#i wish more people would find nirvana

[anadorablack]

Today I met Tyler Hoechlin

I attended a Q&A by him and also talked to him for a few minutes (pictures will follow in the next few days).

Here's what I learned. Some of you may already know, but in case you don't. ;)

Concerning Derek becoming True Alpha at the end of Teen Wolf the Movie

Tyler said he didn't know it was gonna happen at all, and saw it for the first time when he attended the first screening. He finds it super interesting for the future, especially since he reminded us all that no character remains truly dead in the Teen Wolf universe.

(If it's baiting, it's not nice, Tyler. :P )

Concerning Eli's parentage

Tyler hinted that he knows who Eli's mother is but can't say, just in case there's a new movie in the works (which he doesn't know at present).

Being asked what was the biggest plot twist in Teen Wolf according to him

Tyler said that he didn't see it coming when Peter was revealed to be the Rogue Alpha in season one. No one knew in the cast, except for Ian who was told not long before it was shot.

When being asked which Teen Wolf character he'd like to play aside from Derek

Tyler, of course, said Stiles. XD He also said that he finds some 'Stiles-like' qualities to Clark Kent in Superman and Lois, so that, in a way, he got his wish.

When asked which personality traits he shares with Derek

Tyler answered that they shared a strong sense of loyalty, especially towards family. He also said that it was weird, in a way, because sometimes things happened to Derek in the show that had echoes in his own life, and vice-versa.

When asked what Derek's music playlist would sound like

Tyler said he'd find podcasts of barks and wolves howling; listen to a lot of Nirvana and, when in the mood, listen to Mumford and Sons.

When asked who he preferred shooting with on Teen Wolf

Tyler, obviously, said Dylan. He mentioned filming season one and thinking, while shooting their first scene together, that Dylan was going to go places.

When asked what movie/tv show he'd ask people to watch to introduce them to his work

Tyler said that he's been lucky enough to play varied characters in varied works, but that he always goes back to Road to Perdition because it has a deep meaning to him.

Also, his favourite animal is the cheetah, and his favourite colour is green. This is a man of taste. <3

All in all, meeting him was an absolute PLEASURE and I'll talk more about that in a future post. ;)

[flowery-language]

𓆩♡𓆪 STAY AWAY. Loser! Ellie Williams headcanons

a/n : I am struggling to start writing and stop procrastinating on writing the series I am working on so have some quick Ellie head canons while you wait also loser!Ellie is just regular Ellie and y’all aren’t ready for that conversation also it isn’t much sorry I’ve been struggling with procrastinating on writing got to put something out for the mean time

Inspired by seriously go read theirs @cowgirlcherrie and my one of my close friends mannerisms

Warnings/content: 18+ mentions of sex mostly fluff and also Ellie is a loser and cursing fingering!receiving masturbating and mentions of face riding

ੈ✩‧₊˚ you met loser!Ellie in Highschool and you bonded your intense overwhelming hatred for the people at your school over how much you hated everyone else here and that your the only person she could tolerate

“Everyone here are fucking npc’s with no capacity for thinking for themselves”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Loser!Ellie definitely owns a women love me fish fear me shirt that she started wearing ironically until it wasn’t anymore

ੈ✩‧₊˚ she always had to make jokes about her nonexistent dick much to your annoyance she has the humor of twelve year old boy

“How about you suck 15 inch cock”

“You don’t have one” you exclaimed

“Fuck you mean women literally beg me to see it”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ loser!Ellie unironically loves family guy and American guy and and fucking loves Rick and Morty and Bojack horseman

“I know I am a lesbian but I would fuck rick Sanchez no questions asked”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ you and loser!Ellie bonded over your intense overwhelming hatred for chase Atlantic

“They sound like they are fucking singing in cursive”

“I know right thank you someone gets it”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ loser!ellie has the music taste of someone’s father and she is very unapologetic about it she listens to Radiohead, nirvana, slipknot, the cure and the Beatles. etc

“ you should listen to the cure”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ loser!Ellie got into an argument once with you because you said you liked Saturn more than Jupiter

“Jupiter or Saturn pick one”

“Uh—Saturn”

“Jupiter is fucking better”

“No it’s not I like Saturn better”

“You only like Saturn because it’s fucking pretty”

“No I don’t”

“Yes you fucking do”

“Whatever”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ loser!Ellie cannot flirt with women for shit she just infodumps to them and hopes her info would get them to like her and wanna be with her and she is lucky that she is attractive enough to pull it off

ੈ✩‧₊˚ when loser!Ellie started to develop a crush on you she would do favours and constantly try to impress you she once took you to skater park to show you the tricks she was learning she ended up falling flat on her face because she was too busy staring into your eyes and she had the biggest blush on her face when you laughed at her for it.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ By the time Loser!Ellie developed feelings for you she would go above and beyond because suddenly the concept of helping others was completely uninteresting until it was you you got your heart shattered by another girl and all she could think of is that she would never treat you that way ever.

“It’s just that I wished that she didn’t string me along for a month and actually rejected me instead of telling me she liked me back when she didn’t”

“I swear when I see that fucker in my line of vision it won’t be pretty you deserve better than her anyway you were out of her league”

“Honestly I am starting to think maybe it’s because I am not attractive enough for girls to want me”

“Don’t fucking say that you were out of her league you will find someone who treats you so good ”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ loser!Ellie always wants you to try smoking weed with her even though you very much didn’t like taking drugs or being high it’s mostly because you make her so nervous and if she was high with you she could maybe try to flirt with you without fumbling her words and not looking you in the eye.

“Come on try it for me it feels really good I promise”

“Yeah no thanks Ellie”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ she knew that she couldn’t keep this to herself anymore she wanted you and Every time you tried to date someone else it made her genuinely sick to her stomach.

“ oh fuck saying this shit isn’t easy but I gotta say it I like you okay I really really do”

“Your fucking with me right now if your joking Ellie it’s not funny”

“I am not joking I fucking do okay”

“Wait your not”

“Of course I am not”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ NSFW section

ੈ✩‧₊˚ you are always the first person she thinks of when she gets high late at night she has to resist the urge to call you over her hand in her boxers.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Loser!Ellie has a happy trail.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ she loves it when you ride her face and not just hovering she wants you to sit on it at first you were really nervous and insecure but she was a having the time of her life and Everytime you do hover she would beg you sit properly

“Babe please just sit stop fucking hovering”

ੈ✩‧₊˚she loves it when you ride her thighs she loves the sensory experience of you riding it and when you ride her fingers she always wishes to be inside you and feel it when you ride it

ੈ✩‧₊˚ she is obsessed with you wearing her clothes especially her boxers she loves giving them to you

“You’re gonna run out of boxers to wear if you keep this up”

“I don’t fucking care”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ she loves you to death and will not hesitate to show it off she always loves mentioning you much to literally everyone’s annoyance.

“My girl is getting a PHD is so smart”

“This reminds me my girlfriend really loves these flowers I gotta get them”

[f1letters]

maroon | cs55

"how the hell did we lose sight of us again? sobbing with your head in your hands, ain't that the way shit always ends?"

summary: they both knew their relationship would ruin them both, but they couldn't stop themselves from running back to each other every goddamn time

warning: angst, toxic relationship, mentions of a vicious cycle of breaking up and making up, right person wrong time, suggestive language, swearing, a bunch of references to older classic rock bands and albums (and CAS because they are my fav band of all time haha), open ending

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

word count: 4.3k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past.

spanish words used: hermosa = beautiful; corazón = heart

hey everybody! honestly, this song is the one I've been looking forward to writing the most since the beginning... I worked so hard and I gave everything I had in me to this story (hence the story being the longest so far, something about writing for Carlos just makes me write so much more every time, haha), I couldn't be more proud of what I did! haha, hopefully, you guys love it as much as I do! happy holidays to everyone! 💜

masterlist

When the morning came

We were cleaning incense off your vinyl shelf

'Cause we lost track of time again

Laughing with my feet in your lap

Like you were my closest friend

Dozens of voices echoed through the crowded room, engaged in different conversations and dialogues.

The crowd seemed to have a life of its own. Old friends catching up on the latest news in their lives. New friends being made unexpectedly. The sharing of the latest gossip and rumours among the most curious souls. The sound of endless, genuine laughter through the halls.

In the middle of the glowing lights, the shiny clothes and the loud music, hidden in the shadows, there she was.

Y/N had escaped the huddled bodies until she found refuge in an empty room. With the door closed, the noise of the party was now muffled, leaving the girl alone with her thoughts as she searched through a vinyl shelf she found there.

Led Zeppelin. Pink Floyd. Radiohead. The Clash. Their owner had taste, she thought, fascinated by their timeless records. The young woman also appreciated these older classic albums, although she couldn't find many people like her.

With her hands roaming over the vinyl without much care for the party happening, Y/N nearly dropped a Nirvana album on the floor when the bedroom door burst open.

"Oh." The unknown man said, stopping in his track when he came face to face with her. "Sorry, but do I know you?"

"Hmm, I don't think so." The girl frowned in doubt. Her eyes widened as she realized she was clearly breaking into someone's room. "Oh my god, is this your room? It is, isn't it? What was I thinking going in like that-"

"Hey, don't worry! It's okay! I just wasn't expecting to see anyone in here." He chuckled softly, extending his hand to the girl. "I'm Carlos, and you are...?"

"Y/N, nice to meet you!" She shook his hand back. The girl could have sworn she felt a spark run through her veins as soon as she felt his touch.

"Hmm, sorry for going through your stuff. I- I'm a huge music lover and I- Just couldn't help myself." The girl continued, half choking up, half laughing at herself, lifting the album in her hand to show Carlos what she was doing.

"I don't mind." The driver responded, approaching her and taking the vinyl from her hold. The warm skin of his hand contrasted with her cool one, letting his touch linger. "So, are you a Nevermind fan?"

"More of a Bleach girl myself." Y/N said smugly, her eyes glazing over the boy's charming figure before returning to the shelf. "You have an incredible collection. I wish I had this many records."

"How'd we end up on the floor, anyway?" you say

"Your roommate's cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that's how"

I see you every day now

Hours passed, and both lost track of time as they talked about everything and anything. 

Y/N and Carlos were instantly attracted to each other, bonded not just by their shared love of music but by a soul connection neither could explain.

It was profound in ways that were beyond physical attraction, it had to be experienced to be truly understood.

Almost like their souls knew each other from the past.

The couple stood there, only a few hours after they met, sitting on the floor of his bedroom. They laughed with her feet in his lap, with a cheap-ass screw-top bottle of rosé beside them.

It was like an enchanting enigma how much they felt like each other's closest friends, like they had been part of each other's lives forever.

A Fleetwood Mac song was playing from Carlos's red vinyl record player when the woman spoke. "Isn't it crazy that I ended up at your house party and didn't even know who you were until you walked into this room?"

The two chuckled softly as their eyes locked and the driver's hand ran along the top of her thigh. "A bit maybe." He bit his bottom lip, a little unsure and nervous. Deciding to take risks that night, he continued. "But it was totally worth sneaking in here and skipping the party just to meet you."

Y/N could feel her cheeks heat up as they flushed. The girl tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and looked away from him to the floor.

"I don't know about you," Carlos again captured the attention of the girl beside him, approaching her little by little. "But I don't think I've ever felt this chemistry with anyone in my entire life, hermosa."

Driven by her impulsiveness and by the tension that hung in the air, the young woman made the first move and closed the space between them, letting her lips rest on his in a much-desired kiss. 

It started out soft and slow, their hearts beating faster and faster as the adrenaline grew. Y/N let her mouth open a little, and the driver took that as a sign to let his tongue swirl in her mouth. Her hands found their place among the brown locks of his wild hair, as he pulled her body towards him until she was on top of him.

Y/N was never one for one-night stands or sex on the first date, but that moment felt different for her. None of it felt sudden, ill-considered, or a mistake.

In fact, Y/N had never felt like anything was so right as pulling the Spaniard onto his bed mattress that night.

And I chose you

The one I was dancing with

In New York, no shoes

Looked up at the sky and it was

For the next six months, Y/N and Carlos were inseparable.

Their feelings for each other continued to grow stronger and stronger with every passing day. However, the two kept them secret from each other, hidden in the privacy of their own minds.

During those magical months since the night they'd met, they'd given themselves to each other, body and soul. But they both knew there was something more between them: something impossible to ignore, something special.

So special that the two feared they would ruin it by putting a title on their relationship.

They were… Friends with benefits, lovers, soulmates? All options were honest and sincere, but they were only attempts to escape the term "boyfriend and girlfriend".

Painting New York City white, snowflakes fell from the skies while shimmering under the lights like jewels bestowed by winter.

The couple could already see their destination, such was the way the girl's maroon apartment building stood out among the snow-covered sidewalks.

Carlos hugged her waist from behind, squeezing the girl's body and picking her up off the ground.

"Carlos, stop! You're going to drop me, you idiot!" Y/N squealed playfully, being immediately put down again in front of her door.

The driver placed a tender kiss on her forehead and then adjusted the black beanie that covered the top of her head. "I would never let you fall, corazón."

Except I already fell for you, she thought to herself, making her heart ache.

The two hurriedly climbed the building's stairs, eager to return to the warmth of her home. They had barely passed the front door when the two started taking off their cold and damp shoes in search of some relief from the discomfort in their feet.

The Cigarettes After Sex album that they were listening to before leaving her living room continued to echo through the walls of the apartment. Immediately, Carlos grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him, wrapping her shoulders with his arms as he started to sway their connected bodies gently to the music.

