#so his bass is floating mid air

[lvndrcrow]

old-ish gordon porlork design

[g0lden-diety]

How abouut…. Bakugo with black reader grumbling about getting dragged to the club but you try to convince him that it’ll be fun bc he’ll be with the guys while you stick with the girls and it’ll be a cute lil outting for y’all. he gets irritated but figures he should go bc you’re looking like 🔥sin🔥 in that black dress and he would want to be around just in case anyone tries it but he honestly gets more than he bargains for when he sees u throwin it back w the girls and it’s over when he sees someone approaching you and now he’s tight bc he’s gotta drag u out the club and show youre his 👀👀, just a thought 👉🏽👈🏽🥺

Oh...oh hell yeah, this is perfect!!! Like this was my face when I read the request:

Little Black Dress ┆ K. Bakugou

Pairing : Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Black!Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

cw: alcohol mentions, unprotected sex, choking, cockwarming, oral (fem. giving), overstim, fingering, impact-play, slut-calling, some aftercare, praise, some degradation, smut (obviously) MDNI

All characters are aged up!!

Author’s note: soooo, this was originally gonna be a headcannon/drabble post, but I REALLY liked this request so I decided to turn it into a short fic, I hope you enjoy‼️<3

Minors Do Not Interact // 18+

“Why the hell are we even going?” Katsuki uttered loud enough for you to hear, causing you to sigh from the bathroom.

“Katsu, c’mon! Mina invited us out so we could finally get a fuckin’ break. You can hang with the guys, I hang with the girls, we all can drink, dance, get lit. It’s gonna be fun,” you said as Katsuki made a ‘tch’ sound from your shared bedroom.

Mina had invited you, Katsuki, Kirishima, Deku, Ochacco, Kaminari, Jirou, Hagakure, and Sero out to the club to get sort of an escape from the day-to-day hero life. Obviously after tonight, and the morning after you nursed your hangovers, it would be back to business.

“Ok, how do I look?” Katsuki’s eyes almost bulged out of his head when he saw you. Your curves filled out the silk, black dress, it stopping at mid-thigh, dipped low in the front, backless, and only held up on you by a few strings.

Katsuki looked at you like you were straight up sin, and goddamn, did he wanna be a sinner right now.

“Still don't wanna go?” you asked cockily, leaning against the doorframe, resting your hand on your hip. You could see him subtly shift in his seat as his eyes flit from your chest, to your hips, then slowly up to your face.

“Tch, c’mon n’ let’s go, ya cocky lil shit,”

So there you all were, the smell of sweat, sex, and alcohol wafting through the air. You and the crew stood in front if the bustling club, live with energy. You and Mina we're going to practically buzzing with excitement. Glasses of sickly sweet drinks were poured, making the person who ingested them feel light and airy, like they were on top of the world.

“Alright ladies n’ gents, let's go get some shots cause I'm tryna drunk n’ nasty,” she spoke, sending a wink to Kirishima, making him wink right back.

“Do not make babies on the dancefloor, I beg of you,” Sero mumbled as you laughed, grabbing Mina’s hand, then she grabbed Ochacco’s, who grabbed Hagakure’s, who then grabbed Jirou’s as you all head to the bar, leaving the guys stuck.

Soon, drinks were poured, music was bumping, people were dancing and having a good time, as they should. The honey-colored liquid made your head float as you moved your body with your friends to the bass thumping through the club.

You were feeling the music, the fun, having a great time, but there was one issue. Katsuki hadn’t been paying you attention all night. He only really conversated when you stopped at the bar to get another drink, or whenever you and the girls took a break from dancing. The thought made you subtly pout in frustration.

You began to move your hips provocatively, wining and twisting your lips, hypnotizing anyone who looked. This caused a bit of an uproar, seeing as more and more people began to crowd around you, hyping you up. Katsuki heard the commotion on the floor, eyebrow raising as he wondered what the hell was going on. He moved past the people, subtly not-so-subtly shoving past people. Once he saw, his eye twitched in irritation.

You, his girl, his woman, was in the center of the floor putting on a show for everyone to see. You were throwing ass so disrespectfully in that dress, he was surprised the cops weren’t called for disrespectful-ass throwing. Katsuki watched silently, feeling his blood boil while perverted eyes watched you, lusted for you. How dare they? You were his, and his only.

His final straw was when someone, a man, slinked closer to you. Katsuki couldn't tell who he was, or what he looked like, due to the lighting of the club. He watched as the guy stuck out a hand, reaching for your ass.

“Oh, hell no,” the blond thought to himself, angrily trudging over to you. You glanced, seeing Katsuki getting closer.

“Kats-”

“Shut up, we need to talk,” you couldn't even get a word out, you were too busy being dragged to the back of the club, down the dark hallway, and into the bathroom, the door licking behind the both of you.

“Have you lost, you're fuckin’ mind?!” he exclaimed as you winced at his tone, it making your head pound.

“Shhhhh, you're so loudddd. Besides, don't even know why y’ care. Y’ haven't been payin’ me no attention allllll night. What, cause I put on a little show, it's an issue?” you asked as he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut as he breathed out deeply.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, obviously being over this bullshit.

“Mmkay, while you're in here havin’ your bitch fit, I'm gonna go out n’ continue to par-” his hand slammed up, blocking you from the doorway. You looked at his hand and arm like it was a foreign object, wondering what the hell he thought this was.

“Uh, excuse me? I don't know who the hell you think you blo...” you sentence trailed off as you looked into his eyes, them darkened with lust. He looked down at you, the way your brown skin looked in the red lights of the bathroom, the way that little, black dress fit tightly in all the right places.

“You,” he gripped your waist, turning you and pinning you against the sink counter.

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere. You wanna put on a show for everybody to see what's mine? Fine, I'll show you why you're mine,” all of a sudden, your hands were being pinned on the counter, hissing as a shooting pain going up your spine, asscheek throbbing.

“Katsu-”

“Shut it, slut. I obviously gotta remind you who you belong to since you wanna act out,” he bent you over farther, smacking your ass again, earning a shocked gasp from you. There was something different in his eyes, something feral. It made your thighs mush together as you felt your core pooling with heat.

He smacked your ass again, a slight moan escaping your mouth from the pleasurable pain. His hand trailed down your spine, flipping up the back of the dress, seeing your panty-less behind.

“N’ you got the nerve to not wear panties either? Oh, baby,” he leaned down, close to your ear while grabbing your hair to pull you back.

“I'm gonna fuck you nice and good,”

Katsuki’s hand tightened around your neck, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. You squealed loudly as you felt Katsuki’s fingers plunging into you, curling and hitting against all the right spots.

“Ngh! Kats-shit!” You exclaimed, biting your lips as Katsuki’s fingers moved faster and faster.

“Look at you, takin’ these fingers like a fuckin’ slut. Show me how good it feels, baby,” he commanded in your ear as your eyes rolled, letting out a loud moan, clutching his hand that was placed on your waist.

He bit his lip at the sight of you, his lover, melting at his touch and begging him to slow down. It made his bulge throb against the fabric of his pants.

“Mmm, look at you babygirl, look at how pretty you look,” your head hung low as you breathed deeply, your legs shaking and your core throbbing as you juices ran down your legs and onto his fingers.

“You heard me, slut,”

Suddenly, your head was yanked up by your hair, Bakugou forcing you to look at yourself.

“When I tell you to fuckin’ do somethin’, you take orders like a hood little slut, you hear?” He asked as you mumbled something unintelligible.

“Oi,” he smacked the side of your face, yanking you back roughly and then gripping around your jaw, holding your face class to his.

“You should know, I don’t like fuckin’ repeatin’ myself. When I tell you to fuckin’ do somethin’, you do it. You fuckin’ understand?” He asked, gripping around your neck.

“Yes!” You cried as Katsuki smacked your ass with thunder hard force.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes daddy!” You exclaimed as he chuckled menacingly, licking his lips mischievously.

“Good, goood girlll, such a good girl. In fact,” you heard the sound of a zipper unzipping and something, thick, hard, and throbbing against your asscheek.

“You feel what you do to me, slut? Hmm?” He asked, smacking his shaft against your ass.

“Answer me,” another hard slap to your ass.

“Fuck! Yes!” You exclaimed.

“You want me to fuck you? Hmm?” He asked, biting his bottom lip as he rubbed the tip against your swollen, wet folds.

“Yes,” you muttered, barely audible.

You yelped out in pain as he smacked your ass.

“I can’t hear you, slut. Say it again for me, you want me to fuck you?” He asked.

“Yes,” you spoke, a little louder this time.

Another smack, a burning hot sensation that brought tears to your eyes.

“Louder, baby,”

“Yes!” Another hard slap again.

“Louder, slut,” he smacked your ass roughly as you choked back a sob, feeling your ass throbbing.

“Yes! God, fuck me!” You whined loudly as Katsuki chuckled, subtly rubbing your abused ass.

“Of course I’ll fuck you, babe. But first,” you were forced on your knees, gripped by the back of your neck, and forced to look up at Katsuki.

“You’re gonna take care of the shit you caused,” he said, smacking his tip against your lips.

“Open,” you obliged.

“Get to it, and if you stop, I’ll face fuck you until you’re fuckin’ crying,” you immediately got to it, working both your hands, mouth, and tongue around his shaft, teasing his tip and gagging around his length.

“Ahhhh, fuck, baby. That fuckin’ mouth,” he groaned, his head falling back in pleasure as he held your hair back in a makeshift ponytail. You moaned around the base of him as you deepthroat him, not helping but to touch yourself as the faces and noises he was making.

“Yeah, that’s it bitch, c’mon. Suck that dick like your life fuckin’ depends on it,” you gagged again as you pulled back, globs of spit and precum dripping down your chin.

“C’mon, sexy bitch, keep goin’ until I cum all over that mouth and those pretty tits of yours,” you began to suckle his balls, jerking him off and massaging the tip of him, his head falling back as he let out a loud moan.

“Yeahhhh, baby, c’mon, c’mon, just like-AH!” Katsuki felt himself throb in your mouth, him hunching over you and letting out a slight whimper as he came down your throat, pulling out of your mouth as cum came spurting out onto your lips and chest.

“Get up, ‘n turn the fuck around, I’m not done with you yet,” you stood, turning so your back faced him and he bent you over, the cool ceramic porcelain of the sink making you nipples hard because of the cold.

Without warning, Katsuki slammed into you, making you scream. He pulled you back by your neck, choking you as he thrust roughly into you.

“Ahh! Katsukiiii!” You whined as your ass clapped and jiggled against him.

“Yeah? That feel good?” He asked as you moaned, nodding.

“Tell me,”

“Feels so good! Your d-dick ‘s so good!” You moaned as he bit his lip, groaning lowly in your ear.

“Yeah? I’m the only one who can give you dick this good, huh?” He asked.

“Yesss! Only you-FUCK!” You yelled as he hit that spot, making you take it.

“Mmm, you’re the only one I want, the only one I wanna give this dick to, the only one who I know can take it like a good girl,” Katsuki praised as you moaned, feeling a knot in your stomach building up.

“K-Kats! ‘M ‘gna cum!” You mewled as Katsuki tilted your head back, kissing you sloppily.

“Cum for me then, baby. Keep takin’ that dick, just like that. You take it so good, baby, I’m so proud of you. Cum, cum for me,” he gently coaxed as the knot in your stomach finally realeased, your vision scattering with white dots and your voice leaving your body as you began to orgasm, Katsuki still stroking in and out of you.

“Take it, take it baby, ‘cause I’m not stoppin’ til I cum in that sweet, pretty little pussy of yours,” your eyes rolled back as you begged him to slow down but he kept the pace.

“Ahhhh! Katsukiiiiii!” You cried, feeling your legs shake as you creamed down your legs and all over his dick.

“Yessss, yes baby, fuck!” He hissed, leaning forward and pressing his chest against your back, holding you close, massaging your tits as he came inside you, shooting his load into you as he groaned in your ear, catching his breath.

“K-Kats,” you slurred, feeling drowsiness overwhelm you.

“I know…I know. Here, lemme clean you,” Katsuki then grabbed a few paper towels and wiping up the mess on your legs, face and chest.

He then kissed your swollen ass, softly rubbing the abused flesh. He then stood up, kissing your softly.

“You ok?” He asked as you slumped forward, breathing deeply against his chest. He chuckled, kissing your forehead. He slipped off your heels and fixed himself, picking you up bridal style as he carried you out of the club bathroom.

“Where have you guys be-ohhhhh,” Denki wiggled his eyebrows as Katsuki knowingly as the blond mouthed ‘shut the fuck up’, and his ignored all of the playful taunts towards him.

“Jeez, Bakugou, knocked her out, huh?” Kirishima asked as the blond scoffed.

“Yeah, yeah, but it just lets all these other fuckers know that nobody can have her, also,” Bakugou smiled smugly.

“Nobody can beat the pussy up like me,”

[panfishonthefly]

The Perfect Fly Rod for Panfish

Hands down, the most frequent question I am asked is what is the ideal rod for chasing panfish. Before I answer that question, we need to consider our quarry. Panfish is a term that covers a broad range of fish, including members of the sunfish family, including crappie, rock bass, and warmouth, as well non-sunfish like white and yellow perch, white bass, yellow bass, Rio Grande Cichlids, and several other smaller freshwater fish. While these fish may be on the small side, they are hard fighters that live in a wide range of habitats and eat a wide variety of flies, from tiny midges to big air-resistant poppers and foam or hair bugs.

The perfect panfish fly rod must perform well on a small farm pond or sprawling reservoirs, as well as tiny creeks and big rivers. It should be able to delicately cast a tiny dry fly, as well as handle a sizeable hard-bodied popper. I should be able to handle streamers and nymphs fished on floating and sinking fly lines. That's a tall order for any fly rod, but the ideal panfish rod must be light enough to allow you to appreciate the fight of these diminutive fish.

While I love the fight of scrappy bluegill on an ultralight two or three-weight fly rod, these rods are often too light to handle some of the larger, less aerodynamic flies I enjoy fishing. Casting double fly rigs, something I do quite often, on these light rods can be difficult, especially in windy conditions. As a result, I have settled on four-weight fly rods as my daily driver, although I still fish lighter rods when conditions are right for it.

A fly rod around seven and a half feet in length is ideal for me. It is long enough to make long casts on open water but compact enough to use on small streams or areas with a lot of overhead cover. While the current trend is to make rods stiffer and faster, I prefer slower, softer rods as they fit my casting style. I also like how mid or full-flex rods allow you to appreciate the fight of these smaller fish. A good bluegill will bend this type of rod down to the cork!

Fiberglass, especially modern S-glass rods, fit this bill perfectly. The only downside to these rods has been their ability to cast some of the larger flies I fish or deal with very windy conditions. I have often wished some of my favorite glass rods had a little more backbone in the butt section to deal with wind, big flies and the occasional big bass grabs a fly intended for panfish,

Building The Perfect Panfish Fly Rod

This past January, while attending the Fly Fishing Show as a featured fly tier in Marlborough, Massachusetts, I struck up a conversation with Jordan Ross, the owner of JP Ross Fly Rods. I was introduced to Jordon by good friend and fellow fly tier Fritz Miller, who owned a few JP Ross fly rods. He knew Jordon had a soft spot for panfish and thought we should meet.

During a slow spell at the show, I wandered over to the JP Ross booth to check out some of their fly rods. While speaking with Jordon, it became clear that we had similar tastes in fly rods. I cast a few of his rods and frankly loved them all, but they were similar to other glass rods I already owned. When I mentioned my desire to have a modern, lightweight, s-glass rod that could handle big flies (as well the occasional bass), cast in windy conditions yet still allow me to appreciate the fight of a smaller fish, his eyes lit up. He had a project he was working on that might solve my problems. He developed a fiberglass fly rod called the Toad. What set this rod apart from other glass four and five-weight glass rods on the market today was the fact that this rod was built with a stiffer butt section but retained a traditional feel in the top three sections. Jordon modified the butt section of this rod to make it more stiff and stronger for applications that need a little more backbone in the butt. While doing so, he kept the ferrule design the same; that means the TOAD butt section is interchangeable with their normal S-Glass fly rods.

Jordon handed me a 7 1/2 foot four weight with a Toad butt section, and I headed back to the casting pond. On my first cast, I could immediately feel the difference. That stiffer butt section allowed me to put as much power as I wanted into the cast, and the fly rod responded perfectly, laying out long, accurate casts as well as handling a short line with ease. I was sold.

We discussed collaborating on a rod project during the show, and I agreed without hesitation. Jordon brought in the incredibly talented artist Jeff Kimball to make the rod something special. Jeff Kimball's artwork appears on several of JP Ross's fly rods, and I was very excited to see what he could come up with regarding a panfish-themed rod. The results are breathtakingly beautiful.

In a few months, I had a JP Ross Panfish On The Fly edition fly rod in my hands. While I wanted to start spreading the word about this collaboration immediately, I wanted to put the rod through its paces first to ensure it performed as well as I thought it would. I have tested the fly rod in various fishing situations this past year and I am thoroughly pleased with the results.

Of course, my main objective was to use the rod for panfish. I used the rod at the start of the season, casting delicate midge patterns to early-season panfish. As the season progressed, the rod passed its second test delivering streamers and multiple wet fly rigs to pre-spawn sunfish and crappies. This past summer, the rod flawlessly handled bulky foam bugs, hair bugs, and popper/dropper rigs. Throughout the season, I fished in various conditions ranging from blustery late winter days to windless, sultry summer evenings. The rod cast flies of all sizes and still allowed me to appreciate the fight of smaller fish. As is usually the case, several larger predators were encountered, including a largemouth bass that topped the scales over five pounds. The stiffer butt section on this fly rod allowed me to handle this big fish with confidence.

In addition to my panfishing endeavors, I brought the rod along with me on several trips around the country. I used it to fish for smallmouth bass and landlocked salmon in Maine. While I typically would not use a four-weight in these situations, I wanted to put the new rod to the test, and it performed wonderfully. The fly rod also traveled with me to the mountain west where it felt at home on the small backcountry streams where I fished. I even put it through what I would call a torture test by fishing it on the Madison River, where it successfully landed several rainbow and brown trout over twenty inches. If you have ever fished a big river like the Madison, you know how strong these big trout can be.

After an entire fishing season, the rod has lost that "new" look. The fine cork grip has been darkened with the slime of hundreds of fish, but the artwork on the reel seat and blank still shines as bright as the first time I took the rod out of the tube. I have caught many species of sunfish, crappie, rock bass, large and smallmouth bass, rainbow, brook, and brown trout, landlocked salmon, and even arctic grayling on this rod over the last few months. It has cast everything from delicate spinners to big poppers, and I am happy to say that the rod has exceeded my expectations. I am ready to share it with the world!

