#the amount of times I have been called nuts and then was RIGHT

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello! Someone genuinely trying to understand and perhaps unlearn some reactionary tendencies. With the response to that anon about "not asking if you're a pro or anti", the response about "imagine if they put this much effort into protecting real kids" definitely got me thinking. So... Is an adult shipping children and finding that hot NEVER a red flag? Or is it case by case on seeing how that person handles the distinction between fiction and reality in other things? And bringing the issue of real kids into it, if a real kid who has been abused sees someone shipping kids and finds that a red flag in that person, that... No, no I juicy answered my own question on that one. Block them and cultivate your own experience.

hi there anon, and congrats on trying to unlearn some things! and great job catching yourself at the end there, that's exactly correct.

I will start by saying this right out of the gate: fundamentally, I do not really give a shit about what made up scenarios about fictional characters people are jorking it to in private. I am, first and foremost, interested in how they are interacting with actual, real people.

"but Makenzie are you saying people who look at sexually explicit images of real human kids should be allowed near children?" no I'm not. please note that I was specifically talking about people engaging with fictional characters who are, you know, not real and do not have feelings and therefore cannot actually be hurt, traumatized, abused, etc, in any way that actually matters. I want to be so clear about this: you can genuinely think whatever vile things you want about fictional characters. you can enjoy any problematic shit you want with little guys who don't actually exist.

like, here's an example I use a lot: I'm kind of a huge Batman fan. don't know if you could tell that or not, I'm pretty subtle about it. if you spend any time in the Batman mythos, you know that this is a story where you just kind of have to take for granted that our hero is a billionaire using his vast wealth to dispatch vigilante justice with military grade weaponry and a small army of child soldiers and cop friends to help him put people in prison. these are moral quandaries that are discussed and acknowledged within the story, but fundamentally the universe is always going to involve billionaire vigilantism and child soldiers and the so-called carceral justice system. that's just the price of admission if you're gonna read Batman.

and like. I spend a lot of time in that world. I love Batman, I love his child soldiers. he's my little blorbo or whatever. but like, at no point have I said "yeah, fuck it, preteens should be learning martial arts to fight domestic terrorists, actually. I think Elon Musk SHOULD be allowed to put on a fursuit and beat up criminals. cops need more funding." no amount of Batman comics can make me believe or act on any of those things because, you know, I'm a person with a brain and I know the difference between "thing that makes a good story" and "thing that should actually happen for real."

and the thing is that genuinely, honestly, if someone thought that it was a red flag that I like Batman, and that enjoying Batman comics was somehow a red flag indicating that I'm fine with violence being done against real, actual children? I would think that person was a nut, if I can be super real. like, I'm thinking about somebody trying to make the case that I shouldn't be allowed to hang out with my nephew because I enjoy the fictional character of Robin so clearly I'm going to kill my nephew's parents in front of him to try to get him into vigilante justice. or if someone attempted to bar me from teaching my 4th-6th grade sex ed classes on the grounds that I was obviously going to teach them to do karate to clowns instead of how their reproductive systems worked.

(although, lets be real, there are a lot of politicians who would MUCH rather let little kids cage fight each other than learn anything about safer sex.)

this doesn't just apply to morally bad things, either, btw. I also read a lot of romance novels, especially hetero romances. and the thing is, not one of those books has made me want to fall in love with a ruggedly handsome but condescending straight man. hell, none of them have made me want to fall in love with anybody, period. that's not really something I'm interested in for myself, it's just a fun and frequently funny dynamic to explore. I'm hardly the first queer person to point out that the allegations that queer media "turns kids gay/trans" is obviously bullshit since the vertible mountain of cishet media evidently failed to turn any of us straight/cis, you know?

my point being: no, I genuinely don't think it's often, if ever, reasonable to judge someone's actual, real life morals by how they interact with fiction.

I'm going to say something so vulnerable right now, because we're in a safe space here: since you asked me this very reasonable question, you evidently value my judgment and perspective at least a little bit. and I once read and thoroughly enjoyed a fic in which Dr. Horrible, from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, gets fucked by a sapient evil horse. and I don't think that makes me a morally reprehensible person, or a person who advocates for real human beings having real sex with real horses. I think it just makes me kind of a weirdo with a bullshit tolerance.

if you want to hear a MUCH more thorough take on this, complete with addressing the issue of shipping fictional children, I cannot recommend Princess Weekes' video essay enough:

[simplyghosting]

My family mocks my trash heap until they need my trash heap. Weep before my throne of broken wires.

[sinofwriting]

Wine - Oscar Piastri (lover verse)

Words: 977 Summary: Oscar (and Apples) go on the screaming meals podcast after everyone finds out about their marriage. Note(s): This part of the lover verse and I recommend you read the first part before this one so it makes sense. Read lover here

Masterlist | Support Me! | lover verse

“We have an Aussie on the pod today.” James says. “Indeed we do. The wonder boy himself, Oscar Piastri!” Clement continues and the three guys clap while Oscar looks behind the camera where his wife is feeling a little awkward. “Thank you for coming, Oscar. Was a bit of bitch to get you on though.” Oscar chuckles, nodding. “Just a bit. I’m glad I could make it though. I’ve been watching since the first episode.” “That’s right.” Marcus says. “I remember you texting me about it.”

“Ladies, Gentleman, you may notice we have five glasses on the table in front of us. And that is because Oscar’s wife is here as well.” “Hello!” She greets from behind the camera, sending a smile James’ way. She and the insurance broker had spent a fair amount of time together when Oscar was in F2. “She also brought the wine for today.” Clem chimes in, picking the bottle up. “Really, Apples is just trying to prove that she is the best guest to have.” He lets out a laugh seeing the label. “Ah, a bit of DR3 wine. I haven’t actually had this yet. Is it good?” He turns his head a bit to ask her, knowing that between her and Oscar she’s the one who likes wine more. She nods. “My mom loves it as well and you know her, bit of a wine snob. I also brought another one though if we get through that one a bit too quickly.” Clem makes a small noise, hand coming over his heart and he looks back at Oscar. “Mate, I might have to steal your wife.” Oscar shakes his head at the Frenchman but chuckles. He hadn’t expected the friendship between her and Clem, but it had started from their shared interest in wine and had only grown.

“Do you mind if we actually talk about you, Apples?” James asks, as Marcus takes the wine from Clem to open it. Easily passing the cork over to Clem to smell. “Not at all.” She says, reaching somewhat into frame to take the glass of wine from Marcus, giving him a quick squeeze to the hand in silent thanks after.

“So the Australian Grand Prix.” Marcus starts, handing the next glass over to Oscar, who immediately groans at the words. “I mean, what a home race.” The younger man makes a face, shifting in place as he clutches the glass of wine. “It was something.” He allows. “It was a clusterfuck, mate.” James chuckles, taking the next glass of wine from Marcus. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I mean truly.” Marcus says, passing Clem a glass who gives a silent cheer to him, before finally pouring himself a glass. “I mean, the media ran fucking wild and it was nuts.” “I was there with Clem for the F2 race and oh yeah, the media was something.” “I mean,” Oscar huffs, running a hand over his face. It had been months but still he was bothered over this. “It wasn’t like a secret y’know? Everyone in F3 and F2 knew about it. I mean obviously.” He waves a hand at three guys. “So I’m just amazed at the press and social media just not knowing it.” Clem wags a finger at the camera. “And you call yourself a journalist. Couldn’t even do basic research.” “Seriously.” Oscar says, and Marcus can’t help but laugh at how bothered Oscar is. It was a change from the usual unflappable or unbothered way he was.

“I also found out from Mrs. Piastri herself that the drivers didn’t know?” James asks. “They didn’t.” She confirms. “Well, Logan obviously did.” Marcus says, remembering how Logan had taken a weird older brother role to the Aussie couple. “But the rest didn’t? Not even Ocon? Or Alonso?” Oscar looks over at her, raising an eyebrow and she gives a shrug. “Ocon didn’t, Alonso, I mean maybe? He congratulated me after the news broke when he saw me next, but I mean it’s Alonso, who ever knows with him.” “Fair point.” James chuckles, lifting his glass a bit.

Apples watches from behind the camera for the rest of the podcast, only coming into frame once more for a refill on her glass of wine. Though she occasionally says something, fake chiding one of the boys or urging Oscar to open up a bit more, her husband still a bit too aware of the camera on him. Makes her wish she had taken that shot that Clem offered her before they started rolling, knowing that Oscar would have also had one if she had.

When they finish up, Oscar goes to move, switch to the other couch so Clem and James can sit with Marcus to film yeah g’day mate, but Marcus stills him and waves her over. She raises an eyebrow aware of the still rolling cameras but she goes over, easily sitting on the arm of the couch that Oscar is pressed against. As soon as she sits the other two are also piling onto the couch, Clem diving in between Oscar and Marcus, elbowing the Kiwi as James tries to grab the back of the French’s shirt, just barely managing to pull him up off the couch.

“Sit on the arm mate. You’re tiny enough. And budge over, Marcus.” “Why do I have to move?” Marcus asks, but slides over, knocking his and Oscar’s elbows together. “Because you're small enough to be in the middle. It’ll look weird with me.”

As the three start to bicker, Oscar leans his head against her and she runs her fingers through his hair, smiling down at him as he tilts his head backwards to look up at her. “You alright, Os?” She murmurs, Marcus’ squawk of protest surely prevents the mic from picking up her question. He nods, flashing her a smile.

@cixrosie @gemofthenight @copper-boom @boiohboii @iloveyou3000morgan @Benstormy @peachiicherries @topguncultleader @lpab

[eisforeidolon]

[Following on from talking about Kim Manners for a while]

Mark: He was just an amazing guy -

Jared: The best.

Mark: He was something else. And look, I've worked with a lot of people, and I've known you since you were a lot younger.

Jared: Hey! Same! Same!

Mark: A lot younger. And the truth is, to - it sounds so corny [mocking voice] 'Oh, this show is a family'. Look, this is a place where we went to work with 150 of our friends for over, y'know, a decade and a half. I did nearly a decade of it. And I think the energy that he instilled upon how to behave on a set was absolutely the reason why anybody could walk on that show and be treated like gold. [Jared nods as he's talking] You could succeed if you came with your A game, you were looked after and you were carried. And if you were crap? You were looked after and you were carried. I swear to God I have seen this, couple people that didn't - I won't ever say what it is, but didn't make it beyond a certain small amount of an arc, they just didn't have the right thing or didn't get it or whatever.

Jared: Yeah, the right attitude. We even had people that recurred and returned, who maybe they weren't as solid of an actor as a Mark Sheppard or a Mark Pellegrino type, but they were good enough and they were kind. And they showed up and they wanted to work and they wanted to laugh and they knew their lines and hit their marks and they showed up on time and there was no bullshit. It was like, okay, we can work with this. And so let's keep on going -

Mark: There was a trust element that was mind-blowing, and I've worked on some amazing sets in my time, but it was special, man. To know that every single person in that crew had my back every single day.

Jared: Amen.

Mark: When we did the end of season 8, when you and I were doing hours [Jared says something here I can't make out] and hours and hours of this stuff. That group, right, so in between shots, right? In between shots, you've gotta move lights, you've gotta move cameras, you've gotta do stuff. And they don't have to be quiet. They're working all day, they've been there three hours before us, they're leaving three hours after us -

Jared: And it was a long trek, it was like an hour away from town. On some, like, beautiful lake that Phil Sgriccia -

Mark: Oh, on the outside when we did - but when we went to the stage, when we came back to do the interiors?

Jared: Yes, yes.

Mark: And we did the interiors in there, they didn't make a sound between takes for two days. Because the boys are being serious, we'll support 'em. And that's how we got through those pages and pages of stuff. Jensen -

Jared: It was a couple of - two or three days or something.

Mark: It was two or three days -

Jared: And then Jensen and Alaina come in.

Mark: It was nuts. It was so - but we, like, you see all the gag reels, right? You see how silly everything gets? The reason why the gag reels are fun is cause we work hard, so one mistake -

Jared: [?] you're done, never forget. I will say this, a lot of y'all know Mark and have known him many times or met him many times, and a lot of y'all know, can agree with me, he doesn't shut the fuck up. Ever.

Mark: [Mark holds his hands up and nods] I talked my way through six heart attacks, trust me.

Jared: Other than the two or three day span where we were in that chapel. And it was so - it was before the AKF campaigns, it was - what Sam was going through, in a very different way, was similar to what Jared kinda had gone through and was going through? And so I went to a weird place, it's the only time in my 480 episodes of television I've ever listened to music during - in between scenes? And Mark is tied up, you know, you're my Marley moose and all that bit? And like, usually when you're tied up during a scene, they call cut and they move the cameras, it takes twenty minutes and you go like, untie me, I'm going to my trailer to pee and have some water? He just stayed there and was quiet the whole time, because I just sat there in the corner, he was just there for me, so kudos to you, Mark Sheppard.

Mark: And kudos to Jensen. Jensen was off-camera for a day and a half. Off-camera, in character, for a day and a half. It's - you suddenly realize that everybody's got your back and it's just the greatest feeling in the world. When you're trying to do - there's never enough time, there's never enough money, there's never enough ability to make the best that you can make of it, you know? We're all trying, but when you know everybody is trying to make the best possible thing for you guys [gestures to audience] that we can make, with all our hearts, with everything that we care about? It's just a fantastic experience. And what I love about, I was talking about the gag reels, what I love about the gag reels is you're seeing the antidote to that.

