#So many hours have been devoted to it and I am hooked

[badassbarmaid]

Ya’ll -- sorry I haven’t been on much. I’ve been consumed by Crisis Core in pretty much all my free time.

[oliversrarebooks]

Hi!! so i recently just found your blog and i am literally in love with your work! i recently just saw a prompt that was like a musical villain who has the power to hypnotize their audience (and especially hero) through their stage performance or just by singing, and i was wondering if u you would like write anything based off that? totally fine if not, thanks queen!😁🤍

Excellent taste in prompts!

TW: mind control, imagery of restraints

She had to admit, she was happy to have a night off for a change.

Hero had been working very long shifts lately. Between the glue factory explosion two weeks ago, the string of bank robberies carried out by perpetrators who couldn't remember what they had done afterwards, and the return and subsequent defeat of notorious supervillain Radioface, it felt like she hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep in ages, much less time off.

The commissioner had noticed Hero's deterioration, as well. That's why she insisted that Hero take the tickets to the hottest musical act in town, the one that was sold out every night. She'd seen the act a week before, loved it, and decided that the only way to force Hero to take some time off would be giving her tickets she couldn't possibly refuse. After all, they were impossible to get unless you lined up all day or had connections.

So that was why Hero had dressed up in something other than her costume or training sweats for the first time in a long time. She was standing in the crowd near the stage, and everyone around her was buzzing with excitement.

"This is my fifth time here!" said a young woman wearing a bright yellow tank top.

"You're so lucky," said her friend. "I could've never even gotten tickets if it weren't for you."

The anticipation was so thick in the air that Hero felt like she was getting swept up in it too. How often did she just get to be a civilian, dressed in cute clothes among a big crowd, anonymous and mercifully free of responsibility? A night like this didn't come often, so she might as well cut loose and enjoy herself.

The lights cut, and instead of the commotion Hero expected, the crowd immediately went dead silent. The tension hung in the air for a moment before the stage lit up in a kaleidoscope of neon rainbow shapes. Synthwave music was fading in from the many amplifiers, and just as it reached a crescendo, a spotlight hit center stage, illuminating the city's biggest pop sensation, Siren Waves.

Her voice rang out clear and strong above the synths, launching into her first song, and Hero was immediately captivated. Her opening number was an aggressive song about power and control with a catchy beat and a great hook, and her voice was the sort that was borderline addictive to listen to. In her peripheral vision, Hero could see that the entire crowd around her was entranced and hanging on to her every word, and she could see why. She'd have to look up the artist on streaming later so she could listen to this during workouts.

Siren strode across the stage with flashy confidence, her glitter-encrusted outfit sparkling in the multi-colored lights, her cocky grin showing that she knew very well how much the audience was eating out of her hand. She went straight from her first song to her second without a break, this one with an intense, driving bass line that made Hero want to dance. Indeed, a good portion of the crowd was dancing in place to the beat, and Hero felt her own head bobbing before she could stop herself.

It really was fun to lose herself in the crowd, the beat, the colorful light show, and especially Siren's fantastic voice. She was singing about building something, hard work and devotion, and while Hero couldn't follow all of the lyrics, the way Siren sang them just made her feel good.

"Thank you everybody!" said Siren once the song finished. "For this next song, I want to slow things down a little. This is a song about feeling powerless."

A good portion of the crowd cheered.

"We all feel powerless sometimes," Siren continued. "And what a lot of people don't want to admit is that feeling powerless can be nice. It can be nice to have no responsibility, to relax and float along and let things happen to you. This is a song about that very special feeling."

The music started up again, but even though it wasn't loud and intense like the previous two songs, it was no less compelling. The slower song was a fantastic showcase for Siren's versatile voice. It was if all of Hero's cares and worries were melting away, and the only thing that existed was the music, the flashing lights, and the electrifying presence of Siren Waves.

Powerless... Hero certainly had experienced her fair share of that. Tied up, caught in traps, subdued with power suppressants, injured, knocked out... it drove Hero crazy when she had nothing to do but endure and wait for a rescue.

But...

...it could be nice, sometimes, too.

The beautiful voice and the lyrics were stirring up feelings in Hero. Feelings she normally liked to suppress. The idea that it could be nice to be powerless... that it wasn't so bad to be tied up, helpless, subdued... it wasn't as if she hadn't thought that before. She just had to save any of those thoughts and urges for when she wasn't doing heroics, for obvious reasons.

And these days, she was pretty much always doing heroics. No time for any of that.

No time to think about being powerless... bound... relaxing... letting go...

Siren's voice really was impossibly beautiful. Hero could listen to this all day. Hero could listen to this forever, really.

The thought stirred something in Hero's hazy mind. This voice... this song... it sounded familiar, didn't it? Siren was using her amplifiers to turn her voice into something synthetic, but the underlying quality of it... it was something Hero was increasingly certain she had heard before.

Where had she heard this voice? It was hard to concentrate, especially when it was so nice to stop thinking and drift along on the song. It was nice to think about times when she'd been captured and at the villain's mercy, writhing against ropes and waiting for a chance to escape, the villain whispering threats and promises in her ear.

Wait. Hero knew that voice.

Two years back, Hero had faced down a young woman with an irresistible mind control voice. It'd been one of her hardest cases yet, owing in part to the fact that each time Hero failed to catch the villain, she'd captured Hero and put her under her spell. Hero could still remember so clearly how it felt to be bound and gagged, listening to the villain's sweet hypnotic voice, her mind becoming hazy and floaty, her fight fading away as she succumbed to the villain's control. 

So good to be powerless. So good to relax. So good to stop thinking and be guided under a gentle hypnotic spell. 

Hero shook her head, trying to snap herself out of it. This was that same voice, she was sure of it. It was obscured with voice modulation, and the woman had disguised herself in flashy clothes and heavy stage makeup, but that was a voice she could never forget.

But wasn't she still in jail...?

...It was probably fine... she was here to have a nice evening off... she didn't need to do hero work... she just needed to pay attention to the concert...

She shook herself awake again. The amplified music was impossible to escape from, and she was already halfway under its spell. 

Powerless... so powerless...

No...! She wasn't powerless at all. She could storm the stage, take down the amplifiers, even just clamp a hand over Siren's mouth.

She was right in the thick of the crowd, though. All around her she could see glassy-eyed people staring up at Siren with utterly enraptured faces, swaying gently back and forth to the slow song. As she tried to gather herself and get closer to the stage, the zombie-eyed fans were unwilling to budge.

Why fight it...? Why fight it at all? Why fight it when it was so, so nice to just let the beautiful music take her away...

"Hey," said Hero weakly, shaking the shoulder of the woman in the yellow tank top. "You have to let me through. We're all being brainwashed by the music."

The woman managed to tear her eyes away from the stage, blinking slowly at Hero. "Yeah..." she said with a blissful smile. "I just love being brainwashed by Siren..."

Well, that definitely wasn't going to go anywhere. Hero was trapped in the hypnotized crowd.

Might as well give up...

No, she could use her powers to... to...

Sway gently to the rhythm of the music... let her mind relax... give in...

Hero looked up at the stage, the swirling lights, Siren's glittering makeup, and it seemed almost like the singer was singing directly to her. 

And all Hero could think about was how badly she wanted to be captured, to relax helplessly into inescapable binds, to hear that hypnotic voice whispering seductively in her ear. To give up all control, to not have to worry about the fate of the city or the danger she was in, to just let the music...

Let the music in...

A blissful, hazy feeling settled over her as she fell completely under the music's spell, forgetting why she was struggling. Why struggle against something that felt so, so good? The music was filling her head with all sorts of delicious, buried desires. As she stood there watching, letting all the tension drain from her tired muscles, she could practically feel the pull of soft bonds on her wrists, the touch of a hand on her head, the dizzying thrill of being at someone's mercy.

God, yes, this was what she wanted. So perfect.

The mesmeric song came to a close, but nothing was about to break the spell laid on the audience. "Thank you all for listening so very closely," said Siren. "My next number is a song I think a lot of you already know. It's a song about obedience and pleasure."

Hero felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Now, for this song, when I sing 'obey me,' you sing...?"

"Yes, mistress!" called out the crowd in unison. Someone very near Hero was yelling very, very enthusiastically.

"Very good! Let's try that again. Obey me...!"

"Yes, mistress!" 

"Obey me!"

"Yes, mistress!" Hero realized that the enthusiastic yelling was her.

"And we have a very special guest in the crowd today."

Siren was looking right at her and smiling, a wicked Cheshire Cat grin that made Hero weak in the knees.

"Come on up to the stage, sweet thing," she said, beckoning. "That's right, I mean you."

The crowd, which had been completely impenetrable just a few minutes before when she was trying to escape it, parted immediately to let her through. She took a few hesitant steps towards the stage, feeling as if she were sleepwalking, or deep in a dream. Hands were nudging her forward, encouraging.

Siren reached a hand down.

Her touch was electric, being so near to her intoxicating, and Hero helped herself be swept onto the stage.

"My special guest. I'm so glad to see you here," said Siren, and now that she was close, Hero could recognize those sparkling eyes, the ones she still thought about far too often. Without a doubt, it was that same villain. And judging by Siren's cat-that-ate-the-canary face, she knew that Hero knew.

