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writingouthere · 8 months

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singledad!sukuna x neighbor!reader; the promised prequel, you and Sukuna gaslighting each other into a relationship. You don't need to have read the first story to get this one but it's here! Yuuji is Sukuna's little brother but Sukuna has raised him since birth and Yuuji calls him dad.

cw: the vibes are bad but mutual so? like Sukuna is lying, scheming his way into being your husband but you are also lying, scheming to be his wife

Phase 1: Gaslight

Sukuna walked to the top of the landing feeling pretty fucking incredible. Today, he'd managed to beat the shit out of some crusty, old fucks who thought they could get some of their old territory back from him and Uraume. As a bonus, he'd managed to embarrass that nosy cop Yaga who was always bothering them.

Nothing like important evidence in a upcoming case mysteriously vanishing to get you some side-eye from the city. Sukuna thought that was what they deserved for using a closed circuit security cam system they'd probably bought in the 90's.

To add to this amazing day, he was about to get to eat dinner with his little brother and his gorgeous neighbor who was watching him.

His phone buzzed and Sukuna looked down to see a text from Uraume.

Where are you?

Another message followed shortly after.

Did you already go home? Is this about your neighbor? It's getting sad.

Sukuna chose to ignore his only friend and head for his apartment, which was conveniently across yours. Well at least it had proved convenient for him.

You had moved in a few months ago and Sukuna had been instantly smitten. As soon as you had introduced yourself to Sukuna, he knew it was over. He wanted you to look at him all the time, although he supposed he could let you give Yuuji some of your attention.

You had looked at his tattoos, his piercings, his dyed hair with some obvious interest, but then talked to him like he was a normal person. Maybe it was the effect of a clinging Yuuji calling him 'daddy', but you seemed to find him nonthreatening to an almost offensive degree. He found he didn't mind it.

He had offered you any help you might need, just from one neighbor to another and you had thanked him with all of your good manners on display.

You had taken him up on his offer of help when your radiator had stopped working a few weeks after you moved in. The super in your building was notoriously shitty and as such, had not been answering any of your calls or texts. Sukuna had fixed it while you and Yuuji drew some pictures and listened to some overly peppy pop music. When Sukuna had finished, you had insisted the two of them stay for dinner as payment and Sukuna couldn't help but accept.

You didn't need to know the radiator was broken in the first place because he had picked your lock and fucked up the valve the night before. You were clearly just as eager to get to know him as he was you, you just needed a little push and he was happy provide it.

Later, when telling you a story while you cooked, he knew he hadn't mistaken the pleased look in your eyes when he mentioned he was a single parent. He didn't let on that he noticed though and he continued telling you a story about Yuuji and Megumi's nearly successful attempt to kidnap a very confused hound from the dog park.

The boy had protested at his correct version of events. "His owner was mean!"

"Yuuji, he was a thousand and so was the mutt. He probably thought Megumi was the grim reaper finally there to take him home."

Yuuji had kept arguing while you laughed and laughed. Sukuna was quickly addicted to the sound.

Dinner had been delicious and the three of you spent the whole evening together. Sukuna couldn't help but think that it felt right.

Maybe he was growing soft in his old age, but he didn't hate the idea of coming home to this every night. After a stressful day of blood, gore and various shenanigans, it would be nice to come back to a kind face and a warm home. It helped that Yuuji, the brat, spent the whole night smiling so hard it looked almost painful.

After he put Yuuji to bed that night, Sukuna made a decision that he would be coming home every night to that. He just needed to get you on board.

He'd tried asking you out the normal way, but you had been hesitant. You had spouted some bullshit about a bad ex, needing to focus on your career, blah, blah. In your defense, you did look genuinely remorseful about turning him down, and Sukuna recognized in you a strong sense of self preservation and wariness that he understood. Sukuna told that it wasn't a problem. And it wasn't.

He just had to change tactics.

The idea had come to him a few weeks after you turned him down. You hadn't rejected him because you weren't interested, he knew that. Sukuna had seen the way you smiled at him, the hungry stare when his shirt would get caught when he took off a sweatshirt. You had clearly been hurt by people who hadn't deserved you and you were justifiably nervous. He needed to show you that he was here to take care of you.

God, he would be so good to you, you just didn't see it yet. By the time you realized what was going on, you would be so happy that you wouldn't mind the steps that you you there. He wasn't going to give you any other option.

This all led to him to the next part of his plan. Even though he had Yuuji in the most expensive daycare laundered money could buy, he had decided to tell you that there was a sudden issue with the center. He had kept it vague and you hadn't pressed him for details. The fact those details led to Yuuji needing childcare when you happened to not be at work, well that was just good fortune.

Like the good girl you were, you immediately agreed to watch Yuuji when he had called telling you the fake problem with the daycare. When it had happened again the next week, this time a work emergency he couldn't get out of, you agreed to help again. And then again and again and again until you were watching Yuuji at least two or three nights a week.

Now, some people may have a problem weaponizing their four-year old to get a woman to date them. Sukuna did not have this hang up. Afternoons watching Yuuji quickly turned into dinners with the three of you, and every day just brought you closer and closer to finally being together.

Sukuna had even worked up to some light touching. Just a quick brushing of his hand on your shoulder when thanking you, moving you aside by your hips when the two of you were in the kitchen. At first, you'd seemed a little unsure but now you had even begun returning his affection. You were quick to squeeze his hand or lean against him on the couch during your little family move nights.

Thinking about what he could get away with tonight, Sukuna knocks twice on his door before using his key to unlock it. Upon entering, he's immediately tackled by a mini-linebacker.

"Daddy!"

Used to the boy's antics, Sukuna caught him and closes the door with his hip before walking over to where you were stirring something on the stove.

"Hey kid, how was your day?" Sukuna asks Yuuji as you shoot them both a fond smile.

"It was amazing! Megumi's mom brought one of their dogs to daycare today and he was so fluffy...."

Yuuji goes on and on about his day while making sure to slip in how they should definitely get a dog every couple of sentences. Aside from how the idea of a creature existing only be to owned and loved at will by it's owners disgusting Sukuna, he also still keenly remembers the time Yuuji found a dead earthworm outside and cried for an hour. Being responsible for a living, shitting thing that would eventually die was probably still too much for him.

You find Yuuji's ramblings charming and even though you hadn't arrived at pick up early enough to see Megumi's mommy with the dog, you agree with Yuuji that he must have been a very fluffy boy indeed.

"Sounds like you had a good day," he says before looking over at you. "Thanks again for stepping in to watch the brat, I really appreciate it."

While Yuuji protests his less than affectionate nickname, you distract him by pinching his cheek. "No worries, Yuuji and I had a lot of fun. Right, Yuuji?"

"Yeah!"

Insult forgotten, Yuuji leans against Sukuna's shoulder while you put the finishing touches on dinner.

You're keeping Sukuna company while he does the dishes later when you bring something up that almost trips him up.

"You know, I talked to the daycare worker today and she was wondering why you weren't picking up Yuuji as much. She said you'd never missed a day before a few months ago."

You say it innocently, but there is a question implied there. What has changed?

He keeps it casual as he dries a plate with his newly aquired sunflower hand towel. "Yeah, it sucks not being able to get the kid every day, but work has really been on my case lately."

This wasn't true. Work was work, and even in the past he'd always prioritized time with Yuuji over getting extra jobs done. Now, he thought of the time he was gone as investing in Yuuji's future by making sure you would be a part of it. The extra cash he was bringing in would probably end up in Yuuji's college fund or as a down payment on a house for your soon to be growing family anyway.

Sukuna was actually quite thoughtful when you got down to it.

You take his words at face value. The two of you are chatting about some play the daycare would be putting on, where Yuuji would be starring as a particularly cheerful acorn, when his phone rang. Sukuna would normally ignore it, but the ringtone was one he had set specifically for Kenjaku and that fuck was not to be left unattended.

"Give me just a sec," he tells you before heading into another room.

"What the fuck do you want?" he asks, already bored with the conversation and impatient to get back to you and Yuuji.

It's some nonsense about a late shipment and incompetent people who are not Sukuna, and he gets more pissed as the minutes keep ticking. Finally, he tells the creep what he's going to him if he doesn't figure the mess out himself. It starts with some mild dismemberment and ends with an unspeakable act with his open skull once Sukuna rips out the stitches he'd recently gotten under mysterious circumstances.

He hangs up and goes out into the living room where you and Yuuji are watching tv. You're picking at your nail beds, something he's only seen you do when you're upset, but you give him a smile as he comes to sit down next to you.

He tells himself that he's being paranoid. The tv is loud and you're too good a girl to eavesdrop.

You leave not too long after the call and as you go to the door, you hesitate.

"Something on your mind," he asks wondering if maybe you heard something after all.

You shake your head and smile at him again. "No, it's nothing. I'm just so tired from work, honestly."

You turn to leave and he gently grabs your arm and pulls you closer. You look too taken aback for him to try and kiss you now, so he just presses his lips against your temple, taking in the smell of your hair and the warmth you give him.

"Good night, princess."

You give him a shaky good night in return and he watches you go into your apartment before he shuts the door. He can't keep the smug grin off his face, everything was going according to plan.

Phase 2: Gatekeep

You weren't going to stop anywhere on your way home from daycare but Yuuji really wants to go to the park and you just couldn't say no to his cute face. Sukuna said he would be home late anyway, since he was stuck at the office. Again.

You still didn't know what 'office' Sukuna worked at exactly ,but the hours seemed pretty wild. This was the fourth time in the past two weeks he'd called you, contrite in a way that didn't seem natural to him, asking if you could pick up Yuuji from daycare. You didn't mind helping him, in fact you loved hanging out with the four year-old. It definitely beat going back to your quiet apartment every night.

But still, it seemed weird for someone as in control as Sukuna to not have a better handle on his childcare. He's presumably had this job a while, and Yuuji hadn't been born yesterday. Considering you'd once watched an entire elevator of people in your building get out when they saw Sukuna get on, you doubted he could count on his other neighbors for last minute childcare.

There also that weird phone call you'd overheard that night at his place.

"Look, it's Megumi!"

You look to see where Yuuji is waving with his free hand while his other one is dragging you with inhuman strength towards a small boy with black hair and a very cultivated resting bitch face.

"Hi Megumi, it's nice to meet you. Are you Yuuji's friend?" The little boy nods and looks you up and down as you finish introducing yourself.

"Yuuji's talked about you." The boy looks like he's about to say more but Yuuji laughs and starts pulling him away towards the swings with calls for you to watch and see how high you can go.

Watching the two boys run around, you almost forget how cold you are and how confusing the past few weeks, few months really, have been.

"Ah, so you're the neighbor."

