#I mean I don’t hate american pop songs they are nice

[missanathea]

You know I could understand that for years the audience didn’t vote for the non-English songs. It’s harder to get into a song you don’t understand or in a language that’s just gibberish to your brain. But I’ve always considered that the jury was here to restore that balance. But the fact that they never do, and this year that they have actually ruined this, this celebration of diversity, by promoting two basic pop songs, that really shows that they don’t serve any purpose.

[thursdayygrrrl]

from the sidelines

⌦ .｡.:*♡

characters: natasha romanoff, wanda maximoff (wandanat)

genre: fluff, slight angst

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood & guns, breakdowns/crying

summary: When Wanda comes into Natasha’s life, she gives the widow something to lose.

word count: 3,859

a/n: this is my first time writing for nat/something nat-centric and, technically, wandanat too! this was inspired by sidelines by phoebe bridgers because i think that song is suuuuper underappreciated and that it was a good fit for them (lyrics are in bold and italics). it’s been a while since i last wrote anything for fun and not for uni, so please be kind. i also don’t know much about gardening so some of the language might not be accurate. you can read it on ao3 (here) or under the cut. i hope you enjoy :>

I’m not afraid of anything at all

If there was one thing constant about Natasha, it was the lack of fear. It wasn’t inherent, but was a habit developed essential for her survival. She learned that pretty quickly. One moment of hesitance, no matter how short, could mean life or death. 

There were other times she felt brave without risking her life though. Like when she first dyed her hair. She chose the color blue because it reminded her of the sky. The horizon always looked limitless, a reminder that there could be more to life than what she had already experienced. She remembers making that choice and following through with it. It made her feel in control of something, amidst all the other things she had no power over.

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

‘Cause nothing ever shakes me, nothing makes me cry

Not a plane going down in the ocean and drowning

One of her most vivid memories is flying the plane with Melina. The night was normal at first. She was playing tag with her younger sister until she fell and hurt her knee. Then, they watched the fireflies and went inside to help with dinner. Alexei arrived and they started eating. It all felt so nice, so normal until he said they were going on a big adventure. Her appetite disappeared. Yelena was excited, oblivious to what it actually meant. She didn’t have the heart or the chance to tell her.

The drive out was tense and quiet, save for American Pie playing in the background. She watched the scenes change outside her window from the suburbs to highways. They had to move fast, but she felt sluggish, overwhelmed with everything going on. She remembers holding on to a photobooth strip of her and Yelena before finally running to get on the plane after being urged by Alexei. The sound of sirens and the whirring of engines, her heartbeat hammering in her chest, filled her ears. Gunshots started sounding off. One hit Melina’s shoulder.

“I need you up here,” She said through gritted teeth. Natasha clambered beside her. 

She was wincing in pain while giving instructions to pull right. 

“Mom, you’ve got blood on you,” Her voice came out strangled, and that tight feeling came along with tears forming in her eyes. She didn’t cry often but she knew she hated the physiological sensations that came with it.

“It’s okay, baby.” Two more cars directly in front of them appeared in the distance. “Hit the accelerator there.”

She did as she was told, speeding the plane up. She faltered when a few more shots were fired at them.

“Hold it steady, hold it steady.” More shots, the headlights ahead were blindingly bright. “You’re gonna pull back at 55 knots.” They started counting in unison. Alexei popped one of the cars’ tires with a bullet, causing them to crash into each other.

“Pull back, you can do it! Pull back, all your strength...” Part of the plane grazes with the bottom of the now-upturned car. But they were finally off the ground. Flying. A sense of relief washes over her.

Considering the past few hours, the rest of the flight went smoothly. They landed somewhere remote, it felt like the middle of nowhere. Alexei carried Melina to a stretcher held by some soldiers she and Yelena ran after. After a short exchange of words with the older woman, she remembers wrangling a gun from someone, unwanted tears threatening to fall from her eyes again, and Yelena’s small form hiding behind her.

“I don’t wanna go back there.”

A needle was buried deep into her neck. She was then thrown into a shipping container with other girls. Masked people were pointing rifles at them, shouting and violently wrenching Yelena from her hold. There was a man, he knelt to meet her eyes. Rough and calloused hands held her face. 

“The Red Room is your home now.”

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

Watched the world from the sidelines

Had nothing to prove

Natasha had just started getting used to being “normal,” just another child in midwestern America. She was going to school, being around other kids, having a family until it was all ripped away. Even though it was all a lie, she couldn’t say it wasn’t important to her.

Being back in the Red Room was a regimented, isolating existence. No one was able to speak to each other for long. Schedules were planned down to the minute. Excruciating physical training, including hand-to-hand combat, ballet, acrobatics, and weapons training, pushed them to their limits, sometimes even beyond. 

The mutilation, both psychological and physical, was the worst of all. They broke down each girl’s hope and willpower if any were even left. They were treated like objects, mere faceless weapons they could manipulate as a means to an evil end. The ones who survived were considered lucky, the prime of their batches, and given an operation. They called it “graduation,” but everyone knew what that meant.

At some point, she was able to get out. Her time with the KGB, then in S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers was filled with twists and turns. It was a lot of battles, moral disputes, and political agendas. There was even a time when she had to expose her own seedy past, much to her discomfort, but it was for the greater good. She didn’t mind as long as it was for the well-being of others.

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

‘Til you came into my life

Gave me something to lose

Now that she thinks of it, the first time she interacted with Wanda was horrible. The witch inflicted a vision, memories that she was trying to bury and leave behind, when she was weakened and vulnerable. There were snippets of a conversation with Madame B. The graduation ceremony. It made her feel like a monster all over again.

The next time they interacted was in the Battle of Sokovia. She remembers regrouping with Steve, but not expecting the very same witch to make an appearance. Despite all the chaos, the jacket she wore looked familiar.

“Is that my jacket?” Natasha gestured at the younger woman, frowning slightly.

“She’s with us,” Steve said.

“That still doesn’t explain the jacket.” 

Natasha was persistent. She didn’t shop for clothes often, never dressing up unless she wanted or had to, so this red jacket was special. It was one of the first few things she bought for herself. Wanda, now awkward and unsure of what to do, ran off. The rest of the battle felt like a blur of robots and rubble.

Since then, Wanda joined the Avengers. The younger woman mostly kept to herself when not on missions, watching sitcoms in her room. Vision would talk to her sometimes. Other times, the widow herself would do so. Natasha understood she needed space and time to cope with everything she’d been through but didn’t want to leave her fully isolated. 

Their conversations, if you could even call them that, were awkward at first. Natasha would ramble on about whatever, trying to fill the silence.

“There’s breakfast in the kitchen.”

Wanda looks up from her book only to be met with a small, warm smile on the assassin’s face.

“It’s the usual American stuff. Eggs, bacon, sugary cereal, some fruit. Pretty sure Clint’s making waffles too,” Natasha points to the door with her thumb. “You should eat with us. Bond with the team, all that stuff that Steve goes on about. We’ll have training after.”

Wanda hums in contemplation. Then, she nods. It’s the slightest motion that one would miss if they didn’t pay enough attention. Natasha nods back and turns to leave the room. The witch’s voice catches her off-guard, though.

“I’ll come with you.”

It’s raspy in the best way possible, with a hint of her Sokovian accent lingering. It’s a sound that Natasha decides she would like to hear more often. Her smile grows ever so slightly as she gestures for her to walk together.

───

When Natasha started helping in Wanda’s hand-to-hand combat training, the two became closer literally and figuratively. In one memorable session, from when Wanda still wasn’t as skilled at combat as she is now, Natasha was able to pin her down. Her lithe fingers wrapped around the other woman’s wrists while she used her thighs to straddle. All to restrict movement, of course. The flustered expression on the witch’s face could not be more obvious.

Their sessions consisted of a warm-up, some rounds of sparring, and a cooldown. After barely surviving this particularly challenging one, Wanda lands on the bench with a sigh. “Fuck… You kicked my ass today, Tasha. No fair,” She says through heavy breaths, leaning back and wiping the sweat from her brow.

Natasha shrugs and smiles as she sits beside her, reaching for a bottle of water across from the younger woman. Her torso brushes with her thigh, making the Sokovian lose her breath all over again.

“Please. I went easy on you. Besides, it’s revenge for taking my jacket,” Natasha says as she sits back up and takes a sip of water.

Wanda stands on slightly wobbly legs while a breathy laugh escapes her lips. “You’re really still holding that grudge?” She raises her hands playfully, “In my defense, Steve threw it at me and told me to put it on. It was a hectic time, you know.” 

Natasha smirks and shakes her head as they both move to gather their bags and leave. The assassin offers her hand. 

“Let me carry your stuff. It’s the least I can do. Look, you can barely stand.”

“It’s okay, Tasha. I go—” 

“Come on,” The widow urges. A knowing look is on her face. 

Wanda’s face becomes flushed, more so than it already was. It looks like she hopes Natasha won’t notice, but she does anyway. She raises her eyebrow teasingly.

“Did the workout take you out that bad, Wands?”

The nickname doesn’t help at all. Wanda rolls her eyes playfully as she hands her duffel bag over. Natasha slings both bags over her shoulder and they start walking together.

“Remind me again why I have to keep doing the hand-to-hand stuff? I literally move things with my mind.”

“If you use your mind, why do you do the thing with your hands then?” Natasha tries to mimic the witch’s signature hand movements with her free hand. This earns her a lighthearted push. 

“Oh, you know I’m just kidding. We both know you can’t just rely on your magic all the time. I want you to be able to fend for yourself if anything happens. Yeah?”

Wanda groans exaggeratedly, “Ugh. Okay, yes, you have a point.”

She chuckles at this. The pair, now embraced by a comfortable silence, walks to the elevator of the compound. As they enter, Natasha wraps her free arm around Wanda’s shoulder. She squeezes slightly, firm muscles under her touch, bringing her closer and looking into her eyes. 

“Wanna have lunch with me today?”

Wanda raises her eyebrow, “Can we watch I Love Lucy while we eat?”

Natasha nods and hands over her bag. “Of course.”

They smile warmly at each other, parting ways to freshen up before meeting again later.

───

Natasha and Wanda have seen each other at different points in their lives. Happy, sad, and everything else in between. But the Lagos Incident was a whole other thing. Natasha herself was a witness to how Wanda had been doing so well before it. To watch the immense guilt, self-loathing, and depression come over the witch after the incident, after slowly building herself back up, was heartbreaking for the widow.

Old habits die hard. Wanda becomes a recluse again. However, instead of sitcoms accompanying her, it was the news. She couldn’t help but keep watching coverage of it as if being constantly reminded of this tragedy was helping anyone.

Steve already spoke with her, Natasha knows this, but she decides to give a different type of comfort to the person she’s grown to love. A silent one, one that speaks through actions. 

On days Wanda doesn’t leave her room, Natasha knows she isn’t eating so she goes up and brings food. Nine times out of ten, it’s a peanut butter sandwich because it’s all she can make without setting the kitchen on fire. Ten times out of ten, it’s returned with just a few bites taken out. It doesn’t matter, Natasha is just happy to provide her with even the littlest bit of sustenance.

On nights Wanda can’t sleep, evident by the faint light escaping from her room, Natasha stays up with her. She takes it upon herself to change the channels on Wanda’s television or switch it off. She puts on some music instead, knowing that noise is a welcome distraction to her spiraling thoughts. Other times, Wanda motions for Natasha to her bed. The contact of skin on skin, the physical reminder that she isn’t alone helps Wanda relax even if it’s only for a few hours. Most nights, the feeling of Natasha’s body pressed up against Wanda’s is enough to lull her to sleep. 

And when it’s not, when she falls into that spiral once more, Natasha’s always there to wipe away her tears and pull her out of it.

“So many people… All those lives lost because I-I couldn’t—” Wanda sobs, breaking down in the familiar hold of strong arms.

Natasha squeezes just a little bit tighter. She speaks softly, interrupting the younger woman, “I know, Wands. I know. But you have to stop blaming yourself, okay? We’ve all hurt people and we’ve all made mistakes. Even if we mean well. And you did mean well. It’s just sometimes things work out in ways we don’t anticipate.”

The consoling words fall on deaf ears. Wanda shakes her head and cries even harder while burying herself deeper into the embrace. Her voice is muffled, repeated pleas of repentance, “It’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s all my fault… T-tasha, it’s all my fault…” Unsure what to say now, Natasha resorts to her instinct instead. It has never failed her. She starts to rock Wanda gently, pressing a soothing kiss to the top of the younger woman’s head. A quiet, melodic hum resonates from her lips. She continues until Wanda’s breathing evens out and until sleep takes over both of them.

───

A soft stream of sunlight seeps into the room, awakening the Russian. She looks down at the sleeping figure in her arms. Wanda looks so peaceful right now, Natasha thinks. She would do anything to conserve this moment, this feeling of serenity for her. To take away all her pain, heartache, and afflictions. Realistically, she knows she can’t accomplish that. The best she can do is just be there for her. 

It’s been a few minutes since and she feels Wanda stir slightly, who immediately snuggles closer and remains asleep. A warm feeling settles in her body, first in her chest then it spreads all over. She recalls feeling this way many times before, but only ever with Wanda. It’s at this exact instance she finally fully realizes what this is.

I’m in love. 

She bites her lip in contemplation, quiet realization, as Wanda’s eyes flutter open. Hazy green eyes look into clear ones and a mumbled phrase reaches her ears. “Your thoughts are getting loud, Tasha. Are you okay?”

Broken from her trance, she looks down at Wanda. “Yeah, I am. Um. I just… I have something to tell you.” She shifts to lean against the headboard. Now is as perfect a time as any, she thinks. 

Wanda’s eyebrows stitch together in a frown as she rubs the sleep from her eyes. She sits up, mostly leaning her weight on the other woman, while trying to decipher the look on her face. The Russian waits for a sign of approval from the Sokovian. Wanda nods and hums.

“I’m going to be direct about this, Wands.”

She takes a deep breath in.

“I like that we’ve grown close, that we consider each other as friends. I like doing things for you and with you and I like helping you, giving you what I have. Time, insight, comfort, whatever. Watching sitcoms with you, sleeping next to you, and waking up in your bed. I like your voice and your ringed hands, how graceful they look when you use your powers. The way your nose scrunches up and your bunny teeth show when you smile. How your accent slips when you say certain words and how you say my name. The way you carry yourself. How you care so much about others… If you let me, I would care for you for the rest of time.”

Natasha finishes with a sharp exhale, only now realizing her rambling. Losing control was one of the things she never wanted to experience again, but this time was different. Finally letting these thoughts flow through and out of her felt cathartic. 

Wanda’s voice is quiet, “You would?” 

Natasha nods, “Always.”

She says it without hesitation. Because she is wholly certain that she has no other answer. Why would there be?

Wanda becomes silent. An unreadable expression appears on her face as she takes in Natasha’s words. Her posture straightens slightly. Tension is now in the air and a silence begins to settle. 

Natasha screws her eyes shut, willing the tears in her eyes to stop forming. She was just about to take everything back, apologize for even saying anything, before getting interrupted. She feels slim fingers gently hold her face. Wanda strokes Natasha’s cheek, her thumb moving in slow, circular motions while she speaks.

“Tasha, hey, please don’t cry,” Wanda looks at her pleadingly, leaning in closer.

Natasha blinks rapidly, brows furrowing together. “I’m sorry. I got nervous because you weren’t saying anything and I… I don’t want to lose you.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I just had to take a minute because I didn’t realize you felt this way. Trust you won’t lose me, please.” She looks away. Her touch slows down and ceases as her hands fall to her lap. “I just don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You didn’t have to do anything, moya lyubov.” Natasha holds Wanda’s hands, “I mean everything I just said. I love you, Wanda.” 

She waits for a response with bated breath. Before she knows it, she feels supple lips capture her own. 

It’s tender yet electric. It’s everything she’s ever imagined and more. It’s simply perfect.

Natasha closes her eyes and deepens the kiss. She cradles Wanda’s jaw and feels the brunette melt into her touch. They pull away seconds later, foreheads touching as they catch their breath. Wanda says softly, “I love you too, Natasha. You don’t know how long I have been wanting to say that.”

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

Now I know what it feels like

To wanna go outside

It was a calm morning, both women following a routine established over the past few months. Natasha would wake up early and then proceed to training, leaving Wanda to sleep in. By the time she’d be back, Wanda was up and just finishing preparing breakfast. They’d eat together, talk about their plans for the day, and decide what to do from there. Some days they’d spend together while, on others, they’d have separate activities. 

“Detka! Come here, please!”

Natasha was working on some reports when she heard Wanda call out. She looks at the clock and decides now is a perfect time to take a break anyway. She hums as she stands up and stretches her limbs before leaving the room.

Wanda had been tending to the garden in the compound for some time now. She started with small pots of herbs and then moved to random vegetables after discovering she had a gift for raising plants. Lately, she also added flowers and various houseplants to her catalog. Being out in the sun, getting her hands dirty, and nurturing these plants was hard work, but it was work Wanda loved.

Natasha makes a couple of peanut butter sandwiches and pours two glasses of cold water on a tray, then carries it over to the sliding door leading to the garden. She places it down on a table outside and her eyes immediately search for Wanda. It’s an irresistible sight, her beloved’s face beaming and surrounded by greenery. She even thinks she sees her talking to the plants.

She smiles to herself while appreciating the view until Wanda realizes she’s arrived. She gets waved over, “Tasha!” The excitement in the witch’s voice is barely contained as Natasha walks towards her. 

She wraps an arm around Wanda, bringing her closer and kissing her forehead, “Hi, kotenok. I brought over some snacks and water if you wanted them. What is it you wanted me to see?”

Wanda pulls off her gardening gloves, places them in her pocket, and brushes her hands over her pants. She mumbles a quick thank you before taking Natasha’s hand in one of her own and using the other to cover her eyes.

“Close your eyes. I want this to be a surprise.” 

Natasha plays along, using her free hand to help cover her eyes. “Okay. Just make sure I don’t trip, yeah?”

Wanda giggles as she leads Natasha by the hand, “Don’t worry, detka, I got you.” 

They walk slowly, up a few steps, and stop. Wanda takes a deep breath, “Okay, now.”

When their hands uncover Natasha’s eyes, she is met with vibrant blooms of various colors against a green background of bushes. It’s a masterful arrangement of asters, marigolds, hydrangeas, wildflowers, and many more. She gasps, breath taken away by the gorgeous sight. 

“You did all this by yourself?” 

