#the red string scene lives in my head rent free

[wizardnuke]

what’s the uh. what’s the fanfic.

the sea the stars the dreamers for all of ur space opera fantasy scifi wizard foursome needs ft. most of the rest of the nein

[bloodlust-1]

| ⊱The Sin of Jealousy⊰ |

Gale x fem Tav — 18+ Explicit

Summary: Jealous Gale has something to prove. Wyll is getting a little too touchy for his liking, and Gale is out to prove a point to Tav. That she is his. Casting a mage hand to overpower her in a way she's never seen.

T/W: Smut!

Notes: Jealous Gale? Lives rent free.

This was fucking bullshit. Gale puffed his cheeks out, in an annoyed scuff. He was good at controlling his anger, for the most part. But when it came to Tav, his new beloved, something just clicked.

Jealous eyes pierced Wyll as he conversed with Tav. He joked, smiled, hells, he even touched her shoulder several times. Gale crossed his arms while his eyes fixed on Tav across the camp.

A surge of frustration burned into his eyes at the sight of Tav's face growing red with every gesture Wyll had to offer. Each time her eyes would lock with Gale's across the fire, awkwardly smiling. She mouthed 'It's okay' upon seeing Gale's uneasy posture.

He chuckled at the thought, surely it wasn't okay. Even if Tav declined his gestures, it still burned a hole in his chest. But in reality, Gale was overthinking every little interaction and filling his own head with junk.

Gale rolled his eyes while he watched Wyll and Tav. He had enough, without making a scene he walked past the two, locking eyes with Tav in a frustrated expression.

Awkwardly, Tav half smiled at Wyll, “Well, I’m happy all is well for the night. If you’ll excuse me.” She politely excused herself before walking where Gale was headed.

Gale followed the small trail into the woods that led to a lake. When she caught up to him, he was sitting on the shoreline, playing with the sand between his hands.

Tav quietly approached him, placing her hand on his shoulder, "I didn't mean to make you upset with Wyll." She softly spoke out, sinking herself onto the sand next to him.

Gale stopped playing with the sand and gazed out onto the sparkling water against the moonlight. "It was not you I am annoyed at." He sighed, "It is because of you that I am frustrated."

Tav tilted her head in confusion, allowing him to explain himself, "Wyll, he is a charming man. Seeing him make your cheeks flush the way I do, it drives me mad."

After his failed relationship, Gale wanted nothing more than to share his whole being with someone. He worried about losing Tav, and Wyll triggered a deep feeling of possessiveness. Tav was his.

Gale's demeanor went dark, and he reached out her hand, grasping Tav's wrist, "If he can not see that you are mine, then I'll have to prove it to everyone."

Tav's pupils widened to his cunning words, "Gale-"

He cut off her words with a needy kiss. He quickly parted Tav's lips with his tongue, wrestling his against her own. The kiss was sloppy and desperate. An adrenaline rush ran in Tav's veins. Never was Gale like this, and fuck was it a pleasant surprise. The feeling of the man she loved most dominated her like a toy was so intoxicating.

Her mouth parted willingly to his force, completely submitting under the sudden anger-driven kiss. Gale wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling Tav onto his lap. Tav’s hands found the sides of his face and tugged his jaw closer to hers.

"Oh no, no, my love." Gale ripped his lips away from her. "You're to be punished." Gale gracefully waved his hands in the air, a string of purple dust formed into a mage hand. The magic restrained Tav's wrist behind her back in an iron grip.

She tugged her arms unsuccessfully twice before looking up at Gale, eyes full of lust and confusion, "I-I don't understand."

He leaned back, pushing his palms into the sand as Tav sat on the growing bulge in his pants, "What's not the understand, my love?" Gale's eyes eagerly stared at her cleavage from her low-cut shirt. "The way he touched your shoulders with lust in his eyes. You thought it was just 'Okay'". Gale shook his head in a deadly, playful chuckle, "I ought to teach you a lesson."

With an angered rasp in his voice, he commanded her, "Grind your hips." The anticipation for her touch grew hotter under his pants.

Tav bit her lower lip, and a slight embarrassment filled her chest. It was like a different person possessed Gale, and it was jealousy fueling his angered desire for her body. Tav dug her knees into the sand before rocking her hips back and forth against his crotch.

She could feel his thickness poking her inner thighs with each stroke she took. Lust and pleasure left a hazy look on his face, never taking his eyes off her. He noticed how she bit her lips harder each time his bulge brushed over her core. The way her eyes slanted half opened from the pressure against her clit made his heart skip a beat.

Gale's fingers moved slowly and delicately, carefully unraveling the lace that bound her shirt together. As it loosened, the fabric slowly slid off her shoulders, exposing her bare chest to the chill of the night air. Her nipples had already hardened, almost as if anticipating his touch. He couldn't contain the desire that rose in him. "You are so beautiful," he murmured before leaning in and taking one of her nipples between his lips.

His tongue circled the tight bud, sending a wave of pleasure through her body. He could feel her heartbeat quicken, and he continued to lavish her with attention, his mouth exploring her body with hunger and passion.

Tav let out small, desperate whimpers, her body yearning for more of Gale's touch. He responded to her plea, tracing circles around her nipple with his tongue. His movements were full of hunger as he pressed his teeth into her skin, grinding it against them roughly.

Again, Tav tried to rip her wrist away from the mage's grip, but to no avail. Gale noticed this and pulled away. His voice, low and husky, came to her ear as he said, "Patience." The warmth of his hand radiated through her, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.

Tav rocked her hips harder against him, which rewarded her with small groans from Gale. His eyes shut tightly from the pressure. They continued to dry hump each other, and Gale's eyes trailed down to her pants. There was a damp spot on her crotch, and he grinned at the sight, "You're so unbelievably hot."

Gale's hand moved without conscious thought, working quickly to undo the button of her pants and exposing her bare body. Her core was already glistening with desire, and the sight of it made him take a sharp breath. His fingers eagerly explored the warmth of her core, tracing circles around her most sensitive area and sending jolts of pleasure coursing through her body. Tav moaned out in bliss as his touch became more focused, rubbing her clit in a way that made her body tremble with delight.

His mouth worked at Tav's neck as his fingers pleasured her. Gale sucked and ground his teeth on her nape. He littered her skin with hickeys and bruises that were impossible to hide. This is what he meant by proving it to everyone. He made sure Tav was unable to hide these.

A pain and pleasure mixed in her whines. Her hands grew numb to the tightness of the mage's hold. Tav gave Gale pleading eyes, "It hurts..."

He chuckled in amusement, "You are going to have to do more than sad eyes to change my mind." Tav moaned again while Gale skillfully rubbed her clit faster and faster; just the way she liked it. The pain of her hands melted away as she surrendered to the pleasure.

Hunched over her, panting and moaning, Tav felt the pleasure building up inside her, tingling through her legs and toes. She subconsciously wondered if anyone could hear her with how loud her cries were. "Gale, w-what if they hear us?" A wave of red painted her cheeks.

Gale was unphased, "Let them."

He moved with intention and purpose as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and lowered his zipper. His clothing hung off of his body like a forgotten memory as he returned his hands to Tav's hips. Lifting her body up just enough for his access. His fingers squeezed the soft curves of her body as he positioned himself at her entrance. His hard length throbbed with anticipation as he aligned himself, ready to enter her warmth.

Sighs of relief synced together as he pushed his full length into her. Her walls clenched around him tightly at first. Gale then laid back, glaring up at Tav's naked body in awe, "I want you to fuck me." He commanded and as he wished.

She began to eagerly thrust her hips against him, desperate for pleasure. As she moved, her body twitched and bounced with every push, causing a soft whimper to escape her lips. Gale was captivated by the sight of her and dug his fingertips into her ass, making her wince in delight. He held her tightly, forcing her hips closer and harder against him. She wanted to make him happy and did her best to ride him, giving him all the pleasure she could.

"Fuck- good girl." He gritted his teeth, his eyes practically rolling in the back of his head.

He couldn't contain his excitement any longer, so he started to move faster and harder against her own motion. The intensity of his thrusts was causing Tav to tip over, and soon she was falling onto his chest, her face pressed against his chiseled skin.

His touch was driving her wild, and her moans of pleasure were muffled against his chest as she surrendered to his constant passionate drilling. Her body was trembling with pleasure, and she was drooling. Tav allowed herself to get completely lost in the moment.

Gale and Tav moved in perfect harmony, their bodies entwined as he thrust into her core with vigorous intensity. In one swift, fluid motion, he pushed Tav off and commanded her to kneel, her face pressed firmly against the ground. With empathy, Gale snapped his fingers, commanding the mage's hand to cover her mouth to muffle her cries.

Tav tried to push herself up with her arms, wincing in pain at the soreness in her wrists. Before she could get her bearings, she felt Gale's long body pressing against her again. Despite her best efforts, she was powerless against his relentless thrusting. Her hands and knees were soon aching from the pressure of the sand beneath her, and Tav couldn't help but let out a muffled, sticky cry of pain against the mage's hand. Gale's grip on her hips forcibly held her in place.

Gale's eyes filled with the reality of Tav's ass bouncing against his groin, and fuck did it excite him more than ever. He was overwhelmed as he heard her muffled moans grow louder. Her body quaked with each thrust, pushing Tav further and further into the sand. With each thrust, her eyes fluttered shut and she succumbed to the pleasure he was providing her.

Tears whelmed in her eyes in bliss, and it only made Gale want her more. He continued to drive into her with an intensity that he had never felt before, pushing her higher and higher with every stroke.

Her walls began to twitch and clench around his cock. Gale felt the climax burn deep in him and he would only release once Tav was at her climax too. He leaned over and planted kisses and hickeys on her back. He groaned sweetly into her skin. Gods, he loved her. He never wanted to lose this.

His thrusts became sloppier and slower. Tav muffled between the magic hand, "I-I'm going to- Nghh! Cum-" Her voice huskily rang in his ears. In full force, he pushed into Tav for the final time before her walls spasmed around his length, receiving the warmth of his cum inside her as well.

Tav felt the mage's hand slowly faded into the air, leaving her panting for oxygen. She was overwhelmed by a sense of relief, yet her heart was still racing with the thrill of what had just happened. Suddenly, she felt the comforting embrace of Gale's arms around her body, providing her with a sense of security. Both of their hearts were pounding in their chests, with their bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat and their kneecaps feeling tender from the hard ground.

Gale breathed heavily against the back of Tav's neck, letting out a deep sigh of relief. He spoke firmly and with conviction, his voice ringing in Tav's ears. "I hope you've learned now: you are mine. Mind, body, and soul. No one else can claim you. You belong to me and only me."

She nodded eagerly. It was the best fuck she ever had, and maybe she'll defy him more often if this is the outcome, "It was amazing...maybe I'll consider standing by Wyll more often if it'll make you fuck me like this." Tav teased with a smile.

He chuckled against her neck, "You don't have to do anything for me to fuck you senseless, my love."

What was I listening to while writing this? 😌🫶🏼

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

[velvetwyrme]

TOP FAVE READER INSERT UNDERTALE (OR ANY OTHER AU’S) FICS???? /genq /nf

>:3c

Oh you don't have to worry about forcing me. I've been wanting to do this for a while and you just gave me the perfect excuse!!!

List under the cut because it's LONG and I love to chatter.

A little note before you continue: I won't pick any PURELY explicit fics (... with a couple exceptions) since if I did, I'd be here forever

BUT fair warning that some of these will be dark, and may deal with heavy topics. Some will also have some spicy/explicit content in them, but I'll do my best to mark them accordingly! (I won't mark ones with just suggestive themes/moments, since I cant guarantee I'll catch all of them. Similarly, unless there is graphic death or gore, I won't mark it as such.)

I have also included the STATUS of each fic as such: Finished, Ongoing/Unfinished, Discontinued. Please note that unless the author specified that the fic is Discontinued or on Indefinite Hiatus, I will mark it as Ongoing/Unfinished. Oneshots are also marked as such.

ALSO for some of these fics it's been years since I last read them, so if I miss any warnings for them, that's why! As always, check the tags before reading and take care :]!!

MULTICHAPTERS

When Words Get Broken - Papyrus/Reader - Finished

Featuring: Some of the best Papyrus characterisation that I’ve read. The most unkissable kissable skeleton. If you want to know what I mean by that, go read this fic. I love him so so so dearly.  

Life Like A Ghibli Movie - Papyrus/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

One of the fics ever. Broke me apart and put me together again. Lives permanently in my brain.

Vacuous Happiness - Sans/Reader - Finished

Rewired my brain. I feel like I went on a roadtrip which changed me irreversibly as a person. The same author is also writing a Firewatch inspired fic featuring UF!Sans which I’m enjoying as well :]

Thunderstruck - Underfell!Papyrus/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

If you haven’t read Thunderstruck what are you doing. Go read it. You’ve probably already read this fic but go read it again!!!! One of my favourite portrayals of UF!Papyrus ever. Almost certainly has some amount of influence on the way I'm writing Flipping Fate.

You, Me, and Dr. G - W.D. Gaster/Reader

I love this fic so so much. *drinks it up like water*

This is part of a series that also contains fics I love; Story That Might Happen When You Date Sans (F) and Black Thumb (F), which are respectively a Sans/Reader and Asgore/Reader. Both are really good as well. This one is just my favourite out of the 3 though. The same author also wrote Just One Word (F), which is a soulmate AU Mettaton/Reader which I also enjoyed.

Teach Me How - Sans/Reader - Finished

I read this fic waaay before I realised I was somewhere on the aro/ace spectrum and hoooo boy my obsession with it when I was younger really makes sense now. Incredibly sweet, they go from hate to love, and the reader is aro/ace. It’s a little messy, but isn’t everything?

In writing this I also realised this is by the same author who wrote You, Me and Dr. G!!! >:O

Pursuit of Happiness - Sans/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

SO good. Y'all at Rock Bottom babey!!

A Home for Mending Souls - Underfell!Skelebros/Reader - Finished

Extremely soft. Recovery/Healing fics beloved. I love the characterisation in this fic so much. Made me very emotional.

Backroads and Bad Jokes - Horrortale!Sans/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

I love this fic so much. Sooo many scenes live rent free in my head. I won't spoil things ;] I think it takes place in the same universe as A Home for Mending Souls?

The Nebular Theory - Skelebros/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

If it's not obvious already, I absolutely adore this fic. You want some REALLY good characterisation? A juicy plot that has me wishing I had the space for a red-string theory board? An attention to canon details that make me scream? Communication between characters!!!!!

READ THIS FIC.

Love? It's Complicated - Series - Finished (...?)

[Warning: Contains Dark/Heavy Themes.]

I'm cheating here by linking the entire series (which is 11 fics of various levels of interconnectedness) but it's so worth it. This series tore my heart out, stomped on it, stuck it back in and gave me a sweet little kiss at the end. Several times over!! I cried like 4 times in one night while binging it!! Also this series contains one of the few OC/Canon stories that I enjoy!!

I actually read Burning Mountain first and then everything else in order and proceeded to LOSE MY GODDAMN MIND reading the first and second fics because OH. That's why the end of BM was so... OHhhhHHhhhh.........

The current fics included in the series are all finished, but I'm not sure if the author intends to come back to it in the future.

In the meantime, their other fics A Little Bit(ty) of Trouble (F) and Cold Blood, Warm Heart (O/U) have also stolen my heart. Those ALSO deal with dark, complicated topics so tread carefully and enjoy!

Bearskinner in Three Worlds - Various/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

The plot and writing has gripped me and won’t let go. The reader goes through so much and it’s so worth it. Loooove the polyamory negotiations. I don't want to spoil anything!!! Go read it!!

Penitent Island - Various/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

Really good plot and fun interactions! By the same author as Bearskinner. Did I mention I love this author's poly negotiations?

Transmigration of the Soul - Papyrus/Reader - Finished

One of the good ol’ classics. Japes! Drama! Romance! Really good plot! Apparently optional smut according to the tags! I don't recall that but it's a thing!

The impact of this fic can still be seen in the way I view Kindness souls and how they behave lol.

When Two Tsunderes Do on A Date, Does the Void Explode - Fellswap!Sans/Reader - Finished (?)

This series is so so funny. They’re both kinda idiots. And they're both SUPER TSUNDERE. I love all the characters here so much.

My Dearly Detested Deliveryman - Swapfell!Papyrus/Reader - Finished

Every single one of Little_old_lady’s fics are fucking hilarious. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. This one you go through enemies to lovers with your deliveryman. Just go read it already.

Black Coffee - Swapfell!Sans/Reader - Finished

Soulmate AU!! Unbelievably silly. I love it so much. Papyrus is such a little shit here.

Pussycat, Pussycat, Where Have You Been? - Fellswap!Sans/Reader - Finished

Another banger by Little_old_lady. Both Papyrus and the reader are so dumb I love them. Also Sans is a tsundere.

There’s a snake in my bed! - Mafiafell!Sans/Reader - Finished

Sans is a wholeass dumbass in this one. He's got a snake (think Daemons from His Dark Materials/The Golden Compass) who loves to go into your room. You like the snake too :D

The Skeleton Games - Underfell!Sans/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

[Warning: Contains Explicit Content]

He’s so pathetic in this I love it. It's far more complicated than that but hrkjsjhsgf pathetic little guy.

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me A Match - Skelebros/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

Super heckin cute!!! I wanna give the reader a little smooch too. They are so lonely but they are making friends!!!

Dirty Laundry - Swapfell!Skelebros/Reader - Finished

THE Swapfell fic. It had me in a vice grip when I read through it the first time. And the second. And the- you get it. Brilliant characterisation and really delicious talks about developing relationships and more.

Honestly all of this author’s works are fantastic, but in particular I love Roadside Attraction (O/U), Fur a Good Time, Call… (F) and also her AU vignettes… Flotsam & Jetsam, Not So Spooky-Scary and Make Your Mark.

A Smile From the East - Underfell!Papyrus/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

I read this way back when it was still updating and it has lived in my brain since. It has everything. UF!Papyrus in all his edgy glory. Flower shop AU. Angst. Romance. It's left me hanging for like 5 years waiting for the last chapter and I encourage you to let it do the same to you.

Re-Hate-tionship - Swapfell!Papyrus/Reader - Finished

[Warning: Contains Explicit Content.]

ENEMIES TO LOVERS!! They hate each other so so much and they WILL fuck about it. Somehow despite being very very mean to each other, they are both very sweet.

Twice a Month I Fall In Love - SwapfellPapyrus/Reader/Swap!Papyrus - Ongoing/Unfinished

I love love love this fic (I even read it again pretty recently…) SF!Papyrus and the reader swap bodies twice a month. Romance and shenanigans ensue. The reader is not the hinge in this poly! Weird things happen when you kind of want to kiss some dude you met in this other guy’s body (who you incidentally are also falling for).

Becoming Edge - Underfell!Papyrus/Reader - Finished

Not only is this fic just so so sweet, but it also sparked me to start experimenting more with my wardrobe which has made me much happier. Actually cured my depression because of that (Partly anyway!)

Paper Flowers - Sans/Reader - Finished

[Warning: INCREDIBLY SAD]

I need to read this again, but I still feel like I can wholeheartedly rec it. I still remember enough that thinking about the title makes me want to cry, so...

Just a Little Offbeat - Bitty SwapBros/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

Hi. Not-so-secret about me. I love bitty fics. This one in particular is really good.

Bitty Hunt - Reverse Harem/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

We all know the [Number] Skeletons and You" setup. We all know Bittybones AUS. But what if… YOU were the bitty? Who is incidentally a landlady? Lots of fun! Many shenanigans.

You all probably know this one but I still love it lol.

His Name Was Bob - Bitty Underfell!Sans/Reader - Finished

One of the OG bitty fics from my recollection. Really good!!!

Skeleton Kisses – Sans/Reader – Finished

SO heckin SWEET. You are in fact scared of him but it all works out :]

Tits and Dick – Underfell!Sans/Reader – Ongoing/Unfinished

I love them so dearly. They’re both so fucking stupid.

All the Right Moves - Dancetale!Sans/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

I almost got into colourguard because of this fic. I haven't read it in a long time so I can't guarantee anything about quality/content but... I really wanted to get into colourguard after reading this.

Honey, We Bee-Long - Underswap!Papyrus/Reader - Finished

This is actually part of series but this is just the one I liked the most ;3c Pretty cute!!!!

New Home on the Range - Cowboy AU!Skelebros/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

Yeehaw. I love cowboys too much not to include this. The reader is described a lil bit, but I will overlook that because I want to kiss these boys sooooo bad. Papyrus in this is such a sweetie. Also plot >:3c

Where the Daffodils Grow - Papyrus Ensemble/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

Chances are, at least some percentage of you are here because you saw the comic I drew of this fic. I love it so. Reverse harem set in Underswap!!! Lets GOOO!! PAPYRUS ENSEMBLE LETS GOOOOOO!!!!!

Cash It In - Swapfell!Papyrus/Reader - Finished

[Warning: Contains Explicit Content.]

Tumultuous soulmate AU!!!! WAH. Super super cute!!!!! UhhhhHH I FORGOT THERE'S SMUT FIRST CHAPTER BUT LISTEN OKAY I LOVE THIS FIC TOO MUCH TO NOT INCLUDE IT KAJDHJFH

Kintsugi - Underswap!Papyrus/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

[Warning: Contains Explicit Content.]

I found this fic last year but APPARENTLY I left kudos on it?? Years ago???? SO I GOT TO REREAD IT FRESH. Dramatic, tense, and a really good read overall.

Panic Room – Swapfell/Reader – Ongoing/Unfinished

[Warning: Contains Dark/Heavy Themes.]

This one you really REALLY need to read the warnings, but if it interests you, hot damn is it a good story. SUPER dark but chewed through my brain like drywall. The worldbuilding is spectacular.

In the Language of Flowers – Various/Reader (???) – Ongoing/Unfinished

[Warning: Contains Dark/Heavy Themes.]

One of the pioneers of the “Reader is a Sans” tropes. Slowburn to the nth degree. Extremely dramatic, it's fantastic. Marked as (???) for the relationship because IDK what the specific ending relationships are going to be. Also technically Sans/Sans since… the reader is a Sans? It gets complicated man.

Joined at the Hip - Various/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

Another Reader is a Sans fic. Enemies to lovers except you are also kinda sharing the same body?? SIGN ME UP. Again, gets complicated with romance stuff because of it.

The Wolf - Various/Reader(?) - Ongoing/Unfinished

As always, it gets confusing when they’re sharing a body. In this one I love that they get along and have all that figured out. Mostly. They have the problems of two people mashed into one body. Plus! I love the naming structure in this one. Also, I (as a reader) am simping hard for Orion. He’s off the table in the fic because he’s Gemini’s brother but PERSONALLY, I love him.

He was Real. – Horrorswap!Sans/Reader – Finished

In which you dream of a strange skeleton and- he’s REAL OH OKAY YOU SHOULD PROBABLY HELP HIM HUH. Fun concept, very well executed.

A collection of Fables and Romances – Sans/Reader (Various) – Ongoing/Unfinished Series

As the title implies, it’s a collection of short fics! All of them are very good :]

Poor Little Meow Meow – Killer/Reader – Ongoing/Unfinished

Killer adopts cats. He’s got so many cats. And also you :>

Still Counting – Sans/Reader Series - Finished

I’m not cheating by including this entire series- it’s all one long story. And goodness gracious is it a GOOD story. It’s got [REDACTED]- well shit I guess you just gotta go read it.

thinking of you. – Underswap/Reader – Ongoing/Unfinished      

You think that Swap!Sans is a figment of your imagination, but whoop turns out he’s not!! He’s REAL babey!! Go kiss a ghost(ly skeleton) and a less than ghostly skeleton! Very cute.