Hero's mind struggled very, very briefly against the chains of trance ensorcelling her, as Siren drew her closer and turned her towards the audience. "Here she is! The city's pride and joy, the most hardworking superhero in the state. Everyone welcome Hero!"

The crowd went wild, and Hero stared out at all the blissed-out smiles, trying to pull her mind into gear. She was in her civilian clothes with no mask, and Siren had just announced to the packed venue that she was Hero. This seemed bad, really bad... but trying to think of how it was bad left Hero's mind hitting a wall of fog.

"I wanted to show my appreciation for everything you've done for the city, Hero," said Siren, pulling Hero in close and petting her hair, and oh, hearing her voice so close, her real voice with no distortion or amplifiers, was like having liquid honey poured in her vulnerable mind. "So this next song is dedicated to you."

Siren wrapped her arms around Hero as she sang the first sweet notes of her melody, and whatever remained of Hero's willpower was gone. Siren was singing to her of obedience, of vulnerability, of the sweet, irresistible pull of submission. 

Hero had been so, so exhausted. So stressed. This was what she needed, what she craved. She needed to rest her mind, let someone else make all the decisions for her. She needed the song to wash all her worries away. 

And she deserved it. She must deserve it, because Siren had brought her up on stage to sing so beautifully just for her.

"Fall to your knees for me," she sang, and Hero sank. The crowd felt like a distant memory as she surrendered to Siren in front of thousands of civilians. It all felt so completely and utterly right.

From her position kneeling at Siren's feet, Hero had the best possible view of the concert. There was nothing between her and the source of her euphoria. Here, she could lose herself entirely in the music, letting her mind ebb away with the hypnotic melody.

Hero didn't know how long the concert went on. She didn't care. As far as she was concerned, it could go on forever, the music driving her further and further into obedient trance, lights flashing all around her as her new master sang.

And then, it was quiet.

"Thank you all for coming!" Siren called out to the crowd, bowing. "Keep an eye on the mail for further instructions or free tickets!"

Hero blinked slowly as the neon light show stopped and the stage lights dimmed. She could hear the crowd shuffling out, far quieter than one would expect for so many people exiting a loud pop concert. 

She felt so disappointed that the concert was over already. It felt like it was over in the blink of an eye. Still, she had to do what her master wanted. She began struggling to her feet, her knees sore from the stage floor.

A hand on her head stopped her. "Oh, no, not you, my little hero," said the delicious voice. "I have a special encore for you and you alone to hear."

Hero's breath hitched with excitement.

"You're going to join me backstage, and I'm going to sing you into being my willing puppet to overthrow the city. Doesn't that sound perfect?"

The music was too deep in her brain for her to say anything else. "Yes, master, yes, it does."

[ideas-4-stories]

It's fluff-o-clock!

Even though he has countless devoted followers and his crew has told him they'd rather die than leave him, Buggy feels alienated and left out when he has to go to social events outside of Karai Bari Island. You'd never know it - he still acts as overconfident and egotistical as he always does - but the whole time he can feel judging eyes on him. He knows they don't take him seriously. He's just the weird little pirate who got lucky, no special skills or insane amounts of power in sight. That's what he's convinced their thinking, at least.

Crocodile and Mihawk, who have grown quite skilled at detecting when their beloved clown is hiding behind a facade of bravado, call him to a meeting. The two of them know something is off the moment Buggy walks into the room, and after some questioning and piecing the puzzle together they're able to discern the truth. Neither of them say anything about it. They just move on to actual business in a way that lets Buggy know they do care but they need time to think.

Fast forward a month or so and Cross Guild has been invited to a party that all the most powerful pirates with the highest bounties will be at. Crocodile and Mihawk finally put their plan into action a few hours before the event. They "make" (those chosen would have done it regardless but our resident goths have a reputation to keep) some of Buggy's most trusted crew members help him get ready, putting his hair in an elaborate style and ensuring his makeup is flawless. Once they complete their task Croc and Hawk swoop in to take their place; they worked together to design an outfit for Buggy that's as "flashy" as he loves while still being fancy. As he finishes getting ready they present him with the final pieces - two label pins shaped like Crocodile's hook and Yoru. They chose pins so that Buggy could still wear all his finest jewelry while still having his boyfriend's claim on him clear for all to see.

Once they're at the party Crocodile and Mihawk never leave Buggy's side; in fact, they subtly turn any attention given to them towards the clown. "Your new cannonballs do sound very formidable, but Buggy could do twice the damage with a ball half the size." "What a fearsome sounding crew. I wonder if they would be enough to beat Buggy and his hundreds of followers." Little compliments sprinkled in the conversation to hype up the blue-haired man. Between Crocodile's social skills and Mihawk's sneakiness, nobody realizes they're spending far more time showing interest in Buggy than conversing with his more powerful partners. The clown actually feels truly confident and like he's being treated as (somewhat) of an equal for once.

At the end of the night they meet in Crocodile's room dressed in their sleep clothes. Buggy's put the two pins in a small box shaped like a treasure chest to show his partners how much he treasures their gifts. They've all settled down and are about to fall asleep when the clown mutters one final comment. "Thanks for being by my side tonight, but you guys know you're as flashily great as I am, right?" He's out before the two can think of a reply.

It's the depression and poor self-esteem the clown shouldn't have because it hinders people From what I've seen it's hard to be someone that many people can rely on them.

Wonder how long did it take for them to fully understand their clown? Probably around six months or less... Who knows 🤷 Anyway, I'm thinking they found a way to make sure Buggy doesn't know that they pieced the puzzle together. That would be cool.

A party that has some of the strongest pirates with the highest bounties... The Straw-hats will be there... Oh boy, that will be a weird conversation to have, won't it! Anyway, yes them being right beside Buggy. Just destroying other people's achievements for Buggy!

That is just so cute!!! Buggy being more confident in himself, acting more like he was when he was younger. Not hiding behind a mask. As well as looking his best, wearing pins that represent Mihawk and Crocodile are always so cute!!!

Buggy putting the pins in a box, that's probably one of his most favorite treasures is so cute!!!

[karniss-bg3]

Writing Prompt: Kar'niss x Tav proposal and /or wedding planning? I imagine they'd have a super intimate ceremony, maybe just the two of them

The hour had grown late in the sleepy town Tav and Kar’niss had settled in. Tav was working to lead the livestock back to their pens to rest for the night. After the task had been completed they’d go in search of their drider, their gaze drawn to the roof of their home where he had settled to admire the sky. Tav climbed up the ladder to get within reach, walking over to the pensive creature with a smile.

“Taking a moment of repose?” Tav asked.

Kar’niss settled on his belly, his legs bent into sharp points either side of his large body. “Yes, thinking.”

Tav walked over and sat in front of him, leaning back between his pedipalps to get comfortable. Kar’niss rested the stubby limbs over Tav’s shoulders, hooking under their arms to draw them tighter to his body.

“About what?”

“The future,” he stated simply, “our future.”

They took in a soft breath while their hands grasped his pedipalps, rubbing over the solid surface in an affectionate pass. “I’ve been thinking about the same. We’ve lived here for a few years now, found a rhythm that works for us. It took time to get over everything with the Netherbrain, all of the trials we went through just to survive. But we made it Kar’niss, we’re alive.”

Kar’niss nodded. “I am grateful for this. Some days...are easier than others. My mind still plagues me, I still hear the whisper of voices that are not real. You have helped me to cope, to find a way to live even with this affliction.” He leaned his torso so he could wrap his arms around Tav, his chin nestled on top of their head.

Tav closed their eyes and leaned back into him, the cool breeze wafting between the pair while they enjoyed each others company. “I am proud of how far you’ve come. I know it’s been an adjustment living on the surface, contending with so many eyes on you. You’ve handled it well.” They paused, their gaze trained on the half moon above, a sight the pair admired often together. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The drider tipped his head back, surprised by the statement. “You do?”

“Of course. After all this time we’ve spent together it’s become clear that I couldn’t imagine a day without you.” Tav turned their head to look up at him. “I love you and I love this.” They squeezed their lovers arm, shifting their weight so they could turn to better face him.

He bowed his head, rogue strands of white slipped from behind his ear to sway free. “I love you as well, very much. But—are you sure? I am still a monster to many people, it will be hard for the world to see us together.”

“Then let the world squabble among themselves.” Tav reached to cup either side of his face, fingertips feeling over the mixture of soft and hard features. “I don’t need them to understand us, this is not for them.”

There was a silence between them while they both let such a concept sink in. Kar’niss was still coming to terms with anyone willing to stick their necks out for him. He’d lean down and rest his forehead to Tav’s own. “Then...I see no reason why we can’t stay together like this. I do not wish to be anywhere else.”

Tav smiled as their noses brushed, basking in each other’s presence. “Marry me,” Tav whispered as their voice warbled with emotion.

Kar’niss blinked in confusion, soon leaning away to study Tav’s face. “Mare-ee?” He squinted as his legs clicked at the ground.

It took Tav a moment to realize that such ceremonies weren’t commonplace in drow society and if anything were unheard of. “Marriage is a bonding ceremony, something two people do when they want to promise to devote themselves to each other. Sometimes it is used for political means among noble houses but for most it’s a promise to love one another until their death.”

“This is a strange concept to me,” Kar’niss began, “consorts, slaves, lust toys, all of this makes sense to me. High houses of the Matriarchs had some ceremonies but it was never for love. Drow...do not even have a word for such an emotion.”