You turn and see a beautiful man walking up to you. His hair is long, styled in a half up-half down style that would make you look like you belonged to a weird religious cult, but on him looks fashionable. His coat is plain black, but you recognize the logo and are in awe that someone so wealthy would just bring their kid to a random public park.

You really don't get rich people.

"Um, who are you?"

The man laughs but it isn't a nice sound, it's a pretty sound, everything about this man is pretty, but his laugh isn't giving "laughing with you" vibes.

"I'm Suguru, Megumi's parent. I'm sure you'll meet my other half soon enough," he says with a fondness that makes you smile.

"Is your wife still at work?"

"Husband," he corrects kindly, as he sips from one of those expensive water bottles you're always seeing online. "And I suppose, I mean he's at work in the same way that Ryoumen is at work."

You feel that unpleasant feeling well up in you again, the one that told you the valve on the radiator had been there and been fine when you went to sleep that night. "Sorry, do they work at the same company or something?" You laugh but it's forced and the look in his eyes sharpens.

"Company?"

You're irritated now and with a look to confirm the boys are still preoccupied with each other you turn to this infuriating stranger with all the uncertainty and anxiety that has been building in you since Sukuna kissed your temple when you left the other night.

"Alright, what the fuck is going on? I don't know you or your husband or even Sukuna lately but it's obvious you're mixed up with some shady shit-"

"You're right, you really don't know anything." The words are said with the same kind tone from earlier, but there's something nasty underlying them.

"Let me help you out," Suguru says and his height helps him look down on you literally as he does so with his words. "Ryoumen is not your friend and all of these little situations you're finding yourself in, he's making them up. Normally, I wouldn't mind. However, Satoru and I made a bet on when you'd figure it out, or run for the hills. If this goes on much longer, Satoru is going to win and believe me, he'll be insufferable if that happens."

"How kind of you," you tell him and he just smiles in a practiced fashion. "So what is it exactly that I need to know? I already knew that Sukuna liked me."

"Like is an interesting word," Suguru says.

"What word would you use?"

Suguru thinks about it for a minute and takes another sip of his water. "Obsessed, possessive, irrational."

"I see why I would run for the hills," you say dryly and he laughs, actually amused this time.

"Maybe, it depends on what you're looking for."

You were curious despite yourself. "What do you mean?"

"I'll deny it if you ever tell either of them, but your Ryoumen and my Satoru have a lot in common. They're strong and self absorbed in a way that most people rightfully find off putting. They don't think other people are as substantial as they are, which they may be right about." You listen as he continues, unsure where this is going. "This means they don't have many weaknesses, but the weaknesses they do have are crippling."

"What weaknesses are those?" you ask but you have an idea, watching the two boys continue to chase each other around the swings.

"They don't care about many people, but the people they do carry about, they'll burn the world for. Satoru did the same bullshit with me that Ryoumen is pulling with you. Just pushing himself into my life little by little and rearranging everything until he was right at the center of it."

"What did you do when you found out?" You wonder how that had led to a marriage, and wonder if this was some basement wife shit. Suguru gives you an amused look like he can read your thoughts.

"He's not a....subtle creature, I knew almost right away."

You still feel lost. "Why didn't you confront him, tell him you knew what was happening?"

"He doesn't need to know everything, he has plenty on his mind as it is. Some information is better kept just for me."

In fairness, it is hard for you to see the man in front of you being manipulated into anything, but you still push. "It just sounds like you're excusing his behavior."

"I let Satoru have me, because I wanted what he was offering. He wanted a partner, someone to raise Megumi with after he killed his old man," you really felt like this required more explanation but Suguru kept going like he was talking about the weather. "He was my best friend and I loved him, I didn't mind if he wanted to make me his little housewife. I was tired of dealing with all that shit, anyway."

"So what? It's okay that he manipulated you into marriage, because you love him? That seems fucked up to me."

"Maybe, but I don't mind. You may not understand this, but I came from the middle of nowhere before I met Satoru. I was poor, I had nothing going for me except I was smart and was willing to do whatever work I could get, and I also happened to be the only out gay person I had ever met." You winced in sympathy and he sighed before shaking out his long, glossy hair.

"Besides, you're missing the point. You can either hold on to your false illusion of independence and move through life at the will of people and institutions bigger and more powerful than you," he says and gives you a pointed look. "Or you can choose to put your life in the hands of someone who can stand up to those institutions and people in your name."

"It just seems like picking your poison to me," but you can see what he means in spite of yourself. Years of shitty exes, jobs that exploited your labor, a life that had been harder than you wanted and at the end of the day an apartment empty of anyone to go back to. What did you really want here?

"Well I love Satoru, I know he loves me and Megumi, and that there is nothing and no one that he wouldn't face in order to protect us. What else could I want?"

Before you can answer his question, the same one you had asked yourself. Megumi calls out he's hungry and Suguru tells him they are going home. Both boys start to run over to the two of you.

"Just think about it. Soon it won't be your choice at all."

"Why are you really telling me this?" you can't help but ask and he looks at you.

"Because I think it should be your choice. They may be gods among men, but that doesn't mean they have to rule us." He gives one last calculated smile that sends shivers down your spine. "Having the ear of a god gives you a lot more than just a pretty ring, if you use it right."

Suguru and Megumi wave when they leave and Yuuji grabs your hand as the two of you make your way back home.

"Megumi's mom is so nice!"

"Yeah," you say a little distracted. But with every step towards your apartment, you become more sure of what you want and that gives you a sense of calm you'd been missing since Sukuna came carving his own path into your life. "He was lovely."

Phase 3: Girlboss

Sukuna looked at the ceiling of your apartment, which was just raining down water, and then looked at you.

"You said you woke up and it was just like this?"

He tried not to sound incredulous but damn, you must sleep like the dead. It was like the a fucking typhoon in here.

Your eyes teared up a little and you tugged at the baggy t-shirt you were wearing, which just brought his attention to how it barely reached your thighs and were you even wearing panties-

"I just don't know what to do Sukuna, do you think there's something wrong with the pipes?"

Sukuna tried his best to make eye contact with you and maybe if he'd been paying better attention, he would have seen your eyes were shining with victory, not tears, but alas he was only a man.

"Yeah, it looks like a pipe burst upstairs. That apartment has been empty forever, useless super must have not done anything to make sure it was good for winter."

You nodded and then let out a big sigh that managed to nearly drown out the water. "What if I can't stay in the apartment? Where am I going to live?"

Sukuna shook his head and wiped away a tear on your cheek. "Let me go check it out upstairs before you freak out, okay?" He took his key out and handed it to you. "Just go wait in my apartment okay, I'll let you know what I find."

You nod and Sukuna leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead before heading upstairs to the vacant apartment. The door is unlocked, Sukuna assumed to make it easier for prospective tenants to check it out.

As soon as Sukuna gets to the bathroom he sees the problem. A pipe is leaking. It seemed careless for the super to let it get to this point, but it wouldn't be hard to fix. In fact, Sukuna doesn't even have to go back to his apartment for any tools. A toolkit is stashed under the sink, next to where the pipe is leaking. Sukuna grabs a wrench and it doesn't take more than a minute to tighten the pipe up.

"Weird," Sukuna says but whatever. Not his job to critique shitty workmanship in a building he doesn't own at 3 in the morning. As Sukuna puts the wrench back, he notices the kit looks a lot like the little starter kit you have in your own apartment.

The super should really have better materials.

Sukuna returns back to his apartment to see you pacing across his living room and you just look so lost that he can't help but pull you into his arms. "It's fine, I fixed it. We'll just dry out your apartment and I can call someone to come look at it in the morning."

"What if it's not fixable? What if I have to move out-"

"You're leaving!"

Sukuna looks over your head to see Yuuji standing there, the little boy probably woken up by all the movement this late at night.

"No, no one's leaving Yuuji," he said but Yuuji's eyes still filled with tears anyway and you seemed stressed as well.

"I don't know, I might have to if there's any permanent damage."

Yuuji is actually crying now and you seem on the brink too, so Sukuna holds out his arms and you both crowd in, your face now hidden in his t-shirt.

"Even if something is wrong, you'll always have a place with us. It's all going to be fine." He held both of his precious people to him, unaware that he wasn't the only one smiling. "Don't worry."

Yeah, you weren't worried.

But, maybe Sukuna should be.

this took a weirdly long time, it maybe was meant to be broken up more, but hope everyone enjoys. next up is the closing arc of my singlemom! series.

the Suguru scene was the hardest thing I've written for this page and it got way more serious than I thought it would but it was the first scene I thought of for this story.

#jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk smut

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hh0320 · 2 years

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໑ — stars in the ceiling. pt I

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

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

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

word count. 6.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until when?

Your light was on.

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

His mother hadn’t mentioned he was back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

“Chris. It’s me.”

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

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

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

“Good.”

“I’m in Australia.”

“Son of a bitch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s not dying.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No other car was in your driveway.

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

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

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

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

The door opens. He’s holding his breath.

You gape. Then blink.

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

“(Y/N).”

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

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

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

He doesn’t expect you to.

“On your doorstep? An hour.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was you, for fuck’s sake.

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

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

Instead—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a question in your eyes now.

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

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

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

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

He nods. Struggles to swallow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go see the stars, Felix.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He thinks he might even have an answer for you.

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did.”

“That hurt me. All of us.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

“You sold your own name.”

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

“And I pay for that every day.”

“You’re not happy.”

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

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

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

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

“And get lost, too?” you snap back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That he’s sure of.

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

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

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

You’re breathing it all back to him.

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

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

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

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

#straykidsland #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #felix scenarios #felix smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz felix #stray kids felix #felix skz #stray kids #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #felix x reader #skz fanfic #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #hyunlix #mine.

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gloombeauty · 8 months

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Lana lost every Grammy she was nominated for. To Taylor, Billie and a stupid band with a stupid name like Boygenius. I guess Lana didn't bribe the Grammy voters committee hard enough. Or didn't buy them $100,000 gifts. She looked so broken trying to fake smile through the whole show. Then Taylor literally dragged her on stage. Lana didn't want that. She looked humiliated and broken up there. Even the way she was dressed looked like she was going to a funeral. I don't think Lana should ever entertain the Grammy's ever again. 💔

Sit down, this will be long.

My love and admiration for Lana Del Rey and Olivia Rodrigo grew even more after what I witnessed at the Grammy's this year.

1 - It's a known fact that the Grammys are trophies that are usually bought by the artists and the labels. They call it "gifts" but it's accurately described as "bribes." That's what it is - bribes. "Gifts" bought for these fucking Grammy committee of voters so that you have a chance to get that Grammy nom and even better - the trophy.