Who Done It? - SpicyMobKustard/Reader - Finished

(Mafiatale!Sans/Fell!Papyrus/Reader/Fell!Sans Polycule)

The dynamics between characters are really good and it's got a solid mystery plot underscoring the developing romance :D Please note that the reader is Not the hinge in this poly- they are part of the polycule (and the only two who aren't dating are UF!Sans and UF!Papyrus, since they are related here) so if that's not your thing, don't click! If it is! Enjoy!!

R&R (Rabble & Rampallions) - Bad Sanses (plus)/Reader - Finished

This finished recently (as of writing) and it’s been such a wild ride. I want to read it again and again and again. And I will once I've let it settle in my brain more. I CRIED at the end.

Gloom & Doom All Up in Your Room - Bad Sanses/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

If you are craving more Bad Sanses content after finishing R&R… hey look there’s another brilliant fic featuring them guys. The vibe is different but still so good. Dust is very much bleeding out in your living room when you first meet him, which I feel sets the scene in terms of what sort of violence and/or gore you’ll see here.

Little Assistant - Bad Sanses/Bitty!Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

MORE Bad Sanses content. But they’ve got a bitty (you!) this time. The Star Sanses kinda accidentally suck in this, but they (or at least ONE of them) is trying to get better.

do you live with abusive skeletons? pull a power move and fuck their dad! - W.D. Gaster/Reader - Finished

Incredibly funny (and self-explanatory) title. I enjoy trope reversal and subversion >:3c

Blackcurrant - Horror Swapfell/Reader - HIATUS

Black adopts you as a pet because he doesn’t realise you are sapient. Mutt on the other hand is fully aware and thus is hostile towards you. Lots of fun :] Also very lovely art! Currently on hiatus though.

Skeleton Sisters and the Architect - Fem!Skeleharem/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

I’m so fucking gay. Girls. Holy shit. GIRLS. I am looking so respectfully. They’re all so cute and I love their names.

a full course meal - Horrortale!Sans/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

* Edited after note from the author! There are future installments planned 👀

A very cute series of oneshots centered around the reader and HT!Sans!!! HE’S SO BIG. WAIT THERE’S A THIRD PART I DIDN’T SEE THAT BEFORE.

Potato Soup (with a side of skeleton) - Horrortale!Sans/Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

INCREDIBLY FUNNY PREMISE. Neither of them know how to open up but it’s somehow very endearing.

Chasing the End - Grillby/Reader - Finished

The plot had me yelling. Love some good old "before the barrier" content. We get to see baby Sans and Pap also!!!

=========================

ONESHOTS

A Unique Definition - Underswap!Papyrus/Reader - Oneshot

Really cute oneshot! You steal US Paps’ hoodie and it’s the cutest thing in the world.

Honeydew - Horrortale!Sans/Reader - Oneshot

Sweet! You meet him on a train and share honeydew it’s all very cute.

No Strings Attached - Underfell!Sans/Reader - Oneshot

Rewired the way I conceptualise UF!Sans. (The other fics in this series are explicit!)

Human Anatomy Fanatic - Papyrus/Reader - Oneshot

[Warning: Explicit content]

Papyrus is a little freak and loves every weird and strange part of your human anatomy. Some of the sections deals (briefly) with explicit stuff, but even then, it is more focused on Papyrus being SUPER FASCINATED by how human bodies work. Somehow!! Really cute!

Pat? - Swapfell!Papyrus/Reader - Oneshot

DOGY. DOGGY MEETCUTE. Super cute!! Very embarrassing!!!! PATS!!!!!!

Emotional Drought - Bitty Horrortale!Sans/Reader - Oneshot

LONG oneshot. Very good. Prepare for complex relationships and also a delightfully open and ambiguous ending. I love this one to bits.

Soulmate of the Century - Nightmare!Sans/Reader - Oneshot

The sillies. Really silly. Super cute.

Black Coffee Isn’t Too Bitter - Swapfell!Sans/Reader - Oneshot

Black sends Chara and Mutt to tell a human he likes them. They do a spectactularly bad job at it, but someone better than when he goes in to tell them himself. It works out somehow.

Red and the Bitty - Underfell!Sans/Reader - Oneshot

The title says Bitty, but it’s Red who’s the giant. You get sacrificed to the big bad monster and he’s an ass about it. Somehow, still pretty cute.

=========================

MISC. READER INSERTS

For the non-romantic/platonic fics that are still reader inserts.

Bitty Reader Adventures -Various & Reader - Ongoing/Unfinished

THE bitty reader fic. Series of fics. Whatever. The OG!!! I used to reread these all the time and I still like em :]

Help, I've Fallen Into a Surveillance State and I Can't Get Up! - Reader is a Sans/OC, Platonic Relationships - Ongoing/Unfinished

Yes, there is one chapter so far. Yes, it is 17k words long.

I am so fucking obsessed with this fic. It’s got trope subversion, absolutely amazing worldbuilding, snappy writing, black comedy and light-hearted normalcy in the face of horrors, paired with just enough serious introspection to balance it out?? WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT. I want to eat this fic whole. Also there is lovely art ;>

Street Kitty - Platonic Reader Insert - Ongoing/Unfinished

YOU’RE A KITTY. You menace Sans. You are literally the best cat.

Pieces - Platonic Reader Insert - Ongoing/Unfinished

I need to reread this again, but this was another one that ingrained itself into my bones. You wake up as a flower (like Flowey) and you essentially turn into Frisk’s guide. Love this fic to bits.

Monsters Should Be Cute! - Bitty Sans & Reader - Finished

Pumpkin is a menace and I love him. The undefined-other-reader-dash-underling is also a great character.

Oops, I have a Naga - Naga Bitty Sans & Reader - Finished

Sweet fic !!!!! Real cute! You have a naga now! A naga with TRAUMA.

Tib and Rib – Sans & Papyrus & Reader – Ongoing/Unfinished

This one has me crying and weeping. BLASTER BOYS. On account of the power dynamics here being messed up, this is more a platonic/QPP kinda deal. They hurt so much but they are recovering!!! It updated while I was writing this! Let me go cry!!

Honey, I’m in the mafia. – Platonic Reader Insert – Ongoing/Unfinished

Hi mossy. You thought I would include the fic you wrote inspired by my own fic?? THINK AGAIN. This fic is freakin hilarious. You have to babysit Mafiafell!Sans and Papyrus who are young teens. This can only go well.

(I actually read it the other day but realised I didn't leave kudos. djfgfgkjkajsdkjsd)

Up in the Attic – Platonic Reader Insert – Ongoing/Unfinished

You’re a kid who lives in the Swapfell’s attic. They become your guardians :D

=========================

NON-READER INSERTS

You thought I was DONE? HAHAHA ha. I had to include these.

One by One – Finished

… (Knock, knock, knock)

If you need an indication as to how much I love this fic; I wrote out the last line on a blackboard and that remained on my wall for at least 5 years. It’s since been rubbed off, but I can still recite it to this day.

Cathartic AND beautiful. I've read this many times and also tried to copy-paste by hand into a word document before I realised Ao3 had a download feature.

Day to Day and One by One’s sequel, Truant similarly demolished me.

Brothers Beyond Bonedaries - Finished

Another fic which I haven’t read in years but really should. Both Sans and Papyrus are fallen humans who die and then...? Well go read it and find out ;]

How to raise your bitty - Finished (?)

Don’t have a brother? Storebought Adopted is fine! AKA. Razz (SF!Sans) gets a bitty named Slim (SF!Papyrus). I love it dearly. Again, it’s a series, so the series is technically unfinished, but each individual fic is complete.

The Planet Sanses - Ongoing/Unfinished

REALLY fun concept- what if Blue recruited the Bad Sanses to also help out when the other Star Sanses are busy. Thus the Bad Sanses become!! THE PLANET SANSES. The rest of the series is also fun- I liked the first fic, Blood Moon the most though :]!!

Remembrance - Finished

Some old-school Papyrus angst. This one is the first Undertale fic I bookmarked and thus holds an important place in my heart. Papyrus is so so so sad.

Appreciation for Honesty - Finished

AND WHAT’S THIS? MORE PAPYRUS ANGST? You can really see I was going through it back then. This one similarly broke my heart. You ever think about how many lies Papyrus is told? He does.

Flowey Is Not A Good Life Coach - Finished

[Warning: Contains Dark/Heavy Content.]

*Deep breath* Okay so. This is pure whump. Papyrus gets hurt. He gets hurt and it gets better but oh my goodness gracious does he get hurt.

If you want to read about Papyrus getting broken (in more ways than one) then you should read this fic. If you don’t, then go read one of the other fics I’ve linked that have nicer themes. Something funny. Or cute.

The Pap Chat Logs – Finished

[Warning: Contains Dark/Heavy Content.]

Read these if you want to be SAD. These are mostly chatlogs from an old discord server (that I actually joined and never talked in) which all deal with a great amount of PAPYRUS ANGST. Please note that these talk about a lot very very heavy content. Read the tags and click away if you need to.

In particular, I’d recommend Deitale and "The Great Papyrus" is an Excellent Host- the latter has also been turned into a comic! (Which you should also read, if you haven’t already)

=========================

And there we are! I ran out of links! Not as in I don't have more fics I want to add to this list, but rather tumblr only allows you to add 100 links. Augh. Suffering.

But I don't want to end it on such an angsty note!!! SO... the only logical course of action is to link...

SAUCY FICTION!! - Finished

[Warning: EXPLICIT!!!!! Talk about dicks and boobs!!!]

The only fully explicit fic I will link here. It is the funniest thing I’ve read in my life. Also, there’s a comic of it. I never need to read anything else in my entire life ever.

Wait, there’s a sequel-

=========================

This list in theory is much longer, but I was forcibly cut short by tumblr's limit to 100 links per post. Theoretically I could do a reblog and add more, but I've already gone on long enough. Tumblr Is barely letting me save this post as is ^^"

Also, I'm terrible at remembering to bookmark fics I like, so there's probably a ton I missed!!! :( Not to mention a few have been deleted since I last went and looked :< snowflakeimagines' Meet Ugly series... I would have added you to my list if I could.

There were a bunch of "weirder" fics that didn't make the cut, but this is still a pretty comprehensive list of fics I like :]

If any of yall have recommendations... hand them over. I have gone through the entirety of the reader insert tags, but somehow I still miss things.

Thank you for reading ;3c!!

[shirohige-pirates]

Birds of a Feather

CisFem Reader x Marco

CW: Violence, blood, language, adult themes and scenes. 18+ only

Summary: Life has not been kind to you. After a string of bad relationships, you're a little jaded and a little depressed in all honestly. The worst day of your life seems to be the turning point, but the roller coaster ride that follows could either throw you soaring free, or have you caged forever?

Chapter 5: Nameless Firebird

“I really appreciate this.” You feel a little like a broken record at this point, but you’re not sure what else you can say. “I feel like I’m managing to show you all my worst traits like some gallery of flaws.”

He chuckles a little, the sound slipping over you soothingly. “You’ll have to be far more direct, Miss (Y/N) if you’re trying to run me off, yoi.”

You feel the rush coil in your stomach a little and laugh nervously. “Ah, haha, yeah I have no qualms about being direct, I promise.”

“You sleep at your office often?” He prompts, shifting the conversation as he turns off the main streets and heads toward your place.

“Not enough to have my own apartment key or anything,” you answer teasingly. “But often enough the owner brought in breakfast for me this morning.”

“It’s good to have a boss that looks out for you like that.” He muses, and you can see the smirk on his face as you laugh.

“Ah, like one who picks up five drinks on his own to keep his staff happy?” You prompt.

“Vet staff operate on coffee and purring kittens.” He assures you.

Oh, to be a purring kitten. You muse to yourself, imagining how you could fit at least six kittens on his shoulders. Eight, if his shoulders weren’t so relaxed.

His car pulls into your, thankfully empty, driveway and you step out as he puts the car in park. He doesn’t make a move to exit so you duck down and look over at him.

“Come inside.” You say, not offering up a choice so much as making a demand. “I’m certain you’re enough of a gentleman you’ll stay put in the living room while I get cleaned up and changed.”

You see his ear go red from your current viewpoint and he smiles. “There’s no easy way to argue that, yoi.” He says with a smile, pulling the keys free of the ignition and stepping out of the car.

You smile as you lead him up to the front door. “More efficient when there’s no room left for argument.”

He chuckles at the statement as you open the door. Wooden floors, a more modern design, and not much aside from basic furniture and some sparse decorations. Your home was a little spartan, but you didn’t really spend much time at home, so you hadn’t seen much of a reason to really dive into it.

It was functional. Functional enough to play host to a dozen people if needed, but any more than that and you’d have to rent extra chairs and maybe consider paper plates.

“Let me start up some coffee before I hop in the shower.” You offer, heading to the kitchen. “The TV’s single remote controlled, I just have a basic package, but you’re welcome to watch something.”

“It’ll be nice to enjoy the quiet,” he assures you. “You don’t have to make coffee just for me.”

“Mm, well, I’m currently all out of kitten purrs, so this’ll have to do.” You say with a smile, pulling down a couple of mugs. “Some fresh coffee will be nice after my shower anyway, so it’s not just for you.”

“In that case, I gladly accept.” He chuckles softly, staying at the edge of the kitchen. “It’s a nice place you have here.”

“Thanks. It was one of the first places built, we had to gut it and rebuild it just before I moved in. Don’t compliment the cleanliness of it,” you say with a smile. “I pay for a service. Or do compliment it,” you add. “They do a great job.”

You point to a sky-blue mug. “You can use this one when the coffee’s ready. There’s sugar, and some creamer in the fridge, but I don’t think you’ll need them.”

“Oh?”

“Mm, two black coffees,” you say, giving him a grin. “Starsky and Hutch don’t strike me as coffee aficionados, your receptionist was probably the macchiato, and for completely different reasons I bet you and the laconic vet both prefer black coffee.”

The look of surprise on Marco’s face turns to a smile and then he laughs. “That’s pretty impressive, yoi.” Those hooded blue eyes of his catch your gaze, and for a split second you can almost feel something akin to talons wrapping around you, but the sensation passes as swiftly as it struck.

“What would those different reasons be, I wonder?”

You grin mischievously for a second before walking toward him, and then patting him on the arm before you continue walking by. “Gonna take that shower now, I hope you enjoy the coffee, Dr. Marco.”

You walk down the hall to your room, stepping inside and closing the door behind you before you exhale into the room.

“Hhhhholy hells.” You sigh into the room, your heart pounding in your chest. You’d flirted before, with more people than just Kid, who had – admittedly – been the center of your verbal jousts for some time. Dealing with Marco wasn’t like finding a new opponent, it was like you’d moved into an entirely new bracket and were scrambling.

You had a sinking feeling that what control you thought you were holding onto was simply out of the man’s benevolence. That relaxed posture of his, the easy way he did everything and the quiet confidence that rolled off of him were dangerous. They were comfortable, and comforting for that matter. It was almost like you were floating peacefully on the water’s surface, completely unaware of the shark swimming by a few feet below.

When Kid pulled you in you knew you were getting tugged. But with Marco…

He could knock on your door and ask to join you for your shower, and you wouldn’t say no. You didn’t even let Kid past your front door for months when you two first started dating. It wasn’t a matter of whether or not you trusted him, so much as the act of letting him into your house was equal to letting him into your bedroom.

That’s just how it was between the two of you.

The tension was going to kill you. The desire was going to get you into trouble. You almost wanted to just poke your head out into the hall and ask him to leave. He would. He would with little more than a thank you for the coffee and a tilt of his head.

You’d never see him again. You were certain of it. That’s all the push it would take, and he would be gone, and if you came into the animal hospital, things would be in your control. Professional or confessional.

How easy it would be, to let your desires pass your lips and have that first, sweet, tentative – gods no it wouldn’t be tentative. It would be so soft and sure and –.

You bang your head on the side of the shower. The only thing stopping you from braining yourself into unconsciousness is that there’s only one person who would find you passed out with a welt on your forehead, and honestly you had shown enough of your ass to him already.

Rather your ass was about the only thing you hadn’t shown him. Right now you weren’t too keen on the idea because you really didn’t want that first time to be a collection of unfortunate events like your first meeting had been.

Though, had it really been that unfortunate? Aside from effectively saving that dog, you did meet someone who saw you puke before he even heard your name, and was interested in getting to know you. Seemed interested? Had to be interested.

You level a sharp stare at absolutely no one and nod your head. This is not some sort of misunderstanding. He’s not simply being nice, or polite. There are several ways he could repay your, uh, kindness? That didn’t involve taking you out to dinner.

You really felt as though the entire series of events had left things level and settled. There was, as far as you were concerned, nothing truly left owed one way or another.

Pulling a t-shirt on to go with the cargo jeans you’d already slipped into, you towel dried your hair one more time before walking back out into the living room.

Marco was standing in your living room, looking out the large windows that gave a nice view of the backyard and forest beyond. He was sipping coffee from the sky-blue mug you had indicated to him earlier and apparently, truly, just enjoying the quiet.

“See anything good?” You prompted, pouring a cup of coffee for yourself.

“A few rabbits and some birds.” He admits, turning toward you. “It’s quite the relaxing view.”

“Mm, houses close enough together I know the neighbors by sight, city far enough away there’s a few good hours every day where you don’t hear a single car.” You take a drink of coffee. “Perfect.”

“Your coffee is very good.” He says with a smile, drinking the last of his. “Is there anywhere you’d like to go for dinner?”

“Mm, there are a few places I like.” You admit, smiling at him after you take another drink.

He gives you an expectant look for a moment and then smiles. “Ah, I’m being left on my own.”

“You’re paying the entire tab,” you jab. “It’s only fair you choose. Ah, but still nothing fancy.” You add hastily and are rewarded with another amused smile.

“We have plenty of time still, I would love that look under the hood.” You are being a bit of a brat, but it’s refreshing to tease someone who takes it in stride.

“It would be my pleasure, yoi.”

The two of you get your shoes on, but you forego your coat for now. Marco pops the hood for you and holds it up. You look for the arm to keep it up and quickly realize it either doesn’t exist or broke at some point.

“No arm has to make working on it a pain,” you say leaning in the other side and looking around. It’s almost immaculate inside the engine.

“Had a custom hydraulic arm, but it gave out a couple weeks ago, yoi. Ace nearly decapitated himself forgetting that it was busted so I took it out until the replacement comes in.” He explains.

“Ace is?”

“The youngest.” He says and you give a soft ah, as you keep peering around.

“How often do you clean this engine?”

“Two or three times a year, yoi.” He answers, shifting a bit and resting the hood more on his shoulder. “I’ll rinse the snow and salt off in the winter every day if it’s bad enough, but my brothers help. They’ll wash it pretty often and I just fill in the gaps.

“It was Pops’ car first, so everyone looks out for it, even if I’m the only one that really drives her.” He admits.

“He took good care of her before you inherited it.” You say, coming around closer to where Marco was. “That engine isn’t original, but that’s not surprising.”

“You really like cars.” He muses.

You smile and chuckle a little. “I like old cars.” You clarify. “Seeing how things were, how they’ve progressed. There’s a challenge in keeping something going that isn’t easy to find parts for. I mean, sadly, my car’s in the shop getting the overhaul of its life. But that old girl was mostly rust and dreams when I bought her.”

“I look forward to seeing her.” He says and you realize you’re practically up against him, having shifted all the way around the hood.

Marco moves enough to let you get by him. He’s so tall he’s able to arch over you and keep hold of the hood.  You’re grateful you left your coat in the house, you’d be sweating right now if you had it on.

“Me too. Much as I like old cars, my practical knowledge is completely useless. I can’t restore her, or fix her, so I have to rely on a trusted mechanic.” You admit with a little irritation in your voice.

“Not a friend?”

“Merf.” You make a noncommittal noise, and finally step back letting Marco lower the hood. “Kid’s not not a friend, but he’s a trusted mechanic before much else. We were kind of like a car with square tires.” You muse, giving a clipped laugh. “As long as one of us was on edge, we could go forward. It gave a false sense of functionality.”

“And now?”

“Mm, to keep with the analogy, now we each have our own cars. He’s got Victoria – and I do mean a car – and I have my old Firebird.”

“A nameless Firebird, huh?” Marco prompts as you turn and meet his gaze. There’s something in his eyes that seems even more intrigued than a few moments ago.

“Even if she had one,” you start, heading back toward the house. “After all the work Kid’s going to do to her, she’d need a new name.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, in honor of her rebirth or something. A mark of survival, a statement of resilience.” You continue, kicking off your shoes and stepping further into the hallway. “Unless you’re crazy hungry and want to leave right now, I just want to finish my coffee before we go.”

Marco takes off his shoes and follows behind you. “Take your time. Did you have any names in mind, yoi?”

“Well, I could start calling her my phoenix, but that’s a bit on the nose, especially for a Firebird, of all cars.” You say with a laugh. “Maybe I’ll just name her Tori-chan.”

Marco has his hand over his face when you look over at him, his lips pressed together as he takes in a deep breath slowly and lets it out just as slowly.

“You alright?” You question, tilting your head before taking a gulp of your nearly cold coffee. Good as you were at making a cup of coffee, it wasn’t so hot when it was cold.

“I’m having a small crisis.” He admits, lowering his hand enough to look at you over his palm, leaving his mouth covered. “What do you know about devil fruits?”

You raise your eyebrows a little and tilt your head. “More than most, I imagine. People I work with have eaten one. Kid too. They’re not like, walking around with signs around their necks or anything, but Kid’s certainly not shy about his. They taste awful, they’re incredibly rare, but it seems like pockets of devil fruit users end up congregating, almost like the fruits are a draw to one another.”

You set your coffee cup down and lean against the pantry door, folding your arms and looking over at Marco.

“You’ve eaten one as well, I’m guessing.” You state, all the answer you need is in eyes that don’t look away from yours. “It doesn’t bother me, if you’re worried about that. You don’t even have to tell me what it is until you want to.”

“… I appreciate that.” He says heavily, letting his hand drop all the way down. “I haven’t used it since Pops died, and the clinic opened. Well, I haven’t used it openly.”

You’re quiet, lips pressed together for a moment.

“You have questions.” He says, an easy smile on his face again.

“A great many, but I can stow my curiosity.” You assure him, straightening up and smiling brightly. “Dinner, then?”

“It would be my pleasure, yoi.” He agrees, bowing slightly.

[docockbrainrot]

i think i want you (to leave)

Summary: We’re all running from something. Sometimes, metaphorically. Sometimes, literally. Literally running, from the very strangely hypnotizing supervillain that seems hellbent on ruining every bit of your life he can get all eight of his limbs on.

Pairing: Doc Ock X Reader/ Otto Octavius X Reader

Content: Slow Burn, NSFW eventually, 18+

AO3 link here.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5

anathema// former vandal

The next several days are an uneventful blur. You barely leave your apartment, except for brief dog walks and grabbing food from the bodega across the street.

