#sex dolls Australia

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Pimp Toji who has connections with the yakuza, being the leader. Who owns strip clubs and other businesses.

Pimp Toji who hand-picks which women go to his strip clubs and which goes to the streets. Women from around the world, Asia, Australia, the USA, the UK, etc.

Pimp Toji who met you when he was doing just that, and unlike the others who openly check him out or refuse to look at him. No, you stare ahead looking unfazed by the knowledge of being sold.

Pimp Toji for the first time in a while, was intrigued. He ordered his assistant to escort you to his bedroom so he could deal with you later when he wasn't busy.

Pimp Toji who barely treated you like an employee, Nah he treated you practically like a queen. his queen. All you had to do was stay by his side, no matter what that Intelled, Rather it was to check how his clubs were going, making deals with other pimps, or simply during yakuza meetings for the next hoist and whatever crime they were going to do. Just sit on his lap or hold onto his arm like a good girl for Daddy.

Pimp Toji who lets you get anything you like, want to get jewelry and new clothes? here's my card doll buy yourself something pretty. Want to get some more lingerie and sex toys? Get something Daddy will like too. Anything and everything you want is yours if you ask nicely. But don't mistake him as a pushover, that is one of the worst things you could do, he'll show you, that he's still the boss and you're his. Which always end with you unable to walk nor sit for at least two days.

Dirty vision will be posted sometime later.

[dollfaceksj]

reminder | jjk (m) pt. 3

➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: Whenever he flies back into town, your doorbell is the first he rings. When he has to fly out again, your bed is the last he lies in. However, you’re not stupid. You know your ex-boyfriend, that also happens to be an up-and-coming professional boxer, Jeon Jungkook, doesn’t come to you only. Unfortunately, you have no right to be jealous, not when you’re the one that ended the relationship.

➥ GENRE: angst ⋆ smut ⋆ bit of fluff ⋆ exes with benefits

➥ CATEGORY: three-shot

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, lots of arguing, angst so much angst, toxicity, strong language, jealous!jk, possessive!jk, reader gets a taste of her own medicine, slightly aggressive jk (not @ reader dw), cockblocker!yoongi, hater!yoongi, mean!yoongi, yoongi just cares about jungkook okay, another bts member cameo and he’s the only normal person in this frfr, a bit of jungkook pov, quick forgiveness bc they love each other so much guys like theyre such losers omg, mentions of.. THE NECKLACE… sorry in advance, oral sex (m. rec), unprotected sex (dont be dumb), rough love making, make-up sex, shirtless ck jk because why not…, kinda subby!jk for a moment… :D, creampie, mentions of edging, mentions of overstimulation, teasing, imo both reader and jk are extremely dumb in this tbh, minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 12.5k

a/n: ah. its the final part. i wanna take the time to thank you guys for loving this three-shot! the love reminder has received really did have me considering making it into a series (i really did) but honestly i think it’s best to keep it a three-shot. HOWEVER: i wanna write a lot of drabbles for it so look out for those!

a/n 2: ignore any mistakes u see or you are cloverphobic. not betaread.

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

The distant thud of a car door slamming shut makes Jungkook jerk awake in his car. With a hiss, he slurps up the drool that had trickled down his chin from being knocked out and he shoots upright in his seat. He’s jetlagged as hell after flying out from Australia but he still insisted on seeing you first.

Unfortunately, when he knocked at your front door around 12AM, you weren’t home. Being his stubborn self, he decided to wait for your arrival in his car. He dropped Yoongi off at home and returned, parked in front of your door and waited.

But the sound of that car door slamming shut has pulled him out of his slumber. He looks out of the car window on his side, and there you are in the distance, dolled up and searching for your house keys in your clutch as you make your way to the front door.

Wearing a tight dress, hair did exactly the way you know Jungkook likes and from this angle he can’t see your face but without a doubt, he knows you’re absolutely gorgeous.

He takes his phone out of his pocket to check the time and the numbers on his lockscreen – which is a picture of his hand holding yours – tell him it’s 4:08AM. He’d been here for hours but all of it felt like minutes when he finally set his eyes on you again.

Right as he’s about to get out of his car, the figure of another person walks around the car you had just gotten out of. With a squint in his eyes, Jungkook tries to figure out who’s walking up to you right now.

A man, not much older than himself, holds you by your arm as he leads you to your front door. A frown creeps onto his brows when you don’t seem to have a reaction to this man touching you.

Jungkook watches as you keep digging into your purse, seemingly searching for your keys but that doesn’t matter to him anymore.

With a scowl on his pretty face, he silently gets out of his car and sneaks up on the both of you. He makes sure not to make any noise as he stands directly behind the unfamiliar man. Jungkook tilts his head to the side as he says, “She can handle the rest from here.”

He watches with a stern look in his eyes as you and the man slightly jump from the sudden interruption. Your head snaps in his direction and so does the man’s head next to you.

Jungkook can see the horror in your eyes as you come to the realization that it’s none other than Jeon Jungkook standing right next to you.

You’re staring at him like he’s grown a second head, Jungkook’s eyes trail your face and scan your features, committing it all to memory. Pupils dilated, a thin layer of sweat coating your forehead, lips swollen, remnants of lipstick smudged across your chin.

“Who’s this?” the unknown man asks you after the deafening silence that had settled around the three of you, a raise to his eyebrow as he turns his head to look at you.

You quickly compose yourself and clear your throat to speak but before you can answer, Jungkook butts in. “I’m Jungkook,” he says, cockily.

The man slowly nods to Jungkook’s introduction and opens his mouth to respond with his own name as he says, “Hoseok.”

Jungkook nods again after puffing out his chest with an air of arrogance and replying, “Nice to meet you, Hoseok. It’s awfully late, though. You should go home.”

Hoseok turns to look at you with a confused yet concerned look in his eyes, checking with you to see if it’s okay to leave you with this man named Jungkook.

You let a soft sigh push past your lips and give him a nod of reassurance. You place your hand on Hoseok’s bicep to wordlessly tell him it’s okay but he doesn’t look convinced. That’s when you say, “It’s fine, Hobi. Thank you for helping me get home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jungkook’s eye twitches at not only the nickname but at the fact that you’ve seemingly agreed to meet up with this man tomorrow. His gaze drops to your hand on Hoseok’s bicep and he rolls his eyes, fighting the urge to flex his own arms but quickly realizing how stupid he’s being.

Hoseok nods once he sees the sincere look in your eyes and slowly starts walking backwards whilst staring Jungkook down. Jungkook isn’t backing down, though, staring back head-on. Hoseok clicks his tongue and finally spins on his heels, making his way back to his car. He looks back one more time.

Jungkook hasn’t budged from where he was staring Hoseok down and Hoseok glances at you one last time before getting into his car and driving off.

Jungkook glares at the retreating vehicle until it has literally disappeared down the street.

With a frown on his face he turns to you but you avoid his gaze as you turn your keys in the keyhole, unlocking the door to your home. You don’t even hold the door open for Jungkook as you walk in, heels clicking against the tiles as you kick them off and make your way to your living room.

You toss your purse at the couch, watching as it tumbles to the ground with a loud clatter, spilling all its contents but you don’t seem to care as you turn to look at him once he closes the door behind him, in the midst of kicking his own shoes off.

“Why the hell are you here, Jungkook?”

His brows pinch together at your words, the urge to nibble on his bottom lip starting to creep up his spine. “What do you mean, why am I here?”

You stare at him for a moment longer with frustrated eyes and your lips pressed into a thin line, watching his every move but he isn’t budging an inch.

You shake your head as you start walking away from him but he quickly stops you, hand wrapping around your bicep as he tugs you back. “Y/N, speak.”

You glance down at his inked hand wrapped around your bicep and try to wiggle it out of his grasp but he doesn’t let you.

You scoff, “Seriously? I don’t fucking hear from you the entire two months you were in Australia and you have the nerve to come back and act like nothing has happened?”

Record scratch.

Jungkook can hear the cry threatening to spill from your throat and it stings him as bad as when he was punched in the mouth a week ago during a sparring match.

He’s usually gone for a week or two, never longer than that. Not only has he been gone for two months, he didn’t contact you at all while he was away.

He shakes his head, tugging you even closer to him. “You never hear from me when I’m gone, I always come back like nothing has happened! Why are you suddenly acting like it’s a big deal? We’ve been doing this for two years.”

You press your hands into his chest in an attempt to push him off but there’s no real strength behind it. “Because this time, it’s not the same!”

He quickly takes notice to your quickened breathing and the hurt in your eyes but he doesn’t comment on them and decides to stand his ground and defend his actions. “How is it not the same?”

The look of disbelief you give him has his heartbeat stuttering in its rhythm and his throat tightening as it starts drying out.

“Don’t act dumb, Jungkook,” you say, adding more strength behind your push against his chest.

He doesn’t budge nor respond, instead, he continues to stare you down with eyes that flicker with uncertainty and desperation.

You shake your head in disbelief again at his lack of response. “Last time was different. You know it was.”

Again, he has no rebuttal because he knows. He knows it was.

But Jungkook was scared. Terrified, even.

Before he reminds himself of how he’s felt the past two months, he changes the topic. “Who was that?” is all he asks.

Your brows pinch together as your eyes scan his face, dropping to his lips and catching the way he wets them with his tongue, a substitute for chewing on them. “What?” you ask him in confusion.

“Hoseok,” he pauses. “Who is he?” he asks, the face of the unfamiliar man flashing in his mind makes his blood boil all over again, fingers adjusting around your bicep to make sure you don’t slip from his grasp.

You can’t believe he’s deterring the conversation to this, apparent by the raise in your brows and the change in your pitch. “Are you serious?”

“Answer the fucking question, Y/N.” He closes the distance between you two, menacingly towering over you as he stares you down with his onyx eyes.

You huff in frustration and with a shake of your head, you reply, “He’s my friend.”

Jungkook nods to your words in mockery and then reaches up with his other hand, wetting his thumb with his tongue to wipe your chin clean of the makeup. “Friends follow you to your front door at 4AM with the same lipstick on their face that’s smudged across your chin?”

“Oh,” you begin with your eyes narrowed, “don’t you fucking start.” You wiggle your arm out of his grasp and this time he lets you, allowing you to make your way towards your bedroom. His presence is in your wake, following close behind you.

He ignores your words and as soon as the both of you enter your once-shared bedroom, he asks, “Did you fuck him?”

You groan, “No, Jungkook. I didn’t fuck him.” You start taking your jewelry off as you continue, “But friends do share New Year’s kisses.” You fully turn your back to him, tucking away your jewelry in their rightful place. “You didn’t even fucking wish me happy holidays.”

He sighs in exasperation, staring at the ceiling. He knows the fact that it’s New Years is why you’re dolled up, why you’re dressed like this, why you came home this late.

But that doesn’t make him hate it any less.

With a shake of his head, he says, “You know how busy I am, Y/N. There’s nothing more I would’ve wanted than to be here with you, you know that.” His tone has softened and he’s closing the gap between you two but he stops dead in his tracks when your head snaps in his direction.

“I’m not asking you to be here while you can’t. I know you can’t. I’m asking for at least a phone call.” You reach for the zipper on your dress right under your armpit, tugging it down to your hip. “Not even a text, are you fucking kidding me?”

He loudly exhales again, shaking his head as he throws it back and his gaze shifts up to the ceiling, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows down what he really wants to say.

You bitterly chuckle as you eye the short distance between the two of you – he’s standing about two meters away. “Bet you had enough time for other people.”

Your accusating words make his eyebrows twitch and so, his response is immediate. “I didn’t fuck anyone.”

“Aht,” you say as you hold your hand up. “Don’t you fucking bullshit me,” you add, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

He shakes his head in disbelief, face turning to the side as his eyes shift to the wall on his left. He glares at the wall for a while, his hands on his hips and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

Then, he says, “Is he the one?”

Jungkook can tell by the way you sigh in exasperation that you’re fighting the urge to start yanking on your own hair.

“The one what?” you groan in annoyance as you start tugging your dress down your body, exposing your body in a matching underwear set and letting the dress pool at your feet before reaching for your bathrobe.

He rubs his face harshly as he adds, “The one you fucked.”

He’s still not looking at you but by your tone and heavened breathing, he knows you probably look like you want to bend over and scream until your vocal chords burst.

“I told you, I didn’t fuck–”

He immediately cuts you off. “I’m not talking about today. I’m talking about what you told me in the shower before I left for Australia,” he says. Then he repeats, “Did you fuck him?”

At that, you go quiet.

He closes his eyes at the silence, jaw clenching as you fidget with the ropes of your bathrobe and his own throat tightens at how you go speechless. You glance up at him with big eyes and a tremble in your chin.

At your lack of response, Jungkook finally looks at you, eyes dropping to your mouth, not missing the quiver in your pretty lips. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

You shrug your shoulders and finally find your voice after what seems like ages. “Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters.” He stomps the rest of the way over to you, menacingly towering over you. He adds, “I’m not buddy-buddy with the people I fuck.”

You tilt your chin to look up at him, brows knitted together and a scowl forming on your face. “Drop it, Jungkook,” you mumble, tying the bathrobe around your waist.

He closes whatever small distance is still in between you, his body pressed up against your arm before he leans down to directly say the next words into your ear, “Was he good? Did he fuck you good? Did he do the thing you like?”

You move your arm up, pressing your elbow against his chest in an attempt to push him off but he doesn’t budge an inch. “Stop it,” you warn.

He clicks his tongue and kisses his teeth with a loud smack, still not backing away from you. “Not so fun to be on the receiving end of that, is it?”

He’s right. You’ve been pestering him like that for years, always bringing up his sex life with other people to provoke him, to annoy him, out of your own selfishness. Why can’t he return the energy? Put you in that situation? Give you a taste of your own medicine?

You click your tongue in annoyance not only with him but yourself. Teasing him all those times has come back to directly bite you in the ass.

“Shut up, seriously.” You bump your shoulder into his as you make your way to the bathroom but he doesn’t let you get away that easily.

“Were you together? Or was it casual?” He follows close behind you as he continues to pester you.

“Jungkook.”

He doesn’t care about the warning tone in your voice or the scowl on your face. “I just wanna know. I wanna know if he knows I fucked you all those times too.”

You don’t even respond as you start taking your makeup off, ignoring Jungkook’s gaze through the reflection. He’s leaning against the doorframe, cockily staring at you through the mirror and you do your best to ignore him.

When it’s been quiet too long for his liking, he says, “Does he know you’ll always let me do whatever I want to you?” He begins to walk closer, closing the distance between you two until his chest is pressed up against your back and continues to menacingly stare at you through the mirror. “That you’ll never forget about me?”

You slam your makeup wipes down onto the sink with a loud thud, turning to face him. He’s completely pressed up against you at this point, caging you in between the sink and his own body.

You don’t even know what to say because that’s exactly how you’d talk to him ever since the break-up. You tilt your chin to look up at him. “Stop.”

He scoffs as he stares you down with intense eyes. He kisses his teeth with a loud smack and says, “Yeah, not so fun, is it?”

You ignore his provocations like he did yours all those times and move your elbows up to his chest, pushing past him to walk back into your room. Jungkook is aware that you’re constantly creating extra space between the two of you because his proximity will have you bending to his will.

He stays back this time, just quietly watching as you get ready for bed. He can’t ignore the sinking heart in his chest as your bottom lip quivers and your breath has gotten shaky, he can never be mean to you for long and he knows that.

He deeply sighs and shakes his head at his own antics. “Come here,” he mumbles as he makes his way to you.

You don’t respond, you just keep your back turned to him as you prepare your pillows and sheets.

He quietly sighs to himself as he wraps his arms around you from the back, halting you in your movements.

He turns your body to make you face him, his big hands firmly on your hips. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things.” He leans into the crook of your neck and nudges your ear with the tip of his nose. “You drive me crazy and it’s making me act a fool.”

Your arms stay limp by your side, your way of telling him you’re still mad at him but you turn your face slightly to give him more access to your neck like you’ll always do.

“I fucking hate how much I love you,” he whispers into the crook of your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbones, fingers digging through the fabric of your bathrobe to grip your hips tightly.

You sigh softly at the sensation of his lips on your skin again, your hands coming up to squeeze his biceps. “You’re an asshole.”

“I know, baby.” His voice is muffled by your neck but you feel the smile on his lips against your skin. “Didn’t like the taste of your own medicine?”

You grunt in response, pinching his biceps which makes him hiss and chuckle before pulling away from your neck to glance down at you.

“Will you let me kiss you?” he asks you, thumbs rubbing circles into your hipbones as his pretty black eyes roam your features.

“No,” you reply, moving your hands up to his chest and rubbing circles through his shirt.

His lips pucker up in a childish pout but he doesn’t push it any further, your proximity is enough for him.

“What’s the magic word?” you say.

His chest puffs as he chuckles, shaking his head. “Will you let me kiss you, please?”

You huff like a little kid that’s just finished throwing a tantrum but you nod your head to his question nonetheless, hands moving up to cup his cheeks.

His face closes in on yours and he presses his lips to your attention-seeking ones. He melts into your kiss, hands traveling up your sides to hold your waist tightly.

It’s been too long since he last saw you, so kissing you feels like a thousand years ago. He makes the most of it as he tightly holds onto your waist as if you don’t have breakable bones, as if you’ll slip through his fingers, as if you’ll disappear into thin air.

He slowly pulls back from your kiss. “I have something to show you,” he says as he reaches for something in his pocket. His phone seems to be in the way so he takes it out of his pocket and hands it to you so you can hold it while he searches for what he so desperately wants to show you.

You glance down at the screen as it automatically lights up and your eyes mindlessly drop down to the 3 hours old notifications.

[1:02AM]

René (AUS)

Are you still at the same hotel? Want me to come over?

[1:04AM]

René (AUS)

Missed call (1)

He watches your face twist into confusion and pain as his own eyes drop to where you’re looking at, the realization dawning on him like he got hit by a fucking train.

Jungkook’s body tenses up under your touch. His other hand drops from your hip and your eyes slowly trail to look up at him.

In a panic, he quickly says, “I swear, it’s not what you think. I swea–”

You don’t let him finish as you slam his phone into his chest and directly stare into his concerned eyes. “Fuck you.”

The way you say it with so much venom in your voice knocks the air directly out of Jungkook’s lungs.

He can hear an imaginary record scratch when you point toward your door and say, “Get out.”

Jungkook is stunned.

You have never made him leave.

You have never told him to just get out.

And for some reason, the ‘get out’ hurts even more than the vicious ‘fuck you’.

“Y/N–”

“Out.”

Jungkook shakes his head, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Don’t make me leave. Please.”

You immediately reply, “I want you to leave. Right now.”

He stares at the wall for a few moments as he gathers his thoughts. You stare at his side profile for a few seconds before you spin on your heels and head towards your bed.

As you plop down on your bed, you’re just in time to watch Jungkook dig in the pocket of his sweatpants and roughly throw something across the room, aimed right at the wall to your right.

You flinch at the clatter of a small box being smashed against the wall and turn to look at him with a frown etched onto your features.

He has never shown you any aggressiveness ever so you’re shocked at the sudden switch. “What the hell, Jungkook?”

He tugs on his long black locks before he quietly curses and turns, loudly stomping out of your room. The shuffling of him putting his shoes on reaches your ears and before you know it, the front door has been slammed shut.

Your hand sits on your chest, right over where your pounding heart is. You’re not scared of Jungkook and never will be but there’s a reason you don’t go to his matches. You don’t like seeing the boy with the entire galaxy in his eyes be aggressive, be angry, be consumed by hate.

When you’ve finally composed yourself, you take a few breaths to steady your ragged breathing. You deeply exhale and get up from your bed, walking over to the mini box and its spilled contents.

The small blue box is on its side, wide open and something shiny is sprawled out next to it.

Small tear shaped sapphire earrings that would fit perfectly with your estranged necklace.

The words – which you recognize as Jungkook’s handwriting – on the neon pink post-it that’s stuck to the inside of the lid shatters your heart into a million pieces.

‘Be my girlfriend (again)? :)’

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[6:30PM]

Hobi

I’m outside ^_^

You smile at your phone and apply your lip gloss as your finishing touch. With a final glance in the mirror, you give yourself a smile and a nod before heading into the hall and sliding your feet into your pumps.

You leave your home after locking up and quickly make your way down to the vehicle in front of your home before hopping into Hobi’s car, leaning over to give him a greeting hug.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks as he leans back and starts accelerating after you’ve closed the car door.

“Yeah. You?” you say as you buckle your seatbelt and open up the interior mirror above your head to check your makeup again.

“I’m fine.” He slows down in front of a red light and glances over at you. “What was all that about?”

“What?” you ask, already knowing what he’s talking about as you continue to check your teeth and waterline, ignoring the persistent lump that’s forming in your throat.

“Yesterday.” He returns his gaze to the road in front of him. “Well, more like this morning.”

You sigh and close the mirror, slouching in your seat as you glance over at him. “I’m sorry about that, Hoseok.”

Even if Hoseok was just helping you get inside, you feel bad about sending him away like that.

A chuckle leaves his mouth. “I know you are, I just thought I was seconds away from being decked in the mouth.”

You look out the window, pressing your lips together in an attempt at blending your gloss with your peachy nude lip combo.

“I know. Jungkook is just,” you pause, rubbing the scrunch between your brows.

He accelerates once the light jumps to green. “Is he the boxer?”

You merely hum in response, picking at the loose flesh around your manicured nails.

“You love him, right?” Hoseok’s question knocks the air right out of your lungs. The lump that had started forming in your throat has lodged down your esophagus and has unleashed a stream of lava that causes your heart to burn.

Your lack of response makes him nod his head, his hand coming to his jaw and rubbing his freshly shaven chin.

“And he certainly didn’t seem happy to see me,” he chuckles as he recalls the events of this morning.

“Yeah, well.” You nonchalantly shrug your shoulders. “He can’t just show up at my front door after two months of not talking to me.”