“Which is a shame. I know you’ve had a hard time in the Underdark but the same will not be true here, not with me at least. I would like to marry you but only if you desire the same in return. This is not your custom and I don’t want you to feel forced.”

“I do not feel forced when I am with you. I simply don’t know what this ritual requires. Is it something someone with a body such as mine can do? Is it some sort of physical challenge to prove virility? Or is it more a test of the mind and reflexes?”

Tav chuckled and applied a soft pat to the side of Kar’niss’ face. “It’s not a test, not in that sense at least. The requirements, so to speak, change depending on what deity you follow, or what customs your race may have. For us I think keeping it simple is the best course. Nothing fancy, only what is needed to make it official. A quiet ceremony with a few friends and someone to officiate the wedding.”

“Web-ing?”

“No no, wedding. It’s what the marriage ceremony is called.”

“Oh.”

They smiled at their lover, pressing a soft kiss to his chin. “It’s not as complicated as it may sound, promise. Is it something you want, though? To marry me?”

He inhaled deep into his lungs while he glanced to the side, taking time to think about the notion. He’d look upon Tav and study their features, think through all they had endured together, how Tav had stayed by his side even when he was at his worst. He’d tense his arms to get a good grip around his lover, hoisting them off the ground so they were truly face to face.

“If this is what surface society deems as proof that we are meant to be then I shall do it. I would rise to any test, challenge or ritual necessary to show my devotion. You are my new light in the darkness, Tav. Now and always.”

Tav felt a well of emotion bubble within their chest, their heart swelling after hearing words of passionate conviction. Their chosen reply was that of a kiss, deep and intense to transfer their excitement to Kar’niss directly. The gesture was returned by the drider with equal vigor, embracing the one he loved beyond all measure. They held the embrace for as long as their lungs could bare it, Tav’s arms winding around Kar’niss’ neck to hold fast. A new chapter of their lives was beginning and neither could be more eager to see it unfold.

The adventurer and the wayward spider, together forever.

[legolasghosty]

Yeah @innytoes has captured me with fae magic and now I'm hooked on her Kidnapped by the Fae AU so... I'm sorry.

Alex couldn't sleep. Like he actually physically couldn't fall asleep. Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago. Even Willie had drifted off on the couch, their breaths coming out in little adorable hums. But Alex couldn't drift off, no matter how hard he tried.

When he closed his eyes, all he could see were the dark trees, the twinkling lights, the swirling figures, the constant demands for faster, Faster, FASTER! as his hands flew over the drums. And his own body, helpless to do anything but obey. To serve his master. With pure devotion and without question.

Each time the fae went to sleep, Alex never could. The feeling of suddenly having control of his own limbs was too odd. Too unfamiliar. Too much.

And now it was like that all the time. If he wanted to stand up, he could. If he wanted to stay exactly where he was, no invisible strings stopped him. It was incredible. It was freeing. It was terrifying.

Because with no one to tell him what to do and where to go, no intangible hand on the back of his neck directing him, how could he know if he was doing it right?

The Molinas had been kind so far. They'd allowed them to live in their garage, eat their food, even loaned them some of the father's old clothes to wear. They'd shown them the magic of new technology, though that wasn't always the smoothest lesson. Alex grimaced at the memory of when sparks had suddenly begun to fly from the microwave because Luke had put that...tinfoil? stuff inside with his food. The Molinas had been upset but hadn't hurt them over it. They'd been kind. But the fae had been kind at first too.

At first, Alex had wondered if he'd died, alone in the forest, and was in some form of afterlife. He was offered food and fine clothing and music by the effervescent beings that inhabited this new plane. They'd enjoyed his drumming and hadn't seemed to mind when his eyes drifted to a young man with dark hair and a smile that made Alex's heart skip a beat.

They had been kind and welcoming to him. Until he made a mistake.

Things changed after that. Who was to say that wouldn't happen again? That the Molinas wouldn't run out of patience with him and he wouldn't become a prisoner and an outcast yet again.

Alex knew it would happen. It had happened with his first two homes, why not this one? So if he wanted to stay here, with his family and his lover, he couldn't make any mistakes. Couldn't give them any reason to throw him away like the used toy he was. But how could he know what was wrong if no one was directing his every move?

He couldn't. So he was doomed.

"Alex?"

Alex jumped, almost losing his footing on the dark tiles of the house roof. He whirled around to see Julie, the girl who had first found them, staring at him through an open, second-story window.

"What are you doing out on the roof?" she asked, blinking rapidly.

Oh. Well, this must be it. Alex thought he could hold out a bit longer.

"I'm so sorry, I know I shouldn't be on the house," he said quickly, holding out hope that maybe she would at least let him stay till morning. "I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to wake anyone and I knew there weren't any bedrooms around here so I just... I'm sorry-"

"Woah, slow down," Julie said, cutting him before he could say anything else. "No need to be sorry, you're not doing anything wrong, I just... wasn't expecting to see you sitting on the roof of my house at 3 am."

"Oh," Alex said, because he wasn't sure what else to say. She wasn't upset?

"Also, I know you have the whole-" Julie waved a hand around helplessly, "-magic thing going on, but hanging out on the roof isn't exactly the safest spot."

Alex shrugged. "I didn't think anyone would care," he replied honestly. Willie might be a little sad if he fell off the roof and broke his neck, but they'd get over it. There were so many people in the world to love, Willie wouldn't be alone for long.

Julie frowned. "Of course we would care if you got hurt," she said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "You did see how freaked my dad got the other day when Reggie burned himself on the stove, right?" She took a deep breath, then added, "You guys may not have come into our lives in a very...traditional way, but you're family now."

Alex was helpless to do anything but stare at her. Because, well, 'family' by blood wasn't something he had much respect for, but the way she said it felt more like when Luke called them that, back before they escaped. Like it actually meant something real.

"Note to self, Alex has even bigger trust issues than I thought," Julie muttered around a yawn. Then she offered him a hand. "Come on, we can crash on the couches downstairs and watch a movie or something. Just chill out for a bit."

It felt like a trap. A personal invitation into someone's space had always been a trap in the fae realm. But...maybe that wasn't how it was here? At least not with Julie?

Alex bit his lip, but accepted her hand and clambered in through the open window.

"Come on, I need to show you Dirty Dancing," Julie decided, keeping hold of his hand as she closed the window and led him downstairs. "I think you'll love it!"

And Alex did. Or at least he loved the first 30 minutes of it that he was awake for.

[olympeline]

I've definitely been bitten by the writing bug for Hetalia. I just started a FrUK superhero AU fic based on a certain mid-00s movie. Going well, but I'd still love to have a beta look over it. Especially since I've been out of the fandom for so long and am rusty on details. My usual beta isn't into Hetalia so she can't help me, which is a bummer

So yeah, if you're a beta who's available and might be interested in taking a look over this fic, maybe get in touch? I'd be super grateful!

If not, please just enjoy some FrUK fun :>

Mr. & Mr. Bonnefoy-Kirkland

He was going to be late.

Francis rolled back the silk sleeve of his costume and checked his watch. Night had fallen outside the dingy warehouse where he and his allies were waiting, but on the ceiling a light blinked weakly. Providing just enough illumination for Francis to see the numbers on the face of his rolex. Scratch that, he was already late. Arthur would not be pleased, and Francis’s husband was never one to be shy about sharing his displeasure. Especially recently. Francis wasn’t foolish enough to have his phone on him at times like this but, if he had, he knew it would soon be blowing up with texts from his rightfully irritated spouse.

They’d quarreled about Francis’s lateness just last night when he’d come in long after dark. Francis’s excuse was work as always. Arthur hadn’t been in the mood to hear it.

“Too many nights in a row, Francis! For God’s sake, tell someone else to do it!”

“I can’t, cher. We are just so busy with the new line. They need me.”

“You’re telling me there’s not a single designer at Saint Bonnefoy who can fill in for you for one sodding night?” Arthur’s angry tone was laced with disbelief. “What the bloody hell did you hire them for, then?!”

“Forgive me, mon amour. This is too important. I will try to be home sooner tomorrow.”

Arthur had glared at him, eyes narrowed to green slits. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but had stomped back to the kitchen to stress bake instead. A plate of charcoal scones for his dinner was a fitting punishment, Francis supposed. He also supposed that Arthur might not have let Francis off the hook so easily if not for the fact he often worked late himself.

“Sorry, love. Had to look over Lovino’s latest before leaving. Needed a lot of revisions.”

“Of course, lapin. I understand.”

Francis was a fashion designer with his own label and a permanent slot on the roster of every catwalk in the world. Arthur worked as a journalist for the French branch of a world renowned London newspaper. Both of them put in long hours and had done so ever since they’d met. They each knew the demands of the other’s career and Arthur, like Francis, usually showed a lot of understanding. Usually. His patience had frayed recently from night after night spent alone in their apartment. Missed dates, dinners, and outings galore. Guilt gnawed at Francis along with deep seated irritation and regret that he couldn’t just explain his constant absences. His other life had been making great demands on his time as of late.

