, always desperate for his approval and sweet honeyed praises. glassy eyes concentrating on your coloring sheet, it was becoming difficult to focus on coloring as you rocked your hips. trying desperately to withhold your orgasm but desperately trying to please daddy and grinding harder. hot tears springing in your eyes at the havoc situation, you let out a sob as your rock against Ari’s thigh.

Ari only but cooed at you, thumbing away your hot salty tears. “what a little crybaby,” he chuckles through a fake sympathetic smile. fisting his hard slippery cock in one hand as the other crept down to rub your little button. if anything Ari wants more now is for you to cry- it’s getting his cock harder and harder as the tears drip onto the coloring sheet.

“daddy I-I can’t color that fast!” that cry as his thick fingers advancing in their speed and pressure. stroking the puffiness of your folds before brushing against your drenched hole.

taking not a single ounce of regard to your wail, he responds only by pinching your pussy lips. causing you to cry out in sudden pain before he strokes your pussy to calm you. thick digits gathering up your arousal, your folds creating a lewd serenade in the golden tint of his office.

“you can’t color that fast? my stupid little princess doesn’t know how to color quick enough? to color a small stupid drawing before she can cum? huh, princess? answer me!”

there doesn’t need to be any tugging at your hair or harsh slap to your ass for you to quiver against him. Ari- your daddy has a magical way of making you submit with just the ease of his words but you don’t know how to answer him at all but to keep coloring. marshmallow tears streaming down your face like shooting stars, you continue to reach your high your daddy assists you on reaching but denies.

however Ari is noticing that you’re practically almost done coloring the picture, by the time you’re finished you’d probably cum and fufill his order. oh he couldn’t let that happen. his spoiled brat wasn’t gonna cum until he felt she deserved so, which wasn’t gonna be anytime soon if he could do anything about it.

quick hands slap down on your ass, causing the marker in your hand to scribble slightly over the lines. a gasp escaping your lips your bottom lip trembling at the sight and rushing figuring out how to fix it. scarlet heels clacking together, his hands stop tracing the lace of your socks at your ankles.

ravishing in your panicked state, he smirks into your hair. grabbing the lollipop he snatched from you earlier from the desk, taking it into his mouth with a satisfying pop! ignoring your offended and hurt whimpers as your daddy steals your reward away from you due to your clumsiness. it makes your vision blurry and your bottom lip tremble violently, head echoing in only one thought and one thought only-

daddy is so mean, daddy’s a big fat meanie.

your thoughts roar but you didn’t mean to say any of them aloud, you’re so caught up in the moment that you have no idea you did so because now your ass is getting spanked again and again and again and again. all until your peach flesh burns and Ari can see the indents of his fingers on that heart shaped ass he loves so much before bringing his hand back in your hair.

tugging it so your spine suddenly arches back so his lips brush your ear, a gasp escaping your mouth. “I can be meaner princess. you stop coloring and I won’t let you cum. do you understand that? stupid whore.”

the growl rolls off his lips and it just adds onto the sheet of sweats glistening off your skin. tears drop from your lashes as shaky, trembling hands grip the markers as you persist on finishing the coloring page. feeling your body is on fire, your sobbing cunt continues to rock against his loins and the pleasure is almost unbearable you whimper.

the smirk plastered on Ari’s face is sinful, his hands unbutton his shirt to leave his chest bare. golden pendant glistening in the light bulbs of his office. back muscles resting against the leather of his office chair, he strokes his throbbing cock. biting his bottom lip enjoying the naked sight of his desperate slut for a precious princess bouncing and rocking on his thigh.

arms bended calmly behind his head, biceps slightly flexing as he licks on the lollipop he took from you. humming from its sweet taste while imagining it’s the nipples of your tits, his tongue flicking over the heart shape- sucking sharply on it. savoring the sweet cherry taste as his hands graze up to gripe your bouncing tits. savoring in your heavy moans, stiff sniffles and stuttering sobs all on the account of him.

like taking candy from a baby, his baby.

