#Circular Motions EP | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hispipsqueak · 4 years ago

Text

Forever

Hanta Sero x F!Reader NSFW

Summary: After years of being together, you and Sero decide to reminisce in the best way possible.

WC: 2.2K

A/N: Hi friends! Sero is one of those characters that I truly see as good husband material and I wanted to express some of those feelings in this piece. I know for a lot of us, especially in my age range, growing up and leaving that age of “dumb teenager/early 20′s mess” to “adult with responsibilities” is a big change and I hope that is reflected a bit in this. Also, there’s car sex. So that’s fun :D As always, likes and reblogs are very much appreciated! Thanks for reading <3 P.S: CAN WE TALK ABOUT SERO IN THE NEW EP??? ahhhh

TW: car sex, adulting/getting older, domestic relationship, daddy kink, breeding kink, mentions of drug use

Sero's eyes stared at the glowing screen, trying to comprehend the information yet again.

His gaze darted toward the corner, 3:36 A.M., and he yawned, before blinking and trying to re-read the document again.

"Hey pretty boy."

The smell of jasmine perfume and honey wafted in and he smiled sleepily as you ran your fingers through his shaggy black hair.

"Mm...I know, I know." He muttered, nuzzling into your touch. You were his rock, always making sure he ate well and slept enough, making sure he wouldn't overwork himself. Sero thought back to your UA days of sneaking out at 3 AM to some fast food joint and getting stoned while eating greasy fries in the back of his car. Time sure flew, huh?

You rested your head on his shoulder and pressed a kiss to his neck.

"Come to bed. Paperwork will still be there in the morning, I promise.", you muttered into his soft skin. He relented and pulled himself out of the chair, twirling you around so he had you pressed against the wall.

His eyes roamed your face. You were still gorgeous as the day he first laid eyes on you in high school.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Hanta?" you whispered. He grinned, that toothy smirk that you fell in love with unchanged after all these years, and kissed you.

"Just reminiscing. Thinking about how far we've come. Remember when we were annoying teenagers, sneaking out of the dorms?"

"I'm pretty sure we are the reason for Aizawa's grey hairs now. Remember when your van broke down and we had to beg Bakugo to pick us up at 4 A.M.?" you giggled back, thinking of the blonde's angry scolding the entire ride home.

The two of you chuckled quietly, thinking about the years past. You glanced down at your hand, the sparkling diamond that adorned it shining in the dim room.

"I remember the day you proposed too. I'm pretty sure I thought you were going to dump me." you teased.

Even in the dark, you could see his face flush and his eyes narrow.

"I was NERVOUS. I was trying to ask the love of my life to spend the rest of our lives together and you just sat there being beautiful and Denki spent the day before trying to convince me to do a flash mob and it was a LOT of pressure!"

"You literally started off with, 'We've had some bad times, and some good times, and this was fun'." You laughed, picturing his face that day. He was sweating bullets and your heart was sinking, thinking he was ending it. He had been so secretive and weird the weeks prior, as opposed to his normally chilled out demeanor.

Sero kissed your forehead.

"I still have no idea why you said yes, but you're stuck with me, babe." He clinked his matching band against yours, a gesture the two of you did to remind yourselves of your unbreakable bond.

His long arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close to him and you buried yourself into his chest, smelling his citrus-scented soap. He rested his chin on your hair.

"When did we get so old, Y/N?" He whispered, his eyes looking at the walls behind you. Pictures of the two of you decorated the house. The pair of you in matching sunglasses at the beach, a group photo of you two and the squad at dinner after the aforementioned proposal, a candid on your wedding day, and then the two of you holding your twin boys.

"I'm pretty sure after we became parents." you mumbled into his chest, your sleepiness apparent in your voice. "I think once I had to say Daddy in a non-sexual way, was when I realized we were old."

Sero chuckled quietly, his hands squeezing your waist.

"But, we're still cool right? We aren't our parents."

You looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

"Hanta, are you worried about getting older?"

He closed his eyes.

"Not worried as much as...I just...I don't wanna be an old guy who drives a minivan and talks about retirement and golf."

Your eyes widened and you burst into laughter.

"Baby, I'm pretty sure you would never take up golf."

Sero pouted and you grinned before continuing.

"But in all seriousness, we aren't the kids we were in high school. Maybe we can't pull all nighters and still function the next day, and maybe we have to be parents who eat more vegetables and less french fries. But it's also nice to have a car that doesn't require a running start to move, and have a house instead of sneaking in and out of each other's dorm rooms. And you know, the kids are KIND OF cool."

He nodded.

"They are pretty cool kids."

You cupped his face, tilting him towards you.

"If I have to grow old with someone, I'm glad it's with you."

His face flushed and he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You gently tugged at the longer hair behind his ears as you kissed him back. He let out a low groan and his hands kneaded at your curves, squeezing your ass and hips.

Finally, the two of you broke apart, breathless and grinning. He pressed his forehead to yours.

"How about…we reminisce a little more? Maybe...in the car, for old time's sake?"

You nodded and the two of you headed to the garage, trying to stay as quiet as possible to not wake up the kids. Sero opened the car door and the two of you slid in the backseat, giggling like teenagers.

You straddled him and could feel his cock through his joggers. He groaned as you grinded against it, teasing him with hungry hot kisses to his neck.

“You’re such a tease, princess.” He whispered before tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. Your body shivered at his touch. Even after all this time, he made you feel like a lovestruck schoolgirl. You ran your hands down his toned chest, his body lean from hero work, and slid your fingers underneath his shirt.

Sero took this as an invitation to pull off his black tank top and you did the same to your sleeping shirt, an old band tee that you snagged from him. His hands cupped your breasts, slowly kneading the soft flesh as he placed soft kisses on your collarbone and shoulder.

“Mmm...you’re so fucking beautiful. How the hell did I get so damn lucky, babe?” He said between kisses. Sero had a way of making you feel like the sexiest woman in the world and you couldn’t help but smile as he worshipped your breasts, kissing and licking his way down till he latched his mouth over your nipple.

Using his other hand to tweak and tug at the hardened bud, he alternated between the two, sucking and leaving soft bites. Your back arched involuntarily, pushing your chest deeper into his mouth as you moaned.

“Fuck…need you Hanta.”

His long fingers worked their way down your belly, tracing circular patterns as he reached your sex. He ran a finger across your slit, barely parting your folds.

“What do you want, baby? Tell Daddy what you want.”

“Please...please touch me. Please daddy.” you begged, grinding yourself against him for the smallest amount of friction. You could feel yourself leaving a mess on his sweatpants, but you needed his touch.

He let out a deep chuckle.

“So desperate, huh baby? Let daddy take care of you.” You bit your lip as he plunged two fingers into your cunt. The length, combined with the hooking motion had you gasping. He continued to plunge in and out of your sopping heat as you rocked against him. Your thighs tensed, threatening to close on his arm. He maneuvered the two of you so you were laying on your back across the seat, his hand gripping your soft thighs, holding you in place as he finger-fucked you.

“Take it like a good girl baby. Let daddy make you feel good. You look so beautiful for me baby.” He praised you as he pushed deeper into you. You could feel him hit spots in you that made you see stars. All you could do was lay back and cry from the overwhelming pleasure that clouded your brain.

“Fuck...daddy, gonna cum soon!” you wailed, eyes rolling back. Hanta then chose this moment to pull his fingers from you, leaving your pussy to clench around nothing. You let out a frustrated whimper, tears leaking from your eyes.

“I’m so sorry baby, but I promise I’m gonna make it all better. You trust me baby?” He asked, his eyes dark with desire and something primal.

You nodded, sniffling at the shock of your orgasm being ripped from you. He tapped your lips with his fingers,still dripping of your arousal. Obediently, you opened and sucked on the two fingers, tasting yourself.

“Look how good you taste baby. You’re such a good girl for me. I want you to lick up every last drop from my fingers. Can you do that for daddy?” He asked, grinning.

Nodding dumbly, you slurped down every bit of yourself from his hand. He pressed against your tongue, making you gag around him. You looked up at him, drool falling from the corners of your mouth.

Hanta felt his cock twitch. Fuck you looked so sexy, so fucked and in love. He could see the devotion in your eyes as you looked at him awaiting his next instructions.

He pulled his hand back, strings of saliva hanging off of his calloused fingers. He propped himself above you so he was looking right down at your gorgeously fucked out face.

“You ready baby? You ready to take all of Daddy’s cock?” He asked, tugging your shorts down and lining himself up with your entrance. Your fingers found their way to his neck, tugging him close to you. The two of you shared a deep kiss, exchanging unspoken promises and memories before breaking apart. You nodded, looking deep into his eyes.

“Always."

Hanta felt his face flush, before slowly pressing into your tight heat. You bit your lip. No matter how many times the two of you had done this, you still had to prepare for his length. He wasn’t the thickest but his cock was long and lean just like him, with a curve that pressed itself right against your most sensitive spots.

“Fuck...you feel so good for me. You’re squeezing me so well baby.” He murmured, his dark eyes drinking in every inch of your body. His hands ran up and down your sides as he looked down at you and he gave you a small grin as he pinched your hip. You dug your fingertips into his shoulder blades, pulling him flush against you.

“Oh fuck you feel so good.” You rocked your hips against him, rolling yourself onto his cock. He took this as a cue to go faster and started to piston deeper inside of you, his balls slapping against your ass. His tip slammed against your walls, burying him deeper inside you. Moans and sighs filled the backseat and you gripped him tightly.

“That’s it babe, that’s it. Taking daddy so fucking deep. Fuck you’re sucking me in so well. I might have to knock you up again if you keep it up. You want that princess? Want daddy to put another baby inside you?” Hanta panted, hungrily kissing your neck and shoulder as he fucked into you faster. His teeth nipped at the thin skin and you cried out, from a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Answer me baby girl.”

“Y-yes daddy! Please fill me up with your cum. Need you so bad. Wan’a have your baby.” You moaned, delirious from him. The windows to the car were foggy and sweat ran down your bodies as you repeatedly crashed into each other, and yet all you could feel was him, all you wanted was to stay with him and please him as much as you could.

He could feel his release rapidly approaching. His hand snaked down to your clit and he pressed tight circles to the sensitive bud. Your back arched from the seat as you moaned out a mixture of curses and begs. Your mindless babbling spurred him on more. He wanted to keep fucking you, make it so you couldn’t remember your own name, drive you insane with desire and want.

“Tell me who’s fucking you so good baby. Who’s making you feel so fucking good? Who’s cum do you want to fill that tight little pussy of yours?” He breathed out, slamming into you impossibly faster.

“Daddy daddy daddy - DADDY!” you chanted, your mind fuzzy as you tightened around him, creaming on his cock. You wrapped your legs around his waist and rode out your high on his cock as your eyes fluttered and your mouth dropped open.

“That’s it, that’s it, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He groaned out as he released into you, filling you with his seed. His cock twitched, spurting his load into you and his fingers gripped your hips, holding you tightly as he filled you up.

The two of you panted, breathing hard as you came down from your highs, slowly moving into a position where he could hold you. He moved some strands of hair, plastered to your face with sweat, and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“I love you.”

You grinned, sleepiness overtaking your body as you leaned into him, your lips pressing against his skin.

“Forever.”

#sero x reader #hanta sero smut #hanta sero x reader #sero smut #bnha smut #mha smut #my hero academia smut #boku no hero academia smut #hanta sero #sero hanta #domestic sero

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ussygussymy · 2 years ago

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Found You || Euntae Lee (IX)

Referenced Eps: 186-187

— —

“I’m here for our date-”

The door was slammed in Euntae’s face as soon as the words left his mouth. Jihyun stared blankly at the door before turning around and walking away, the toothbrush running circular motions across her teeth. She looked like a dog with rabies and a frothy mouth to match. Again the knocking rang. Jihyun groaned, deliberating a moment before making the unconscious decision to turn and open the door. This time she didn’t give him the courtesy of stopping brushing her teeth. There he was, standing there.

“Jihyun, we have a date.” It seems her act of slamming the door in his face wasn’t a message enough.

“Dhour cofghhin (you're confusing).” Jihyun managed out. Euntae scrunched his eyebrows together.

“Meet me at [] for it.” Nothing else was said as he ran off somewhere, likely to get ready for the date. Jihyun huffed as she stood at the open door, there was only one thing to do now.