Jared: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Mark: So when Jensen for the first time in his entire history can't get a line out of his mouth, which is I'd rather be smacked during sex by a girl with a Zorro mask -

Jared: He kept messing it up!

Mark: He messed it one time, and you killed him.

Jared: Oh for sure. For sure.

Mark: We have thirty eight takes of that. He never messed a line up in -

Jared: Worth it. He kept on removing a word or adding a word and I was like [frustrated voice] that's not the word! But it was good. Anyways. Great time, great family, let's get some questions.

[batboyblog]

A Tale of Two Judges

In federal court in Florida today a judge struck down a Florida law banning gender affirming care for minors as well as rules from the state's medical authority that set up barriers to trans adults seeking care

At the same time a federal court in Texas blocked guidance from the Biden Administration's Department of Education that Title IX should be understood as protecting trans students

And I think this is a great illustration that elections last LONG after they're finished, one judge blasted Florida's law as unconstitutional and quoted Dr. King in framing trans rights as the same as the struggle for racial equality and called on the courts to support them. The other gleefully sided with Republicans with Texas AG Ken Paxton declaring "“Joe Biden’s unlawful effort to weaponize Title IX for his extremist agenda has been stopped in its tracks"

The Judge in Florida was Senior Judge Robert Hinkle, he was appointed by President Bill Clinton in 1996, Hinkle took the semi-retirement known as senior status in 2016, but still hears cases as he did here. Hinkle also ruled in 2014 that Florida's ban on same-sex marriage was unconstitutional.

The Judge in Texas is Judge Reed O'Connor, He was appointed by President George W. Bush in 2007. O'Connor is very active in the conservative Federalist Society, Conservative Lawyers and Texas Attorneys General try to file their insane, legally nonsense, show boat cases in his court because if they get him he'll rule for the Republican side and against the Democratic side no matter what. In 2016 he blocked Obama Admin rules that declared Title IX meant trans students should be allowed to use the bathroom of their choice. While the Obama team appealed, once Trump was elected the rule was pulled and the case died.... hm. O'Connor is best known as that crazy man who ruled the Affordable Care Act unconstitutional in 2018, he was reversed, he ruled the Indian Child Welfare Act was unconstitutional, he ruled in 2022 the US Navy couldn't require Navy SEALS get Covid vaccines.

all to say when you get into a voting booth remember one of the things you vote for is Judges, who have a huge amount of power, and you can either get cool progressive minded judges who will still be making ground breaking rulings to protect civil rights 28 years after being nominated, or you can get conservative hacks who rule whatever wing nut thing they see on Fox 18 years after being nominated. During his Presidency Trump got to nominate 234 federal judges (Biden is currently at 201) including 3 Supreme Court Justices (Biden has 1) And those judges will be with us for years not like 10 years, or even 20, or even 30, no no no, Judge Albert Branson Maris was nominated by FDR in 1936 and served till his death at age 95 in 1989, JFK's last nominee, William Joseph Nealon Jr., passed away still hearing cases at the age of 95 in 2018 (the second to last passed away the year before in 2017) LBJ's last judge, Jack B. Weinstein, only passed away in 2021, there are at least 7 Nixon judges still hearing cases, 50 years after Nixon Resigned from office in 1974. We will be dealing with Trump's Judges for 40-50 maybe more years. So keep that in mind when you vote.

[tyxoxo]

hello!! i just read your nomin smut, and if we still can, i wanna request #7 and #13 for the nsfw dialogue prompts with them

[“Can you guys just fuck already?” +“Did I just say that out loud?”]

warnings: haechan is a perv, implied blackmail, fruity nomin, throuple, oral, facefucking, exhibitionism/voyeurism

a/n: since i didn’t want this to be a copy of my last one, i added haechan in the mix. i hope that’s okay 😭

“I don’t know why I agreed to this.” Jeno spoke into the palms of his hands, followed by a heavy sigh. Would he end up regretting this decision? Maybe.

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun. You won’t even know I’m here.” Haechan said with a smirk. He was awfully smug, eager to watch his two friends absolutely destroy their shared girlfriend, and ultimately cash in on the show of a lifetime. 

You, Jeno, and Jaemin all gave a “bullshit” expression, eyes darting over to the boy sitting on your reading couch in the corner of the bedroom. 

Neither one of you believed his jest, and judging by the laugh he tried to hold in, it only brought more truth to his mischief. 

Somehow, through blackmail as you would like to call it, he found out about your combined throuple after walking in on Jeno and Jaemin unloading on your face just a week prior.

It was bound to happen, not only from the three of them rooming together (not including Renjun), but because Haechan was a perv. 

You almost wished it was sweet little Renjun that stumbled upon it, because maybe then you wouldn’t be here like this.

Of course you were mortified when it happened—a cup's worth of jizz on your face right as he “walked in”, blinding you from all aspects of degeneracy. Jeno and Jaemin’s heavy groans masking the sound of the door being opened, and the only indication of a disturbance was Jeno’s sixth sense; being able to feel a fourth presence behind him. You couldn’t even open your eyes and stand up properly when you heard him yell, relying solely on Jaemin to guide you to the bathroom while Jeno remained in the room ripping Haechan apart. 

No amount of “sorry’s” would have calmed down their anger, especially Jeno’s. And for your sake, Jaemin diffused the situation while you took refuge in the kitchen, binging on dry cereal to calm your nerves. 

Hoping to put the horrid event behind you, all of you tried to carry on like nothing happened, with Jeno threatening once to kill Haechan if Renjun found out. 

So far, so good.

But somehow the bastard made a proposition later that night: either let him watch a second time or he’ll not only tell Renjun, but the rest of his “buddies” that we didn’t even know about. 

Jaemin tried to call his bluff, saying that there was no way he had other “friends” out there, and if he did, they were just as stupid as him.

Of course, he had proof. With a list of contacts just waiting to be informed. 

Discussing such a topic was not how Jeno and Jaemin wanted to spend their night: dealing with an awful case of post-nut dysphoria. 

And such a “deal” almost made the three of you wonder if there was a recording hidden behind his scheme. 

—

Now here you were, having already tried to drag out the inevitable for a week now. But you honestly wanted this over with; whatever to secure your modesty that should’ve been kept within the comfort of your two partners. 

“You know I could still kill you right?”

Jeno spat passed his palms as he sat slouched on the edge of the bed. The only noble thing you could provide was a pat and rub of his back, occasionally scratching across his spine because you knew deep down that he loved it. 

Surprisingly, it helped him ease up, but you still had Jaemin on your other side, trying his hardest to be the pacifist.

You looked over to the left at his incredulous expression, using your other hand to rub along his thigh for assurance. He met your eyes, slightly smiling as if he wasn’t the tiniest bit annoyed.

“Let’s just do this. I’m sure it’ll relieve some stress once we get started.” Jaemin huffed out, leaning forward to look at Jeno to formally initiate the evening.

“Wait before we start, give us your phone!” 

“Good idea…fucking christ.” 

Somehow Jaemin chuckled at Jeno’s pained exclamation, only adding more fuel to the fire.   

You thanked your last minute effort to keep this in the walls of this room only, successfully confiscating his means of extortion.

Haechan seemed to get comfortable after you placed it far away on the nightstand. And the three of you had no choice but to carry on.

As soon as you sat back down on the bed in between them, they got to work on your flimsy pajama shirt, raising it above your head to expose your chest.

Because of the additional body in the room, you almost covered your breasts out of instinct, but none of it mattered once Jaemin’s kisses lingered in that direction.

Meanwhile, Jeno got to the usual work of devouring your lips and grasping your cheek, sucking just as passionately as Jaemin did to your nipples.

Your hands matched the same energy, inching down towards their respective packages, where your eyes blew wide through Jeno’s kisses at the fact that they weren’t as flaccid as you thought they would be.

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” 

Haechan spoke quietly, but with just as much weight. You didn’t dare look in his direction, nor acknowledge his question. 

But Jeno helped speak your mind, way better than you would have been able to.

“Shut the fuck up Haechan…” Jeno’s words went from biting, to becoming lost in translation as he held in a groan. You began to stroke both of them through their basketball shorts, giving the perfect amount of friction against the nylon material.

You multi-tasked well, being able to keep a steady pace considering Jaemin swirled his tongue so skillfully across your raised nipples. Even tugging harder than he normally would, most likely to distract you from the sore thumb sitting in the corner.

But you spoke too soon, as your peacemaker boyfriend left his hand in place of his warm tongue to get a taste of both of you.

There was no hesitation, not even from Jeno as all three of you conjoined your tongues as best as you could—licking, sucking, smacking, all of the above to overpower the sounds of Haechan working to undo his zipper. 

You never got tired of their unique flavors, whether it was from their mouths or their cocks. And to be able to claim them as yours, brought so much fun into your life; an entire glass full of excitement and scorching hot thrills.

You felt Jeno’s unoccupied hand, all the way down to the contours of his palm lines as he cupped your clothed core. His prominent middle finger poked along your warm slit, tickling up your spine and back down into your pelvis like a surge of electricity.

“Are you gonna let me taste you? Hmm?” Jeno broke the mile long kiss of a lifetime, to whisper against your now-swollen lips. You seemed to have fallen drunk to their charisma, but with the help of Jaemin, he brought you back down to a measly level of sobriety with a harsh squish of your cheeks to elicit a response.

“Yes…please, I love when you eat my pussy….” 

“Good girl…” Jaemin cooed against your neck before forming a line with his saliva, from your racing pulse all the way up the back of your ear. You shuddered from the warmth, to which he smiled for the first time.

The weight of the bed felt lighter for a split second, as Jeno positioned himself in between your thighs. Jaemin fell back with you against the mattress right as you missed the death glare Jeno gave Haechan as they locked eyes.

Of course, the perv had already freed his dick from his boxers, sitting in the most splayed out position on the small cushion.

Jeno told himself he would try his best not to acknowledge his roommate's presence, but he just thought of the most wonderful idea…

His lean frame still blocked most of Haechan’s view as he pulled down your velvet pajama shorts in a flash, but one way or another, Jeno was going to make sure Haechan got to hear just how good he made you feel. 

You yelped from the cold air that immediately hit your core, but the sudden change in temperature didn’t last long. He pried your legs far apart, inhaling deeply as he licked a stripe from the crevice of your ass all the way to your pulsing clit.

Jaemin swallowed the sigh of relief that bloomed from your heavenly chords, and continued to eat up every whimper as Jeno began to devour you.

Haechan’s mouth hung open, completely overwhelmed by the sound of Jeno slurping up your juices. He just knew you tasted as good as you looked. 

Deep down, he envied Jeno’s animalistic desire and the rewards that came with it. Why couldn’t it have been him that got to grip the soft flesh of your thighs, lick in between your folds with however much desperation he wanted. 

Nonetheless, Haechan stroked his leaking cock, even faster now that he saw Jaemin doing the same as he continued to kiss you. 

But he managed to dart his eyes everywhere, from Jaemin’s hard length, to your wiggling body, and from what he could see of your dripping pussy. 

“You taste so good…so perfect.” 

Jeno’s words were muffled at best, but that was okay, he knew Haechan heard every word.

“Did you hear that baby? You taste amazing, like always…” 

Jaemin spoke in between his sloppy kisses, making sure you soaked in all of the praise before it was his turn to claim you. And eventually, he kept his eyes locked onto Jeno, the two of them sharing a telepathic high-five at their own game of bragging. You unknowingly backed up their tactics as you raked your fingers through Jeno’s hair, ushering him further in between your thighs. 

You gave what Jaemin liked to call, a “cutesy nod” as you caught your breath, something you always did when the pleasure became too much. But who could blame you, when the high built up like a drug—like your very own narcotic that you could seize whenever you wanted.

“I deserve a taste too…” Jaemin called for the switch, despite your orgasm approaching. You whined from the emptiness as Jeno rose up, slapping your thigh before he left you. The sting managed to surge all the way to your clit, causing your exposed body to jerk in front of Haechan. 

Finally, he was able to see all of you. Even if it was for a few blinks, you were everything he fantasized about and more.

Absolute perfection—completely drenched, chest glistening with a thin sheet of sweat.

But even Haechan was getting impatient, he was still waiting on you to be fucked. And if it didn’t happen soon, his own impending orgasm would be ruined.

He paused on his own pleasure, choosing to catch his breath while his two roommates undressed and got in their respective positions. Jeno remained to the left of you on the bed, giving Haechan a clear view of when he would fill your mouth from the side. Although Jeno towered over you, he still offered some assistance as you propped yourself up on your elbows. One hand rested behind you to support your head and neck, and the other gripped his rock-hard length, just waiting to slip past your lips.

Jaemin was down below like you expected, peckering small kisses along the inside of your thighs. You could feel his smile as he gave another kiss, this time on your clit. It felt just like Jaemin; even if you were blinded, you would immediately be able to tell it was him: being the mascot for all of the edgers and teasers, while Jeno reigned over the savages and deviants with pride. 

And you were always in the middle of it, ready and willing to be sucked into the wild ride.

The night's events started up again, with Haechan being able to see a whole lot more now. He watched as you welcomed Jeno into your mouth, letting him hit the back of your throat like an absolute doll.