Ari thinks as he watched your ass bounce, sweat glistening off your skin as your heeled feet shake. moving back in your high unaware matter, your ass unintentionally brushes roughly against his balls. causing you to gasp and your daddy to grunt, ordering you to do it again which you do.

suddenly the thought of fucking your other tight hole full of his white ropes of cum takes over his mind but he was enjoying you trying to find a release. “maybe if you color the picture really nice for daddy then daddy will let you cum,”

Ari spoke, his voice soft and tender like always despite the current moments of viscously degrading and name calling you. you’ve always craved this part of him but who knew it would hurt your heart so fucking good with each insult and slap to your heart shaped ass.

although the remark creates a hopeful glisten in your relieved eyes, posture relaxing a bit. you were certain you wouldn’t be able finish it on time but maybe if you focus on making it look pretty- regardless of a few white spaces- daddy would let you have your cummies. Ari would kiss you on your pretty lips and make you undone with the sweetest command.

oh how you craved it this moment it’s bringing more tears to your eyes.

“r-really daddy?” you stutter, imagining the tenseness of his thigh as his cock. squeezing it just right around your walls as your eyes glue on the coloring sheet. grinding your pussy harder onto his jean covered thigh that let’s all your high pitched and stuttering moans flow like honey, “you really mean it?”

a dark glint shines in Ari’s blue hues, taking the lollipop out of his mouth his hand rubs his shaft painfully slow. that thumb that has been teasing your button glides past his weeping tip, his burning blue glance shifting to you. until his hand reaches up, causing you to moan when he grabs a handful of your hair.

oh how he was going to tear his poor princess down after building her a sense of hope.

“no,”

[person8789]

Sooo I got into Twisted Wonderland recently (like two months ago when it came out in English) and I wanted to talk about it a little! No spoilers in this post!

Intro for those who maybe already know the game: I got into it with the English release and play the English ver, but I am also caught up with watching/reading the translations with the Japanese ver of the story. (Ex: in the English ver I’m in book 4 but I’ve read up to where the Japanese ver is in book 6).

Intro for those who don’t(?): Twisted Wonderland is a mobile gacha game made by Disney (and Aniplex, as well as Yana Toboso who did Black Butler but please feel free to correct me if I’m wrong!) You play as Yuu, (or any name of your choosing, but that’s the canon “fill in” name that I’ll be referring to them as), a magic-less freshmen at Night Raven College that somehow got thrown into a world called, you guessed it, Twisted Wonderland. Night Raven College is a pretentious and famous school whose students are somewhat roughly based off of different Disney villains along with some heroes who use powerful magic. There is also a rival school called Royal Sword Academy as well. Throughout the story Yuu will meet, aid and grow close to students from different dorms based off of different Disney stories/movies along with Grim, a “monster cat” that can communicate and use magic (I’ve seen a lot of people compare him to Morgana for the role he plays if that gives you a better picture). Gameplay wise it’s a gacha style action game where you draw cards for different characters to use in fights. There’s also a rhythm aspect of the game where you play through different songs as well. In order to strengthen cards and your personal player rank, you go through different types of lessons and use items you can either buy or obtain from said lessons. There’s a bit more to it as well but I won’t get into all of that in this post, if someone says they’re interested then I can make a separate post for it, this is long enough as it is.

Whoa yikes that synopsis was kinda long but let’s move on, if you really *really* don’t want to know even character’s names or dorm names or anything like then then I would stop here.

How I would describe each of the characters in one word/phrase: (keep in mind this is kinda opinion based please):

Riddle Rosehearts: Perfectionist

Ace Trappola: Clever

Deuce Spade: Badass

Cater Diamond: Secret sad boi hours

Trey Clover: ENABLER.

Leona Kingscholar: An ass

Ruggie Bucchi: Mischievous. Also, street smarts!

Jack Howl: “uh oh, they messed with Jack’s morals” is a phrase that’s regularly said and that’s all I have to say.

Azul Ashengrotto: “Blue nerd octopus” (not my words). Also, ANXIETY.

Jade Leech: Shady.

Floyd Leech: A force of nature

Kalim Al-Asim: Ignorant sunshine

Jamil Vipor: Snake. Like when you call someone a snake.

Vil Schoenheit: Is persistent the word I’m looking for? Maybe Diligent would be better?

