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#the lyrics just fits the mood for this prompt ok?
krizariel · 2 years
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All the stars are coming out tonight,
They’re lightning up the sky tonight
For you, for you..._ _
Lyrics from Rule the world by Take That - Stardust OST
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naavispider · 7 months
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Ok HEAR ME OUT
Misguided ghosts by Paramore https://youtu.be/oGWeHPK3NC4
ITS AN INSANE SONG, it perfectly describes Spider’s life, his captivity in the rda, and how he feels about the recombinants. NOW-
Imagine he plays it on the ukulele, sitting up in a tree and looking at Polemius, and the lyrics just hits the recoms right into the heart. ESPECIALLY Miles, when he sings “So I can find, someone to rely on and run to them, to them..”
If you’re not taking this prompts it’s totally fine, I just got emotional over imagining Spider sing it lol
The lyrics are so perfect for when Spider was with Quaritch and the recoms, somebody should make an edit already 🙌🏻 Here are just SOME of the lyrics:
See I'm trying to find my place and it might not be here where I feel safe
Would someone care to classify our broken hearts and twisted minds, So I can find someone to rely on and run to them, Full speed ahead
The ones we trusted the most pushed us far away
We should not be the same, But I'm just a ghost and still they echo me
Hkhdskshf like,, yeah. @hyperfixatedfandomer
"What's that you're singing kid?" Quaritch asked, pulling Spider completely out of his reverie.
Immediately, he stopped fingering the ukulele and scooted further away from the recom into the firelight. A few of the other members of the squad were still awake, leaning against tree trunks or trying to find a comfortable position to lie in on the floor. No one was chatting anymore, leading Spider to believe that if they weren't interested in his noodling before, they definitely were now.
"Have you got nothing better to do than listen to my singing?" Spider bristled. He hadn't realised that anyone could hear him at this distance.
"Surprisingly, no," Quaritch retorted, which elicited a grumpy huff from the teenager.
"Some old Earth band. Why do you care?" He tried to make it clear how much he was not in the mood to discuss it.
Quaritch shrugged, eyeing Spider strangely.
Spider was just working his way through his repertoire, but weirdly enough that particular song was extremely fitting to the situation, he realised as he worked out the chords. It was just a shame that Quaritch seemed to take an interest. Immediately, he decided not to sing it again. That was the end of that conversation.
... Or so he thought.
Spider couldn't know, but Quaritch had been listening as closely as possible to his son's impromptu, one-man jam session. He couldn't know that the lyrics had resonated with Quaritch in a way that made the recom consider Spider's feelings more so than he'd ever done before. He couldn't know that Quaritch couldn't sleep that night, his son's soft voice echoing over and over in his brain. He couldn't know that Quaritch hadn't heard every line, but he'd heard every ounce of truth and hurt and pain behind the words. He couldn't know, because he shrugged the uke away from him and rolled over to go to sleep soon after, feeling resentful that his noodling had been so rudely interrupted.
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soleilnomoon · 2 years
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3.9k words, afab reader, nsfw - toji is a menace, i'm not sorry
prompt // “i’ve never wanted to fuck anyone so badly.”
summary: where y/n is a bartender at a club that toji keeps frequenting - gojo makes an appearance, apparently. and yes, i'm pretending toji is alive.
cw: alcohol use
fic request for @strawhatsoraya; i wash my hands of this, ok. next ⤹
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“tell me,” your voice is a honeyed, delicate thing that oozes into him in the worst possible way. he’s so absolutely aware of you that it startles him. “what’s the story behind your scar?” you’ve asked this question before—a few times, actually—and he’s always brushed you off. his gaze lowers, dark eyes watching the amber liquid slosh around every time he tilts his glass. 
“it’s not a particularly interesting story,” he reasons carefully, almost cautiously, downing the drink in one go; impressive, you think—he’s had six drinks already and is only marginally tipsy. it’s not that he’s ashamed to tell the story, he’s just really not in the fucking mood. and after having the afternoon he had, he just wants to unwind and not think about shit.
namely, the story behind his scar.
you don’t press him and simply grab his glass to clean it. he frowns at you, dark brows sloping downward as he watches you walk away from the counter. 
“i’m not done drinking,” he insists, slouching over the barstool, his form-fitting black shirt lifting slightly, giving you a peak of his toned stomach. you blink quickly, not wanting to get caught up in those thoughts again, and pour yourself a shot of tequila. you don’t normally drink on the job, but the club owner is away and their idiot sister is in charge—she gives stupidity a bad name, in your opinion, so it’s not an issue if you break a rule. or two. or three, you remind yourself as you knock back the shot. the liquid burns your throat, warming you, dulling your nerves—when it comes to him, you need to keep your guard up. 
there’s something about him that calls out to you; you ignore the urge, opting instead to move around and keeping your hands busy.
head propped up by his large hand, his savage, green eyes never leave you—they can’t, it’s physically impossible for him. so when you slightly sway your hips to the music blasting around the club, heavy bass rumbling deeply inside of you, he watches you. the beat is hypnotic, lyrics and accompanying instruments reminding you of home. but, it’s not home that catches your attention, and it’s not home that looks at you like you’re prey to be hunted. 
an unsettling need bubbles up inside of him; if he had more alcohol, he’d be able to resist the temptation. but, since you won’t serve him anymore, the beast that he normally keeps on a leash—a short, cruel leash—breaks free.
and, unfortunately for you, toji plays with his meals before he eats.
your large, dark brown eyes remind him of forgotten promises, shared smiles, and forbidden desires. except, nothing is ever really off limits for him; he knows this, everyone who knows of him knows this too. you contemplate this as you grab a chilled bottle of water and toss it at him; you have an arm on you, despite the short distance. toji catches the water bottle with ease, hand gripping the plastic tightly. 
“s’not the kind of drink i came for.” he gives you a meaningful look, one that set your your cheeks aflame, more than it should—although, with him, you always feel like you’re stumbling around, unaware of the perils around you. he’s a monster, but you’re not here to tame him. 
you’ve met men like him before; unhinged, ruthless, eyes increasingly growing soulless with each contracted kill. his type come in and out of the club all the time, and they’ve never held your interest until now. at first, he ignores you, just orders drink after drink—no one else is brave enough to handle his proximity but you. and after the first night, he frequents multiple times a week, ordering enough alcohol to incapacitate someone several times over.
you don’t know why that interests you, or why his haunted look draws you in, or why when he gives you clipped, pointed responses to your overly curious questions, that a small butterfly flutters eagerly in your chest. it’s pathetic, honestly.
and, realistically, you know it’s not possible for this sort of thing to end well; you stopped believing in happy endings years and years ago, your naivety is buried somewhere along with your optimism. when toji opens up the water bottle and starts to drink from it, you feel extremely parched—his eyes are still on you, almost as if he’s waiting for an opening before he can attack.
“too bad,” you say, throat unnecessarily dry, your tongue moistening your lips before you speak again. “i’m cutting you off.” it’s almost like you’re telling yourself that, but it’s just like you to believe in an alternate version of events just to ease your conscience. a few more patrons noisily sit at the bar, the small group clamoring for your attention in between all their laughter and inside jokes.
you almost leap at the distraction, eager to serve them so that you can put some distance between you and him. his eyes are still on you as you start to take their orders, your brown fingers flying nervously twirling some of your hair, although your face says a different story—you’re a highly capable employee and one man can’t just disrupt your world like this.
he’s not someone who acts without thinking, but for some reason, it actively agitates him that your friendly, personable demeanor attracts groups of people night after night. at first, he decides it’s simply because the more time you spend with others, the less alcohol he’s allowed to consume; but then after the twelfth night, he’s had enough. so he starts sabotaging in little ways; whenever someone flirts with you, he makes a big show of monopolizing your time and they eventually leave you alone. 
he’s made it absolutely impossible for anyone to try and ask you out—which, doesn’t bother you at all; you’re tired of telling them to leave you alone, since you have no desire to date any customer that finds their way to the bar.
well, all except one, that is.
it takes one severe look from him—one that promises a small taste of violence—to scare the newcomers away, effectively emptying out the bar. you sigh loudly and dramatically, casting a sideways glance his way, annoyance building, your patience waning.
“what the hell was that for?” 
you place a hand on your hip, his eyes lingering on your curves; that initial friendliness no longer present in your eyes, leaving behind a more raw, truer version of yourself. he flashes you a sly smile, finishing off the water without issue and motioning for you to pour him another drink. “i don’t like to share, and they’re not worth your time,” he says in lieu of an apology, thinking the answer is adequate enough to satisfy you.
the statement guts you; he’s just saying that, he has to be, right? but, a man like toji doesn’t just say those things without intent.
you inhale deeply, tell yourself to calm down, and grab an expensive bottle of whiskey—the club won’t miss it. adrenaline pumps through you, a dull ringing resounding in your ears—is it nerves? you’re not too sure. but you do know that if you back out now, you can never face him again.
“if you wanted to have a drink with me,” you say as you lean against the counter, the top few buttons of your blouse undone, giving him an exclusive look at your ample breasts, enticing him to heed your words carefully. “then just ask to drink with me.”
if you weren’t using the counter for support, your legs might’ve given out, simply from the way his lips curve into a wicked smirk. toji grabs the bottle of whiskey from your hand with enough force to make you stumble forward, to which he leans in, his mouth ghost-like as it grazes the shell of your ear. 
“stop wasting my time.”
you almost ask what he means by that, but he hops off of the stool, long legs carrying him away from the bar—with that full bottle of whiskey, you realize; you call out to him, but he weaves in and out of the crowd of dancing people. biting down on your plush lower lip, you wave down one of your coworkers to cover for you as you chase after toji. you don’t know what’s come over you; he’s somehow infiltrated your thoughts, kicking away your self preservation, reason, and dignity. there’s no reason for you to chase after him, and yet you can’t help it.
you get turned around in the dimly lit club, annoyed that he left you as quickly as he did. with a defeated sigh, you rake a hand through your hair, combing through a few pesky curls, ready to just give up and head back to the bar when a thick, muscular arm wraps around you from behind. 
the scent of his cologne is easily recognizable; it makes your mind fuzzy, and if it had hands, it would choke you forever. “caught you,” he says against the side of your neck, the sensation stirring a hunger that you’ve always kept hidden. “i thought we were drinking together.”
barely registering his words as he pulls you against him—that ringing in your ears comes back again—you arch against his hold, round ass rubbing against the front of him; reckless, absentminded behavior. it drives you wild.
“my shift isn’t over yet,” you say without issue, his mouth pressing heated kisses against your exposed neck; his cock hardening without a care—another thing that annoys him. 
he nips your skin roughly, voice low, yet you can hear him perfectly. “how much longer?” he hates this particular club, but keeps coming back because you’re the only interesting thing here. 
your fingers dig into his arm, but it doesn’t phase him. “an hour,” you mumble deliriously, head spinning from the aftershocks of his kisses.
“reduce the time,” he commands in a harsh, yet alluring tone, teeth tugging on your earlobe as he continues to keep you close to him.
“b-by how m-much?” the stuttering is new, but you’re too far gone to be confused by it, especially when his hand travels lower, dipping between your legs, rubbing the inside of your thigh. the material from your jeans is thin enough that it almost feels like his fingers are touching your skin. 
“fifty-five minutes, to be exact,” toji says matter-of-factly, giving you little wiggle room to argue. try as he might, patience evades him.
“i can’t just leave my job,” you say with your eyes half-closed, the intoxicating effect of his presence watering down the bite in your tone. “i’ll get fired.” not that you care, you can find another job; it’s just really flexible and convenient for you to work here.
he nudges you with the bottle, voice leaving little room for discussion. “five minutes.” and then he’s gone. your thoughts race, you suddenly feel like the club is too small, there are too many people, too many voices, smells—maybe you should leave early. it’s not a radical idea, and when you head back to the bar to inform your coworker, you don’t wait for a response. you bump into someone unexpectedly, an apology on your lips until you realize who it is.
“be careful around him,” the pale, white-haired man says, caution in his voice despite playing it off as if he's joking, his trademark sunglasses obscuring his eyes.
your response is less than pleasant; gojo satoru is every bit as obnoxious as ever. “i can take care of myself, thanks.”
he shrugs languidly and gives you that sly smile of his before moving through the crowd again. you shake off the feeling that his warning might have merit and continue on.
it takes you eight minutes to get outside; you figure it’s not a big deal, but when you find toji sitting outside in his shiny black car—something fast and possibly expensive—his windows down, music trickling out, his eyes drift your way and he wordlessly calls you over with his middle and pointer finger. 
your feet and legs are traitors, your heart even more so; a slight giddiness takes over, making you drunk on the possibilities that the night might bring. you barely sit down and close the door, before he’s driving off, foot heavy on the gas as he speeds through the city. he’s left the windows down, laughing darkly as you fret over your hair flying everywhere. you try to put the window up, not liking how nippy the air is, but he engages you in a childish sort of battle, pressing the button each and every time to ensure that the window stays down.
he doesn’t know why he does it, just that it’s funny to see you get worked up over it.
you’re sure you’ve lost your mind when you follow him out of the car, into the building of his apartment. he nudges you into the elevator, surprisingly keeping his hands to himself even when you reach his floor. but, once you’re inside his place, you snatch the whiskey from him, waltzing around his apartment in search of some shot glasses. you grin when you find what you need, already pouring the whiskey and swallowing the liquid with ease.
toji has other plans, however. you feel him follow behind you silently into the kitchen, and when you glance at him once over your shoulder, it’s all the invitation he needs. you don’t remember how, but the drink is now forgotten, and he’s perched you on top of the counter, your jeans and blouse tossed haphazardly onto the floor behind him. with your shapely legs wrapped around him, chest pressed against his, toji pours some of the whiskey into your mouth and drinks from you.
you don’t know why, but it spins you out of control. your nails drag along his back, his mouth devouring yours, expertly sucking on your tongue; it takes a lot to get toji drunk, but you somehow make the impossible happen. impulsively, you unhook your bra, your breasts catching his attention immediately. as you lean back against your hands, he pours whiskey onto your skin, watching as it travels down your breast, dripping slowly. 
the slight raise of his brow is all the warning you get; toji’s mouth is a sinful, disrespectful thing, teeth tugging on your hardened nipple before his tongue flicks against it. you try to stifle a moan but he tsks and roughly pinches your other nipple with his fingers. 
“ah, toji that hurts damn it.” it doesn’t hurt at all, it just surprised you—the surprise being that you’re pitifully invested in him using your body as he sees fit, your back arching in a way that silently begs him for more.
he ignores your words and licks the area clean, making sure he’s lapped up all of the alcohol before responding. “you talk too much,” he says lightly, tugging on your flimsy panties and ripping them off of you. a small moan leaves you, the sensation lighting your skin on fire. you open your mouth to tell him that he’s going to have to deal with your talking and he stuffs your panties into your mouth.
satisfied, he gives you an impish grin. “much better.” he almost seems pleased. but it’s when his lips trail down your chest, placing kiss after kiss along your soft skin, tongue reminding you that this isn’t a dream, it’s really happening.
your legs part for him, almost automatically. you watch him through your lashes, chest heaving as he runs his warm hands along your thighs. he feels like he’ll never have enough time to explore all of you, and you feel like you’ll die from all of his teasing. his fingers dip lower, stroking your folds before slipping between them.