"What are you doing?" Y/N asked, caught off guard by the driver's movements.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Carlos asked playfully, running his hand through the young woman's long hair. "I'm dancing with you to your favourite band."

Just when she thought it wasn't possible for her feelings to grow any further, Carlos seemed to challenge her, proving her wrong all over again. Her heart could explode at any second with how much love for the Spaniard she kept in it.

"Carlos?" She asked in a whisper.

"Yes, hermosa?" He replied in the same tone.

"I'm so glad I chose you."

In the end, what mattered to them was seizing the moment before it was over, being happy with each other before the inevitable end came.

Both Y/N and Carlos couldn't help sensing that they were doomed to end sooner or later.

The burgundy on my t-shirt

When you splashed your wine into me

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks

So scarlet, it was

Eventually, the first signs of the end of their honeymoon phase began to appear.

Their flaws seemed more noticeable, their patience thinner, and their problems more difficult to solve.

All of a sudden, the illusion that their relationship was perfect started to fade with time.

The two began to see themselves as opponents with their backs turned to each other instead of the hopelessly in love souls they were in the beginning.

On a random spring night, the two were getting ready for another one of their dates, in the privacy of his house, like they did so many times before.

The two naturally assumed their tasks without much dialogue at this point: Y/N was leaning over the stove as she finished cooking dinner for them, while Carlos was in the dining room setting the table.

After completing what he had to do, the driver went to the kitchen in search of a wine to serve with the pasta that his lover was preparing. He opened the pantry and took out his favourite red wine from one of the bottom shelves.

Carlos walked to one of the drawers, removing his corkscrew from it, and opened the bottle without knowing that Y/N was moving dangerously close to him. 

By accident, his sudden movement caused the bottle to splash onto the once-white t-shirt the young woman wore, now leaving a huge burgundy mark on it.

"Are you fucking serious?" Y/N complained, disgusted with the state of her outfit. "This t-shirt is new, Carlos. For fuck's sake, this stain is never coming off."

"Calm down, it's not like someone died. It's just a fucking t-shirt, Y/N." Carlos replied, in the same aggressive tone. "I'll buy you a new one. Don't let this night be ruined for something so small."

"You'll buy it?! You always think that your money solves everything, don't you?" The girl spat, starting her way to her room to change her clothes. "I just wish you would be careful for once in your life and not be so fucking clumsy."

"It's a piece of fabric, oh my God." Carlos followed her, not ready to give up. "Get over it!"

"You know what? Enjoy your dinner alone. I'm out of here."

And so their new routine began: they argued, they fucked, they made up, they repeated.

The rooms they'd once set on fire with their burning, sizzling passion were now left in ashes, burned by the flame that brought them back to each other's arms, time after time.

The mark they saw on my collarbone

The rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home

So scarlet, it was maroon

Fight after fight, the two kept finding their way to each other every single time, like two individuals relapsing on their favourite addiction.

The young woman had been dragged by the Spaniard to another one of his races, though as a very discreet and unknown guest.

Nobody knew her in that world, not even his closest colleagues, and Y/N couldn't help but feel hurt by all of Carlos' secrecy.

Okay, they weren't together-together, but the fact that she wasn't even mentioned to his best friends still seemed like a red flag to her.

Y/N had managed to escape to his room without anyone noticing, coming face to face with the shirtless figure with his back to her.

"Hey, handsome." The girl approached him, placing her hands on his chest as she leaned against his naked back.

"Corazón, you are here." The driver turned towards her, placing a kiss on her lips and down along the side of her neck. "I missed you so much. These weeks without you have driven me crazy."

"Hmm... Were you missing me or having me?" Y/N questioned, trying to pretend to be unaffected by the way his mouth sucked on her collarbone so sensually.

The boy turned his eyes to her gaze and cupped her face gently in his hands. "You, hermosa. You."

Their moment was interrupted by a member of Ferrari knocking on the door, warning Carlos that he would have to prepare for the driver's parade. Both of them slipped from his room and the motorhome, coming across two other drivers she recognized from watching other races.

"Well, well, well," Lando announced, messing with Carlos and his mystery companion. "What do we have here? Sainz, you don't even introduce your 'friend' here to your boys"

"Pfff, friend." The Spaniard's teammate, Charles, replied, also joking. "At least her fresh hickey tells me otherwise."

The girl immediately looked down at the neckline of her shirt, where she noticed the love bite near her neck.

And when her gaze rested on her lover's annoyed face, she realized how unhappy he was that they got caught.

When the silence came

We were shaking, blind and hazy

How the hell did we lose sight of us again?

Sobbing with your head in your hands

Ain't that the way shit always ends?

"Since this muppet here doesn't want to introduce us, I'll do the honours. I'm Lando, this is Charles." The McLaren driver said, pointing to his Ferrari friend, followed by his outstretched hand towards the girl.

"Nice to meet you both, I'm Y/N." She greeted the British, and then the Monegasque.

"So why are you hiding your beautiful girlfriend from us, Sainz?" Charles asked curiously.

"She's not my girlfriend, I have to go." Carlos replied, turning away and leaving behind two shocked friends, a hurt girl and her heart broken into little pieces.

After hearing a thousand apologies from the two nice guys for meddling in matters that weren't theirs, Y/N decided to walk to the exit of the circuit and skip the race altogether.

Hours passed and only silence came to her hotel room, with no sign of Carlos.

The girl sat on the floor, back against the bed covered with a maroon duvet, shaking, blind and hazy, until he eventually appeared.

How the hell did we lose sight of us again, she thought to herself over and over again.

The driver entered the room, shoulders slumped in regret, expecting to find an upset Y/N he had to apologize to.

Never did he expect to find the girl he loved sobbing with her head in her hands.

Carlos knelt down in front of the young woman, placing his hands on her knees, which provoked her to look at him with eyes smudged with mascara.

"Sorry, hermosa." The boy apologized, letting his forehead rest against her knee.

"Sorry for what, Carlos?" Y/N asked, determined to get the truth out of him.

"I shouldn't have turned away and left you alone with Lando and Charles." The Spaniard confessed. "I understand that you didn't see the race, but it's done now, you don't need to be like that..."

"The discussion is over, yes." The girl spoke, getting up from the floor and looking at the image of him still kneeling. "But us, this, whatever it is, that is over too."

"Stop, Y/N!" The driver also got to his feet, trying to stop her from leaving. "This is just another argument. We always come back to each other, that's the way shit always ends."

The woman released her wrist from his hold, opened the door and glanced at him over her shoulder before walking away.

"Not this time."

You were standing hollow-eyed in the hallway

Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us

I feel you, no matter what

The rubies that I gave up

A day passed. Then two days. Three days.

On the fourth day, the doorbell to her New York apartment rang and her heart just knew that he was going to be the person behind the door.

Y/N opened the entrance to her house and there he was as expected: Carlos, standing there, hollow-eyed in the hallway, flowers in hand.

"Before you interrupt me, I beg you: please, listen to what I have to say. Then you can send me away if you want and I'll go." Carlos begged her, his hands gripping the red flowers more tightly. "I love you. I'm sorry I came to that conclusion so late but I do, I love you. So much my chest hurts whenever I'm not with you. And I know I've been an asshole to you, especially on this last race, and I know I don't deserve you but I'm not ready to give up on you, on us."

The young woman remained silent, listening to the words she'd been waiting to hear all these months.

But they were too late.

"These roses are for you, corazón. I know they are your favourite flowers." The driver held the flowers out to her.

"Carnations," Y/N replied, leaving the Spaniard more confused than ever. "These are carnations, not roses."

The two kept their eyes together until a tear ran down the girl's eyes. And both of them knew.

"I'm sorry, Carlos, but you should leave." Y/N sobbed. "I loved you all this time but I had enough."

And I lost you

The one I was dancing with

In New York, no shoes

Looked up at the sky and it was

Maroon

It took six months for them to end their perfect, magical honeymoon phase. 

Followed by another six months of endless fighting and pain inflicted on each other.

Perhaps in some poetic way, six months passed from Y/N losing him until they saw each other again.

Nothing hurt more than being away from the one person she loved more than anyone. Especially when she knew the passion and the love between them were still there.

She couldn't help feeling that they were two cursed souls destined to suffer for their love.

Without Carlos, even music seemed to sound different. 

Since the day she saw the boy walk out the door, her vinyl had remained exactly in the same place, gathering dust, as she didn't have the courage to listen to them again without being consumed by memories of them.

Trapped in her thoughts on yet another sleepless night, Y/N looked up at the sky and thought to herself: I can't die from a broken heart, but I can't help but feel like a part of me did that day.

The burgundy on my t-shirt

When you splashed your wine into me

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks

So scarlet, it was

Maroon

Tired of brooding over the excruciating time away from the driver, Y/N relented and agreed to leave the comfort of her home to go to a party for the first time in a long time.

Dressed to the nines, the girl found herself in a crowd in the middle of an unfamiliar house.

It was the same as always: old friends, new friends, gossip, rumours, laughter, shining lights, loud music.

The young woman simply couldn't enjoy that life as she did before. All she wanted was to go home, lay under the covers, with the fire burning on her fireplace... But the memories that place held of him began to feel like they were too much for her to bear.

Alcohol in her hand, as usual, Y/N escaped the noise to a random room in the house, much like the night she met Carlos. 

This time, the girl found herself in the middle of a guest room, with nothing more than a bed and some basic furniture, where she sat enjoying a sweet drink.

Mirroring that night even further, Y/N was stunned when the white bedroom door opened to let in the tanned, handsome boy who was consuming her head.

"Oh," Carlos said, unable to contain his feelings when he saw the woman again after so long. "Hey, I- I was just looking for the bathroom. I- I'm going to go."

"No, wait!" Unconsciously, Y/N stood up, grabbing the driver's wrist without giving it much thought until she felt the blood rush into her cheeks. "Sorry, I don't know what I'm doing. I just- I don't know... I miss you."

The Spaniard let her words sink in, all emotions on the surface. "Y/N... Please, don't do this. I don't know if I can survive another heartbreak."

"You're right, I'm sorry. Forget this ever happened." Y/N got ready to walk out the door until it was the boy's turn to grab her arm.

Carlos pulled her towards him, grabbing her face with both hands and pulling her into a so-desired kiss filled with longing, pain, and lust.

The mark they saw on my collarbone

The rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home

So scarlet, it was maroon

His lips brushed hers, allowing him to inhale her breath and feel the warmth of her mouth, until he let his lips mash against hers in a rough, heated kiss.

She opened her mouth quickly, pushing her tongue past his teeth and meeting him in an electric and passionate battle. 

Both lay on the bed, her straddling his body like she did a million other times, her lips still glued to the ones she used to call home.

They both pull away, panting with their gazes focused on each other almost as if they were afraid the moment would suddenly be over.

"I still love you, hermosa." Carlos confessed, letting the words slip out. "There wasn't a day that I didn't think of you, or that I didn't want your body next to mine just like this."

For one more night, Y/N gave in to her most intimate desires and allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of belonging in the arms of the man she loved again, as she removed her dress and her lips returned to where they belonged - his.

And I wake with your memory over me

That's a real fucking legacy, legacy

And I wake with your memory over me

That's a real fucking legacy to leave

Such was the girl's amazement when hours later she woke up in the same bed, alone with only his memory over her.

The wrinkled sheets on the right side of the mattress were the only sign that the driver had been in that room the night before. 

Not a note, a discarded piece of clothing, a stray hair.

Just crumpled linens and the marks of his love smeared across her soft skin.

Once again, Y/N was left with only her regrets and her sorrows for being so weak and so naive to think this time would be different.

That was the legacy he left every time: his touch on her remained, as did his absence.

The burgundy on my t-shirt

When you splashed your wine into me

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks

So scarlet, it was maroon

Back at home, the girl went straight to her room, wanting nothing more than to get out of her dirty clothes from the night before. 

Her hands started their work of removing the dress, until she stopped in her tracks, naked in front of her bathroom mirror, when she saw the marks left by Carlos all over her for the first time.

She swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, as she stepped into the shower.

The hot water ran through her hair, over her shoulders, and down her back, until loneliness overcame her and her eyes wept and wept away all the hurt she felt.

How could I have been stupid enough to fall again, she wondered.

After a few minutes of crying and showering, Y/N left the bathroom, towel wrapped around her body, and went to her dresser in search of an old t-shirt to wear.

Among the dozens of her neutral shirts, one stood out. It was scarlet, and it was his.

Without thinking twice, she grabbed the t-shirt and draped it over her body, ready to give in to the sadness. Her arms hugged her own torso, seeking physical comfort in a place where she was the only person left.

Or so she thought until she heard the familiar doorbell ring later that night.

The mark they saw on my collarbone

The rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home

So scarlet, it was maroon

The only light on the dark street that night was the street light that lit up the star-crossed lovers ever so slightly.

There he was, standing outside of the door of her maroon building, red roses in hand this time, face pleading for forgiveness. 

Although their lives might not have fit together, they were just two broken souls who had found solace in each other's hearts, unwilling to give up on the greatest love they had ever known.

And just like that, pulled back into their vicious cycle, all she had consuming her mind was him all over again.

"Hey, corazón."

It was maroon

It was maroon

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[iwanthermidnightz]

Just a few excerpts below, but please read the full article, it’s really good!