These committees are people straight from the music industry. Usually men. It wasn't so obvious back in the 60's, 70's, 80's, 90's or even in the early 2000's - but by 2009, it was obvious how the game went. Many artists back in the day won by merit and talent. Many are criminally ignored. Led Zeppelin never won a Grammy. They got a Lifetime Achievement award from the Grammys in 2005. That shit doesn't count but whatever. They were ignored for over 30 years. Michael Jackson lost to that guy who sang "Don't Worry Be Happy." Jethro Tull won for best Metal Recording over Metallica.

So, you see -

2 - Look at the artists who keep winning every fucking year. Taylor Swift. Beyonce. Billie Eilish. Adele. Do the math. It's not a coincidence. Billie acting all goofy and shocked when she wins is all an act. She's an industry plant who's been in the industry thanks to her parents. That stupid act she pulls every single time she wins is tiresome and old. The same exact way it's an act when Taylor feigns shock that she won yet another award. You two conniving bitches paid for your award wins. Cut the fake shock/surprised act.

3 - Speaking of Taylor Swift, she is a demon within the industry itself. Even her own fans said Midnights wasn't that great, but here she is winning "Album Of The Year" (again!) over Ocean Blvd and Guts. Both albums being miles better then Midnights.

4 - Speaking of, shout out to Lana and Olivia Rodrigo for their class and dignity. Having to fake smile for hours while Taylor and Billie were swiping all those trophies was hard to watch. Even Olivia, who's usually her sweet cheery self, had moments last night where she looked done. Lana was already done by the time she hit the red carpet. She had lost to Boygenius twice by that time. Phoebe Bridgers was already a Grammy sweetheart having been nominated for several Grammys for her solo work in 2020. She knew how to play the Grammy game this time around.

But the first sickening part of the night was when Olivia Rodrigo was performing Vampire and Taylor Swift was the only person standing and dancing - while Olivia performed. What fucking shit was that? Taylor, being a monstrous egotistical narcissist, had to stand up during Olivia's moment to shine. She had to fucking dance to a song that wasn't even a fucking dance song. For what? Just to show the world "look! no hate between me and Olivia! All is good! No beef! I support all women! look at me! look at me!"

Let me repeat:

Taylor Swift was literally the only asshole dancing while everyone respectfully sat and watched Olivia perform. For what? To steal Olivia's moment. Plain and simple. She's a narcissist after all.

The way Olivia carried herself the whole night is commendable. I saw Olivia having to fake smile her way every time Taylor beat her in some of the nominations. The camera would pan right up to Olivia's face. This girl is so much better then me. I would have just sat there drinking my wine, but Olivia is smart. Any other reaction from her would have had the Swifties sending her death threats online. They are already attacking her on X for not clapping harder when Taylor won. The maniacal delusions of the Swifteys. They are worst then the Barbz and the Beehive.

In the end, Taylor got what she wanted. The camera panning at her as Olivia was on stage singing and then beating Olivia in several of the categories she was nominated for.

5 - Another moment of disgust at the Grammys was Taylor Swift obligating Lana to join her on stage. Like, that was fucking soul crushing to watch. It was bad enough Lana lost to Taylor - but the kick to the stomach was dragging Lana on stage. She didn't want to go on stage. She shook her head, said no and pulled away. Taylor wouldn't have any of that. She grabbed Lana's arm and dragged her on stage. And for what? As a favor for Lana? So Lana can feel what it's like to stand on a Grammy stage? What was the point? All those nice things Taylor said about Lana's legacy could have been easily said while Lana sat in her seat in the audience.

Lana standing on that stage looked defeated. She didn't want to be there. It was written all over her face. She's not as good as Olivia when it comes to faking a smile. That poor woman looked sad, broken and defeated.

Meanwhile, Taylor is up there being a smiley giddy cunt, accepting her award and demanding Lana, Jack and his wife to stand right next to her. That is some insane mindfucking. I have seen some mindfucking in my time, but what Taylor did last night takes the fucking cake.

I'm glad Lana stayed behind and didn't stand next to Taylor. She was holding on to dear life to the guy standing next to her on stage. This was just too cruel and humiliating to watch.

Lana was already heartbroken by the time she hit the red carpet. That thing on stage just broke her even more. Expect in the next few days a revised version of the questioning of the culture. Expect her IG to be deactivated. Expect her to explode, implode and snap. It's coming.

Don't even get me into Taylor completely ignoring Celine Dion. Not a single hug or kiss for our Celine. Nope. Nothing. After everything Celine has been going through this year.

It's telling that Olivia took so many pictures with other artists that were at the Grammys. Not one single picture with Taylor Swift.

Yeah, no beef. Yeah right.

I know Swifteys are like "she was OnLy trying to be NiCe to LaNa you hater!!!" - like, spare me. Pick up a book and learn to observe what is in front of you.

I hope that Lana cut all ties with the Grammys. That she no longer submits albums/songs to their committee. I feel like what happened last night was incredibly cruel and done on purpose. Lana must have pissed off a Grammy voter(s), maybe refusing a date? Perhaps she refused sexual favors? It's not that farfetched. This is the music industry after all - one of the most insidious industries. Just ask Ashanti.

I hope Lana boycotts the Grammys.

I hope she works with a different producer. I'm sick of Jack Antonoff.

I also hope she cut ties with Taylor. That shit she pulled last night was fucked.

That's all I have to say on this subject.

#lana del rey #olivia rodrigo #taylor swift

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not---meat · 4 months

Text

Paradise: Chapter 12: Falling To Pieces

Pairing: Javier Peña x McKenzie Martel

Rating: A - Adult

Warnings: Angst, domestic violence, domestic abuse

Summary: Javier takes Kenzi home.

Note: I apologize in advance for any historical inaccuracies. We are in the mid to late 90's now woooo. Officially after the events of season 3 of Narcos!

MASTERLIST --- PARADISE MASTERLIST

Steam rose from the coffee cup between her hands. A mind so troubled, it drifted away from her, wandering off into the depths of her being as shye waited for him to speak. To say something. Anything. McKenzie knew the peril that he was facing. She had seen it on his face the moment he saw her. The way that he reacted when she winced away from his touch.

They sat in silence for a while, his eyes scanning over her, taking in the bruises, taking in the split in her lip and her tear stained cheek.

"I don't understand, Kenz." He whispered, "How did you let it go this far?"

The emotion in his voice told the story of the heartbreak he felt. Seeing her this way was hurting him and she knew it. She knew that, if she were a better person, she shouldn't have called. At the end of the day, though, he was still her person. Her Cradle to Grave. There was nobody else that she could call.

"Kenz…" He spoke again, reaching out to her, touching her hand and trying to grab her attention. "Kenz, it's okay. I've got you."

Slowly, ever slowly, her eyes flickered to him, flickered about his face. Somehow Javier still looked the same. Somehow he had left and come back the same as she remembered. Yet there was something different in the way that he spoke to her. Something deeper, more compassionate. More caring. As if his words had more meaning to them.

Tears rolled from her eyes and she looked out the window of the diner once again. There was nothing that she could say, no explanation to be made.

"I love her." McKenzie spoke, her voice soft, broken and cracking, "I love her and… I - I thought she loved me."

Deep brown eyes filled with emotion stared over at her, meeting hers when they flickered back into his direction. Javier didn't say another word. A sigh passed his lips as he pulled out his wallet and left money on the table. He stood from his spot and walked over to her, offering her his hand.

"Come on, hermosa, let's take you home." Javier spoke, taking her hand into his. She stood, looking up at him with wide eyes. "To the ranch. Not to her. I won't let her hurt you again, Kenz. Never again. I made a promise to be there and I'm going to be there."

Kenzi opened her mouth to argue but Javier stopped her, shaking his head. He led her back to the truck, helping her into the passenger seat.

There was silence when they sat in the truck together. The both of them recalling the emotions, the memory of the last time she was sat beside him. The rain feeling too familiar to the both of them as it pinged off the cab of the truck.

Like a brutal reminder of the past. A horrific scene that brought them back to when she walked away from him.

Please don't leave me like this.

You don't have to love me back.

White knuckles folded around the steering wheel, hardly moving as he drove down the road. The radio played a song that Kenzi didn't recognize. Something about being broken. Kind of perfect. Not a word was spoken, letting the soft guitar ring out between them. Javier seemed to know the song, his grip on the steering wheel relaxing slightly as he tapped along to the beat of the gentle tune.

Kenzi just stayed quiet, occasionally glancing his way as he drove down the pavement road leading to the ranch. It was Javier who spoke first, ending the silence between them with a barely audible, low whisper that was almost drowned out by the sound of the rain pinging against the cab of the truck.

"I'm sorry."

He didn't look at her, his gaze still fixed ahead of him as he leaned back in his seat.

"This is my fault. I shouldn't… Fuck. I shouldn't have left. I should have fought for you." Javier breathed, finally looking over at her, sadness reflecting in his big, brown eyes. "I'm sorry, Kenz. I'm so fucking sorry."

Words escaped her. Instead of saying a word, Kenzi just closed her eyes. She leaned against the seat and breathed out. The throbbing in her eye had gotten worse.

She just wanted to sleep. She just wanted to forget. The events of the night having taken their toll, McKenzie just wanted to curl up and let her dreams take over.

Noticing her silence, Javier let out a sigh. He unlocked the truck doors and slid out, shutting the door behind him. As Kenzi pulled off her seatbelt and moved to open the door, Javier was already there, opening the door for her, offering her his hand to help her out of the truck. Doing the things he had always done before but now they seemed like they meant more. Like he meant more.

It almost felt as though his touch had gotten more tender, as if the reasoning behind his actions meant more than they did before. Or maybe McKenzie was reading too deeply into it. At the end of the day his actions hadn't changed. Javier had always opened the door for her. He had always taken her hand and helped her out of the truck. This wasn't a new thing and yet, for reasons unknown to Kenzi, it felt like it meant more now. More loving. More tender. It wasn't just a friendly touch anymore. It was something more.

Unspoken words that, had they been revealed long ago, could have changed the trajectory that their lives had taken and yet now they just hurt. Broken hearts. Broken friendships. Yet Javier was still there, still keeping up his promise. Kenzi still called him even though she knew she had no rights to do so. Javier still showed even though he knew he had no rights to still love her.

But he did. He still loved her and she still loved him.

Not that it mattered anymore. Not that any of it mattered anymore. Too much had happened now and Kenzi wasn't in the right state of mind to let anything else happen. She hadn't spoken. She didn't know what to say.

Wordlessly, Javier led Kenzi into the house. He led her through the front door and helped pull her jacket off of her. He hung it up to dry and held her hand as she stepped out of her shoes. Kenzi watched him, noticing the small things he did. Noticing the way he made sure that her shoes were set to the side to dry, that the shoelaces were undone so they didn't crust up and dry in the tied position that they were in. She noticed how gentle his touch was when he led her throughout the house, walking past Chucho without a sound, knowing that a conversation with him could happen later.