It’s 9 pm on Saturday and you’re fresh out of the shower, tucked away in a very fuzzy robe, lounging on the couch and watching YouTube on your television. You almost miss the subtle taptaptaptap sound coming from your window, you're so engrossed in the cooking show you’ve been binging. Gotta fill the void somehow, right?

You can’t see anything outside from where you’re sitting. The lights are on and make it impossible to peer through the reflections on the glass. Maybe it’s a bird. Or a branch is caught on the fire escape. Either way, you certainly can’t be assed to check it out and you take another sip of your chamomile tea- you’ve been trying everything under the sun, just about short of literally snorting lines of melatonin, to try to sleep better at night. Nothing’s been working. But you have been making a very valiant effort.

A few moments go by and you forget all about the window disturbance until,

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP.

It’s jarring. It’s loud. Above all else, it’s annoying. Chekov spares you a look, like you’re the one making a racket. Effectively exasperated, you make an effort to set, not slam, down your mug, feeling decidedly not Calm and Relaxed as the tea promised. Suppose it’s not miracle shit though, is it? You would not be a good candidate for a horror movie because you fearlessly storm over to the window and throw it open (it wasn’t locked in the first place; you’re quite terrible at remembering to). You stick your head out and glower at whatever irritating mischief is happening out here, ready to rip the fire escape off the side of the brick building.

You’re greeted by something cold and hard (and indubiously metal, judging by how it felt against your sternum) shoving you back into your apartment, sending you sprawling unceremoniously to the hardwood floor. A string of profanities ready to leave your tongue, you sit up and adjust your robe in an attempt to preserve a modicum of your modesty. The rant dies in your throat as red eyed claws grip the threshold of your pre-war window and it’s almost comical the way He maneuvers himself in, far too large to be making these sorts of entrances. Standing up to his full height before you while you’re still sitting dumbfounded on the floor reminds you of just how impressively built he is. You manage to pick your jaw up, but your ass remains firmly planted on the wood.

“Uh… you could have just used the buzzer, dude. I have a front door, you know,” you sputter out, brain blitzing in pretty much every way possible. Your thoughts are racing and eventually they settle on the most important thing you can think to ask in that moment: “... Why aren’t you wearing a shirt.” You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to his broad chest, gaze lingering on the vast scarring that spills out from the metal contraption clamped around his midsection.

Otto very graciously closes the window behind himself. Or at least his little robot accomplices do it for him. You still aren’t sure what’s going on with that- the whole AI thing. Not even a blip on your radar of concerns at this point. “Didn’t want anyone to see me come in. Your building has a camera on the front, facing the street.”

“That’s why you’re shirtless?” You ask dumbly. Interesting method of camouflage. “What? No- what? It doesn’t matter- listen to me. I need you to do something for me. A small favor.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the compromised position he put you in. Typical. Gathering up your broken pride, you get up and tighten the tie of your robe a bit. It isn’t until then that he has the decency to look a smidge embarrassed and you hope you didn't just give him a free show on your way to getting to your feet. “You literally just broke into my apartment and now you’re asking for a favor? We barely know each other!”

“Less complicated when there's nothing personal involved yet, plus- you let me in,” he corrects you. You wish he would stop doing that. You wish he would stop meeting with you like this, under weird and mysterious circumstances. Even though it's only been like twice. You're already over it.

“You threw me across the room!”

“Touche.”

Otto does not apologize and you did not sincerely expect him to. The look on his face reads more like the cat that got the canary than regretful. You feel as though you’ve come to recognize that expression on his face and you also feel as though you don’t much like the fact that you’ve enough encounters with this man that you can recognize a damn thing about him. “What… could you possibly need me to do for you? I am not robbing a bank.” You just want to get that out into the open as soon as possible.

“I don’t need your help robbing a bank,” he snorts as if the idea is preposterous and you take a moment to feel insulted. Wow. Okay. You could totally rob a bank if you wanted to. Deciding to not comment on your wounded ego, you let him get to the point. Otto pulls something out of his inner coat pocket. It's some kind of rolled up paper and you think at first maybe it's a newspaper or magazine. He unfurls it onto the coffee table and holds it open with two metal claws on either side so it doesn't ravel itself back up.

You realize it's a blueprint. "This is… Oscorp," you point out stupidly, brow furrowing in confusion. There's levels to what's happening here. Layers upon layers, melding together with rot and decay and you can all but smell it. But there's something missing, something that would tie all of the wackjob shit that's been happening to you and around you together. It feels like when you have a very particular thought and then walking into another room makes it dissolve from your head. You're trying to grasp for it, to fit the puzzle pieces together, but it's just out of reach.

"Yes. It is. I have a small task I need you to do," Otto starts off, metal phalanges pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head as he looks over at you. For the first time, you can see his eyes in the light. The warm amber feels like a mockery- you have seen his cruelty in action.

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?" Of course he'd say that.

Your fingertips brush against the metaphorical wayward chain link. It's right there. You just have to grab it and pull it back to you, like the anchor of a ship before it can set sail.

He's talking. You aren't listening. He's tracing a finger over the schematics. You don't see it. Realization washes over you in a heart-dropping tsunami. The voicemail you got from Oscorp plays like a broken record in your mind. 'Hello, Y/N. We're calling in regards to your employment status here at Oscorp. Unfortunately, due to a breach of security, we are having to make staffing cuts and are going to have to let you go. We appreciate your time and effort and wish you the best of luck in your next endeavor.' It didn't make sense at the time. A lot of things didn't. You replay the scene of poor David, desperately pleading for his life at the hands of the man hunched over here, just in your living room. You mentally re-run it over and over like bad 80s sitcoms on late night television.

"Lab Coat Guy…"

You don't realize you whispered it out loud until Otto goes silent.

"What?"

You slowly look at him and take a single step backwards, shaking your head. The company embroidered on David's lab coat hadn't been clear to you in the moment- but it's crystal in hindsight. Oscorp. "You got me fired." Your tone is flat, until anger flashes through you, like a streak of lightning through a dark, moonless sky, illuminating all of things that didn’t make sense before.

"It doesn't matter. What I need you to do-" He's so nonchalant, so blasé that it only stokes the embers of frustration until there's a roaring blaze burning beneath your skin. It's all about him, what he needs, what he wants. He has the nerve, the audacity, to keep traipsing into your life, kicking you while you're down and then ask for favors? You want to say all of that to him but unfortunately for you, you're an angry crier. Your outburst of bravery at him the last time you saw each other had surprised even you- but now there's so much more emotion roiling around inside you.

"No. No, no. Fuck you. You got me fired! I can't- I can't not have a job, I have to pay rent! You could get me arrested for just talking to you!" Oscorp had you canned to tie up any potential loose ends before anymore Davids could slip through the cracks. You think about how scared the poor dude must have been, threatened into stealing blueprints from the biggest corporation in the city, for one of the most infamous criminals. You don't know how they found out you were even remotely involved and you don't want to know.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and once the floodgates have opened you're very familiar with how long it's going to take to close them again. After all you've been bottling this up since you found out, too disappointed to even tell any of your friends or family.

Otto appears taken aback, to say the least. He even looks like he's at a loss for words; that's a first. You know he could kill you where you stand in the blink of an eye, but in that moment you don’t even care. You’ve been trying so hard for so long to get on your feet, to do things for yourself and get away from the past. You moved across the country, you left everything behind, you got a damn dog. It seems like every time you manage to take a step forward in life, you’re knocked flat on your ass, apparently literally sometimes. It isn’t fair. Things don’t come easily to you, you’ve always had to work for them. You aren’t wealthy, you aren’t a supergenius, you’re just… you. The job at Oscorp was good money and you really felt like you were getting your shit together for a while.

“They’re not who you think they are,” he says finally, so calmly, with such carefulness about his words, that you sniffle pathetically and look up at him. He doesn’t look nearly as pleased with himself as you thought he might. And here you’ve been, under the impression that he gets off on hurting people. “Oscorp. I’m not… I’m not just doing this for me. You have to understand that.”

The schematics are furled up and tucked away. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes. Maybe it’s just the tears that blur your vision, but you swear you see a softness there before they’re hidden away again by his glasses.

He lingers at the window.

“I hope you’ll reconsider.” And then he was making his exit, even taking care to gently close the window on the way out. But he raps on the glass with his knuckles from where he stands on the fire escape and you know the look of confusion on your tear-streaked face speaks for itself. Otto points to the latches on the window. ‘Lock it.’ He mouths before he’s gone, presumably to wreak havoc and harass other unsuspecting young women that don’t want anything to do with him.

You thought everything had come together- but the more sense you make of it, the less you seem sure of the bigger picture. You aren't even sure exactly what he wanted you to do.

You’re left with an endless bounty of questions, and not enough answers to satisfy any of them.

[iffeelscouldkill]

Uplifting TSCOSI fics: a rec list

Because I think we could all use a few after the latest episode XD

(I meant to put this together sooner, but it’s been a Big Tired few days. Hopefully it’s still somewhat timely!)

Below is a list of uplifting, fluffy, funny and feel-good TSCOSI fics that I personally have enjoyed and can rec! Since we don’t have a lot of rec lists in this fandom (I don’t actually think I’ve yet seen one?) I feel like I should state upfront that this is not meant to be a Definitive List in any way, shape or form, and just only reflects my personal taste and the fics that I have read!

To keep this list at least somewhat constrained, I’m only adding fics from pre-2020 (which newer members of the fandom might not have come across), so these are all set pre-season 2.

I would love others to reblog this and add their recs too (from any time period)!

feel my heart against yours by Macremae - Violet/Arkady, super fluffy post-episode ... three? I think? fic with a drunkenly affectionate Violet. Fun fact, this was the first TSCOSI fic ever posted to AO3!

fly towards a secret sky by blommowitch - Violet/Arkady, one of my all-time favourite TSCOSI fics. The Rumor crew are docked on a safe planet, Violet and Arkady explore a market, and then there’s a confrontation with some space Nazis. Bit of a warning for street fighting and a suppressed panic attack (Violet’s), but it’s super feel-good, I swear <3

unfold your own myth by blommowitch - Violet/Arkady feat. Violet in a tank top and Arkady being Officially Too Gay To Function. And there’s bonding over Rumi poetry!

A Ring and a Plan by Ehlana - Brian/Krejjh, Brian has a Plan to propose to his would-be spowz, but you know what they say about the best-laid plans... Super fluffy, adorable and hilarious, this is an all-time favourite. <3

Bold Deceiver by marginalia - Violet/Arkady, Violet and Arkady go undercover as a married couple. Featuring femme!Arkady and Violet in menswear :D

Rather Be by knightinbrightfeathers - Five times Violet missed the Iris (the original Iris), and one time she didn’t. This has soooo many good headcanons and scenarios (like Krejjh burning their mouth on overly spicy snacks) and sort of lives in my head rent-free XD Also an all-time fave. Look, I can have as many as I want XD

if that red string could bite by jaggedwolf - Violet/Arkady, SOULMATE GOOSE OF ENFORCEMENT. SOULMATE GOOSE OF ENFORCEMENT!!!! Look - just read it. You won’t regret it. It’s hilarious.

helpless to the bass and the fading light by earlymorningechoes - Violet/Arkady, this is another fantastic entry into the Violet Liu in Menswear agenda. There’s an undercover job, dancing, and *Piper Tanaka voice* chemistry

‘cause i don’t want you like a best friend by earlymorningechoes - Violet/Arkady, I’ll just quote from the summary for this one: “Violet joins Sana on a quiet market run when they find a safe port, and makes a purchase that gets under Arkady’s skin." ADORABLE!!!!!!

Nighttime Stories by Vivien - Brian/Krejjh, this is another one that honestly lives rent-free in my head. Brian can’t sleep, and Krejjh talks to him, describing a Dwarnian... ceremony? event? called the Night of Ritual. The description is just spine-tinglingly beautiful <333 Also, Jewish!Brian before Jewish Brian was officially canon.

Little Truths by myhomeistheshire - Sana/Campbell, Sana volunteers to watch Campbell’s nephews at short notice. Absolutely too cute for words, I love this one.

Sleep is a Conspiracy to Make You Buy More Pyjamas by gostaks - Brian/Krejjh, a collection of scenes from different points in their relationship, mostly revolving around Krejjh getting their head around odd human behaviours like the need for regular sleep. And romantic tandem eating! :D

as happy as they understand happiness by reconditarmonita - Sana/Violet/Arkady <3 Sana, Violet and Arkady watch opera (Der Rosenkavalier), and there’s pining followed by a very cute conversation <3

We’ll just have to get creative by beejones - Violet/Arkady, Arkady surprises Violet with a Significant Meal on board the Iris 2.

What If Cuddles by pancakesforbreakfast - Violet/Arkady, Violet realises that touch is one of Arkady’s love languages and starts making a point of showing tactile affection :3 Super fluffy!

Huggy Drunks by jaggedwolf - Violet/Arkady, Violet gets tipsy during a we-survived-Plan-B! drinking party, and it turns out she’s a huggy drunk :D

[dariadraws]

It’s beautiful. Like stained glass come alive. Someone has climbed up into the fountain and is weaving a halo for the statue St. Michel out of sparkling silver light. Another man is sitting on the lip of the fountain, playing the guitar. Every note sends soft violet light streaming off the strings. There are only a handful of people participating but they make the square look like a painting.  

Awash with red in the middle of a Parisian square, Enjolras starts to laugh.

Hey @kvothes​ it’s no longer your birthday anymore but i hope you still enjoy this illustration of the Place Saint-Michel scene that has been living in my head rent-free for literal years at this point! the entire Witchboy series is a masterpiece but this specific scene just really stuck with me, and i hope i did it justice :)

[icecreamkink]

watched all of the untamed / cql in two weeks after my friend 1 told me abt mdzs a hundred years ago and my friends 2 and 3 tried to get me into cql for like two whole years and there are.

feelings.

very first scene is a very dramatic death in the middle of nightmare battle on sith planet land . i will forget abt it in the next tenish episodes and then will be very surprised when it becomes Extremely Painful

anyway magic flying gays and possession and human sacrifice! we are off to a great start

in retrospect, chaos goblin wei wuxian must have had a blast pretending to be so cRaZy and be as disruptive as he could as mo xuanyu lbr

listen. why is fire always evil coded. cant a magic clan wear red, black and orange and have flame motif while being wholesome?

For Legal Reasons These Are Not Zombies

i wish the politics of the sect were a bit clearer, especially at the beggining when the wen clan had sm power, was wen ruohan the chief cultivator? is that why they were so slow in responding to the attacks? im v confused by the pre yiling patriarch politics

fighting in the roof by the moonlight as way of flirtiiiiiiing. as i understand this is a wuxia/xianxia trope and honestly...... thank u for ur service

slight bullying and being a nuisance in general, as a way of flirting we love to see it

wwx: if i drink on the rooftop, thats not inside the cloud recesses! hmmm check and mate :D lwj: i will fuck u up so help me god   wwx: :0

i lov them

through hell or high water (quite literally) wei wuxian rem ains a trashfire gremlin till the end and i love him with my whole heart

in the pt subs wei wuxian calls jiang cheng a stubborn duck and i dearly wish that had come back

my opinions on almost every character goes from love to hate u - Hmm Me Like U - BABY. ILY. and i am Very Pleased w that. its been a while since i loved such a complete cast so much i think

no really. i WONT go into a detailed rant abt what i love about each of these characters and each of their relationships to each other. but i COULD. 

some lan disciples in the loudest whisper ever: YEAH THATS THE JIN BASTARD MENG YAO HEARD THE GOT SUPER HUMILIATED BY HIS DAD LOL SURE HOPE HE DOESNT TAKE SLIGHTS TO HIS CHARACTER TO HEART

lan xichen, immediately: i must Love him 

being into problematic ppl is in the Lan genetics, we come to realize

wen qing deserves so many awards for so many things but not snapping and just stabbing wen chao is at the top 

that scene at lan qirens class where wwx talks about using resentful energy to fight a violent spirit. exquisite.

 It establishes Good Student lan wangji, wei wuxian as curious and questioning and not afraid of taboo,  lwj sees that wwx is not, in fact, a dumb ass hes just a Dumbass,  shows us the audience (esp. a western audience) how shocking the idea of disrupting the dead/dying and controlling resentful energy actually is,  the theoretical foreshadow arguing, everyone else like ‘shUT UP’,  “and how could you ensure that the resentful energy would obey you and not hurt other?” “well i havent thought that far” and of course, lan qiren just straight up lobbing a hard object at wwx head,. chefs kiss

fellas is it gay to bother the hot rule obessessed nerd from ur school and make drawings of him with flowers in his hair and then hide gay porn in his book to antagonize him and ask him to hold ur hand and be ur friend and talk to him all the time and get him drunk and give him bunnies bc you know he likes them and give him a lantern and always want his attention and dedicate yourself to getting him to smile-

and after all of that wwx rly said oh i Admire him, aksd like yeah we all were there in high school buddy

i have Learned. caves = gay.

 accidental marriage +beint physically tied together with the sacred married ribbon+ gay panic+foreshadowing+bunnies! in the cave (1)

the story abt lan yi and baoshan sanren tho. i would like to see it

early days wen bros pull my heart strings like a guqin 

EVERYTHING about the lantern scene; disaster hets jiang yanli and jin zixuan; how wwx made lwj a bunny lantern. how soft and touched lwj was. wwx gleefully pointing out he was smiling and lwj IMMEDIATELY PULLING HIW SWORD ON HIM LMAO. tragically foreshadowy promises to do right by pepople, living without regrets. lwjs 'oh no do i love him??' face. just. all of it. 

i have it on good acc that in the novel lwj is explicitly Repressed Gay Panicked Big Horny which is delightful and rly Adds to the performance

 baby lwj is really just conceal dont feel dont let them know u have EMOTIONS (derogatory)

jiang cheng rly went "why dont.u go play with HIM if u like him so much"

jc and wwx have big BIG annoying sibling energy dont think too hard abt it or youll cry

lotus pier is soo pretty :((((((((((((((((

up until episode 13 you could think this could be a magical ancient chinese gays pride n prejudice w swords and shenanigans ................youre just not prepared for the game of thrones of it all

seriously ha ha ha i cried so much w this show my eyes genuinely swelled up . like. physically. fun timez fun timez

that being said, its hilarious that wen xu goes to cloud recesses like 'come out or ill kill all these hostages' and then DOESNT WAIT FOR AN ASWER AND KILLS THEM ALL IMMEDIATELY. do u know how blackmail works sir

 would like to make it recorded that from day one i was like 'CALL A GODDAMN CULTIVATION G20 THIS ASSHOLE SECT IS LITERALLY MASSACRING YALL!!' and it took them like 3 or 4 massacres to do anything and they STILL sent their heirs into their territory  LIKE

when wwx cites the gusu lan rules to wen chao tho. that rebel/attention whore/cutie pie 'look lan zhan i DID memorize the rules after all' ‘also a big fuck you to the wen sect :D :D’ sweet spot that scene achieves . delicious

all the cultivator young masters being petty af even though they are practically prisoners at the cave is hilarious and i love them

hurt and comfort + gay mistunderstandings + watsonian gay declaration music + accidental evil acquisition! at the cave (2)

its like where do i start? the fact theyre both trapped and kind of heavily injured inside an isolated cave with a murder turtle? wwx gay panicking lwj into coughing up bad blood? lwj being jealous as wwx babbles abt mianmian? telling him he shouldnt play with people and wwx saying he never played him? wwx going Oh. I See what is happening. YOU like mianmian, and lwj absolute done face ??? (iconic) wwx touching the sacred married ribbon Again? the telepathic communication? the sword? WEI WUXIAN ASKING LAN WANGJI TO SING TO HIM AS HE IS PASSING OUT AND LWJ SINGING HIM. THE SONG. HE WROTE. FOR WWX. AND THAT HE CALLED. THEIR SHIP NAME????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

they are SO insufferable pleeeeease

in the words of my friend 1 : “CQL is so gay we were all amazed how it got past the censors Ofc unfortunately it can't be novel level gay But they did their best And we love them for it”

in the theme of songs THIS OST. WUJI HAS BEEN LIVING IN MY MIND RENT FREE SINCE I FIRST HEARD IT the whole ost is so so sO beautiful.

 the costuming in this is also soooo exquisite. the embroidery? the fabrics? the details? how every sect and clan has a distinct style and architecture? (also ik they based each off of dif periods in chinese history which is REALLY fucking cool) just chefs kiss

the direction too!. i enjoy the unusual camera movements and i think they give it that Vibe, also their composition is PARTICULARLY good when it comes to telling the subtext through position of camera/position of character (like nhs off to the side in scenes he at first glance doesnt need to be/ how lwj is often centered when hes Jealous Yearning at wwx being affectionate w other ppl, wwx return from burial mounds etc)

ik madam yu is like Badass Milf Check and shes not getting any mom of the year awards but im delighted at how messy she is. IMAGINE that woman on tiktok

you better have enjoyed gay cave (2) bc its Just Pain from here on out! 

jiang fengmian and madame yu win the Most Dramatic Way to show they do care about each other, actually ..... ever :)

i thought jiang yanli jiang cheng and wei wuxian forcing themselves to escape yunmeng barely holding on after their parents are killed was going to be the height of pain in this show. ha. 

the family dynamics in general on this showwwww, both blood/ adopted/ found families, brotherly bonds and lifelong friendships just. rly. truly. fucked me up. theyre all so important and complicated and well rounded and beautiful and tragic

and beyond being a Win For the Gays im so glad the relationships w wwx and jiang yanli/ wen qing were NOT changed from platonic bc they are so much better like that imo. like maybe if we didnt Live In A Society it wouldnt be so, but the fact wwx and others can love and value them so much and theres nothing romantic or sexual abt it is like. so refreshing. especially @ jyl, with the way he and jc are overprotective of her and shes such a nurturing/care taker figure for them, it would just not vibe as well if they made it romantic

i love that this is a story abt Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch aka Actual Satan/Boogey Man/Village With/Public Enemy Number One , my dude is literally a necromancer who only dresses in black and has evil smokey black tendrils wafting out of him, but the really edgy one is still jiang cheng, pastel purple fashion icon

and speaking of best/worst siblings wei wuxian and jiang cheng *immediately starts crying* 

The Golden Core Transfer i just. no thots only tears 

wen qing and wen ning putting themselves in so much danger just.... to help them. wn saving jc from wen chao. wq finding a way to get wwx to transfer his core. like thinking about the monumental work these two did to help wwx and jyl and jc... jyl trying so fucking hard to be strong and keep on moving and giver her little brothers comfort after losing everything... jiang cheng. losing his parents and his home and his ability to do anything abt it and his complete desperation and lack of self worth and turning on them with agression  when he didnt realize all that they did for him ... hhhhhhhhhhhhh

me, pointing at the whole cast “i just LOVE them mom!!!”

