#She couldn’t do anything about a lot of the other specific songs because so much production was wrapped up in them

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Also it’s not like it wasn’t already abundantly clear but it makes it even more obvious why she cut invisible string as soon as humanly possible from the set list. 😵‍💫

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

okay hi just a warning rq my autocorrect is off bc it autocorrected my friend’s name to fuckin malayalam on accident. i dont like autocorrect.

ANYWAY! ive been listening to my lovely olivia rodrigo lately, specifically her new song obsessed. i wanted to know if you could make a fic with Ethan x fem! reader where readers bitchy friend has this ex (Ethan) and she made him out to be a real dick. like, manipulating and everything.

reader eventually meets him and it turns out that she remembers… a lot about him considering her friend is a constant yapper and cant shut up about him. Ethan actually turns out to be a real cutie patootie and could literally never hurt anyone.

a few days later theyd meet again at some club or party maybe where they end up hitting it off… a little too well.. yeah so she ends up in his bed (smut part, very dom ethan plspls 😛😛). they could be talking about something really random and then reader brings up how her friend basically completely lied about him and said he was a piece of shit when he really wasnt. like a realllll fluffy end before a small cliffhanger thats never gonna get finished where her friend ends up finding out and texting her.

so sorry if thats too long or confusing idk but i actually love your work so much im lowkey your #1 fan. 😍😍😍

HELLO! I switched this up a little, I hope that's okay! 💕

Also, I fucking loved the 'leave it on a cliffhanger part that won't get finished' because WHY IS THAT WHAT I DO lmao

Obsessed - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader - Part 1

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Part 2

Summary: Your friend told you horrible lies about her ex-boyfriend, and once you get to know him, you realize he's not the monster she made him out to be.

Contains: Mentions of a toxic relationship, Dom-ish cocky Ethan, rough-ish sex, oral - f receiving, p in v, fluff (If I missed anything, PLEASE let me know. I'm sleep deprived atm)

A/N: This was the one that pulled me out of my writers block, lmao. It's still not where I want it to be, but I'm TRYING. I'll try to post more this week, but I will be busy so bear with me haha.

You didn’t know Ethan Landry, but you knew you didn’t like him. He used to date one of your friends, and after hearing all the horrible things he’d said and done during their relationship, you thought he was really scummy.

They dated in high school and couldn’t get enough of each other, so they wanted to go to the same college. They broke up right before freshman year started, and after almost a year, she still talked about him every chance she got. She’d tell you how controlling he was. The things he’d call her when he was mad. How he cheated on her. You couldn’t believe that she stayed in the relationship for as long as she did, because she never had anything good to say, except that she loved him.

You’d seen pictures of him, and after walking into one of your classes at the start of the new semester, you saw him in person for the first time. He was so shy as he took his seat in the lecture hall, some of the girls making their little comments about the rumors they’d heard about him. He didn’t seem like the type that would do the things your friend said, but maybe he was just really good at playing innocent. All you knew was that you needed to keep your distance from him.

When you met up with your friend later that day for lunch, you didn’t know if you wanted to bring up Ethan being in the same class as you, but once she brought him up, you decided to tell her.

“Speaking of Ethan…I saw him today,” you said, before taking a bite of your food. Her face dropped as she looked at you.

“Where did you see him?” she questioned. You explained that you saw him in one of your new classes, and she rolled her eyes. “Can you believe he still tries to text me?”

“What I can’t believe is that you haven’t blocked him,” you said, “I know I’d hate to see someone that treated me like shit’s name pop up on my phone.”

She started to giggle as you curiously stared at her. “I have him saved in my phone as ‘Tall loser with a small dick’, so I laugh every time he does text me.”

“That’s not toxic at all,” you said, as you started to think about what she’d said. “Wait, he treated you as bad as he did and has a small dick? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“All he had going for him was that he was cute,” she said, “But seriously, if I were you, I’d stay away from him.”

“Oh, please. Like I’d even want to be near him.”

Your morning wasn’t going as expected. You slept through all of your alarms; you didn’t have time to stop for coffee. You didn’t think your day could get any worse, until you walked into class and noticed the only empty seat available was beside Ethan. You took a deep breath before you walked over and sat down. Once you reached into your backpack, you realized that your laptop wasn’t there. You were in such a hurry when you ran out of your dorm and didn’t even think to grab it.

“Shit,” you whispered, “I’m so stupid.”

“Here,” Ethan said, passing you a notebook and a pen. You curiously looked at him as he offered a weak smile. “I always keep an extra notebook, just in case.”

“Thanks,” you said, a half-smile playing on your lips.

Once class started, you were taking your notes, but you kept glancing over to Ethan. He was so focused on typing that he didn’t notice, but you couldn’t help but wonder if everything your friend told you was true. At that moment, he didn’t seem like a jerk. Then again, he had only spoken a handful of words to you.

Ethan was aware of all the things that were said about him. He hoped that after a few weeks it all would’ve blown over, but once you have an angry ex-girlfriend paint you as some horrible, emotionally abusive asshole, it’s hard to come back from that. He knew that it was best for him to just keep his head down until he was able to transfer to a different school, where no one knew who he was. He was miserable at Blackmore, and he really had no reason to stick around, aside from the few friends he’d made.

After class was over, you tore the pages of notes you’d taken from the notebook to give it back to Ethan.

“Thanks again,” you said, as you handed it back to him.

“You’re welcome,” he said, shoving it back in his backpack. “I thought about just emailing you my notes, but I didn’t know if you’d want that.”

“You’re telling me I didn’t have to spend the last hour trying to write that fast?” you asked, as he flashed you a sweet, genuine smile. “Why wouldn’t someone want that?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s because most people here hate me,” he said, sliding the straps of his backpack over his shoulders. “You’ve probably heard things about me.”

“Yeah…are they true?” you asked, as he shook his head.

“You’re the first person that’s asked me that. Everyone else just assumes everything is true,” he sighed, “But no, I’m not a bad person.”

You started to feel so guilty. You’d said plenty of bad things about him, but you only heard one side of the story. With your friends’ story changing so many times, getting more dramatic each time she told it, you were starting to realize that it was all bullshit. You still didn’t know exactly what happened, but you were curious to know what the truth was.

“You okay?” Ethan asked, noticing that you were lost in thought as you stood in front of him.

“I’m friends with your ex,” you said, as his smile slowly fell. “What’s the real story?”

He sat back down in his seat as the other students piled out of the room. You sat beside him as you waited for him to speak.

“I really loved her…but she was just so controlling. Then she cheated on me when she went to the beach with her family. I didn’t find out about that until right before we started college,” he said, looking over to you. “She was pissed that I broke up with her, then all these horrible things about me started going around.”

“That’s fucked up,” you said, as he nodded.

“Yeah, she’s still been trying to text me. I finally blocked her a few days ago.”

“Wait, she said you’ve been trying to text her,” you said, his eyes growing wide at your words.

“Her number’s been deleted from my phone for months. I have no interest in talking to her,” he said, “I know this must be weird for you since you are her friend, but I think it’s cool that you wanted to hear me out.”

“Well, I feel like I need to apologize…I’ve said some things about you that weren’t true.”

“She’s a good liar. She has almost the entire school hating me so it doesn’t surprise me that her friend does, too,” he said, as he stood back up.

“I don’t hate you,” you said, smiling at him. “I don’t know if you’d want to, and I know she’d kill me, but if you ever want to hang out sometime, let me know.”

“I’d like that.”

Ethan was kicking himself for not asking you for your number, or shit, even your social media so he could DM you. He thought you were beautiful, but he knew that hoping for a chance with you would be a reach. He really just needed more people in his life that believed him to make the time he still had at the university more enjoyable.

Your friend begged you to come to a random frat party that you didn’t feel like going to in the first place. After your talk with Ethan, you weren’t even sure you wanted to be around her. You still went, and after searching for her for almost an hour, you checked your phone to see a message from her that she wasn’t coming, and that she ran into one of the guys she’d been hooking up with on the way to the party.

“Why the fuck am I even here?” you said to yourself as you locked your phone and slid it into the back pocket of your jeans.

“Hopefully to hang out with me, if your offer’s still good,” you heard from behind you, recognizing Ethan’s voice.

“Hey,” you said as you turned to face him. “I didn’t expect to see the most hated man on campus here.”

“My roommate told me that if I stayed in my dorm tonight, he’d throw my Xbox out the window,” he said, glancing over to the muscular guy that was watching Ethan talk to you.

“Ah, so you were threatened into being social,” you said, as he started to laugh.

“I guess you could say that. Do you want a drink?”

“Sure.”

Ethan wasn’t much of a drinker; you could tell by the sour look on his face every time he took a sip. It gave him a little confidence though, as the two of you talked and got to know each other a little better.

“I don’t think I can drink this anymore,” he said, sitting the cup down on a table. You sat yours down too, and as soon as you did, someone bumped into you, shoving you into Ethan.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you said, looking up at him. Your chest was pressed closely against his, his hands on your hips from catching you.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, “You can stay this close to me all night, if you want.”

“Are you always this smooth? Or is it the alcohol?” you questioned as he smirked at you.

“I’m only buzzed,” he said, before he leaned down, placing his lips on yours.

Chad was still watching Ethan from afar, cheering and thrusting his fist in the air once he saw Ethan kiss you. He started to laugh against your lips before he pulled away to stare daggers through his roommate for interrupting the moment.

“I can’t take him anywhere,” Ethan said, as you smiled at him.

“We could go somewhere more private,” you suggested, as he took your hand in his.

“Want to go back to my dorm? He’ll be here for a while so I know we can talk without being interrupted.”

“Sure!”

Once you made it back to Ethan’s dorm, you were starting to think that he really did just want to talk. You enjoyed listening to him, though. He was telling you about all his hobbies and interests, and you were telling him yours. You started to glance around his side of the dorm room, noticing the cliché, dorky things you’d expect to see.

“Nice Star Wars poster, nerd,” you joked, as he smirked at you.

“Oh, I’m a nerd?” he said, as he nudged you back on his bed. He was hovering over you, his mouth inches from yours. The sexual tension got so thick as his eyes looked into yours, his hand rubbing your hip.

“Mhm,” you said, the corner of your bottom lip in between your teeth. “A hot nerd.”

He felt his cheeks start to heat up, and he really didn’t want you to notice, so he leaned down to finally connect his lips to yours. It didn’t take long for the kiss to get more intense, his tongue brushing across your bottom lip. You let him deepen the kiss, his tongue moving with yours as his hands started to roam. You whimpered into the kiss once his hand squeezed your thigh, your hips started to squirm underneath him.

He pulled away but still stayed close so the two of you could catch your breath. You were reading each other’s faces, and it was obvious that you both wanted more.

“How far do you want this to go?” he asked, his breathing still heavy as his eyes looked into yours.

“As far as you want,” you said, your sweet tone making him groan.

“That’s not what I asked you,” he said, as he leaned back down to kiss your neck. His curls were tickling you, but the only reaction you had were the soft moans slipping past your lips from how well his mouth moved. His hips were rutting into yours, showing you how hard he was for you.

“I want you to fuck me,” you said, as he pulled away to look at you.

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

Ethan was a little, well, very eager. He got you undressed in what felt like seconds, leaving you in just your panties. Once he stripped down to just his boxers, you got a little curious. You glanced down to see his hard cock straining against the fabric, and started to laugh to yourself, your gaze going to the ceiling.

“What’s funny?” he asked, as he hovered back over you to take one of your nipples in his mouth. Your laughing stopped, a gasp slipping out when he started to suck. “I asked you a question,” he teased, before moving to the other side.

“She really does lie about everything,” you said, as his tongue swirled. “She said you had a small dick.”

He started to laugh against you, before he pulled back. “That’s funny, because she couldn’t take it.”

“I can,” you said, his smile turning to a smirk as his hand trailed down your body to rub you over your panties.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, as he moved lower down the bed to position himself between your thighs.

He slid your panties down your legs, before running his fingers over your wet pussy. Your eyes stayed on him, your bottom lip in between your teeth as he teased you. Your anticipation just kept building as he moved down the bed, positioning himself in between your thighs. He leaned in, slipping his tongue inside your entrance.

He was sloppily eating you out, his head moving from side to side. His arms hooked under your thighs to pull you as close to his face as he could as your hands went to his hair.

“So good,” you whimpered, your breathing getting faster as he worked you closer to your orgasm.

He slid his tongue out of you to focus on your clit, quickly replacing it with two of his fingers. Your back was arching off the bed as he moved his arm back and forth, applying as much pressure as he could to that spongy spot inside you as he sucked on your swollen bundle of nerves.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you babbled, as he started to chuckle with your clit in his mouth.

That was all it took for your legs to start shaking and your grip on his hair getting even tighter. Once your pussy started to clench around him, he slowed his fingers to a slow roll, not wanting to overstimulate you. His tongue gently licked your clit as he worked you through it, your whimpers getting softer as you came down from your high.

“That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” you admitted through your shaky breathing. Ethan started to laugh a little as you looked at him, your eyes hazy. “What?”

“Just wait until I’m inside you,” he cockily said, “You still confident that you can handle it?”

“I know I can,” you said, your legs instinctively spreading wide for him as his fingertips ran up your thigh.

“What are you going to do when no one else can make you feel as good as I do?” he questioned, as one of his fingers started to rub circles on your clit.

“I guess I’d have to keep you around then,” you said, as he shook his head.

“You’d only have me until summer starts,” he said, his finger moving faster. “I’m transferring to a different school after this year.”

“No, you’re not..fuck. I’ll convince you to stay,” you said, relaxing into the bed as he teased you.

Ethan pulled his hand away from your pussy before he slid his boxers off. He crawled back on top of you and reached over to his bedside table to grab a condom.

“I might let you convince me,” he said, as he lined up with your entrance. You tensed up a little because you knew how big he was. “Relax, baby.”

You did as he said, taking a deep breath as he inched his way inside of you. You were moaning as he stretched you out, and when you thought he was all the way in, he just kept going.

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered, feeling so full as he finally came to a stop, wanting to give you plenty of time to adjust. “Told you..Fuck, I told you I could take it,” you said, already struggling to speak.

“Don’t get cocky,” he said, your mouth falling open as he started to move. “I’m going to ruin this pussy.”

“Ruin it,” you said, challenging him as your lusty, hooded eyes connected with his.

It took everything in Ethan to not immediately start pounding into you, but he didn’t want to hurt you. He started slow, your eyebrows already furrowing together, low moans slipping past your lips. The head of his cock hit that special spot every single time, but you needed more. He sped up a little as your legs wrapped around him, your hands gripped tightly around his biceps.

“Maybe you can take it,” he said, his breathing getting heavier. “Can I go faster?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, as his hips moved quicker.

Your brain was starting to turn to mush, the babbles slipping past your lips making absolutely no sense. The only thing your mind could process in that moment was how good Ethan was making you feel. He thought you were adorable, already so cock drunk, and he wasn’t even close to being done with you yet. He kept his pace, but occasionally thrust a little harder to see if you could take it, the loud moans slipping past your lips as your nails started to dig into his arms letting him know that you could.

He angled your hips to go even deeper. His pace was a little slow as he made sure you were okay. Your eyes were pleading with him to go faster, because you knew the words weren’t going to come out of your mouth. It was getting so hard for him to hold back, so he finally let go. He started to pound into you so hard that your skin was tingling, all the nerves in your body on edge. Your toes were curling as he slammed into your g-spot, your whimpers turning to cries as you felt your orgasm starting to build. It was hard for you to keep your eyes open, and you were sure Ethan was going to have your nail marks on his arms forever with how hard you were squeezing him.

“Fuck,” was the only word you were able to get out, your legs wrapping tightly around him as your body started to involuntarily jolt. Ethan was sure that everyone in the surrounding dorm rooms knew what was happening, because you were being so loud. He wasn’t letting up though. He loved that he was making you feel that good.

It only took a few more deep thrusts before your entire body started to tremble, loud whines flooding out of your mouth as the wave of euphoria washed over you. He chased his own orgasm as he fucked you through it, your pussy clenching him so tight that he was moaning himself.

“I’m almost there, baby,” he said, a slight rasp in his voice from all the panting he’d been doing.

You went limp, your grip on his arms and your legs around his waist relaxing as his hips started to falter, a loud groan slipping past his lips as he released into the condom.

He took a minute to catch his breath before he slid out of you. His abs were burning and his arms were sore from your nails, but he quickly got up to take the condom off so he could take care of you.

He crawled in the bed next to you as you adjusted to lay your head on his chest, still so fucked out that it was hard to process your thoughts. Ethan just held you close, his hands softly rubbing over your bare back as you relaxed into his touches.

“You’re okay, right?” he asked, after a few minutes of you not saying anything. You lazily nodded as your hand moved to rub across his chest.

You laid there in silence as you started to think about what’d just happened. You knew your friend was going to be pissed if she ever found out, but did that even matter? She made almost the entire university hate Ethan for things he never did, and it made you sad that he felt like he needed to switch to a different school so he wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore.

“So…” you finally said, “How can I convince you to stay?”

He let out a nervous laugh, not knowing the best way to respond. “I can’t take people talking about me the way they do anymore.”

“Even if I convince everyone that it was all lies?” you questioned, your tone playful as you angled your head to look at him. “I think it’d be awful for you to leave because of her. You could miss out on someone that would treat you right.”

“Someone like you?” he questioned as he looked down at you. You nodded, before he leaned down to kiss you. “You’re good at this whole convincing thing.”

“Does that mean you’ll stay?” you asked, smiling as you sat up to look at him.

“Yeah, as long as you don’t break my heart,” he said, wrapping his arms around you to pull you back down to his chest.

“I won’t.”

You stayed in Ethan’s bed for a couple hours, making plans for all the dates he wanted to take you on. It felt like you’d known him for way longer than just a few days, the two of you having an instant connection. You hated to pull away from him, but you knew you needed to get dressed before his roommate got home.

“It’s late, can I walk you back to your dorm?” he asked, as he started to put his clothes back on.