If you are interested in a rod for yourself…

The purchaser can customize JP Ross fly rods in several ways. If the artwork I selected does not resonate with you, let Jordan know, and he can discuss other options with you. In addition to the standard reel seat artwork, you can add custom artwork to the blank, the butt cap of the reel seat, and the rod tube. This customization also applies to the grip. If you do not like the tapered half-wells cork grip I selected, you can customize the grip to your liking.

I want to be brutally honest here. Do you need a custom-built fly rod to enjoy fly fishing for panfish? Absolutely not! The motto of JP Ross Fly Rods is "Simply Fish," and that certainly applies here. I often tell folks to fish the rods that you already own. Don't sweat if it is a little too light or a bit too heavy. Just get out, enjoy the great outdoors, and fish. However, if you have been searching for the perfect panfish fly rod, I have one for you to consider. Check out the JP Ross "Panfish on the Fly" edition TOAD 7'6" 4 weight four pc fly rod. If you decide to pick one up, you will not be disappointed!

The rods are available now and can be ordered directly through JP Ross Fly Rods. If you decide to purchase a Panfish On The Fly edition JP Ross Fly Rod, you will support both JP Ross and Panfish On The Fly, as a portion of these sales will go to Panfish On The Fly. Click the button below for more information or purchase a rod.

If you have any questions about this build, don't hesitate to contact me (the button below will take you to my email). I am happy to share my impressions and answer any questions. You can also reach out to Jordan at JP Ross Fly Rods. He can fill you in on the design aspects of the fly rod and discuss any customizations you may be interested in. In addition, Jordan can set you up with a complete outfit, including a rod, reel, and line if desired.

If you decide to pick up a JP Ross Panfish On The Fly edition, please share your thoughts with me! I would love to hear from you.

[prismaticpichu]

Happy Friday y’all!! You made it! Hope it was an amazing week full of progress and good food!

Here’s a random fic crumb fresh from the WIP not-folder! The plot that’s baking is prolly pretty obvious xD (I also learned that writing the pupper’s perspective tends to split my writing style right down the middle- and I’m having fun with that bisection!)

“Sephiroth?”

The SOLDIER's head jolted up, emerald eyes blinking just as rapidly.

Well. He was definitely getting better at responding to his name.

"Yea—“ Shoot. Zack swallowed the syllables mid-throat, masking the blunder by clearing it. "Yes?"

It was Heidegger who had barked at him, two sharp brows furrowed in... annoyance? Offense? An idle drift of his gaze revealed that everyone in the briefing roof was staring at him, an awkward spectrum of different emotions pinning him down: some eyes were dark, some bore impatience, a majority crackling with shock—as shocked as these masked people could be.

He was about to open his mouth and ask what gives... before suddenly becoming very aware of the heavy, glistening weight pressing down on his hand. Lips stitched shut, he willed his eyes to float right.

...Oh for Ifrit's sake, what was wrong with him? The General of SOLDIER was not supposed to have an entire pound of hair all caught up in his fingers! Especially not twined around each digit like a spool.

Many, many more things in his body twisting, Zack unsnarled his hair and straightened. He could not blush. He could NOT.

"Please, continue," he said Seph-smoothly, like a velvet bass, and prayed that it would be enough to drive their attention away.

It did not.

President ShinRa's air of probing radiated with policelike intensity. “What are your opinions on the matter, Sephiroth?" The man laced his fingers together, a frown causing the edges of his leaden face to wilt. Searching.

Blessedly, Seph's body didn't sweat easily.

It took what had to be an applaudable amount of willpower not to swallow. He thought not letting his gaze flicker to the clock would be enough—more than enough. Sure, looking like a bored Zack Fair in the 4th grade wasn't part of the plan, but neither was actively contributing. He hadn't been listening! Everything was just a dazed, torturous blur of statistics and... something corporal; there was nothing for him to even remotely paw at for an answer.

"Sephiroth, what is the matter with you?" Hojo's voice was much more scolding, condescending, something of an urgent warning prowling underneath. The man was eyeing ShinRa without looking in his direction, and the fraction of ShinRa's focus that wasn't latched onto him was reciprocated onto Hojo in return.

What would you say... what would you say... c'mon, what would you say, bud, help me... Oh who was he kidding. Seph would have listened to every word even if it was tearing him asunder from the inside.

“I'm indifferent," he finally answered, time too fragile to hold anymore. It seemed ike an adjective that encompassed Seph regardless, so... score? He just had better agreed to something Seph really couldn't care less about. And if he didn’t—

Almost immediately a flare of horror and regret shot through him, storming with heart-clapping paranoia. Gaia, oh Gaia what if he agreed to destroy the slums? The church? What if they asked him if they could change Seph's hair? Seph cherished his hair! He would never forgive himself. What if… what if he approved removing any and all second-in-commands for SOLDIER? He would never see Seph again…

The eyes lingered on him for just a moment longer, just a torrid, humid moment before ShinRa leaned back and regained some degree of satisfaction; Heidegger scoffed; Palmer took a tired sip of his drink; Tseng's quirked eyebrow descended. Hojo's glare was the last to fade, only turning his head away in a purposefully slow manner. Leaving his little watery handprint.

"It's settled then," Heidegger continued, leaving no room for amendments. "We will reduce the water pressure in the facilities by 20%."

And all again, all eyes were on him when Zack let out a long, heavy sigh of relief.

[tonkifetish]

My friend pedro xbox game pass

My friend pedro xbox game pass movie#

A lot of the elements I’ve discussed do not sound like they would work while put together, however after finishing the game I have to say they definitely do. The game’s length feels appropriate to me personally as I feel it had a well-set gameplay loop that couldn’t have lasted several hours, however, I know some would like a more long-form experience which is why I focused upon replayability earlier on in this review. My Friend Pedro is a game that when looked at as a whole is a very enjoyable and memorable experience, even when some of the individual aspects are lacking that same gravity. The only aspect of the soundtrack that may be an issue for some is the lack of variety as what was there is great, but it does mostly stick to one genre. It reminds me in a lot of ways of how Hotline Miami uses its music, with repetitive but catchy techno beats which put the player in an almost mindless state in which they do the job at hand even when not knowing exactly why all the time. In terms of music, the game goes for a very techno/drum and bass sound which I think works with the gameplay very effectively. This art style rule is not always kept to, however, as one of the game levels is called ‘Pedro’s world’ (pictured below) and has a colour palette and style that is heavily surreal and almost the stereotypical appearance of an acid trip in other media. For the majority of the game, the graphics/art style are based in a realistic but stylised setting of a city with pops of the outlandish through Pedro who appears with a strange aura around him showing his importance and otherworldly nature. The aesthetics of My Friend Pedro include a clashing of styles that manage to blend together well and manage to keep a consistent level of immersion despite the absurdity. The plot takes a back seat to the gameplay and aesthetics, but the effort is still put into making the story not feel boring. It’s a very simple plot concept but I feel the writing still holds up to make the game feel more unique than the base concept with a great deal of humour and takes pleasure in the absurdity of what is happening within it. The protagonist wakes up in a butcher shop with the aforementioned Pedro telling the player of what has previously occurred, sending the player on a path of revenge. While the gameplay is very ‘action movie’ in its approach, the story is more of an acid trip as you adventure through many environments with your floating banana friend Pedro. To put it in a single sentence, the plot of this game is insane, funny and very off the wall. This provides a good incentive for those that enjoy the gameplay to replay the game with these modifiers as the game isn’t ultra-long so any excuse for replayability is much appreciated. Throughout the majority of levels, there are yellow collectables that once collected give the player a gameplay tweak such as infinite ammo, changing the player’s size and many more to be used after you first complete the campaign. One critique I do have for the controls is how the flips work, wall-jumping is very intuitive and easy to pull off so no complaints there but flipping in mid-air which needs to be done to complete a tutorial is very finicky and I almost never used it after the tutorial. As the game goes on you gain more weapons which allow for you to choose how you approach each scenario which is great, however, the SMGs felt a little underwhelming once you gain the assault rifle, becoming more of a backup in case you run out of ammo in my experience at least.

My friend pedro xbox game pass movie#

Where I feel this gameplay really shines is when it adds in something extra to the level, such as one level where you’re skydiving as you chase the level’s end-boss or the levels where they give you a skateboard or barrel to travel on which adds better motion and flow to the combat and again feels like an unstoppable action movie character. The title is a side-scrolling action game in which you shoot your way through levels while doing some small puzzle sections along the way. My Friend Pedro is a visceral experience in which you feel like you’re the star of your own action movie with some of the ridiculous set pieces and moves at the player’s disposal. DeadToast Entertainment have made a short but sweet game that feels like it was swept under the rug by a lot of people, despite having pulled off a wonderful blend of action and the absurd. Through its tone, visuals, story and gameplay My Friend Pedro feels like a wonderful cacophony of elements that gives it its own identity which will be an acquired taste I’m sure… but it’s a taste I really appreciated. A game that embodies this simple joy is My Friend Pedro. One of the largest joys within the world of indie games is finding something which feels incredibly unique… if a bit odd at times in said uniqueness.

[sexy-opium-ravioli]

Dating Marceline HC's

-Hey babes!! These dating HC's have NSFW under the cut, so be warned!!! Hope y'all enjoy :)

Dynamics:

Marceline... She has trust issues.

In any universe where she takes a romantic interest in you, she and Bonnibel didn't really work out.

And for a pair that's curated their relationship over the span of decades, perhaps even centuries? Well, that's some leftover hurt.

So you might come into the picture long after that. For any timeframe, Finn might be in his late forties? Jake, however stretchy, still had the lifespan of an average dog. Had.

Marceline doesn't really believe in rebounds and for awhile after the relationship with Bonnie ended, she flew solo for awhile.

Until she stumbled upon you.

At first, things are real cautious on both sides.

Who?? Is this weird goth lady that literally never touches sunlight?

And on her end she just thinks you're a beam of sunlight, so. There's kind of an oil-water reaction happening.

Slowly, however, over a span of years, things bleed together.

You guys hang out in the vast reaches of Ooo every so often, maybe hang out at each other's house later on.

Marceline learns your interests and hobbies. You learn her love for red, singing and playing the bass.

Eventually, you guys have sleepovers and giggle under forts. She introduces you into her group of friends, Finn, Jake, Peppermint Butler. The sleepovers, of course, grow in size.

Eventually, she invites you to one of her concerts. Usually they're mid sized venues at the cemetery with pretty good turn outs, she's had centuries to build a reputation, after all.

You've never went because she treated it like an intimate thing to behold, and although she performed for others, she never did for you.

Until she gave you free tickets.

That was the main turning point in your guy's relationship. After it started, Marceline still held a lot of that caution.

But she'd give you little smiles, or float over to where you were and interlock her fingers with yours and nuzzle her head in your neck.

Marceline, no matter how moody or boisterous she seems to outsiders, is someone who is kind of reserved behind closed doors. Eventually, she opens them for you.

Remember to be patient with her. Even though she's hundreds of years old, really a millennia, she still has the brain chemistry of an older teenager. Sometimes her emotional processing isn't the best, so it's important to walk her through things patiently.

She loves you dearly. She'll give you small hints of her perception- your favorite type of drink that's stocked up, moss on the porch that you said needed cleaning is already gone when you get home. Things like that.

Romance:

Marceline, the Vampire Queen, does in fact like making out with you. It's one of her favorite things like, ever. Ever ever.

It's just very calming for her, knowing that the person she loves is in her arms. And even though her insecurities might tell her that they'll leave eventually, she finds that in the moment, she has them now.

It was your guy's three year anniversary. Not even a speck of time to Marceline, but she knew that tonight would feel special anyways, because it was you she was celebrating, as you celebrated her.

So, she spruced the house up. Sent you away for a couple of days (who was she kidding. She didn't even try for a cover story, she just sent you to the treehouse for nearly a week), and employed the help of some friends to freshen things up.

Repaint the walls, fix some furniture, help out the porch, put up string lights. Things like that. She even put up pictures of the both of you on her wall, all thanks to BMO.

When it was time for you to finally come home, it was like looking at a house that was just built a thousand years ago. It held an ancient air to it, but it felt young at the same time. Like Marceline.

You stepped in the door, and there she was. Your love, with a feast for a dinner in the middle of the dining room. She looked lovely, her hair up in a bun and her eyes adorned with eyeliner. Not too much changed, but just enough to be formal.

You two sat, and ate, and talked together. Grocery shopping plans mixed in with 'Glob, I love you so much,'s and handholding.

Eventually, Marceline has a look in her eye. A twinkle that says she's up to no good, but you'll like her antics anyways.

She walks over to you. She kisses you, and with all the sparkle in her eyes, she bends down on one knee and holds out a simple wedding band from her pocket.

Of course you say yes.

(And then she starts making out with you).

NSFW:

Not surprisingly, Marceline has had a lot of time to herself to explore her anatomy and the anatomy of her partners. And even though every partner is unique when it comes to their sex preferences, still still notices things across the board that help.

It seems like with a flick of her fingers she can get you to cum, it doesn't take very long.

But where's the rush? Where's the fun?

What I'm trying to say is that this woman is into edging and orgasm denial and you will have to fight me on this-

She just loves taking her time with you. Getting you riled up for hours before giving you what you desire.

You also cannot tell me that she likes giving you bites. Especially on the neck, shoulders, wrists and chest.

What does she prefer? Well, considering how little control she's had in her life, she might like some in the bedroom. She likes telling you what to do, when to do it, and I feel like she genuinely prefers anyone who's obedient. She craves for things to run smoothly.

Sometimes, she does step down for you to give her hours of pleasure. These are rare occasions, but still very memorable.

She's very playful and kind of sarcastic in bed, but she's also extremely sweet when the moment calls for it. Marceline can make you cry with words.

👏DO👏NOT👏TELL👏ME👏 that during aftercare she doesn't sing in your ear while she's cleaning you up or feeding you chocolate covered strawberries. Don't tell me. I will not listen nor will I perceive.

All in all, Marceline is an extremely complex but rewarding lover who deserves the world.

[jared-19-cant-reid]

Mirror, Mirror

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader (no “y/n”)

Rating: M

Summary: A stranger catches your eye from across the bar. He seems reserved at first, but you can tell he’s holding something back. When he gets you alone, you see a side of him you didn’t expect-- but definitely weren’t complaining about.

Word Count: 3.7K

Content Warnings: Alcohol, cursing, suggestive dialogue, Dom!Spencer, Brat/Sub!Reader, daddy kink, choking, fingering, oral (female receiving), slapping, light degradation, overstimulation, other general filth

A/N: This one was a lot of fun to write! It ended up being a little (gasp) fluffy at the end, maybe if literally one person asks me to I’ll do a part two. Hope y’all enjoy!

Shooting the bartender a grateful smile, you raised the shot of tequila to your lips. You scrunched up your nose at the burn; you still weren’t used to the taste of alcohol. As a warm feeling spread through your chest, you began to relax. You were here to have a good time, after all-- at least, according to your friends. 

They had dragged you here claiming you needed to “loosen up”, and it seemed to be working. By now, the hypnotic music had drowned out all lingering worries that would have otherwise plagued you, and your friends were pleasantly surprised when you didn’t protest as they dragged you to the dance floor. 

As you swayed your body to the rhythm of a song you didn’t know, you felt the stress of the week melt off of you. Responsibilities be damned, you were going to have fun tonight. Your laugh floated like bubbles from your lips into the air and your body moved smoothly of its own accord like you had been hypnotized by the booming bass, and you were so lost in your own world you almost didn’t notice the man staring at you from the bar. Almost.

His piercing gaze only met yours for a second, dropping to the drink in his hand when he realized he had been caught staring. A small smile formed on your lips as you said a quick goodbye to your friends, ignoring their cheers in favor of examining the man you were now approaching. Even in the low light, you could tell his was the kind of face that haunted your daydreams for years after you saw it. 

By the time you were close enough to admire his hazel eyes, they had found yours, his eyebrow quirking up as you sat on the barstool next to him. Running a nervous hand through his hair and taking a sip of something that looked like whiskey, he clearly hadn’t expected to be approached by the stranger he’d watched from afar. Something about his hesitance only drew you in more. What was he holding back?

“See something you like?” you asked coyly, batting your eyelashes at the man you were growing more interested in with every second spent in his proximity. He coughed mid-sip, taken aback by your forwardness. When he regained his breath, his eyes flickered up and down your body once more, the way they lingered on your curves sending a surge of pride through your chest. There was something behind the curiosity in his gaze, but you couldn’t tell what. 

“I, uh…” he struggled for a response, eventually landing on “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

You chuckled in response, amused at the thought of being bothered by catching this polite, insanely attractive man looking at you. You quickly reassured him you were anything but uncomfortable, which sent a red tint to his ears, clearly unused to such overt flirting. A smile ghosted over your lips as you told him your name, and you were met with his in return: Spencer. 

You resolved to find out just what Spencer was holding back, inviting him outside. He hesitated at first, but seemed relieved to get out of the crowded bar as he followed you through the doors. As you looked at him under the light of the streetlamp, you realized the dim bar light hadn’t done him justice. 

You imagined how the slight stubble on his jaw would feel against your inner thighs, trailing your eyes up and down his body once more as you took in the details that you had been so cruelly deprived of before. He did the same to you, though more subtly and quickly, clearly still trying to be respectful. You hoped he wasn’t too attached to that goal.

“What’s a guy like you doing in a bar like this?” you questioned, genuinely curious. “It doesn’t really seem like your scene.” It didn’t; his reserved manner and clear disdain for crowds had stuck out like a sore thumb. 

“Long day at work. I came with some coworkers but they left a little while ago.” he spoke, downward gaze conveying his reluctance to talk about work. I decided to avoid the subject.

“Guess I’m lucky you decided to stay, then,” you smiled. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you took a deep breath and rushed the words out: “Do you maybe want to get a cab back to my place?”

He paused, eyes scanning your face once more. “You’re drunk,” he observed.

“I’m tipsy at best. Not that it matters, I’d invite you home stone cold sober.”

The corners of his mouth twitched up at that, but he stopped himself, pressing his lips into a thin line before speaking again. “Did you know that alcohol consumption increases levels of dopamine and norepinephrine in the brain, lowering inhibitions, increasing excitement, and encouraging impulsivity?”

You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness. “I’m not hearing a no. Last time I heard, dopamine wasn’t a bad thing. Actually, I’m thinking of a few other ways I could get a dopamine rush right now.”