You pushed through the edging that Jaemin unleashed upon you, bobbing your head up and down on Jeno’s length instantly. 

His abs tensed with every connection of your nose to his groin, causing Haechan to forge a death grip around his cock as he eye’s trailed up to Jeno’s furrowed brow from your luscious enthusiasm.

Despite being obstructed from the amount of dick in your mouth, you let a series of whimpers slip past Jeno’s accompaniment while Jaemin sucked along your folds like candy. 

It was your duty to let him know he was doing so well, and how you grinded against his mouth told him so. 

His tongue formed so many different shapes as he indulged; flattening like a board when he made contact with your wet lips, and perking up to tap along your sensitive nub to feel it twitch.

“Don’t fucking stop. Keep taking me all the way in…” Jeno’s demands from up above were a sign that you were losing focus. Your release was so close, and too powerful to let go of.

And if Jaemin backed off of you like he was known to do, you could honestly cry.

“I can tell you’re close love. Try and beg for me.” Jaemin cooed against your wet mound, offering a challenge that would make or break your orgasm.

Jaemin commanded one thing, while Jeno commanded another: either let up and beg, or risk a brutal reprimand if you didn’t keep your mouth where it belonged. 

You were ready to make your final decision when—

“Can you guys just fuck already?”

“Fuck…did I just say that out loud?” 

The nuisance that you almost forgot about, made his presence known again. 

Although it was a whisper, it was heard clearly, being enough to make you whine in disappointment from yet another denied orgasm as Jaemin backed away from your core. Your mouth left Jeno, much to his dismay as he left out a pained groan. All you could do was fall backwards on the bed, fighting back the urge to scream. 

“You better be glad I’m too far gone to do anything right now.” Jeno spat as he raked his hands through his locks that were beginning to stick to his forehead, ultimately searching for a “happy place” in the process.

“Unreal…”

You didn’t let Jaemin finish the rest of his possible rant, instead choosing to voice your distress.

“Please! I was so close!”

You screamed into the palms of your hands, fanning your butterflied legs back and forth to take your mind off your aching pussy. 

Jeno and Jaemin hated to admit it, but your desperation was hot. Their pervert roommate indirectly attributed to your edging, and seeing you become a crumbled mess on the sheets only fueled their sadistic tendencies even more. Though, they would rather burn in hell before ever crediting the dead weight in the corner.

All three boys formed a look of intrigue, with Jaemin initiating your well-deserved ending with a simple nod and cheeky grin.

With your head still in your hands, and a moment of silence, it was too late for you to catch their plan. And before you knew it, Jaemin stood in front of your sprawled figure, lifting one leg on his shoulder as he pistoned inside you.

You didn’t expect it at all. In fact, you thought the night was over. But here you were, raising your upper body to watch Jaemin stuff you to the hilt. Unbelievable.

“Fuck!!” Your cries of pleasure matched your reaction; with all of this liberation being long overdue. 

Jaemin’s own sigh of relief looped through your brain, creating your very own broken record from his satisfaction. 

For the first time, you decided to let your eyes drift past your hard working boyfriend and over to the boy in the corner. 

He was in heaven.  

Disheveled hair from countless times of sweeping his bangs out of his face to get a proper view. Bottom lip puffed red from incessant chewing. And skin flushed golden from the speed at which he stroked his cock.

Your witness to his own undoing caused a shift within you, and you felt so fucked up from not wanting to look away. 

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” 

Jaemin teased as if he wasn’t pounding you into oblivion, but you felt too flustered to admit it. Especially now that Jeno was going to prevent any flattering remarks with a simple, yet effective facefuck.

He had always been the jealous type after all.

Soon after Jaemin entered you, Jeno did a makeshift 69 position, choosing to arch his upper body as high as it would go. His clenched fists rested on both sides of your body, relying solely on familiarity to direct his length inside your mouth. 

To him, this was the best way to dissolve the anger that manifested over the course of a week.

You tried your best to prepare your throat, but the pressure from this angle caused you to heave around him. Jeno could care less if you couldn’t take it like this, practice makes perfect. 

He wasted no time, practically laying into your face with no intention of going easy. 

“Look who’s enjoying it now?” 

Jeno had reached borderline-feral, and he had every right to back up his degrading with how well he used your throat.

Not only were your ears ringing, but your entire neck felt like it was burning, and it didn’t help that the echoes of skin slapping had magnified. At this rate of filth, you weren’t going to last. And Jaemin could feel you getting closer with every contraction around his cock, but he reassured that he would be right there with you soon, 

“So happy I get to fill this pussy…” 

Only a few more shaky breaths remained as Jaemin emptied everything he had to offer inside your walls, forming a white ring of your combined juices along his shaft with every thrust.  

The entire atmosphere felt light as you attempted to voice your orgasm through the cock stabbing at the back of your throat, but all you could do was reach up and grip Jeno’s wrists for support as the familiar band snapped along every inch of your body. You gripped his wrists even tighter, digging your nails into the veins that decorated his arms.

Jeno intermixed his shaming in between his groans effortlessly, reminding you that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Nope. I’m staying right here. Right where I…belong.”  

His last word signaled the explosion, forcing so much of his cum that it bubbled past your abused hole in thickened spurts. 

You massed together the last remaining strength you could to smack Jeno’s arms as you floated away into near unconsciousness. Fortunately for you, he backed out just as quickly as he entered, unleashing a series of smacks to your cheeks to bring you back down to earth.

You didn’t even notice or feel that his cum had splashed out onto your eyes once he gave you the freedom to breathe. Regardless of the déjà vu, this was the most euphoric you had ever felt in a while, and you knew they felt the same too. 

Jaemin had just experienced the effects of the comedown as Jeno laid next to you, and he would have remained inside you for a little while longer had it not been for his mental reminder of his roommate. 

Because of your intuition, you knew Haechan probably looked completely stunned after his own release. You couldn’t see anything with the cum painted on your face, but you could hear those unfamiliar breaths coming from him in the corner. 

But now that you all followed through with the deal, it was time for a well-deserved aftercare session without him. And if he had to leave the house entirely for the sake of some privacy, so be it.

Jeno must’ve read your mind, as you heard him reach over for Haechan’s phone on the nightstand.

“Alright, time to go. And we mean go go.”

You let the two of them continue with their bickering as Jaemin leaned over to pick you up within his broad fame while still inside you.

“Here, let me help you…and then how about a movie after?” 

His endearing tone soothed you beyond comprehension, and you clung onto him like a koala as he began walking, presumably towards the drawer to grab one of his t-shirts for you to wear after being cleaned up.

You nodded before turning your direction to the sound of Jeno escorting Haechan out, followed by a loud crash.

“What the fuck dude?!” 

You heard Haechan shout, followed by running steps towards his phone that had been chucked down the hall.

The last thing to end the night was the loud slam of the bedroom door and Jeno’s dark humor, 

“If you see me on the news later, it’s because I’m wanted for murder.”

why have majority of my requests been crack i-

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - The Handyman 18+

It's the outfit 🙈 it's giving DIY Ruben.

Summary - Readers apartment needs fixing and Ruben "The Handyman " comes to her rescue.

Enjoy!

It took you three days to put up the shower curtains in your bathroom. You guessed that putting up a small bookshelves should take you twice the amount of time. What did you know about putting up shelvs anyway?

The town that you lived in had a small hardware shop across from the café where you worked. You had never been in there before so showing up at 6 o'clock on a Tuesday night was a bit inconvinient.

"Hey."

A bell rang as you pushed the door open. The guy who stood behind the front counter was too busy tinkering away with scrap metal to catch your eye, so you shrugged your shoulders and continued down one of the aisles.

Tools and bolts hung on every wall. You bet your ex boyfriend knew all of terms for them as he usually was hostile enough to brag about what a handyman he was. Perhaps he was the reason why you were so stubborn about getting this bookshelf up as soon possible. You subconsciously wanted to show your ex that you were handy too.

"What do I need, what do I need?" You mumbled, having already collected a few things in your shopping basket. Mostly nuts and tape rolls. You had a screwdriver at home, so no need for a new one. A first aid kit would be a good investment, you thought. After all, this would be your first time putting up a shelf on your own.

"Do you need help?"

A giant shadow was casted around you as you stood facing a wall of hammers. Turning around you found yourself face to face with the guy from behind the counter. He had dark eyes that looked at you attentive and a scruffy beard that covered most of his face. His hair was more fluffy than scruffy and the same color as his eyes, dark, but not black.

"Um...no. Thank you. I was just..." You pointed to the basket in your arm. "...I was just collecting a few things."

His gaze shifted between your face to the basket in your arm. It took him long enough to give you any sign of a smile, you thought.

"I'll be up front if you need me." He said, pointing over his shoulder.

"Right, thanks."

He was strange, but undeniably handsome. He smelled good too, like mens aftershave with a dash of cinnamon.

You continued wandering up and down the aisle, not really sure what you were looking for. What did one need to put a piece of wood to a wall?

"Are you sure that you don't need my help with anything?"

It was they guy from the front desk again, casting a giant shadow as he stood hovering over you. He looked agitated that you were still in his shop, unsure of what to purchase.

"I'm sorry." You chuckled. "I'm putting up a bookshelf and I have a hard time deciding..."

"A bookshelf?" He said, peering into your shopping basket with a skeptical look on his face.

"Yes, a bookshelf." You frowned.

He shook his head. "Why the tape rolls?"

"Oh, that..." You looked into your basket, unsure why you suddenly felt embarrassed. "Everyone needs tape right?" You shrugged.

"Not to put up a bookshelf." He snorted.

You looked to the named tag pinned to his flanel jacket, Ruben, it said.

"Well, what do you know?" You hissed.

He raised a brow. "Well I know that my shop closes at seven. You've got five minutes to find whatever you're looking for and get out of here."

You gapsed. "That's not a nice way to talk to a costumer."

"Thank god you're not a costumer then." He smirked. "Costumers actually buy things."

"Okay, fine!" You shouted, stopping him from turning his back on you. "The truth is that I don't know the first thing about putting up shelves."

"No shit." He chuckled, but crossed his arms in front of him as to say that you had his attention.

"I just moved here. Usually my ex boyfriend handled these kind of DIY stuff but I'll be damn to call him and say I couldn't handle a month without him, let alone put up a bookshelves on my own. So if you please see the desperation I am coming to you with, you'll help me figure how to do this."

The guy, Ruben, stood quietly, observing you with furrowed brows.

"What?" You asked. The staring got to a point where it made unwanted heat rise to your face.

He sighed. "Give me a minute to close down the shop. "

"Your closing?"

He returned to the counter flickig off the lights on the go. "I'll get my toolbox and meet you around back."

"Um...okay. Meet me around back to do what exactly?"

"Well, you needed my help putting up a shelf didn't you?"

He went to get his toolbox and ten minutes later you were in his truck, making it's way to your apartment.

"Excuse the mess." You said, showing him how to maneuver around the moving boxes still scattered all over your apartment.

Ruben didn't seem to mind the mess though, perhaps he's worked constructions before.

"Here is the shelf and this is the wall I want it up on."

It was just a pile wood beneath an empty wall in your bedroom. You had gotten as far as to unbox the model and read the instructions, but you gave up after that.

"You said you had a screwdriver?" He said.

"Oh yes, I'll go get it."

You went to fetch the screwdriver. When you returned Ruben sat crotch down on the floor, reading the manual that came with the bookshelf. He had removed his flanel jacket, tossing it on your bed. He wore a white t-shirt underneath, a shirt that revealed his lean body and swollen biceps.

"Do you know how to turn it on?"

"Huh?"

Your eyes diverged from his arms back to his face. Ruben was watching you where you stood in the doorframe.

"The screwdriver? Do you know how to turn it on and use it?" He said.

"No." You shook your head and handed it to him. "Go nuts."

A smile carved his cheeks. "Sure, I'll go nuts."

What would have taking you three days to achieve Ruben did in fifteen minutes. The shelf was put up on the wall and topped up with books in no time.

"I have no words." You said as the two of you stood back, inspecting the way the shelf sat up on the wall.

"It's a nice shelf." He nodded.

"Thank you Ruben, I don't know what I would have done without you."

He stared at you with furrowed brows.

"What?"

"How did you know that my name was Ruben?"

"Oh." You pointed to his chest, where his name tag would be if he was still wearing the flanel jacket. "It said so on your name tag."

He nodded and went to gather his tools back into his box. You thought about giving him the screwdriver as a payment for his services, but perhaps you would need it later.

"You're welcome then Y/N." With the toolbox in the other, Ruben stretched out a hand for you to shake.

You frowned. "How did you know my name?"

"Oh I..." He scratched the back of his head. "You wear a name tag too, don't you?"

"I do?"

"Or I've seen you do at the café."

"Oh." You nodded. It was just across the street from the hardwear shop. He must be in there for a coffee every day, most people in town were. How come you hadn't noticed him before, you thought.

"I usually grab my coffee to go." He said. "And I usually come just before lunch when there is a line."

You nodded understandingly. "It can get pretty busy."

"But you seem to handle it quite well tho." He said, his eyes a bit hesitant to meet yours.

"I do?"

He shrugged. "You always have time to smile at your costumers, say  goodmorning and wish them a nice day."

"It just standard costumer service." You said flustered, praying that the heat in your face didn't show.