“I can’t believe I thought you were this horrible monster. You’re so sweet,” you said, as he smiled at you. “Yeah, you can walk me home.”

Ethan walked you to the front door of your building, pulling you into a gentle kiss before he pulled away.

“I’ll text you,” he said, as he started to back away.

“Yeah, let me know when you make it back to your dorm, please,” you said, as he nodded.

When you made it upstairs and got settled into your bed, you heard your phone vibrate as it charged on your bedside table. You grabbed it and saw a goodnight message from Ethan, a huge smile on your face as you responded to him. You were so exhausted from the time you’d spend with him, and you soon felt yourself start to doze off. You heard your phone buzz again, your eyes lazily opening to see if it was Ethan. You took a deep breath once you read the message that was sent to you.

‘Why the fuck were you kissing Ethan at that party?’

[h-didanart]

And as promised, here they are! Movement notes for the Sunrise Arc Theatre AU! First off, because they’re like my favorite character or something, the Blood Twins!

Known for being incredibly close to one another, these two tend to twirl and circle each other whenever they perform together, it’s one of the things that got them their roles to begin with, alongside the fluidity of their movement and the way they convey emotions through their body language. They have fun when they perform together, that much was clear since the very beginning, they bring a dangerously fun vibe to the stage with their blurry red twirls and fuzzy bluish spins.

To best exemplify their teamwork let’s take a look at their “solo” songs

From the First October Takeover arc, the Dismemberment Song was Hunter and Harvest’s singing debut, used by the lore in Bloodmoon and Eclipse’s battle. During the first verse and chorus only one twin will be around but by the second both red menaces will be on stage. They circle and taunt Eclipse (played by Tabby), dodging most of his attacks and tag teaming him until they “fuse back together” which means that one of them sneaked into the background and will exit stage soon.

However there was an exception to that line of events, the very first performance of this arc, wherein it had been agreed that instead of having Hunter grab a hidden scythe prop, Harvest herself would shapeshift into the scythe. Despite the rehearsals and in spite of both twin’s slow realization of how taxing a choreography this song was, they went fully with this plan, ending up in what is now the official recording of the play. And it looked cool. It did not feel as cool, however, once the adrenaline of the performance wore off and both twins found themselves extremely exhausted. When asked they both said that it was worth it but neither would ever do that again.

Quite the introduction by all means, and certainly one of their favorite performances, but there’s another song the twins like more. And it couldn’t be any more different than their introduction

End of year 2023, post Takeover, the Bloodmoons find themselves at odds with one another after being reunited, but they aren’t the type to part for long and soon enough find themselves sorting out their disagreement in More Than Anything. Hunter and Harvest spin around quite a lot in the last third of this heart wrenching duet, in contrast to them staying the furthest apart they’ve been when both are on stage at once during the first third of the song. Tho unlike their first song, they don’t have difficulties in the choreography here, spinning around comes naturally to them, it’s the emotional escalation of the song that proved to be tricky.

Specifically for Hunter. He’d end up crying after basically every rehearsal, needing about five minutes to compose himself, so when the actual performance came around, it took all his willpower to not break out into sobs onstage. Harvest for her part hadn’t cried during rehearsals, if anything her voice would get quieter, an indication that she was getting emotional, but not much else. Until it was time for the first performance, and to everyone’s (including Harvest) surprise, she did cry. How those two managed to finish the song with an extraordinary amount of not many voice cracks is beyond everyone.

Still, even with such a reaction from them both, this stands as their favorite song to perform together.

Now on the other side of the coin, we have the times when the twins aren’t moving in their usual ways. They don’t twirl, don’t spin, you can barely tell they’re there or they stick out awkwardly. The Hallucination Bloodmoons and Bloodmoon II are the clearest cases of this.

The change can be appreciated more during the non-song parts of the play, however if enough attention is paid, the change in behavior can also be seen in their performances.

Following Sun around and observing him from the background, the Hallucinations act nothing like the physical Bloodmoon.

Barely show any emotion, and barely move at all, having to act as the Hallucinations was a very tough job for the twins, not moving around just isn’t natural for them. We suppose that adds to the uncanniness of the characters.

Jigsaw and Bloodmoon’s duet, Battle of the Bands, showed the first signs of the dissonance between the so called brothers. At some points it appeared as if Bloodmoon was trying to copy and predict Jigsaw’s movements, movements that wouldn’t be usual of the bloodthirsty killer, even bumping into Jigsaw at a failed attempt at a spin once.

Funny thing it is that Ruin and Hunter actually have great chemistry on stage. It was their idea to have it appear as if Bloodmoon was trying to improvise their movements since they weren’t connecting with Jigsaw’s. Foreshadowing, said Ruin when asked.

And speaking of foreshadowing, we’d be damned not to mention one of the most pivotal moments in the killing duo’s arc.

Placed in the middle of the arc, Ruin’s iconic rendition of You’ll be Back is a fan favorite, whether the admiration comes from the singing talent or the charm put into it, no one can deny just how fun this song is to listen to. Unless you’re Bloodmoon and it’s your 5073rd time listening to it.

From the beginning, Bloodmoon is not thrilled about this one. Refusing to get up or even look at Jigsaw, they comedically timed the extra pause the Brit took before the iconic lyric dropped, still clearly not wanting anything to do with it. Soon enough they are dragged out of their seat and are made to dance by Jigsaw, but for once they don’t seem to be having fun. There’s a turn on Bloodmoon’s behavior when Jigsaw gets aggressive for a second during the second half of the song, they appear weirded out, put off, maybe even a bit scared, they had previously made excuses for they supposed brother’s behavior, but were they really sure they didn’t mean it at all? By the time Jigsaw is carrying them, Bloodmoon turns to the audience, an unclear expression on their face. The virus turns it around them once more however, by invoking some of the usual dance moves of the twins, spinning Hunter around but not themselves.

Even without the earlier context of the plot, the choreography makes it clear that there’s a really big conflict boiling in the background, even with the funny lyrics and cheeky mannerisms of the Virus. An odd mix of comedy and uncomfortableness this one is. Very fun to perform for the actors though, Ruin having memorized the song by heart and Hunter often finding it extremely difficult to not move alongside the rhythm.

Something worth noting about this one should be the many attempts it took for Ruin to be able to correctly carry Hunter. There were many times where the smaller bot slipped to the floor or when both animatronics fell at once. They still refused to change the move, both claiming that it was important to the character’s arcs.

And now with enough context for the Blood Twins’ movement, let us look at some other of their performances!

Playing the part of the Hyenas in Be Prepared, Harvest is poked in the forehead by Moon (playing KillCode). Quite the comedic scene on a song about the arc’s villains teaming up

Having a couple seconds to spare, we see Hunter goofing off a bit right before getting wheeled on stage for the scene of Bloodmoon falling into their coma. How he manages to go from a goofy mood to kinda-technically-dying in so little time is a mystery

Another of the Hallucination’s appearances, this time more resembling of a ghost, Harvest can be spotted in the background all throughout It’s Quiet Uptown. Her stoic demeanor is turned to a sort of compassion during this song, just another of the things in this performance that are meant to make any who see it cry

Hunter can be seen during some parts of Right Hand Man, though you’d be luckier to try and spot his voice amongst the backing vocals. Honestly though, that whole scene is a bit of a mess so you can be spared for missing his appearance

The Crescent family’s song, I’ve Got a Dream, is chock full of small moments of characterization for all members. Whether it’s Stars reading out Queso’s lyrics for him as he signs, the collective “children” rolling their eyes at KC’s mention of romance, Flare fetching everyone’s props, or Harvest pushing Monty offstage, there’s not a second where nothing is happening on stage

Both the twins (playing the Hallucinations) are seen on stage alongside Flare (playing Eclipse II possessing them) and Sun, clapping their hands and stomping their feet in unison with the music. It doesn’t come off as a surprise that the twins can act in unison, but it doesn’t remove the creepy aspect of seeing their silent frames stare at Sun as he moves around, movements perfectly coordinated

The argument between Jigsaw and Bloodmoon II is one of the most important points in the Takeover, being what fully places Bloodmoon’s allegiance with the Celestials. Hunter manages to deliver with his short but very powerful performance of Someone Gets Hurt Reprise, his vocal range fully shining through

A late addition to the musical but something deemed lighthearted and important enough to put in, Bloodmoon I’s bizarre way of coming out to her family. Harvest was very excited when getting the news she’d be performing this song, being one of her favorites ever, she and her fellow cast members went all out on the choreography, and to say it was spectacular would be an understatement

[vxnillsstuff]

Hi! May I please request Fionna dating headcanons with a fem or gender neutral reader?

Dating Fionna Headcanons - Fionna (Fionna and Cake) x GN!Reader

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BACKSTORY (IN ORDER)

(This is like… in a universe where everything isn’t shitty? Like… how her universe was supposed to be.)

Fionna probably met you while on an adventure.

Her and Cake were fighting this big monster and we’re almost about to be defeated when you dropped in and saved them.

She thanked you and offered you to tag along with her and Cake. You happily accepted her offer.

You guys get along really well and throughout the months of adventuring around Ooo, you, Cake, and Fionna were like best friends.

One day, you guys were camping out in the woods since it was late and you guys didn’t want to travel back to the Treehouse.

You were sitting out by the fire that Fionna put together.

You could hear Fionna and Cake talking in the distance but you couldn’t decipher what they were saying.

Then, Fionna came over and sat next to you, warming her hands up on the fire.

She seemed… different. Almost anxious.

You turned towards her and raised an eyebrow.

She turned towards you as well and her face seemed… pink? Almost as if she was blushing… ^_−☆

You asked her what’s wrong and she immediately blurted out how she thinks she has a crush on you.

You pause, a surprise look on your face. You explained that you liked her as well and she seemed surprised.

You two talked about where you were in your relationship and what you guys were going to do now.

You two decided that you guys should just live with these feelings for a bit and see how things go.

About a month later, she asked you out!

She got you a bunch of flowers and made them into a bouquet with some twine. She gave them to you when she asked you.

WHAT ITS LIKE DATING HER (NO SPECIFIC ORDER UNLESS SPECIFIED)

She’s definitely cuddly and very clingy. She’s constantly holding onto you whether it’s the side of your sleeve or your hand.

She was very nervous to say “I love you” because she didn’t want to say it too early and mess anything up.

She was just very nervous in general but as you started to flirt more she loosened up.

She never had a whole lot of energy to clean so anytime you would come over, clean up and talk to her about how living junk isn’t super healthy. You didn’t mind in the end because you liked to help.

When it comes to fighting, you guys would just get into heated discussions but never like actual fights. It’s always over something silly and you guys always forgive each other after.

She is definitely a hoodie / clothing stealer. For example: “where’s my shirt?” you say. “It’s probably at my house somewhere.” Fionna responded, giggling.

You guys defiantly have a favorite thing. For example, you guys have a favorite song that you always listen to when together or a favorite snack you guys always get when hanging out. She’ll always be like, “(insert name here), ITS OUR THING!”

It’s definitely the little things when it comes to the relationship. Like, maybe you’ll set out her outfit or do her laundry. Maybe she’ll make you some breakfast, even if it doesn’t taste the best.

Double dates with Gary and Marshall are the funniest things EVER. Chaotic energy the whole time. (That’s a good fanfic idea… lmk if y’all wanna see that.)

She loves to make little doodles on paper and leave them on your fridge or at your desk. As well as little notes about how much she appreciates you and loves you.

Cake was definitely predicting your relationship. She’d always be like “maybe (insert name here) can help open that jar…” and yada yada.

When you stay the night at her house and the other way around, she always cuddles you and whispers little compliments in your ear. For example: “you’re so amazing…”, “I can’t believe your mine…”, and yada yada.

Dates are always something very simple other than going out with Marshall and Gary. For example, staying in watching movies, going out for drinks, etc. She isn’t too big on fancy stuff.

She’s very big on kisses. She likes kissing you basically everywhere but especially your neck.

STUBBORN. She is hella stubborn and will make a big deal out of everything single thing.

Note: I DID IT! Feel free to request more. 💙🌀

[pjisskullourful]

ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝕘𝕒𝕪 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 [dec,2023] [the complete series]

🎄Damiano × Ethan × reader

NSFW🔥 festive filthiness

° Damiano David/Ethan Torchio/female reader insert ✨ cameos by: Thomas Raggi & Victoria De Angelis

° all you want for christmas is some alone time with your boyfriends

wordcount::: 4,876

° merry christmas ya filthy animals. this is lore's fault (@lifeofa-fangirl ) 💋 thanks for encouraging me past my bedtime [requests are open! but commissions are priority! there are 2 fics currently in cue, secure your own spot here!]

° i own none of the lyrics included!

“Aw, I wanna sit on Santa's lap.” You said with an exaggerated pout.

You were watching one of your boyfriends getting ready to film a TikTok, they were making some silly content for social media. Selling the new album, that was the goal. And given the time of year, a Christmas theme seemed like the smartest thing to do. You weren’t sure who had come up with this concept, but it had been agreed for Ethan to play the role of Santa - more specifically, taking on the job of a mall Santa. The other three band members would take turns sitting on his lap, asking for a gift. At the end, it would reveal to be the new album and they would act ecstatically happy.

An assistant had rushed out, buying the best hat and fake beard options available. There was a bit of time before they had to be dressed and fully ready for the stage here in Tokyo, so the makeshift set had been prepared. Paz (the lead social media coordinator) was calling the shots, mobile phone in hand, like always.

You weren’t sure how fond you were of this fake, white beard, mostly due to how much of Ethan’s gorgeous face it hid. But you couldn’t help putting your own dirty spin on this scenario. You pictured sitting on his lap and telling him all the things you wanted him to do to you, once everybody but Damiano was gone.

You wondered what you could say that would make Ethan squirm in his seat. Could you turn his cheeks as red as that polyester hat if you reminded him (in great detail) of the Christmas-themed debauchery the three of you had gotten up to in the past? You could talk about that time in December when you had gifted him new bundles of shibari rope in the festive colours of red and green. He had taught you a few different ties, using Damiano to practise, until he was immobilised, then you had worked together to completely overstimulate him. Or maybe Ethan would like to reminisce on the glass, candy cane-shaped dildo your boyfriends had gifted you one Christmas, which you had later used on yourself while video calling them.

These were all wonderful, festive memories for you. But they needed to be kept to yourself for the moment.

“Do you want us to say anything specific?” Damiano asked Paz.

“Nope. We're going to put music over the top of it, some Christmas song.” She said. “You can say whatever you want, you can literally talk to him in Simlish if you want.”

Ethan's eyes lit up at that, and you didn't need to see his mouth to know that he was smiling. “Wetzbow.”

And Damiano instantly replied with a word from the video game's fake language. “Hooba noobie.”

“Are you gonna be holding your cup of tea in the video?” Thomas asked.

“If he wants to.” She said, overruling everyone else immediately. “You can do what you like, anything but shoving your tongue in his ear.”

Damiano groaned dramatically. “Now that's all I wanna do.”

“On your own time, Dam.” Thomas said.

You stood off to the sidelines, out of the camera's view, not wanting to get in the way of their filming. It was very cute to watch, all four of them overacting and Ethan attempting to not fuss with his beard while Paz was filming.

You couldn't hold back your giggles when he was directed to give the camera a cheesy wink to close the video out. It didn’t look like it was coming naturally to him, instead it looked as if he was putting a lot of effort into completing the simple gesture. Was he overdoing it because he feared that otherwise the camera wouldn’t pick it up?

“What are you laughing about?” Damiano asked, the three of them were perched on the chair around Ethan, holding the record sleeves up for the camera to see.

“Yeah, who fucked up?” Victoria asked.

“No, no, there was no fuck up. I’m just- it’s nothing, ignore me.” You said, trying to stifle any further giggles. “Great winking, bubba. You’re really doing a great job.”

“Thank you?” Ethan said it as a question, his brow furrowed and you covered your lips with your hand.

“Alright, let’s give the ending another take and I’m gonna try to get a smooth zoom in on that wink.” Paz said, refocusing everyone. “Are we ready? Let’s go, lots of energy ‘cause you just got the best Christmas gift known to man.”

You bowed your head and turned around as subtly as possible, so as to not disrupt this take. You kept your amusement over him winking like an alien just introduced to the concept to yourself. You could laugh about it with him later.

*** *** ***

You had long since ceased thinking about Santa, in any shape or form. Now that you were back at the hotel after Måneskin's show, your mind was only on relaxing and getting yourself ready for however much sleep you could secure for yourself. You were cuddling up with Ethan in bed.

Damiano was having his last cigarette of the night, out on the room's balcony with a cup of tea (it wouldn't be his last of the night). Ethan was winding down in his own way, scrolling through Reddit on his mobile phone. If he found anything of interest on ‘Out of the Loop', he read them aloud to you.

He got up to use the bathroom, out of the room when Damiano returned inside. You sat up, taking a longer look at your boyfriend.

“Why do you look like you're scheming something?” You asked.

“Me? I look like I’m scheming something?”

“Yes, you do.” You said as he didn’t make any attempt to conceal the cheeky grin on his face.

“I don’t know what I could possibly be scheming.” He said, going over to the table where your backpacks had been dumped upon first arriving back. “Ethan?”

“Bathroom.”

He didn’t try to hide what he was doing and you watched him opening his own bag, pulling a bright red hat out. You identified it as a Santa hat before he was swiftly folding it up and depositing it into the pocket of the baggy pants he wore. You narrowed your eyes, unable to figure out what his goal was.

“Are you sure-?”

The bathroom door made a little click as it opened and he moved over, going to Ethan’s bag instead. You dropped the rest of your question, wanting to see how this played out.

“Do you have any gum, babe?” He asked Ethan.

He walked over, helping Damiano go through his bag. “Gum? Weren't you just having peppermint tea?” Damiano took his hands out of Ethan's bag, seemingly satisfied that Ethan was distracted enough. While Ethan was looking through the contents, Damiano's hand went into his pocket. “Did you not get enough peppermint, or-?”