The Sokovian nods sheepishly, “Yeah. I read somewhere that getting them all to bloom like this would be challenging, but I think I did decently.”

Natasha squeezes her hand, “It’s more than decent. It looks stunning, Wands. You did an amazing job.”

Wanda’s arm wraps around Natasha’s waist, her head rests on her shoulder. A satisfied sigh leaves her lips. They remain silent, basking in each other’s presence and the garden view.

“If you’re like this with plants, I can only imagine how well you’d be with kids,” Natasha muses. 

Wanda lifts her head and looks at Natasha, her shoulders raised slightly, “What if, at some point, you won’t have to imagine?”

Small smiles grow on both of their faces. They share a knowing look before assuming their previous positions. “Someday, lyubov, someday.”

Natasha used to feel the need to keep busy, keep moving because she thought anything too constant would be taken away from her again. Though she never admitted it to anyone, not even herself, the thought of settling down and starting a family of her own was terrifying.

But not anymore. Everything felt so much easier with Wanda. It now truly felt like anything was possible. The lack of fear forced onto her when she was younger came from a dark place of abuse and indifference. Now, it comes naturally. It comes from love.

[absolutelyflabbergasted]

hello!

my name is Ariadne, it is nice to meet you! my pronouns are they/it, and I use all gendered terms

linguistics and anthropology are my favorite things ever, so if you want to tell me about language, culture or history, do so!

I love asks, talk to me, ask questions, give opinions, whatever!

I don’t really get context clues so apologies if I mess up! bigots of every breed go away, I will block you

my personal tags are #ari says some stuff for me being silly and talking, #ari likes things for stuff I love, #ari is confused for when I am confused and have questions and #ari draws some stuff for when I post my drawings! If you have any poetry requests, art requests or prose requests, I do them for free! I love creating but inspiration is hard to come by for me

if you use my art in anything, please credit me!

I love mutuals so much, lmk if you want to be taken of this list or added, I forget a lot lol

@ang3lic-t3ars @whydousernamesevenexist @garden-of-runar @prongsbitch @aesthetic-writer18 and some other people I’m sure! artists I heavily recommend and/or my favorite albums by them

MARINA, I love her so so much, very dramatic pop

Les failles by Pomme, my French is minimal by their music is so beautiful, like poetry

the record, and the rest by boygenius, AHHHHHHHH nuff said

Me by Brooke Alexx, sounds like bubbles

Tir by Cerys Matthews, a lot of Welsh folk songs and lullabies

Anything Conan Grey has ever made, istg

The Fool In Her Wedding Gown and Coyote Stories by the Crane Wives, and everything else really, but those are my favorites

Malfunction by Dead Posey, very brain scratchy rock

HOLY FVCK by Demi Lovato, I like it very much and FREAK is so good

WELCOME TO THE HOTEL CALIFORNIA

Love me not and Scatterbrain by Emei, sounds like a mental breakdown but fun!

Gayle, especially their singles

Black Soul Ceremony and Fool and the Thief by THE HARA

I Love It and Light Me Up by Icona Pop! I love it so much such a jam

Human Again by Ingrid Michaelson, genuinely one of the most heart wrenching thing I’ve ever listened to

Applause by Lady Gaga

born to die (the album) by Lana Del Ray

EVERYTHING LAUREN ALAINA HAS MADE IN HER GORGEOUS EXISTANCE also good if you want none problematic country music I saw her at the Grand Ole Oprey and I think I died

Maddie Zahm is so Marlene to my if I have to write her POV I turn on one of hers

Unbroken and Scar by Missy Higgins, her voice is so iconic

Je te laisserai des mots by Patrick Watson (my American ass keyboard hates me for that)

All of the Queen classics, they are so good

How to be me by Ren, the harmony is sooo gorgeous here

Weight of the World by Shayfer James

stupid and happy face by Tate McRae

All I Can Never Be by Trash Boat

Runnin with the Devil by Van Halen

XXI Century Blood by The Warning, I LOVE THIS ALBUM MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF I SING IT EVERYDAY

Eden by Willowbrook, so pretty!!

Neotheater and OK Orchestra by AJR

ABBA

ROCKISDEAD by Dorothy, country folk rock sorta thing, I love her so much

Paris Paloma, specifically Its Called Freefall and drywall, they are engraved on my heart

Harbinger by Kiki Rockwell

DEAR READER by PEGGY

Little Girl Gone by Chinchilla

CHAPELL ROAN MY LORD AND SAVIOR

The Mean Girls soundtrack

Hazel Eyes by Sabrina Jordan

Florence + the Machine

Yaelokre <3

GUTS by Olivia Rodrigo, I scream her songs like i have an ex to scream at ( i don’t)

Come Away and Irish Eyes by Rose Betts

Rich Man by Emhahee, it’s just a demo but I love it so much

Rät and Lotta True Crime by Penelope Scott

and finally, the Ride the Cyclone soundtrack

Yall better take my recommendations this took almost an hour to type out

anyways, I have no consistency and I like it like that :)

[siouxiedadegenerate]

Heddo! My name is [REDACTED] but you can call me Siouxie.

Bi AroAce – Single – Mixed – Native American – Agender – MultiFandom – Artist – 3D Modeler

I’m also either watching YouTube (my personal tv channel uWu) or listening to music 24/7.

I’m currently 26 yrs old. My birthday is July 29th.

I tend to spend too much damn time on the internet and my phone.

I enjoy watching YouTube or roleplaying with friends.

I draw and write, even though I’m not good at it . . .

A B O U T M E

Hey! My name is [REDACTED] but you may call me Nyx or Xander.

I’m antisocial, so when it comes to making friends, I’m not that good at . . . But if you want to be friends that would be nice . . . 👉👈

I go by She/They. I’m a Cis Female but questioning. I’m AroAce and Bisexual Questioning. I’M AN ADULT, so what I do is 18+.

I’m also a single pringle but that doesn’t mean I want to be flirted with . . . So please, don’t hit on me unless you are a friend of mine and I KNOW you are joking.

I’m agnostic so please don’t bring your Jesus crap here, I have enough of it in my Real Life =_= . . .

I’m laid back and silently most of the time until I get to know you more and more, then I won’t shut the fuck up. XD You’ll easily get tired of me cause I always desire attention whenever I’m bored. I have undiagnosed ADHD. I’m diagnosed with Manic Bipolar Depression, Manic Depression, Anxiety, Schizophrenia, and Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). I use Caps to show I’m either excited or yelling about something but I’m mostly not yelling at you.

I draw from time to time but most of the time I just hate my artwork >:| Damn these hands . . . But I also like to write whatever I’m hyper fixated on. *cough* SUPERNATURAL *cough*

F A C T S A B O U T M E

I’m the youngest of my family.

I’m Native American.

I’m Mixed.

I’m learning Japanese.

I’m a huge nerd for internet memes.

I’m from the United States

F A V E S

Fandoms I’m In: Supernatural, Good Omens, Boyfriend to Death, Anime, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Steven Universe, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Pizza Tower, Five Nights at Freddy’s

YouTubers: Game Grumps, The Boys, InternetCity

Ships: AziraCrow, Destiel

Music: Falling in Reverse, Set It Off, Ado, Anna Blue, Ice Nine Kills, Fall Out Boy, Vocaloid, J-Pop, Punk Rock, Pop

My Favorite Characters: Sam Winchester (Supernatural), Crowley (Good Omens), Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel), Adam (Hazbin Hotel Again), Rire (Boyfriend to Death)

Others: Chocolate, RolePlaying, Gothic Stuff, Emo Stuff, Edgy Shit, Drawing, Writing Crappy Fanfiction, Scenemo/Scenecore, Burgers, Watching YouTube

My favorite colors are lavender, blood red, and midnight black (yes, I like to describe my colors cause I’m a unique snowflake uWu )

My favorite movies is Coraline. Nothing else. My favorite show is Steven Universe and Hazbin Hotel (despite not having Amazon Prime. I watch clips and songs on YouTube uWu) My favorite song is Sick by The Boys, hands down. My favorite game has to be either Saints Row or Portal 2.

B E L O W T H E C U T (WORK IN PROGRESS)

What I Post

My Fics

Warning

Masterlist

Where You Can Find Me/ Social Medias My Links | Twitter | Instagram | BlueSky | YouTube

W A R N I N G

I post whatever I want including adult content. If you want to see my works, make sure you are prepared.

All my works that are ADULT will only be tagged as ‘Special Art’.

K I N K S

Noncon, Dubcon, Marking, Grinding/Thigh Riding Praise

Enjoy your stay and thank you for reading all the way to the end. You get a piece of chocolate!

M Y T A G S

Reblog – Like It SaysWhat the Shit – Shit Posts Naughty Naughty - Adult Works/Media

Thank you for reading this all until the end. UwUReblogs and Likes are Always Welcomed and Appreciated! Do NOT repost my work anywhere without my permission!

[usaigi]

Jake vs Steven

Lunar sys au character cards | Read all chapters on ao3

CW: Panic attacks, implied past self-harm

Birdy doesn’t remember their room, if she didn’t know better, it could have been any stranger's room. Impersonal, generic, foreign. Whenever she pictured their childhood bedroom, she imagined something like Steven’s old flat, filled with books and trinkets and personality. With band or sports or hot lady posters or whatever it is that teenage dudes like instead of a nearly blank blue wall. 

There was an old desktop on the corner that she doubts will even turn on. A high school diploma hanging above, Birdy has to assume that her dad was the one to hang it up. An old calendar still displaying May 2004. Scribbles reminders of appointments, work shifts, and finals. Birdy traces her hand over “graduation” written in big letters on May 15th. But other than that there wasn’t much. 

‘Your room is lame. Did you have like any hobbies growing up?’ Birdy asks Marc.

‘I hide everything under my bed or in the closet,’ Marc replies.

‘Why?’ Birdy asks, looking through the stuff in his closet. A binder pull of baseball cards. Another one with pokemon. Some books on Maya mythology, some about Aztec, but mostly books about Egypt.  

‘Used to be really into NASA and space and all that. She used it to belittle me for it. Can’t do that if she doesn’t know what I like.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry,’ she mumbles. 

‘It’s ok. I’m glad you can have your hobbies now.’ Marc says as Birdy pulls out the box of CDs under his bed. Flipping through the collection. A majority of them are burned mixes tapes, song titles and doodles are written on them with sharpies. Lots of Green Day, Nirvana, Fall Out Boy. Mostly American rock and punk pop bands with the occasional appearance of some old British pop song or a Spanish rock classic. One of the only authentic CDs in the collection was Selena’s Amor Prohibido.

‘At least you had a good sense of music.’

‘Dad used to hate it,’ she smiles, imagining a younger Marc blasting his music while her dad sits there with a stoic face, pretending to be interested. 

‘Yeah. But he still knew what bands we liked and bought us some CDs when we were in the hospital, do you remember that?’ Marc shrugs sheepishly. 

He stays silent for a minute before saying, ‘I used to stay up all night listening to all that crap on the highest volume so that I could dissociate in peace.’ 

‘Maybe we’re not so different…’ she says, pulling out another box, an old unassuming shoe box. She pops it open and finds some magazines, a pipe and a raz– oh no. oh no. marc please don’t, stop stop stop. 

that hurts, please. 

i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to hurt you, i’m sorry

‘Hey, hey, hey we’re ok. It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re not hurt, we’re okay,’ Jake repeats, wiping the tears from their face, sliding his hand up and down their other arm to soothe them. ‘We’re safe, don’t worry, it’s just a memory.’ 

“Hey, Dad? We want to try to see the pictures with Randall, is that alright?” Steven asks as they finish kneading the dough for the challah bread, wrapping the plastic around it. 

“You do..? Of course, but are you sure?” Dad says, looking surprised at his request. 

“Kid wants to.”

“Ok.” Dad returns to the table with the other photo album, the one Marc refused to even touch last night, and sits next to them, letting them take the lead. 

‘Do you want to front? I’ll stay here with you,’ Steven gently offers. 

‘Ok…’ Kid says, taking control of the uncomfortably big body with its long limbs and big hands. He takes the album papí hands him, slowly flipping through all the pictures of him and his little brother. The first one is him holding a picture of Roro while he was still in mamí’s tummy. Another one of him meeting Roro for the first time. Other pictures of them wearing matching outfits, both of them with big smiles. 

Kid really missed being an older brother, especially now he had so many older siblings. 

It’s nice! He loves his big sister and brothers. But it’s not the same. Looking down at the pictures of Roro, he really misses having someone to protect, he misses being the smart one, the brave one.    

“Randall was really cute…” Kid whispers. He should be here, he should be looking at these pictures with him, there should be more pictures. 

“You wer– are cute too, Kid,” papí tells him, patting his back.

“Gracias, papí,” Kid smiles. 

‘Kid, if you need a break I’m here,’ Steven reminds him but he’s ok. So he shakes his head and flips to the next page. 

Near the end of the collection is a picture of a birthday party. His birthday. One with cake and hats and a bounce house. He’s blowing out his eight candles and Roro is right there beside him. Roro’s cheering for him in celebration, anxious to catch up to him. But he never will, will he?

Because he let him drown. And that’s why you don’t have anyone to protect. What’s a dead boy going to protect? Mamí asked you to protect him and what did you do? 

I can’t breathe! Someone, please help –

‘Kid, it’s okay. Come here, come here, buddy. Take my hand. It wasn’t your fault. You’ll alright, you’ll alright,’ he hears, feeling his blanket wrapped around him. Steven hugs him tight, running his hands through his hair to soothe him. 

He misses Roro. 

[malfoysstilinski]

girl in the mirror | DRACO MALFOY

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1k 

SUMMARY: in which draco and y/n are soulmates and can hear each others’ music, and you’ve been blasting sad songs all week, worrying draco. 

WARNINGS: one mean joke about americans sozzles 

A/N: based on the tiktoks where soulmates can hear each others’ music. i dont think ive seen an imagine like that on here so i thought i’d write one :)) also set in 2010s 

In the Wizarding world, on your thirteenth birthday, you are officially bound to your soulmate. This means different things for different wizards and witches, depending on what they valued. For example, when Blaise Zabini turned thirteen, he was able to see his soulmate in mirrors-- fitting considering how self-obsessed he was. 

Draco, however, heard music. You must be obsessed with it, he realised. He found out he was right pretty quickly, waking up to the sound of your playlists muffled in his ears and falling asleep to them too. 

It was always Muggle music too. You must be a half-blood, or even… Merlin forbid, a Muggle-born. Realising that his soulmate wasn’t going to be a pure-blood like his parents had planned, Draco kept the news to himself and worked on his vocabulary. He tried his best to bite his tongue around Granger, ignoring his friends when they made fun of their ‘dirty’ blood.

He didn’t want to hurt you when he got to meet you. 

It took Draco longer than it should have to realise you definitely didn’t go to Hogwarts. How could you when he’d be sat in assemblies, the room so silent you could hear a pin drop, and all he’d hear is the thumping of your music in his ears as if he was underwater?

“She’s probably an American,” Pansy pretends to gag, the others laughing with her. 

“Could be a Beauxbaton,” Blaise suggests. 

Draco doesn’t like to make assumptions, but he thinks you are definitely a Muggle. It’s rare, but not unheard of in the Wizarding world, especially nowadays. For the Malfoys, though, it would be an outrage. 

You play your music the most when he’s eating dinner in the Great Hall or when he’s getting ready for bed. 

At first, he hated it. He hated your music, he hated how his head was rarely ever quiet, and he hated that he didn’t know who you were in order to beg you to take your headphones out for once. 

However, Draco learnt to love your music. Songs and bands he’d never heard of before quickly became his favourites and eventually, he found himself humming your Muggle tunes in the common room or quietly singing along in his dorm when the other boys were out doing whatever. 

He learned to love having your music in his head, especially as the years rolled on and his life became harder and harder. It made him feel like he was never alone, your muffled melodies making a home in his head and pushing out all of his anxiety and depression. 

Draco wanted to dance with you to them. He liked to lay in bed at night and listen to your songs and imagine that you’re lying next to him. He bets you have a nice singing voice. Maybe you can even play an instrument or two. Maybe you could teach him how to play the guitar, and maybe he could show you how to play his favourite pieces on the piano. 

Your music is never too upbeat, but today Draco feels like he hasn’t heard a single song that wasn’t about being sad. As he trudged from class to class, Draco couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong with you. It had been going on for the past few days, and the music stopped altogether on one of the days. 

He went to bed with an empty head for the first time in a few years, staring at his ceiling. He plugged his iPod in and went to the Muggle section, playing a few of your favourite songs. It wasn’t the same. 

“What’s up with you?” Blaise demands as Draco doesn’t touch his meal for the second time that day. 

Draco glances to his friend and looks away, shaking his head. “Mind your own business, Zabini,” he mutters weakly. 

Blaise’s soulmate, a Slytherin in the year below, joins them at sitting on the table and Blaise immediately forgets all about Draco, the two of them giggling as they hug each other. Draco thought he could throw up right there and then, shaking his head in disgust. 

Green was Draco’s colour and Merlin was he jealous. 

Why did you have to be a stupid Muggle?

Draco immediately feels bad for even thinking it. He wants to hug you and kiss the top of your head and mutter apology after apology. The soft feeling makes him feel weak. You did things to him that nobody else did, and he doesn’t even know who you were. The fact that you were most likely going through a rough time right now made it ten times worse. 

“What’s wrong with Draco?” He hears Zabini’s girl whisper. 

“Why don’t you ask me yourself?” Draco snaps, lip curling in disgust. “Instead of talking behind my back like a coward!”

“Draco,” Blaise growls. “I don’t know what’s up with you, mate, but you need to calm down.”

“It’s your soulmate, isn’t it?” Pansy quirks an eyebrow from opposite them. “Are they playing that rubbish song you hate on repeat again?”

“No,” Draco hisses in defence of you. “I like that song, thank you.”

Pansy holds her hands up. “Okay, whatever. Sorry, Malfoy. What has got your knickers in a twist, then?”

He hesitates. He doesn’t like talking about you to anybody else but he’s really worried and he thinks maybe one of them might be able to help. 

“She’s…” Draco’s eyes drift to burn holes in the table in front of him. “She’s been listening to sad songs.”

Goyle snorts, making Draco’s head snap to him in fury. 

“Sorry, Malfoy, sorry… But that does sound ridiculous, mate,” Goyle admits. “She’s probably just into that… genre?”