 “i haven’t done anything, and you’re already this wet.”
you stare at him incredulously, eyes widening, an argument lodged in the back of your throat, struggling despite the fact that you’re still keeping your panties in your mouth—the possibility that he might actually stop his ministrations if you don’t listen growing with each passing second. what an impossible man, you think. and while you slightly fear that you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, you remain put, excitement blinding you so that you can’t properly see reason. 
when he slides a finger inside of you, your hips buck against his palm, pussy a comfortable and moist warmth against his skin. he plunges his finger in and out of you, unrelenting, adding an additional finger when your moans get louder. you bite down on your panties, panting as your hips roll, an addictive heat searing through you, a shiver shooting down your spine. you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, or him, or both, but you’ve never felt more alive.
he finger-fucks you mercilessly, going fast then slow, the changing speeds making your body tremble with want. when he finally pulls the panties from your mouth, he kisses you, tongue hypnotizing you as he scissors his fingers inside of you, thumb rubbing circles around your clit. you moan into his mouth, desperate for him to give you what you need, but he stops.
“toji, please…” you whine, nearly in tears, hating that he just won’t fuck you properly already. 
“we agreed to a drink,” he says, body lowering until his mouth is level with your pussy; you suck in a sharp breath, ready to tell him off but he wastes no time. toji eats you out like a crazed and starved man, while also proving to you that he is every bit as dangerous as you originally thought. you want to point out that this is definitely more than just a drink, but your mind is putty at the moment.
his hands hold you still, tongue thrusting inside of you as if this is a regular occurrence for him, your toes curling as you moan louder. “oh, god,” you cry out once he flicks his tongue against your clit, his fingers sliding back into you with ease. toji’s movements still and you open your eyes to stare at him, out of breath, body only responding to his touch. 
“god isn’t here, try again,” he says gruffly before sucking on your clit hard, inserting a third finger, the walls of your pussy tightening around him as you ride his face shamelessly. you’re annoyed that you like the way he talks to you; you almost want to keep quiet out of spite, but it’s impossible with him at the helm.
“oh, toji, fuck.”
it’s not often that you’re taken aback by an orgasm, but somehow toji manages to take every rational thought you’ve ever had and hurl them out of the window, leaving only enough room for irrationality and lust to take over. he doesn’t stop, though, not until you’re whimpering, slightly drooling, and grabbing his hair roughly, barely able to talk, voice slightly hoarse from how loud you got.
he stands up and licks his lips; hastily, you pull his hand towards you, tongue darting out to taste yourself on him before he shoves his fingers into your mouth. he doesn’t have to tell you, you’re already sucking purposefully, his eyelids lowering slightly as his breathing turns ragged.
it’s an unprecedented moment, one that toji will just have to think on later; he rarely invites anyone over, let alone fucks anyone at his place—he wonders what makes you different, what makes him want to keep you here longer than necessary.
you don’t give him an answer, his cock hard enough to brush those thoughts away from his mind; your hands fumble as they unbutton his jeans and tug down his zipper. when he’s finally naked, you stroke him, putting him in a trance, precum leaking from his tip onto your hand. the moan he lets out encourages you to tighten your grip a little, stroking him faster, as he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter. he licks your bottom lip and you lift your hips, pussy throbbing and glistening with arousal, tempting him in every kind of way.
toji enters you in one go, burying most of his cock into you before sliding out. your eyelids flutter when he slams into you again and he grabs your face roughly, forcing you to look up at him. “don’t close your eyes,” he says in between thrusts, which you want to point out, is easy for him to say.
still, you don’t want to give him any reason to stop, so you keep your eyes open as long as you can. he releases you, lips dropping kisses along your jaw, his hips knocking against yours wildly. his hands run along your thighs, squeezing your hips, grabbing your ass in the way he’s always wanted to. he almost admits that he’s wanted to fuck you since the night you two met, but he keeps it to himself, not wanting any sort of vulnerability with you once all of this is over.
you claw at his chest weakly, calling out his name loud enough to arouse his neighbors. they’re too intimidated by toji to say anything—not that it matters, you’re not really thinking about them. especially not when his cock pummels into you like that, hips snapping as he gives you short, vicious strokes, balls slapping against you in a way that has you clenching around him tighter than before.
“that’s it,” he coaxes in between kisses, voice husky, your hips rolling to meet his with each thrust. “good girl, you’re taking me so well.” if you weren’t so caught up in moaning his name, you’d laugh; your pussy will be sore after this, you know that, but you can’t help it. you’ll willingly let yourself get ensnared in his trap again. and again. and again. 
you’re barely functional, your legs wrapped around him tightly, holding him to you, hips angled in a way that has his cock pushing into you deeper. “oh god,” you start again, and when he bites your lip you amend your statement. “toji.”
and, despite almost moaning your name four times, he tries to flip the script. “actually,” he says against your ear, your nails sinking into his skin deeply, “call me god again. i think i like it.”
your want to slap him, but he fucks you harder, rendering you speechless. it’s when your eyes roll back that another orgasm tears through you—ruthless and uncaring, leaving you a panting, noisy mess. you’ve never squirted before but it seems toji’s crossed that off of your bucket list. a flush crawls onto your skin, you bury your face in his chest as he gives you mind-numbing thrusts, ones that have you writhing, a different throb pulsing through you as he groans.
he pulls out and cums all along your thighs and stomach. a close one, really; he nearly forgot himself. he sucks in a breath, both of you sweaty, sticky, and still yearning for one another. you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, lips brushing against his scar gently; that move alone unnerves him, has him holding you in a way that doesn’t make sense to him.
“don’t think i’m letting you go tonight,” he reminds you, a bit ominously, but you just roll your eyes and lightly smack your hand on his chest. and when you open your mouth to counter his statement, he adds, “i’m still not done having my drink, yet.”
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shishirona · 2 years
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what other people think of you doesnt matter at all, its not about fitting in, its about expressing yourself and having fun! i know you put a lot of work into it, and your content is more than ok. please, dont put yourself down for no reason. theres nothing wrong with you, or the way you interact, you are valuable all on your own, and worthwhile. even if i had never pointed it out, it would still be true.
also, if its not too late, ∞-
maybe, you could use the lyrics as a prompt for fluffy metadede, since they seem to be giving off Meta Knight Vibes, and double combine it with your post about meta knight hugging dedede with his wings, warm and safe!
if these dont turn out, you could use the last ones (spent gladiator 2)! where meta knight is dead tired after fighting (or in general), and reflecting on his lifes Trials, Near dedede, he gives him a Thank You For Being Someone I Can Trust Hug!! bonus if you write a lil Moment after each lyric instead of in one big Chonk for dramatic poetic timing
Thank you, anon, that is super sweet of you and really picked my mood up 💖💖
I chose some new lyrics, and incorporated them into a drabble! With added wing-hugs!
!! MetaDede drabble under the cut !! 
If I’m alive and well,
Meta Knight staggers, holding himself upright by firmly planting Galaxia into the ground. He’s just won the battle against the evil threatening Popstar while Kirby took a well-deserved nap, but not without a cost. His mask is in pieces, split through the middle and hanging on only with the straps wound tightly around his head. Half of his face is exposed; his left eye, the blue blush under it, and half his mouth, curled downward with a trail of blood trickling down from the corner all on display.
But he’s alive.
He’s won.
Will you be there?
And then Dedede is there, Meta watches him run to Meta’s side through his peripheral vision. Meta Knight tries to take a step, but it just brings him closer to the ground. He has trouble breathing and when he tries to take a deep breath, he breaks out into a coughing fit, stumbling backwards. He’s going to hit the ground.
Except, he doesn’t. His fall is blanketed by Dedede’s arms. Dedede shifts Meta’s weight to one arm and sits down, bringing the knight closer to him. He clicks his tongue when he lays eyes on the carnage that is Meta’s face and reaches down to peel the remainder of Meta’s mask off him.
“Geez, Meta,” Dedede mutters, throwing the mask off to the side. He cups Meta’s face, wiping the blood on the corner of Meta’s mouth with a thumb. “Wanna let me know in advance when ya go off to save the world next time? I could’ve prepared a first-aid kit, but ya caught me empty-handed.”
Holding my hand?
Meta chuckles hoarsely. He seeks out Dedede’s hand, grasping it firmly. “It’s my duty,” he whispers, because talking outright hurts. He slowly brings Dedede’s hand up to his mouth, maintaining eye-contact when he presses his lips to the back of it. Dedede rolls his eyes with an exasperated but fond smile. “As your knight.”
Dedede squeezes Meta’s hand. He brings the knight up to his chest, cradling him to his chest and gently kisses the top of Meta’s head. “Mm. But as your king, I have a duty of care. If I can’t keep ya from divin’ head-first into danger, very least I could do is make sure ya rest up nice an’ good before ya go fightin’ some evil again.“
Meta smiles, and winces when it hurts. “Ugh,” he grumbles, “It hurts to smile.”
Dedede softly laughs. The sound makes Meta’s heart flutter. “Serious knight like you? Ya don’t gotta worry about smilin’ too much.”
“Of course. I smile most when I am with you, Dedede. You have that effect on me,” Meta teases, playful and flirty despite everything. He lifts up a wing, and wraps it around Dedede in the approximation of a hug.
“Meta…” Dedede doesn’t know what to say. So he just holds Meta tighter, peppering kisses on his head. Meta tilts his head up, straining a little to lift his face and finally meeting Dedede’s lips with his own. They kiss, deeply, and one of Dedede’s hands settle on the space between Meta’s wings. He’s gentle but desperate, pouring his uncertainties about Meta’s life earlier and his relief upon seeing the knight emerge victorious all into this kiss. Meta reciprocates just as fiercely, and they part only when they’re both out of breath.
“I love you,” Meta whispers.
“An’ I love you, Meta,” Dedede whispers back. “You’re gonna love me a whole lot less when I confine ya to Castle Dedede ‘til you’re healed, I reckon.”
Meta wraps his wings just a bit tighter around Dedede’s form. “Nothing could put a dent in my love for you.”
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leelany-world · 1 year
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NOOOOOO. Once again, I’m too slow on the fanfic ask. 💀💀💀🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️
BABE. WHAT DO I DO?!
Fuck it. Time to make our own ask, with blackjack and hookers.
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1. Do you tie music or playlists into your process? If so, how? Does a song sometimes start a fic? I think FuckBoi was right?
2. What’s a scene you’re particularly proud of?
3. Of the RK’s is there one who’s perspective you most enjoy writing from?
Ok my brain’s fried imma cheat and use the list:
19) What is some random info you happen to have that you used in a fic?
1. Yes, Fuckboi is based on the song of the same name by Electric Callboy. It was suggested on Spotify and my head just screamed "SIXTY" at me and I started the fic.
But also Don't trust me, @mimeticpolyalloy1000 had suggested the song and vid as a prompt and I tried it.
For WL3, I took the song title from The Spectry by Alan Walker. I love the vibe of the song and I saw Sixty in the lyrics, too. But I also discovered Nathan Wagner at the time and a few songs gave me the vibe for Connor and Sixty.
And I couldn't believe my luck, when some of his songs (which build on each other) fit perfectly for BMD! Telling the story of a lonely man (Connor) finding someone (Nines) who understands and accepts him. Nathan Wagner's lyrics are so beautiful 💙
Last but not least, Elvis Presley's "Can't Help Falling in Love" for Take my Hand (for the title and the dance flash mob)
But I also try mood playlists on Spotify or Youtube to get in the needed mood.
2. WL3, Chapter 15: Connor joining Sixty and Reader for the first time, when they interface so Connor can feel everything Sixty feels. I love this so much, when this brings them closer together, understanding each other and filling the missing pieces to come together. 🥺💙
3. Sixty! It's so fun writing him, with him being unhinged and sassy and so sure of himself. Perfect Drama Queen.
But with BMD, I started to like the idea of exploring Nines' full perspective from being a machine to becoming a deviant. I hope I can try this in the future!
19) Very random: but while driving around my town last year, I saw the tour posters from Rolling Stones for their 2022 60 years European tour with their well known tongue logo and a big "SIXTY" over it. It was fuckin perfect and I had to use that as a shirt logo in WL3, where Hank gifts that shirt to Sixty.
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agendratum · 3 years
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so while i’m in the mood to sort out my life (and while instead i should be sorting out the actual irl mess in my apartment) here’s a problem, here’s a dilemma. i have this number of gifset ideas that, when i hover over them while going through my list of all ideas to decide what i’m gonna make next, i look at them and go, “i wanna do this, but it’s too long, so i’ll do it later”. i’ve been doing the same thing for months now. the things about these ideas is that they are mostly planned out already (well, in my head, but still), but i know from that plan in my head, that it will be a lot of work, a lot of gifs, probably a couple of posts for one song, and that i won’t be able to throw out any of the lyrics, because i wanna use them ALL.
i did the same thing yesterday and finally thought to myself, “ok, but WHEN is later? when is it??” so later comes today! ok, not today right now. but i decided to kinda challenge myself. i gathered all the ideas that fit this criteria in one list and i want to start working on them, one by one, and finally to be done with all of them eventually. i still have probably exactly two other things i wanna do before that, but they shouldn’t take too much time. and after them, this “challenge” starts. i will probably slightly regret it, but if i regret it too much - i’ll stop or take a break (remember, hobbies should be fun first), but if i regret it just a little bit in a fun regretful way - then it’s fine.
so here’s a kinda non-spoilery list made for self-regulation purposes:
1. i'm too unlovable wenzhou set
2. dying together caoxiang set
3. this is how yunmeng bros reconciliation can still happen set
4. fucking russian breakup song for yunmeng bros set
5. terrifying yiling laozu set
6. ghost siblings destined for a bad ending wwx+wq set
7. second part of the same song ghost siblings destined for a bad ending wkx+gx set
8. lwj falling in love set
9. sunshot generation's anthem set
10. jgy's crime and punishment set
if anyone wants to help out by prompting which ones i should make first, feel free, but no pressure (no pressure from me to you, no pressure from you to me, this is a mutual no pressure zone)
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spiltscribbles · 3 years
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So champagne problems is like one if my favorite fics ever like its so well written and breaks my heart every time but for some reason I had never actually listened to the song? Like idk why I hadn't ever done that but I just heard it all the way through for the first time and I'm sobbing 😭😭😭 like bitch you got my crying in the club I was just vibing to music and then this song appears and all I can think of is your beautiful fic and how it just represents this song so fucking well so this is a lengthy way of saying fuck you you amazing writer 🖕💙
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YOU ABSOLUTE SLAG!!! U TOTAL AND COMPLETE TRAMP!!! U UNCEASING STRUMPET!!!😭😭😭😭
WHAT THE HOLY FUCK DID I DO TO U!!!!! I GIVE YOU MY LOVE AND THIS IS WHAT I GET!!!!
listen u skank!!! I LOVE YOU TO PIECES!!! and that fic is trash and u r a fucking bullying bully who bullies!! and i bite my thumb at u!! while i go down on one knee kvdjjgdjjygjhfdjkb
but JFC that song slaps ok! my biggest regret is not fitting in the lyric “fucked in the head” becs god what a mood☠️☠️
kgfigdujfdthgf JFC i love you!!!!