Ethan was startled into silence when Damiano brought the Santa hat down onto his head. Damiano pulled it down, the white trim resting above Ethan's eyebrows. He narrowed his eyes, looking at Damiano, clueless. You began to giggle even though you still didn't know what he was planning.

“Was this ever about gum?” Ethan asked.

Damiano put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a tap on the nose. “No, it's about you being the cutest Santa in the world. Look. And we should get to enjoy it for longer, more than a stupid TikTok.”

“Okay.” Ethan relented, knowing better than to resist when Damiano was in a playful mood. “Enjoy it, then. What do you want me to do? Is there a certain pose that you are really needing to see me do?”

“You just do whatever pose feels natural for you, bubba.” You said. “Make the character your own.”

“Actually. Come with me.” Damiano said, taking Ethan's hand and leading him over to one of the armchairs. “Sit down, because this is more about me doing a pose for you.”

“Oh?” Ethan sounded intrigued.

You moved towards the end of the bed, also thoroughly intrigued and not wanting to miss anything. Ethan sat down in the seat and fussed a little with the hat, getting the pom-pom to the right spot.

Damiano plucked his phone out of his pocket and threw it towards you. “Help me out, sweet thing.”

You unlocked the screen - you knew the passcodes to all of their devices. His phone opened immediately to a website that showed you lyrics. Now you knew what he was up to.

Damiano stood in front of Ethan's knees and Ethan smiled up at him. He started to reach one hand up above his head and sang the beginning of the song.

“Santa baby…” He sang sweetly and bent his knees, lowering himself. “Slip a little sable under the tree…”

Ethan chuckled, his smile growing. “I'm getting a song? Wow, a private performance just ‘cause I put a cheap hat on.”

“Been an awful good girl…” Damiano sang, getting down to the floor as he kept his eyes on Ethan. “Santa baby…” Damiano put his hands to Ethan's knees and pushed them apart. “And hurry down the chimney tonight…” He rolled his body forward, filling this new space and getting closer to Ethan.

He reached out, his fingers brushing across Damiano's cheeks. He was leaning in and it was clear to you that he wanted to kiss, still smiling, entirely invested in Damiano's shenanigans.

But Damiano denied Ethan the kiss. Instead of kissing him, Damiano stood up and began to walk a slow circle around the seat. He continued singing, not needing any musical accompaniment to keep his focus.

He stood behind Ethan and popped his head over one of Ethan's shoulders. “Next year I could be just as good…” He moved over to the opposite shoulder. “If you check off my Christmas list…

“Santa baby…” You saw his hesitant pause and then his eyes darted over to you as he mumbled over the next words. “Ah, huh- wan'...”

“Yacht.” You read, prompting him from the lyrics in front of you.

He nodded and went back to singing loudly, fully confident again. “...a yacht, and really that's not a lot…”

The slip up hadn't taken away from how captivated Ethan appeared, he kept his eyes on Damiano, turning his head so as to not miss anything. Damiano got in front of Ethan again, turning his back. He leaned forward, hands on his knees as he presented his ass to Ethan. As he continued singing, he slowly rocked from one side to the other, wiggling his butt sensually in Ethan's face. Ethan was still smiling, raising his hands, clearly wanting to grab.

“So hurry down the chimney tonight…”

Damiano faced him, putting his hands to the buttons that ran down the front of his shirt, making a show of undoing them. “Santa honey…” He got the shirt off, but looked to you for more guidance.

“One little thing.” You said, letting him get his groove back.

He found his place in the song and kept singing. He held his shirt in both hands and passed it around the back of Ethan's neck. He used this to bring Ethan forward, his head going to Damiano's bare chest, which Ethan didn't resist.

Damiano began to shimmy his shoulders, making Ethan laugh. He put his hands to the other man's back, his words a little muffled. “Oh, it's been so long since I've had a good motorboating.”

“Fill my stocking with a duplex…”***

Damiano put himself in Ethan's lap, facing him as he reached the end of the song, still so full of energy. “Hurry down the chimney tonight…” He put his hands on Ethan's shoulders, leaning in. “Hurry, tonight.”

Before Ethan could compliment this performance, Damiano was kissing him. Damiano put his hand to the back of Ethan's head, making it clear that he wanted more than a peck. You were glad to not need to help with the lyrics anymore, now you could stop looking at the phone and instead concentrate on them. You watched the way Ethan kept his hands on Damiano's back, the two of them sinking into this embrace and it was just as enjoyable to watch as his singing.

“That was really great, Daddy. I loved it.” Ethan said as Damiano continued to hold the shirt taut around the back of his neck. “You definitely got me feeling the Christmas spirit.”

“Christmas spirit?” Damiano repeated. “That's what you're feeling?”

“Yeah.” Ethan said before kissing him again.

He began looking in your direction a little. “Do you know who else could do with a little Christmas spirit?”

Ethan looked at you too. “Hi.”

You got up from the mattress, starting to walk towards them without any real plan of what to do. “Hi.”

“I heard what you said before.” Damiano told you. “You said you wanted to sit in Santa's lap too.”

Ethan smiled at you. “Did you say that?”

“Well, yeah. Everyone else got a turn sitting in your lap. But I would do it differently to them, a little less camera-friendly.” You said.

Damiano got up and moved out of the way. “It's your turn now.”

You went over, your hand resting on Ethan's shoulder as you got closer. “I'm not going to sing to you.”

“That is so fine, you don't need to.” He said, his hands going to your body as soon as you sat down. You faced him, brushing his hair back off of his shoulders. “Not to sound too transactional, but the only thing you need to do is tell me what you want for Christmas.”

You put your hand under his chin, propping his face up as you leaned in. “I want to be on the naughty list.”

“What are you going to do to get there?” He asked quietly, his eyes going down to your mouth.

You put your lips to his, moving your hand up to caress his cheek. You were soon tasting hints of the flavour left behind by Damiano - his cigarette and mint-infused saliva still vaguely present on Ethan’s lip as you rubbed your tongue against it. It was a testament to how deeply your boyfriends had been kissing and you intended to go just as deep.

Upon returning back to the suite, Ethan had stripped down to everything but his underwear. So when you pressed your body against his, you were feeling the heat from his skin through the T-shirt you were wearing. You wrapped an arm around his neck, intending to savour all of the benefits that this closeness brought.

“I hate to interrupt.” Damiano said. “But I just felt the need to share how glad I am that you haven’t decided to start talking in a Santa voice.”

Even as he began to turn away, Ethan kissed you a few more times. “Well the voice wouldn’t make much sense without the beard.” This set you off giggling. “But I might start speaking like him, in that I’ll steal his catchphrase to call you a hoe hoe hoe.”

“Ooh, would you? You know how much I love it when you address me correctly.” Damiano said.

With no further interruptions, you got back to kissing Ethan. As you did this, you began to move your hips, gently rocking. It was a prelude to what you planned to do, a subtle way to check his receptiveness.

He moved his hands beneath the material of your shirt, at the same time as when his tongue slid between your lips. You felt the anticipation swelling up within you as you looked forward to creating a new festive (yet filthy) memory with them.

“This guy hears everything, huh?” You said.

“Santa? I think the lyric is about how he sees everything you do, right?” He asked, a cute crease in his brow.

“No, this guy.” You said and you jabbed your thumb in Damiano’s direction to help add clarity.

“Well I listen when you talk, baby. Because most of the time you’re saying something dirty.” He said and as you looked up at him, Ethan started to kiss across your neck. “I was standing right next to you, you can’t be that surprised over me hearing it.”

“So you heard it, and then you just thought about it all night?” You asked.

“Pretty much. A man in a makeup chair has a lot of time to think.” Damiano said. “You weren’t thinking about it after you said it, making little plans of what you would do if you got the chance?”

“Uh…”

“Answer the question, baby.” Ethan said.

“I was definitely thinking about it when I said it. It wasn't just a passing comment, I had some- you know, images in mind at the time. But I let it go once the hat came off because I figured it wouldn't happen.” You said. “And now I'm making it up as I go along, I didn't plan like you. I'm just letting the Christmas spirit take me wherever.”

“Ah yes, the Christmas spirit.” Damiano said, wiggling his fingers in the air.

Ethan got your attention back by kissing you on the cheek. “Well you're in my lap now, you better make the most of it.”

“Watch me make the most of it.” You said, giving him a kiss.

Then you quickly removed your shirt, his eyes keenly taking in this sight. You put your hands down to your panties, happy to get out of them for him. You stood up, removing the lingerie altogether and turning your back to him.

You made sure to arch your back, sticking your butt out as you lowered yourself down to his lap, facing away from him this time. He wrapped his arms around your middle and gave you some kisses across your shoulder, meanwhile you were reaching your arms out to Damiano.

“You must have gotten yourself worked up while you were making your little plans there, Daddy.” You said.

“Yeah, there were definitely images in my mind, as well- interesting, pleasing, exciting, memorable images.” He said, smiling as he moved in closer.

With him standing in front of you, you unzipped his jeans, reaching in for his briefs. Over the fabric, you began to run your hand up-and-down the length of his dick. He cupped your cheek in his hand, gazing down at you. Ethan continued kissing your skin as Damiano caressed your bottom lip with his thumb. As you were grinding yourself on Ethan, you opened your mouth and took Damiano's thumb between your lips, sucking on it a little.

Behind you, Ethan was making some adjustments. Before too long you were feeling his hot and uncovered dick. You grinded your butt against it, feeling how stiff it already was. He tightened his arm around your middle, more of his body tensing as he let you settle into a rhythm.

You were feeling Damiano getting firmer, so you proceeded to pull his dick free of his underwear. Immediately you wrapped your fingers around his length, working your hand at almost the same rhythm you were rocking on Ethan. You didn’t have to match it perfectly, the look on Damiano’s face told you that he was appreciative of what you were doing.

Wanting more than just sucking his thumb, you emptied your mouth and turned away. You looked at Ethan, bumping your nose against his cheek for his attention. He took his lips off of your shoulder, quickly making himself available for more kisses. You leaned in so close as you claimed his mouth again.

He was moving his body with yours, attaching himself to your energy. As the two of you were tapping into this synergy, you acknowledged that this encounter was no longer about playing roles. The focus wasn’t on the time of year, now it was about enjoying the experience of each other’s bodies. He wasn’t acting as Santa, now he was acting according to his desires.

He got himself lined up, sinking the tip of his cock into your slicked entrance. Now excitement rushed into your body and you broke the kiss before your breath could be wholly taken away.

As Ethan tenderly pushed more of his shaft inside, you changed the way you were handling Damiano’s cock. You looked up at him, beginning to direct him towards your mouth. He sweetly stroked your cheek some more, his eyes were locked on you, not wanting to miss any of what you were doing. The way that he was so captivated by your movements, it was the same way that huge crowd had watched him for the duration of the concert. He was so invested and you planned to show him exactly why you had earned this.

You pressed a kiss to the head, enjoying the beginnings of his taste. You saw his breath coming in quicker as he anticipated what you would do next. You moved your tongue in rings on his tip, letting the sensitivities build. All the while, Ethan was pushing deeper into you. You continued stroking your hand on Damiano’s length, your eyes fluttering shut as you surrendered yourself to this rising passion.

Ethan’s movements were all the more enticing now, steadily massaging you into a heightened state. His hand gripped your side, holding you so securely while his other went to your breast, playing with your firm nipple. As you kept in time with him, he applied kisses to your neck, taking the chance to appreciate every part of you within reach.

You pushed your tongue out over your lower lip before you slid your mouth further down Damiano’s length. His hand went to the top of your head as you took the majority of it between your lips. So as to avoid overwhelming you too soon, he held himself still, the thrusting would come later. You let his head rest against the roof of your mouth as you used your tongue on the underside of his cock. You explored this area, gliding your tongue up-and-down.

When you sucked your cheeks in around his dick, his fingers curled, wrapping around sections of your hair. The swinging of Ethan’s hips got faster, indicating a neediness that hadn’t been present earlier. It saw you moaning on Damiano’s dick as you felt the friction between yours and Ethan’s bodies growing. It introduced tremors into your system and you noticed how his kisses had started to linger, the occasional lick and brief suck added to how he treated your neck.

You changed the angle on Damiano’s dick so that you could take him deeper, directing him to the back of your mouth. He whimpered, his stance altering - you knew him well enough that you could tell he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back much longer.

And you welcomed it. You sought to draw more out of him, taking the head of his cock to the opening of your throat. He gripped your hair tighter.

Then his lust took over and he allowed his hips to twitch forward, plunging him into the tightness of your throat. You felt him throbbing in there.

He sighed out your name. “You’re so ready to use that sweet mouth for naughtiness. I didn’t even have to ask you to put it in your throat.”

He rocked himself back, leaving your throat for the moment. You reset your lips around his dick as he thrust his hips into your face. It wasn’t very quick, and compared to what Ethan was doing, it felt extraordinarily gentle.

He had stopped kissing the side of your neck, now resting his head against yours for support as all of his efforts went into the incessant snapping of his hips. You did your best to keep up with them, meeting the majority of his thrusts. But the power of his movements easily dwarfed yours and it was obvious that he wasn’t going to quit, not while he was so clearly on the path to his climax.

It was enough to just keep moving, to keep your body invested in his momentum as he followed one reckless collision with another. You listened to his numerous failed attempts to catch his breath. Goosebumps sprang up all over your body as the tension swelled up to fever pitch.

You felt how easy it would be to become overwhelmed by the electricity rushing through you. But he beat you to it, capturing his release with one final pound into you.

For the moment it seemed that you could feel every nerve in your system and how fraught they all were. He leaned back, giving you back some of your personal space, his arm loosening around you. He stilled himself after taking his hand off of your breast.

But Damiano was not still, keeping at working his cock between your lips. Ethan stroked your back as you moved your focus, sucking your cheeks in a little harder.

“Well, this sight is better than anything I could have thought up.” Damiano said.

You felt pride blossoming up. There was something in knowing how much you turned him on that added to your own arousal.

It wasn’t as simple or superficial as a compliment. And you were eager to put this energy to use, to ride these dazzling emotions to the next height - where things were going to be even more exciting.

You weren’t sure if Ethan was done recovering yet or not, but you simply couldn’t hold yourself still any longer. You started to build your own pacing, thrusting in his lap again. He didn’t discourage you in any way and you worked yourself on his cock, while still sucking Damiano’s.

He was getting more into his bucking, both of his hands holding your head now. “What do you say, baby?” His tip glided into your throat again. “Do you want a new necklace for Christmas?”

You forced yourself back, taking him out of your mouth. “Uh-uh, I'm gonna swallow it.”

He beamed. “Oh, yes you are.” He pushed his tip between your parted lips and you opened your mouth further for him. “You're so ready to swallow it all.”

You shut your eyes and moved yourself further down his length. His fingers flexed and relaxed, then gripped again on either side of your head. You rutted yourself back into Ethan, striking him consistently.

You could feel the excitement getting out of hand and you were soon chasing for that release. Your walls gripped tight to Ethan's cock and the sensitivities swam through your body, ready to overwhelm you with each hungry thrust.

On his next rock forward, Damiano delivered his dick back into your throat. You couldn't control the spasming this prompted, but you also weren't bothered by it as your focus secured on your own experience. You were diving over the edge and capturing your orgasm, trembling wildly between your boyfriends.

With drool spilling down your chin, you began to come back to reality. You looked up at Damiano, he writhed against you, chest rapidly rising-and-falling as he kept himself in your throat. You were still shaking, you put your hand to his wrist, willing yourself to stay with him.

It was a victory when you felt him unloading straight down your throat - you were rewarded with the thick and hot liquid. With a series of incoherent, strangled sounds he rocked back slightly, leaving your throat, but staying in the warmth of your mouth. You could have taken in a deep breath, instead you breathed through your nose so that you could secure your lips around his cock, giving him a strong finish. He ran his shaft against your messy lips, the cum filling into your mouth with his every lazy thrust.

He finished out the momentum, his fingers relaxing on your head as he pulled out of your mouth. You leaned back into Ethan, who kept his arms securely around you. He reached up, wiping away some of the mess that covered your chin as you took a few thorough swallows. You shut your eyes and just concentrated on catching your breath.

“Definitely on the naughty list now.” Damiano said, his hand soothingly rubbing across your forehead.

“Oh, she's topping that list, for sure.” Ethan said. “I'll put in a word with the right people, because I got connections.”

“When you're making your cup of tea, can I get one as well, please?” You asked, not bothering to open your eyes as you slumped further into him.

“Of course you can get tea, sweet thing.” Damiano said.

As you gradually came down, you and Ethan relocated to the bed. You stole the hat off of his head. Damiano moved around the kitchen while Ethan disappeared into the bathroom.

When he came back into the main room, he had a thoughtful look on his face. “So should I grow a beard? Is that what I should take from this?”

“Nope.” You answered quickly.

“Only if it's white and curly.” Damiano contributed as he came over with the tea.

You started giggling as both of your boyfriends joined you on the mattress. “So he'll have to keep it consistently bleached and sleep with fuckin' rollers in it?”

»»————-　♡　————-««  

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joke i thought about much after the fact

*** "Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing- a ring: one that goes on my cock!"

[kanerallels]

Trick or treat 💜

*cracks knuckles* Let's see if I can do this justice

If Hera had thought being without Kanan was hard before, it was nothing compared to now after she had Jacen.

She’d been granted maternity leave (a very tired looking Princess Organa told her to take as long as she needed), and was spending it on Lothal. Governor Azadi had appointed a specific landing platform for the Ghost, and that was where Hera stayed. She couldn’t quite bring herself to visit the comm tower where Ezra had lived, not yet.

Often, she wasn’t alone. Zeb would be there as often as he could, as would Sabine. But they had their own responsibilities, and Hera wasn’t about to divert anything from the Rebellion. Her father had visited a few times, but it was hard for him to get off of Ryloth.

So more often than not, it was just her, Chopper, and Jacen. And while she was so, so grateful for the gift that was her son…it was hard.