In their live shows and on The Record, the group take turns singing lead vocals, meaning they regularly get to stand a couple of feet away from the spotlight – which I sense is a more natural position for each of them. “[Touring is] way more fun together, and easy together,” says Dacus, addressing her bandmates. “It’s cute watching y’all have your little bit during ‘Cool About It’, and when you look at each other in ‘Anti-Curse’, I have no choice but to stan.” As a band, they share the weight of responsibility that they usually have to shoulder alone.

The crowds are so deeply engaged, not just because of the emotionally devastating content of the songs, but because of what Boygenius represents. They are a queer-identifying, all-female rock group in 2023, triumphantly landing themselves in spaces that used to be dominated entirely by straight men, such as their Rolling Stone cover earlier this year, in which they playfully replicated a classic 1994 photoshoot of Nirvana in business suits. And it’s not just that: they are rock stars in a very traditional sense – as their bombastic, thrashy live show, replete with stage diving et al, goes to show – who also sing songs every night about how much they love and appreciate one another. “We talk to each other about our feelings and process emotions as adults,” Baker says. “Instead of screaming at each other and throwing handles of vodka backstage.”

The band’s willingness to step up and wade into political issues has further solidified the bond they’ve formed with their fans. Earlier this summer, they performed in drag in Tennessee to protest against the state’s anti-LGBTQ+ and anti-drag laws. In May last year, when it was leaked that Roe v Wade would be overturned by the US Supreme Court, Bridgers shared on Twitter that she had undergone an abortion the previous year, alongside a link to a donation page. Young, vulnerable people are seeing their favourite rock band stand up for them – it’s powerful, and the love and appreciation the fans feel for that is clear during the live shows. At concerts throughout the year so far, there have been reports of people throwing things at artists – phones, wheels of brie, their dead mother’s ashes – but at Boygenius gigs, fans throw pink carnations, in reference to a line that Dacus sings in “We’re in Love” (“I’ll be the boy with the pink carnation pinned to my lapel”). “We’ve given a lot of who we are as people in our art, through interviews and social media,” Dacus says. “I think that’s maybe the silver lining of the parasocial relationship; they might want to treat us the way they treat their friends, instead of a mysterious, untouchable, unfazeable, unhurtable thing.”

Boygenius know that they’re speaking to – and at times, for – an underrepresented group, and it’s a point of great pride, a driving force in their work. “Being into our band is a dog whistle for the kind of kid that has similar interests,” says Baker.

“Like a sensitive gay baby,” adds Dacus.

“That is what makes [the job] meaningful to me,” says Baker. “To be away from my family when they need me to be there, to be doing things that I find inane or self-serving. I’m like, ‘Dang, look at all those kids’. Like, actually, there’s 25,000 little gay kids out there who’ve heard us talk about things like: be inside of your life. Pay attention to your friends. It’s worth it to live.”

The group have become the role models they wished they had themselves when they were growing up. “I think that if I had more queer and trans idols when I was younger, it would have felt more normal to me to engage with those things,” Dacus says. “And it’s gotten to the point of silliness, all of our stage antics and kissing at most of the shows, but I wish I had seen playful, joyful depictions of queerness.”

[the-badger-mole]

The Godmother of Grunge

If any time in the history of the US something really, truly innovative and cool took off, you will never go broke if you bet on a black person having had a hand (elbow, shoulder and foot) in it.

This is Tina Bell

(I know. Take a moment, drink in the awesome)

Tina Marie Bell was born in Seattle, WA in 1957. Like most black singers, she got her start as part of her church choir, where she honed her talent and her love of music. As she got older, her love of performing found her participating in her school's theater club, cheerleading, and eventually majoring in Drama at Washington State University.

After graduating college, Tina landed a spot with the Langston Hughes Performing Arts Institute, in the late 1970s. As she was preparing for a performance of her rendition of C'est Si Bon (a song which was performed by another black queen, Eartha Kitt). In order to make sure her French was strong enough for the song, she worked with a tutor named Tommy Martin- the man who would later become her bandmate and her husband.

In 1983, the pair would go on to form Bam Bam, with bassist, Scott Ledgerwood and drummer, Matt Cameron (who later went on to perform with Soundgarden and Pearl Jam). Bell was, of course, the lead singer, and her dynamic voice and unparalleled stage presence soon made her a staple in the Seattle music scene in the early 80s. Her ability to mix the smooth sultry sounds of her gospel and R&B background and the jarring sounds of punk garnered Bell and her band a lot of fans, including their roadie, Kurt Cobain. In 1984, one year before the band Green River would be credited with introducing a "new sound" to the Seattle music scene, Bam Bam recorded and released their first and, unfortunately only EP Villains (also wear white). Four years after that, Nirvana would release their debut album Bleach and the new musical genre, grunge, would be introduced to the rest of the world.

Why don't more people know about Tina Bell? C'mon...you know why more people don't know about Tina Bell. As a black woman moving in the largely white space of punk rock, Tina faced racism even as she became a star in the underground punk scene. At one particularly memorable show, bassist Ledgerwood recalls how a couple of skin heads came to harass Tina, shouting racial slurs and other verbal abuse at her. Tina stopped her set, whipped her microphone around and knocked both of them in the head (I WISH I COULD FIND A RECORDING OF THAT!!!!! I WOULD KILL!!!!!) before composing herself and delivering a fiery performance that I'm sure the people lucky enough to be in the audience that night still dream about.

The racism was latent as well as blatant. The industry didn't know what to do with a black woman who wasn't hip hop, r&b or pop. She drew comparisons to acts like Tina Turner (because they're both named Tina? 🤔) The inability of the public at large to accept the wild, otherworldly concept of a black woman singing rock music (even though black women also pioneered rock music) kept the band's star from rising much beyond the Seattle, in spite of their local popularity. Tina Bell quit the band in 1990, just as grunge, the musical genre she helped birth, was taking off. She moved from Seattle to Las Vegas, where in a turn that is all too common among talented artists, she fell into a cycle of alcoholism and depression. She died on October 10, 2012 at the tragically young age of 55, alone and literally written out of the history of the genre she had such a heavy hand in shaping.

Fortunately, that's not where her story ends. Through the efforts of fellow Seattle musician, Om Johari, Tina's son TJ Martin (who himself is an Academy Award winning filmmaker), and ex-bandmate, Scott Ledgerwood, Tina Bell is being restored to her rightful place as in history as the Godmother of Grunge.

Hear her music here, here, and here (my favorite)

[randombush3]

Floss Got Hot II

florence pugh x reader

[series masterlist]

summary: things changed after you and florence slept together.

words: 8930 (was gonna be 10k but that is WAY too long for one part)

warnings: alcohol, smut, mentions of drug use, foul language, general mature content

notes: GUYS this was such a stop and start thing to write, so maybe it’s choppy?? i cannot bear to reread it once more so complain to the wall

New York is shit. Not the city itself, though you don’t like it nearly as much as Oxford, but rather the fact that American accents were annoying enough before they started to inquire about buying your business. A business that is very much not for sale.

Though your brother stood up and conducted the choir of ridiculous bidding, he scarpers back to London to avoid the wrath of one pissed off you. No one else offers to help quiet the aggravating Americans, so New York becomes shit because it’s just you, alone, dealing with things you ideally shouldn’t have to deal with. You hate the feeling settling in the pit of your stomach, you hate the idea of becoming an island.

Except, you’re not quite drifting away from land, because someone calls you everyday — the same someone — and tells you she wishes she could see you (and you believe it). The first time she called you, she asked where you were staying. You didn’t answer, waiting for her to get it, and when she did she was glad you couldn’t see her embarrassment. But you always make her embarrassed, because if it’s not the way you make her brain cease to function, it’s the fact that she wishes she could worship everything you do. Your instagram has been flooded with her fanpages because if she loves you, they love you, and while you’re not opposed to an extra six hundred followers you find it tiresome that your relationships aren’t just yours anymore. It’s not her fault that she’s famous and that you’re well-connected and that the media are either deeming you a power couple or a match made in honour of capitalism. Your favourite description of yourself is ‘socialite turned businesswoman’ (the Sun, 2nd May) because they love to mention the features in Vogue — your hotels, not you, and even then they technically belong to your father — and the friends who are friends with friends of A-listers. You usually think aloud when the papers get plonked on your desk; “when did I ever do that?” and “who?” are the most common mutterings. Your life hasn’t changed drastically, but now more people look out for you when you’re sitting in a coffee shop because there is a chance you’re waiting for someone they’d know. Usually you’re sitting at a coffee shop because you need to cry and can’t in public.

Florence wonders if she may scare you off eventually. You meet her almost every week, sometimes postponing to a fortnight in order to get your life together before escaping for the briefest of evenings of blissful nirvana, and she marvels at the realisation that your world is larger than she used to think it was. In her naive, obsessive youth, she would watch you disappear into a faint summer memory and assumed you would leave Greece and return to your own life in Kensington (and with that assumption she believed your persona was completely different with Kensington people though she decided she’d continue to adore you either way), but your most frequent texts to her are to do with taking off and landing and she realises you are ultimately global. It feels like her girlfriend’s pit stop is a night or two at her place where you drink and kiss and fuck and sleep, before she becomes a figment of one’s imagination. She calls you to remind herself you’re real, most often when she’s tired and in need of your humour and your laughter and your voice, and she always forgets you’re in a different time zone because you never fail to pick up. You’ve never broken a promise you’ve made to her, throughout one whole month of dating.

Is it dating?

“Of course we’re dating,” she says as she opens another bottle of rioja, lips cherry red from kissing and cheeks the same colour from the drink. “Do you want me to start talking about you more?” She doesn’t want you to feel ignored, and she doesn’t want to keep you a secret. You haven’t come up in conversation in a way she’d like to discuss you, but she instantly resolves to find a way to fix that.

“No,” you tell her, “because then I’d be hounded like you’re hounded and I’d hate that.” You hate that she’s never left alone. “I was just wondering because…” She waits. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.”

Instead of pouring the wine into a glass, she tips the bottle back between her lips. You kiss the residue from them, licking your own before going back in for more, this time tasting a version of rioja you’d only access through her mouth. “I think we should go to the bedroom.” You chuckle, low and steady, drunk on her more than anything else.

- - -

“You know that phrase, ‘drunk on love’?” you ask Scarlett as she keeps you company while you trudge on through paperwork. She was passing through Lisbon when she spotted you two-hundred metres away on FindMyFriends.

“I think you’re actually drunk when you’re with her.” It happens slowly; she offers a glass and then another, until you find yourself completely intoxicated and on top of her with no top on. There’s nothing wrong with that.

(There is so much wrong with that.)

You gather the documents and tap them against the desk to make the stack tidy, pressing a button to call your assistant to come and collect them. Scarlett steps aside to let her in, surprised to find you’ve fired her predecessor. “These need to be with me on my flight tomorrow, along with you and one of your interns. I don’t care which.” New Assistant nods enthusiastically, a bit much considering your monotonous tone. “Make sure they know I’m coming and they have my apartments ready. I’m not having a repeat of my visit to Agadir.” Flo’s already there, reporting back about the new competitor; she likes to fancy herself a secret agent on an undercover mission. She finds it nice, says the layout’s genius but it does indeed lack an element from its atmosphere.

“Jesus,” Scarlett mutters, keeping to the side so as to not get in the way of business. “Y/n, are you going to have a break?” You could rephrase that to ‘Y/n, you are going to break’. Both answers would be ‘no, I’m not’ of course.

“I have breaks every week where I get drunk and sleep with Flo.” She laughs, shocked. Appalled. You decide to take it as humorous as to not defeat your bubble that tells you everything is okay how it is. “The bad thing about owning hotels is that you can never go on holiday, because I have to stay at our resorts and therefore I have to work. Ibiza feels neglected.”

“Won’t Flossie feel neglected?” She makes a good point, but so do the managers who call you up to warn you of strikes and lack of funding and love. “She thinks you’re going on your first couples’ holiday.” You leave your desk as it is (messy and unworkable) and walk out of your office, your worried friend hurrying after you.

In truth, you’d very much like to sleep for a week and never do anything again. A coma seems like your idea of a holiday nowadays, though you’d hate to do all the catch up once you wake. If it’s not work-related it seems to be unimportant, bar Flo and her wonderful ability to keep you happy without pushing too hard. She feels like you won’t want her if you really get to know her, and being incomplete (wasted) means you don’t view her as your best friend’s little sister.

“It will be fine.” You try to convince yourself as well as her. “Like everything ever, I will figure it out and fix it.”

Your assistant appears before you can fully leave, slightly scared of you, with a teenager who closely resembles Raffie due to the fact she emulates the same ‘vibes’. She slouches when she walks, looking uncomfortable without a phone in her hand. When she sees you, she stiffens, quickly and professionally, and you wonder if she’s about to curtsy.

Scarlett catches your eye and you’re both thinking the same thing: are you really that scary? Self-conscious, you glance at your reflection in the dutifully polished windows of Chaos Lisbon’s office (it’s a sizable room in which one can try to leave and still not manage to get out). In your reflection you see a tired little girl whose father is an arsehole and mother is a cunt. Everyone else sees a stern businesswoman (apart from Scarlett, who knows you too well to see anyone other than a lost teenager who doesn’t quite know what to do with so much money).

“This is Bella,” says your assistant in a similar tone she once introduced herself to you with (“I‘m Millie”). She was chirpy, but not too much to give you a headache, and she already knew your schedule for the next two days by heart. “I personally selected her and another girl to fly to Lisbon, and I think she’d do brilliantly in Ibiza.” You hadn’t even noticed two extra faces following you around with iPads loaded with mass amounts of emails.