-FIC  »  Champagne Problems 
-My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist
-Chat With Me/Send Me A Prompt💜
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antimagnanimiti · 4 years
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halou, wholeness & separation | lyric meme
content warnings: none that i can find these prompts can be taken as direct dialogue, part of a description you’d use, or just as a prompt. feel free to change the pronouns and input names as you see fit.
---------
tubefed
we appeal to your basic nature.
chew up the harder facts for you to make them easy to consume.
you won’t have to think too hard.
you won’t have to dig too far.
sanitize the truth for you
---
honeythief
sometimes i doubt the path i chose.
sometimes my dreams feel all on hold.
there’s no doubt that this will make me strong.
because it’s the hardest thing i’ve ever done.
and when i’m lost, you search for me.
and when i doubt, you’re my belief.
i’m supposed to be the stronger one.
you always seem to prove that theory wrong.
i’m supposed to be the strong one; you always seem to prove that theory wrong.
still, i hold my breath each time you go.
still, i hold my breath each time you go out in the world that’s beyond my control.
if you are dreaming, i never want to wake you up.
when i’m at my wit’s end and i’m losing my head, you remind me of just how lucky i am.
---
everything is ok
break it all down into simplest terms.
there, was that so bad?
you doubt yourself so much you don't even know what you really want, or how you really feel.
and i’m so tired of you constantly over-thinking.
i know why, because everything’s going ok.
hust your style to break it all into pieces.
disregard your inner monologue, don’t try to drown it out, ’cause it’ll only wear you out.
sometimes things are just beyond control.
that has to be ok, and you don’t have a choice.
everything is unacceptable.
---
morsecode
write your codes.
throw me off.
i’ve captured your enigma machine.
better have tried, and consequently fell.
they lacked this fine decoder ring.
i am here, i read you loud and clear.
i sneak inside.
retrace your steps.
movements make motives clear.
your phrases fly and i am fluent now.
you’re coming through without a glitch.
we read you loud and clear.
---
stonefruit
dear heart, take a look at you.
i know how it feels.
the bounty of the rain, the bounty of the spring.
dear heart, you can’t keep them all
i wait with eyes closed.
i’ll lighten your load.
truth hurts
remember this: we are pooling our faith.
you said it.
asking for my basket full.
whatever sustains me, gifts and pampers you.
---
your friends
your friends.
we are your soldiers sworn to protect your character, and there is no attack for which we’re not prepared.
when you need us, we’re there. if you need us, we’re there.
---
the ratio of freckles to stars
but i don’t think i can wait; i’ve been living for this day.
i think that if i do or don’t, it’ll turn out the same way, but i can’t seem to pull myself away.
and i hope that’s ok.
even just the very thought makes me want to stay.
this is more than i can take.
i fear my heart will burst or break.
if there;s a thing as too much joy i will be taken away.
if i wrap you up inside of me, kiss your fingers greedily, i will lose track of the floor, i will lose track of my feet.
all that you’ve conquered was already yours.
all that you’ve longed for is painted on my arms.
here, i can take you.
but i don’t know what to say, all my language slipped away.
i only know that i am yours and i hope you take the hint.
be still my sweaty little heart.
you are my every waking thought.
if there’s a thing as too much love, i am guilty as i stand.
if i dive head first straight into you the way i’ve always wanted to, i can’t be held responsible; there’s no telling what i’ll do.
---
wholeness
how can i learn to let go, now that you have shown that you are strong enough, but i am not.
how can i let the world rough you around when i’m not there? i can’t protect you.
why does life have to rob you of your Innocence and faith for you to be a grown up?
the only thing that gives me strength when i am deep in doubt is your nature.
---
today
today i feel surrounded.
today i am connected.
today i am a part of something more, as if every cell were singing.
still, i can’t embrace it.
every silver lining has a cloud, but not so far.
i keep waiting for the shoe to drop, waiting for the axe to fall. and it will happen, this I know. just not so far.
today i feel like dancing. i never feel like dancing.
it’s like even the weather suits my mood.
my entire soul is ringing.
still, i can’t accept it.
i keep looking for the thing to bring me down, though i can’t explain my reasons to you.
i think we are the same.
---
hollow bones
i understand the principle, wrapped it up inside my skull, i just cannot seem to make it real.
and even without hollow bones, and burdened down by all these clothes against the forces of the earth, i swear that i will make it real.
and when we go, take nothing with us.
and when it’s cold, then they will miss us.
i just cannot seem to make it fly.
---
i am warm
my legacy a string of losses.
my god, i ask, how can you do this? you made the sun, the world your canvas. with all this i can see how i’m unimportant.
could this be some grand coincidence? or is it true? it only comes from you.
in this dream, i am warm.
there are hands in my hair, and it’s good to be there.
when i need you, you’re not there. maybe you think i’m stronger than I really am.
i wave my hand and nothing happens. i set my scene and i can’t play it.
but you make a mean sunset. makes me wonder where i stand
---
things stay the same
i don’t think that you're being unreasonable.
you wait.
these are such basic things, you shouldn’t have to voice them, but you do.
and in your mind everything is quantified and sharpened.
it seems you have forgotten me. i will remind you. it seems you’re overlooking me. i will find you. you seem not to care for me. did you ever try to?
am I really so hard to love?
someone needs to hold you before you slip away.
because you always leave us guessing.
you’re really not so far from us.
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mbtiofwhys · 4 years
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How Fe and Fi listen to music
Disclaimer: what you’ll find in this article is more a blogging coming from our personal experience than something strictly related to type theory. We found analogies that in some ways reflect the mutual differences between us mods, but please don’t read this as a way to generalize things or to say that this is what every Fi and Fe users feel or think. We want to share thoughts and prompts in our type blogging, so feel free to add something if you’d like!
INFJ mod
The first and most relevant truth about me and music is that, as a high Fe user, music can influence my feelings and heavily change my mood. But this may sound natural, right? Is it not common to listen to music as a way to delve into your feelings? Well, at least for me, high Fe enhances this, because it makes me susceptible to the emotional state of the environment, thus I’m receptive of the slightest changes in it. I can feel calm and relaxed, and then walk into a bar with a sad song on and suddenly feel gloomy. This happens to me a lot and that’s the main reason why I need to listen to specific songs in certain contexts. Otherwise I’ll feel something unwanted, and my Fe will kick in and just tell me: “well, that’s too much feelings to bare, right? Let’s just feel uneasy and overthink about future scenarios with our buddy Ni”.
Talking about contexts, my number one rule about music is: it must enhance my emotional state in a positive way. When I’m in a bad mood I tend to avoid music, because I’m in a frail emotional state and even a sad song may be too much for me. On the opposite, if I’m ok, music is a tool to feel better, and if I’m cheerful and relaxed it can even make me feel energized and galvanized, which are very pleasurable emotional states. Why? Because as an enneagram 6, this is not the rule, as overthinking is one of my best friends. I’m working on it, farewells to childhood friends are always heartbreaking, but we must say goodbye to each other. I’m in better company now - hi anxiety. (Just kidding. R-right?)
 As an activity deeply tied to my emotional state and able to change it, I need to listen to music when I’m in a specific mood. Like I stated above, this usually happens when I feel relaxed or cheerful. There are days when I take the train, pull out my smartphone and play my go-to playlist, while others when I just don’t feel like it because I’m too upset or melancholic and I avoid the emotional turmoil caused by music. Sometimes I listen to my “typical energizing songs” after dinner to refresh my tired body and mind. But don’t expect something like reggaeton, disco or electronic music. Not that I'm against those genres, but there are simply other songs that make me feel better and give me energy. I love (and i mean l-o-v-e) listening to videogames or anime ost. I know, I’m not your average INFJ who listens to sad songs and cries in a corner (not that I need music to cry in a corner, that’s it). Jazz, pop, sometimes rock and funky-ish music are what usually brings me out of my videogames and anime playlist and allows me to enjoy more traditional genres.
Music is also an inspiring tool. Although I’m not a professional writer, it’s a passion I have and something i’m still nurturing and learning, and I always need a certain song to fit a specific mood, scene or character. Those are exceptions to the rule, so I find pleasure in sorrowful songs. If I’m outlining an unpleasant scene or I’m planning a negative character, music must reflect the context and put me in that mood. In this way I can empathize with a character and feel and visualize the scene vividly. 
ENFP mod
To me, music is literally a soundtrack. I live with my earbuds on, and listen to music while travelling, working on projects and so on. For this very reason, I enjoy a very broad variety of genres and artists, and I literally have different kinds of music that match my mood or the situation I’m in. If I’m sad or upset, I need sad music. If I’m enduring something or I’m under stress, I need something powerful. If it’s the end of a trip, I go for bittersweet lyrics. This tends to vary based on the emotions I’m feeling, but generally speaking there’s no way, ever, that I will listen to a song that doesn’t match my mood or what I need in that moment. At best, my emotional state is “neutral” and thus I summon the supreme power of the shuffle button.
Despite what I wrote before, my approach to music is very casual - which is a polite way to say that I’m lazy. I’m not very curious, there are genres that I cannot listen to because I don’t like them. Since music is deeply intertwined with how I feel, you could say I almost need a reason to listen to something. More often than not the reason is that the sound is catchy or the lyrics are meaningful - but lately I discovered that with the right context or the right amount of pop mixed into it, I can literally appreciate anything. So, well, good job jrpg games for putting power epic metal, pop rap and jazz into my playlists. This variety is important because I (my Fi, I think) often physically need music to shut the noise out and reflect - or simply feel. Especially when I’m feeling bad, or angry, or sad, or disappointed, music is a way to live through those emotions and understand them better. This is why, to me, a cheerful idol song on a blue monday is literally like someone stepping by my side and shouting “everything will be fine!!”. Gosh, just let me be sad and dwell into my sadness, Karen.
Typically I listen to music while commuting, or generally while travelling - especially if alone, or by car. I listen and enjoy the view outside the window, or maybe I reflect on something and let my mind wander. I rarely turn the volume up while reading or writing or studying, but I don’t mind ost and instrumental pieces while revising or organizing notes. Generally speaking, I noticed that I tend to listen to music way more often when I’m not at home.
I’m studying in a creative field that has also ties with communication, so I’m learning how important music is from a narrative point of view. I used to draw years ago, and now I write in my free time. Music is fundamental in my creative process in two aspects: ideas, and mood. I literally brainstormed entire plots just from casually listening to a song, because the lyrics or the artists reminded me of something else. My Ne works with associations, and music is one of the best way to let my imagination free from restraints - not that this usually doesn’t happen anyway I guess. But at the same time songs are ideal for setting a specific mood, finding a leitmotif or generally finding inspiration.
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mypassionfortrash · 5 years
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Be My Pet
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Roger loves innuendo, especially when it comes to songwriting. When he invites you to listen to his first album with his new band, The Cross, one particular song has you hot under the collar... literally.
Pairing: Roger Taylor x f!Reader Warnings: Smut (18+), pet names, collars and leashes! Filth! Notes: This is some filth that was initially posted on my old blog - BoRhapRogerina - reworked! Hope you like it! Also - I’ll be posting a brand new fic once I reach 100 followers on this, so please do follow me if you remember my old blog!
You and Roger stood in the mixing room while his latest track blasted through the speakers. He was recording another album outside of Queen and, he wanted you to hear it first. Your teeth sunk into your knuckle as you listened to every sordid lyric.
Roger was sensitive to criticism; not once did he take his eyes off you. He concealed them behind oversized sunglasses. But you could tell.
He also had a penchant for risqué analogies in his songs. That much was blindingly obvious.
When the track ended, you stood in stunned silence while your mind caught up.
“Well? What did you think?” Roger asked, grinning proudly. 
“I’m not sure I understand what it’s about, Roger. I mean,” you began, going over to the mixing desk and picking up a scrap of paper with Roger’s handwriting on it. “Love on a lead is what you need? Be my dog, be my pet? What does that even mean?” You shrugged.
Roger flopped down into a chair, scratching the back of his head. His cheeks burned red. “It’s…a metaphor,” he bumbled. “A metaphor… For loyalty! Loyalty…” 
His explanation, weak as it was, proved enough for you to go along with. “Oh, right,” you smiled. “It’s very good then.”
Roger seemed pleased with himself. “Thank you. I thought so too.”
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The next day, you were puttering around in your flat when the phone rang. It was a Wednesday afternoon. You had no plans and no idea who could be calling you. To your surprise, it was Roger. 
“Hello, my love!” He chimed. “Listen, I was just wondering. Did you really like that song I played for you last night?”
You chuckled to yourself. “I loved it,” you said, batting your eyes left and right. Lies.
“Really? You said something about the lyrics…”
“I thought they were quite sexy if I’m honest.” More lies.
There was a pause that made your stomach drop as Roger gathered his thoughts, trying to scramble together a response. “I lied about the meaning though.”
“I thought you did.”
“Why don’t I show you what I meant? Tonight?”
That proposition made your breathing hitch.
His voice was as soft as velvet. “Are you still there, my love?”
“Yes. Tonight. Ok.” You could feel your stomach slowly start to churn at the thought of what he had in store for you. Where those lies of your’s had got you.
“Wear something nice for me.”
You curled the cord around your fingers, mentally scanning your wardrobe. Pondering all the lavish gifts Roger had given you since you two met. “Such as?”
“Oh, I don’t know, my love. Just enough that you don’t get arrested,” he said. His soft tone contradicted his lewd request. “Something skimpy with that beautiful fur coat over the top.”
Your mouth dropped open at the thought of going out like that. But intrigue got the better of you. “When do you want me?”
“I’ll send a car over for five. Go and have a nice long soak, and I’ll see you later.”
An hour later, you sat in front of your dresser. Skin still glowing from the searing bath you just emerged from. You eyed the row of lotions and potions and trinkets and jewels, wondering what to do. What to wear.
Trailing a finger over your makeup, you picked up a red lipstick. That always made you feel fierce. You swiped it on, pouting the mirror. Then you dabbed a smidge over your cheeks, blending it out. 
You studied yourself in the mirror. 
What did you need? 
Mascara. Layering it on, you were reminded that Roger adored seeing it run down your cheeks. 
And when your lipstick smudged. 
Your eyes widened when it dawned on you. How much of an influence he had on you.
Running a hand through your hair, you wondered how you might make that more appealing. He always enjoyed pulling at it or playing with it, depending on his mood. It was undoubtedly going to end up a wild mess by the end of the evening. A brush would suffice. Thankfully, he liked it better when it was a mess. It might as well be that way from the off.