What was Francis’s other life? An outsider might have guessed an affair but Francis would never. No, no, nothing so gauche as cheating. The truth was that Francis Bonnefoy-Kirkland was a supervillain. A deviant with an alter-ego known and feared throughout Paris and beyond. By day, he was Francis: the gorgeous, chic, undisputed king of couture. By night, he was Rose Noir; florakinetic, thief, and - before he met Arthur - gentleman seducer extraordinaire. Sometimes he worked alone, sometimes as one third of Night’s Europa: a villainous trio composed of himself, Matador, and the Teutonic Knight. Or Antonio Fernandez Carriedo and Gilbert Beilschmidt to their friends.

For three years Francis had balanced his marriage, his job, and his heists with the practiced ease of a multi-tasking, metropolitan CEO. Recently, this had changed and Francis suddenly had far less time to devote to Saint Bonnefoy and, more importantly, Arthur. Antonio and Gilbert were in the same boat and often brought gloomy tidings of the diminishing harmony in their respective personal lives. 

All thanks to the man who had become the default leader of Night’s Europa for the last half a year: General Winter. The villain that all members of the trio now had to listen to whether they liked it or not.

And Francis most certainly did not.

Neither did Antonio or Gilbert but unfortunately there was nothing they could do. Not if they wanted to go on living. Life had been so much sweeter when they were a simple team of three out for riches. Then one day Matador walked into their hideout with a strange, tight expression that Rose Noir and the Teutonic Knight could see even through his mask. He told them he’d been approached by Killer Frost (one of the General’s subordinates) with a “request” from the big boss: an alliance between the Blizzard gang and Night’s Europa.

From a tactical standpoint it made sense. Many villains had migrated to Paris in recent years, which in turn led to a surge in heroes arriving to try and control them. Once heavy hitters like Freedom’s Eagle and the Jade Dragon arrived and started throwing villains in jail left and right, the writing was on the wall: making friends was a good idea if you wanted to stay free. Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert all wanted to refuse the alliance even so, but they couldn’t. Everyone - hero, villain, or civilian - knew what happened to those foolish enough to cross General Winter. Even Freedom’s Eagle, the world’s current no.1 hero, struggled when up against the General. Feared him too, if villainous scuttlebutt was to be believed.

Saying “no” was off the table. So the three villains reluctantly sent their acquiescence back with Killer Frost, and Night’s Europa entered an uneasy alliance with the Blizzard gang. They met with them soon after in the dockside warehouse that the four Eastern Europeans used as their base.

“I am very glad you all are agreeing.”

The General’s voice was high-pitched for a man of such huge stature. His blank, white mask hid his face completely, but Francis could hear the smile in his voice.

“I am thinking we will be very good together, da?”

Francis, Antonio and Gilbert nodded in silence. Da.

Everything had changed after that. The alliance between the Blizzard gang and Night’s Europa was supposed to be an equilateral one. General Winter had promised that they would decide on the details of each heist democratically. Technically, he had told the truth: they did vote. The reality was that Killer Frost, Snow Warning, and Ice Winder all voted however General Winter did. Not out of loyalty, but because they were simply too terrified of their leader to do otherwise. They’d seen his brutality up close.

Night’s Europa had that pleasure not long after the first meeting. A bank job interrupted by a naive, suicidally stupid, young hero trying to punch far above his weight. Heroes were enemies and Rose Noir took pleasure running rings around them, then leaving them bruised and humiliated. That didn’t mean Francis would ever forget the look in the young man’s eyes as he died. The sounds of his screams as the General slowly broke and tore him apart, inch by inch.

“You are very naughty boy,” the General cooed over all the pleading and sobbing. “Very naughty. Naughty children must be-” a wrench, a snap, a shriek of agony. “-taught.”

By the time the hero was dead, the white of the General’s costume had been dyed a deep red all the way up past his elbows.

They’d been forced to watch the entire sadistic spectacle. Afterwards, once alone, Francis had staggered to the nearest alleyway, pulled up his mask, vomited everything in his stomach, and kept retching long after that. Then he went home and clung to Arthur all night. As a supervillain, Francis was certainly no angel, but this was something else. This was evil. This was sick.

“Don’t,” Killer Frost said when Matador and the Teutonic Knight had confronted him after that first murder. “I know what you’re going to say. Just don’t. Please…just do what he says. Just obey him.”

“Why stay with the psycho?” Gilbert demanded. “You saw what he did! He’s fucking insane!”

“I know,” Killer Frost replied in an accent Francis guessed was Lithuanian or close. “I know that. How could you think I don’t?”

“Then why listen to him? Why not fight back? It’s three against one!”

“Six with all of us,” Antonio put in.

“Ja, totally! Come on, freezer burn, we could take him!”

But Killer Frost just silently shook his head and would not be moved. Neither would Snow Warning or Ice Winder. Without their support, what could be done? Francis wasn’t confident they could take on the General even with their help. Without, it was suicide.

“If you try to leave over this, he’ll kill you,” Frost said dully. “It’s you or them. And if he can’t get to you, he’ll get to someone you love.”

“He doesn’t know who we are,” Francis argued.

“He’ll find out. Trust me, he’ll find out somehow. And then…”

Killer Frost’s breath hitched.

“Just…don’t make trouble, Rose. Please. Please just don’t.”

Francis wanted to brush off Frost’s words, but they had sparked a sickening fear in him in spite of himself. Francis thought of Arthur. Winter getting to him may have been an empty threat, but could Francis really afford to take that risk? He pictured coming home and finding their apartment wrecked, the General waiting for him in the rubble, his costume once again soaked with blood.

Blood staining the carpets. Blood splattered on familiar furniture. A body on the floor. Blond hair turned scarlet hanging limp over a caved in skull. Green eyes open but seeing nothing.

The terror was too much. Francis decided to behave himself. Antonio and Gilbert must have felt the same fear because they didn’t raise any more objections. Just kept quiet and pretended not to see or hear what they could never hope to forget.

What bitter irony that the man who called himself their ally was giving Francis more turmoil and sleepless nights than his nemesis ever had.

Francis heard the metallic creak of the door opening and pulled himself free of bleak thoughts.

“We are here! And look: I bring someone for a visit.”

The General was back at last. Back and dragging another unfortunate victim. A very familiar looking victim. Francis did a double take.

Speak of the devil.

The man General Winter dragged was a hero. One that Rose Noir knew well; from the white plume on his hat, down to the hem of his famous red coat:

The Pirate Gentleman.

One of Europe’s premier superheroes and a member of the international J7 team led by Freedom’s Eagle. Famous in equal parts for his aquakinetic powers, his checkered past as an ex-supervillain, and his hot temper complete with salty mouth and angry tirades that would put the most ornery sailor to shame. He also happened to be Rose Noir’s arch enemy.

“Though not a very nice guest, I am fearing. So rude. Very uncooperative, also.”

General Winter shoved the Pirate Gentleman out in front of him and the smaller man staggered and then went down hard, unable to keep his footing. Francis saw blood matting the back of his hair. This and the way he moved suggested a concussion. The Pirate was bloody all over: battered and bruised like he’d been set on by a heavyweight boxer. Which wouldn’t be far from the truth if he’d been brawling with General Winter. Who was nearly as strong as Freedom’s Eagle on top of his infamous cryokinetic abilities.

“But then we talked,” the General suddenly giggled, high pitched and chilling. “Talked and talked and talked, yes, yes! YES!”

He drew back a steel tipped boot and slammed it into the Pirate Gentleman’s unguarded ribs. The hero choked, heaved and spat out a glob of blood mixed with saliva. Francis tried not to wince and risk drawing attention to himself. That kick had to have cracked a few bones. Those that weren’t cracked already.

These last four years, the Pirate Gentleman had been, if you’d excuse the irony, a real thorn in Rose Noir’s side. Ever since he’d left his native London to help combat the French capital’s rising supervillain problem. Prowling the streets looking for trouble, he’d soon bumped into Night’s Europa and, rather than wait for backup, jumped into the fray to take on all three himself.

“Fucking ballsy,” Gilbert said afterwards. “Gotta admit it. I’m gonna break every bone in the shitty limey’s body next time I see him, but still. Gotta say it like it is: guy’s got a pair on him!”

Francis and Gilbert had to grudgingly agree. Grudgingly because they’d just lost the night’s jewels to their pop-up foe and giving him any kind of compliment stung, however deserved. Such beautiful specimens of emerald. Much better to be adorning Rose Noir’s elegant hands than cooped up in some stuffy museum. Francis still might have forgiven the Pirate Gentleman and allowed him to slip down into the category of “easily ignored irritation” like most of Paris’s other heroes. If the foul mouthed rosbif hadn't had the bare faced nerve to insult Francis’s professional pride the next time they met.

“Didn’t realize I was still in the West End! Who designed your outfit, frog? Andrew Lloyd Webber?”

Francis’s jaw had dropped. Worse, he was so distracted by the hero’s appalling remark that he’d let his focus slip enough that the Pirate had almost pinned him. If not for Matador and the Teutonic Knight, Rose Noir would have ended the night in jail.

After that it was on. Oh, it was on.

Rose Noir’s gift gave him power over plants, including the ability to grow them fully from seed in seconds. Meanwhile, the Pirate Gentleman’s gift was controlling water. A substance in plentiful supply thanks to the pipes and canals that ran through the city. Butting heads, scuffling, and brawling, they soon found out they were evenly matched. All over Paris they’d played their game of cat and mouse and Francis lost many a treasure to the Pirate’s exasperating dogooder ways.