He cried. A lot. Hera sometimes wondered if he somehow remembered the trauma she’d gone through while carrying him, if the pain of that and losing his father was still inside him. But more likely, he was just a baby, who cried when hungry or cold or pretty much whenever he needed anything. She vaguely recalled her little brother crying, too, before they’d lost him.

It had been months since she last had a full night’s sleep. If Jacen’s cries didn’t wake her—and they usually did—dreams of fire and blue-green eyes did. She was tired, and trying so desperately to take care of her son. But Hera felt like she was one step away from falling apart.

She couldn’t, though. She didn’t have a choice. She had to hold it together for Jacen.

As it turned out, it relaxed Jacen to be held, especially when she was moving. So Hera started spending a lot of time walking, with him cradled in her arms or strapped in a sling to her chest. She started exploring the streets of Lothal when she wasn’t helping Ryder with the relief work, pacing the lengths of them time after time. Often, she’d pass places she recognized—Old Jho’s, the bombed out shell of the Bridgers house. Or other times, she’d see a piece of graffiti by Sabine, and wonder when she was here. If it was recent or long ago, back when life made sense.

One day, she was walking through a tangle of neighborhoods, most of the houses burned away. Sabine had recently commed, saying that she was coming back to Lothal. She hadn’t said why, but the heaviness in her voice said it all. Her and Ahsoka’s search for Ezra was still fruitless, and Hera’s heart twisted at the thought. At the fear that he might actually be gone for good.

She tried to hide the fear and sadness she felt, but Jacen seemed to be picking up on it anyway, because he simply would not stop crying. No matter how much she rocked him, humming one of the songs that soothed him the most, he wailed steadily on.

“Come on, sweetheart,” she whispered to him, bouncing him up and down lightly. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

“Excuse me.”

A gentle voice cut through Hera’s spinning thoughts, and she looked up—meeting a pair of blue-green eyes. For a moment, she was paralyzed, and then she registered the sight of an elderly woman, silver hair pulled back from her face, which wore a warm but concerned expression.

“Can I help you?” she asked. “Please.”

Any other time, Hera would have demurred, would have told her she had it handled. But the combination of exhaustion and Jacen’s cries and the startlingly familiar eyes somehow overtook her brain, and before she knew it she was handing her son over to the woman, who introduced herself as Devorah.

To her shock, Jacen quieted quickly as the woman sang gently in a language Hera didn’t recognize, staring up at her with wide blue eyes. Apparently, many human children started out with blue eyes. Hera harbored a secret hope that Jacen’s eyes would change to look like his father’s.

“What a precious boy,” Devorah murmured. Giving Hera a sympathetic look, she said, “You look exhausted, General. Haven’t you been sleeping?”

“Not as much as I want to,” Hera admitted. “But—how did you know—”

“I’ve seen you around the refugee camps,” Devorah explained. “Everyone’s quite impressed with how much you’ve been doing, particularly with a newborn baby. But I know how hard raising a new baby can be.” Pausing, she said, “I take it his father is—”

“Gone,” Hera said, hating the ache in her throat and the sting in her eyes. “He—he died to save us.”

Devorah’s expression softened. “Then your little boy has two heroes as parents. But I have a feeling that’s little comfort.”

“You could say that,” Hera agreed.

“Hmm. I lost my husband to the Empire,” Devorah told her. “He was brave, too, but…it doesn’t prevent us from missing them.”

Hera suddenly found the tears in her eyes spilling forth. “No,” she whispered. “It doesn’t.”

And to her profound relief, Devorah didn’t hesitate before pulling her into a hug.

After that, she saw quite a bit more of Devorah. The refugee camps housed those who were displaced after Thrawn’s orbital bombardment, and Hera had been working there as much as possible to help. Now that she’d met her, Devorah seemed everywhere at once—cooking, helping put up tents, cheering up children and encouraging parents and singing, always singing.

(it reminded Hera, as too much did, of Kanan. How he’d told her once that the only memory he had of his life before the Jedi Order was of a voice, singing to him, and after that Hera had made a point to let him catch her singing as much as possible.)

The camps were overcrowded, and work to get people their homes back was slow. A lot of people were sharing tents, and some didn’t have one to begin with. When Hera realized that Devorah was one of those—she’d given hers up to a pair of children, whose parents had died in the bombings—she’d immediately, impulsively, offered to let Devorah use one of the spare rooms on the Ghost.

(there was only one real spare room. Hera almost never went in there, not anymore. But somehow, it felt right to let Devorah use it.)

Having someone else around all the time brought a little light to Hera’s life. And it helped a lot to have someone look after Jacen so she could catch a little extra sleep every now and then.

It helped that Jacen loved Devorah. He’d light up when she was around, babbling to her, and she’d listen and laugh like he was actually talking. “He’s such a sweet boy,” she told Hera one day. “He reminds me of my son at his age.”

“You had a son?” Hera asked, not quite surprised, and Devorah nodded.

“And a daughter. She left to fight the Empire, although I hear from her pretty often. And my son…” Devorah’s usually cheerful face fell, an old sadness in her eyes. “He’s gone, too. For longer, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Hera said slowly, and Devorah glanced at her.

“It’s quite alright. He didn’t die, exactly, although I’d say it’s not impossible he’s gone at this point. He was a Jedi.”

The word went through Hera’s heart like a knife, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. “A Jedi?” she managed finally.

Nodding, Devorah said, “Yes. I was sad to let him go but, oh, how proud. We knew he’d change the galaxy someday. I was sure of it. Our family never bought into the Empire’s lies about the Jedi, and I always wondered if he’d made it.”

“What was his name?” Hera managed, and she knew. She just knew, before Devorah spoke with a gentle, wistful smile on her face.

“Caleb,” she said. “Caleb Dume.”

[thisissirius]

“I should not be left to my own devices.” Can I please have Edgin/Xenk if you're writing for them now? So excited if you are!

can't believe i get to WRITE THIS.

wrench and burn edgin/xenk, post-torture, injury, hurt/comfort

Ed was broken out of his pain-filled doze by the squeak of a hinge. It was too early, he reasoned, for another round. He hadn’t yet recovered from the last, and the smugglers had been regular as clockwork thus far, giving him just enough time to bear the pain before returning. Not that he was desperate to work to a schedule, but any comfort (heh) he could take in the situation was preferred. It took more effort than he wanted to admit to open his eyes, and even more to acclimatize to the darkness. A shape coalesced in the darkness and approached slowly, the familiar clank of metal on metal, and the sturdy, even footsteps. “Edgin.” The word was heavy, and Ed lifted cracked lips in an approximation of a smirk to cover the rush of relief he felt at the familiar voice. “I’ve had worse,” Ed managed to grit out, eyes tracking the dark smudge as it approached. “I should not,” he started, sucked in a gasp, and managed, “be left to my own devices.” Xenk should not look as good as he did when the little light in the room finally illuminated his form, eyes dragging over Edgin’s body, his face, the metal spikes currently pinning him to the cell walls. “It looks worse than it is.” A lie, especially given the time it took to get the words out.

“Ed,” Xenk said again, somehow sounding worse than the last time. His hands lifted slowly, hovering awkwardly next to the metal spearing Ed’s right shoulder. They were shaking. Huh. Ed would say something but his mouth wouldn’t work. “I will have to remove them.”

That didn’t sound great. “Or you could leave them in.”

Xenk at least sounded apologetic when he said, “I regret that I cannot.”

“Kira,” Ed ground out, trying to focus on anything but the pain that was about to consume him. “She’s safe.”

“I would not have left if I doubted that.” Xenk touched Ed’s shoulder; it was the softest grip he’d had since falling into the hands of the smugglers, and Ed almost leaned into it. “One moment.”

Xenk moved away, Ed swallowing down the urge to beg him to stay. He was a grown-ass man who had been in worse situations. Granted, he couldn’t think of any, but he couldn’t think much at all what with the pain thundering through his had. There was the shift of one of the crates, a sound that seemed too loud in the cell. They’d left them there, just in Ed’s eyeline, so that he could see but not rest. Bastards.

Thankfully, Xenk lifted the crate in favour of making more noise, and left it close to Ed’s feet.

“I apologise,” Xenk said.

Ed opened his mouth to ask what for when Xenk lifted his legs, nudging the box at the same time. Pain exploded through Ed’s shoulders and he whimpered, feeling the nausea roll over him. The sound that came out of is throat was one he hadn’t made before. He wanted to move away, anywhere there wasn’t pain, when he registered the voice curling against his ear.

“—breathe, Ed, I have you. Please breathe.”

“Don’t,” Ed grunted, eyes clenched shut against the urge to throw up, “do that again.”

Xenk said nothing, fingers resting on Edgin’s hip, the other stroking his cheek. He was standing awkwardly to Ed’s left, unable to be where he wanted, where Ed wanted him to be—enveloping him in his arms.

“Xenk,” Ed slurred. “Please.”

“I heard your song,” Xenk said, and it took Ed a moment to follow his train of thought.

“My song?” Ed frowned, struggling to comprehend what a song had to do with anything happening to him. “I have a lot. You’re usually more specific.”

“Mmm,” Xenk was still stroking Ed’s cheek which was nice, and Ed really wanted to close his eyes and give in the urge to relax. Even on his box, he couldn’t, because the spears were still in his shoulders. “I believe it is about a sanctimonious prick?”

The laugh caused pain to ricochet through Ed. “I think I know the one. I didn’t mean—”

His words cut off as the spear jerked out of his left shoulder and Ed bit down on Xenk’s clothed arm that was unceremoniously shoved into his mouth. The scream was swallowed as Ed gave in to the pain.

“—one more, Ed, I will be done soon, this I promise. Just one—”

Ed couldn’t focus, couldn’t think beyond the mind-numbing pain as the other spear was torn from wall and shoulder and he collapsed forward, struggling to breathe. His fingers were sluggish and slow as he tried to grip at Xenk’s arms, shoulders, anything.

“I have you,” Xenk said, over and over. “Breathe for me, darling, slowly, that’s it.”

Darling. The word ricocheted around Ed’s head as he fought against the nausea and lost; he threw up over Xenk’s shoulder, sobbing as his body threatened to cave in on itself. Xenk’s hand was in his hair, stroking down the back of his neck, and Ed trembled against him. He felt wrung out, pathetic, and said as much.

Xenk grunted something under his breath and then pulled back, fingers against Ed’s chin. “I will not hear another word.”

Ed stared at him, realising that he must look a mess, through torture and sickness and time. He ducked his gaze, or tried to, but Xenk did not allow him. A thumb stroked over his jaw, his cheek, beneath his eye. Ed hadn’t felt so treasured, so loved, since Zia. He choked on his words, leaning into the touch, allowing himself the comfort, even if just for the moment.

“Ed,” Xenk said quietly, and warmth spread through Ed’s left shoulder, then his right. It wasn’t enough to soothe days of hanging from a wall, or whatever else the smugglers had done to him. It took the edge off the pain. “We must leave. Holga and Simon wait outside, Doric within these walls to cause a disturbance should we need it.”

“Alright,” Ed said slowly. He took a moment to brace himself, and then made to stand. He immediately collapsed forward, Xenk’s hands tightening against his neck and hip. “Give me a moment.”

“I fear we do not have a moment,” Xenk whispered, lips close to Ed’s ear. Ed shivered, would have otherwise made a comment when Xenk gently swept him into his arms, but he couldn’t form the words. It was embarrassing nonetheless, and he made a token grunt that Xenk promptly ignored.

Ed stared up at him, the curve of his jaw, the softness in his expression when he looked at Ed. Oh. Oh. “Xenk.”

“Rest,” Xenk said, voice low. “I swear that I will get you safely out of here.”

Ed wanted to make a comment, quip something about damsels in distress. He kept staring as Xenk looked back; the pain in his shoulders still throbbed, days of inconsistent and terrible food and water, and endless pain had stolen everything but the gratitude. “Thank you, Xenk.”

Xenk’s smile was strained but no less brilliant. “For you, I fear there is little I would not do.”

“Likewise,” Ed said, and found that he meant it.

Xenk shifted Ed further against him, crossing the room to the open cell door. “Rest,” he said again. “I will see you free.”

Black spots had begun creeping into his vision, so Ed gave up fighting it, knowing with a bone-deep certainty that Xenk would do as he said. “Okay.”

As he allowed unconsciousness to claim him, Ed felt the brush of a kiss against his forehead and knew that yeah, he was definitely safe with Xenk.

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

The Prettiest Star

i started writing this last night but finished it today so it’s kind of both Song-fic Saturday and Smutty Sunday for my 250 Followers Writing Event

Song-fic Saturday 🎶 song: The Prettiest Star by David Bowie

pairing: Sirius Black x plus size! reader 

tags / warnings: NSFW (minors do not interact!), smut, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, oral, p in v (unprotected — use condoms y’all, this is fantasy), fem!reader, plus size! reader, reader insecurities about her weight, body positivity, non-magical au (couldn’t have them just apparating out of the rain, right?)

notes: i’m a huge music fan and love Bowie and have been listening to Aladdin Sane a lot because it’s just had its 50th anniversary, so hence the song inspiration (“The Prettiest Star”)

word count: 8.1k (yike, please enjoy)

“Does this look too tight?” you ask Lily as you look at your reflection in your favourite jumper, tugging it down repeatedly. You’ve never been particularly thin, but you’d gained a noticeable amount recently, and it was increasingly making getting dressed the worst part of your day. “It looks fine, Y/N,” she says, a bit dismissively, then catches herself (and the look on your face), and adds, “Really. You look beautiful. Don’t ever let the scale tell you different,” giving you a warm smile. It was the “right” thing to say, perhaps, and you were grateful for what a sweet friend she always was to you, truly, but it didn’t make you feel any better. And… if you were brutally honest, it kind of annoyed you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, and the feeling made you feel guilty on top of everything else. After all, she hadn’t done anything wrong; in fact, she was just genuinely trying to help, or perhaps even just genuine in what she said. But somehow, when it came to any comments on your body — especially specifically about your weight, negative or positive, you grew irritable even more than uncomfortable. You felt as if no one understood the mix of self-consciousness and self-confidence that you felt. As if everyone projected either how they felt about themselves or how they assumed all fat people felt onto you. Worse, you felt that you could never express your true feelings to anyone. Even when you tried, things came out muddled, or things you said were directly contradictory — yet equally true. It couldn’t possibly be that no one else felt contradictory things about themselves, about their bodies, could it? Were you just shit at articulating your feelings, or were your feelings that atypical? 

You opt to keep the jumper on even though it hugged your chest a bit more tightly than usual. A twinge of regret went through you at the thought that usually winter was your favourite time in terms of fashion in general and your wardrobe specifically. You loved your winter clothes and winter aesthetics overall. You really didn’t want to let a little weight gain get in the way of that, but it had a way of making itself known no matter how much you tried to avoid it. 

On cue, it whispers in your head, “You probably only like winter clothes more because they cover more of you. None of those pretty sundresses Lily, Marlene, Mary, or Dorcas wear ever fit you. Not to mention any summer outfit that involves no bra or a visible bralette - not a chance.”  You shake your head at yourself, trying to convince yourself that comfort was a complicated thing, that you didn’t have to overanalyze everything in such an accusatory way.  

You finish getting ready and head to the pub with Lily to meet the others. Remus and James greet you, and James can’t say enough times how lovely Lily looks. It makes you happy for them, two of your best friends so in love, but you can’t help but feel a little funny, a little longing at the lack of those comments ever made about you. 

The thing is, you didn’t dislike yourself. In fact, there were many times you genuinely thought you were beautiful, or that you wouldn’t trade yourself for anyone else. But those thoughts came more easily when you were alone, and not wanting to be anyone else did not include not wanting to be yourself, minus a bit here or there. 

You feel a pair of arms come around your middle from behind you, and there’s no time to be freaked out because you immediately know who it is. It’s like a sixth sense. Sure, you recognize his intoxicating smell, can feel and hear the texture of his characteristic leather jacket, but there’s more to it. Before you even consciously register these things or hear him whisper in your ear, you know it’s him. Sirius. Your best friend in the entire world. “Hello, darling girl,” he greets.  “How is my finest friend on this finest of evenings?” 

“Hi, Siri,” you smile, leaning back into him. “I’m alright; you?” You turn your head up to look at him. “Just alright? Oh, we need to remedy that, love. Urgently.” He looks around a bit, registering your other friends, sharing greetings here and there. “D’you have a drink yet? Let’s go get one, yeah?” he asks, unwinding his arms from his hug but leaving one around your shoulders, where it stays as you walk over to the bar together. 

“You’re good then?” you ask again, giggling a bit - sometimes it was as if you couldn’t help it; his presence made you giddy. “Me? Oh, I’m wonderful. I’ve been having the greatest hair day, which is truly saying something, and now I’m with you,” he squeezes your shoulder a bit, “What else could I possibly ask for?” 

You roll your eyes, your smile never fading, wrap your arm around his waist, and say, “Two rum and cokes, maybe?” You nod toward the bartender. “You always have better luck getting their attention than I do. It’s like they only see the attractive girls, honestly.” 

Comments like these came easily to you when you were around people you trusted. It was strange; they weren’t really intended as self-deprecating. And you weren’t fishing for compliments either, especially not with your closest friends. Part of you wanted to be able to make comments like that freely, to not have to censor your thoughts and feelings when it came to your appearance, thinking that such things really shouldn’t be taboo in the first place, and especially not with people you loved. The other part, well, you weren’t so sure what the other part wanted. 

“You’re attractive,” Sirius responds, matter-of-factly, your heart rushing a little at the sound of it. You knew you had feelings for him, had for ages and had no use in denying it, but there was also the lack of pity in his comment. He never treated you as fragile; his voice never took on the tone of a motivational poster. “Maybe not to everyone,” he adds candidly, “but no one is attractive to everyone. And,” he pauses, looking down at you conspiratorially, “a lot of people have shit taste anyway.” He pauses again, considering you intently. Then something shifts in his expression, and he adds, speaking more quickly than before, “I mean, not everyone likes Bowie, for example. Bowie, Y/N, Bowie. Why should we ever put stock in what other people think if some of those people can’t see - or hear or whatever - beauty when it’s right in front of them?”