Nerves kicked in as you stood up, wandering through a cloud of perfume to your drawers. Your legs felt like jelly. He wanted you in something skimpy. How little did you have to wear not to get arrested? That thought had never crossed your mind. You opened your underwear drawer and rummaged through its contents. It became overpopulated since you met Roger. He was always gifting you something to wear for him. In hotel rooms and hot tubs. Restaurants and restrooms. He liked knowing that no matter how conservatively you dressed, you were always wearing something utterly filthy underneath. Just for him.
Tonight, you were spoilt for choice, pulling out three different bras in the one go. 
Half cup and baby blue, that, to you, barely fit at all?  Bend at the waist and it was game over for you.
Open cup with leather straps? You considered it for a moment. A gust of wind against your coat and you’d be spending a night in the cells. Better not. 
Completely sheer with a pink feathered trim? You weren’t going to lie, you liked that one. But no. Not tonight. Perhaps something a bit classier.
Did Roger even do classy?
You delved in further, pulling out something from right at the back.
Finally. Something good.
A smirk spread across your face, looking at the bra in your hands. Black, floral lace that faded away to sheer mesh across the cups. Diving into the drawer below, you quickly located the matching panties. They were lace, too, with delicate flowers flowing down around the hips from a thick, satin waistband. The fabric at the front was sheer, and plunged down in a deep ‘v’ shape, leaving an open triangle just below the waistband. The crotch was open. Suitably filthy, of course.  It was almost perfect. 
You dropped your towel and quickly pulled the underwear on, turning yourself in front of your mirror to assess your appearance from all angles. Something was missing. 
Nylons just got in the way.
As did jewellery.
Shoes.
That was precisely what you needed. 
A gold pair of sandals with ornate, floral detailing down the heel.
You looked perfect. 
The nerves were gone, and suddenly, you felt unstoppable. 
Slipping on your oversized fur coat, you gave yourself one last look in the mirror, praying that it was inconspicuous enough not to draw attention. And then, you waited for your car.
The twenty-minute journey to Roger’s seemed to take forever. Not even your heavy fur coat could keep you warm enough to prevent your nipples hardening against their lacy confines. The longer you sat in that car, the more you thought about the night ahead and the wetter you became. You could feel it on the harsh, leather seat below you. You could live with that. Roger’s driver had seen worse from the pair of you. Or at least that’s what you told yourself as your leg bobbed impatiently.
Roger was already waiting in the doorway when you arrived. He had his sleeves rolled up and a cigarette dangled daintily between his lips, as he leaned against the frame.
You stepped out of the car, your legs growing evermore unsteady as he silently eyed you.
Roger gave the driver a nod and ushered you inside, flicking his cigarette on to the porch.
When the door slammed shut, he was all over you. His tongue slipped past your lips with a ragged sigh. His hands skirted up your sides. They grasped at your breasts while he pinned you against the wall.
“What did you want to show me?” you whispered, placing your hand on his chest.
You hadn’t taken in anything about the scene, except for Roger and his welcome. It took you by surprise when he broke away, slipping a thick, leather collar off the table next to you. He presented it to you. 
“This.” The hallway was dark, but you could see the mischievous glint in Roger’s eyes, darting them between you and the collar, when he spoke. “Do you want to be my little pet tonight, my love?”
You looked at the collar, and then back at Roger. You could hear the blood rushing through your veins as he awaited your answer. It went straight to your core. “Yes,” you choked. 
Roger didn’t wait any longer. He passed the strap around your neck and fastened it, tight enough that it was always apparent to you that it was there. He slipped a finger underneath it, tugging at the sturdy leather, making sure it was secure. Then his lips quickly returned to yours. 
You pulled away from him, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Tell me, what does being your pet involve,” you smirked. 
“Well, I’m glad you asked,” he said, turning his attention back to the table next to you.
There was a chain, glimmering in the darkness. Roger tugged it off the edge. It clinked in his hand as he attached it to the loop on your collar. A length of the cold metal came to rest on your chest, jarring with the heat coursing through your body. You bit your lip, looking up at Roger through your lashes. Waiting for his orders. 
“Now,” Roger whispered, trailing his lips over your jawline, gently pulling at your leash, “I’m going to take you for a little walk, and you’re going to do exactly as I say. Aren’t you, Pet?”
Your eyes widened, the words he spoke sinking in. You gulped. And nodded.
“That’s a ‘yes, Sir,’” he prompted, giving you a stern glare.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good, Pet.” His expression softened as he caressed your cheek. You seemed to move into his touch. “And you’re only going to speak when you’re spoken to?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“One final thing,” Roger began, his hands moving lower over your arms. 
“Yes, Sir?” 
“I’m going to need you to get on all fours for me, Pet.”
Roger grew taller and more commanding as you sank down the wall to the floor, croaking out another feeble, “yes, Sir.” 
He smiled down at you, affectionately ruffling your hair. “Good girl.”
It was such a simple thing he did to praise you, but it was so much more pronounced from your place at his feet. You eagerly sat up straight, as Roger continued to stroke your hair. You almost whined, when he took his hand away.
He gave your leash a tug and, without warning, strode off down the hall. “Come on, Pet,” he cooed. He gave the leash a sharp tug, sensing your hesitation.
Your knees ached from the freezing wooden floor, trying to keep up with him. The more you moved, thighs quickly shuffling past each other, the more you realised how aroused you were. You tried to focus on making it across the floor as Roger dragged you along. ‘Why the fuck did he have to live in such a big house?’ you cursed internally.
At last, the carpet in the lounge gave your knees some respite. 
Roger sat down on the couch, allowing you to catch up. 
You settled at his feet again. 
He drummed his fingers against the edge of the sofa, wondering what to do with you, taking you in. 
You could feel his eyes wandering over every exposed patch of flesh, it made you squirm and pull your coat over yourself.
Finally, he spoke. “Turn around and face the floor for me, Pet.”
You turned and sat on your haunches, hesitating. Taking just a second to steady your breathing before presenting yourself. Crossing your arms against the floor, you pressed your face against them, closing your eyes. You felt a strange mix of arousal and embarrassment pooling in your stomach as Roger groaned in satisfaction.
He reached out a cold hand, squeezing the back of your thigh, causing you to flinch. “That’s it, Pet. Arse up a little bit more, let me see you.” 
You shimmied your bottom higher, shaking it slowly from side to side for him, feeling the chill in the room piercing your skin.
“I’ve barely even touched you, and you’re already a mess,” he remarked, gathering some of your wetness on his thumb. He watched as clear, sticky threads formed between you and his fingers as he moved away from you, settling back on the couch to enjoy the view. “You’ve been looking forward to this, haven’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You want to please me, don’t you, Pet?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Turn around and show me.”
You did as he said, with a little guidance from him tugging at your chain. Now facing Roger, you reached down between your legs, tracing the edges of your soft, swollen folds. 
Roger narrowed his eyes. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself,” he stated, beckoning you closer.
Your mouth twitched as you shuffled forward. But you decided it was best not to question him.
Beside you, Roger stretched out his leg, darting his eyes between you and it. “Show me how much you want to please me, Pet.”
You tentatively climbed over Roger’s shin, pressing yourself down against the rough fabric. The feeling of drawing yourself to and fro made you gasp, your eyes fluttering shut. 
Roger licked his lips, watching. He particularly enjoyed the way you clawed at his thigh to steady yourself as your movements gathered pace. And the dark, damp patch on the leg of his jeans. His fingers clenched so tightly around your leash that his knuckles paled. His free hand fumbled with his zipper, taking out his cock. 
You slowed as Roger’s hand moved over his stiffening length. 
He laughed. “Like what you see, Pet?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Keep going, and I might fuck you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He taunted.
“Oh god yes, Sir,” you gasped, speeding up again, keeping your eyes fixed on the prize. 
“Lose your coat and your bra for me, darling. They’re getting in the way,” Roger purred. 
You hastily threw off your coat and took your bra off. When you reached the waistband of your panties, Roger was quick to stop you.
“Keep those on.”
“Yes, Sir.” Your breathing was starting to hitch. 
Roger realised this before you did.
“Are you close, Pet?”
Even just hearing those words made you hump his leg harder, more purposefully. “Yes.”
“You look desperate, Pet. Did you ever think you’d end up doing this? Humping my leg like a bitch in heat?” Roger murmured, shuffling forward to stroke your hair with his free hand. “Who’s my dirty little bitch?”
“Me, Sir!” You yelped. Your movements were so erratic  by now that your chest bounced in time with your strokes, driving Roger wild. 
“Tell me what you are, Pet,” he growled, tightening his grip on your hair.
“I’m your dirty little bitch, Sir!” you gasped, slowing down for fear of coming too soon. 
Usually, Roger would tease you until the very last second, but the sight of you was too much for Roger to pass up. He leaned over, fondling your breasts and nibbling at your neck. His breathing was laboured just like yours, falling on your skin in short gasps as the motion of his other hand around his cock quickened. “Come for me, Pet. Let me see you come.”
When it got too much for you and you finally let go, your legs ached. You leaned into Roger, digging your teeth into his thigh, pathetically whimpering. Only for him to pull you up by your hair to get a good look at you as your orgasm subsided. 
You fought against it, burying your face against his leg. Breathless and soaked in sweat, you barely had the energy to sit up straight. The feeling of Roger’s hand, gently stroking your neck soothed you back to life. 
“Good girl,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head. “Are you ok?” The concern cut through his voice.
“That was amazing,” you giggled, stroking his arm.
Upon hearing that, he snapped back into character. “Good. Because we’re just getting started, Pet.”
Propping your head against his inner thigh, you shot him a delirious smile. “Thank you, Sir.”
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manjuhitorie · 5 years
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HOWLS Digest - Hitorie Skream! Interview
Interview by Hata Riee! Translated by Manju!
With evolution upon them, Hitorie show their fangs with confidence.
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Summary: HOWLS
[First section: ygarshy fanboys over HOWLS. Discussions about the impressions and mindsets which went into the album. “Many of the songs on HOWLS are the result of my battles with painful, excruciating, frustrated feelings.” “Though in reality it was the most fun I've ever had, in regards to the music. We tried out things, we challenged new things... These bandmates right here, their ideas and curiosity were like saviors to me.”] [Second section: ygarshy fanboys over Ao and how liberating for his heart it is. Ao’s “We got shit-faced” backstory. Disclosure that Sappukei, Garandou Mae Zero Machi, Coyote and Ghost all were the result of unrestrained integrated jam sessions. Diligence in musically thrashing, all hail guitar cuddling! Members are glad that leader is getting nice and lax.] [Third section: The reasons those jams were able to cause such a bang. What values they had to throw away and which they had to adopt, such as simple melodies or not. Synopsis on the journeys they took to hone their new conjurations, to solve their frustrations and stagnations they felt with the band. wowaka being stupid and selfish by not sharing his problems per usual. STUPID. Band confesses to being socially awkward but still trying to understand each other subliminally.... Plus Idol Junkfeed lore/jokes, also SLEEPWALK]. [Fourth section: Overall the writer equates HOWLS lyrics to a discussion, with simple human language that is easy to convey. The power of words is more than just as a tool for expression, but music can help unlock those shackles of perception so don’t worry leader.... Balance, desires, future pavement laid - The “I think we’re so revved up that we could even explode right in this moment!” quote. It, it matches up with their new year’s resolution which was about living in the moment!]
Your new album blew my mind. Each song alone even has the power to strike into the minds of old and new listeners alike.
     wowaka: Happy to hear it.          Shinoda: It feels like we’ve created something really amazing.      wowaka: Even after many years of finishing countless pieces and thinking “This is good I did good.”... This time I’m especially smiley and giddy about this piece.      Yumao: We covered a way more broad scope of genre.      ygarshy: It feels like the people’s album.      wowaka: The people’s (laughing)?!      ygarshy: Up until now, as an honest listener I couldn't consider our pieces an object of interest, but this time I could listen forever and ever I like it so much.
In our 2016 interview for the release of IKI, ygarshy you had also exclaimed “I’ve been listening to it forever”. 
    Everyone: Ahahaha!     wowaka: Effort makes confidence.     ygarshy: Though the undertones are different. With IKI I had the perspective of a musician looking back upon their work with pride, but this time I’m uninterested in that sense. I’m akin to an uninvolved consumer, honestly enjoying my favorite album.     Shinoda: We ourselves barely understand this phenomenon.
Then let’s use this interview as a chance to divulge the mystery.
    Shinoda: Let’s do it.
In between your most recent full album IKI, there was the release of the mini album ai/SOlate (2017) and the single Polaris (2018), but when did you first start considering the possibilities of an album?
   wowaka: We had been on tour for ai/SOlate, The UNKNOWN-TOUR 2018 “Loveless", spanning over about four months... so it was directly after that. Our single Polaris was used as an ending theme for the anime Boruto (NARUTO NEXT GENERATIONS), which helped ease us into our next full album.
So you had been working on this album during the later months of last year.
    wowaka: Yes. Between about July and October.     Yumao: Though SLEEPWALK was an older song.     wowaka: Ah, that’s true.     Yumao: Windmill or Sappuukei even also, we had about one chorus in tow of each even before we began the hard-core production of HOWLS.
With IKI, wowaka said he went into a “I can’t stop writing songs” beast mode, but how did the pace pan out this time?
    wowaka: I struggled a lot. Writing the songs of IKI had been prompting revelations within me, for the first time I was finding the meaning behind being human and the fact that I’m alive. It was like the first time I properly stood on two legs. Positive vibes were popping songs out of me. But in contrast, many of the songs on HOWLS are the result of my battles with painful, excruciating, frustrated feelings.
I do see the subject of solitude shows up frequently. 
    wowaka: Yes. Though in reality it was the most fun I've ever had, in regards to the music. We tried out things, we challenged new things... These bandmates right here, their ideas and curiosity were like saviors to me.
Were you able to pinpoint the album’s direction during the prototype stages?
 wowaka: “What am I to do with these feelings?” was my only sense of direction (laughing).    Yumao: Though as we proceeded further and further, we did realize “We can add a bunch of different types of songs into this next one”.
   ygarshy: The demo for Ao was made fairly early in the scheme of HOWLS production, and it was so good I wanted to cry. You can interpret it as a so-called breakup song, but it’s the first time we’ve ever done such. So no matter the circumstances, I want to show this song to the world, I want to show our band’s becomings to the world. That was my impression. It was then when I let go of any ego I had as a musician. And I'm now able to see the full picture, to figure out what elements may match up with what song… Which not only brought the album into broader territories, but also freed me from so many restrictions.
So Ao has had those lyrics ever since the demo version.
    wowaka: Well it’s my first heartbreak song ever.     ygarshy: It’s such a good song that, I had contemplated long and hard as to how best turn these emotions into something universally understandable.     wowaka: My extremely personal experiences and universal concepts alike, they're both contacting by a hair’s breadth. As a result of me always spilling out my personal experiences in goops, I somehow truly am hoping that the band, our audience, and others alike will be able to take a plunge into the core of the person and the world within.