“Two months?” he repeats, leaning his left elbow against the window next to him and rubbing his chin with his hand whilst his other hand manages the gear shift and steering wheel.

You nod and cross your arms over your shoulders, adjusting the belt that’s digging into your neck.

He asks, “What was he doing for two months?”

You explain the events that happened two months ago, from Jungkook showing up to you telling him for the first time (again) that you love him. You explain the entire history between you and Jungkook, all the problems, all the love, all the pain, everything.

Hoseok knew you were still head over heels in love with an ex-boyfriend that also happened to be a professional boxer but he never pried. However, as he witnessed that embarrassing moment firsthand, you’re of the opinion that you owe him an explanation.

“Hm.” He thinks about what you just told him for a few moments, seemingly in deep thought. Unfortunately, you know Hoseok well enough to know when he wants to say something.

You turn your head to look at him, chest already tightening at the thought of him not agreeing with you. “You’ve got something to say.”

He looks at you for a moment before glancing back at the road. “I’m not sure you want to hear it.”

The raise in your brows indicates intrigue and surprise at his words. “Well, now you have to say it.”

He chuckles at the switch in your tone and parks in the theater’s parking lot before turning to look at you again. “To me, it just seems like he didn’t want to suffocate you again.”

“Suffocate me? He’s not going to suffocate me by texting me once in two months, Hobi.”

“No, I get that, and he is incredibly stupid for that but it seems to me like he’s so scared of losing you again that he didn’t want to ruin anything?” he explains, his point of view being a reminder that not everything may be what it initially seems to you.

You furrow your brows and part your lips to argue but Hoseok cuts you off before you can.

“What did he say after I left? Did he seem different?”

You think about it for a while. Yes, he did seem different, now that you think about it.

And then you’re reminded of Jungkook’s gift and his question. And at that, a surge of guilt spreads through your chest and starts bubbling up your throat.

“He, uh,” you start as you clear your throat, “he just asked who you were. The usual ex-boyfriend stuff. But he did kind of ask me to be his girlfriend again.”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and then turns to you. “So, I take it y’all made up, then.”

You shake your head, avoiding his gaze as you open up the mirror again to check if there’s anything in between your teeth to pretend you don’t care. “I told him to leave.”

“Why?” His brows are pinched together in confusion and you can see him aiming his frown at you in your peripheral vision.

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly again, hoping to appear unbothered. “I saw his phone, one of his groupies texted him. Just wasn’t in the mood.”

“Did he text them or did they text him?”

You slowly turn to look at him as a frown climbs its way onto your brows. “What?”

Hoseok stares at your for a few moments in silence before repeating his question, “Did he text them?”

You idly blink at him, the image of Jungkook’s face when he swore it wasn’t what it looked like flashing in your mind. Fuck.

You quickly compose yourself and say, “I don’t know.”

Hoseok blinks at you for a few times with a slight pinch in his brows before slowly nodding. “Okay.”

“You want to say something again,” you groan loudly, rubbing the scrunch on your forehead to prepare yourself for what he has to say now.

Surprisingly, he chooses not to. “I’m not going to this time.” A chuckle leaves his mouth after he says that, shaking his head in the process. “Let’s go, the movie is about to start.”

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Australia, 1 week ago

With a big gulp, Jungkook slams his glass down onto the wooden surface of the bar he’s sitting at. He winces at the burning liquid sliding down his esophagus, bringing his hand up to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

He stares at his lockscreen, a smile creeping on his lips at the picture. His eyes trail your fingers and your hand, how well they fit in his.

With a tilt of his phone, he unlocks it using Face ID and opens the message app. He scrolls until he sees your name, it’s been over a year since either of you last texted each other. Like mentioned before, he always comes back unannounced and you always act like nothing has happened.

It’s how it’s been for two damn years.

His fingers slowly start hovering over your contact name. Should he text you? Should he not?

He shouldn’t. You told him the two of you would talk about it when he’s back. Maybe he’d scare you off if he were to text you right now.

Besides, he’d be back in town in five days anyways.

Right as he locks his phone again, he’s dragged out of his thoughts when a hand squeezes his bicep.

He snaps his head in the person’s direction.

“You gonna keep acting like you don’t see me?” Ashley – an ‘acquaintance’ of Jungkook’s – says as she tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear.

(Read: acquaintance meaning a person he’d usually fuck if he was back in their country.)

“Oh,” he mumbles, his arm tensing up under her touch. Not to flex his arm but because he doesn’t want her touching him. “Ashley, right?”

“Hm,” she hums as she drops her hand from his arm, swiveling in her stool to face him, her knees pressed into the side of his thigh. “Doing anything tonight?”

He shakes his head as he continues to stare at the ice ball in his glass, his fingers fidgeting with the rim.

“Wanna do me?” she suggests, her feet making their way to rub up and down his calves in a teasing way.

He instantly regrets all the times he had her bent over his hotel couch, pounding into her from behind and kept his eyes shut to imagine he was fucking you.

He quietly exhales and rubs his eyes with the back of the knuckle of his index fingers as he looks for an excuse to reject her. “I don’t have any protection on me,” he mumbles, hoping she’ll get the hint.

Jungkook is responsible when it comes to his sex life. He’s quite literally always carrying protection. The only person he had ever fucked raw and would continue to do so are you.

So, these past two months he’d been walking around with nothing of the sort because he didn’t feel the need to. Now that there was that blossoming chance that he’d get back together with you, he’d wait for you.

He doesn’t want anyone else moaning his name, he doesn’t want to hold onto anyone else’s hips while pounding into them, he doesn’t want anyone but you.

“We could pass a nightshop on the way to my apartment,” she offers, her hand coming back to his bicep and sliding up his shoulder to his neck, the tips of her fingers playing with the ends of his hair.

The thought of anyone else touching him right now has goosebumps popping out of the upper layer of his skin and not in a good way.

“Let me use the restroom first,” he says as he gets up from his stool, subtly shrugging her hand off his neck in the meantime.

He looks her way for the first time since acknowledging her at the start and gives her the fakest smile he can muster. He walks around her and disappears in the sea of bodies that had started growing behind them.

He quietly makes his exit through a backdoor, standing in front of the building with his back to the door as it shuts loudly behind him. He tilts his head back and allows the infinite soft rain droplets to gently kiss his face and neck.

After a few more moments of enjoying the rain and distant booming music, he whistles at a taxi that he sees passing by and jogs toward it, hopping in the back before anyone else catches him.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

present

Damn Hoseok.

It just seems like he didn’t want to suffocate you again.

He’s so scared of losing you again that he didn’t want to ruin anything.

Did he text them?

Should you have heard him out?

You couldn’t even focus on that damn movie. Hoseok’s words and input kept clouding your mind, kept reminding you of maybe – just maybe – you were being unreasonable.

No, you’re not at fault for being upset that he didn’t say a word for two months.

You still think he’s an idiot for that.

Even if it’s been like that for the past two years. This time it was different and you’re not going to let anyone gaslight you into thinking it wasn’t.

But with how well you know his heart, his love, his passion for you, you should’ve known better. You don’t even know how long he’d been waiting in front of your door on New Years.

And there you were during New Years, opening up your front door with a man in your wake that had been in your (once Jungkook’s) bed.

You and Hoseok met at a party of a mutual friend one night and immediately hit it off. For the first time since Jungkook (about a year and a half after the break-up), you finally allowed yourself to let loose and do the thing Jungkook did to get his mind off of you.

You ended up having casual hook-ups with Hoseok, and goodness, was he amazing.

He fucked you good, touched you in the right places, said the right things, did everything right.

But he wasn’t him.

So, after about four months, you’d called it quits. Hoseok, being the amazing person he is, didn’t pry but insisted on staying friends and being there for you.

And that brings you back to the conversation you had with him in the car on your way to the movies.

He didn’t excuse Jungkook’s behavior but he made some good points, and damn him for that. Because now you can’t stop thinking about it. All of it. The worst being that Jungkook had planned to ask you to be his girlfriend again on New Years.

And thanks to all of that thinking, you find yourself in front of Min Yoongi’s front door a few days later.

Since you broke up with Jungkook, he never bothered to find a new place since he’s gone a lot. So, you assume he must be crashing at Yoongi’s when he’s not crashing at yours.

You raise your shaky fist and knock on the door.

A few seconds later, the sound of shuffling and keys jingling reach your ears and instantly sends a jolt of electricity up your spine. The door swings open and you make eye contact with his manager, his intense eyes make your heart almost implode within your ribs.

His frown at your presence almost stings. “What are you doing here?”

You look to the side as you swallow, hoping it helps you gather your courage. “Is Jungkook here?”

He scoffs, clearly unimpressed. “Why?”

“I need to talk to him.” You turn your head to look at him again, hoping you look as determined as you feel.

He dryly chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief. “So, you can kick him out at 4AM without hearing him out but he needs to hear you out because you’re the one that needs to talk now?”

You cross your arms over your chest to keep yourself from fidgeting and glance at the floor. “I want to apologize to him for that.”

“You want me to believe that?” He glances at his watch as if he’s unimpressed with your reasoning.

Gosh, why is he so stubborn?

Before you can even reply, he bitterly adds, “You need to quit playing with that boy’s feelings, Y/N.”

You finally look up at the older man, a quiver in your bottom lip and an imaginary bag of sand unleashing in your throat as your mouth dries out at his accusation. “I’m not playing with his feelings, Min,” you pause as you look away. “Please, just let me talk to him.”

“You can’t expect me to believe you came all the way out here just so you can apologize to him.” He slides his feet into his shoes, running a hand through his freshly cut hair.

He looks so nonchalant, as if what you’re saying is of absolutely no significance to him. The tightening in your chest tells you that you’re starting to lose your patience. “And why the fuck not?”

Yoongi’s eyebrows twitch as he takes a step closer to you, menacingly looming over you. You now know where Jungkook gets that from. “You could’ve texted him and he would come over in a heartbeat, you know that.”

“Let me stop you right there,” you say as you raise your hand, holding it up in front of his chest. “He’s not a fucking dog. I’m not going to text him so he can jump at every command. I know he would, which is why I took it upon myself to come here and personally apologize to him.”

Yoongi tilts his head to the side as he listens to your ramble, his arms crossed over his chest. You see the glimmer of something in his eyes but you can’t tell what it is, he’s always been too hard to read.

You drop your hand, wrapping it around the straps of the purse you’re holding in your sweaty palms to tug it over your shoulder. “So, will you let me?” you say after a few seconds of silence from Yoongi.

He narrows his eyes at you, still trying to read you and your intentions. But your sincerity is clear, evident by the fire in your eyes, your balled fists at your sides and the pinch in between your brows.

He takes a deep breath and steps aside to let you in. “Do what you want. I was about to leave anyway,” he mumbles as he slides his coat on and walks around you, heading out the front door.

He abruptly stops and turns to look at you one last time. “Don’t make him do anything stupid, Y/N. Or so, help me God.”

He stares you down as if he wants to obliterate you with a single blink of his eyes and with that, he leaves.

Jesus. What is his deal?

You clear your throat and compose yourself. You quietly close the door after he’s left, kicking your shoes off and make your way down the corridor, peeking into rooms until you find a door that’s shut. You try to open it but it’s locked so you quietly sigh before bringing your fist up and knocking softly on it.

“Can it wait ‘till tomorrow, hyung?” Jungkook’s groggy voice is muffled from behind the door.

Your chest tightens at his voice.

You shakily exhale as you drop your hand, your other hand still sitting on the door handle. “It’s me. Can we talk?”

Instant shuffling behind the closed door has butterflies eating your stomach from the inside out, your fingers tightly wrapped around the straps of your purse as you forcefully swallow down the bubble of panic that’s threatening to rush up your throat.

The door swings open and you’re met with bed hair, shirtless, sleepy Jungkook.

Your eyes drop down his figure but you quickly return them to his eyes, your lips pressed into a thin line.

His eyeballs are practically bulging out of his eye sockets at the sight of you here and his brows are dramatically pinched together but he quickly composes himself and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Why are you here?”

It stings, it does. You realize that asking him that day what he was doing at your place must’ve hurt this way. Burned this way. Stung this way.

“Jungkook,” you breathe out, your hands in front of your thighs with your fingers wrapped tightly around the straps of your purse as you swing it back and forth to distract yourself from the nerves creeping up on you.

He tilts his head to the side, parting his lips to answer your call but he closes his lips right away. The fact that he’s not replying is enough to have your heart stuttering in its rhythm, veins pulsating with fear. What if he tells you to get out like you did?

His silence makes you speak up and say, “I’m sorry.”

His expression doesn’t change but there’s a glint of surprise in his eyes. “For?”

“Everything.” Your reply is immediate.

He slowly crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re going to need to be more specific than that, Y/N,” he says with a stern tone in his voice that has your stomach twisting into a wringed out shirt.

You sigh as you watch him step backwards into the room again, leaving the door open for you, a wordless invitation.

He doesn’t even turn the light on, just goes back to sit on the bed but he reaches over to turn the flashlight of his phone on and turns his phone face down on the bed so it lights up some of the room.

You walk in and close the door behind you, looking around the room. You haven’t been here in a long time but not much has changed.

Your feet bring you to the foot of his bed, his eyes staring you down the entire time. “I’m sorry for sending you away and not hearing you out. I shouldn’t have done that.” You place your purse on his bed but stand in front of it still, anxiously fidgeting with the strap.

He continues to quietly stare at you which makes you continue, “I was,” you pause to sigh deeply, “I was upset because you didn’t talk to me.”

He exhales deeply and looks to the side, your eyes watching as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “You told me we’d talk about it when I was back.”

“I know I did but I thought I’d at least hear from you if it was going to last that long. I was waiting,” you explain, not missing the way Jungkook has nervously started nibbling on his bottom lip.

“I just thought that last time…” You shake your head as you continue, “I thought last time was different.”

He slowly nods as he returns the eye contact finally. “You’re right, it was,” he quietly says. “I’m sorry. I should have reached out. I was just scared you’d push me away again if I reached out to you just because you said–” he pauses as he glances at you and then turns his head to look away again, “those words. That you’d think I was too excited or something.”

Hoseok — a complete stranger to him — read Jungkook better than you. You should be fucking ashamed.

You gently rub your eyes to not mess up your eye makeup and then walk around the bed, moving to stand in front of him. He refuses to look at you, though, staring at his lap as if it’s playing a movie to him.

“Jungkook,” you start, “look at me.”

He slowly turns his head and tilts his chin to look up at you. If he notices the way your hand slightly hesitates before reaching out to him, he doesn’t show nor comment on it.

Your fingers delicately tuck his long black hair behind his ear, mindlessly playing with the shell of his ear.

“Will you hear me out this time?” he asks you, eyes twinkling with hope.

You shake your head. You don’t want to hear him out because he doesn’t owe you an explanation. “You don’t owe me anything, Jungkook. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

He wraps his fingers around your wrist as your own fingers play with his locks. “I want to. Will you let me?”

Your chest deflates as you deeply exhale at his stubbornness. “Okay.”

He reaches for his phone that he left face turned down on his nightstand and hands it to you. He’s telling you to check his phone to prove his innocence.

You shake your head as you push his phone away, you’re not that kind of person. You’re aware you and Jungkook don’t have the healthiest relationship but snooping in each other’s phones is something neither of you ever felt the need to do.

However, Jungkook is determined. “Just look at it,” he pleads.

Your eyes shift downwards as you curiously glance at the screen. It’s a text conversation between him and someone.

René.

You realize he’s showing you the full text conversation that you read last time and there are no replies from Jungkook at all.

[1:04AM]

René (AUS)

Why didn’t you tell me you were back in Australia? We could’ve gotten together and hung out!! Let me know when you’re back x

[1:06AM]

René (AUS)

Missed call (2)

You rub the scrunch between your brows and take a deep breath as the reality of the situation dawns on you. His words play on a continuous loop in your head.

I didn’t fuck anyone.

Jungkook had never denied it before. He would usually be quiet if you’d imply he’d been with someone. And if you think about it, that wasn’t even the part that made you upset. It was not hearing from him at all.

You push his phone back toward his chest when the text messages have mockingly stared at you long enough. “I’m sorry, Kook. I was such an ass.”

You continue, “This doesn’t change anything, I’m still a prick for not considering your feelings.”

He looks up at you through his pretty lashes, teeth chewing on his bottom lip which has reddened from all that nibbling.

You mindlessly press your thumb into his chin to make him release his bottom lip as you conclude, “Even if you did do whatever I thought it was you were doing, you have every right to. You don’t owe me a goddamn thing.”

“Just stop.” He shakes his head. “Don’t say that.”

You sigh as he dismisses your statements, he’s going to keep dismissing them so there’s no point in pressing him about it. “Well, I’m sorry. Are we good?” you ask as you tuck another lock of his hair behind his ear.

A soft smile stretches onto his pretty lips, his eyes glimmering like he’s holding the entire galaxy in his gaze, which is you. “Of course we are,” he says, eyelashes fluttering at you and if it was any quieter, you could probably hear the blinking of his eyelids. “Did you come all the way out here to apologize?” he adds, his voice quiet and uncertain.

No, you didn’t.

You slowly nod, sliding your fingers to his earlobe and down his jaw, rubbing his chin with your thumb. “I did.”

He nods his head and you notice the scrunch in his nose for a split second, a habit he has when he becomes emotional. Becoming emotional is the last thing you need right now so you avert your gaze to your purse on his mattress. “When will I see you again?” he quietly asks.

“You know where I live,” you say, telling him he’s always welcome whenever he needs you. You drop your hand from his face and reach for your purse, slinging it over your shoulder as you head towards the door again. The sound of him following behind you reaches your ears, letting you know he at least wants to walk you out.

It’s a direct parallel of whenever you walk him out of your house.

However, you change your mind and decide that right now is the best time to respond to his unanswered question.

“Actually,” you say as you turn on your heels, “I came for one more thing.” You take his phone out of his hand to use his flashlight.

He halts in his steps behind you and raises his brows, eyes shifting to your hands as you pull out a box from your purse.

You hold it out to him, shaking it slightly when it takes him too long to take from your hands. A frown sits on his brows for a moment but he takes it into his hands nonetheless, opening it to look inside of it.

It’s your estranged necklace, the one he gave you three years ago.

He glances up at you, his pretty eyes once full of love and hope now full of hurt and despair. His misunderstanding squeezes your heart until you almost can’t breathe under his pained gaze.

“You’re giving this back to me?” he asks, voice so small and barely loud enough to be heard.

You shake your head. “I’m asking you to help put it on me.” You turn the flashlight around to aim it at your face, allowing him to finally see the tear-shaped sapphire earrings he got you hanging from your earlobes for the first time since you walked in.

It had been dark in the room so he never noticed you wearing them until this very moment.

His eyes jump from your right ear to your left, the reality of the situation dawning on him like a pile of bricks. The smile that suddenly stretches onto his lips singlehandedly glues all the pieces of your broken heart together again.

He can’t contain his wide smile, fingers scrambling as he takes it out of the box. He throws the unimportant box somewhere on his bed and unclasps the necklace, wrapping the chain around your neck from the front, never breaking eye contact with you as his fingers fasten the chain behind your neck. He adjusts the pretty necklace around your neck and reaches up to play with the earring in your right ear.

You can’t help but smile at his giddy reaction, your fingers coming up to fidget with the pendant.

His hand drops from your earlobe to his side, fingers pinching at the fabric of his swears. “Is this a yes?”

(Read: He’s referring to the question he wrote on the post-it note.)

You shrug your shoulders with a smug grin and add, “Clearly it’s not a no.”

A soft chuckle leaves his mouth as he shakes his head at your teasing. His hands reach out and hold your waist, pulling you closer to him and your heart jolts in between your lungs at his proximity. He nudges your nose with his and respectfully drops his hands to your hips.

“Will you let me kiss you?”

The two of you giggle when you realize you’ve both asked each other the same question in unison. You bring your hands up to cup his face and press your lips to his.

He pulls you closer, closing the distance between the two of you as he tilts his head. His hands squeeze your hips and you hum into the kiss, moving your hands behind his neck so you can wrap your arms around his neck.

You pull away slowly and move to cup his cheeks, rubbing the apple of his burning cheek with your thumb.

“Stay the night. We’ll talk some more in the morning,” he says carefully, hoping you’ll agree.

You tilt your head to the side as his offer reaches your ears, a thinking pout on your lips before you part them to say, “I don’t think Min Yoongi would appreciate me staying over. He hates my guts.”

He stares at you for a moment longer and then glances at the wall. He knows you’re right. “He doesn’t hate y–”

You cut him off. “Yes, he does.”

“He hates what I let the relationship do to me. It’s not anything against you.” He tries to reason but you can’t forget the way Yoongi looks at you like he wishes you would just disappear into thin air.

He must’ve noticed the uncertainty in your expression. “I’ll lock the door,” he adds as he nods over your shoulder at the door.

“What are we, teenagers?” you laugh, rubbing his chest to make him look at you and he does.

He kisses his teeth after being in deep thought. “Okay, then just stay for a little while.” He pulls you down onto his bed, making you let out a surprised yelp.

You fall on top of him, hands still on his chest. You glance down at him and he’s got a shit-eating grin on his lips. He whimpers when you bring your hand down to slap his chest before you roll off of him to take your jacket off.

You toss the article of clothing somewhere across the room and your attention is disrupted when he wraps his hand around your wrist to pull you down and back into his embrace.

He pulls your back flat into his chest, arm hooked around your waist and his lips pressed into the back of your neck. He inhales through his nose and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder blade.

“I missed you so much.” He leaves a trail of kisses from your shoulder to your neck, not paying any mind to the goosebumps that he’s awakening directly under the soft flesh of his lips.

You hum in response and let your eyes flutter close. “I haven’t had sex in months so if you don’t stop kissing me right now, I’ll ride you for three hours.”