“No, you don’t understand,” Draco huffs and shakes his head. “You don’t know her like I do. Something’s wrong with her, I can tell.”

“Well, why don’t you visit her?” Blaise asks, grabbing a grape and popping into his mouth. 

“What?” Draco spits. “Is that a joke, Zabini? I don’t find it funny--”

“I’m not joking,” Blaise frowns. “Merlin’s sake, Malfoy. Do you not pay attention in Charms?”

“Of course I do,” Draco hesitates, lying. “But what are you talking about, anyway?”

…

Draco feels ridiculous as he stands in front of the mirror in the bathrooms later that night. It’s silent since it’s the middle of the night, but Draco knows you’re awake because of the glum music playing faintly in his ears. 

He wants to visit you like Blaise told him to do, and as he stands in front of the mirror and casts his incantations, he can’t help but wonder if this is a setup. He doesn’t give his hopes up, doesn’t hold his breath that when he opens his eyes you’ll be on the other side of the mirror. 

But he wants you to be. He wants you to be there so badly. 

Draco does sort of believe it so he put on his black turtleneck and black suit and combed his hair like usual, replacing the uniform and robes he’d been wearing all day. He doesn’t want you to see him and be disappointed. 

He knows he won’t be disappointed no matter what you look like or what you are. 

Draco takes a deep breath as he lowers his wand and closes his eyes. When he counts down and opens his eyes, he’s stunned into silence by the sight in front of him. His heart skips a beat and he nearly chokes on his own spit. 

Staring back at him in the mirror is not his own pale reflection but what looks like a bedroom. The mirror glows orange from the lighting and he can see that it’s decorated with posters and records and other Muggle things. Draco doesn’t even process that you’re a confirmed Muggle at this point, he doesn’t care enough about that. 

On a single bed in the middle of the room, sat up in the very centre with headphones in and a laptop in front of her, is a girl his age. She’s got beautiful y/s/c skin and y/c/h locks that have been thrown up into a messy bun, her y/c/e trained on the screen in front of her as she watches what he assumes is a film or a tv show. 

She’s wearing a school uniform, not quite as posh as Hogwarts’, and it’s slightly crumpled from sitting in her bed with it on. Her polished black shoes are nowhere to be seen, rips in the bottom of her tights no doubt from wearing them thin five days a week. 

Draco can’t believe he’s looking at you right now. He reaches his hand out, eyes widening when his fingers seem to slip past the glass and he’s sucked into another world-- your world. He wasn’t expecting it to happen, a small yelp leaving his lips as he tumbles straight out of the mirror hanging on your wall and onto your carpet. 

You both scream as you make eye contact and you’ve thrown your laptop about in a panic. There’s no music in his ears now that he stands in front of you. Draco breathes heavily, unsure what to say. 

���Um, hello?” He offers. 

“What the hell?” You yell. “What are you doing in my bedroom? Who are you? My laptop!”

You ignore him as you dive off of the bed and pick it up. The screen is smashed making you glare at him harder. 

“I’m sorry!” Draco practically squeaks. “I- I have Galleons--”

“Who are you?” You cut him off roughly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Draco keeps repeating, hoping you will calm down. “I-I’m Draco Malfoy.”

“Draco Malfoy?” You repeat with a mocking laugh. “Is that a joke?”

“No,” he replies, voice pitched higher than usual with offence. “What’s your name?”

Normally you wouldn’t tell a stranger your name, but this situation is anything but normal. You stare at the boy for a few seconds, wondering why he feels familiar. There’s something about him that has you relaxing under his gaze, which is weird because he literally just appeared out of nowhere. 

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you reply sceptically. 

Draco smiles, “beautiful name.”

“Are you like a nonce or something?”

“Nonce?” Draco crinkles his nose in confusion. 

You narrow your brows at him. “You’re literally British-- how do you not know what that means?”

“I’m not… I don’t really come from your kind of England,” Draco doesn’t know how to explain there is an entire world she’s been hidden from-- this is the first Muggle he’s ever had a conversation with. 

“Are you Welsh?” 

“Do I sound Welsh to you?” Draco cocks his head to the side, already amused. 

“Sometimes I can’t tell the difference, not gonna lie,” you reply. “But no. I’m sure you’re English. You sound like you’re a private school kid or something.”

“I guess I am,” Draco replies quietly, looking around your bedroom and taking in all of the colours that it has. 

You seem to snap out of whatever daze you were in. “Hey! You distracted me. Now tell me what the hell you’re doing in my bedroom before I call the police.”

Draco’s tongue darts out to wet his lips as he contemplates his next words. He hesitates and sits down on your bed next to you. You can smell his cologne-- it smells much more expensive than the Lynx sprays the boys at college seem to be obsessed with. 

“Do you ever hear music in your ears?” He asks, watching your eyes widen in conformation. “You do. That’s… that’s me. My music. I hear your music too. You listen to it all the time. Um… normally a lot of bands and stuff.”

There’s a long silence. “Do you have me on Spotify?”

“What’s Spotify?” Draco’s nose crinkles. 

“You probably just see what I listen to on Spotify!” You claim, standing up as you become weary of the boy on your bed. 

Draco still doesn’t quite understand your Muggle terminology, but he gets the gist of what you’re trying to imply. 

“That doesn’t explain the music you hear in your head from me,” Draco tries. “Or how I just came out of your mirror.”

You look overwhelmed. “What are you?” You whisper. 

“We, Y/N, are soulmates.”

...

yuh

PART TWO HERE

[stripper-patrick]

Heaven 🇫🇷Florian Munteanu

|part 1: Get You| |part 2: Heaven| |part 3: Hell|

Warnings: language, smut, nsfw

Song- Streets: Doja Cat

Tags: @rebellious-desires @mrsbanreswillseeyou @eclecticblkgirl @designerwriterchic @bvssmob

Relationship: Florian Munteanu x black plus sized reader

My alarm goes off and I happily get up getting ready for our trip to Paris. I go to the bathroom wetting my face with warm water seeing as cold water just makes me mad. I exfoliate my face and lips before moving on to brush my teeth and swish some mouthwash.

I hop in the shower scrubbing, shaving, and exfoliating my body with my warm vanilla sugar scented soap from bath and body works. I rinse off the soap and step out applying coconut oil to my damp body then applying the matching warm vanilla sugar lotion to lock in the moisture. I’m black we gotta stay hydrated and mind out business.

I put on some deodorant and face moisturizer grabbing a black bra and some burgundy rhinestone Brazilian panties. I grab the outfit laid on my nearby chair and my Nike air 270’s. I sit at my vanity doing a light makeup look and adding some Vaseline for that shine affect on my lips. I decide to tie up my long braids in a cute little bun and I see my phone buzz. I swipe right and answer Florian’s call “good morning” I smile

“Good morning” my breath physically catches in my throat at his deep raspy morning voice. “Are you ready?”

“Yes I am”

“Oh and be sure to have something nice we’re going to brunch with my family”

“Oh ok” I nod. I did pack some fancy outfits because it’s Paris who wouldn’t but I know China hasn’t met his family yet. “So do you fight tonight?”

“No tomorrow. And we’ll be staying with my parents at their house”

“We’re not staying in a hotel?”

“No” he chuckles

“Ok then”

....

I park my car on a vacant lot seeing a singular airplane and Florian sitting on the steps. I get out and my jaw is dropped to the core of the earth.

“Hey baby girl” he jogs over hugging me and I’m too in shock to even acknowledge the nickname. I pop the trunk and grab my suitcase before he takes it from me “I could’ve got it”

“For what I’m here. You look good”

“Thank you” I smile “so you own this plane?”

“Kinda me and my brother went half on it. You’ll get to meet him later” he winks. Flo takes my luggage to the flight attendants and holds my hand leading me into the spacious red leather interior of the plane.

“This is dope Flo” I say

“Thank you” we sit across from each other and the flight attendant brings us champagne in a glass.

I take a sip and I can taste how expensive it is.

“So how long will this flight be?”

“About 12 hours” I sigh as we take off.

“Well how do we pass time?” He cocks up his eyebrow Suggestively and I smile.

...

“Ok how old were you when you lost your virginity?” I ask looking over. We’ve now moved next to each other giggling from the champagne.

“15” he answers. We’re playing a game of truth or strip. It’s simple. If you don’t wanna answer your truth you have to strip. Better than truth or dare. He has taken off his socks, shirt and watch and I took off my biker shorts and socks.

“Oh” I nod “if you had to choose between me and Brad Pitt to have sex with who would it be”

“Can I choose both?” I laugh

“Nope”

“Ok I would choose you” I laugh “I don’t know Brad like that or how good he is”

“How do you know I’m good in bed?” he leans getting closer.

“Aside from the details China tells me I can tell you know how to use what you got”

“What do you mean?” He smiles.

“You know what I mean” I laugh. Deep down I want him to prove me right but that would be completely outta line.

“I need an example” all of a sudden I’m shy but not to shy to bite my tongue.

“Like your tongue you look like you know how to use it in the best way” He doesn’t say anything he just stares at me. I feel myself leaning in. He’s leaning too. Our lips attach and it was like a flame was set off in my body. I’m frozen but my lips are still moving in sync with his.

Flo’s large hand caresses thigh then bring them in my underwear rubbing slowly at my clit. I moan in his mouth and he speeds up. Out of instinct I try to close my thighs arching my back but he keeps a good grip. He slips a finger in and starts kissing my neck. I moan out but the flash of my best friends face crosses my mind and I place my hands on his shoulders and stop all movements.

“You’re with China” I say breathing heavily. He nods looking down and my clit is throbbing and so badly I want so much more but I know I’d feel the worse whether China found out or not.

“You’re right I’m sorry” he nods taking his hand out of my underwear. His fingertip is wet with my juices and I let out a puff of air holding my head in my hands. I grab my pants and we redress ourselves before sitting back down. I sigh closing my eyes getting comfortable. All I can think about is his head between my legs and him being dominant and absolutely man-handling me. I open my eyes again looking out the window at the dark night sky.

‘Something takes over me and I straddle Flo and grab his arms wrapping them around me. I grab his face kissing him and he grinds me against his hard on. He’s quick to pull off my underwear and shimmy down his pants just a little bit. The tip inserts through my walls and I-‘

“Y/N you should probably get some rest” I snap out of my thoughts and he’s just staring at me.

“Yea you’re right” he stands to grabbing two blankets from the closet. He hands me one and I give off a small smile and a thank you. I pull the heavy soft blanket over my body up to my chin before taking a deep breath that transitions me into a deep sleep.

...

I wake up just at sunrise to see Florian asleep. He looks peaceful when he’s asleep. I look out the window watching the beautiful sky. It’s painted a mix of pink purple and yellow in the cleanest way.

I smile and stand up stretching my legs and back. There’s a big window at the back of the plane and I walk back there folding my arms just looking.

I feel arms around my waist and Florian’s hand slides up my neck to my jaw bringing my lips to his. I can’t help but kiss back now. This is so wrong but it feels so right.

I turn my body taking in his embrace and his hands go down to my butt giving it a light squeeze. He stops kissing me and walks away back to his seat. I watch his eyes close and I go sitting next to him. I lay my head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around me and I lay on his chest drifting to sleep once again.

...

We are just getting off the plane in the warm climate of France. Considering it’s spring there’s a slight chill in the air making me put on a light jacket. Flo grabs our bags taking it to the car and the driver gets out. He looks like Flo honestly. Not as tall but still over 6 feet, green hazel eyes, pretty smile. The have a resemblance towards each other. Florian gives him a big hug with a laugh “how’ve you been?” The guy asks

“I’ve been good. This is Y/N. Y/N this is my brother Daniel” he opens his arms and I give him a big hug.

“Nice to meet you” he smiles

“Nice to meet you too”

“How’s China” he glances at me smiling

“She’s great” he nods

“Good well let’s not waste any time let’s go” he nods. I get in the backseat and I see a woman in the front. “Hi I’m Amelia” she introduces. Perfect skin, long legs, gorgeous blonde hair. She’s a model.

“Hi I’m Y/N” she smiles sweetly and turns around. Florian sits next to me and his brother gets in the driver seat as we pull off in the beautiful city of Paris. Or as I like to call it, Heaven.

As we go through I’m glued to the window tapping Flo’s thigh every time I see something cool like mimes, flowers, and even puppies. I notice Flo’s hand on my thigh and I want to move it so badly for the sake of just feeling bad but I can’t. This feels so good.

We arrive at the house shortly after and it’s huge to say the least. I get out and Daniel opens the trunk. I go to grab my bag and Florian smacks my hand. My jaw drops with a laugh emitting from both of us while Daniel and his wife walk by.

“I’ll get it” he says. He picks up my suitcase and his as well rolling both of them into the house. I’m still enjoying the exterior. An older gentleman comes out looking at me. I walk up to him and a huge smile spreads across his face. “Are you English?” His thick accent much like Flo’s emits through his perfect teeth.

“Close. American. I’m Y/N, Florian’s friend”

“No girlfriend?” His thick accent doesn’t stop the curiosity but still love coming from him.

“No she’s at home” I smile. He extends his arms pulling me in for a hug. He smells like teakwood and a little bit of backwoods.

“We have dinner tonight. You like goat?”

“Never tried it” I laugh. He wraps his arm around my shoulder walking me into his house “your house is beautiful”

“Thank you. Me and my wife built it when Daniel was born” he explains “from the ground up and this is one house I will never get rid of”

“I’m just in love with it” an older woman appears with broad shoulders and a disgusted look on her face staring right into my soul.

“Who this?” She asks pointing to me. I hate when people wave their fingers in my face it makes me wanna fight. But for her sake I’ll chalk it up to a culture difference.

“Diana this is Y/N Florian’s friend” his father speaks “oh my apologies my name is Emilio”

“You think you’re good enough for my son?”

“Excuse me?”

“Ma stop” Florian scolds “what the hell is wrong with you”

“I apologize she can be a handful sometimes. Which is why we’re separated” Emilio says to me. I can’t help but giggle and he shows me around more with Flo behind us.

...

I get out the steamy shower and a knock comes at my door. I open it slightly seeing its Florian dressed in a Nike tracksuit. I’m only in a towel and I smile at him. “Hey you look good” I step aside allowing him in and he shuts the door sitting on the bed.

“Thanks” he answers “you look better. I think my mom will love that” he laughs

“Funny” I smile sarcastically laughing to myself

“Y/N I’m sorry but I just can’t help myself when I’m around you. Every time even when all of us like me you and China are together I want to make you mine and I know that’s your best friend-“ I cut him off with a kiss. That’s that wrenching feeling inside of me knowing I’m going to hurt my best friend is strong. But my feelings for him are stronger. What we have built is too strong for me to just walk away.

“Let’s just have fun this weekend and we’ll see where to go from there” I reassure him. Florian slides his hand up my thigh dangerously close to my bare pussy. Before he moves any higher I push his hand away “I have to get ready”

“Alright alright” he stands up “just meet me downstairs” he kisses my head and I shut the door behind him. I sigh shaking my head ridding myself of the thought that betrays myself and my best friend the most. I go in my suitcase grabbing the short casual t-shirt dress I brought. It accentuates my curves but still is simple.

I grab some sandals sliding those on and snapping the strap to my ankle. I take one last look in the mirror before opening the door to his mother standing right in front of me. “Hi?” I respond in more of a question like tone

“Are you going to Florians fight in 2 days?” She asks

“I am” she rolls her eyes muttering something under her breath. “What was that?” I call out daring her to say it again. People, especially older people, need to realize respect isn’t given it’s earned and if you put me in a position where I have every right to disrespect you, then that’s that.

“Take your ass back on the plane and go home. My son doesn’t need you” Just then I hear Florian yell and he comes up the stairs.

“Let’s go Y/N” he grabs my hand but I yank it away too heated in the moment to understand he means good.

“Nah she wanna sit here and keep disrespecting me. I’ve had enough. Me and him aren’t-“ Florian picks me up taking me downstairs where he sets me down on my feet. His hands are still clad at my waist as I fume.

“I’m tired of her talking to me like she’s lost her gotdamn mind”

“Just don’t let her get to you. I’ll talk to her later tonight. Please” he begs. I sigh and he pulls me in for a tight hug. I take a deep breath of his cologne gathering my thoughts. I let go and walk in front of him to the kitchen earning a swat to my behind. I shake my head and we approach the table full of others. They all stare at me including his mother sitting at the end. I sit down and Flo sits next to me. The maids bring out an appetizer and it’s an orange soup. I grab my spoon taking a sip and it’s delicious.

“This is called a zuppa toscana” Emilio says “something my mother used to make me and my brothers all the time” he smiles. The family engulfs themselves in chatty conversations and I continue sipping on my soup. Flashbacks of the plane and Florian rubbing my pussy keep hitting me creating a waterfall in my panties. I can already feel their soaked through. I stretch my hand on his thigh lightly resting it there. Florian glances at me before going back to his food. I move my hand on top of his crotch rubbing lightly making a firm grip. I feel his thigh twitch and his hazel turn into a dark brown. I keep rubbing him through his pants feeling him harden. I keep rubbing until the chef comes out of the kitchen.

“The food is taking some time but it will be out shortly” the chef announces smiling.

“Perfect Y/N come with me” Florian grabs my hand dragging me with him throughout the house.

He opens the big glass door and lets me out first. I look around seeing we’ve entered a beautiful garden. “This is gorgeous” he shuts the door and grabs my hand not saying a word. Florian leads me through it to a bench in front of some flowers. I bite my lip and he wraps his hand around my throat sealing any space between us with a kiss. His hands move to my butt giving it a nice squeeze. I gasp feeling his tongue slip in my mouth. I feel dizzy and hot. I’m not sure who’s air I’m breathing anymore. He lets go and I suck in a breath of air as Florian sits on the bench. He pulls my dress off tearing off the thin fabric of my lace thong. He sits me on his lap and I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders. I grind along his hard-on as he grips the back of my neck holding me in a powerful kiss. I lift my dress up pulling my underwear to the side while he unbuckles his pants. Florian lets out a big girthy dick and I watch as it pulsates and leaked with precum.

I grab ahold of it and glide myself onto him feeling his dick expand my walls gracefully. Once I’m fully on him Florian grabs my hips digging into them guiding me to ride him. This increases my pleasure somehow.