Even so, Francis would not have wished this on him. The man was a foul mouthed, uncultured, pest, but even he didn’t deserve what was surely coming to him. All he had left to hope for now was a quick death.

“But perhaps all is too hasty. Perhaps our friend has been thinking it over and now has a new perspective, hm?”

General Winter rolled his prey onto his back and pressed his boot down on those wounded ribs. The Gentleman Pirate gasped and wheezed, a line of blood bubbling and trickling from the corner of his mouth. He probably had a punctured lung.

“Perhaps he reconsiders the Blizzard gang’s kind offer? Perhaps he remembers his past and knows the leopard isn’t changing its spots so easily? Perhaps he sees friends of snow all stronger and better together, rather than sad and alone…?”

Ahh, so that was it. The General took pride in the fact that all the snow and ice based supervillains were part of the gang he’d founded. Making them part of his twisted family whether they wanted it or not. The Pirate Gentlemen’s power over water gave him some cryokinetic skills. He’d be a perfect addition to Winter’s little “collection.” General Winter must have approached him the way he did Night’s Europa, but the Pirate Gentleman would have turned him down flat. Everyone in the hero/villain community knew he was reformed, ferociously so. Too bad for him the General obviously hadn’t taken the rejection well.

The Pirate’s lips were moving. General Winter bent down and cupped a hand to his ear.

“Sorry? You are saying what?”

“F-f-fuck you…”

The General slammed his boot down. They all heard the sickening crack. The Pirate Gentleman jerked forward as much as he could while still pinned, mouth open in a silent scream. Then he fell back; twitching, jerking, and choking on red froth. Even Gilbert looked nauseated.

“You are very silly man,” General Winter said serenely.

He reached down and pinched the corner of the Pirate Gentleman’s mask between his forefinger and thumb. Francis’s eyebrows jumped up in shock. Surely, he wasn’t going to-?

“Silly, silly, silly. Let’s see the silly, silly face.”

The General tore off the Pirate mask in one fluid motion. Revealing the bloody and bruised face beneath.

Francis’s heart stopped.

Arthur.

Arthur. It was Arthur. Francis’s husband. The man he’d pledged his life to and promised to love till the end of his days. The Pirate Gentleman was Arthur. His Arthur.

He had been all this time. Every time they’d fought, it had been Arthur under that mask.

Francis couldn’t take it in. It was like he’d stumbled into a dream, it was-

General Winter’s hand was wrapped around Arthur’s throat. Francis had seen him snap necks like toothpicks many times.

“NO! STOP!”

[adamshallperish]

my rating of supernatural season 1

1 - pilot

this is a damn good pilot. i will be so real. it does a great job of drawing you immediately into the story, giving you a lay of the land of the characters and their dynamics, and sets up not only the greater premise of the show but the monster of the week formula. the chemistry between ackles and padalecki is pretty instantaneous and it's nice to see a show with two leads able to carry it on their charisma alone. fortunately, there's also a lot more left to offer. whoever the person was who wrote the first wincest fic like two hours after this aired, i get it. 7/10

2 - w*nd*g*

not saying the title because i belong to the school of i don't want to fuck around and find out. this episode was alright, as someone from colorado one of the most common demographics of people who come here are "dumbass hikers" so i appreciate the nod to our culture. other than that, it was pretty unremarkable. 4/10

3 - dead in the water

this one was pretty solid! it gave the boys a pretty good mystery to solve and it sets a dark tone for the rest of the series. the theme of self sacrifice is also set up well here. drowning is also just like. a pretty gnarly way to die. 5/10

4 - phantom traveler

i found the demon in this one to be pretty cool, but if i'm completely honest i don't necessarily care for the episodes that break the impala motel fucked up town setting dynamic. i also just don't care a lot for this kind of plane horror. you can see that plane hijjacking is a trope kripke enjoys, however, as he uses it again in the boys. 4/10

5 - bloody mary

this one genuinely fucked me up, and it sets up the fact that sam has been receiving visions really subtly and effectively, given how they tend to play out more in episodes more explicitly devoted to the demon the winchesters are hunting. also bloody mary always scared the shit of me out as a kid so i adamantly refused to say it. 8/10

6 - skin

this is the kind of body horror i personally really enjoy, and it was also crazy seeing some of the greater repercussions the boy's lifestyles has on their lives. at least it'll be a legal nightmare if dean gets caught doing credit card fraud because, thanks to this episode, he is legally dead. also the fact that the shapeshifter turns into people's romantic partners but for the brothers it tempts them with... each other? normal show about a normal brotherly relationship. 8/10

7 - hook man

any horror that involves faith i am immediately behind. this will be a theme throughout this summary. i found the idea that the monster was manifested by lori's own repressions to be especially compelling, and done really well. the idea that our own repressions can inadvertently cause harm to others around us if we don't sit and take time to work through them is fantastic. lori was also my favorite quasi-love interest for sam this season. sue me. i thought they were cute. 7/10

8 - bugs

we have our first instance of the "sam and dean trigger so many fag alarms it overrides the normal amount of homophobia any rural midwesterner feels at any given moment in time". sam and dean are better than me because i would have for real left the people building a housing development on old sacred american indian land and let them die. other than that development, the final battle with the bugs was a bit anticlimatic. points for dean slapping sam's ass. what. 4/10

9 - home

missouri mosely i am letting you know that i am free this wednesday and would be maybe willing to get a coffee or another delicacy this week on wednsday when i am free. for real though, i really liked missouri's character, and it's a pity she gets relegated to a magical negro stereotype, as this show doesn't tend to have a great track record with its female characters. however, she was probably one of my favorite side characters this season and i stand by her and would love to learn more about her. other than that, loved this episode. sammy's psychic abilities reappearing, dean reconfronting his childhood trauma, mary winchester sacrificing herself for her boys in a way that just sucked the soul out of my body, JOHN WINCHESTER????? definitely one of the seasonal highlights. 9/10

20 - asylum

i hate the haunted asylum trope and this didn't subvert it enough to make this worth it. it gets points for the john winchester phone call event and sam being forced to sit through a therapy session and talk about his relationship to his brother offscreen. 3/10 [edit: came back to this one and i think i'm gonna bump it up to a 5/10 because some truly unhinged samdean shit happens in this, and every time i see a gifset from it i'm immediately like oh right They Did That. insane.]

11 - scarecrow

Codependency Thee Episode. besides a genuinely good evil force (i love small town/suburban white people trying to deal with forces beyond their control it's so funny like what are the hoa and pta meetings like), it does a good job letting there be conflict between the brothers and show how they are really better together. also sets up meg as an antagonist, and she serves. 6/10

12 - faith

oh this episode had Everything. sam and dean being typically codependent with the fear that dean's gonna die? tent revival preacher whose abilities actually come from a dark force? critique of american evangelicalism? surprisingly nuanced discussion of how faith in and of itself is not evil and how we all make concessions in our personal beliefs to care for the others around us? the absolute batshit revelation that sam is just like. unfazed if people die if he can save the life for his brother? don't fear the reaper needle drop? it has it all. what can i say. 10/10

13 - route 666

overall not a bad episode, the handling of race felt a bit superficial and on the nose, but america's legacy does lead to the racist-ass ghost being a pretty fun thing to destroy. preyed on my fear of big trucks. dean is a romantic sap. 5/10

14 - nightmare

THIS EPISODE IS MY REASON FOR EVERYTHING. FUCK. THIS IS PEAK EVERYTHING I LOVE ABOUT THIS SHOW. max damn near broke my heart, and it was incredible seeing not only more of sam's abilities but also his empathy. you can really tell he doesn't know what would have happened to him if he hadn't had the family he does have. this episode completely ripped my heart out. 10/10

15 - the benders

everyone told me this was a great episode and i'm so grateful for my friends pals and mutuals who would never lie to me. i had the best time. i like the care this episode had, given that the show primarily focused on supernatural forces, to do a classic case of the "humans are oftentimes more evil than spirits and creatures from beyond our wildest imagination". it's one of my favorite tropes, and it was used so well here. the aesthetics of the show as well felt like the texas chainsaw massacre mixed with duck dynasty, which is an unexpectedly brilliant combo. 10/10

16 - shadow

getting to see the john/sam/dean dynamic is so fascinating but honestly this episode gives me hives just thinking about it. 5/10

17 - hell house

this episode didn't stick the landing for me as much as it could have, despite the concept of enough people believing in a haunting that they manifest it (and the internet exacerbating that) being really fucking good. i will give it some grace, i think it's good to have an episode that allows some levity in the show and in the brothers' relationship. 4/10

18 - something wicked

i'm sorry the boys as kids make me feel like really ontologically sick and miserable. it was really cool getting a deeper glimpse into dean and his intrinsic sense of responsibility for sam, as well as his clear empathy for kids that is often a lot less evident than sam's. dean winchester i love you, i just can't think about you as a baby or it will make me cry. 8/10

19 - provenance

i'm sorry, i really didn't care for this episode. most we got out of it was seeing why sam was hesitant to open himself up to new love after jess and dean's vested interest into getting his brother laid. which. uh. i will say the little ghost girl in her sweeney todd era served cunt. 3/10

20 - dead man's blood

can't believe true blood came out after this episode and not before. i like episodes that take place in colorado for personal reasons, but it was also so fun to see the boys take on some vampires, who have some pretty fun mechanics. this episode also introduces us to the series mcguffin, and i just have to say i think it's pretty funny how the boys get the colt and immediately like use all the magic bullets in one go. it's the opposite energy of when i get a cool item in a video game and hold onto it the whole time, even in occasions where i'm supposed to use it, because i'm scared i might need it later. 9/10

21 - salvation

feels unfair to rank this episode and devil's trap separately. all i will say is i got jumpscared by kansas because i wasn't expecting the wayward son to carry on until the next episode. 10/10

22 - devil's trap

eric kripke what the fuck. i can't even articulate my thoughts on this. i hate this show and everyone involved in it. 10/10

[just-liaa-01]

Are media representations of fans as ‘weird’ and ‘overly emotional’ fair? What is your own experience of fandom?