His smile was subtle but there. "This ex boyfriend of yours, is he from here?"

"No actually, I just moved here a month a go. I don't really knowing anyone here."

"Welp, now you know me." He said, shutting his toolbox.

"Now I know you."

Ruben led the way around your apartment back to the front door. He paused however,  at the sight of the mess in your living room.

"Is that supposed to be your dining table?"

"Suppose to be, is definitely the right word for it."

Ruben didn't hesitate to crouch down on the floor again, setting down his toolbox.

"Ruben you don't have to."

"I want to." He objected.

You were glad that he did because twenty minutes later you had gotten self a brand new dining table.

"Is there anything else that needs fixing?"

"Besides my pride?" You chuckled. "I don't think so. But thank you Ruben."

He looked at you with those eyes again, smiling at you without having to move a muscle.

You blushed without hiding it this time. There was no point in trying because Ruben was standing close enough to reach out and touch you, suprising you that he did just that.

"Y/N."

His hand wrapped around your arm, tugging at it slightly. The veins in his arms throbbed with the grip he had around you, pulling you forwards, towards him.

"Yes?"

There wasn't much to say before his lips crashed into yours. You had sensed the sparks between even back at the hardware shop. Ruben back you up against the newly built dining table, lifting you to sit on it with your legs spread before him. His hand grab your face, tilting it upwards as he kissed your lips. It was hot, so hot. You tugged at the sides of his flanel jacket, wanting it come off. He chuckled against your mouth before stepping away to throw it off his shoulders.

"Do you have a condom?" You asked, better be safe than sorry.

He pulled the rubber out of his back pocket, however, not ready to use it just yet. He returned to stand between your legs, pulling your face against his for another wet kiss.

"You're so fucking sexy." He groaned.

You gasped as his lips moved on to your neck where he licked and sucked you skin to the point of your eyes rolling back in your head.

"Ruben." You said, words airy.

"Yes?"

"Fuck me."

With one swift motion he pulled your shirt over your head. His hand went to your throat, guiding you down to lay with your back against dining table. You arched with the cold sensation from the wood. Rubens snaked a hand underneath for your back to stay arched. He unclipped your bra and ripped the rest of the fabric from your chest, exposing your errect breast.

"Ruben please." You couldn't take it anymore. His erection pressed against your thighs and all you wanted was for him to be inside you.

"Be patient baby."

"No, please. Fuck me now."

It had been a while and just by his touch you could tell that Ruben was much better at sex than your ex boyfriend ever was.

"So eager. " Ruben chuckled. His hand traveled down to your jeans, teasing you by pulling down the zipper.

"Fuck." You whimperd, when he slid his hand down your panties, finding your soft folds, massaging your clit.

"Yes, Ruben please." You were, close, so close.

"No." You whimperd, feeling his hand pull out of your jeans. You tried to sit up but Rubens hand on your stomach kept you down, pressed to the dining table.

"Together." Ruben whispered, his thumb stroking your bottom lip.

You grabbed a bundle of his shirt pulling him down to have his weight over you. His arms cradled your face as he kissed you open mouthed. Finally you felt him fiddle with his belt, loosen it up before pulling himself out of his pants, all this whilst his lips were still attached to yours. He backed away for a moment but only to tugg at your jeans, helping you remove them. Your naked legs were spread before him as you watched him bite the corner off the condom packaging, dressing hick cock with the rubber. You bit your lip as he approached you with a hungry look in his eyes.

"Don't move." He commanded, a firm grip around your throat, pinning you back against the table. He adjusted himself between you, lifting up your leg to make the entery smoother for you.

"Fuck." You still weezed, eyes squinted. Ruben was big, perhaps too big.

"You okay?"

You nodded, "Please harder."

He didn't listen to you but continued to press himself further into you, slow enough for you to adjust to his size. The thrusts came in waves. Slowly at first but then with a crashing force, rattling the wood beneath you.

"Don't break the table." You gasped.

He chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll build you a new one." He upped the pace, filling you up with each thrust. It was over when he lifted you thigh to rest on his shoulder. Two pumps and that was it. You moaned his name for everyone to hear, coming down from the release with a pounding heart in your chest.

"Ruben?" You whispered.

He had come shortly after you, relaxing his body to rest on top of you.

"Ruben?"

You ran your hands through his now damped hair, releasing each knot with your fingers.

"Yes?" He mumbled, somewhere beneath you. He was still inside you, his dick twitching against your glistering folds.

"I have a lamp..." You said, no need to say more.

Ruben raised his head to look at you.

You smiled.

He nodded. "Alright, I'll be back tomorrow."

[busines-as-unusual]

˖ ࣪ ⭑⟡Chapter 6 - Haunt You, Taunt You ⟡⭑ ࣪ ˖

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

If your theater was your business, then your club, The Temple, was your pleasure.

You won the building in a gamble with the previous owner and had been lovingly pouring time, money, and elbow grease into it for decades. Unlike the speakeasy you ran while alive, you didn’t have to split your time between laundering money and smuggling liquor (Hell had no taxes or laws prohibiting… well anything). It allowed you to redesign the club a couple of years or so, reshaping the three-story building into a blend of the old and new. It was uniquely yours.

The many, many guests you had the honor of hosting were a mixture of demons young and old, sinners and hell-born, rich and broke. You prided yourself for having a club tamer than most establishments in Hell. Sure there was plenty of sex and drugs going on within the walls, you weren’t a wet blanket after all, but it was important your club felt like a safe place for all demons. Jet, your head of security, had his team spread throughout the club to keep an eye out for troublemakers.

The atmosphere was enhanced by the wide variety of music the club played; a blend of big band, ragtime, bebop, and the new trend they called electro-swing. Live or canned, so long as you could dance to it, it was welcomed.

You loved to dance. Once you stepped foot on American soil your feet never stopped moving. You loved the freedom in every wild, improvised move. You loved the adrenaline of a natural high. You loved the control. Control over one’s body to make it all look effortless was a skill you often practiced.

Most of all, you loved the fun it brought to every participant regardless of skill. Much like in the bedroom, the dance floor was a place where everyone was equal.

You showed the club off to your guests, pride swelling in your chest as they appreciated your baby. You took in Alastor’s face, careful not to let him catch you staring at him. His opinion mattered the most.

You set them up in a large, rounded corner booth and a responsible amount (as per Charlie’s request) of free drink vouchers.

Dragging Angel to the dance floor, you led the taller demon in a dance. He spun you around with a laugh before passing you off to an eager Charlie.

After a round of drinks they all went off in different directions: Angel and Husk to the bar. Charlie found some stray sinner to infodump about the hotel to. She chatted them up at a million words a minute with only Vaggie to keep her coherent. Niffty inquired where the cleaning supplies were and you told her to go nuts without a second thought.

Then you were all alone with dear old Alastor. The reds of his being hardly overshadowed by the club lights. He sat dead center of the curved booth with you not too close to him or the edge. You didn’t want to look like you’d flee at any moment.

You downed your second whiskey sour with a shudder. Elbow on the table and warm cheek in your hand, you beamed up at him. “Soooo Alastor, what do you think? And please be honest, I know you don’t care if you hurt my little feelings.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it dear,” he said through his pointed teeth. You struggled not to roll your eyes. “I’ll happily admit the atmosphere and music is not terrible.”

You snorted, very ladylike and refined. “I’ll have to put your glowing review on my door. ‘Not terrible’ says the Radio Demon! That’ll bring in the customers.”

“Please go right ahead and use my endorsement free of charge.”

“Gladly.” You traced the rim of your empty glass with a finger. “You ever hear how I got this place?”

“Ah yes, I remember you won it in a gamble, correct?”

“But you want to know what game we played?”

Alastor raised an eyebrow in interest and nodded. You simulated shooting yourself in the temple with your fingers. “Angelic steel bullets.”

His look of genuine surprise was not missed by you. You laughed the way you always did when you told the story.

“I’m always amazed by the desperate lengths others will go for any scrap of power,” Alastor said. “Though, not surprised.”

“Easy for you to say, Magic Man.” You sipped your drink, hiding your smile as his soured in slight annoyance. “The rest of us don’t have it so easy and have to take desperate risks.”

Alastor made a sound akin to rolling one’s eyes, sparks of radio static accompanying the noise. “Well, doll, I’m certainly glad you’re under the illusion my rise of power was effortless.”

Another laugh. “Gee, I wonder why.”

The tale of how Alastor the Radio Demon grew to power was well known even these days, but the finer details of his rise were shrouded in secrecy. He no doubt relished in how the uncertainty stoked fear in the hearts of sinners. However he did it, he accomplished it all single-handedly, smile never faltering. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t in awe of him.

You’d never come right out and tell him. You stroked his ego enough for tonight.

Alastor sipped his whiskey, preferring to swish it around than to drink it, as he only ordered it upon your assistance. “Tell me, Temerity. Why have you settled in the role of a mere manager?”

Frown forming, you looked at Alastor with displeasure. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean no disrespect, my dear. I’m simply expressing that with your capabilities— and I don’t say this lightly— you could easily make your way to become quite an Overlord. I can’t help but look at you and see… wasted potential.”

Should you feel insulted or flattered? The unnatural tilt of his head in confusion told you he meant it as a compliment. While beyond flattered in his casual belief in you, his dismissal of your job offended you.

“I didn’t settle for this. I chose this. I don’t want the responsibilities of a sovereign overlord with all the meetings and targets on my back.”

”Very well, but I must say it’s rather foolish to be in the position you are and not work to gain more power.”

“I find people who pursue power for power’s sake are never satisfied. The position I’m in lets me do whatever I want. I’m truly free. How many people down here can truly say the same thing?”

Alastor’s smile thin-lipped and his eyes shifted eyes from yours for a split second. You thought maybe you said something wrong or offensive to him somehow. He sipped his drink. “I suppose that line of thinking is where you and I differ.”

You shrugged and polished off your poison. You had no issue with his beliefs, but living by them didn’t align with your afterlife goals.

The two of you lapsed into silence, music filling in the space where your words once hung. You appreciated how Alastor never felt the need to fill every moment with noise. So many people stuffed every second with noise as if a moment of quiet would result in some kind of social disaster.

The song faded into the next, and this was one you loved; an upbeat, fast-paced number kicking off with a blast of saxophones. Either emboldened by the conversation or the alcohol clouding your judgment, you stood with a flourish and held your hand out to Alastor. An invitation.

“Dance with me.”

He met your question with an eyebrow raised in amusement. Crimson eyes flicked from your hand to your eyes, and you resisted the urge to look away or shrink under the heat of his eyes.

Finally, “And what of the cutlery strapped to your thigh?”

“I’ve been at this a looong time. Believe me, they’ll stay put.”

He decided to believe you. Relief swept over you like a steamroller. With a chuckle, he placed his hand in yours and it felt like victory.

Your grin spread as wide as one of Alastor’s as he dragged you to the dance floor. Alastor led you into a basic back-and-forth two-step. Eager to follow, you pranced along. He spun you in circles; dark dress fluttered around your legs.

Greed spiked in your gut. You wanted more. You pulled Alastor into a twist, effortlessly resetting the dance to your pace. Alastor adapted. Light on your feet, you two flicked your legs back and forth in tandem.

Your heart pounded in your chest. This was a dream. It had to be because there was no way in Hell Alastor was here dancing with you so well.

Alastor twirled you away before snapping you back to him, slammed flushed against his body. He locked eyes with you; smirk utterly patronizing, as if charmed by a child.

Your cheeks heated, jaw clenched in irritation. Before you could open your mouth, Alastor tugged at your waste. A warning. He swept you off your feet like you were weightless and flipped you in the air. A gasp retched from your lips. Feet back on the ground, you didn’t miss a step. The dance floor was ice under your feet.

No surprise, Alastor liked to play dirty. You hoped he didn’t mind a taste of his own medicine.

You distanced yourself from him, then tumbled forward into a practiced backflip. Your legs wrapped around his shoulders. He grabbed you by the thighs and tossed you over his head.

Instead of your feet finding solid ground, you slid. Alastor dipped you low, your back practically parallel to the floor. Instinctually, you grabbed onto his shoulders. Alastor grinned wickedly down at you, but this wasn’t like his previous look of condescension. Pupils blown wide, mouth splitting his face, he looked hungry.

There was a twist in your chest, your head, your core. Warmth washed your skin. Tension bubbled in your throat. You laughed, childish giggling wracked your body as Alastor righted you.

If people were looking at you, you didn’t notice. Alastor clouded all five of your senses. Your chest heaved as your laughter subsided and you wiped at your sweaty forehead with the back of your hand. Somehow Alastor looked like he never broke a sweat. Unfair.

“What a marvelous performance, my dear,” Alastor said.

“Surprised?”

“Not at all.”

You swallowed thickly, the intensity of his gaze too heavy to bear any longer. A glance at the bar. “I’ll grab us some water.”

You skipped away before he could accept or decline. Wading through the sea of people, you made it to the bar, squeezing into a semi-vacant spot at the counter.

Catching sight of Husk and Angel Dust chatting at the end of the bar, you waved. Angel returned the gesture with a ruder one, Husk rolled his eyes.

You chuckled as the bartender, Collie, set two cocktails down in front of the well-dressed sinner on your left. He grabbed his drinks and turned to leave, and you saw it. One drink was an unmistakable shade of pink, almost unrecognizable under the club lights.