— —

Against her better conscious, she was there, early. Jihyun stopped by bitterly at the restaurant, tongue in cheek despite looking as though she’d put effort into her looks today. ‘If he doesn’t show up in five minutes I’m leaving.’ she simmered silently. Upon entering and stopping at a table she found something curious at her table.

“Oh.”

The surprise was enough to make Jihyun drop out of her angry ramblings in her mind and look at the subject before her. It was a baby, she looked like a copy of Mira, but a baby nonetheless. As soon as she approached it, the baby began to reach out for her.

“Oh um, sorry I’m not your mom, uh..”

That didn’t stop the baby from reaching out for her and grabbing hold of her hand. Jihyun was at a general loss for words so she sat down, allowing the baby to rest in her lap. Although it was incredibly awkward, she had no idea how to handle babies.

“Why am I always finding myself in these precarious ass situations..” Jihyun muttered before she heard a voice next to her. There he was, or was that Euntae? Jihyun could not recognize the man in front of her. She had a hard time keeping her jaw from falling off as it sank dramatically.

“Jihyun..it must have been hard. I’ll look after this child as if it were my own..”

Those words snapped Jihyun out of her stupor as she smacked Euntae’s perfect head of hair.

“I’m not a teen mom!”

Jihyun regretted her words as the whole of the restaurant turned to look at the two of them, and then at the suspicious baby. She could feel the burn of a few judgemental stares, as a drop of sweat ran down her forehead.

— —

“You just found her at this table?”

“Yeah and she started grabbing me so I really didn’t have a choice but to watch her, I was worried she’d get taken by someone else.”

“Judging by her clothes, it doesn’t look like she was abandoned..”

“Yeah, but what should we do?”

“We should find her parents immediately, maybe she can use her telepathic senses to find them. That’s how Jace finds me.”

Jihyun sighed deeply, not bothering to ruin his perception of his and Jace’s friendship. “She can’t talk so how about we do something else,” Jihyun spoke, crossing her arms as she stared at the baby now sitting by herself in the stall. The baby was now reaching its arms toward Vasco. Vasco reached a tentative arm out for the baby, appearing afraid of touching it. As he did, the baby smacked his hand, shocking Vasco in the process.

“T..this baby.” Euntae held his finger, staring at the menacing baby.

“Let’s take her to the police.” Jihyun finally decided, smacking her fist into her open palm.

— —

For the first time doing something like this, but Jihyun held the baby awkwardly. To be fairly honest, she sucked at holding babies. She was also incredibly jittery to be holding something so fragile in her arms and it wasn’t like she’d done any research into babies. Jihyun just knew the neck had to be supported, so she’d practically grabbed its entire neck in her grasp. As she struggled to hold her correctly, sweat ran down her forehead as she felt the baby be lifted from her hands.

“You’re too heavy for Jihyuns arms,” Euntae spoke seriously, staring down at the baby, although he quite literally held her in his hand. Just as Jihyun was about to reach her arms to grab the baby, already starting to fuss about neck support, Euntae softened. As soon as the baby was about to start crying, it seemed as though it was instinctual and he held the baby perfectly. It seemed Euntae was surprised at this power as well as he looked down at the baby.

The moment made Jihyun feel something as she saw Euntae holding the baby perfectly, caringly, she felt her heart palpitate. She smacked herself mentally, she needed to focus on the task, but she felt the remnants of heat on her face.

As they walked down the street together, Jihyun observed how they clung to each other, and unconsciously a smile adorned her face. While walking it seemed something became apparent to Euntae, the baby had done something. He stopped in his path looking at Jihyun blankly.

“I think she..”

Before Euntae could finish his words, Jihyun leapt five feet away, she was a bit of a germaphobe. She shielded herself with her hands, staring nervously at the baby.

“Human bacteria is the most dangerous!” she called, not daring to step close to the baby. “D..Do something Euntae!”

Euntae stared down at the baby, holding her out in front of him. “I don’t know what to do either..” He panicked, suddenly forgetting how to hold the baby correctly. As he did, it was as if Jihyun had apparated next to him, as she held her hands for the baby.

“You need to support her neck!” Jihyun fussed, being cautious around the baby. From afar, the two looked like panicked parents. Deciding they needed to get a move on, they continued to make way for the police department, this time Euntae was properly supporting her neck again.

— —

“IT’S CLOSED?” Jihyun yelled, staring at the sign before her. “What kind of police force..” She trailed off, feeling her eye start twitching. Euntae sighed, turning towards Jihyun.

“What do we do now?”

Jihyun thought about it for a while before coming to a conclusion.

“You take the subway and take her to the police and I’ll stay at the cafe and look out for her parents.” Jihyun spoke, readily about to make the turn to leave as Euntae nodded. Just as she was about to leave, Jihyun felt a tiny hand grip her shirt, making her look down at the baby. Jihyun groaned, it was happening again.

— —

The train was silent as the three were forced to stand. Euntae grinned down at the baby, playing with her by dangling his fingers in front of her face as she attempted to grab them. Meanwhile, Jihyun stood there with her arms crossed looking sourfaced, she was doing a lot of things out of her better conscious today, maybe Euntae’s personality was finally starting to rub off on her. She looked down at the baby with a raised eyebrow.

“We should give her a name.” Euntae spoke up, “I think we should call her Dot.”

Jihyun smacked the back off his head at his suggestion, “She’s not a dog!” Jihyun thought about it for a moment before coming up with a name she liked, “Let’s call uhmm, Zami.” Jihyun decided, looking at the baby as she grinned at the suggestion. That made Jihyun grin as well to her surprise, she looked up to find Euntae looking at the two of them. The smile dropped defensively as she quickly looked away.

The baby began sucking on her thumb as the two of them stood there. Once again Jihyun was fretting over it.

“Hey! Take that out your mouth, there’s bacteria on that you’ll get sick..” Jihyun spoke, attempting to separate the babys hands from her mouth. Euntae stepped in grabbing it for her as Jihyun watched anxiously from the side. While doing so, the baby began sucking on the buttons on Euntae’s shirt.

“No that’s a choking hazard, take those out her mouth.” Jihyun worried, making faint attempts to stop her despite her mild germaphobia. Euntae complied, attempting to get the baby off the buttons on his shirt.

“Zami, let go.” Euntae spoke, holding her away from the buttons as the expensive shirt Jay had given him was in relative ruin now. It was gonna happen eventually anyway but he hadn’t precipitated it would happen this way.

“Aww, look at those two taking good care of their baby.” An elderly women called from another seat, watching the two struggle to keep the baby out of danger.

Jihyun raised her eyebrows at the remark, about to make quite the reprimand before she was cut off.

“You should stop holding and let her walk. Looks like she’s old enough to walk.”

Euntae looked to the women with raised brows meanwhile Jihyun felt her anxiety reach a peak. “W..walk? What is she falls? And then she’s fallen on this dirty ground and what about..” Jihyun trailed off as Euntae allowed her to walk on her own. As soon as she was able to, she was walking her way towards the door and out, just as the train started moving away.

Jihyun sputtered before running after her, just as the doors closed on her face. The two found themselves banging on the window like maniacs as they watched Zami get farther and farther away from the back of the train. As soon as it had stopped, they were in separate marathons for who could reach Zami quicker. Jihyun eventually found herself piggyback riding Euntae, she wasn’t as in shape as she’d thought. But that didn’t deter Euntae’s running. People were nothing but obstacles as Jihyun pushed people away while Euntae ran through them like a rhinoceros. Jihyun saw tear roll down Vasco’s cheek as they finally spotted her and she thought she would begin to as well. Once they reach her, the three embraced as if they were a family being reunited after years apart. When they did so, Jihyun felt that missing tear roll down her cheek as well.

— —

“When did you have the time to get that?” Jihyun inquired, looking at the contraption in Euntae’s hands.

“Zami needs support, I got a baby carrier.” Euntae explained, holding Zami close to him as though she would go wandering off again. Jihyun found herself grinning unconsciously again.

“No Zami, don’t put your thumb in your mouth.”

Jihyun lightly scolded, reachoing out to move her hand away and wipe her hand with a napkin. “I’ll clean it this time,” as she reached in, her hair fell across her face.

Euntae took notice, “Your hair, let me help you.” Again, she felt her heart palpitate as he moved her hair behind her hair gently. Once again they were locking eyes without so much as blinking. Heat accompanied her face again as Jihyun quickly snapped her gaze downwards and finished cleaning Zami up. “Thanks,” she huffed.

As they continued walking, a pair of middle schoolers walked aways from them, swearing. Immediately Euntae shielded Zami’s ears from those words as he short the duo a glare, “No swearing around babies.” He spoke, causing the two to look back at him in fear and move along.

Again, they walked passed a pair of smokers. This time Euntae covered the babies nose, once again shooting his menacing glare at the smokers. “No smoking around babies.”

Despite Euntae’s relatively menacing appearance, that couldn’t shield them from the judgements of other. This time it was coming from two adults making offhanded comments from afar.

“What in the world.”

“Damn brats. Can’t even control themselves.”

“Kids can’t raise kids!”

“They won’t even take responsibility for them!”

“Guys like that..need their dicks cut off!”

Just as Jihyun was about to send them a flaming remark, she found herself getting cut off by Euntae, to her surprise. She watched with astonishment at his words.

“Our baby is cute isn’t she?” Euntae spoke holding Zami in his arms. “Just because we’re young, doesn’t mean we’re bad parents. So you can’t make judgements about someone you don’t know.”

As he turned to leave, Jihyun felt the warmth of another hand clasp hers firmly. He slowly led her along by the hand, leaving the adults to their shame as they pondered on his words. There it was again, the palpitation in her heart. Jihyun took a moment to bring herself back to reality, clasping the hand herself and walking at Euntae’s pace, a gring adorning her face.

While walking, Jihyun could hear a rumble from Euntae’s stomach. He turned towards Jihyun with pleading eyes, Zami mirroring his.

“Jihyun..could we get something to eat before we give her up.”

Jihyun sighed, before agreeing against her better judgement. She wasn’t ready to give up Zami herself.

— —

“UWAAAHHH”

“Whee-Whee” Euntae was flailing Zami in his arms in a struggle to keep her entertained so she wouldn’t begin crying in the restaurant they were in.

“I’ll eat quickly!” Jihyun called, scarfing up her food in order to switch places quickly.

That didn’t stop Zami from crying, despite Euntae’s panicked bouncing around.

“Done! Tag out!” Jihyun called, as Euntae passed her Zami like she was a dodgeball. Now it was Jihyuns turn to desperately entertain a crying baby as Euntae scarfed his food down.

They probably looked like dancing clowns from afar to most. Those were the trials of trying to look after a kid, no one ended up being perfect at it. They did look like fools but they were trying their damndest to keep the kid happy.

— —

“You brough her all the way here? How kind! We’ll call you when we find her parents.” The officer before them grinned.

“Alright, thank you.”

Jihyun felt bittersweet about the exchange, she looked to Zami, who was now sleeping in Euntae’s baby carrier. It seemed nap time had come around and the two idiots hadn’t realize that maybe Zami was tired. However, she didn’t realize the day had left Euntae tired as well, the two were sleeping identically.

“Just leave her with us. You know, if I didn’t know any better.. I’d think he was the dad.”

Jihyun grinned at the sight, she gently moved Zami’s bangs from over her eyes. “..Yeah..they do.” she spoke quietly enough so as not to disturb them.

She turned back to the cop, unable to part soon, “Is it ok if we wait with her a little?”

— —

“Make sure she doesn’t wake up that can be unhealthy, and make sure her neck is supported!” Jihyun fretted as she had to give up Zami to the police now.

“Find her parents..please.” Euntae spoke up next to her, similarly watching Zami.

As Jihyun was getting ready to let go, Zami gripped her finger one last time before uttering her first words.

“Mama..”

When Zami was finally taken away, Jihyun felt herself crumple before she felt the tears begin to fall.

“UWAAAAAH” She was absolutely inconsolable and Euntae found himself once again panickedly trying to help her. Jihyun sniffled, feeling snot run dow her nose, she stopped when she saw Euntae offer her a handkerchief. She stopped her crying for a moment to take it while holding onto Euntae as he walked them out the office.