Your neurochemistry-based flirtation seemed to be his breaking point, wordlessly pulling out his phone and struggling with his phone as he ordered an Uber. Your brows furrowed in confusion, replacing the victorious smile that had spread across your face. 

“I thought we were going to my place?”

“Mine’s closer, I promise,” he replied, putting his phone away. As his hands struggled with the power button, you couldn’t help but stare. You blinked away images of one of his large hands gripping your wrists, wrapping around your neck, trailing down your body… You looked back up to see him fighting a smirk, clearly having caught you looking. 

Your heartbeat quickened at the realization that this was actually happening, and he noticed the change in your face. Before he could speak, you stepped forward, coming close enough to smell his cologne and feel his body warmth. You hadn’t realized until this moment how tall he was-- he had to be at least 6 feet tall, maybe 6’1”. As you looked up at him, you could see the tension in his body as he clung to his last ounce of restraint. You leaned forward slowly, feeling his breath on your lips as your eyes fluttered shut, only to open again in surprise when he pulled back.

“Not yet.” he said simply, gritting his teeth and taking a step back as your Uber pulled up to the curb. As you got in the car, your heart raced with anticipation, every second until you could be alone together feeling like an eternity. You tugged at the hem of your tight dress, trying to cover up a little in the nighttime chill. Still bitter about the almost-kiss, you decided to tease him a little bit. 

Pressing your thighs together, you gasped lightly and pulled your lip between your teeth. You felt Spencer’s eyes on you, and though he didn’t respond verbally you knew you were in trouble. The space between you in the backseat felt electrically charged, the stolen glances you shared on the quiet ride to his place leaving you buzzing with anticipation. 

He was right to say his was closer, you realized as the car came to a stop mere minutes after leaving the bar. Though you’d been impatient to arrive, once you actually stepped out of the car you were hit with a wave of nerves. It wasn’t that you hadn’t had one night stands before, you had, but never with someone you felt this strongly about. Going home with someone you were so drawn to was a sharp contrast with your lukewarm chemistry with frat guys who would take home any girl with a pulse. 

As he fumbled with the lock on the door, you studied him one last time. This wasn’t a man who would bring a girl home just for the sake of a warm body in his bed. This was a man who thought things through carefully, who had moved with purpose once he’d made his decision. You wondered what new side of him lay beyond this threshold. You didn’t have much time to think about it before he opened the door, nodding for you to go in first. 

Stepping inside, you looked around to find a cozy room you immediately felt at home in. Several bookshelves lined the walls, and as you admired his collection you found it well organized but messy enough to show the books were well loved. An old chess set caught your eye, along with assorted Star Trek memorabilia and trinkets you couldn’t identify the origin of but you were sure held sentimental or intellectual value. You thought you saw a cane leaning against the wall next to the umbrellas, but the train of thought was interrupted when you were slammed back against the door. 

All the air was knocked out of your lungs, not by the impact, but by the intensity of the hungry look in Spencer’s eyes. You were caged in by his arms on either side of you, unable to escape even if you wanted to, but instead of the fear you likely should have felt, your chest was buzzing with pure excitement. He towered over you, his face mere centimeters from yours as he began to speak, his voice low.

“Such a pretty little girl. Just need someone to teach you to behave,” he spat out. Your eyes widened at the words, barely containing a whimper as you looked down to find there was little space separating you. One of his hands left the door to grip your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you. Don’t you have any manners, little girl?”

“Sorry,” you managed to squeak out. His words had affected you more than you thought they would; you were under his spell within seconds of his attention. 

“Sorry, what?” he demanded.

Your eyes widened. You weren’t totally new to this type of play, but you weren’t expecting it from him. You took a guess: “Sorry, sir.”

“Try again.” 

The words send a jolt of electricity through your body. Holy fuck, you thought, is he saying what I think he’s saying? You tried again, your voice barely above a whisper: “Sorry, Daddy.”

His pupils blew wide, his grip on your jaw tightening. ��Good girl,” he breathed. “What’s your safeword, baby?”

You took a second to think about it, finally landing on “sunflower”. 

That was the confirmation Spencer needed to move, closing the space between you in a powerful, hungry kiss. You matched his intensity and tangled your hands in his curls and tugged, earning a moan from him that shot directly to your core. His left hand came down to explore your chest as his right stayed on your jaw, holding you in place. 

You let your hands roam as much of his body as they could reach, one trailing down his torso and reaching the waistline of his pants before a tight grip around your wrist stopped you in your tracks. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he growled. “You don’t get to touch me unless I give you permission. Greedy girl, just begging to be taught a lesson.”

If you weren’t pressed against the door, your knees would have buckled at that. Your breath hitched as he brought his other hand to your neck, squeezing experimentally. The moan that escaped your lips was embarrassingly loud, and the smirk on his face told you this was only the beginning. 

“Look at you, so pathetic for me. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He drawled in a sickly sweet voice.

His hand on your chest wandered lower, slipping under the hem of your dress. You strained to get closer to him, but he pulled his hand away as soon as you moved. You started to complain, but the force with which he pinned your hips to the door with one hand muted you. 

“Be a good girl and stay still for me or you’ll get nothing at all.” He reprimanded.

You nodded, breath shallow as his hand began to trace your inner thighs, so close yet so far from where you wanted him most. You were about to whine when he pulled your panties to the side and, at an unbearably slow pace, eased one finger into your heat. You were panting already, struggling to follow his command to stay still but too desperate for more to do anything that would make him stop. He added a finger and you cried out as your eyes fluttered shut. Apparently Spencer didn’t like that, because his grip on your throat tightened exponentially, demanding your attention.

“Look at me while I’m ruining you, baby.” He punctuated each word with a thrust of his fingers, curling them to hit that spot that made you see stars. You felt like you were going to pass out from pleasure, but you used all your restraint and remaining energy to stay standing and watch Spencer’s face. The man you were looking at now was almost unrecognizable from the man you’d met at the bar. His eyes were hard and unforgiving, and his pace was brutal as he studied your face, watching you fall apart on his hand. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the peak you were so desperate for, but right when you reached the edge he pulled his hand away.

You couldn’t hold back your complaints that time, and his expression darkened as he listened to you whine. You were met with instructions to “shut the fuck up,” as he so eloquently put it, but you wanted to push him.

“What makes you think you have power over me?”

You could tell he was pissed, but instead of yelling, he remained perfectly quiet. Without a word, he raised his hand and forced your jaw open and brought the fingers that had just been inside you to your lips, his silent command hanging in the air.

Opening your mouth wider, you allowed his fingers to enter, wrapping your lips around them and making a show of it. If he was going to shut you up, you were gonna take back some power while he did it. Hollowing your cheeks around the digits, you flattened your tongue against them and cleaned them of your taste. You watched him swallow as he watched you, fully aware of what you were doing. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and wiped them on your cheek before grabbing your wrist and whispering words that sent a shiver down your spine: “You’ll pay for that.”

Before you could even try to respond, he turned and pulled you to his bedroom. You didn’t even have time to look around before you were practically thrown onto the bed. Spencer walked around the bed slowly, watching you with predatory eyes. When he got to the end of the bed, he grabbed your legs and pulled you down so your hips were close to the edge, allowing your dress to ride up to your stomach. 

You saw him getting on his knees, you felt him pull your panties down your legs before discarding them, you were given every hint of what was coming next, but you were still shocked when you felt his tongue against you. A strangled cry left your lips at the sensation, overwhelming your senses as his hands roughly gripped your hips to hold you down. You tangled your fingers through his messy curls, gripping them as if they were all that was holding you to this world. He was merciless in his attack on your bundle of nerves, tasting you like it was for his pleasure instead of yours. It wasn’t long before you felt the tension start to build in your stomach, and you tried to form his name in warning but all that left your lips were broken moans and unintelligible pleas. 

He didn’t ease up, continuing his ministrations as you fell into ecstasy. Your orgasm pulsed through your body in waves, its intensity drowning out everything but the pure feeling of bliss that accompanied that release. You pulled at his hair as you came down, but he kept going, sending jolts through your body. You cried out at the overstimulation, whimpering as the knot formed in your stomach once again, building more quickly since you were still sensitive from your first orgasm. Another wave of pleasure tore through you, your moans becoming softer as you recovered.

Spencer stood up and leaned over you, clearly enjoying seeing you this wrecked for him. He brought a gentle hand to your cheek, wiping away tears of overstimulation you hadn’t noticed forming. You leaned into the touch, his soft hand bringing you back to life. 

“You look so pretty like this. Were you good for Daddy, baby?” He spoke softly, hand still cradling your cheek. You nodded in response, and his eyebrow quirked up at the sentiment. If you had been more attentive, you might have noticed a dangerous glint that formed in his eye just then.

Without warning, his hand left your face only to deliver a slap to the cheek he had just been cradling, your gasp at the contact bringing a cruel smile to his face. He leaned in closer to you, asking you once more.

“Are you sure about that, baby?” He moved even closer, his mouth next to your ear as he whispered, “Good girls don’t cum without permission.”

Fuck.

The look of regret and anticipation on your face told him all he needed to know. He pulled you up, helping you stand as he walked you to the other side of his room. As he guided you carefully, he spoke again:

“I was planning to fuck you on my bed, but I don’t think you deserve it. See, only good girls are allowed in my bed.” 

He dragged you over to his floor-length mirror, pulling down the zipper of your dress that you forgot you still had on. As you hadn’t worn a bra, you were now fully naked… and Spencer was still fully clothed. You didn’t have time to complain about it, distracted by him placing his hand on your lower back to bend you over. Bracing yourself on the large mirror with your hands, you tried not to seem too needy as you reacted to his touch. Apparently the attempt was unsuccessful, because Spencer let out a dark chuckle, watching your face contort in the reflection.

You watched as he slowly undressed, making you wait as long as he could. As you took in the sight of him, your gaze trailed down his torso, your eyes widening at the sight of him. Your shock at his impressive size must have been apparent on your face, because when your eyes met his again you saw a small smirk on his face. Your cheeks reddened, and you looked down to avoid his gaze. Apparently that wasn’t what he wanted, because you soon felt him grab a fistful of your hair, yanking your head up to see yourself in the mirror. He kept his hand there, watching your eyes roll back as he teased your entrance with his head, teasing you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Just fuck me already!” You cried.

From the look on his face, that was the wrong thing to say. You knew you were in for it already, but you were now mentally preparing to be unable to walk the next day. Despite his clear disdain for your words and the tone you’d spoken them in, he did as you asked. With no warning, he slammed into you, giving you no time to recover before setting a brutal pace that turned your moans to a silent scream. His hand in your hair jerked you up again, forcing you to watch as he destroyed you. You were overwhelmed at the sight: your mascara had run down your cheeks, your lips were puffy from the force with which he’d kissed you, and your body was nearly limp in his hands, trembling and fully pliant. 

The look on his face was what really did you in, though. Spencer’s expression told you everything you had wanted to know at the beginning of the night, everything he had been holding back. It told you he owned you, that you were his to ruin, that nobody else would ever compare. It told you that as much as he relished in the power of your obedience, he had needed the release of teaching you a lesson after whatever had happened at work, and enjoyed your brattiness just as much as you did.

You felt yourself getting closer and, remembering your mistake before, started to beg. His look of satisfaction was possibly more erotic than the act itself, and he decided to reward your good behavior. It was that face that pushed you over the edge, sending you into your most powerful orgasm yet, tightening around him as you chanted pleas that were far from coherent, but came down somewhere between “daddy” and “please”. 

Still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm, you felt his pace stutter and watched his reflection as he finally came undone, a look of bliss coming over his face. The feeling of him filling you up was almost enough to bring you to the edge again, but luckily he pulled out before you had to test the theory your body couldn’t handle another orgasm. 

You were dazed and exhausted when Spencer returned with a washcloth, guiding you to his bed and laying you down on it. Still deep in subspace, you mumbled about how “only good girls were allowed on the bed,” and he chuckled, saying you had more than made up for your bad behavior. You whimpered as he cleaned you up, the overstimulation too much for you. He pressed kisses to your thighs at the sound, and eventually fell next to you on the bed. As you curled into his chest, he whispered words of praise, while you mumbled back assurances he hadn’t hurt you and that you had enjoyed the scene. You said something about leaving, but he talked you into staying the night-- not that you were all that difficult to convince, given your current lingering subspace and overall exhaustion. 

While you drifted off to sleep, you listened to Spencer’s heartbeat, allowing the rhythm to soothe you as the two of you became so close you began to breathe as one. You’ve both lived long enough to know what you’d found tonight was rare, so you and Spencer allowed yourselves to find comfort in each other, if only for a night.

[wastelandcth]

be kind - cth

anon requested: can we get a lil piece inspired by be kind by Halsey & marshmallow?

summary: loving calum is a lot of things, like a windy day at the beach. 

author’s notes:i love doing song request and i hope you’ve all been liking them! hope you guys enjoy! 

warnings: angst, calum is feeling down about life. 

masterlist 

Loving Calum had been something new. It was falling in love with the unknown and diving headfirst. Falling in love with Calum felt like all the bad things in life disappeared and all that was left was him. It was him and the way his smile seemed to light up the room. It was the way his laugh echoed through your soul and warmed you from the inside out. Loving Calum felt familiar and like a rush of adrenaline all at once, like driving down an empty highway with the windows down while screaming out the words to your favorite song.

Calum wasn't who most people thought he was. He was a soft and quiet soul, one who could speak a few words and leave you breathless. He was spontaneous even when his thoughts ran through his mind at lightspeed and it seemed like he'd been lost for far too long inside of himself. It wasn't his fault, years of fame and rumors about him made him hide away from most people, made him build up the walls around himself to heal the bruises that had been left behind by mistakes.

The first time you saw him breakdown was when you two were driving down to the beach. He had called you and asked if you were busy, that he'd had a rough day and needed to get his mind off of things. He looked different when you got into the car outside of your apartment, looked like his fingers were bruised from the strings on his bass and his face tired from the fake smile he had worn all day. He didn't look like the Calum you had become used to seeing most day, the bright eyes and shiny smile replaced by a stone-cold face and dull brown eyes.

The beach was usually a happy place for you both, a place to unwind and take in the warm sun. The day had started off like any other day in California, a cloudy morning sky that seemed to disappear as the city went into motion and woke up. Calum had been at the studio since before you'd woken up, his mind too occupied to send his daily good morning message to you. By midday, when you were working on lunch for yourself, the clouds had returned to the sky and seemed to darken up, almost as if the Earth itself could tell that something was off. As the beach got closer and closer, Calum grew silent and the low volume on the radio only seemed to make the tension in the car higher.

You two sat on the sandy dunes for what seemed like hours, watching the waves crashing onto the shore. Calum's head was laying on your lap, your fingers running through his recently grown out curls that he had been meaning to cut for a couple of weeks now. His eyes had been shut for a while now, his mind twisting and turning with every wave that crashed in the distance. It almost felt like the seagulls felt his unease because they soon flapped their wings and soared off into the sky as the wind picked up, momentarily floating, stuck in the air before flying off to the unknown.

"I feel like them sometimes." Calum's voice rang in your ears, your shoulders relaxing a bit as you realized he hadn't spoken since you'd gotten into the car with him earlier that day. Your head leaned to one side, your eyes on his as you waited for him to finish his thought.

"Like the birds, I feel like them sometimes." he sighed and sat up, his shoulder against yours as his eyes searched for something, anything in the horizon but it was all dark grey clouds and tall ocean waves. "Like I'm stuck no matter how hard I try to move and get ahead, I'm just...stuck." he shrugged, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he took a shaky breath in.

You were silent, your hand had moved from his curls to his back, where it moved up and down in an attempt to soothe him and try to ground him from wherever he was stuck. You waited, trying to match your breathing to his in an effort to calm him, trying to see if he'd let out more of what had been stuck in his brain.

"You could find someone so much better than me, you know? All I do is bring you trouble and drama. It's not fair to you, they shouldn't talk about you that way and there's nothing I can do to stop them." his voice was quiet, which you were used to but the ocean waves crashing against the shore and the wind made it harder for you to hear him. Harder for you to distinguish his words in between the pain the was mingled into his voice. "Maybe I'm just afraid to admit that I...." the waves crashed harder, the gray sky making his eyes even darker as you tried to listen to him, "It's always been something that I can't deal with and I'm afraid....." the wind was pushing against your eardrums, making you wince but you squeezed Calum's hand, trying to focus on his lips. "...then I'll be alone and I can't do that again."

You knew about his past relationships, he'd talked about it one night where you were both outside watching the stars. He talked about how he was young and foolish to let himself open up to strangers. How he'd been so naive in letting someone into his heart so easily only to have them stomp on it and leave him broken. You knew that Calum had been wary about letting you in, that he'd been nervous about going out on dates and falling back into the endless cycle of hurt that he'd experienced before.

His last relationship had broken him to almost the point of no return. He'd been so close to devoting himself, to giving his heart and soul to someone for the rest of his life, and then all of a sudden, it was gone. Within a matter of minutes, his life was turned upside down and he was left with an empty house and broken heart.

"You know that isn't true." you finally said, when Calum's voice had stopped shaking and his hands ran through his hair, the wind making it run wild. "You know that you're never going to be alone, Calum. You have me, you have the guys, your family, you always have people that are going to love and care for you." Your hair was slapping against your eyes, making you squint as you squeezed Calum's shoulder.

Calum sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as he tried to make sense of your words. His eyes landed back on one of the seagulls that seemed to have stuck around, following the bird as it jumped into the air and trapped itself mid-air, flapping its wings wildly before flying off into the sky.

"You're meant to find love and be happy Calum. You don't have to...you don't have to push me away because you're scared of what happened last time. You know me, you know I would never do what they did to you." she nodded, "I’ll still be here as long as you'll have me. Even when you don't want me here, I'll still try and keep you around. You're my best friend, my soulmate, and I know that's terrifying to think about but...I love you, I don't want you to think that I don't or that I'll ever stop loving you."

The wind had gotten too loud, the chill making your nose red and your hands shaking. The ringing in your ears made it hard for you to know if Calum heard you or if your words flew out with the seagulls. It wasn't long before Calum's hand found yours and he was up leading you back to the car. Calum's hand was always warm, no matter the weather or the temperature. His warmth spread through you quickly and by the time you were both in the car, the wind outside was no longer an issue.

Your combined breathing was the only thing besides the wind that could be heard, Calum's shakier than yours as you both looked out the windshield, waiting for something, anything. You were used to silence with Calum, it was something you found comfort in the moments of silence, but this was different. It was a silence you hadn't experience before with him, it was tense and made you feel like the storm that was brewing outside.