Your teeth ground against each other as you glared at the demon’s retreating form wading past patrons to the second story.

At least he made this a little easier for you.

“Collie, dear,” you said, pushing yourself off the counter. “Have Jet ready to handle some trouble. I'm going upstairs.”

Alaster watched as you zeroed in on a sinner. You cut the tacky dresser off in the middle of the staircase, a saccharine smile foreign on you. Sweetness no doubt dripped from your voice as the demon leered at you, enticed by your words. He nodded and followed you upstairs, eyes glued to your swishing tail.

How peculiar.

He wouldn't put it past someone with your specific proclivities to get distracted by their libido, but something told him this wasn't your usual M.O. with a man.

Not with the way you eyed him with murderous intent.

Curiosity took over. Alastor dissipated his form, using the shadows to follow the two of you to the second floor past intoxicated patrons. You led the man to an empty room with a plush leather wrap-around couch with glass tables doused in blood-red lighting.

You welcomed him to inspect the room as you shut the door. “With this package you’d get drinks and food delivered to you and your guest, a TV with Voxflix, privacy. This room is perfect for more intimate gatherings.”

The sinner turned to you, appraising you like one of the decorations in the room. You slinked toward him, hand snaking up your thigh under your dress. For a moment Alastor wondered if he was wrong about his previous assessment.

Then, you were on him, knife drawn, slicing the sinner's hand clean through the wrist.

The demon howled in pain. Drinks dropped, glasses shattered on the floor, liquids mixing with the spilt blood.

The demon grabbed at his dismembered wrist. “You crazy fucking bitch!”

He lunged at you. Quick as a flash, you leapt out of the way. You sunk the blade into his shoulder and <i>twisted</i>. He dropped to his knees, grabbing at the knife with a hand no longer attached to his body.

You dug your heel into his back and wrenched the knife from his body. You wiped the bloodied blade off on his jacket before sliding back into the garter on your thigh.

“Hand it over,” you said, voice colder than Alastor ever heard it before. Chills ran up his spine, a sensation he rarely felt anymore.

“Fuck you fucking raccoon cunt!”

“Charming.” You rummaged through the inner pockets of his jacket while he sputtered profanities until you found what you were looking for. Alastor didn't recognize the heart-shaped vial of pink liquid, but it clearly filled you with disgust. “Fucking filth.”

With a sneer, you dropped the vial. Liquid spread like blood across the floor, pink miasma wafting harmlessly into the air.

A hand came to your nose and mouth as you turned away from the wounded man. From the shadows, Alastor had a front row seat to your full display of emotion.

You were distressed.

He took in your lovely expression of panic. Eyes wide and darting, as your thumb dug too hard into the fat of your cheek. You heaved a heavy, shaky sigh to calm yourself.

Much like your look of wrath, panic suited you quite nicely. Your shocked expression as he dipped you on the dance floor was swell, but nowhere near as impassioned and raw as this.

Unfortunately, there was no time to savor it. One of your brutish security guards entered the room and you slipped your mask back on. He regarded the bleeding man on the floor with disinterest. He lifted the wounded demon over one shoulder like a sack of garbage.

“Out back? Like usual?”

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Jet.”

He carted the trash away, and Alastor decided to make his presence known. He stepped out of the shadows with applause, savoring how you jumped. “Splendid show, Temerity dear! I didn't expect such a brutal display after your performance on the dance floor.”

“Alastor!” You brushed herself off, smearing blood across your dress; bright red streaks across the dark fabric. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

You weren't apologizing for the violence, of course. With his rap sheet of carnage that would be silly.

“Don't apologize on my behalf, doll.” He stepped closer, and when you didn't step away, he wiped a speck of blood off your cheek with a finger and licked it clean. He didn't expect the simple act to have panic blossom across your pretty little face again. He had to admit he liked it better this time, having been the one to cause it.

Before he could delve more into your responses, Niffty scrambled into the room, a tiny tornado. Trash bag in tow she grabbed the broken glass and the severed hand and tossed them into the bag.

“Tem, your club is filthy, filthy! I'll be back with bleach, hahah~”

As soon as the little bug entered, she left, trash dragging behind her like a body bag.

You used the interruption to slither out of Alastor's grasp to the door. “Soooo! I believe I still owe you a water.” And you all but ran from him, tail between your legs.

Fine. You could run. He'd catch you eventually.

What did you do?

No, seriously, the FUCK did you do?

Why did you literally throw yourself at Alastor like some kind of horny, sexy tomato? Okay, so you were a horny sexy tomato, but you were a horny, sexy tomato who knew better than to throw itself at Alastor the goddamn Radio Demon!

You’d have been better off inviting a vampire into your home and offering up your neck for the taking. The simile did you no favors equating it to Alastor.

“I’m not drinking again.”

“Ha! If I had a dollar for every time you’ve said that. I’d have, what, eight bucks now?”

You and Rosie strolled through Cannibal Town after your morning tea. Since working with the hotel, your morning meet-ups weren’t as common, so you took the chance to vent to your friend about the night at the club. As suspected, she reacted to your ravings with one part gaiety and one part vexation.

“Rosie, I’m serious.”

“You’re too serious, hun. You just told me about this fabulous dance you shared with Alastor and somehow in your mind, it’s a bad thing.”

“Yes! Nearly a century I kept my distance and now all of a sudden he’s under my skin like some kind of…” you rolled your hand, trying to think of the right word. “Skin bug.”

“Poetic.”

You rolled your eyes. You haven’t even mentioned the stunt he pulled with the blood on your face... Were there even words to describe the sensuality of it? Maybe, but every time you revisited the moment, you were too preoccupied with the softness of his touch against your skin, how his tongue darted from his perfect lips to lap at the crimson liquid, how his eyes, still glazed with hunger, never left yours.

Rosie was talking, you realized. You stored the memory for later and zoned back in.

“I’ve always thought you two should get to know each other,” she said. “Alastor’s a great fella.”

Silence possessed you. You unlinked arms with Rosie and sat on an ivory bench made of bone. “You know the story of Tantalus? How he’s neck deep in a river with fruit above his head but no matter what, he can’t eat or drink? That’s my current situation, only in my case the fruit and water know they’re unattainable sustenance and derive joy from it.”

Rosie made a noise of dismissal, waving away your metaphor. “Oh, so melodramatic! I can see why you run a theater.”

“Ha ha.”

“Temerity.” She sat with you, taking your hands in hers. “This is a good development. Alastor has a tendency to be… standoffish, but it’s obvious he genuinely enjoys your company. You think he’d dance with anyone?”

She was right, and you knew she was right. Why couldn’t you be satisfied with that? “I know. I’m not saying I wish he’d give me a chance because I’ve met those men, killed those men, then sent those men your way—”

“—Thanks again for the late-night delivery the other day.”

“Of course, hun. I’m not in the business of pushing boundaries, but I can’t help but feel that way from time to time. I hate myself for it.”

“Sweetheart.” Your friend’s voice was gentle, full of sympathy. “You can’t help how you feel. And what you’re feeling isn’t wrong.”

You laughed, meaning for it to be light, but it caught in your throat and quickly died. “This isn’t going to end well for me, is it Rosie?”

She opened her mouth to say something comforting but paused and closed her mouth again. Rosie wouldn’t lie to you. You both knew this road would lead to heartbreak, the only variable was how humiliated you’d be in the end.

“Tem, if this is bothering you so badly, then you should go ahead and tell Alastor how you feel. Get it all out of the open so you can move on.”

”No!” You cleared your throat. “I mean… I can’t, I…”

You were fucking terrified.

Rosie would never shame you, you knew this, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud. It felt foolish to admit it out loud. On earth and in Hell, you’ve been beaten, bloodied, and bruised. You’ve had a knife to your throat or the barrel of a gun to your head more times than you like to admit, yet the idea of confession and rejection terrified you more.

You liked to think, it made perfect sense. In your experience, pain was fleeting, much of it mercifully unremarkable or a distant memory. But the pain of rejection, well…

You’ve dealt with that since the day you were born.

Your one scar that never fully healed.

Despite never vocalizing your fears, Rosie understood you. “I know it seems daunting, but I think Alastor may surprise you.”

“Right, because Alastor extended such grace to Vox.”

No one knew the truth about Alastor and Vox. Most took their rivalry at face value, but older demons remember the rumors; the Radio Demon forming an alliance with the up-and-coming Overlord, the alleged relationship in stark contrast to their current mutual antagonism.

Conversely, you always suspected Rosie knew more than she ever let on. Your friend, usually so fond of gossiping, kept her lips buttoned on the subject over the years. She claimed it was improper to talk about such manners behind a friend's back, and while you weren’t convinced you never pressed.

Rosie sucked pointed teeth in exasperation. “Come now! Your relationship with Alastor is not comparable— don’t give me that look, you know what I mean. Hold out for a little while longer. I’m sure this’ll all blow over soon.”

You hoped she was right

You once again found yourself at the hotel bar, laughing at something Angel said as Husk poured you two a drink. Angel held his Fat Nuggets, the cutest little pig in his second set of arms.

“And you seriously don’t know what kind of pig he is?” you asked, flabbergasted.

Angel shrugged. “I dunno. He’s… a pig.”

“He’s a Hell Hog!”

“A little redundant, ain't it?”

“No, well yes, but… never mind.” You pet the porker on his pink little head. “How’d you get your hands on this lil cutie, anyway?”

“Nuggs was… a gift. From my boss.” Angel set the piglet on the bar counter. “Speaking of which, I need to tell you something.”

Husk grimaced, like “oh shit, here we go,” and scooted a shot over to the spider.

Angel tossed it back before fixing his eyes on a stain on the counter. “I… I’m not going to audition for the show. I wanted to tell you now so you ain’t surprised when I don’t show up later..”

Tem frowned, concerned, resting a hand on his. “Oh Angel, hun, why? You’d be dynamite!”

“Oh, honey. I know I'm dynamite,” he said with peak confidence. “I just don't think I'm the one you're looking for for all this inspirational razzmatazz.”

“Bullshit,” Husk spat. “It’s fucking Valentino.”

Angel deflated. “Shit! Yeah, Val, he… he thinks it’ll take up too much of my time away from the studio and it would ‘ruin my branding’ or somethin’.”

Husk muttered something about Valentino being full of shit, to which Angel happily concurred. You clenched your hands under the bar, nails biting into the flesh of your palm.

“Oh, what horseshit!” You scoffed. “People like Valentino will make up any excuse to have a <i>crumb</i> of control. It’s pathetic. Tell me Angel, truthfully, do you want to do the show? Forget what Valentino says.”

“I mean yeah, I do, but—”

“But nothing. If you want to then you will. Leave it to me, hun.”

Husk raised a half-interested brow while Angel looked ill. “Look, I appreciate the offer but you don’t have to do whatever it is you’re planning to do. My boss, Val, he's–”

“A shitstain sandwich?”

Husk nodded with a small smile as he poured a glass of water for Fat Nuggets. “Exactly.”

You hopped off the stool, all smiles and bravado. “Angel, dear, just bring your spunky little butt to auditions and do your best. I promise that’s all you have to worry about. And maybe one day, this sweet little guy will bite Valentino’s stupid bald head off for you.” You stroked Fat Nuggets back as he sipped his water. “You will, won’t you? Yes, you will, good boy!”

Angel hugged both sets of arms to him, apprehensive. You smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder (with effort, he’s tall!) reassuring your friend you’d handle it. You held your smile as you walked out the door of the hotel, unaware of the shadow behind you. By the time you made it to your car, your smile disappeared.

“Shit!” you leaned against your car and pulled out a cigarette. Another “shit” escaped your lips when you realized you had no lighter. You placed the unlit cig in your mouth, foot tapping anxiously.

How in Hell were you going to get Angel out of his scenario? You had no pull when it came to the Vees, and no hope in getting their attention, at least not anytime soon.

You weren’t one to get involved in others’ affairs. Sure you’d gladly help out your friends and lend a hand when they needed one, but going against the will of an Overlord was above your wheelhouse. Those situations tended to land one in ripe hot shit. Needless to say, you preferred to avoid ripe hot shit.

But you felt for Angel. You weren’t lying when you said he had talent, and vermin Valentino squandered it. The moth demon reminded you all too much of Roman. They were both bastards who took advantage of the scared, weak, and vulnerable, all but stole their souls, and got off to abuse. You couldn’t break Angel’s contract, but you couldn’t stand by and let Valentino take this from him.

“Something troubling you, my dear?”

You inhaled your cigarette, gagging on the cylinder until you uncouthly hacked it out.

“Alastor!” You wiped your mouth, not noticing the sparkle of amusement in his eyes. “No, no. I'm fine, I’m… thinking.”

“About how you're going to get in touch with the Vees, hmm?”

You fixed him with a look. “Should I be surprised? Eavesdrop more, please.”

He snapped his fingers, and a new cigarette appeared in your mouth. Small green flames danced along his fingertips but he made no move to light your cig for you. You leaned forward, pulling back once your cigarette kindled.

Eyes closing, you took a slow drag of the cancer stick and exhaled, acrid smoke wafting through the air. “Thanks.”

“Of course, dear, but back to your accusation. Overhearing a loud conversation in a public space is hardly eavesdropping.”

“I hear they call it voyeurism nowadays.”