its sad tho, that BARELY ANY of the women have like.... actual important conversations let alone relationships with each other at all in the story. and like wq and jyl have stayed at the same place for extended periods of time, where wq actively took care of her TWICE,  and still! not one measly convo, nothing! ................ .𝓌ₕᵧ

everyone in this show need a good sip of Self Worth and Stop Sacrificing Yourself juice 

ngl the sword flying looks very dumb 

“a-cheng, please bring a-xian back.” “i will, i promise.” ;-;

the whole calling each other by the More Intimate Version of the name, first as teasing and later as true intimacy. mmmhmmm yes

untamed where everythings the same but wwx evil flute song is eoeo

related that scene when wwx comes back from the burial mounds for the first time w demonic cultivation and he acts all formal and calls lwj hanguang-jun and keeps being evasive and distant and mean and soooooo................. facetious 

and how hes kind of desperately trying to keep intense lwj at bay (A FIRST) and avoiding actually talking to either of them and its all tension ughhh and then he MOCKS his and lwjs relationship, he jokes w him in this like... mean echo of their usual ~banter~ oof 

 and like!!! uncertain but so relieved jc who just HUGS him w no reservations for once and its not like he isnt just as worried as lwj abt wwx and what hes doing, but he chooses in that moment to enjoy getting him back first and mmhmMMMmMm yes (maybe my favorite scene in the whole show? MAYBE SO. ) 

highkey hurt me but also. i might be into mean wwx. i will take no criticism.

lan zhans sad eyes tho :((((((((( 

on one hand i wish we could have seen what happened at the burial mounds but on the other the timeskip adds so much flair to his return so im hnnn

also i love that hes been missing for 3 months reappears kinda melancholic and bloodthirsty and knowing malign tricks and jc is like 'so. are u sad bc of lan wangji'

when ur bae survived the war but he thinks ur evil/ might be evil so you cant kiss :///

hmmm talking at the rooftop under the moonlight not mentioning everything that stands between usssss

they are the two jades of lan and we’ll be the two heroes of yunmeng is the type of line u dont even need to know whats gonna happen to know thats gonna be sad

when they fight wen ruoshan at the nightless city i thought that was the battle we see at the first ep and its not and its so easy and theyre all like ‘yayy we won go wwx!’ i was just. SCREAMS WHAT is gonna HAPPEN

so like. post burial mounds/sunshot campaign pre yiling patriarch wwx is like. ultra arrogant, ultra mocking, peak lil shit and it gave me e v e r y t h i n g i wanted

even tho having the wen prisoners at the targets at phoenix mountain and still having wwx and jzx shooting the arrows was???? so.... tone deaf 

wwx: fucking w demonic energy   jyl: he has never done anything wrong in his life, ever <3 <3 (mood)

the parallels between meng yao/wei wuxian (and even xue yang a bit?) are Seen and they are Valid

wwx post burial mounds: can yall SHUT UP abt the goddamn sword (suibian left the chat)

LIKE truly, we talk abt the angst and yearning with wangxian. but what abt wwx and suibian. xianbian / xianqing angst and comfort 100k

take a shot everytime someone coughs up blood

zidian is simply the coolest spiritual weapon rip to suibian and chenqing and bichen and sendou and baixa........ but tis the truth 

cons: everyones families died in a nightmare war! everyones homes burned to the ground! everyone is traumatized! pros: everyone gets cooler clothes and weapons!!

wen ning and a-yuan and yanli bestest babes squad dont touch me rn

everyone: brooding and fighting                                                                wq and jyl: why dont you try some acupunture/drinking some soup and calm down huh? how abt that bitch?? 

showing the battle/massacre at the nightless city first was genius actually bc then everytime we have a cute scene w yunmeng bros and theyre like 'we'll be together forever! uwu' youre like oh. oh no. oh no no no. 

justice vs lawfulness vs means and ends 👁

jc: stay in the right path and practice the art of the sword                        wx: yeah thats not gonna happen chief

my reaction to wwx renouncing to the sect politics to help the wens was just that elmo burning gif in succession

the dramatic rain. wen qing desperately calling out to wen ning. the ghosts/puppets killing the guards. how terrifying wn actually was while wwx was controlling him :( lwj goeing after him to try and stop him and then he just; he Sees him and understands him even if he cant actually do anything about it other than let them go. 

“there must be somewhere in this earth we can go to :(((((((((”

"IF I HAVE TO FIGHT THEM, I'D RATHER IT BE YOU. DYING BY YOUR HANDS WOULD AT LEAST BE WORTH IT." oh my god oh my god oh my goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooddddddd

also lwjs umbrella is white w black smoke.. .  . nice

yiling patriarch / demonic farming burial mounds settlement is like one of my favorite concepts. they an "EVIL" FARMING COMMUNITY LED BY THE VILLAGE WITCH COME ON

they planted TURNIPS and LOTUS FLOWERS and ONE (1) baby and made lanterns and a common hall :(((((((

wen qing and wei wuxian, baddest bitches and genius science best friends i absolutely LOVED to see it. they rly went ‘is anyone gonna sibling/project partner that’ and didnt wait for an answer

both wwx and jyl getting lotus ponds at the burial mounds and in lanling bc they miss lotus pier ;;;;;;;w

;;;;; wish jyl had actually gone into the burial mounds. we were robbed of jyl and wq meeting again and jyl meeting a-yuan and seeing the settlement and the homes and all ;w; at least jc did go, stab wounds and broken arms and all

wwx like... having thrown his whole life away to help the wens (yeah the sect leaders and jin guangshan in particular wanting his stygian tiger amulet was an Element but still) and not.... necessarily regretting it, but grappling with all of the consequences of it... becoming moody and drepressed at times, missing his family and lotus pier and his friends and probably simply missing being around people and causing trouble, extrovert that he is, lashing out at the wens and at a-yuan, just in general the whole messiness of that experience

the way the resentful energy does affect his temperament is rly nice bc its not too in your face,(i mean outside of the Shaky Hands of Rage) but like he clearly has a much lesser control on his anger and impulsivity (tall order) than both before bm and after hes ressurected

on that note A-YUAN BABIEST BABY BOY BEST BOY

lan zhan being like oh hey there wei ying fancy meeting u and our son here. just passing by u know how it is hmmmmMm and then PLOT TWIST having defied orders to go see him and being punished for it. oof;;

 they habent seen each other in like? a year? and now theyre tgt 10 seconds and are already parenting a child together

also lwj rly kneels down in the snow way too much to be healthy

wwx: calm down guyssss i wont lose control of demonic cultivation omgggg  .   spoiler alert: he loses control of demonic cultivation

did u enjoy cute children? good bc now the Real Pain Begins

jiang yanli and jin zixuan rly out there APROPRIATING both disaster gays AND bury ur gays huh ;w;

i KNEW jin lings birthday was gonna fuck something up but the GASP that left my body when wwx lost control of wn and killed jin zixuan .. . . 

im sorry and thank you aaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAaAAAAA 

when wen ning and wen qing were telling wwx their plan i was saying NO NO NO NO NO NO out loud in despair 

also can we talk abt how wq is definetely talking about only the both of them surrending themselves but then? everyone else just surrenders w them? IT MAKES NO SENSE LIKE WHY WOULD THEY what would be the Point

 sometimes there are some pretty gaping jumps in logic and continuity that are just like                     ?          ?

wwx: oh so when you try to murder me its justified but when i survive through dark magic and murder all of you its a "war crime"

unsurprisingly, his most feral, most spiraling moment talking to the sect leaders on the roof and attacking them and even fighting lan zhan is among my favorite scenes... its like, so painful to watch but also   so       thrilling   (and maybe my wen bbs dying arose some resentful energy in me what can i say) 

and its JUST, all they ever wanted was to do good but then... war. and trauma. and hubris. 

jiang cheng on the ground clearly thorn between what to do and feel is a Mood, lets just say

i was already crying when jyl showed up, but if i wasnt-

 i suffered SO MUCH through this series trying to figure out WHY jc would kill wwx. and when i understood. its somehow not as bad as i thought and also MUCH MUCH WORSE

a look into my group chat during the last flashback episodes:

SO ANYWAY. after the BLOOD BATH and RIPPING YOUR HEART OUT and FEEDING IT TO YOU  the untamed goes ‘ayy back to the present!! tu du dud ud du’ 

literally it ends a quarter into an episode and then KEEPS GOING i had to pause and stare blankly at the ceiling for an hour

babie cultivators and detective soulmates . i do need some cute after All of That 

(not that the pain is over LOL)

lwj is significantly less emotionally repressed in the present and its delightful. hes just ALL IN with wwx. and not just in the ‘i would and have killed various men and risked my reputation for you’ but also ‘ur tired here have a drink i brought it up cause i know u like it and it want you to be happy, always’

“when everyone praised me and wanted my power, you were the only one that challenged me. now that everyone hates me and wants me dead, youre the only one that stands by my side.” hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnn 

and just filling in the blanks how lan zhan searched for him. for all of those 16 years he searched for him and was punished for it and raised a-yuan, the only survivor of the burial mounds settlement, as his own in gusu......

and jiang cheng.  being the tough love uncle . having raised the yunmeng jiang clan from the rubble all alone, his whole family dead, some of it on the blame of his own brother, his siblings, his closest friends gone.......and only jin ling there needing his guidance. 

THE PARALLEL BETWEEN JIN LING BEING A LIFELINE FOR JIANG CHENG AND A-YUAN FOR LAN WANGJI AFTER THE BATTLE AT THE NIGHTLESS CITY  

great now i made myself sad

and like . the fact! that lwj and jc dislike each other!!. jc projects blame onto him for wwx both “leaving” him and indirectly causing their families deaths and when hes so consumed by it he makes wwx an enemy, lwj is there now? trying to protect him?? and lwj, who can never understand the pain that wwx , indirectly or not put jc through, but who was right there when jc tried to kill him and will never allow him to hurt wwx again. and how they like. in a way project blame of their tragedies onto each other while dealing with some type of survivor guilt and in their own way still loving wwx through it all???  amd in way its kind of fundamentally selfish but also tragically understandable? and like when u put it against the fact that after he disappears during the sunshot campaign they were looking for him together and fought together??

JUST. THE CHARACTERS. AND THE RELATIONSHIPS IN THIS. MAN. UGH. GOD. 

and like i think thats what makes it so good? its such a sad and painful and violent story, edgy even, but its compelling bc at the center of it there are all of these relationships and different types of love and hope and. :( i love it

enough crying lets talk abt wwx sleeping at the jingshi with lwj and wearing his under garment for a minute 🙏

 jin ling just has that Was Raised by JC energy tho lmao i love him

babie cultivator squad is the perfect ammount of cute and comedic relief while still bearing the weight? of the narrative in a way, both from sizhui and jin lings existences, and also. like. how do i put this. they feel hopeful? they were born after a war, they came of age at a time of relative peace, they dont hold on so closely to the resentments of their parents/father figures, they are specifically shown as more accepting and open minded. and its like.... Hope for the future  

one of the ?? things  i love the most is the fact that the main cast are often in situations where theyre hunted/running but they like. never wear disguises... just going around in their gorgeous expensive clan clothes and hair ornaments and distinctive spiritual weapons.... maybe w a straw hat on, just for kicks

wwx teacher 🥺🥺🥺

so this is why its called Yi City Misery huh

a-qing is such. an icon. im so sad. my girl even knew to leave xys dumb self rotting by the road but no one listens to her thats why theyre all dead or sad 

her and xue yang measuring each other up was so entertaining lmao

 its the funniest thing when hes like. HERES MY SAD STORY. FOR WHY IM A SADISTIC MURDERER. I BROKE MY HAND ONCE. 

like ok someone broke his hand in a horrible way, and like Poverty, i get it but also like.......... that lost the brunt of a proper sob story like, 50 sadistic murders ago bby

and i love that xingchen does not entertain that for a second hes like ‘not ?????? good enough???’ and the best thing is he wasnt even like 'u hadto be the bigger person' or sth but ' well then break that dudes hand back, rip his arm off for i care, what do the rest of us have to do w anything???” 

anjo sensato :(

xue yang is like..... the sexy sadistic evil version of a himbo..... a meanbo...

the fucked upness of xy’s feelings for xxc/ xxc and sl feelings for each other... like my dude literally gave his bf HIS EYES. and xy getting so attached to xxc .... the fucked up fake domesticity.... having him hurt sl..... then desperately trying to bring him back ...................... oof

song lan........... literally had his eyes AND tongue removed, his bfs eyes put in place, was almost killed, turned into a puppet by his bf unknowingly, manipulated by xy, sees his bf killing himself in despair.... and STILL finds the strenght to get up from there, and keep on traveling and helping people and attempting to fix xxcs soul.......... like, my man. damn. 

wangxian looking at songxiao and seeing an Actually more painful parallel for themselves. ft. that Color Coding. 

THE A-YUAN/SIZHUI REVEAL PUNCHED ME IN THE HEART but in a good way for a change

should have know that he would be the Best Boy the cute one w all the braincells

the butterfly AND the bunny lantern. i see how it is

u know is very convenient that no one can see the stark black veins on wen nings neck, ever 

BAT WEN NING 

wns face when lwj comes into wwx room like ‘:0 omg did u two finally get your shit together? good for you master wei good for u’ 

(they didnt) (yet)

DISASTER DRUNK LWJ. JUST. THRUST SOME CHICKENS TO SHOW UR RESSURECTED BAE THAT U LOVE THEM.

i have absolutely no idea WHY they gave lwj the same punishment for fighting his own sect/allies to protect the burial mounds as when they got drunk on cloud recess class days.... like? its such a ... emotional continuity error again

also is lwj gonna get an actual friend besides wwx , ever

mianmian marrying and having a family and a cute life after saying FUCK U AND UR SYSTEM TOO in a much less unhinged and dramatic way than wwx......... fills me w joy

also lol the idea that like. her husband not knowing that shes friends w satan/the boogey man/the village witch is hilarious

i love nie mingjue bc hes the resident Though Guy but also the most dramatic bitch in this show and thats Saying Something

jin ling cant have one uneventful relative can he

the fact that everyone present already knew “mo xuanyu” was wwx at the stairs is so funny, their faces are like ‘oh............ wow. that. sure is a development. shock” 

in the tradition of extremely loud whispers wwx tells lwj with twelve guards standing like one meter away from them: HEY PSH LAN ZHAN PRETEND IM FORCING YOU TO STAY W ME DO IT

oh my god oh my god

the absolute Yearning on his face when he leaves wwx and a-yuan at the burial mounds and refuses to stay for dinner was already Enough but the fact?? they brought it back?? to this declaration of love?? their expressions??????? strike me dead right now just go ahead

lFor Legal Reasons We Cant Kiss but we will have a very sappy declaration of love and trust and look at each other in way that is the actualization of 💞💘💗💖💓💘💞💗💖💘💗💖💕💞

also icb all the sect leaders and guards are standing there watching them say they like like each other with a dozen swords pointing at their neck

i enjoyed the depiction of the fickle public perception and how easily it can be used to scapegoat people. when the sect leaders turn on jgy and wwx knows thats its more for convenience than anything else...

poor lxc is literally like 'oh so when YOUR problematic boyfriend gets called evil its a misunderstanding but when its MY problematic bf-'

ok like i cant get over nmj let jgy play a song that messed with his temperament at all, like maN u KNEW he might be shady wth

wwx: “hey dont say anything bad abt lan zhan hes not an arrogant dick, thats just his face. 

ME ON THE OTHER HAND"

the cultivators as wwx is poking holes in their narrative is literally *nazaré meme*

"wei wuxian-!" "what did i break your leg, too?" not to be problematic but i laughed so hard

not as hard as "you dont have the rank to talk to me " tho

i Enjoy that, over the course of story, wwx sees that... theres nothing truly to Do, but move on. he saw how his arrogance and his mistakes hurt others, and hes trying to fix what he can, but he already did die for his mistakes and there are things he cant fix and that's. just how it is. even towards jgy, the narrative doesn't go gleefully and completely with "lets make THEM pay bc theyre the big bad" bc its not that simple, and it wouldn't lead anywhere but more pain...

re him and jiang cheng and the wens and kinda. isnt that what nhs did? scheming to displace jgy out of revenge more than any justice and doing so in the most painful way?

idk if that actually makes sense im truly just babbling

i thought the scene at the lotus pond would be CUTE but the context was PAIN again

jiang cheng finding out about his golden core and his conflict with wwx at the guanyin temple .... destroyed me but in a nice way kinda.... same way it destroys him look at his face oh god

and. the fact??? he sacrificed himself for wwx?? first?? and he'll probably never tell anyone much less wwx???? keeps me up at night

i havent decided if the neckbreak transition between jgy does sth super Evil or does he he does OR Does He yes he does O R does heeeee is sth i dislike or not

jin guangyao and wei wuxians most interesting parallel is that... theyve both seen 'hmm hey this system is fucked up' and wwx went 'so fuck it all i will renounce it and challenge it' and jgy went 'so fuck it i will use all of it to my advantage and manipulate it to my goals and whims'

the fact jgys mom was actually great and he loved her and his whole issue w it was more than simply being ashamed of being a bastard kinda got me ngl

never trust a dude with a fan.

nhs and jgy: the first rule to a convoluted and decades spanning violent revenge plot is to have fun and be yourself! 

when a-yuan finally FINALLY remembers ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;-;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; wen ning has someone in his family back and a-yuan has someone to talk abt his wen family and wwx has him back bc he survived and lwj raised him anD HES THEIR SON. THEYRE MARRIED AND HAVE A SON. UGH.

and theyre allowed to heal. everyone is allowed to try and recover and be happy

netflix put all of the 3 endings on top of each other and it looks kinda weird actually BUT I DONT EVEN MIND :’’’’’’’’’)

the gasp that left me when lwj says ‘wei ying’ and wwx turns.........

there was also a screen with ‘thank you mxtx for creating these characters, we hope their wishes come true’ and i might. have cried then too. maybe. 

that was . a ride. as is proven by this behemot of a ramble clearly i just really needed and Outlet. i am currently trying to convince dumb monkey brain to not consume the other medias of mdzs immediately bc i REALLY need to like. live. a life. and take care of real responsibilities.  *longest oh boi ever*

[lillupon]

Sugar daddy Wonwoo is all I need. I've mentioned it somewhere before on tumblr but I feel that asides from dropping some cash on Mingyu’s tuition fees, he'd also buy him expensive gifts and especially *lingerie* for him to wear when their in bed together. He would tell him hiw pretty mingyu looks fucking him and hiw well he's doing. I feel like even tho he's the sugar daddy he'd be a power bottom, mainly bc Mingyu gives me the "I just want to please you and make you feel good" vibes. He'd also like pictures of mingyu wearing them wirh Wonwoos cum all over his body. It would still look super elagant tho with wine glasses and silk sheets bc Wonwoo doesn't do cheap shit. But yes. Sugar daddy wonwoo is all I need.

oOoOOOoOoo!!! Mingyu would be VERY eager to please. He also strikes me as a people pleaser, and I would definitely characterise him as such in my fic. So this is before Wonwoo and Mingyu work out their sugar baby and sugar daddy agreement. Probably the beginning of Mingyu's second semester in his first year. At this point, he and Wonwoo have been dancing around their attraction for each other for several months, and Mingyu doesn't even know what a sugar daddy is. Imagine Mingyu going to pay his tuition fees online, only to find that his school fee balance is zero. He blinks and rubs his eyes with his fists, wondering if his mind is playing tricks on him--it's only the beginning of the semester, and already he's been sacrificing sleep in order to complete his assignments--but the debit balance still reads $0.00. So he calls the student service centre and asks if there's been a mistake with his tuition fees (even though Seokmin tells him to just accept this gift from the gods). The person on the other line says, "No, sir, there's no mistake. It says here that your fees were paid off three days ago by cheque."

Mingyu hangs up in a daze. There's only one person he can think of who would do something like that. He dials Wonwoo's number. Wonwoo picks up on the second ring. Before Wonwoo can manage a greeting, Mingyu blurts out, "Did you pay off my tuition fees?" Silence, and then, "I vaguely recall doing that." Mingyu gapes, speechless. If Wonwoo could see him right now, Wonwoo would see Mingyu's best impression of a gasping fish out of water. A thousand questions fly through Mingyu's mind at once. He can't seem to string together a coherent sentence, so all that comes out is: 'wow' and 'ah' and 'Wonwoo' and 'um'. On the other side, Wonwoo chuckles lowly. Mingyu flushes. Manages to gather enough of his wits to ask, "Why?" Now here's a question that Wonwoo himself doesn't know the answer to. He's not the kind of person to spoil and indulge and make grand gestures; it's one of the reasons why his wife divorced him. But Mingyu is, quite frankly, adorable. He's a bundle of energy and excitement that evokes in Wonwoo tender and protective feelings. Eventually, Wonwoo settles on, "Because you're working yourself to death." As if Wonwoo himself doesn't pull sixteen hour workdays when a deal moves towards closing. "You're taking a full course load while working two part-time jobs. I know you're pulling all-nighters to complete your assignments because you look exhausted every time I see you. You're going to burn yourself out, working like that. I don't want to see that happen to you. I'm in a position to help you. So why wouldn't I?" Why wouldn't I? says Wonwoo. Jesus, this isn't like buying textbooks or a phone (yes, Wonwoo also bought Mingyu a phone), even though Mingyu considers both of those things to be massive purchases. Dropping five grand on tuition fees is on an entirely different level; Mingyu doesn't have the words to describe this. "Wonwoo..." Mingyu starts. "God, I don't even know what to say." Wonwoo hums. "A thank-you would be nice." Mingyu scrubs a hand over his face. He doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. He does know, however, that he really wants to hug Wonwoo right now. Maybe even kiss him. So it's probably for the best Wonwoo isn't here with him at the moment. "Thank you," Mingyu says. His throat has gone all tight. Thank-you doesn't feel like it's enough. He wishes there was something more he could do. "Really, Wonwoo. Thank you so much. I'm going to pay you back, I promise." "You can pay me back by quitting one of your part-time jobs," Wonwoo says. I also have a whole scene of bottom!Mingyu in lace, red panties living rent-free in my head, ahaha. Mingyu is too scared to get a full Brazilian wax, so Wonwoo carefully shaves Mingyu's most intimate parts--don't want any hairs catching on the delicate lace. Wonwoo makes Mingyu lie down on a towel, gets his face right between Mingyu's legs. Takes an expensive and specialised razor to Mingyu's skin and shaves in the direction of the grain. It's a really fucking scary and exhilarating and intimate experience for Mingyu: he's trusting someone to get up close and personal with his cock while wielding a blade. Wonwoo's hands on his body, gently holding his balls aside; Wonwoo's breath puffing warm and damp over his cock... All of it makes Mingyu feel incredibly exposed and vulnerable. By the end of it, Mingyu is hard as a rock. His cock lies heavy on his belly, leaking a steady trickle of precome. Wonwoo's eyes darken as they settle over Mingyu's erection. He presses a kiss to Mingyu's inner thigh, gives his hip a squeeze. "Go rinse," Wonwoo tells him. Later, Wonwoo puts a panty-clad Mingyu on his belly. Slides the lace down the swell of Mingyu's ass, just enough so that Wonwoo can fit his face between Mingyu's ass cheeks and eat him out.