Yow people! Im back with a new topic again! Are you guys excited, please be excited. Don’t make me the only person excited to talk about this. So my chingu we are back with topic on FANDOM. Yeayy!!

Its regarding FANDOM gosh I’m so excited! I love this topic so much as I am a part of the kpop fandom community. Yohooo! This time, I'm exposing myself since, well, why not? Most of you are aware of what fandom is, I assume. But I guess some might still not know what that is, so I’ll explain it briefly later to you guys. Talking about fandom. Which fandom are you in? Mine is a Kpop Boy group named Seventeen.

So, lets begin with what is fandom?

Ayoo how to explain it briefly ahh? This might be a bit long but trust me you’ll understand what fandom is by the end of this blog post. If you are still confused please do some research or come to me ill help you or I might also bring you to the world of kpop hehe.

Strictly, for those who live under a rock or are just uninterested in things like this. If you guys feels like I’m judging you guys now. Well yes, I am. Hahahaha don’t be too serious. Fandom is a group of people who support groups or individuals regardless of the genre. Unbeknownst to you, everyone is a fan of something whether it’s a sport, music or movie. The word FANDOM is a community which is complex and diverse. Everyone has different preferences, dislikes, and perspectives. In addition to many other wonderful qualities, we are diverse in terms of gender identity, sexual orientation, and color. We come from a wide range of nations and civilizations as well.

Even though my interests might not be of interest to you, I'll still tell you. Like I care hehe.

As I was growing up, I was exposed to a wide range of experiences. From being addicted to video games, to music, and also martial arts sports. However, music is the one that has stuck with me the most after martial arts sport. I start discovering the Korean music industry Kpop when I was in primary school at the age of 11 years old. I started with watching a Korean Drama To The Beautiful You released in 2012. That was the beginning of Amalia’s journey in the K-Drama, K-pop world. Language is not a barrier to ones interest. I’m proud to say that I have watch probably hundreds of K-Dramas and hundreds of K-pop songs too till todays age. But this one particular boy group that catch my attention by their song is Seventeen. I've been hooked by their upbeat songs and beats, entertaining choreography, and overall vibe up till now. I adore them so much as how they keep training from zero to winning a Daesang Award yesterday at the Mnet Asian Music Awards. They also teach me that giving up is not an option. You have to keep trying as a failure is a beginning of a success. I could spend all day talking about them. I've poured countless hours and dollars into my favorite bands and products. I don't regret it, though.

But often why does the media often portray fans as ‘protective’ and ‘obsessive’?

No matter what you're a fan of, society and the media will always interpret you in the way that they want. It truly depends on you, though, therefore it doesn't rule out the chance that some fans will be regarded as such.

The question is, do I consider myself as one of those? Probably no, I do love my boys so much but not to an extend where I would be so obsessed and be overprotective. Since fans come from a variety of nations and backgrounds, it is to be expected that some would behave differently than you would prefer. chasing them, intimidating them at airports, and ultimately turning into "sasaengs." "Sasaengs" are devoted followers who stalk or act in ways that violate someone's privacy.

Fan sign events are supposed to be happy occasions where fans can interact with their idols. Unfortunately this isn’t always the case During the Seventeen Fan signing event. Reported that a sasaeng fan got angry at Joshua, a member of the group. She started trowing objects at him making everyone present there in shock. Her actions brought the entire event to a halt, and a manager had to walk the fan out of the stadium and immediately escort her away from the the Seventeen group members. (Koreaboo, 2018).

Of course, the industry has seen a lot of other incidents, but this is one of the most well-known from the recent past in this group history. This has demonstrated the terrible potential of obsessed fans.

According to a news report by Soompi, Woozi said: “We prepared this song because we wanted to express our gratitude to the fans.” (Omar, 2018).

A true fan is someone who respects their idols space and privacy while still supporting them. That concludes my analysis of this week's topic. Remember, you could be a fan of anything but be a respectful and responsible one. See you next time chingu!

References:

Koreaboo. (2018). Koreaboo. https://www.koreaboo.com/lists/13-disturbing-stories-sasaeng-fans-went-far-1/ ‌

Omar, A. (2018). (Showbiz) SEVENTEEN boys give Thanks and share quirky stories. [online] NST Online. https://www.nst.com.my/lifestyle/groove/2018/02/333737/showbiz-seventeen-boys-give-thanks-and-share-quirky-stories

[embossross]

hi!! just an hour ago i came across your work of the devotion of the girl in the mirror and i’m hooked. i am sucked in and there is no getting out. not that i would want to anyway after crossing the initial hesitancy over the subject i’ve only ever briefly read up on.

the way u write has my brain buzzing with colors and sending shivers down my spine over the interactions and relationships ur creating. several times i wanted to eat my fist over rindou not being real, other moments i had to pause when i noticed how warm my cheeks and neck were from blushing. then at times, which compete for my favorite, were the literature references (+ your overall writing) that made me want to send this ask. moments that helped give the characters life. what literature and music, of any and all kinds, would u recommend??

like rindou i like to balance work and life, keeping them separate, and would love to read/explore new content while waiting to see what happens next and what it takes for rindou to crack a smile or a laugh. (there were several descriptions and details that were favorites but “Rindou’s laugh is as deep as his speaking voice. It seems to break free from him, resonant and rich. Even more rare than his smile, though no less precious.” is one that made me buzz whether it’s from the progress or wish to read him laugh idk i’m rambling) GAH your writing has ruined me in the best way possible. it’s been lots of fun so thank u for writing this and sharing. cant believe i’m gonna think about coins while drinking coffee

it has your brain buzzing with colors?!?!?!?! oh that's just the most beautiful compliment my writing has ever received. i'm shaking now!

describing someone's laugh is - i think - literally one of the hardest things to do without either losing the magic that is laughter or being a complete cliche, so that is SUCH a compliment to have you call that out 😊 like i'm seriously giddy reading this whole review/ask.

but getting to your question about lit recommendations...i legitimately gasped. that's my bag. that's my moment. i need a read more!!!

thank you so much for giving me an excuse to share ughhh i love it so much. unfortunately don't have any real music recs (like tbh i live by taylor swift), but i'll give you too many book recs to make up for it.

the biggest direct influences i thought about in this story - other than the ones i quote at the end are:

Snow Country by Yasunari Kawabata – though this is a less happy outcome, explores intimacy and a kind of doomed love. (note: this is an almost embarrassing reference because I am like a kindergartner compared to his writing)

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath - girl in the mirror is actually a reference to this one as that was the working title. My themes about branching choices and the future are directly inspired by this novel.

The Idiot by Elif Batuman - collegiate coming of age stuff for reader 😊

Fanfiction! lots and lots of fanfiction. i reblog my faves from the anime fandoms but honestly, i've been reading for like 15 yrs now and i have a lot of fanfiction-isms in my writing. it's the biggest influence because you can't have 2 characters just sit down and talk and fall in love in published books. that's such a fanfic thing to try to capture that dialogue and process in its own right.

these aren't as direct or references for devotion of the girl in the mirror, but they are books i would recommend anyone and all deal with like love or eroticism or character in a way that i think largely impacts my writing:

Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin - I literally read this while writing the 1st draft, so I think the influence is probably there

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Mexican Gothic by Silvia Garcia Moreno - so sexy

Palimpsest by Catherynne M. Valente - best erotic writing, not best sex, best eroticism

After the Winter by Guadalupe Nettel

A Manual for Cleaning Women by Lucia Berlin - live & die for her writing and ability to convey rich characters

The Ten Loves of Mr. Nishino by Kawakami Hiromi

In the Miso Soup by Ryu Murakami - NOT SEXY OR ROMANTIC but does impact some of the writing about tokyo specifically, especially the criminal underbelly

[golden-----hour]

135

7/5/24

I should maybe number this based on days instead of entry. Ragav explained how Pennsylvania numbers its highway exits by mile, rather than by quantity, like on many highways in New Jersey. So this entry would be, like, 500 something.

I just turned off the video simultaneous this so I have to fully devote myself to this page. I might be 58% devoted. I think some people believe themselves too much. I also think dying is a lot more like trying to nap and your sister is talking on the phone, trying to make plans, and being half awake. Dreams and reality make contact. I don't imagine it clean. I walked back through my front door and thought I might have gotten into a car accident, and my ghost returned home, as there was no one. I genuinely felt it for a second. And I may never read this back with proper attention. And I do not have enough time or attention for things. I understand why I have been left behind.