He chuckles and pulls away to say, “Aren’t we moving too fast?”

You roll your eyes at his stupid joke as you wiggle out of his grasp and sit up, your gaze shifting to him next to you, eyes scanning his cocky face. “You fucked me for two years, Jungkook.”

“Still.” He rolls onto his back to be able to look at you better and moves his hands up to place the back of his head on top of his palms, allowing you to look at the clear outline of his biceps and triceps. He adds, “We just started dating, you horndog.”

“Right,” you say as you mockingly nod your head and get up from his bed, starting to head out of his room. “Guess I’ll just ask Hoseok.”

By the time the ruffling of his sheets have reached your ears, you haven’t even made it halfway through the room. Jungkook drags you back by your bicep, pulling you backwards into the room. You let out a quiet shriek when he spins you in one swift motion, hooks his hands around your thighs and lifts you onto the dresser.

He wedges himself in between your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the dresser and holding you tightly by your waist, fingers draped over your ribcage. “You just love exploring my limits, don’t you?”

You chuckle and reach up to tuck his beautiful hair behind his ears with both hands. “You’re hot when you’re jealous.”

He shakes his head with a smile stretched onto lips, wrapping his arm around the perimeter of your waist to push your chest flat into his. “Yeah? I could also just text René right now,” he says as he shrugs his shoulders before adding, “ask what she’s wearing.”

Your face twists into a scowl as you press your hands into his chest in an attempt to push him off but there’s no strength behind the push because you don’t want to push him off and luckily, Jungkook is not budging.

You huff and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his jaw and leaving a trail of soft kisses on his honey skin. “You could but you won’t.” Your breath tickles him, apparent by how quickly you can get goosebumps to pop out of his skin.

“Hm,” he hums nonchalantly and tilts his head to give you more access. He adds, “You sound awfully confident.”

“Yep,” you retort right away, dropping your arms and placing your hands on top of the dresser, leaning back on them as you look at him. “Want me to show you how confident I am?”

He cocks his eyebrows and tilts his head to the side, contemplating your words. “And how would you show me?”

You blink at him, fluttering your eyelashes innocently as you push him back and hop off the dresser. You turn him around and press his back into the dresser.

You slowly sink down, squatting in front of him and caging his calves in between your thighs in the process.

You look up at him with an innocent twinkle in your eyes as you reach for the waistband of his sweats, waiting for him to give you the green light.

“Shit,” he breathes out before eagerly nodding.

A soft giggle pushes past your lips as you start tugging his sweats down his legs and letting them pool at his ankles. You’re faced with his black Calvin Klein boxers and fuck, does he look good.

You tuck your fingers under the hem of his CK boxers and slowly tug them down his legs as well. His dick isn’t hard yet but it’s slowly growing.

You place your hands on the outer-sides of his bare thighs and move your head downwards to take the head of his dick into your mouth without using your hands, pretty eyes still staring into his.

He curses quietly and places one of his hands on your head, staring down at you to watch your every move.

You keep your eyes glued to him, lashes kissing your brows with the same innocent glimmer in your pretty eyes. You continue to move your head down his shaft, feeling it harden in your mouth and grow heavy with blood on your tongue.

His dick starts rapidly inflating in your mouth but you’ve already completely lathered it in your saliva, making it easier for you to pump his base as you continue to suck on the first few inches of his hardened dick.

You slide your tongue down his shaft, tracing one of the veins down to his balls as you gently suck on them whilst pumping his shaft, your eyes never breaking the intense lock you have his gaze in.

He winces in sensitivity and his thighs tense in pleasure as you continue to suck on his balls, your thumb gracefully rubbing over the head of his dick every time your hand makes it up his shaft.

“Quit teasing me,” he demands but it comes out in a pleading tone, his hips slightly jerking as he tries to fight the urge to thrust into your hand.

“Quit teasing me, what?” you press a kiss to the side of his shaft, eyes menacingly mocking him as you refuse to look anywhere else. You love when Jungkook submits to you because he rarely does.

He grunts in annoyance. “Quit teasing me, please.” His hand on your head gently strokes your cranium, hopeful that you’ll comply.

But you have other plans.

You haven’t taken him into your mouth since you’ve started teasing because the moment you do, he’ll make you eat your own shit by mercilessly fucking your throat. And you’re in need of teasing him some more before you let that happen.

You lick a wet stripe up the downside of his dick ‘till you make it to his tip, collecting all the precum that had started oozing out of his dick onto your tongue. You teasingly lick all around the head, the tip of your tongue sliding in between his slit which makes him hiss.

“Y/N,” he warns, trying to sound stern but his mouth betrays him when a soft, desperate moan pushes past his lips right after he says your name.

You simply hum in response. He can sound stern all he wants to but you’re the one in control, not him.

One of your hands abandons his thigh, letting the cold air hit the warm spot on his skin that your hand has left and you bring it up to massage his balls, tongue still wickedly teasing his slit.

You innocently blink up at him as you start pressing kisses to his tip, the precum sticking to your lips as you leave a sloppy trail of kisses down his shaft.

“Y/N, please,” he whimpers.

The moment his plea reaches your ears, you part your lips wide enough for him to fit through but you don’t move. It’s a wordless invitation for him to come use your mouth however he pleases.

He gets the memo right away and doesn’t waste any time to slide right into your mouth, holding your head in place as he thrusts into your mouth, groaning when the head of his dick slams into your soft palate.

You blink your tears away but it’s useless as he continues to assault the back of your throat, tears uncontrollably spilling from your eyes and rolling down your hot cheeks, ruining your makeup in the process.

You tap his thigh twice and he understands, halting his thrusts and glancing down at you to check. Once you take his dick back into your mouth and move your own head down his shaft again after catching your breath, he throws his head back and lets you suck him off to the best of your abilities.

Your makeup has undoubtedly smudged all over your face but you don’t mind, not when Jungkook loves it. You gracefully move your mouth down his dick, committing the feeling of his hardened shaft effortlessly sliding over your tongue to memory.

He moans and groans a few more times and that tells you he’s nearing his orgasm. But just as you’re about to speed up, he stops you.

“I want to cum inside of you,” he tells you before sliding out of your sloppy mouth.

You try to catch your breath and nod as you wipe your chin and mouth with the back of your hand before rising to your feet.

“I don’t like that I’m completely naked and you’re fully clothed.” He reminds you that you are – in fact – fully clothed and he is – in fact – buttnaked.

“I don’t know, seems kind of fair to me.” You shrug your shoulders once you tug your shirt off and throw it somewhere in the room. You bring your fingers up to right under your eyes to try and clean up some of the makeup stains on your hot cheeks. “‘Cause aren’t you a pervert, anyway?”

He scoffs as he crosses his arms. “I’m the pervert?”

He takes a breath to continue his argument but it’s abruptly cut off when you unclasp your bra and toss it at him, watching as it gracefully drapes over his shoulder.

His eyes drop down to your chest as if he’s forgotten you even have eyes before his hands wrap around your waist and push you toward his bed with a quickness.

You let yourself fall back against the soft mattress but you can barely enjoy the feeling before his fingers tug your pants down your legs. You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he mindlessly tugs your jeans off your ankles, angrily tossing it aside.

A soft giggle leaves your lips as you watch him be passive aggressive with your pants but not for long when his eyes shift to yours.

“Something funny?” he quips, eyes dropping down to the only piece of fabric that’s hindering what he wants to do to you.

You glance down at your panties before back up at him. Your hand travels down your stomach to your pelvis, slowly sliding your panties to the side, allowing him to see what a mess he’s made between your legs.

His tongue peeks out at the corner of his lips, sliding along his bottom lip as he eyes your attention-seeking sex. He hooks his fingers around your panties and slides them down your legs, tugging them off your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor over his shoulder.

He hunches over and positions his mouth right above your pussy before spitting on it, watching your legs jerk as he rubs it into your already soaked sex with his fingers. He knows you like it and he’s right, it drives you up the fucking wall every time he does.

He straightens his back and positions himself at your sticky sex, rubbing the head of his dick up and down your wet slit.

He wastes no time as he looks into your eyes when he pushes in, watching your face and how your eyes widen, your mouth falls open, your body jerks.

“Jungkook.” His name leaves your mouth in a desperate moan as he bottoms out, his brows furrowed and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

He lets out a low grunt and after a while of adjusting to the feeling of being inside of you again, he starts thrusting into you.

Your eyes shift to where you’re connected, intently watching how his dick disappears in and out of you. A pathetic moan falls from your lips, a surprised yelp following directly after when he grabs a handful of your breast, massaging it in his palm as he fucks into you.

His hips speed up in pace, the sound of his skin slamming into yours has your eyes rolling back and your arms give out, making you fall back against the mattress, sprawled out in front of him again.

He lets go of your breast and pushes one of your legs back, hooking it around his arm to keep it in place and mercilessly starts pounding into you, face hovering right over yours. “You’re so beautiful.”

Your eyes flutter open at his words, the only thing you can think about now is the stretching in your walls and his beautiful face in front of yours.

“You belong to me, don’t you?” he muses, face closing in on your neck as he presses soft kisses to your sweaty skin. The soft whines and whimpers leaving your mouth makes him fuck you harder yet gentler, full of love yet full of hate, want but also need.

You gather your breath to answer his question, in the mood to tease him now that he’s finally yours again. “No.”

Teasing each other is your love language.

His hips slow down and his face appears in front of yours again with a frown. His jet black eyes staring you down makes you want to sink into his mattress and disappear off the face of the Earth. He arrogantly clicks his tongue as he says, “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you hum, closing your eyes as you move your hands up to the back of his neck to play with his hair, twirling his locks around your fingers.

He mockingly nods at your teasing. “You know damn well no one else fucks you like I do.” His thrusts get harsher, eyes dropping to your breasts bouncing from the momentum of his pounding.

You whimper at the switch, the rough pounding makes the wetness squelch extra loud and you’ve made a disgusting mess against his sex with your slick.

“You know, Hoseok was pretty goo–”

“But who’s the one fucking you right now?”

His rebuttal has you dead silent aside from the occasional, pathetic moans and heavy breathing. You open your eyes and the first thing you’re met with are his own, black and frustrated.

“The love of my life.”

Your reply to him has his hips stuttering in their rhythm, the corners of his lips twitching as he tries to fight the smile threatening to creep onto his lips. In order to hide his smile, he starts leaning down and presses his lips against yours in a sweet kiss, a stark contrast to the rough pounding of his hips.

Make-up sex really is the best.

You decide it’s enough teasing and wrap your legs around his waist, caging him in between your thighs as you pull him even closer. “I love you so much,” you mumble against his lips, arms wrapped around his neck to fully keep him trapped in your embrace.

He nods at the words, his pelvis still repeatedly slamming into yours. His hips slow down but the power behind them never subsides, the rough pounding has all your nerve endings set alight and your thighs jerk violently when the head of his dick barely grazes your cervix with each thrust.

“I’m gonna cum,” he mumbles against your lips, allowing you to lick into his mouth. You clench around his dick, walls wrapping tightly around him. He groans into your mouth, it’s your way of milking him of every drop and he knows it.

“Harder,” you moan once he pulls away from your lips, his brows knitting together as he complies, roughly slamming his hips into yours.

His breath is getting heavier by the second and his dick twitches in between your walls, alerting you that he’s seconds away from his climax. “I love you so much,” he mumbles as he ejaculates, painting your insides with his cum.

He keeps thrusting and lets long groans and moans leave his lips as he fucks his load into you, your soft whimpers in his ear are the cherry on top that drives him insane.

He gives you a couple more thrusts before he fully comes to a halt, face buried in the crook of your neck.

The synced heavy breathing, his proximity, the reality of the situation, it all has tears pricking in your eyes.

He slowly lifts his head off your shoulder, eyes searching yours. “You haven’t cum yet, hm?”

You shake your head in response.

“Remember when you teased me while sucking my dick 20 minutes ago?” he asks as he unhooks your legs from his waist.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you listen to him, already knowing where this is headed.

“Get ready,” is all he says.

He pulls out and drags you all the way to the edge of his bed, forcefully shoving his fingers into your mouth while the other wastes no time traveling to your sex and beginning its torturous assault on your sensitive clit.

Your throat is ruined from the screams you’ve let out when he continues to edge and overstimulate you for the next 30 minutes, watching in satisfaction as you writhe and squirm under his touch.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You wrap the towel around your frame as you leave his bathroom, eyes glued to him as he’s staring at the ceiling before his eyes shift to you. He turns on his side and props his head up on one hand, a smile on his lips as he watches you dig into his dresser for something to wear.

“When do you leave again?” you ask quietly as you pull out a pair of his sweats.

He stares at your back for a moment longer before answering, “Next Thursday.”

(Read: For context, it’s Friday right now.)

Your hands find one of his bigger shirts and you pull it out, placing it next to the sweats you chose on top of the dresser.

You continue, “Where are you going?”

He thinks about his answer for a few seconds. “Brazil,” he says. This conversation happens every time and yet he answers like it’s the first time you’re asking him these questions.

You slowly nod as you consider asking him what you want to ask him.

“How long will you be staying there?” you ask as you drop your towel and slide his sweats and shirt on, ditching your bra and underwear.

He looks up at you as he says, “I’m not sure, probably a week or two.”

Your feet slowly take you to him and you take your seat on his bed right next to him.

You nod your head in understanding again before you reach out to tuck his hair behind his ear, addicted to the way his soft hair feels against your skin.

“Will you let me come with you?”

Your question has him perking up like a cartoon character, lips twitching, eyes wide, ears expanding.

Ever since you met him, you had never flown out with him anywhere. You love change but you also love the comfort of your own home.

But love is about compromise, is it not?

He instantly shoots up in his bed and lunges at you, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame, face buried in your hair. He deeply inhales, his arms almost crushing your ribs, his pounding heart beating against your chest.

His breath has gotten shaky but you can tell that he’s fighting the urge to bawl in your presence. And eventually, he finally finds the voice that abandoned him in his time of need.

“I would love that.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

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[hh0320]

໑ — stars in the ceiling. pt I

pair. solo singer! felix x fem! reader (+ mentions of hyunjin)

genre. set in the 90’s, childhood friends to strangers, moving back, struggle with fame, angst, romance, smut.

warnings. profanity, smoking, alcohol/drug abuse, use of pet names, flawed characters, harsh language at times, dark themes, unprotected sex, oral sex, dirty talk, mental health issues.

word count. 6.2k

a/n. hi my loves! this is going to be a mini series, though i’m still not sure how many parts it will contain. nevertheless, pls treat this idea kindly, and don’t judge its characters too hard, they’ve gone through a lot. feedback and reblogs are always much appreciated and will be replied to! enjoy xx

‘Felix will be going back to Australia for a much needed break, sources close to him reveal. The twenty-three year old alt rock singer just concluded his second world tour, Doll, earlier this week in Los Angeles, with news of his breakup with supermodel Hwang Hyunjin coming out at the same time.

The two had been dating since the Aussie’s rise to fame in 1994.’

New South Wales had remained the same, despite the unshakeable change in Felix’s chest. Barina Road had the same houses standing, fifty-year-old trees stretching, widening into the sky, hiding his parent’s garage from view, the stairs leading up to the front door. He’d paid off the mortgage, bought them a new car.

The sun was beaming, February in full display. His manager greeted his mom, and introduced his assistant, explaining they would be staying at a hotel not too far from there. His father had a beard now, his sister looked taller, and wore glasses.

Your house was around the corner. He could see the rose bushes along the hill, the white shutters with the black outlines. Felix could close his eyes and go back to your room, 1992, the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, The Cure and The Smiths’ posters on pastel pink walls, lace trimming on your sheets, makeshift forts and flashlights at midnight, notebooks with hearts drawn on folded ends, his name and yours written next to each other, hand over hand. ‘Girl Afraid’ playing softly through a cassette in a beat down radio. Your dad’s homemade chocolate chip cookies, and the determination that rushed through Felix’s veins the moment he tasted them, the promise he’d made to himself to make those same cookies for you one day, to learn how.

He never did. His demo got picked up from a record label that would later refer him to the one he belongs to now, and he had to fly out to Melbourne right before your eighteenth birthday. From then on it’s been a shooting star.

He blinks to find his mother teary eyed, arms open. He doesn’t walk—he runs. Washed out silvery blonde locks long enough to be pulled in a ponytail, brown eyes the color of wild thyme honey, hands tired, heart broken. A boy coming home is a very old story, one that will never stop being written. And even though it feels strange to be back after five years of palm trees, everything and nothing—Hollywood, with its golden gates and trophies and nightmare people— it is exactly what he needed. It’s where he has to be.

“You look so tired, baby, so frail,” his mom sobs, pressing her mouth on his temple. “Did no one take care of you? Did no one care?”

Felix didn’t answer. He brought chocolates and clothes for his sisters, jewelry for his mother, Cuban cigars for his father, and his first ever Grammy for you, because none of this would’ve been possible if you hadn’t befriended him all those years ago in the playground. If your voice hadn’t guided him away from those swings and into the forest. If he hadn’t played hide and seek with the girl that wore ribbons in her hair, dark cherries for eyes. And what does he say knowing this?

I left behind the one person that did. That mattered that it did. And when I found something similar, I couldn’t hold it in my hands, I couldn’t get close to it no matter how much I tried.

“I missed you, mom,” he mumbles instead, and grinds his teeth to keep from crying. “I should’ve called more. I should’ve visited.”

The shorter woman sniffles and rubs her son’s back soothingly, shushing him only a mother knows how to. He breathes in her familiar scent, her cooking imprinted on her purple shirt, and smiles sadly. Hyunjin would’ve loved her; he wanted to meet her the most, wanted to hear all the stories when they were in bed together, what few times they were both sober, capable of adventure and conversation till the early hours of the next day. “I never had a mom,” he’d tell him, brown strands of hair escaping his staple bun. “Cherish your mom for me, Yongbokie. Love her terribly.”

“Come inside,” she tells him, waving away the rest. “Stay forever if you need to.”

“It means happiness,” he’d explained on that first meeting with the boy shining more brightly than the chandelier lighting the entire theater. “Yongbok.”

The boy had smiled and it’d made all the difference. His lips reminded Felix of black cherries, of the girl in the room with the window overlooking the trees. “I know what it means. It’s about time I met you.”

Time away from chaos felt empty. The hours passed by slowly, serenity made him paranoid, like it couldn’t possibly last, even there, in a different continent, across the globe. Getting on an airplane didn’t guarantee you’d get away, he realized soon enough. It wasn’t possible, because you can’t outrun yourself.

And it was that Felix was trying to escape. How known he’d become, how aware of his own shadow he was. At first, he’d thought of it as a mountain to climb, something to be achieved, and then something else. It was a ladder leading up, up, up and nowhere specific, but he climbed it anyway. The little prize in his hands was the ultimate show, that one last thing he had to do that would grant him access to more of the same everything and nothing everyone else seemed to be so desperately after. After he’d won it, the decision to leave it all behind became clearer than ever.

A lot of the people he admired had died. And it didn’t matter which way you looked, destruction came in the form of white powder, accompanied by a spoon or a syringe if you were brave enough and had much to lose. “Take your pick, there’s many ways to kill yourself,” a girl had told him once at an afterparty. Young and impressionable as he was he chose by what he saw and picked up the bottle of champagne in front of him. The least harmful, he’d thought. But the sneakiest one of all. And then he saw Hyunjin smoking cigarettes after one of his fashion shows, and thought to try that too. Then it felt like something they could share, so Felix kept smoking until the cough subsided and his fingers smelled of tobacco. 

One thing the model never tried to do was shield him from the horrible ways of the industry, and the blonde still can’t find it in himself to castrate him for it. Now, so many thousands of miles away as he was, the habits seemed to follow, like supportive friends. The world is a fucked up place, but it doesn’t seem so bad from where he sits on the rooftop of his childhood house. He could drop the stick from his hand, or break the golden trophy and even deny the existence of evil altogether.

How easy, how vulnerable fame is. You could be no one in particular if you made all the right choices. Felix wasn’t sure why he seemed to do the opposite, walk the other way, the reason for his selective blindness. When something shiny has your name on it you hold it close to your chest and sing to it. It’s precious because it reflects light off it.

Until when?

Your light was on. 

He looked for it, looked for a car coming up the hill, watched the sun set, the blending of colors, how majestic it can all get before it fades to black, but you showed up right in the blue of it. You still drove the same Jeep your dad had gifted you for graduation, but your hair was longer, you’d grown a bit. Felix saw how your white dress danced in the summer breeze, ran his eyes down your tanned legs as you walked from your driveway inside your house, and finally, about ten minutes after that, the light through your curtains.

His mother hadn’t mentioned he was back.

He smiles down at his burning cigarette. How would he ever face you with the way he left? He never called, only wrote to you on your birthday, and released a song about a starry girl that visited his dreams, knowing very well that girl waited for him for years to return, even if just for a little while. The guilt of never doing so, and instead loving someone else so all consumingly, while that same song went on to become his best selling single, the song he’d be known for for years to come? It crippled him.

He never wanted to see your face stare back at him. He would rather die, and he admits this to himself bravely. You were his first girl, his only girl. No one would ever come close to you, because you’re clean—you have his innocence, his first time, before he knew anything about anything, and how despite it, he loved you stupidly, earnestly, because it made sense, because it felt right.

“Starry girl, will you burn bright, for me tonight? Oh, will you stay a little while, darling girl…”

How hypocritical. If Chan was around he’d be calling him out, or pushing him down the fucking roof. Felix wouldn’t even mention the broken leg or the dislocated shoulder, because it’d serve him right. Perhaps he needs a solid reminder of his aliveness, of how doing wrong by someone and paying for it feels like. La La Land doesn’t have that, it couldn’t possibly understand that. There, people look up and never down. There, they would push, and keep pushing; they would climb over, step on your neck, tear you apart at the seams for a chance to just keep.looking.up. That climb is all there is.