“Call me when her parents come!” Jihyun choked through tears. Euntae stopped her before him, attempting to wipe her tears away.

“I think her parents will be happy to find her Jihyun.” he spoke, making attempts to stop her crying, “so don’t cry, be happy as well.” Jihyun looked up at him, before attempting to wise up.

“You’re right, I’m never having one of those after the emotional turmoil she put me through.” Jihyun sniffled, rubbing the remaining tears from her eyes. Euntae wrapped his jacket around her frame, “Lets go home.”

And again, the palpitation.

#euntae lee #lookism #jace park #vasco

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shinygoku · 4 years ago

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i can't seem to get this to let me send a nice image again... but (at your leisure) can you do Duck for the character ask? ♥

First impression

Huh, with a name like Duck, I expected him to be more avian. And maaan, what is up with the shape he has??

Impression now

Ah right, that's a Pannier Tank Engine, and they just Look like that lol. Still unsure about the alleged Waddle motion, maybe cause I ain't seen enough of these babies in motion.

Anyhoo, while I can absolutely see why he's a big fan favourite, I'm a bit more ambivalent, personally. I still Like him, but I wouldn't put him in my assortment of Most Beloved.

Favourite moment

His arc with Diesel, natch! Again, more than a singular moment, but the whole shebang with buildup, fallout and resolution is one of the series' biggest Turning Points and Duck himself is on top form. Though I gotta shout out to A Close Shave for being him centric and damn cool 🦆😎

Idea for a story

Hmmm.... the order of these points may compromise the mild surprize that's possible, so I'll answer this in the last section ;3

Unpopular opinion

Other than my rather "yeah he's fine lol" mild reaction to him? :P

I vastly, and I do mean Pretty Dang Vast, prefer how he looks in the book illustrations where he has a black smokebox bordering his face. On the whole I adore the TV show's models, but his circular face on the massive green slab ends up kinda offputting. Maybe that's also a factor in my lower key reception of him too, haha

But seriously, compare these book illustrations, which is more harmonious with the other characters to you?

Favourite relationship

Ahh geeze, I ain't given it much thought.... unleeessss [see Headcanon Section]

Also shout out for (initially at least) being Diesel's Arch Enemy, even if that kinda drifts away with the TV show and time.

Favourite headcanon

Ok, here we go... this is all pretty much your own doing, Jobey!

It may not have been your intent, but I'm starting to think Duck is one corner of a Platonic Love Triangle, with the other end being Thomas, and the mutual object of their ....friendship[?] is Percy. I better draw a Diagram lol (Also no, it's not a shipping thing lol)

So like... Duck was brought in specifically to help Percy out, they get along well and have a lot of stories/episodes together. Eventually Percy is put on the Ffarquhar, or "Thomas' Branch Line" and the amount of time Duck spends with Percy promptly plummets. Related is that I genuinely can't think of any stories where Thomas and Duck interact in a meaningful capacity. It seems whenever those two are in the same scene and it's not a swift drive by cameo, it's because Percy is there.

It makes me start to wonder if Duck and Thomas have any particular thoughts on the other, or just the low key 'yeah he's not actively a dick to me so we're cool'. Is it out of character to Headcanon Duck as being somewhat jealous of Thomas, simply for whisking Percy away? It sounds rather more silly written out than in my head asfsjkd

But like, I'm thinking of eps like All At Sea, where Thomas doesn't feature until right at the end (irl prolly a Studio Mandate lol) but it makes me wonder if Duck himself is thinking "Oh smeg, it's Thomas. Can't he stay up by the quarry for once? He's always everywhere!"

And weirdly, cause it's from Season Six of all things, is the ep Scaredy Engines. I flip flop on whether I like how it plays the exact same Moral from Percy and the Dragon again, but with Percy and Thomas' roles swapped from the other ep, or if I think it's inferior to said Dragon ep. However, the role Duck plays in Scaredy is very interesting...

So Thomas was being kinda a dick in the ep, teasing Percy about being scared, so Duck takes on the Karmic Trickster mantle that had been left behind for several TV eps by now, and arranges for Thomas to get scared back. The thing is, while he's pleased with a job well done, Percy is still concerned when Thomas doesn't reappear at the Fireworks show, so he leaves Duck and finds Thomas back at the sheds instead.

Yeah, I could very easily read into this lol. Duck's plan to avenge Percy by proxy worked, but also backfired, as Percy himself went off towards the guy who, certainly from Duck's Point of View, should have been left licking his wounds alone and feeling the weight of The Lesson soak in. Duck has again been jilted by Percy in favour of Thomas, even though Duck in particular sees Thomas' actions as Jerkish. Percy is much more willing to forgive this and see a lack of malicious intent, this is the kind of ribbing they share, and Thomas actually hiding scared is enough to get Percy to seek him out.

I may just be overreading, of course, but the tl;dr of this is that I think Duck and Percy have a pretty conventional Nice to Each Other Friendship, but Percy spends more time with Thomas and they have a relationship that can look screwy to outsiders (I again refer to You, Jobey, and that you said Thomas and Percy bring out each other's worst traits lol) but they pretty much muddle along as best buds anyway. I can see Duck being jealous but determined enough to stay civil and professional, even if internally he's always a bit annoyed when Thomas rolls in somewhere and takes Percy's attention.

Man, that got long!

And I still have the Fanfic Idea for here! But don't worry, it's related:

Basically something that examines this a bit more, but the meat of it being Thomas and Duck actually directly talking about it and maybe coming away with a better understanding of each other. Could be one'a them Locked In A Room Together type of situations, like a particularly poorly planned path by the sea that gets covered by high tide or whatever. Bonus points if Percy catches some of this without them realising and is like "what in the hell are those two dumbasses rabbiting on about. Me??? Oh god"

Bonus: Duck says Thomas is welcome to have Diesel as his arch enemy instead lol

That's all I have now, sorry Duck stans for not talking about The Great Western! 🦆🦆🦆🦆🦆

#this is ttte #TTTE #TTTE Duck #TTTE Percy #TTTE Thomas #as they ended up being in the bulk of all this lmao #before today I didn't have many thoughts about Duck and now I've got a ruddy Soap Opera thread headcanon with him in the middle. wack #edit: had to remove 3 uses of Swiftly in 1 paragraph lmao

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shire-snail · 3 years ago

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THE UNTAMED PLAYLIST EPISODE GUIDE: (Part 2/5)

**all gifs are used with artist permission, thank you artists!!**

EP 11: "Bell Swamp Connection" by the Mountain Goats

(lotus pier family dynamics, news of wen camp, wens attack cloud recesses)

"Somebody's always just about to put some kind of awful plan in motion."

gif credit: @canary3d-obsessed

Alt: "Ontario" by the Mountain Goats "I thought I'd figured out the world in its circular way/ But then I saw the sun fall down out of the sky the other day/ There was nothing in it but pain for me."

EP 12: "If You Can't Convince Them, Confuse Them" by the Midwest Indies

(wen indoctrination camp, lwj defends wwx, dog dungeon)

"O martyr, O martyr, the road ahead will just get harder/ Beliefs are hard to come by, and I'll back mine until I die."

gif credit: @wangxiians

Alt: "I'm Still Here" by John Rzeznik: "You can't take me/ And throw me away." "I wanna tell you who I am/ Can you help me be a man?/ They can't break me/ As long as I know who I am."

EP 13: "The Wrestle (Live)" - Frightened Rabbit

(tortoise of slaughter pt.1, group fight, campfire wound-dressing)

"This is the test I left land for/ To grip flesh and pull muscle/ The vice clinch of the struggle I can't give in to."

gif credit: @wangxiians

Alt: "So Hot You're Hurting My Feelings" by Squirrel Flower: "Get a little more close to me/ You're the only one who knows me, babe/ So hot you're hurting my feelings/ Can't deal."

EP 14: "Changer" by Anais Mitchell

(tortoise of slaughter pt.2, yin iron sword, lwj cave lullaby, vow to jc)

"Speaking of loving you, I do. I'm telling you, stranger to stranger, whatever changes come to you."

"If I can't keep it, at least let me call it by name."

gif credit: @wangxiians

Alt 1: "Lonesome Dreams" by Lord Huron: "I've been dreaming again of a lonesome world where I'm lost and I've got no friends/ Just the rocks and the trees and my lonesome dreams/ And a road that never ends."

Alt 2: "Terraform" by Novo Amor: "It might be a little while, but maybe we'll realign soon."

EP 15: "Sky Blue, Bad News" by Laura Stevenson

(madame yu vs. wang lingjiao, beating wwx, yunmeng siblings sent away)

"Did I shirk something? Did I hurt someone? Was I ever any good? I know I know I know I was. Was I ungrateful? I was I was I was I was. Was I ungrateful? I was I was I was I was I was."

gif credit: @canary3d-obsessed

Alt 1: "Among the Wildflowers" by the Hotelier: "If I get punched, it's okay because... I would try and get the other... other person safe... keep them safe... I would try and help someone not get hurt."

Alt 2: "Real Pain" by Indigo de Souza: "I wanna kick, wanna scream/ I wanna know it's not my fault/ I wanna know it's not my fault/ I didn't mean it."

EP 16: "Claimed by the Sea"

(lotus pier massacre/ choking and sleeping in the field/ on the run, jc leaves)

"This is no longer my house... It's been claimed by the sea."

gif credit: @gusucloud

Alt: "Charon" by Keaton Henson: "I ain't no Hercules."

EP 17: "Dream State..." by Lucy Dacus

(wen ning saves jc, yiling camp, blame convo with yanli)

"Without you, I am surely the last of my kind."

gif credit: @canary3d-obsessed

Alt: "Too Many Birds" by Bill Callahan: "If you could only/ If you could only stop/ If you could only stop your/ If you could only stop your heart/ If you could only stop your heartbeat/ If you could only stop your heartbeat for/ If you could only stop your heartbeat for one heart/ If you could only stop your heartbeat for one heartbeat..."

EP 18: "I Know the End" by Phoebe Bridgers

(wwx decides on core transfer, flashback to lotus pier childhood, sending jc up the mountain)

"I'll find a new place to be from/ A haunted house with a picket fence/ To float around and ghost my friends."

gif credit: @canary3d-obsessed

Alt: "Virtute the Cat Explains Her Departure" by the Weakerthans: "When the winter took the tips of my ears/ Found this noisy home/ Full of pigeons and places to hide." "After scrapping with the ferals and the tabby/ Let you brush my matted fur/ How I'd knead into your chest while you were sleeping/ Shallow breathing made me purr."

EP 19: "Tom Sawyer (You Know Where You Can Find Me)" by Laura Stevenson

(wwx thrown in burial mounds, lwj and jc search for wwx)

"Tom Sawyer in the rafters/ With your laughter you're/ Collecting mourners/ In your after-living room."

"You know it's hard to show back up at all/ When you're gone long/ And I could still assume the worst if you want/ Or worse if you want me to."

gif credit: @canary3d-obsessed

Alt 1: "Damn These Vampires" by the Mountain Goats:"Scream when captured/ Arch your back/ Let this whole town hear your knuckles crack." "When the sun comes/ Try hard not to hate the light." "Crawl til dawn/ On my hands and knees/ God damn these vampires/ For what they've done to me."

Alt 2: "Graceless" by The National: "You can't imagine how I hate this." "Just let me hear your voice/ Just let me listen." "Now I know what dying means." "I am not my rosy self/ Left my roses on my shelf/ Take the white ones/ They're my favorites/ It's the side effects that save us."

EP 20: "Ordinary Talk" by Half Waif

(enter dark wei ying, wwx tortures wens, lwj reunion/confrontation)

"Baby don't worry about me, I don't worry about you."

gif credit: @canary3d-obsessed

Alt: "Darker Than Death" by Indigo de Souza: "You were darker than death when I spoke to you last. Was it something I said? Was it something I did? Was it something I said to you, darling?" "You wouldn't even look me in, oh darling, you wouldn't look me in the eyes."