“I’ve waited for this for so long” he moans bucking my hips faster. I bounce my ass and my acrylics glide through his short hair. My breath is caught in my throat by how fast I’m going and how big he is. My hands move to his chest and I let out that first succulent moan. Florian rolls my hips faster attaching his lips to my neck heightening my pleasure. I claw at his chest hearing his deep voice rumble in my neck “I’ve wanted this tight pussy around my cock and in my mouth since I first met you”

My moans get louder hearing his vulgarity and my legs begin shaking from the pressure building in my center. Florian holds me down with one arm and his other hand snakes up to my mouth silencing my moans. Somehow this makes this rendezvous 10x hotter. He starts pounding me out from below and the only thing you can hear is skin slapping on skin and his low grunts and moans.

“Are you gonna cum on me?” I nod furiously trying to push away from his death grip. The pounding becoming too much “uh uh take this dick”

I have no choice but to sit there and take it. My entire body tensed and I begin my convulsions while gripping on the bottom of his shirt. He takes his hand off my mouth and I instantly move to his neck where loud moans are muffled in his shirt. “Fuck I’m gonna cum” I hop off to the best of my ability and get on my knees. I grab the base of his dick jerking it hard while sucking on the tip. Before I know it warm, bitterness is brought into my mouth while he grips the edge of the bench moaning. He’s gripping so hard that his knuckles are turning white.

“That’s my girl” I milk him dry and keep sucking until he’s begging me to stop. I come off his member with a pop and smile at him. Florian grabs my throat giving me a wet sloppy nasty kiss.

“You’re so nasty” he smiles “I love it”

I pull my dress down and discard my underwear in my bra. Florian fixes himself and I see the door open. It’s the chef.

“The food is ready. I was told you might be out here since it’s your favorite spot”

“Yes thank you. Just showing her the flowers” he extends his hand and I walk in front of him. The chef leaves the door open walking away and I giggle to myself thinking of what we just did. I’m gonna beat myself up later about it.

[cherriesradio]

Class 1-A relationship headcanons

Part 2 - https://cherry-cake-pies.tumblr.com/post/640893672076001280/class-1-a-relationship-headcanons

Part 1 - https://cherry-cake-pies.tumblr.com/post/640877154337538048/mha-relationship-headcanons-class-1-a

Fluff

Mezou Shouji

Best hugs ever

I mean what else is he gonna do with all those arms? Fight villains?

Y/n is the only one who can call him by his first name

Shouji is super tall and y/n just calls him “Mezou McTallMan”

He has like 5 million IQ and plays chess with y/n and they just sit their feelin stupid cause they keep losing

Shouji and Tokoyami are best friends and then when him and y/n get together all three of them are best friends and it’s adorable

Y/n never really cared about the mask but was like “hey you don’t need to take it off if you don’t wanna”

And it melted Shouji’s heart that they were fine with it

Thier hair is always ruffled because of how much he messes with it

They just don’t bother anymore

He doesn’t like getting to much attention so for events they have little at home/ in the dorm party’s with just a few other kids

He 100% takes advantage of how scary he can look

If someone is trying to get at y/n he will look at them with the most haunting glare in the world

(*cough* Mineta *cough* *cough*)

Kyouka Jirou

Rockin out to rock but also crappy 2000’s pop music at three am

Jirou will just be sitting beside y/n as they mess with her lobes

Y/n is as much as a crackhead as the rest of the Bakusquad so they all get along great

Bakugo has almost stabbed both of them for kissing in public and being affectionate in public

Coming back to the dorms all sweaty from going to a concert and jumping around for four hours straight

Has the hardest time trying to teach y/n how to play everything because it hurt their ~delicate fingers~

Leaning on each other’s backs and listening to music sharing ear buds 😫

Getting records and hanging them on each other’s walls and painting them if they don’t like the songs 💜

She has a ton of vintage art/ band hoodies and they just share them at some point because they keep stealing them from each other

Going to the arcade with Denki and Kirishima and whoever else wants to come

Y/n always says Jirou has a “out shine the stars smile” and she becomes a blushing mess every time

She’s not very good at comforting :(

She tries tho

She’s great honestly

Hanta Sero

He asks y/n if he annoys them and y/n legit feels so bad like “I love u so much don’t you dare think that>:(“

He likes saving up for dates and going to fancy restaurants and stuff but he’s fine with small inexpensive dates

They’ve gone to sixflags at least ten times and they have definitely broke a whole ride from messing around with his tape

That couple where even before they were dating they were dating

Jokingly kissing each others hand/ cheeks, cuddling up to each other, always asking if the other was going somewhere too, that kinda stuff

Hammock cuddles

I think you understand

Prank war in the whole dorm and y/n and Sero are the kings (or queens) (or non-binary royalty) of it

Bakugo has declared war on them multiple times but never goes on it because of how hard they go

Everyone has said it, you know it

Spider man kisses

He has almost passes out from the blood rushing to his head before

if Mineta walks up to y/n from behind he will tape him up and they can’t have a normal conversation without Sero glaring at him

So many inside jokes

Once y/n put his hair in a bun or something and he was like :0 “oh my god there’s a world without hair in ur face”

Sometimes either of them will sneak in the others dorm in the morning before they wake up and put sunglass on them or draw on their face

“This reminds me of u” insert simp meme

This boy will make sure y/n is always holding his werid long lanky hands

They teach Todoroki what “Yeet” means and now they all use it all the time unironically

Fumikage Tokoyami

👏head 👏scratchys 👏

Y/n has to get him a nightlight so Dark Shadow doesn’t go wild in the middle of the night

Huge edge lord y/n is his only soft spot

Watch dumb vampire movies

They binged all the Twilight movies in one night and everyone makes fun of them for kinda unironiclly liking it

I know Halloween is only really a american thing but they 100% have Halloween party’s at the dorms

They’d set up the whole thing

Y/n gets him black nail polish and skull rings and edgy everything

He has a box that takes up like half his closet of just gifts from y/n

He doesn’t do gifts as much as just spending time with y/n

He does love the gifts tho

Give each other plenty of space

Just say “hey I wanna be alone for a bit” and he’ll be gone in a second

He’s always the little spoons cause he’s scared of peaking their eyes out accidentally

They didn’t keep the relationship a secret they just aren’t very physically affectionate to each other

So one day Shouji is like “oh are you crushing on y/n? Like you are really nice to them and they give you stuff”

And he sits there like “dude we’ve been together for months how do you not know”

And then they are like maybe we should announce it just to make sure? So they do that and the whole class is in shock that they were together for so long and no one noticed

Jokingly calls Tokoyami “Emo Peacock” 

You can’t tell me they try to do the Waltz as a joke but get really into it and do it whenever they hear any music now

Jirou could literally be playing hard core rock or heavy metal and they’ll be doing the waltz to it

Dark Shadow low key feels like a third wheel sometimes but then y/n give him a tight hug and he feels appreciated

Shouto Todoroki

Feeding the simps

So ya know that thing in the notes app where you can share notes? Yeah they share one of those where they list things they hate about Endeavor and after a month they are already on a thousand

Just sit in the same room

Could be doing anything not even envolving the other but it’s nice just to have the other there

Protecting the girls from Mineta together ❤️👏👏

at first it honestly just seemed like they were really good friends because they kept it a secret (mostly cause if it got out to the public Endeavor would find out and probably try to break them up)

Even in private they would just kiss the others cheek or forehead and hold hands and that’s the only difference

He talks to his mother about y/n a lot and she is so excited to meet y/n

She has really high expectations just because of how good they sound but does take in that Shouto is literally in love with them, he’s gonna have slight rose tinted glasses

Yeah their just as good as Todoroki made them out to be

When he told y/n about his childhood (endeavor, his mom, his scar, Dabi…) y/n cried because they felt so bad and cuddled him all day trying to help any way they could

They totally made him go to therapy 😌

Has a written down list of thing they said they like so he can get them one if they feel down

He has literally bought them a cat when they were feeling really down and y/n had to explain that he can’t just go and buy a cat when their feeling bad

They keep it tho don’t worry

He’ll turn off the air conditioning when he wants y/n’s affection

They’ll just come running at him and tackle him so he can warm them up/ cool them down

Expect goodnight texts

Make custom memes about how bad of a parent Endearvor is

Legit the start of Todoroki crushing on them overhearing them tell a friend that they don’t think Endearvor is a good hero/ deserves to be number 1

Once asked All Might to adopt Todoroki (I mean he thought about it for a second before Aizawa told him no)

Todoroki let’s y/n cook stuff on his left side

Deku will just wake up in the morning smelling eggs and think someone’s cooking but find y/n cracking eggs onto Todoroki’s left side

[ivyglow]

I don’t want you like a best friend - Andre Burakovsky

A/n: Sooo, I wrote this as some kind of gift to my best friend because she loves Andre and she was trying to get me on his train (I guess she did?). She’s always hitting me with “no but you should definitely write about Tito/Andre”. Here’s your piece @skarsgardswiftie�� I hope you like it! <3 I love you sm Also, a huge shout out to @sebs-aston​ for proofreading this with such an attentive eye! You’re amazing, liv! 

Requested: yes / no

Word count: 1.9k 

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol 

Summary: you’re friends with Andre, but things are about to change after you create a TikTok account and start doing challenges that may lead to news between you and your favorite hockey player.

When it comes to capturing a moment you’re usually the person your friends think about, not simply because you’re always carrying a camera -mainly because of it-, but because you’re great with what you do -either photos or videos-. That’s also why your Instagram profile has more followers than an ordinary girl would and it’s the only place people can find you -besides e-mail-. However, that changed when your best friend -Callie- convinced you to create a TikTok account. You, of course, hated it, but she had the perfect opportunity -you were a bit tipsy, all your friends around, sunny weekend and so it goes. 

“Mikko, do you think I’m pretty?” You direct the camera to his face while looking expectantly. 

Saturday evening rolled around, the hot weather forcing your friends either to the inside of the pool or under the sunshade and their hands busy with cold drinks. It was a happy day, everyone was around, and you were enjoying the vacation. You had met half of the Hockey team as soon as you moved to Colorado and Erik, your and your brother’s hometown best friend decided you needed to know his crew and the city around. Six months later and you knew pretty much everyone and everything.

“Of course I think you’re pretty” he gives you a confused look before you turn to Tyson giggling.

“Josty, do you think I’m pretty?” you ask and he looks straight at the camera “I would give you 5 out of 10 cause you’re bro.”

You laugh and turn to Andre this time.

“Andre, do you think I’m pretty?” 

He seems taken aback by the question and unlike Tyson, he stares at you. “Of course you’re pretty.”

You keep to your task and last but not least is Nathan, he’s sitting at a table while working on some drinks and you take him by surprise by jumping in front of him. “Mac, do you think I’m pretty?”

He rolls his eyes playfully and turns his attention to you for some seconds before looking at his drink again, “I would one hundred percent date you if you were not my sisters’ best friend” 

And then your time is over. 

“So you’re a tiktoker now?” Erik sits beside you and Nathan just as you uploaded the video. He raises his eyebrows and you roll your eyes lightly, “you know I hate TikTok, but it’s fun, so…”

“She’s gonna end up famous there too”, Andre announces leaning his body on the table and motioning for Nathan to refill his drink. Your eyes roam on his big hands grasping the red cup, his cheeks red from the sun, and the way you could see his dimples when he smiled at you, his hair messy in a cute way. 

“Why do you think that?” now he has three pairs of curious eyes staring at him.

You almost chuckled when his point finger scratched his chin. His skin glowing, “I mean, you’re funny and cute…cute girls get famous on TikTok” he reasoned. 

“Is this your best, Burki?” Erik asks and for the way his lips were tight against each other you knew he wanted to laugh.

“C’mon, let them be,” Nathan said after giving the blond American a new cup, and before you could ask what was the matter Callie was calling you at the door. 

Your best friend started a rant about how she was going to get Chinese take-out for dinner and when you told her she should get Thai too -because it was Andre’s favorite- she started another rant about how you should tell him you’re in love and how it was cute the way you two functioned but also annoying. All you could do was savor your drink and mentally play a Taylor Swift song while she went on, “I mean it, y/n! Just tell him already…”

“Have you seen Andre?!” you whisper-scream to her and Callie sights rolling her eyes, “what about him?” 

Swallowing the last sip of your drink you start to draw doodles on the glass with your fingers, “I’m just y/n, he’s Andre Burakovsky”. You usually were not insecure about your looks, but it was Andre, and the fact that he was a famous and good-looking hockey player made you question how in heavens he would like you back. Hell, you were not even sure how you two ended up in such a close friendship, he always being so affectionate and listening to everything you had to say. Your friendship seemed like the most you could take from the interaction. You knew he was ‘just Andre’ too when all your friends were gathered, but being ‘just Andre’ was as amazing as being Andre Burakovsky the hockey player. 

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met, y/n, and I don’t mean considering only your looks, but everything. You’re funny, smart, and always so attentive with everyone, you listen to everything and always have nice things to say, don’t you ever doubt your value, you hear me?” Callie’s words make you sit up straight in the stall and your eyes water. 

“In my defense, this is not me crying, this is tipsy me having an emotional moment”, you joke and it’s seconds before the two of you are laughing the way you used to during a John Mulaney show. 

…

It was night when you unlocked your phone only to find a bunch of notifications from TikTok, some of the comments from fans about how happy the boys seemed, but most were about the way Andre looked at you when you asked the question. According to the most liked comment “this is clearly a friends to lovers, mutual pining, unaware love and slow-burn situation” which made you giggle but also replay the video a dozen times trying to figure out if there was really something there and you were the unaware one. 

Needless to say, you weren’t able to reach a conclusion, but it felt different when you excused yourself to take a shower after spilling wine in your shirt and you felt Andre’s eyes on you all the way to the stairs. His hands on your shoulders felt heavier and the way he was attentive whenever you needed a refill or wanted a bite of food seemed more intimate and caring than ever.

Hitting the shuffle button, you chose your Taylor Swift playlist before entering the shower. The cold water cooled you off a bit, it was almost like washing out part of the alcohol in your system, but your tipsy mind kept finding evidence that Andre liked you back. 

You went through your clothes finding a floral summer dress and sipping on your wine while brushing your hair. Your body was still feeling hot and at this point, you didn’t know if it was from the sun on your face or the alcohol in your system, but when you heard the first notes of “Dress” playing you knew you were going to do something stupid, especially because your cell phone was one arm away. If someone asked you where the idea came from you wouldn’t know what to answer, and usually thinking about how you didn’t have an answer was enough to make you give up on some stupid ideas...not this one though. 

Reaching for your phone you unlocked it and walked to the body-length mirror in the room you were sharing with Callie. It took less than 2 minutes to snap a picture and send it to him and it took him less than 1 minute to answer it.

‘Woah’

‘You liked it?’ you sent back

‘Yeah, you’re looking good, cutie’ he answered just as fast, before sending a red heart emoji.

‘I don’t want you like a friend’

‘and I only bought this dress so you could take it off’

It was the exact line Taylor was singing when you reached the send button. You saw the dots appearing and disappearing and your body sobered up even more than before. 

“Fuck!” you almost voiced. How would he look at you after this? Could you pretend you confused him with someone else? Of course not, he was the only Andre you knew! And everyone knew better you were not the bold flirty type.

That was it, your secret was spilled just like your wine on your shirt earlier, but now you wouldn’t be able to clean off the stain. 

Would he believe it if you told him it was a prank to your new TikTok account?

You were lost in your thoughts before three knocks on your door startled you. And there he was when you pushed the door open. Standing with his hands inside his pockets and his hair still messy, he stared at you. It took maybe five minutes before he spoke, but it felt like an eternity considering his intense eyes studying you.

“You’re looking even better this close” for some reason his voice is low like he didn’t want anyone to hear and pop the bubble of the moment. 

You feel your body getting hotter, pretty sure your face is turning even redder, so you reach your hands to both of your cheeks. That gets a giggle out of Andre and you instantly move them to your back, your eyes now staring at his bare feet. 

All you wanted to do was bury yourself on a rabbit hole until Andre lost his memory, or you lost yours. You were thinking about the possibility of a secret society -Alice in Wonderland style- inside the rabbit hole that you could live in forever when Burki extended his hand, his palm facing you, silently asking you to put your hand in his. So you did. And it was only a blink of an eye before his body was closer, almost touching yours.

“You’re not that drunk, are you?” he questioned. 

You shook your head no and he moved his hand to your waist as a message that maybe -and only maybe- he wanted to be close too. So you moved your right one to his large shoulders. 

“I’m glad you’re not drunk…” 

“I’m just a bit hot and bothered” and dying out of shame! You screamed inside your head. 

“Oh sure you are”, he replied with a small smile playing at the corner of his pink lips. Your brows raised in confusion and before you could ask, he answered, “hot. You’re hot”.

“Does it mean you’re gonna take my dress off?” you have no idea when you got so bold, but Andre seemed amused with everything. 

“No, not tonight. You’re not drunk, but you’re a bit tipsy, I don’t want to start things like this” his fingers are in your cheekbone and you lean into him. “I’m gonna kiss you though, can I?” 

His lips, so different from his hands, were soft and hot. They found yours timidly, exploring the space while his body welcomed yours closer, he took his time before his fingers were in your hair and his tongue caught your lips. 

It felt good.

Like never before. 

For some seconds you wished to be able to capture the moment and save it forever. Repeat it in your head every day. 

Andre played with the strings of your dress, slipping it off your shoulders and you got into your tiptoes to peck his lips one last time. 

“So...I take you really liked the dress?” 

“I actually like you, the dress is a bonus” he shrugs and you giggle before finding yourself wrapped in another kiss. 

[batarangsoundsdumb]

yet another ask dump yeehaw!

do you ever think that jay's mother was one of those bitch who believes in horoscope and tarots and things like that and so he believes in these things too, or it is just me projecting?

sheila haywood took one look at jason's birthchart said 'nah this won't do' and left.