“Good evening, Ms L/n.” Scarlett bursts into a fit of laughter. Bella looks awfully alarmed.

“Call me Y/n,” you inform the deer-in-headlights. “How come you’re here then, Bella?” You gesture to the armchairs surrounding a coffee table that you’re pretty sure your father used as a makeshift bed for numerous affairs, kicking your friend discreetly to get her to shut up. Bella gladly sits, in awe of the office now that she’s not just peering through the glass door.

“I’m taking a year out before university.” She's well-spoken. She sounds like the product of an all-girls’ private school somewhere in London – no wonder she’s not at uni just yet. “I got all A*s and everything,” she hurriedly explains, “but I wanted to be able to write more than just my grades on my application.”

“That’s a smart plan,” Scarlett contributes. Bella questions who she is silently, glancing at your assistant for an answer. “Oh! I’m her friend. Well. You know the Greece resort? Funny story: I’m dating her best friend who she met while he was staying there. I was also staying there, but I don’t think your boss liked me very much until my boobs grew.”

“That is not true!” you protest. “I’ve always been on your side. I told Toby you were so far out of his league that you were in mine.” Millie laughs, giving her mentee the okay to copy her. “Bella, do you know what we’re doing in Ibiza? I don’t.”

She seems surprised that you’re not a statue. You like that you’ve proven a personality, but don’t like how out of place she thinks it is.

Frankly, it’s embarrassing to be considered so formidable.

“I, um, wasn’t told exactly—”

“Bella is a big fan of… While I think she can handle herself respectably, I didn’t want to tell her just yet.” You nod, and it means more than just acknowledgement. From the movement, Millie is given permission to delve into your private and personal life that she gets to know better than anyone else alive today. Apart from Toby, perhaps, but Millie has met your family far more as she’s paid to work for you and doesn’t have the option of leaving if she thinks they’re monsters. “In comparison to most visits, they’d simply like to meet with you for multiple changes they wish to make. A few investors have shown interest in Ibiza exclusively, your approval is necessary. I’d estimate your working hours to be averaging at four a day.” Usually you have an additional twenty.

“So am I allowed to try out the pier cabanas?” you ask. Best feature of the resorts and five-year-old you’s idea (back when your father listened to you).

“You own the pier cabanas.”

“Yeah, but she’s bringing her friends and I’m not sure they’d want me to hand them everything on a platter.” Bella whispers to her boss (not you, Millie), wondering who ‘she’ is and asking if she gets the pleasure of knowing. “It’s Flossie.” You pause. Rethinking your answer. “Florence Pugh.” She grins the way every teenage girl does when they hear her name.

- - -

Flo’s texts flood through, buzzing your phone out of your pocket the moment you land. You chose to spend all of one hour and forty-five minutes conversing with Bella, grappling to understand why a TikTok account for your hotels would be a perfect business move. She threatens to create one there and then, using the Business Class wifi to full effect.

Her excessive notifications help you locate a very lost text chain. Bella suggests Snapchat. You scoff.

Flossie: We arrived two days ago but they won’t let me stay in your room.

Flossie: Dw - been staying with L + W

Flossie: Greece is better than this one Y/n

Flossie: Can’t believe this one doesn’t have a waffle bar

Flossie: Nvm found the waffle bar

Flossie: Ok waffle bar trip turned into actual bar trip

Flossie: I love all inclusives

You expect to walk through the lobby quickly and without too much hassle, but it seems the hotel manager is too eager to please you and has lined up most of the staff. It blows your cover.

“Miss L/n,” he says with a thick Spanish accent. You’re surprised he doesn’t kiss your feet with the welcome he’s provided you with. Two platters of fruit get offered to either assistant, to which they shake their heads and watch you closely. “It’s a pleasure.”

Most of the guests are staring at you, wondering why you deserve this and not them. Flo and her friends are sitting at the lobby bar when Will taps her and mutters, “has royalty just graced us with her presence?” He doesn’t know you. He thinks it’s rather pretentious, the way you walk down the line of workers and greet them all.

“Oh my god.” Your back is to her. “Unbelievable.” Most of the guests take offence in the fact that the staff serving them left them mid-sentence to be addressed for a singular second by someone she doubts they know. “One of my family friends would get that kind of welcome. It’s too much.”

The manager then walks you to the check-in desk, cutting in front of an exceptionally long queue (a good sign — people are actually staying at the hotels). “Your apartments are ready.” His dark eyes pierce through the forming crowd, finding a bellboy. “Is there anything you need before my friend escorts you there?” You shake your head, slightly scared of Señor Hotel Manager. He reminds you of the sous chef in Ratatouille, but Spanish, taller, and more intimidating by tenfold.

“Perfecto.” You turn to your assistant, asking silently for a drink. It’s in your hand before you start walking; a bellini that you’d rather was just the prosecco.

Flo, Livvy, and Will watch the exchange like a captivating movie, not close enough to catch the conversation. Will makes a point to imitate what he thinks is going on; “your extremely luxurious suite is on the small side, your highness. Would you like me to carry you upstairs or would the elephants be your preferred mode of transport?”

“Don’t worry, my queen, I won’t let you walk on the poor people floor,” Livvy adds before you turn to face them directly. “Oh, fuck me.”

“Y/n!” Flo squeals, jumping off the bar stool, forgoing all elegance and poise, running up to you. Everyone else looks alarmed at the fact she’d dare. Her legs wrap around you as she practically leaps into your arms, making you stumble. “I didn’t think you were that important, to be honest.”

Your suit is now crumpled and creased and you’re sure some damage has been done to your very expensive shoes, but you hold her like the loving girlfriend(?) you are. She buries her face in your neck, suddenly very aware of the amount of people in the lobby.

“Thanks,” you reply, registering what she said. “The apartments are ready. Do you want me to have your things moved? Do you want to come up with me?”

“Fuck yeah. I want to see— Did you say apartments?!”

You nod. “The owner’s apartments.”

“I thought it was a suite.” Yeah, it’s not quite a suite. “Like we have a suite, Will, Livvy, and I. Sea view. Will got a discount; he’s got so many points from that Chaos Club thing.” You’re flattered that he stays in your hotels. “Does your apartment have a sea view?”

You put her down. “Floss, babe, I said ‘apartments’ plural.”

- - -

The owner’s apartments are a staple of your childhood. Every one of your hotels has one, featured on the top floor and solely for the private use of your family. They’re obnoxiously decorated to fit the theme of wherever you’re staying, with large rooms and comfy beds in abundance. Toby once came up in the lift with you in Greece, but even he hasn’t been inside. There’s a private lift with doors that open into the living room and a second lift that takes you from the CEO’s conference room and office to the lobby. The office anchored your father during your childhood, meaning you mostly had free reign over the place while your brother partied and your mother lived at the spa. The place does have its own spa features, but your mother enjoyed being as far away from you all as possible.

“I’m going to tell them you can bring whoever you want up here, okay? And if they don’t let you or there are any problems, call me and I’ll sort it out. They’re snobby up here.”

Your bags have been unpacked already when she fiddles with the remote that controls your wardrobe. She finds the button for your underwear drawer, and smirks profusely at what she discovers.

“You are a filthy, filthy flirt,” she mumbles, blushing. Everything in there is either lace or very tiny. You’re planning to put that big, fat bed to very good use.

She finds her way to the bedroom, memorising the route for future use. Her suitcase is in there, placed in the corner and… cleaned?

Millie clears her throat, making the inquisitive blonde jump. “I don’t think we’ve met,” she says, knowing they definitely haven’t. Jealousy surges through Flo before she sees how the woman is dressed. “I’m Y/n’s assistant.” She wonders why you’ve brought her on holiday with you, until she realises you’ve disappeared because you have a meeting. “She asked me to make sure you had everything that you needed. She’ll find you in an hour or so.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine. I left my friends in the lobby, I’ll probably just go back to the beach with them.” Will and Livvy are going to think you’re shagging if she stays any longer, which is far from the truth seeing as you’re not on a holiday but rather a business trip. They stand there awkwardly, until Bella walks in with a sprite and hands it to her boss. “Hi.” The teenager almost falls over.

“Hello, Ms Pugh.” God. Millie laughs quietly. “Sorry. Y/n said to call you Florence, but I didn’t want to offend you. I’m her assistant too. Well. Her assistant’s assistant. Millie’s my boss.”

Flo finds it daunting that your assistant has an assistant, even if she looks like she’s very under-qualified and plucked from the nearest school you could find.

“It’s nice to meet both of you.” She wishes you were here. “Could one of you show me out? I need to get to the beach.” She texts her friends to meet her there, saying you’ve gone off and that she’ll be joining them for the rest of the day.

Will and Livvy quickly decide to get Flo drunk. She comes back with her tail between her legs and is thrust a bottle of champagne that Will got for free from a yacht that docked while Flo was with you. “Rich people are unreal,” he says, “but I’m sure your rich person isn’t bad. Where is she?”

“Working.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know why I thought she was allowed holidays. That was stupid, wasn’t it?”

“I bet you’ll have good makeup sex,” Livvy comforts, four glasses in.

Flo pouts, whining. “She’s so good in bed that I hate her.” Both her friends whack her with whatever springs to mind first. “Just because you don’t get to shag your childhood crushes—”

“Childhood crush?” Will isn’t particularly close to her in respect to knowing everything she’s ever done. She’d easily vent to him, and she does, but he has a tendency to forget facts and get lost. Livvy can draw a timeline of Flo’s life with a smudgy ink pen and her eyes closed.

“Y/n was Flossie Rose’s gay awakening. If you were to pinpoint the exact moment, I believe Flo told me it was when she was thirteen and Y/n asked her to tie her bikini. It slipped ever so slightly.” Flo reminds herself to never let Livvy drink champagne if she wants to maintain any dignity from her quickly depleting stash. It really loosens her lips.

“You’re not straight?!” She shakes her head. “That makes so much more sense.”

“Thanks.”

“No, as in, like… No! It was a compliment, I swear.” Will was last updated on his friend’s love life when they filmed Midsommar. He’s very behind. “So you and Y/n are…? And you’re not with Zach.”

“She wouldn’t be fucking someone else if she was still with him,” Livvy sighs, frustrated with his incompetence. “And who knows what’s going on with those two. Have you guys ever slept together sober?”

“Yeah!” Flo is very quick to defend herself. “Yeah, we have.” She pauses for a moment, finishing the bottle before she continues. “I think we’re dating. She asked me, and I said we were.”

“Is this a ‘never meet your heroes’ situation?” Will asks slyly. “Are we liking the fact she’s, like, loaded?”

“We’re more scared that she will stop finding us attractive and go back to seeing us as her best friend’s little sister.” Her friends nod; it’s a totally valid point. You’re quite good at separating Flossie and Flo however. “And I don’t care if she has but a penny to her name.”

“Point out her suite.” The three of them stare at the main building. “With the amount of points Will has, it must be near us.” You’re on the top floor. The whole of the top floor.

She points there.

“We’re only two floors below her,” Will says. “It’s not weird for her, right? Chaos Hotels are really nice. They use lovely bed linens.”

“That’s… not normal. Don’t tell her that.” You’d be flattered, to be honest. Sometimes you convince yourself that all one-hundred and twenty-eight hotels are completely empty, no one likes them, and that you’re a failure who should retire to her sofa never to be seen again. “But she has the whole floor. Owner’s apartments.”

Livvy really wants to see. “Fucking hell. Where’s my childhood crush? I need a new fridge.”

“Her assistant has an assistant.”

“Sounds expensive.”

“Sounds like you’re a stress ball,” mutters Will. He hasn’t solidified his dislike for you yet, but the disappointment in his friend’s voice saddens him a lot more than he thought it would. “If she completely ignores you the whole time we’re here then we’ll go out clubbing like the celebrities we are and stir up some drama. I can’t guarantee that I won’t stop staying at her hotels though.”

- - -

Millie complains about the sand ruining her shoes, saying she’s not at all dressed for the beach and that you won’t find her in the crowds. You reply that you will, tell her that her intern is outshining her, and offer her your sandals. Sighing, she accepts, taking your bag and carrying it for you (so far you’ve insisted on being independent because it’s genuinely embarrassing to be so pampered in front of a woman who clearly is not fond of that lifestyle). “Pretend it’s your bag,” you instruct her as you spot her friends. They’re sunbathing in a quieter area. You can smell Flo’s cigarette smoke. Millie doubts anyone would assume the Birkin is hers.

Every time you glance behind you, the entourage acts busy with other matters. You know that the five or so waiters and waitresses are hovering, listening to your conversation. If you so much as mention a slight desire for, say, strawberry gum, it’s their job to fetch it. Again, that’s embarrassing. Millie disperses them when you’re looking, but calls them back once you’re not. One day you will not only blush tomato red but grow a stalk and fatten until you are the damned fruit.

Flo sees you trudging through the sand with heels in one hand and your phone in the other. You seem to be talking to someone (your brother — “how come you’re partying without me?”) and she wonders if you’re walking towards her or doing rounds of the resort. It’s a bit of both, but the space beside her looks too enticing to move on so you sit down. Every person other than Flo looks shocked that you didn’t click your fingers, call ‘garçon’, and demand a throne.

“Hi,” Flo says brightly, happy that you’ve chosen her over what you were supposed to do. You subtly shoo Millie and Bella and all five members of staff, and they retreat to the nearest set of sun loungers. She tells them that they are to spread out and look like they are not only waiting on you. “How was your meeting?”