Was Ao a pivotal piece for any one else in the band also?
     wowaka: I’m pretty positive that when I was recording my guitar, Ao was the most emotional. I felt "Ahh, this is what I’ve always wanted to do”. This is probably the extremity I’ve always been aiming for. The singing and the melody are in the dead center. Yet, at the antipode is…. something else also. Effort went into incorporating an almost elaborate aesthetic. If I could only say one thing about this song, I want to tell you about how the recording all began with us saying something like “What if we turned the volume up really crazy loud?”. I have an amp which normally never sees any action it’s so gargantuan, but I turned the knobs up all the way from the get-go.     Shinoda: We got shit-faced.
It’s a ballad and yet you chose to start with the instruments loud, that idea is interesting.
    wowaka: Because it's a ballad, that's exactly the reason why I wanted to have the intensity to equate it. Then through the process of trial and error, were we able to create a sound unlike ever before. I feel like we stumbled into a strange trance almost.
   Shinoda: Up until now, I’ve always been the one who yearned to do the extreme. He (wowaka) has always been the one who acted as my safety net, but this time, his screws came loose too.     wowaka: No matter as to how elaborately we made it, no matter as to how we may have thrashed open our gates, the message still managed to hold “We are who we are.”    ygarshy: For me, I felt that as long as we have this song, everything we turn out okay. I was no longer questioning myself over trying to be this or that. During recording I pondered the question “What is my own ultimate talent, that only I have as a bassist?” and, the answer is that my bandmates and their skill. It makes no difference what I do: the bandmates around me are skilled so everything will turn out fine. That's why I'm no longer putting much time and worry into my bass playing. The song Sappuukei uses my first take, simply as was. And with Windmill I decided not to practice at all.    wowaka: Is that so (laughing).     ygarshy: I realized it works out well if I don’t think much and just return fire back directly at the moment. I think that’s all thanks to the existence of the song Ao.
I see. The mood which develops over the span of this album, it may be just as ygarshy says, it may be because you as Hitorie you discovered new methods and means.
    Shinoda: Well basically, we had pitted ideas against each other and cherry-picked from there. Like the guitar in the background of Coyote and Ghost’s chorus is something which would’ve definitely never ever been OK-ed before. I was permitted to have a go at throwing myself into spontaneousness.     Yumao: Hence, we’ve gained a lot more freedom bit by bit. 
So I’m guessing you set your guitars loud for Coyote and Ghost also (laughing).
    Shinoda: Yeah yeah (laughing).     Yumao: It didn’t even have a prototype either, we just huddled together to say “Ready… Go!” and played from there. I’m positive that Sappuukei and Garandou Mae Zero Machi both took the same route also. I remember discussing “We need some fast songs huh”.. So that was when Shinoda went and cuddled up with his guitar at home.     Shinoda: Though working from home comes with too many problems. After I come up with one phrase, the temperature of it won't match with the one before it, then I’ll jump into my own advancement, and before I know it it'll turn into an unsalvageable mess. The phrase I play behind the choruses all the time are already unique melodies in themselves after all. I’m amazed Leader is able to make vocals to fit on top of them.      wowaka: Cause it’s not vocals behind the guitar, it’s the guitar that goes behind the vocals.      Everyone: Ahahahaha!     Shinoda: With this song especially, I didn’t know what the vocals were until the designated vocal day. So when I saw the lyrics, the mass of words on the page was astounding. “Is this guy serious!?” I thought.
Yumao claiming an 8-beat time on this sort of aggressive song was yet another surprise for me.
     Yumao: If it were 3 or 4 years ago, I’m sure I would’ve played in the typical rock song 4/4 time. That idea also occurred to me but, my core values seemed to have changed.
Though you said you were ailed by how playing simple beats for the sake of the vocals unsettles your reputation as a drummer? During our interview for Polaris.
    Yumao: That was true. But with this album I think I was able to find an answer or something.      ygarshy: As we were writing, we often had moments where we’d agree that a simple phrase is best. Even if we have to tear away ourselves and our ideas, if it’s to conjure the melody conspicuous, in the end it still becomes one of Hitorie’s songs.
I’m starting to perceive how this album was able to evolve into such a masterpiece. It’s evident that each of your priorities and wants for the band have changed over the last 2-3 years.
      wowaka: I just remembered now but, after our designated ai/SOlate tour, after trekking over oceans and roads, we had found a concrete resolution in regards to our progress as a band. Which ironically made us feel frustration over ourselves as music creators. The songs we make made us think “Ah, we’re kinda always trying to do the same thing huh...” We felt we had to change that, or else we’re headed down a slippy slope. 
Ahh, I see how it is.
    wowaka: Then something struck me like lightning, so I took a sudden solo trip all the way to India. “What will happen to my mind if I throw myself into a place completely unknown to me, where even my language is rendered ineffective?” I thought... So specifically what did happen to that mind, you ask? Well, nothing really actually. They say that your perspective on the world will change right. Nothing that powerful came to me. Yet that's very reason I realized “Ahh, I’m simply the human called me.” That sentiment is seeping into the album this time I think. The album is somewhat nomadic, it feels a bit pessimistic, it’s dry and arid… and overall just so fuzzy.
Back then, did you discuss that stale stagnated feeling with any of the other members?
    wowaka: I didn’t. It was my own selfish inner implosion, like gaaah. So after the tour it was almost as if I went into shock therapy: going to India, going out drinking with people I don’t usually hang with, etc. Thinking back, I may have been in a bit of a daring phase.
Could that solve Shinoda’s initial puzzle of "We ourselves barely understand this phenomenon”? You each subconsciously clicked with a need to revitalize the band, and your hunt for more funk became your spunk.
    wowaka: It’s true that after spending 5 whole years taking various shots together, our collective conscience was “What are we gonna do next?”    Shinoda: It’s not as if we sat down and discussed it though, we each felt it in our soul.    wowaka: We all suck at sitting down and talking to each other though. So even choosing a theme and sticking to it itself is impossible for us, instead we’ve taken to each doing whatever we like, and that’s the kind of band we are.    Yumao: The bits and pieces we notice about each other, and the bits we don't, are half-and-half both in this album… That's why song-wise, there’s opening up and shutting up, both merging together as one. When we were writing we ourselves even saw where it was headed. And so the hope that “Maybe listeners will change their view on Hitorie after they hear this.” was hammered in.
—Onward. Shinoda participated in the production for Idol Junkfeed right?
   Shinoda: When production was in a slump, I chimed in “I’ll make a song”. I was told “Just make it a high-spirited one” and so I went.    Yumao: It has a Shinoda taste to it, but it also sounds as if it's parodying Hitorie.     wowaka: It’s like a song written by a Hitorie fan (laughing).     Everyone: Ahahahaha!    wowaka: I don’t know if I said that right but….    Shinoda: Naw, you’re right. 'Cause I did lean towards that. I definitely did want to make it a Hitorie-sounding song.    Yumao: These two handling the director job together was a refreshing sight to behold. The leadership was half-and-half but, the brains were slightly more on Shinoda’s side with it. Him going “This is good, but this is good too, I can’t choose what to do!” was hilarious.    Shinoda: I did something I’m not used to after all (laughing). Yet, in the end it still became Hitorie.     wowaka: If we put our strengths together, then it becomes our's. That fact was proven yet again by this song. Even if I’m not in the middle pulling the strings, this song gave me the confidence that “Ahh this band is capable of so so much”.
SLEEPWALK has a similar vibe to current trendy foreign pop music, that sound is by virtue of ai/SOlate isn’t it.
    wowaka: It’s a direct descendant of ai/SOlate. It’s a song that exposes how much of a music fiend and too avid of a listener I am. Before we started album productions I had trained by making about a singular chorus. At that time I would never believe I would be showing that chorus to the band, rather off completing it as a one-off. In the sea of all the various styles in this album, I came to realize “If I write a whole song solo then it will truly seal the deal, that this has become Hitorie”. In the end I really did write it all by myself.        Yumao: I had nothing to do with it.     Shinoda: I didn’t do anything officer.
As his bandmates, did you want to do it as a band?
    ygarshy: It was more along the lines of “We want to hear how it would sound, so please do it”. We typically play our instruments strictly based on wowaka’s demos, but no matter how much effort we put into being loyal to his original, there's parts which will alter. That's why we wanted him to make it exactly as he saw fit.          wowaka: Even if I produce it alone, there's also the saving grace in playing it together during concerts.
So you're planning on performing this song together in upcoming concerts?  
   wowaka: I sense that we must.
Was there anything you kept in mind as you wrote the lyrics for the album?
    wowaka: I feel it’s all a discussion. I've mentioned this in many interviews before but, confining words only to mean only their meaning - there's a me who holds utter abhorrence for the basic functionality of words. I feel like this world is wrong, handling words as nothing but tools and merely getting controlled by them. They don't really believe in the power of words. I'm still staunch on that idea but... Even so I know I have to face the reality of being understood by people. By the audience, staff, friends, lovers, parents, family alike. I had also talked about this in our past Polaris interview didn’t I, about how at the concert in Fukuoka I received a revelation from the heavens almost.
Ah, you said there was a moment when you figured out “This is exactly what I want to tell people!”
   wowaka: Retrospectively that was huge for me. That’s why I aimed to tell people things this time, I poured special consideration into how to share word through song.
The lyrics of the final track Windmill, “I’m here where I belong/We are here where we belong”: it seems cohesive that you want to tell people this, now that it’s the 5 year anniversary of Hitorie’s debut.
   wowaka: Yep. After all these years I have new stories to tell, and now that I’ve figured out how to write lyrics like those, I want a lot of people to see them, I want people who have never heard us to hear them. That’s how I’ve come to see it.
I see. After finishing this album, has it laid down the pavement for Hitorie’s future in any way?
   wowaka: This year will mark seven years since we originally banded up, and after spending this much time together.. at this point our moments are human, our perceptions are human, our emotions are human. Hence we have no clue what lies ahead. That's why each member will surely figure out how best to push the band, and they'll show me the way forward. I think we’re so revved up that we could even explode right in this moment.      ygarshy: Leader (wowaka) has learned how to say “It’s actually the best when you’re each going all-out on your own accords”. There were still times when he wanted us to play parallel to his image, but ultimately the times when we're playing freely, do turn out to be the best, he says. That’s ridiculously rivetingly huge. So we took that exact method with Coyote and Ghost and it turned out so good. If we continue just like this, I think the balance of our band will change exponentially. SLEEPWALK, the songs we are bursting out in, and Shinoda’s song alike, they all became one of Hitorie’s songs. So It gives me so much confidence to hear you say “It might just reach new listeners”.
~~END~~
youtube
Bonus video at the bottom!
To all viewers of Skream, we’re Hitorie! I’m the vocal/guitarist wowaka. - I’m the guitarist Shinoda. - The bassist ygarshy. - The drummer Yumao. wowaka: Us, Hitorie, in this 2019th… century…? Shinoda: Yes. wowaka: Are, this February, Shinoda: That’s it. wowaka: on the 27th, Shinoda: That’s right. wowaka: We're releasing our new album HOWLS! Shinoda: So give it a listen. (All members clap) wowaka: With 10 songs, that are all itchy…. Irritated.. Hairy? Fuzzy? Shinoda: Fuzzy. wowaka: Hmm, that’s still not right.. It’s more… animalish? Outlawish? ...Anyway, it’s fast-paced with sadness looming over, yet despite that, there’s still a bit of love and-. Shinoda: (Snickers). wowaka: My explanation is starting to make less and less sense (laughing). It’s thick, it’s good, we have confidence in how this album turned out. So we’d be happy if you could acquire it and give it a listen, please. All members: Please (bow). wowaka: Furthermore, starting on March 1st at Osaka’s Big Cat, and heading on and on to the final destination on June 1st at Shinkiba’s Studio COAST, we’ll be touring the country on Hitorie’s "Coyote Howling” tour. It’s our first tour in a damn while. So dear the people who will follow us anywhere- Or the people who may hate us- Shinoda: People who hate us? wowaka: There’s the chance they’ll come too right? Yumao: I think so. wowaka: For example when someone drags a friend along, who may not have much interest, Yumao: They think “It might be fun” and just tag along, wowaka: Yeah yeah, you might be able to have an experience like that! So by all means, come and play with us. Bye-bye~
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whatamessz · 6 years
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Fic “A Song about Breakfast”
I asked for prompts and @dreaming-powder was as lovely to send me one <3 So here are Murdoc and 2D creating music, a mysterious commercial occupying the only TV on Plastic Beach, discussions about jellyfishes and a relatively smooth sea.
Cleaned up and edited version on AO3.
1846 words | rating: general audience | 2D’s POV | Phase 3 | TW: mentions  of substance abuse | 2Doc only implied, could also be read as platonic
A Song about Breakfast
It’s around six A.M. and 2D sits in front of the huge TV in the living room.The same ancient looking and awfully frantic commercial flares over the flat screen for approximately the thirtieth time since he had opted on residing here this morning. It doesn’t matter. Zapping is pointless. There was only this specific ad on every channel every morning around this time over and over and over.
His brain is pretty much offline anyway and he has stopped questioning occurrences like this a long time ago. He just knows the thing with the endless commercial loop because watching it had happened to become one of his sleeplessness routines here on Plastic Beach and he doubted that Murdoc would care to fix the issue if he would ever tell him.
Sometimes 2D manages to nod off with the telly running, sometimes he just reaches some kind of meditative state which he always considers as the only fitting kind of meditation on a pink island entirely made out of trash.
He snaps out of whatever condition he had reached today when the commercial clock rings again and he is remembered that it’s still an advertisement for an instant breakfast.
His stomach gives a painful growl at that and he realizes just then that he’s hungry. 2D drags himself up and in the kitchen when the obnoxiously cheerful bespectacled TV man asks the off voice if it’s kidding when it promises a full breakfast in only three microwave minutes.
The decision on what to eat quickly becomes overwhelming when he opens the fridge, so he just tiredly reaches for the milk. He looks for the Cheerios and reinserts himself back on his old spot with a full bowl of cereals. Eventually it strikes the magic hour in which the usual program flickers back on and 2D just watches Cartoon Network while he tries very hard not think of long past Sunday mornings with little Noodle.
*** *** ***
It’s noon and he still hasn’t slept, that’s why he sits in the studio now, entirely unprompted, and toys with ideas his sleep deprived brain produces seemingly out of nowhere. The studio is also one of the few places with internet access on this island (though Murdoc had ensured child safety locks in every browser and all of 2D’s or the bands accounts on platforms he’s still allowed to use are thoroughly disabled or have new passwords, however that was possible).
Today’s morning obviously had left its impression. He couldn’t kill the pesky earworm of the jingle from the commercial and thanks to Murdoc’s precautions and the unstable internet connection, it takes him much longer than he would like to admit to sift through a string of 80’s TV spots on YouTube until he finally finds it. He cuts out an audio sample.
By this time, his head is a hellhole of commercial voices, intrusive melodies and his own unconnected thoughts racing.
He starts to work a song around it as a coping mechanism.
Next act. Murdoc himself emerges in the studio’s door. He looks awful.