It’s bottom!Gyu because Wonwoo edges and fucks Mingyu slowly for the next hour ♡

[tellywoodtrash]

immj2 29.10.20 lb

dadi getting a lil too intrusive in her confidence in vansh's ability to pyaar, just coz he got his wife’s wrist size right.

appropriate response.

idhar chachi lamenting ki ohnoe i think vansh really loves riddhima now.

yet again, an appropriate response.

but for wrong reason. coz this one's like, look at all the great love stories. the truer the love, the more bitter the ending.

mummy like ughhhh but these two seem annoyingly indestructibleeeee.

aryan is pretty chill. he's like we shall try try againnnnn, mom. till when will she escape and he keep saving her??? at one point or the other he'll be late by 5 min. that day, we'll get her.

time for riddhima to get an angre of her own, methinks.

meanwhile someone's fucking with the mehendi. ofc.

lo. adulterated mehendi has been delivered to correctttttttttttt victim itself. even though there's no name or anything written on the trays.

she's SOOOOOO excited to put mehendi that she's not eaten all day and telling dadi she'll eat after the mehendi is dry. her cheerfulness is annoying me. who would be this happy about a hetero relationship with a man????? wouldn’t be me.

husband has noted the point ki karwa chauth vrat seems to have started a day early.

black string on chachi's shoulder, same as from mehendi-fucker-upper ka blanket thingy. i mean..... i think it's a red herring, coz she and aryan were bitching when the mehendi was being tampered with, but who knows with the timeline of this show anymore.

the stupidest thing here is that only the open mehendi has been fucked with. i wouldn't use that in the first place and just use the cone for sheer convenience and less mess. also KNOWING that everyone in this house wants to kill me???? why the fuckkkk would you use the one in the open container????

ainvayi mein these three are glaring at her. imagine letting someone this stupid live rent-free in your head all day. be better, queens.

hubs is here with khaaana.

dadi has to taang adaaofy some more and force him to feed her. honestly, iss dadi ko bohut zyaada utaavli chadhi hai. calm your tits, woman.

not to nitpick on a nice thing being done, but that dal to rice ratio seems waaaaaaaaay off.

also gross, she eats like a baby. truly incompetent in every single way.

sir what is your face?????? but also yes, simp more for your wifeee!!!!!

ew dal waale haath se hi baal bhi sawaar raha hai.

GODDDDDD, GET A FUCKING ROOM BEFORE DADI POPS IN BETWEEN YOU TWO LIKE

yup. she had to say some nonsense in between and make me die of cringe. i'm fwding the scene coz i realllllly can't handle the second hand embarrassment.

if my cat stepped in mehendi and walked all over my palms, it would look better than this.

DADI IS LITERALLY KILLING HER POTA BY EMBARRASSING HIM TO DEATH. PLS WOMAN, STOP. I CAN'T HANDLE IT.

ishani and mummy being eternal mood.

itch itch itch itch itch.

sensible dude is like just wash it the fuck off you idiot, and she's like noooooooooooooo but the rang!!!!

“tumhe lagta hai mehendi zyaada der tak rakhne se rang gaadha hota hai, ya phir pati ke chaahne se?”

“dono hi samajh lo.”

gotta say, i like flirty riddhima. it's the only time she uses her brain a lil and is tolerable. BUT OH GOD JUST GO WASH YOUR HANDS YOU DUMBASS.

thank god, he insisted and sent her off.

these two's issues i really dgaf about anymore, so fwding. like........ i think angre needs to back the fuck off a little bit. har waqt uske mooh mein ghuske yeh pati waala drama karoge toh kisi ko bhi gussa aana hai.

wonderful. aur rakho itchy mehendi haath pe.

husband ready to burn down mehendi waale ppl's house. totes appropriate reaction.

she's like oh no idc about my sore, bleeding hands, i just feel so bad for dadi. omfg dumbass just get a brown sketch pen from somewhereeee. like the old bat would be able to tell the difference. 

“mehendi ka rang aur pati ka pyaar, inn dono mein koi connection nahi hai.”

ex-fucking-actly. i gots no pati and my mehendi comes out DARK AF, every single time. it has to do with body heat more than anything. and since i am a human furnace, i don't need no pati ka pyaar. not only in this area, but in alllllll areas of my life. #aatmanirbhar

“yeh mehendi ka rang humaare rishte ka certificate nahi ban sakta hai; lekin agar tumhe aisa lagta hai, toh mere paas ek solution hai.”

sweet.

ugh i don't caaaaaaaaare about these family waale and their neverending tippaniyaan on these two's marriage. fwding.

anyway pati is here to tell everyone to stfu and gtfo, thank god.

ofc that gets these 3 to turn on laser glare eyes and vow hellfire and brimstone on riddhima.

ishani was mehendi culprit?

here some more bitching and theories ki riddhima ne itna dimaag chalaana kabse shuru kar diya, uski neeyat kyun badal gayi about giving kabir the memory card, blah blah. i'm just here to stare at kabir in all black.

hein? mummy ALSO has the black kambhal???? did alllllll of you bitches add your own own poisons to the mehendi???

oh?????????????????

can't say i wouldn't do the same.

lol she's straight up calling him out for being an asshole when awake.

and now she's imitating him and maarofying all his dialogues, including the "interestingggggggggg.... veryyyyyyyyyyyyyyy interesting." again, this episode is perhaps the firsttttttttt time i've liked riddhima as a character.

ASLKJDLASDLKASJDLKJASLKDJLASKJDLSAJLKDJL I LEGIT SCREAMED

and he's back to growling at her. but good for her, she doesn’t seem intimidated at all.

but april fool! he likes it!

“ek baat boloon?”

“haan bolo.”

“kabhi tumhe aise muskuraate hue nahi dekha. aadat daal lo, achche lagte ho.”

“tum bhi aadat daal lo. mujhe yeh aise achcha lagta hai.”

OH GOD SHE'S GONNA RUIN THE MOMENT BY TELLING HIM ABOUT KABIR. OH GOD. OHHHHHHH GOD. IDK IF IT'S MY PERIOD CRAMPS OR SHEER TERROR, BUT MUMMMMY, MY STOMACH HURTSSSSSSS.

ok phew, she didn't say the R(agini) word. she just says that like you had a story in your past, i have one too....

andddddddd he told her he doesn't care. it's her past. it's done. he only cares about living with her in the present. well dang. such a reasonable response? from this dude???? unexpected.

but also, He Knows right????? He fully Knows already.

is the person writing their scenes on some special drug these days? whatever it is, they should keep doing it. remarkable improvement in romantic scenes. like, crazy amazing improvement.

is it that, or have i developed stockholm syndrome for this show now??????? oh fuck.

early morning sargi blah blah.

ishani like i don't even got no saas, why i gotta be here for thissssss?????

riddhima as usual has to be overrrrrrrrr, and has prepared sargi for ishani and hands it over.

OH GOD DADI IS TELLING HER TO TOUCH RIDDHIMA'S FEET OH GOD DADI WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS YOU JUST WANNA SEE THIS MANSION BURNNNNNN, DON'T YOU

ofc there are promises of soooooot-samedh badla.

aaaaaaaaand mummy purposely messed up riddhima's sargi. ouff. saas bahu politics. idccccccc.

lmaooooooooo i am ishani. i can't help it, i just really am her.

wait mummy is saying shit like “mere bete ka dil todkar, vansh ke liye karwachauth ka vrat rakhne chali hai.........” ARE YOU TELLING ME KABIR REALLY FELL FOR THIS CHICK??????????? IT ISN'T JUST A EGO THING FOR HIM??????? RE DEVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

[coralreeferband]

Tagged by @ohmyjasonsudeikis so thanks for that bud!

It's the year 2021 and you're obsessed with The Karate Kid. How are you feeling?: Confused...it has been an unexpected blessing. And it got me back on tumblr after like a 5 year break from posting, which was the most unexpected part of it all.

Did you grow up with TKK or are you new to the series?: I'm sure I watched the original movie as a kid at some point but I don't remember it specifically and it was never a household favorite. I probably caught bits and pieces of it on cable, rather than sat down and watched the whole thing. I of course knew wax on, wax off and sweep the leg and put him in a body bag, mostly through cultural osmosis. I watched Cobra Kai because a friend of mine watched it and recommended it. Then after watching all three seasons of that, I watched the original movie trilogy and realized how truly deep the river runs and all of the bonkers things that we put in films in the 80s.

We gotta do the basics. Favorite character: I'm going to put Johnny and Daniel to the side, as those are probably the most common favorite characters and I don't want to be repetitive. So I am going to go with Mr. Miyagi and sweet Miguel Diaz. Miyagi reminds me so much of my grandfather because of his dry sense of humor and just whole personality. And Miguel is the beating heart of CK. He reminds me of myself, as kind of a nerd kid who is kind of susceptible to doing bad things just to please other people, especially the people I admire.

Favorite ship: I am not immune to the invisible string bullshit Johnny and Daniel got goin on. And also Daniel and Kumiko, I think if I was writing Cobra Kai, I would have had Daniel marry Kumiko.

Underrated character: Both Aisha and Tory, specifically together as friends (or girlfriends...), underrated and underwritten

Underrated ship (don’t say therapy, lol): None really come to mind.

Wax On, Wax Off or Sweep the Leg?: Sweep the leg

Which of Daniel’s dumb little outfits is your favorite?: Plaid and camo baby, also the red plaid shirt with the aviators

Character from the films you most want to return, who’s not Terry Silver: Jessica! Jessica was Daniel's only on-screen friend who was his age. She probably has an Instagram dedicated to her pottery now.

Scene that lives in your head rent-free: SEND IT TO THE INTERNET!

Will Anthony LaRusso ever be relevant?: No. And it is perhaps funnier that way.

You live in The Valley and are forced into the karate gang war. Which dojo do you join?: Hmmm...I think I would get bored at Miyagi Do and I am too soft for Cobra Kai. So Eagle Fang. I'd love to do some karate in a public park.

What’s your training montage song?: No Surrender by Bruce Springsteen

It’s the crossover event of the century! Which TV show are you combining with Cobra Kai for an hour-long Saturday night special?: Ted Lasso. After winning the Premier League with Richmond, Ted Lasso's next coaching job is to become a sensei of youth karate in the SFV. He is deeply troubled by the karate gang war. His efforts to inspire hope in the Valley are met with confusion by Johnny and Daniel.

I think everyone possible has already been tagged in this thing. So I guess if you’re interested just go for it!

[wordynerdygurl]

Echoes of You

Author’s Note:  This is from a request sent in to my 500 Followers Challenge.  I’ve included it below... I did have fun with it!  As always, please feel free to re-blog, share, and comment!  Also, I’m accepting tag list requests and story requests!  *The GIF is perfect and I want to thank the original creator/ poster!* Pairing:  Loki x Female Reader Summary/ Request: “Loki is badly hurt on a mission and the reader has to make some sort of deal with a dark magical entity to save him. The price she has to pay is that everyone she knows is going to forget she ever existed. She takes the deal and tries to build a new life away from the avengers, however she and Loki keep running into each other and he's very drawn to her.  After a lot of pestering, she agrees to go on a date with him on the condition that he is going to leave her alone after that. Their date goes great and they're almost about to have sex, but she stops him because she thinks he would've never wanted her if he actually had his memories. Obviously he knows though, they both confess their feelings and it ends on passionate, rough smut. Hope that's not too much and you have fun with it :)” Warnings:  Battle scenes of the MCU variety, talk of blood/ death, angst and SMUT

"LOKI!"  

Time freezes in that screamed second.  

You feel yourself running, feet sliding in the gritty sand beneath your boots, desperate.  He is impossibly far away but you can make it.  You have to.

Skidding into the gravel on your knees, you shout his name as you watch him crumple.  He's gone pale, limp, boneless in your arms.  There's blood, lots of it, too much to stop on your own.  It flows freely, drenching you down to your skin, warm and sticky.  There’s no way to stem the flood.  

In your dreams you always catch him in time.  Keeping him off the cold ground, hugging his lean body to yours, ignoring the others as they fight around you.  His twinkling eyes flutter but they stay open, struggling to focus on you.  You watch his soft lips part, they form words, sounds that never reach you in the vacuum of your panic.  

"Hush… it's ok… I'm here.  I got you."  Gurgling platitudes gush from you but there's no way to know if he hears them. A smile, young and sweet spreads across his unbearably handsome face.  Using his last measure of strength, Loki strokes your cheek as you press your hot lips to his too cool skin.  

You wake up wailing, the pillow beneath you wet.  Honestly, it's never dry, not anymore.  Because every night you try to save Loki.  Every night he speaks soundlessly to you.  And every morning you wake up to reality.

Dawn's dark hides you and your pain.  You let the loss of Loki roll over you.  Pulling you under in a rip tide of shuddering sobs, drowning you with memories of what you had before and what you have now.  Swallowing that hard knot of agony, bitter and jagged, your crying steadied then dried out after a few minutes.

This new existence, this new life, was lonely.  Awake now, well before the sun, you pushed out of bed and geared up for a run without much enthusiasm.  When you couldn't ease your mind you took it out on your body.  

Stepping onto the dim sidewalk you stretched just a little.  You wanted to punish your subconscious, your wayward brain, not tear a hamstring.  Setting off with a sigh, your feet slapping the pavement in an even staccato, you tried to turn your mind off.  

On the quiet streets of your new city, one you were struggling to make feel like home, you wanted to outrun the past.  Eager to put distance between you and all that had come before, forcing your legs to go further, faster, you ran by yourself in the shadows.  There was no one to disturb you, not at this ungodly hour.  Not that anyone would.  You used to be a SHIELD agent, one who looked mad at the world, which you were.  So you ran on, giving no thought to direction or neighborhood, welcoming any and all risk if it meant peace of mind. 

Most days the sweat and strain were enough to calm your demons.  By running your body down, your mind would let go too.  Not today.  Today, your dream, like a well directed film, played on a loop in your head.  Each scene was vivid, real, raw.  And not true.

---

"You come here freely?"

Hitching your chin defiantly, "Yes."

The ethereal being before you seemed to float on a crimson cloud, too beautiful to be benevolent, the aura around her dusky skin crackling violet.  Part sorceress, part dark queen, she was your last hope.  A final step you might take to keep Loki alive.

Slinking snake like, she sidled to your side, "I know what brings you here, mortal.  I know what you want."

"Then you know I need help.  Your help."  You weren't begging.  At least not yet, anyway.  But the smell of desperation curled around you, black and rotten, regardless.

"You are not the one in need.  Odin's adopted boy… the prince.  He is dying.  Is it not so?"

Her voice was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.  Strong, soft and sweet, the witch's words echoed in the close quarters of her stony temple.  Swirling around you in the rouge red ribbons of her eternal energy, she did not wait for your reply.  "What is it to you, child?  The death of a Jotun foundling can mean but little to a human.  And yet, you come to me willingly.  Why?"

Hot tears formed, threatening to splash, scalding your cheeks.  Your breath left your body as a gutted groan tore the words from your deepest soul, "I love him."

"Love.  Such a human emotion."  You felt her then, the physicality of her form, as she brushed an errant tear from your face.  The enchantress stilled, her beautiful dark skinned face emerging in front of you, scrutinizing your expression, reading your pain.

Questioning you quietly, "You say that you love the youngest of Odin's sons."

"I do."

"The magic you ask for, it carries a hefty price."

Hope at the thought of her assistance made you boisterous.   "Anything!  I will pay any price.  Twice over, if it keeps Loki alive."

Glowing plum colored, her gaze took you in, measuring you and your resolve.  "Your sacrifice will be great, make no mistake.  It will test the love you claim to feel for this demi-god."

What did you care of sacrifices if it kept Loki alive?  Was there a price too high for the life of your love?  Anger flashed through you, frustrated and flustered, "I heard you the first time.  Will you aid me or not?"

"So cross, so eager."  Silver laughter filled the cavernous space but was short lived.  "You do not know the full cost of your desires and yet... you are in a rush to see them come to fruition.  Child, I can do what you ask. I will do it, if you agree.  In return... no one will remember you.  Only this will purchase Loki's life."

"What?"

The Sorceress took your hand, testing its weight, turning your palm up.  "You heard me.  If this is truly what you want… to keep Loki alive, then your life… your history will be erased."

Gulping hard, understanding hitting you like a freight train, "My life for his?  Is that it?"

Violet eyes bore into yours, purple orbs that fill your vision, unblinking.  "No… you will not die, little mortal.  It is far worse than that.  You will live, but you will live in isolation.  You will be forgotten by Loki… by your family… by your friends.  You will meet them as strangers.  They will carry on without you."

"But Loki will live?"  He had to, you had come too far to fail your God now.

"Yes.  Will you be able to?"

"Me?  I don't understand what you're asking me."

"Will you be able to have a life without the man you say you love?"

Could you?  There had been no one like Loki in your life before.  Smart and strong, sarcastic and cutting, tender and kind.  Loki was all the things you needed in a partner and he made you better at the same time.  Taming you, just a little, being loved by Loki had softened some of your rough edges.  Would it be easy to know he was walking around, enjoying life, but not be a part of it?  No.  But how else could you honor the man who had given you so much?  

With a straining voice, "Loving him, having been loved by him, will have to be enough to satisfy my soul.  There is no other option for me."

Nodding solemnly, content at your knowledge of the bargain, the crimson conjurer drew a symbol on the pad of your hand.  Watching her with widening eyes, she pulled a gossamer green thread from the center of your palm.  A string of memories erasing you in order to allow Loki to survive.  

"It is longer than I would've thought, deeper too."  And you knew what she meant instinctively because your heart pinched as her hands gathered more and more of your time with Loki to her.  Dragging him out of your life with a sharp throb.  When it was over the witch had a skein of your history, emerald green and glossy, which she evaporated into a wisp of smoke.  

You had a small six pointed star shaped scar in the center of your hand.  It was your sole token of the life you and Loki had shared.  That and the memories that you alone carried.

"It is done."  There was finality in her words, a dismissive quality, and for the first time in her presence you were frightened.  Not of her, but of the new world you were facing.

Solemnly, you bowed your head, "Thank you." 

"We shall see, human.  We shall see."

---

By the time you return home, soaked with sweat, you're tired but feeling more like yourself.  It's a relief to feel the night's pain fade enough for you to shower and dress for work.  It's not a career.  But it is just enough to almost pay rent and buy food.

Working with people, although frustrating at times, really does keep the white light of your emptiness away.  Besides, the store offered a discount on clothes, which helped, and there was always something physical to be done.  Lifting boxes, moving racks, hauling trash.  Anything to keep you thoughtlessly busy.  Like you did everyday, you threw yourself into the job, mindlessly.  It was a life raft of sorts, a buoy keeping you afloat, a thing to cling to while trying not to let the weight of your past drag you down.

Listening to the consumer safe playlist, getting into a rhythm, you bobbed your head as your folded t-shirts.  Your co-workers hated restocking, rehanging, straightening the racks.  So, naturally that's what you were doing, lost in your own little world.

"I really don't see why we have to be here, brother."  Something about that voice made you pause.  Haughty and high handed, you could swear that it was…

"Jane has a birthday, brother.  I will not forget it."

"Then, for the love of Odin, bring her some lovely Asgardian silks.  Jewelry in gold or silver.  Or better yet, take her home, seduce her soundly.  Do anything but buy that hideous sweater."

"It's not hideous.  You know nothing of Midgardian fashion."

"Me?  I know nothing?  Dear brother, this suit is Armani.  That is designer.  That means something."

"It means you spent way too much coin, Loki."

Turning quickly you moved closer to the men, still listening, still in disbelief.  Peeking at the mismatched pair through a clothing rack, pushing two furry sweaters apart, your heart was racing.  Stunned, you recognized the strong back of the tall, broad blonde.  When he moved toward another display of shits your jaw fell open.  Loki was here!  Not five feet away!  

"Bah!  I don't see her size."  Thor sighed in frustration, the offending rack of clothes wobbling with the force of his displeasure.  

Loki, picking lint from his sleeve, "Find a clerk… ask for the awful thing in Jane's size so we can get out of this place."  Lifting his piercing blue eyes, he spied you, trying to slip away unnoticed, "You!  Hello?  Yes… can you help us?"

It takes you a second to register that Loki, your Loki, is addressing you.  Stiffly, you straighten up, your eyes rising to his inquisitive azure ones.  They snap with a vitality that was missing when you saw him last.

A cloud passes over his gaze.  Shadows of recognition, maybe?  Or is that just what you want to see?

"Um… sure.  What… uh, what do you need, sir?"  You sound like a robot.  Cringing at the put on voice you're using, awkward and uncomfortable, you smile at Thor.

Loki steps closer, brushing past his brother, not quite in your space but close enough for you to smell his skin.  A familiar combination of leather and vanilla, sugar and spice, reaches out to you.  Your breath hitches at the nearness of him.  Memories on the tip of your tongue.

He's holding a fuzzy sweater, one the color of spicy mustard, about to hand it to you when his head tilts.  "Do… do I know you?"

Heat climbs your face.  Yes.  Yes, Loki.  You know me.  You know me in a way no one else could ever know me.  You know the sound of my sobs and the sigh of my satisfaction.  Why I love the smell of the snow and hate lima beans.  You know me.

And I know you.  I know the strength of your character.   The depth of your love.  Which thoughts haunt you, songs your mother sang over your crib, poems written for no one else to read.  Oh yes, I know you.

But what you say is, "Me?  No… nope.  No.  We've… I mean, no.  You don't know me."  Kicking yourself mentally, the verbal diarrhea couldn't be stopped, and now Loki's surveying you even more closely.

"Are you certain?  It's just… I could swear that I know you."  For the first time since meeting Loki you hear uncertainty in his voice.  It's almost enough to weaken your resolve, tell him all of it, even if it's in the middle of The Loft.

"Have… have you been in the shop before?  I uh, I work a lot."  Looking anywhere but at the handsome man from your nightmares, you settle on the offending sweater, trying to seem like an eager employee not a stuttering mess.

"No."  His smile widened, the natural flirt in him coming out to play, "We have never set foot in this place."

Your thoughts jumbled.  Unprepared for facing Loki, unsure of how to handle seeing him again, you focused on the top Thor wanted to give Jane.  "Oh… well, maybe I just look like someone you used to know?  Um… what size did you say?"

Thor, watching the interaction between you and Loki, was just happy to get back into the conversation.  "Yes.  Size 2 please, my good woman."

Casting Loki a side eyed glance, chuckling at Thor, you made your way to the stockroom.  Stay calm, you willed yourself.  Keeping your back straight, your head level and your breathing even, you walked towards the back.  Your heart?  That jerk was pumping overtime. As soon as you are gone, Thor rounds on his younger brother, "She likes you, Loki!  And, she is rather cute."

Rolling his eyes with a groan, "Cute?  She is far more beautiful than that, brother."

Wagging his golden brows playfully, the God of Thunder teased, "You should take her on a date.  To dinner.  She might actually say yes!"

"It's creepy.  No woman wants to be courted while they're at work.  Although…"  Looking longingly at the “Employees Only” sign on the door you had disappeared into, Loki sighed.

"Yes, brother?"

"Although, she does remind me of someone."

"I have never seen her before.  And she is certainly Midgardian.  There's no other-worldly influence in her."  Thor was sliding through hangers, evaluating gift options for Jane, talking in what he thought was a whisper.

"Yes.  Yes… it's just so strange.  She is so familiar… too familiar."  Loki left his sentence hanging in the air.  You were striding his way, a soft, down turned expression on your face.  The urge to kiss the corners of your mouth overwhelmed him.

"Hi again."  Exhaling, you risked a full look at Loki.  He was scrutinizing you, closer than before, needing to solve the mystery of your connection.

"Hello."  

God, you missed his eyes.  The serious way they took in every detail.  How they lit up with Loki's laughing or glowed with mischief when he got up to no good.  

Swallowing dryly, you remembered his eyes darkening with passion.  Appraising you through dusky lashes, half closed in pleasure as you hugged his body snugly to your own.  His heavy heat inside of you, both finding release, breathing hard, holding onto each other while the world around you faded away.