“Boring.” You have a view of the beach from your office. You played Where’s Flossie. “Top secret information: the Standard hotel’s prospective customers saw this place and rethought their bookings. You’re our lead woman on this case, Pugh. Your service was greatly appreciated.”

“This is the part of the movie where you’d pull a knife out and stab me.” She leans on you, getting sand all over your linen trousers. Her fingers brush the grains off, resting on your thigh once she’s finished. “And while that sounds incredibly sexy, I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Mm.” The noise kisses her ears. It sounds familiar. You’re a tease. “You sound pretty into it,” you whisper, lips almost touching her ear, your breath stroking her skin and giving her goosebumps.

Her friends try not to look at the two of you as Flo sprawls on your lap, sunbathing in a better position. You run your fingers through her hair as she lights another cigarette, holding the pack up to you. You take one, feeling Millie roll her eyes from her stakeout a hundred metres away. “Here,” she says, pulling you down to her by the chin, bringing the lighter to the end and igniting it. You mumble something about being able to light your own fags, but it comes out croaky and half-finished because she is turning you on by being so touchy and close and… “See. Now everyone knows you’re mine.” Possessive.

You exhale your smoke in her face to get her back for the way she’s made you feel. “Wanna play a game?” Flo has lost sight of everyone else in the world who isn’t you. She nods slowly, cautiously. “Okay. If you guess what I’m wearing underneath my clothes, you get a kiss.” You’re being childish. It’s funny.

“What are we thinking for dinner?” Will bursts the sexual tension with such a mundane question that you almost laugh. “The buffet’s quite good. Have you tried it?” Flo ashes into the sand and flicks it at him.

“I’ve tried all one hundred and fifteen the buffets.” The remaining thirteen don’t have them. “Personally, I believe the experience isn’t properly had unless you go at peak time. If we eat at 6.30, we can drink until tomorrow.” You’ve noticed the empty bottle of champagne, and you’ve smelt it on Flo’s breath. Loudly, you announce, “the answer is nothing,” looking a bit like a madwoman to her friends. She tenses in your lap, trying her best to not go bright red.

“Can we go?” Flo asks you, voice weak and hushed and desperate. She speaks up; “I’m going to help Y/n unpack before we eat. See you in an hour?”

She knows she’s forgetting something when Livvy frowns and nods to Will.

Remembering once she’s stood up and not as close to you, she goes, “fuck. Sorry. Y/n, this is Will. Will this is Y/n. You’ll get on splendidly. Y/n owns hotels, Will. Will acts, Y/n. We were in Midsommar together, but you both know that so there’s no point in telling you.” She senses the two shadows behind her, readying themselves to leave. You shake your head once, not turning round to look at them, focusing on the fool Flo is making of herself. It’s rather cute. “Y/n really needs to unpack because I can’t stand her living out of a suitcase.” She makes you keep clothes at hers. And a toothbrush. Sometimes the clothes will smell of her instead, so you take her sweatshirts with you when you leave as payback.

Good thing Will and Livvy don’t know that your things were sorted and placed in the wardrobe the minute your bags made it to the room.

“Hasta luego,” you say, chuffed.

Flo restrains herself from sprinting to your apartments with you in tow, walking awkwardly past the line of staff who wait for you to be two metres ahead before trailing after the two of you.

You are clear with Millie about what is going to happen. After a few run-ins with previous assistants, you’ve realised that being open and feeling embarrassed for a second is far better than when they walk in and can’t look at you the same for months.

“I hate how tall your building is.” The lift has a security camera that you’ve warned her is very much monitored. She almost ignores you, but the second the thought seriously crosses her mind is the second the doors ping open and you pull her inside.

You’re pressed up against the same doors the moment they close.

She kisses you hard, hands fencing you in as they thud against the metal. You grin. This is what you wanted to do.

- - -

“You guys really thought you got away with being late,” Will laughs, not drunk, but not tipsy, “by Y/n coming from the kitchens because she had to ‘check something’. Was she checking you out, by any chance?” It was a good plan in the heat of the moment. Seemed believable.

“Was it my acting or hers?” Flo asks, faux secrecy, leaning into the middle of your round table. After dinner, most guests migrate to the rooftop bar because they can smoke and get drunk and be away from any children at the resort. Your table overlooks the sea, a similar view to your place.

“Honestly?” You both nod, eager to see if you’ve outdone the actress. “Your cheeks go red when you lie, Flo.”

“Ow! That was my foot,” Livvy shouts, obviously having been kicked under the table by accident. It must have hurt. Flo’s wearing heels.

“I’m a good liar,” you proudly announce, wanting to piss off Flo even more. You’re about to delve into an anecdote about one of the many times you lied through your teeth to get out of being cut off, disowned, or (and you will defend the fact that you were a typical daughter of a billionaire with this one) taken into custody, when you hear a squeal that sounds like its home is in a boarding school dormitory accompanied by a very familiar ‘oh my gosh’. A chorus of them, actually.

Three girls wave at you from the bar, and now that they’ve locked onto their target, you know that they won’t stop until you go up to them. You want to strangle yourself with their alarmingly abundant necklaces.

“Oh god,” Livvy says, amused at your terror. Flo questions you silently, offended when you get up abruptly and approach them. It’s like you’ve stepped into a role. You walk differently — standing up straighter, more purposefully — and you replicate their condescending tone with your own shrill greetings.

Each girl embraces you. One holds on a little too long for your girlfriend’s liking (you still haven’t discussed the label, but Flo feels like declaring she’s your wife when you’re hugging her like that). They haven’t yet stopped partying and started working, so they smell of the usual champagne/fags/cocaine combo. Your brother smells like that, too, but you forget because you haven’t hugged him since you were ten.

After excruciating small talk, they wave at the three you left behind. “Is that Florence Pugh?”

“Yeah, she and I—”

“Y/n, why haven’t you introduced us yet?” She says it loudly, that one. She’s the most annoying. Her volume causes a few others to turn around but they quickly return to their chatter. Florence, however, is seething at the fact that her hand is resting so comfortably on your waist.

Now unavoidable, you walk them over to the table, grimacing at the steely look Floss gives them all. “This is Hattie, Mattie, and Lottie.” You look at the three witches from Macbeth; “this is Will, Livvy, and Florence.”

“Flo,” corrects one very unimpressed blonde. “It’s lovely to meet you.” It’s not.

“Also a pleasure! You might know my father…”

You tune them out, quite experienced and very used to it. What you don’t realise is that they’ve been looking at you expectantly for the past thirty seconds as the conversation falls into your lap. Flo whispers in your ear a brief summary.

“How did we get to bodycounts?” you ask, wide-eyed. You don’t want to talk about this near Witch One, Two, or Three, because…

“Yeah, so mine isn’t actually that alarming once you hear hers.” Lovely. “It’s in the triple digits, right?”

Flo’s mouth falls open, about to comment. You notice that she’s sort of… impressed? And so is Livvy, but she’s an animated person who never learnt the art of emotion concealing.

Before your brain can catch up with your mouth, you say, “yeah, but it wasn’t all one-at-a-time.” That seemed like a good defence until they’re all looking at you. “Don’t.” You’re addressing the uninvited guests at the table.

Lottie has had far too much to drink, because she shares with the group that you were her first and a bloody good one at that. You decide three things there and then:

You are too sober to not care.

Florence is so hot when she is jealous.

Never let old friends meet new friends, because you have changed too much for them to get along.

“Have you all slept with Y/n?” Will asks curiously, earning a kick to the shin from Flo.

“You know what, Will? There are only so many people in a boarding school.”

“You don’t have to shag them all.”

“Some people sleep with every living, breathing thing they see, some live alone in East London,” philosophises Livvy. Ever since the champagne earlier, she’s been knocking back quite a few long island ice teas (you told the bar to stop serving her after her third). “And some people pine for their childhood crush for so long that they actually pull them.” She looks at Flo. “And s’all okay! If Y/n’s had her hands down hundreds of pants, why does it matter? What’s important s’that the only pants they go down now are Flo’s.”

“Hear, hear!” Lottie shouts. Drunk people tend to get on quite well with each other. You know you’re blushing, and that they can see it. You know that Will is going to take the piss. You know that Flo is going to ask you questions later. Surprisingly, you don’t care. Being with friends (they are your friends, even if you can’t bring yourself to call them that) has made you feel weirdly elated. It’s easy to ignore the part of you who argues that you’re working way too much and that it’s going to blow up in your face.

It will, inevitably. Maybe you’ll handle it better than those before you (your father fucked off for a good few years – he might have mentioned you have a half sister, you’re not too sure), and it’s not like you don’t have people behind you. Supporting you. Like Toby and his family. Very much Toby’s family, particularly his little sister.

- - -

For some reason, you and Flo don’t pounce on each other the minute you get into the living room. It’s not like she’s had enough of you – she was horrified when you suggested you cut your earlier activities short so as to not miss dinner altogether.

“You okay?” she asks as you begin to form a sentence and forget it the minute she looks at you. She walks towards the corridor adjacent to the one you showed her. “How come I never looked round here?” All the doors are closed.

“That’s…” Her hand curls around the first door’s handle, pushing down but not opening the door before you tell her she can. “Have a look.”

The corridor is a mixed bag, Flo finds.

Her first discovery is a boring spare bedroom, decorated similarly to the one you’ve had made up for the two of you, which sparks the question of where your actual room is. It isn’t the next door down, nor the one opposite, because they are a games room and a cinema respectively.

She hums in approval at the posters lining the cinema’s walls once she sees her face (Midsommar) and sends a wink your way when you attempt to splutter out an explanation. And this is you before she gets to the last door.

“This was thoroughly disappointing. A cinema: expected. A games room: expected. Your brother’s wine room with a bed: expected.” She frowns when you remind her that ‘wine room with a bed’ is his bedroom. “Bedrooms have bedside tables and bookshelves and, for normal people, their desk and dressing table. It’s a wine room with a bed, Y/n.”

When she opens the supposedly disappointing final door, you are already in position to shut the mouth that hangs loosely. Without your hand supporting her chin, she returns to her jaw-dropped state.

“Whose bedroom is this?”

Sheepishly, you say, “mine.”

“This is like walking into Sleeping Beauty’s arsehole. It’s amazing!”

In all fairness, her description is quite spot on. They had the floor stained hot pink for a demanding five-year-old Y/n, and the walls painted a matching shade. The bed used to be your claim to fame in year one because it’s shaped like a castle, turrets and all. She runs to climb it, wanting to try out the slide that entertained you for hours. It was a step down from your original request of a waterslide that took you from your bed to the swimming pool, but once they added in a carousel, you were sold.

The slide bores Flo after a few tries because it’s not made for an (albeit small) adult woman, so she moves her focus to the ornate fairground ride, smirking because this glimpse into your childhood is so very entertaining. She sits on your favourite horse out of the three, and begs you to turn it on.

“It plays music,” you groan, sick of the same tune having heard it thousands of times before. She gives a look that you stupidly can’t say no to, so you plug your ears and hit the on button. Flo informs you that this is the best place in the world.

After she has gone on every horse and quizzed you about the names and personalities you gave them when you were younger, she asks if any other room beats this one. “I am never leaving.”

“You better leave, because I’m not fucking you in here.”

Suddenly she is not so enthusiastic about staying. In fact, she declares she hates the bloody place and pushes you out of it, not stopping until the route that she knew would come in handy leads you to your bed (adult you’s bed). You sit down on the edge of the mattress as she straddles you, teeth crashing messily against your own, hands tugging at the dress you had to change into for dinner. She pulls it off, moaning at the sight of your dangerous decision to only wear a thong.

“Not fair,” she grumbles.

“Suck it up, buttercup.” She doesn’t hear you, too busy staring at the curve of your breasts, wondering how long it would take for you to beg her to touch them. You notice that she’s not touching you, sitting up in your lap. “Go on then, Miss Ravenous.” It doesn’t work. It usually spurs her on. “Flo.”

“Y/n.”

“Flo.”

She copies your tone again, “Y/n.”

You have to try other methods. “Did you know I have a strap in my drawer?”

“Which drawer?” You smirk. She can’t stop herself. “Which one?” she whines, eyeing the bedside table.

“Not that one.”

She gets off you, taking off her top because that may convince you to tell her. You’re offended at her perception of your self-control, but enjoy sitting back and watching her rummage through each and every drawer. Occasionally, she makes a face, having found something suitable for that emotion, and slowly but surely she gets through the drawers it could have been in.

“Getting hotter,” you say as she retraces her steps. She raises her eyebrows and confidently yanks open a drawer that contains a singular hair bobble. Flo realises your comment was more of a cat-call than a clue. “You’re never going to find it.”

“I so am!”

Smugly, you pull on the handle of the bedside table. Florence has never wanted to maliciously choke you until that moment. And then her anger fizzles out.

Arousal hits her like a tsunami, and you can tell. She hates that you can tell, but she’ll bring it up later because you’ve managed to wriggle her out of her shorts and underwear until she’s fully naked and standing dumbfounded in the middle of your bedroom.

How you get her like this is a mystery.

She is shameless in the way she kisses you; hungry, fast. It’s almost too fast, considering the state of undress you are both in (the thong really doesn’t count – it’s that small), because when you knock against the corner of a shelf there is nothing to stop you from yelping as it makes sharp contact with your back. You hear a mumbled ‘sorry’ from Flo as she guides you back to the bed, taking care to lie you down on the egyptian cotton.