Wait, but what happens when the justice league does find out that Bruce and John fucked? Lmao it sounds like it would be hilarious, really, I don’t want a justice league that doesn’t make fun of Bruce for like his entire life.

barry runs out of the meeting immediately and comes back with an entire sti testing kit. diana fully seriously wants bruce to get tested while bruce is sitting there like 'come on guys, you're being ridiculous, i already checked twice'

john is standing in the corner clearly offended while bruce is just like 'don't even say anything, constantine, you fucked a shark'

tim was like "i'm drake now" and everyone was like ahh so your fursona is a dragon and tim was like pffffft no. ducks.

on the one hand, good for him, on the other hand, bro, how do you still have a secret identity when your superhero name is just your last name,,,,

Your fic on ao3 was GOLD PLEASE CONTINUE I loved Dinah's cameo btw ( @purple-vixen

thanks so much! i already continued but this ask is like 10 years old because i'm a notorious procrastinator (also yes! i love dinah so much aahhhhhhhhhhhh)

I've FINALLY been watching the Batman animated series and I gotta say, after watching "the gray ghost" I am CONVINCED that Batman is a closeted super hero geek who was 100% freaking out the first time he met Superman and is just REALLY good at hiding it.

bruce internally: holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit bruce externally: get out of my city, alien

AHHH ur multimedia fic is the only thing that brings me happiness anymore continue it forever pls

uhh thanks, but can't continue it forever because my attention span is that of a toddler on crack on a good day and i can't function without at least 10 things going on at the same time and music in the background

Oi, so I'm getting into dc and watching batman the animated series, and they use fruitcake a lot. Which I thought was very funny and wanted to share w you - Denilla

wait like fruitcake (food) or fruitcake (derogatory) ?

young justice 🤝 teen titans slut shaming batman

tim drake and dick grayson to their respective teams 'you guys stop it, that's my dad'

Happyhoganon: If an eighty year old Batman had fought crime in Gotham City for decades and the only threats to him and the city lately are a wheel chair bounded Penguin, your usual purse snatchers and a few con artists popping up every now and then, how well could the Dark Knight do in maintaining the peace in Gotham despite him being just somewhat fit to do that as an elderly man (which says A LOT given how old he is)

uhh he'll probably do what my grandpa does and that is ruthlessly prank them until they die of shame.

in the death in the family interactive movie there's an ending where Jason is tasked with raising Damian and he decides he's gonna raise Damian to take down the waynes and al ghuls which uh maybe isn't great BUT the idea of Jason raising Damian... PRICELESS. CHAOTIC. I just need more people to know about this :)

yes i saw that wow holy shit but jason would accidentally drop damian on his head one (1) hour in and jason just yeets him into the lazarus pit.

Headcanon: The Penguin has a really hard time fighting any of the Robins because of his avian obsession means there's always a small part of his mind that's like "Birb. Child. Protect" ( @subspacecadet )

as soon as dick becomes nightwing the penguin is like 'you know what, fuck this dude' and shoots at him.

Y'all talking about King Shark dating Constantine, let's not forget about John literally hooking up with Satan

listen there's a clear difference between monsterfucker and satanfucker in that king shark is literally a shark and satan still looks like a normal dude

Does everyone in Gotham think Batman is a teen dad?

everyone in gotham thinks batman has been around since gotham was founded, but they do think that bruce wayne is actually a teen father and dick grayson's biological dad.

why. why would you do that fancast when you know it will only hurt people

what? i loved my fancast it was really well done. i did it with good representation in mind and i really managed that with alfred pennyworth being ✨italian✨

Seeing james charles a jason gave me psychic damage how dare you i need to wash my eyes

well that's a you problem isn't it?

do you think dick grayson thirst tweets about nightwing just to annoy his family/cause problems on purpose in general?

he thinks nightwing is hot, next question.

holy jiminy cricket batman, its as cold as the good lords ass crack in here!!

i- what? this is why i don't fuck with english expressions it's way too goddamn weird

Brooooooo, your teen dad!Bruce au is soooo good. I've got brainrot.

Honestly if you ever write anymore, I'd read that shit twice. Sign me the fuck up. Good stuff, Good Stuff.

uh yeah i'm thinking about writing a fic, but i have exams coming up and i don't wanna fail because that would suck. but after i'll certainly be writing more tho

your teen dad AU is so great! bruce acting like a big brother for all of like a week before he's telling everyone about his son. what if in the AU dick meets the JL because they need to rescue him? maybe he's in trouble/kidnapped at a gala and bruce starts calling for JL. clark finds him and has to fly with dick to bring him home - that's how dick and clark meet and superman becomes dick's fave hero. he goes around the manor thinking he can fly with a red blanket draped around him like a cape.

actually- if you want a young dad! bruce fic with like that kinda stuff(just with damian) go check uhh- in for a penny by cdelphiki. it's really good and bruce is like 24/25-ish. (and dick's there!!!)

This account has solely convinced me that Tim is a trash goblin ( @hamilcat-and-magic-turtle )

because he is. that boy has slept in dumpsters on multiple occasions even if he is the son of a billionaire.

Okay but when you said victory dance I did think of the whole justice league defeating the big bad and then they all start flossing

well that's exactly what hal jordan does and that's why batman uses a gun now. no but the victory dance in my opinion is like the 'we're all in this together' dance from high school musical.

The horrors in Invincible s1 was nothing compared to the comics, I cant wait for s2

oh well okay, i mean i personally react to horror and violence by laughing awkwardly so i can't wait to be called a monster for accidentally laughing at a mass murder.

I'm currently watching Batman: The Brave and The Bold and- Bruce is just talking about Oliver like he's an old love (@nightwings-kid)

okay im going to watch that lmao that's totally and completely in character for him tho.

The invincible comic is like super gratuitous with its violence so much so I'm shocked the show was able to adapt it in a faithful way! Anyway had the show been live action it absolutely wouldn't have the same impact as it does as an animated show and I'm so glad so many people agree with me on that

also because a live action casting would've been like uhh amanda stenberg for amber, the dude- the guy from the supernatural but with a mustache for omni-man, and scarlet johanssen for debbie grayson

Debbie grayson is a milf, yes. You're welcome for the invincible propoganda, now you can questions your life. Bruce def seems like the perfect father next to Omni-man. Like they really took a rip off justice league and I was like well, now I'm attached even tho I was like hah I know who they're supposed to be. And then bam- death gore death gore gore gore sad Mark grayson just had to have daddy issues. Why does every character have daddy issues. I'm sick of the attacks

because daddy issues make a person arguably funnier, that's why i'm not even remotely funny (haha good dad flex). i liked that it was dark contextually, but not in the colouring, bc i hate when it's like 'uh yeah graphic murder and now a shot so dark you have to sit in a dark room and squint at the screen to faintly see the characters. (like dcau ugh)

About the Wayne insurance, for a moment I thought you would put the video with moans over the waves.

i mean- i could've done that, but rick rolling seemed more family friendly.

Its the first time in forever that im surpise rickrolled, i usually expect it. Congratulations (i really should know better this is tumblr)

i get rickrolled so often but i actually like the song so i dont really give a fuck

Actually, my information about Damian and John's kids is outdated because it was revealed that the old men telling the kids stories about the Supersons were actually Jon and Damian the whole time. I was blinded by my thirst for Grandpa!Bruce Wayne but I was wrong... I liked my version better, tbh (@artemisa97)

fair enough. but i'd honestly like to see damian and jon getting together, just because it's a really fun dynamic and their friendship was really cute when they were kids. (also idk maybe it would be nice to have one (1) main batfam/superfam character that's not cishet)

How am i JUST finding your blog skdskfkd you're so fucking funny and ur takes are hot

i thought u were calling me hot :( but youre not :( crime detected (but lmao thanks)

So I have depression and I swear that your memes are one of the few things that have made me laugh so thank you 💛🥺 (@katekanebadass)

aw you're welcome, and i hope you're doing okay!

The metropolis memes are so funny, I love them 💀😌

i think metropolis is also so fucking funny it deserves more attention imagine having your entire police force being upstaged by an alien from kansas and his kids

as an american i feel your complete lack of knowledge of us geography is just so sexy (platonic) ❤️

thanks so much (i also don't know any other geography, i'm not kidding, like you can tell me you're from hungary and it will just blank, there will be nothing that comes to mind)

In the DC universe they don't say "Can't have shit in Detroit" they say "Can't have shit in Gotham"

this just reminds me of that guy whose porch got stolen like the steps to his door, and i'm thinking of people living in gotham and waking up without a front door and going "can't have shit in gotham"

honestly all i know about chicago is the bean, so. what would gotham's famous sculpture be?

gigantic gargoyle statue in front of one of the police precincts because a villain thought it was a smart way to keep the police inside, but it's too heavy to move.

why tf do people go on about how batman "works alone" or how he's the "lone wolf" when he like 38290202 members in his family

bc people think it's cool that a grown man in his 30s has no friends or family instead of calling it what it is (sad)

Bruce is gotham's sugar daddy

why would say something so controversial yet so brave.

my favorite batfamily fanfictions are the ones where they use their shitty codenames, unironically, in any context

dick: gerard way are you in position, gerard way are you in position

tim: for the last fucking time, my codename is 'totally not count olaf' this week, abbafan 3000

dick: shut up my codename isn't 'abbafan 3000'

dick: it's 'abbafan number 1' and you know it

I have a feeling Tim drake is ur favourite batfamily member but okay u don't have favs if u say so ok

i mean he is, i won't deny it. but i love each and every one of the batfam just the same, i just have a weak spot for short dumbass nerds, because i'm a short dumbass nerd.

Omg i fuckin love boy meets world too fam shsjkfk

bro boy meets world was the shit!!! it was just fire and awesome and so fucking great like bro. it was so good im not even going to be accepting criticism

you know I find the whole "joker completes batman" thing a bit disgusting considering the horrendous stuff the batfamily went through because of the joker and let's not get started on the "joker has a point" thing like yeah he's this cool complex villain but he's absolutely batshit crazy

like yes! i get what you mean the joker just fucking sucks man he doesn't do shit for batman's character or the batfam he's literally just annoying as fuck. like the joker has a point' shit is so stupid. i will accept 'magneto was right' because he fucking was and i think he didn't do anything wrong, but joker? he's just like that. he's not even cool and complex he's just a weirdo with a bleach kink at this point.

ALSO YOUR RACISM POST- SO TRUE BESTIE

thanks bestie, i'm glad you agree.

in today's essay of why I think cass should become batman- I was thinking Tim would probably be the most efficient batman in many ways but I also think he wouldn't want to be batman tbh none of the batfamily members would want to be batman because they're trying to outgrow him but cass is the one who wants to represent the symbol that is batman

absofuckinglutely i will say it again and again that cass represents the batsymbol more than anyone in the batfam, in batgirl (2000) she literally didn't care about anything else than bruce's oath to not kill, she thought the batsymbol was more important than anything in gotham. she's just an excellent character because her motivation to not kill is not 'i'm scared i can't come back from it' or 'well my dad says no murder so i'll go along with it' but that she's killed somebody as a young child and she never wants to kill a human ever again and that's so fucking beautiful for a new batman like yes.

need more cass, duke and tim inclusion in gothamite memes

yes yes, a tall order of cass, duke and tim coming up in 1-14 business days

oldest to youngest batfam members cus I'm confused as shit

okay order of being taken in: dick, jason, tim, cass, damian, duke order of age: alfred, bruce, dick, cass, jason, tim, duke, damian (though cass and jason are around the same age general consensus is that cass is a little older)

I'm so confused Steph is a redhead?? like how was it that hard to get this right? the source material is literally right there and free

cw is jared, 19

do you receive anon hate? if so, how do you deal with it

uh no, i'm not remotely popular enough to get anon hate and i also don't say a lot of things that would attract anon hate, but i do send anon hate to @the-real-peter-parker because he forgot about the specialists from winx club

Wait how many languages do you speak??

uhh- 5 if you include latin, but that's a dead language and i'm really bad at it. but english, my native language, german, and french also, tho german and french not fluently.

You can mix aguaepanela with aguardiente 😈 and is tasty

okay but now i'm curious if the liquor deserves the 😈 emoji or if that's a you problem. but i googled it and it looks like something you'd take one sip of and then not remember the rest of your evening.

[gayestnerdsinfiction]

Scriddler headcanon- Jonathan absolutely hates Ed’s taste in music

see this is interesting bc i think i have controversial opinions about Jon's music taste 👀

“Got everything?” Jonathan asks, looking up as Edward makes his way down the front steps to the car. He’s loading up the car with everything they’re taking on their little trip.

“I think so.” Edward sees Jonathan’s Scarecrow costume and gear, a small medical cooler, and two duffels crammed into the trunk of the rusty old Ford that Jonathan refuses to get rid of. That car is probably older than Edward himself. “I don’t really know what one brings on a road trip to buy drugs.” He places his own black bag into the trunk, carefully nestling it between the duffels for maximum padding. He assumes one of the bags contains Jonathan’s personal effects, but he’s not the kind of person to bring two bags for a three day trip. He resists the urge to unzip the bags and take a peek inside.

Jonathan closes the trunk, giving Edward a look. “For the last time, this is not a road trip and we are not buying drugs. This is a business trip, if anything, and I’m getting chemicals for my toxin.” He walks around to the driver’s side and opens the door, pausing to look back at Edward before he gets in. “And if I happen to familiarize myself with New Jersey’s recreational marijuana industry, then that’s my prerogative as an American.”

“Whatever you say, Willie Nelson.”

“You’d better shut the fuck up before I drive off and leave you here,” he grumbles as he folds himself into the driver’s seat.

Edward smiles to himself but doesn’t push his luck. He gets into the car and they pull out of the driveway and onto the road. Which sounds like a road trip as far as Edward’s concerned, but apparently that’s a point of debate.

“Can I pick the music?” Edward asks.

Jonathan’s jaw tenses visibly. “Sure,” he says, eyes fixed on the road. “I think there are some CDs in the glove compartment.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I came prepared.” Edward produces a small, leather CD case filled with music he knows Jonathan will absolutely despise. “Since your car is from the stone age and doesn’t have Bluetooth or even an mp3 player, I dug around in the box of things I’ve hoarded from my wretched childhood and found all my favorite CDs from high school. There’s some really good stuff in here, too,” he adds, unzipping the case and flipping through it. “We’ve got Hanson, Destiny’s Child, Backstreet Boys—oh, Spice Girls, of course. A classic.” He turns to look expectantly at Jonathan. “What do you think?”

Jonathan is making that face he makes when he’s annoyed with Edward but doesn’t want to give Edward the satisfaction of being annoyed with him. “You said you wanted to pick.”

This is one of the little games Edward likes to play with the other man. When they’re at home, his favorite way to torment Jonathan is by playing the most manufactured, inane, bubblegum pop music he can find. Jaunty showtunes, songs made by seventeen year old social media stars, boy bands who act like teenagers despite being well over 25. He’s never been able to infiltrate Jonathan’s car before, though. Usually when they’re driving together it’s away from the scene of a crime, so not really an appropriate time for tunes. But now they have a two hour drive to sit and listen to whatever Edward wants. The mere thought of it is delicious to him. What makes this game so fun is watching Jonathan’s internal struggle between his hatred of Edward’s taste in music and his enduring need to never express any emotions under any circumstances.

Jonathan likes music. He spends a surprising amount of time with headphones on, listening to God knows what. But he’s not willing to turn off whatever Edward wants to listen to if it means revealing his own secretive taste in music in the process. No, he’d much rather sit and be miserable instead of letting another human being know him.

Edward keeps looking through his CD collection, briefly getting caught up in the nostalgia of his adolescent taste in music. He remembers dancing alone in his room to Madonna, discussing Britpop with his friends over lunch at school, getting into his first car crash with Britney Spears blaring on the radio. To this day he gets a sick sort of feeling when he listens to “Baby One More Time.”

“This TLC album is pretty good,” Edward says after a while, sliding the disc out of its sleeve. “We’ll start with this, maybe move on to a little Spice Girls, top it off with some Cher?”

“Whatever you like,” Jonathan says evenly.

Edward pops the CD into the player, sitting back in his seat as the beat kicks in on the first track. “What are the bags for?” he asks.

“What bags?”

“The duffels. In the back.”

“Cash and clothes.” They pull onto the highway. “Cash for the drop, clothes for… my body.”

“Yes, Jonathan, I know what clothes are for.” The brief intro song fades out and the second track begins. Edward turns up the volume.

They drive in silence for a little while. Edward watches the trees blurring past the window as they get further and further away from Gotham. It will be nice to get out of the city, even for a few days.

Edward hears a soft tapping sound and he looks over to see Jonathan drumming his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the music. Could it be that Edward has achieved a completely unprecedented win and found a song that Jonathan actually likes?

“So, we’re a TLC fan, are we?” Edward says coyly, straightening up.

Jonathan’s hands still and he tightens his grip on the wheel. “I’m not really a fan of anything,” he says.

“Liar. You like music. You like this music.”

“It’s fine.”

“Please, I saw you tip-tapping along. I know you liked it.” He grins at Jonathan whose flushed face is still looking pointedly at the windshield. “You can’t hide from me, Jonathan Crane. I know your tells.”

“I can appreciate a good beat. That’s all.”

“So you admit you like the beat!” Edward says triumphantly. “And the beat is a core element of the song, implying that, at its core, you like the song.”

“Edward—”

“You know I’m right.”

“The only thing I know is that I’m on the verge of running this car off the road and killing us both to save myself the strife of being in this conversation any longer.”

Edward slumps back in his seat, giving Jonathan an exaggerated pout. “You can’t threaten me with physical violence any time I say something that annoys you.”

“Why not?”

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

Beyond Our Dreams | Remus Lupin x Reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: None

Time/Era: Marauders Era, Aged 19

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: Remus Lupin finally gets to meet his American soulmate, Y/N, after seeing eachother every night in their dreamscape. 

Request: can you do a remus lupin x gender neutral reader soulmate au where they see each other in their dreams

A/N: I adore Remus so much. He’s such a special character to me. So, thank you for the request! Enjoy! I also attached my Remus Lupin playlist, which is full of songs that remind me of this perfect boi :) Check it out if you want! 

masterlist | my remus lupin playlist | read on ao3

The apartment they chose to meet at was always the same; it was a small room with a comfy, forest green couch, a cozy bed, a small kitchenette, and a door that led to a bathroom. It was rather plain as well, with dark red walls and a plush carpet below their feet. On one of the walls, there was a large window that overlooked a calm city. The normal hustle and bustle of city life was extinguished by a heavy downpour. 

While most people made their dreamscapes extravagant and complicated, as it is their mind after all, Remus and Y/N found comfort in the simplicity. The pair just needed a comfortable spot to talk and get to know eachother. 

“And then Lily just sort of dropped the bomb,” Remus stated, sitting on the couch opposite of Y/N. His long fingers wrapped around a white mug and he held his tea close to his body. 

“I can’t believe she’s pregnant!” Y/N had her legs crossed and a plate of chocolate chip cookies situated in her lap. “We haven’t even met yet, but people our age are already having kids.” 

Remus heartily chuckled, raising his mug to his lips and taking a sip. “It’ll happen in due time, darling. Besides, it’s nice to have you to myself without outside influences,” He coughs. “My friends skewing your views on me.” 