It’s empty too, but you learn how to miss it.

Felix thinks he might’ve sold his fucking soul, somehow, because as he gets back in the house, his mind won’t stop screaming for him to run away from there as well.

Not a place that could hold someone that’s had everything and then more of it.

Chan hates his guts twice as much as you possibly ever could, but Felix calls him anyway.

“Hello?”

“Chris. It’s me.”

A long pause. The singer falters, thinks he’s made a mistake, curses himself for ever thinking anyone would want anything to do with him after—

“You’re a fucking cunt, Felix, and I hope you burn in Hell. Sincerely.” The blonde nods, his chest tight, his throat dry. “How are you?”

He smiles. “Terrible. Fucking awful, mate, thanks for asking.”

“Good.”

“I’m in Australia.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Your white dress flows in his dreams. It folds and stretches like the wings of a butterfly. The pages of his journal stare at him, his eyes heavy with sleep, but for once nothing pours out. He thinks he’s meant to keep that to himself, and perhaps that’s okay.

Instead he writes about a broken boy that smiles for the cameras but never for his love.

His older sister works as an intern for a law firm. He didn’t know that, because he never asked. The sting of it burns all the same.

She has a fiance, is preparing to buy a house, and tells him of his mom’s sickness at a private restaurant. He didn’t know that either, but in all fairness, as his sister pointed out, no one is supposed to know. At least not yet. It’s treatable, she quickly adds, but it’s been eating her from the inside out for a couple years now. She tells him this with a straight face, probably because she’s had time to sit with it, but also because Rachel is great at keeping her feelings in check, when she knows someone else isn’t—Felix definitely fucking isn’t.

What was the saying? The artist is haunted by his own heart? Day and night. There’s never an escape, it seems, from anything.

“Tell me what I need to do,” he pleads after he calms down. “Money is not a problem.”

The older sibling grimaces at that. “It’s not about that, Lix. She has medication, she never misses a doctor’s appointment. Her body is weak.”

“She’s not dying.”

“It’s not something we can exactly stop because we want to.”

Felix clenches his fists on the table, and looks at his sister straight on. “She’s not dying.”

Rachel wipes her mouth and sips from her wine, alerting the waiter for the check. People are starting to stare. No matter where they go, eyes follow her little brother incessantly, whichever measures they take. It’s a lifestyle she cannot comprehend.

Felix doesn’t seem to notice, or care. It’s a strange thing, like a zoo animal being at peace with its captivity, despite its true nature.

“Maybe not now,” she replies softly. “But we all must face this one impending doom sooner or later, Lix. Even you. Even our mom. Death is a natural thing.”

Most people run from the inevitable, because it’s scary. Somehow, it’s believed that the end, too, could be overturned if we stall it, or cheat it. Felix never thought he’d have to worry about it, because of the invisibility of youth, and money, and having everything else at his beck and call. It was only when Kurt Cobain and Jeff Buckley died that he was touched by the cruelty of it, the dark shadows and the claws attacking through them any moving thing, at any given time. Even legends passed, even history.

It was because life was so impossibly fleeting, water held with two hands, that he decided to knock on your door. In a single moment of liquid luck, he wished to see the stars in your ceiling again. To feel the warmth of your skin near his. Chan would shake his head and call him an idiot for it, but Felix never claimed to be reasonable. Or smart.

No other car was in your driveway.

God, his blood is rushing. You’d open the door and then what? What would he say?

He didn’t want his mom to die. He didn’t want you to hate him forever. He came back with a false sense of ego—no one gave a flying fuck if he was famous, or best friends with Hope Sandoval and Chris Cornell, hell, even Jesus Christ himself. None of it mattered outside of the bubble he’d created for himself in America. He’s not from there. These people would follow him nowhere.

He feels stranded and alone, and it’s entitled and pathetic, and he’s fucking terrified.

Who is he besides his name and his money? Why does it matter so much?

The door opens. He’s holding his breath.

You gape. Then blink.

Another moment passes. He has to say something. Goddamnit, anything!

“(Y/N).”

You seem to snap out of it, then. As if you realize it’s, indeed, not a dream. Felix is really standing right in front of you, blonde hair, round honey eyes, constellations on his cheeks as prominent as ever.

It’s confusion you feel more than anything else. Anger has long passed.

“How long have you been here?” is the first thing you ask him, and you’re still not allowing him inside.

He doesn’t expect you to.

“On your doorstep? An hour.”

You blink again, and lean forward, surprised. He thinks that must not be what you asked him. His ears burn. Your chest rises and falls deeply.

“In Australia, Lix,” you elaborate, but he focuses on the way your voice sounds like saying his childhood nickname, a silly little thing that stuck and makes him feel eight all over again.

You’d fallen in the rose bushes with your bike, the thorns pricking your arms, and you’d called out for him, crying. Lix, Lix, Lix… The sweetest sound, a person worthy to help you. A different time. He’d spent the rest of his afternoon picking thorns out of your skin and tending to your cuts with his mom. Afterwards, you watched Home Alone 2: Lost in New York and ate a bowl full of caramel popcorn. His dad dropped you off, and Felix had insisted on sticking his head out of his bedroom window to shout a final goodnight to you.

You’d done the same, laughing. His bestest friend in the whole world.

He didn’t feel like that person anymore. He didn’t feel like anything anymore. Just a name, just a body.

“Fourteen days,” he replies, and he’s ashamed of it, because it should’ve been easier to come to you. It should’ve never been difficult, not with you. 

It was you, for fuck’s sake.

And then you ask him the one thing he has no answer to.

“Are you okay?”

You move for him to enter. It’s what he wanted, but his legs have no strength in them, he’s unable to lift them. He just stands in front of you, staring in those eyes he’s wanted to look into for so long, and it reminds him of all the times he laid in hotel beds trying to bring forward his memories of your features, writing them all down so he doesn’t forget. He wrote those songs to remember you, is what he wants to tell you, but he can’t, because it’d make him a coward, and he doesn’t think he can handle anymore truths tonight.

They call him an angel because of his face, but you’re the angelic one, you’ve always been, because there’s forgiveness in your tone. There’s warmth for him in you still, and it takes everything in him not to sweep you in his arms and cry out for you, for your heart.

He wants to tell you about Hyunjin, too, about his garden and his flowers. He wants to tell you he named one after you, the most beautiful. He kept that for himself as well.

Instead—

“I wanted to watch the stars on your ceiling.”

The possibility that you might’ve taken them down is devastating. He hopes inevitably.

His voice sounds rough, and the bags under his eyes are more pronounced than ever. You’ve never seen Felix like that, he looked so sickly. Paper thin, too. You wonder if that life over there caught up to him, if he allowed it to wash over everything you loved about him. He’s such a stripped down, quiet version of him right now, in front of you.

“I’ll make some milkshakes,” you nod towards the kitchen.

He finally lifts one leg, then the other. He enters, his heart dusting off, kickstarting.

They still taste the same. The furniture is the same, the pictures of him and you and your siblings are still on the wall. You haven’t erased him, you didn’t scorn him. It means everything to him.

It’s easier to find yourself if someone already knows who you are. If they’ve kept that image of you, and look at it from time to time. Felix never sees himself in photos, never actively seeks himself out. He just gives, and gives, and gives, hoping it’s enough, hoping that’s it, the one, we got it, thank you very much.

Perhaps it’s why he feels so drained nowadays. Perhaps that’s how Hyunjin felt.

“How are your parents?” he asks, hoping to make conversation, hoping to hear more of that voice he’s missed so fucking much.

You round the kitchen island, strawberry shake in hand, and sit right next to him, knee brushing his. Your legs are bare again, smooth. You’re wearing an olive green skirt and an oversized T-shirt. You look beautiful. You, the starry girl. You, the darling girl. You, the only version of girl he’s had in his mind since the dawn of time. Ring pop in the fifth grade, backyard wedding with a veil and all. His mother had cried, yours had baked the cake. His sister had married you.

There’s a question in your eyes now.

“They’re fine. Out celebrating their thirtieth anniversary or something crazy like that.”

It’s a wild thing, the laugh that escapes him. It stretches his face and curves his lips. It surprises both of you. He quickly looks at his chocolate milkshake, at the half eaten whipped cream at the top. He hears your soft exhale, the straw between your teeth.

“Good for them,” he says after a beat, and he means it.

“You…” Felix doesn’t dare look. He won’t. Your counter is marble, there are fresh lilies on top of it. “Are you staying a while?”

He nods. Struggles to swallow.

Then you sigh. The pretenses are down. He stiffens, wraps his fingers tighter around the glass. He braces, but he doesn’t know for what. Anything, he supposes. You could say anything, ask anything.

He just doesn’t know if he has any answers for you.

“Congrats on that Grammy,” you bump him with your elbow, your tone light. His eyes rise slightly to meet yours. You’re smiling.

He wants nothing more than to fall apart, right there. He doesn’t deserve any of it.

“It’s yours,” he mutters. “I was going to give it to you.”

“Me?” you ask incredulously. “It’s your song, Lix.”

He shakes his head once. “But it’s for you. I’d be nothing without you.”

The room goes silent. Felix thinks he’s done it, he’s said the wrong thing, pushed too much, you’re going to kick him out, once and for all, and he’s going to have to look at you from his rooftop for the rest of his stay, he’s going to have to live with himself, whatever’s left, whatever’s there, never to hear your voice, never a third chance—

“Do you usually say intense things like that?” You huff out a breath, and his own gets stuck in his throat. “I’m— No one’s ever said that to me before, Lix. Don’t just say stuff like that.”

Suddenly, six years have passed, and you’re both adults. Felix has had a whole other life, has met thousands and thousands of people, is a celebrity of great importance, a Grammy winner, a million seller, with more money than he will ever need, this unbelievable thing has happened to him, a dream, a fucking rainbow bubble, and you’ve stayed here.

You’re still the same. And you don’t think that’s worth mentioning. Worth praising. He wants to shake you awake, make you see why he’s dead inside, why he’s come back, why he’s lost his fucking mind.

“I’ve never lied to you,” he replies, his gaze meeting yours. “If I’d never met you, I would have never gone to America. I would’ve never left.”

Somehow, you’ve become a curse and a miracle. 

“Let’s go see the stars, Felix.”

Your room is the exact same, too. Not a single damn thing moved, the lace on your bed, the pink all around, the fairy lights by your window, the pictures above your desk, and then finally, if he lifts his head—

The hundreds of tiny stars sprinkled on your entire ceiling. Your dad had stuck them up there for you, after you’d gone to their bed crying, afraid of the dark and the storm outside. Now, with the lights off, you didn’t seem afraid anymore, but more so melancholic. It felt unreal to stand in this room with you. 

First time he’d made love to you was on that bed. First sleepover, first fort, first kiss, first song ever written.

He didn’t even realize he’d been crying, not until he felt your fingers wipe the wetness away, your hand slipping in his, pulling him towards the mattress. Before coming back, he didn’t have a bed of his own. Hotel’s have been temporary homes for him, the tour bus his sleepovers.

His chest hurt, his sadness so heavy it pulled him down. There was no fight left in him, no other reason not to fall on that bed with you, lay next to you just like all those years before.

They shone neon green, alien little stars where they didn’t belong. Like him. He blinked up at them and they greeted him every time. He held your hand tightly on his own, his vision blurry, shoulders touching yours. If it was hot, Felix couldn’t tell. His heartbeat was deafening, the magnitude of the moment swallowing him whole.

No matter what he did, what had happened, you took his hand and showed him the stars of his childhood. There’s no words to describe what that had felt like for someone like him, someone that had once been something entirely different, and had somehow reduced himself down to this, whatever it was.

Three versions of oneself is two versions too many. He hates himself for what he’s done.

“Are you okay, Lix?” you ask once more, nothing but a mere whisper, but he hears you.

He thinks he might even have an answer for you.

“I don’t think so, beautiful girl. I think I’ve made a mistake.”

“What do you mean?”

Felix sighs, puts an arm over his eyes. It’s enough, what he saw. It’s enough for a lifetime.

“Leaving you behind. Giving all of me away. Falling in love with a broken boy thinking I’ll be able to fix him. I can’t fix anyone, (Y/N). I can’t even fix my fucking self.”

You nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. The connection is still there, the tension in his gut. He’d love nothing more than to get you naked and have you whisper his name back, over and over, until he gets some sort of sense of reality back. But it wouldn’t be fair to you. He doesn’t even know if you’re single.

“No one’s holding anything over your head, Lix. Forgive yourself before it’s too late,” you mumble against his skin, raising goosebumps all over. Then you continue, “I’d be lying if I said I don’t still hate you sometimes. You’re going to leave again, anyway. It doesn’t matter.”

He turns to that immediately. Places a palm over your cheek and makes you look at him.

“It does matter. I don’t want you to hate me. I fucked up and I’ll regret it my whole life. There’s no amount of sorry’s I can say to you, sweet girl, that’ll make it all better. I know that. But I don’t want you to hate me.”

Quiet. Your pulse against his thigh. “You left.”

“I did.”

“That hurt me. All of us.”

Felix nodded, again and again. One truth harsher than the other. “I know.”

“To go fuck some model in New York and sing your little heart out to people that’ll never know who you truly are and how much you matter.”

There it was. The sacrifice of it all. Has it been worth it? Yes and no. Mostly no.

His lips curved with bitterness. “Yes,” he rasped.

“But now your songs are out there. Your beautiful voice is recognized.”

“Thank you.”

You buried your face in the mattress, crying onto strawberry sheets. He turned his body towards you, fingers tangling in your hair.

“You sold your own name.”

Dying would be less painful than you speaking all of his fears and wrong decisions outloud, in the one place untouched by misery.

“And I pay for that every day.”

“You’re not happy.”

He smiles when you search for his eyes. There are crystals on your cheeks, the cosmos hanging from your lips. “Not particularly, starry girl,” he retorts sadly.

“I’m not happy, either. What’s the point, then?”

It tore at him to know this. He imagined you were when he was far away. That you’d put him behind you, and continued on with your life, shining just as brightly as you always had. Lies are always easier in the moment. Just enough to get you through to the next. But never long term.

“Come with me,” he whispers in your hair. “See for yourself.”

“And get lost, too?” you snap back.

He shut his eyes tight, bit his tongue to lessen the blow. “Three months. I want to take you with me.”

“To the City of Angels.” A lyric of his, coming from your mouth. His heart leaped, and blossomed. You listen to his music. The music he’s written for you.

“You’ll fit right in,” he finishes, leaning into you. “You’ll find many like you, none like you.”

He felt your hesitancy, the need to pull away. He would do it for you, if he wasn’t so completely under your spell, willing to do anything for one more taste of you. Years in a place where he’s had to learn to get his way, have made him somewhat persuasive, a trait he’s not proud of, like many others.

The only girl he’s ever truly wanted is you. Burn him alive, then.

“God, I’m about to make a mistake,” you mutter before his mouth takes yours.

Hyunjin had asked about you. He wanted to know who you were, why you still had such a hold on him. Hyunjin had been possessive and jealous and sensitive with Felix. He felt deeply, loved deeply, and was very stubborn. He loved getting his way. The blonde tried to love him, gave him all he had, obliged to his every request, but ultimately—

Whatever was wrong with him ran too deep. It was impossible to love someone like him, yet so easy to fall, so easy to lose yourself. They’d done some work together, traveled to Paris and visited art museums. Hyunjin was a magnificent artist, a lonely soul. Felix could recognize that in him and still admit it was scary to be around him, scary in the way a rope feels under your bare feet, no ground underneath, no sense of security.

They broke up on a bench outside Sacré-Cœur, the decision to go back to Australia for an indefinite amount of time being too much for the model. There was still love there, there’d always be. Hyunjin taught him about the life he’d entered, how to navigate through it, to get what you want, and how to love unconditionally, how to become a slave for love, to seek it and to breathe it, and to feel it deep in your gut, with everything in you.

But it shouldn’t feel like that. It shouldn’t be all encompassing, choking, tying. It should feel like freedom, and this much Felix knew, because he’d felt it before.

Undressing you right now felt like that, the pearly gates welcoming him, the wings growing in his back. A map outlined but not quite yet explored, though he plans to change that. If you accept. If you agree to his proposal. His hands caress, his mouth following the fabric leaving your body, your breast, down to your stomach, your navel, your hip bone. 

He pulls your skirt down, revealing cotton, and lays you gently back down, his own body over yours, hiding you from view. Your fingers unzip and push, and Felix removes his shirt for you. He knows he’s not much to look at, but there’s lean muscle and a solid chest where you touch, making heat bloom right under your fingertips. He could write odes about how soft your skin is, how tender you’re treating him, as if he never left, as if he’s never done wrong by you, and for a minute he pretends.

Then your hand wraps around his cock and he loses all restrain.

“You can’t possibly be real, my girl, are you?” he mumbles against your cunt, before he hooks his arms underneath your legs and digs right into your wetness.

You moan and writhe, and he never complies. He holds you tighter, keeps you in place and has his way with you until you’re begging him to stop, crying for him to keep going, nails digging into his scalp, his shoulders, anywhere you can reach. Felix hasn’t eaten pussy in six months, hasn’t had yours in over five years, and he’s not about to give it up for anything in the fucking world. 

His tongue laps, it fucks you slowly, it makes sure to get you proper wet for him, his lips slurping on your clit afterwards, finding a pattern you seem to enjoy, sucking to bring your orgasm forward and licking to settle you down, to tease you, until finally you have enough of it, and you come all over his mouth, breathlessly, your thighs trapping his head between your legs.

“Just for me, for me, for me…” he repeats peppering kisses all over you, his arms pushing him up towards your mouth, meeting you halfway for an open mouthed kiss. “Will you come?” he asks, pumping his cock in his fist, aligning it with your entrance. “My sweet fucking girl, will you come?”

“I have,” you say, hiding your face in embarrassment. “I did.”

“Let me look at you,” as he pushes in. “Let me see you, baby.”

His hips start moving, his cock reaching deep inside you, the stretch incredible. He needs you near, closer, so he lifts you up and repositions himself, having you sit on him, fucking yourself on him how you like. You find a rhythm as he wraps himself around you, kissing your breast, sucking on your nipples, tugging at the ends of your hair. Anything he can touch, all for you. Your voice breaks, his name cut in half, and he thinks he likes it best like that, not one thing but two, muttered by you, the death of him once and for all.

“Will you come with me to California?” he asks again, clearer this time. “Will you let me have you like this under their sun?”

“Lix…” you collapse as he takes charge, pistoling up into your soaking cunt, his cock so deep inside, so fucking good. “Fuck, please. Just please.”

“You need to tell me,” he groans. “I need to know. You need to tell me.”

He pushes you forward again, not once unsticking you from himself, and fucks you into the mattress, hard and fast. He’s after your high, he needs to see you, needs to witness you fall apart because of him, the same way he does for you, his muse, his girl, under your stars. You kiss him and hold him near, sharing his breath, his chest rapidly falling and rising, cock ready to burst, heart ready to explode, and you’re near too, he can feel it in his gut, he can see how your back arches, how your breath hitches, how your eyes open wide, head thrown back—

“That’s it, there it is, do it. Do it, beautiful, come for me, come on, let me feel you, God, fuck—I’ll bust, too, I’ll—”

“Inside,” you moan, shaking in his arms. “Inside me.”

Felix growls and does as you say, fingers digging into your waist, cock buried, and his head falls on your stomach. He’s pretty sure he’s having a heart attack, but nothing matters. You’re underneath him, naked. You still love him. You haven’t said it but you don’t have to; he can feel it, he can feel it like his own pulse.

He fucks you through the ripples of your orgasm, and then he pulls out, kissing your temple, your breast on his chest. Whatever dreams are made out of, he’s convinced you’re it. His dream, a girl just for him, a girl he could pick out blindfolded from a crowd of thousands. He would always come back to you, because there’s simply no beginning to him if you’re not part of it.

And no end if you don’t come with him.

“Don’t be afraid to tell me no,” he whispers into the dark, the stars staring back. “I’ll understand. I’ll make it work, there’s no question about it. Not anymore.”

You’re quiet for a long time, but your lips kiss his jaw, his neck, his ear. He holds onto sanity because of that. Because he’s lying through his teeth, for the first time. He won’t understand. If you don’t come, he’s not sure he’ll be able to carry on with this persona he’s built. It will destroy him, take him down under.

That he’s sure of.

But he thinks of your precious heart. What it would be like to leave it all behind.

“I’ll come,” you say incredibly small, almost inaudible. “I’ll come if you want me there.”

Felix closes his eyes, relief washing over him. No more suffering, endless tossing and turning. He could finally have a life, maybe buy some property, make a house out of you. With you. With you. It sounded unachievable. A wish unable to be granted. Merely anything.

You’re breathing it all back to him.

“I need you there, starry girl. I love you.”

He feels you nod, but you don’t say it back. It cuts through him, but he understands. He doesn’t need to hear it, despite how desperate he is for it. It pours out of you, it started when you opened the door, and it continues to pour out now, with his cum gushing out of your cunt, your arm hugging him tightly, afraid to let go.

“Three months,” you say. “Please don’t make me regret it, Lix.”

tags. @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @streetlight-s, @j-0ne25.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Published: Oct 24, 2023

I was around 10 the first time my mother asked if I thought I was a boy.

There was a period from the 1970s-1990s where the concept “tomboys”, although perhaps originally intended as a derogatory term, provided a space for pre-pubescent girls to act, play and dress in ways that were not stereotypically coded feminine; in other words, some of the freedoms boys were granted. My mother clearly felt that raising a daughter and a son should be drastically different experiences. This was not largely the case, as I wanted to be just like my older brother.

Growing up, my parents had strict ideas around the roles of men and women in society. Men were “head of the household” and had the final say on decisions, as well as being the primary disciplinarian; women’s primary roles were as caregivers. My parents were religious, raising me in a religion where homosexuality was taught to be immoral and unnatural.