Her hands go to your chest the minute she’s sure you’re not going to get injured again, kneading the flesh before sliding down, permitted by the sheen of sweat that makes you glisten under the dimmed lights, to the apex of your thighs. You grab her wrist before she can press a finger to your clit, using her surprise as an opportunity to flip the two of you. She sort of fights this decision, being energetic and intense and the one who usually takes the wheel (only because you let her). You tell her that if she is patient, you’ll have a chance to actually use the strap rather than both of you ogling at it. “I can’t put it on if I have to pin you down,” you mutter, despite finding her devotion to your pleasure adorable.

She’s adorable.

She’s also very horny. To the point where watching you blow your nose would turn her on. As long as it was you. You turn her on really easily, really quickly, and too much for her to not feel like a teenager. Especially when your hair is damply sticking to your face and your chest is rising and falling quickly. And the best thing about you turning Florence on, is the fact that she knows she has the exact same effect on you.

You’re not going to hide it.

Flo moans when you join her again, kissing you because she missed you and not allowing you to push her flat against the bed because she is not about to let you win your little power battle for control. (Technically, you’ll always win – your intentions are to be doted upon and that is exactly what you get.)

“Why can’t you just–” She cuts you off by somehow getting on top of you, dipping her head down to your lips, and then your neck, and then your chest. She hovers above your lap. You lie back, hypnotised by her.

“I want to ride you.”

She didn’t realise that would make you moan.

“You are going to kill me one day,” you breathe as she grins at the sight of you; a complete wreck. Your eyes follow her as she slides her hand down to the base of the dildo, and your eyes shut when the movement rubs against your clit. Flo quirks her eyebrows at your reaction, finding it theatrical but wholly erotic.

She sinks down onto the strap with a sharp intake of breath, head falling backwards as she does so. You watch her as she begins to grind down, revelling in the noises she makes a point to not hold back, until it becomes insufficient to gawk. You sit up, her breasts pressing into yours, your hands gripping her hips as she begins to move faster. The strap pushes harder into your clit as she bounces up and down, drawing out whines and whimpers and a “don’t ever stop” distorted by the both of you panting.

Her hands rest on your shoulders as she increases her pace, seeking out her own orgasm, pulling you into her and kissing you. You open your mouth, waiting for her tongue to slip inside, moaning into her. She seems to melt into you, teeth crashing against your own, lips swollen once she breaks for air. When she does pause, you wrap your arms under her thighs and flip her, but she remains clutching onto your shoulders, back arching.

Once you begin to thrust your hips, she is quick to let go, head hitting the pillows with a thud inaudible over the obscene sounds flowing out of the both of you. Her nails dig into your back, adding to a map of marks made today, and you can feel her tense. It will only take another–

“Y/n, where do you keep your cocaine?” The voice is new to Flo. She hates it. She was about to come. “Also, I love that you’re fucking her on Daddy’s bed, but be quieter. Way quieter.” You yank the bedsheets over yourself and Flo, mouthing ‘sorry’ to hopefully prevent her from a heart attack.

“Go away,” you reply. He rolls his eyes and taps his watch. “There’s some under my bed.” Just to get it over with, you omit your questions of ‘how the fuck did you get in here?’ and ‘why are you asking me if you knew I was in the middle of something?’, glancing down at Flo to see how she’s doing. She’s no less red than she was before, but instead of parted and kissable, her lips are pressed together in a tight frown.

“I need to finish,” she pants, wondering how you’ve managed to turn her into a minor exhibitionist. “Y/n, I need to–” It takes one hard roll of your hips for you to make her come, Flo’s body swept up in a rush of pleasure. Her legs shake as you continue chasing a release. She’s coming a second time when you collapse onto her, head resting in the crook of her neck, being able to taste her sweat as your lips caress her skin.

She kicks the sheets off as soon as you pull out, breathing not yet returning to normal. Between her thighs she can feel the stickiness you left. You suggest a shower.

“Wait,” she says as you stand, loosening the straps on the harness. “Who was that and this isn’t really your parents’ bed, is it?” At your diffident expression, she sighs dramatically.

You launch into an explanation: “This place is super outdated because we never used to stay here, but the Master bedroom belongs to the current CEO. I’m the current CEO, therefore it’s rightfully mine, and I told you that we’re not fucking in my childhood bedroom.”

“You had no problem doing it in mine!”

She’s not cross with you, just frustrated about the interruption. “I last stayed in my room when I was six. It hasn’t changed since then. If we were at my actual house, it would be fine.”

Flo stands up as well. “Y/n, you can’t fuck me on your dad’s bed!” She moves away from the mattress, towards the door of the ensuite. “It’s weird.”

“He hasn’t stayed here in decades, and my parents can barely be in the same room together.” You toss the harness into the corner. She steps into the ensuite with a grouchy face, and you can tell she’s debating whether or not to let you join her. “We should be more worried about the fact that my brother’s here.”

- - -

Will’s first reaction to Flo’s story is to ask which one of you has worse daddy issues. “Pretty sure her dad’s girlfriend is younger than her,” Flo answers, grimacing at the thought.

“Is Y/n’s brother hot?” Livvy hasn’t really been focused on the story ever since Flo started telling it.

The trio almost get deja vu when you parade down the beach to them, right on time. You’re right on time because a fourth member of the crew is now prominent; shirtless and muscular and handsome.

“I think so,” Will whispers, patting Livvy on the shoulder when her eyes widen. Your brother doesn’t bother to stop when you sit beside your girlfriend – you’ve now talked about it: girlfriend is a yes, but beach sex is a no (the conversation was in the shower and you got carried away).

“Hello,” you greet them all, kissing Flo on the cheek because you’re still making the fact that you got walked in on up to her. “I come bearing good news!” You nudge Flo’s shoulder. “A boat is docking tomorrow morning at 10 under the name ‘Poulter’.”

‘Pugh’ would have been too suspicious. Another thing brought up in your very healthy and communicative conversation was that you were not going to treat her like she’s your sugar baby, even if she’s younger and you like buying her things.

“Are you joining us?” Flo asks, sceptical.

“Is your brother joining us?”

“Livvy, my brother is not good enough for you, and I don’t think you guys would want to be caught up in his snowstorm.” His literal snowstorm.

Will catches up eventually, realising you’ve gotten a boat for him tomorrow. “Am I now a Chaos Club Diamond member?” You laugh loudly, startling the entourage who sit behind you and hang onto your every word in case you drop the name of a drink. “Also, it’s your boat, right?”

You shake your head and now it’s Flo’s turn to laugh. She covers her mouth quickly. “I’m banned from our boats. This is my friend’s rental company. And, Will, you have enough points to own the hotels.”

“You don’t want them,” speaks another voice.

There’s a moment of silence as you feel a hand patting your head (older brothers are the worst).

“Oh, you were the chap I gave the champers to!” He’s a pretentious snob, your brother. “Small world.” Flo reaches for your hand when she notices your jaw tense. “Y/n refuses to introduce me, though I’m not sure why.” You lean into your girlfriend’s side as she presses a kiss to your temple, wanting nothing more than to throw sand in his face and kick him. “She’s always hated when I befriend her friends. Must be terrified that I’m going to nab them!”

“Enough,” you tell him calmly, not rising to his tone. He keeps eye contact with you as you hold his gaze; a challenge. A stupid one, but stil something he will not win.

After a tense few seconds, he backs down; “I’ve been beaten, my friends.” They laugh as he does. “Y/n, I shall see you later, darling, hopefully fully clothed this time.” He kisses your cheek three times, alternating and starting with the right just like the French. He’s a posh twat that is easy to love behind closed doors when he’s not embarrassing you and whoring himself out for attention.

“I am so sorry that I called you snobby and rich and stuck-up,” states Will hurriedly.

“You didn’t–”

Flo whispers in your ear, “behind your back, babe,” as the other two take in that whole interaction.

While you struggle to find a positive equally as much as they do, you can at least cross off one impactful yet traumatising person in your life that your girlfriend has to meet. The next big two are your parents, but you’re going to need to prepare her intensely for that.

tags: @pewpughpew @ridlz @jeyramarie @flosbelova @kassies-take @delfiore @yelenabelovasbxtch @sophie-xox @slut4milfs69 @sunshadesnrainbowz

[sinni-ok-sessi]

Fic writer interview

Tagged by @bitterflames, thank you!

How many works do you have on AO3? 21, a number that surprises me every time by being both more and fewer than I think it should be

What’s your total AO3 word count? 186, 378 (again, feels like this is both way too many words and also not as many as it ought to be)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Moonlight as My Guide (The Untamed) The Naming of Small Things (The Untamed) Continuing Professional Development (The Magnus Archives) Noli me tangere (The Magnus Archives) Spin Me Right Round (The Untamed)

Nothing suprising here, given the ridiculous size of those two fandoms, but I am always charmed by the love CPD gets, given it's mostly me making jokes about a librarianship conference I went to once

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Aaaagh, I wish I did? I'm bad at thinking of things to say! I think I do better at responding in small fandoms where I know/know of most of the commenters and 'thank you for being on this small liferaft with me' feels like an appropriate sentiment

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I don't really do angst-angst, but The Winding Roads They Led Me Here is probably the most obviously not-a-happy-ending thing I've written?

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? I am surveying my corpus and learning that wow, I write a not inconsiderable number of things about learning to live when you don't really want to? Shan't be analysing that too closely, tyvm, but I do remain pleased with the way And Green the Ground Below and Breathe In For Luck came out. For sheer straightforward glee at the ending, it's gotta be never knew a part of you / you didn't set in ink

Do you write crossovers? No, I imagine crossovers at great length and then make no moves towards writing anything down (see: the sprawling Nirvana in Fire/Vorkosigan series Entity that gets passed around between me and several friends, which consists entirely of one of us going 'hey have you thought about if X met Y?' and then yelling about that for several hours straight)

Have you ever received hate on a fic? lol, only from the one person who told me 'toxic xiyao' was ruining MaMG, which is very funny to me because that's kind of the point in that fic

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? yeahhhh but I find it very difficult. A long, hard process, in fact. As for 'what kind', uh, mutually obsessive D/s dynamics pretty much covers it, I think

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yeah! Someone on Wattpad was translating MaMG into Spanish, though idk how far they got

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No because I am very secretive about showing people my writing until it's 'presentable' and I think that would kill me

What’s your all-time favorite ship? [Douglas Richardson voice] Sir is fickle and changeable [/Douglas Richardson voice], but I think the ship I have spent longest actively contemplating is proooobably MCS/Jingyan?

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? All of themmmmmmm. (No, I would really like to do more with the Langya Hall prequel fic, but I think it's currently beyond my confidence as a writer so...)

What are your writing strengths? Fraught conversations and minute observations of body language, my beloved

What are your writing weaknesses? Plot? I don't know her. Pacing? A distant acquaintance at best

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I doubt I ever would, because I'm not confident in the spoken forms of any language I quote-unquote 'know', and I also find the 'multilingual character uses non-English endearments for their beloved' trope to be...a little painful, but I'm not averse to the idea on principle, though I suspect it requires more skill than people generally think to pull it off well

What was the first fandom you wrote for? hhhhh fucking. Sherlock Holmes (ACD stories), I think. Maybe the Psmith books by PG Wodehouse? I think it's for the best that the fic I wrote as a teen is marooned somewhere on LJ

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? I'm not going to do it, because it involves way too much compartmentalising not to set off my RPF squick, but god those sad boat men from The Terror are compelling and would bring me nicely back into my wheelhouse of repressed Victorians and also the Navy (I think I never actually finished writing anything for the Hornblower fandom back in the day, but my god it was not for lack of trying)

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? usually my most recent fic tbh (in this case, Make A Mercy Out of Me, which is, uh, unrepentant Disguiser smut and therefore of interest to like. three people worldwide, but that's fine)

tagging: @tallangrycockatiel, @goingsparebutwithprecision and anyone else who's interested and hasn't already been tagged

[numetaljackdog]

what i'm listening to 4/10/2024

spot.//yt

Limp Bizkit - Clunk: clunk. clunk clunk. clunk. clunk

Limp Bizkit - N 2 Gether Now feat. Method Man: it's backkkk and arguably never left. this didn't begin as a favorite of mine from lb but there's just so many good lines and it's so fun. discretion is advised for the blood of virgin eyes; we're limping on the track with the method

Nirvana - The Man Who Sold the World: perhaps one of the greatest little riffs ever conceived and also btw i am a nirvana fanboy 😁

Emma Blackery - Blossom: mostly just putting this in bc i don't think i've ever had the chance to talk about how much i adore this song. easily emma's best track, i so wish she would make more that sound like this. it fits her voice so nicely and it's just so breezy and catchy and cute..... summer's a-comin'

Suede - Animal Nitrate: this goes so insane i can't believe it took me this long to find it. and i may be prone to homosexuality... but anyway this just *sounds* sooo good, the crunchy production and the riff and the melody and oh! chef's kiss!