Eps 1-10, 11-20, 21-30, 31-40, 41-50

Playlist link: Standard or Extended

#the untamed #cql #the untamed playlist guide #the untamed episode guide #cql playlist #playlist

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x-spooks · 4 years ago

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Just Right. (Got7 AU) Ep. 1

This is going to be a tugboat of a love storyline. Your name is Inez-Mi. Your stage name is Nyx. You’re the newest member of an existing K-Pop girl group, Goddess, who happens to be under JYP. You’re replacing the leader who left abruptly and under shh, shh, circumstances. This is my first post so if you have questions/concerns/comments please fell free.

Sweat ran trails down the curvature of your neck, disappearing under the collar of your plain black T. It clung to your tacky skin leaving nothing to the imagination. Your chest heaved as your lungs were forced to take sharp scorching breaths. You were definitely questioning your sanity as you stared at your reflection and those of your fellow members. You weren't Asian slim. You weren't build for show. You weren't quite athletic either. Nope. You were comparing yourself to the 4'10" to 5'5", 90 to 100lbs, flawless Koreans, Chinese, and Japanese dolls. The instructor snapped his fingers. "Nyx, you're delayed half a step." He voiced annoyed in Hangul. "I'll improve." You breathed. Your smoky gray eyes met his black ones. You lowered your gaze and bowed deeply. He narrowed his eyes while a hiss of disbelief left his thin lips. Mister Cho had made his disapproval painfully clear. Specially in front of your fellow members and the big wigs. If it wasn't for your father's reputation and name you would've bounced after two days. But you were a Moon. A daughter of an Idol turned famous producer/Actor who gave his free time to excel a company he was a board member to, JYP Entertainment. You rose from your bow. "Again." Mister Cho demanded. Over dramatized groans filled the practice room. A Korean member, Song-I, mouthed a few curses about you being a foreigner and something about choking you to death. A laugh busted from your pouters lip. You weren't one to flex, but you wouldn't take anything physical from anyone specially Song-I dramatic whiny no having ass. "Moon Inez-Mi!" Mister Cho yelled. "Are you wasting all of our time?" Your laugh died in the back of your throat at hearing your full name, "No, Sir." You military straightened your spine. "Everyone dismissed expect Nyx." He growled with impatience, "You stay here until you get it right." You nodded refusing to get upset. You bit hard on your inner lip until you tasted iron. You waited until everyone was long gone before you let your frustration leave you. Your lungs took in a long stinging pull of air. Instead of trying to break your knuckles against the wall of mirrors, You counted backwards from hundred letting your breath leave your chest slowly. After a good five minutes, You walked over to the sound system and snatched up the remote. You stabbed the play button. Music pumped out of the giant speakers arranged in the far corners. You started to do the mind numbingly simple steps. You felt like such a sale out to your gender. Women in history fought tooth and nail to not be seen as walking sex and how you were flushing their progress down the toilet. With every movement your voluminous curves gave way more than your full Asian members. You needed to talk to your Dad. You shoved all those thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand. Listening closely to the music you continued to dance. You sighed at your reflection after dancing to the same track fifteen times. But You finally got the timing right. Your hands found your slim waist. You did a side turn. You stared at your side profile through the mirrors. Your butt and bust were big even with the tight sports wear. You kinda wished you took after your dad more. But your mom's Mesoamerican/north-western European genes were definitely dominate at least in you. Your eyes were large, circular with smoky gray iris and a deep double lid. Your skin tone was pale with pink undertones. A body that definitely had a Mexican flare. You did have your dad's full pouty lips, delicate nose and his cheek bones. You shook your head. "Fuck this." You sighed in English. You weren't ever going to be one of them. Movement caught your attention. You assumed it was your Dad checking in. He did it from time to time making all the other girls swoon. You let out another sigh, before masking your frustration. "Dad, your avid admirer are not here." Your perfect pitched Hangul voice was stinky with sweet sarcasm. "Dad?" Through the mirror, your eyes settled on a much younger man. He was handsome in a classic Korean drama way. It was then you noticed a few other guys staring in at you over his broad shoulders. They were all handsome in their own right. Your face went from white to scarlet in your embarrassment. You bowed deeply as you turned to face them. You tried to recall their names. "Please. Forgive my tone." You rose as she spoke in Hangul. K-Drama onyx eyes were cold as he took you in. You forced your expression to stay neutral. "I did not mean to be disrespectful." You tacked on. "Moon's daughter?" The tallest one asked not to you, but to K-Drama who had casually leaned in the door jam. He nodded slowly with a blank expression, but his eyes were steady and unyielding. Had you pissed him off before? "You must need the room." You forced yourself to blink so you wouldn't be staring at their stunning faces. GOT7, you suddenly remembered. "Please excuse me. I will leave you be." You rushed over to the equipment stand and set the remote back. "I heard you can do gymnastics?" One asked in perfect English. You glanced over your shoulder and nodded slightly, "I did participate when I was younger." You confessed in Hangul as you turned towards the sound of a masculine voice. Mark. Of course, you would remember the only American other than yourself. Well that was a lie you had a duel citizenship. He slipped past K-Drama and did a front aerial like it was as easy as touching his toes. He landed a few feet away from you. A smile took over your features as you gently clapped. Your embarrassment started to melt away. You took a good four steps forward and force your body to preform a back flip. You landed it out of pure muscle memory. You even did the proper posture for sticking it. You shook her head at your silliness. "I am Goddess's Nyx." You bowed again. A few loose strands of navy blue hair fell into your eyes and framed your face. You rose to see the members who were in the hall were now in the dance studio. K-drama didn't budge. He was still leaning against the width of the door observing.

Mark's smile could be heard in his voice as he introduced the members that were present. "The one still in the doorway is Jinyoung. Yugyeom is the tall one. That's Jackson."

You slightly bowed your head to Jinyoung and Yugyeom.

When your eyes moved to Jackson, he did a front flip so strong he landed in the super hero pose.

A genuine laugh left you as you slow clapped, "I wager your admirers appreciate it extremely." She teased in Hangul.

"You know it." He smiled as he rose from his stance.

K-drama aka Jinyoung voice killed the mood, "Mark."

"Hmm?" Mark glanced over to the door.

Jinyoung made the slightest motions that you barely see out from the corner of your eye.

"Are you following me?" You were suddenly distracted by the sting of annoyance in your older brother and New Manager of Goddess, voice as it seeped into the dance studio from the hall. "Why would I follow you?" A deep male voice countered with venom sharpening his every syllable. "I belong here. You. You're just the spoiled brat to a withered idol who hasn't got it through his thick skull his time has long since past." Jinyoung slammed the door. Not only shutting himself out into the hall, but also silencing the argument. "I don't know who that is, but they're in for a rude awakening." You dropped your beyond proper Hangul and picked up your American English. You started for the door. "That's our leader." Mark offered slightly annoyed himself. You stopped in mid-step. "What?" You glanced over to him. "Let me apology for him. JB and your Father aren't fans of each other." He offered hesitantly. "It boiled over today." Jackson offered. Your eyes went to Jackson then to the door while you wondered what had happened between JB and your dad. Everyone loved your dad or so you thought. A sharp clap gathered all of their attention, "While they finish their yelling contest let's see who can land the most moves." Yugyeom suggested in Hangul, "I'll keep score." "I'm in." Jackson and Mark said in unison. Their attention moved to you once you didn’t say anything. Jackson started to do a pleading puppy dog thing with his face. Mark smiled the sweetest smile and Yugyeom was laying the aegyo on thick. You playfully rolled your eyes while shaking your head. "The one with the least amounts of completions must purchase ice cream." You challenged in Hangul as you walked to the far side of the room. Sounds of agreement shot into the air. "Are we to perform the exact combination or a particular combination we have the most success with?" You called over your shoulder. "Best at." They agreed. "No simple combinations." You shot out in a playfully stern tone. You turned your back to the wall. You only had to wait a few seconds for Jackson and Mark to be next to you. "Ladies before gentlemen." You smiled. You took in a deep breath and made your Nikes do a few quick steps to get momentum. You forced your body to do a roundoff back tuck. You stuck it only to be abruptly face to face with a man who was beyond pissed. Your light eyes quickly took in his features. Two beauty marks above his left eye. His handsome features were set in a brooding expression. You would bet he always looked slightly intimidating. The little girl in you was instantly attracted. Like how you would fall for the rich bad boy in all those mangas you read in your pre-teens. You saw your brother was shoulder to shoulder with him from your peripheral. Well, as close as a 6'3" could be to a 5'11". You smiled a polite smile, but blatantly ignoring their combined attitude and turned on the heels of your Nikes. "Who proceeding?" "Inez-Mi." Your brothers voice was firm. "Il-Gun." You turned to face him but continued walking backwards towards Mark and Jackson. "Its time to go." He spoke in Hangul through clenched teeth. You didn't stop walking, "Sweet, smooth, satisfying ice cream is the reward." You voiced in Hangul as you felt the wall at your back. You leaned against it in a relaxed pose. You looked to Mark and Jackson then simply motioned for the next one to go. They didnt budge. You looked to the man next to your brother. You tried to keep your face neutral. His dark gaze locked onto her gray ones. If looks could kill. His kicked out chin and grimacing lips would make anyone with sense scurry. But did you have any? Nope. Your American arrogance kicked in. "Most honorable Lim Jae-Beom," You said in your sweetest Hangul tone, "you're going to receive lock jaw if you keep clenching your teeth and pushing out your chin like such." Your foreigner feature were set in a concerned expression. Mark, Jackson, and Yugyeom burst out laughing but quickly zipped their lips under JBs murderous stare. Jinyoung disguised his laugh as an awkward cough somewhere out of sight. "Now!" Gun snapped. You leaned off the wall unfazed by his anger and started towards them. You turned on your heels but continued to walk backwards "Forfeit means you owe me bubble tea." You smiled speaking English to Mark, Jackson and Yugyeom. Jackson confirmed with a kind expression. Mark flashed his famous smile and nodded. Yugyeom was red from trying to hold in his laughter. You turned and stopped in your steps. You were a few feet from the brooding twins. You bowed to JB and Gun, "It was a honor to meet you and please excuse my disobedience I did not mean to be disrespectful," You slowly rose with a soft demeanor. You turned at the waist slightly and waved goodbye at the guys. You even made a point to wave to Jinyoung who was casually sitting on the couch behind JB and Gun. His view point was perfect, you thought. He could watch everything unfold without being in the line of fire. You went out into the hall but before Gun shut the door behind him. You heard JB’s deep voice ask, "Why is she speaking like she's a descendant of royalty?" He was definitely angry. You laughed walking ahead of your brother. "Inez," Guns voice filled the hall, "this isn't funny." He growled, "Pissing off JB isn't worth the headache nor the ear full you're going to get from Dad. You need to learn your place." You rolled your eyes hard. "I can't comprehend the reason why?" Your voice caught some of his sassy tone. "Your my Guardian when father is not hovering. So would it not be you who receives father's wrath for not keeping me in my quote unquote place." The squeaking of his teeth grinding meant you had gone too far. "It's on Goddess' schedule for you to get ready for a radio interview." He talked through his teeth. You stopped in your steps until Gun was beside you, "I’m sorry." Your dared a glance up to Guns’ profile. "I did not intend to shove back so hard." An angry smile took hold of his intimidation features. "Dad didn't risk his neck and name for you to fuck this up. You are now the newest member and Leader of Goddess." He started walking so fast that you could barely keep up. "Start acting like it." You wanted to lash out. To scream at him that you had avoided the Idol path with college and spending time in the state's with our mom. But it wouldn't help you. You would come across as whiney, pathetic, and unmanageable. Gun was right, anyways. Their dad found a way to make lemonade out of a scandalous situation. A situation that was being covered up even within JYP Entertainment. Only the higher ups knew what happened and they weren't talking. All you were privy to was you were Goddess' Hail Mary pass. JYP Entertainment was going to drop the girl group, when your dad made the move to drag his 'multi-talented' daughter into the mix. You rolled your eyes hard as you remembered the press release. You were so lost in thought, you bashed into a slim, tall figure as you rounded the corner, "Excuse me," you bowed your head. "My apologies." Your embarrassment was written on your face as your eyes gazed up to a pair of grey, blue irises. "No," The well dressed man paused once he saw Gun. He sized him up with a cold expression, "Excuse me. I'm late and wasn't paying attention." His voice was lighter than You would have guessed. He bowed while side stepping. "Its all for show." An amused smile tugged on your lips as you spoke English. Your eyes settled on his handsome face as he rose. "Nyx?" He asked with a spark of recognition in his eye and finger gun pointing at you. You nodded with a kind smile. You thought of Got7 and remembered Mark and Jackson weren’t the only regular English speaker. "Bam Bam?" You countered. You definitely liked how his expression reflect his mood. There was no way he was Korean. A cocky smirk took over his full lips. "You might want to count to ten and mentally prepare yourself." You commented with some regret lingering in your voice. He arched a well manicured brow in confusion while losing his smile. "I might've," you paused thinking of a nice way to say you straight out disrespected his leader, "danced on JB’s last nerve." His full lips broke into a grin, "No worries." He laughed, "we do it all the time-" "BamBam." Gun voiced annoyed clearly ready to get out of here. He bowed his head in the slightest way. You sighed under your breath, "Gun-Hulk Smash." You felt Guns grip on your wrist. You had to resist ripping it out of his hand. You glanced down at your combined flesh. You were unimpressed. You softened your expression when your eyes found BamBam. "I am behind in my schedule as well it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance," you spoke in Hangul as you bowed again. "Good luck." Gun started walking while pulling you with him. "You too," BamBam smiled a kind smile that reached his eyes. His expression soured at Gun as you was tugged away. Once you two made it to the elevator, you tore your wrist from his grasp. Your light eyes narrowed as you stabbed your index finger into the up arrow. You wanted to say something, anything clever to make it clear he wasn't your guys Father, but nothing came to mind. The elevator dinged open. You got in after Gun. You went to the buttons and poked the floor you needed. While the doors were shutting you saw BamBam watching you two. You smiled a polite smile and waved.