Rook Hunt: Eccentric. And very extra. (Also kind of a simp)

Epel Felmeir: “Fight me! You won’t!”

Idia Shroud: I’m pretty much convinced that Idia is also playing Twist at this point.

Ortho Shroud: baby robot child

Malleus Draconia: all the sass with this one

Sebek Zigvolt: SIMP.

Silver: Narcoleptic and not happy about it

Lilia Vanrouge: “how do you do, fellow kids?”

Dire Crowley: VERY shady.

Ok with that out of the way some general opinions about the game and characters:

Favorite character: ♦️Cater Diamond♦️

(Some) Runner up favorites (in no particular order): 🌹Riddle Rosehearts🌹, ♠️Deuce Spade♠️,🐍Jamil Vipor🐍, and 🐙Azul Ashengratto🐙

Some characters I don’t care as much for: 🏹Rook Hunt🏹, ⚡️Sebek Zigvolt⚡️, and ♣️Trey Clover♣️

Favorite Book: 🐍Schemer of the Scalding Sands☀️

Least Favorite Book: 🦁The Usurper from the Wilds🐺

Favorites Dorm: probably Heartslabyul

Favorite dorm leader: uh (why would you make me choose-)

Favorite Vice dorm leader: most likely 🐍Jamil Vipor🐍

Favorite from each dorm:

Heartslabyul: ♦️Cater Diamond♦️

Savanaclaw: 🍩Ruggie Bucchi🍩

Octavinelle: 🐙Azul Ashengratto🐙

Scarabia: 🐍Jamil Vipor🐍

Pomefiore: 👑Vil Schoenheit👑

Ignihyde: 💀Idia Shroud💀

Diasomnia: either 🐉Malleus Draconia🐉 or 🦇Lilia Vanrouge🦇

✨I left a lot of this out of context in order to avoid spoilers for this post but if you’re curious about why I might’ve answered any of these the way I did, would just like more Twist content, or just have any general questions for me please feel free to send me an ask! I’m really enjoying this game so far so it would be much appreciated!✨

[drabblers]

A New Day

Prompt: Sunlight Fandom: Bleach Characters: Kurosaki Ichigo, Kuchiki Rukia Setting: Sci-fi AU; Continues Awake     (All instalments under the IR Timetravel AU tag) 1001 Words

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

Sunlight tickled Ichigo’s eyelids. He groaned and pulled the pillow over his face, hiding from the unwelcome morning light. He wanted to turn in his bed. Go right back to sleep. But then he remembered the woman in his room.

In the morning stillness, he could hear the soft, even breaths from across the room. She seemed peaceful, at last. Ichigo was glad. He’d spent half his night awake and instead of rested he felt groggy and confused and severely out of his depth. How did one help a time-traveller find their way back home? Where did one even start?

They needed to have a long talk, sometime soon. Try to figure out if she had any idea what had happened; if there were any clues as to how she’d managed to slip through time. But one thing was for sure – Kuchiki Rukia would be staying at Ichigo’s apartment for quite a while. Which meant he’d need to get used to sharing his space. Ichigo scowled at his ceiling. He also needed to go shopping. Rukia would need clothes. They’d need more food.

The thought of food had Ichigo’s stomach stir with a rumble and with some reluctance, he rolled out of bed. He crossed the room in silent feet, running a hand through his sleep-messed hair. He wandered into the kitchenette and put the coffeemaker on. Exhaustion weighed on his sluggish brain and he rubbed his hand across his face. For a moment, Ichigo simply stood in front of his fridge, drawing a blank. Then, his stomach rumbled, jolting him into action. 

Ichigo rummaged through the cupboards, trying to keep his movements slow, careful and most of all quiet, so he wouldn’t disturb his houseguest. He made toast. Boiled water for tea. Sliced a couple of apples. And all the while his thoughts whirled around Kuchiki Rukia.

She was lost – and not only in the physical sense of the word. It showed in her demeanour. Shone in the dark depths of her violet eyes, like two bruises. It pulled at his heartstrings until his chest ached. Ichigo wanted to help her to acclimate herself, how to navigate this new world that to her was so strange and different.