You grin but shoot back, “You’re attractive to everyone.”

Raising his eyebrows, looking straight into your eyes, he responds, “Does that include you then?” A careless group of girls bumping into you saves you from having to decide how much of a joking tone to put on your response. You didn’t find Sirius attractive. You found Sirius the most beautiful person you’d ever met, in senses that went far beyond his impeccable hair, his striking grey eyes, his pronounced cheekbones. 

He holds you closer protectively at the jostling crowd, turns to ask for your drinks, and begins absentmindedly stroking your shoulder as he does so. 

“No wonder you always wear this,” he says, pinching your jumper, “It’s so bloody soft.” 

You had no idea he ever remembered or even noticed what you wore. Marlene, sure. Marlene was making a statement every time she stepped out of the house. And her face and body punctuated that statement with a big exclamation mark. But you? You hardly ever got that kind of attention. Maybe a “nice shirt” when you wore a particularly fun pattern, but that was about it. 

You notice him looking at your torso as he says this and swear his eyes linger on your chest. You’re worrying he can tell it’s tighter than usual, so you tug at the hem, but when he looks quickly away, you try not to make too much of it. 

You’re having loads of fun with your friends, swapping stories, sharing shots, occasionally shouting the lyrics to the good songs that come on. You and Sirius — who’s standing next you, his arm perpetually around you, much to the dismay of the many girls and few guys who come flirting — have a habit of turning to each other every time a new song comes on, deciding in unison whether it’s a good or bad one. The very occasional disagreement yields the most fun arguments, always along the lines of “You think this isn’t rubbish? You’re making me question our entire friendship here, love. I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.” (Sirius) or “Oh, come on.  This sounds exactly like every other song in the genre but mediocre. Not everything has to be original, but it’d be nice if it weren’t typical and trash.” (You) 

Then some new Bowie comes on. And Sirius looks as though he’s just received the greatest news of his life. 

Cold fire, you’ve got everything but cold fire / You will be my rest and peace child, rings out Bowie’s electric voice. “Come dance with me!” Sirius bursts at you, hardly asking, dragging you by the hand to where a few (mostly quite drunk) people were dancing. He’s holding both your hands, and you’re moving together organically, falling into a languid rhythm with each other and the song. By the next line, Sirius is singing along, and as he sings with Bowie, “I moved up to take a place… Near you,” he shuffles closer to you seductively, looking nowhere but into your eyes as he places your hand on his shoulder and moves his own to your hip.

He’s theatrical with every lyric, each of which he knows by heart; “So tired,” he swoons; “It’s the sky that makes you feel tried,” he belts looking up toward the ceiling; “It’s a trick to make you see wide,” his eyes come back to yours, open wide and full of mirth; “It can all but break your heart…,” he steps closer to you again;  “… In pieces,” he swoons again, this time onto your shoulder, leaning on you and holding you close. You’re too busy laughing both with and at him to be able to sing along yourself.

“Staying back in your memory… Are the movies in the past,” he continues, acting less and dancing smoothly with you, spinning you around and catching you close afterward.

He’s staring into your eyes, his face very close to yours as he sings, much more softly now, swaying slowly more than dancing, “How you moved is all it takes… to sing a song of when I loved… the prettiest star.” His hands squeeze you as he says those last three words. 

He gives you another playful spin and goes on, “One day… though it might as well be someday… you and I will rise up all the way… all because of what you are…” Then, for the first time in the whole song, he and Bowie don’t synchronize. As Bowie finishes the line over the speakers, “the prettiest star,” you distinctly hear — and see, since his lips are so close to you after all — Sirius finish, “my prettiest star.” 

The rest of the world has all melted away by this point; all that’s left is Sirius; all you can hear is the song, his voice, your frantic heartbeat in your ears. His hand comes to your face, caressing your cheek then resting there.

You have no idea how to react. Sirius flirted with you often. But Sirius flirted with everyone often. It was just a quirk of his personality. And Sirius touched you often. But it was never this gentle, this intimate. You don’t want to get your hopes up. Because as much as — or perhaps because of how much — you love him, you can’t really believe he’d see you that way. You’ve let yourself entertain the idea many times, sure, even suspected from time to time over the years of your friendship that maybe just maybe your desire was mutual, but ultimately, your fears and doubts — doubled every time a girl half your size who could so easily be on any billboard flirted with Sirius — would win out and push those thoughts and feelings down. 

Your rhythmic swaying, your prolonged eye contact, your bursting heart and muddled mind continued through the end of the song. Though you knew it must have been about a minute and a half, it had felt like hours, time expanded by both bliss and trepidation, by the time the music changed and you broke apart. As you do, Sirius just watches you, as if searching for something. 

You’re fidgeting with the sleeves of your jumper when you whisper, “That was fun,” and give him a quick hug, not letting yourself linger and pulling back before his arms were comfortably around you.

You have plans with Sirius the next day, and as you’re getting ready, you can’t help but remember back to his comment on your jumper last night, more worried at your appearance now that you think he noticed it more than you did before. You’re standing in your room in just your underwear stressing out over what to wear. You’ve put on your best bra, the one that does the most to help your figure without being too uncomfortable, and you’ve made a mess of your knickers drawer looking for a clean pair of high-waisted ones. 

There was a time you would’ve avoided looking in the mirror at this stage, but now, you stand in front of it and give yourself a serious look. You suck your stomach in, and pull a bit with your hands on your hips, then let it all go, contemplating the difference. You turn to your profile, admiring the curves of your chest and your arse, but wishing there was less of your thighs immediately after. Arching your back and grabbing your arse, you wonder whether anyone — you close your eyes and admit to yourself: no, not anyone, Sirius — whether Sirius would find this, would find you attractive. As you take a deep breath, you lament how thinking of others’ opinions always made it so much harder to look at yourself with loving eyes. You didn’t hate your body, but your frequent worries that others would brought you down on more days than you wanted to admit. 

You put on your favorite jeans, but as you go to choose a top, you remember one you’d borrowed from Lily a few months ago that had looked good. It was quite loose on her and a bit tight on you, but you each pulled it off differently. You ask her for it, and she happily obliges, but when you put it on, a knot turns in your stomach. It’s way too tight. The pattern is stretched; your boobs look huge; it somehow brings out rather than covers the fat on your sides. Taking it off in a hurry, you have to take another long, calming breath to keep tears of frustration at bay. 

After finally finding something of yours that worked, giving the top back to Lily with a quick “Thanks, but it didn’t look as good as last time,” and giving yourself too many “final” glances in the mirror, you bundle up as you head into the windy afternoon.

You meet Sirius at the record shop near his flat. You see him before he sees you. He’s browsing the racks, and per usual, he looks effortlessly cool and unreasonably attractive. His long fingers are accentuated by his several silver rings as he flips through the records. He pushes his long hair out of his eyes in a careless gesture, and you’re almost angry at how it falls so perfectly he might as well have just spent an hour in front of a mirror. 

You’re approaching him when a cute girl in a hot crop top walks up to him. She steps closer to him than any normal interaction would warrant. “Anything I can help you find, handsome?” she asks, and you wonder whether you’re imagining the twinge of a double meaning in the question. Maybe she’s just a flirty person doing her job. “We have a few special ones in the stock room I could show you…” Nope, not just doing her job. “Thanks, sweetheart, but I’m waiting for someone.” As he looks away from her back toward the records, he catches you in his peripherals. He smiles a beaming smile at you and gestures you over. 

“You’re not going to believe what I found,” he begins enthusiastically. You hug; it lingers, and he squeezes you lovingly. “Mm, you smell nice,” he adds, as if it’s a normal thing to say. Is it a normal thing to say? Maybe it is. Maybe you’re overthinking, especially after the moment you shared last night.

“Thanks, new shampoo. What’d you find?” You look toward the records to ease the tension you were probably creating. 

“Check this out.” If he noticed any awkwardness, he definitely doesn’t show it. He pulls out a record you had recently had a long conversation about. 

“Brilliant!” you react, snatching it from him and turning it over in your hands, reading its contents eagerly. 

He chuckles at you, and if you’d been looking at him instead of the record, you might have seen the accompanying adoring look. 

“I know. It’s our lucky day.” 

You browse around the shop together, chatting easily, both about music and all sorts of random things that came to mind. Talking to Sirius is always easy, always gives you more than the contents of the conversation to hold onto, to fill you up. 

You go to pay, and the girl from earlier is working the till. Sirius goes to the loo, so it’s just you and her when you hand her a couple of records to ring up. 

“Cool choices.” “Thanks.” “Is that your boyfriend?” she asks, nodding behind her toward the toilets. 

“Oh, um,” you stutter. You’re not exactly sure why “no” doesn’t just easily come to your mouth. “I don’t know how you managed it. Lucky bitch,” she half laughs. You’re mortified; you can’t tell for sure, but you think she is trying to be friendly, just in a very strange record-shop-employee, rock and roll kind of way. 

Sirius comes back around, and you hope to hell he hasn’t heard anything. 

“All good, darling?” he asks, putting his arm around you. This wasn’t unusual for him, the nickname, the contact. But you’re already in an uncomfortable headspace, and your first thought is that you hope he isn’t doing it as an act for her benefit. You don’t even know if he’d heard, and your anxiety is taking over anyway. You keep running the woman’s words over in your head. How had she meant it? Did she mean she couldn’t believe you had managed it? As in specific, chubby, you? Or was she just making girly conversation? Would she have said the same to any woman, no matter how attractive, who had come into the shop with Sirius?  

“You alright?” Sirius’s voice breaks you out of your spiraling. You look over at him, and his gaze is gentle but concerned. 

“Yeah, fine, sorry,” you reply quickly. “It’s all good,” he smiles comfortingly at you. 

Once outside the shop, you debate your next move. Normally on weekends when you’d get records, you’d then go eat, then go to his and listen to some of them, sometimes sharing a blunt, sometimes just getting high on the music. 

You’re both looking up into the newly drizzling sky when Sirius says, “How about, we get take-away somewhere close, then just eat at mine? It looks like it’ll get worse soon, but I reckon we can make it before it really starts up.”

“Yeah, great.”

You’ve made it only a few blocks, though, when the rain pours down in sudden torrents. 

“Oh, shit!” he laughingly yells, protecting the records, taking your hand, and sprinting to the nearest protective awning. By the time you make it, you’re both already extremely wet, and the weather is so windy the cover hardly helps in keeping it from getting even worse. 

You’re squeezing as close to the wall as possible, standing chest to chest, the records between you, his arm around your waist, your faces close enough for you to see each individual drop as it travels down his face. His eyes match the sky behind him, and you silently marvel at his beauty. He looks up for a second then is overtaken by heartfelt laughter. 

“Didn’t quite gauge that one right, I guess,” he chuckles. You’re laughing with him when a particularly strong gust blows freezing water forcefully at you, making you gasp and stiffen. 

“Shit,” he laughs. “Let’s make a run for it.” He takes your hand again, and you both jog the few blocks to his flat. 

You’re both still giggly when you step inside, leaving a puddle in the doorway where you stand. You take off your shoes and outer layers, but you’re drenched all the way through. 

“Bloody hell, it’s freezing,” he amusedly complains, stripping down to only his jeans, leaving his clothes in a pile by the door. He hugs himself and rubs his arms, trying to warm up, and you’re glad your soaked demeanour is already such a mess he probably can’t tell how flustered you are by how attractive — and bare — he is. He reaches over to you and rubs your arms like he had been doing his. “Fuck, you’re freezing too. Come to my room, and I’ll lend you something to wear.” Your giddy mood dissipates immediately. There was no way in hell his clothes would fit you. He was obviously leaner than you, and your hips and thighs hadn’t gotten along well with men’s clothes even in your thinnest of states. He’s halfway to his room already, and you’re frozen by the door. “Y/N?” 

You look over. You hope he doesn’t notice your eyes quickly travel his bare torso. “You coming or what?” he keeps on casually. When you get to his room, he’s bringing some towels out of the bathroom and throws you one. You start drying your hair as he rummages in his drawers. “Um,” you start. You sound more nervous than you mean to. He clearly notices because he immediately turns back to look at you to see what’s going on. “What is it?”

 You hate worrying him like this, especially over something so stupid. Why did you always have to make things uncomfortable? Or better yet, why couldn’t you just be a girl who would fit in his clothes. “Hey, what is it?” he repeats, gentler this time, coming over to rest his hands on your shoulders. Your self-deprecating, cruel inner monologue is clearly showing more than you’d hope. “You alright, love?” “Yeah, no, I’m fine, sorry,” you try to laugh it off. “Don’t apologise.” It’s gentle, not scolding. “Just talk to me.” His hands continue rubbing your shoulders lovingly. “Just that I think I’m fine like this is all. Don’t worry about finding stuff for me,” you try. “Don’t be ridiculous; you’ll freeze to death. It’s fine; I don’t mind.” He goes back toward his dresser.

Ugh, how do you say “It’s not about your minding, actually. It’s about my stretching and ruining anything you could possibly lend me” without sounding weird and embarrassing? 

“Thanks. Um, I’m not quite sure anything of yours would fit me though.” “We’ll find something,” he says relaxedly, opening another drawer. “Here, this one is really warm and comfy, and it’ll definitely fit,” he says, tossing you a sweatshirt. You recognize it, have seen him wearing it before. He only ever wore it while lounging at home, and it was quite big on him, so maybe it would be okay. 

“And… uh,” he rummages, “try these. They’re a bit small, but they’re stretchy.” He hands you a pair of sweatpants. You’ve never seen him wear these. They would probably be too big on him. He grabs his towel and some clothes for himself. 

“I’ll go change in the living room. Just come out when you’re ready. Grab whatever you want.” His tone is friendly, at ease. Unlike your feelings. You are freaking out. As soon as he closes the door, you strip down to your knickers, which thankfully aren’t very wet, at top speed, thinking you should hurry in case it takes you time to figure out the clothes. You don’t want to take too long and make things awkward. You towel yourself off and slip on the sweatshirt. It fits fine. It isn’t loose like it is on him, but it doesn’t look too weird. And it is indeed warm and comfy. Now for the more concerning part: you try pulling the pants on, a repeating “please, please, please” playing in your head. Fuck. No luck. They stop a bit above your mid-thigh, and there is no way you’d be able to pull them all the way up. You think of putting your jeans back on, but they are drenched, and it would’ve been like trying to get back into a heavy straight-jacket. You start panicking, unsure what to do, already worrying you are taking too long to come out. You look through his drawers, but all his other bottoms look even smaller. You try just wrapping the towel around your hips, but you look quite strange in the mirror. 

You’re pacing in his room when he knocks. “Y/N? You alright? No rush, really, just making sure everything’s okay?”

You brace yourself, go to the door, and crack it open, hiding your body behind it, just popping your head around. He’s standing there, his wet hair half tied up, a dry t-shirt and sweats on. 

“Um… the sweatpants don’t fit,” you whisper, embarrassed. 

“Oh. Uh, that’s okay. Um, how about…,” he looks around, as if bigger pants would magically materialise somewhere in his living room. “Oh, perfect.” What could possibly be perfect right now? “Your favourite blanket is already on the sofa. How about I turn around, and you can just go get under it, and I’ll hang your trousers on my heater.” 

You nod timidly, the warmth in your cheeks from your embarrassment blazing even hotter at the thought of how sweet he always is to you. 

“Great. Uh, ok,” he chuckles, awkwardly turning around. You scamper to his sofa in your underwear, quickly covering your legs with his big cosy blanket. 

“Ok,” you let out softly. He turns around and looks you over. You can’t tell what’s in his eyes as he does so, but there is an intensity there that you’re not used to. He blinks quickly and gives you a strange, strained smile. He disappears into his room, and you hear him sorting your clothes out to dry. 

You’re fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweatshirt when he returns. 

“You alright? Comfortable?” he asks, seemingly back to normal.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, I didn’t meat to, uh, well, sorry I’m a bit difficult,” you reply a bit awkwardly, not knowing what exactly to apologise for but feeling the need to. “Don’t be ridiculous, love. You have nothing to be sorry for. Really. If you’re okay like this, then we’re all good, right?” You can’t help but worry what will happen as soon as you have to get up. Would you wrap the blanket around yourself like a weirdo?  As if reading your thoughts, Sirius goes on playfully, “I’ll wait on you like royalty so you don’t even have to get up.”  You make an odd half laugh, half relieved exhale sound in response, and he just chuckles. “Starting with…” he fast walks over to the door, grabs the bag of records and brings it back over to the sofa, sitting next to you but not getting under the same blanket like he usually does. “Which do you want to listen to first?” he asks, bringing them all out to look at together. 

As soon as you started discussing it, it’s like waking up from a nightmare, realising all is well and returning to a calm normality. You debate and joke, decide on a record, and he gets up to put it on and make some tea, still chatting casually to you throughout. 

When he’s back on the sofa with you, he looks down, smiles, and says, “Looks better on you than on me.” You tug on the sweatshirt self-consciously, smiling shyly at him.  You fall into your easy rhythm, listening, talking, laughing, and before you knew it, the whole record’s played. Sirius gets up, walking toward his collection rather than the small stack of new records on the table. He picks one easily, and puts it on. The quirky piano of Bowie’s “Time” begins, and your heart speeds up. You love this album. So does Sirius. But this isn’t the first track. It’s the first track on the B-side, and the next song after this, you remember, is “The Prettiest Star,” the song you and Sirius danced to just last night. He doesn’t say anything until he’s seated next to you again. “I know we usually listen from the beginning, but the B-side is better on this one, and I didn’t feel like being patient.” His tone is playful, but there’s a heaviness to it. He glances away from you and leans toward the table to take a sip of his tea. 

“What’s your favourite track?” you ask, smiling. You’ve asked him this question innumerable times over the years, but you’ve never been as excited for his answer as this time, and you have a feeling you know what it’ll be. 

“‘The Prettiest Star,’” he replies immediately, looking toward you again. As quickly as he had, he looks away again as he adds, “Because it reminds me of you… even before last night…” After a beat, he ventures a glance toward you, that same searching look from last night taking over his beautiful features.