"Did you really mean that?" he whispered after what seemed like ages, "That I was your soulmate?" he asked, his head turning to face you. His eyes weren't so dull anymore, they had a hint of hope in them, that maybe he had found someone who loved him as much as he loved them.

"Of course I did. You know that I'm always here, right? That if you ever need someone to talk to, I can be there. I love you, Calum." you nodded, squeezing his hand gently.

He nodded, looking down at his hand in yours and smiling a bit. The car roared to life and before you knew it, the rain falling against the windshield was background noise to Calum's hums, bringing life back into the car.

Loving Calum was hard. It was hard because you knew that at any moment it could all disappear and you both would have to pick up your own pieces. It was fear of losing the one person who made your warm on the coldest days and it was fear of not being enough to make him warm too. Loving Calum wasn't new anymore, it was coming home at the end of a long day and realizing you have someone to hold you and listen to you. It was soft voices and sweet kisses that you would gladly get a toothache from. Loving Calum was kind words and even kinder actions, it was being there for him when he was at his lows and celebrating the highs. But the best part about loving Calum was that he wasn't going to go anywhere anytime soon, he wasn't going to leave you to pick up the pieces by yourself, he was there for you and you were there for him. Loving Calum was loving a stormy beach where the wind is so loud that all you could focus on was his hand in yours and how you kept each other safe.

[kyotakumrau]

2020.09.19 ROCK AND READ 091 - interview with utA - translation PART 2/2

And so hati and I left Niigata with very little money, but carrying a guitar and a bass with us, we went to Tokyo.

Interview: Yukinobu Hasegawa Photos: Yosuke Komatsu (ODD JOB LTD.)

Translation: kyotaku You can buy the magazine on amazon, tower records etc ฅ( ̳• ·̫ • ̳ฅ)♡

PART 1 HERE

-- With 40~50k yen you can do a short sightseeing trip to Tokyo (laughing).

utA: Yeah, that's why we got part time jobs soon and started saving, and together with hati we rented a cheap place in a wooden building for about 40k yen. And there our Tokyo life has started.

-- Sounds very Showa style (laughing). Where in Tokyo was it?

(*Showa era, 1926-1989, is often referred as nostalgic old times, retro style; but the house utA and hati lived in was likely an actual Showa building... which are seen as not safe during disasters and thus very cheap to rent)

utA: It was in Komagome. There was no bath, but it was something like a detached house, so for 45k it was super cheap. But it was a considerably old building.

-- But still that's cheap. For a detached house. Was it a stigmatized property by any chance?

utA: Right? But it was cheap, so we thought why not (laughing). The two of us. Even if there's some issue.

-- There's issue with you two (laughing). There were two of you meant to live there, but it would be totally fine if the third unknown occupant appeared suddenly?

utA: Yup (laughing).

-- So you wouldn't be bothered if some floating life form came out?

utA: Yup, no problem at all (laughing). Actually, there was an episode of the ghost visit. You probably won't publish this part of the talk, but it seems like I can actually sense the supernatural. It was when I was writing music when living in that place, I suddenly felt strongly some weird presence behind me, I've been hugged tightly, and when I shouted surprised 'who's it??!' I couldn't see anyone. I thought, ah, someone had passed away in this room at some point. There is really a lot of interesting stories from when we lived in that house (laughing).

-- This is something that must end up in the printed interview for sure.

utA: Seriously?! Won't that be too scary for people who really believe in ghosts? (laughing)

-- Have you encountered many phenomenons like that?

utA: Yes, I have. I could feel many spiritual beings already from before, but there were just a lot, in that place. When hati came back from his part time job I remember telling him 'holy shit someone just grabbed me from behind, we have to move out as soon as possible' (laughing).

-- As you were living in a crazy place like that you have later started a band, it was 9GOATS BLACK OUT, right? It's a bit spooky/ominous band's name, was it because of this?

utA: I guess (laughing). It was crazy living over there, but also very fun. During summertime, the two of us would be bathing in the small garden outside, hati would be taking a shower in the kitchen sink, or sleeping in the oshiire*(laughing). He was a great guy, super funny. With this hati I've done one more band in Tokyo before 9GOATS BLACK OUT. But it only lasted about a month. When looking for a good potential band members, we reached out with invitation to a vocalist ryo from Niigata who done bands like D'elsquel or GULLET. And even as we went to Tokyo to look for band members, we ended up forming a band with 3 guys from Niigata, starting activities in Tokyo. And for that ryo moved to Tokyo.

(*oshiiire is Japanese closet. It's much deeper than Western style closet and has a shelf, you can actually put a single mattress in😆)

-- To that stigmatized/haunted house?

utA: No, no!! (laughing) He actually refused 'I'm not coming to a place like that!' (laughing).

-- ryo was working as a designer then.

utA: Yeah, he was working as a designer in Niigata, but we asked him if he wouldn't quit (laughing). As we could write great songs to make it [in music]. And ryo agreed. Starting the band in Tokyo was like turning over a new leaf. All of us moved to Setagaya ward in Tokyo.

-- Did you choose a stigmatized place again?

utA: It was also an older building, but without any strange situation going on, it was fine (laughing). This time not house sharing, all of us got our own small apartments.

-- 9GOATS BLACK OUT has a very firm image as a very original, strongly idiosyncratic band.

utA: That's definitely true. From when we started activities, the pace of work has never decreased, I think it was a good condition.

-- It was a visual kei band, but musically it had quite a lot from the ambient like elements. You had many very interesting songs.

utA: Yup. Gradually I was leaning more and more to add ambient style to songs. As for why, when we started in Tokyo, in my mid 20s I was increasingly listening to Western artists. Before that I think I wasn't listening to artists outside visual kei, but as I progressively became a better musician I started noticing more and more the greatness of the overseas bands and music. I really got into Radiohead and MUSE, and the songs I was writing got a bit more ambient.

-- Those artists place big importance on the sound of each album.

utA: True. My favourite band now is Radiohead. But at that time I was probably aiming to have a band in a style of MUSE. But our songs were not as rock-ish as MUSE is.

-- MUSE is not only an English rock, their sound is very much arena rock like.

utA: The MUSE now definitely is like that, but I really love their first album 'Showbiz'. Starting from the first song 'Sunburn' there was an amazing ambient, I was probably influenced by that.

-- You got attracted to the clean tones from when you started to play the guitar, so do you like the air surrounding the sound, the pleasant feeling of the ambient style?

utA: That's right. It was with 9GOATS BLACK OUT that we gave shape to songs like that, so musically it was very fulfilling.  Speaking of albums, songs were mainly written by me, ryo and hati done 1 or 2 songs each. So with that it's like I kinda run out of song ideas fast (laughing), or I used everything I had [and it wasn't enough]. There was a pattern that with each album I felt I had to open new doors.

-- You included plenty of synthesizer sounds, creating a three-dimensional sound.

utA: I did, yeah. I was exhausted with every song. There were times when I'd write the main part of the song, and after that I would throw it to the drummer or bassist asking them [to finish it]. Creating songs with 9GOATS BLACK OUT was a good learning experience, but I also experienced how it is to use everything you had and look for new doors to open. I had a healthy attitude towards music, but on the other hand it was also harsh.

-- Around 2013 9GOATS BLACK OUT has ceased activity, where did that come from?

utA: We disbanded 5 years after the formation. It was due to the differences between the band members (about music/band direction).

-- Each of you were writing songs, when you followed through did the music production make each of you do some soul searching?

utA: Yeah, it felt like each of us was changing a bit and the gap growing between us was slowly getting closer to reaching the limit. And as a result, we arrived at the point where we didn't agree where to go next as a band. That's why I think at the latter period each of us felt that as a band our demise is nearing.

-- When that came did you start thinking about your next step?

utA: Nope, not at all. This is similar to when I was graduating the high school, I don't think about what's next (laughing). For now let's stop. After that somehow it will work. Like I'll do what I have to. Weirdly optimistic, I didn't know what's ahead. I wasn't planning on quitting music, but I was tired of writing songs, I was thinking of taking a break for 1 or 2 years from that, wanted to do it properly.

-- And then Kyo contacted you?

utA: Yup! I was very grateful, happy and surprised.

-- I heard that Kyo contacted you saying that he has listened to 9GOATS BLACK OUT music and wants that sound?

utA: That's why I was so moved when I heard that. Since I started music I felt I wanted to maintain my own worldview, this hasn't changed even now. I was glad I could continue, really glad. I felt 'even among musicians there's someone who really appreciates [my sound]'. That time Kyo and Takumi already started writing music for sukekiyo, and were at the stage of thinking what to do about other band members.

-- Have you met those two before?

utA: Not really. But I think we played at some big event with RENTRER EN SOI. And I also had a chance to see DIR EN GREY live twice. But we haven't met then, so our first meeting was when we talked about sukekiyo. [It went like] 'it's really an honour, I'm really grateful that you appreciate my music, I'm really looking forward to working together'.

-- Did Kyo had any specific requests?

utA: It's the same now, he told me to do whatever I want. He hasn't changed since then. That's why from the start I had freedom when working. When working on "IMMORTALIS" I could just let out my worldview freely, so I really enjoyed it. But from the next title "VITIUM" I started to wonder what exactly do I want. So for me, the freedom was the reason I started to lose my way. From around "ADORATIO" Kyo might have started to ask us 'what about something like this as a big picture?', but beyond that it was all 'please do whatever you like'. Not only in terms of music, but I'm quite a free spirit, also among band members (laughing). So I'm very grateful to receive such a generous support from Kyo and other members. YUCHI and Takumi, and Mika help to unify my songs. I really have freedom when creating the original melody. I really think I'm blessed to have those people around me. I'm truly thankful that even though I'm such a free spirit they are all people who can understand me and treat me kindly. They are amazing.

-- It's been 7 years since sukekiyo started, is the gratitude only getting stronger?

utA: On one hand it's getting stronger, but as our time together becomes so long there's also a thing it's by now embarrassing to say. It became difficult to say thank you. Especially having all this support from Kyo, I'm just so grateful to him. It feels like he cares so much, for me. If I got it wrong, sorry for assuming (laughing). When I fail, I get pulled in by that thought, I'm not able to do anything including song writing. Having freedom when creating songs, there's no end of ideas, but rencently they came a bit. With the release of "ADORATIO" in 2017 and "INFINITUM" in 2019 I've been thinking about it a lot, what will we do next. sukekiyo is doing quite a lot music wise.

-- So now it's not like you get influenced by something so you can write?

utA: That is rapidly going away.

-- But for example, even when you write a thing influenced by something else, when it's finally sent to other member shouldn't it be reborn as a totally new thing?

utA: You're totally right. Yeah, it will be reborn as something new, so I just thought it'd be totally fine if I let my mind wander more and create. Of course I want to push myself and always create something that will make you think 'oh amazing' the moment you hear it, including the worldview as well, but if I only do things this way it will always be like that, when I instead pass the idea to the band members it's so interesting to see how it will change. So now, you gave me a very good hint (laughing). Just, my hate of loosing in weird way comes out here, I want to be able make people react 'I'll be damned, what was that!' all by myself. I want Kyo or other members to accept the song when listening at first only to the sound I created. I want to surprise Kyo, who blessed me with 'I want your sound'. Actually, I already made some crazy songs, I want to make more songs I'm happy with and that members can listen.

-- When thinking specifically about the next [work], what kind of sound or songs do you want to pursue?

utA: It's something I've been saying from the start, I want to bring out abnormality/transformation. If the band's sound become electro or other, I don't care about this direction, but there's the thing were I don't want people to listen without questioning it. When no matter how many times you listen but it's hard to understand. And then after a year or so you start thinking it actually might be a good song. Saying that this is my ideal might sound strange, but I think songs like that are way more attractive. Not a song that you like from the first listen.

-- I totally get that feeling. Listening to the song, you can enjoy the wrestling with the music. It's beyond your comprehension, but you're drawn to it somehow. Because when you keep listening to it again and again, you start noticing more sides to it.

utA: That's true. It took me about 5~6 years to truly understand Radiohead. Especially "Pabro Honey" or "The Bends", at the beginning they totally didn't resound with me. The vertical axis felt off, or wasn't there a better chord than this etc. I was thinking that for so long, but then I finally understood after some years, it's because of those things they are good. I hope to someday be able to reach that level. Even if fans probably don't want songs for which you need 5~6 years to understand (laughing). But there is a joy of bringing something unknown to life. sukekiyo has created that for each album, so I'd really like to give birth to something even better again.

[txrii]

JATP WEEK DAY TWO - What’s your favourite headcanon and why? a contribution for the AWESOME project by @jatp-week

I have a headcanon that Reggie becomes a HUGE Harry Potter nerd during his time as a ghost staying with the Molinas’. We already know he’s a huge Star Wars nerd, and that makes me think he has a love for geeky things of all kinds. Harry Potter and the Sourcerer’s Stone was published in the US in 1998, three years after the boys’ deaths, so Reggie wasn’t able to join in on the original release hype. It all started either when the Molinas are having a family movie night that Julie told the boys about so they could come join in (they are basically family to her at this point, after all) or when Julie and Flynn decide to host their own movie night for themselves and the boys. Whichever way it is that he is introduced, Reggie falls in love with the films and he becomes instantly hooked. Julie has a set of all the books lying around in her room. When Reggie is finally able to pick solid things up again she lets him borrow all of them so he can read the series. He just has to be careful no one notices the book floating in mid air ot the pages being turned on their own. Reggie personally sorts his friends into the Hogwarts houses - he and Alex are both Hufflepuffs, Luke is a Slytherin, and Julie is a Gryffindor. Julie has them take the official sorting quiz right after to see how well he did (spoiler alert - he was SPOT ON).  Reggie would also start saying “accio” (the summoning spell) whenever he summons his bass because come on that’s just too perfect.

[angrylizardjacket]

runs in the family // charlotte&lola (penny&jupiter)

Summary: Jupiter and Penny somehow find themselves in 1981. What else is there to do but meet their moms at Motley Crue's first gig?

A/N: as always, for @misscharlottelee and eva ill edit this and tag u when I find ur new url. @compositionnotebook 💖 why did I write this? Because I love to suffer. Also as always, unedited.

----

Of course, waking up in a hotel room they don’t remember, with their cousin asleep in the other bed, only to realise that they’re back in LA when they’re meant to be on the other side of the country in the middle of their tour, Jupiter was understandably panicked. They hadn’t been drinking last night, and they’re pretty sure there was no way of them getting across the country without realising, and the idea that something is up is solidified when Penny wakes up and starts panicking too. 

The front desk says they’re paid up for the month; the woman’s hair is sand blonde, feathered and sprayed up to the high heavens, while the uniform she wears is the ugliest shade of green Jupiter’s ever laid eyes on, but the woman has the gall to give Jupiter’s outfit an unimpressed look. They’re all for the current resurgence in 80s fashion trends, but it feels like this woman may have committed too hard to the bit. Jupiter, nonetheless, asks the woman if she remembers how they and Penny had arrived, and the woman actually rolls her eyes and says that she’s not paid to ask nosy questions. 

It takes the cousins a full hour to find out that somehow they’ve landed themselves in 1981, a full day to believe it, and a full week to fully understand what that means. 

“I hate this, I want to do something, go somewhere,” Friday night and Jupiter’s sick to death of no TV and only the radio for entertainment. Whoever had been staying here, whoever’s place they and Penny had taken, had left a wallet with no ID, but an exorbitant amount of cash, and a closet full of clothes in their sizes. It’s eerie as fuck, but the only person who’s come knocking was the housekeeping staff, and Jupiter tells them to go away every time. 

“We are near The Strip in the eighties,” Penny suggests, flicking through a newspaper idly, lounging on the bed, “what if we saw young Guns ‘n’ Roses live, or, oh God, what about Motley, could you imagine?” Penny snorted, and Jupiter’s whole expression wrinkles to something horrified.

“They weren’t around yet, were they? What’s the date?”

“April twenty-fourth,” Penny’s expression sobers considerably from it’s delight, adding, “nineteen eighty-one,” much quieter, “fuck.”

They agree to go out, if only to get out of the room they’d been hiding from the world in, rather terrified to face their reality. There’s hesitation; do they get dressed up? Do they use the makeup sitting neatly on the bathroom counter? It felt safer to try and blend in, but blending in with the 80s nightlife wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world. 

Both have the distinct, horrifying thought of ‘I look like my mother’ when they’re finished, looking in the mirror, all dark makeup and patterned jeans and leather jackets; there’s a leather miniskirt that neither of them touch, not wanting to go too hard on their first night in the apparent real world. There’s a half empty bottle of hairspray on the counter that they both eye dubiously.

“It would be weirder if we didn’t spray up our hair, right?” Penny says, and Jupiter feels distinctly like a teenager, uncertain, awkward, not quite sure of their style, rather than the early-30s successful musician they were. 

It doesn’t end up looking good, at least not to their 2020 sensibilities, but as they make their way down to the street, a woman in leopard print gushes over how good they both look. 

It’s sunset, with people looking just as out there are the out-of-time cousins, band posters and flyers plastered to every wall, every telephone pole, every surface available as they walked the six blocks to The Strip. It takes only the ten minute walk from their shitty little hotel, to the Whiskey-A-Go-Go, for the reality it of it all to settle in Jupiter’s stomach like they’d swallowed ice. More specifically, it takes right up until they’re standing on the corner by the Whiskey, Penelope’s eye caught by one of the flyers on the nearby telephone pole, for Jupiter to think to look across the street at the rundown apartment complex that they realise they already know of. 

They gaze upon the window of one of the apartments on the second floor, with, even at this distance, a visibly fist-sized hole, gaff-taped up through the window. Jupiter knows that window, even as Penelope’s calling their name insistently. 

“It’s April Twenty-Fourth, right?” Penny calls, dubiously, and Jupiter says something about how that’s what she’d said back at the hotel, not paying attention.

“First ever rehearsal we had for the band, I didn’t even see your mom, she was out somewhere, the gym I think, but before she’d gone, she and Nikki had a fight and she put her whole fist through the window; I thought they were the coolest people I’d ever met.”

Tommy’s voice floats through Jupiter’s mind as they finally turn to Penny, to her insistent tone, only to step back, as if burned by the very sight of the Motley Crue poster. Penny was holding one corner in a fist, eyes wide. Tonight. The Starwood. 

“No.” Jupiter didn’t even let her get an word in edgewise, but Penny shook the poster more intently. 

“We have to,” she implored, though Jupiter was now adamantly shaking their head.