#got7 au #got7 fanfic #got7fanfiction #jb #mark #jackson #park jinyoung #youngjea #bambam #yugyeom #kpop fanfic #got7 #lovestory

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bthenoise · 4 years ago

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Motion City Soundtrack’s Justin Courtney Pierre Shares “Dying To Know” From Upcoming EP ‘An Anthropologist On Mars’

Continuing where he left off with 2018′s debut full-length In The Drink and 2019′s Open Mic at the Lo-Fi Vol. 1, Motion City Soundtrack frontman Justin Courtney Pierre has just revealed plans to drop another brand new EP.

Due out March 12th via Epitaph Records, Pierre’s new five-track effort will be titled An Anthropologist On Mars.

Opening up about the forthcoming release, the singer-songwriter professed his love for none other than Oscar-nominated actress/singer Debbie Reynolds.

Pierre in a press release said:

My obsession with Debbie Reynolds started at a young age. I believe I was 12 when I noticed her book, Debbie: My Life, on my grandmother’s nightstand. My parents traveled for work, so I spent a good deal of my childhood and early teen years in the company of my grandmother. We watched The Golden Girls together, and she let me feast on a rotating smorgasbord of Pepperidge Farm products, sherbet ice cream, and giant bags of gourmet popcorn she’d pick up from our frequent late-night trips to Red Owl. I didn't just watch shows; I loved to read. I fully immersed myself in whatever world I was investigating. Didn’t matter if it was The Hardy Boys, Calvin and Hobbes, IT, Spaceballs: The Book, or biographies about old ladies with big hair. I simply enjoyed the act of reading, and I constantly took on characteristics and mannerisms of the people in the stories. I’m pretty sure my parents thought there was something wrong with me, but my grandmother made me feel like I was the most interesting person in the world (even if it was all a grand exaggeration of half-truths and utter nonsense). There was something more comfortable about not fully being myself. A freedom of sorts. To this day, I do not know what compelled me to pick up Debbie's book, but from word one, I was enraptured. I couldn’t put it down. The obsession really picked up once I realized that Carrie Fisher was Debbie Reynolds’ daughter. Star Wars was at the forefront of many thoughts, as a child of the ‘80s. I have a strong memory of being taken to Return of The Jedi by the very grandmother whose book I was now reading, along with my cousin Jared, and the subsequent trip to Children’s Palace to purchase a scout trooper and a speeder bike. I thought Princess Leia was a dead ringer for my mom, and Han Solo WAS my dad. To some degree they still are. I often found connections to things I couldn’t explain, nor did I fully understand, but always just went with it. Like jumping off a cliff and figuring out the landing on the way down. I’ve only in the last few years realized I was living in a purely instinctual way back then (a place I long to get back to). This is to say, my connection to Star Wars, and thus the characters of Princess Leia and Han Solo, made me think of my own parents, my life, my grandmother, our time together watching films like Star Wars, and a book about the mother of Carrie Fisher. It all seemed like a puzzle to me, a puzzle of the unsolvable circular unending variety. Puzzles like these occupied much space in my adolescent brain. Somewhere along the way I fell in love with Debbie Reynolds. As I grew up, I watched every movie of hers I could get my hands on. Albert Brooks’ Mother is perhaps my favorite performance of hers because she reminds me so much of the grandmother who was responsible for inadvertently sending me on this lifelong obsession I still don’t fully comprehend. I’ve heard people say that time heals all wounds. I don’t necessarily believe that. I believe that time unearths more accurate truths. It is then up to you to figure out what to do with what you discover. A strange thing happens when a person experiences trauma at a young age. Your body and your mind find a way to protect you from it. It helps for a while until it doesn’t. Add to that an overactive imagination and a shitload of drugs, and suddenly reality isn’t so obvious. I feel like I somehow used Debbie Reynolds as a substitute for my own mother (her name is Debbie as well) and as I mentioned before, my mother and father always reminded me of Han Solo and Princess Leia. Over time, the lines get so blurred, you can’t even trust your own memories. This is essentially what these songs are about. That confused area where, once the fog is lifted and the excavation begins, you start to see the buried bits of this and that residing beneath the false veneer you weren’t even aware of in the first place, yet robotically kept up for over forty years because you never thought to question its validity. For me, that was uncoupling the story of Debbie Reynolds from my own. Or perhaps it was Deborah Winger.

To check out Pierre’s gripping lead single “Dying To Know,” be sure to look below. Afterward, make sure to pre-order the Brett Gurewitz-produced An Anthropologist On Mars here.

youtube

AN ANTHROPOLOGIST ON MARS TRACK LISTING: 01. Dying to Know 02. I Hate Myself 03. Footsteps 04. Promise Not to Change 05. Illumination

#Justin Courtney Pierre #Motion City Soundtrack #An Anthropologist On Mars #Dying To Know

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ohnoyoonoh · 5 years ago

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city lights, j.jh

[ word count ] 1412.

[ warnings ] implied mature content. angst? :)

[ request ] nct's jae + un village for the request?

[ author’s note ] ngl, this is a preview of an upcoming something :))))) it’s like the summarized version and part of a fanfic. yeah, i can’t contain myself. it definitely strayed away from the request, kind of. but the fanfic that i’m writing has the city lights ep from bbh implemented into it. expensive feel. i think.

[ pairing ] mafia! jaehyun x celebrity! reader

the city lights shined through the night. the view of han river was pleasing to see from such a distance. the water was calming to witness and a nice getaway from the hectic energy of the schedules that had came with taking part of korea’s limelight. you wondered how you managed to visit un village. a prestigious section of south korea. the richest of the richest.

“just you and me, relaxing and chilling.” that sentence had the ability for you to agree to visiting the house on the hill. but the man who had uttered those words in your ear, none other than mafia! jung jaehyun. he was a man capable of anything, but love was the outlier. you only guessed that he uses you for his own pleasures and getaways from the insanity of the mafia.

how would a person like yourself, who had a clean reputation in the media, ended being in the hold of a man like him. if you had gone back in time to tell past self that you would wound up with him and his profession, you would have called yourself crazy and would never dare cross over to that side of reality. but you were tricked into his whole being. his voice, the way he would look at you, and his body. only god, himself, carved every part of him, every minuscule detail. his dimples, well they were only one of the greatest things. you had fallen into his trap.

you had met jaehyun one night at a gala that a close friend, johnny was hosting. little did you know that johnny was associated with the mafia. he had introduced you to jaehyun, saying he was some sort of ceo. maybe, true, but it was only a cover-up for the underground business. instantly hitting it off, drinks led to another, and you both made your way to the very place that you were currently standing in now. his penthouse in the un village. you first stepped foot in his home a year ago.

jaehyun was currently whisked away, pouring champagne in the bar at the corner of his master bedroom. hearing him approach you, placing your glass in front of you on the rail. he held your waist delicately with one hand and the other over the rail with his champagne. his head buried in the crook of your neck, placing small kisses on the exposed skin. it was pleasurable, yes. but your own thoughts had consumed you. knowing that jaehyun was linked to the dangerous business, remembering the words he had relayed to you a couple months back. we can only be together like this, nothing more. you understood that your life, career, family, everything, maybe would be in jeopardy. the constant thoughts that filled your mind and wanted to spend and give everything to the man that held you in his grasp. but for now, you could only accept the present and would hope for the best later.

“what’s wrong, my love?” he questioned, your silence would have made ask that question.

“nothing, just thinking,” you answered, taking the glass in your hands. you made circular motions with your wrist, watching the alcohol move around, just like the waves of the han river. your heart fluttered as he called you by the little pet name, but you knew it wasn’t in the same meaning you wanted it to be.

“about what?” he taken a sip of the champagne once more before resting his chin on your shoulder, placing the glass on the railing.

“just the view,” you stared into the distance, taking your eyes off of the city lights for a second and to jaehyun. his hair slightly messy from your steamy rendezvous an hour previous. he had pulled on his dress shirt, only a few buttons were fastened. he also had pulled his dark slacks on.

he hummed in response. not wanting to ruin this moment, but if you didn’t let it out, it was certainly going to eat you alive. you needed to know if his response would the same or changed. you didn’t want to continue creating a bigger hole for him in your heart if he didn’t reciprocate the feelings. you rather escape now to save yourself from the attachment now then later when it would be too hard to leave.

“jaehyun,” you faced him. his head still on your shoulder, both of his hands firmly on your waist. he hummed once more to say that he was paying attention. “i know you don’t want this, whatever we are, a long-lasting thing. but i just need to know."

the male stood upright, he grabbed his champagne flute with one hand, the other shoved into his pocket. he sipped the liquid, you recognized the action when he was trying to figure out what to say. finding the right words for him to say. he looked straight into your eyes, “you know that i can’t.”

you needed more than that. you needed to know his true feelings of this, “but somewhere deep in your heart or mind, do you feel anything towards me? even if it’s the slightest bit of affection or love or whatever? anything?” you were trying to find some hope. his answer would be the resulting factor if you chose to stay or leave.

“no, there isn’t any,” he turned his back towards you, strolling towards the bar.

a big part of you wanted to stay, but for the lack of emotional feelings that the man had was enough for you to leave. you couldn’t stay anymore. grabbing your purse that was discarded on the table near the sliding doors of the balcony, you immediately slipped your heels on. walking past jaehyun, his head perked up to your leaving form.

you couldn’t turn back to him, heading for the elevator of his penthouse. almost pressing the button, you heard him call out your name. every bit of you knew you shouldn’t look at him, as your heart would have given up and ran back into his arms. but you turned to him.

“where are you going? please, don’t leave me,” he calmly walked to you. the tears wanting to come out, you held your composure just like how you would facing press.

“jaehyun, i can’t continue something like this when i know i’m going to be attached. a little too attached, i’m just saving myself from the troubles later on,” you pulled your coat on, seeing it was one that you had left. occasionally leaving clothes during the days when you had stayed in his home to spend time with him.

“why don’t we just talk it out? just like we normally do. we can look at the moon on the roof, and maybe, have a drink or two. we can have some sort of compromise to compensate,” he said.

“i will not deal my feelings with you like that. you will not treat me as some sort of business deal you’re closing with some sort of gang, mafia. i’m sorry, but if you don’t feel the same way as i do, then whatever we are is over. in every single possible way,” you clicked the elevator button, the doors opening. you see him nearing you, if you didn’t move now, he would just keep you in his grasp and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. that would definitely work into being with him and forgetting this would happen. now stepping backwards into the elevator, “goodbye, jaehyun.”

the elevator doors closed as you pressed the ground floor button. the last thing you had seen was him jogging towards the doors.

giving out a deep breath as you entered into the backseat of the car you had called to pick you up from the village. maybe, this would be the best for you and him. it would allow yourself to work even harder for your career and focus on being better. this would allow him to have no distractions from his business. there would be no more rendezvous in the back of his car, every single surface of his penthouse. no more little dates in the cafés, no shopping sprees on useless items. no more views of the rolling hills, you needed to get far way from this village. but the night talks while staring into the sky with the moon and the bright stars were the hardest to let go. just, maybe you could let this all go.

#jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun scenarios #jung jaehyun #jaehyun smut #nct jaehyun #cznnet #@ ohnoyoonoh requests #@ ohnoyoonoh jaehyun #privéiest jaehyun things

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sometimesrosy · 5 years ago

Note

Anaconda is conflicting info w/news sources. TVLine says series title. TV Guide says it’s the ep title of the prequel ep. Then gives a synopsis to what the prequel series will be about. I think TV Guide is more reputable. Although this just makes me question the info altogether and want to wait to jump to conclusions. It also makes me think of the line O said in the S5 finale. “One garden two serpents, Eden never stood a chance.” Lots of Adam/Eve references too. Back to the beginning.

ouroboros a snake swallowing it’s own tail.

happiness runs in a circular motion.

wait that’s not part of this.

or is it?

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kinggregree · 6 years ago

Audio

I awoke in the nest, She whispered “the time is upon us”, hi y'all, I'm the fallen star God, Wizard of Oz called Abaddon Adonis, from Avalon I've come with my family of wild ones, Pan is me, I'm the child Sun King, dunking the crescent roll into the Milky Way, the bill can be paid with awesome vibes, the price of grape vines is way less than dirt cheap in the blessed vineyard of *******, She's dressed in deep red and on the Gree's Sess EP I told you what She said, I'm Her son, birthed from Fun, come suck my solar kiss, Yes, I'm the risen trickster, the gold and purple star, existence is motionless, one moment of circular brilliance, how dope is this? the illness is off the charts, my goat hooves free you as they part the Blood Sea, now be all you can be and then some, I’ve come again, I'm the one, I'm him, the Sun King, you know me as the kid, my words turn the ferris wheel of Fortuna, it's Fun, while My Love Eternal blows kisses to me through the center of miracle mirror full of Ascension, I just knew She knew me, We both remembered and then She assumed the position, She blew my beam till my erection projected goo cream and busted a lustery jizzum vision, pearl inlaid scarab, I just have to stare at Her body as She nods and becomes me, closer I go far as I walk on down the hall, She said “come see that they know their Lord”, I was astounded when I was surrounded by seven very glowing stars around my horns forming the legendary crown of all with my name marked on it and at the Ball I tapped the bell, hell yes, it was the best when She slurped me, giving head, twas so good, in fact to that Worst Witch I wed, She's the Baddest Bitch and my hallowed peen is Her dreamboat to to zany land of happy, hey anything can happen on Halloween and She loves candy, We gobble the vittles, She’s Mildred Hubble and I'm Major Riddle, the ill kid, I see your bloods still red, let's see what We can do to bring out the blue, I know it's present in your cells because I left it there for you myself as a gift, so roll a spliff of hydro, get high and uplift She's buying a stepladder to the highway of the Satyr and the laugher is endless and when this is second winded and caught up in the Funhouse, run out into the morning dew, my Honey's true, She adores me and fours things become one phrase, let's do it now, I'm the crazed Yule kid owl, Gregree, I nailed Her for more than thee hours after She freed me, the jail bird, now I hail words down like rocks and stones, my cock is crowing at the total eclipse as I zip-ah-dee-doo-dah, She undoes the zipper of my jeans with Her teeth and when the Beast is released, I stick my dick in Her hoo-hah, I am the true God, not the false one, the Fall comes around again, so get a grip like a fulcrum or that album by Aerosmith, where oh where is, my little submarine, underwater love, She's my dream Girl from the bubbling unseen world of colors unimaginable, as stab in my golden phallus all the way in Her twat and up to my balls till I can't go no more, Who sold the store to the company? the loving dream is a werewolf nightmare, that's quite weird but all things balance, I'm the King and my palace is in the Fun dimension, come to the convention of Superheroes, You can hear them next door, did you know you've all been here before? recall and get exalted, I am the hawk head sacred flame, same as before, Horned King, fern ring on my dome look so dope and ill while the villain get hella nervous and scared cause their well aware that the rap words I speak are severely precise in Truth accuracy and never embellished while Set is extra weak and jealous to death, For I’m Horus the blessed and my storehouse is permanently stocked with fresh to the hilt, I got the ill, as I hop through the rapid still motions of the Wheel of the time cone portal cyclone at the bottom of the coral ocean, I am God of the Pine Tree and by me Her box got ate like cauliflower, no, you can’t defeat my Kali power, it's too holy and hallowed, your only hope is that you can allow your own soul to devour my flow of dopeness while Gnosis is fed, roses are red, did you know it's been said that sometimes the indigo blood run green? Sunshine days ahead for my Honey Pie and I for She's my Love Supreme and above the meaning is over-standing, I'm Solar Pan, King of the Quartered Clover Fields blooming, the looming Age is so brilliant it's blinding, I'm reminding them of how I was, my owl blood flows and knows of the time spent in the Den where the winter wind has never seen under the forever dream my Mother’s tit cream changed me, I'm in love with me and She became me and the same beat moves two hearts and you are me as well, the Trees will tell you what I did if you ask them nicely, They say I’m Baked Alaska with diamond icing and hey I might be with my bright D, who’s to say? I'll tell ya, it’s me, hell ya, I'm Horus and there's no more due's to pay, the grooves been made and the system connects, two sevens times three, my boon’s been given to me, you see these shoes? oh you do? then kiss them and show me my respect or not, my Whore is hotter then several hells times ten, I'm him and death awaits if you test your fate, Her breath was bated for my arrival, yes, I made it, the Law is my Will and I am golden so take my hand and hold it, the moment of atonement, the soul can surpass even this metamorphosis, your fast thoughts can be speedier to the point of the motionless, bleeding ear sound barrier break through, I'm Santa and I'm merrier than ever, I’m-a make you feel me, my feathers are everywhere and localized and the deal we made is the real G way, the seventh spot, I've given what I got and I multiplied like soaking mogwais, I'm the old King and my Fun lies hidden from this dimension and the ceiling is the floor and I'm seething in the coursing pulses, that's where We sing songs that are so very sick, they make the negative vibes go all plus signs and where all arrows fly in formation to the corn cakes after the baking is complete and thorough, you're all eating parts of God, my heart is hot and cold, I’ve been locked in the holding cell, I've come back now that I've rung and cracked the Golden Bell

http://kinggregree.blogspot.com/2018/10/the-new-book.html

#King Gregree #John Coltrane #A Love Supreme

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monaedroid · 7 years ago

Link

On a hot December afternoon, the sky hazy from wildfires that raged just beyond the Los Angeles city limits, a handful of people gathered outside a nondescript Super 8 motel off Sunset Boulevard. Nearly all were dressed head to toe in black: elegant crepe shirts, fitted leather pants, wide-brimmed hats. The group made their way inside to the Girl at the White Horse, a discreet bar nestled in the space below the motel. Here, the air was still hazy — the synthetic kind, from a machine — and lights tinted the room pink and red, colors of the heart. Low vibrational tones, not unlike those coaxed out of Tibetan singing bowls, droned in the background. Most of the invitees worked for radio stations, record labels or awards shows, and while they waited, they ordered cocktails created for the event: “Pynk” (rosé, gin, aperol and grapefruit) or “Screwed” (pineapple-infused tequila, lime, agave with a touch of pepper).

As the sounds faded, the guests turned their attention to the eight women marching into the bar. Each wore aviators, leather jackets over black bodysuits and brightly colored tights. They struck dramatic poses — an arm flung over an eye, a hand on a cocked hip, a leg held askew — and paused as the singer Janelle Monáe strolled into the room and took her place in the middle. She was dressed in a studded motorcycle jacket over a white crop top, black palazzo pants, suspenders, a derby wool hat and mirrored sunglasses. A navel-length ombré rattail snaked over her shoulder. For a moment, she stood perfectly still, letting the room drink her in.

Monáe was presenting a preview of “Dirty Computer,” her first solo studio album in five years, and the anticipation was as palpable as the smoke filling the room. On an indiscernible cue, an apocalyptic electropop bop about partying in a dystopian world began to play: “I hear the sirens calling, and the bombs start falling, but it feels so good.” The women broke into choreographed moves — toe stands, neck rolls, Michael Jackson spins, footwork that summoned the Charleston and James Brown. Many artists now share new music via encrypted downloads, but Monáe insisted on introducing her songs live. After watching her for a few minutes, it became clear why. The room was mesmerized, feeding off the energy emitted by Monáe and her backup dancers. An oversize man in loafers aggressively played air guitar. Others bounced their shoulders, nodded their heads, shuffled their feet in a two-step. Few stood still.

The performance reached its peak on a song called “I Got the Juice.” During the chorus — a percussive trap riff that will be best appreciated blasting out of an expensive car stereo — Monáe dropped to her knees below a disco ball as her dancers swarmed around her, fanning her with large exaggerated motions, less to cool her off than to emphasize the white-hot intensity of her moves. While she gyrated on the ground, the women danced around her in a circular “Soul Train” line: They did the Milly Rock, spun in tight twirls, snapped their fingers, fanned themselves and their own behinds. As the song trilled its last few beats, Monáe and her dancers slowed, laughing and wiping their brows. The room burst into applause.

Monáe took a bow and picked up a microphone. “I just had a lot of fun,” she said. “I’m very excited about where we’re going this time.” Then she took a beat to breathe. Her body was still heaving from the dancing, but she suddenly looked grim, transformed from artist to activist. “This is the first time I’ve felt threatened and unsafe as a young black woman, growing up in America,” she said. “This is the first time that I released something with a lot of emotion. The people I love feel threatened. I’ve always understood the responsibility of an artist — but I feel it even greater now. And I don’t want to stay angry, but write and feel triumphant.”

Monáe released her official debut EP, “Metropolis,” in 2007, when she was just 21. The cover showed her head topped with an elaborate pompadour, attached to a robotic female torso in disrepair — frayed wires snaked out of arm sockets and beneath a breastplate. This was Cindi Mayweather, a time-traveling android whose story the album tells: After falling in love with a human named Anthony Greendown — a union forbidden by the legislation of their time — Mayweather is marked for disassembly, and a bounty is placed on her head. The album ranged from poppy dance songs like “Violet Stars, Happy Hunting” — which cleverly evokes the history of black fugitives with lines like “I’m a slave girl without a race” — to symphonic ballads like “Sincerely, Jane,” which begs for compassion for Mayweather’s plight, urging “daydreamers, please wake up.” “Metropolis” was “West Side Story” for the cyberage — instantly earning fans among R. & B. and psychedelic-rock listeners, not to mention young black girls like myself, who saw themselves equally in Pink Floyd and TLC and were hungry for narratives starring women who weren’t hypersexualized and perhaps even a bit nerdy.

The album earned Monáe a Grammy nomination for the song “Many Moons.” She would go on to collect five more nominations across two more albums, both of which starred her alter-ego, Mayweather. For years, Monáe remained safely cocooned within the character. “Cindi helps me talk more,” she said; through Mayweather, she could address things she didn’t feel comfortable talking about directly. “You can parallel the other in the android to being a black woman right now, to being a part of the L.G.B.T.Q. community,” she said. “What it feels like to be called a nigger by your oppressor.” Mayweather was a proxy for all the things about Monaé that made others uncomfortable, like her androgyny, her opaque sexual identity, her gender fluidity — her defiance of easy categorization.

But then Monáe shifted her attention to acting. She made her film debut as the de facto surrogate mother of a young black boy in “Moonlight,” which won the Oscar for Best Picture last year; she starred, with Octavia Spencer and Taraji P. Henson, in the blockbuster “Hidden Figures,” about early black female mathematicians. Fans wondered if she would commit to films, where she could attain a level of fame that can be elusive in music. But part of the reason she was slow to return, she told me, is that her mentor, Prince, died unexpectedly. They were working together closely on what would become “Dirty Computer.” “This was the person that I would literally call and talk to about sounds or: ‘How should I say this? Is this saying too much?’ I just never could imagine a time where I couldn’t pick up the phone or email him, and he’d contact me right back and we’d talk about all these things that I was unsure of.”