"I'm… I'm sorry?"  

Loki, peering at you, smirked.  "I said, thank you for the hideous sweater.  My brother's fiancee will hate it but she will, inevitably, appreciate the oaf's effort."

Giggling, your body temperature rose a few degrees, unable to resist Loki.  It was so easy to be around him.  It always had been.

"My lady, thank you!  Brother, I am off to find the cashier.  I shall meet you outside…"  Thor nodded your way, encouraging Loki, failing at being discreet.  

Sharing a laugh with your former lover, Loki risked taking your hand.  You didn't shrug him off.  Instead, your breath caught, frozen in the familiar feeling of his fingers.

"Hmm… you say we are strangers but your body tells another story, little one.  Do you know who I am?"

You could answer that honestly.  Loki wasn't as popular as Thor or Captain America but his name was known publicly.  His reputation was a bit tarnished, surely, but that had always been part of your attraction to him.

Finding your voice, "Yea… I do."

"Uh huh.  Then you know I am not some mortal man, held to the rules and restrictions of this planet.  You understand that I am a God.  One who makes mischief."  Dropping his voice into that silky predatory tone had made your insides go liquid.  

He was too close now, his spearmint breath fanning your face, "Yes, I know where your… skills lie."

Watching your chest heave, your want apparent, Loki licked over his bottom lip, certain he could taste phantom strawberry bubblegum and grapefruit lip gloss.  An odd, yet enticing, combination.  One his mouth knew even if his memory couldn't recall why.

"Then you know I suss out falsehoods.  It's part of the deal, dove.  To lie you must spot lies.  And you…", pressed into a wall mirror, hidden by a rack of wool pea coats, "aren't being truthful."

What could you say to that?  “I… I am too.  Like I said, You don’t know me.” Leaning into you, not touching your begging skin, but still so near, “Little liar.  I think that there might be a way to solve our problem.  Over dinner, tonight.  My treat, assuming there’s a restaurant in this town that is not part of a chain.”

“A date?  With you?” A date was not a good idea.  Too much time to talk might lead to trouble.  Either you’d say too much or, and this was possibly worse, do too much with Loki.  Could you resist his charms?  You weren’t able to the first time around. Now, knowing just how much you missed him, how lonely your nights were without him, would you be able to stop things from going too far?  What if Loki learned the truth?  That you had sacrificed your past together so that he might have a future, would he still want you then?  Could he?

Loki, seeing all these thoughts pass over your face, “Yes.  With me.” “No.”  “No?” “Yes.” “So, yes then?” “No.  Yes to the no.” “I don’t think you know what you want little mortal.  Join me for dinner tonight and I won’t bother you ever again.” Always tricky, this could be another of Loki’s pranks, ready to backfire on you at the drop of a hat.  If he kept his word, walked away after your night out, then it would be worth it. You could do one evening and not lose your head or your heart. “You won’t bother me ever again?  You promise?” That sinister smile spread over Loki’s face, lifting his sharp cheekbones in triumph, “Oh, I promise.  One date.  Tonight.”

--- Years ago, when you and Loki enjoyed the first full flush of blossoming love, dating wasn’t always possible or convenient.  With missions to go on, HYDRA cells to investigate, and near constant alien invasions of one kind or another, dinners and movies weren’t a priority.  Staying alive was the rule of the day. In the moments when relaxation was possible, you and Loki found yourselves drawn to each other.  Bonding over take out containers and warm beers in the early morning hours, sleep elusive, sitting on the counter tops.  Sharing great music, digital from you, vinyl from Loki, led to dancing on the cool tile of the rooftop patio.  Cherished books, personal poetry and moving works of art passed between you at a rate that alarmed the rest of the team.  

You favorite times?  Watching films and must see TV from the comfort of Tony’s leather couches.  Snuggled under soft blankets, touching each other gently, testing and teasing.  Letting the connection you shared grow naturally was what made it so special. Tonight though, this was different.  Loki arrived at your door in full on romantic leading man mode.  His suit was jet with a shirt and tie to match, making him look long and lethal, but undeniably sexy.  There were flowers, an affectation that nonetheless made your heart swell.  Holding your door, pulling out your chair, effortlessly making all the right moves was just Loki’s style.  Why did it make your heart ache in equal measure? Because it was so different from your first time around.  The love that led you here, to a place where no one knew you, had been so organic.  Not forced or formulaic.

“I fear I’m boring you.”  Loki’s bright eyes glittered as he swirled his fork through the rich sauce skillfully. Dabbing your mouth, “No, not at all.  I just… I…”  You were lost in remembering.  Loki was telling a story that you had lived, but where you should have been was a hole.  A gap, created when you had made your deal with the purple eyed sorceress, brought reality crashing into the conversation.  It was a distracting detail.   “Lost in your thoughts.  You do that frequently, don’t you, dove.”  Dove.  Oh god, you hadn’t heard his endearments in ages.  It made your stomach tense from need.  Being Loki’s dove had meant something to you then.  It meant more now. “My past is never far.  It creeps up on me all the time.  But I’m sure you know nothing about that.”  Deliberately leading him to talk more about himself, you let the timbre of his voice take over, listening intently to the man who once was yours. The long night was over too soon.  You had been on eggshells, carefully choosing your words, the entire time.  As much as you wanted to keep him near, you knew that one night was already a calculated risk, and it couldn’t happen again.  If Loki kept his promise, tomorrow you would be back to your routine, the missing him would still be there but so would running and the store. “Uh… thank you for the lovely dinner.  I really enjoyed it.” “I believe you used to be a better liar.” Freezing, your key in the lock, you turned to face Loki.  “What was that?”  Panic rose in your throat tasting of bile and bucatini. Leaning his shoulder against your door frame, “You heard me perfectly well.  Like I said, you were better at this once.  At least, I think you were.”

“I don’t know what you think, but I’ve… we’ve…” “Never met?  Yes, that line is familiar.  But then again, so are you.” “Loki…”  Pleading with him to drop it, to let it go, would never work.  Besides, you hadn’t been able to.

And what would happen if you did come clean?  Would the spell be reversed?  You couldn’t risk that.  Not after all that you’d already gone through to keep Loki alive. At the sound of his name on your lips, Loki stepped into your personal space.  His long finger rested over your parted mouth, effectively silencing you, as he whispered in your ear,  “No more lies.  Not tonight.”  Reaching around you, Loki turned your key, opening the door to your place.   Clicking on your lamp, the circle of light small in the shadows of your apartment, you move towards the kitchen.  “I need a drink.  Do you want one?” Nodding, “I think I might need one.”  Barking out a hard laugh, you lifted two glasses down from the rarely opened cabinet.  Tossing in ice cubes, you quickly cover them with the amber liquid of bourbon, swirling the two ingredients together as you walk back to the man pacing in your living room. “Good stuff, right?”  Ruefully chuckling at the harsh burn of the booze, you looked at your date motioning for him to take a seat on your beat up sofa next to you.  Folding himself gracefully, Loki perched on the couch, his knee just barely grazing your own.  The contact was electric, shorting out your speech center for a second, and you moaned softly.  Moving your drink to the table, Loki’s digits circled your wrist, "Now tell me, why do I know these hands?  Soft but strong, with a scar across the middle knuckle…" 

 Turning your palm down, brushing over that exact imperfection, Loki searched your eyes for answers.  "Why am I drawn to you across space and time?  You are a ghost that haunts me.  The echo of a dream that is real and warm… and here."

"Loki…"  Chin quivering, "There are things you don't know.  Things about me… about us…"

Tilting his head, studying you, "Ah.  Us.  We, that is, you and I have history, do we not?  I… I know that is true.  Yet,"  Swallowing thickly, Loki struggled to control the swell of emotion bubbling through him, "Yet, I have no memory of you.  Tell me why that is."

A wild sob ripped through you making your shoulders heave.  "I don't think I can!"

Twining his arms around you, the smell of his skin surrounding you, comforting you, "Why is that?"

Eyes brimming with tears, you murmured, "Because… it might reverse everything.  I… I don't know what would happen if I told you the truth.  All of it."

"So, dark magic then.  Strong… but perhaps not strong enough.  Not nearly capable of keeping you and I apart."  Petting your knee, savoring the nearness of Loki, you parted your thighs in anticipation of his touch. Loki, unable to resist any longer, pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.  One of his palms skated under the hem of your dress while his other hand cupped your cheek.  Tracing over your jawline with his thumb, Loki deepened the kiss, his tongue tasting you in tiny sips. Pulling away from you, “We… We were lovers.”  His voice rose at the revelation no longer concealed by magic. “Yes, Loki.”  Swallowing hard, the raw truth finally said out loud. “But you, you erased yourself from my mind… My life.  Why did you do it?  Why would you take our… happiness from me?”  It was enough to break your heart all over again.  Loki’s voice, trembling, unsure, and clearly hurting.  

Whispering more for yourself than him, "I couldn’t let you go, Loki.  I… I can't, even now.  I watched you almost die.  I won't do it again!" “And this?  This is life?  Dove.  You know better than this.” “I saved your life!”  Needing to defend yourself, you nearly bellowed in frustration, struggling to make Loki understand. Standing suddenly, Loki turned from you, “What kind of life have I had without you?” “I don’t know the answer to that…”  Rising yourself, a hand to Loki’s chest, “But my life without you… you have no idea how hard it’s been.  I dream of you every night, Loki.  And in those dreams, I don’t rescue you.  You die in my arms.  Every night, Loki.  I saved you once with the help of dark magic.  But I’ve lost you every single day since.”

Crying in earnest now, you felt Loki wrap his iron arms around you, “Hush now.  Hush, darling.  Somehow, some way, I found you again.  I’m not letting you go.” Sagging into his warmth, letting Loki comfort you, felt like home.  Without realizing, you were swaying in each other's arms, dancing to the music in your souls.  You curled your arms around Loki's waist, his solid figure reassuring, hugging him closer.

Loki's hands drifted down, cupping your bottom, squeezing your curves firmly.  "I missed you, little minx."

Giggling at his pet name for you, one you never expected to hear again, you smiled up at your dark hued God.  Standing on your toes you touched your lips to Loki's.  Anticipating your move, Loki opened his mouth, capturing yours in a kiss.

Loki's grip, tugging you tightly to his firm form, became needy.  His mouth plundered yours, taking your breath, absorbing your moan.  A hand tangled in your hair, pulling your hungry lips from his own, giving Loki unchecked access to the column of your throat.

Closing your eyes, lost in intimate sensations that were both routine and refreshing, you lost yourself in Loki.  Stepping out of his grasp, you pulled the hem of your dress up, shrugging it over your head and tossing it to the floor.  "Loki, I love you.  I never stopped loving you."

Watching your nearly nude form, Loki shared his sweet, secret smile with you.  "I love you.  And even wizardry could prevent us from finding each other."

"Please, help me remember.  Let me forget."  He knew what you were asking.  Remember what you had shared, what you could have again.  Forget this time apart, this lapse in love.

"With pleasure, little dove."

---

Your bed, usually so lonely, was suddenly too small.  Loki's long body stretched across the mattress, reaching for you, impatient to relearn the things that made you melt.  And you?  You couldn't stop touching his satin skin.

First your fingers fluttered over his thighs, up his torso, over his chest.  But that wasn't enough to satisfy.  So you followed the same trail with your mouth.  Licking lovingly over Loki's abdominals, nipping at his tiny nipples, sucking against his Adam's Apple.

Straddling Loki, his hands on your hips drag you against his rigid rod.  Feeling his driving desire made your core quiver.  When he caught your nipple in his mouth, sucking forcefully, you howled like a wild woman.

"Oh, Loki!  Ah!"  Your hands tangled in his hair, encouraging the exquisite agony of his teeth biting into your tender bud.  

With a growl, Loki flipped you to your back, settling himself between your spread thighs.  Removing your panties with a swift tug, Loki spread your lower lips, licking into your luscious folds.  His tongue thrust into you, lapping at your liquid, drinking you down.

Convulsing when Loki's tactile tongue circled your clit, your core clenched in pleasure, your release is close.  When you announce that to the man pleasuring you, Loki nips at your inner thigh, kissing his way over your mound.  "Not yet.  I'm not through with you or your bountiful body."

As his lips closed over your own, Loki shifted your hips higher, your cleft cuddling his steel length.  Teasing your entrance with his wide tower, drawing a shivery moan from you, Loki slowly sunk into your yielding sheath.  Inch by inch, Loki claimed more of you as you impatiently waited to be filled by his hard heat.

Stretched by his searing shaft, Loki bent your knees, bringing them closer to your chest.  Rocking into you, his hips pressing your legs apart, Loki enjoyed the feeling of your velvet vice gripping his with each push.  He was slow, methodically moving inside of you, taking his time.  

Your body responded with slick skin, soft sighs, melting into a mewling mess.  "Faster Loki!  Please!"

"No.  I never want to forget you again."  Loki's words sparked your internal fire.  Plunging into your pulsing pocket, picking up speed, Loki pursued your pleasure.  

You couldn't keep your hands off of him.  His neck, his shoulders, his firm bottom, the cut of his hip.  Scratching your nails over his arms, along his back, across his chest, Loki grunted in delight.  

"Cum with me, little dove."  It wasn't a command or a request.  It was a plea.

"Always, Loki!"  Locking your arms behind his neck, Loki dug his fingers into the back of your thighs, your tongues tangling together.  Panting through your pleasure together, clinging to each other, determined to hang onto the only other person who mattered, you pressed your forehead to Loki's.

That night you slept curled around Loki, deeply and uninterrupted.  Tomorrow would bring a new dawn, a new day.  And everything before today would be an echo, losing distinction over time, replaced by the new life you would build together. ---

@procrastinatinglikeabitch​ @iamverity​ @jamielea81​ @archy3001​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @just-random-obsessions​ @brokenthelovely​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​ @lots-of-loki​ @mizfit2​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @jessiejunebug​

[ilikebeesandflowers]

Finale? What finale?

That was just the Empty torturing a wayward gay angel... Here’s what really happened after Cas confessed his LOVE to Dean Winchester and was taken to Super Mega Hell...

Unedited, unproofread, unbeta’d- just pure, unadulterated, whiskey-and-rage-fueled fix-it fic. Ps, El Sol cerveza is the official beverage of fake-dream-worlds, and therefore the entire narrative of the finale is sus.

Love Lift Us Up (Where We Belong)

Cas slumbered, but fitfully. Oblivion plagued him with nightmares.

Some dreams replayed memories, even of memories that were not strictly his: one by one, everyone he loved torn apart at an atomic level, rent, poofed to dust. His sleeping self watched on a loop as Bobby, Charlie, Donna, nameless others fell, obliterated.

He saw Michael slay Lucifer, the foregone conclusion so many times delayed.

He saw Michael betray the Winchesters. But how? Why? Michael had changed, hadn’t he? Adam had changed him. Even asleep, Cas knew this to be true.

He watched Jack, his loving and beloved son, fulfilling the promise Kelly had known he held. Jack bringing peace to the world, restoring balance, returning all life on earth to its rightful places. Cas was certain that this dream was true. He felt Jack’s presence, unmistakable lightness and goodness and purity.

The Empty roiled violently, rippling the fabric of its realm.

The dreams changed again to nightmares.

Dean, alone. Sam, alone. Eileen, alone.

The hunters who had died were again whole and alive, walking the earth as if Chuck’s poisonous animosity had never snuffed them. And yet they were all isolated from one another. Oh, the younger children clung to their parents, but the parents drifted from one another.

Charlie, alone. Donna, alone. Claire, alone.

The loneliness of the hunters infected the denizens of the Empty, and the Empty smiled in its sleep.

Cas dreamed that he watched Dean dying, an ignominious death in a ramshackle barn. He felt a wave of revulsion, of jealousy, like he did in another barn, once upon a time, witnessing a kiss between Anna and Dean. What had he felt then, way back when, when feelings were still so new and frightening? Had he been in love then?

The scene repeated, again and again, a horrible parody of what should have been. A confession of love, two foreheads touching, hands held over Dean’s heart. The scene replayed a hundred, a thousand times, Cas viewing from the vantage of the beloved, but Cas never could see who received Dean’s love. He only knew it wasn’t him. He could only watch through someone else’s eyes, hearing and seeing and feeling with intense loathing what should have been his.

Then Dean was dead.

 The scene faded again. Cas saw Sam, living on, without Dean, without Jack, without Eileen, without hunters or hunting. In the space of a human heartbeat, he was married, raising a human child, a son. In another heartbeat, he was old, then dying, then greeting his brother in heaven.

He felt again a tug as if Jack were near. A faint glow.

Cas woke. Two amber eyes shone above him.

“Castiel,” said Jack, “something is wrong. I need your help.”

Cas scrambled to his feet. “The dreams? They were real?”

Jack couldn’t know what Cas had seen, and yet he shook his head and assured him that, no, those were the Empty playing tricks. “But reality is in danger. Heaven and Hell are out of balance. Heaven’s brightest are all here, when they should be up there. We’ll have to wake them.”

The Empty howled somewhere far off, something that sounded like, “Let me sleep!”

Jack stepped briskly in the inky blackness, tapping here and there, naming sleeping entities. “Hannah, you are needed. Duma, awaken. Gabriel. Michael. Raphael, your services are humbly requested.”

Soon, the din of awakened angels, archangels, seraphs, and reapers had summoned a furious cosmic entity of entropy and oblivion. “KEEP. IT. DOWN,” it hissed.

“And what will you do if we don’t?” Castiel asked, raising an eyebrow to the Empty, who stood before them in the guise of Meg Masters, circa 2009.

The Empty stamped its foot. “I took you in. You all died the death of immortals, a death that cannot be rewarded nor punished, but I took you in! And all I ask for is quiet!”

“But why?” Cas continued. “You despise us. Why do you trap us here?”

The Empty hesitated. “They dream,” it replied. “They dream, and so I dream.”

“We suffer nightmares of your making.”

“No-oo. The dreams are yours.”

“You enjoy the nightmares?”

“No.” The Empty faltered. “They wake me up. You stir, I stir; I must sleep!”

Jack spoke softly to the Empty. “Then expel them.”

“Expel them? What, just set them all free to commit chaos?”

“Just the dreamers.”

The Empty seemed to calculate the price of granting the nephilim’s wish. “That would be almost all of the angels and a number of powerful demons. They might return, clomping into my haven and disturbing my sleep.”

“No,” Castiel put in, his eyes lit with a wry smile. “If you expel them, they will be forever banned from your realm. They become subject to Purgatory, not Oblivion.”

Jack smiled at his father. “Exactly!” He turned again to the Empty. “So you’ll do it?” he asked brightly.

The Empty scowled. It nodded once, as if making a decision.

The world went white, then faded to reveal a sunny meadow. Roly-poly bumblebees flitted between fat heads of purple clover. A nest of chickadees chirped. Cicadas droned. A red kite soared above them, the string held by someone a long way off. Cas’ face softened, as if recalling a long-lost memory.

It hardened again as he sensed something amiss. “Jack,” he frowned, “the walls between the human heavens are failing.”

Jack nodded. “Yes, which is why we need more angelic energy. But watch.” He drew a small window in the air with his index finger. He pushed the cut-out, revealing an adjoining heaven belonging to a woman. Cas recognized her as the mother of the man with the kite. Her heaven contained a meadow: the same meadow that surrounded them, rather than the manicured lawn Cas knew from the man’s original heaven.

“They can co-exist,” he breathed.

“Yes. We can break these barriers and open Heaven. It doesn’t need to be a prison. We can fix it.” Jack grinned again, that same old smile he’d worn in life, when he learned the taste of nougat or the softness of a bunny rabbit.

The sight warmed Cas. The summer sky glowed just a bit brighter. “Tell me what to do, my son.”

***

For six days, as Heaven measures time, the angels, the archangels, and the nephilim worked. First, negotiating a truce with Hell and its imperious but righteous Queen, and then building a Heaven for all. On the seventh day, they rested from their labors. They gathered to watch the humans on earth for a little while. Almost no time had passed: the humans had had just enough time to recollect that they had watched their loved ones vanish; those unfamiliar with the supernatural had quickly forgotten the phenomenon, as well. The hunters in the warded hideout had had just enough time to embrace their newly un-vanished friends.

Sam was texting Eileen, only to remember that he still had her phone, abandoned on the sidewalk mid-text. He laughed at himself. “We have to drive to Eileen’s house.”

Dean lay hunched over the table, carving a word into the polished wood alongside the Winchester family initials. Thus far, it read, “CAST,” and he was just starting on the I. “Pack us up- I wanna finish this, but I can be ready in twenty.” They watched as he finished his tribute to Castiel. He put two fingers to his lips, then pressed the finger pads against the grooves.

Cas itched to know how Dean meant the gesture.

Dean hastily scratched the name “JACK” into the table, too. “You done good, kid,” he murmured, patting the letters as he might once have patted Jack on the shoulder.

The angels drifted back to their tasks. Cas stayed, watching his friends. His family. He followed their movements towards Eileen. He witnessed the tearful reunion.

Sam started sniffling long before Dean pulled up behind Eileen’s little red car. He stepped over the sidewalk, where he had first absorbed her death, and a sob escaped him. In a few strides of his long legs, he was at the door. His hand shook as he reached for the doorbell. The second phone in his pocket vibrated: her doorbell notification. How would she know that he was there? He clapped the knocker, stamped his feet.

The door opened. Eileen. A vision, a sight for even Cas’ sore eyes. Sam was overwhelmed. He croaked her name, and she was in his arms. Where she belonged.

Back at the curb, Dean turned his face from the lovers. He fiddled with his phone, but who could he call?

Cas heard Dean think his name. He felt a pang of longing, but it wasn’t his own. Or rather, it matched his own. Echoed his, merged with his, swelling the aching feeling until he felt full to bursting with yearning for something he thought he could never have. Had thought he couldn’t have. Now, he wondered.

He called to his son.

Jack appeared beside him. He followed Cas’ gaze. “It’s time for you to return to him,” he mused.

“Yes, but,” Cas tripped over the words he wanted to say and couldn’t bear to say.

Fortunately, Jack understood. Without another word, he took Cas’ face in his hands. For a moment, their eyes glowed brightly, then Castiel’s dimmed to their customary shade of blue. When Jack’s golden aura had faded as well, he pulled away from Cas. He glanced down at the slim vial now slung around his neck by a black cord. The substance within sparkled, swirled, its hue a dazzling, electric blue-white. It looked like lightning in a bottle.

Cas swept his son into a crushing embrace. “Thank you,” he wept.

“You can always come home,” Jack told him.

Cas pulled back. “No. Where I’m going is home.” He smiled through the tears rushing down his cheek. “Goodbye, Jack. I love you.”

He rather felt than heard Jack’s reply, as he crossed from the celestial plane to the mortal realm. He stood now on that same sidewalk. Far to his right, Sam lifted Eileen, carrying her bridal-style into her home, letting the door slam behind them. To his left, a long black car. He gripped the passenger door handle, pulled it open. The hinges squeaked. He folded himself inside before turning to the driver.

Dean looked every bit as awed as Cas felt. This was right.

Before he could say anything, even so much as a simple “Hello, Dean,” he found himself in Dean’s arms. Where he belonged.

[mutantsrisingrpg]

Congratulations, BECKY! You’ve been accepted as PALLENE with a FC change to FIVEL STEWART.