Ichigo tried to imagine being suddenly and inexplicably stranded in the warring states period. Probably, he would not last very long. Rukia was made of sterner stuff than he was.

Ichigo was setting the table when the soft pad of feet alerted him. He looked up to see Rukia stand a few yards away, wearing his hoodie and clutching her sheathed sword. 

“Good morning,” he told her, pouring himself a big cup of coffee. He almost asked her if she had slept well, but thought better of it. He doubted either of them had got enough sleep last night.

“Good timing,” he said instead. “Just got the breakfast ready.”

“Good morning,” she answered, her voice soft.

Even with the sword she kept holding onto, the picture she presented now was miles away from a samurai warrior. He really needed to get her some proper clothes, as his own threatened to swallow her whole. 

She sat at the table and reached for the tea he’d poured her. Ichigo sat down and hit the coffee. 

They ate in silence, stealing glances at one another across the table. The morning seemed to highlight the awkwardness of their situation and the sleepless night had done them no favours. Ichigo was on his second cup of coffee, watching Rukia niggle at her toast, when he finally broke the stretching silence.

“I need to go out today. Get us some things and food and the like.”

Rukia put down the toast and nodded slowly. 

“Will you be all right on your own? I mean – you can come with if you want but I figured you’d be more comfortable staying here.”

“Yes, I would rather stay here,” Rukia agreed. “I think a moment of solitude will be welcome.”

Ichigo nodded. He could understand that well enough. Going out alone would do him well, too.

Ichigo felt marginally calmer and a whole lot better after his two cups of coffee. The awkwardness had abated with their short conversation and they finished the rest of their breakfast in peace, though Ichigo scowled at Rukia’s eating habits. He couldn’t blame her for not having much of an appetite, but small as she was, she really should eat more. He’d have to get something tasty today from the supermarket. Buy all kinds of snacks for her to try.

After breakfast, he cleared the table. Rukia insisted to help. She told him that guest or not, she ought to contribute in some way and not just sit there and be catered to. It took some getting used to and a couple of times of accidentally bumping to one another before they got the hang of it, navigating the small confines of the kitchenette together. 

Perhaps, over time, they would find that rhythm in other areas as well, unlock that secret for coexisting. Ichigo hoped they would.

Ichigo went to the bathroom to change his clothes, was ready to get going and almost out of the front door when he stopped. He’d been so busy running over the shopping list in his mind that he’d forgotten to consider Rukia. 

He came back and gave her a tour of his small apartment. He showed her how to work the electric kettle and the microwave in the kitchenette and encouraged her to explore the cupboards and the fridge to find whatever she might need. He showed her the bathroom and tried not to squirm while explaining how the toilet worked. He showed her his comic book collection and old hand-held gaming console, in case she’d want something to help pass the time. 

It didn’t feel like it was enough, but it was all he could do for her for now. 

For a moment, Ichigo lingered in the doorway. Then, swallowing a sigh, he left.

To Be Continued.

[theji]

我的世界守则 The Rules of My World: An Analysis

I came across this video while browsing Weibo last night. It was taken during Yibo's rehearsal for his 'The Rules of My World' performance. I've listened to the song countless times and I like it, the rhythm and all, and the dance. But as with many rap music, I don't pay attention to the lyrics. I suddenly realised I don't really know what the song is talking about, save for the few phrases that stood out. That sparked my interest and inspired today's post. I had previously done some analysis of Zhan's songs, so it's Yibo's turn.

Disclaimer: I am not a professional translator or lyricist. And obviously I'm not Yibo nor do I know him personally, so I can't say for sure what the song is really about. The following analysis is purely based on my personal interpretation. It has CPN components. Please skip if you don't believe that BJYXSZD.

'The Rules of My World' is the 2nd song that Yibo penned the lyrics to himself. The fact that he wrote the lyrics is significant and makes the song worth analysing. 2019's 'Wu Gan' was more 'inward-looking'; about Yibo expressing his own thoughts on navigating the entertainment industry. To me, 'The Rules of My World' is him making a statement, a stand, at the same time, he's sending a message to those he cares about - GG and his (real) fans. Yibo released this song on 30 Dec 2020. The timing is interesting cos it like he's summing up his sentiments based on the events that took place during the year. To outsiders, 2020 was a good year for Yibo. He had many endorsements, projects, high exposure, his commercial value rose. But in CPN reality, 2020 was terrible for so many reasons. GG's incident, him being overworked, crazy fan wars and antis etc etc..anyone who cares about Yibo would be delusional to think he had it good last year.