Like he didn’t sleep in days, too, and that was probably the case, but when he takes in the image of 2D sitting barefoot and straddle-legged on the thick carpet, hunched over his synthesizer, MacBook and notepad scattered around in an apparent working mood, an uncanny huge grin slides across his face, exposing his shark like rotten teeth.
So far, 2D is unenthusiastic about this encounter. He keeps on tinkering with beats from the drum machine and the commercial sample.
“I’m honestly delighted to see you are willing to work even without my gentle requests from time to time,” Murdoc greets him and puts an unnerving emphasis on the word ‘delighted’. 2D only pulls a sardonic expression in answer. He also hasn’t decided yet if he finds Murdoc’s sensible lighter moods more bearable then the… other ones. They’re probably drug-induced anyway.
Not that he was one to talk, he mentally scolds himself. Well, at least he wasn’t like Murdoc, yet. That was his only solace.
2D decides he is too tired and too busy to pick a fight today. Murdoc obviously decides to challenge this resolution and snickers.
“Not quite the Chatty Cathy today hu, sunshine? Well, my night was great, GREAT I tell ya. Threw a party with Cyborg and the pirates. When I’m thinking about it this would be a great name for a band. No wait, scratch that, we already have a great name. And a great band. The GREATEST, if I may say so hun hun hun.” He stops to catch his breath. “Anyway, what are you working on? Doesn’t sound like one of the songs I gave you.”
2D has stopped listening at the very first sentence and scribbles something on his notepad. “’M sorry, what?”
Murdoc sighs, impatient. “The sooong. What are you doing right now? I’m curious.”
“It’s… a new thing. A song… about breakfast,” 2D hears himself saying despite of himself. The truth is, that he wasn’t entirely sure what this was supposed to become.
“About what,” Murdoc snaps incredulous.
“About breakfast,” 2D answers promptly and, to his own surprise, advances a defensive bottom lip. “It’s a song… like a commercial. Catchy, fast living, colorful, you know? Seemingly disposable and about something short lived. Just trying to sell… sss-something for breakfast. Something you can just swallow down when you’re in a hurry.”
Ok, his thoughts are really just running loose right now. He hopes he can remember that later because in this moment the stuff he just bullshat at the same time made miraculous and perfect sense in his poor, tortured head.
Murdoc’s interest suddenly seems piqued. He snatches the notepad from 2D’s thigh and skims over the lines and sentences that may or may not constitute a first attempt on lyrics, nodding appreciatively while he reads. 2D looks up, his face scrunched up insecurely.
Murdoc strides around him, still staring at the notepad and clearly thinking. “Hmmm you know what, this could really work as a concept,” he mutters and lowers himself to the floor with a groan, back to back with 2D.
2D stiffs up at that and considers leaning away.
“Any ideas on how to call it already?” The question hits him offhand and he blinks, unsure.
“Uhn… Little…Pink…stink…fish?” he comes up with, very response delayed.
Suddenly, Murdoc just cracks up and laughs harshly and genuinely until he chokes on his own spit and the laughter turns into a coughing fit.
2D can feel the vibration of it rocking his own body. As if it was contagious, 2D can’t help the smile that spreads over his face then, partly over his own stupid answer, partly because he hears and feels Murdoc laughing and he hadn’t had that in a very long time.
“You know, I also had a new idea for a song last night,” Murdoc pipes up excited when his coughing finally has subsided. “Just wait!”
With that, he takes the pencil lying next to 2D and scribbles something on the notepad. Curious, 2D leans to the side to try and spy what the bassist was doing, but just in that moment Murdoc so much as thrusts the pad back into his face, brandishing it so close in front of his nose that at first, he can’t make out anything. 2D cautiously takes the pad and stares at it, baffled.
“Murdoc, that’s just a shitty sketch of one of these sodding jellyfishes,” 2D states irritated. Murdoc had drawn the silly grinning thing just over his “lyrics”.
“RIGHT??? These are just bloody everywhere!”
“But... that’s not a song,” 2D answers again, but he sounds interested now. He thinks his overtired brain is just about to produce another idea.
“But we need a song about them on the album! They embody the experience of this place!!!” Murdoc sounds frantic now and 2D can feel him gesturing wildly.
“They even look more like candy wrappers than real animals,” he agrees and nods along, even if the likeliness of Murdoc’s drawing with the actual strange animals he remembers seeing sometimes in front of his underwater prison or in the Stylo (submarine mode) is only minimal.
“They are a plague, I swear! There was a bunch – “, Murdoc interrupts himself. “A gang? A posse? A pack? – nah whatever! There were a whole lot of them almost clogging the seawater suction pipes for the cooling system of the engine room last week! Had to get on my good ol’ wetsuit and get rid of ‘em myself…”, he mumbles and 2D giggles at the image. He himself hadn’t noticed any of that last week.
“I… can show you what I thought so far for the music,” he offers.
“Yeah yeah, go on”, Murdoc encourages him and snivels, so 2D shows him the gruesome commercial sample and that he intends on putting it at the beginning of the song.
“Disturbing. I like it,” Murdoc states with a palpable shiver down his spine.
“Did you know this commercial is the only thing that runs on every channel for at least an hour every morning around six,” 2D suddenly admits and Murdoc half turns around.
“No… what in the seven hells? Why?”
“I thought you might know.” He shrugs and goes on with his demonstration.
Murdoc taps his foot to the beat of the drum machine and chimes in with comments here and there on what he might like or would change. He only stands up one time to pick up his bass, strumming along some very simple base lines in time with the drums and piano snippets the singer had patched together so far. Somewhere along, 2D had reached his dead point where he no longer felt drop dead tired and Murdoc had seemed to come down from whatever height he was in when he first entered. Surprisingly, the companionable workflow lasts.
That really was a rarity, since many other songs before had been a true fight.
At some point, he can feel Murdoc’s little finger creep over to rest on his own. 2D, who was lazily pushing some keys on his synth with one hand, bites his lip. He takes a deep breath.
“Muds?”
“Yeah?”
“We are having a good time right now for once, right,” he starts flat out. Murdoc pauses.
“I… think so.”
“Then don’t ruin it,” 2D says coolly and can feel how Murdoc’s retreats his hand instantly.
“2D I-“
“We can maybe work the jellyfish in you know,” he cuts Murdoc off and tries changing the subject.
“The jellyfish could be the theme together with the breakfast. The jellyfish could be the brand. Don’t you wish to stab those stupid smiles sometimes”, he goes on, even when animal cruelty really is the last thing he would like to promote and the jellyfishes for sure weren’t the ones that did anything to him. Sometimes he’s just so angry.
Murdoc huffs and chuckles lowly. “Actually…. That’s crazy but brilliant. I’m a genius for coming up with these  things.”
2D sighs in dramatized exasperation. “Yes, Murdoc, you really are.”
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Cool Down
Author’s Note: I can’t title a story for shit. This is my entry for Ash’s “Fall Into Negan Writing Challenge”. My prompt is “Cool, Crisp Air” and it’s supposed to be winter-y but I went left somewhere. This is technically part of a series however you don’t need to read the other parts to understand. 
Word Count: 3,023
Pairing: Negan x Trisha (POC OOC)
Warnings: NSFW, Christmas songs, dancing, language, a tinge of angst for like 2 seconds, striptease, Negan being a goof, fingering, unprotected sex.
Tagging who may be interested: @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @genevievedarcygranger, @i-am-negan-trash, @neganslittlebird, @seraphimkouenki, @negans-network, @sweetsweetpeach, @to-pick-ourselves-up-7, @jeffreydeanneganstrash
Sitting on the black leather sofa, Trisha fidgeted with the wine glass in her hand. She had been in Negan’s room before but this time was different. She wasn’t a wife when she was here last and now that she was, she felt out of place. Negan had told her to wait in his room while he had a last minute meeting with his officers and given her the glass “to calm herself.” Sitting the glass on the small table in front of her, Trisha stood from the couch and stretched. The black dress she was required to wear rode up her shapely sepia thighs and Trisha pulled at it in annoyance. She walked over to the covered high windows of the room and reminisced over one of the first conversations she had with Negan after marrying him.
**“I actually have to wear that?!” Trisha exclaimed, failing to hide the shock and dismay in her voice. Negan laughed as he handed her the black dress and pulled her in for a chaste kiss.
“Or you can walk around naked all day. I don’t give a fuck either way.” he joked as one of his hands reached down giving Trisha’s rear a squeeze. Twisting away from his hand, Trisha hit him playfully with the dress.**
Pouting, Trisha pulled back the tall, melanic drapes to revel the double-hung windows. The sun had already set and Trisha could tell it was windy outside because the trees in the distance bowed under its force. Trisha placed her hand on the glass and smiled. It was cold to the touch and signaled the seasonal temperature change. Winter had been her favorite time of year before the fall of civilization and a sad smile formed as Trisha remembered her family. Blowing on the glass, Trisha fogged up the window and drew a happy face. Deciding to lighten the mood, Trisha thought of a Christmas song and sang the words aloud to the happy face.
“Oh the weather outside is frightful. But the fire is so delightful. And since we’ve no place to go.” Trisha pulled on the levers at the top of the window. It popped with a soft thud before squeaking open. Gliding it along the track, Trisha pushed the window aside and was taken greeted by the breeze that hit her. The crisp, cool air engulfed her and flooded the room filling every available nook and cranny available to it. Trisha squealed in delight and took a deep breath. Normally the outside air had a tinge of death to it but tonight was different. The night air smelled of something different. Like pine cones and evergreen trees. Beaming as a shiver coursed through her, Trisha kept singing.
“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! The fire is slowly dying and my dear, we’re still goodbyin’. But as long as you love me so...”
“Holy fuck it’s cold as shit in here!” a voice barked behind her that nearly made her jump out the open window. Turning around, Trisha faced Negan who stood there staring at her in confusion. Walking past her, Negan shut the window and held his arms out to her.
“Baby I love to hear you sing but I didn’t need the fucking demonstration.” he quipped as Trisha pursed her lips.
“I was enjoying the cold air, thank you very much. It was getting a little stuffy in here.” she responded matter-of-factly while stepping away from the window and back towards the couch. Trisha sat on the arm of the sofa and crossed her legs causing her dress to rise up a little. The moving fabric didn't go unnoticed by Negan and he keep his eyes glued on her partially bare legs. Humming to himself, he licked his bottom lip and moved towards her.
“I really do love your singing but tonight I'm hoping to hear something else.” he sat on the sofa cushion next to Trisha and folded his hands across his stomach. Turning to face him, Trisha uncrossed her legs to brace against the floor. Negan’s eyes immediately went to her thighs again and to the slight shadow underneath the dress where he could see her underwear.
“When you say something else, you mean another song?” Trisha inquired oblivious to his stare. Negan hummed in response and kept his eyes on her lower body. Confused Trisha followed his gaze. When she realized what he was looking at, she jumped off the arm of the sofa and grabbed the hem of her dress.
“I’m not used to this dress, ok?!” she argued as she marched over to the window again. Turning her back to Negan, she tugged again at it again now feeling self-conscience.
“I can fucking tell.” Negan teased behind her. “But I was enjoying the view.” Groaning, Trisha leaned forward and placed her forehead against the cool glass in hopes it would stave off her growing embarrassment.
“I’m not used to this. This girly stuff.” Trisha confessed, her voice soft and she wondered if he even heard her. She heard Negan stand from the sofa, the rustling of leather on leather alerting her. Exhaling against the glass, Trisha drew another happy face in the condensation.
“Trust me. You’re doing fucking fine. Just relax and be yourself. I like the shit outta that girl.” Negan answered as he placed his hands on her hips. Pressing a kiss to her shoulder, his hands traveled up her body to her waist. Trisha stifled a giggle as the scruff from his low beard tickled her arm. She turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
“You said you wanted to hear something else though. Do you have any requests?” Trisha asked again, not letting the topic go. Negan grinned down at her and placed a quick kiss on her lips. Becoming shy, Trisha smiled and diverted her gaze. Placing his hand against her cheek, he urged her to look back at him.
“I want to hear you say my name as you come.” Negan replied and Trisha’s eyes went wide at his boldness. Unable to contain herself, Trisha burst into a fit of nervous giggles. Negan looked at her in confused amusement. Calming herself, Trisha bit her lip and looked up at Negan and pulled him closer to her.
“You’re a pervert. We may need to open the window again to cool you off some.” Trisha laughed as she pulled him down to her to kiss him. Letting the kiss last longer than the first, Trisha pulled back and smirked at Negan. “Sure you don’t wanna hear another Christmas song?”
Negan scoffed and unexpectedly turned Trisha back around to face the window, pressing her against the glass. Stunned by the spin, Trisha had a split second to bring her hands in front of her to brace against the window frame. Bringing his hands to her shoulders, he slowly trailed his fingers down her back and over her backside pausing to give her a playful pinch. Trisha giggled and pushed her backside out to him more causing him to give her a light slap. His hands journeyed lower and reached the hem of her dress. His long fingers danced along her thighs and Trisha squirmed under his touch.
“Fuck it. Hit me with one, baby.” Negan breathed close to her ear. Opening her mouth to respond, a small gasp escaped her lips. Exhaling sharply, Trisha nodded as her words failed her. Laughing softly behind her, Negan curled his fingers under her hemline and slowly pulled her dress up; his thumb brushing her skin lightly. Once he had the dress over her rear, he stepped back and admired her, placing a hand on one cheek and the other on her waist.
“You say you aren’t used to girly shit but you have on these lacy ass panties.” Negan smirked as he began to trace her pantyline. Trisha snorted and reached back to pull her dress down but Negan grabbed her wrist. “Don’t you dare. I wanna look at this ass.” Trisha sighed exaggeratedly and shifted from one foot to the other. This earned another laugh from Negan who wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him. “I’m waiting.”
Huffing, Trisha placed her hands over his. “I need to open this window. It’s getting hot in here, don’t cha think?” Reaching out, Trisha pulled on one of the levers to the window in front of her and pushed slightly. The cool air rushed in the room and Trisha signed in contentment while Negan sucked his teeth behind her. Loosening his hold on her, Trisha wiggled from his grip. She reached behind her and unzipped her dress. Watching her carefully, Negan went to assist her but Trisha spun to face him with a wide grin that threw Negan off balance.
“I don’t want a lot for Christmas…” Trisha began. Negan narrowed his eyes at her as the lyrics brought back the familiar tune to him.
“No. Fucking not that one.” He groaned but Trisha had moved away from him and was sauntering towards the middle of the room. She ignored his request and kept singing.
“There is just one thing I need. I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree.” Trisha shimmed around the back of the sofa as she sang with a bounce in her step.
“That one’s so fucking annoying.” he grumbled as he moved to stand in front the sofa. Negan crossed his arms as he watched her. He tried to keep his face unreadable but watching Trisha prance about was too entertaining. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and shook his head at her as she leaned forward and placed her hands on the back of the sofa. Arching her back up and down slowly, she allowed the loose straps of her dress to slip down her arms and revel her bra and cleavage. Negan hummed deep in his chest and Trisha smiled at him slyly. Standing again, she pulled the straps down and off her arms, her dress now bunched at her waist. A cool gust came through the open window and Trisha cheekily pretended to be cold, rubbing her hands over her arms as she rolled her body downward and back up.