Becky, you delivered a character as rich as the honeyed smiles you described Anastasia as having with a complexity as deep as the darkness you implied lurks behind it. It was difficult to choose between the apps for Anastasia, but ultimately I couldn’t get your visions for her out of my head. She’s youthful and you see it in the way she wants to be adored and the way she uses her powers and I can’t even describe how excited I am to see the sort of havoc that only she can wreak on this city.

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information:

NAME/ALIAS: Becky

PRONOUNS: she/her

AGE: 23

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: GMT, online daily

TRIGGERS: None

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Anastasia Ahn ( Pallene )

GENDER/PRONOUNS: cisfemale, she/her

DETAILS & ANALYSIS: This is where you show us who the character is to you! The format of this doesn’t matter, whether it’s in bullet points or in para form, and can be as long as you’d like it to be. Feel free to get creative!

Anastasia got chewed up and spat out as a teenager but instead of healing she found herself with powers, which– what sixteen year old doesn’t want to find out that she has the ability to change the emotions of those around her?

She’s pretty for the sake of covering up the bad things that she knows exist inside her: jealousy and revenge. It kind of reminds me of that scene from Jennifer’s Body where Jennifer is trying to smooth foundation over her face in an attempt to cover up the fact that she’s a blood sucking vampire.

I guess it plays off of the idea that monsters hide in plain sight

And it’s not that she’s evil – she’s just incredibly sensitive and knows how to hold a grudge. She wants better and she wants more and she consumes to fill the gap inside her that she doesn’t otherwise know what to do with

She’s an amalgamation of every twenty-something year old that looks back on her mistakes and decides that other people were the problem. It’s far easier to blame everyone else than herself, after all.

She wants to remain lovely and she wants to be seen as someone to aspire to be like and she wants to be satisfied and she wants to feel full and, above all, she wants to be adored.

Also inspired by this quote from Florence +The Machine’s artistic director: “It’s about the power the darkness of longing can give you when you embrace your inner beast alone…. Women who bond themselves together like this, and rise up together like this, are usually accused of being witches, so I wanted to explore that. I also wanted to create an abstraction of Florence as if every woman was a small piece of glass that had shattered inside her. Now they join her outside her body and fight with her, love with her, go to war with her.”

BIO:

The wannabe beauty queen. The sickeningly stereotypical airhead cheerleader. The girl with a post-divorce-rich mum who loves spending her time in exotic locations and comes and goes, but mostly goes, and the apologetic don’t-forget-I-love-you-even-though-I-screwed-my-receptionist dad that gives her gifts to make up for the dance recitals and birthday parties he missed when she was a child. Shallow popularity is worn like the diamante-studded tiara she got for her sweet-sixteen, glistening brightly to dazzle and distract from below-average grades.

Her teachers tell her she needs to try harder. Scorned students that she’s ostracized flock like vultures to her grades on results day, picking at the sun-bleached bones of a carcass that spells out the word FAIL. But try as she might to study, headaches plague her. Unable to concentrate in class, her parents, respectively, pay for doctors to assess her, to figure out the cause of the sharp-shooting pain that sometimes ends in nosebleeds. Red stains the pale pink silk of her dress on prom night. Carrie’s anger isn’t lost on her – in hindsight it’s ironic, really.

Her ability manifests slowly. Slow enough that she doesn’t realise it at first. Bizarre happenings that could be circumstances begin to add up until there’s no mistaking that something strange is at play. Unrequited love turns to adoration from the boy who lives next door who has never so much as even expressed that he knows her name until now. Previously unsympathetic teachers look at her with pity and decide to raise her grade as she tugs at their heartstrings.

It isn’t until she uses her newfound gift to make her parents fall in love with one another again that she realises she’s different. She’s special. The world was her dolls house and she was free to dictate the emotions of the pretty plastic people inside. Everyone could be happy. Everyone would love her.

Everyone, and everything, would fall apart.

Like a love spell from a fairytale, her unpracticed manipulations soon wear thin and revert to that which was once before. A sugar-sweet kiss turns rotten, confusion sweeping across her lover’s face as he attempts to figure out why her tongue was just in his mouth. Teachers frown when they re-read her essays, blaming her for somehow altering her grade. Her parents wake up and begin yelling all over again, echoes of her childhood biting at her heels like jaw-snapping hounds.

Left staring at the ruins of her life, Anastasia runs. She vows not to use her powers again, terrified of herself and a lack of control over them. A period of homelessness and a string of low-paid jobs are what leads her to wind up at Cornerstore Convenience, searching for a shift or two that she can pick up to try and make rent at her new entirely unloveable basement apartment. Turned away by the cashier, in desperation she uses her curse ( no longer a gift, no longer anything but trouble ) to persuade them to reconsider.

Her first shift, as it happens, is less of a trial-run and more of an assessment. A wide-eyed teenager whose world has already been turned upside down, she watches the universe rearrange itself once more. Truth unravels as she’s introduced to Derek, and then to Angela, and then – once words like mutants and power and family swim through her skull – to Damien.

Six years later and her gift turned curse turned ability is no longer the chemical taste of terror in the back of her mouth. Anastasia has regained her confidence in using her emotional manipulation, allowing it to curl around her mind like a feline whose affection is hard won but worthwhile. Still striving to be picture perfect, something dark lurks behind her practiced honeyed smiles and there’s a hint of danger to the way her fingertips dance over the cheekbones of anyone who dares to get too close.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

CHANCE MATTHEWS: Ever a perfectionist, Anastasia had seen Chance as her Prince Charming. She’d played the game of love with devotion and care, being there for him when he needed advice, offering solace and warmth and affection. They had been happy, she thought. Had she not been pretty enough? Sweet enough? Pure enough? His increasing distance stings like a slap, leaving her to sulk bitterly in his wake.

SHAE KNOX: Of all the people to lurk amongst the shadows of The House, Anastasia never would have expected to find herself staring into the familiar brown eyes of an old friend. Squeals of joy while running barefoot across the lawn; sleepovers spent eating too much chocolate; teary goodbyes when Anastasia’s dad sold her childhood home. Surrounded by strangers, Shae was a beacon in the dark. A lighthouse of protection. They continue to be a comfort, even now, especially now, standing tall through the various storms that continue to howl through Anastasia’s life. She owes them a lot and will stand with them through thick and thin.

ISAAC CASTILLA: Boys like him are dangerous enough without abilities. A sky-high ego and a switchblade smirk, he’s the mirror-image of the troublemakers at school who would kiss and tell, smudging the lipgloss of girls whose hearts hadn’t known better. Anastasia’s not above tricking a teenager into feeding her information – she’ll play dirty with a mouth full of sweet lies in the hope she can prove to Damien – and, in extension, his son – just how much of an asset she is.

EXTRA:

I’d make a playlist but it would just be the entirety of Marina and the Diamonds’ Electra Heart album

I sort of see her as a mixture of Lavender Brown from Harry Potter, Elaine from The Love Witch,  and Tinker Bell from Peter Pan

Couldn’t resist a pinterest board

ANYTHING ELSE: FC change to Fivel Stewart or Natasha Liu Bordizzo if possible! ( no preference )

[thejonzone]

A Lifetime Gone: Notes on Jim Sullivan and The Hours

Laura Brown does not want to be Laura Brown. She is one of three protagonists in The Hours (played by Julianne Moore in the movie adaptation), and for her it is 1949 in the hot desert suburbs of Los Angeles. Laura has a husband and a young son but dreads her housewife role, knowing it isn’t for her, knowing she can’t keep it up. She stays in bed for as long as she can, her eyes drop with empty relief as she watches her husband pull out of the driveway, and she reads, despairing for a different world.

After a failed attempt to make a birthday cake and an intimate moment with her neighbor Kitty, Laura has an existential panic. She drops her son off at a friend’s house and, under the guise of running an errand, takes a drive into the city: “As she pilots her Chevrolet along the Pasadena Freeway....she feels as if she’s dreaming or....as if she’s remembering this drive from a dream long ago.”

20 years later in Los Angeles (and in real life), Jim Sullivan records his debut album, U.F.O. It’s first song, “Jerome”, begins with a bright, unsettling orchestral arrangement. Swelling and theatrical but foreboding and alone, it’s the musical equivalent of “red sky in morning, sailors take warning.” Something is wrong. But just as the tension peaks, it all falls away, and for a moment everything is still.

Jerome is a town in Arizona, but you’d be just as right if you thought Jim Sullivan’s song was describing a person. In the late 1800’s, the town in the Arizona desert boomed with copper mining, but the mine closed in the early 1950’s, and the people left with it. Sullivan sings about buying drugs and wanting to go to Jerome, but he doesn’t know where it is or how to find it. He wonders where this ghost town could be. Is it “just a town out there”? Can you only find it “if you’re driving slow”? What exactly does Jerome mean to Sullivan, and how real is the place he’s searching for?

Jerome revitalized itself in the early 1970’s, in part due to its proximity to Sedona, the nearby capital of new-age spirituality. Sedona is known for its vortexes, places in nature that supposedly have high spiritual energy. It doesn’t seem coincidental that Jim Sullivan mentions Jerome-- he and his wife were both interested in New Age mysticism. The album has a clear spiritual bent, exploring reincarnation, religion, and grief: the foggy space between worlds. Even without knowing his strange and tragic backstory, Jim Sullivan’s U.F.O. captures the uneasiness of a dream world, the rising anxiety of realizing you’ve been traveling in the same circle, over and over again. It’s a nightmare. U.F.O. is about illusions and ghosts, it’s full of ghosts, one of whom (in hindsight) is Jim’s ghost, which haunts the album more than anyone he wrote about.

There’s a decent amount written about Jim Sullivan’s story. It ends with him in the New Mexico desert in 1975. Before that, he’d been living in Los Angeles. He made two albums that both failed to create any real traction for him. He had some small success (he was in the movie Easy Rider) but decided to leave his family behind and drive to Nashville to find session work. And that’s that. He never made it to Nashville. He disappeared, was never found or heard from. Ever again! They found his car, all his stuff in it, but never found him. For a guy that talked about driving into the desert and disappearing, it’s spooky how 6 years later he drove into the desert and disappeared.

His music faded to almost nothing, until Light in the Attic reissued it in 2010. My initial fascination is summed up by PopMatters: “When you discover a story like [Jim’s], you start hearing the music differently...It seems impossible not to hear the lyrics as a prediction...that he would come to some kind of mysterious end.” It kept tickling my head, the already cryptic and confusing lyrics morphing into some type of eerie prophecy I felt compelled to piece together.

For Sullivan, it’s not what we see, but how we see it. Eyes show up all over U.F.O. “Plain As Your Eyes Can See” is a lamentation of unreciprocated love. The song is claustrophobic: A crowd’s whisper amplifies to a drowning yell, fallen rocks constrict a bridge’s path. As the world contracts, the narrator realizes they don’t have a place in their love’s life. The song’s idiomatic title is deceptive. Because something that’s as “plain as your eyes can see” should be simple. But U.F.O. is full of moments when our eyes observe something strange, when seeing is anything but plain. He tells us that eyes can easily be deceived, and now here we are, our eyes deceived. The album is a disappearing act, a magic trick.

Throughout the album, characters have surreal, impaired vision. “Whistle Stop” begins with “thunder and lightning in my eyes”, before the narrator describes an interaction with a woman he believes to have known from a past life. “All the air seemed quite foggy to me,” he says, setting up a dream world where he contemplates the soul having some type of knowledge that transcends a body. On “Rosey”, men look at the titular sex worker with “diamonds in their eyes”, and Sullivan tries to figure out who really sees who in the exchange. The song is dark and melodic, the strings and horns are exalting at times, dangerous elsewhere.

The characters in Sullivan’s songs are observers, peering from windows, or watching from crowds. They are searching for answers and they search by watching. In the title song, the narrator describes watching a religious ceremony as “checking out the show / with a glassy eye”, whereas in “Johnny”, the narrator is watching a crowd form to watch a boy who is flying in the sky. They yell out to him to come down, and then wonder if he has discovered anything from up there. As the album goes on, it becomes clear that Jim himself was a watcher, as lost as his characters. Even the album’s cover art expresses a fractured and confused gaze, as 5 duplications of Jim’s face, rapt in attention, look up curiously at something out of sight.

Laura Brown, after some aimless driving, decides to rent a hotel room for the afternoon. She’s impressed by the “cool nowhere” of it, a place of travel and transition, a place to sleep but not a home. After checking in, she realizes how “far away from her life she is. It was so easy.” In the hotel, she sees her anger, her panic, her nervousness, all still in existence, but separate from her: “It’s almost as if she’s accompanied by an invisible sister…”

It is Sullivan’s discussion on death and reincarnation that proves most eerie in hindsight. Even with Rosey’s protective facade, she’s surprised to feel seen by her johns, as they see a part of her that she “often thought was dead”, which makes that part of her alive again, if just for a moment. U.F.O.’s title song begins with strings that feel celestial, so it’s only right that he sings about Jesus and resurrection-- “the only man I know that got up from the dead”. It’s neither critique nor praise of Christianity; the narrator wonders if people can come back, if they can ever be seen again. That idea is carried over in the most affecting song on the album, So Natural. In it, Sullivan most directly grapples with a grief that permeates the whole album: the death of his brother. He again is a watcher, this time at his brother’s funeral. His bizarre take on the experience is how natural his brother looks in death. Sullivan has molded a character who is both alive and dead. In a later verse portending his own death, Sullivan wishes for oblivion: for nobody to be at his eventual funeral, for his ashes to scatter across the desert. And here’s the wild part: both those things effectively happened.

Free of her responsibilities, Laura reads Mrs. Dalloway in her hotel room: “did it matter that she must inevitably cease completely, did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely?” And after closing the book: “It is possible to die. Laura thinks, suddenly, how she-- how anyone-- can make a choice like that.” It’s a grounding realization for Laura. It’s not necessarily one about suicidal ideation, although (at least in the movie version) she does attempt it, but one about agency. Death changes from something that happens to something one can make happen. In that moment, Laura realizes that she can choose life.

So what happened to Jim Sullivan? There are a few theories, and of course, nothing is confirmed. One is that he was killed, perhaps he ran into an unsavory figure, maybe small town police, maybe a remote branch of the mafia, maybe just a wrong place wrong time situation. Some think that he was abducted by aliens. I don’t think it should be ruled out that he chose to disappear.

After driving back from the hotel, Laura picks her son up on the way back home. She steps out of the car, feet planted back in the real world, and “is overtaken by a sensation of unbeing...it seems that by going to the hotel she has slipped out of her life…”

“Highways”, U.F.O.’s emotional centerpiece, sparkles and trills in a way that would certainly make Sufjan Stevens shit. Sufjan for sure takes a page from Sullivan’s book. Both these fellas love horns and using place to ground their songwriting. Both seem to float over the scenes they describe. Highways is optimistic, in a way. On an album where he’s searching for a place to feel at home, he finds it: being lost. He’s lost both physically and spiritually, as he describes losing his sense of identity. But that doesn’t concern him. “It’s easier to stay here, think I know my way here”, he sings. The place he feels most comfortable in isn’t a place so much as a state of motion. It’s part of the fantasy of escape, that giddy rush of being invisible, of not owing anyone anything, it’s that same feeling that coursed through Laura Brown as she drove down her own highway. “Highways” sounds like Jim Sullivan making a promise to disappear one day.

But he doesn’t disappear, at least not right away. He returns after a trip both in and out of our world, returns home, but he doesn’t return fully, he returns on the final song as a Sandman, bringer of sleep. It’s depressing, dark, insidious-- “honey now your sandman’s back in town” Sullivan croons, a promise of someone who knows death, holds it with him. Laura Brown, similarly obsessed with death, also doesn’t disappear right away. Her afternoon in the hotel makes it clear that she needs to leave, but she formulates her plan and waits for the right moment before doing so. As Laura delays having to join her husband in bed, she thinks over her life-changing day: “She might be nothing but a floating intelligence, a presence that perceives, as a ghost might. Yes, this is probably how it must feel to be a ghost. It’s a little like reading-- that same sensation of knowing people, settings, situations, without playing a particular part beyond that of the willing observer.”

I know what it is to fear life. To tip-toe, lie, crumple, appease, stay quiet, get angry, run. I know what it is to become a ghost. I want to believe that desire is stronger than fear, but I know it’s a choice like anything else. Jim Sullivan made a decision to improve his life. He chose to go to Nashville, and either was killed along the way, or chose to go away, just like he said he wanted to. I want to believe that we will do whatever we can to achieve what we need, but I know it’s not so simple. Jim’s voice is weighed down by despair, yet it’s clear he had a deep spirituality within him, some guiding force. He teases us to see, to really see.

Jerome is a town in Arizona, but you’d be just as right if you thought Jim Sullivan was describing a person. A person who once existed, a person who might come back. Jerome is the person who we are when we stop lying to ourselves, and it’s the place we’re constantly looking for. Good luck finding it on a map. Jerome is Jim Sullivan’s opening statement on his baroque pop nightmare, his declaration that we never really die, that we are constantly alive and dead, and what defines those qualities is rooted in what we’re searching for and what we’re hiding from. In the end though, it’s the Jerome Tourism website that puts it most mysteriously and succinctly: “Forever? Jerome never knows.”

[ericgamalinda]

Sod Manila!

From EMPIRE OF MEMORY, 1992 / 2014

AT HALF PAST THREE in the afternoon of July 5, 1966, a mob hired by President Ferdinand Marcos chased the Beatles out of Manila International Airport. I remember the jittery footage of the scene being replayed over and over on The News Tonite on Channel 5. A grim-looking commentator was saying the Fab but Discourteous Four had shamelessly humiliated the First Lady and her children by refusing to pay a courtesy call at Malacañang Palace. Imelda Marcos herself hastily issued a statement saying the Beatles were to be treated humanely despite the snub, but this was said after the fact—after the Beatles had been kicked, spat at, cursed, and chased into a waiting jet.

     Julian Hidalgo, known by the nickname Jun, took me and my sister Delphi to the Beatles’ concert at Rizal Memorial Stadium. At that time he was courting my sister and was hoping to win me over by playing the older brother. They were both nineteen, and the rituals of this older generation meant nothing to me beyond free passes to a number of movies, where I had to chaperone Delphi. The three of us would witness, not by accident, the Beatles being beaten up at the airport, and for some time we would bond in a special way—conspirators mystically united by an adventure whose significance would only dawn on us long after the event had passed. Jun explained a few details about this incident to me eighteen years later, when, in the ironic twists of fate that coursed through our lives during the dictatorship, he and I became colleagues once again in the censorship office in Malacañang. But in 1966 we were young, brash, and bold with hope, and like the entire country, we seemed on the verge of a privileged destiny.

     Three days before the concert, Jun rushed to our house with three front-row tickets. Delphi’s eyes widened like 45s. “Where did you get the money this time, ha?” she asked incredulously.      “The First Lady gave them to me,” Jun said proudly. And, in response to our howls of disbelief, “Well, actually, this reporter from the Manila Times gave them to me. The First Lady was giving away sacks of rice and tickets last week. This reporter owed me for a tip I gave him years ago, the one that got him the Press Club award. He wanted the rice, I asked for the tickets. He was one of those Perry Como types.”      Imelda Marcos had flown in friends and media to celebrate her birthday on her native island of Leyte. There was roast suckling pig and a rondalla playing all day. She herself obliged requests for a song with a tearful ballad in the dialect, “Ang Irog Nga Tuna,” My Motherland. To commemorate the sentimental reunion, each guest went home with the rice and tickets.      “Now that’s style,” Delphi said. Then, upon reflection: “They won’t let Alfonso in.”      “Of course they would!” I protested. I was just thirteen but I was already as tall as she was.      “That’s not the point,” Jun said impatiently. “I’m going to get myself assigned to cover the Beatles and we can talk to them ourselves.”      “All the other reporters will beat you to it,” I said. Jun was stringing for the Manila Times and was convinced that getting an exclusive interview would land him a job as a staff reporter.      “All the other reporters listen to nothing but Ray Conniff,” he said. “Besides, nobody knows where they’re staying. But I do.”      Jun’s modus operandi wasn’t going to be that easy. He managed to get stage passes for the three of us, which turned out to be inutile. It was the official pass, printed and distributed in London, that we had to wangle if we were to get near the Beatles.      “Go ahead and do your job,” Delphi told him icily. “We’ll see you at the stadium.”      “I can still get you the pass,” Jun said. “Somehow.” He was beginning to realize that concert security would directly affect his personal relationships. But not even his religious coverage of pre-concert press briefings seemed to help. Local promoters announced that the Beatles’ only press conference was going to be held at the War Room of the Philippine Navy headquarters, and that the concert was being staged, not by coincidence, on the fourth of July as a birthday gift to the Republic (July 4th) and the First Lady (July 2nd).      Other questions were left unanswered. Had the Beatles secretly arrived by submarine? “That’s confidential.” Were they actually going to stay at the Palace? “That’s confidential.” In the end somebody asked if the Beatles actually existed, and the joke was that that, too, was confidential.      The excitement was further fueled by a series of wire stories the dailies ran on page one, including coverage of the Beatles’ world tour, warnings of possible riots all over the world, and a rare discordant moment in Tokyo, where a reporter asked the group, “What are you going to be when you grow up?” The reply: “If you grow up yourself you’d know better than to ask that question.”      Radio stations kept playing the Beatles’ hits (most requested: “Yesterday” and “Help!”), and DZUW, Rainy Day Radio, preempted everyone and began playing the new single, “Paperback Writer.” The Philippine Security Corporation created the biggest stir when it insured the Beatles for a million pesos. Two hundred Philippine Constabulary troopers, seven hundred policemen, detachments from the Pasay City and Parañaque police, the Civil Aeronautics Administration, the Bureau of Customs, and the Marines were on red alert. The First Lady bought fifteen hundred tickets and distributed them to volunteer recruits to Vietnam, who were going to be the show’s guests of honor. Pro-Beatle fan clubs were staging rallies, counterpointed by anti-Beatle demonstrations where placards said, “No one is more popular than Jesus!!!” Government bureaucrats had to drive away contractors who were bribing them with concert tickets. On the eve of the Beatles’ arrival, a young colegiala threatened to jump off the roof of the Bank of the Philippine Islands building unless she was granted a private audience with the band.      Backstage at the Rizal Memorial Stadium, an air-conditioned dressing room was hastily installed a day before the concert, complete with state-of-the-art TV monitors and audio equipment. Quarter-page ads appeared in the dailies for a week, announcing concert schedules and sponsors. Finally, on July 3, the day of the Beatles’ arrival, a full-page splash appeared in all the dailies:

LIVE! THE BEST IN THE WORLD! THE BEATLES IN MANILA With Asia’s Queen of Songs Pilita Corales Carding Cruz and his Orchestra The Wing Duo The Lemons Three Dale Adriatico The Reycard Duet and Eddie Reyes & The Downbeats!