“We have to do no such thing,” Jupiter crossed their arms, cocking a hip. Turning their nose in the air at the poster, they accidently catch a glimpse of what they’re pretty sure is their mom’s apartment, and their expression reflexively wrinkles.

“What if my mom’s there?” Penny says quietly, and oh God damn it, there’s no way Jupiter could say no to that. The walk from the Whiskey to the Starwood is a good half an hour, and they’re both just glad to have opted for the flat shoes they’d brought from the future, rather than risked any of the platforms or heels that were lined up neatly at the bottom of the closet they’d raided. There’s a Motley poster ever few feet, and while dread had settled in Jupiter’s stomach, Penny was buzzing beside them nervously.

The Starwood had closed only months after Motley’s first performance, but both Jupiter and Penny had heard their family lovingly reminisce about it, with photos from the night, from nights before and after, so it strangely felt like they’d been there before, looking at the club’s name up in shining lights, Motley Crue headlining the night just below. 

“Isn’t that the guy from Rock Candy?” There’s two dudes a few feet away, squinting at another poster for the band, then looking up to the sign, both of them in leather jackets and flared jeans. 

“Dude, fuck, that’s the guy from London, last gig he played, he broke the singer’s jaw!” The second dude, delights, already tugging his friend towards the club where people were already filtering in.

“No man, their roadie broke the singer’s nose after he knocked out two of the bass player’s teeth on stage -”

It was so strange to hear misinformation spread so casually about people both Jupiter and Penny knew so well; they’d both heard the story of the night Tommy and Charlotte had met Nikki and Lola, how London had a small fight on stage that ended up giving Nikki a bloody nose, and how Lola had knocked out two of the singer’s teeth the in alley behind the bar after the gig. But here, now, it was like it’s own kind of folklore. 

They follow the men inside. 

No-one check their IDs, thank God, their own wallets hadn’t travelled back in time with them. The bouncer lets them pass without issue, and Jupiter is strangely reminded of their age as they see the people around them, a majority in their early to mid-20s, all looking right at home in leather and black denim. It’s still fairly quiet, the stage looking only half set up with a few clusters of people milling around the bar. There’s two people on the stage, setting it up, but with their backs turned, but they’re not exactly recognisable, long blonde hair and dark hair respectively, though the dark-haired one is in a distinctively spiked jacket. Closer to them, however is, a pretty red-head sat at the end, all tight clothes and effortless elegance, one leg crossed over the other where she was lounging against the bar on her barstool, a beer in one hand. Something about her is so familiar.

Jupiter and Penny carefully sit themselves by the bar too, a few seats away from the red-head, looking around but not quite processing it all. They’re at Motley Crue’s first show. 

Jupiter’s squinting at the row of drinks behind the bar, trying to decide what to order, when Penny grabs their hand so hard it hurts. Before they can turn back, however, they hear a voice they’ve only ever heard recordings of.

“Aw, Eileen, so nice of you to get me a drink,” Charlotte Lee’s tone was all teasing and light as she took the bottle out of the redhead - Eileen’s - hand, taking a sip as Eileen herself rolled her eyes.

“Lola is a terrible influence on you,” Eileen said flatly. Penny’s nails were digging into Jupiter’s forearm. Charlotte hands the drink back with a fond twinkle in her eyes.

“Lola hasn’t paid for a drink in her life, so I happen to think she’s a great influence-”

“She only drinks for free because she’s blackmailing half the bartenders in town,” the bartender himself piped up, cracking open a beer and handing it over to Charlotte without her even having to ask, flashing a grin that’s all teeth, “you ladies drink for free because I like making pretty girls smile.”

“Ricky, you’re the one who keeps hitting on her,” Charlotte points out, and his expression falls almost comically fast; “you keep taking her back to your place.”

“Only ‘cos she lives with Nikki and I don’t feel like being fucking stabbed in my sleep,” Ricky counters, pouting and flustered, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“That’s definitely fair, but it’s not Lola’s fault you’re embarrassed about having a nun fetish,” Eileen’s tone is unbothered in the fact of Ricky’s embarrassment, though her lips twitch in the barest amuse smile as she adds, “Father Richard,” and Ricky turns scarlet as Charlotte spits half her mouthful of beer as a laugh escapes her. 

Jupiter can feel their heart beat in their throw. This is so real, what the fuck. 

“Can we help you?” And then Eileen’s looking directly at Penny and Jupiter, who realise that they’re staring at the women by the bar, eyes wide like they’d seen a ghost. Ha. She’s got a single, perfect eyebrow raised, shifting in a way that’s barely noticible, but so clearly confrontational, like a cat’s fur raising even when a cat doesn’t move. 

“Charlotte Lee,” there’s a wobble in Penny’s voice when she finally speaks, and Jupiter can feel the way her hand’s trembling, “that makes... that makes you Eileen -” and she swallows hard, editing the last name she knows so well for the one that Eileen would have had in 1981, “Austen.” 

Charlotte and Eileen share a look, and then look back to Penelope. 

“Wait right here,” Charlotte sounds delighted, actually addressing Penny with a hand out.

“How do you guys know who we are?” Eileen asks, as Charlotte takes off towards the stage. Penny moves instinctively to follow her, but Jupiter holds her in place. There’s something in the evaluative look she gives them, lip curling just a little, on edge at being stared at by two strangers who must be roughly a decade older than them, who seem to already know them. “Are you friends of Lola’s?” She asks dubiously, and Jupiter is fighting the urge to run.

“Our little brother went to high school with you both,” Penny blurts out, “he was in the year above you,” but something seems to ease about Eileen’s posture as Penny tells her the exact school, and the year she and Charlotte would have graduated. It’s too specific for Eileen to think they’re lying, and for that both Jupiter and Penny are glad.

For all that Penny is Charlotte and Razzle's daughter, she was still raised, at least in part, by Lola, arguably the best liar of her generation. All the various Lee-Dingley-Sixx children had some innate ability to convincingly lie through their teeth, and though it didn't come in handy for Penny nearly as much as it seemingly did Jupiter, she was never more grateful for that skill than she was now.

“False alarm, Charlie, their brother went to school with us,” Eileen calls out, just as Charlotte is returning, dragging a dark haired woman both Jupiter and Penny knew far too well.

Seeing Charlotte at first had been so overwhelming that they hadn’t really processed what she’d looked like, but now, standing next to who could only be Lola, in 1981, it hit Jupiter just how young they both were. 

Lola’s still shorter than her own child, but taller than Jupiter remembers her ever being, curtesy of her intimidating platform boots, leather and buckles and spikes, a good match for her spiked leather jacket and studded bralette. She’s all sprayed up hair, larger than life, dark eyeshadow, and fishnets, somehow wearing so much and not at all at the same time. 

Beside her, Charlotte is only a few inches shorter, hair just as high, still with dark makeup, looking like a beautiful middle ground between Lola’s intimidating intensity and Eileen’s high glamour. In flashy denim pants and an artfully ripped, hand painted Motley Crue shirt, Charlotte’s the picture of the eighties, as beautiful and bright as any photo or recording Penny and Jupiter had ever seen. 

Charlotte’s expression falls with disappointment, but before she can speak -

“You’re twenty-two!” Jupiter hears themselves say, and Lola looks directly at them, lip curling. Jupiter’s blood runs ice cold. 

“What?” The single word is so derisive in a voice that Jupiter has never known to be cold, and before anyone else can speak, Lola looks to Charlotte, eyebrow raised. When she crosses her arms over her chest, even the leather jacket can’t completely hide how well muscled her arms are, “Charlie, I love you but I don’t give a shit about two old broads whose brother you knew, we gotta finish setting up.” It hurt like a physical ache, somewhere behind Jupiter’s sternum, each word somehow hurting more than the last.

“Don’t be rude,” Charlotte told her, elbowing her in the ribs, smiling even so.

“I don’t even know my fucking age - who are you?” Lola’s undeterred, on hand holding a roll of gaff tape in a white-knuckled grip, while the other had curled into a fist, weight shifting from one foot to the other in agitation. Okay, that’s very fair, Jupiter regrets ever opening their mouth. Fuck. 

“You don’t know how old you are?” Charlotte asks, disbelieving, breaking the tension, and Lola looks back at her, face scrunching up as the tension drops from her shoulders.

“Why would I know my age?”

“Because that’s a very weird thing not to know!” Charlotte exclaimed in disbelief, eyes wide. Jupiter, on the other hand, wracked their brains for any scrap of knowledge they’d heard about their mother’s past and actually retained.

“Sorry, we know we’re being weird,” eyes closed, they took a deep breath, trying to sort out their thoughts, “our brother Leo went to school with Charlotte and Eileen, but we... talked to a band you roadied for, and they told us roughly how old you were, but you look,” Jupiter pauses, cracking open their eyes, only to see the way Lola's expression had softened upon hearing the name Leo - oh fuck, she doesn't even know the truth about her own dad yet! -“younger than I expected.”

“I’m used to Lola being recognised around here, just got my hopes up that it was my turn,” Charlotte admits with the faintest embarrassment, picking her drink up from the bar and taking a sip. 

“One day soon, Charlie, if the boys take off, we’ll be right beside ‘em; everyone in LA will know your name,” the way Lola says it is strangely wry, like she’s self aware of the fact that her own name is out there for some less than reputable reasons, or like she isn’t fully convinced that Motley Crue would be the runaway success they all hoped.

Jupiter and Penny share a look, pained by the dramatic irony the three women across from them couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

It takes a moment, and Lola is definitely still a bit wary, but then it passes, and Lola looks to the stage again, still clearly addressing Charlotte.

"If you wanna help me with the last bit, I just need to do a sound check.” And with that, she was off, and Jupiter lets out a breath that hadn’t realised they’d been holding. Penny is still staring at Charlotte, who's rocking back on her heel as she has another drink, contemplating going after Lola, but also intrigued but the two interlopers enough to stay.

Eileen asks their names.

Penny and Jupiter share a panicked look, because they can't just tell the truth, it would make things weird in the future! What if they end up in the present named something entirely new!? They hadn't even begun to consider the butterfly effect of their being here.

"Lisa?" Jupiter says finally, picking a name they'd used in the past, but not for long, a nickname derived from their birth name in honour of their grandmother. Eileen looks wildly unconvinced, but Charlotte, bright and kind and perfect and alive, tells them its pretty. Penny is struggling to come up with an alternative, before conceding that her nickname is probably common enough that it wouldn't really matter.

"Penny's such a pretty name," Charlotte beams, and tells them its lovely to meet them, and Jupiter rests a gentle hand on their cousin's back, a silent reminder to keep breathing, as Charlotte trots off to help Lola with the last of the sound check.

Jupiter orders them both several drinks.

They end up sitting at the other end of the bar, away from the spot Eileen has clearly claimed for herself and Motley Crue's glorified roadies. Penny is quietly trying not to hyperventilate every time she thinks too hard about what's happening, and made a muffled scream upon hearing Charlotte laugh at one of Lola's jokes.

"I've died, Jup, we've died and this is the afterlife because that is my fucking mother, and she's alive, and she's twenty-one goddamn years old. She is a child. Our mothers are children. What the fuck?!" Penny hissed, and took another sip of her drink. Jup was watching Lola, so young and confident and mean as all hell, a defensive mechanism that's only made apparent to be such because Jupiter's known her longer than this version of Lola's been alive. But she smiles around Charlotte and Eileen in a way Jupiter's never seen her smile before, something grateful and adoring at the corners of her lips, an unfamiliar kind of softness in her eyes for just the barest moment.

Lola smiles like she feels lucky to be here, to be around these women, to call them friends. Here and now it hits Jupiter hard, that even decades later, their mother never fully recovered from losing Charlotte.

"We're not dead," Jupiter tells their cousin softly, and they both watch Lola and Charlotte head back to the green room before the band begins.

"But I- how, explain then, how can I go over there and touch her? She's real, Jup, really real, my mother, Charlotte Lee."

"I can't explain it, it just is," Jupiter muses, and finishes of their next drink as Lola and Charlotte reappear, followed by the band, all looking far too young and overeager, and Jupiter's heart is beating in their throat as Tommy Lee beams and waves to the crowd. They're going to be sick. Or maybe cry. Or maybe have a full panic attack right here by the bar. Fucking hell he's even more of a child than Charlotte, only twenty, and just as bright and excitable as they've known him to be, possibly moreso.

The audience seems underwhelmed, not sure what to make of these boys with their leather and hairspray and nervous excitement; Vince introduces them to the quiet bar with a yell, and Jupiter kind of hates that their future step-dad is giving them gender envy.

And then Tommy knocks over his cymbal after showing off with his drumsticks, and Jupiter bursts into tears.

They're furious at themselves for crying, hand pressed to their mouth for fear of anyone hearing if they would sob, brow furrowed into a scowl, other hand messily wiping at their eyes as they mouth defiant swears against their palm. People are jeering and booing, and out of the corner of their eye, Jupiter sees Charlotte actively holding Lola back, and something deep inside their heart knows that if there wasn't stupid fucking tears in their eyes, they'd be just as ready to defend the band's honour as their mom is.

"Oh, he's always been like this-" Penny's voice is softly adoring as she watches the man who will one day be her uncle and adopted father, before she looks to Jupiter, sees them overwhelmed with it all, and mad at themselves for feeling that, and she laughs, gentle and kind and understanding, and wraps Jupiter up in a hug. Its grounding. Even as Jupiter sulkily tells her to fuck off, they wrap an arm around Penny's shoulders and press their face into her hair.

"He looks like you," Penny murmurs as the first song starts, despite the negativity still pouring from the crowd. Jupiter wrinkles their nose, but can't help but smile. Tommy looks incredibly cool tonight, and it's true that Jupiter had inherited a lot of physical characteristics from their father.

Everyone in the bar hears the jeering way a dude in the audience asks about the 'chick singer', and for a moment, the children unwittingly mirror their mothers as Penny's grip on Jupiter tightens, anticipating when they go to lunge for the stage in outrage, but the moment the guy spits on Vince, across the bar Charlotte let's go of Lola, setting her loose on the vitriolic patrons.

Penny and Jupiter knew Motley's first gig started with a fight, but it was another thing to witness it.

Tommy leaps into the crowd, delighted by the carnage that Nikki and Vince are already taking part in, and Lola’s already knocked a guy flat on his ass. Surprisingly, Charlotte lobs her half-empty bottle at the guy who had spat at Vince, not taking direct part, but not abstaining either, cackling when it shatters against him and he's looking around, angry and confused, and Eileen says her name with a tone thats both scandalised and impressed.

In the end, by the time the bouncers step in, all that's left is Tommy absolutely wailing on a dude, and much to everyone's surprise, most of all her child's, little Lola Gone wraps her arms around Tommy's chest, cops a full elbow to the face, and still hauls him up and off his victim like he weighs nothing, even as he's thrashing and swearing and telling her to go fuck herself before realising who it is. When she puts him down, she snarls something at him, and shoves him towards the stage.

By the bar, Jupiter's mouth is agape, while Penny is trying to hold in her laughter, both of them realising just how terrifyingly similar to their father Jupiter actually is. And that at Twenty-Two, Lola is built like a tank.

The things you never truly understand about your parents because you always think of them as your parents is wild.

But above all, in the wake of the small riot, Jupiter and Penny can only feel a strange and overwhelming pride, seeing how eagerly they'd all defended each other.

"Fuck yeah, Motley Crue!" Leaves Penny's lips, delighted, at the top of her lungs, and suddenly the eyes of everyone in the bar, and more importantly, the people these two time travelling cousins will call family, forty years from now, fall on them. Grateful. Beaming. Then, laughter; Charlotte’s.

"Fuck yeah!" She echoes her daughter, and a cheer rises around the bar as the band begins playing again, energy revitalised. Charlotte beams at them, sharing in the moment, waving them both over eagerly as the bartender begrudgingly hands over a stack of napkins, while Lola's got her head tipped back, arguing with Eileen as to whether or not her nose is broken as it bleeds profusely.

Even at their first gig, Take Me To The Top sounds good, sounds like it should, all rough and energetic, and Jupiter knows how strange it would be to sing along at the band's first fucking gig, but the song, even now, feels like home.

"Lola, you're a danger to yourself and others," Eileen smirked, "and you're a terrible influence on Charlie."

"Thank you," Lola grins, right as Charlotte tries to deny it, which devolves into Eileen pointing out that Charlotte had lobbed her bottle at one of the offenders, which delighted Lola to no end.

"Don't know if you would know this, not sure how much your brother would have said," Charlotte says, grinning at Jupiter and Penny, "but my cousin, Tommy, he's the one on drums," she says, oozing pride. Jupiter and Penny both bite back on their instinctual responses, but still the surprise reads on their face.

"The one who did this to me," Lola's beaming despite looking a little like a horror movie, sounding only proud.

"He's certainly energetic," Penny says, finally, before letting herself breathe, watching the band for the moment, "they're really good," like she can't quite believe this is all real, still, "they have no idea how huge they're gonna be," the words slip out quite by accident, and both Jup and Penny share a panicked look, but the words don't get the reaction they expected.

"I knew I liked you," Charlotte's grin is sharp and pleased, and before Penny can protest, Charlotte's thrown an arm around her shoulders, "you've got taste." And that's enough incentive for Charlotte to shout both Jup and Penny a drink, oblivious to the way Penny freezes, like a deer in the headlights. Her mother's arm is around her without her mom even knowing how much this means. She looks like she's about to cry.

"Its really good to meet you, Charlie," Penny's voice is strangely hoarse, strangely honest in ways Charlotte can't even begin to understand, and Charlotte gives Penny's shoulder a squeeze.

"You too, Penny, and you, Lisa," she adds, grinning up at Jupiter for a moment, "anyone who thinks good things about my reckless dumbass of a cousin and his band is good in my books." She's so effortlessly earnest and endearing, exactly as everyone had described her, able to make friends wherever she went. Penny tentatively thanks Charlotte when she hands her a drink, and wraps an arm around Charlotte's waist when the younger blonde seemed content with an arm around Penny's shoulders.

"I can't believe you two are the only other assholes with taste," Lola smirks, holding a napkin to her nose.

"Get bent," Jupiter fires off automatically at the vaguely derisive tone, and Lola flips them off while Charlotte shoves her in the ribs. This moment, in its own weird little way, makes sense.