Unlike last night, you don’t feel panicked — nervous, sure, but more than that, loved. “Last night felt pretty special,” you say. “Yeah?” He seems hopeful. “Yeah, it was.” His voice is serene, like he’s contemplating something utterly peaceful. “It’s funny, though,” you say, and he looks at you, his eyebrow quirked. “It’s really about you, isn’t it? Not me.” You laugh. He looks like he wants to laugh with you, a twinkle in his eye, clearly happy that you are happy, but confusion holds his expression. You explain, “Well, you’re ‘the prettiest star,’ aren’t you? You’re obviously prettier, the prettiest… and the brightest in the night sky in fact… ‘Sirius.’” You say his name with all the love you feel for him.

He leans toward you, taking your hand. He’s smiling, but there’s a sadness to it. 

“You might not be named for a star, but you’re my prettiest star, Y/N.” He looks into your eyes. “You’re so beautiful.”  His eyes scan your face. “It’s almost too bright to bear sometimes, to be honest, your beauty,” he adds, smiling more vividly now. He brings his other hand to your face, just as he did last night. But this time, his fingertips begin by taking their time tracing your features: your eyebrow first, your nose, your cheekbone, down to your jaw. His thumb grazes your lip, barely touching it but lingering there, before moving to caress you cheek. “You’re so beautiful, my prettiest star,” he repeats, as the song begins in the background. 

“Sirius,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. 

“Darling girl,” he responds, moving closer to you until your foreheads meet. Your nose nuzzles his, and you stay like this for several seconds. You bring your hand to the crook of his neck, and holding him, you lean forward. The song goes silent, the intro ending, the anticipation built, and right as Bowie’s voice comes in, your lips meet. 

Sirius’s hand slips from the side of your face to the back of your head, holding you firmly, leaning into you hungrily. His hand holding yours goes to your waist, pulling you close to him until your chest is flush with his. You wrap your arms around his neck and slip your fingers into his hair. 

He moans into your mouth, and you deepen the kiss, pushing his tongue with yours, breaching into his mouth. He lets you, and as you explore him, he pulls your body until you find yourself kneeling on the sofa in front of him, the blanket fallen to the floor. 

You pull back momentarily, and he stills his movements, watching you, waiting for your cue for what to do next. His eyes are lidded, his pupils blown, his lips parted, but you know that if you sat back down and told him you just wanted to listen to the record, that’s exactly what he’d do. But that’s not what you want. So, you lean forward and pick up your exploration right where you left it. He groans appreciatively and sucks on your tongue in his mouth, before pulling you on top of him. 

You’re straddling him, and you’re so attracted to him you’re drowning in it, but even still, your nerves are there. You feel heavy. Too heavy to be sitting on top of him like this. He keeps his hands on your waist and strokes your back, not venturing any further down, pulling back to look at you. You shift clumsily, trying to put more of your weight on your knees on the sofa, but not being able to without spreading awkwardly wider or ending up lopsided. He holds you firmly, centering you again, hugging you close. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you whisper, trying to explain what he’s already figured out. 

He can’t help the chuckle that escapes him before he says, “Trust me, darling, I’m about as far form uncomfortable as a person can be right now.” He squeezes you lovingly, clearly careful to squeeze all of you and not just any specific place, which might make you uncomfortable. “I’ve been going absolutely mental this whole time just knowing you weren’t wearing anything but your knickers under that blanket.” 

“You have?” you ask, surprised, your eyes wide, your voice soft. He giggles again, always adoring, never mocking. “Fuck, how can someone be so adorable and so sexy at the same time?” It baffles you how someone can say the word “sexy” so seriously and not sound silly at all, give it so much confidence that it just sounds so, well, so sexy. He pecks your lips. “You’re going to kill me, woman.” Now you laugh. 

“Oh?” “Mm,” he groans affirmatively as he runs his hands up your sides and back and kisses you ardently. He moves to your jaw, kissing languidly down to your ear, where he nips playfully and sucks on your neck another moment before looking into your eyes again and saying, “Fuck, Y/N, tell me you want this too.” A kiss. “I’m desperate for you.” Another kiss. “But only if you want me too.” Another kiss, longer this time. “I want to make you feel good, darling. Fuck, I can make you feel so so good.” Your hips grind down on his at his words, and he throws his head back in a lustful groan, and his hands squeeze you tightly where they hold you. He recovers, stroking your back again and resting his forehead on yours as he asks, “Can I touch you, Y/N? I’ll stop anytime you say so, but I’m dying to worship you.” You kiss him deeply, holding him close, grinding your hips down again. “I want you to touch me, Siri.” At this, his mouth immediately devours yours, and his hands come down to squeeze your arse. He kneads it roughly, pulling you into him with each motion, inadvertently pushing his hips up a bit each time to meet yours. You feel the hard, evident bulge in his pants underneath you, and it turns you on even more to feel wanted in such a visceral way. There is no missing how much his body wants yours, and that surprises but arouses you to no end.

His hands come down to your thighs, and you gasp and stiffen a bit. He stops but leaves his hand there, stroking you cautiously. 

“Y/N?” He bumps your nose with his. “I…” You peck his lips. “You really don’t mind my body?” you ask, your voice small. 

“Darling,” he breaks a little. “Mind it? I adore it. Can’t you feel what you do to me?” he half jokes, thrusting up into you. You close your eyes and bite your lower lip at the addictive friction. “Y/N. Look at me, love,” he whispers. You do. “I think you are the most gorgeous, sexiest woman in the world. Of course it’s all intertwined with how much I love you, but that just makes it even better. God, you have no idea how much you turn me on.” He kisses you short but hard. “I never want to tell you how to feel, love, but I just wish you knew how beautiful you are, how you are the most beautiful to me.” You kiss him again and become immersed in it fully. Your tongues are dancing with each other, your hips, your hands, moving in tandem with each other, melting into each other in a perfect push and pull. 

His hands slip under his sweatshirt, and he whispers, “Can I?” You don’t hesitate, entrusting yourself to him, and detaching yourself from him only enough for him to slip it over your head. His hands come to your breasts, and you hear him say “fuck” again as he kneads them and keeps kissing you. His hands keep massaging as his mouth moves down your jaw wetly. He takes his time moving down your body, sucking your neck, licking across your sternum, kissing delicately down to between your breasts. He buries his face there and moans, and it’s so hot you pull him to you and scratch his scalp where you’re holding him by his hair. He kisses there again then his fingers move to pinch your nipples. He mixes pulling it with massaging your whole breast with one hand, but the other just grips your tit as his mouth wraps around your nipple. His tongue licks around it a few times before he sucks on it, and his groan is drowned out by your pleasured yell. 

“Fuck, Sirius,” you say, your voice a rasp. 

“Mmm,” he responds, not letting up, switching breasts after sucking a bit harder. Once he’s satisfied (for now) and your nipples are hard and sore, he grips your tits again with his hands and licks into your mouth. 

“Fuck, baby, you have the most incredible tits.” He squeezes them. “You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of taking your shirt off and touching you.” He goes back down and gives each a quick but delicious suck. “Let’s go to my bed, yeah?” You nod heatedly. 

You’re a bit self-conscious as you move to get off of him, more aware of your body beyond the pleasure again though you had been so lost in it just a moment ago you’d forgotten about everything else. Sirius helps you off and up, his hands on your hips, and he pulls you into him as you both stand, making out with you before squeezing your arse as he pulls away to walk to his bedroom. You wrap your arms around yourself  as you walk with him, but when you’re standing in front of the bed, he takes each of your hands in his and kisses you while holding them, bringing his body flush with yours. You break the contact to pull on his shirt, and he eagerly obliges, removing it and tossing it aside. 

He guides you onto the bed, his body following on top of yours, your mouths connected the whole time. You shuffle up the bed then tug his sweats down when you’re settled. He helps you, shimmying out of them. They get caught on one of his ankles, and you both laugh as he curses and contorts awkwardly to pull them all the way off. 

You’re both left only in your underwear as he starts kissing you again, slowly making his way down your body. He spends a lingering amount of time on your tits again as he goes down then keeps kissing down your stomach to the waistband of your knickers. He looks up at you for any hesitation, but you just bite your lip and lift your hips. He smirks in excitement as he pulls your panties off of you. He does it slowly, teasingly, and he licks down your thigh tracing where the fabric passes. Once they’re off, he pushes your knees a bit further apart and starts kissing and licking his way back up. He sucks at the top of your thigh, and it makes a pop as he separates from you. 

Kneeling between your legs, massaging your thighs on either side of him, he says, “You drive me mad, Y/N. You’re so fucking delicious, I could spend eternity between these thighs.” You squirm at his graphic words, already exceptionally strung out. He chuckles lowly down at you and kisses you quickly before adjusting himself with his head between your thighs. 

“Today really is my lucky day,” he says, face lined up with your cunt. “This is the second time I see you drenched today, and I fucking love being the cause of it this time.” Without further ado, he licks a sopping stripe from your entrance up to your clit.  Even this first motion sounds wet. You’re sure you’ve never been so wet in your life. 

Sirius buries his face in your cunt, groaning as he licks into you then sucks on your lips. He goes back and forth between sucking on you and fucking you with his tongue. He keeps playing with you until you’re squirming before bringing his mouth directly to your clit. He’d grazed it as he licked you before now, bumped you with his nose, teasing you, but now he gives it his full attention. He’s licking and sucking, moaning all the while like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever eaten, moving his whole body with the passion of it, and it takes very little more for you to start cumming on his mouth. You make a yelping sound you’ve never made before in your ecstasy, and with your eyes closed, you feel as if the world is a million miles away; all you feel is your body and where it is connected to Sirius’s.  He keeps up his motions and fervor until your pleasured squirming turns into overstimulation squirming. He gives you one last lick and suck then shuffles up your body, kissing it intermittently as he does, until he’s face to face with you, smiling a smile you’ve never seen before. 

“Hello, darling,” he says, clearly satisfied with himself, kissing you.

“Hi,” you sigh, sounding completely fucked out. He giggles at you and kisses you again. 

“Feel good?” 

“Mmhhmm.” You stretch underneath him and languidly wrap your arms around him, licking his lips slowly before kissing him again. 

“Fuck,” he responds. 

“Yes, please.” Your voice is high, blissful. You rut up into him. He chuckles at you and strokes your hairline, kissing your forehead. 

“You want to? You’re alright?” “Of course, Siri. I’m brilliant.” “That you are, my love,” he beams at you then pushes his pants off. “My prettiest star,” he says, as he pecks your lips then your nose then lines himself up with your entrance. 

His eyes penetrate yours as he pushes into you. You moan in unison, and his mouth lingers just above yours, grazing your lips, your foreheads touching, as he slowly pushes deeper and deeper. When he bottoms out, he kisses you eagerly, stroking his tongue into your mouth as his cock ruts deep inside you. Your hands grip his back. His hands come down to your thighs one at a time, squeezing passionately before pushing your legs up and out, wrapping them around his waist. 

Normally, you’d feel self-conscious in this position. Almost bent in half, your stomach protrudes between the two of you. Your thighs are thick at his sides. But the look on his face, the feel of the movements of his body is all love and adoration and ardor. 

He kisses you as he thrusts a bit harder, keeping it slow at first but vigorously punctuating each thrust. One of his hands rests beside you, holding him up, but the other stayed on your leg, stroking your thigh and gripping your arse or hip bruisingly with each forceful motion of his hips.  

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, “You’re fucking perfect.” He thrusts hard, a gentle kiss on your forehead contrasting it seductively, then begins picking up his pace. He rests his face in the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking on it as he pounds repeatedly into you. 

You’re gripping him tightly to stay in position, your arms and legs tense around him. You can’t move much, but his movements are enough for the both of you, especially as he brings his knees up a bit to get a new angle. He’s hitting your spot with almost every thrust, and you’re whining in pleasure in time with each. You squeeze hard around him, not just your arms and legs but the soft walls around his cock as well, and he groans animalistically into your skin. His hips stutter in response, but a moment later he’s pounding rhythmically again. 

His breathing gets heavier, his muscles tighter, and with a broken gasp, he shifts sideways a bit to snake his hand between you to where you’re connected. He rubs harshly on your clit, not bothering to start slow, clearly aware he doesn’t have time for that. His hips piston even faster; his hand presses harder, and a few seconds later, you feel fit to burst. You let out a yell as you release around him, the most intense orgasm of your life making you see white stars. 

“Sirius,” you half yell, half sigh. “I’m gonna cum, baby. Fuck, fuck. Where do you want me to?” he rushes out, his hips still moving fast in and out of you. You tighten your legs around him, and clench your cunt, pulling him into you. “Inside, Siri. Cum in me.” His immediate groan sounds strangled as you feel the warmth of him inside you. The words “cold fire” play in your mind. He thrusts a few more times then goes limp on top of you, panting loudly, kissing your neck and cheek between heavy breaths. 

He rolls off but stays close, never fully breaking contact with you, and he wraps his arm around your waist, lightly stroking your back, as you both lie on your sides facing each other. You feel the urge to cover yourself up but resist it, trying to melt into the vulnerability. The utter adoration in his eyes when you look into them helps. 

“I love you,” you whisper. He smiles a smile that makes his stormy eyes shine, leans in, and kisses you tenderly. 

“And I love you,” he says matter-of-factly, his voice smooth and sappy. 

You pause, contemplating, reveling in the joy of the moment but unable to ignore a tug in your stomach. “I’m sorry I was too… I don’t know, scared? to really show you before.”

“Don’t be, darling. I’m sorry I waited so long to really show you too, but I’m even more sorry if I ever made you doubt how much I do, how loved you are.” “You didn’t.” You shake your head then nuzzle his nose with yours. “I just sometimes didn’t understand. It’s confusing, how someone like you can love someone like me so much.” “Darling. It’s the least confusing thing in the world. You’re the most beautiful person I know. In all kinds of ways. And I’ll show you every day you’ll have me; you’ll see it clearly too; I’m sure of it. I’m just worried when you do, you’ll realise the real wonder is you loving me.” He laughs a bit, but you can hear the truth to his concern, his own insecurities surfacing. 

You stroke his cheek, kiss him, and say, “We’ll both keep showing each other then. For always.” His smile is subtle, full of love. 

He nods, kisses you again, pulls you into his body, and, hugging you close, repeats, “For always.” 

P.S. notes: I try to keep my reader character inclusive, and this is a bit more specific than I usually do. I just want to acknowledge that everyone relates to their bodies, especially if they’re bigger, in different ways, and I in no way think of anything I write as a generalized take on being plus sized (or any other experience really). These are just things that I have felt in my life, and it has always meant a lot to me to see and hear stories about bigger characters, both when attention is brought to that specific aspect about them and when it isn’t. So, this is my way of adding to that and to write something for myself in that vein. 

[quibbs126]

If you can, could you draw a daughter for rockstar cookie and my oc, cherry limeade cookie? I feel like her name would be cherries jubilee cookie or something.

This one was finished surprisingly fast (I’ll get to your other request eventually, sorry about that), this is Cherry Ice Cookie

“If you hear the chords of an electric guitar strumming in the distance, you might just be hearing the practice session of Cherry Ice Cookie. Being the daughter of a rock legend, it’s only natural that she was baked for the electric guitar. However unlike her singer parents, she doesn’t have much of a voice for the job, so she lets her guitar be her voice. Though one could even argue that her guitar skills make up for far more than any voice could hope to achieve! Any Cookie who’s met her in person will tell you that she’s one of the most relaxed Cookies they’ve met, wondering if she’s even capable of being mad. Perhaps it’s all the shaved ice in her dough that makes her this way. And perhaps because of this nature, she’s content to not be the star of any band, only their guitarist. Of course, that doesn’t stop her from getting a number of guitar solos in the songs!”

“She frequently practices with her keyboard playing sister in the garage.”

Okay I’m gonna be honest, that probably wasn’t one of my best descriptions, mostly because I know very little about how music works. But you got the gist of it, yeah?

Also, said sister is a character @amythecat2001 named Key Lime Cookie, made after I sent her the design, it’s on her account here

Anyways, let’s move on to design notes

So her name comes from shaved ice, though specifically shaved ice with cherry flavoring. Originally I was trying to go for something non-edible or more chemical, since I like to headcanon Rockstar as being made of shaving cream, but I couldn’t think of anything, so I just went with shaved ice

Cherry flavored shaved ice:

So okay, I feel like she’s way more cherry than either of her parents, but I just wanted to keep the theme of her flavor as the main feature, so she’s a lot of pinks and reds. The gradients in her hair are supposed to be reminiscent of the syrup fading into the ice, hence why the top is pink (and also it looks better that way to me)

Her jacket I kind of just ripped straight from Rockstar’s Tower of Adventures sprite. The dress was inspired by a design for some costumes I found somewhere on Google, and I thought it’d work well with the jacket. I made the dress white specifically because you tend to get shaved ice white paper cups or cones. In practice it probably seems unrelated but that’s what I was going for

I was going to give her a cherry necklace originally, but I didn’t think that’d work, so I instead gave her the dots on her dress, which were supposed to look like cherries. Probably could have also put them as pins on her jacket, but whatever, it fills a blank space where it is now

Overall I do quite like her design, and I hope y’all like her as well

[forgiveness-in-the-misery]

I have been thinking about Metalocalypse and Gods/Demons more lately.

The prophecy was always slated to take place, the universe was determined about that and presumably The Whale/Goddess/Queen Alive had some sway in making sure things played out how they needed to.

Which I want to say I think Metalocalypse shows a sort of casual cruelness with Gods and Demons in an almost innocent way? They do things typically using humans as tools or puppets to move along to a greater goal they need to reach with no real concern about the comfort or wellbeing of the human pawns.

So because we know Nathan did indeed have to suffer. A lot to create the song of salvation he was the one to remember Doomstar Requiem which for me makes so much fucking sense.