Javier led her to his bedroom and let her sit on the edge of the bed. He kneeled in front of her and helped her out of her soaked jeans, tossing them into the hamper. Not a word was spoken between them. Not a sound made. He did everything she needed him to do, even helping her get into some of his pajamas.

All Kenzi could do was watch, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. How was it that she deserved him? After all that he had done, after all that she had done, after all of the bitter words and hatred passed between the two of them. How was it that he still cared for her?

Almost as if he had read her mind, Javier took her hand in his. He reached forward and ever gently wiped her tears with her thumb, smearing the wetness across her cheek and being careful not to allow the salty tear to touch the cut over the bone.

"I care about you, McKenzie. Nothing has changed. You're still the person I care about the most." Javier whispered to her, squeezing her hand gently. "You need to sleep, Kenz. Get comfortable, okay?"

He stood from the bed, glancing back at her before leaving the room. All Kenzi did was stare, her eyes flickering around his bedroom. Frames pictures of his life scattered about the walls and the surfaces, almost all of them including her. Smiling faces and shimmering eyes. Life was simpler then. Easier. Out of them all, though, one stood out the most.

Without even thinking about it, Kenzi stood and walked to his dresser, picking up the picture that she didn't even know existed. It was of them, of course, sitting in Chuchos livingroom.

A box of pizza in front of them, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder, with Javier looking up as Kenzi sat with her eyes closed.

"That was the night after grad." Javiers voice rang through the doorway, a glass of water in his hand. "We had just gotten back from the grad party. Your date had ditched you so I spent the night with you listening to music. You were drunk and falling asleep. I had to carry you to bed."

Kenzi nodded slowly, setting the picture frame back down where she found it. "I barely remember that night."

"I know."

"I didn't know this picture was taken."

Javier chuckled, the hint of a smile on his lips, "I know that, too. You were falling asleep. Chucho took it. We got some old films processed and… well there it is." Javier handed her the glass of water and an ibuprofen, "For your head. I don't doubt its going to hurt and swell tomorrow. I can take you to the clinic tomorrow."

Kenzi took the pill and popped it in her mouth, she used the water to wash it down and handed him the empty glass. "Thanks. I should… probably go home tomorrow, though. I don't want to make things worse than they already are."

Javier frowned slightly, clearing his throat. "Why don't you sleep on it, Kenz. We can talk about it tomorrow. Do you… need anything else?"

"No. No I should be alright, thank you." McKenzie offered him a small smile before making her way back over to the bed. She sat down on the edge of it, wrapping her arms around herself as she stared up at Javier. "Are you sure you're okay with me sleeping in here? I… I don't mind sleeping on the couch."

Javi pursed his lips slightly, shaking his head. He walked over to her and lifted her chin with his finger. "You get sleep. You need sleep. You've never slept on the couch here and tonight is not the day that you will start. You sleep in the bed. No arguments."

McKenzie stared up at him for a minute, eyes flickering about his face as she took in his words. "Okay." She whispered, "Okay. Just… Get rest. Get good rest."

Javier smiled softly, gently booping her nose before pulling away. He walked over to the door and leaned against the doorway for a moment, looking in at McKenzie as she slid onto the bed and pulled the blanket over herself.

"Cradle to Grave, Kenz." He murmured, flicking of the light, "No matter what."

NEXT CHAPTER

#fanfic #fanfiction #pedro pascal #original character #narcos fanfiction #pedro is daddy #narcos #pedro pascal character fanfic #paradise #javier pena x oc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier peña

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henryloverman · 2 years

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I have thought of an Au lately, for now I will call it "90'sParable", It's like those old 90's movies, to be specific the same timeline in Cat in the Hat, but it's just about Stanley and Narrator, okay, here's my concept of this au I just made!

Stanley's life is perfect, he has a perfect job, a nice house, he has close friends who are always there for him, his family is supportive too, what more could he wish for? Well that was until his reality started to deteriorate.

He didn't understand how it exactly occurred, he was pressing buttons on his computer when it suddenly happened, he had just closed his eyes for a second and when he opened his eyes all of his co-workers suddenly disappeared?!

How could it be possible for everyone to disappear so fast? Stanley was so confused, after searching everywhere in the office, he decided to go outside, maybe it was a prank? Those things did become a trend after all, he hoped it was just that kind of situation.

It seems that his nightmare became reality, when Stanley got outside, he didn't see anybody at all, the streets were empty, all of the cars had nobody inside, was there an evacuation or something? Did everyone leave him behind? Oh god, Stanley started to panic.

His eyes became wet with tears, his trembling hands reached over his face, Stanley wished this was not real, he was about to scream for help until a certain phone call came from the office building, at the front desk.

Stanley rushed towards the telephone, he quickly answered...

-"Hello?"

-"Hi, It's nice to meet you, Mr. Stanley"

-"W-who are you? What's happening?!"

-"Don't panic just yet, the real game is about to begin"

-"What the fuck are you saying?!"

...

[ Please go to your office ]

...

[ The phone call has ended ]

Stanley looked at the phone line in disbelief, WHO WAS THAT PERSON? WHY DID THE TELEPHONE TOLD HIM GO BACK TO HIS OFFICE??? WHAT'S ACTUALLY HAPPENING? Before Stanley could continue to think, the walls...they had changed...it looked different...as if it were having a malfunction, everything around Stanley started to glitch.

The sky turned red, the building was starting to...look alive, as if it's breathing, the floor slowly but creepily moves back and forth, It's hard to keep his balance when everything feels...hazy, Stanley knew he has to go to his office fast.

He tried his best to run as fast as he legs could, the elevator isn't working when the whole building isn't stable, so he was forced to go up the stairs...well that was a horrible idea, the stairs looked normal but the wall, there were EYES looking at him, it only focuses on Stanley, he didn't dare to look back at the eyes and finally made to his office...

Huh? His office looks normal? It's somehow separated from the entire building, it doesn't look alive like the rest, Stanley could finally catch his breath, he sat on a chair nearby and closed his eyes, somehow this felt almost comforting, it's as if everything for a moment felt...Normal.

Stanley suddenly heard a sound, it was the sound of footsteps, quickly coming up the stairs, Stanley immediately left his chair and backed away from the opened door, he doesn't know who this person could be? Are they a foe or...an enemy?

It was a man, he looked like a normal person, although his glasses were broken, maybe he ran away from something? Stanley was about to ask him before the stranger beat him to it.

-"Who are you? Are you one who called me?"

-"...It wasn't me, they called you to come here as well, didn't they?"

-"Hah, so I wasn't the only one..."

-"My name's Stanley by the way, how about you?"

-"I go by the name, Narrator"

-"It looks like we're stuck here...in this weird dimension"

-Whoever called us is probably the one causing this havoc"

...

-"Hello there, friends"

-"You bastard! Tell us what's happening right now or else I'll fucking kill you!"

-"Wait! Calm down, Narrator, we don't know what they are capable of, they could hurt us!"

-"Your friend is right, how do you think I was able to do this all? hmmm?"

-"Explain."

-I will tell you after you completed this task first"

-"That is???"

-"This :)"

Suddenly Stanley and Narrator fell under a dark void, how the fuck is that possible?! The portal thingy dropped them somewhere off...

This place, it looks like Stanley's office?!?! Both Stanley and Narrator were shocked, before they could even comprehend their situation, a voice suddenly calls out.

[ Who the hell are you two supposed to be? ]

So this was their task, huh? After hearing that Stanley fainted from shock.

Editor's Note: Cliffhanger >:)

I might continue this Au or the RealParable, or you know...maybe both, a potential crossover! I hope you liked it ^^

This post took me a week since I had no idea where the hell this Au is going, LUCKILY my brain finally worked and gave me some inspiration! I'm actually proud of this one :)

Also the poll from last time, Yeah it's 100% a complicated relationship, but hey! At least they still love each other!

Thank you guys so much for the support! Although I don't know how to properly express it, so i decided a GIF might help with that ^^

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fuckmeyer · 1 year

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"disturbed, depressed, inadequate": Edward Cullen & George Costanza, cringefail twinsies

as we all know, Twilight and Seinfeld are canonically set in the same universe. we see blatant clues scattered throughout both series. (e.g., Stephenie Meyer prefacing New Moon with the entirety of Jerry Seinfeld's opening stand-up from season 4's "The Outing;" Jerry making a Twilight reference in "The Soup" episode of Seinfeld, etc.) most notably, we see Edward Cullen & George Costanza's personalities mirror each other in a way that extends far beyond "pure" "coincidence." upon closer examination, they are the same person in parallel universes.

the two are, canonically, absolute losers seemingly broken beyond repair, self-saboteurs who waffle between moments of self-aggrandizement and self-loathing. their negative self-image, insecurities, & belief that they do not deserve love are recurring themes in their respective series.

among other things, George describes himself as "disturbed, depressed, inadequate," ("The Visa," S04) "completely insecure, paranoid, [and] neurotic" ("The Beard," S06). he is the self-proclaimed "Lord of the Idiots" ("The Apartment," S02) who is sure of only one thing: "There is no bigger loser than me" ("The Strike," S09).

in the Twilight Saga, Edward repeatedly calls himself "selfish" & a "monster." in Midnight Sun, he's a "coward" (37), "evil" (374) & an "obsessed stalker" (94). clearly depressed in the way he describes his "long melancholy" (138) as "an unending, unchanging midnight" (136), he quickly pinpoints the feelings behind his hatred for Bella: "What I really hated was myself" (26). his distaste for Mike Newton & jealousy of Jacob Black stem from his insecurity, while his paranoia has him assuming, among other things, that a meteor will crash down & bonk Bella out of existence (131). Edward's telepathy has him always on the alert for intruders, resulting in baseless conclusions. "Idiot," Rose calls him (97, 129, 145, 202, 314). idiot, indeed.

Edward & George's low self-esteem compel them to lie, unable to live up to the perceived expectations of others. after Edward saves Bella from a car accident, he lies to her to keep her away. "I had a show to put on now. I knew the role I would play—I had the character down: I would be the villain. I would lie and ridicule and be cruel" (MS, 90). beyond shielding her from his true nature, he is shielding her from a deeper truth: "I didn't deserve any link, any claim to her at all" (728). that is, Edward does not consider himself worthy of Bella's love. he even point-blank admits it to her at prom: "I'm not worth it." (782)

George, too, struggles to live up to assumed perceptions: “You see, this is what I do with women. I start out too strong, now I have to become real. That's when it all falls apart. What good is real?" ("The Visa," S04) like Edward, he engages in deceptive tactics throughout the series to keep his partners at arm's length, from creating falsehoods about himself to preventing his fiancée from fraternizing with his friends & entering his world. ("The Pool Guy," S07) Edward, more succinct, sends Bella the same message in New Moon: "My world is not for you." (37)

in fact, one of the few traits George & Edward possess that is not negatively regarded is their ability to lie. Edward's declaration that "I was not an incompetent liar" (MS, 77) seems an understatement when, not 10 pages later, he says, "Perhaps I was too good a liar if I could fool Carlisle" (85). he claims to feel guilty; then again, Bella often notes him lying outright or by omission in the series.