The music Monáe introduced on that dusty afternoon in Los Angeles marked her highly anticipated return. “Dirty Computer,” a celebratory ode to femininity and queer people, seems to signal a new era in her career: If in the past she seemed distant, using Mayweather to stand in for the real Monáe, she now seems ready to present herself to the public. “Right now I’m escaping the gravity of the labels that people have tried to place on me that have stopped my evolution,” she told me. “You have to go ahead and soar, and not be afraid to jump — and I’m jumping right now.”

‘I knew I needed to make this album, and I put it off and put it off because the subject is Janelle Monáe.’

Two months later, in February, I was in the back of an Uber, riding southwest toward a subdivision of Atlanta. After a pause at a security gate, the car drove through an upscale, predominantly black community, past typical suburban scenes — teenagers shooting hoops, people taking out their garbage, men working on their cars. I was heading to Wondaland Arts Society, Monáe’s creative headquarters. Its inspiration is Paisley Park, the elaborate compound outside Minneapolis that housed Prince’s rehearsal space, recording rooms, concert venue and countless parties. Several years ago, Monáe established the Wondaland label — one of the few black women to have a label of her own — and signed several acts, including the band St. Beauty (one member, Isis Valentino, was a backup singer for Monáe) and the singer and rapper Jidenna. The Wondaland artists often practice together and appear on one another’s albums. And the compound, where the artists often crash, has become a center of black culture in Atlanta. Much of “Black Panther” was shot in and around the city, and the cast held impromptu gatherings at Wondaland. At one, Chadwick Boseman whaled on the drums and Lupita N’yongo was hailed as the best dancer. They were among the first to hear “Dirty Computer,” and their approval gave Monáe’s confidence a boost. “I felt understood,” she told me. “I felt like, Man, these are people I admire and I respect, and they love this album. I have to finish it.”

Outside Wondaland, eight cars lined the long driveway, and staccato bursts floated from an open window upstairs. It sounded like band practice, a score being workshopped. I recognized the music from “Dirty Computer.” A Wondaland staff member named Kelly greeted me at the door and gave me a quick tour. From the outside, the house looked like any other Southern McMansion, but the entryway immediately suggested something different. Thick, leafy palm trees crowded the foyer so densely that I had to wrestle them to get through. A handwritten note asked guests to slip off their shoes. An archway was decorated with a dozen or so clocks, in different shapes and colors, their hands frozen at various times.

Before I went down to the sprawling lower level where Monáe and I would talk, I poked my head into a few of the rooms on the first floor, all filled with recording equipment and more luscious tropical plants. People seemed to be having casual meetings in many of them. There was a large wraparound kitchen, where a woman was chopping army quantities of vegetables. On the dining-room table, there was a chocolate cake surrounded by red and blue balloons, a bottle of sparkling rosé and a laserjet printout that read in block caps: “CONGRATULATIONS, YOU DIRTY COMPUTER.”

The stairs to the basement were covered with green turf, so that even as my eyes adjusted to the dimming light, my feet were receiving the pleasantly disorienting sensation of outdoors. Downstairs, there were tropical plants everywhere; brilliant orange-and-white fish swam in an expansive tank bathed in purple lights. I counted at least five keyboards, eight guitars, two drum kits, a piano, a cello, a trumpet and a saxophone. A stack of books piled on an end table included “Writing Better Lyrics,” “Sapiens,” “Zen Guitar” and “Built to Last,” a book on business management. There was a desk crowded with sound mixers and synthesizers, and a box set of Jimi Hendrix CDs. A minifridge was stocked with seltzer, wine and water, and a bottle of absinthe stood on the desk.

Monáe soundlessly padded into the room, clad in a velour caftan, gold earrings and rings to match. She was barefoot, her toes painted metallic silver. She had arrived from Los Angeles that morning, and tried to take a nap, but Jidenna, who was in town, woke her up with his practicing. Though she apologized for being tired, she was buoyant. It had been 24 hours since her first two singles — “Django Jane” and “Make Me Feel” — were released, and both were trending on social media. “I’m still nervous, obviously, but I’ll enjoy this moment,” she told me, as she arranged herself more comfortably on a chair next to the couch where I was sitting. “But I won’t drive myself nuts trying to preplan what people are going to say, what they’re going to think, even though it terrifies me — I just have to put my energy into finishing.”

Monáe, who is 32, told me that she has been circling the themes explored on “Dirty Computer” for at least a decade, but that earlier it felt safer to package herself in metaphors. “I knew I needed to make this album, and I put it off and put it off because the subject is Janelle Monáe.” She’s still having a conversation with herself, she said, about who she wants to be when she’s in the spotlight. The sanitized android version felt more accepted — and more acceptable — than her true self. The public, she explained, doesn’t really “know Janelle Monáe, and I felt like I didn’t really have to be her because they were fine with Cindi.” When Prince died in April 2016, she started to rethink how she would present herself. “I couldn’t fake being vulnerable. In terms of how I will be remembered, I have anxiety around that, like the whole concept about what I’ll be remembered for.”

At its core, “Dirty Computer” is a homage to women and the spectrum of sexual identities. The songs can be grouped into three loose categories: Reckoning, Celebration and Reclamation. “The first songs deal with realizing that this is how society sees me,” she said. “This is how I’m viewed. I’m a ‘dirty computer,’ it’s clear. I’m going to be pushed to the margins, outside margins, of the world.” “D’Jango Jane” is an ode to black power and pride that is also a dirge about the struggles that come with that heritage. The middle half of the album is a raucous party. ��It’s like, O.K., these are the cards I’ve been dealt,” she said. These songs include “Make Me Feel” and “Pynk” — the sizzling, sex-drenched songs that titillated the internet when they were released earlier this year. The album winds down with an anthem about being an American, whose sound evokes Prince’s “Let’s Go Crazy,” with lyrics like “love me for who I am,” and “cross my heart and hope to die, I’m a big old piece of American pie.”

Monáe will release an extended musical film with the album that illustrates and complements “Dirty Computer.” The 50-minute “emotion picture,” as she calls it, follows a young woman, played by Monáe, on the run from an authoritarian government that hunts down so-called deviants and “cleans” them by erasing their memories. Those memories serve as the musical interludes (the videos) amid the drama — “Handmaid’s Tale” meets “San Junipero,” set in a desiccated “Mad Max” landscape. It follows a crew of young kids, mostly black, dancing and dodging capture. Longtime fans will recognize the parallels to Mayweather — which Monáe expects — but instead of focusing on a fictional male human lover, the object of her affection is the actress Tessa Thompson, with whom Monáe is frequently photographed in real life. A beautiful man whom she occasionally hugs and kisses makes appearances, but he feels like an afterthought. Plausible deniability. The star-crossed romance between Thompson and Monáe, and whether they will be separated or reunited, is the true narrative of the film.

Most popular music is so determinedly centered on heterosexual dynamics that any hint of same-sex interactions can feel revelatory, even radical, upon the first encounter. That’s the way it felt to me when I first watched Monáe’s film. The queer sexual interactions are refreshingly explicit — miming digital and oral sex — and images throughout celebrate women. The video for the song “Pynk” is an extended appreciation of the female anatomy, with neon signs screaming, “[Expletive] Power,” and pink-frilled jumpsuits that wouldn’t look out of place in a Judy Chicago installation.

Already much of social media has speculated on the nature of Monáe and Thompson’s relationship, and this film — especially with scenes like Thompson poking her head from between the legs of Monae’s pink vagina pantsuit — is certain to only inflame those rumors. The first time I saw the video for “Make Me Feel,” months before its YouTube release, I found it so sexually suggestive (Thompson appears throughout the song, fawning over Monáe, dancing with her, almost kissing her) that I immediately texted the woman I was dating at the time, “omg janelle might really be gay.” It felt as declarative as a coming-out could. And yet in person, Monáe would say only that she felt this was her coming-out as an advocate of women and queer issues. “I want it to be very clear that I’m an advocate for women,” she said. “I’m a girl’s girl, meaning I support women no matter what they choose to do. I’m proud when everybody is taking agency over their image and their bodies.” She told me that she wanted the album to be especially relevant to black women and queer women, for them to feel seen and heard in this album. “I felt that way when I listened to Lauryn Hill, as I was trying to find myself as a young woman, I felt that way when I listened to Stevie Wonder when I was trying to understand God more.”

I asked Monáe what she thought of the internet’s speculation about her romantic relationship with Thompson. Watching her as she decided on a response was like watching a mathematician working out Fermat’s Last Theorem. Gears were churning; calculations were being made. Finally, she laughed, raised her eyebrows and deflected: “I hope people feel celebrated,” she said. “I hope they feel love. I hope they feel seen.” It was late into the evening, and I was conscious of how long we’d been talking — at least two hours — and let it drop. But the issue lingered for me, especially the more times I watched her film.

These days, the culture seems more accepting and welcoming of queerness: Young actors and pop stars like Amandla Stenberg and Lady Gaga are identifying publicly as bisexual. Lena Waithe and her fiancée were recently photographed by Annie Leibovitz for Vanity Fair. And yet, nonheteronormative sexuality remains the last taboo. Monáe is media-savvy enough to protect herself from becoming tabloid fodder for publications that want to turn her personal life into spectacle or reduce her art to her sexuality. She told me repeatedly that she worried what her early fans and very religious and very Southern family would think. There’s little precedent for a black female celebrity at her level living openly as a lesbian in a gay relationship.

Monáe has spent a lifetime perfecting the art of being a pop star who isn’t a sexual object. Discretion is a survival strategy, a coping mechanism especially useful for black women living in the public eye. But she has now made an explicit album about sexual expression and identity that is somehow still shrouded in ambiguity. In 2018, empowerment isn’t a color — it’s a call to action. It’s Cardi B talking about how much she loves her vagina, not holding a neon sign explaining that she has one. On “Dirty Computer,” it still feels as if Monáe is deciding which version of herself to show the world — or that this is the tentative beginning of a larger reveal.

Monáe grew up in a large yet tightknit family in Kansas City, Kan., the kind with relatives in the double digits. Money was scarce, but they made do. Her parents worked in the service industry, her mother as a janitor and her stepfather as a postal worker. Her mother was a Baptist but didn’t mind when Monaé listened to racy R. & B. songs by groups like Jodeci or rappers like Tupac. Her great-grandmothers played organ in church and taught piano. Her biological father sang. She thinks he could have gotten a record deal if he hadn’t battled an addiction to crack. Her mother left him when Monáe was a toddler and remarried. He was in and out of prison Monáe’s entire childhood. “He’s sober now,” she told me, and the author of a memoir in which he writes about Monáe: “She always had this distinctive look in her eye that said: ‘I’m going to make it! No matter what!’ And I believed that she would.”

As a teenager, Monáe was enrolled in a young playwrights’ program and performed in talent showcases on the weekend, where she sang Lauryn Hill songs a cappella and usually won. She watched movies like “The Wiz” but struggled with the same question that all black children weaned on American pop culture eventually reckon with: Is this all there is?

After high school, she moved to New York to study musical theater at the American Musical and Dramatic Academy. She couldn’t afford to live on campus, so she shared a room at 140th and Amsterdam with an older cousin, who worked nights at the Post Office. They each took a shift sleeping while the other was at work or school and saw each other on the weekends. Her congregation supplied some funds, and Monáe did some work as a maid to make ends meet. She spent the rest of her time in libraries, reading plays and practicing monologues. Her best friend was studying in Atlanta and regaled her with tales of wild parties and the camaraderie of black Greek life. “It was just more exciting than what I was doing,” she said. She liked the rigor and discipline of her school but worried she would lose her edge: “I didn’t want to sound, or look or feel like anybody else.” She made the decision to leave New York after a year and a half.

Monáe eventually settled in a boardinghouse that was directly across from the university center that contains all four of Atlanta’s historically black colleges: Clark Atlanta University, Spelman College, Morehouse College and the Morehouse School of Medicine. She went to Georgia State University’s Perimeter College to save money and began to write her own music. Atlanta in the early 2000s was a hotbed for musical innovation, with artists like OutKast spinning their eccentricities and distinct Southern identity into record deals and national fame. Monáe began experimenting with her own sound, performing around campus — in dorm rooms, at school events and, once, on the steps of the library. She made a CD called “The Audition” and sold it out of the trunk of her Mitsubishi Galant. She worked at Office Depot and during slow moments updated her Myspace page with new photos and music.