Many things are occurring to me at once. Ragav threatens me with his language prowess because I use my own language prowess to make myself feel important. If someone is better at being me than I am then I don't need to exist. I wonder what I mean by this. I wonder about how I generate social value to others, and also how I perceive that I am socially valuable to myself. I felt like I could not be "safe" in any language, but I don't understand this condition fully. Immunity from what? I worry that he does actually like me because that will make friendship difficult. One shred of worry is like rain creating flash flooding into my okayness. A drop is a sphere accelerated by gravity into a bullet. Who is the better gay man? Who has the more glorious hook ups? He feels generally more "accomplished" than I am- I am not even composing well or playing piano well right now. I can feel avenues of myself fossilize.

Fourth of July. I grow tired so talking about the booming while sitting outside on the patio at the Wald's feels anodyne. So many years. We were late to the fireworks. They started 30 minutes early because of the rain. Cheyenne's boyfriend has my name and is very cute. It was hard not to notice how I thought he was cute. I am thinking about the fourth of julys squished together like sheets- these composite moments coalesced. All of the peripheral socializing. The knowing of the knowing. I felt a bit chewed up by the too fast rain and the echoey dark. As the fireworks began, we walked towards the school and we saw light peeking through the trees. Having arrived, I mused about which people, like me, came annually to this one event and how I wanted to know them and their ritual and I wanted to be seen. And I wanted to be like Cheyenne having a beautiful boy with me at an event inside of the igneous dark. Rain began as we sat there and it was hard to distinguish it from sweat. Will I ever read this back? I can only write this because I am not intending on showing it around. I thought about the spider clouds wrought by the exploding lights. I felt like a poet in wanting to see things. I couldn't tell what already existed. I couldn't tell if I needed something novel or universal. Hands reach for hands and the salt of this is being a little jilted. Growing up is not feeling beautiful when you are sad and that ache is more dull when you are older. My avenues are fossilizing and in knowing who I am, I am aware of my supposed potential and that which I am not. Cheyennes boyfriend, who has my name, was beautiful and I was just slightly too old being there at that table and the evening protected me in no way from the barreling hours and all that is to come. Things feel different, maybe not less sacred, but when you live longer then you just know. I am curious about the knowing.

I was speaking to Will in Spanish. I asked if he was interested and then recommended that he pretend. I liked that I could see him secretly. It reminds me of Cole from like 6 years ago. My dreams when I was young are not my present self's responsibility. A TikTok says that this gay man wants a straight bf. The comments rally, "heavy on the straight bf." This is my announcing my exhaustion in sympathizing but rejecting this. I want to feel safe with a partner and I have been taught how correct masculinity is embodied, which coincides with toxic masculinity. I also am allowed to have preferences but opposite attract is literally a myth. Gayness blends the other a little bit. That is my own dick in my mouth in yours in mine. This is the essence of queerness- unapologetic attraction that defies expectation and system. Not attraction but essence. I am anyone wanting anyone.

I was with some pretty stupid people. Laura said German and I wouldn't work because German wants dark masculine mine and she implied I am too feminine and that he embodies that already. It was limited thinking. You can be anyone and want anyone. I am a good partner and a top. They thought Will was possibly gay, which secretly excited me, but only because he wasn't perfectly masculinely stupid. He has interests and engaged and they incriminated him for this. I thought it was stupid. It's also clear that he is of a higher class because of how he speaks and what he values and his interactions with them versus me. (And how class is important to me.)

Their values seem potentially different than mine and I didn't appreciate the thoughtlessness. I thought some of Laura's statements were pretty insightful thought. I take people for their word and do not seek ulterior motives or different intentions, which could be a fault- thinking that people are presenting as they should. How do we damage control? Cheyenne told that boy that she loved him outside and he did not say it back and their first years of college are starting in September. So how should we presume? Everything ends anyways so why can't we exist? We always exist with a stop watch. I didn't speak my mind fully because I didn't think it would be understood. I am nonbinary when I do not respond to top or bottom as a question. I just say when I am down there I cannot tell sometimes. I just know what smells good and how to touch my toes to my forehead. I don't need a gun to feel threatened, just my good eyes and a place to grab.

I think my writing cannot be clever because being clever doesn't make me feel valuable. I think my writing needs to be kind and insightful and help everything love everything else a little better.

[theinformaticsleuth]

“The Dorito Theory” Understanding How TikTok’s Algorithm keeps its User Base Addicted

Gutelle, S. (2024, February 16). Is the TikTok algorithm like a bag of chips? the “Dorito theory” is going viral. Tubefilter. https://www.tubefilter.com/2024/02/16/tiktok-dorito-theory-algorithm-addiction-celeste-aria/ 

As a twenty-four year old living in the digital age, I, like many of my peers, have a bad social media habit. I always talk about wanting to quit. Just like everyone else I know, I say things like “I spend too much time on my phone, I need a detox” or, “I hate it when I go on TikTok for a few minutes, only to realize an hour has passed.” TikTok specifically as a social media platform is infamous for the loop that keeps its users hooked and swiping for more. So what is it that makes TikTok’s feedback algorithm so much more addicting than the competitors? 

“What’s so Special About TikTok’s Algorithm?” by Reuters Videos (2024) breaks down how TikTok’s algorithm works. According to the article, part of what makes TikTok’s algorithm so precise is how much content a user goes through in a span of time. Whereas the average Youtube video sits at ten minutes long, TikToks span anywhere from ten seconds to a couple minutes each. This means that every time a person swipes on a video, the algorithm is learning what kind of things a user likes and dislikes, and is learning that information faster than on any other social media platform. 

Sam Gutelle at Tubefiller writes in the article, “Is the TikTok algorithm like a bag of chips? The ‘Dorito theory’ is going viral” about how some influencers on the platform are comparing the TikTok scroll to eating a bag of Doritos, or any other junk food. In the same way the chemical taste of processed food that isn’t filling can keep us eating mindlessly until the bag is empty, TikTok creates a similar reward loop for users. Once they get the first ‘taste’, they keep scrolling hoping to eventually feel full, though the feeling often never comes. 

Garrett Syverson’s Medium article, “Shocking Impact: TikTok Videos and Kids’ Attention Spans & Dopamine” (2024) also discusses this phenomenon. “TikTok’s user engagement strategies have also been linked to the release of dopamine, a neurotransmitter that is associated with pleasure and reward. When users receive likes, comments, and followers, their brains release dopamine, which can create a sense of euphoria and addiction,” (Syverson, 2024). It’s no wonder, then, that people across generations all report feeling like they can’t break away from their phones. 

I know for myself that, even if I am on TikTok and not enjoying any of the content I’m watching, I’ll find myself still pulled into the scroll. Oftentimes, when I feel “too tired” to use my brain on anything else, TikTok feels like something I can give my attention to without needing to put any effort into concentrating. It’s a detrimental loop: the more I give into the algorithm’s cycle of producing short form content, the less I want to devote my attention to the things I actually consider important, or hobbies I enjoy. 

While understanding how the algorithm works is not the only thing necessary to break out of the “time wasting” cycles, it is an important part of explaining how millions of users across the globe have become so dependent on the app, in ways that people have not become to other social media in past or present. 

References:

Gutelle, S. (2024, February 16). Is the TikTok algorithm like a bag of chips? the “Dorito theory” is going viral. Tubefilter. https://www.tubefilter.com/2024/02/16/tiktok-dorito-theory-algorithm-addiction-celeste-aria/ 

Rueters Videos. (2024, April 26). What’s so special about TikTok’s algorithm? Yahoo! Finance. https://finance.yahoo.com/video/whats-special-tiktoks-algorithm-162847932.html?guccounter=1&guce_referrer=aHR0cHM6Ly93d3cuZ29vZ2xlLmNvbS8&guce_referrer_sig=AQAAAKoTdkijSAUWcgcCrB9k6bW1dQ6FfcdhlZ80PN1PN4teAkE_faSyt6i9CfOoXxY-bHDC6HCsfnKlBsknEAmYwrr42CjllR-Eng6skrLCD1fm8LsAVvBqxYQD7BBIGxvsk6-yTjX9QWaplzYrf9nRtvgalDfAYE65loyy9n9eGLB6 Gutelle, S. (2024, February 16). Is the TikTok algorithm like a bag of chips? the “Dorito theory” is going viral. Tubefilter. https://www.tubefilter.com/2024/02/16/tiktok-dorito-theory-algorithm-addiction-celeste-aria/

Syverson, G. (2024, February 13). Shocking impact: Tiktok videos and kids’ attention spans & dopamine. Medium. https://medium.com/@syversonsolution/shocking-impact-tiktok-videos-and-kids-attention-spans-dopamine-9d0104d135ad#:~:text=TikTok’s%20user%20engagement%20strategies%20have,sense%20of%20euphoria%20and%20addiction.

[independentartistbuzz]

7 From the Women with Jo Alexis of Happy For No Reason

Jo Alexis is a songwriter, producer and vocalist of over 150 songs for her many projects including Alexis/Alexander, Happy For No Reason and her latest, GALEXI. Often compared to Sinead O’Connor, Sarah McLachlan & Bjork, she not only brings great hooks to enchanting melodies but her vocals leave the listener wanting more.