Nathan can draw from what happened that night to create the SOS, but if Murderface remembered being possessed he would have been fucked up sooner, Toki would have been so fucked up he couldn’t have performed same for Skwisgaar and Pickles. Extra trauma would not have pushed the four of them to create, but Nathan as the voice of the band he as far as She sees it needs it.

But mostly I have thought about how these people got to where we meet them in the show.

Charles surely wouldn’t have wanted to manage a group of rowdy teen boys, but something compelled him and that same thing made him so intensely loyal to them that he killed Melmord to keep his place in their lived, he was a pawn in all of this to die for them and become the Dead Man.

If Skwisgaar had had a good childhood he never would have run away and found his guitar, he wouldn’t have spent all his money on guitar lessons and all his time playing to escape the stress at home.

If Toki hadn’t been abused so intensely he wouldn’t have found his guitars or met Runke, he never would have had that final push that caused him to leave and find a place he belongs.

Nathan had the most normal home life so we know his thing was different. We know he had dreams growing up about a band in shadows and became super obsessed with finding them and then just deciding to start the band in his dreams himself.

Even Murderface’s dad’s breakdown most likely was due to the prophecy, to Her. His parents died horribly before he could ever know them and he was raised by a horribly bitter cruel woman who blamed him for it.

Pickles and Seth if we’re being honest neither had a good childhood. It’s almost like She was okay with either becoming a part of the prophecy but Pickles was the one who won while Seth always mentions his intense violent jealousy of Pickles and this feeling he should be the one where Pickles is, because She never cared. Just so long as one brother played the part but the other would forever be tormented by the feeling of never being whole.

Even Rockzo was picked. It is so fucking weird as a little kid he found Mashed Potato Johnson’s album, that listening to it specifically led to the clown haunting him and tormenting him, driving this literal child insane to the point he tried to slit his own wrists in the bath. Then caves in, devotes himself to being the clown, joining a band, fucking up being in a band and then coincidentally meeting Toki when Toki starts regressing in season one. It is like She knew this kid specifically, that Toki would have suffered so much because he had to but She would have to cause a whole person to essentially become his comfort object to keep him grounded.

Do I think She had anything to do with Magnus being an abusive asshole? That I genuinely am at a toss up for especially because after being kicked out She would have no use for him at all and if She made him crazy temporarily just so he would be kicked out of Dethklok then She wouldn’t have kept him in that state of rage for so long since his future actions nearly killed Toki and ruined the entire prophecy.

Gods don’t seem to do oversights.

Like I really love the dawning realization watching the show again how so many fucking things are deliberate. Even like I have said before how the Tribunal exaggerated shit about Dethklok to make Crozier angry and paranoid about the band. Realizing and noticing post movie they clearly didn’t believe anything they told Crozier, they just said shit and acted scared and angry to get a reaction from him, to keep him compliant.

Like at the end of the day the entire show was basically watching Gods and Demons treat all these human players as Marionette puppets dangling from strings with limited freedoms.

[starleska]

Beach Ken as a mint-condition boxed doll: a heartbreaking Kencanon 💔

Barbie is the kind of movie that’s going to inspire a thousand interpretations, and i wanted to play around with some of the ideas within!! don’t take this too seriously - i do think the Barbies and Kens are more like physical representations of ideas, but it’s still fun to think of them as characters 😉 spoilers for the Barbie movie below!!

so the brilliant @avatarmerida/Allisa came up with this fascinating bit of lore for Ken...that Stereotypical Barbie is not really ‘his’ Barbie, and that Beach Ken really ought to have a Beach Barbie has his counterpart. Allisa posits that Weird Barbie may well be Ken’s original Barbie, prior to her weirdification 👀 check out this behind-the-scenes picture from an apparent deleted scene:

i think this is a marvellous theory that ties up some very interesting things about Ken’s behaviour in comparison to the other Kens, and especially why the other Barbies and Kens seem to be quite comfortable with one another (even if the other Kens also felt rejected enough to follow Beach Ken on his patriarchal bender). we get a lot of Ken’s inner workings and self-loathing in a cover of a song he sings to Barbie, ‘Push’ by Matchbox 20:

'Said, I don't know if I've ever been good enough I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in And I don't know if I've ever been really loved By a hand that's touched me, and I feel like something's got to give'

here we can see that Ken’s deep-seated insecurity isn’t a recent development: he isn’t sure that he has ever been good enough. he makes references to never feeling like he’s been loved ‘by a hand that’s touched me’...this supports Allisa’s idea that Ken has never been played with, or was/is neglected in some way compared to the other Barbies and Kens in Barbieland. i wonder if the ‘rustiness’ he’s referring to is actually his capacity for intimacy. 

if we run with Allisa’s idea of Weird Barbie being Beach Ken’s Barbie, we have to ask: is Ken intellectually cognizant of ‘his’ Barbie being missing, or does he experience this void in a traumatic kind of way - a deep, sinking, emptiness in his gut? the way Ken’s jealousy manifests makes me lean towards the latter, especially with the way that the Barbies and Kens are largely ignorant of how they relate to the dolls that humans play with. here’s a related thought: isn’t it curious how Weird Barbie, the Barbie who has arguably been played with the most, is the one who knows about the human world? this connection seems consistent: the more Stereotypical Barbie was thought about/’played with’ by Gloria as an adult, the more aware she became of the human world. if we take that bit of canon and work backwards, we have to ask...what would happen to a doll who has been played with the least - or was outright neglected? let’s take a look at some more lyrics from ‘Push’:

‘Said I don't know why you ever would lie to me Cause I'm a little untrusting when I think that truth is gonna hurt you And I don't know why you couldn't just stay with me You couldn't stand to be near me When my face don't seem to wanna shine Cause I'm a little bit dirty, oh, well Don't just stand there, say nice things to me' it’s possible that not only is Ken only vaguely aware of why he’s in so much pain: he could be less aware than another Ken with a missing Barbie would be, because he has been played with the least. although the other Kens are about as insecure and dumb as you’d expect from dolls designed to be accessories, our Ken specifically seems to believe there’s something wrong with him: that Barbie hates him and that it’s down to the way he behaves or just is as a Ken. he moves from describing himself as ‘a little bit dirty’ to begging Barbie to do something, say anything that would make him feel good about himself. everything Ken does from his scary jealous-dancing to his upending of Barbieland shows off how badly he wants to be noticed. Ken isn’t just touch-starved: he’s intimacy-starved.

i don’t think this damage is interchangeable with the other Kens; as of the time of writing, it seems that Ken is unique in Barbieland for not having a Barbie as his counterpart. whether or not the other Barbies and Kens were designed to be together, or were paired together during play, it appears that our Ken is the only one without a Barbie who reciprocates his affections in some manner, or understands they are ‘supposed’ to be together. we see this in his song ‘I’m Just Ken’:

'I have feelings that I can't explain Drivin' me insane All my life been so polite But I'll sleep alone tonight Cause I'm just Ken, anywhere else I'd be a ten Is it my destiny to live and die a life of blond fragility?' those feelings that are driving him insane may not be unique to Beach Ken, but i think either the size of those feelings, or Ken’s capacity for dealing with them, is. the other Kens (notably Simu Liu’s Ken, or ‘Ken 2′) seem relatively well-adjusted (for Kens) until Ken returns with knowledge of the patriarchy. perhaps it’s because we are supposed to focus on Beach Ken’s emotions, but it does seem like our Ken has a disproportionate amount of self-loathing, anxiety, arrogance, and a desire to be loved. why is he like this compared to the other Kens? well, i think that our Ken has the wrong end of the stick. he believes that there is something wrong with him - that he is dirty, defective, or broken in some way - but it’s actually the exact opposite. i think that while his counterpart Barbie - Weird Barbie - was played with and loved a great deal, that our Ken was kept in the box, and has never been played with once. 

what would happen to a doll in Barbieland whose self-esteem and understanding of relationships hinges on the way, or how much, they’re played with? when i say i think Ken is a boxed doll, i don’t mean a collector’s item; i’m inclined to believe if he was, he would be able to feel that love the way Barbie could feel how she was played with. i think it’s more likely he’s still boxed, and was forgotten about and never opened. doesn’t it make sense that Ken has so much rage and self-hatred whilst looking physically ‘perfect’, whilst Weird Barbie is more than content despite her body being so physically altered? there’s nothing to suggest that a boxed doll couldn’t exist in Barbieland, but i wonder what that would do to a doll’s psyche...we’re having a real Toy Story moment 😭 hell, we could take this a step further! the emotionally volatile, restrictive, stunted aspects of Ken’s personality could be down to his never having been played with. this could be why our Ken is so insistent that he isn’t allowed to be on a certain part of the beach. this could be why he considers himself ‘fragile’. this could be why Beach Ken wears his emotions on his sleeve and looks visibly more upset than any of the other Kens. self-actualisation was achieved for both Stereotypical Barbie and Weird Barbie because they were thought about, played with, acknowledged...and above all else, Ken craves acknowledgement from Barbie. he ‘only has a good day if Barbie looks at him’. when Ken tells Barbie, ‘I only exist within the warmth of your gaze’...he means it 💔

that’s the idea!! i hope i’m making sense with my ramblings 🙈 fanfic authors, fanartists and theory-makers, feel free to go nuts with this silly little notion...as much as i adore how terrible and arrogant and sexy Patriarchy!Ken is, i would love to see some stuff exploring this angst and him finally getting all the love and attention he deserves 😖💖

[valentinerose529]

Tag Game: Oc Ship Songs

thanks to @dancinginsepia for the tag, and also for making the tag game!

rules: write about two to five songs from them that represent your a ship between your ocs (it can be platonic or romantic or a secret third thing). then add a quote from said wip (if possible!) underneath it.

and boy oh boy this is the right tag because you know who's been making playlists and imagining music edits instead of, yknow, actually writing something? this gal!! Anyways, relationship: Coraline and Ixora because I am Unwell over them. They're a bodyguard and a charge that eventually turned into like platonic soulmates sorta thing, in that they know each other so well but still insist to strangers it's only a job. This is gonna be fun to decide on anything because i have pages and pages of backstory but very little current dialogue and interaction written between these two--they've actually spent more time apart and affecting each other's lives than they have interacting on page! (the solution is to write more of them interacting. i'll get back to you on that)

1. Die For You by STARSET This has been an Ixora theme song for like. Years. The man's loyal as hell. And in a relationship like theirs, how do you determine the line between Ixora-specific loyalty or bodyguard-general dedication? He'd follow her into hell if she asked. (She did, once.)

"You promised to protect me," Cory gasped, and the words were a knife in his own heart. "I failed," he replied. Words clawed up his throat, but he couldn't get them out—how could he say what she meant to him? He would have given her everything before today; he made himself her protector because he believed in her. Because he trusted her.

2. If I Killed Someone For You by Alec Benjamin I haven't quite gotten under Cory's skin yet to get a writing handle on how she ticks,but I know she's very self-centered and righteous. I love exploring their dynamic--here's a power imbalance with two irascibly stubborn people on either end--and how much Ixora will simply cede to her rather than arguing. And how far would he go for her without her needing to ask?

“I thought I’ve been banned from your events,” Ixora said, in a tone I’d only ever heard when he was trying to start a fight. “You’ll behave yourself tonight, won’t you?” [asked Louise.] "I'm not coming anyways. I can’t leave Cory; I’m her protector, remember?” "Oh, but you're invited too, Miss [Coraline]." All eyes turned to Coraline. She and Ixora looked at each other. Her eyebrow twitched in question, he set his jaw in response, and Coraline replied smoothly, “If you insist, Miss Louise, then it’s in our best interest to attend.” Ixora’s wings quavered; I couldn’t tell if he had agreed with Coraline or not.

3. House of Memories by Panic! At The Disco This one ends up on a lot of my oc playlists cause everyone's got backstory and lore. But these two for sure really have a plethora of memories together! They know nearly everything about each other--the way they move and fight and their daily rhythms. But when strangers ask, they'll insist it's a strictly professional relationship.

“How do I look?” “Like you walked off the cover of a dime romance. Impractical and useless in a fight,” she added coolly, shutting down Ixora’s dreams. “You flatter me, sweetheart,” he informed her, and tossed an apple at her from behind his back. “Here, I know you skipped breakfast.” He read her thank you in the flick of her ears as she caught it. “Are you all packed?” “Since yesterday. You? That bag of yours doesn’t look big enough.” “I can borrow something of yours if I need.” “See, I knew you’d say that, just like last time, and the time before that, which is why I packed that red shirt you hate.” “God, with the shiny buttons? You’re a menace.” “It means you won’t steal it, yeah?” he shrugged, the movement carrying through his wings.

I ran out of quotes (i really need to write more of this story instead of letting it grow a full-on mold colony in my head) so i couldn't add all the songs i had in mind.

Gentle tagging if you want to participate, plus open tags! if you see it then join in! ♥ @isilee @inked-fables @lame2882 @sarah-sandwich-writes @sabinabardot @eldritchpiper @1legitconnor @nascentmorimur @sam-glade @sparrow-orion-writes @cat-esper

[shizuokadivision]

Kyoko sure had a lot of confidence wandering up to Kanons lab like this. Though everyone in Miyazaki liked to think that they were on fairly decent terms with Silent Tragedy.

“Kanon-san! We got you some stuff!” Rinko was the one to call it out first.

“Though this last edition was a bit- unintentional” Kyoko giggles evilly

From Himari you received a massive box of sweets: Candies of different varieties, chocolates of all different types…it’s sure to make anyone’s mouth water. There’s also another box with a brand new white lab coat with Kanon’s name stitched into the front of it.

From Rinko you received a record: Months in advance she had this made- it was a bunch of classical music that she personally covered as well as a few of her own songs. The cover that contained the record was signed by Rinko herself.

“Your the only person who owns this specific copy” Rinko admits

From Kyoko you received a huge cake: Somewhat similar to the one you gave Himari for her birthday!

“I heard from sis that you don’t see the point in birthday’s but we couldn’t help but get some gifts together- however Himari and I are sorry this next gift is a little bit…busted”

Himari seems to be carrying a large- human shaped bag?! Apparently she managed to fit a grown man in a bag normally reserved for dresses!

“I’ve gotten everything i need from him- his money is already going to the charity that sis runs” she snickers “He HATES charities that help women- but that’s besides the fact! I figured you could get more use out of him than I could- i hope he makes a good test subject!”

“Sorry his jaws broken- he came after Kyoko and I couldn’t help myself” Himari shrugs

Kanon sighed in irritation at the sound of the alarm signaling that someone had stepped onto her property, upon checking the security cameras, and seeing that the ladies from  Miyazaki were there, she was quick to turn off her more dangerous security measures. Kanon paused her latest work on her project and made her way to the entrance of her lab.

“I take it your here because it's my birthday?” Kanon asked and sighed again when they held out their gifts.  “Fine, what did you get me?”

Even if she didn't show it outwardly Himari’s gift was one she greatly appreciated. It was sure to last her for a while at least. Chocolate was one of the few things left that she was still able to stomach. The lab coat was a nice gift as well god knows how many times Kanon has destroyed her other coats during her experiments. She mentally made a note not to damage it too much at least.

Kanon had always been a fan of Rinko’s work so she knew that her gift would be playing on repeat for the next few days. Anything to drown out the voices that constantly tormented her. The fact that Rinko had personally recorded it for her made Kanon feel a bit happy on the inside. 

The moment Kanon saw Kyoko’s cake she knew that she would have to hide it because Reika and Sakura would have a conniption if they knew how much sugar she was gonna eat. At least she was eating something that was becoming harder and harder for her to do with every passing day.

Kanon couldn't help the mad laughter that came out of her mouth when she saw Miyazaki’s final gift for her. Oh yes, she now remembered why Miyazaki was one of the few divisions she liked. She had been just about to call Sakura to see if she had anybody but with Miyazaki’s thoughtful gift it looked like she wouldn’t need to.

“HAHAHA! Why aren't you girls so thoughtful? Don't worry you three he’s in good hands with me. HAHAHA!”

[noctis-tempore]

9, 10, 17, 19, 20, and 25 for Mendi Bendi and Wisteria 👀

- tired

THESE WERE SO FUN TO ANSWER KICKING MY FEET

Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC? 

“A flame that couldn’t become the sun and went bad is meaninglessly squandering oxygen” - UTSU-P (Not Photogenic) is a lyric I associate with WISTERIA a lot because well it’s the song her ability is based off of and as well as her backstory. It reminds me of when Wisteria was younger and had this flame to her that she desperately wanted to hold onto but as she got older it just continued to fade. It flickered brighter when she started to recover from her depression but was quickly put out with a bucket of cold water.

“Once you arrive, it’ll strip you of your life and you’ll wish that you never did.” SPIDER WEB - Melanie Martinez is a lyric I often associate MENDI with because i mean 😭 that’s his entire thing. He tricks people into believing what he’s saying is true and you don’t realize it’s a lie until it’s too late. 

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

omg i’ve been thinking of a AU for WISTERIA except she’s with the DOA rather than the PM, I think it would be an interesting concept given her ability would be pretty useful for them

an AU for MENDI i wanna explore is one where he has a sense of justice (crazy ik) and isn’t as terrible as he is now 😭

What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

Fuck man 😭 Probably WISTERIA going through the case that completely broke her, it ripped open her family trauma. It’s either that or when she really started to spiral down before that case, it was really horrible for her.

Honestly, MENDI funnily enough hasn’t been through any shit really. The worst thing he’s probably went through was him realizing that he’s not attached to people when he was younger like he hoped he would be but he got over that so quickly 😭 It was a “awh :(“ to “oh well 😋” moment

How does your OC behave when enraged?