“I know your friends are lovely, based on how you speak so fondly of them.” Y/N took a big bite of one of the chocolate chip cookies. It was chewy and gooey, making it absolutely delicious. “Why are dream cookies so good? Like, seriously, these things are to die for.” 

“Because they’re a figment of your imagination. They can be as yummy or as disgusting as you make them to be.” Remus pulled at the collar of his gray t-shirt, making the seams rip. “Do you ever wish I was more, I don’t know, exciting?” 

“What do you mean?” Chocolate smudged on the corners of her mouth.

Remus grinned and licked his thumb, rubbing it over her delicate skin to clean her face. “I mean, our dream world is a one-bedroom apartment and all we ever do is talk. I don’t know, I hear Sirius has a rollercoaster in his dreamscape. I fell dull in comparison.” 

Y/N fondly smiled at her soulmate, moving so she was sitting directly next to him. “Rollercoasters are overrated. I like the comfort our little apartment gives us, it’s nice and warm in here and I have you next to me.” She set the cookies on the coffee table in front of the couch. “We don’t need to go on extravagant adventures, you seem to have enough of those when you’re awake.” 

“You deserve better, though. Not a guy in his late teens that is constantly tired and would rather sit on a couch drinking tea than going on a rollercoaster.” 

“I deserve you, and you are more than enough for me.” Y/N sighed, moving Remus’ hair out of his eyes. He couldn’t feel her physically, but it was still a nice gesture. “I’m not exactly itching to go on grand adventures. That’s what meeting you is for.” 

“You’re only 5,437 miles away, anyway.” Remus’ mouth twitched into a sad smile. “That’s nothing.” 

“Hey, it’s better than 5,438 miles.” 

“You got me there.” 

~

“What would you do if I came to London and surprised you?” Y/N laid her head on Remus’ thigh while he moved his hand through her hair, trying to imagine what it felt like. 

“I’d probably get rather quiet and not know what to do if I’m being honest,” Remus observed how Y/N’s locks flowed through his fingers like water and how it contrasted against the forest green upholstery of the couch. 

“Maybe let out a few cuss words?” 

“Why are you so obsessed with me cussing?” 

“Your accent is hot, especially when you say ‘fuck.’ I like to hear it.” Y/N smiled cheekily and watched Remus’ pupils dilate. 

“Fuck,” The words fall off his tongue with his Welsh accent. Much of the Welsh had faded, due to living at Hogwarts and now London, but it was still very apparent in his speech.  Y/N giggled and squirmed. 

“Yeah, like that. Sometimes you just slip it into casual conversations and I have to compose myself.” 

“Americans are weird, it’s just an accent.” 

“No, it’s not just an accent. It’s your accent so I like to hear it. Sue me!” Y/N threw her hands up in false anguish, lightly bumping Remus’ stomach. 

“You’re so dramatic, love.” 

“I am not dramatic! Just every time I compliment my favorite person in the world he says I’m weird! Maybe you’re the weird one, Lupin!” 

“Fine, I’m the weird one. Does that make you happy?” His voice sounded exasperated, but he was staring down at her with the fondest expression.

“Extremely.” 

~

“Do you think Sirius, James, and Peter would like me?” Y/N sat on the counter of the dream kitchenette. 

“They already do like you, dear.” Remus stood between her legs with his hands resting on her thighs. With her sitting so high, they were almost the same height. “Why?” 

“Well they’re important to you, and you’re important to me, so I want them to like me. It would suck if your friends hated me.” 

“You don’t have to worry about that. They even have a nickname for you,” Remus looked away, his cheeks turned slightly red. This piqued Y/N’s attention. 

“A nickname? What is it?”

“Button.” Remus’ cheeks were dusted a light rose color and his ears were bright red. 

“Button? Why Button?” 

“Well, a few years ago we were all going around and describing our soulmates. I said that you were as cute as a button and I guess the name stuck.” 

Butterflies erupted in Y/N’s stomach and she planted a kiss on his cheek. “Why can’t I just apparate to you again?” 

“We talked about this, love. You’ve never been here and I’ve never been there so you can’t apparate straight here. And the plane ride between us is almost 11 hours.” 

“Fucking hell.” Y/N sighed in frustration. 

“Fucking hell, indeed.” 

~

“I did something, and you have to promise not to be mad at me.” Y/N paced around the kitchenette while Remus lounged on the couch. His head shot up at her words. 

“What did you do?” His mind raced a mile a minute and he prepared himself for the worst. Y/N probably found someone better than him and wanted to cut off contact. 

“It’s nothing bad, relax.” 

“Well if it’s not bad, why would I be mad?” Y/N sighed and sat next to him on the couch. 

“Well, in the real world I’m sort of on a plane to London right now.” 

Remus’ eyes bulged and he jumped off the couch. “You’re coming? Here? Really? Now?” 

“Well, I’ll be there in about four hours.” Remus was now pacing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?! Mine and Sirius’ flat is a wreck!” 

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to back out for a silly reason like a messy apartment.” Y/N stood and reached for her boy. “I love you and I couldn’t wait any longer.” 

“Four hours?” 

“Yes, four hours.And I need a ride from the airport.” 

~

Y/N stood atop the escalator and looked at the crowd below, scanning all the faces for her love. Her face crinkled when she didn’t see Remus but two young men holding a piece of cardboard with her name written in black marker on it. She realized that the two were, in fact, James Potter and Sirius Black. 

“Sirius and James?” She said walking up, suitcase in hand. Both were much taller than Y/N and extremely handsome, making her feel slightly uncomfortable under their gaze. Both young men grinned down at her. 

“Ah, you must be Button. Nice to know Remus talks about us enough for you to recognize our handsome faces,” Sirius exclaims, putting the cardboard under his arm and nudging James. “You’re even prettier than Rem described.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Well, you aren’t exactly hard to miss. Long hair, leather jacket, combat boots, overly flirty,” Y/N turns to James. “Glasses, The Beatles shirt, tired expression. Obviously, you’re James Potter and Sirius Black.” She smiles and pulls her hair behind her ear. “Congrats on the baby, by the way.” 

James beams, “Thanks! Kinda crazy considering the circumstances, but you know how it goes.” He takes Y/N’s luggage and starts walking towards the exit. “You threw Moony into quite a panic, you know. It was one of the best things I’ve seen in a while.” 

“It had to be done, he’s been putting it off for years. Something about not wanting me to be disappointed, whatever that means.” 

“Ah, classic moons. Glad you came though, really shakes up our daily schedule.” Sirius responds. The three make their way to a Volkswagon Beetle and James pops the trunk to put Y/N’s luggage inside. 

“Why didn’t he come and get me? Not that I mind the company, of course.” Sirius crawls into the back middle seat, leaving Y/N to sit shotgun with James driving. “Woah, I forgot it’s on the wrong side.”

“He pussied out, I’m sure you know how nervous he gets,” James pulled out onto the street and down the road. “And what’s on the wrong side?” 

“Your car and the road, James. It’s on the wrong side.” 

“It’s not on the wrong side, maybe you’re on the wrong side. Ever think of that?” He turned his head to look at her, the thick frame glasses on his face sliding down his nose. 

“See! You agree! I am currently on the wrong side!” Y/N giggled and hugged her backpack to her chest. 

Sirius also lets out a loud, bellowing laugh. Y/N felt as though she had known these two her entire life; in a way, she had. 

The three pulled into a parking structure and she exited the beetle. (The car, she had come to discover, was named Lennon, after John Lennon himself.) She hadn’t been nervous up until this moment, staring at the apartment door. James patted her shoulder and smiled. 

“It’ll be okay. He’s the same Remus you’ve been talking to for the past however many years.” 

“Yeah, if you even get him to talk,” Sirius pushes his way between the two and towards the door, lugging Y/N’s bag into the flat. He drops the luggage in the middle of the living room and flops onto the couch. “Oh, Moonbear, your lover is here! Get your fine ass out of your room, before I take it out here myself!” 

Y/N cautiously pads into the house, taking in the atmosphere of the home. It was very similar to their dreamscape, very small and sparsely decorated. However, the flat seemed to have 2 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms, as well as a few closets. The livingroom had various framed band posters hanging on the walls, as well as a big framed picture of the entire friend group. Y/N could point out who was who easily as she observed it. 

“Lily is so pretty,” She said aloud and pointed between two blondes. “Which one is Marlene and which one is Mary?” 

Sirius and James look at eachother and share a laugh. “Merlin, he really does talk about us.” James points at the girl with the big, poofy hair. “That one’s Marls, the other is Mary.” 

“Makes sense, since I’m assuming that’s Dorcas?” Y/N’s gaze moves from the blonde to a pretty brunette next to her. 

“Oi, Moons, I didn’t realize you spoke about us so much,” James says, making Y/N turn around. In all his glory, Remus Lupin stood in the living room, decked out in jeans, and a The Smiths shirt. He was perfectly imperfect, and Y/N’s entire body warmed. His gaze didn’t leave Y/N as James spoke but he allowed his jaw to grow slightly slack and his hands to pull his shirt down. 

“You’re even more beautiful in person, how is that possible?” His voice was breathy and light as if he was in complete awe. The light from the windows highlighted his cheekbones and made his features look unbelievably sharp, creating shadows that danced down his neck. He looked heavenly in absolutely every way possible, and this moment made her entire travel day worth it. Y/N blushed and stepped towards him. 

“Nice shirt, missed you at the airport, though.” 

Remus rolls his eyes and pulls his girl close to him. “Sorry ‘bout that, sunshine.” 

Y/N nestled her face into his chest, taking deep breaths of his cologne. He was even better than she expected, all the way down to the wool socks he wore. Remus’ hand came to gently stroke her hair before looking up to see his friends. Unsurprisingly, though, the living room was now empty and Sirius’ bedroom door was closed. 

“You smell so good, is that weird to say?” Y/N mumbles into the fabric of his shirt. “Like pine, and candy. I don’t know how to describe it.” She felt his chest vibrate as he laughed. 

“I can’t believe you’re finally here.” 

“Had’ta be sneaky, catch you off guard.” Y/N looked up into his eyes and glanced down to his lips. 

The soft look of admiration she had seen so many times crossed his features as he leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss. 

[fascination-street-writing]

Be With Me Tonight | Guido Mista x F!Reader

Regret is a sickening temptation - and you have ruined everything.

Content Warnings: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content (Oral & Implied), Implied Past Attempted Sexual Assault, Potentially Dubious Consent, & Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics (Past & Present)

You said you would do your own makeup. And yet, here you sit on a thrifted barstool – never mind the tweed upholstery that digs into the underside of your skirt-clad thighs, when you paid less for the stool than you would a loaf of bread – and flinch as your sister nearly prods your iris with the mascara wand clutched in her tremoring hand. She smells of hair spray and counterfeit perfume. You look to the mirror that hangs above the vanity.

“You really should change before we go,” she tells you while returning the wand to its tube. Fingers toil through your hair: she scrutinizes your appearance as though you are a porcelain doll and she your maker. You suppose that, in a way, she is. “You won’t catch anyone’s attention dressed like that.”

The reflection of your cherry-red lips mimics the frown upon your face. “Maybe I don’t want to ‘catch anyone’s attention,’” you retort. “I’m not even ready to start dating again.”

She groans. “You’re not still caught up on that perdente, are you?”

You do not have to bite back a quip because you do not have one. Instead, you bite your stained lips and look away. Though the relationship with your most recent ex had ended on mutual terms, the separation stings nonetheless.

“You know, you’ve always had bad taste in men,” your sister continues. Varnish to a wall, she rubs powder across your cheekbones. “First there was that pervertito when you were fifteen, and now a convicted murderer.”

“Can you stop?” you demand, clenching your fist. “He’s not a murderer. It was self-defense.”

“Regardless of what you think, he still killed three men. I can’t believe the landlord hasn’t changed our locks yet. I asked him almost a year ago now, ever since he was released from prison,” your sister insists, ignoring your plea. “You should’ve asked for his key back.”

“He has a name, you know.” Guido Mista – a name that once tasted like honey on your tongue, now bitter as cigarette smoke.

And your sister refuses to speak it, for she hates the taste of cigarettes. A hum dies on her lips. Her smirk bequeaths to you an urgency to cower in shame; however, the distressed look in her eyes tells you how much she fears for your welfare.

As if she has anything to genuinely be afraid of.

Guido Mista has, for most of your life, been something of an extended acquaintance to you. His is a recognizable presence in crowded hallways; after all, who else amongst the student body could muster the same courage to break the dress-code by donning a purple beanie cap atop their head? You will admit to him that you look forward to the days when a teacher confiscates his cap because it means that you get to admire his rich chocolate curls all day long from your seat at the back of the classroom. He will chuckle in response and press a sloppy kiss to your cheek while running his calloused fingers over the sides of your belly, drinking in the laughter that bubbles through you, as if you are the fountain of ever-lasting love itself.

But it was not always this way. Before Mista came a boy whose name you will etch from memory in time – remembered as a boyfriend, but never as a partner.

At your locker, he leans over you, waiting for you to stack your textbooks away. You are fifteen, and he asks you to join him behind the bleachers of the gymnasium. No more than a pet tethered by a chain, you follow him blindly to where his companions wait. You know their pubescent faces but you seldom speak to them. Their names do not matter anymore, either.

In a school dress, pitted against three boys who surpass you in height – you never stood a chance.

The squealing of the gymnasium doors and the slamming of the lock is not enough to stop them. It did little more than encourage your perpetrators to wedge you between their clothed bodies as they fist your hair and tug at the skirt that your father has only just purchased for you after you spilled grape juice over the previous one. You spot the purple beanie over your boyfriend’s blazer-clad shoulder and cry out to him – to Guido Mista.

His cap has fallen from his head, and they beat him until he gasps for air and spews bile from his throat. But he never begs them to stop because it keeps them from attacking you again. He can hardly put up a fight when every attempt to stand is quelled by the diving of a loafer-clad foot into the pit of his stomach Your boyfriend grabs him by those beautiful curls and ushers his face against the waxed floors. The glint of a pocketknife catches your eye.

The school-bell blares. The boy who had held you back throws you to the ground. The pocketknife clamors with you, just beyond the grasp of the tips of your fingers. Your ex-boyfriend (for you no longer consider him as anything more) and his boyish companions dust off their blazers, straighten their ties, and hurry off for their next round of classes. They leave you with your unsettled clothes and a boy with a broken nose.

Clutching the rungs of the bleachers, Mista pulls his body upwards:  a buoy in the sea, and you the only vessel on the horizon. You press his discarded beanie – which you cannot help but to notice smells comfortingly so of cedarwood – to his nose. Red blossoms seep into the delicate threads.  “Are you okay?” he asks you with a cough and a grimace for, as you will come to discover, he has cracked a rib.

“Yes.” Compared to his injuries, you cleared the scuffle relatively unscathed. Mista had stepped in before anything beyond the tearing of your uniform could happen. And yet, his concern is of you and not for his own well-being. “Thank you.”

He flashes you a lopsided grin. You are glad to see that, though laced with the blood that seeps into his mouth, he has not lost any teeth. His repose is infectious, and his ease illuminates your own composure. You help him to stand and together you walk to the nurse’s office, his arm slung over your shoulders and yours around his waist. Your attackers are expelled; their testimony of falsified innocence could not hold a candle to security footage, or a pocketknife engraved with damning initials. Despite everything, you make a new friend. The two of you will become lovers at sixteen – utterly inseparable.

Until the very end.

You prefer sweeter cocktails, but you accept the gin and tonic from your sister and lift it to your lips anyways. The relief of the ice pooling in the cavities of your mouth is a reprieve from the suffocating atmosphere of the nightclub. Too many bodies, too much sweat – too many different smells, and suddenly your mind whirls. You place the emptied glass atop a table and only then do you realize that you never juiced the translucent lime wedge curled around the rim.

The circle of women whom you find yourself dancing with are strangers; you sway as though you have all known each other for a lifetime. You do not understand the words of the American pop song that resonates from the wall speakers, but it does not matter; after all, even an illiterate man can read rhythm. Across the dancefloor, your sister drags two men with her towards the restroom.

A pelvis presses against your backend – or perhaps, it is your backend that leans into the nook of the clubber swaying behind you. A pair of hands falls to your hips, though you take the lead in rocking side-to-side to Laura Branigan’s cadence. Over the sound of music, the woman to your left suggests that you all swap cellphone numbers. The woman to your right agrees with a drunken nod of her head and, giddy with excitement, clasps your hand. The woman directly across from you offers to order a round of shots to commemorate this newfound comradery. Instead of a tray filled with cinnamon whiskey, she returns with an olive-toned man clad in orange leopard print pants and a blue cross-patterned sweater that exposes his midriff.

“Hey, ladies,” the woman calls out to your circle. The lights ripple across her flushed skin like water. “This is Mista.”

You freeze, your hips suspended mid-beat. Your dance partner pouts and pulls away. Mista does not look to you, and you are grateful . . . Until his coffee-colored eyes do fall to your face after a hiccup jostles your chest. His brows furrow, gaze darting between you and the man behind you. Before his steadily parting lips can utter your name against the clapping of the bass, you are gone because you are not ready.

The winter breeze makes you shiver. The nightly chill is preferable to the sweltering sanctuary behind you, where only moments ago you bobbed along to pop songs and impulsively contemplated friendship with intoxicated patrons who will not remember you in the morning.

The green dial of your cellphone flashes and reflects upon scattered puddles.  You text your sister and tell her that you are going home – don’t wait up. Your affinity for clubbing has gone sour.

“I thought that was you.”

Your heart races quickly, so much that it might burst from the nook between your breasts and land on the ground before his white boots. “Yeah, it’s me,” you say. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You too. So, what’ve you been up to?”

“Just stuff. And things.”

Mista laughs. “Stuff and things?”

“Y’know, work,” you tell him with a nod. “More work.”

“Me too.” You fidget with your purse. “I saw your sister – or, the back of her head, actually. How’s she doin’?”

“She’s good.”

“Good.”

A man stumbles through the door. He reeks of cheap bourbon and rye. You and Mista step aside and watch the man as he struggles to walk away from the club. The scene has created a lull to your painfully cumbrous conversation; you reap the opportunity, for it becomes your self-proclaimed cue to leave. You open your mouth to bid Mista adieu. The taste of your own lipstick leaves you sputtering.