Smiling tight, he hummed in lieu of false laughter. “I’m afraid you’re running a fool's errand, doll. Someone like you who’s not much of an Overlord to begin with has no hope in Hell of waltzing into the Vees tower and getting a meeting. You wouldn’t even show up on their radar.”

He pinched your cheek, condescension dripping from his teeth, as if to say “wasn’t I right?”

You pushed him away. “Oh, piss off, Alastor. You think I’m stupid? Don’t answer.”

“My dear I don’t think you’re stupid, merely woefully unprepared. But I have an idea.~” He wrapped an arm around you, nails digging into the meat of your shoulder. “A surefire way to get you in touch with Vox himself.”

Any other time you’d be overjoyed at his touch, but he had to go and be aggravating. You crossed your arms. “Which is?”

“Come now, dear. You can’t expect me to offer my services with nothing in return. Especially since you were so rude.”

“I doubt I could ever hurt your feelings, or that you’d want anything from me.”

He laughed, and her stomach churned. “That’s where you’re wrong, doll. I want to make a deal with you.”

You flicked the cigarette and stubbed it out. “Forget it. I’m not giving you my soul.”

Alastor’s eyes twitched as if the suggestion annoyed him. “Who said anything about souls? I promise to get you an immediate audience with Vox and in turn, you answer three little questions for me where you have to be fully honest.”

You pulled away from him. “What quest—”

“Ah-ah-ah!” He placed a finger over your lips. “What makes this deal worth it is the uncertainty. I can’t have you prepping lies in a desperate attempt to save face.”

Fuck.

Did he know?

He couldn’t know—

Alastor stared down at you like a predator who’d finally caught its meal. It scared you, and excited you?

No, no, no! You can examine those feelings later!

You took another step back, inwardly groaning as soon as the heat of his touch left your skin. There was a subtle tremor of his shoulders, eyes crinkling. He was holding back laughter.

“What’ll it be, my dear?”

What choice did you have?

This burn is going slower than I originally planned, lol. Hope you aren’t getting bored.

Also, if you want to send Tem or the other HH/HB characters that show up in the story an ask, go ahead and I’ll answer with a sketch.

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@joumi13

@the--rebel--fae

@babesway22

@maychay

[championleonsslut]

HII, i'm so sorry to be a bother but can i request some headcanons with leon having a famous s/o, like a singer or influencer? :000

I’ve been HYPED to do this ask for a while Tehe! You never disappoint anon!

Leon W/ a famous s/o

Female reader, quite fluffy all things considered! Reader is a singer

You, a very VERY famous Galarian singer (I’m talking Taylor Swift level famous) were of course, in the spotlight a lot. You have a massive fanbase, who practically worship your music. What you did not expect, is that the Galarian Champion secretly likes your music.

He sneaks into a few concerts, and developed a bit of a celebrity crush on you when he heard your voice. It was like a Siren’s call. He loved the glamorous outfits you wore, and how much passion you put into your music. He totally secretly stalks you on social media a bit.

You, on the other hand, like his work too. You have a Pokemon of your own who often is in concerts with you, a female Sylveon. You think he’s attractive, and a good battler, but you don’t know him.

You accidentally run into him one day after one of your shows, and are VERY surprised to find him there. He quickly compliments you on your work, and small talk pops up. You get kinda flirty and that leads to some numbers being exchanged.

After moving past the talking stage, he officially asks you out, and you could not be more delighted. You’re both very busy people, but make time for each other regardless. (Awwww)

Of course, you decide to keep your relationship very secret once you get together. Don’t need the press meddling in your lives even more, now do we?

Right from the get-go, Leon is absolutely the best boyfriend you’ve ever had. He is perfect in every single way, and you can always spot him in the VIP box at your shows. This leads to you writing songs about him, very discreetly though.

Once he hears your new album, the lyrics catch his attention. It doesn’t take long for him to put the pieces together. Most of your more romantic songs are DEFINITELY about him. It makes him blush and giggle when he figures it out.

“Are these songs about me?”

“Yes…”

“🥺”

You’re not just dating him for the money, you’re genuinely in love with him. And you blurt that out one night while you’re snuggled up in bed, and he couldn’t agree more.

After that, Leon drops the bomb in an interview about his girlfriend. (With your permission of course) it’s safe to say, everyone went B A N A N A S.

You guys get interviewed together, and more of the tea about your relationship is spilled. Almost immediately, you’re Galar’s hottest couple! There is a blog or two dedicated to the press sneaking photos of you together. The most popular ones are where you stand on your tip toes to kiss him. Leon agrees. They’re adorable.

People start to put the pieces together that some of your songs are about Leon, and lose their mind even more. You just giggle and watch as the chaos unfolds.

There’s fan art drawn of you guys, and each is more adorable than the last. Leon likes showing them to you. You get flustered each time.

Leon now gets to show off his pretty girlfriend at formal events. You like dressing up just for him, and it makes him nuts. Jewels, makeup, fancy dresses, the whole shibang.

Even four years into your relationship, and with the amount of songs you’ve written about him, people are still crazy about you guys together.

And of course, when they get word of the engagement… It gets even crazier.

[smad-lesbian]

Imagine: Heathers are SO JEALOUS of JD flirting with Veronica, so they decided to make a party where the only person invited was Veronica. (It means that they all ditched the Remington's party, so no Veronica puking on Chandler's shoes, no Chandler saying that she will destroy Veronica's social life, no Veronica going to JD and no Chandler drinking drano)

Hell yeah, really love this prompt, I am a sucker for jealous Heathers and extremely oblivious Veronica.

Also this is how it should have gone-

"Don't forget to buy corn nuts!" Chandler yelled out from her car, leaning over it to scream at Veronica, who was heading inside the 7/11, said girl nodded at Chandler's demand, only slightly rolling her eyes before turning back, looking at the other two Heathers standing in the back seat.

"Do you guys want anything?" She called back at Duke and McNamara, both who were having small talk at the back of the red porsche.

They both turned to face the taller girl, Mac shrugged while Duke pondered for a second before looking up, "A big gulp, please." Veronica nodded, before turning back, entering the cold 7/11.

Duke and McNamara turned right back to their conversation about whatever latest gossip was going on in the halls of Westerburg.

It was only after a good 15 minutes that Duke began to shift in her seat, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her skirt in a nervous manner.

"Veronica has been gone for a long time now." Duke whispered, looking out the window at 7/11.

"Shut up, Heather!" Chandler snapped at her, but she furrowed her eyebrows at the words, her lips pursed as she internally (she would rather die than say it out loud) that Duke had a point, it had been a suspicious amount of time since Veronica got out.

Chandler sighed in annoyance, before digging her palm into the car keys, pulling them out with a tad too much force as she quickly opened the door.

"Come on." She said vaguely, not bothering to look behind her as she strolled into the 7/11, knowing that the other two Heathers were right behind her.

The semi-cold breeze of a barely functional air conditioner hit her as she scanned for the familiar tuffs of brown hair.

It wasn't long before she locked eyes with Veronica, she was facing away from them, looking engrossed into something.

Chandler noticed the familiar trench coat.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

She heard quite whispering behind her, probably McNamara, who also noticed the Bo Diddley rip off was talking to Veronica, leaning on the counter with a wolfish grin.

She was going to bury him alive.

Chandler walked (Stomped) over to the pair, putting a firm hand on Veronica's waist as she came within arms reach of the girl.

"Ronnie! Mind telling me what the fuck is taking so long?" Chandler asked Veronica, her voice sickenly sweet as she dug her nails into Veronica's arm.

Veronica didn't seem to mind brushing off the clear annoyance with an eye roll, "Sorry Heather, I was talking to JD, must have lost track of time." She said, her gaze flicking back to JD for a second, before she was distracted by another presence behind her.

"Well, sorry to interrupt, but we have to get going." Heather Duke said with gritted teeth as she sent JD a glare before giving Veronica a small, yet sweet smile.

Veronica gave a small smile back, before feeling a hand snake up around her waist, whom she already concluded was probably McNamara.

"We are so sorry to interrupt your eye fucking, but we have to get going." Mac glared at JD, who shrugged it off.

"Well, I'll see you later." He winked as he disappeared, probably to spike his slushie with steroids, Chandler thought, before tugging Veronica's arm outside.

Veronica grumbled in partial annoyance before she went along, mostly unfazed by the unusual amount of physical contact.

They soon got back in the car, (Veronica, Duke, and McNamara in the back, Chandler driving).

Chandler looked back at Veronica who seemed more interested in glancing outside the window, Chandler growled as she dug her nails into the steering wheel.

"Change of plans, party at my house tonight."

[knickynoo]

HELLO, EVERYONE! I SAW THE BTTF MUSICAL YESTERDAY, AND AM READY TO POST SOME (SEMI) COHERENT THOUGHTS!

[Fair warning that some things here may spoil parts of the show.]

• First things first: It was so good. It was so, so, very good. Incredible show. I'd been hearing great things about the show since it first came out in London, and I've been listening to the music since it dropped, so I pretty much went in knowing I'd like it but it still managed to be even better than I thought.

• Just the setup of the theater itself and the ambiance prior to it starting was so cool. The way everything is lit blue and there's all the electrical zapping and humming. THE CONSTANT TICKING OF CLOCKS THAT FILLED THE THEATER. Nothing had even happened yet, and I was like, "This is such a good show."

• My one big cause for hesitation was Casey playing Marty. I know absolutely nothing about the guy, but Marty is just so dear to my heart, and MJF's energy and physicality isn't something easily captured. I had my doubts about seeing someone try to bring Marty to Broadway, but Casey walked onto the stage, called out, "Doc?" and I went, "Yeah, okay. There's Marty."

• For real, though, Casey was phenomenal as Marty. He had the vocal inflection down. The right amount of crackliness. Very good balance of cool kid and disoriented mess.

• Um. HUGH COLES?!? Talk about brilliant casting. I mean it when I say that he somehow seemed more George than George from the movie. The audience reacted with a sense of awe when he started speaking and moving around the stage. It was like Crispin Glover had been plucked straight from the film and injected with More Georgeness. When he did the laugh, the audience went nuts. His physical acting and the way he captured George's gestures perfectly was amazing to watch.

• As I'd expected, Musical Doc is ten times more chaotic and unhinged than Movie Doc. Roger Bart's comedic timing is impeccable. He earned himself frequent howling laughter from the audience from the moment he appeared on stage.

• His "Good thing I kept this radiation suit from my Manhattan Project days" line was a nice touch.

• "Despite my fear of heights, I was standing on my toilet," was such a gem of a line.

• THE DELOREAN. WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE DELOREAN. I had no idea how they were going to depict a car speeding to 88mph on a small stage, but THEY DID IT. Astounding. Honestly might be the coolest effects I've ever seen done on a stage. Also, I wasn't sure how I'd feel about the addition of it being voice-activated and talking, but it worked nicely!

• The musical obviously had to trim some parts of the movie—and even omit parts entirely—but it was done so well that you either didn't even notice or miss they were gone. The change from George being hit by a car to simply falling out of the tree was one of these changes. (Marty's under the tree trying to catch him, btw, which is how he ends up getting knocked out)

• I couldn't tell if this was an ad-lib from Casey, but when he was trying to get his pants back on in the Baines house scene, he started struggling a bit with the tangled suspenders that were wrapped around one of the legs of the jeans and muttered in frustration, "Why do I wear suspenders??" Very funny little moment.

• Great chemistry between Bart and Casey. The connection between Doc and Marty was THERE. The musical GOT IT RIGHT. So many hilarious moments between them in the form of completely unintelligible banter, where they're just talking over each other and having like...verbal tennis matches of nonsense. It's hard to describe in writing, but trust me, it was so good. It went something like this:

Doc: "Marty!"

Marty: "Doc!"

Both Simultaneously: *literal gibberish*

• There's a beautiful little addition to the scene when Marty shows up at Doc's house in 1955 and tries to convince him he's from the future. After Doc asks him to take him to this supposed "time machine" Marty goes, "Sure, hang on, I just gotta grab some flashlights." Then he goes straight to a cabinet and quickly retrieves two flashlights without a second thought, to which Doc is like, "How did you know they were in there??" Marty knows!! He knows exactly where the flashlights are because of course he does!!

• Perhaps one of the funniest moments of the show was right at the end of the "Future Boy" number, where the music stops and there's that breaking of the fourth wall moment. Doc and Marty look around in confusion at all the backup singers and dancers awkwardly standing around his house (one of the singers continues dancing/singing long after the others has stopped lol) and Doc wordlessly opens the door so they can all scurry out.

• Doc's dream of visiting the year 2020 where everything is perfect and there's "no disease" got some very loud laughter from the audience.

• Oh. Oh, the scene at Doc's house at night after the demonstration with the toy car. The way everything gets solemn for a moment, and Doc is doubting himself and worried about failing. Marty's lovely little speech about how everything will be okay because he believes in him. He trusts Doc. He knows it'll work and they'll get him home. The way Marty is the one looking after and taking care of Doc in that moment. When he asks, "Do you need anything, Doc? Can I make you a sandwich?" And then when he says softly, "Goodnight, Doc. Pleasant dreams."

THE MUSICAL GETS IT RIGHT. THE WARMTH. THE LOVE. THIS WAS SUCH A NICE ADDITION.