“I just want you for my own. More than you could ever know.” Trisha shimmied as she pulled the dress over her head and threw it towards Negan a little harder than intended. Negan chuckled low at her show, barely dodging the flying dress. Kicking off her shoes, she skipping to the foot of the bed and grabbed one of the posters of the bed and began to slide down it. Negan’s eyes followed her every move, his erection clearly visible through his fitted leather pants. Toying with her bra strap, Trisha continued to hold on to the post as she swayed back and forth.
“Make my wish come true.” Trisha sang as she climbed up onto the bed and sat on the foot. Crossing her legs, she smiled sweetly at Negan before finishing the verse. “All I want for Christmas is you.”
Negan clapped as he walked over to the bed and shook his head. “I can’t believe you actually made me like that fucking song.” Trisha grinned as she shrugged her shoulders. Clicking his tongue, Negan gazed down at Trisha. Twirling her foot, Trisha continued to hum the rest of the song as Negan began to remove his jacket. Tossing it aside, though not as carelessly as Trisha did with her dress, he stood at her crossed legs. Grabbing each of her ankles, he pulled her towards him and wrapped her legs around his waist earning a surprised squeak from Trisha as she fell backward onto the bed. Negan’s hands again found her thighs and he massaged the flesh under his fingertips. Trisha stopped humming, propping herself up on her elbows and began to writhe under his ministrations. She could already feel her arousal and wondered if it was visible to Negan. He moved to the seat of her panties and ran his thumb softly over her, stopping to draw circles on her clit. Trisha moaned softly and moved her hips closer in an attempt to increase the friction.
“Ah ah.” Negan chided, tapping her clit with his index finger. Trisha flinched and whined as she poked out her bottom lip. “You made me listen to that song so I gotta pay you back.” Trisha rolled her eyes and went to protest but Negan had already begun to pull at her panties and she lifted up to assist him. Tossing them over his shoulder, Negan returned to drawing circles on her clit with his thumb and he began to press his index finger at her opening. Trisha reached down to grip his wrist and let her knees fall on the opposite sides of him, opening herself more. Negan bent to kiss Trisha at the same time his finger entered her. He allowed her to guide him as she moved his hand where she wanted and applied pressure when she stilled. Sighing against his lips, Trisha moved her hips in tandem with him. Pulling away from her, Negan straightened and brought his index finger to his lips before putting the digit in his mouth. Trisha felt a new wave of arousal wash over her as she watched him lick her juices. Removing his finger with a pop, Negan winked at Trisha.
“You taste sweet. Like one of those fucking Christmas cookies.” Trisha groaned and fell back on the bed while covering her face with her hands. “You know which ones I’m talking about? With all that fucking sugar? In those blue as fuck tin cans.”
“Yes, I know.” Trisha murmured as she moved to close her legs. What a mood killer. Being compared to those sometimes yes, sometimes no cookies. Staring down at her, Negan began to unfasten his pants.
“When those cans were empty, all kinds of shit could fit in there. I should have a unit go find some for us.” Trisha grunted in disinterest and sighed. Negan hooked his hand in the crook of her knee and pulled her legs back open. Trisha sat back up on her elbows to see Negan stroking himself over her. Trisha tilted her head as he moved closer to her and began to tease her again by running the head of his cock from her opening up to her clit and back down. Taking his fingers, he spread her open as he pressed at her entrance. Trisha held his gaze as he moved forward and entered her slowly. When he was half-way inside of her, he pulled back as Trisha protested. Pulling her to the edge of the bed, Negan held both of her legs at the bend of her knee and sank back into her. Trisha’s back arched as their thighs finally met, Negan fully inside of her.
“Fucking hell.” Negan cursed as he began a steady and set pace, the sounds of their bodies connecting filling the room. Trisha pulled Negan to her by his neck as her other hand clawed at his side. She kissed him passionately as he let go of her legs and planted his hands at either side of her. Biting his lower lip, Trisha earned a growl from Negan before he pulled out of her and flipped her on her stomach. Moving up on her forearms, Trisha didn’t have time to assume the position before Negan was yanking her up by her hips and re-entering her. Moaning loudly, Trisha spread her legs further apart and arched her back as Negan roughly thrust into her. A string of curses could be heard behind her but the loud, obscene slapping of their bodies drowned them out. Trisha began to pant as her body rocked violently, Negan unrelentless in his pace. Feeling the muscles in her stomach tighten, Trisha groaned at her body in disappointment.
“Negan, slow down. I’m close.” Trisha whimpered in between moans. She didn’t want their first time together to be over so soon and hoped he would understand. But Negan showed no signs of stopping and to Trisha’s astonishment, he actually picked up speed now to the brink of jackhammering her. Trisha tried to protest and scoot away from him but Negan had her held firmly in place by her hips.
“No! Negan!” Trisha screamed but her orgasm hit her like a train and she bit down on the comforter under her to muffle her loud moans. Tears filled her eyes as her arms gave out from under her and she landed face first onto the bed. Negan pulled out of her quickly and released a guttural groan behind her, the sudden movement making her wince. A few seconds later something warm dripped down onto her and Trisha figured Negan finished on her back. Feeling his weight shift off the bed, Trisha stretched her legs out behind her to give her stiffening muscles some relief. Her breathing had slowed and she rolled her head to the side so she could breath better. Negan returned and was running something hot over her back but Trisha didn’t care to inquire what it was. Her lower body was sore and her eyelids felt heavy. Moaning again, she folded her arms under her and rested her chin in the crook of her elbow. Negan sat next to her and began to massage her neck, gently kneading the muscles. Trisha closed her eyes and hummed, nuzzling into her arm more.
“I can get used to you screaming my name like that.” Negan taunted as he moved down to her shoulder. Trisha grinned as she hid her face in embarrassment. Negan continued to massage down Trisha’s body and Trisha moaned loudly, feeling herself become aroused again. She turned on her side to face Negan and was met by a wolfish grin.
“You ready for another round?” he asked as he stood and stretched. Trisha nodded meekly.
“Fucking fine by me. But first,” Negan walked over to the window and shut it. “Enough of that fuckng air.”  
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sun-summoning · 6 years
Note
13 and 23 for the fic ask thing?
13. favorite writing song/artist/album of this year
fun fact, i generally cannot write while listening to music. i get distracted and  end up like typing out song lyrics. 
although if the fic was inspired by a song, then i’ll play it on low. i can’t think of anything from the earlier parts of 2017, but i can tell you that in december, i heard “naked” by james arthur and just played that on repeat trying to belt out some emotional sasusaku. 
for the record, it didn’t work.
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23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t
OH SO MANY. i no longer make docs or drafts when i get ideas because then i just end up with too many so i kinda just have this single one that has random paragraphs/lines/ideas and pluck away from that when i’m in the mood. 
okay i want to share a few! and i know you’re here for the ss so i’ll only slip in one gintama:
1.
“i think that’s the fear. that the love i feel can actually be something good. i trained and i worked my ass off so i could be something better. someone better. someone who could help you. and because of that, i am the greatest medical ninja in the world. i’ve saved hundreds of lives and i will save thousands more. so then how could my love — our love — be something bad?”
i know i need to get over how absurd i think sakura/sasusaku haters are and stop trying to write the anti arguments into fics and subvert that but…….i love her.
-
2.
the ladies of the temple are kind and welcoming when he brings sakura to them. she’s unconscious and still shuddering from the trauma of him locking her mind away, but he feels her succumbing to the memories he’s implanted. sakura haruno is dead and this new woman is born.
he claims that he found her in the woods and the women accept her and say they’ll take care of her.
sasuke sticks around, only ever watching from afar, as one of the sisters explains that a strange man found her and brought her there. she coaches sakura through what seems like amnesia and provides archaic forms of pre-natal care that are sufficient enough.
eventually sakura gets “better” but she’s still unable to produce a name. one woman suggests they call her “sakura” because of how fitting it is with her hair, and when sakura flinches, he thinks his work will be undone. she just smiles though. she laughs, one hand touching her pink hair gingerly while the other rubs her growing belly, and then she nods and says that’s a great choice. she makes no indication that she knows the sakura she once was, and though it’s cruel, for that sasuke is grateful.
he allowed her to keep her medical knowledge barring anything that dealt with ninjutsu, so they find her to be a helpful addition to their temple. she takes care of their ailments, partakes in as many chores as she can despite her condition, and makes herself a new home.
so i got a request asking for sarada’s conception story after ss got married (not smut) and because i am the difficult person that i am, i was like YEAH I’LL GIVE YOU A CONCEPTION STORY and proceeded to make something hurtful and uh yeah. but like then i was too lazy to finish? in a moment of impatience, i wrote a little ficlet of what would have been the future of this fic.
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3. 
sasuke is generally perceptive to his wife’s moods, but he’s either willfully ignorant or entirely oblivious to her fear of him. itachi would never do anything to harm sakura. still, her distaste for him cannot be hidden by her gentle smile or sweet tone. she is ever cordial to him – kind, even – but sakura doesn’t care for him, and while sasuke might not see this, itachi certainly does.
she doesn’t try to teach this fear to her daughter, but it cannot be helped. sarada keeps her distance because her mother does. sasuke might bring the girl closer, might tell her to go to her uncle, but if sasuke isn’t around, sarada will not linger.
he doesn’t blame sasuke’s wife for being so wary around him. itachi might even respect her for it. he will never forget the immeasurable damage he did to his younger brother despite his best intentions. does she think he’ll hurt sasuke more? does she think he’ll hurt his niece?
his resurrection is a well-kept secret confined to their home. sasuke isn’t quite sure how it happened and neither is sakura, and perhaps that’s why she’s so suspicious. still, she prepares a room for him and lets him wander her home as he pleases.
another instance of me receiving a prompt, looking for inspiration from it, and doing what i want. the request was for sarada to meet some of her clansmen. and yeah yeah itachi is all y’alls’s sons but……shit man. 
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4. ok this is the gintama one
kagura, sougo realizes, has a boyfriend. she’s strolling down the street with shinpachi, both of them with bags of snacks in their hands, when she refers to the other boy as her boyfriend. shinpachi’s eyes widen a fraction, his cheeks burn red, and he yells at her not to call him that. but kagura just blinks, furrowing her brow and asking why not considering he was her boyfriend. that interaction is more than enough for sougo to turn at the corner and make the rest of his patrol away from those yorozuya brats.
sougo always assumed she felt that her yorozuya family to be just that: family. it made sense considering what he knew about her. a father that made a name for himself as one of the universe’s greatest alien hunters and a brother that went off and joined some space pirates. just thinking about her dysfunctional family makes his shoulder hurt. but without them, sougo always assumed that she’d found that family on earth in the form of danna and the glasses stand.
so the brat had a boyfriend. sougo doesn’t really think much of it. he continues on his way but much to his dismay, he can’t quite ignore this…feeling. he has a feeling. he’s not sure what it is, but he feels it. it’s a bad feeling. a mad feeling. what the hell is this feeling.
prob one of the few times i’m willing to write jealousy, largely because it’ll be overshadowed by denial with some more denial and then a bit more denial.
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pwettypwita · 7 years
Text
Karaoke, Is Kara-OK? | Karamel Fanfiction #4 (Part 8)
Author’s Note : So.. It’s been awhile since I updated this series. I took a “hiatus” and I was starting to get a cold feet about it tbh. But, some of you are eagerly asking me to update, asking me about updates. And any encouragements coming from you are like rays of sunshine. So for your honor, here’s the Part8 from the KIKO Series of Karamel Fanfiction #4 - which I haven’t uploaded on Tumblr yet, and I hope you enjoy reading! I already posted this couple weeks ago, but since Part9 is coming anytime soon (I promise), here’s what happened before then. PS: play the song while you’re reading the story ;) #itllbringyouallthefeels
For previous chapters, click : Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
••••••○••••••
Karaoke, Is Kara-OK? #np : Ed Sheeran - Shape Of You & Tenerife Sea
It’s 5pm now.
Kara left her office early. She finished and submitted her draft about the Alien Fight Club to Snapper hours earlier than the deadline. It granted her to leave the office earlier than the regular office hour, while her boss proofread, arranged, and decided which one of his staff’s article was the best for the headline. So now she’s home. Thank Rao there were no major crime she needed to take care of for today, so she can came home early to have some free time - me time - for herself later in the afternoon.
Well, actually she came home early to prepare herself.
That’s right. She needed to prepare herself, because in two hours, Kara’s going to meet Conner for a salsa and tacco night. Which two of those words Kara not really familiar with. Well, she knows what a salsa and tacco are. She dances, but not salsa dance. She eats tacco, but pizza and potstickers are her most favorites food. She was still thinking whether she needs to go or just take a rain check on it. She was still thinking whether she should be going or just staying at home, yet it made her feeling nervous and anxious all day.
Earlier this morning, Kara received a bouquet and a pendant necklace from Conner. She was surprised. For all she knew, they just met twice. First at the bar where he bought her drinks, and the second time was when they coincidentally bumped-into-each-other-then-went-for-a-brunch-together at Noonan’s where they had coffee and sticky buns together. And now he sent her gifts.
She just freshly showered and was about to blow dry her damp hair, when she heard a knock on her door. With her x-ray vision she looked through the wall and there she saw Mon El standing outside the door. She threw her damp towel elsewhere and walked to the door.
“Hi!”, Mon El greeted excitedly as Kara opened the door.
“Hi.. What are you doing here? Did something happened? Is everything okay?”, she asked worrily.
“Can you stop being a superhero for once? When someone comes to you, it doesn’t always mean that something happened, Kara”
“Sorry, and please come in”, she moved a little to the side so Mon El could walk in. “So, what happened?”
“Don’t ask me. You’re the one who’s going on a date”
“Wh, what? It’s not a date, Mon El”, she denied.
“Winn told me that when a guy and a girl went out together, and just the two people getting together for an activity..”
“Yes but it’s not a date, Mon El.. It’s just,”
“Yeah right..”, he said. Then he rubbed his hands before asking her, “So, what are you gonna wear?”
“What I’m gonna what now?”
“What are you gonna wear to this date?”
“Ugh! Again, this is not a date, Mon El. It’s just a dinner with a.. friend. And second,”
“And second, you cannot wear those lame and outdated cardigan you have. So threw it out”, he being sassy, Kara gave him the look. “What? Don’t give me the look. You’ll thank me later, Kara”
“Why do I need your opinion?”, she asked as she walked to the livingroom and Mon El followed.
“Because I’m a guy, and I know what a guy wants, what a guy likes. And I’m your friend, right? Friends help a friend in need” Again with the “friend”? Really Mon El?, he said to himself.
“Do I need it….”
“You do! Now, chop chop. Blow dry your hair or whatever and show me what you got” He ordered, both laughed.
“Now where do you know about blow dry”, Kara said as she walked to her room.