"I lie every second of my life," George brags in season 2's "The Apartment." "My whole life is a sham." other characters acknowledge & praise this ability. in the episode "The Beard" (S06), Jerry begs George to help him beat a polygraph test, calling his ability "a gift." just as Edward dramatizes his lying to "putting on a show," George likens his talent to singing opera: "It's like saying to Pavarotti, 'Teach me to sing like you.'" the advice he gives Jerry aptly sums up George's philosophy: "It's not a lie if you believe it." how fitting that this is the mindset Edward employs to stay in Bella's life a little longer.

George & Edward's relationships not only showcase their ability to lie but follow similar paths. George faces Edward's exact dilemma: the choice to deny his nature (to the point of becoming vegetarian!) for an attractive woman in "The Secretary" episode of season 6. "You're luscious," he says to a beautiful applicant for an open secretary position. "You're ravishing. I would give up red meat just to get a glimpse of you in a bra." George chooses not to hire the attractive secretary... but ends up sleeping with his 'unattractive' secretary anyway. Edward, meanwhile, does the opposite: he chooses vegetarianism and to date the object of his affection, albeit with personal turmoil. where Edward chooses to be the man, George chooses to be the monster.

unsurprisingly, however, their low self-esteem is a frequent barrier to their romantic pursuits. these insecurities even lead them to preemptively decide to break up with their significant other. in George's case, the breakup in season 3's "The Pez Dispenser" is a means for him to protect himself & regain control:

“A preemptive breakup. This is an incredible idea. I got nothing to lose. We either break up, which she would do anyway, but at least I go out with some dignity.”

Edward seemingly breaks up with Bella to protect her. he knows he will leave her by page 368 of Midnight Sun. by page 746, he admits he's lying when he swears he won't leave her. "[T]he time would come, I was sure now, when I would have to convince her [I didn't want her]" (747). best-case scenario, he thinks, she will outgrow him (781), though it's clear she intends on forever. despite the evidence from Alice that Bella will be a catatonic mess, he leaves...several months later, after a near-fatal brush with Jasper. one might argue Edward's fear of love & intimacy leads him to break up with her as a means to protect himself from the harsh reality that she will die.

ultimately, George & Edward's failures in physical & emotional intimacy are rooted, at least in part, in an aversion to sex.

for both, the desire to feed presents a barrier to their lovemaking. Edward is unable to prolong his kisses with Bella, citing his thirst. he compares himself to "an alcoholic" & Bella to "a glass of hundred-year-old brandy, the rarest, finest cognac..." (Twilight, 13). similarly, in season 9's "The Blood," George finds he is always hungry around his partner & can't make love to her without eating. his attempt to introduce strawberries, chocolate sauce, & pastrami on rye into the bedroom snowballs into him sneaking sandwiches into bed. though George, unlike Edward, can satiate himself without murdering his girlfriend, his desire to feed still leads to his demise.

this aversion to sex extends beyond a conflict with their baser selves, however. we see George & Edward's insecurities & low self-esteem take a central role in their inability to engage in intimate relations.

“I don't like when a woman says, ‘Make love to me,’" says George in season 3's "The Stranded." "It's intimidating. The last time a woman said that to me, I wound up apologizing to her.”

this quote perfectly encapsulates Edward & Bella's wedding night. despite being intimidated by Bella's demand for sex, Edward acquiesces. upon discovering he bruised Bella, Edward confirms his worst fears, calls himself a monster, and says: "I'm...so sorry, Bella. [...] I am more sorry than I can tell you" (Breaking Dawn, 61). he then promises, "I will not make love with you until you've been changed. I will never hurt you again." (66)

oddly enough, the bleak outlook Edward takes on his sex life (i.e., not possible (Twilight, 147) & unrealistic (Eclipse, 299)) mirrors George's feelings re: sexual intimacy in "The Pony Remark" (S02):

“You know, I've been thinking. I cannot envision any circumstances in which I'll ever have the opportunity to have sex again. How's it gonna happen? I just don't see how it could occur.”

is this aversion to intimacy with women a product of George & Edward being queer-coded characters? even if Edward didn't worship the ground on which Carlisle "the soul of [the] family" (MS, 96) walked to the point where he hopes his face resembles Carlisle's "perfect" one (24, 387), he constantly thinks of his creator & tries to live up to Carlisle's perception of him (28, 347, 383, 387). this seems innocuous enough until we consider the fact that the vampire genre itself has queer roots. vampires have always served as a symbol for social outcasts; homosexual depictions, from the 1872 novel Carmilla to the 2020s reboot of Interview with a Vampire, are a common feature of the genre. through this lens, the virginal Edward Cullen pushing away his heterosexual partner while he envisions Carlisle's face takes on different connotations.

George, deeply in denial of his sexuality, upholds odd "rules" to avoid being seen as gay, from refusing to sit "boy-boy-girl" in a car ("The Ex-Girlfriend," S02), to reminding Jerry of his "unblemished record of staunch heterosexuality" before declaring Jerry's new jacket "fabulous." (his singing show tunes throughout "The Jacket" (S02) still earns him the title of gay by another character, however.) he frequently goes into a gay panic: from being called out on his attraction to Jerry ("The Cartoon," S09), to being accused of falling in love with his friend Tony ("The Stall," S05), to being explicitly labeled as Jerry's romantic partner in season 4's "The Outing," he responds to challenges to his heterosexuality with anger, anxiety, dismay, & denial. he even shouts "IT [his penis] MOVED!" in response to being touched by an attractive male masseuse ("The Masseuse," S05). regardless of whether George may be gay or bisexual, George's record of "staunch heterosexuality" seems not as "unblemished" as he would like us to believe.

given all the similarities, one might think the biggest difference is their species: Edward is a mindreading vampire and George is a human. but George does note having an advanced sense of perception akin to Edward's telepathy: "I was personable, I was bright. [...] I was perceptive. I always know when someone's uncomfortable at a party" ("The Opposite," S05). additionally, while George may not be a literal vampire, he does have a parasitic nature. cheap & selfish, he frequently mooches off his friends & leaves them footing the bill. he also lies & manipulates for his own gain, including but not limited to faking a disability to have access to his own private bathroom at work ("The Butter Shave," S09), setting up a fake charity to avoid buying Christmas presents for his coworkers ("The Strike," S09), & falsifying statements to extend his unemployment benefits ("The Boyfriend, Part 1," S03). leeching off of others & the community is a hallmark of vampirism.

ultimately, the uncanny parallels between these two characters are impossible to ignore. George & Edward seem indeed the same person mirrored into different universes. so, what does this say about their creator(s)? this "coincidence" naturally begs the question: Are Jerry Seinfeld and Stephenie Meyer the same person? in Part 2 of this essay, we expl—

#i hope this crit analysis finds u as a brick crashing thru ur window @ 3am w/ a postit note written in blood that says 'i love you'#to all my ole twilight conspiracy theory besties: you are getting multiple bricks with lipstick prints on them. wya!?!?!?!?!?#come outside i have the corkboard & red string & mom says i don't have to be back until the streetlamps come on #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #the twilight saga #edward cullen #george costanza #bella swan #seinfeld #jason alexander #jerry seinfeld #twilight saga #twilight revival #twilight shitposting #fuckmeyer classic #FINALLY my compulsive seinfeld watching comes in handy #feeling alive and free rn #New York Times calls this post 'riveting. a triumphant return'#GoodReads gives it a 3.5/5 stars. “wish it was gayer.” - me too bestie. me too.#*jeb! bush voice*: please clap.

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whovianwatchingstartrek · 11 months

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A Whovian Watches Star Trek for the First Time: Part 070 - The Corruption of Archer

Star Trek: Enterprise - Season 3 Episode 19 - Damage

Continuing right on from where we left off, our crew is in a rather dire position. I think this is the most damage that Enterprise has taken, at least outside of Alter timeline quantum parasite shenanigans. But suddenly: The Xindi withdraw for reasons unknown. My first thought was that Archer had given over the information the Xindi wanted, but after the intro it turns out the Xindi Council had ordered it. They've also arranged to take Archer out of the Reptilians hands. It would appear Archer's gambit of Degra has payed off.

Meanwhile on Enterprise, all hands are on Deck to make repairs. The Warp engines are destroyed, so they have to limp away from Azati Prime on Impulse. I love how broken the ship feels here. Sparks are flying, debris is everywhere, the medical bay is full. The ship really does feel like it's taken a beating.

Instead of being transported to the Xindi council however, it appears the Aquatic Xindi have been ordered to take Archer back to Enterprise. It would also appear however, that T'Pol is succumbing to the effect that Trellium D has on the Vulcans. The show choses to bring it into focus right way, but even afterwards, T'Pol's actress is amazing having it's effect subtly come through in her performance in later scenes that don't focus on it. We also learn later that this was less the direct effects of exposure to Trellium D, but rather it seems she's becoming addicted to it. A drug addiction allegory seems like it's come out of nowhere, but I'm willing to see where this goes. Between the her SA allegory, the AIDs allegory and now this, it does feel like they've been putting every 90's talking point onto one character. She does have an honest conversation about it with Phlox though

During the repairs, there are a few really good crew interactions I like. Travis's reassurance to Hoshi that "We are getting home" was great. Archer and Phlox also had a great scene in Archer's quarters, talking about ethics as both doctors and Captains, as Archer considers stealing another ship's warp coil by force. This appears to be the turning point in the whole corruption arc that was hinted at early in the season. The way this conversation was shot, with the lighting keeping Phlox in the dark and out of focus was beautiful. Archer is going down a dark path, and I'm really interested to see if he can make it out the other side without becoming a villain.

The action scene aboard the alien ship during Archer's attempt at Piracy, while T'Pol was trying to keep both ships alive was brilliant. Plus we got a nice scene of Phlox and T'pol have a nice seen of friendship together, and it's really great seeing Phlox become her confidant.

This episode was a lot more interesting that the other main plot episodes. I like that we're properly launching into Archer having to make these Morally Dubious decisions. He's made a few before, but this is the first time the episode hasn't been treating him as if he's right, and I'm excited to see where his character arc goes.