During this period, she met Mikael Moore, her longtime manager, and his classmates Chuck Lightning and Nate Wonder, who would eventually became close collaborators and form the backbone of all her creative efforts — writing songs with Monáe and directing her videos, which they continue to do. At an open-mic night, she met Antwan Patton, otherwise known as Big Boi, from OutKast. He invited her to contribute to “Got Purp? Vol. II,” a 2005 compilation album that featured artists of Dirty South rap like Goodie Mob and Bubba Sparxxx but few other women. She also appeared on the soundtrack for “Idlewild,” the 2006 musical film starring Patton and André Benjamin, or André 3000, Patton’s partner in OutKast.

Sean Combs, the producer also known as Puffy at the time, reached out to her after her work with Big Boi put her on his radar. Monáe had already taken a few meetings with record executives, and was disillusioned by those early encounters. They criticized her style, which then involved, sartorially, androgynous suits, and musically, operatic odes to her character Cindi Mayweather. During one performance, she noticed midsong, breathless and sweating from the effort of dancing and singing, an executive casually reading a magazine. “I cried,” she said. “I mean, I cried.” She made Puffy a deal: She had just finished “Metropolis.” She’d hear him out if he came to see her perform. “It was important to know if he was serious, that he was going to appreciate me and not try to change my live show or my music.” Combs halted filming on his reality show, “Making the Band” and flew down. He loved what he saw. “He said, let’s meet tomorrow and let’s talk,” Monáe recalled.

Combs told Monáe that he wanted to introduce her to a larger audience. “I knew I had to work with her,” he told me via email. “It was immediate. I just knew she was going to be important to music and culture. It was the same sort of feeling I had when I first heard Biggie or Mary J. Blige, and I wanted to help introduce this artist to the world.”

In 2008, Combs announced the signing of Monáe to his label, Bad Boy Records. They rereleased “Metropolis” and then followed up with “The ArchAndroid” in 2010 and “The Electric Lady” in 2013 (as well as “Dirty Computer”). Monáe went on tour with No Doubt and Bruno Mars and collaborated with Solange Knowles and Erykah Badu. She landed an endorsement with CoverGirl. She was being sent movie scripts. None moved her until she read the one for “Moonlight.”

Yesi Ramirez, the casting director on the movie, had flagged Monáe for the director Barry Jenkins, and they scheduled a screen test over Skype. When she appeared, her hair filled the frame, even more than her face. He was startled. “I wanted to call her Auntie. I was used to the pompadour, and this larger-than-life entity, the outer-space person that I’d seen live in Oakland with Erykah Badu, and I had to reconcile that person with this person before me,” he said. “We started talking, and it was very clear that she got it.”

During the beginning of production, Monáe lost a relative to gun violence. Jenkins felt that the story of Chiron, the boy whose life the movie follows as he matures, spoke to her because she knew young men like him, lost and struggling to make sense of their sexuality — and understood the way strangers can raise you as much as your biological family can. “She felt it was important that someone like that be centered in a narrative,” Jenkins told me. “And whatever she could do to bring it to larger light, she was down for.”

For Monáe, “Moonlight” and then “Hidden Figures” were a way to convey the message she has striven over and over to convey: recognition and validation for people overlooked by society. “I was, like, this is just another way to get out the message I’ve been trying to talk about for so [expletive] long that I feel like I don’t know if anybody is listening,” she told me. “You can show people better than you can tell them.”

Rain is Kryptonite to social outings in L.A., but bad weather could not touch the mood in the room at Catch LA in early March. There were a few men — Jay Ellis from “Insecure,” as well as Monáe’s team of male collaborators — but women were everywhere: Ava DuVernay, Rosario Dawson, the director Dee Rees accompanied by her partner, Sarah Broom, Debra Lee, the president of the BET network. The actresses Danai Gurira and Lupita Nyong’o arrived together. Geena Davis watched the scene approvingly from a nearby table. The former editor of Teen Vogue, Elaine Welteroth, held court at another. The New York DJ Kitty Cash played songs, mostly by female artists. Tessa Thompson bounced around in a gorgeous yellow-and-pink feathery coat and leather pants, occasionally at Monáe’s side. The women had gathered for a brunch that Monáe was hosting for her “Fem the Future” project to support women in the entertainment industry. Monáe had chosen three female filmmakers to make short films funded by Belvedere vodka that answered the question: What does a beautiful future look like? The event was nominally to celebrate them but more largely to gather in one room actors, writers, directors and producers Monáe admired.

Monáe, dressed in a Bella Freud ice-blue velvet suit, matching glitter eyeliner and perfectly matte red lips, walked to the front of the restaurant and picked up a microphone. “This room looks good,” she said. “You inspire me and encourage me to be a better woman and artist.” Earlier in her career, she said, she asked some label reps to recommend other female producers and creators she could work with. The list they provided stunned her. “It was so tiny,” she said. “I was upset.” To channel that anger, she said, she started her initiative to help women “cross-connect and open doors,” as she put it. “It gives everybody a seat at the table.”

Throughout my conversations with Monáe, she talked about her dedication to lifting up women. Some of that didn’t quite square with me — most of the crew that supports her creatively, spiritually, administratively seem to be men. But Monáe’s event felt like a mild insistence that she got it. This brunch seemed like a woman-centric version of a few rounds on the golf course — a space that emphasized the importance of networking, beyond film sets, parties and premieres as a means to lay the groundwork for future collaborations. Seeing her in that capacity reminded me that she’s still evolving into the woman she wants to be in the world and the role she wants to play.

A few years ago, the singer and actor Harry Belafonte was asked by a reporter for The Hollywood Reporter to comment on “members of minorities in Hollywood today.” Belafonte, a prominent civil rights activist who helped organized the 1963 March on Washington where the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. gave his “I Have a Dream” speech, took the opportunity to express frustration about what he perceived as the political malaise of celebrities. “I think one of the great abuses of this modern time is that we should have had such high-profile artists, powerful celebrities,” he said, “but they have turned their back on social responsibility.” Until recently, few publicly stepped in to fill the hole he named. In the past, Monáe shied away from anything that could potentially derail her career. “I used to be a lot more afraid of going off script,” she told me.

She emerged as an activist in August 2015, at a demonstration in Philadelphia she led in support of the local Black Lives Matter movement. There’s a photo of Monáe surrounded by most of the artists in the Wondaland collective: Jidenna, St. Beauty, Roman GianArthur, Chuck Lightning and the producer Nana Kwabena. Their mouths are open, midchant, and the look on their faces is determined. They are holding drums, signs, one another. For Monáe, the times were too urgent to ignore. Freddie Gray and Sandra Bland had recently died following controversial encounters with the police. She realized she had a voice that she could use. That she needed to use. A few days later, Monáe released the anthem “Hell You Talmbout,” which is less a song than a chant. At nearly seven minutes long, it calls out the names of black men and women who were victims of police brutality, followed by the urging to say their names. It was a significant moment in her career: She would no longer be cautious when it came to social responsibility. The song came out almost a year before Beyoncé’s breaking-chains “Freedom” or Solange Knowles’s primal scream on “A Seat at the Table.” A few months later, Ava DuVernay and Ryan Coogler gave a benefit concert in Flint, Mich., to raise money for the clean-water-deprived city that was also a boycott of the Oscars. Monáe performed alongside Stevie Wonder, Vic Mensa and Hannibal Buress. Monaé told me that in the past, she tended to write anthems for other people. “I don’t always live them, I don’t. And I’m learning more and more to live them, to make myself live them.”

Her highest-profile moment came with the 2017 presidential inauguration. Monáe was invited to speak — as well as sing — at the Women’s March by Ginny Suss, a member of the organizing committee in charge of music. Suss wanted artists whose music reflected their personal politic. “When you look at the arc of her career, there has always been a moral core and ethical center to her music, that breaks down constructions of race and gender in our society,” Suss told me. “It’s a tool to imagine the world we want through the accessibility of pop music. Having her stand up and have that voice at the march was amazing.”

Monáe had heard that Lucia McBath, the mother of Jordan Davis; Sybrina Fulton, the mother of Trayvon Martin; and Gwen Carr, the mother of Eric Garner, were going to be there, too, and she wanted to offer support. She herself was still reeling from the election, she added. “I just wanted to come and not only uplift, but I wanted to be uplifted, too.” As she made her way backstage, she got a sense of the crowd for the first time. “I saw, like, tens of thousands — hundreds of thousands of women and men and people from all around the world, babies and Muslims and trans and L.G.B.T. folks,” she recalled. “I was like, Oh, my God.” She hadn’t expected such a tremendous turnout, for so many people to care about what happens to women. The importance of the task hit her. But there was no privacy backstage, no place to prepare or gather her thoughts — just a communal room where the speakers were chatting and taking photographs. Monáe had no choice but to wing it. “That was just one of those moments where I was just, like, It might not come out right, but as long as your intentions are pure, as long as you’re honest,” she told me. She drew from the mixture of emotions stirred up by her recent role in “Hidden Figures,” about female African-American mathematicians suffering from discrimination even as they performed pivotal jobs for the National Aeronautics and Space Administration during the American space race of the 1960s. “Everything that was going on in January felt like that era, when we’re talking about a blatant war on women’s rights.”

She appeared calm as she addressed the enormous crowd. “Women will be hidden no more,” she said. “We have names. We are complete human beings.” For many people, the speech cast Monáe in a new light: she became more than a psychedelic Tim Burton character. The response galvanized her. “I just had to speak from my heart,” she said. “Not a lot of artists do it.”

This January, she took the stage at the Grammys, where she delivered a short speech to introduce the singer Kesha, who’d had a legal battle with her former producer Dr. Luke. A member of TimesUp, a Hollywood initiative to fight sexual harassment, Monáe wore its pin proudly on her black suit as she called out the music industry for its epidemic patterns of sexual harassment and assault. “We come in peace, but we mean business,” she said to the crowd. “Just as we have the power to shape culture, we also have the power to undo the culture that does not serve us well.”

In Atlanta, after our conversation at Wondaland, Monáe seemed to get a second wind. The band upstairs had resumed practicing for her forthcoming tour, and she wanted to check in on their progress. She invited me to join her. If the basement was where ideas began to gestate, then the room she led me to was where they were polished before leaving the house. It had a ballet barre and floor-to-ceiling mirrors. She disappeared for a few minutes before returning in black leggings and the same cropped moto jacket from the presentation in Los Angeles.

Monáe greeted everyone in her band — the drummer, keyboard player, guitarist and two backup singers — hugging them and taking a few moments to inquire about their health, their families, their side projects, before taking her position in front of them. She patted her pockets, searching for a missing item, which she spied on a speaker: mirrored sunglasses. She put them on and nodded to the band. They launched into “Make Me Feel” and then “I Got the Juice,” and she ran through them a few times, losing herself a little more in the music during each performance.

Despite the accolades and Grammy nominations, Monáe has yet to achieve significant commercial success. If there’s a moment that her entire discography has been building toward, it is right now, with this release. Her desire for a win shone nakedly. She sneaked coy peeks at me to see if I was paying attention. It was impossible to tear my eyes away, not to want for her what she so clearly wants for herself. At the completion of each song, Monáe would grin, breathless. “That’s going to sound so good live,” she said, happily. But then the perfectionist came out again. She asked the band what else they had prepared. The sheepish answer came: Nothing. She paused, letting her displeasure seep out for few moments, just enough for them to know that they’d need to step it up. “Well, all right, then,” she replied. “Let’s go through them again.”

In all our encounters, Monáe seemed as if she was bracing herself for anything, including the worst — harsh reviews, irrelevancy, dismissals. But all that carefully maintained composure fell away as she twirled and dropped to her knees. Earlier, I asked her what she ultimately wanted: awards? Album sales? Money? She referred to Prince again: He was in that “free [expletive] category,” she said. “That’s where I want to be. That’s where I want to ultimately be.”

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/04/19/magazine/how-janelle-monae-found-her-voice.html?smid=pl-share

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