欢迎你们来加入我的世界 (You're welcome to join my world)

入场券上面有正义的光源 (There's a light of justice on the admission ticket)

DD is giving fans an open invitation to enter his world, to understand him as a person and not just an idol. And he also hopes that his world can bring some light to the fans' world, to bring some positivity, encouragement and guidance to them.

此生面对严厉又仁慈的一切 (In this life we'll face harshness but also kindness)

轻松一点，我们一起度过黑夜 (Just relax, together we'll overcome darkness)

In the entertainment world (or life in general), there will be ups and downs, criticisms and compliments. Regardless of what may come, we can overcome any challenges together. Darkness here could also refer to the antis who seem determined to bring GGDD down. This could be a message to fans - to tell them that they don't always have to rush to defend him, and they don't need to retaliate (aka fan wars). It could also be a message to GG, to make a stand of solidarity and to reassure GG that DD will face any challenges alongside him.

新的征途 (A new journey)

愚蠢的，不好相处 (These fools, they aren't easy to get along with)

愚蠢的，不会打住 (These fools, they won't stop)

但衬托明天更耀眼的路 (But they will set off a brighter path for tomorrow)

It was said that DD matured considerably after the 2*7 incident. Took up more responsibility, became more focused on his career and mindful of future advancements etc. Started to take on more serious acting projects and to shift his career trajectory towards something more sustainable and less 'idol'. The new journey could be a reference to this new path. The fools - the antis, those against GGDD - may have caused damage but their actions have also sparked off DD's desire to do better and to find his footing in the entertainment industry. He now has a clearer view of what he wants, the path he wants to take.

我是我的样子 (This is how I am)

我生来就固执 (I was born stubborn)

讲自己的故事 (I'll tell my own story)

活独特的气质 (Living my unique self)

Follow me, 找到自己的价值 (Follow me, find your own value)

不去迎合别人活 才会觉得有意思 (Life is interesting if you don't cater to others)

我的世界不退让 (It's my world I won't give in)

我的世界不退让 (It's my world I won't give in)

Here, DD is being assertive. This is me, I follow my own rules, I'll make my own decisions, I'll forge my own path, I won't be influenced, I won't give up on my beliefs. So antis, capitalists etc can f*ck off.

It could also be seen as an advice to his fans - to follow his lead and live their own lives. This is also something that GG has repeatedly said to fans - to focus on their own lives, personal relationships, studies, careers etc. Don't devote so much time on chasing idols, online fan wars etc.

阳光耀眼 (The sun is dazzling)

乐观地，走向前 (Just move forward with optimism)

阳光耀眼 (The sun is dazzling)

无所谓，多危险 (Doesn't matter how dangerous it is)

阳光耀眼 (The sun is dazzling)

这是我的世界 (This is my world)

我世界的守则，不许你诡辩 (These are the rules of my world, I won't allow any sophistry)

I see this as DD's words of encouragement, to himself and to GG. Despite all the challenges and hardship, darkness will pass and the sun will come out eventually. And it's shining brightly, there is hope left in this world, there's is much to look forward to. So don't fear, be brave and forge ahead.

Sophistry: the use of clever but false arguments, especially with the intention of deceiving

Poor DD is always hit with industry rumours, about him dating his co-stars etc. Last year, someone even made a false police report against him. Just look at the number of statements his company had to put out. There have also always been ongoing rumours about rivalry between GGDD, tales of backstabbing etc, especially in 2020 at the height of the incident. DD is saying that this is his life, his world. No one knows better than the both of them. So to those who don't know better but continue to spew nonsense about his life and relationships and spread hate, know that I don't care about your antics, they don't hurt me but I won't tolerate them as well.