Mon El’s mood seemed to be lighten up than earlier. Just this morning he was looking tensed and unfriendly, but now he has this excitement and he’s being friendly. Suspiciously friendly. Although Kara wondered his motives, she feels glad that there’s someone helping her for this prompt matter.
Mon El walked behind her, and slumped to one of the couch in her livingroom. Kara took two minutes to blow dry her hair, do the side bangs, pinned half side of the hair up, and put the first dress on. It was a knee length mid sleeves floral A-line dress, she added a white belt on the waist. It’s a more of formal outfit than a daily outfit. She walked to him, and asked for his opinion.
“OK. First dress. What do you think?”, Kara asked, her hands on the waist.
“Really?”, Mon El narrowed his eyes. It was a no. “No. Next”, he ordered.
“You sure?”, she asked again.
“Yes. Next!”
She walked back to her room. Well it’s the first dress, Kara looked in the mirror and wasn’t really impressed with the dress anyway. She agreed with him. Then she quickly changed her dress.
While waiting for the second dress, Mon El took the remote control and turned the TV on to a music channel. Ed Sheeran’s song Shape of You just started to play. As it played, he listened to the song and starting to like it. He likes the beat. It’s sexy.
“Here’s the second”, Kara said as she walked to Mon El. She wore a sleeveless turtle neck black and white stripes flare dress, with a black cardigan.
“BIG NO. Are you going for a job interview or something? And what did I say about the cardigan?”, he rejected immediately after he saw what he saw.
“Threw it.” She huffed.
“Good. Go” Mon El said nonchalantly waving his hand. Kara let out a grunt and in a whooz she disappeared.
While waiting for Kara, Mon El focused his stare to the music video on TV. The music video written the lyrics. Just like in a karaoke, he sang along. He kinda like this song. The beat, the lyric, Ed’s voice, it made his body move.
“Everyday discovering something brand new, I’m in love with your bo…”, he sang along then Kara walked out. “..dy”
He locked his stare to a perfectly looking Kara in her ruffles off shoulder body fit black dress. The medium length dress was simple, yet it looked sexy and hugged Kara’s body perfectly. He wondered why he never saw Kara wearing this dress before, nor Kara ever wore this dress before. She looked amazing, like really amazing on it.
“What do you think?”, Kara asked.
“Wow.. This is.. You are..”, he was dumbstruck. His mouth tried to form a word.
“This is the one! Wow.. Kara.. you look”, he just lost of words. He stood up from the couch.
“I’ll take that as a yes!”, she said proudly.
“A thousand yes! You look amazing, Kara.. Wow…” He exclaimed then whispered softly, “He’s one lucky guy”
“Come again?”
“Nothing..”
The thought of “lucky guy” - of Conner, who’s going to be the one to spend the evening with such an amazing look and an amazing person like Kara, it broke his heart. Sometimes she doesn’t even have to say a word to make his heart hurt.
“Well, thank you for your help. I bought this for special occasions; and I never wear this dress because when I put it on, I think it’s too sexy.. and as a Supergirl, I can’t really,”
“Well you look perfect”, he complimented before she could finish her sentence.
Their eyes locked to each other for a couple seconds. Smile plastered on their face, but Mon El broke the stare before he get drowned into it and do something he’d later regret. He took a step forward to her.
“Alright. Done with the dress. Now, let’s practice a salsa”
“Let’s what now?”
“Let’s practice a salsa. Come on, now follow my lead”, he said as he sang along with the song. She let a laugh came out from her mouth.
“You know how to salsa?”, she asked in disbelief as Mon El walked to her.
“Hey I’m a dancing star on Daxam. We danced a lot. And although we didn’t have this so called salsa dance, but Barry and Winn showed me a video..”
“A video?”, Kara asked. Mon El nodded.
“They showed me these videos of this Val guy and then Derek something from that dancing show.. Long story short, I know the steps. I’m a fast learner y'know.. Now, let’s practice”
Kara hesitated, but Mon El quickly grabbed her hand to get her to stand beside him before she changed her mind.
“Come on, lit the spirit! This song and this beat is perfect, you, follow my lead”, he said as Kara stood beside him.
“Do I really need this crash course..”
“M hm. You helped me to adjust and adapt on earth, so please let me in return teach you how salsa..”, he said politely. Kara smiled at him. He tapped his feet already.
“Now salsa, it’s all about the feet and the steps. It’s all about embracing your sexiness.. and have some fun. It’s an easy basic 8 count steps..”, he explained. He stood beside her to show her the salsa On1 step.
“See.. Starts from the neutral position, then you step forward with your left, back again to neutral. Then step backward with your right, and back again to center”
Kara followed his lead, and moved her feet just like Mon El showed her. First with the feet side by side in neutral position, then step forward, neutral position. Then step backward with another, and back in neutral position. He helped her to learn the steps with a count from one to eight to make it easier. They stepped together as he teached her to mastered the basic step first. Then they moved rhythmically with the song. Kara quickly kept up with his pace, so Mon El took her hand as he stepped forward and stood in front of her.
“That’s perfect. Now take my hand”, he said and she did. “And another on my back shoulder”
“Now your shoulders.. You keep it straight and broadened, but do not stiffened. Hands above here..”, he touched her shoulder and grabbed her hands to a position.
“Good.. Now the feet” Kara listened to him intently and followed his lead.
Ed Sheeran’s Shape of You still played as their back sound and they started to move. They danced like a natural. First they started with a slow step, then he slowly up the tempo. They danced for a minute trying to keep up and not to step on each other’s toes. They danced in sync. Then he spread his hand and rolled her out, then pulled his hand and rolled her back. She laughed.
Then they speeded up the tempo, they speeded up their steps, and on the final move, right at the bridge of the song, he spun her around. He catched her just in time, and threw her back almost to the floor with his hand on her back, and that’s how their quick course crash course salsa course ended. Their breath hitched, then she let out a giggle.
His nose just inches away from her lips, inches away from her neck. For don’t know how many times, they were in a kissing distance. And with that, the song ended. And with such forceful tension of desire between them, both were trying hard to not make a move and kiss another. He pulled her back up, Kara jumped and clapped her hands. She was all smiley, a big smile on her face.
“That was amazing!! Thank you Mon El!”, she said excitedly.
“Pshh..”, Mon El played it cool.
“Alright. Salsa, the steps, the shoulder, the hips. Got it. Now I need to find my heels. Then I’m good to go”, she said as she walked back to her room excitedly.
“Can I get some water?”, Mon El asked as he walk to her kitchen.
“Oh yes! Sure. It’s in the fridge” her voice sounded distant from her room.
He took two bottles of water. He opened one for himself and took a gulp right away. There was a silence in the room, except a low sound of music playing from the TV. As he was playing the label on the bottle, he started to wonder about something. So he asked her.
“So, what do you think about Conner?”, Mon El asked.
He asked her a question. He finally asked her the question. He’s been wondering about that for days, he’s been wondering about how or what Kara really thinks about Conner for days. And he figured that perhaps this is the right time to ask her about it. Kara walked out her room wearing a perfect match heels for the dress. She wore her peep toe black heels that lengthen her legs and made her look hundred times sexier. Then she walked to him who was sitting on her kitchen stool.
“Actually, I never think about Conner”, she answered as she took a bottle of water Mon El offered.
“You wanna know what I think?”, he asked.
“What do you think?”
“I think he’s suspicious”, he said it right-to-the-point.
“Why, why would you think that?”, her eyebrows were narrowed.
“It’s just the vibe, you know.. I mean, I’m not saying that he’s a jerk or something, but, I just have suspicions on him. Guys kinda have this radar on other guys…”, he tried to explain.
“Well thank you for being a caring friend, Mon El”, she said politely, sweetly, as she grazed his hand. Mon El smiled in return. He couldn’t help but having goosebumps arose all over his body from her touch.
“M hmm…”
She looked at her watch, it read 6:20pm. She had to go now if she wanted to be at Cabana on time. Because with no cape, no Supergirl outfit, only Kara, means she should walk or took a bus to get there. And it takes time.
“Well, again, thank you Mon El. And now, I have to go”, Kara said as she walked to grab her long coat and turned off the TV. “Oh do you want to stay here? You can stay in, I won’t be long. And I have frozen pizza on the fridge in case you’re hungry”, Kara came back as she putted on her knee length black coat.
“Oh no no, thank you.. But I think I’ll go back to the DEO. Barry and Winn are there”
“Oh right! Barry texted me said he wanted to have a pizza party at The DEO before he travel back to Central City”
“Yes.. It sounds inviting right. Hey, you don’t wear that gift he sent you today?”
“Wear what? what gift?”, Kara asked looking confuse.
“That necklace he sent you..”
“Oh that, yes! I almost forgot” She quickly walked back to her room, and not a second later came back with the necklace.
“That’s a pretty necklace”, Mon El said.
“Would you mind helping me to put it on?”, she asked a favor. Mon El nodded, he walked to her, and took the necklace from her hand.
“Yes. Of course.. Allow me”, he said as he walked to stand behind her.
She pulled her hair up. His fingers were trembling from the view of Kara’s neck. He put it around her neck, and as his finger accidentally brushed her neck as he tried to lock the clasp, he could feel her skin reacted to his touch. Oh how he wanted to kiss that sweet spot.
“All done”, he said as he cleared his throat. He took a step away from her then he took a deep breath to neutralize the desire in his system. It’s crazy how she has this kind of power over him.
“It’s perfect” he said as she turned her body facing him.
“Thank you, Mon El”, she said. “Well, I should go..”
“Right…”
With that, he walked to the door, opened it, and took couple steps further. Kara followed behind, closing the door and locking the key. They started walking through the hallway, when Mon El stopped in his track and called her.
“Kara wait”, he said.
“I am serious about having suspicions.. about Conner,” he took a breath. “To keep a peace of my mind, can I walk you to Cabana? I swear I won’t get in the way, I just need to make sure that you’re safe”
Kara looked at him intently. His face expressed his worries. He worried about her. She figured that maybe this was the main reason why Mon El came to her apartment, to actually keep her company, to chaperoned her, to guard her.
“You want to walk me to Cabana?”
“Yes. Just to make sure you’re safe. I mean, I know you’re a big girl, and I know you can take care of yourself, but not everyone knows that you’re a Supergirl, and it’s better for you to keep it that way, so I just wa-”
“Yes”, Kara said.
“Yes?”, Mon El asked.
“Yes, of course you can walk me to Cabana.. Now let’s go”, she answered. Mon El was all excited and happy like a kid in a candy shop. He can walk Kara to the Cabana, he walk with Kara to the Cabana.
20 minutes later..
Cabana is the new tacco place open near the West Mainestreet intersection, across the street from the Groceries&Restaurant. Kara and Mon El walked and talked along their walk, they didn’t realize that they’re just standing across the street from Cabana. They stopped right in front of Groceries&Restaurant.
“That’s Cabana.. We’re here”, Mon El said as he snuck his hands to the pocket of his jacket.
“Yup. Thanks for walking me, Mon El”. He smiled at her.
“My pleasure”, he said.
“You sure you don’t want to come?”, she asked. Why are you doing this to me, Kara? You know I’d like to come.
“No, you enjoy your night, tacco, salsa, date, or whatever, and have fun”, he said.
“You too. Say hello to Barry from me? I’ll come to the DEO soon after the dinner”
“Sure”, he curved a sided smile.
“And save a slice for me please?”, she asked him a favor.
“Haha.. That, I can’t promise you”, he said laughingly. “Well, I should go. You pretty lady, enjoy your date”, he turned to his right about to walk.
“Mon El..”, she called him. He stopped and turned his head to Kara.
She walked closer to him. And to his surprise, she hugged him. She hugged him tight. He slip his hands out of his jacket, and hugged her back just as tight.
“Thank you…”, she whispered in his embrace.
She loosen her hug, then she gave him a kiss on his cheek and smile. She walked from him, crossing the street and in to the Cabana. His hands searching for her as the absent of her warmth changed to the freezing cold air breeze.
“Somehow you don’t have to open your mouth or say anything to hurt me. You can just.. go”, Mon El whispered as Kara entered Cabana. He realized that he just let Kara go, he just let Kara slipped away from him. And he realized what Alex said to him was true, that it’s hurting him. And the worse part, it’s all happened right in front of his eyes and he didn’t do anything about it.
•••••
An hour later.. The DEO Meeting Room
“Too bad Kara wasn’t here to have the last slice of the pizza.. It’s mine…”, Winn said about to take the very last slice of the delicious pepperoni pizza. J'onn, Alex, Barry, James and Mon-El were all sitting and staring at him when someone’s coming
“Don’t you dare touching my pizza!”, a loud voice coming from behind. Winn raised his hands away from the pizza. All of them were turning their head to the coming voice. To their surprise, it was Kara’s.
“You’re heree!!”, Winn exclaimed happily.
“Kara! I know you’d come”, Barry said just as happy as Kara came to him and gave him a hug with one hand because her other was holding a paperbag.
“Of course I come! Please tell me you save the last slice”, Kara said.
“You’re lucky just in time.. Winn and Mon El were fighting over the last one”, Barry said.
“It’s mine!”, she pointed her finger to Winn.
“And, I hope your stomach aren’t full, because..”, she said as she placed the paperbag on the glass table. “Tacco and potstickers!!”, she exclaimed excitedly as she pulled out five containers from the bag one by one.
All of them were cheering for round two. They were all munching the potstickers and taccos Kara brought, and it’s almost gone within five minutes.
“Oh hey, how was your date?”, Barry asked as he dipped the tacco to the guacamole.
“It wasn’t a date, Barry”, Kara responded with a mouthful.
“Yeah I don’t think so either, since it’s only 8pm and you’re here..”, Barry said with tacco in his mouth.
“You chickened out weren’t you?”, Winn snickered as he took a bite of his potsticker.
“What? I’m not. Conner cancelled on the last minute”
“He did what?”, Winn almost choked his potsticker.
“Yeah.. He said he got something at work, and…”, then Kara told Winn what happened. But only Winn, Alex, and J'onn listened. While Barry and Mon El shared a look. He then whispered to him.
“Go get her man”, Barry mouthed. Mon El only responded with a smirk.
And then they spent the night talking, laughing, teasing, and telling stories about how Kara and Barry became a superhero. The talk went for hours, without them realizing that it’s 11pm and it’s time for Barry to leave.
“These potstickers are da bomb. Thanks Kara..”, Barry said as he gave her a hug.
“You are most welcome”, Kara hugged him back.
“Alright. I got to go”, Barry said. “And don’t forget, if you need anything, I’m just a call - no, a portal away. Thanks a lot guys.. J'onn..” Barry said for the last time before he pushed the button of his inter-dimentional extrapolator. He walked through it, then he disappeared in a flash.
What they didn’t know was, this inter-dimentional crossover portal thing, it wasn’t a new thing. The portal can be created to crossover - and not only to crossover between Kara’s and Barry’s earth. Somewhere in National City, another portal to another dimention was open, and that would mean for trouble. And for trouble, they better prepare.
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