WISTERIA when enraged doesn’t explode into an outburst, she’s one of those people who have a silent rage. She’s eerily calm but her words are nothing but poison. It’s a different story when she’s alone, she’s a complete mess. She doesn’t break anything except breakdown (not in the dancing way unfortunately)

MENDI doesn’t really get enraged, he’s pretty much unbothered by anything and everything. I can’t see him getting mad, he just doesn’t care 😭

Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

WISTERIA doesn’t get jealous all that often, sure she feels lonely but she doesn’t get jealous. The only times she’s ever felt jealous was when she was a kid and when she was spiraling. Jealousy when she was a kid was when her siblings got treated better or when she was at school seeing people’s families being treated way better than she was. Jealousy as adult for her is seeing people live so carefree when she was at her worst

MENDI does not get jealous, he does not give two fucks 😭 I think the only time he’ll get jealous is when barely anyone is paying attention to him but he finds a solution to that very quickly (he’s committing atrocities that are impossible to ignore)

What is your favorite thing about your OC?

My favorite thing about WISTERIA is her relationships with the characters, I have a lot of fun writing them out :3

My favorite thing about MENDI is just writing him. He’s so terrible and careless but lighthearted it’s a nice break from the other characters 

[gaylittlewizardcat]

So!!! I watched the UK international tour!!! In Sweden, on two different performances, and I have many thoughts about it. So here is a big post in which I’ve tried to make my brain’s incoherent screaming somewhat understandable <3 the problem is I forgot I was making this post and it is now months later ._.

This is less of an analysis and more just me cramming together everything I remember from the show into one monster of a post lol

The overture was incredible! It was so loud my entire chest was vibrating, and I know that sometimes makes people uncomfortable but I love it. I can’t point to anything specific that made the overture great, maybe it was actually hearing it live, but I loved it!

Tugger makes an entrance, even in chorus form. You know at the very beginning of Jellicle Songs when a few cats silently get on stage? Chorus Tugger hits the wall super loudly and startles the other cats when he arrives

Munkustrap has a pretty dark voice in this production and I’m a big fan <3 And at first I thought Cassandra did too, cause both times I watched it, when she says “Were you there when the pharaohs commissioned the Sphinx?” it sounds like she does, but not really during the “Jellicle cats have moonlit eyes” line. Idk much about voice types so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ but I did really like her voice (I really love international tour Cassandra so much so I’m definitely biased but her voice was great <3)

On Thursday Electra got the “When you’re walking alone” line, but she later swung on as Baby Griz, however on Saturday, Baby Griz got the line and Electra randomly appeared during the Jellicle Ball. I’m a bit confused about it but it was nice to see my girl Electra :D

During Jellicle Songs and The Naming, Cassandra and Mungojerrie were near each other and interacting with each other a lot, so I now have no other option but to headcanon them as friends <3

Misto and Cass were next to each other for like a second so Cassoffelees is canon because I said so

I love the mysic twins. Not for any specific reason I just do <3 this tour is the best thing to happen to the short haired cats’ wigs ever, I love their ears

In the first performance there was no boot that fell, so they just kind of awkwardly stopped singing and the audience started clapping a tiny bit before they picked up again, but it did fall the other time so idk what was up with that

I LOVE int tour Vicky, her design is so cute! You couldn’t really see her toasted marshmallow-iness because of the lighting but I’m assuming that’s intentional. She looked great though, and her solo was so !!!!

Ok so I know Vicky and Misto dance the invitation together in like all productions but please understand the severe chokehold monochromatic siblings has on me, them dancing together brings me much joy

Gumbie Tap is already one of my favorite parts of the show and this tour knocked it out of the park, Jenny’s “Smile!” in the middle of it is so good, it really gave the perfect vibes for my interpretation of her character. Her voice is amazing <3 the vibes were off the charts

I’ve made a note that Tugger’s voice was really good, I don’t remember exactly what it was that made his voice so good but like. Dude trust me, he’s got a good voice

Misto got the terrible bore line and really dragged it out like “Teeeeeeribel bore” it was great, afterwards he just sits on the car boot with Jelly and Skimble while pretending to ignore Tugger

When Bomba says the “curious beast” line she positively growls his name, a huge W for Tuggerlurina shipper

Casslonzo moment at the end of RTT, what better way to bond with your babe than thirsting over the guy you both have the hots for together

AND THEN GRIZ OH MY GOD Gunilla fucking killed it holy shit that voice oh my godddddd she’s a powerhouse and she puts so much emotion into her voice I was blown away every time she stepped on stage

I wrote “Bucket Boy stop being a bitch” and it doesn’t really add anything but I think it’s funny so I’m leaving it in. Munku steps in and stops Bucket Boy from being a bitch btw

Demeter looks like she’s reaching out to Griz before Bomba stops her??? my heart oof

I don’t mind the straight Griz wig for Gunilla. I think a lot of the time it makes Griz look to young, and can often, to me at least, contradict important parts of her characterization, but Gunilla’s vibes were just too amazing and she looked great, one of the few times I’ve seen a Griz with a straight wig and thought “Wow, yeah that’s really Grizabella how she should be”

Jenny is Jerrie and Teazer’s mum canon, she acts very Mum to them during Grizabella, they’re used to being trouble makers but this isn’t the type of trouble they like

Bustopher and the kittens have a bunch of cute interactions <3 example he scritches Carbucketty’s head its so cute

So Misto admires this man. He also does NOT like rice pudding at all. Blergh.

Bustopher knights Skimble with his spoon lol Also this Skimble is such a funky fella, he’s on all fours as much if not more than the kittens hehe

Teazer’s laugh is so cute <3

Misto’s voice when he asks the twins if it’s Old Deut </3 HE SOUNDS SO UNSURE OF HIMSELF

Misto spends a significant amount of the Jellicle Ball on the tire. He’s definitely played as a bit older than a lot of other modern productions, more like early London rather than 1998, he has a similar role to Munk so I guess that could be a reason? Either way it’s something I noticed I thought was interesting

You know after the white cat lift when they’re all on the ground? Tuggers mane is so big he sticks out so much it was kinda funny cause it’s this calm pause in the middle of a huge number and all I can think is “hehe Tugger is so fluffy”

Cass stops Vicky from touching Grizabella after the Ball???? Make of that what you will, but it was certainly A Moment for me

Here in my notes just praise Gunilla’s voice some more. It was just really good okay

She’s in the background during the Moments of Happiness and sings along with the chorus in Moonlight and it broke my heart like CAN’T YOU SEE SHE’S THERE AND SHE’S HURTING AAAAAA

Jelly <3 her voice is so good <3

Gus <3 he really embodies someone who’s mental energy exceeds his physical energy in a really heartbreaking way :( He keeps doing these movements like he’s preparing to do a scene but he’s too tired :(

The background of Gus’ number said Jemtoria rights btw

I’m in general not a big fan of new Pekes and Polls, I think it removes a lot of the fun in it even though I like the whole “Gus is doing theatre again” aspect, but despite that I enjoyed the number immensely because Munk and Gus’ voices are just SO GOOD like WOOOOOOOOOOOO

Tugger helps Gus change back from Rumpus Cat to his old coat btw. I thought that was important <3

OLD DEUT AND GUS HUG OMG I ALMOST STARTED CRYING THEEMMMMMM <3 Old Deut hugs are literally always amazing just because he’s big and fluffy and it looks so safe and comfortable but this had the added aspect of breaking my heart because Gus <3

Skimble!!!!!! Old Deut starts singing Skimbleshanks cause Rumpleteazer is upset and he wants to cheer her up :(

Skimble’s number is never not good <3 I had the train light shone in my face which was fun and Misto gave a lil wave to someone in the audience

My note here was “Hehe Mungo in da tube” which means that Mungojerrie was the one holding the chimney of the train, and when it all fell appart he was standing inside it laughing, it was great

Also! The feline staircase was Mungo and Munk, and Tugger was the one holding his hand. I think this version of Tugger is a lot more mature than a lot of other versions, but he kinda fades into the background? Idk, he seems much more like friends with the older cats which I think is really nice :]

In this one it’s more explicitly shown that Macavity is mind controlling the others when he kidnaps old Deut, they all fall asleep after he waves his hands at them

APPARENTLY THEY HAVE MULTIPLE PEOPLE IN MAC COSTUMES WHICH CREATES THE ILLUSION OF HIM TELEPORTING OMG I don’t know if this is new or has been a thing for a while but I didn’t know about it so when I saw it I was like :0 it was so cool

⚠️Warning, we now enter the “Nate has no clue what to say so get the unfiltered notes I guess” zone⚠️

This Demeter ough <3 is SO good. I love her.

Tbh? Macavity (the song) wasn’t as sexy as I feel like it should be. Don’t get me wrong it was fucking AWESOME and OMG THEIR SINGING but idk. Someone who doesn’t know anything about the show wouldn’t care (but I do <3)

THE FIGHT OMG the bass was so strong it was like I could feel my heartbeat /pos and after he fails to kidnap Demeter he goes after Bomba for a hot second??

THE EXPLOSION AT THE END. DAMN.

The twins (I don’t remember if this is referring to the mystic twins of the chaos twins lmao) making sure Munk is okay after the fight <3

Tugger’s silhouette caused by the train lamp when he starts talking is so cool

SPARKLE BOY ARRIVES FROM THE CEILING

I love,,,, him face <3 I need to make a “which Misto makeup design am I gonna be not normal about today?” post about him cause,,,, ough <3

He high fives Tugger, this production gave me very bro vibes for them <3

I love the way he moves, he is very cat <3

Cassoffelees canon the Everlasting Herself told me

OMG THEY RUN OUT INTO THE AUDIENCE AT ONE POINT AND CAUSE I HAD AN AISLE SEAT CASS GOT SO CLOSE TO ME DOES SHE KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE HER I had the stupidest grin on my face <3

Teehee he whispers in Tugger’s ear

ITS A SMALL THING BUT “Felines and friends” INSTEAD OF LADIES AND GENTLEMEN CATS IS THE GENDER CONFIRMED

HE DOES THE SHRINKY LIGHT THING AAAAAAAAA

Griz :0

Her voice <3 love her it’s AMAZING

When Griz falls all the cats sort of reach out to her as if to help her but stop themselves [cries]

Tbh just the slightest bit disappointed at the climax of Memory, she held that One note a bit shorter than I feel is necessary for the full effect BUT OMG HER VOICE OUGH

Hehe when Griz goes to the heaviside layer she just. Floats. Bye bye.

Here are some more general notes I don’t really know where to put

Right at the end of intermission someone was looking at their phone and Skimble stood super close to them and got super startled when they noticed him and a lot of the people who saw it laughed

THEN right after someone else was glued to their phone and Munkustrap rubbed his head against them and startled them and a bunch of people laughed again it was amazing

Cassoffelees is the most canon ever, during the bows they did a little spinny thing arm in arm <3 I think about them so much constantly

Misto also does these really precise chaînés across the entire stage and I thought it looked so cool it was awesome

Also. Cassoffelees as Victoria’s parents. Something to think about (I am Thinking about it)

And still. Gunilla is a fucking powerhouse. She’s up there with my favorite Grizabellas, like on par with Eleine Paige and Betty Buckley

In conclusion: Cats are excellent little creatures

[unoisveimved-un-proffesional]

You know it kinda sucks to see Omori reduced to “Quirky earthbound inspired indie game about depression uwu” because as someone who actually played the damn game, it is worth so much more than that, it is so much more than that, it made me actually feel and care for its characters and its tragedies, you can easily sum up the big twist in a couple of sentences but it’s not about what the big shock is, and the writers for Omori obviously knew this. The best experiences are ones you can’t describe and do justice.

You can spoil Omori’s ending, hell it was basically spoiled for me, I got the gist of it, but that isn’t important, that’s not what got me crying over the game a month after finishing it, it’s the presentation and the journey, or you know, the actual experience of the thing, the artistry of the game, and how the game itself, not in a meta sense, but in a practical application is actually part of the story and themes and is what’s used to immerse you into it. And while you can sum the plot up in one paragraph, no good game has ever had its story elements be best experienced by someone telling it to you, and not I nor anyone can mount a proper defense for the game because of that. It is a cute little indie earthbound inspired rpg with darker themes below the surface (uwu) but that’s not a surprise, you can look at the steam page and see all these descriptors in tags, it’s no secret it’s a psychological horror game, you know this going in, the opening cutscene makes it very clear things aren’t what they seem.

The emotional punch that makes you care isn’t the dark themes, the scary atmosphere of its very obviously Yume Nikki inspired section, or even the big bad twist itself, it’s the culmination of the experience that work to make it what it is, and it’s why the ending for the game is what hits hardest, because that’s it, the culmination of the whole experience, and the game has multiple climaxes near the end (shut up) one being the infamous duet, the hospital scene, and finally the end credits, which like the game itself is brimming with beautiful art and music, and no one is going to spoil you on the credits, no one can, it’s just a car ride scene with music playing over, there’s nothing in isolation that makes this moment impactful that made me remember it and specifically the lyrics of the song (it’s more like a sing-alonng really) so well, because it’s the perfect send off in a literal and metaphorical way for all the things you can get spoiled for, and I think the game is worth playing even if you predict the twists or were spoiled halfway through, because Omori is a better game than to rely on the twists and sudden darkness solely, it knows that’s not how you make a story, much less one told through a game lens, and this is the kind of story you can only tell through the medium of a video game, it’s the kind really worth making.

The reason this game was actually made was because Omocat couldn’t tell the story she wanted to through a comic, she needed to tell it through a game, which automatically makes it better than most games that try to cram a story down your throat that would’ve been better as a movie or a show, or even a comic, because this is the kind of game that can only exist as a game and still work.

It can be summed up as a “Quirky earthbound inspired indie jrpg with psychological horror elements” but listing the chemical composition of food won’t tell you about how it tastes or feels, or sits in your stomach, and how it digests and specifically how you would digest it. In terms of gameplay it’s not easy to get into if you’re a fan of any other genre than turn based party rpg’s, but it’s such a basic concept I think anyone could get into it easily. And it is one of those experiences worth having, a lot more than I’d say anything else I’ve had, because it sticks with you, months after the last time you even listened to the soundtrack or touched anything related to it. You don’t ever have to play this game a second time for it to make a lasting impact. You can pick it up, put it down, and digest the experience and dwell on it.

The point is, it’s redundant and stupid to simplify something to its steam tags to shit on the idea of doing something unique or daring to do the fringe thing of contrasting darker elements with cute cartoony visuals, daring I know. (I mean come on guys, South Park’s whole concept is that, “Wow, a cartoony looking thing with children doing something dark and fucked up how shocking!” it’s not a new idea and it’s not why you’ll remember something nowadays, it’s the nuisances beyond that topic (for South Park it’s less about the nu) It really shows to me how little media literacy is left in “gamers.” Sure, video games allow you to live out and play through the stories of your favorite IP’s and also play new original but simple stories that are just a vessel for mechanics to flow through, but why would anyone dare to push the concept of stories that can only really be told through games?

And furthermore, who would want to push the mainstream boundaries of art in games by using 2D pencil drawings, digital art, and pixel graphics together? Dear god what is this? An indie-game that has to stand out using its unique visual approach because it doesn’t have the brand recognition of an AAA title or the marketing of a Nintendo game? And don’t you dare dream of taking inspiration from one of the best of your genre! Lord knows games like Call Of Duty and New! Super Mario Bros. are known world wide for not taking inspiration! Jesus.

I know I’ve been throwing a lot of shade and wink-wink-nudge-nudges at other games, and I don’t mean to, honest, I respect every game like I respect every person, but Omori as a concept has been under attack, not because of the game itself but more so this idea, or the idea it presents of, well let’s just be honest, being visually comfortable and having a unique style and approach to story telling in a video game. Honestly there are a lot of factors at play for this, people recommending the game ad nauseam to their friends, the fandom who has needed therapy exactly 0 seconds after actually completing the game, (I as someone who needed therapy before playing was immune to this, but I don’t think it helped) but also, it’s an art game, and gamers hate art games. Their favorite type of game has got to be corporate show-off games actually, games that run at the best performance and have the highest specs. It’s kind of circle jerking about the most expensive equipment and animations and programmers killed for one model moving in a cutscene in a quest for dust particles on some gruff middle aged mans ear. I mean hey, I love high quality dilfs as much as the next guy, but come on, it’s kind of crazy how much they froth at the mouth for this kind of shit, and how apathetic they are to the health and well being of the actual people who make it for them.

Anyway yeah, gamers hate art games with a good story, likely due to the culture created around games that is all about flexing your skills and capabilities, specifically over other people (it’s a common human desire for competition and achievement and games are a perfect arena for that kidn of thing, but in gamer culture especially. I play TF2, I love watching gibs fly, but I also love 24 person long conga lines, I’m flexible like that) also something something a culture of colonialism, capitalism, and toxic masculinity I guess because it’s an idea woven into the very fabric of our society and there’s no way to avoid it but also it’s fairly redundant bringing it up because to anyone who’s paid more than a blink of attention to the world around them this is a given.

Gamer culture is filled with sweaty dude bros on reddit, and that is a stereotype, but I mean come on, I was one of those, I’m still kind of one of those, and they notoriously have low grades in english and creative writing (not me, I had average grades in most things and was generally unremarkable in school, at least I think I was, I spaced out through most of it, people really paid attention to me though) and they also have very low emotional intelligence, so it’s going to be hard for them to process, well, emotions, like how their low intelligence makes it hard for them to process information (generous vague plural them so everyone will be in one the joke and I can’t be sued for liable (I must admit it is a low blow though (damn these are some good dried cranberries))).

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, I also think most of the fans who’ve fully played the game are still kinda grappling with their emotions and their hollow feeling now that the thing they got obsessed over has ran out of content for them, and had a particular period where they went a little rabid. And also there’s been a recent movement of anti-intellectualism, following movements of thought like “Maybe the curtains are just blue” turning from “It’s not that deep bro” to “Any attempt at depth is stupid and actually writing and stories themselves if they aren’t simple and easy to consume and challenge me in any way possible is an attack on me and is probably something political and I’ll retreat to my A-political game about war where I get to be free from any emotional consequences because I’ve slowly been emotionally regressing since I was 15, because philosophy and psychology don’t belong in video games but I’ll call it politics because I’m repeating buzz words.” And yeah, humans are the worst at not snowballing into destructive extremes.

But also it’s a good game and is the kind of game that hits the standard of what to me makes a good story game. So... yeah.