在我世界行走 (Walking in my world)

什么人生主题你透露 (What kind of life theme do you envisage)

是胆大勇猛所向披靡 (Is it to be bold, courageous and invincible)

或胆小逃避钻进壳里 (Or to be timid and escape into your shell)

喧闹倾诉众人party (Is it to pour out your troubles at a rowdy party)

寂寞相思不停地哭泣 (Or to cry silently non-stop out of loneliness and love-sickness)

都欢迎你来我这里 (All are welcome)

只要跟从自己的内心 (So long as you follow your heart)

跟限制和噪音 说一声 bang bang (I'll say 'Bang Bang' to restriction and noises)

怪兽都退散 (Monsters, be gone)

What kind of person am I in your eyes? The cool guy or soft sweet babie Yibo? Here, DD is acknowledging that the public has many different perceptions of him, and fans love different personas of him and he's ok with that. But if you love him, then let him be. Don't try to restrict him, don't quarrel or force him into a certain mould of your preference. He won't hesitate to shoot the haters (monsters) down.

迈出轻盈的步伐 (Take a light step forward)

一声令下 (With a single command)

来宣布 告别孤勇 (To announce a farewell to having to fight alone)

On this new path, with a new-found realisation of what he wants, DD is clear of what he wants to achieve and he is no longer burdened by fear, uncertainties etc. Both GGDD now have each other by their sides, they share a common purpose as they navigate the intricacies of the entertainment industry together and work their way to the top. And I think this is something that we're seeing more in the fandom since end 2020 - GGDD seemingly becoming more bold in their actions and messages they put out (silent or otherwise).

想要做盘旋的龙 (Wanna be a hovering dragon)

还想做懒散的虫 (Or a lazy worm)

别打扰我 走开 没空 (Don't bother me, go away, I have no time for that)

In public, DD is that proud and confident king. He's not a pushover. But behind the cameras, he just wants to chill and relax (and play games). Please don't bother me, give me some privacy to lead my own life, don't tell me what I can or cannot do.

Cue DD's message. He meant it.

Follow me, 找到自己的价值 (Follow me, find your own value)

不去迎合别人活 才会觉得有意思 (Life is interesting if you don't cater to others)

我们永远不退让 (We will never give in)

我们永远不退让 (We will never give in)

This is a repetition of the earlier verse but what has changed is the last 2 lines. From <It's my world I won't give in>, DD now says <We will never give in>. This was actually the first thing that sparked off my CPN, and hinted to me that this song concerns GG in some ways. Who's We? We all know how GGDD almost always use the word 'we' in their CQL promo interviews and bts, as though they come as a package and all views represent both of them as a entity. This also echoes the earlier sentiments - both of them, after the 2020 incident, have developed a steely resolve. They won't let the antis or challenges or societal views hold them back anymore. Their world, their rules. They will fight for their rights and what they believe in, and they are determined to reach their goals.

阳光耀眼 (The sun is dazzling)

乐观地 走向前 (Just move forward with optimism)

阳光耀眼 (The sun is dazzling)

无所谓 多危险 (Doesn't matter how dangerous it is)

阳光耀眼 (The sun is dazzling)

这是我的世界 (This is my world)

我们的世界不会被改变 (Our world will never be changed)

Again, similar to the above 'we' example. From this part of the song onwards, DD is referring to them both. The last line could also be viewed as an affirmation of GGDD's commitment to each other. Whatever is it, our relationship will not change. We will go through it all together.

Don‘t stop, get it, get it

Let me see you work up on it

Don’t stop, get it, get it

Let me see you all up on it

Let me see you work up on it

Don‘t stop, get it, get it

Don't stop

Hey

I interpret this as DD's words of encouragement to GG. Like don't stop fighting, continue to work hard towards your (our) goals. Go for it, you can do it!

在我的世界 (In my world)

本能很关键 (Instinct is the key)

坚持自己 (Stay true to yourself)

就是你们的世界 (It is your world)

DD's parting words to fans: to stay true to oneself, to build and enrich your own worlds, to fight for your goals, like how he is trying.

Well, I had fun working on this. Maybe I'll do Wu Gan another time. Reminded me of literature class during my schooling days, although I never did Chinese literature back then. Feel free to share your thoughts on the song with me. =D