“Hey, so uh, are you busy?” he suddenly asks, cutting you off. You have always believed that he could read minds. In this moment, it is as if he knows your intent – as if shuffling in your heels and tightening the grasp on your purse were not telltale signs of your discomfort.

“Not really,” you insist. “I was about to head home.”

“Cool, cool. I was just wondering because you left something behind at my apartment. I’ve been meaning to give it back, but I didn’t think it’d be right to just show up at your doorstep or something.”

“It hasn’t stopped you before,” you chide.

“I know, I know. I just figured it’d make sense to stop at my place, since it’s on the way.”

It gnaws at you – the voice in your head that tells you to leave him be, here and now. It will not do you any good, stepping back into walls once sacred to you. He stares at you, wide-eyed, and gages your reaction. Dark curls poke out from beneath the rim of his cap. You wonder if he still uses that cedarwood shampoo.

It would not do you any good to go with him. The prospect of sipping a glass of wine whilst soaking in a warm bath beckons you home. There is little trouble that you can muster with an idle night, for the night is still young and you have not given up. Though the moon has reached its peak, you cannot surrender. You have made your choice.

“Sure.”

But you never intended to make the right one.

You were sure to slip on a set of shoes before stepping outside. Through the hallway, down the elevator, across the lobby, and onto the street you wander with little more than the glow of streetlamps and passing headlights to guide your way through the dark. You find him in the alley between your apartment building and the next. The stink of a prison cell has imprinted itself onto his skin.

He slips a single nickel-plated key into your hand. “Your sister probably wouldn’t appreciate me having this,” he says.

“You can keep it. I’ll tell her you forgot it.” When he does not accept the return, you reach out and tuck the key into the pocket of his cargo pants. “Just so you have something to remember me by.”

The look in his eyes – the sheen of gloss that coats his irises – churns your stomach. In that moment, Mista reminds you of a dog scorned by his owner. In a way, that is exactly what he is. “You still have that sweater I sent you, right?”

Mustard-yellow, and one of your favorites. And one of Mista’s, too. You had sent it to him during his second week in holding. “Yeah.”

“Keep that, too.” A revolver rests in inside the waistband of his pants. It is a new addition to his appearance. It does not unsettle you, because you know that this man who killed three mobsters without hesitation would never hurt you. “Mista, I’m sorry.”

“I am too,” he sighs, kicking at a discarded soda can that had drifted from a nearby trashcan. “But it’s for the best.”

“It is.” The soda can rolls your way. You stop it with the sole of your foot; it crinkles beneath your weight. “Maybe one day, after you’re tired of working for that Bucciarati, we can pick up where we left off.”

“I’d like that.”

You smile. “Me too . . . Well, I should get going before my sister realizes I’m gone.” In your final moments together – before a pair of lovers once again becomes two separate beings – you embrace. Face buried into the crook of his neck, you speak: “You’re a good person, Mista. No matter what happened between you and those men or whatever does happen, you will always be good.”

He clutches you tighter.

“Don’t let them get to you. Don’t let this job get to you. And please, stai al sicuro, amore: stay safe.”

Back in your bedroom, you shed your clothes and don a mismatched set pajamas. Ever the optimist, you retire for the night with a heart not yet ready to be broken.

And an inescapable evocation of loneliness.

You are shocked to see the stack of hastily packed cardboard boxes. The words fragile or giunca are crudely scribbled with black marker across each one. All that remains is a worn couch with springs that poke into your skin and a square television, which sits on a box labeled libri e altra spazzatura – books and other trash.

The uniform pinholes in the barren walls are a reminder that imitators of your face, frozen in time, used to adorn the room.

“You’re moving?” you ask Mista as he tosses his hat aside and runs a hand through his hair.

He stops and looks to the boxes. “Yeah, actually,” he confirms. “The rent’s too damn high to afford on my own. I’m moving in with some coworkers.”

“You mean other gang members?” You do not miss the way he bites his lip in response. You regret your words as soon as they leave you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“N-no, it’s okay – you’re right anyways.” He trails off. “So that guy you were with. He your boyfriend or something?”

You struggle to recall your dance partner. “Oh, no,” you insist, caught between a scoff and a laugh. “I don’t even know his name.”

Something flashes behind his eyes. He hides the smile that creeps on his face behind the back of his hand, though he does not speak. Not another word is spoken.

It does not sit well with you, the silence that manifests in the still of the room. You are a trespasser – but so is he, for this realm no longer belongs to him, either. “Um, where’s this thing I left behind?” you finally ask; your voice echoes through the emptied space. It makes you shiver.

Mista disappears past the threshold of the bedroom that you once shared  – you wonder if he still uses the cream-colored sheets you bought for him as opposed to his preferred navy blue – and returns with a shirt: it is your mustard-yellow sweater. It is wrinkled and smells just like him and something new (gunpowder, perhaps). The dried drool marks tell you that he sleeps with it bundled in his arms. “Here,” he says, holding it out to you.

You do not move to take it. “I gave it to you,” you remind him. A crushed soda can is under your foot and again, you are back in the alley saying farewell to your love. “I want you to keep it.”

But there is no alleyway – only a vacant apartment suite. He does not wish to return it; in a hasty, split-second decision back at the nightclub, he wagered his ownership over what has become his most cherished possession. Just for the chance that you might say yes.

Just for the chance to spend one last night with you.

He rolls his wrist, extending his arm further. “No. It’s for the best.”

And so, you pluck it from his grasp and tuck it inside of your purse – the final harvest from the tree, to be seeded and planted elsewhere. “I’d better get going,” you tell him. “I wish you all the best. It was good seeing you again. Really good . . .”

The doorknob hovers under your palm. “Wait,” Mista suddenly calls. You stop. He rubs the back of his neck. “Would you like to stay for a bit?”

“I shouldn’t. It’s late.” Your tongue betrays your heart. It is treason within your very soul. “Besides, it’s probably for the best if I go.”

Your reverberation of his words makes him wince. More than anything, you want to drop your purse and climb into his arms – to feel his warmth again. You need to leave. Yet, you step away from the door and take a seat upon the flattened cushions of the couch. You still remember where to sit to avoid the broken springs. “Unless, I mean . . .  I guess if you really wouldn’t mind.”

Mista perks up. You mirror his grin. He takes the spot beside you, careful to leave a considerable amount of distance between your bodies. He reaches for the remote. The reception has not improved – it remains fuzzy, pixelated, and colorless.

“I’d offer a boardgame, but . . .” He gestures to the boxes; you get the hint. The channels flash by. “Any preferences?”

“I’m fine with a cooking show,” you tell him. “Or a movie.”

He settles for the latter. At some point, you leave Mista to fetch two drinks from the kitchen. The refrigerator is nearly empty, save for a few bottles of water. When you return with your beverages, you find that he has fallen asleep. You leave him be and watch the reminder of the movie with nothing more than his heavy breathing and the voices of the actors to keep you company.

You turn the television off once the end credits begin. Mista has not moved. If not for the heaving of his chest, he might have been a dead man. Without a clock on the wall, you cannot tell the time. Prediction is all you have – and so, you predict that it is just after midnight. Regardless, you have overstayed your welcome. It is time to leave.

Your fingers brush across his arm as you lean over his hunched form to rouse him from his slumber.  You would hate to leave without saying goodbye. “Mista . . . “ you coo; your speech slurs and it is only then that you realize your own exhaustion. “I’m gonna go home, ‘kay?”

He stirs beneath you. Eyes puffy from sleep, he ogles at your figure. You hover over him, your breath close enough to ghost his cheeks. His long, dark lashes twitch when you breathe too sharply – when he parts his legs for you to slide in between them so that he might capture your lips with his own. One hand to the base of your neck, the other to your waist: he pulls you flush to his body, caging you with arms that feel unfamiliar. More muscle, you suppose.

You press against his chest and detach. His grip loosens, although only enough for you to raise the back of your hand to puckered lips to wipe the saliva from your face. He has already lost you – once more and it will become a life sentence.

“Mista,” you warn, turning your head away to resist his second kiss. The twinges of early love bloom again in the core of your belly. You want him. But you cannot have him. “We can’t.”

Your lipstick stains his mouth. It makes him look undeniably pretty.

“One night,” he pleads – yet his hands leave your body. “I know what you said, about waiting until I’m finished with Passione. But that was easier said than done. I can’t leave them; not now, maybe not ever. They’re mia famiglia. And so are you.”

Your head falls limply. “You can’t have us both.”

“Why not?” He speaks your name when you hesitate to answer. A finger hooks beneath your chin, tipping your head so that you must meet his gaze. “Why not, cara?”

He demands a truth that you have never professed. Not to him, nor your sister – and never to yourself. “I’m scared, Mista,” you finally admit. Confession weighs you down in his grasp. “Because I know the day will come when you won’t come back. It’d be better if I’m not around for it.”

A faint smile, laced with sorrow, etches upon his face. “Do you have that little faith in me?” he asks.

Faith? It was never for the lack thereof. You trust Mista with every fiber of your being because he saved you. And it was not just you – he took the lives of three men to protect the virtue of a woman whom he had never met because she could have been you. She was almost you. That night, when he had heard that woman’s screams and saw the man crouched over her bruised form, Mista felt as though his body had projected itself back into the gymnasium of the school you once attended together. Only this time, he knew how to put up a fight. He acted in the way that the constraints of boyhood had once held him back from.

No, you do not place your mistrust on Mista – you place it in the souls of every man and woman that poses a threat to his safety. The fact that you do not know how to convey this to him mystifies you. Actions are far easier than words, and so you press your lips to his once more. You feed off his touch alone.  

You recline against the backing of the couch, hands pressed flat against the cushions. keening into Mista’s palms as he slides your skirt down – past your thighs, past your knees, and past your ankles. Your panties follow suit. His mouth presses against your slick folds; as touch starved as you have become, it takes little more than his kisses to stir your core. As if commanded by muscle memory, your legs coil around his shoulders and yank him closer the moment his tongue slips past your heat. He groans against you, low and gravely. It makes you gasp when his teeth graze over your hardened nub. When he brings his finger to join his tongue, you find that you are unable to stop your hips from rocking against his lips. A second finger coaxes you, and then a third – you come undone in his mouth, heaving for air.

You cry out his name in prayer. Mista pulls away, letting your legs fall back down. The spasm of your thighs turns your abdomen to jelly. You cannot move. You draw him in for another kiss, savoring the taste of your balm that coats his skin. He mutters his desires and you nod, eager to feel him fill you again. He hoists you into his arms and carries you to the bedroom.

It fills you with gratification to see that the rumpled sheets and folded pillows beneath you are in fact the color of sweet cream.

Soft snores leave Mista’s lips. He sleeps on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes, and the other tucked beneath your head. Unlike your lover, you are wide-awake. You stare at the browning wallpaper of the bedroom wall, willing yourself to believe that the stagnant flowers are truly billowing against the wind in a field elsewhere.

You toss the duvet from your body and stand, careful not to wake him. The mattress breathes in the absence of your weight. In the darkness, you collect your discarded clothing and don your clubbing attire. You cast one final look to the sleeping dark-eyed boy before clicking the heavy door shut behind you.

A tiny voice cries out – a child from the next apartment suite perhaps, startled by nightmares no doubt. Though, as your ears strain and listen, it almost seems as though the child is calling your name. It is a ludicrous idea. Still, it unsettles you, for there is something familiar in its tone. You tighten your grasp on your purse, readjust your heels, and leave.

Regret is a sickening temptation – and you have ruined everything. 

| 4291 Words | Masterlist |

[tiesandtea]

I met two members of London Suede, Brett Anderson and Mat Osman, in the lounge of a major New York hotel. They were at the beginning of a four-city tour of the U.S. in support of their newest release, Coming Up on Columbia Records. I got a chance to talk to them about songwriting, performing and who they think can write a good song. Brett did almost all the talking and never took his sunglasses off. Hey, he's a rock star; he doesn't have to. This was my first time interviewing a British band and I couldn't escape the feeling of being Rob Reiner in Spinal Tap.

An interview with Brett & Mat by Dave Levine for Urban Desires, May 1997. The rest of the article under the cut. (x)

London Suede, or Suede as they're known in England, is at the forefront of the new Brit-Pop explosion that includes bands like Oasis, Blur and Pulp. They write lush poppy songs reminiscent of Bowie in the late seventies. As with many of the new British bands, success in America is hard won. They released their first record, Nude in 1993 and it went #1 in England but didn't make much sound on this side of the Atlantic. Why? well Brett thinks he knows, so read on.

UD: So have you guys been to New York a lot? LS: Yeah, we've been here quite a few times. UD: So what's the difference between London night life and New York? LS: I don't know really. I think every city in the world is pretty much the same, isn't it? I mean there's no difference between New York, and London. Everyone likes to think that they live in the biggest, baddest city in the world. London's just as big and bad as New York and Rio de Janeiro is just as big and bad as London. I think at this point in the twentieth century everyone is so well connected and the world's just become one big place... got tramps sittin' in the street and sex and sleaze and stuff like that. It's all the same, isn't it? UD: Except for the bars in London close at 11:00. LS: Yeah, but there are after-hours places. UD: What's your favorite place in the world to play? London? LS: Probably Thailand or Scandinavia. UD: Why? Because the crowds are crazy, and they just love it? LS: They're mad, especially in Singapore. They sing along with every word. UD: What about New York? To me, New York crowds are jaded. LS: Yeah, they are a bit. Last time we played here it was shit. I can't really get my hands around the mentality. I don't really know how to put this. I mean, I don't want to be offensive. UD: Go ahead be offensive, it makes good copy. LS: New Yorkers want to be shouted at or they don't respect you. They tend to assume that quietness equals weakness, which it doesn't. That's an assumption that I don't think anyone in the world makes. The first show we did here was really boring and the second show we were going through quite alot of bad times with the band. We were having alot of internal arguments and it was a real low point in our relations. We were so fucked up with each other, we absolutely fuckin' hated each other... I don't know how to put it.... UD: New York probably loved that. LS: Exactly, it came across in the gig. It was a real wild gig. UD: I read in your press release that when you first started playing, people hated you. Is that true? LS: (Both laughing) UD: Critically too, and then at some point it changed. Did you do anything? LS: No we just got better, that's all there is to it. We always were going against the grain, and so when you're doing something that is going against the grain and you're not very good at it, people hate you. When you do something against the grain and you're good at it, people start thinking it's something special. UD: So it was just experience, then? LS: Experience of playing live, learning how to sing and how to write songs.

UD: I want to give people here in the US that don't know much about you some background. How did you get started? LS: No one really fuckin' cares anyway. UD: ... Okay. Why do you think it's hard for modern British pop bands to break into the U.S.? LS: I know exactly why that is, 'cause the American music industry is obsessed with categories and things. And we aren't that happy with being categorized. In Europe we're just a pop band. We're #7, and George Michael is #5. You know, we're just a band. There is a song on the second album called "The Wild Ones." When we first played it for Sony they were doing somersaults. We thought it was like #1 and they took it to radio stations, and they couldn't get it played. They couldn't figure out if it was a love song or a rock song by a band with a bunch of guitars. We took it to alternative and they thought it was too mainstream, and we took it to mainstream and they thought it was too alternative. It's never been my desire to be neatly sectioned into some little box. Then you lose any mystery, any danger, any X factor that you might have had, and I don't think that many bands in Europe are happy being categorized like that. UD: Your press release touted you as the best lyricist of your generation-- LS: --I wouldn't believe anything it says there-- UD: --do you have any problem living up to that? LS: Do I have a problem with that? Yeah, I don't think it's true. I don't think anyone is the best lyricist of a generation. I should burn that press release. It's been the source of so much inflammatory rubbish. UD: What inspired you to start playing? LS: We just loved music and wanted to be in a band. LS: I wanted to be a song writer. UD: What songwriters do you admire? LS: Kraftwerk, Lennon and McCartney, Pet Shop Boys. UD: What do you think of Billy Bragg? LS: I think he's got a big nose. UD: (Laughing) I guess that would be 'not too much'. LS: Naw, I think he's alright. I like some of his love songs. UD: Yeah, he does write good love songs. LS: It's like Bob Dylan; I think all these political writers aren't as political when they are writing love songs. I think their political stuff stinks. Bob Dylan's political songs are so fucking one dimensional, and the same goes for Billy Bragg. UD: So you don't believe in the folk, socio-political commentary song? LS: Yeah I do. I just don't believe it's effective when it's put in that crass category. I don't think any of Bob Dylan's political songs were that moving. UD: ... What about "Times They Are A Changing"? LS: Yeah, I guess. UD: What about Elvis Costello? He's a guy who writes political songs. LS: Yeah I like "Shipbuilding." That's probably the best political song ever written. It goes beyond politics, and touches on the human consequences of politics, which I think song writing has got to do. I don't think you can just put numbers and manifestos within a chord sequence. I don't think it strikes a chord in the human heart. I think to actually say something to people you've got to say it with emotion. That's why I think that "Shipbuilding" is one of the best political songs.

UD: What's the worst thing about being on the road? LS: Standing in a pool of someone else's piss when you're on a fucking bus on a three-day journey. UD: Is there a story that goes along with that response? LS: No, that's an everyday occurrence. UD: What do you guys think about Tony Blair? LS: I think it's fucking great. I think it's the best thing to happen to England in a couple of years, wonderful. UD: In the United States they compare him a lot to Clinton. LS: A politician can never be one hundred percent great. I think a politician, as long as he inspires confidence in a positive way, then he's a good politician. And I think Blair and Clinton both do that. UD: What kind of press does Clinton get over there? LS: He gets good press. UD: He probably gets better press over there... LS: ... I'd rather see someone like him than some rejuvenated old skeleton like George Bush. You know what I mean? Some old man that looks like they've been revived, you know, dug up from the dead. UD: If you could just sit at home and write songs, would that satisfy you? LS: I don't think so, it's not boring enough yet to do that. There is part that is mundane. There are some low points but then there are some extreme highs and those highs can inform your writing. I think the point of it all is to actually let things inform other things, and let the whole thing become one big process. UD: Do you guys all get along on the road? LS: We've had fights in the past but not in the last couple of years. Although maybe we should start. LS: There is an idea. LS: Maybe I'll punch our bass player. UD: Head butt him? LS: Yeah, I want to give him a good head butt. LS: I might give him a hug. UD: No, don't do that. New Yorkers won't like it. Don't do the hug thing. Don't be nice or anything.