In some ways, I fulfilled many stereotypes of feminine attributes: being gentle, soft-spoken, and nurturing towards others. I enjoyed playing with dolls and soft toys; however I also had a keen interest in cars and transformers. As a painfully shy child, I preferred the company of fictional characters in books more than people; this level of social awkwardness alone cast me as “odd”.

However, what had been convenient and financially fiscal - hand-me-down clothing from my brother - had become my clothing of choice. I only wanted to wear “boys’ clothing”, much of which came in my favourite colour (blue) versus the bright warm colours of “girls’ clothing”. Having worn both, I had realised that boys’ clothing was looser fitting, had more flexibility of motion, and was more comfortable. I disliked glitter, sequins, lace and frills, none of which was found on boys’ clothing. As a very shy child who refused to wear the clothing supposedly designated for my sex, this often invoked commentary and disapproval from adults around my appearance and my body. Boys’ clothing, with its longer sleeves and longer torso, covered up more of my body; a body I was painfully aware that others were observing and judging, sometimes openly.

My mother had told me how excited she was when she learned she was going to have a daughter to “do girly things with”, fantasising of frilly dresses and ballet rehearsals. Instead, she had me. Although my parents allowed me to play with the same toys as my brother, pursue the same sport as my brother, and (eventually) choose my own clothing, my mother’s question showed that she still didn’t understand: “Do you think you’re a boy?” My mother, likely feeling that she had been short-changed around the perks promised with raising a girl, could not understand how her daughter, who declined most things coded feminine, could indeed be a girl who was comfortable with this fact. 10 year old me didn’t understand just how loaded the question was, but did find it strange and hurtful, replying, “No, I’m a girl” in a confused tone.

Thankfully, as the concept of “tomboy” was popular while I was growing up, this meant there was a known word that described the type of girl I was; one that allowed me to know that, no matter what I liked or did, I was still a girl.

There was another word that described the type of girl I was. I was around 8 the first time I heard the word “gay”.  A boy slightly older than me had spit the word out, yelling at another child “I’m not gay!” This caught my interest. Although the word itself was unknown, the meaning had been clear with the derision and emphasis the boy had placed on the word, his face consorting in disgust as the word left his mouth. It must be something really bad was the clear impression.

I had the opportunity to quench my curiosity that same week. In line with other tasks that could be deemed naughty, looking up bad words in the dictionary required careful timing to when family members were distracted elsewhere. I timed my moment carefully and looked up “gay”, which naturally led to my learning the term “homosexual” - oh. Reading the definition, it was almost like a warm recognition spread across my chest, embracing me. I hadn’t known that homosexuals existed, but I was pretty sure I was one. After this, I would sometimes sneak out the dictionary just to read these words again; although just ink on paper, it was proof that other people like me existed.

I would later use this word - gay - against myself, turning it from something comforting and wonderful, to the same kind of contempt that shrouded the word whenever I heard others use it in real life. Laying in bed at age 11, I had prayed to not be gay, promising myself that I would never tell anyone about these feelings and grow up to marry a man. Although it had been fine when my feelings towards certain girls had just been an intense desire to be their friend and be near them, these feelings had become much harder to ignore now they had turned into more concrete thoughts, such as how beautiful a certain girl was, how shiny and luscious was her hair, and daydreaming around our hands accidentally touching. It was much harder to deny the very clear signs of a crush, particularly when all my female friends had crushes on boys. In order to fit in, I focused my energies on talking about how “cute” one of the boys in the class was - I had never interacted with him, however he had soft features and long eyelashes, and seemed gentle in nature. I would then go home and dream about my female friend and her lovely, long dark hair.

Coming into puberty, I had also started learning more about my religion’s views on homosexuality, specifically that it was immoral and unacceptable. This led to a lot of emotional hurt and confusion for me. At this point, homosexuals may as well have been mythical creatures, discussed by others, but never appearing as an identifiable person in real life.

* * *

Several years older, 15 year old me was struggling. Since puberty, I had been trying to push away any inkling of desire I had towards other girls.; it hadn’t worked. Now with slightly more understanding around the world and how I fitted into it, I had started the process of accepting that these feelings weren’t going anywhere and were, perhaps, just a normal part of me. I had also started considering that if I had been created with intent, as my religion taught, then no mistakes were possible, and my attraction towards girls, which had always been there in some form, was as natural and as similar as anyone else’s. Although it had improved, my social awkwardness still made me frequently feel like an outsider, with my secret and furtive crushes on other girls further making me feel different in a way I couldn’t discuss with anyone. This feeling would decrease when I eventually met other lesbians, however this wouldn’t happen for several years.

I had started to shop in the women’s department, and outgrown my obsession with cars, instead falling into an obsession with music; something familiar to many teenagers. Still, I preferred comfortable clothing that would be classed as “gender neutral”: jeans, baggy t-shirts, converse shoes. I wore my mid-length hair messy, fantasising about the short hairstyles lesbian duo Tegan and Sara sported. I spent a lot of time listening to music with female musicians who played guitar, preferring artists who openly sung about and desired other women, or those who sang with ambiguity in their love songs, allowing me to place my own meaning on them. My penchant for female musicians had not escaped the notice of my friends, who gently teased me about it, although they didn’t seem to understand the cause for this fixation.

Again, now a teenager, the same question from my mother, phrased slightly differently this time: “do you feel like you’re a man?” I remember telling my friend about this at a sleepover the same night - her response was silence. She didn’t know what to say.

* * *

Several years passed. I was now an out lesbian with a rainbow flag proudly adorning the wall of my share-house bedroom. This included being out to my parents, who had taken the news reasonably well and had been supportive. Having a friendly gay male couple move into their neighbourhood in my late teenage years had significantly increased their understanding and acceptance of homosexual relationships - and had allowed me to finally meet others “like me”. I had fulfilled my fantasy of cutting off the majority of my hair, with the longest section being a fringe that flopped into my eyes. I had also gone back to shopping in the men’s wear section, though my wide hips and narrow shoulders made finding men’s clothing that fit me well difficult. I had finally had my first kiss, although not yet a girlfriend, though most of my time was spent dreaming about this.

My parents had reassured me that they loved and accepted me when I told them I was a lesbian. They had continued to reaffirm this in the following months, however despite this acceptance, my mother showed that she still doesn’t understand, asking me the same question again, some months after I came out: “do you want to be a man?” It was as if every five years, the thought occurred to her again that I must have gender identity disorder because of the way I looked and acted.

I’m in my late 20s now. I have been an out lesbian for a decade, and have had several girlfriends, although my current relationship is by far the longest. My parents adore my girlfriend, buying her birthday presents, and always letting me know how much they approve. My mother comments on how nice my girlfriend’s dresses are and how much she likes her long hair, telling me, “you would look so nice in that”. I feel fatigued with a lifetime of trying to convince her I am genuinely comfortable like this, and tired of defending my short hair, which is my favourite part of my appearance. My girlfriend gets angry on my behalf whenever my mother makes these comments, defending me and saying she thinks I look beautiful as I am.

I am thankful that I never came across the often repeated and homophobic rhetoric that only boys like girls, and therefore lesbians are actually just straight males on the inside. My conviction of my own self, that I am a girl who likes girls, has protected me in this way, but may not have had I had been born a decade later, where it seems many young girls similar to myself are being taken to gender clinics. Or that my mother’s conviction that I am secretly a transman - which has been a reoccurring theme across my life so far - could have caused consultation with a medical professional to convince me of this very fact; something that, as a child who felt different and never seemed to fit, I am sure I would have trusted the adult expert’s views on.

Somehow - bewilderingly - now almost 30, my mother again asks me if I feel like I’m a man and if I’m actually trans. I explain as patiently as I can that no, I’m a lesbian woman and it’s hurtful to me that she seems to refuse to truly accept this, questioning whether I can be a woman because I don’t match her view of what a woman looks like.

She listens to my words and apologises, saying she thinks she understands now. I can’t help but wonder if we’ll be having this same conversation in another five years.

==

It's weird that they would prefer that their god made a "mistake" and put her in "the wrong body," than that their god doesn't make mistakes, and that she's who he wants her to be.

It's a bad sign when a far-left ideology and a conservative religious view coincide.

[in-death-we-fall]

Sex, Drugs and One Armed Groupies

...is gonna be the title of this since there kinda isn't one. Scans were posted by @fuckyeswednesday13 a long time ago. I really liked this article and now it's nice and easy to read (especially the columns. Ask me how much I hated the columns.) Enjoy! (drive link)

UPDATED FULL VERSION HERE

The Big Day Out. The Australian travelling musical circus that steamrolls its way around Australia and New Zealand every winter with the hottest bands on the planet flying from all over the globe to join down under’s best bands in a mayhem filled fortnight. This year’s line-up, features among others, The Foo Fighters, Queens of the Stone Age, Jane’s Addiction, Jimmy Eat World, The Hard Ons and deathglam monstrosities, the Murderdolls. So far, the Mid West (sic) based five-piece outfit have been the cream of the festival, appropriately headlining the ‘Essentials’ stage. This is the band’s first time in the Antipodes and quizzical music fans have crowded to see the much-talked about live set. With Sydney copping the biggest crowds of all the legs on the tour, the band are preparing something special. But at 3pm in the afternoon you wouldn’t know it. Most of the band are still in bed from the night before, well, actually… the week before.

The ‘Dolls have been in Sydney for five days before their Big Day Out show and not finding much to do early on in the week they’ve just been getting down to the (sic) rock’n’roll’s most popular pastime: hard drinking. Drummer ‘Big’ Ben ‘The Ghoul’ Graves and bass player Eric Griffin are recovering from last night’s binge. While singer Wednesday and guitarist Joey Jordison are recovering from the night before the night before. Acey Slade, who maintains his sobriety, but still stays out ‘til dawn, has been up since 11am and is the only one ready for the show. With the band on stage at 7:15pm, things need doing. Staggering through their beer can and ‘paraphernalia’-strewn rooms to the showers, they’re down in their van and on the way out to the Big Day Out site just after 4pm.

Situated at the same place that hosted the Sydney 2000 olympics, the festival facilities are first rate and the sell-out crowd of 52,000 festival-goers are making the most of it. The temperature’s pushing a blistering 35°C and being the middle of a drought-ridden summer in Australia, everything’s dry, dusty and cracked. It’s a good 40-minute drive from the city to the festival and the sun’s stinging in through the van windows. Not big fans of the sunlight, the Murderdolls have got their leather jackets up over their heads to avoid even the slightest hint of a tan.

In the cool, air-conditioned shade of backstage I get to sit down with Joey Jordison and singer Wednesday 13 to gind out how the band are doing after their meteoric rise over the past eight months. Joey is straight down the line, measured and professional. “This si the first Big Day Out for all of us. Slipknot have only been down here once but not that (sic) this festival. This is something I’ve really wanted to play – something I’ve wanted to do for a really long time.”

For Wednesday, this is another notch on his rise as an international rock’n’roller. “It’s awesome,” he says. “I’ve always wanted to be out on the front of a rock’n’roll band at a festival like this. After struggling doing my own band for six years I actually quit my job back in April and I’ve been touring every since. I’ve done all the things I ever dreamed about. I’ve been to Europe three times, Japan twice and here we are now in Australia and that has all been pretty much in the last six months! Holy shit we’re doing some things that some bands have never done!”

“We just checked out the videotape from the Auckland show the other day and fuck man, it was awesome!” enthuses Joey. “People are saying we are pulling the most people to that stage out of everyone. Our band has been doing really well especially since we’ve only been going for a short time. We hope that after the BDO we’ll be able to come back and do some real headlining shows down here. We are having fun though, thinking about it, we’ve never had so many days off between shows before, it’s more like the Big Day Off!”

The band wasn’t supposed to be so idle. Most overseas bands on the BDO bill play a bunch of satellite shows in various cities around the country and for a month prior, the Murderdolls had been slated to perform a Sydney show with fellow US rockers The Deftones. But with very little warning, the Murderdolls were dumped from the bill just before the show. What really pissed off Joey and the lads was a lot of the Murderdolls fans had bought tickets on the basis that the band would be playing but in the end had to watch the Deftones supported by ex-At The Drive-In chancers, Sparta.

Without much choice in the matter the Murderdolls issued a statement on their website apologising to their fans and kept trying to fly their flag with some instore appearances at local record stores. One in particular at Utopia Records, was insane. There was such a roar when the band turned up, they looked truly surprised at the number of kids who had showed up, most dressed in black and red outfits.

“Someone told us there was only going to be about 150 kids, which was supposed to be a good turn-out for Utopia records for a new band,” retells Joey. “But when we turned up there (sic) almost 500! We talked to fans and signed everything that they had. We were there for a good three and a half hours. And at the Channel V interview it was pretty much the same story. Hordes of kids that wouldn’t let us get away.”

“That’s the cool thing with our fans,” explains Wednesday. “We’re not a radio band or an MTV band with this created army of little kids which I think is more pure than being the Number One radio band or liking it because someone tells you to like it. I know that our fans are real. It is really cool to see these hordes of kids show up, they are dressed like us, they know everything about us, it is just awesome.”

Thinking further ahead fans will be please to know the band are not going to let up on the groundswell already created by the Murderdolls. “I have to go back and finish recording some Slipknot stuff,” reveals Joey. “Then we (the Murderdolls) are going to do some more touring. There’s usually a three to four month sort of break between recording and when an album comes out so we are going to tour pretty much all the way from the end of May all the way to maybe the beginning of October. Which will be good because there’ll be less sunlight at that time of year,” jokes Wednesday raising his non-existent eyebrows and throwing his arms, heavily tattooed with b-grade horror heroes, into the air.

As the hot afternoon drifts into an only slightly less simmering evening, there’s a small problem with guitarist Acey. He’s got indigestion. This amounts to a small crisis because first aid officials must follow procedure and administer the medicine. This takes two St. John’s Ambulance men on pushbikes in a five minute ride from their base at the side of the main stadium. Very un-rock’n’roll indeed.

With the gig just 45 minutes away, the boys are pacing around their trailer, having their pics taken for Hammer. Acey inside in front of the mirror still applying the last of his make-up, Ghoul is getting powdered up, Wednesday’s still with the photographer, while Joey’s nervously pacing around, in the trailer, out the trailer, back in… Eric meanwhile is ready for the stage and cracks open the obligatory bottle of Jack Daniel’s. As a Murderdolls ritual, they’re applying the slap, the band have to listen to Kiss. “Must. Have. Kiss.” stipulates Joey. “‘All American Man’! We sometimes change that to ‘All American Ghoul’,” chimes in the Ghoul.

Just 10 minutes before showtime and the long lanky frame of Ben Graves is stretched spider-like up against the dressing room wall. “I’ll be in pain afterwards,” he explains. Wednesday has by now finished his solo shots with Hamer’s photographer. The day is hot enough anyway, and under the photographers lights the heat is even more stifling. ‘Jesus, it’s fucking hot!” exclaims the frontman. “But I don’t mind… I’m a naturally dead person in front of a camera” he laughs.

More Kiss blares out from the dressing room, this time ‘Dr Love’! Then the moment comes: ground fucking zero at the Big Day Out! The band clamber into the van and head around the back way to the Essentials stage. The bottle of Jack’s being passed around as they approach the stage the band take a quick peak (sic) to see how the crow’s building up. It’s the biggest yet, taking up most of the grassy area out the back of the main stadium. Joey – who regularly suffers from pre-gig nerves as his pre-stage vomiting on Slipknot’s ‘Disasterpiece (sic)’ DVD proves in all its technicolour glory – is bricking it.

Five minutes before the band are due to hit the powerchords and the guys are milling around in the wings. Ghoul is banging on some warm-up pads and everyone is getting psyched. They’ve left the Kiss CD backstage so they have to hum ‘All American Man’ together. Then they make their way to the stage.

A couple of huge Murderdolls logos adorn the stage and in an eruption of noise and energy, the Dolls take the stage and instantly kick off with ‘Dawn of The Dead’. Jordison in black leather Gestapo hat is jumping around stage left, Acey is wailing away stage right while Eric bangs away on the bass doing his best Nikki Sixx impression, while the Ghoul wrecks the trap kit. Wednesday is the last to take the stage and screaming, “We are the dead, coming for you!” And the crowd goes fucking wild.

The kids down the front, dressed up in full glam-goth regalia, know every word and sing along fervently with the band while among the throng watching from the side of stage are some of the biggest names in the Australian music industry. Members of bands like 28 days, Machine Gun Fellatio, Cog, Jimmy Eat World, Pre-Shrunk, and Sparta all stand wide eyed and mouths agape at the outrageous rock revisionism being unleashed onstage.

By the time the band have launched into ‘I (sic) Was a Teenage Zombie’, ‘Let’s Go To War’ and ‘Slit My Wrists (sic)’, the crows know what they’re in for. Most who have showed up for curiosity (sic) sake are still hanging around, but if anything the crowd is building and everyone looks like they are right into it having fun. The intro to ‘Twist My Sister’ is a kid’s nursery rhyme ‘Old McDonald’ which gets the whole crowd singing along.

Unbelievably, some lunatic in the crowd starts throwing bangers at the stage, but the fireworks only make it as far as the front row of fans before blowing up in their faces. Wednesday tries to get the guy to quit while geeing up the rest of the crowd. “All the people down the front tell the people at the back to ‘Die Die Die… my bride!’ he yells as the band grind into the song…

Today’s set includes two new songs, and we can report that both are killer kitsch rock rippers. The first, set for legendary status is called ‘The Devil Made Me Do It… And I’ll Do It Again’ while the second is the set closer, a crowd sing along gem ‘I Love to Say Fuck’. Wednesday grabs his big black umbrella, emblazoned with the word FUCK, Eric, Acey, and Joey are going crazy, jumping up and down in unison, Ghoul is all arms and legs behind the kit while Wednesday is right down in the crowd’s face urging them to stick their fingers in the air and yell ‘Fuck!’. It looks great to watch. “It isn’t choreographed,” says Wednesday later. “Everything’s pretty much spontaneous. There are some things like we all jump on an ascent in the music or whatever but everything else is stuff that just happens on stage.”

They (sic) crowd are almost passing out from the combination of frenzied activity and the extreme heat, but still manage to scream out for more as the band leave the stage. “A lot of people don’t know that’s what drives a show,” explains Wednesday about his relationship with the audience. “You have to make fans feel part of the event and I think we do it better than anyone else.”

The band then jump back into the van for the two minute trip back to their dressing room behind the main stage. When they get back there the guys are all super hyped up. Excitedly buzzing around their dressing room, drinking beers, telling jokes. Joey is busy analysing the gig, and the BDO circus in general. He and Wednesday have got an interview to do with Australian TV scheduled for 8:45pm. It’s almost 9pm and Joey has another issue: “I want to eat! I must eat before I talk!” he exclaims. The interview is postponed for 20 minutes.

Bass player Eric is hanging around, so I grab him for a quick chat. Of all the Murderdolls, Eric seems the shyest but is probably the one most up for anything, especially if it is party related. He may only be small, (even in his Ace Frehley six-inch platforms he’s still barely average height!) but he’s a true rock’n’roller with a party attitude to match. “‘Machine Gun Fellatio’ that’s a cool fuckin’ name,” he squeaks discussing some of the other bands on the BDO bill. And he does squeak, kinda, like annoying Brit ‘comedian’ Joe Pasquale.

I bring up the fact that esteemed record producer, Nick Launey (Silverchair, INXS) was side of stage watching the show and had an interesting story to tell me about Eric. “I think I know where this is going,” smiles Eric slyly. “I met him about two years ago in LA at a party and we were all fucked up. I got dragged down three flights of stairs by my hair and he reckoned it was the biggest rock’n’roll moment of ‘00 for him. First impressions count, man.”

“It was so rock’n’roll!” Launey informs me later. “It was the launch of Orgy’s album and they had these models dressed as prostitutes lying on a bed and Eric jumps up on the bed with them, which of course you weren’t allowed to do. So the bouncers are dragging him out by his hair, kicking and screaming, down the stairs. His head was literally bouncing down each stair like a cartoon character and all the while he’s just got his middle fingers up on each hand and is yelling out ‘Fuck You!’, ‘Get Fucked!’, ‘Fuck you, mind the hair!’ Somehow he got back into the party and I asked him ‘how’s your head?’ and he just said “Whaddya mean?” - it was just so rock’n’roll!”

Eric has pre-arranged with their tour driver to take him over to the Boiler Room, where the BDO’s electronica acts are playing. He wants to see German electronic innovators Kraftwerk. “One of the bands I was in before the Murderdolls was very digital and computer based,” he reveals. “Kraftwerk don’t do a lot of live shows and I don’t think I’ll ever get the opportunity to see them again. They’re pretty important to the genre and even if I catch just 10 minutes of their set I think it will be worth coming over. A short ride through the back entrance, we arrive at the Boiler Room and manage to get in, via a bit of a labyrinth, through the backdoor and into the main arena just at the side of the stage. The Kraftwerk guys are standing robot-like in front of their computers while the huge dome-like venue is dripping with sweat from the 10.000+ strong punters who have basically been locked in the room all day listening (sic) the dance bands. We get a good vantage point but after about five minutes we’re leaving. “Jeez! That was the most boring piece of crap I’ve seen!” exclaims Eric when he gets back to the dressing room. “But it was worth going because I scored some drugs!”

Acey’s just hanging around backstage with his camera and a little doll from The Nightmare Before Christmas. He has a ritual where he takes a photograph of the doll in front of landmarks all around the world. “I have him in front of the Eiffel Tower for instance,” he says. “The other day I took a pic of him in front of the Sydney Opera House.” And with that he takes a photo of the doll sitting in front of a sign that says ‘Sleazy’. Hmmm. Odd man.