• "PUT YOUR MIND TO IT" !!!! I loved this sequence so, so much. Marty gets to strut his stuff while George flails around trying to imitate him. It was funny, the choreography was great, and we get such a nice Marty and George hug at the end! Why didn't they hug in the movie??

• The audience was super engaged and reactive through the whole show, but it noticeably ramped up in the latter part—starting with the night of the dance. There was such an excitement as people anticipated George swooping in to take down Biff and protect Lorraine. When Biff went down, the audience whooped and clapped and cheered so much.

• EARTH ANGEL! THE MOMENT GEORGE AND LORRAINE KISS. It was just like the movie. The music suddenly swelled, Marvin belted out, "The vision of your happiness", George and Lorraine kissed, and the audience. Lost. Their. Minds. It was as if people were experiencing the story for the first time—that's how strong the reaction was. So cool.

• Audience also went wild at the start of Johnny B. Goode. That was a neat sequence as well. Huge laughs at the "But your kids are gonna love it" line.

• The clocktower scene! Marty handing Doc the letter and saying, "I wrote you a thank-you note; don't read it until you get home!!" LOL. So many amazing effects going on in this one. For those of you who have seen the show, you probably remember Doc running up the clocktower stairs, right? Did the audience nearly die of laughter like they did at my showing? That was truly one of the top 5 funniest moments of the show, in my opinion. It had me giggling hours later once I was home. For those of you who have not seen the show, I don't think I can adequately put into words what was happening during this scene, but it was incredibly funny. It's good there wasn't any dialogue during it, because no one would have heard it with the way everyone was laughing.

• The fire trails on stage got quite the awed reaction. Super cool.

• The hug! We get our Doc and Marty hug at the end! I'm so glad they realized that moment was missing from the movie.

• I liked the shift from Marty waking up at home to him waking up on the bench in town instead. The "George McFly Day" part was a fun addition, and it flowed nicely into Marty's "Power of Love" performance.

• THE CAR FLEW. IT FLEW UP IN THE AIR AND THE WHEELS TURNED IN AND IT WENT OUT OVER THE AUDIENCE. HOW DID THEY DO THAT. IT DID A COMPLETE ROTATION UPSIDE DOWN WHILE CASEY AND BART WAVED TO PEOPLE. If anyone knows of any videos or articles explaining how they did things with the car, please let me know because I can't find anything and I would love to know how they did it! You couldn't see anything holding the car, and i'm so confused! The effects were so good.

• Love how, when the show ended, the giant screen on the stage just said, "Make like a tree and get outta here."

...I think those are all my thoughts. I was planning to write up a post with just a couple of bullet points of highlights and instead. Well. This is what you get from me, and if you've followed my blog for any length of time, you know that. But really, the show was so well done. I had a blast. I bought a pin that says, "Whoa, this is heavy" and I'm going to put it on my denim jacket :)

For those who are planning to see the musical, I hope this helps hype you up for it. And for those who can't see it, I hope this gives you a good look at what it's like!

[kassymalone]

A Little Rant about Fun

Remember fun?

Remember when you could do things just because they were fun?

It keeps coming to mind recently, and it's starting to drive me nuts.

I've always done things with my hands - I used to do art before uni destroyed my love and confidence, I write things, I cross stitch, I make models, and I do these things because I enjoy them. Unfortunately I've come to hate talking to people about my hobbies because the almost always have the same response - 'what do you do with that?'

Do I sell on Etsy? No I fucking don't, this pattern took me 15 hours to finish, do you know how much I would have to charge for it?

Do I do freelance writing? No I fucking don't, why would I want a second soul-crushing job on top of my first soul-crushing job?

Why don't I actually get published instead of wasting my time with fanfiction so I can actually make some money off it? WHY DON'T YOU DO IT IF ITS SO FUCKING EASY

I've been thinking of making a quilt recently, with patches of all my favourite things, but I don't want to talk to anyone about it because I can already hear them asking 'and what are you going to do with it? Is this your practice one before you sell them? No, don't do it that way, that's the wrong way, no-one will like it!'

(Don't get me started on the 'you're doing it wrong' crowd, gatekeepers are a different rant.)

JUST LET ME DO THINGS. NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS TO MAKE MONEY. I know we're in a cost of living crisis right now, but I've been hearing this shit since I was a teenager, twenty fucking years ago! I still remember being talked out of singing lessons when I had a little extra money because 'what would I do with it?' Well fuck, my fat ass was never going to be the next Adele, but maybe I could have just had fun doing something I enjoy, but better?!

ON A RELATED NOTE!

You know what disproportionately annoys me? When people call the Nintendo Switch a 'toy' as if it's a bad thing. Like... yes? It's a toy? I play games on it?

'But the frame rate!', 'But the graphics!', 'But it can't run XX game!' WHO FUCKING CARES.

Yes, the xbox and playstation can connect to netflix and play blue rays and cook you dinner and raise your children, but they also cost a months rent and have all these bells and whistles to distract you from the fact that they JUST FUCKING TOYS. There's nothing either of them can do that I can't do on my PC, better and cheaper, and not have to turn on five different peripherals to make it work.

'But 4K!', 'But you can see the character follicles in this new game!', 'But the horses testicles react to the weather!'

Are you not having fun? Are you not enjoying playing your game? Never once have I been in the middle of a game and thought 'I'd be enjoying this more if it had more pixels.' I'm not even against other consoles, use whatever you prefer - if you like modern real-to life graphics then more power to you, but the amount of people who act like it actually matters somehow is concerning...

Yes, the switch hardware is behind what the xbox and playstation can do... but its a toy. Nintendo has never forgotten that it makes toys, and that's why I like it. It sits on my table, connects to my other monitor. I listen to long form youtube videos while I play TOTK. If I'm feeling sassy, I play it handheld.

My niece has one. We play Pokémon together and I let her win battles because the point is to be fun.

WHICH BRINGS ME BACK TO MY POINT!

FUCK the grindset 'but how can I monetise every possible second?' bullshit, FUCK the 'taking this thing that should be fun way too seriously' bullshit.

LET PEOPLE DO THINGS JUST BECUASE THEY'RE FUN.

LET THINGS THAT ARE SUPPOSED TO BE FUN BE FUN.

And now I've used the word 'fun' so much it's lost all meaning.

Much like fun itself.

[teamfreewill56-blog]

you reposted the chapter of the kimetsu gakuen "breath of flame" and made a comment that Kyojuro is depicted canonically correctly here. what do you think about his characterization in all the other chapters of the school au? does his image exactly correspond to the canon? I'm really interested in your opinion, because you understand Kyojuro better than anyone else and are a real expert in interpreting this character. ;^;

Thank you that's really sweet! I'm flattered that you are wanting my opinion and thank you for calling me an expert thats such high praise!

I haven't read all of the chapters, (only Vol.1 and Vol. 2 are currently available on kindle where I am) so this may have something to do with it---but up until this point all the other chapters I've seen floating around Tumblr I feel are canonically inaccurate. It doesn't exactly correspond, it felt like they picked a couple of his traits and then just went nuts.

Which I mean it is an AU and its for humor so I usually don't critique too harshly because its for fun etc etc. But they did Kyojuro so dirty and it makes me not want to read the school au chapters honestly. Everyone else is still relatively canon accurate but him they just...I dunno but I hate it.

Every chapter with Kyojuro involves him getting food, making food or trying to eat something that is for sure bad for him and the other Hashira-Teachers chiding him for it. It feels like the people working on these chapters saw the Mugen Train anime-only episode and the first like 15 minutes of the movie and decided they knew Kyojuro's personality based just on those. And didn't watch or read anything else with him in it. I mean my hell we got the shortest amount of time with this character and they decide to give him a food gag almost every time? Like really? Ya'll being lazy and they clearly did not understand why we all love Kyojuro so much.

In Mugen Train after Tanjiro sees Kyojuro eating does Kyojuro talk or bring up food with Tanjiro during any of that first conversation before they fall asleep? NOPE. During the entire movie there is not a single time-- even when he's eating the bento--that he says or does anything to indicate he is food obsessed. Conversation in his dreams? NOPE. Waking up and finding the boys and giving orders? NOPE. Throughout the whole movie, nothing. It's almost like gasp Kyojuro having a big appetite is just a tiny miscellaneous detail!

His Gaiden right when he gets introduced Senjuro says "I made you some sweets how about a rest?" You know who rushes to him and the food? MITSURI. And behind her Kyojuro is going "Hey! We aren't done yet!" And absolutely no hate to Mitsuri because I adore her and I love her big appetite and her obsession with food but she is the one obsessed with food, in canon she is the one who often talks about it, not Kyojuro. But we don't see it at all in the high school AU.

There are moments in Gaiden, Mugen Train Drama CD etc where Kyojuro is shown mostly being around people when eating but he's clearly enjoying their company and being with them, not focused on the food. Even in the anime only episode which is food heavy, he uses it to navigate around the people he has to interact with--and my only complaint really is him being upset about Slasher stepping on the bento box while he's got his claws in a guy's shoulder. Because Kyojuro cares about people and their safety most and that victim would have been his only concern not the bento.

The very first time Kyojuro is in the High School AU he orders pizza and has it delivered to the school because he was craving it--even though he knows there's rules against deliveries for safety reasons. "I never do anything for myself and always put everyone else, especially their safety first" Kyojuro Rengoku would never do this. Shinobu tells the boys the reason for the rule is to keep dangerous people from trying to sneak into the school and there is no way Kyojuro would risk that, like none. And then Sanemi tells him to "control his urges".

...Ya'll joking right?

Not only is that a horrible way to phrase that especially towards this cinnamon roll man (urges to purchase food you're craving is not that bad anyway if at all...) but Kyojuro is always in control and has never once given into urges or even his emotions other than happy?? Even with Akaza pissing him off he didn't lose control of himself and Upper Moon 3 was attacking his core beliefs. But even then like, I didn't find this particular part of the conversation to be funny although that's the intention but that could just be me.

He wouldn't sneak into the home ec room to make food either, although its unclear if its actually sneaking or if its just "sneaking" to Haganezuka. Either way if he's getting chased for something he supposedly did wrong he's not going to run he's going to confront it and try to resolve it.

There are things that I feel are accurate, at least a little bit. When Kyojuro isn't being food obsessed but is focused on helping his students I feel like we're closer to canon. He does always try to help students who come to him with a problem and he commits to helping them just as he does in canon with his job.

He helps the butterfly sisters try to figure out a solution to creating medicines for their club (but his solution is food when he could have given them historical references/places to look to get ideas from and help them brainstorm from there).

He recognizes how badly the boys wanted pizza and so found a way to get them pizza and made it for them.

I haven't read the full comic but I've seen a little section of Kyojuro helping Sanemi and Obanai get in the way of a pot of spilled Tonjiro so it didn't get on a student. But beyond that to me it just doesn't feel like Kyojuro. The marshmallow one does because he gives real advice and insight about a topic when he talks about it with Senjuro, he teaches the boys about the sun and fire (this hints to me that he should have been able to help the Butterfly girls on a level beyond let's make foods that we know are healthy), when Senjuro realizes that the food in his drawing is more like a marshmallow than sweet potato Kyojuro chimes in with insight "Good idea, come to think about it I also like roasting sweet potato with marshmallow too!"---giving Senjuro additional reassurance that hey the way he colored it does actually fit something Kyojuro would do. The boys get hungry so okay let's feed you lads.

When the lightning starts a fire he immediately goes for the fire extinguisher and then jumps outside and puts it out and all his dialogue here is spot on although I'm not sure I believe Kyojuro would miss a part of the fire. If anything he'd probably offer to just make them a fire after putting one out but maybe that's just me.

[stardew-obsessed-ora]

GIVE ME SOME OF YOUR MORRIS HEADCANNONS I NEED THEM IN MY LIFEEEEE B]]]]]]]

HIIIII! TYSM FOR INQUIRING ON MY HCS! I'LL GLADLY FLING THEM AT YOU AT A VELOCITY IN WHICH NOBODY SHOULD BE PELTED BY WORDS :D (they're going to be neatly organized under the cut). I would've gotten to this sooner but life nerfed my ability to get to things within what I consider a reasonable time. I'm doing General HCs + a few dating HCs that have been sitting on my brain for a while. I'd like to note that a few of these are a bit on the angsty side? Nothing too bad, but yk yk.

Word Count: 707 words!

im sorry if this is long, I have NO idea what tends to be seen as an acceptable length for these kinds of things KAHAHAH. Regardless, I hope you enjoy them and tysm again for feeding into my brainrot. B)

・୨・┈┈┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈┈┈・୧・

₊꒷︶ HCs Babey WOOHOOOO

˚⊹Morris is around 5'9, but he likes claiming he's around an inch or two taller. If you call him down on this bluff he gets visibly annoyed

-He's literally blind as a bat oh my god. You take this mans glasses away and you've taken away his ability to perceive the world as anything but splotches. If you were to take away his glasses he'd playfully pout then grab them whilst squinting in such an exaggerated fashion (but to him it isn't exaggerated at all. he's doing the best he can to see literally any part of you)

๑‧˚Morris is quite expressive, hyper-expressive even. He practically has an expression reserved for just about every situation you could think of. Its honestly impressive.