Staind - Mudshovel: revisiting an old favorite! i so wish to perform this song live someday.... i could make it even better. and i wouldn't be a republican about it either

Ice-T - Big Gun: PENIS ALLEGORY!!!!! and VIOLENT WOMEN!!!!!! i need to watch this fucking movie so fucking badly

Limp Bizkit - Back Porch: genuinely one of lb's best songs but completely slept on bc of its placement down at the bottom of gold cobra of all things god help us. also a returning winner from a prior WILT

Sonic Youth - Death Valley '69 feat. Lydia Lunch: sonic youth good. this song in particular hits me every time as if i'd never heard it. gay

Korn - Twist: i've taken to my funny bit of unpromptedly doing the rrh na oom rah dah nn rah mm dah oom rah dah thing in the middle of conversation

Eminem - Just Don't Give A Fuck: i will confess to having a little eminem moment these past days 🫣 but this one is genuinely so good i love his early scrappy shitty music. he just don't give a fuuuuuuck

Sublime - Santeria: this has always been my favorite sublime song bc it's so pretty-sounding and summery and it's about tracking a guy down and shoving a gun in his mouth

Big Pun - Beware: the beat is crazy but admittedly the main appeal of songs where guys say a bunch of words really fast will always be the part where the guy says a bunch of words really fast

The Decemberists - Down By The Water: mostly kind of over the whole radio alternative indie folk pop rock whatever shit but this is so prettyyy and melancholy and i love the harmonizing bc i love harmonizing

Powerman 5000 - Nobody's Real: my friends and i have been watching this music video over and over, it's so fun..... pm5k at their peak was such a cool band with all the visuals and cartoon antics. plus this shit is catchy as hell

DANGERDOOM - Sofa King: i previously thought i wasn't much of a DOOM fan, though i certainly respect the craft, but these days i think it might just be that his most popular material, the stuff people always recommend, just doesn't hit for me as much as his other stuff does (and hopefully will continue to, the more i listen). g

Twin Method - Flawless: these guys were too late to the nu metal game to really get their due (not to mention they were british; that was never a big spot for the genre) but i would posit that they were damn good for a 00s-era entry in the nu canon. this is their "big" song and it holds up pretty good!

Fudge Tunnel - Grey: checked this one out bc lol funny name but they're kinda legit. speaking of british alt metal. i almost wonder if they were on the other side of things, a little ahead of their time...

Blue - All Rise: heard this in an uber and it's been stuck in my brain ever since. i do love boy band r&b, AND i love a courtroom drama, so really i han't go wrong here. lots of brits in this installment i'm noticing

[fateandloveentwined]

Very Subjective Comments on literary prose in danmei and cnovels

again just reposting an answer i wrote for record just dismiss it

Truthfully I don't generally find chinese web novels very well written. Outside danmei I've read web novels like Nirvana in Fire, The Longest Day in Chang'An, and Joy of Life, and while personal enjoyment level varies I did not find the writing literary, or the writing particularly good for any of them.

The same goes for danmei web novels. Some of them do have good writing, (all subjective of course), but the ones I marked with good prose are scantily few. These would include Before and After Marriage, Meng Xi Shi, 不问三九, 潭石, 三三娘, 静影沉璧; I also enjoyed the prose of Encountering a Snake and 2ha, but people have said to hate the prose so this is really subjective haha.

Prose which I'd say is good (subjective??) would be Dream of the Red Chamber, Jin Yong's wuxia novels (it's lively enough to be good for me), Yu Guangzhong, Qian Zhongshu's writings, etc., and many more of these san wen authors because their prose usually flows pretty well.

I've recently counted the number of unique chinese characters some of the danmei uses, it is by no means indicative of good prose but if you would like to use it for reference, here you go: https://fateandloveentwined.tumblr.com/post/724325933336625152/number-of-unique-chinese-characters-in-a-book

Note: I sometimes dabble in fanfiction circles -- some of the writing on lofter (chinese site akin to tumblr) has really good prose, especially for the Thousand Autumns fandom, I'm amazed haha anyway.

If one wishes for actual opinions:

MXTX -- same as Nirvana in Fire, prose isn't bad but is not very good either.

Priest -- a little less refined but still again, not bad at all.

Mu su li -- same as MXTX.

Meatbun -- I've read 2ha and Remnants of Filth -- the prose for the latter imo is not as good.

Yan Liangyu -- same as Priest.

Honestly? I've been conscious of my reading of "trashy romance fluff" in the past but I no longer care. I enjoy reading it, and it brings me much relieve from the hectic day, so why feel bad about my choice of fiction xD (Classics? yeah I'm getting to them, slowly.)

[foxonfier]

my favorite thing in the world to do is assign music to characters. and by assign i mean figure out their fav bands. fav songs, fav albums, fav musicians … their listening habits, their opinions in music. are they a music snob? do they not really care? do they listen more during the day, while working, or while they’re chilling at night? what are their unpopular music opinions? genres/decades they fancy? there’s so much you can do here and so much character depth you can add and uncover.

sometimes i just. lob artists/bands at characters to figure out what they’d think. grow their music taste and opinions yk. i think about the holts from adf quite often, it’s just fun to see the differences between three brothers and even their parents and how music is passed down vs how some go against the grain. dale might love the smashing pumpkins and tyler might hate them. complain about billy corgan’s voice, cross his arms and think about how much he hates this and how much he’d rather hear something like what’s the story morning glory (oasis). but not wonderwall! no, that’s beneath him, he may tolerate it but he doesn’t love it and resents the idea of it being assigned his favorite song just because he likes oasis. he doesn’t understand dale’s interest in weird shit like supertramp but can silently appreciate the rolling stones even if he finds it appalling that their album cover is a guy’s bulge. tyler can appreciate 70s but he just doesn’t…love it. too many long intros, not enough singing - i think tyler does enjoy hearing someone’s voice, so all that rock n roll guitar solo shit doesnt really fly with him. i know he’d just die if he ever heard dale play shine on you crazy diamond, he’d be like wtf is this? no turn it off i want to hear some real music. and dale’s like bro, this IS real music. this is literally pink floyd. and tyler’s all, i don’t give a shit change it. and dale’s like fine whatever. then tyler is like no, i don’t wanna listen to david bowie, just put it on some 90s or even some good 70s stuff, i just don’t wanna hear those weird solos. so funny to me.

and dale! i don’t see dale being into a whole lot of pink floyd - maybe just the popular stuff, esp the wish you were here album. if he dove into it more i think he’d enjoy it (especially the wall) but just hasn’t really given pf a big ole chance yet. just into weird shit, just music made for that certain demographic that people like tyler can’t and maybe never will understand. dale’s experimental and nods off to reggae, bob marley and (by extension) bunny wailer, and alton ellis. watches old docs on woodstock and the doors and jimi hendrix. probs got into stevie ray vaughan through his cover of hendrix’s “little wing,” he can just really appreciate a good fuckin’ guitarist. i think he’s a little all over the place, kinda the guy that listens to everything w other people’s influence, picking up on new songs along the way, kind of a magnet for new music. he loves his mom’s taste in music and they listen to some similar stuff. not sure yet if dale got sharon into reggae or if it’s the other way around. either way i feel like reggae is important to dale, he enjoys uplifting music and doesn’t really fuck with depressing shit, maybe more mellow stuff here and there but nothing like what jay would ever listen to. some of it is just too dark for him. so i do think he has a bit of a line despite picking up so much from others. doesn’t mean he dislikes grunge, he just doesn’t really enjoy songs like black or polly or even jeremy. tyler’s similar, not that he hates grunge or anything but if he even got a glimpse of nirvana’s “rape me” he’d be super turned off.

surprisingly i can see all three listening to pearl jam, kinda something that keeps the whole fam together. jay obviously enjoys the ten album, jeremy and black and once… thinks that whole album is a masterpiece. tyler likes yellow ledbetter and some other stuff off of vs, elderly woman and daughter… and dale i think also likes vs, def yield and maybe even some vitalogy ? better man and faithful, given to fly? yeahhhh. jay’s a full grunge fan, likes that crusty 90s, sonic youth and pixies and nirvana.. maybe a little old country thrown in from his dad. could definitely see jay being a deadhead if he’d ever been able to keep up with a band like that and wasn’t stuck to the confines of two rock. just enjoys jamming to music, electric guitar vibes all around. when it comes to blur vs oasis jay is probably gonna choose blur, much to his brother’s chagrin. not that he’d admit that, he’d probs say something like “i like em both..” just nodding along when tyler’s music snobbery comes up. unlike dale he doesn’t really mind that tyler doesn’t open his mind to different music. meanwhile i bet it annoys dale that tyler won’t even give songs a chance just because of the title. also have mentioned this in the past but jay does like a lot of girl singers, mazzy star and hole and sonic youth,, maybe even the cranberries ? can see “linger” being a guilty pleasure song of his. also he’d def enjoy the smashing pumpkins (which i am listening to rn hence why i’m bringing it up lol) so he and dale have that in common i imagine. shockingly enough i think jay might also weirdly be into like, 60s to mid-70s bob dylan? none of that christian shit he got into later in life but definitely simple twist of fate and like a rolling stone… that whole highway 61 album. maybe is possibly obsessed with that black and white bob dylan aesthetic, firing back at reporters and smoking cigarettes in every vid and being up on stage all by himself, just a guitar and harmonica. black shades and everything… and no i’m NOT just saying this because i’m also obsessed with bob dylan but jay seems the type what can i say.

so, the gist? dale is weird experimental mostly 70s/some 60s shit, tyler is 90s alt rock and jay is moreso 90s grunge and rock and shoegaze. can’t see any of them being much into 80s, maybe jay could get into the cure with some time but as of now i can’t see him being into it yet. bet dale could appreciate those synth solos that were so popular. maybe sharon listens to a bit of 80s… not too sure yet i’d have to see. i mean thats probs the era jay grew up in so? who knows. but yeah, dale is into bob marley and tyler oasis and jay nirvana, their tastes can obviously overlap and it’d be hilarious to see what they’d do with a joint playlist between all three of them and how they’d react to each others songs, may write that someday if the time is right.

why did i write this? because i needed to expel all of these jumbled music thoughts in my head and these three are the easiest to do that with. this may not be canon to anyone else in the adf fandom (btw this is not even my fandom but i’m here hi) but it makes sense in my head and i’m sticking with it. i may go deeper someday if anyone is interested or if inspiration strikes again so, we shall see. but yeah here hands you this essay

[achilleslyre]

Ask meme huh??? Okay.

- Sai

- Kisame

- Kiba

this ask game

i will do kisame on a different ask i got of just him so this one is a bit shorter :3

sai

favourite thing about them?

HE’S GENUINELY SO FUNNYYYYYY he always has me cracking uppp and i love his (lack of) facial expressions….. sai your autistic swagger has me in your clutches

least favourite thing about them?

this is actually pretty hard…? like i even forgive him for talking shit on sasuke cause it’s funny that he wanted to bully naruto a bit ✋😂 i guess i wish he had more importance throughout the war arc and not for just that 🤏🤏 little bit in the beginning

favourite line?

i think this interaction ✋😂

brOTP?

sai and yamato 😭😭 two former root ninja.. imagine the bond they would have had if naruto were good….

OTP?

mm i don’t actually ship sai with anyone !

nOTP?

i guess naruto/sai ? just cause i’m like… naruto is far too obsessed with sasuke he could not give any other man an ounce of his attention…

random headcanon?

he probably does like some kinda deep dive into finding out as much as he can about people he’s interested in… which likely creeps out others but he’s doing it out of a sweet place in his heart.. he wants to know about them to show he cares and is interested in them.

unpopular opinion?

i don’t really know what opinions on sai are popular/unpopular… i think he deserves more recognition in general from like the fandom.. i think he’s genuinely one of the best characters between how funny he is, how cool his ninjutsu is and his personality and backstory…. he’s a very good character and i feel he’s rather glossed over

song i associate with them?

love stuck by mother mother

favourite picture of them?

i like to use this as a reaction image tbh.. i love sending it to people..

(VERY close second is this one tho)

kiba

favourite thing about them?

i like his design !! specially in classic i like his hoodie a lot but i do also like the leather jacket in shippuden. also his facial markings just look cool

least favourite thing about them?

hmm i think his one sided rivalry with naruto is kinda annoying.. that he wants to beat naruto so bad for.. whatever reason… i just think he needs to move onto something else that *he* wants.. not what naruto wants

favourite line?

i don’t remember exactly how it goes but when he’s fighting ukon and he stabs himself and says smth like “die with me” or smth like that

brOTP?

i loooove team 8 sm.. so kiba shino and hinata

OTP?

i don’t really ship him with anyone

nOTP?

naruto/kiba

random headcanon?

he smells so badddd T.T like he literally complains when other ppl smell bad but i know that boy is stanky

unpopular opinion?

idrk if it’s unpopular cause i don’t involve myself in any kiba conversation really lol but i think had he actually wanted to progress for himself and his relationship with akamaru he could’ve done a lot better and gotten so much further rather than wanting to so he can catch up to/be better than naruto…

song i associate with them?

this is basic cause i don’t really think of kiba enough to find a song specifically for him but.. smells likw teen spirit by nirvana ig ?

favourite picture of them?

[earthplanet]

tagged by @maotism >>:3 !!!

Last song i listened to: Berg, Piano Sonata Op. 1 lmao. Dont tell anyone but I prefer some Berg to Schoenberg 🫣🫣🫣 even though Berg is more ~tonal~. Also might learn music theory to voice train and deconstruct my favorite songs with one stone.

Currently watching: "Made in Abyss". It's my favorite anime... decided to rewatch because I havent seen it in a long time and it's what got me back into anime after not finding anything interesting for 6 years or so. The concept is: there's a huge hole in the middle of this town and the town's entire religion, culture and economy is based on people who literally for the fuck of it decide they need to go to the bottom (which maybe only one person has gotten to). I'm offput by the loli/shota undertones going on and I really really wish they didnt have to stain the entire story with that buuuuuuuuuuuuuut; I think it's actually very telling about where the story comes from within the author's psyche.