Acey and Eric are loving every minute of the Murderdolls ride. They’re both on their first trip to Australia and according to both of them it is (sic) has been “Cool as hell!” “The Gold Coast was really on,” says Eric. “It’s been kinda mellow since we got to Sydney because we’ve had four or five days off before this show so we’ve just been trying to find out what’s been going on. It’s been building gradually… and we’ve been partying a lot – maybe too much,” he adds sheepishly. Rick the tour manager – who’s passing by – agrees: “Yep, they’ve been very naughty boys – they’ve got to go to bed early tonight with no supper,” he jokes.

“He knows we’re the most dangerous band on the tour,” counters Eric. It’s a fact that seems to deter any other bands partying with the Murderdolls too. “The only band that has even reached out to us are the guys in Jane’s Addiction, in particular, Dava Navarro,” offers Acey. “He actually came out of his way to come over and introduce himself. And pretty much comes up and talks to us everyday he sees us along with the drummer, Steven [Perkins]. Everyone else is just kinda like, ‘What’s Up?’ Maybe it’s because we don’t look like we’re the most approachable band. Then again no-one has done anything to piss us off at all.”

No one may be talking to the Murderdolls but there is talk of the Murderdolls all over BDO. Most centres around their appearance with most Australian musical luminaries agreeing the band are the best dressed at the festival. One member of Aussie band the Resin Dogs even goes as far as to say, “The Murderdolls rock the wardrobe”. Acey is kinda flattered but non-plussed by the comments. “What image?” he exclaims. “This is how we are all day! Obviously we knock it up a notch for the show but this is the real thing. We don’t care if people like us as sexual deviants or not, but one thing’s for sure – they’ll fucking remember us.”

Big Ben Graves strides over to join us at the table. “Did I hear the words sexual deviant?” he announces in his deeply rounded US accent. “I’ve always been like that! Some people have a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other – I just two devils. There is NO voice of reason!”

We ask him if he has had any interesting adventures since he’s been in Australia and then instantly regret it…

“Dude, it has been nothing but interesting adventures. For instance last night, he (indicating Eric) he almost screwed a one-armed girl!”

“She had three tits and one arm,” giggles the dimunitive (sic) bassist.

“Yeah. It was weird,” continues the Ghoul, “one of her arms was like a stump and it looked like it had a nipple on it. I must admit I almost fucked her just for the freakiness of it.”

And with that starter for 10, the Ghoul is off. He starts ranting on with these sick freak jokes that crack everyone up and inside a minute you get a window to his personality. “Our drummer is one bona fide sick fuck,” jokes Wednesday of him later. “He stills (sic) freaks us out. I’ll just look at him sometimes and say to myself, ‘holy shit, dude, what planet are you from?’”

“It was weird on the Gold Coast,” says Eric, picking up on the tour adventure thread. “The girls there were the hottest chicks I had ever seen in my life but by the same token I had never got as much shit for the way I look than I have there as well. It was like two opposite poles. At first it was, ‘hey freak, where’s the funeral?’ and the next was, ‘sit down have a drink with us.”

“As far as people looking at you weird, I found Sydney is where I got the stares,” admits the Ghoul. “Sydney sucks! Although we did have some girls staking out our hotel which was pretty funny and I did have an over-zealous fan thrown out of the bar. The guy was just touching me a little more than he should and I didn’t like it,” he says animatedly. “I was like, ‘man, don’t make me waste this perfectly good bottle of Heineken by breaking it over your head. I’ve done it before’. Eric looks at him and says, “yeah he has!” But he was on something. I remember thinking ‘I want whatever he’s on… times ten!”

“I gotta say though, the Sydney crowd today was one of the best crowds we’ve had so far,” offers Acey as he joins the throng. “It was insane. It is good for us this tour, because the kids don’t know what we are all about yet so we have to prove ourselves. By the end of the set they all had their hands in the air.”

By this time Joey and Wednesday have finished their feed and their hastily re-scheduled interview and are looking for some more mischievous fun for themselves. “First of all, I’m going to go back over to the stage we played because there are a lot of kids hanging around over there still wanting to see us,” explains Joey. “Then after that, I’m gonna go directly where ever (sic) the free drinks are at…” Suddenly, Eric’s doubled over in the doorway of the dressing room. It’s been 45 minutes since he visited Kraftwerk in the Boiler Room and the pharmaceuticals are beginning to take effect. We ask if he’s OK. “Yeah man, I just think I’m gonna spew!” he grins. The rest of the band are baiting him ceaselessly.

“C’mon chuck it up man!” they urge and all crack up laughing together.

In the middle of all the commotion Wednesday is taking a piss in the corner of the dressing room. The place is a wreck: there are empty bottles of booze, food scrapes (sic), squashed fruit, hairdryers, make-up, boots, clothes (black and red if (sic) course) and of course a giant mirror. Wednesday is actually pissing into a bottle of Corona. At the same time I am just about to pick up my freshly opened bottle of Corona from the table which is besides (sic) a now suspicious looking bottle. “Yeah I always piss in the empty bottles,” giggles Wednesday. And then I leave ‘em on the table just to piss off anyone who might want to grab some of our rider or whatever. Just be careful just to get bottles from down there in the ice box, he laughs mischievously. Suddenly the oddly warm bottle in my hand seems less than appealing…

As the clock turns 1am the only people left at the stadium are the cleaners, the roadies and the still-partying Murderdolls. Last to leave, the van is parked just outside the dressing room and all I can see through the opened door is the Ghoul chucking around a baguette, now baked hard as a rock over the course of the stifling hot day. “Look at this - it could be used as a weapon to seriously maim you!” he screams bouncing the French loaf off the wall. A post vomit Eric cracks up, as the two hold a mock baguette joust oblivious to the outside world. They eventually make off back to their hotel room in the city, but don’t hang there for too long. The weekend lights of Sydney beckon and they cruise down William street in King’s Cross, to an underground rock venue called Club 77. It’s glam night, just their crowd and they spend the wee hours of the morning hanging out with fans and getting stuck into the sauce with a vengeance. Australia has officially been Murderdolled!

Blood and Glitter

Gavin Braddeley charts the rise of shock rock

Glam is hard evidence that what goes around comes around. Long dismissed as the definitive climax of 70s bad taste, in recent years glam rock has arisen from the grave, albeit with a veil of cobwebs draped over its original dusting of glitter. Originally a violent reaction to the 60s happy fad for all things natural, worthy, meaningful and drab, glam was all about being deliberately artificial, selfish, throwaway and garish.

In the States Alice Cooper was impaling baby dolls and throwing blood bottles around the stage from ‘70 onwards culminating in the vaudeville theatrics of the ‘Welcome To My Nightmare’ album/tour of ‘76.

Back in the UK, the Glam pioneer was lame pop pixie Marc Bolan (sic), photogenic frontman with T-Rex, who caused a sensation when he took to the stage on Top of the Pops in ‘71 with glitter under his eyes, clad in what looked suspiciously like drag. Never one to miss a trick, the lizard-like David Bowie soon jumped from the hippy ship to take on his otherworldly Ziggy Stardust persona.

The older generation may have thought that smearing make-up on your face and covering your clothes in sequins made you look like a ‘pooftah’. Alice Cooper got around this by replacing Glam’s overt ‘fagginess’ with ghoulish melodrama, prompting one critic to observe that Americans were more comfortable with necrophilia than homosexuality. And then came Kiss. Gene Simmons’ monstrous blood vomiting, fire breathing ‘Demon’ persona enslaved an entire generation of US children crossing Glam’s theatricality with heavy metal machismo to create one of the most influential bands in rock music history.

W.A.S.P. and Mötley Crüe supercharged Kiss’s sleaze and violence quotient to spectacular effect in the 80s, and provide the missing link between Glam and the Murderdolls, who happily cite the back-combed bad boys as a large part of their creative DNA. The chief inheritor of the Glam tradition in the last decade, however, is cross-dressing controversialist Marilyn Manson. Bowie may have metaphorically murdered his creation Ziggy Stardust in the summer of ‘74, while Bolan (sic) died more literally in a car accident three years later, but quarter-of-a-century on, Manson used his own dark arts to conjure their spirit on ‘Mechanical Animals’, his own tribute to pop’s most decadent decade.

Dead… and loving it!

The Murderdolls’ five favourite movie death scenes of all time…

The Murderdolls are proof positive that nothing gets some folks’ creative juices flowing quite so freely as a truly delicious cinematic death scene. Joey and Wednesday have a few favourites – both carnage connoisseurs identifying the ‘74 classic power toolfest The Texas Chainsaw Massacre as the gory cream of the crop – a movie currently being remade with a certain Mr. Manson in the soundtrack composer’s chair. (As a curious aside, you never actually see the girl hung on the hook – just a shadow – but such is the film’s sordid impact that most viewers swear you do!)

Joey 1. Texas Chainsaw Massacre “The girl on the hook.”

2. Friday The 13th Part IV “When the knife comes through the bed and impales the chick.”

3. The Exorcist “When the priest is hucked out through the plate glass window.”

4. A Nightmare on Elm Street “Where the girl is getting dragged across the rooftop.”

5. Necromancy “Where a group of devils and monsters take a girl apart.”

Wednesday 1. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre “The girl on the hook.”

2. Dawn of the Dead “When the spiked ball comes down and rips the guy’s head apart.”

3. Phantasm “A silver ball hits the guy in the head and sucks out all his brains.”

4. Hellraiser “Where (sic) the end sequence where the guy is being chased by all these hooks. They attach themselves to him and rip him apart.”

5. Nightmare On Elm Street “Where Freddy rips out the guy’s veins and uses them like strings controlling a puppet.”

Schlock n’ Roll

B-movie classics that have influenced shock rockers of now and then…

Some horror movies are best watched not so much with your tongue in your cheek, as thrust firmly through it, films that by accident or design are more about fun than fear. The same could be said of numerous horror loving bands, including the Murderdolls, where an ‘everyday is Halloween’ ethos prevails. Here are a few examples of B movie blood fests which may not have won any Oscars, have been paid tribute to by schlock loving bands over the years…

Plan 9 From Outer Space (1957) It is no surprise that the mother-of-all cult movies inspired the mother-of-all cult bands, and when Glenn Danzig created a label to release early Misfits material he dubbed it ‘Plan 9’. Frequently voted the worst movie of all time with its ludicrous script, mind bogglingly bad special effects, cardboard sets, and even more cardboard artistry, Plan 9 From Outer Space is irresistibly entertaining. Directed by the cross-dressing caliph of crap Ed Wood Junior, featuring proto-goth babe Vampira and Bela Lugosi (dying of drug addiction, he was replaced mid production by a stand-in who looks nothing like him).

The Abominable Dr Phibes (1971) Featuring horror cinema’s kind of camp Vincent Price as the fiendish Phibes, avenging the death of his wife using maniacal methods borrowed from the biblical plagues, all against wonderful, strangely psychedelic sets. Also possessed of a strange psychedelic sensibility are punk pioneers the Damned, though in the 80s, lead singer Dave Vanian’s horror sensibilities took centre stage, attracting a goth following. The 80 track ‘13th Floor Vendetta’ is a classic example of the band’s game-topping which, if you listen carefully, is all about ol’ Doc Phibes.

Mars Attacks! (1996) Director Tim Burton’s tribute to the drive-in shockers of the 50s and 60s, Mars Attacks! was actually based upon a ‘62 series of bubblegum cards, discontinued because of their gruesomely graphic pictures of earthlings being exterminated by alien invaders. As such this inspiration might suggest Mars Attacks! has little by way of plot, but for anyone with a weakness for vintage schlock sci-fi it’s a true Technicolor treat. This must certainly include the Misfits and when they reformed, they did so without the blessing of founder Glenn Danzig, but with their monster movie obsessions intact – among a multitude of horror movie tributes on their ‘97 comeback album ‘American Psycho’ was ‘Mars Attacks’ (and even an instrumental coincidentally titled ‘Abominable Dr Phibes’!)

I Was A Teenage Werewolf (1957) The drive-in movies of the 50s and 60s typically featured juvenile delinquents or monsters, and this bargain-basement effort delivered both in one lurid package. Before becoming ‘Pa’ on TV’s Little House on the Prairie Michael Landon stars as a troubled teen – though when he starts growing hair in strange places, it’s more than just hormones to blame. A howl from beginning to end, Teenage inspired a number on ‘Songs the Lord Taught Us’, the ‘80 debut from drive-in movie loving ghoulish rockers The Cramps.

Murder, mayhem and a right old mess

Minging Murderdoll tales from the Big Day Out

Who is the messiest Murderdoll of them all? Wednesday: “That would be Eric and The Ghoul. They are just messy as fuck. But you know you’ve just got to get used to living with these people. We’ve been on the road since July. You live on a bus for six weeks which means you’ve got (sic) live in everyone else’s shit.”

Who is the tidy anal doll? Joey: “No-one. We’re all pretty fuckin’ messy.” Wednesday: “I just took two garbage bags of mess out of my room. And just put it in the hallway. Just full of chicken bones and beer bottles and all sorts of shit like that, it was just smelling really bad so I had to get rid of it.”

So you do that yourself? Wednesday: “I don’t let the cleaning staff come into my room and tidy up. I put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign for the whole week I am there.” Joey: “The housekeepers are scared shitless to come into our rooms anyway so we keep it easy for them and put the ‘Do Not Disturb” signs up the whole time. They are going to be so scared to come into our rooms and clean up after we’ve been there for a fuckin’ week!”

[qnewsau]

Gina Gershon told she'd 'never work again' after 1996 lesbian film

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/gina-gershon-told-shed-never-work-again-after-1996-lesbian-film/

Gina Gershon told she'd 'never work again' after 1996 lesbian film

In a recent episode of the ‘It Happened in Hollywood’ podcast, Bound costars Gina Gershon and Jennifer Tilly spoke about their roles in the iconic lesbian film.

Written and directed by the Wachowskis in their feature-film debut, Bound tells the story of Violet (Tilly), a woman who is trapped in a relationship with a mobster named Caesar (Joe Pantoliano) but falls in love with ex-con Corky (Gershon), a woman working on their apartment building.

“It was a great script and I could tell they were incredible directors, but my agents were like, ‘We will not let you do this movie. You are ruining your career,’ ” Gershon said on the podcast.

“‘We will not be able to let you represent. You will never work again.’ “

“I said, first of all, it’s so shortsighted to say, ‘Oh, this is a lesbian movie.’ I mean, they happen to be lesbians,” Gershon said. “They happen to be into women, but it’s really a movie about trust.”

“I thought that was so small-minded and shortsighted. And if that’s what we were up against, I was in.”

Gina Gershon loved to play ‘the hero’ in Bound

Gina Gershon added that she loved that she got to play ‘the hero’ on screen.

“When does the girl get to play the hero, you know?’ she said.

“I thought, ‘Well, I could cut off my hair, cut off my nails, have no makeup. I get the girl. I get the car. I screw over the mob.’ It’s a win-win all around.”

As for the infamous sex scene with Gerson, Jennifer Tilly praised her costar: “Gina’s the best person in the world to have a sex scene [with], because we have so much trust.”

“I could say to Gina, ‘Can you hold up my breast so it looks a little more juicy and and perky?’ ” she said.

“We were really helping each other out, and she’s just the coolest person in the world.”

Read More:

Eileen: Watch the trailer for Anne Hathaway’s lesbian thriller

First trailer for lesbian road trip film Drive-Away Dolls

We Are Pride partners with Lesflicks for Pride Month

Rosie O’Donnell: ‘Now and Then’ character was supposed to be a lesbian

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

[goongiveusnothing]

Your tags about him being a dog in the industry…I can second that! that’s also what I’ve heard from my industry friends from LA. That he’s a fuck boi who uses women and ghosts and is cold af when he’s done. Some of those women are smartish and use him right back for attention. His fans are in denial. I mean, I was for a bit too but the evidence stacks up.

it's been said many times. constantly getting numbers and hook ups. i remember a girl on twitter and i speaking after she made this tweet about how angry she was at his queerbaiting. she said she knew women at an office related to his work, and he had basically hooked up with all the women there. at radio stations in australia (he really does seem to have a thing for aussie/kiwi women) he asked out almost all the girls there. he attends multiple sex clubs and participates in orgies. yet his fans always act like he's a sexless ken doll and every story featuring a woman is false. then why does he follow so many models, why does he like all their posts.

[coochiequeens]

Trigger Warning: Discussion of acts against children and plots to abuse impoverished children.

A serial pedophile estimated to have committed over 1,000 sex crimes against children has had his community sentence relaxed following his transition to “female.” On November 16, a Supreme Court of Western Australia judge said that the medications taken by Robert Gordon Cummins, 56, provide “a protective factor” and that he could “successfully self-manage the risk of offending.”

Cummins has an extensive history of horrific sexual offenses, the overwhelming majority of which were against children. His first conviction took place in September of 1997, when he was found guilty of indecent assault. For this, he was fined $3,000 and did not receive a prison sentence.

In December of 1999, Cummins was convicted on three counts of indecent dealing with a child under the age of 13 years. He was sentenced to 2 years imprisonment.

Once released, Cummins immediately began to sexually abuse a girl he was related to who was between the ages of 6 and 8 at the 

time of his abuses. In June 2002, he was found guilty on four counts related to crimes against that child. Cummins was sentenced to a total effective sentence of 8 years imprisonment.

Earlier that year, at the age of 36, Cummins had married a 17-year old girl. Forensic psychiatrist Dr. Gosia Wojnarowska, a mental health consultant to the Department of Justice, described this relationship as a substitution for “a female child that he never stopped fantasizing about” in a 2008 assessment of Cummins.

In June of 2009, the serial pedophile was convicted of one count of possessing child pornography and sentenced to 12 months imprisonment. Two years later, Cummins was detained awaiting trial for conspiring to engage in sexual intercourse outside Australia with a person under the age of 16 years.

But even being in custody did not stop the disturbed predator from planning out his abuse against children.

Between July 2005 and September 2008, while incarcerated in Perth’s maximum-security Casuarina Prison for filming the abuse of his youngest victim, Cummins, along with two other men, devised a scheme to establish a child sex trafficking ring in Thailand upon their release.

The convicts intended to set up a doll-making business called “Little Angels” as a cover. Former teacher Mark Pendleton, 53, and Kenneth Bishop, 74, conspired with Cummins to employ low-income women from rural areas in order to gain access to their children.

In 2011, Cummins testified in the Perth’s Magistrate Court that he had first befriended Pendleton in a sex offender treatment program in Perth’s maximum-security Casuarina Prison. They began plotting to abuse vulnerable children after they were both relocated to Karnet Prison Farm.

“Mark told me families in Thailand were available for a price. If they were willing to send their children into minefields to look for shrapnel, they would be willing to sell their children for sex,” Cummins told the court.

After he was released on parole in 2008, Cummins became the “pipeline” for carrying out the plan, and began researching properties for sale and information about false passports while contacting Thai mothers whose children were being considered for potential abuse. Cummins also sent financial contributions to the impoverished women to build up their trust.

“The idea behind it was to assist them and become valuable to them,” Cummins told the court. “So they would allow me to do anything I wanted… Including sexual activity with the children.”

In phone recordings played during court proceedings, Cummins could be heard saying that the women he was most interested in employing would come from villages and ideally should be “more simple people.”

The recorded conversations between the men were “laden with jokes and sexual innuendo”, and referenced former pop star and pedophile Gary Glitter, according to news reports. Cummins told Pendleton that women had sent him photographs of their “lovely families,” which he explained to the court prosecutor was a reference to their children.

Cummins admitted he and Pendleton considered supervising an orphanage in order to “effectively convert it into a child brothel.” He stated, “From our point of view, we had discussed setting up an orphanage and having access to the children there for sexual purposes.”

In exchange for pleading guilty, testifying in court, and confessing to the plan, Cummins was handed a reduced sentence of two years and seven months. Despite the fact that authorities had uncovered their plot by tapping their phone lines, Supreme Court Justice John McKechnie ordered Cummins to be freed from jail on a recognizance release order, as he had spent 18 months in custody pending trial. 

He was released the day after the trial ended in September 2012, despite the court having been told that Cummins was estimated to have committed 1,000 sex crimes against children during the course of his serial abuses.

In 2014, Cummins, then 49, was spared yet another jail sentence for a historical sexual offense he admitted to committing against a 12-year-old girl. The sentencing decision was made on the basis that his use of “anti-libidinal drugs” had deprived him of his sex drive. 

Western Australia District Court Judge Michael John Bowden sentenced Cummins to 12 months in jail, suspended for 18 months, on the provision that he comply with a supervision order.

“It really is the fact that the chemical medication seems to have deprived you of any sex drive that leads me to deal with this case in the manner in which I am going to deal with it,” he said.

Judge Bowden added, “The offense is so serious that imprisonment is the only appropriate disposition but it does seem to me that I cannot say that a suspended sentence in the circumstances would be wholly inappropriate.”

In 2018, general practitioner Dr. Wynn Owen recommended that Cummins’ chemical castration treatment be halted out of concern over its side effects. Cummins had been taking cyproterone on an intermittent basis since 2004, and on a regular basis since 2012. However, medical reports revealed that once he stopped taking the antiandrogen, he experienced a “floodgate return of sexual thoughts.” The same report detailed how he feared he “would have progressed to snatching a child.”

In 2019, Cummins was diagnosed with “gender dysphoria” and began to self-identity as a woman. Court records note that he had “formed a platonic relationship with another transgender female” around this time. Additionally, Cummins’ “interest was directed to gay pornography,” which “preceded the transitioning from male to female.”

The most recent ruling was in response to an application for an extension to Cummins’ supervision order, which was filed by legal representatives for the State. Concerns were raised that he remained a “high-risk offender” and should be monitored for safeguarding purposes.

Dr. Wojnarowska told the court that pedophilia is regarded as a lifelong condition, and a 2021 assessment was presented as evidence in court. “In my opinion, if [he] were to be taken off the order, [his] risk of sexual reoffending may escalate,” Wojnarowska stated.