[tirednotflirting]

you're my golden hour (the color of my sky)

i miss going to concerts and when the fall festival in my city got officially canceled last week, i wrote lashton going to a festival to make me feel better. and then i started listening to Lorde and got emo. enjoy <3

ps special thanks to @calumcest bc i am having an absolute shit 24 hours but helen ur britpop playlist and that comment i found on the doc for this made me feel a bit better this morn x

LAST THING! i went ahead and made an ao3 (finally???) so if you prefer reading things there, you can head that way here

Ashton smiles, feeling the stretch in his cheeks from laughter and the sun that’s been shining on his face all day, and wonders if there was any way at all to top the feeling he’s experiencing right now.

It had been a long but good day. He watches the sun set over the desert horizon, his view waving from the heat from his spot on a quilt in the middle of the festival. Behind him he hears the beginning of some EDM set starting on the opposite side of the festival grounds, the earth just barely shaking from the bass. People pass him from behind as a large crowd begins to form some 100 feet in front of him. It had been a tiring and warm afternoon and evening, and while he was excited to hear this set, it wasn’t anyone he was a huge fan of, so he had made the executive decision to find a good spot back in the area that allowed chairs and sitting.

He watches flags and totems teeter around in the wind, the light breeze cooling the back of his neck. It was nearing the end of the second night of the festival and as he felt the dull ache in his ankles from walking and jumping around all day, he wonders to himself how the hell he is meant to manage another day of this. Maybe he would ask around once everyone got back to the house later in the night if anyone else was feeling their age and maybe wanted to head to the grounds a little ways into the afternoon for the last day? He sighs as he lifts his eyes toward the desert sky knowing that the answer would be a clap to his shoulder and the shaking of heads, his merry band and accompanying crew always somehow maintaining the energy level of 8 year olds when they came down for the festival.

Though he definitely did understand where they were coming from. He wasn’t sure how, but every time he found himself at a music festival (as a fan rather than a performer) the child-like, effortless joy of going to a show would surge through him. The big, sprawling crowds that if he saw in any other context would give him mountains of anxiety, felt like a breath of fresh air even as he snuck his large body between those around him to get closer to the action. The euphoria of a late night set, the only lights being those coming from the stage, with thousands of people all singing along to a song that meant something unique and new to each and every one of them. There was a special kind of magic brought into the world only by running around festival grounds in the desert with tens of thousands of people for a few days every spring. It was the kind of magic Ashton wished he could bottle up to save for cold, late autumn days when he was cooped up in his house, trying to remember what the memories really felt like.

He leans back then, clasping his hands behind his head to rest on, and recalls on the previous day. It had been awhile since the band had had the opportunity to go to a festival obligation-free and they were fully taking advantage of that chance. A house had been rented closer to the city where the festival was held, friends were invited, a grocery list divided up. They spend the Thursday night before the three day festival all trading stories of recent travels and adventures around a fire pit. It was fun to hear what mischief everyone had been up to while they were out on the road.

(Though if Ashton were being honest, he didn’t recall much of what was said following his trip to the kitchen with Luke about halfway through the night when the blonde had snuck in a kiss after shots with Calum. Ashton wasn’t sure if he was more shocked by the action or the lime juice that got left on his lips.)

The morning was spent divvying up snacks and sunscreen, emptying water bottles and tucking flasks into backpack pockets less likely to be checked by security. Or at least that’s what Calum and Ashton got up to while Luke and Michael pressed glitter stickers to their own faces before invading the kitchen to do the same to their boys. All in the spirit of the festival, the former two decided as they giggled while shooting stars and hearts were pressed to their cheeks.

They spend the day mostly just the four of them, the rest of their party having other people to catch up with or promotional obligations for their work to attend to. The merry band of Aussies would never admit it in front of anyone else but they really always preferred to attend shows just the four of them. There was a silent energy that wrapped around them when attending a concert, the same kind of whisper that had brought them together to make music together in the first place. They thrived on it, rode the feeling like a high of sorts.

That first night Michael and Calum decide they want to grab a drink just before the last set of the night is meant to start so they make the choice to just stick to the VIP section until the end of the show. Luke kept on glancing between Ashton, the direction Michael and Calum have just wandered toward, the crowd forming for the show, and back to Ashton so it doesn’t take long for the hazel-eyed boy to place a hand to Luke’s back and guide him in the direction of the sprawling crowd.

Luke had been sipping from a flask throughout the evening and was sufficiently loose and giggly as they find a spot in the middle of the crowd as darkness settled over the grounds. They’re talking through ideas for which sets they should hit the following day when the roar of the crowd picks up as a cue that something is about to happen. Ashton’s lifted his left hand to cup around his mouth to project his yells along with the rest of the crowd and when he moves to raise his right, he finds the limb stuck in place. He looks down to see Luke’s fingers tucked between his own and lifts his eyes to the dazed, happy look settled into the pale eyes of the slightly taller boy. He let a smile pull across his own face and his fingers squeeze around Luke’s hand as Lorde’s dreamy voice floats over the crowd, bright green lights illuminating their faces to tell them what she’d chosen to begin the set with.

Ashton had always felt a special kind of connection to the younger singer’s bright and exaggerated lyrics. The romanticization of youth and glittery nights that flow through her lyrics spoke to him in ways he always wished he could express in his somewhat younger years, the brilliance of being young and in love with everything something that their style of pop back in the day just couldn’t capture in quite the same light. Hearing the songs he was listening to in years prior, when he was pining after the boy just to his right, unable to express just how big his feelings were at the time, it all has his mind spinning.

She starts ‘Ribs’ up on the stage some ways in front of them, the gentle crooning of it drives you crazy, getting old feeling more poignant than normal in that particular moment. The lyrics feel heavy, though light at the same time, like his youth is drifting away in the desert wind while his age - though still quite young, Ashton does recognize - settles onto his shoulders like a heavy coat. It feels so scary, getting old floats through his mind when he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist.

“Stop thinking so hard, old man,” Luke says in his ear above the crowd’s singing. He lets his lips pout against the little hoop through Ashton’s ear lobe before he continues. “It scares me too, but just...live in this for a bit.”

Ashton’s eyes close, the bright colored lights from the stage bleeding through his lids, and he sighs when he feels Luke’s stubble against his cheek when he moves to press a kiss to his temple before returning to bobbing along to the beat of the song. He’ll never understand the way the blonde is able to hear the racing of his thoughts though it's something he’s always been gifted with. Ashton is thankful for it, that Luke somehow knows exactly when to step in to ease his mind for a moment. He’s not sure what he would do without it.

They dance and yell and sing songs about being 19 despite being very solidly in their mid-20s for another hour before the set is over and the desert is lit up with the tall bright white lights above the grounds. They stumble into each other as they laugh and sing, eventually finding Michael and Calum along the way and pressure them into the same actions. Next thing they know, the four boys have piled into a car, repeatedly falling asleep against one another and the plushy seats of the car until they make it home.

The only sober one in the bunch, Ashton plants his boys at the kitchen island, making them all drink a few glasses of water and pass a bottle of aloe gel around to rub at the back of their necks to minimize the griping about sunburns the next day.

(It takes approximately three seconds of whining before Ashton gives in and pats the cool gel into Luke’s neck, chuckling at his whines at how cold it is. A babbling Calum leans his head against Ashton’s bicep while he performs the action, the brown-eyed boy telling him a story about some actor that him and Michael met backstage who bought them shots and knew one of their songs other than “She Looks So Perfect” and “Youngblood”.)

The remaining residents of the house have either ended up at after parties (how people can attend after parties on each night of the festival and still make it all the way to the end is wild, Ashton thinks) or at other houses in the area so Ashton makes sure to lock up after they all vacate the kitchen before heading up to his room on the next floor up.

He’s just slipped into the bed and clicked off the lamp when he hears his phone buzz on the bedside table. He squints against the light from the screen before his features soften as he opens up the picture Luke must have snapped of him toward the end of the Lorde set. He’s in the middle of laughing through the joy of hearing a song he loves, pink lights from the stage illuminating his face. The picture is accompanied by a caption that makes his heart drum some kind of hurried rhythm despite how simply its worded:

you looked so bright

*

Ashton sits up from the blanket as he hears a drum beat pick up from the stage up ahead, the crowd rising both in volume and height as those who were waiting get to their feet. The lovely breeze he had been enjoying while reminiscing on the day before dies off a bit as it gets blocked by those moving to stand. As a familiar guitar rhythm starts up, he closes his eyes and smiles, still caught up in this gorgeous, delicate moment that he feels so lucky to be somehow living in.

However, Ashton realizes then, as a water bottle gets placed in his lap and a second body drops to his right, that there was in fact a way to top how he was feeling just a few minutes before. The sun has just made its final descent below the horizon when he turns to see the smile spread across Luke’s sun-kissed cheeks.

“You were looking a little spaced out there, Ash,” Luke laughs as he pokes at Ashton’s cheek before shuffling a bit closer and wrapping his arms around the older boy’s neck and leaning in to press a kiss to the sun-warmed skin beside the condor just below his tangled black hair. The high of another music filled day and the tequila in Luke’s belly have him throwing caution to the California wind in terms of displaying his affection. Ashton figures the darkness provided by the hour and the low number of people that had come up to ask for photos throughout the weekend so far were enough justification to allow the tipsy, happy blonde to continue pecking at his neck. “Thinking about me?”

He giggles at Luke’s teasing words, feeling his cheeks warm some more than they already were. Ashton shifts some to get Luke to sit up and look at him. He can’t help the calloused hand that falls to his cheek, his thumb running along his cheekbone, beneath his tired, happy blue eyes. “Always.”

When Luke leans in to press his forehead against Ashton’s own, the crinkles beside his eyes just visible in the flashing lights from the stage far up ahead of them, he finds himself wishing he could bottle up this kind of magic too.

(What kind of magic this exactly is, he has yet to figure out. Though Ashton thinks he maybe might have a word for it. Maybe.)

*

[dustedmagazine]

Various Artists — West Meets East: Indian Music And Its Influence On The West (Cherry Red Records)

Many, even most, music fans these days are aware of the influence that Indian music has had on Western musicians. From the mid-1960s onward, thanks to the Beatles, Byrds, Rolling Stones and more, listeners became accustomed to the sound of the sitar and tabla lending an “exotic” air to rock and pop music.  

That wasn’t the start of Western music’s inspiration from India, however. This 3CD compilation, West Meets East, investigates earlier examples of how the intrinsic modes of Indian music were absorbed into different forms of Western music, particularly classical music and American jazz. In the latter case, especially, American (and to a lesser extent British) artists discovered that the modal style provided them exciting ways to break away from existing forms and experiment with new sounds.

Each of the three discs here includes examples of the Indian masters mixed in with the artists they inspired, and it’s almost expected that the first piece in the compilation is a raga by Ravi Shankar. By the late 1960s, Shankar was the foremost emissary of Indian music to Western listeners and musicians alike. Even before George Harrison and The Beatles brought his name to the world, he had been visiting the West since the 1930s, travelling with his brother’s band. Here, the 15-minute “Raga Sindhi Bhairavi” is, of course, marvelous. Later appearances are made by Ali Akbar Khan, whose “Evening Raga” is slower and deeper; Sharan Rani, the first woman to play the sarod, who became an important cultural ambassador; Chatur Lai, with an invigorating 18-minute tabla solo; and Ustad Vilayat Khan & Ustad Imrat Khan, whose “Rainy Season Raga” begins slowly, with almost no tabla for the first half, before the storm breaks and the players take it to great intensity. These pieces serve as opportunities to listen for the modalities, forms, and emotions that inspired the other artists featured.  

And those artists include some of the greats, those who took their fellow musicians in new directions, due to their openness and appreciation for previously-unheard musical perspectives. The second and third pieces here, following Ravi Shankar’s opening, are by John Coltrane. While the Indian influence may be a little difficult to spot amidst the familiar refrain of “My Favorite Things,” “India” reveals its inspiration both in its name and the repetition which leads to exploratory flights, clearly echoing the raga form. Similarly, the Dave Brubeck Quartet’s “Calcutta Blues” also wears its influence on its sleeve, and it finds the instruments purposely focused more on melody than harmony, with a drum solo that’s particularly reminiscent of how ragas are driven by the tabla rhythms.  

The second volume follows the model set by the first, opening with “Left Alone,” a slow, meandering exploration by the Eric Dolphy Quintet. There’s Ornette Coleman’s “Lonely Woman” with its unusual bass and twin brass lines, “India” from the always-experimenting Sun Ra, and a piece by Paul Horn, who was honored to be asked by Ravi Shankar to play flute on his essential 1964 album “Portrait of Genius.” Before finishing with the aforementioned “Rainy Season Raga,” we get Miles Davis’ “Milestones,” an intriguing example wherein the horns alternate percussive accents with floating solos, over a flowing rhythm that offers echoes of the first volume’s piece by Shankar.  

The collection’s third volume takes a different approach, with an eclectic blend of music from flamenco to Indian film soundtracks and classical compositions. The sitar-like guitar by Gabor Szabo on “El Toro,” with the Chico Hamilton Quintet, matches the droney, accented bass, which evokes Indian styles. It’s very interesting to consider the similarity to raga shown in “Eoc Jerezanos,” by the great flamenco player Sabicas. The two pieces by Yusef Lateef show his overt adoption of Eastern styles: on “Before Dawn” in particular he goes further, playing the Egyptian arghul for a sound that was highly unusual for 1957. The inclusion of several works by the renowned Indian filmmaker Satyajit Ray are quite nice, but the reason is somewhat unclear in the context of the “East Meets West” theme of the collection.  

The so-called “exotica” composers of the 1950s and 1960s were naturally among those most clearly inspired by the sounds coming from the east, and none more so than Martin Denny and Les Baxter, both included here. The former’s “Moonlight on the Ganges” and the latter’s “Harem Silks from Bombay” could certainly be accused of capitalizing precisely on that “exoticness,” but it must be admitted that the music is wears its inspiration honestly and, particularly in the case of Baxter’s orchestra, is quite well-played.  

The last half of the third volume takes a bit of a left turn to focus on composers such as Benjamin Britten, Maurice Ravel, Claude Debussy and Béla Bartók. Indian inspiration shows in Ravel’s use of woodwinds in “Little Ugly Girl,” and the meandering, melodic piano in “Ondine.” Debussy, after hearing Indonesian gamelan music for the first time, was inspired to create pieces like “Pagodes,” included here, with piano notes juxtaposed and overlaid in previously-unheard ways. Several pieces from Maurice Delage’s 1952 “Quatre poèmes Hindous” showcase the use of sitar and “exotic” styles.  

The collection comes with an extensive booklet offering quotes, historical details and discography information for the artists included, but it would have benefited from more context-setting and drawing lines between people and their works. The focus on jazz in the first two volumes helps, while the third volume feels more scattered and somewhat hurried. It’s possible that shorter pieces would have allowed for more breadth — many of the works here exceed the ten or even 20-minute mark — although, of course, changes in the music over time is one of the characteristics being examined.  

West Meets East explores a worthwhile and rewarding subject, and the three discs include some terrific music, so at the very least this collection offers some fine listening. Making connections between works by such jazz greats as Coltrane, Brubeck, Dolphy, Coleman, Davis and the great Indian artists provides for enjoyable critical listening as well. The classical and more eclectic offerings can be considered a bonus.  

[avintagekiss24]

Magic City [1/2]

Pairing: Steve Rogers x black!stripper!reader

Word Count: 3936

Warnings: stripping, strip club atmosphere, language, nudity, Avengers: End Game spoilers, canon divergence

Summary: It’s Friday night at Magic City. The drinks are a plenty, the smell of money is in the air, and the man you never thought you’d see again just paid for a private dance.

A/N: This is for @wxntersoldiers 5k followers challenge! Congrats on 5k followers! The prompts were so great! I had a blast writing this one!

----

You lean into the mirror, puckering your lips as you apply your favorite shade of stunna lip paint. You rub your lips together, squinting as you check every inch of your flawless makeup before leaning back your seat. Girls move around behind and beside you, all of them mimicking the same movements - changing outfits, primping hair, applying makeup. The bass of the music thumps against the wall as the catcalls and whistles of drunk, stupid men occasionally float to the back room. 

“Yo, Candy,” Johnny, the club owner calls, poking his head around the corner. 

A few girls throw their hands to their chests, covering their bare breasts as they begin to berate him, “What did we say, Johnny? Don’t fucking come back here! Pervert!”

“Shut up.” He spits, clicking his teeth as he turns his attention back to you, “You up next, mama.”

You nod, not even taking your eyes off of your reflection in the vanity mirror. You toss your new, long, stark straight hair over your shoulders before rolling your head in a slow circle. It’s Friday night at Magic City. The DJ is on fire, the drinks are flowing, and the men are rowdy. Since the blip ended, your clientele is at an all time high. You are easily bringing home anywhere between one to two thousand dollars a shift; and that’s a light night.

You slide your feet into your 8” ankle boots and tie them up as the DJ’s voice sounds over the music. Loud cheers and claps for the previous dancer swallow the music entirely as you stand and run your hands down your black, cupless corset. Time to make some money. 

You move toward the door and slip your hand into Johnny’s so he can help you up the staircase, “Next up,” the DJ says into the mic as he switches to your song, “It’s your favorite piece of candaaayyyyyyy.”

Dangerous Woman starts over the speakers just as you step on the stage. The lights are down as you grab onto the pole and spin around it slowly. The light rise slowly, the whistles and hoots of the men growing louder as you finally come into view as Ariana starts to croon. You close your eyes and let the music seep into your bones as you start to move, grabbing the pole and holding your weight as you effortlessly lift your legs into the air.

A smile creeps onto your face as you spread your legs, exposing your barely covered pussy to the room full of men. Green bills of all denominations start to float through the air, landing like feathers at your feet as you move. The whooping and hollering has died away - every man in the room in awe of you. You love that, you always have; the effect you have on them. For the other girls, the men are rowdy and rough - reaching out, grabbing and groping even though they aren’t supposed to. But once you take the stage, they don’t even want to blink. They just want to watch you. 

You take a few steps away from the gold pole and lunge for it, hooking your ankle around it above your head as you spin around slowly. You gasp mid-spin, grabbing the pole with your hands as you slip slightly when your eyes link with an all too familiar pair of blues. You drop to your feet and hug the pole as your lips part. You glance to your left again, and again find that pair of eyes on you, blinking at you slowly as a smirk spreads on his lips. 

You snap your head to the right and clear your throat, collecting your thoughts quickly. You slide your hands down your body as you sway your hips back and forth and down to your knees. You lay out on the stage and roll your head toward the first row of men, bestowing a slow, sultry smile. Money starts to rain down on you from above, and shoved into the band of your panties before you sit up on all fours.