Currently reading: Women, Race and Class; Angela Davis + The Factory by Hiroko Oyamada. The Davis is a very easy read and I feel like I've learned more history than I ever did in high school in the first 50 pages. The Factory is strangely hard to put down despite how banal the content has been so far.

Current obsession: Practicing the religion I came up with and also discovering it out in the world... The ideas are on my page already so I'm not going to wxplain but, I've been figuring out how to transform cooking from a dead practice in my life into something which transforms my karma essentially? This along with shitting, breathing, peeing, etc are things I eventually think can radically transform us if we are mindful of them. While the result isnt magic, I think of the subjective process as dyed-in-the-wool magic.

I'm also just coming down from a magical girl obsession LOL. Like... magical girls are existentialist heros I think??? Like, if existentialism had a feminist mythology the magical girl archetype would be ESSENTIAL. It's also really interesting how uniquely Buddhist concepts become central to magical girl story lines??? Like good and evil becoming complements which only tell the story of nirvana or something. Crazy shit.

tagging: @dykemcqueen @wodnes--coyotl

i dont really inow anyone else on here yet lol

not expecting anything, i just dont know who else to put :p

[thunder-spriggan-sorciere]

AO3 Masterlist

List of all my Fairy Tail fanfics! Links are provided to AO3, but these stories are also available on FF.net, under the same names. Peruse at your leisure, I hope you enjoy them. And stay tuned, I’ve got more works in the making, including a multi-chapter Wahl Icht and Thunder Legion centric fic.

Failure is Not an Option

He was meant to be the greatest wizard in the world. No one could touch him. He couldn’t be defeated. Because then his father would be angry. And no-one wanted to make his father angry. Set before the Nirvana Arc.

Characters: Midnight/Macbeth, Cobra/Erik, Brain, Angel/Sorano, Racer/Sawyer, Hoteye/Richard

Aftermath

Many lives were saved in the instant time was turned back. But the memories of what could have happened still linger. Set some time after the Grand Magic Games arc.

Characters: Bacchus Groh, Rocker, Quattro Cerberus Guild

Family

Written for Day 1 of Crime Sorcière/Oracion Seis week. Prompt: Family. Jellal reflects on his new family.

Characters: Jellal Fernandes, Meredy, Midnight/Macbeth, Cobra/Erik, Angel/Sorano, Racer/Sawyer, Hoteye/Richard

Redemption

Written for Day 2 of Crime Sorciere/Oracion Seis week. Prompt: Redemption. If you wish to achieve redemption, you must first apologise for your actions.

Characters: Angel/Sorano, Aries, Lucy Heartfilia

Goodbyes

Written for Day 3 of Crime Sorciere/Oracion Seis Week. Prompt: Goodbyes. Midnight says his goodbyes as he lies dying on the back of Nirvana.

Characters: Midnight/Macbeth, Cobra/Erik, Brain, Angel/Sorano, Racer/Sawyer, Hoteye/Richard

Scars

Written for Day 4 of Crime Sorciere/Oracion Seis week. Prompt: Scars. Behind every scar, lies a painful story.

Characters: Cobra/Erik

Memories

Some people have more bad memories than good. Written for Day 5 of Crime Sorciere/Oracion Seis Week. Prompt: Memories

Characters: Racer/Sawyer, Meredy

We’re Going to be Friends

Erik finds a new friend in the Tower of Heaven. Written for Fairy Friendship Week. Day 1: We’re Going To Be Friends.

Characters: Erik/Cobra, Cubellios

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27574784

With a Little Help From My Friends

Midnight tries to keep his newfound interest a secret. Angel has other ideas. Written for Fairy Friendship Week Day 2. Prompt: With A Little Help From My Friends

Characters: Midnight/Macbeth, Angel/Sorano, Brain

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597863

You’re My Best Friend

Erik is the glue that holds them together. Written for Fairy Friendship Week Day 3. Prompt: You’re My Best Friend.

Characters: Erik/Cobra, Racer/Sawyer, Angel/Sorano, Midnight/Macbeth, Hoteye/Richard Buchanan, Jellal Fernandes, Meredy

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27743152

Prison

The Oracion Seis have been defeated and locked away. Midnight is hurt, angry, and frightened.

Characters: Midnight/Macbeth

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35119246

Bring Him Home

When Freed is the only one left standing in the wake of Tempester’s attack, Laxus charges him with getting their friends back to the guild. Written for Freed Appreciation Day.

Characters: Freed Justine, Laxus Dreyar, Evergreen, Bickslow

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27607643/chapters/67540835

Saint and Saviour

Gajeel Redfox was once a young boy who lost his father. Later he earned the title Black Steel, top dog of the Phantom Lord magic guild. Now he haunts a scrapyard of broken parts, clinging to the past and slipping further into darkness, all while his colossal power seeks to consume his very humanity. Will Gajeel succumb to the shadows, or will a beacon of light guide him towards salvation?

Characters: Gajeel Redfox, Makarov Dreyar

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38985615

[caemthe]

Conversations with an old friend through the years

I must say... the splendor of gold, the war cry of my troops, and even the warmth of the sun... Nothing quite compares to how wonderful it is to laugh in the face of death with you by my side. Walking through the flames of hell doesn't seem impossible when I have a retainer such as you.

Foolish. You’re far more than a tool for the Oda clan. You're my most loyal retainer so no gift is great enough to express my gratitude and affection towards you. Politeness and humbleness are the last things I wish to see from you. If a castle isn't enough, if riches and territories aren't what you want, speak up and tell me what you actually seek from me. Whatever it is, I'll grant it to you.

We’re companions in life, souls born from the same star, and we'll find our way to one another in each universe and lifetime. So live with me, and perish with me. Please indulge my recklessness one more time and, until the distant end of Nirvana, let's continue spreading my domination across the entire country.

I cannot stop you. I cannot save you. I have always given you the freedom to do what you want and you always chose to follow and fight for me. And you’ll continue to do so even if it costs you your life, won’t you? What a foolish man. I would rather lose this war than to lose you now.

I don’t believe in the gods or the Buddha. Destiny is the path I carve with my own hands and feet. The reflection of my blade is my sole light and guide. But what am I supposed to do without my blade now? You’re no longer here, and the burning of temples, the taste of alcohol on the skulls of those that killed you, the flames of damnation... they can never warm me the same way your presence did.

It’s another boring day surrounded by the same boring people. Sometimes I imagine you laughing at my terrible jokes. Or I imagine you groaning when I inform you of my next plan. I'm the one who laughs then. I imagine you making tea after all have left and only you and I remain... You’re still with me? Of course not.

Are you witnessing my fall, Yoshinari?! The flames are consuming me whole! But do not look away! Do not weep for me! Don’t you dare think for a moment that this is the end! I’ve let you rest for long enough, so it's time to rise now! Stand up! The moment I make it to the other side, it shall be us fighting side by side again.

[octavianxbishop]

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

• FULL NAME: Octavian Bishop • FACECLAIM: Michael B. Jordan • GENDER: Cismale • PRONOUNS: He/him • SEXUALITY: STRAIGHT • AGE + BIRTHDAY: 32 + 02/24 • LENGTH OF TIME IN FAIRFORD: 20 years • HOUSING: Downtown • OCCUPATION: P.E. teacher at Fairfield High • PERSONALITY: Confident, charming, persuasive, arrogant, immature, indifferent

DIGGING DEEPER

Q: “What’s it like, living in Fairford? Did you ever picture yourself settling down here or did you always know this would be your home?”

A: “It’s not ideal, It’s – I mean it’s fine, but not what I had planned when I was younger. I try to make the best of it though.  I always thought I’d want to travel, live somewhere warm, where it’s practical to have a backyard, in-ground pool accompanied by a trophy wife. Things didn’t work out that way, thanks to a few things out of my control. Number one being, my mother getting sick and needing in-home care. This caused me to leave my scholarship at UCLA, and to finish my degree in Fairford.” 

Q: “What’s your family like? Are you still close, or have you blocked all their numbers?”

A: “It’s really just been me and my mom for most of my life. I remember visiting some cousins of mine in Chicago and Memphis when I was younger. Family hasn’t really been all that important to me, at least, not extended family.”

Q: “Top five songs currently on your Spotify?”

A: “I can think of a few of my favorites that I work out to.”

“Turn Down For What” - DJ Snake

“Come As You Are” - Nirvana

“B.O.B.” - Outkast

“Straight Outta Compton” - N.W.A.

“Genesis” - Justice

Q: “Would you say you’re easy to get along/work with? Why or why not?”

A: “I think most people would. What’s not to like about me? Intelligent, attractive – I’ve yet to meet someone who doesn’t like those traits in coworkers, teammates, friends, whatever.  It’s possible maybe, people who are introverted might not enjoy my company, but I’ve been known to help even the most reserved to break out of their shell.” 

Q: It’s the little things in life; tell me three things that bring you a great deal of joy or put a smile on your face.”

A: “Number one is definitely a good breakfast. French toast, pancakes, bacon, the works. Second is hitting a game winner at the buzzer when playing with friends. And third is definitely getting a girl to crack a smile.” 

BRIEF BIOGRAPHY: 

• Octavian was born in Chicago, Illinois. At the age of ten, his mother took on a job across the country, which landed them in Fairford, Washington. She thought it would be a good place to raise her child, and for her son to see more of the world, beyond just the inner city. At the time, Octavian didn’t care for the change, but as time went on, he genuinely enjoyed his new location. 

• In High School, Octavian was a standout in both baseball and basketball. His mother didn’t allow him to play football, which he reluctantly respected the wishes of. Despite being a bit of a “smart-mouth” as labeled by a few of his teachers, Octavian’s grades were average, despite opting to go out with friends rather than study.

• Octavian received a few baseball scholarships, opting to attend UCLA. However, after his freshman year, his mother needed assistance at home due to an illness. This prompted him to move back home, finishing his Education degree locally. This was humiliating to Octavian, having to return home after enjoying his independence in sunny Socal. 

• After taking a P.E. position at a middle school in the Seattle area, Octavian would later decide to take a job at his Alma Mater, Fairford High. He’s been teaching there for the past 2 years. He enjoys his work, knowing it’s one of the few subjects students actually find entertaining.

[windowalker]

Hi, it’s 4.00 am and I can’t sleep.

I’m new at tumblr, I saw people make posts were they basically just introduce themselves and stuff and I thought I could do that too

Ok so… I’m Laeira, I’m almost 21 (fuck)

she/her | infp …but I generally don’t like lables

what this blog will be about: I guess poetry, art, music, and the inner connections between them and everyday life, everything I can found in my desperate quest to make the world a bit more bearable

there will be the occasional joke too, don’t worry, I have a very random sense of humor

about me: I like writing ✨🐚 (mostly songs, poetry, I’m currently working on a “novel”, pff feels so weird to say it). I like reading📖, though I’m slower than shit, cinema 🎥 and photography📸. Nature🌲🌿, I have a totally not creepy obsession with human anatomy🫁 purely scientific/artistic, and a totally platonic relationship with science 🔭⚗️ I guess I also love anthropology 🗿and philosophy 🩻 (but I don’t philosophize, just make fun of plato)

music I love (maximum restraint to minimize the otherwise infinite list): Björk, Jeff Buckey, Nirvana, Kate Bush, Pink Floyd, The Guess Who (not the Who), Radiohead, Cocteau Twins, Mecano, Heather Nova, Fiona Apple, Tori Amos, Donovan, Teresa Teng, the Beatles, Faye Wong, The Zombies, David Bowie, Mitski, Slowdive, King Crimson… fuk, and I’m not gonna get too much into classical, atonal, avant gard music… but you get the idea

fav movies: FUCK. I can’t do this. Let’s see… Mirror (Tarkovskij), Billy Elliot, Adaptation, the Incredibles, The Trial (Wells), Amadeus, Donnie Darko, Rear Window, Trainspotting, Polar Express (shut up), Coraline, Anastasia, the Shining, Whispers of the heart, the Graduate, Pollyanna, Naked Lunch, Ameliè, Black Swan, Lust for Life, Heathers, Lilo and Stitch, Mulan, Cry Baby…(just kidding, I almost imploded)

fav series: Neon Genesis Evangelion, Heidi (yes, I said it), Star Trek tos (so funny I exploded several times, best chairs, best fashion), Steven Universe, Phineas and Ferb, Arcane (of course), Adventure Time, The Owl House, Over the Garden Wall, Bewitched, The Nanny (best 90s show, fight me), Gilmore Girls (I still keep watching it but I HATE how they massacred most characters)

books I somehow managed to read: my favorite books are the ones I find the hardest to read. Metamorphosis, The Neverending Story, 1984, The Picture of Drodrian Gray, The Golden Compass, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, The sorrows of young Werther, Memories from the Underground…fuk I actually read so little books it’s embarrassing, I’m trying hard to improve, I swear!

things I wish wouldn’t exist in this world: arrogance, misogyny, racism, homophobia, and any other bad type “phobia”; inequality, any kind of abuse, especially the one inflicted by “parents”, mental illness, inefficient systems, condescendence and general unkindness

other things that I wish wouldn’t exist in this world: OLAF, I hate you OLAF, Cry Baby, because it destroyed my soul, Howard the duck, because it destroyed my sanity, the gargoyles from Hunchback of Notre Dame, movie remakes, vinegar, and Olaf again, because he’s an insult to life itself

Hope you enjoyed this unnecessarily long post, and if you wanna talk about something feel free to message me :)

It would be nice if I could manage to make some friends too! :D 🦑