-Morris finds it hilarious to sneak up behind Pierre during random points and go "womp womp", and a variety of other similar, ill-fitting noises. To which he is chased off. It's one of the many tiny things he finds a surprising amount of pleasure in.

˚⊹ While Morris wasn't aware of the valley's existence as a child, I do imagine he was actually from a small town somewhere in Bavaria. That's right! I imagine Morris as Bavarian! If you catch him while he's still waking up, there's a chance he'll mutter something to you in Stardew's equivalent of Bavarian-German before snapping awake and correcting it to the English equivalent. He's bilingual, and he's fluent in both English and Bavarian-German.

-Morris has an accent, but he's able to try to limit it as much as possible in order to appeal more to the audience of Pelican Town.

ʚɞ There are aspects of the southern Pelican Town accent he's picked up on. He's like a sponge when it comes to mimicking accents, and as a result, he's also a sponge when it comes to inevitably picking up on the ways people say words differently in Pelican Town. At times, he's slipped up and said certain words in the Pelican Town way™. Yes, it's broken his customer service voice. Yes, he's sobbed over that.

"Over there sits our wonderful Joja Brand™ warsher n' dryer."

"..."

"Yes."

-Morris is ungodly out of touch. Some of the younger workers at his store have shared memes in their company group chat that they totally have because I willed it into existence and he's replied with either "????" or "haha (he's confused and doesn't get it)" You could trick this man into numerous deez nuts jokes if you felt particularly evil. I'm dead serious. It'd go something like this.

"Why, hello farmer! Are you visiting in hopes to talk about that Joja Membership? Or was there something else you were interested in bringing up?"

"Yeah, so I thought Soona worked here? Soona Orlada?"

"Soona Orlada? I haven't heard of t-"

"Soona or Later you're gonna see deez nu-"

"get OUT." He says, eyebrow twitching as he tries not to drop the customer service smile.

˚⊹He has self-confidence issues, regardless of how much bravado he likes showing to the residents of Pelican town and especially to Pierre. He often doubts his own abilities, and questions very often why things haven't turned in his favor despite how much effort he's put into his job and his work. He finds himself burnt out extremely often and ends up sitting at home sulking over another day stuck in a repetitive cycle with no change. Despite this, he knows the next day over he'll force a smile on his face and go about his life the exact same way he always has.

๑‧˚ For a long time, Morris was in heavy denial over just how bad the situation he was caught in was. He was in denial over just how strenuous his own job was, and was in denial over how overworked he was. Along with this, I imagine he was in denial over everything he had been doing wrong in his position. Having corporate constantly breathing down your neck over your specific district performing well clouds your judgement. At first, he'd shoot down any remarks about this. I imagine he reacts poorly to criticism from people he feels aren't adequate or in a position to be commenting on his performance, but he takes it into consideration regardless. After a few more confrontations, I imagine he takes steps to try and improve the working conditions of the little JojaMart he's under. It isn't until Post-Community Center that he actually realizes he's been treated poorly by Joja as well. He'd feel betrayed, but I imagine he'd feel lost and at a standstill on what to do next. Realistically, he'd probably continue to work for them for as long as he could unless a better opportunity reared its head.

-I like imagining Morris as a bit of a foodie. Dude absolutely knows the best restaurants in the Ferngill republic, and absolutely enjoys a good meal. Unfortunately, due to having such a demanding job, he hasn't been able to visit any of them in god knows how long. He's had to live on those incessant Joja Microwaveable Dinners for an unspeakable amount of time (he needs help). I reckon offering up home cooked meals to him is one of the fastest ways to his heart.

₊꒷In a relationship I imagine Morris to be kind of like a cat slowly warming up to his partner. He's been lonely for most of his life, and while he's touch starved, I don't think he'd be all that used to giving or receiving affection. In fact, I like imagining that for the first little bit while he's warming up to dating he gets all red faced over any gentle touch. Heaven forbid you kiss the guy while he's still getting used to things LMJKSDHKS. He's moreso one to give words of affirmation or gifts than gentle embraces during the first little bit of a relationship. Once he warms up, however, I imagine he gives ungodly nice cuddles and gentle kisses whenever he sees his S/O. Of course, that isn't to say he doesn't still prefer surprising his lover with little gifts here and there.

ʚɞ When Morris gets particularly embarrassed or flustered I imagine he likes to look away and push his glasses against his face, acting like he's unphased, or he hides his face with his arm or his hand. It's a huge habit of his and he's definitely done it unintentionally when the farmer shoots down something he says or one of his Joja-Related endeavors.

-Morris enjoys carefully planned, thought out home dates or picnic dates as opposed to anything extravagant. Sure, he adores a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant, but seeing his S/O put so much effort into making sure he has a good time... it absolutely warms his heart. Bonus if they plan some kind of stargazing date with all kinds of things to do beforehand. At first, the concept and appeal confuses him, but the fact that they found such joy in it... he starts enjoying it as well.

₊꒷Morris cries whenever he feels an excessive amount of just about any emotion. If someone were to get him a little overly happy he'd start tearing up then apologize. If he gets too comfortable with his S/O in bed he starts to tear up. No, he doesn't know why. No, don't feel bad. He's literally in heaven. Cloud nine, even. Similarly, I imagine him as one of those angry criers. He gets absolutely pissed off and you just see him start to tear up before screaming at someone then apologizing.

๑‧˚ He enjoys plushies. I'm not expanding on why I think this I just think he'd like a cute squishmallow. He wouldn't show his enjoyment openly but you know damn well he'd have it with him in bed every night. A little buddy, if you will. If he's caught with it he chucks that shit out of view then apologizes to it privately later.

[pavelkaramazov]

thoughts on smerdyakov because the post you made about him is driving me nuts??????? (Unless u don't want to of course)

I have a LOT of thoughts about him tbh. It changes all the time but he is probably the character I find most interesting in TBK. Again, everyone else is interesting for different reasons--- but..... come on. He's the murderer. The Smerderer, if you will.

I have a lot of empathy for him which seems to be kind of a radical/new take? In the scope of general discussion regarding this book which has, of course, been around for hundreds of years.

Smerdyakov's character exemplifies, to me, that sort of "a child who is not embraced by the warmth of the village will one day burn it down" mentality. There's even reference made directly to him doing just that, burning down the village. (This is also interesting to me because Dostoevsky seems to make reference with this character to two of the three pillars of the infamous MacDonald Triad, a concept in psychology that would not go on to be identified for 100 years after he died. So we can see here just one little shred of why so many philosophers call him a philosopher and so many psychologists call him a psychologist. I know it's just 2/3 but it's just amazing to me that he was perceptive enough to correctly use those things as foreshadowing based on his own perceptions. Just a neat little thing.)

It's my opinion that Smerdyakov had every right to kill Fyodor. He has been forced to live a life of servitude to his mother's rapist. Everything he has, both good and bad, and it is almost all bad, is directly due to Fyodor. He has to be his right hand man every single day. He serves him. He takes both abuse and kindness from him. Fyodor is unpredictable and an emotional terror and his outbursts and abuses are directly taken out on his servants. Smerdyakov cannot escape him. He is living basically in serfdom. I think he has had a very, very long time to contemplate, to collect impressions, to stew on this hatred.

And then the other brothers come along. And their maelstrom of total fucking chaos provides an opportunity. And then Ivan provides permission.

The way he goes about the actual murder is very clever. His disability has been used against him all his life, and he takes this opportunity to use it to his advantage. This is an extraordinarily violent murder! Blunt force trauma is very intimate! It takes an extraordinary amount of physical exertion, it's messy and gross. We can imagine the expurgation of a LOT of hatred here. I love everything about this murder scene. I love how violent it is, because it tells us a lot, and I love the chaos that ensues.

Smerdyakov is far from being a perfect victim by any means, which only serves to make me like him more. He has been cruelly subjugated and in turns seeks to subjugate others, he thinks it's funny to hurt animals, he puts on airs and talks down to everyone, he is generally kind of an asshole. He is manipulative and kind of takes after Fyodor in some ways, as they all do. He's a bootlicker in one scene and resents all authority in the next. He's a fancy dandy fop who spends extra time curling his hair and wears stockings and garters and shines his boots and wears too much pomade and talks shit about the other cooks in Moscow and how he could do so much better than him. He resents his low birth and wants more from life. He recognizes that the way people treat him is shit and he wants to be respected. Dostoevsky sort of seems to represent this as, in someone of low birth, the mark of someone who is dangerous----- of whether that was Dostoevsky's personal opinion or not, much has been written, and I think many perspectives are valid. I tend to think he had more sympathy for this character than some other people do, but that is just my personal opinion. The narrative has very little mercy for Smerdyakov's character because life has very little mercy for those like him. But Father Zossima talks in the very beginning about praying for the suicides, for those most miserable and wretched of all.

This is sort of the tip of the iceberg regarding my thoughts about him. I am still gathering some of my impressions thoughts I guess and haven't yet begun my full re-read. I have been reading a lot on JSTOR and elsewhere about this book and he gets more attention in academic articles than he does in fan content, which makes sense. I might drop some PDFs later if anyone is interested, but I'd have to figure out how to publish them first lmao.

[meraki-yao]

I dont remember who said this before but theres this interview where the lead actor said something like sometimes when acting you cant help but to develop feelings towards your co stars during filming period as in the crush is always there but the question is to act on it or not after filming ended. I have few pairs in my mind who *probably* developed feelings and not act on it. And TN *cough* are in that list too like the chemistry is a bit too real

... okay, here's my honest thought on this. Because truthfully, I think about this from time to time.

Again, deals with real-person shipping, if you disagree with it or are uncomfortable with the subject, please leave and don't read under the cut. If you read it and come yelling at me, I'll just delete it. I mean I warned you.

I've heard about that, and as someone who really enjoys learning about acting both in practice and theory, I think it's ... sort of inevitable at times. You're playing someone else, you're living another life, sometimes lines get blurred. It depends on the actors and their method, but yeah. I completely understand the idea or tendency to actually develop feelings.

And with Taylor and Nick's sheer amount of amazing chemistry on and off screen, not gonna lie, it's fairly reasonable to suspect and they belong in that case as well.

But on my part, there's this one thing that makes me confused and nervous about this:

Taylor and Nick's dynamic and trajectory are jarringly similar to one of my other ships and one of the only two rps ships that I genuinely believed in (the other one was Dan and Phil). I won't name them because there's... a lot of complicated shit happening in that fandom, but I'll simplify the name to JZ. (it's Chinese btw, and it's two men)

And the thing is, JZ were also co-stars playing a couple on-screen and had great chemistry both on and off-screen, so people were finding "candies" of them left right and centre.

BUT THEN, on the very last day of the promo period of their show, during an accidental live stream, THEY WERE CAUGHT WEARING MATCHING WEDDING RINGS. I DON'T THINK THERE'S A PLATONIC EXPLANATION FOR THAT. (this and this, it's a very distinct shape, we call it the hex nut)

And the sad thing is because they're in China, if they were truly together, they can't come out without completely ruining their careers. And then more drama happened that I don't want to get into because it's too big of a topic and someone on here definitely summarized the issue better, but either way, due to circumstances, they literally cannot be seen together. It's not a matter of choosing not to be seen; due to the aforementioned drama, they don't have a choice at all.

But EVEN THEN, and it's been 2.5 years since the drama, THEY'RE STILL DROPPING CANDY. AND SEEMINGLY DELIBERATELY, AND THAT'S AS GOOD AS COMING OUT IN THE SOCIETY THEY'RE IN.

When I say there are similarities and parallels between TN and JZ, I mean it, holy shit.

I could make a whole list on it, but I'm not entirely comfortable with posting that at the moment, so I'll just name a few:

Nick and Z both started their acting careers in musicals

Taylor and J are distinctly puppy-coded

Taylor and J didn't take the acting school route: they studied something else in school and started modelling before acting

Both sets get very hyped when with each other

The wedding band thing is sort of in the same category of candy as the Cartier watch I mentioned before (oh and btw a follow-up on the Cartier watch candy will be in my next TN candies post)

Both sets were accused of having no chemistry upon casting and during shooting, but as soon as the project aired and people actually watched their performance, everyone acknowledged that their chemistry was exceptional

Taylor is... protective? caring? adoring? the Chinese word is 寵 toward Nick (see the GQ quiz and Taylor giddily giving Nick hints) J is the same way towards Z (I might remember this wrong, it's been two years, but I think in a game show J also gave Z hints or sort of let him win or something)

Taylor turning toward Nick with his arm slung over the back of Nick's chair during the GQ editorial after Nick talked about his broken ankle vs J paying extra attention and making sure that Z never puts extra weight on his knee that he unfortunately permanently damaged

... yeah I'll leave it at that for now.

Can you see how this is driving me insane? Like, what the fuck? I've seen this pattern once before!

Like if it weren't for this, before I saw the parallels, I really kind of thought they were really good friends. And I still stand by that.

But then this comes up?????

Ultimately I truly do mean what I said before: I only care that the boys have a good relationship, what's the nature of that relationship, none of my business, I don't really mind. That's theirs to define and disclose if they want to.

But upon seeing the parallel, in my head, the scale went from to leaning towards the platonic side to the middle of the spectrum.

That being said, I need to reiterate this: ultimately this is all speculation done in good fun. I will never harass the boys or treat anything about their personal life as fact unless it comes from them. Their personal lives are ultimately their own, no one else is in a position to dig into it.