     Early that morning, Jun called us up. “Get dressed, both of you. We’re meeting the Beatles at the airport.”      “What do you mean, we?” Delphi asked.      “I told you we’d talk to them, didn’t I?” Jun said. “Did I ever break a promise?”      On many occasions, yes, but this was one promise for which Delphi was willing to risk her life—and mine, if need be. She drove our parents’ 1964 Ford to the airport as though she wanted to mow down everything in our way, laughing as irate motorists yelled obscenities at us.      When we finally met Jun at the parking lot, he handed us a pile of obviously used porter uniforms. “I paid the guy twenty pesos to rent them,” he said proudly.      “Does this guy know what you’re renting them for?” Delphi asked, crinkling her nose as she daintily held her uniform away.      Jun held up a bootleg 45, pressed in Hong Kong, in red vinyl. “If I get an autograph, we get a refund.”

THE CATHAY PACIFIC jet swooped in at half past four. The airport was jam-packed with the biggest crowd I had ever seen in my life: girls in bobby socks and leatherette miniskirts and boys in seersucker suits, all perspiring and scrunched against a chain-link fence. This was definitely the wrong place to be. As the jet taxied in, we tore ourselves away from the crowd and wormed our way to one of the departure exits, just in time to catch a baggage trolley rattling toward the plane. Jun hopped on, and Delphi and I awkwardly clambered after him. I was afraid Delphi’s bobbed hair would spill out of the cap she was wearing and blow our cover. But, having regained her composure, she stood handsomely in the last car, gripping the rail; it was no wonder Jun risked life, limb, and career for her.      The trolley rattled past armored cars, fire trucks, riot squads, and troops of motorcycle police who were wearing special cowboy hats for this occasion. As soon as the trolley cranked to a stop under the jet, Jun hopped off. He was about to head toward the stairs when a limousine careened and cut him off. Three official-looking men dressed in formal barong Tagalog got off the limousine and rushed up to the plane. What followed was an interminable, bated-breath pause. Jun walked up the stairs and saw the officials arguing with passengers near the plane’s exit. Somebody was saying, “Is there a war going on?”      Finally, one official tentatively walked out of the plane. This was enough to excite the increasingly impatient crowd, and immediately a cacophony of screams burst from the viewing deck. The screams grew louder as other officials and soldiers walked out of the plane. By the time Brian Epstein groggily stepped out, the screaming had reached earsplitting level—no matter that the soldiers surrounded the Beatles from jet to limousine and we caught glimpses of them only through spaces in the cordon sanitaire: George Harrison, his hair tousled by the humid wind, his red blazer flashing like a signal of distress, Ringo Starr in peppermint stripes and flapping foulard, Paul McCartney, round-eyed and baby-faced, and John Lennon, hiding behind dark glasses.      Jun hurried down the stairs and motioned for us to follow him.      “What happened in there?” Delphi asked him.      “I don’t know,” Jun said. “All I heard was a lot of words your folks wouldn’t want you to hear.”      “What does that mean?” Delphi asked.      “Nothing we can’t find out,” said Jun.

THE MANILA TIMES ran a story about the press conference at the War Room. Jun fumed over his colleague’s story, saying, “This idiot did little more than transcribe the Q&A.” It turned out, however, that the Beatles’ replies would be uncannily prophetic.

     THE BEATLES! YEAH!      By Bobby Tan

     When did you last get a haircut?      In 1933.      Would you be as popular without your long hair?      We can always wear wigs.      How much taxes do you pay?      Too much.      What attracted you to your wives?      Sex.      Do you feel you deserve the Order of the British Empire?      Yeah. But when you’re between 20 and 23, there are bound to be some criticisms.      How will you solve the Vietnam War?      Give it back to whoever deserves it.      What’s your latest song?      “Philippine Blues.”      Mr. Lennon, what did you mean by Spaniard in your latest book?      Have you read it?      No.      Then read it.      If there should come a time when you have to choose between the Beatles and your family, whom would you choose?      We never let our families come between us.      What is your favorite song?      “God Save the King.”      But it’s the Queen now.      “God Save the Queen” then.      What will you be doing ten years from now?      Why bother about ten years from now? We don’t even know if we’ll be around tomorrow.

ON THE EVE of July 4, Philippine-American Friendship Day, President Ferdinand Marcos urged Filipinos to “recall the lasting and valuable friendship between America and the Philippines” and issued a statement saying a revamp of the government bureaucracy was imminent. “Heads Will Roll!” the dailies shrilled, their bold prediction thrust audaciously by homeless street children against car windows along Highway 54. At the Quirino Grandstand the next day, the President sat in the sweltering heat as troops paraded before him. Three stations covered the Friendship Day rites, but Channel 5 ignored it completely, running instead a 24-hour update on the Beatles. Marcos seethed on the grandstand, and cameras caught the expression on his face that might have said: Damned Trillos, they really get my goat. The Trillos owned the Manila Times and many broadcast stations and refused to accommodate the First Family’s whims. But Marcos had the last laugh. On this very afternoon, back at the Palace, Imelda and the children would be having lunch with the Beatles. All television stations and newspapers had been invited for a five-minute photo opportunity—all, that is, except the Trillo network. Marcos tried to stifle a smirk as he saluted the troops. Proud and dignified in his white suit, he stood out like some sartorial titan: people said you could tell he was going in for a second term.

CALLA LILIES were brought in at nine by Emma Fernandez, one of the Blue Ladies, so-called because Imelda Marcos had them wear nothing but blue. The flowers adorned the corridors of the palace all the way to the formal dining hall, where about a hundred youngsters, ages three to fifteen, listlessly waited for the Beatles. Imee, the eldest of the Marcos children, sporting a new bobcut hairdo, sat at the head of the table. Her younger sister Irene sat beside her, reticent and uncomfortable in Sunday clothes. Ferdinand Junior, master Bongbong to one and all, was wearing a bowtie and a starched cotton shirt, and his attire apparently made him restless, as he kept sliding off his seat to pace the floor. Around them were children of ministers, generals, business tycoons, and friends of the family, sitting under buntings of red, white, and blue and paper flags of the United States and the Philippines.      Imelda Marcos walked in at exactly eleven. Emma Fernandez approached her, wringing her hands, and whispered in her ear: “They’re late!” Imelda brushed her off, an imperceptible smile parting her lips. She kissed the children one by one, Imee dodging and receiving instead a red smear on the ear. She inspected the cutlery, the lilies, the nameplates: two R’s each for Harrison and Starr, check; two N’s for Lennon; and no A in Mc. She scanned the room proudly, deflecting the grateful, expectant faces, the small fingers clutching cardboard tickets to the concert.      At half past eleven the children began complaining, so breadsticks and some juice were served. Imelda walked around the hall, stopping to strike a pose for the palace photographers. “Good shot, Madame!” The photographers were the best in the field, plucked out of the newsrooms to accompany her on all her itineraries. They had been sufficiently instructed on which angle to shoot from and which side to take, and anyone who took the wrong shot was dismissed posthaste, his camera and negatives confiscated. The children were more difficult to shoot: bratty and impatient, they always came out pouting, with their chins stuck out. It was always best to avoid them.      Unknown to this gathering, a commotion was going on at the lobby of the Manila Hotel. On hand were Brian Epstein and members of the concert crew; Colonel Justin Flores and Captain Nilo Cunanan of the Philippine Constabulary; Sonny Balatbat, the teenage son of Secretary of State Roberto Balatbat; Captain Fred Santos of the Presidential Guard; Major Tommy Young and Colonel Efren Morales of the Manila Police District; and local promoter Rene Amos.      “We had an agreement,” Colonel Flores was saying. “We sent a telegram to Tokyo.”      “I don’t know about any fucking telegram,” Epstein replied.      “The First Lady and the children have been waiting all morning.”      “Nobody told them to wait.”      “The First Lady will be very, very disappointed.”      Brian Epstein looked the colonel in the eye and said, “If they want to see the Beatles, let them come here.”      At the stroke of noon, Imelda Marcos rose from her chair and walked out of the dining hall. “The children can wait,” she said, “but I have more important things to do.”      As soon as she was gone, Imee pushed back her chair, fished out her ticket, and tore it in two. The other children followed, and for a few seconds there was no sound in the hall but the sound of tickets being torn. Bongbong hovered near the plate that had been reserved for John Lennon. “I really much prefer the Rolling Stones,” he said. Photographers caught the young master at that moment, his eyes wide and blank. Imee looked at him and remarked, “The only Beatles song I liked was ‘Run for Your Life.’” She looked around the hall defiantly. She had never been so embarrassed in her life. People always said that among the three Marcos children, she was the sensitive one. That morning she seemed she was about to cry.

     The Beatles: Mass Hysteria!      By Jun Hidalgo

     Eighty thousand hysterical fans cramped into Rizal Memorial Stadium to watch the Beatles, the largest crowd Manila has seen since the Elorde-Ortiz boxing match in the same stadium.      While traffic snarled to a standstill along Dakota Street, 720 policemen, 35 special detectives and the entire contingent of the Manila Fire Department stood guard as the Liverpool quartet performed their hits before thousands of cheering and screaming fans, many of whom had waited to get inside the stadium since early morning…

WHEN THE GATES finally opened, all hell broke loose. I held on to Delphi, who held on to Jun, and the three of us braved the onslaught as we squeezed past security and found ourselves, miraculously intact, on the front row beside the Vox speakers.      “I don’t want to sit here,” Delphi protested. “We’re going to blast our ears off!”      “Relax,” Jun said. “Everybody’ll be screaming anyway. We have the best seats in the house.”      Everyone in the stadium was a mophead, except the Vietnam volunteers sitting in our row, whose heads had been cleanly shaved. They were young men plucked from the provinces, and many of them were never coming home again. I was so relieved I had grown my hair longer that summer. My hair was a clear sign that, despite my young age, I had gained honorary membership in the exclusive cabal of this generation. You could tell who the pigs were: they were the ones who roamed around, their ears pink and their heads shaved clean like the Vietnam volunteers. Some of them had guns under into their belts; they had been warned that a riot could break out.

     …Soaked in sweat, Beatles fans impatiently heckled the opening acts, and emcees had to threaten the crowd that the Beatles would not perform until the audience simmered down.

And when the Beatles finally opened with “I Wanna Be Your Man,” you could feel the excitement ripping through you, a detonation of such magnitude your entire being seemed to explode. I couldn’t hear anything except a long, extended shrill—the whole stadium screaming its lungs out. I looked at Delphi. She was holding her head between her hands and her eyes were bulging out and her mouth was stretched to an 0, and all I could hear was this long, high-pitched scream coming out of her mouth. I had never seen Delphi like that before, and I would never, for the rest of her life, see her as remorselessly young as she was that afternoon.

THE MORNING AFTER the concert, Jun asked Delphi if we could take the Ford to Manila Hotel.      “Why do you have to take us along?” Delphi asked him. It was clear that for her the concert had been the high point of our adventure.      “We still have to get that interview, don’t we?” Jun reminded her. “Besides,” he added, “I need you to cover for me,” Jun said.      “Cover?” asked Delphi. “As in war?”      “Looks like war it’s going to be,” said Jun.      Jun had bribed someone from room service to let him take a snack to the Beatles. I was going to pose as a bellhop. Delphi was going to be a chambermaid. Apparently our plan was to swoop down on them in the name of impeccable service, with Jun secretly recording this invasion with the help of a pocket-sized tape recorder. As usual, he had the uniforms ready, rented for the day for half his month’s wages. “The hotel laundry boy’s a childhood friend of mine.”      “You’re the company you keep,” Delphi teased him, because she knew it tortured him whenever she did that.      I wore the monkey suit perfectly, but somehow it still didn’t feel right. I looked at myself in the men’s room mirror and knew I was too young for the role. And Delphi looked incongruous as the chambermaid: her bob cut was too in.      As it turned out, all my misgivings would be proven true. We crossed the lobby to the service elevator. Jun walked several paces ahead of us, nonchalantly jiggling the car keys, but I kept glancing nervously around.      “Hoy, where you going?”      Jun didn’t seem to hear the house detective call us, or maybe the detective didn’t notice him walking past. I felt a hand grab my collar and pull me aside. Immediately, Delphi was all over the detective, hitting him with her fists: “You take your hands off my brother or I’ll kick your teeth in!” Struggling out of the detective’s chokehold, I could see Jun hesitating by the elevator. I motioned for him to go. The detective dragged Delphi and me out to a backroom where several other detectives were playing poker. “Oy, got two more right here!”

AS HE RECALLED LATER, Jun wheeled the tray into Suite 402 expecting to find telltale debris of a post-concert party (and hence an excuse for us to mop up). What he came upon was something less festive.      “Compliments of the house, sir,” he announced cheerfully as he came in.      George Harrison and Brian Epstein were sitting on the sofa, and Paul McCartney was precariously perched on the TV set, brooding. The three of them apparently had been having an argument and they all looked up, surprised, at the intruder.      “All right,” Epstein said, curtly. “Bring it in.”      “I’ll have to mix the dip here, sir,” Jun said, to prolong the intrusion. “House specialty.”      Nobody seemed to hear him. George Harrison continued the conversation, “We came here to sing. We didn’t come here to drink tea and shake hands.”      “That’s precisely the reason we’ve got to pay customs the bond for the equipment,” said Epstein.      “Let them keep the money then,” Paul said. “Everyone says here come those rich mopheads to make more money. We don’t care about the money.”      “We didn’t even want to come here,” George reminded them.      “The only reason we came here,” added Paul, “was because these people were always saying why don’t you come over here? We didn’t want to offend anyone, did we? We just came here to sing. You there,” indicating Jun, who jumped with surprise. “Do you speak English?”      “Fairly well,” replied Jun.      “Does the government control the press here, as they do the customs people, the airport managers, and the police?”      “Not yet,” said Jun.      Paul then observed that everything was “so American in this country, it’s eerie, man!” He also remarked that many people were exploited by a wealthy and powerful few. Epstein wanted to know how he knew that, as the others had simply not heard of the country before, and Paul replied that he had been reading one of the local papers.      “What are we supposed to do?” he asked. “Show up and say, ‘Well, here we are, we’re sorry we’re late!’ We weren’t supposed to be here in the first place. Why should we apologize for something that’s not our fault?”      At that point John Lennon and Ringo Starr, who had been booked in the adjacent suite, walked in. Ringo, sweating and tousled, plopped into the sofa between Epstein and George Harrison. John Lennon, wearing his dark glasses, walked straight to the window and looked out. “We’ve got a few things to learn about the Philippines, lads,” he said. “First of all is how to get out.”

THE MANILA HOTEL DETECTIVES deftly disposed of Delphi and me with a push via the back door, where a sign said THROUGH THIS DOOR PASS THE MOST COURTEOUS EMPLOYEES OF MANILA.      We walked back to the Ford in the parking lot and waited for less than an hour when Jun, struggling out of the hotel uniform and back to mufti, sprinted toward us and hopped into the driver’s seat. “Get in!” he shouted. “We’re going to the airport!”      “Did you get the interview?” Delphi asked.      “Better,” Jun said. “The Beatles are going to try to leave this afternoon. They’re paying something like forty-five thousand dollars as a bond or something. Customs is charging them so much money in taxes for the concert.”      “Wait a minute,” Delphi protested. “Is that legal?”      “Who cares?” Jun said. “All I know is they’re paying the bond and now all they want to do is to get out. But they think something’s going to happen at the airport. There’s been talk of arrest and detention.”      “Who said that?” Delphi asked.      “John Lennon, I think. I don’t know. I was mixing that stupid dip.”      We were driving toward the south highway now, past the mammoth hulls of ships docked at Manila Bay. “You know all those people who’ve been trying to get the Beatles to go to the palace? You know why they were so keen on bringing the band over to Imelda’s luncheon?”      “Can’t waste all that food, right?” Delphi said.      “Bright girl, but no. There’s going to be a major revamp soon. It’s all over the papers, if you’ve been paying attention. All these guys are going to get the top posts. Well, most of them were, until the Beatles screwed everything up.”      “What guys? Who?”      “That Colonel Fred Santos, the one who led the group to talk to Epstein, he’s being groomed to head the Presidential Guard. Real heavy-duty position, accompanying the First Family all over the world, luxury apartment at the Palace, the works. There’s one Colonel Flores, Justin Flores I think, who’s bound to be chief of the constabulary. Then there’s Colonel Efren Morales, most likely head of the Manila Police.”      “But these are junior officers,” Delphi said. “Marcos can’t just promote them to top posts.”      “That’s the point. Marcos is going to bypass everybody and build up an army of his own. All these new guys will be licking his boots and there’s nothing the generals can do about it. That young mophead, the son of Balatbat, he was there for his father, who’s going to be reappointed secretary of state. And if I’m not mistaken, Salvador Roda, the airport manager, wants to take over customs. The man’s going to be a millionaire, kickbacks and all.”      “How do you know all that?” Delphi demanded.      “Homework,” Jun said, swerving the car toward the airport, his reply drowned out by the droning of jets. “I’m the best damned reporter in the city, and everybody’s going to find out why.”

SALVADOR RODA was briefing the press agitatedly at the VIP lounge of the airport that afternoon, explaining why the republic was withdrawing security for the Beatles and why customs had slapped a hundred-thousand-peso tax on Liverpudlian income. “Too much Filipino money wasted on such a paltry entourage, gentlemen of the press, and not one centavo of the profits going to the nation. Puta, that doesn’t make sense, di ba?”      We walked up the escalators to the second floor to change into our porter uniforms, which we had lugged in backpacks.      “This airport gets worse every time I come here,” Delphi complained. “Nothing’s working.”      “And there’s nobody around,” observed Jun. The entire second floor was deserted. “Lucky for us,” he said, pushing Delphi into the ladies’ room and then pulling me into the adjoining gents’. We changed into the uniforms and stuffed our clothes above the water tanks.      “You think there’s going to be trouble?” I asked Jun.      “Will you guys back out if I told you there might?”      I had to give that some thought. In the past Jun had taken Delphi and me on some insane adventures, mostly juvenile pranks that left us breathlessly exhilarated, but with no real sense of danger. For the first time I was afraid we were up against something, well, real.      “We’ll stick around,” I said, tentatively.      He put his arm around me and said, “Kapatid! That’s my brother!”

JULY 5, 2 P.M. THE BEATLES arrived at the airport in a Manila Hotel taxi. They weren’t wasting any time. They ran straight up the escalators, their crew lugging whatever equipment they could carry. At the foot of the escalators a group of women—society matrons and young college girls—had managed to slip past the deserted security posts and, seeing the Beatles arrive, they lunged for the group, screaming and tearing at the band’s clothes. Flashbulbs blinded the band as photographers crowded at the top of the stairs. It would have taken a miracle for the band to tear themselves away from the mob and to reach, as they did in a bedraggled way, the only booth open for passport clearance, where Roda had been waiting with the manifest for Flight CX 196.      “Beatles here!” he hollered imperiously, and the band followed his voice meekly, almost contritely. Behind the booth a crowd that had checked in earlier restlessly ogled.      “Those aren’t passengers,” Jun observed as we stole past a booth. “They look like the people we saw earlier with Roda.”      “Beatles out!” Roda boomed.      And then it happened.      As the Beatles and their crew filed past the booth, the crowd that had been waiting there seemed to swell like a wave and engulfed the band, pulling them into an undertow of fists and knee jabs. There was a thud—Epstein falling groggily, then being dragged to his feet by security police. Someone was cursing in Tagalog: Heto’ng sa ‘yo bwakang inang putang inang tarantado ka! Take that you m*#f@%ing*@^*r!!! Paul McCartney surfaced for air, his chubby face crunched in unmistakable terror. He pulled away from the crowd, and the other three staggered behind him. Somebody gave Ringo Starr a loud whack on the shoulder and pulled at John Lennon, who yanked his arm away, tearing his coat sleeve.      That was when we started running after them—the three of us, and the whole mob.      The crowd overtook Delphi, who was shoved aside brusquely. They were inching in on me when the exit doors flew open into the searing afternoon. From the view deck hundreds of fans who had been waiting for hours started screaming. The band clambered up the plane. I kept my eye on the plane, where Jun was already catching up with John Lennon.      “Please, Mr. Lennon,” he pleaded. “Let me help you with your bags!”      At the foot of the stairs a panting John Lennon turned to him and said, “A friendly soul, for a change. Thanks, but we’re leaving.”      “I’m sorry,” Jun said, trembling.      John Lennon bolted up the stairs. At the top he stopped and took off his coat and threw it down to Jun.      “Here,” he said. “Tell your friends the Beatles gave it to you.”

A FEW WEEKS after the Beatles’ frantic egress from Manila, Taal Volcano erupted, perhaps by way of divine castigation, as happens often in this inscrutable, illogical archipelago. The eruption buried three towns and shrouded Manila in sulfuric ash for days. A month later a lake emerged from what had been the volcano’s crater—a boiling, putrefied, honey-yellow liquefaction.      The Beatles flew to New Delhi, where they were to encounter two figures that would change their lives and music: the corpulent, swaying Maharishi, and the droning, mesmerizing sitar. Back in London later, a swarm of fans greeted them carrying placards with mostly one message:

SOD MANILA!

     Manila’s columnists took umbrage, and the side of the offended First Lady. Said Teodoro Valencia, who would later become the spokesman of the Marcos press: “Those Beatles are knights of the Crown of England. Now we have a more realistic understanding of what knights are. They’re snobs. But we are probably more to blame than the Beatles. We gave them too much importance.” And columnist Joe Guevarra added: “What if 80,000 people saw the Beatles? They’re too young to vote against Marcos anyway!”      Imelda Marcos later announced to the lavishly sympathetic press that the incident “was regrettable. This has been a breach of Filipino hospitality.” She added that when she heard of a plot to maul the Beatles, she herself asked her brother, the tourism secretary, to make sure the Beatles got out of the airport safely.      But her magnanimity did little to lessen the outrage. The Manila Bulletin declared that Malacañang Palace had received no less than two hundred letters denouncing the Beatles by that weekend. Manila councilor Gerino Tolentino proposed that the Beatles “should be banned from the city in perpetuity.” Caloocan City passed an ordinance prohibiting the sale, display, and playing of Beatles records. And Quezon City passed a law declaring the Beatles’ music satanic and the mophead hairstyle illegal.      Jun Hidalgo wrote his story about the Beatles’ departure, with insider quotes taped, as an editor’s introduction to the story revealed, “while undercover as a hotel employee.” A few weeks later he was accepted into the Manila Times, where he played rookie, as was the custom then, in the snake pit of the local press: the police beat. He gave John Lennon’s coat to Delphi, who dutifully mended the sleeve, and they went steady for a while. But like most youthful relationships, the series of melodramatic misunderstandings, periodic separations, and predictable reunions finally ended in tears, and many unprintable words. My sister, older and more healthily cynical, later immigrated to the United States, from where she sent me postcards and books—and once, a note replying to one of my continuous requests for records, saying she had lost interest in the Beatles when they went psychedelic. I myself, being the obligatory late bloomer, only then began to appreciate the magical, mysterious orchestrations and raga-like trances of the band.      Delphi left John Lennon’s coat with me, and I became known in school as the keeper of a holy relic. Like the martyrs, I was the object of much admiration and also much envy. One afternoon, armed with a copy of an ordinance recently passed in Manila, directors of the school rounded up several mophead boys, including myself. In one vacant classroom we were made to sit on hardboard chairs as the directors snipped our hair. I sat stolidly under the scissors, watching my hair fall in clutches on the bare cement floor.      Back in my room that evening, I stared at myself in the mirror for a long time. Then I folded John Lennon’s jacket tightly, stuffed it in a box, and tucked it under my books and clothes. I felt no bitterness at all. I knew that something irrevocable in my life had ended.