#whovian watching star trek #star trek #star trek enterprise #star trek ent #star trek: enterprise #enterprise #ent

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sonicasura · 5 days

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Some backstory for the Hard-Boiled Heavies in the Sonic IDW/Pokemon Crossover

When the Elite Eggrobo Squad un-earthed the Phantom Ruby it gave them all immense power and knocked a couple of screws loose.

However this is how Dr. Eggman described what happened, as what really happened is that the Phantom Ruby ended up giving the Hard-Boiled Heavies personalites, and the ability too think for themselves.

As Eggrobos they were driven only by there orders from Dr.Eggman, as the Hard-Boilded Heavies they gained the ability too think and adept, which was only held by a few of Dr.Eggman's creations.

How the Phantom Ruby did this unknown however it is possible that the Ruby disrupted what ever code kept them completely bound too Dr. Eggman along with imparting personalities upon the Heavies

The Phantom Ruby did cause Heavy King to sort of betray Dr. Eggman as Heavy King too control of the situation when he realized that Dr. Eggman's plans were failing in Mania. Heavey King wanted too take control of the situation and try and beat Sonic for Dr. Eggman and took the Phantom Ruby too try and do so. However Heavy King did not realize that he was slowly losing control too the Phantom Ruby which was trying too take over Heavy King's body. Later revalations about the Phantom Ruby would reveal that it would try and take over a host body or compel some one that had been granted it's power too do it's bidding which is what the Ruby did too Heavy King. Why is unknown perhaps the reality agumenting power the Ruby held was far more sinister than originally thought or maybe it is something else entirely?

After the events of Mania the Heavies were rebuilt, Dr. Eggman put in codes to keep the Heavies loyal too him, the code did not work and the Heavies kept there personalities and ability too think. However since a great deal of the Ruby's energy had disapated by this point and the Ruby was gone all the Heavies lost a lot of there more destructive tendencies and were all a lot more calm now and for the most part followed Dr. Eggman's orders.

They were all loyal too Dr. Eggman especially Heavy King and the Heavies helped Dr. Eggman on many of his schemes even though they always failed.

However one day the Heavies were all just… thrown away. Dr. Eggman saw them all as failures and refused too have useless robots around. The Heavies were all broken from a major battle with Sonic and Friends and despite being retrieved by Dr. Eggman were thown out into the Jungle left too rust and be forgotten.

The loyalty of the Hard-Boiled Heavies meant nothing to Dr. Eggman and the Heavies soon began too rust and shatter from the elements and would have been lost too time….

If not for one adventurous youth and the Pokémon finding them all in that Jungle

A little trivia I came up with

Shinobi likes too speak in Haikus when ever he can and really likes frogs

Rider actually admires Sonic for his Daredevil attitude and wishes too race against Sonic

Magician loves too watch old performances from famous Magicians and was inspired by some too start working on amazing card tricks and techniques.

It should also be noted that Magician can not be beat when playing cards, she could run a casino out of business by playing Black Jack alone

Gunner can fly on his own but really likes too hang of the side of his Helicopter, this is because Gunner loves too watch those 90's action heroes movies and thinks 90's action heroes stuff is some of the coolest stuff out there and tries too replicate it when ever he can

King loves Tactic based videogames with one his favorite videogames being Fire Emblem

Shinobi, Gunner, Magician, and King all agree that Rider is the best at Kart Racer Video Games

Rider can always be seen with her Motobug companion Jimmy

Shinobi is fantastic at making origami creations and even made origami replicas of all the Heavies

Gunner loves fighting games and has figures of some of his favorite fighting game characters

King has fantastic Bojutsu skills most likely because his main weapon is a Spector

King loves too watch shows that have royalty as the main characters

Gunner and Rider are both surprisingly very good mechanics, most likely because Gunner and Rider are always taking care and improving the Helicopter and Motobug Jimmy

I hope you like this and deal me your thoughts I love too hear them!

I LOVE what you got here. Honestly won't be surprised if the Phantom Ruby had a corruption sort of effect. I grew up with the Kirby series so any powerful artifact with unknown or ominous origins shouldn't be fully trusted. *Looks at the Master Crown*

I can see Sonic indulging Rider in fun races from time to time. The Hard Boiled Heavies would definitely get along with a good chunk of Trainer's Pokemon. Especially those who match their interests or abilities.

#sonicasura #sonicasura answers #asks #foolmariofest #pokemon #pokemon series #pokemon pocket monsters #pokemon trainer #pkmn #sonic #sonic series #sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog series #sth #idw sonic #sonic games #sonic mania

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bigforeheadbaddie · 1 year

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summer horror series entry three: I know what you did last summer (1997) 🎣

~ a now broken group of friends reunite when one of them receives a threatening letter that places their futures…and lives in jeopardy ~

this is a classic teen horror with an absolutely stacked late 90’s/early 00’s tiger beat coverstars cast. I love the small, northern coastal vibe to this one with a splash of americana. this would be my vote for a forth of july watch party because you get that later summer feeling and americana aesthetic I mentioned earlier, but it doesn’t lean too much into the political. I grant this one 7/10 stars only because it took me multiple rewatches throughout my life to actually become engaged in the story.

#I know what you did last summer #sarah michelle gellar #jennifer love hewitt #freddie prinze jr #ryan phillippe #anne heche #horror #summer horror #90s horror #slashers #letterboxd #fourth of july #slasher summer

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randomvarious · 8 months

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Ian Pooley - "What's Your Number (Jazzanova Renumber)" A Jedi's Night Out by Tom Middleton Song released in 1998. Mix released in 1999. Broken Beat

Good morning 🌅. Here's the terrific Berlin future jazz group Jazzanova with a remix of Mainz native Ian Pooley's late 90s tune, "What's Your Number." It's a sweet piece of broken beat, which is a type of electronic music that leans sort of chill and has no prominent kick-drum to drive its rhythm, often choosing to go with unorthodox, complex, or unpredictable snare drum patterns instead. Lovely 7 minutes and change of it here, from one of my favorite mixes of all time, Tom Middleton's A Jedi's Night Out, which while being a play on the Jedi Knights alias of his own great Global Communication duo, also offered up a selection of tunes that might actually soundtrack a Jedi's own night out.

#broken beat #electronic #electronic music #music #90s #90s music #90's #90's music

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hairklipz · 7 months

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Review 01: LTJ Bukem - Producer 01

Released: 0?/01/00AV

Genre: Electronic / Subgenre: Jungle DnB a/o Intelligent DnB & Downtempo

Watford native LTJ Bukem had heavy influence on what would become known as "Intelligent DnB". Intel. DnB is characterized by clear jazz influence alongside the break beats that make Jungle so addictive. Bukem navigates the sound with expertise, flaunting complex but catchy jazz loops into the mix from his classically trained background as well as hard hitting basslines that rock your ears. As the record runs, you lose track of time as the songs are paced very well despite being on the longer side by today's standards. If someone is looking for an introduction to the UK Jungle scene, Producer 01 is a gentle yet proper means to do so. It starts you off by getting you used to the sounds you will hear through the project and then eases you into the heavier aspects later on. Let's listen.

Track One is a seven minute interlude titled appropriately 'Cosmic Interlude'. As the song begins I can already feel myself enjoying it from the bass loop alone. This loop is reminiscent of the "Meep City Night Theme" from Roblox (obscure reference but that song is a 10/10 for me). The tone of this interlude is also set quickly with the accents heard echoing over the bass until the drums come knocking in. The structure of this song seems to focus it's attention on the tone switches. Moments of minor tension broken up with soft electric keys and more accenting. Just as the song is starting to become repetitive, Bukem (as if he is mixing this with you in mind) switches direction, giving us a break from the loop before heading into the final minute of the track. Although the loop has only been gone for less than a minute, when it makes it's return with new partners, you cease to remember the repetitive feeling from minutes before. An amazing start to the album.

Track Two instantly takes a dip in tone. Titled Constellation, this track is the sole song on the record that features vocals. The lyrics of this song seem to focus on music transporting you elsewhere. The style of the rap is consistent with the English Scene with flow influence from New York contemporaries of the same time and genre. I think this track is a great listen especially if you are listening intently. Noticing details like the whispers that DSR layers over his verse pulls the listener away from where they are grounded much like the song intended. As far as the production, a favorite for me is the strings within in the loops. I am an absolute sucker for strings especially the strings consistent with the late 90's and early 2000's. When the beat rides for the keys solo before the last verse, you get a chance to really hear those strings before the song fades off. I really enjoyed this song despite it being almost an outlier from the rest of the album.

Track Three is where we start to inch closer to the traditional jungle sound although I use 'inch' very literally. Unlike later tracks, this one remains subtle in its label. My first thought is downtempo but maybe not a specific sub-genre within it. The BPM sits at around 104 or 105 as opposed to the average BPM of 158 over the six songs that follow it. The chords feel very house-y which I love and I think suits the track immensely. While listening to the first two minutes of this song, the sub-bass will creep in for just moments at time preparing you for second-quarter of the track. The sub-bass hits hard and rounded, you can almost see the shape of it while listening. The echoing horns throughout the song are trance-like, it feels like I'm being hypnotized, snapped awake and instantly re-instated as the horns return. This cycle continues until you fully awaken only due to the volume lowering as the song fades out.

Track Four begins with what I can only describe as someone taking the term jungle literally. Partnered in the background with percussion are various chirps but closer to the foreground is what seems to be (in my opinion) a bit-crushed roar of some kind that starts anew every eight measures. I really love the idea of Bukem sitting down and deciding to center a jungle song around jungle sounds (even if I am not 100% on his intention or even that these sounds came from the jungle in the first place). The drums in this song are one of my favorite from the entire record despite this not being a favorite song as a whole. I think this song serves well as a transitionary track into the higher tempo theme of the rest of the album and prepares you for track five which I consider to be the second strongest, second most interesting and my overall second favorite on the album.

Track Five is titled 'Demon Theme'. As the track sets the tone for you, chirps are carried on from the previous track until the break begins. The drums are instantly weaker than the last song but this is not where 'Demon Theme' shines. Two minutes into the track, an echoing lead catches an unbelievable groove that immediately takes over. This section of the song is interrupted by a sampled singing voice that eases us into a new section of chaos. Many freshly introduced sounds start to swirl around your head at 145 BPM causing a hurricane circling your brain. Soon after, the 'calm' within this 'storm' appears in the form of flutes that end up blending the rest of the sounds into one. Once again, this off-key vocal sample serves as the start of the next section where we are met with warm synths and those familiar chirps from earlier. It feels like an off-color sun is breaking through the clouds of earlier. As the song enters it's final stretch, the chaos is gone and that catchy lead comes back to wrap everything up into a neat package. This new tone becomes the standard for the song, wiping your memory of the chaos the ensued minutes before. Switching between minute three and minute six feel like distant sonic cousins rather than two parts of the same track and I think this is absolutely a positive but also a theme of this album. It is dynamic and it shows track-to-track.