You pop your ass up and down, smiling and biting your bottom lip as you twerk. You catch those eyes again - those piercing, deep blues, and you nearly lose your breath. All of the memories between the two of you rush back instantly. The first time he ambled into Magic City, your first private dance for him, the first time you invited him back to your apartment…

Stop it. 

You curse inwardly as you shake your head and try to get back into your groove. You move your hands back to your corset and start pulling at the strings, letting the leather and lace fall away from you to reveal the rest of your body. Loud whistles overtake the music in the room as your flatten your back on the pole and slide down to the floor, hooking your fingers into the sides of your thong to pull them down slightly. 

You find his eyes for a third time. 

They bare into you, almost as if he’s staring right through you. Your lips part as your eyes drop to the floor. You saunter toward the edge of the stage and prop your leg on the small square table in front of you. Your mind races as someone slips a fifty into the thin band of your thong. You can’t believe he’s back. 

What some are calling the blip, is now officially over. Five years after the snap, millions of people reappeared out of thin air days ago, all thanks to the Avengers. Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Dr. Bruce Banner aka The Hulk, and many more of our favorite heroes battled Thanos and restored the world back to its original state, giving hundreds of millions of people a second chance. 

But war, often comes with casualties. Former Russian Spy, turned Avenger Natasha Romanoff, and billionaire philanthropist Tony Stark both gave their lives in the fight to stop Thanos. America’s first super soldier, Captain Steven Grant Rogers is still MIA. Newly crowned Captain America Sam Wilson maintains that he is unaware of Rogers’ whereabouts, and the government is remaining tightlipped about the disappearance. In a formal statement released this morning, the Chief of Staff of the United States Army stated that Rogers is considered inactive, and will soon be declared dead. 

Next up, we have your weather forecast…

You remember the newscast as if it were yesterday. You remember the parades, the moments of silence at sporting events, the memorials that played on TV for him. It pissed you off. It pissed you off because you knew better. He wasn’t missing. He was with her. The small, round, black and white picture in the compass that he never left home without, haunts you, even to this very day. He chose her - and it pissed you off. 

Anger flashes through you as you roll your hips in the face of an eager customer. He shoves a twenty into your panties before you move back toward the stage, your lips pressed in a hard line. You glance over your shoulder, connecting your dark eyes with his and let out a deep breath, having to literally stop yourself from sneering. The music starts to fade, and you plaster a smile on your face as a thunderous applause erupts for you. You wave seductively and make a brisk exit as the stage hands start sweeping the stage to collect your earnings. 

Once backstage, you plop down at your station and bury your face in your hands. Bastard. You tuck your hair behind your ears roughly before lifting your eyes back to mirror. You are not going to let him ruin your night. There’s money to make. He doesn’t matter - just like you don’t matter to him.

You take your time changing into your White Fee Bodysuit, knowing that requests for a private dance with you are climbing by the minute. You look yourself over, your breasts on full display in the sheer material, before heading back to the main floor to grab a quick drink. 

The bartender smiles at you, grabbing one of the small, rectangular glasses and pouring a quick vodka and cranberry. He slides it in your direction and you lift it in your dainty fingers, bringing it to your lips to sip it slowly.

“Room 2, doll.” Johnny announces in your ear as he slides up beside you, “He’s booked you for the night.”

“Oooh,” You shimmy your shoulders, downing your drink, “Big spender, huh?”

Johnny winks at you, “He must have been a victim of the snap, poor prick. Probably ain’t had any pussy since he got back.”

“Where’s my money?” You ask, setting your glass on the bar and quirking your eyebrow toward the ceiling.

“You know the drill, baby. You deliver the goods first, cash later.”

You roll your eyes but push away from the bar, scanning the crowd as you move. You push through the heavy velvet curtain and smile seductively at the man sitting on the black leather couch in front of you. A Yankees cap is pulled low over his eyes as he sits straight up, his hands on his thighs. He’s dressed simply, wearing a dark blue jacket that covers a plain white t shirt, and jeans, not at all giving the impression that he’s capable of dropping three thousand dollars for a night with you. 

An ice bucket with a full bottle of Dom Perignon sits on the small table in the corner of the room, two long stemmed flutes sitting on either side of it. You move over to him and sit in his lap, swinging your legs over his as you slide your hand over his shoulder, “Hi baby.” You coo, tilting your head and biting your bottom lip, “I’m Candy. Why don’t you take that hat off so I can see that handsome face, hmm?”

He chuckles, but obliges you, grabbing the bill of his hat and removing it. You roll your eyes heavily as his face comes into view and push your hands in his chest to try and stand. He tightens his grip on you, “Just wait a second.”

You purse your lips as you stare back at him, unenthused, “Let me go.” You say sternly.

You only have to ask once. He drops his hands and you stand, heading straight for the curtain, “I already paid for you.” He calls, causing you to stop. You turn on your heel and cross your hands over you chest, “That’s not very nice.”

“I’ll get you a refund.”

“Baby-”

“I am not your baby.” You say coldly, ice dripping from your words. 

He drops his head again, nodding slowly, “Okay.” He takes a breath before lifting his eyes back to yours, sincerity and sorrow flooding through them, “Can I get one last dance then?” You take a deep breath, “You can keep whatever is extra.”

You suck your teeth and send your eyes toward the champagne in the corner as the wheels turn in your head. You should keep walking, leave him high and dry without a second thought like he did you. The business woman in you doesn’t want to show him any sign of weakness - or that he hurt you. Just think about the money. It’s always about the money. 

But, you know that’s not true; especially when it comes to him. 

You turn on your heel as the music being piped into the room changes. Blac Youngsta fills the room, Cut Up flooding your ears. You can’t help but smile. It’s perfect. You’re gonna make him regret this. You saunter to the small, round stage in front of the couch and step on it. Steve leans forward, pushing his way to the edge of the couch. You turn and squat down, peering at him over your shoulder. His eyes are wide and hungry as he stares back you and then slowly drags his eyes down your back to your plump, round ass. 

Just like old times. 

You stand and place your hands on your knees, bending slightly as you start to bounce your ass to the beat. You pop your ass and wind your hips as you twerk for him. You snap your head to cut your eyes back at him, biting your lip to heighten your allure. You turn to face him and throw your arm around his neck, pulling his face so close to your toned stomach that his nose brushes against the thin material of your body suit.

You hear him moan as his hands snake up your sides, “God, they don’t have girls like you in the fifties.”

You laugh lightly as your roll your body, “I bet they don’t.”

You push your fingers into his hair, grabbing and pulling before you push his face into your cleavage. You shimmy your shoulders, jiggling your breasts as he nuzzles into you, a long, gravelly groan scratching at his throat.  You pull his head away from you and roll your hips into his face, letting his nose brush against your pussy. He takes a breath, taking in a deep whiff of your natural, carnal scent. You feel him shiver - just like old times. 

You drop to your knees and lean forward onto the tips of your fingers. You spread your legs wide as you start to twerk again, pushing your hips and ass back into his face before moving forward away from him again. You feel his finger hook under the thin belt of your body suit, and then the familiar feeling of money scraping along your skin. That’s one thing you always liked about Steve, he was always a great tipper. 

He lets his fingers linger on your brown skin, pushing them along your hips as you move, and then down your thighs. There are only two types of people who you allow to let touch you; deep pockets and Steve Rogers. You always liked the way his fingers felt against your skin. Rough, but always gentle. Firm, but soft. Nobody else could touch you like that. 

You roll over onto your butt and bring your knees toward your chest. You cock your head and smile slowly at him. His eyes are wide, pupils almost blown, the brilliant blue damn near black as he’s filled with lust for you and your body. You let your legs fall open, the thin see through material putting your pretty pussy on full display. He inhales sharply as his eyes drop to your sex. He bites his lip and reaches out to touch you, but you slap his hand away quickly, watching as he recoils with a smirk on his face. 

“I’ve missed you so fucking much.” He offers.

You return his smirk as you sit up and crawl toward him. You reach for him, prompting him to grab your hand and help you into his lap. You place your knees on either side of his thighs and rest your hands on his shoulders as you push your breasts into his face again. You sit down into his lap and bite your lip as you feel his hard on through his jeans. You roll your hips into his dick and then slide his dick in between your ass cheeks, groaning slightly. You miss that dick. You didn’t realize just how much until this minute. 

Steve slides his hands up your sides as he glances up at you, “So you do miss me.”

“What makes you think that, Captain?”

“I heard you just now.” He says, his voice heavy and full, “You miss this cock, don’t you?”

You take a breath and unconsciously tighten your grip on his shoulder. He chuckles as he drops his hands to your ass for a quick squeeze before jiggling your flesh, “Yeah. You miss Captain’s dick.”

You toss your hair over your shoulder and lean down, grabbing his earlobe into your teeth, “I bet she missed your dick too, hmm? Seventy years is a long time to go without.” You lean back slowly as he cuts his eyes toward you. You smile sweetly. Two can play this game, mother fucker, “I bet that pussy was boring though.”

“Stop.” He says firmly. 

You shrug, tossing your hair over your opposite shoulder, “You said so yourself. They don’t make girls like me in 1950.”

You feel his eyes follow you as you shift your weight and lean back, your body still moving as the song changes, “I thought about you.” He says quietly, watching as you avoid his gaze, “I thought about you every day.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, trying to get back into your zone. When you don’t respond, he leans forward, “I get why you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.” You say shortly, “Now stop talking so I can finish this dance.”

You untie the small bow that sits on your hip to loosen your sheer bodysuit. You push at the shoulders with your hands, letting the material fall away from your top half to let your breasts fall free. You’re distraction works. Steve drops his eyes to your dark areolas, your thick nipples budding proudly as the cool air tickles them. He takes two full handfuls of you, squeezing lightly as he groans inwardly. He leans forward and pushes his face into the warmth of your breasts, shaking his head into them as he wraps his arms around your waist. 

You circle your arms around his head as you drop your head to his, burying your nose into his hair. You roll your hips and then dig your hips into his as your fingers slide into his blonde hair again. He tips his head up to yours, his lips parting as he stares up at you. You push your chest into his as you roll your hips into his, biting your lip as you drop your eyes to his. 

He cups your face in his palm, sweeping his thumb across your cheek. His eyes bounce wildly between yours, then dip down to your lips, where they stay. His chest bumps into yours as his breathing deepens. He flicks his eyes back to yours quickly, but focuses back on your painted lips within seconds. He pushes upward, his lips brushing against yours as he tries to kiss you. You pull back at the sudden contact; a gut reaction. 

You stare down at him as his eyes widen slightly. That was the first time you had ever rejected him. His eyes bounce between yours as confusion washes over his face. He’s hurt. It’s takes you aback a little. 

“Wow.” He says after a moment, his hands dropping from your sides.

You clear your throat, suddenly irritated, “What?”

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly, never taking his eyes off of you.

You shake your head, “I don’t care Steve.”

“I should have come to see you. I should have told you face to face.” You drop your hands from his shoulders and cross them over your chest as you stare at the wall behind him, “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely - earnestly - as his eyes bounce back and forth between yours, “There was too much between us for me to have left you that way.”

You push off of his lap angrily, pulling your outfit back up over your chest, “There wasn’t shit between us apparently.” You snap back, tying the belt at your hip angrily, “You can leave now.”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you. Don’t make me call security.”

He scoffs at the notion, “Like I won’t put them right through the fucking wall. Talk to me.”

“There is nothing to talk about, Rogers. You left, that’s it. It’s over.” You growl, “I know what I am, and I know what you are.”

He squints his eyes at you, shaking his head, “What does that mean?”

You laugh, tossing your head over your shoulder as you move back toward the thick curtain. You spin around on your heel to face him, “Go back to Peggy. Or, is she dead by now? You know, again.”

He takes a deep breath as his jaws tighten, “There’s no need to be nasty.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“I fucking told you,” He shouts, standing from his spot on the couch, “I thought about you every day. Every single fucking day.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” You shout back, “That you thought about me while you went and lived out your whole life with her? I was there for you when no one else was. You used me to drown your sorrows, not her.”

He drops his head, “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t have to understand,” You spit angrily, your voice full of venom, “You made your choice. Don’t come back here, a hundred fucking years later to now try and eat your cake.”

He places his hands on his hips and closes his eyes, unaware of what to say, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

It comes out in a whisper, so low that you barely catch all of the words, “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you to stay.”

He snaps his eyes to yours, his lips parting as your words wash over him, filling him with even more regret. You turn and move out of the room before he can see the tears slip down your cheek. You move back to the bar and snap your fingers to grab the bartender's attention. He slides you another stiff drink and you gulp it down without a second thought before slamming the shot glass on the bar. You ask for another, cutting your eyes toward room two as Steve steps out, pulling his old Yankees cap back down over his eyes. 

You two link eyes quickly, reading each other like there is no one else in the club but the two of you. He doesn’t want to do any more damage. You’ve made it plenty clear. He’s hurt you. He drops his head and moves past you without even the slightest acknowledgement. You watch him move through the crowd of people, before he disappears through the front door. You throw your head back, swallowing the dark liquid before you close your eyes to push the intrusive thoughts away. 

Focus. You need to focus. Don’t think about him. 

“Candy!”

You sigh loudly, expelling a breath before turning back toward your insufferable manager, “Johnny?”

“You done already? Homie paid for the night.”

You shrug, “Ended early. Where do you need me?”

“You look like you need a break?” He half asks, half states as he raises his eyebrows slightly.

You shake your head, “I’m good.” You lie, tossing your hair over your shoulder, “Get me another private dance.”

“Room 4. I’ll send him in.”

You smile quickly as you saunter past him, swinging your hips and wiggling your fingers toward other clients as you move through them. Your mind races, flashes and fragments of you and Steve’s five year whatever it was, plays out in front of you. You push through the curtain and roll your head on your neck before stretching out your shoulders. 

It was nothing. You were nothing.

Just focus on the money. It’s always about the money. 

You step up on the the round stage and grab onto the pole, spinning around it slowly as a tall man walks through the curtains. You smile seductively as your heels click against the stage as you move, “Hi,” You coo sweetly, tilting your head as he moves to the couch, “I’m Candy. What’s your name?”

[youarejesting]

BTS365 Prompts.week 29

[Full Masterlist] [Prompt Masterlist] [Tag yourself here]

Please tag me in your work if you use my prompts. I want to see your work. Ever your Jester. Tell me your birthday and I will tag you on your special day!

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        July 16th - 22nd

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Kim Seokjin - lonely

You and Kim Seokjin were neighbours and best friends since you could remember. He was nerdy, laughed a little too loudly and made lame jokes. No one really wanted to be friends with him. But you spent hours with him playing in each other’s back yards and giggling over his dumb puns. 

Middle school you were both kind of in each other's company and you had to admit not only were his jokes getting better they were seriously growing on you. 

You went into high school and people liked Seokjin. He often was swept away by you at lunch by yourself. You got a scholarship to study two years abroad and learnt so much while away. By the time you came back from the break you were going into your senior year of high school. Seokjin has been at a party the night you returned home so he didn’t get to see you. You were trying to spot him as you entered the classroom and stood at the front. 

“Class we have a new student” the teacher gestured “would you like to introduce yourself?”

“Ah I am Y/n” you smiled 

“Damn she is hot” you didn’t see him in the class but that didn’t stop you from looking. 

“Sorry I am late, I got caught sneaking bread from the cafeteria” Seokjin laughed and you knew it was him. 

You looked at him shocked, after class you went to approach him but you were stopped by a group of girls. 

“Listen, we are the Seokjin fan club, he doesn’t talk to girls and if he did get in line” you pushed past them and grinned. 

“Hey Jin I think you are living in a bubble” you called out and he stopped turning around looking you up and down. 

“Unbeliebubble!”

Min Yoongi - simplicity

“This is too complicated, we need something simple, something easy to sing at a concert after all the others I can’t take another dance number, my poor heart will give out,” Yoongi complained from the floor the others were stretching between songs and you searched the song on your phone and hit play dimming the lights. 

“Alright?” You smiled and the small music box style song played through the room. It was a ten hour loop of music box ‘Twinkle, twinkle little star’, you rolled up your clean towel and placed it under Yoongi's head. 

“You got an half an hour to sleep, use it wisely” you spoke but his soft breathing had already taken over. He was out like a light. 

Jung Hoseok - Embrace

Embarrassment didn’t even come close to how you felt. It was an easy mistake, you walked into the wrong room. But you must be thinking, well that’s not exactly embarrassing. Did I forget to mention you walked into the wrong room of a hotel. If that wasn’t enough you got into bed without even turning on the light too exhausted from your late flight. It wasn’t until in your days you tried to hug one of the warm pillows, it smelt amazing. But that pillow squealed, flailing and you were hit in the face repeatedly. Retreating from the bed you were blinded by the light.

“What are you doing in my room?” You hissed, grabbing the phone and called the front desk and he was frozen shaking, pulling on his shirt, trying to wake up fast enough to translate what you were saying. He started laughing and sat on the bed running a hand through his hair as the security came in, his and yours.

“It’s okay, it was a misunderstanding, the man at the front desk must have given you the wrong key, we are truly ashamed of our service and this mix up.

“Hoseok?” Namjoon asked “Sir, what is going on?”

“They gave us the same key, I climbed in bed with your friend. A simple mistake, I apologize for making a fuss” Your head was swimming, feeling lethargic from your flights and business.

“I have called the front desk, they are going to bring you another key ma’am truly we are sorry?”

The phone rang and you could barely stand on your feet. “What do you mean there are no more rooms available?”

“I don’t care where I sleep, I am just tired please, I will sleep in the hall if I have to. I am dead on my feet?”

“We can share a room?” Namjoon said, “She is tired, we will give her this room for the evening.”

“I don’t care anymore…” You fell, not even conscious to feel if you had hit the ground honestly it felt like you were floating in mid air. The sunlight woke you with its warmth, you were on the bed alone. It felt like maybe it was all an elaborate dream, you stepped out and saw everything as it should be not a trace of any intruders.

Except a note on the hall table by the door, “I am so sorry, I wacked you in the face. If you are awake, I would like to buy you some coffee as an apology?” You looked up at the mirror and saw a small swollen bump on your cheek and laughed hysterically.

Kim Namjoon - Pandemonium [Full story] Mature themes warnings on post but SFW. 

If you search the word Pandemonium it literally translates to ‘abode of all demons (or hell)’. Which in basic terms meant home of demons, a name quite fitting for the place of residence for Kim Namjoon as he was in fact a demon. He appeared human of course and very handsome a man must attract his food.

Tonight's meal was you. Unbeknownst to this fact you danced to the music feeling the music pulsing through your body, each heavy bass note shook your heart in such a way it felt dangerous. You had only been to the club a handful of times but you loved it. Sipping your lemonade and dancing to the music. 