However, she pointed out that hormone treatments carry considerable health risks and are not recommended for long-term use due to their effect on bone density and liver function. She therefore recommended surgery.

This opinion was supported by forensic psychologist Julie Hasson. Ms. Hasson recommended an orchiectomy as a means of “living as a woman and reducing [his] libido to protect against any concerns of future sexual offending in the event that [he] did not pursue gender reassignment surgery,” according to court records.

Justice Michael Corboy ruled that a new four-year supervision order be imposed with conditions including “testosterone suppressing treatment.” He noted that the diagnosis of gender dysphoria was “obviously a very significant event,” with his “transition” being “central to the issues” in his case. The judge added that the court should keep Cummins’ gender dysphoria diagnosis and transition “in mind” while considering his risk of re-offending.

Cummins was referred to with feminine pronouns throughout court records and proceedings. Media coverage similarly utilized ‘she/her’ pronouns for Cummins, as well as did not identify him directly or give an indication of the name he is currently utilizing.

Cummins’ case recalls that of a notorious American serial pedophile who was similarly released into the communityafter the court was told his transition meant he would be “less likely” to offend.

Joseph Matthew Smith, who also goes by the name Josie Maria Dunham or Josie Smith, made international headlines in 2020 after being released from prison after beginning a gender transition. Smith had been convicted of sexually assaulting an 11-year-old resident at Midwest Christian Services (MCS), a treatment facility for juveniles. 

Due to his lengthy history of sex crimes, a pre-sentence psychological report was carried out. Smith told a state forensic psychologist he had molested as many as 15 children under the age of 13, the youngest being a 1-year-old baby. Due to his extremely high risk of re-offending, Smith was handed an indefinite prison sentence.

But after being diagnosed with gender dysphoria and beginning a hormone regimen, Smith was released, with officials claiming he was now at a lower risk of re-offending due to an altered testosterone level, and that he “no longer had the sex drive of a man.”

Smith was paroled in January of 2020 but by October of 2021, he had already violated the terms of his strict conditions by using an unauthorized electronic device and seeking out sex. Despite the violation, Smith was not remanded to custody, and was instead allowed to continue to live in the community.

Since his release, he violated the conditions of his parole twice by attempting to access child sexual abuse materials. Smith is currently incarcerated at the Newton Correctional Facility, which is a men’s institution with a special program for sex offenders in Jasper County.

By Genevieve Gluck Genevieve is the Co-Founder of Reduxx, and the outlet's Chief Investigative Journalist with a focused interest in pornography, sexual predators, and fetish subcultures. She is the creator of the podcast Women's Voices, which features news commentary and interviews regarding women's rights.

[dramioneldws]

Make my wish come true...

December 1: All I Want for Christmas Is You – Mariah Carey

We’re kicking off with the Queen of Christmas herself! Treat yourself to today’s collection of drabbles:

Title: A fine piece of candy

Author: Lalalaartje

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: G

Summary: When Harry keeps telling Draco he doesn't need a Christmas gift from him, Draco comes up with a silly little plan.

Title: All I Want for Christmas Is You

Author: DramioneDreaming

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: G

Summary: Hermione tells Draco “All I want for Christmas is you”, Draco doesn’t believe her and goes on a gift hunt.

Title: Ear Worm

Author: LiloLilyAnn

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: T

Summary: It was that time of year again... Time for all the joy to be drained from Christmas thanks to sodding Mariah Carey.

Title: Little Dove

Author: HighLadyLily

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Antonin Dolohov/Hermione Granger

CW/Archive Warning: Blood/Gore

Rating: M

Summary: All Dolohov wants for Christmas is Hermione Granger, even if he has to escape from Azkaban to get to her.

Title: Make my wish come true

Author: Ginnysocks

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: G

Summary: A series of inter-connected Christmas drabbles told in the style of "Love Actually". Follow our crew as they navigate the holiday season with their family, friends, and romantic entanglements.

Title: My Own

Author: WritingFicariously

Pairing: Monica Wilkins/Wendell Wilkins

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: G

Summary: December 1998. Australia. Monica Wilkins feels like something is missing, like someone is missing.

Title: Red & Green

Author: itscometothis

Pairing: Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: T

Summary: Harry Potter is a dirty rotten liar. But Pansy will make it work to her advantage.

Title: The Doll

Author: Somandalicious

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

CW/Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Writing

Rating: T

Summary: Draco finally gets all he wanted for Christmas

Title: The Most Fragile of Things

Author: Maira

Pairing: Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: T

Summary: “The rest is just wishes and hope, the most fragile of things.” ― Sabaa Tahir, A Torch Against the Night Pansy has grown up with magic all her life. She knows how it work, and is comfortable with it. But wishes? Not a chance. Until one Christmas Eve, when she has nothing left to lose, she takes a chance.

Title: Narcissa surprises Lucius

Author: VesperSwan

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: G

Summary: Hermione, Daphne, Pansy, and Luna help Narcissa plan a little surprise for Lucius. Harry, Draco, Theo, and Neville get on Lucius' nerves.

Title: Wrong (but oh so right)

Author: Frumpologist

Pairing: Hermione Granger/James Potter

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: T

Summary: James has feelings for his son’s best friend. Those feelings are causing quite the existential crisis.

Title: Songs of the Season Drabble Collection - Chapter 1

Author: EvergreenTuesdays

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: M

Summary: A Drabble collection for all 24 prompts. Tags for each Drabble specified in chapter notes

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/.../43329987/chapters/108918702

Title: Fa La La La Love

Author: anne_ammons

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter

CW/Archive Warning: N/A

Rating: T

Summary: Christmas is coming. And whether or not Teddy likes it, love is in the air. A story of friendship, love, and the hijinx of an elf named Peanut Butter.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/.../43351057/chapters/108974092

Title: Not So Silent Night

Author: Charlie9646

Pairing: Severus Snape/Nymphadora Tonks

CW/Archive Warning: Vague mentions of sex

Rating: M

Summary: Severus wants everything to be perfect, Tonks just wants to be happy, and Teddy? He just wants to play with his new toy. Or a evening in the Snape household.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43354620

Happy reading!

@floorcoaster & @mykesprit

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday!

Sweet potato ranks No. 1 in nutrition of all vegetables.

Paris has a ‘hospital’ for neglected houseplants.

Daydreaming is good for your brain.

A litre of beer or a litre of coffee is as hydrating as a litre of water.

Cremation causes silicone breast implants to explode.

40% of working Britons have less than £100 in savings.

The IATA airport code for Sioux City, Iowa is SUX.

Your motivation to "get up and go" starts to fail at around 54 years old.

One-third of entrepreneurs think their chance of failing is zero.

In Russia, it is illegal to tell kids that gay people exist.

Microscopic mites are currently living and having sex on your face.

The baby name ‘Karen’ is on the edge of extinction.

Only 2% of the world's population has green eyes.

80% of the world's population have never been on an airplane.

Your nipples are as unique as your fingerprints.

In 1976, more than 100 marijuana plants sprouted in the Anaheim Stadium playing field in Los Angeles after The Who performed there.

In 2014, German police issued a fine to a one-armed cyclist for cycling with one arm.

Humans spend 13% of their lives not focusing on anything in particular.

Men appear in the newspapers three times as often as women and have done since 1800.

In 2017, the US secret service advertised for a 'social media sarcasm spotter'.

Sometimes, creating a little distance will help people recognize how much you actually mean to them.

A study by Wijnand A.P. Van Tilburg and Eric R. Igou has shown that adding a middle initial to your name makes you seem smarter. This status is brought to you by Lindsay J. Wesker.

A moose can dive underwater down to nearly twenty feet in search of food. This makes killer whales their biggest predator.

Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, has towns called Intercourse and Paradise. It takes six minutes to get from one to the other.

Male ladybirds can spend up to four hours mating with a dead female before realising something is wrong.

Greenland lost so much ice in the 20th century that it changed the angle of the Earth’s rotation.

A sex manual in Qing dynasty China outlined 48 different ways to fondle a mutilated foot.

In December 2020, a man from Kazakhstan legally married his sex doll after 2 years of dating.

Crocodiles are fast on their feet but cannot turn very well. If one is chasing you, run in zig zag lines.

In 2013, Bill Gates said that the Ctrl+Alt+Delete command was a mistake and could have been just a single button.

4.8 billion people own mobile phones whereas only 4.2 billion own a toothbrush.

“The sixth sick sheik’s sixth sheep’s sick” is said to be the toughest tongue twister in English.

A python from Australia became addicted to meth after living in a drug lab and was sent to rehab for seven months.

You have a better chance in getting into Harvard than becoming a Delta Airlines flight attendant.

It's ok and "I'm fine" are the two most common lies spoken in the world.

Men spend almost a year of their lives staring at women, a survey found.

According to Psychology people are constantly wishing for something, whilst overlooking that they already have.

Admit it when you're wrong and shut up when you're right. This is a simple way to drastically improve the quality of your relationships.

According to one survey, 95% of people claim they get nervous when they hear the words, “We need to talk.”

When you become really close to someone, you can hear their voice in your head when you read their texts.

No one really knows who invented the fire hydrant, its patent was burned in a fire.

Parents of newborn babies lose about six months of sleep during the first two years of their child's life

After drummer Pete Best was fired from the Beatles, he released an album called ‘Best Of The Beatles’. Buyers were disappointed to find out it was not a Beatles compilation album.

Humans are deuterostomes which means that, when they develop in the womb, the anus forms before any other opening. This means that, at one point, you were nothing but a bum hole!

When Fidel Castro seized power in Cuba, he ordered all Monopoly sets to be destroyed. Some believe the decision was because it symbolises capitalism but close friends believed it was because he always lost.

On September 11th, 2001, Roselle, a guide dog, saved the life of her blind owner by leading him all the way down from the 78th floor of the burning Twin Towers. The descent took approximately an hour in total and both safely made it out.

According to a study, male owners of luxury cars behave aggressively on the road not because of a corrupting effect of wealth, but because men who are self-centred and unempathetic are much more likely both to be drawn to high-status cars and to break traffic laws.

In the 1640s, the Dutch inhabitants of New Amsterdam built a 12-foot wall to protect the city. In 1664, the British bypassed the wall and took the city by the sea. The area is now called New York. They took down the wall and built a street now known as Wall Street

And, finally, it’s never too late to follow your dreams. Romanian ruler, Vlad The Impaler, didn’t start impaling people until his thirties!

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

[brookston]

Holidays 9.6

Holidays

Administrative Service Center Employee Day (Ukraine)

Armed Forces Day (São Tomé and Príncipe)

Aurora Asteroid Day

Barbie Doll Day

Battle of Lake Travis Anniversary Day

Bravehearts Day (Australia)

Colour Blind Awareness Day

Day of Sex (Brazil)

Defence Day (Pakistan)

Dia de Elkano (Basque, Spain)

Elcano Day (Basque, Spain)

Fight Procrastination Day

Flag Day (Bonaire)

Great Egg Toss Day

Harvesting Basket Day (French Republic)

I AM MDC Day (Florida)

Karma Puja (India)

Khurat (Elder Scrolls)

National Afro Puff Day

National Do It Day

National Little Black Dress Day (Australia)

National Read a Book Day

National Sabrina Day

National Writing Day

Newt Day

906 Day

Piggly Wiggly Day

Player Piano Day

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

Prosthetics & Orthotics Day (UK)

Read A Book Day

Rettir (Sheep Round-Up; Iceland)

Septemvriana Anniversary Day

Somhlolo Day (Eswatini, f.k.a. Swaziland)

Stillbirth Remembrance Day

Supermarket Day

World Oral Sex Day

World Shorebirds Day

Younger Sister’s Day (Japan)

Food & Drink Celebrations

National Coffee Ice Cream Day

Independence & Related Days

Ichkeria (Chechen Republic of Ichkeria; 1991)

Eswatini, f.k.a. Swaziland (a.k.a. Somhlolo Day; from UK, 1968)

HSSR (Hot Lads Soviet Socialist Republic, f.k.a. Hugel; Declared; 2019) [unrecognized]

Unification Day (Bulgaria)

1st Friday in September

Art Break Day [1st Friday]

Bandcamp Friday [1st Friday]

Belgian Beer Weekend begins (Belgisch Bierweekend) [1st Friday thru Sunday]

Bring Your Manners To Work Day [1st Friday]

Casual Day (South Africa) [1st Friday]

Comfort Food Friday [Every Friday]

Dri-jerbal (Labor Day; Marshall Islands) [1st Friday]

Fast Food Friday [1st Friday of Each Month]

Five For Friday [Every Friday]

Flashback Friday [Every Friday]

Freaky Friday [1st Friday of Each Month]

Freddie Mercury’s Montreux Memorial Day begins [Weekend of 1st Friday]

Friday Finds [Every Friday]

Fry Day (Pastafarian; Fritism) [Every Friday]

Labor Day (Marshall Islands) [1st Friday]

National Chianti Day [1st Friday]

National Food Bank Day [1st Friday]

National Lazy Mom’s Day [1st Friday]

TGIF (Thank God It's Friday) [Every Friday]

Wear Teal Day [1st Friday]

Weekly Holidays beginning September 6 (1st Full Week of September)

Belgian Beer Weekend (Brussels, Belgium) [1st Weekend] (thru 9.8)

Popcorn Days (thru 9.8) [1st Weekend after Labor Day]

Festivals Beginning September 6, 2024

Annunciation Greek Food Festival (Kansas City, Missouri) [thru 9.8]

Apple & BBQ Festival (Silver Lake Sand Dunes, Michigan) [thru 9.7]

Arcola Broomcorn Festival (Arcola, Illinois) [thru 9.8]

Art And Apples Festival (Rochester, Michigan) [thru 9.8]

Atlantic Balloon Fiesta (Sussex, Canada) [thru 9.8]

Big Muddy Brew 'N Que (Winona, Minnesota) [thru 9.8]

Bluegrass & Chili Festival (Wagoner, Oklahoma) [thru 9.7]

Cascamorras (Baza, Spain)

Chile Pepper Festival (Bowers, Pennsylvania) [thru 9.7]

Clinton County Corn Festival (Wilmington, Ohio) [thru 9.8]

Darien Cornfest (Darien, Wisconsin) [thru 9.8]

Deep Creek Lake Art & Wine Festival (McHenry, Maryland) [thru 9.7]

Doc Holiday BBQ Championship (Griffin, Georgia) [thru 9.7]

El Paso Corn Festival (El Paso, Illinois) [thru 9.7]

Festival Western de Saint-Tite (Saint-Tite, Canada) [thru 9.15]

Festival of the Vine (Geneva, Illinois) [thru 9.8]

Great Reno Balloon Race (Reno, Nevada)

Hampton Beach Seafood Festival (Hampton Beach, New Hampshire) [thru 9.8]

Hells Canyon Mule Days (Enterprise, Oregon) [thru 9.8]

Huckleberry Festival (Bingen, Washington) [thru 9.8]

IFA Berlin (Berlin, Germany) [thru 9.15)

International Camel & Ostrich Races (Virginia City, Nevada) [thru 9.8]

Kansas State Fair (Hutchinson, Kansas) [thru 9.15]

Kazan International Film Festival “Altyn Minbar” (Kazan, Russia) [thru 9.11]

Kellogg Watermelon Festival (Kellogg, Minnesota) [thru 9.8]

Kutno Rose Festival (Kutno, Poland) [thru 9.8]

Litchfield Fair (Litchfield, Maine) [thru 9.8]

Lithopolis Honeyfest (Lithopolis, Ohio) [thru 9.7]

Mantua Potato Festival (Mantua, Ohio) [thru 9.8]

Meridian Czernowitz International Poetry Festival (Chernivtsi, Ukraine) [thru 9.8]

Nicholas County Potato Festival (Summersville, West Virginia) [thru 9.7]

North Carolina Hot Sauce Contest & Festival (Oxford, North Carolina) [thru 9.7]

North Carolina Mountain State Fair (Fletcher, North Carolina) [thru 6.15]

Northern Appalachian Folk Festival (Indiana, Pennsylvania) [thru 9.8]

Northern Gila County Fair (Payson Event Center, Arizona) [thru 9.8]

Norwalk Oyster Festival (Norwalk, Connecticut) [thru 9.8]

Onam Festival (Kerala, India) [thru 9.15]

Original Lobster Festival (Fountain Valley, California) [thru 9.8]

Posen Potato Festival (Posen, Michigan) [thru 9.8]

Ribs, Rods & Rock 'n Roll (Vermillion, South Dakota) [thru 9.7]

Saint Basil Greek Food Festival (Stockton, California) [thru 9.8]

Salt Lake Greek Festival (Salt Lake City, Utah) [thru 9.8]

São Paulo International Book Biennial (São Paulo, Brazil) [thru 9.15]

South Carolina Apple Festival (Westminster, South Carolina) [thru 9.7]

Taste of Chicago Grant Park (Chicago, Illinois) [thru 9.8]

Taste of Greektown (Chicago, Illinois) [thru 9.8]

Tulsa People’s Restaurant Week (Tulsa, Oklahoma) [thru 9.15]

Vredefeesten (Sint-Niklaas, Belgium) [thru 9.8]

Wine and Harvest Festival (Paw Paw, Michigan) [thru 9.8]

Wine Harvest Festival (Mikulov, Czech Republic) [thru 9.8]

Žatecká Dočesná (Žatec, Czech Republic) [thru 9.7]

Feast Days

Abbots Bromley Horn Dance (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Begga of Cumbria (a.k.a. Bega or Bee; Christian; Saint)

Cesarean Section Day (Church of the SubGenius)

Chagnoald (Christian; Saint)

Diablo Sauce Day (Pastafarian)

Donatian, Laetus and Others (Christian; Martyrs)

Ear and Trumpet Contests for Mice (Shamanism)

Eleutherius (Christian; Saint)

Elizabeth Murray (Artology)

Faustus, Abibus and Dionysius of Alexandria (Christian; Saint)

Gondulphus of Metz (Christian; Saint)

Horatio Greenough (Artology)

Jessie Willcox Smith (Artology)

Kalli Kalde (Artology)

Krishna Janmashtami (Hinduism)

Macculindus, Bishop of Lusk (Christian; Saint)

Magnus of Füssen (Christian; Saint) [crops]

Media Aestas IV (Pagan)

Onesiphorus (Christian; Saint)

Pambo of Nitria (Christian; Saint)

Robert Persig (Writerism)

Roxanne (Muppetism)

Sacrifice to Hera Thelchinia (Ancient Greece)

Saussure (Positivist; Saint)

Sergio Aragonés (Artology)

Situa (Inca Blood Festival; Everyday Wicca)

Suibhne (Celtic Book of Days)

Teej Festival (Hinduism) [Nepal]

Tony DiTerlizzi (Artology)

Zechariah (Catholic Church; Hebrew prophet)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Perilous Day (13th Century England) [25 of 32]

Taian (大安 Japan) [Lucky all day.]