Track Six is our longest track on the records at just under nine minutes. The loop here has some sort of a filter which almost detunes it at times and I love that effect. The synths that work with this loop are slow and drone-like which leaves you wondering where this song will end up knowing that Bukem is both unpredictable and extremely talented at it too. 'Music' sits at the higher side with 155 BPM but somehow the song feels slow and paced. It is an amazing feeling. By minute four, I had found myself feeling like the song just began but we were already half way finished. The track is quick yet slow. It is heavy yet soft. It is both liquid and solid. Throughout this one, a sampled voice comes echoing both in and out like something out of Silent Hill until thick undistinguishable chords creep in to set the tone completely. 'Music' isn't one of my favorites as a song but the experience itself makes it. I think it is rare to find a track paced so perfectly.

Track Seven (my overall favorite) continues the long run time with the the last two songs totaling over seventeen minutes all by themselves. This song has a slow build but already starts to set the groove. The echo and melody used for this flute sample is one of the catchiest on the entire record. The bass on this track is definitely more subtle than the former songs but it is still rounded and impactful. As you hit the halfway point of 'Twilight Voyage' you get a closer listen to the sounds present in the song and this is one of my favorite sections. I don't have the proper words to describe the feeling they give me but it is like every sound is picked perfectly. Every soundwave is the exact one that I would specifically want. I find myself getting lost in this section just appreciating said sounds until the DnB returns for the final two minutes of the track. This song is one of the least dynamic of the record but somehow it doesn't feel repetitive, every second of those eight minutes is paced just as well as the previous track and that blows me away.

Track Eight begins unlike any of the other songs. 'Orchestral Jam' has an strong start as opposed to the soft build-ups we've been used to for the past seven tracks. The drums are glitchy and fast which the track gives us plenty of time in the first minute to appreciate until the melodies begin to slip in. Of course, this song is focused on strings but these strings aren't my favorite. I mentioned earlier in the review that the strings of this era are one of my biggest weaknesses but the ones present in this track just don't do it for me. Even when the bass is introduced about halfway through the song, I do not find myself getting the same feeling the record has produced so far. My favorite thing about this song are definitely the accenting done here and there. That being said, this song is on the weaker side for me and would be at best an 'okay' track. I do believe that this song is greater than 'okay' but might have the unfortunate task of following the almost perfect first seven tracks.

Track Nine is the where this amazing record comes to an end and from what I understand is Bukem's most popular track. Off-the-bat, this song has a chopped vocal sample (from which part of the title is taken) that is absolutely lovely. I think that the beginning of this song sets an amazing tone that gets me excited for the ending of this album. The keys, which are almost clav-like, are catchy and funky until they are cut-off. I think that I would've liked those keys to continue and carry the rest of the track with them in a different direction. They make their return alongside that vocal sample in the final minute of the record but without enough time to bring the song to a place I'd like to hear. I think this song reveals one of my worst habits which is gaining expectations in a track to only feel disappointed if it doesn't go where my head was thinking or somewhere better. This song set a tone that I got attached to and changed it. I believe that the song is still great but I am just a picky and pretentious brat who acts like he could've even made something this good.

Producer 01 is labeled by some as a compilation record rather than an actual album. I believe that without lyrics it can sometimes be difficult to keep an album coherent but Bukem did it masterfully. This project feel cohesive and paced beautifully. Sitting at 1hour and 13 minutes, each song works its runtime properly and keeps you engaged both mentally and physically. This record has plenty of moments where you cannot help but have a physical reaction to what is occurring even if you are not listening with full intent. This record is not abrasive but does have moments that wake you up and cause those reactions. With a slower, seemingly unsure start, the first three songs carry layers of influence that leave you guessing on the exact genre is would be considered. As you hit the middle four tracks, you feel entranced in the project unable to step out of it without effort. as you ease into the last two tracks which are the weakest in my opinion, you find yourself wondering what direction he will go and I love that feeling. Consistency is not bad but an artist who can leave you guessing is even better. As one of the first albums released in the new millennium I would say this record perfectly encapsulates the era and sets a great standard for the years to come.

8.3/10

-Hairklipz 28/02/24AV

#ltjbukem #jungle #dnb #downtempo #music #musichistory #musicreview #y2k #2000's #review #writing #blogging #blog #trance

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mmuffncakes · 6 months

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Tell me about your 3 original fiction stories!!! Are they all horror? The names sound like it but I wanna know more!

so because i answered a little bit prior about Owl Falls i'll give a snippet for this one! (This is unedited)

Dakota’s mind stopped when he saw it.

In the cockpit, nearly hidden by shadows but lit enough by the dim flicker of the flame, was a mask. But not just any old mask… the mask of the most wanted criminal in North America. It was off-white from age and old blood, a streak across the nose and forehead from what looked like a gruesome kill. It was flat, the nose pointed down, made to look like a beak, the eyes wide. The Owl. His heart skipped a beat, maybe two, as he pushed himself away from the body.

Standing back, he could see the oh so very slow rise and fall of the man’s chest. Not just any man. The Owl. How many kills were under his belt? How many times had Dakota heard the code name crackle through the radio? And here he was, laying in a pile of slush; pale, bloody, injured, broken, on the brink of death… breathing.

Dakota wasn’t sure how long he stared at The Owl, watching him breathe. He couldn’t figure out his thoughts. Leave him to die? Dakota could already feel the trauma of letting someone die and rot in the woods, no matter how rotten of a person they were. Bring him back? Heal him up? Let the authorities take him? Would he even confirm his identity? Wouldn’t he try to escape? Well… not with that ankle he wouldn’t.

The turmoil in his head was getting overwhelming.

And despite it all: Dakota refused to leave a man to die. No matter the atrocities he committed.

The Untitled Slasher one, I beeeliiiieeevvveeee !!! you actually saw me draw the main character for it way back when in the server: Shane. But this one is still just a concept. But it's heavily inspired by Freddy 2, actually. In the concept of how much are the murders the main character and how much of them are the Slasher behind the mask. It would follow Shane, who is a cryptid hunter/camp counselor in the 90's as he's helping to clean up camp and reset it up between camp sessions. It's here he comes across a masked man in the woods that he grows a soft relationship with. And during this time, he starts to lose his mind over things people are saying, what theyre doing, and its a slow descent into him thinking he's waking up with blood on his hands when one of his fellow counselors is found dead or goes missing, and the constant control thats leaking into him from the masked man. its a *concept* rn. it defo needs some passes, and defo needs some work.

The Black Box is actually a cyber-punk sci-fi short I wrote that I wanted to develop more into something a bit more. It's defo out of my comfort zone for what I normally write in genre's, but I still enjoyed the characters I created for it (Rook, Stranger, and Tiger Othello). That one focuses on Rook, a hired thief by Tiger Othello to obtain a black box. Once she has it, she starts getting hunted down by Tiger Othello's men, realizing this was a set-up. In her escape, she meets Stranger, an interesting mind inside of a robotic body that she's yet to figure out. But they have secrets and information about Tiger Othello and the two team up to get unframed while uncovering some deeper secrets. I beliieeeve you've also seen the art of that one!

#asks #my writing #my work #original content

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skaruresonic · 1 year

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My earliest memories of the VN are a little hazy because a lot has happened since then, but I'll try to share the bits and pieces that I do recall. ---

One of the first things I did was compile voice clips in order to have a comprehensive credits list. This included sifting through dialogue compilations. The characters' quotes then shaped ideas for plot beats and informed the kind of narrative it would become. In the earliest draft which... hadn't really been written at the time, but was 90% locked away in my head, the plan was to have Sonic help settle a dispute between Shadow and Rouge following a failed apprehension of some bank robbers. Their chapter would have paralleled Tails and Knuckles' in that two characters approach Sonic instead of just one. Not sure where their chapter would have fit into the overall narrative, but I'd guess around mid-afternoon, just before early evening, when Cream's chapter begins. I couldn't find anything viable in David Humphrey's voice clips, and Jason Griffith's sounded... for lack of a better word, a little too mean-spirited to use. It would have made Shadow seem as though he were raking Rouge over the coals instead of being a little annoyed and aloof. So then I was like, "Maybe I should set this aside for now." Eventually, as Knuckles', Cream's, and Amy's chapters grew in size, I decided it would have dragged the plot out for too long to include Shadow and Rouge's story, and hence cut it. --- The first draft was supposed to have the player take Sonic's place instead of Eggman. The implication being that Eggman somehow separated Sonic's sprite from his dialogue variable and is attempting to control Sonic's "shell" through manipulating the player. As time went on, I realized this was a difficult concept to convey properly. It would have also probably broken immersion to dictate the player's reaction after rendering them a silent entity for most of the game. That's why the switch was then changed to a more direct one between Sonic and Eggman. The player is instead given silent involvement where ultimately their say matters more than Sonic's or even Eggman's. The act of choice demonstrates the sheer power imbalance that exists between the characters and the player who directs them. ---

Eggman's "bad ending" speech was the first thing I worked on, which took about 15 minutes to speedread (so... maybe 30 minutes of regular reading?). It's not "truly" present in the current version of the game, though part of it is there in some form; it just requires a little digging to find. About half of the original speech is preserved in base64 when Sonic's dialogue gets deleted and replaced with barcode. You can see the base64 in the script. During the Good ending where everyone shows up to the surprise party, Sonic calls back to this speech. Eggman is confused because this implies Sonic can read his narration despite several layers of encryption, mirroring Eggman's ability to read Sonic's narration. --- The rave cave was originally supposed to take place at Amy's house, when Eggman would have flooded the place with raving Egg Pawns. All that hawt robot mosh pit action would have carried Sonic out the door and tossed him onto the lawn.

--- The final game has just two routes and many looping choices. A third route where the graphics driver fails, causing Sonic and co.'s sprite textures to fail to load, and an angry overworked Eggman assigning you the task of retrieving the lost textures before the end of the workday got scrapped as well.

#on a sunday #on a sunday spoilers

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simpscripts · 2 years

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Sex in the Club Part 1 (Jean-Ralphio Saperstein x Reader)

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Drug use, Alcohol, drunk/high sex, smoking, anal sex, vaginal sex, semi-public, and slight dubcon cause drugs.

Summary: You get horny while pregaming with your boyfriend, Jean-Ralphio, while at the club. Naughty sex in the bathroom ensues.

Authors note: Honestly there is not really a plot besides me being horny. As always be responsible when actually drinking or smoking and I implore you to pull up a 90’s, 2000’s club playlist while reading this. Pony is a must, obviously. This has to be broken up because I can’t control myself from writing long ass smut. If you want to read it unbroken it will be on ao3 too but I will try as much as possible to make the break minimally jarring.