It was always a wonderful experience. Even the nights where things didn’t exactly go as planned were still enjoyable. You could ignore other people's decisions, you were here for one thing and one thing alone and that was to dance. You saw him every night and watched him dance with all the girls and guys until he took someone home.

You remember the first time you saw him dancing, his hands on another man's waist, and a sinful feeling passed through you, but you pushed the thoughts away, as you pushed your way through the crowd. Splashing your face with cold water in the bathroom listening to a gaggle of women chatting through the door to their friend who was vomiting.

For weeks whenever you closed your eyes you could see his gazing across the dance floor. You were scared to go back. His first and only attempt to dance ended quickly and when you had turned to face him, he almost seemed disgusted pulling his hands from your body and apologizing before leaving.

Were you not his type, did he not like what he saw when he came close to you. You were confused and a little hurt but that feeling passed and you soon got used to the odd man, he would sometimes catch your gaze and you grew braver and braver to look him in the eyes. Taking a break from your dancing to order a lemonade, you noticed him dancing with a woman very intimately his hands wandering over her curves.

As if he could feel your gaze he looked up and gave you a sly grin, in the multi colored strobe lights he looked horrific. Teeth appearing sharp and his eyes reflected light strangely like you might see an animal's eyes reflect. You coughed up your drink and turned away a hand on your chest trying to clear the liquids you had inhaled.

You saw him in the reflection of the bar as he walked the woman out, you felt a sort of longing, what would happen if you followed him out. Again you reprimanded yourself for such thoughts, you knew he wouldn’t even be interested in you, it was obvious because you saw him almost every night and he never approached you.

“Stay away from that Namjoon?” the bartender said softly “Those who go with him never return”

Things started to get weird when the paper published an article about people turning up dead. You didn’t know what possessed you to look, perhaps just morbid curiosity. But you looked. It struck you through the chest, each of them were faces you recognized because of him. 

You shivered and stayed away from the club for a while too scared to find out if it was true. Did the bartender know. It was a month or two later and a friend's birthday and you were in the club once more. There was no sign of him so perhaps everything was going to be okay, everyone drank and danced, you sat and minded drinks and purses with your lemonade. 

You saw him dancing and sat up, how did you not notice him walk in. This wasn’t important, what was important was he was dancing with your best friend Yoonji. She was smiling while he whispered in her ear and his eyes met yours and you could see the surprise in his eyes. He froze and you contemplated taking your friends home. You picked up the bags and raced over, “Hey guys, Yoonji I think we should all head home” You said turning from your friends group to look over your best friends shoulder at him.

Park Jimin - gummy worm

You left the boss’ office and stormed to your desk pulling open the top draw and diving your hand into a bag of extremely sour gummy worms. Your friend Seokjin laughed, “What did the boss say now?”

“Eunji is on maternity leave, so we have a new team member, she left us in the biggest time of the year, how selfish can she be?”

“She was the size of an actual house, the biggest time of her year, it’s not like she could help it.” Seokjin laughed “but I understand a new person is stressful, so who is she?”

“He.” You scoffed

“I’m sorry what?”

“Yeah the new team member is a he, the boss’ nephew?” You sighed 

“The one he boasts about at the christmas party, the really bro gym rat hetero one”

“I hope he knows makeup, or I am livid?”

“No the other nephew is the bro gym rat, I wouldn’t exactly call myself hetero, I like to keep my options open and as for makeup well…” You turned looking him up and down, he was a snack, freakishly sexy long legs that seemed to move smooth and slow like he was walking around a stripper pole. He looked at you with his sharp grey eyes adorning a beautiful orange eyeshadow. He looked you up and down and saw the bag of sour gummy worms.

Without words you extended the bag and he took one popping it in his mouth, his tongue poking out and swiping some of the powder from his plump strawberry glossed lips. “I’d like to think I have some knowledge of make up, I use products daily”

“I am Jin.” Seokjin laughed watching you “And my drooling friend is Y/n”

“An absolute pleasure” He gently cupped your chin helping you to close your mouth and wiping the powder from the corner of your mouth. “I enjoy sour things too”

Kim Taehyung - Customers

Taehyung was standing at the check out, it was his first day and he grinned at you readjusting the ‘Trainee’ pin on his shirt with a grin. He was proud and you took him through the ropes trying to teach him how to work the till and touch screen and searching overriding items. You also taught him how to use the PA machine and effective bagging techniques. It took awhile but he was actually getting really good, everyday he called for you less and made less mistakes. 

Your opinion of him changed from annoying and incompetent to a kind of cute with eccentric thoughts floating around his head coleague. It was your day off but you had to run to the store, you were dressed horribly hair a mess, no make up. The trip was unplanned but when you got your period with absolutely no supplies you decided to rush to the store hoping to grab some things and leave.

What you didn’t expect was to get him. Where were all the female staff. “Hey, Y/n!” He waved to you and finished serving the customer bowing his head as they left. You placed your things on the counter and he smiled at you. 

“Look” He called for your attention, reluctantly you looked up. He was grinning a huge square smile and pointing at the finely polished badge. “It has my name on it in both Korean and Chinese, see Steel Kim, Big Tae and Be successful hyung”

You smiled at how happy he was with his new badge, how much he loved working in such a mundane job. 

“Taehyung your shift is complete once you finish, shut down your till and you are free to go. I will count it for you and take over.” The supervisor smiled as he walked past.

“Ah you are a customer” Taehyung seemed to realize he was still working, giving you an apologetic smile, “Good morning, how are you?”

“I am okay” You said, shuffling your feet, your stomach cramping. He noticed the items and frowned you paid wordlessly and went to the staff room to use the bathroom.

When you stepped out, Taehyung stood there with a bag in his hands. “I got you these, I thought they might help and was wondering if you wanted a ride home?”

“I am okay, Taehyung,” You said, wincing at the sharp pain in your side.

“Listen, I want to drive you home, you look like you are in pain” He said and pulled you over to the bench that sat outside the toilets and he opened a pack of disposable heat packs and smiled, “Lift your shirt I will put them on for you”

You blushed but complied with his request as he put two on your tummy and smiled “Anywhere else?” You lifted your shirt and he placed them on your lower back. Relaxing with the warmth you looked at Taehyung, features softening. “You look more comfortable, let me drive you home?” 

He walked you to your door carrying your groceries and he smiled “I brought you some snacks and medicine hoping it would help”

“Do you want to watch a movie with me?”

“Sure” he beamed

Jeon Jungkook - yellow 

Jungkook's first university party and it was a traffic light party, the rules were if your single wear green if you were taken wear red if you were complicated or unsure wear yellow. He  dressed in yellow unsure if he was looking for someone or not. 

He saw you dressed in yellow, standing in the backyard trying to get away from the loud noise and stench of alcohol. You were funny and sweet, Jungkook found himself completely taken by you. The way you spoke and danced the way you giggled the way you squeezed his bicep and made a declaration that you were sure he works out. 

He was modest, not wanting to appear full of himself, and he felt his heart flutter. The night was ruined however when a man dressed in yellow appeared slinging his arm around you. “Hey man, what’s your name?”

“Jungkook?”

“Cool, I am Taehyung?” He smiled, dropping the words he didn’t want to hear. “y/n’s boyfriend”

“Oh I am sorry to bother you?”

“No dude, you are cute and we are in an open relationship so like if you are interested maybe the three of us could grab some coffee” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and Jungkook raises an eyebrow. There was something about this handsome blonde man that kept jungkook intrigued. 

Soon he was dancing with you, with Taehyung with both of you, and honestly he loved it, he loved the attention of both you and your boyfriend. “Okay sure, let’s get coffee”

You looked up and giggled, his eyes were wide with wonder and his grin was adorable. Taehyung matched him with his own adorable grin and you threw your arms around the two makes shoulders making them crouch from the height difference “let’s go boys I can go something to drink”

[fics-not-tragedies]

One Day in December: Chapter 9 🎇

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - epilogue

The last chapter will be posted tomorrow folks! Enjoy this one today.

Words: 2154; Warnings: few smut bits, also alcohol drinking; Summary: This year the pair decided to sing together a Christmas classic before ditching he party.

Hozier tag list:

@letoursilencebreaktonight​​​​​​​​​​; @angelpeachamber​​​​​​​​​​; @sgt-morgan​​​​​​​​​​; @julessbrown​​​​​​​​​​;

December 2018 

“Here…” Alex handed Andrew the flask and Andrew looked at him with a bewildered expression on his face, “Don’t look at me like that… you need it… have some.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and knocked a swing back, “Ughhhhh… God…” he bit back the strong liquid that burned his throat all the way down. Shaking his head, he stuck his tongue out and an icy cold chill whipped up between the cars, between their little circle and and around Andrew’s neck, “Fuck it” he murmured and took another hard swig. It may have burned, but it felt good once it was settled in his belly. 

“We’re still doing this, eh?” Rory grinned looking between the two of them. 

“Eh… it’s only once a year. Tradition, right?” Alex smiled at Andrew and he nodded his head with a grin.

“Tradition, yeah” Andrew handed the flask off to Rory and checked his phone one more time. It was getting late.

“Oh God!” Rory exclaimed, clutching his throat just beneath his his scarf, “That’s disgusting. Tastes like lighter fluid. Is that what it is?”

Both Andrew and Alex laughed at Rory’s reaction, and Alex defended his choice of liquor, reasoning that it would keep them warm. Which it was, so he hadn’t been wrong, really.

“Fuck it’s cold!” Andrew hissed, digging his hands deep into his pockets. The bass from the party was beckoning them inside, into the warmth and out of the crisp, damp, snow.

Alex frowned, “What’s the deal, mate? Is she-” 

“Hey!! You better have saved a sip of that for me!” Bianca’s light, happy voice traveled on the wind, carrying it to the little cluster of lads huddled together, shielded from the wind by the car beside them. Andrew’s head whipped up at the sound, a smile breaking out on his face. 

There she is. 

Alex and Rory cheered and clapped at her arrival and Andrew grinned like a fool, opening his long arms up wide for her, “Hey you…” he breathed, a cloud of air engulfing them as she melted into him. He wrapped his arms around her tight, hugging him to her so close. 

“Sorry I’m late…” Bianca sighed against Andrew’s neck, giggling when he tickled her sides. 

“It’s fine, em… we just froze out here waiting for you…” he teased, giving her a pinch and tucking her against his side.

“Froze? What about the lighter fluid?” Alex grinned and Bianca held her hands out in indication that she wanted him to toss the flask her way.

It sailed through the air between the four of them and she caught it before knocking it back and finishing it completely. She gagged, “Fuck me. That’ll put hair on your chest” and then with a grin she added, “Shit… I should’ve saved some more for you Andy.”

“Ha!” He rolled his eyes and nipped at her playfully. 

“Alright  you two, let’s head inside, shall we?”

And so the four of them traipsed up the steps to the party that the friend they’d all met years ago and couldn’t quite remember how, had been throwing for nearly a decade now. 

“Hey, where’s Cormac?” Bianca frowned when they pushed through the bodies and down the hall to the coat room.

“Stayed home with his family” Andrew informed her, holding his arms out to help her remove her jacket. 

“Aw. I never thought it was quite as fun when all four of you weren’t together.”

Rory smiled and raised his eyebrows, tossing his jacket onto the pile and unknotting his scarf. It was the same one Bianca had seen him tuck around his neck the first night she met him, “I agree.”

“You can be him for the night Bianca if you’d like” Ryan chimed in, “The honorary fourth Hozier crew member.”

She grinned, “Those are some serious shoes to fill… but I can totally do that.”

*

Andrew and Bianca let themselves drink a little more than they usually did… seeing as to how now they had each other and there really wasn’t anything to be depressed about this holiday. They’d commandeered the karaoke. They were two hams that were finally unleashing their natural ability to entertain and sang through a barrage of songs. Bianca wasn’t shy and nervous anymore with Andrew by her side, and he’d finally begun to feel comfortable in his own skin. Sometimes getting older and finding the one you were meant to be with had a way of doing that. 

“Wanna sing one more with me, baby?” Andrew raised his eyebrow at Bianca, his voice deep as he sang his question, his lips pressed to the mic. Bianca giggled from her perch on the arm of the couch where she sat through Andrew’s last two songs with Alex and then a few drunk friends of theirs who tried to wrench the mic from him in their intoxicated obnoxiousness. 

“That depends…” she sang back in the other mic, standing up opposite him, “… what song? because I’m tired and I wanna go hoooooome.”

“It’s an old favorite” Andrew smiled, his face lighting up when he selected the song and the words showed up on the screen. 

“The duet version” she felt her cheeks flush, remembering the last time this song was sang here; how sweet Andrew had looked when he sang it. He nodded his head to the screen, indicating that he wanted her to take the lead first. She smiled and rolled her eyes upwards. The key was going to be high for her, and she really didn’t have the voice that belonged on the same stage as her boyfriend. He was the singer in this couple, not her. 

Clearing her throat as her countdown began, she chirped the first word, coughed with a smile and started again, catching up.

“Oh, the weather outside is frightful

But the fire is so delightful

And since we've no place to go

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!”

She swayed back and forth to the beat as Andrew began his part.

“It doesn't show signs of stopping

And I brought some corn for popping

The lights are turned down low

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow” he sang flamboyantly and loud, making his way over to her and taking her hand. He spun her into his arms and then out all the way again so she nearly fell into Andrew’s lap.

A crowd had gathered. 

When Bianca noticed this her face got bright red and she nearly gave up the mic, but Alex pushed her back in towards Andrew. She shook her head as he sang to her.

“When we finally kiss goodnight

How I'll hate to go out in the storm”

He was hamming it up now, improvising and throwing in his little ‘Andrew-isms’ just to make her laugh and she loved it. She adored him and her heart was full. Now came the part when they were meant to harmonize and it didn’t sound great, but they went with it anyways. 

“But if you really hold me tight…” Andrew was pointing at himself, like ‘me? are you singing to me?’ And Bianca grinned, nodding her head and playing along. “… All the way home I'll be warm…”

And then he had her hand and he was singing right to her, her voice dying out as he took over.

“The fire is slowly dying

And my dear, we're still goodbying

But as long as you love me so

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow?”

Bianca giggled when Andrew kissed her cheek and squeezed her. Their performance warranted a round of applause and a few whistles here and there. Most of the guests in attendance had witnessed the last few years of their roller coaster of a love story and if they hadn’t been there first hand, they’d heard about it through a friend. It was a small town, good news travel fast, and everyone knew Andrew. Bianca became a local celebrity by association.

“I’m not nearly drunk enough for this kind of attention” she whispered in his ear, hiding her face, “How do you stand it every night?”

“You’re just not seasoned like I am” he teased her with another squeeze, “Wanna get out of here?”

“Yes!” Bianca exclaimed and for some reason, she got the feeling this would be the last time he’d be asking her that question in this house.

*

“Can you please hurry up?” Bianca called from the middle of her bed, the covers tucked up under her chin. 

“What?” Andrew called to her from the bathroom around the corner, “Couldn’t hear you…” 

He peeked around the corner at Bianca’s head floating on the pillows, seemingly bodiless beneath the blankets. He snorted, his toothbrush wedged between his teeth. 

She grinned at him, her cheeks flushed, her shoulder-length tawny hair in a little knot on the top of her head. “I said can you please hurry up because I’m freezing.”

He laughed again, “Baby… how can you be freezing when-” 

Andrew stopped mid-sentence when Bianca lifted the blankets and flashed him her naked body quickly, her mouth an open smile, her hazel eyes twinkling. Andrew pulled his toothbrush from his mouth and threw it over his shoulder. It clattered to the floor behind him somewhere, and Bianca giggled when he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and crawled on top of her over the covers, “Thought you were tired and all that?” Andrew asked her between kisses. He covered her cheeks and her forehead, her eyelashes and the tip of her nose. 

“Tired of that party” she laughed as he felt her up through the blankets, squeezing her and tickling her, supporting his weight by leaning up, his knee on other side of her waist, “Can we never go back again?”

“Never?” He murmured, inching down the blankets slowly as he kissed across the tips of her shoulders and her collarbone.

“Ever.”

“Never ever?”

“I don’t wanna go back!” She cried with a laugh as he shimmied the comforter down further, exposing her breasts. She tried to cover herself from the icy cool air of the room, but he nudged her hands away with his nose, and swatted at her.

Andrew chuckled against the warmth of her soft skin, “No reason to really…” 

“There isn’t. I only went for you. And now I’ve got you” she sighed happily, sliding her fingers into his hair while his minty cool lips took her nipple into his mouth. He sucked on her slowly, his fingertips and thumbs stroking her sides. Goosebumps dotted her skin and she shivered.

“Pretty sure…” Andrew mumbled through each sinful, wanton pass of his tongue, “It’s I who’s got you.”

Bianca moaned softly, laughing at the tingly way her body melted with that incredible mouth of his, “Either way. Not going back” she combed her fingers over and over through his long locks. He’d cut it over the summer, but it was back to this length again, and when he didn’t tied it, it reminded her of her Andrew beneath the mistletoe in two thousand twelve. So soft, and gentle, and sweet.

“Good” he moaned as he trailed sloppy, wet open-mouthed kisses down her torso, “Can I ask you em, one thing?”

She tugged on his hair when his nose brushed against her, tickling her, “Yes…”

“What are you doing New Year’s Eve?” He muttered against the bone of her hip, his teeth gently nipping at her. He looked up at her, kissing her once more before climbing over her and pulling the blankets up around them. He settled between her legs, resting on his elbows beside her head, “Wanna come back with me and spend the New Year in Dublin? I know this isn’t as exclusive as it sounds, since we’re, em, an hour away from Dublin, but let’s change something.”

Bianca raised her eyebrows at the suggestion. She’d only been to Andrew’s once during the summer for a few weeks. She’d loved it.

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” Andrew grinned, brushing his nose against hers, “You can stay for as long as you want, don’t have to come running back” he kissed her soft pink lips slow and lazy, leaning on one arm to push her leg open wider for him. He brushed his fingers against her, getting them slick and wet. Bianca moaned, sliding his pants over his hips and ass, snaking her hand inside to wrap around him and stroke him slowly before guiding him inside her.

She sighed when he filled her up, her hands on his ass, holding him against her. He lay there on top of her for a moment, gazing heavily into those pretty eyes of hers. He realized then he didn’t want to have to say goodbye to her anymore every time he left.

“I’d like it if you stayed with me…” Andrew whispered, his lips brushing against hers, “More…permanently.”