[inhibited-irregularity]

EUROVISION 2021, personal favorites:

- Russia 🇷🇺

Manizha, Russian Woman: Absolute favorite. The sheer originality of the song! Her energy and the level of absolute badassery! She can sing, she can rap,and she's a bomb of energy. The way reggae and brass and hiphop and Slavic melodies overlap and it somehow works, the transitions between fun and "I'm bitter about the sexism and I'm mocking it unapologetically and making a stand" and the anthemic, emphatic and powerful message to Russian women; I was swelling with emotion while watching her. While to an American or a Westerner it may seem like performative feminism, I'm gonna remind you that in Russia and other Slavic countries that's very much not a thing and actually a very unpopular stand to make, and in Russia, The Balkans, and Eastern Europe in general, hundreds of women face domestic and sexual abuse on the daily, and those who do come forward rarely get support and are mostly dismissed. Let's not forget that Manizha got a huge backlash from the Russian government officials, and a big part of it was for her Tajik roots. The honesty of her message is real, and she's speaking from personal experience and the experience of women around her - nothing performative about her song, and you can tell from her delivery that the fire within her is true and she leaves her heart on the stage and pours it into the song. The staging and costumes are great as well, and symbolically well thougt-through. I would really like her to win, or at least get to the top 5. Most of all, I hope her message is heard and felt. 10000/10

- Italy 🇮🇹

Måneskin, Zitti e Buoni: definitely the closest thing to my actual music taste this year, so liking them off the bat wasn't a surprise. However, they're not just your regular Franz-Ferdinand-ish young alt rock band that wants to do rock "properly" - they have IT. The X factor, the Je ne sais quoi. I've been exposed to that particular genre, and I can confidently say that the song still manages to be refreshing and original (that bridge, those riffs!) The band has a great energy and no matter how much Damiano steals the show, they are still a unit and nobody is left in the shadows. They have the spirit of great rock bands of the previous century, and yet they don't try to copy anyone (khm,Greta Van Fleet, khm). Damiano's vocals are both powerful, seductive and provoking, and I'm still admiring the sheer amount of emotion he can pack into a single line and the nuance and yet rawness behind it. I'm not gonna state the obvious lol (the obvious being yes, I'm thirsty as well, he becomes yet another unattainable rockstar for me too,and yes they all look great) Anyway, great song, and maybe the clearest and most serious candidate for the number one spot, taking both the jury and the public into consideration. 10/10

- Iceland 🇮🇸

Daði Freyr and Gagnamagnið, 10 years:

What can I say about this masterpiece that hasn't already been said? A clear fan-favorite (hi, Valentina), but with the guns to back it up. The song is contagious, fun and campy, and unlike some other songs with said qualities, actually good from a musical perspective. Daði is incredibly charismatic and his sense of humor shines through, and even though he's the star of the show, the same can be said about the other band members. The synergy Måneskin has can be applied to Gagnamagnið as well, even though the energy is entirely different. They're serving us fun, sunshine, kitties rainbows sugar spice and everything nice, and manage to do it with zero cringe factor (plus those funky keytars). I'm one of those Eurovision fans that lament the golden age's (2004-2009) campiness (We'll never forget you, Verka), and Daði managed to bring it back, but modernised, polished and still sincere. I personally preferred the epic dad joke that slightly more commercial Think About Thing was (but that's one tough act to follow), but I'm always down for a husband adoring his wife and singing praises to their relationship. Since we're on tumblr, I feel obliged to use the term "cinnamon rolls" in describing Daði and the band. 9.5/10

- France 🇫🇷

Barbara Pravi, Voilà: She brought the theatrics, she brought the drama, and she brought the 101 in "that's how you perform". Her personality leaps through, and her voice is both beautiful and full of emotion and power. I'd hire her to star in a serious and artistic movie. Despite the fact that Voilà is from its melody to the singing style to the video to the vibe and the aesthetic hands down the most French thing I've seen since Amélie (do not come for that movie), it miraculously doesn't come across as a cliché, but rather an homage, and an individualistic one at that. It's not entirely my cup of tea, since I'm usually biased to songs that may come off as snobbish (I mean, the jury is going to lap it up), and are all about being proper and technical and oh how ~artistic~, but Barbara puts the soul into the immaculate. I'm not giving her the highest mark because I'm yet to see the performance, but I'm rooting for her. If she delivers the performance, we might have a clear winner. 9/10

- Ukraine 🇺🇦

Go_A, Shum: I'm a sucker for all things ethnic and mytological, so this was a no-brainer. I want that song played at every party. I want to go to the forest in the video and chant and summon the spring with flute and hard-bass. Kateryna Pavlenko has some unexplainable power over me, and her eyes are simply hypnotizing. The vocals are great, proper Slavic ethno right there (seriously, check out Slavic folklore and traditional music), and she has a subtle punk quality too(?). Ukraine came to save the spring and make us forget about the pandemic, and minus the Maruv fiasco (justice for her!), they always deliver and I expected nothing less. On the other hand, I loved the original version much more and couldn't help but be a bit disappointed with the revamp (yes, I know they had to), and while I personally love Shum, I think some other acts are more deserving of the higher placement. Go_A are not my winner, but definitely soon to be in my playlist. 8/10

- San Marino 🇸🇲

Adrenalina, Senhit ft. Flo Rida: You know that golden age of Eurovision I mentioned? THIS. I'm Serbian, so I can't resist a banger reminiscent of our horrible turbo-folk elements (and I say that endearingly,takes me back to 18th birthday parties (boy I'm glad that's over)). Let's just crown Senhit this year's Queen of Camp. The wild factor of Flo Rida...just?? Amazing. Can't wait to see how the performance goes (EDIT- it went great, I had a grin on my face the entire time and couldn't help but dance along). A certain refreshment after Serhat and Valentina Monetta endless loop. They didn't dial down the weird, but made it catchy af, and the vocal can rival any Balkan folk diva. While I think it's definitely the most entertaining entry this year, it's far from being the most original, and it's not really my genre of preference. Will vote for Senhit and root for her to qualify. 7.5/ 10

- Sweden 🇸🇪

Tusse, A million voices: As I mentioned before, I'm the first person that starts complaining about Sweden Superiority as soon as Eurovision season begins, and I'm with you all with being tired of Sweden qualifying just because they're Sweden and usually just bringing the same brand of MTV/Calvin Harris/American pop, or a successful and not-so-subtle imitation of the performances that did well the previous year,but listen: A million voices is a solid pop song and I'm going to die on that hill. It actually embodies the essence of pop - a catchy, pleasant melody sung by a good vocalist, with a short,sweet and uplifting message. It's not the same as previous years, it's not commercial, just good pop - good pop being something you immediately like and vibe to no matter how many common elements of the genre it checks. It relies on RnB rather than electronic sounds, auto tune or various DJ effects. Tusse is charming and charismatic af, and he's a 19yo kid doing an amazing job on a global stage. You don't have to like it, but there's no need to hate on it (ask Jendrik). Imo, Tusse deserved to qualify. Not winner material yet, but I wish him a fun time and a successful career. 7 5/10

- Switzerland 🇨🇭

G'jons Tears, Tout L'Univers: I saw the video first, and I HATED IT. It came across as a Duncan Lawrence-high-art wannabe, something technically perfect, but empty of soul or meaning, another soft boy with a sad falsetto, another jury-points bait. BUT. I changed my mind entirely after seeing him perform. Hands down, it was touching and epic. Reminding me of Hamlet aside, he DELIVERED, and made me love him, and actually enjoy the song. I still think the song is less original than Tusse's voices, but I enjoy the troubadour vibes of the pre-chours. G'jon is absolutely adorable, and I'm not gonna be mad if he wins. 8/10

shout-outs&honorable mentions:

- Serbia 🇷🇸 Yes, some national bias, but I'm proud of our girls. Ever Since we placed 2nd with Željko's Lane, we had that goddamn flute e v e r y year, and the same outdated scenography with a side of extra pathos (I'm sure that ruined Sanja's chances and her otherwise great performance back in 2016.) Finally something fun and actually representative of the music popular here. They looked flawless and the energy was off the charts. Go, Hurricane!

-Finland 🇫🇮 Yes, cheesy and corny and I cut my finger accidentally from watching the video on all the edge, but I'm biased because they're bringing emo and nu-metal back, and that's the music of my early adolescence (hello, Kaulitz brothers and Andy Biersack,hello Gerard Way and Linkin Park) Call me grandma lol

- Malta 🇲🇹 DESTINY CAN SIIIIIIIIING! I wasn't impressed with the song initially, but the performance blew my mind.

- Ireland 🇮🇪 A for effort, and so nice of her to try and give us something unique! While it wasn't good enough to qualify, it was super fun and she seems so nice. Also, we all know that she was out of breath an can sing much better than that. Still wasn't bad.

- Romania 🇷🇴, for being so young and brave enough to put on a show. The nerves got the better of her, but the song itself is good and no doubt she'll do well in the future

- Lithuania 🇱🇹, thanks for the memeries

- Croatia 🇭🇷, Not my cup of tea, but Albina gave a great performance

-Norway 🇳🇴, for embodying the spirit of Eurovision

- North Macedonia 🇲🇰, for the disco chest

- The UK 🇬🇧, for putting some effort

(Might edit later)

[popsiclemania]

My 2020 in K dramas (+1 J drama)

I began watching k-dramas in 2018 but I’ve never watched as many shows, Korean or otherwise, as I have in this one. 2020 ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. I think what helps me really enjoy this over Bollywood+Malayalam+ American pop culture I grew up with is that a smirk on the wrong character’s face doesn’t make me seethe with rage and want to burn everything down. It’s not like growing up with SRK on screen and then having SRK wannabes leave you with lifelong trauma in reality. I can just move on. It’s removed enough from my everyday life but still familiar in a generic Asian family way. Does that make sense? It’s not perfect and it’s not free of its own harmful stereotypes and narratives, but there’s enough of the good stuff to make you stick around. This year I fell in love with Nana, Kim Hye Soo, Han Yeri, Park Eun bin, Ahn Eun jin, Kim Bum, Kim Yong ji, Flower Boy’s Go Dok Mi and Search:WWW’s Bae Tami. Cancelled Ji Chang wook (bye). Desperately missed Kim Jae Wook. Had thoughts on Hwang In Yeop, which were mostly heart eyes. Discovered J dramas and fell in love with Cherry Magic’s Adachi.

My year-in-review below:

LOVED

Into The Ring - I am so glad I saved this for a rainy day because it’s exactly the kind of upright citizen shenanigans my unemployed ass needed at the end of the year.

Goo Se Ra thinks the govt should work for the people but that doesn’t mean her own moral compass always points north. Her purpose is to make steady money, and I love seeing her go hard to survive and cobble together what she needs. The thing that really works for me is that she wants to be good, but she isn’t always. And you get to see her be disappointed, upset, embarrassed and hurt from being publicly kicked in the gut as she navigates a job where she appears, on the surface, to be a supremely confident, self-serving, accidental politician. What you see as her naiveté is mostly just her being a regular person in an environment dictated by backhand deals and rich people politics. She gets hit again and again, and you see what it does to her sense of worth to get back up again, how she grapples with her self. And through all this the show is funny?! Se Ra is what writers of manic pixie characters think they are doing and not doing at all. Love her friends, and Jang Hye-jin is *chef’s kiss*!

Hyena - Kim Hye Soo’s Jung Geum Ja is perhaps Se Ra’s older and darker contemporary.  Geum Ja is a survivor and will get what she wants and where she wants to, however many hells she has to cross. She’s single-minded about her success, ruthless and has no qualms about bending morals to get the outcome she needs. She’ll never compromise on who she is or justify how she lives, can build people up and also tear them down, but she also knows care and kindness.

I turned to Signal for more Kim Hye Soo but was disappointed in how the first few episodes seemed to shortchange her. May try again in 2021.

(Highly recommend @saltr0se​’s  fic series which just GETS Geum Ja so well. Fic writers are the best)

Search: WWW (Finished in 2020) - It took me half a year to finish this. I started watching Search in Oct 2019 and raced through the first 6 episodes because I couldn’t take my eyes off the rollercoaster of Bae Tami’s life. And then I had to take a break because it was a little too close to the frenetic pace of my own industry. As @drivingsideways wrote, a lot of Search is premised around ‘patriarchy? who dat?’, which is why watching its politics play out is so fascinating.  It’s also deliciously turmoil-y to watch a very clear-sighted, weathered Tami put on rose-tinted glasses for her romance and then frequently peer over them to evaluate whether it could actually meld into her life.

Catch The Ghost - Kim Seonho oozes charm and perhaps Startup was a showcase of how effectively he can be a typical male lead. But Catch is exactly not that. Go Jiseok and Yoo Ryeong have moulded their lives around to meet their most desperate wishes in life and in the process also left parts of themselves untended. There is guilt, pain and need. Now guess who will tend to whose wounds? Their dynamic is electric even when the central mystery flags towards the last few episodes of the show. I really hope Moon Geun Young is doing well and gets more amazing roles soon. She is so good here.

(Highly recommend @melonatures​‘s fic for putting that sizzling on-screen chemistry into words. HOW?!) Cherry Magic - Stories about painfully awkward people are my jam and Eiji Akaso gets Adachi’s shy, nervy energy so right. Cherry Magic is straight up just 12 hours of 🥺🥺🥺. 

Stranger/Secret Forest - I’ve been devouring the entirety of Agatha Christie’s work this year after Stranger reminded me how comforting murder mysteries can be. I love Bae Doona. I also love characters who don’t get social norms, not always because they are out to flout them but because that’s just not how their mind/brain works. (have to watch S2)

Flower Boy Next Door -  Honestly, the opening scene introducing Park Shin Hye’s character Go Deok Mi sold me on this immediately. An introverted, penny pinching copy editor living alone and working from home thanks to extreme social anxiety? Love. All the side characters are a lot of fun and I’ve never loved Kim Seulgi and Go Kyung Pyo more. It’s a warm show, slowly rounding off the sharp edges of every character.

JUST FUN

The Spies Who Loved Me -  It’s been a year of disappointing rom-coms and Spies kind of quietly turned it around for me. I want to be the fly on Yoo In Na’s wall as she figures how to play her characters. I’ve only seen her in 3 roles but somehow she always manages to be in character arcs that don’t short change her. Spies could’ve been and sometimes is the regular heterosexual fare, but In Na ups the ante over and over again, coming out on top as the smartest person in the room.

ENJOYED WITH *RESERVATIONS*

I have to watch A Piece Of Your Mind again because I don’t understand how Jung Hae In and Chae Soo bin built SO MUCH warmth and crackling chemistry with barely a kiss. I was iffy about how the whole AI thing started off and the tortured musician plotline (angsty male artists will forever be an eyeroll for me).

Park Min Young is a queen who never disappoints and When The Weather Is Nice is everything you want in a winter romance. My reservation was in how they explore so much of domestic abuse and the complex ways its traumatised the women in this family. I’m ok with the characters having imperfect ways of processing and understanding the violence, I welcome it. I’m not ok with the show dancing around whether the pivotal crime was justified/ self defence (it was).

A lot of dramas did this. I loved Han Yeri and Choo Ja Hyun in My Unfamiliar Family, I didn’t like the free pass the show gave their dad’s abusive character. 

Hwang Jung Eum’s comedy style is generally not my thing but she was pretty great in Mystic Pop-UP Bar. But I’m side-eyeing the sanctity surrounding motherhood. Maybe I should read more about babies and Korean folklore.

Hospital Playlist was my comfort watch through June and July. I think its wholesomeness and non-plot writing came at a good time for me. But I noticed then that the throughline for all main characters was moral superiority and hence what I then saw as *wholesomeness*. It’s kind of what makes it a grating rewatch in parts. Plus the real life of misogyny of Yoo Yeon Seok makes me want to push his angelic catholic character off a cliff. (For context, i was raised catholic). I want to continue loving Chae Song Hwa, and for that the showrunners need to stop cornering her with overbearing romantic interests (let that woman breathe! she literally ran away to another city!) 

Hospital is good at creating moments of comfort, so much so that I went to watch Reply 1988 after it, but had to drop it coz I couldn’t get into it. Maybe I’ll come back to it next year.

Once Again is what I call joint family propaganda. What it does well is lay bare the mechanics of living in a society that prizes the heterosexual family structure, the loops you have to jump through to hide when you break its rules and what happens when you are found out. I love the characters, their fights, their frustrations. I just don’t love the validation of joint families. (context: i grew up in an oppressive joint family lol). In my au, Nahee and Gyujin don’t get married again or immediately have children, but take the long route to figuring out how to love the person the other is. Gahee is openly dating Hyo shin and her parents have to figure out how to process her success and her romance. Young dal and Ok boon have to learn to stop dictating their children’s lives.  Joon sun runs his company from home, so his wife Hyun kyung can work on what she wants. Choyeon, Joori and Ga-yeon go back to being flamboyant AF and the market learns to not judge. Gyujin and Jaesok have to actually work on the relationship with their mother and what sent her into depression. Just a lot of learning involved.

Just Between Lovers was a nice watch, i just don’t get how Kang doo and Ha Moon So’s relationship will survive his constantly simmering anger. 

Crash Landing on You was so much fun until the main romance turned angsty, but it gave us North Korean soldier shenanigans and the epic romance of Seo Dan and Alberto Gu that we needed more of.

Tale of The Nine Tailed is probably what Goblin wished it was. I, however, will never be over Lee Rang. (Also, when can gods stop meeting their love interests as babies? Asking for my sanity)

I literally ignored everything in Oh My Ghost except Park Bo Young and Kim Seulgi and it was amazing. 

NOPE

Goblin, Dinner Mate, Oh My Baby and My Secret Romance were a whole lot of NO, NAHI, ILLAAA. 

I loved hate-watching The King:Eternal Monarch with the rest of k drama tumblr but someone please take away Kim Eun-sook’s access to gigantic budgets and all-star casts.

It was painful to watch Do You Like Brahms squander away its potential but I’m glad to be introduced to Park Eun bin. Age of Youth is next on watchlist.

More than Friends to me is only Ahn Eun jin. Someone give her amazing lead roles asap.

Why did Record of Youth do that to Park So Dam and her clothes? Just why

WANTED TO WATCH, BUT COULDN’T BECAUSE *INTENSE* 

World Of The Married, It’s Okay Not To Be Okay, Sweet Home, Extracurricular, Penthouse, Flower of Evil, Lie After Lie

WILL WATCH NEXT YEAR

SF8, Stove League, Birth Care Centre but I’ll start the new year with School Nurse Files coz it looks very good.