Very Unlucky Day (Grafton’s Manual of 1565) [42 of 60]

Premieres

The Adventures of Spunky and Tadpole (Animated TV Series; 1958)

Alice Charms the Fish (Ub Iwerks Disney Cartoon; 1926)

Atlanta (TV Series; 2016)

A Bigger Bang, by The Rolling Stones (Album; 2005)

Candle in the Wind (Diana version), by Elton John (Song; 1997)

Circus Days (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1935)

Desperately Seeking Susan (Film; 1985)

Double Indemnity (Film; 1944)

Dream of Gerontius, by Edward Elgar (Orchestral Work; 1910)

The Electric Mouse (Mighty Mouse Cartoon; 1946)

Flying Fists (Ub Iwerks Flip the Frog Cartoon; 1930)

Go, Diego, Go! (Animated TV Series; 2005)

Hangin’ Tough, by New Kids on the Block (Album; 1988)

The Horse and His Boy, by C.S. Lewis (Novel; 1954) [The Chronicles of Narnia #5]

The House of the Rising Sun, recorded by Tom Ashley & Gwen Foster (Song; 1933) [Earliest known recording]

The Huckleberry Hound Show (Animated TV Series; 1958)

I’m a Slave 4 U, by Britney Spears (Song; 2001)

It: Chapter Two (Film; 2019)

Jersey Lightning, recorded by Luis Russell (Song; 1929)

Jessie and James (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1931)

Just a Little Heart Attack (Short Film; 2011)

La Clemenza di Tito, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Opera; 1791)

Lady Chatterly’s Lover (Film; 2015)

La Strada (Film; 1954)

Let Love Rule, by Lenny Kravitz (Album; 1989)

Linda Ronstadt: The Sound of My Voice (Documentary Film; 2019)

Looper (Film; 2012)

The Lucky Ducky (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1940)

Mucho Mouse (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1957)

Not Without Laughter, by Langston Hughes (Novel; 1930)

Officer Pooch (MGM Cartoon; 1941)

Our Vines Have Tender Grapes (Film; 1945)

Push-Button Kitty (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1952)

Regular Show (Animated TV Series; 2009)

The Rescuers, by Margery Sharp (Novel; 1959)

Scooby-Doo! Legend of the Phantosaur (WB Animated Film; 2011)

The Secret of Moonacre (Film; 2008)

Stranger Than Fiction, by Bad Religion (Album; 1994)

Superman: The Last Son of Krypton (WB Animated Film; 1996)

Weasel While You Work (WB MM Cartoon; 1958)

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, by Robert M. Pirsig (Novel; 1974)

Today’s Name Days

Beata, Bertram, Gundolf, Magnus (Austria)

Boris, Davor, Zaharija (Croatia)

Boleslav (Czech Republic)

Magnus (Denmark)

Aiki, Angela, Angelika, Ingel (Estonia)

Asko, Felix (Finland)

Bertrand, Eva (France)

Beate, Bertram, Gundolf, Magnus (Germany)

Evdoxios, Vivos (Greece)

Zakariás (Hungary)

Uberto (Italy)

Balva, Magnuss, Maigonis (Latvia)

Faustas, Tautenė, Vaištautas (Lithuania)

Siril, Siv, Sollaug (Norway)

Albin, Beata, Eugenia, Eugeniusz, Magnus, Michał, Uniewit, Zachariasz (Poland)

Alica (Slovakia)

Eleuterio, Zacarías (Spain)

Lilian, Lilly (Sweden)

Bartram, Bertram, Veda, Yahir (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 250 of 2024; 116 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 5 of Week 36 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Muin (Vine) [Day 6 of 28]

Chinese: Month 8 (Guy-You), Day 4 (Guy-You)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 3 Elul 5784

Islamic: 2 Rabi I 1446

J Cal: 10 Gold; Threesday [9 of 30]

Julian: 24 August 2024

Moon: 11%: Waxing Crescent

Positivist: 26 Gutenberg (9th Month) [Borda]

Runic Half Month: Rad (Motion) [Day 15 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 79 of 94)

Week: 1st Full Week of September

Zodiac: Virgo (Day 16 of 32)

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 9.6

Holidays

Administrative Service Center Employee Day (Ukraine)

Armed Forces Day (São Tomé and Príncipe)

Aurora Asteroid Day

Barbie Doll Day

Battle of Lake Travis Anniversary Day

Bravehearts Day (Australia)

Colour Blind Awareness Day

Day of Sex (Brazil)

Defence Day (Pakistan)

Dia de Elkano (Basque, Spain)

Elcano Day (Basque, Spain)

Fight Procrastination Day

Flag Day (Bonaire)

Great Egg Toss Day

Harvesting Basket Day (French Republic)

I AM MDC Day (Florida)

Karma Puja (India)

Khurat (Elder Scrolls)

National Afro Puff Day

National Do It Day

National Little Black Dress Day (Australia)

National Read a Book Day

National Sabrina Day

National Writing Day

Newt Day

906 Day

Piggly Wiggly Day

Player Piano Day

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

Prosthetics & Orthotics Day (UK)

Read A Book Day

Rettir (Sheep Round-Up; Iceland)

Septemvriana Anniversary Day

Somhlolo Day (Eswatini, f.k.a. Swaziland)

Stillbirth Remembrance Day

Supermarket Day

World Oral Sex Day

World Shorebirds Day

Younger Sister’s Day (Japan)

Food & Drink Celebrations

National Coffee Ice Cream Day

Independence & Related Days

Ichkeria (Chechen Republic of Ichkeria; 1991)

Eswatini, f.k.a. Swaziland (a.k.a. Somhlolo Day; from UK, 1968)

HSSR (Hot Lads Soviet Socialist Republic, f.k.a. Hugel; Declared; 2019) [unrecognized]

Unification Day (Bulgaria)

1st Friday in September

Art Break Day [1st Friday]

Bandcamp Friday [1st Friday]

Belgian Beer Weekend begins (Belgisch Bierweekend) [1st Friday thru Sunday]

Bring Your Manners To Work Day [1st Friday]

Casual Day (South Africa) [1st Friday]

Comfort Food Friday [Every Friday]

Dri-jerbal (Labor Day; Marshall Islands) [1st Friday]

Fast Food Friday [1st Friday of Each Month]

Five For Friday [Every Friday]

Flashback Friday [Every Friday]

Freaky Friday [1st Friday of Each Month]

Freddie Mercury’s Montreux Memorial Day begins [Weekend of 1st Friday]

Friday Finds [Every Friday]

Fry Day (Pastafarian; Fritism) [Every Friday]

Labor Day (Marshall Islands) [1st Friday]

National Chianti Day [1st Friday]

National Food Bank Day [1st Friday]

National Lazy Mom’s Day [1st Friday]

TGIF (Thank God It's Friday) [Every Friday]

Wear Teal Day [1st Friday]

Weekly Holidays beginning September 6 (1st Full Week of September)

Belgian Beer Weekend (Brussels, Belgium) [1st Weekend] (thru 9.8)

Popcorn Days (thru 9.8) [1st Weekend after Labor Day]

Festivals Beginning September 6, 2024

Annunciation Greek Food Festival (Kansas City, Missouri) [thru 9.8]

Apple & BBQ Festival (Silver Lake Sand Dunes, Michigan) [thru 9.7]

Arcola Broomcorn Festival (Arcola, Illinois) [thru 9.8]

Art And Apples Festival (Rochester, Michigan) [thru 9.8]

Atlantic Balloon Fiesta (Sussex, Canada) [thru 9.8]

Big Muddy Brew 'N Que (Winona, Minnesota) [thru 9.8]

Bluegrass & Chili Festival (Wagoner, Oklahoma) [thru 9.7]

Cascamorras (Baza, Spain)

Chile Pepper Festival (Bowers, Pennsylvania) [thru 9.7]

Clinton County Corn Festival (Wilmington, Ohio) [thru 9.8]

Darien Cornfest (Darien, Wisconsin) [thru 9.8]

Deep Creek Lake Art & Wine Festival (McHenry, Maryland) [thru 9.7]

Doc Holiday BBQ Championship (Griffin, Georgia) [thru 9.7]

El Paso Corn Festival (El Paso, Illinois) [thru 9.7]

Festival Western de Saint-Tite (Saint-Tite, Canada) [thru 9.15]

Festival of the Vine (Geneva, Illinois) [thru 9.8]

Great Reno Balloon Race (Reno, Nevada)

Hampton Beach Seafood Festival (Hampton Beach, New Hampshire) [thru 9.8]

Hells Canyon Mule Days (Enterprise, Oregon) [thru 9.8]

Huckleberry Festival (Bingen, Washington) [thru 9.8]

IFA Berlin (Berlin, Germany) [thru 9.15)

International Camel & Ostrich Races (Virginia City, Nevada) [thru 9.8]

Kansas State Fair (Hutchinson, Kansas) [thru 9.15]

Kazan International Film Festival “Altyn Minbar” (Kazan, Russia) [thru 9.11]

Kellogg Watermelon Festival (Kellogg, Minnesota) [thru 9.8]

Kutno Rose Festival (Kutno, Poland) [thru 9.8]

Litchfield Fair (Litchfield, Maine) [thru 9.8]

Lithopolis Honeyfest (Lithopolis, Ohio) [thru 9.7]

Mantua Potato Festival (Mantua, Ohio) [thru 9.8]

Meridian Czernowitz International Poetry Festival (Chernivtsi, Ukraine) [thru 9.8]

Nicholas County Potato Festival (Summersville, West Virginia) [thru 9.7]

North Carolina Hot Sauce Contest & Festival (Oxford, North Carolina) [thru 9.7]

North Carolina Mountain State Fair (Fletcher, North Carolina) [thru 6.15]

Northern Appalachian Folk Festival (Indiana, Pennsylvania) [thru 9.8]

Northern Gila County Fair (Payson Event Center, Arizona) [thru 9.8]

Norwalk Oyster Festival (Norwalk, Connecticut) [thru 9.8]

Onam Festival (Kerala, India) [thru 9.15]

Original Lobster Festival (Fountain Valley, California) [thru 9.8]

Posen Potato Festival (Posen, Michigan) [thru 9.8]

Ribs, Rods & Rock 'n Roll (Vermillion, South Dakota) [thru 9.7]

Saint Basil Greek Food Festival (Stockton, California) [thru 9.8]

Salt Lake Greek Festival (Salt Lake City, Utah) [thru 9.8]

São Paulo International Book Biennial (São Paulo, Brazil) [thru 9.15]

South Carolina Apple Festival (Westminster, South Carolina) [thru 9.7]

Taste of Chicago Grant Park (Chicago, Illinois) [thru 9.8]

Taste of Greektown (Chicago, Illinois) [thru 9.8]

Tulsa People’s Restaurant Week (Tulsa, Oklahoma) [thru 9.15]

Vredefeesten (Sint-Niklaas, Belgium) [thru 9.8]

Wine and Harvest Festival (Paw Paw, Michigan) [thru 9.8]

Wine Harvest Festival (Mikulov, Czech Republic) [thru 9.8]

Žatecká Dočesná (Žatec, Czech Republic) [thru 9.7]

Feast Days

Abbots Bromley Horn Dance (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Begga of Cumbria (a.k.a. Bega or Bee; Christian; Saint)

Cesarean Section Day (Church of the SubGenius)

Chagnoald (Christian; Saint)

Diablo Sauce Day (Pastafarian)

Donatian, Laetus and Others (Christian; Martyrs)

Ear and Trumpet Contests for Mice (Shamanism)

Eleutherius (Christian; Saint)

Elizabeth Murray (Artology)

Faustus, Abibus and Dionysius of Alexandria (Christian; Saint)

Gondulphus of Metz (Christian; Saint)

Horatio Greenough (Artology)

Jessie Willcox Smith (Artology)

Kalli Kalde (Artology)

Krishna Janmashtami (Hinduism)

Macculindus, Bishop of Lusk (Christian; Saint)

Magnus of Füssen (Christian; Saint) [crops]

Media Aestas IV (Pagan)

Onesiphorus (Christian; Saint)

Pambo of Nitria (Christian; Saint)

Robert Persig (Writerism)

Roxanne (Muppetism)

Sacrifice to Hera Thelchinia (Ancient Greece)

Saussure (Positivist; Saint)

Sergio Aragonés (Artology)

Situa (Inca Blood Festival; Everyday Wicca)

Suibhne (Celtic Book of Days)

Teej Festival (Hinduism) [Nepal]

Tony DiTerlizzi (Artology)

Zechariah (Catholic Church; Hebrew prophet)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Perilous Day (13th Century England) [25 of 32]

Taian (大安 Japan) [Lucky all day.]

Very Unlucky Day (Grafton’s Manual of 1565) [42 of 60]

Premieres

The Adventures of Spunky and Tadpole (Animated TV Series; 1958)

Alice Charms the Fish (Ub Iwerks Disney Cartoon; 1926)

Atlanta (TV Series; 2016)

A Bigger Bang, by The Rolling Stones (Album; 2005)

Candle in the Wind (Diana version), by Elton John (Song; 1997)

Circus Days (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1935)

Desperately Seeking Susan (Film; 1985)

Double Indemnity (Film; 1944)

Dream of Gerontius, by Edward Elgar (Orchestral Work; 1910)

The Electric Mouse (Mighty Mouse Cartoon; 1946)

Flying Fists (Ub Iwerks Flip the Frog Cartoon; 1930)

Go, Diego, Go! (Animated TV Series; 2005)

Hangin’ Tough, by New Kids on the Block (Album; 1988)

The Horse and His Boy, by C.S. Lewis (Novel; 1954) [The Chronicles of Narnia #5]

The House of the Rising Sun, recorded by Tom Ashley & Gwen Foster (Song; 1933) [Earliest known recording]

The Huckleberry Hound Show (Animated TV Series; 1958)

I’m a Slave 4 U, by Britney Spears (Song; 2001)

It: Chapter Two (Film; 2019)

Jersey Lightning, recorded by Luis Russell (Song; 1929)

Jessie and James (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1931)

Just a Little Heart Attack (Short Film; 2011)

La Clemenza di Tito, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Opera; 1791)

Lady Chatterly’s Lover (Film; 2015)

La Strada (Film; 1954)

Let Love Rule, by Lenny Kravitz (Album; 1989)

Linda Ronstadt: The Sound of My Voice (Documentary Film; 2019)

Looper (Film; 2012)

The Lucky Ducky (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1940)

Mucho Mouse (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1957)

Not Without Laughter, by Langston Hughes (Novel; 1930)

Officer Pooch (MGM Cartoon; 1941)

Our Vines Have Tender Grapes (Film; 1945)

Push-Button Kitty (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1952)

Regular Show (Animated TV Series; 2009)

The Rescuers, by Margery Sharp (Novel; 1959)

Scooby-Doo! Legend of the Phantosaur (WB Animated Film; 2011)

The Secret of Moonacre (Film; 2008)

Stranger Than Fiction, by Bad Religion (Album; 1994)

Superman: The Last Son of Krypton (WB Animated Film; 1996)

Weasel While You Work (WB MM Cartoon; 1958)

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, by Robert M. Pirsig (Novel; 1974)

Today’s Name Days

Beata, Bertram, Gundolf, Magnus (Austria)

Boris, Davor, Zaharija (Croatia)

Boleslav (Czech Republic)

Magnus (Denmark)

Aiki, Angela, Angelika, Ingel (Estonia)

Asko, Felix (Finland)

Bertrand, Eva (France)

Beate, Bertram, Gundolf, Magnus (Germany)

Evdoxios, Vivos (Greece)

Zakariás (Hungary)

Uberto (Italy)

Balva, Magnuss, Maigonis (Latvia)

Faustas, Tautenė, Vaištautas (Lithuania)

Siril, Siv, Sollaug (Norway)

Albin, Beata, Eugenia, Eugeniusz, Magnus, Michał, Uniewit, Zachariasz (Poland)

Alica (Slovakia)

Eleuterio, Zacarías (Spain)

Lilian, Lilly (Sweden)

Bartram, Bertram, Veda, Yahir (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 250 of 2024; 116 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 5 of Week 36 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Muin (Vine) [Day 6 of 28]

Chinese: Month 8 (Guy-You), Day 4 (Guy-You)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 3 Elul 5784

Islamic: 2 Rabi I 1446

J Cal: 10 Gold; Threesday [9 of 30]

Julian: 24 August 2024

Moon: 11%: Waxing Crescent

Positivist: 26 Gutenberg (9th Month) [Borda]

Runic Half Month: Rad (Motion) [Day 15 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 79 of 94)

Week: 1st Full Week of September

Zodiac: Virgo (Day 16 of 32)

[qnewsau]

Stephan Elliot revisits Priscilla on film's 30th anniversary

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/stephan-elliot-revisits-priscilla-queen-of-the-desert-30th-anniversary/

Stephan Elliot revisits Priscilla on film's 30th anniversary

Director Stephan Elliot and key crew members from The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert will reunite and revisit the iconic Aussie flick at a panel event this weekend.

Priscilla is celebrating her 30th birthday this year. It’s been three decades since the feelgood comedy officially premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in May 1994 and later became a crossover sensation, winning an Oscar for its costumes.

In the gay cinematic classic, drag queen Anthony (Hugo Weaving) must take his act on the road and invites fellow performers Adam (Guy Pearce) and Bernadette (Terence Stamp), who’s trans, to come along.

The three performers travel across in their silver bus named Priscilla, performing for both enthusiastic and homophobic crowds on their way to Alice Springs.

This Saturday (March 9), the Bangalow Film Festival in Byron Bay is hosting a screening of Priscilla and a 30th anniversary retrospective panel.

Director Stephan Elliot will join Owen Paterson (production design), Cassie Hanlon (make-up), Michael Gates (costumes) and Guntis Sics (sound) to talk about how they made the film.

Lismore drag queen Maude Boate will also deliver a special tribute performance.

Stephan Elliot remembers Priscilla was booed

Speaking to The Hollywood Reporter, Stephan Elliot explained ahead of Priscilla‘s Cannes premiere, he showed the film to a gay audience in San Francisco.

“That did not go well. They began to boo, they began to hiss,” he recalled.

“I’m sitting there dying, thinking, ‘Oh my god, we’re dead in the water.’ I got up on stage and they just came at me.

“They said I was ‘laughing at gay issues.’ I ‘didn’t take on HIV.’ There were ‘no male sex scenes there.’ The crowd was very, very, very, very hostile.

“I lost my temper on stage and I said, ‘You know what, people? If you want to make that film, you make that film, and you and your 10 mates can see it. This film was made for a wider audience. I’m sorry if you don’t like it.’

“Basically, ‘You can all go get f__ked,’ and I literally stormed off stage.”

‘A celebration of gay life’

Fearing the worst, a “terrified” Stephan Elliot then took Priscilla, Queen of the Desert to the Cannes Film Festival. However, the audience loved it.

“The room absolutely exploded. The audience went nuts. I knew then that I’d made the right decision,” he said.

“I really was not making a gay film full of politics, I was making a celebration of gay life.”

The film’s legendary soundtrack was also a happy accident. Stephan recalled he and Priscilla were in the right place at the right time.

“[Polygram Records] picked up the film for no money, buying half the rights from the Australian government,” he said.

“Polygram said, ‘Oh, by the way, you have to use our [music] library. That’s the deal.’

“It turned out Polygram had recently acquired the Motown catalogue, which included ABBA. Talk about a chocolate box that fell from nowhere — all those songs!”

The Adventures of Priscilla Queen of the Desert is streaming in Australia on Prime Video and 9Now.

Later in the year, the Broken Heel Festival will also celebrate Priscilla’s 30th at the annual celebration in the film’s spiritual home of Broken Hill.

Read more on Aussie queer films:

Broken Heel Festival to celebrate Priscilla’s 30th birthday

Stephan Elliot tells us about making Kylie comedy Swinging Safari

Of An Age’s Goran Stolevski’s new film is about queer chosen family

Aussie actress stars in wild lesbian road trip flick Drive Away Dolls

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

[bondivibes1]

Australia's Thriving Sex Machine Industry: A Deep Dive

In the heart of the southern hemisphere, Australia is renowned for its stunning landscapes, diverse wildlife, and vibrant cities. Yet, beneath its picturesque surface, a thriving and innovative industry remains largely hidden from public view: the Sex Machine industry. This multifaceted sector has grown considerably over the past decade, driven by advancements in technology and changing attitudes toward sexual wellness. In this deep dive, we'll explore the facets of Australia's sex machine industry, delving into its history, current status, key players, and the evolving societal perception surrounding this intriguing trade.

The History of the Sex Machine Industry in Australia:

Australia's journey in the sex machine industry can be traced back to the late 20th century, when a shift in sexual openness began to take root in society. Historically, Australia had been relatively conservative, but the 1970s and 1980s marked a turning point, embracing sexual liberation. This newfound sexual openness paved the way for the growth of adult entertainment and the emergence of sex machines.The 1990s and early 2000s saw a surge in technological advancements, particularly in robotics, which had a profound impact on the sex machine industry. Innovators began designing sophisticated devices capable of providing realistic and customizable sexual experiences, ranging from high-tech toys to lifelike humanoid robots. As society grew increasingly accepting of such technology, the sex machine industry in Australia entered a period of rapid expansion.

The Current State of the Sex Machine Industry in Australia:

Today, the sex machine industry in Australia is a dynamic and rapidly evolving sector. It encompasses a wide range of products and services, catering to various tastes and preferences. Key areas within this industry include:

Sex Toys: Australia boasts a thriving market for sex toys, including everything from basic vibrators to high-tech devices with remote controls and Bluetooth connectivity. These products are marketed as tools for enhancing sexual satisfaction and wellness.

Sex Dolls: The industry offers lifelike sex dolls designed to provide companionship and companionship-like experiences for those seeking emotional and physical intimacy.

Virtual Reality (VR) and Augmented Reality (AR): Cutting-edge technology has made its mark in the industry. VR and AR platforms offer immersive experiences that allow individuals to engage with digital avatars and simulations, further blurring the lines between reality and fantasy.

Robotics: Some companies in Australia are at the forefront of developing lifelike robots designed for intimate encounters. These advanced machines can mimic human movements and responses, catering to a niche market of consumers looking for more realistic experiences.

Erotic Art and Literature: Beyond physical products, there is a flourishing market for erotic art and literature, reflecting the broader cultural interest in sexuality and sensuality.

Key Players in the Industry:

Australia's Fuck Machine industry has attracted a mix of established businesses and innovative startups, many of which have gained international recognition for their contributions. Some notable players include:

Tantus Inc.: Tantus is a leading manufacturer of high-quality, body-safe sex toys, aiming to enhance sexual pleasure and well-being.

Abyss Creations: This U.S.-based company has a growing presence in Australia and is renowned for its RealDoll line of lifelike sex dolls.

Lovedoll: An Australian manufacturer specializing in custom-designed sex dolls, catering to the specific desires and preferences of clients.

Kiiroo: A pioneer in teledildonics, Kiiroo offers interactive sex toys that can be controlled remotely, fostering long-distance intimacy.

Erika Lust Films: Renowned for her feminist approach to adult content, Erika Lust has gained international acclaim for her ethically produced, empowering erotic films.

The Evolving Societal Perception:

While the sex machine industry continues to grow, so too does the discourse surrounding its place in society. The cultural perception of these technologies and products has shifted from taboo to increasingly accepted, driven by factors like sexual liberation, technological progress, and the pursuit of sexual well-being.

Modern discussions often revolve around consent, safety, and ethics. Ensuring that all products and experiences are consensual and safe remains paramount, with the industry advocating for responsible use and education.

As society becomes more open to these technologies, they're being integrated into conversations about sexual wellness and self-discovery. Many experts argue that sexual machines can offer therapeutic benefits for individuals with physical or psychological challenges, providing a path to sexual satisfaction and emotional connection.However, the industry is not without its controversies. Concerns about addiction, isolation, and the potential for depersonalization in relationships have been raised. As the industry evolves, it will be crucial to continue discussing and addressing these concerns to ensure that sexual technology enhances rather than detracts from overall well-being.

Conclusion:

Australia's Fuck Machine Australia industry reflects a broader global trend of technological advancement intersecting with changing attitudes toward sexual wellness and personal intimacy. This industry encompasses a diverse range of products and services that cater to individual preferences, reflecting the unique and evolving needs of a sexually liberated society.As the industry continues to thrive, it's imperative that discussions around ethics, consent, safety, and well-being remain at the forefront of its development. In this deep dive, we've explored the historical context, the current state of the industry, its key players, and the shifting societal perceptions that underpin this intriguing and complex trade.Whether celebrated or criticized, Australia's sex machine industry is undoubtedly a reflection of the ever-evolving landscape of human sexuality and the ways in which technology is reshaping our intimate lives.