Your fingers twirled the colorful glowstick band around your wrist as you bump your head and shoulders along with the pounding music. You mouth along the words to the dj’s mixes happily as you look up from your seat to see if you can spot your boy among of the sea of bodies dancing in neon spotlights. Eventually his long form can be seen dancing back to you through a split in the crowd with his arms stretched inwards towards his chest to protect the drinks he held, head bopping with the beats, and hips waving back in forth as he moved.

An airy laugh bubbles from you as his face brightens with a wide smile when he catches your gaze then does a little dance just for you while staring suggestively. When his body gets close enough you move quickly to reach out and grab your drink that is threatening to spill over with his bounces. He climbs in the other side of the booth, taking an awkward amount of time to round the whole booth to be by your side when he could have simply just asked you to move to let him in. He never did anything the easy way though.

“Alright, did you miss me baby? Cause I certainly missed you sweet thang. Now here is one scrumdiddlyumptious ‘screaming orgasm’ for my beautiful lady, and one ‘pussy quencher’ for this guy.” He shouts to you over the music and you laugh as you hear the names of the drinks he picked out for you two.

“I think I’ll need another ‘screaming orgasm’ by the end of tonight.” You laugh, lifting the straw you know he made sure to get just for you and sip down the sweet syrupy cocktail that was almost too pretty too drink.

As always he raises his glass and chugs it down in one big go before slamming the glass back down on the table and screaming out a ‘woo’ as he shakes his head. The music thrums against your skin and you start dancing in your seat with the music, stomach and chest moving in body rolls, and take small sips of your drink with happy hums. You can feel his fingers walk over your back to curl around your waist and you peer over to see him staring at you.

You flush at his burning look and hide behind your fruity drink, a bit shy under his gaze. “What?”

“You are so ridonkulously sexy.” He makes a show of letting his eyes draw up and down your body before biting his lip.

“Uh, huh. Says mr. pretty boy himself.” You hum back but go back to dancing, continuing your show for him.

His fingers snap at his side to light his zippo and you watch him lean forward to pop a joint from his gold case on the table into his mouth before lighting it and leaning back to stretch out against the back of the booth.

You quickly curl your legs up on the booth and lean your body into the crook of his arm letting your head rest on his chest while you trail your fingers across his pecs. It was a small ritual you both indulged in whenever you got to the club, taking a small moment to partake in substances to fuel your long night of partying while taking in the vibe of the environment before diving in.

His arm stretched out behind you moves forward to trail his fingers along your hair. A fluttering tingle rolls down your spine with each pull of his fingers through your strands and a particularly deep rumble vibrates in your chest every time his nails scrap past your scalp. You sit together in this calm relaxation as you both let the bass of the music pound against your bodies and he takes small hits from the joint.

You tilt your head to watch him blow little o rings out of his puckered lips, poking his finger into his cheek to further push the circular wisps out in front of you before they crash into the glasses on the table and dissipate. Your nose tickles as you second hand inhale the fragrant clouds he occasionally blows in your direction.

With the seamless transition to the next song you feel his chest move as he shifts and his fingers pulls your head up to look at him better. “Come here baby.”

His face angles away as his other hand holding the joint raises to his lips for a long draw. Your hand resting on his chest feels it rising with the big inhale and you smile happily, letting your lips part while you wait with closed eyes.

The hand cradling you further cranes your jaw up and he presses his open lips against yours. When he exhales you automatically start inhaling to pull every bit of smoke from him. It’s a bit of an odd feeling that you’ve gotten used to by now, learning long ago that alcohol is a great help to relax your muscles from tensing as you accept the suctioning pull.

The warm moist air fills you headily, drawing in a seemingly never ending stream of air from his lungs. He’s always did have the lung capacity of a scuba diver on steroids. As he finishes up his teeth sink into your lip before drawing back to nuzzle his nose against yours. You stare up at him dizzily with heavy eyelids and blow back a controlled stream at his face. His nostrils flare as he inhales the diluted thinning smoke and his lips curl in a growing smile as he watches you with his own dazed look.

“Damn baby, you take it like a champ.” He exhales shakily, eyes so blown with lust and intoxication that you can see the dancing neon lights twinkle in their blackness. “I need you so bad right now.”

You giggle as his hand trails down your neck to squeeze your breast through your tight dress.

“Nooooo,” You whine, trying to move your cloudy body to wiggle away. “We just got here! I haven’t gotten to dance yet and I’m still only on my second drink.”

“Mmm, we can fix that.” He hums, leaning forward to snatch a large bottle of clear alcohol from the table.

He brings the rim to your lips and starts slowly tipping the bottle. Immediately your mouth starts flooding with the sharp burn of tequila that you swallow back before it can linger on your tongue for too long. You can feel the tickle of a small stream leak out the corners of your mouth that fall down over your jaw and neck.

You hear the sound of the glass bottle clinking back against the table as his head leans down to lick across your lips and lap the trail of liquid off your skin. Your moans thankfully can’t be heard through the loud music and you let them out freely as his open mouthed kisses move down your neck.

“I still haven’t gotten a chance to dance.” You huff out, your mind loosing its battle as you feel his tongue against your skin and your gut warms from all the liquid you chugged down.

“If I check my impeccable memory, lets see here. Mmhm, yep, it was your dancing that caused this in the first place, so technically its your fault for being too damn sexy. And frankly, I deserve a reward for heroically getting you a drink without spilling it.” He rambles against your skin, arm stretching out blindly to snub out the rest of the remaining burning joint into the ash tray.

“Everyone can see us.” You weakly protest, his hands now roaming freely across your tight dress that is quickly feeling more suffocating.

“Nobody is paying attention, c’mon baby please, let daddy do his thang.” He always did start begging and using the word daddy more whenever he got high. God, you really were down bad for this train wreck of a man.

You start to squeal as you feel his fingers try to curl under the top lining of your dress right above your breast. He fully intends to pull your dress down in front of everybody, and you hate how much the idea makes you throb. You aren’t nearly inebriated enough yet to let it happen outside of fantasy and you manage to pull away from his grip as you slip out of the booth and pull on your small dress to cover all the areas he managed to expose.

“Nope” You make a show of popping the p and lean down to kiss him sweetly. “I’m going to dance.”

He shakes his head in acknowledgment of his attention as he squints his eyes and grins up at you while licking his lips. You knew that look could only mean trouble. “Oh ok. I see how it is girl. You like a chase and I respect that.”

He leans back in his seat and spreads open his thighs as he relaxes back into place, even taking time to pour himself a shot . Seeing the outline of his hard length through his incredibly tight pants stretching with his open position makes you almost regret leaving his side.

“Well then, get on with it. Give daddy a good show and then I’ll chase you down.” He quickly downs the shot and pours another while waving you off. “Go on now, git!”

Feeling a bit silly as your bloodstream finally sucks in everything you gave it, you dance backwards towards the crowd while watching him. Your attention span was shortening with every pump of blood circulating through your organs. By the time you made it to the edge of the crowd nearest to your booth you completely forgot he was watching you.

All you could feel was the floating bubbles in your veins that welcomed in the beats of the music easily, the rhythm controlling your body more than you could. A small bit of paranoia tries seeping through to your few functionally remaining brain cells but with experience you took a moment to take a deep breath. The first few minutes after partaking were always the most intense for you but you knew the intensity would blissfully mellow out in just a few moments.

Your attention span distracts you again as the next song in rotation made you jump up in excitement. The whole club felt like electric and your high only heightened that feeling tenfold. You knew you were singing loudly with the crowd that was jumping around you but you could only pay attention to the sway of your limbs that felt like they were floating through water. Your hands circle up into the sky to feel them swim before you make a show of dragging them down your body as you shimmy side to side.

You rub your hands across your limbs and neck to take a moment to center yourself but more realistically you were just very drunkenly amused at how your skin felt. Your fingers glided up and down along your neck to curve around your shoulders in a sort of self hug. You absolutely loved the feeling of your hands as they round down your curves and hips. You felt fucking beautiful and the realization only made you dance more sensually with a new vigor. You were burning with passion that giggled out your mouth, the weed making it hard not to smile brightly.

Your own hands almost felt foreign to you by factor of the numbness and your gut flutters as you close your eyes and picture Jean with you. You could picture him right behind you like he usually positioned himself, moving your hips along to the music as you lose yourself. You miss the feeling of his hands gripping into your waist as you dance, crossing your arms around your waist at the thought to dig in like he would while you sway.

You jump like your being shocked when you feel fingers lace into each of your hands from behind. Your head leans back quickly and you flash a big lopsided smile when you see its Jean. You giggle and throw your head back to rest against his shoulder as you push your ass back against him.

“So did daddy like the show?” You laugh out cheekily, resisting the urge to drop to your knees when you feel his hard dick thrust up against your ass in tandem with the music.

“Mmhm daddy loved it. So fucking sexy.” He growled at you and you hear the sharp clink of his teeth near your ear with the snap of his jaws. “Now bring the ass back and bounce on me.”

He didn’t even give you the option to obey him as his hands greedily grabbed onto your hips to pull you back against him. Both of you lost in each other’s bodies as you shamelessly grind against each other. His mouth littered kisses along your exposed neckline that have your knees wobbling under you. You were only getting hornier with every touch, each one sending pings directly to your clit. It was one thing to be horny and desperate when you were sober but it felt excruciating while you were intoxicated.

“I thought you were going to chase me?” You breathe out as you can make out the throb of his dick even through the layers of cloth.

“Mmm how about, and this is just me spitballing so hear me out, but you and I just go ahead and bang this one out in the bathroom.”

“Fuck ok yes, yes please.” You moan out wantonly, not wanting to waste another second.

“Yea?!” He sounds so excited and your knees buckle as he bites against your ear. You can just feebly nod your head in affirmation against him.

He quickly starts leading you through the crowd, hand never leaving yours but taking the lead to push people out of the way if necessary. Apparently what is necessary for him right now is getting to the bathroom as quickly as possible because nearly every person even slightly in his path become collateral damage and get shoved to make room for you. You’re surprised you manage to escape through the set of doors that lead to the hallway for the bathrooms miraculously without him getting into a fight from his drunken aggression.

The back hallways looked to be completely empty, not surprising seeing as it was still early in the night and no one wanted to break their seal this early. Give it an hour or two and the bathrooms lines will be wrapped all the way out the front door. You don’t think about it for long as you approach the dead end hallway with doors on either side separating the women’s and men’s rooms. You think he will turn one way or the other but he tugs on your wrist and moves to push your body against the wall.

#x reader #smut #x reader smut #jean ralphio x reader #jean ralphio saperstein #jean ralphio #parks and rec x reader #parks and recreation #parks and rec #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #reader insert #fanfictions #shout out to my amazing playlist

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