As a prolific songwriter,  Jo has recorded in Nashville, Los Angeles, NYC, Philadelphia and Portland with some heavy hitters like Brad Rabuchin (played with Ray Charles) and Jef Lee (played with Roberta Flack.) She’s also shared the stage with Peter Yarrow of Peter, Paul and Mary and she’s had a song placed in the video game “Reactor/Master Ground 3.”

We got the chance to speak Jo Alexis about her music, career, and opinions in this edition of 7 From the Women. So, let’s dive in:

What Have You Been Working To Promote Lately?

“Canaries (Hot Summer Night)” is a raucous sing-along drinking song, like the rat pack with a female lead!  It is from my newest LP by Happy For No Reason, my jazzy folk band. We finished recording and mixing and making the music video during the pandemic which was challenged us to work remotely. However, a musician who I deeply respect told me that my lead vocals were “too aggressive” and it sounded like I was yelling. So, I bought a new microphone and redid my lead parts alone in my bedroom. I also learned how to use Logic, the DAW (digital audio work station) and spent many hours putting together the flute (Mark Pritchard) and piano solos (Matt Weiers). Those jazz cats had so many takes and it was quite a fun undertaking to put them together.  We shot the music video in Portland but our director, animator and script writer, Christian Bolorinos, was in Barcelona. So we FaceTimed with him during the shoot which actually worked out really well! So far, we've hit 135k views on FB!

Please tell us about your favorite song written, recorded, or produced by another woman and why it’s meaningful to you.

Wow! So many good ones so I’ll go with my favorite artist and my favorite song of hers- Joni Mitchell’s, “A Case of You.” I love the new version they released recently: ”Archives, Volume 2: The Reprise Years (1968-1971)”  On Disc 5, there’s an incredible version with her and James Taylor on guitar in December 1970, live at the Paris Theatre. It is so amazing to hear them together like this and her voice is truly perfect - remarkable really. My Mom used to play Joni's records and I learned a lot of her music on the piano as a kid. And of course, I tried to imitate her voice in all of the nuances. Joni was my God as a young girl and I see now that I was not alone in that worship…

What does it mean to you to be a woman making music/in the music business today and do you feel a responsibility to other women to create messages and themes in your music? 

I strongly feel the pressure to be a more upstanding, responsible member of society. I really have to call on ALL of my grit to stick with it and keep believing in my dreams. I am so clear that all I want to do is write songs and make records yet I feel burdened to prove my worth with the mighty dollar. 

I also feel a responsibility to other women and girls to be fully myself, especially as a mother of a special needs child. Many of the moms in my community devote 100% of their life energy to their child. It is tempting! However, my motto is a good mother models the possibility of pursuing and succeeding in what she was born to do. Fingers crossed.

Do you consider yourself a feminist? If so, why or why not? 

I definitely consider myself a feminist. I hear that feminism is the radical concept that women and men are equal:) My Mom is an activist and she raised me right with a community of women who taught me the importance of loving yourself and speaking your mind. I went on marches for the ERA and served cheese platters for women’s hang outs. I think people are afraid of feminism because they are afraid of female power. 

What was the most challenging thing you have had to face as a female artist? 

I think women musicians including myself are subjected to looksism in a strict way both from society and internally.  People want you to look a certain way but not if it makes them uncomfortable. I recently had a friend tell me my outfit was too sexy so I had to remind her that Beyonce isn’t holding back. And looksism is deepy connected to ageism- at a certain point, the music industry stops taking older women seriously based on her sex appeal and age. Let’s change that, yes? We are clearly just humans who make choices about our lives and hopefully in 2022, women get to do that in a strong, expressive and solid way.

If you could collaborate with any other female artists, who would you choose?

If you could form an all woman super-group who would play in it:  Chaka Khan on drums, St Vincent on guitar, Christie McVie on keys & MeShell NDeogocello on Bass, of course.  And I get to sing lead!

What do you hope to share with other women in the industry with your music?

I would love to tell other women and girls that your voice is important. Your poems and musicality is unique and needed in this world. And you are not less, worse or inferior to men- simple but true! I wish young women could know their worth. Also, don’t give up!  I love being a band leader in both of my projects(all men) and getting to work with incredible musicians all of whom treat me with the deepest respect. There are plenty of amazing men out there who greatly value women. And, it is important that I value myself.

Find Jo Alexis via:

Website / Facebook / Spotify / YouTube / Soundcloud

Subscribe to Jo Alexis’ mailing list here.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Okay so here's a lil' prompt for you

How about some rough foreplay between a jealous Geralt and Jaskier being all "fucking finally you dumb sack of potatoes"

my darling nonie, thank you for your patience, im sorry it took me so long to get my writing vibes back, but we're finally back in business!

Warnings: horny, lil bitey/manhandle-y but nothing past netflix canon consistent roughness, grumpy dumb geralt and jaskier doing his best to get him to use words, lol and swearing.

_________________

“You don’t scare me, Geralt,” Jaskier huffed, leaning back against the footboard of Geralt’s bed. They’d been sitting on the floor by the fire in his room for hours now, enjoying the warmth and reveling in the rest that the last few weeks of winter provided. Geralt, of course, had been getting a little antsy, ready to pack up and go, but also reluctant. So of course he had expressed this by being a bit of an asshole.

“I don’t want you scared…” he grumbled, picking at a hangnail and feeling a little bit like an idiot. He couldn’t exactly tell Jaskier how he wanted him, and that was probably the most frustrating thing on his mind that night. No matter what, he was going to keep the bard around as long as Jaskier would suffer his foul moods and emotional illiteracy. But it hurt to have him so close but so far out of his reach and he was constantly angry with himself for continuing to want.

“Then how do you want me? Hm?” Jaskier asked, flailing his arms about, expressing nearly as much frustration as Geralt felt, “Are you looking for a fight? Someone to hold your hand? Would you like me tied up instead? For fucks sake Geralt just fucking spit it out.”

Clenching his jaw, Geralt growled as he did his best not to picture his best friend tied up and desperate for him, “No.”

Jaskier got up on his knees and shuffled a little closer to where Geralt was leaning against the opposite wall, looking something like a praying monk, “Mellitelle, Geralt. I don’t think I can get it through your thick skull that I will absolutely not run and hide or abandon you if you tell me what you’re thinking. Even if it’s uncomfortable. Especially if it’s uncomfortable.”

As Geralt tried to find a way out of the corner he’d backed himself into with words satisfactory to the bard, he made the mistake of glancing at him. Jaskier looked like a romanticized painting in the firelight. His hair glowed in an orangish warmth and the low golden tones made his blue eyes sparkle even in the fading light. It really wasn’t fair. How the hell was Geralt supposed to say anything other than what he truly wanted?

Fear. Fear of rejection, or worse, of Jaskier, thinking it was some ridiculous joke and laughing him off like that couldn’t possibly be what has Geralt so worked up. That was plenty to keep Geralt from telling him exactly what he felt and thought. So he stayed quiet.

“You absolute-” Jaskier grumbled, almost to himself before starting in on a lecture, with animated hands and everything, “Here I am, quite literally on my fucking knees asking you to tell me what’s bothering you - which appears to be about me, so I think I have a right to know- and you just fucking look at me. What the ever-loving fuck makes you think I’m shivering my ass off in this haunted keep for, not getting laid in a warm castle - or even by your brothers down the hall- for anything other than a pathetic devotion to your grumpy ass?! Are you blind? Are you really so self-loathing? Do you just not care? For fuck’s sake, Geralt. Tell me so I can make it better because I’m not allowed to make the leap here! I’m not a sorceress! I can’t just probe your mind to-”

Geralt lunged, not a single thought in his head, just a frustrated need to tell Jaskier what he meant and an inability to do so with words. ‘The first leap..’ Fuck he hoped he’d read that right. If years traveling with the bard and constantly unraveling his riddles was anything to go by, he absolutely had. But the chance of rejection still hung in the air and pushed him near the edge of tears.

His hands gripped the front of Jaskier’s chemise and yanked him closer, so he was almost hovering over Geralt, and he recklessly mashed their lips together. Jaskier had to brace himself on Geralt’s shoulder and for a moment the witcher was terrified he was being pushed away. He was about to let go and quite literally tuck tail and run when Jaskier’s other hand laced its way through the hair at the back of his neck and tilted his head for him, deepening their kiss and adding a little intent to the passion.

Geralt groaned and hauled Jaskier up with him as he clambered to his knees, only breaking the kiss out of necessity but sealing their lips together whenever he could. He’d been given permission. After years of wanting and wishing and guilt-ridden fantasy, he could finally taste what he’d been longing for and self-restraint was rather hard to come by. So he didn't bother.

He crushed Jaskier to himself, needing to know this was real, not just one of his many dreams. In turn, Jaskier hooked one leg around his hips, an awkward position for the two of them standing on their knees on the cold stone floor, but it spurred Geralt on nonetheless. He lifted one knee so the bard was practically sitting on his thigh and rose to stand, kissing and sucking dark red marks on the bard’s jawline and neck. Without a second thought, he used his momentum to slam Jaskier against the wall, trapping him against his own body. Exactly where he wanted him. The bard let loose a soft grunt on impact but dug his nails into Geralt’s back regardless.

“Sorry,” Geralt murmured before leaving a set of angry red crescent teeth marks on the bard’s exposed collar bone.

“None of that, I’m in heaven,” Jaskier gasped, rolling his hips against Geralt as he rested his head back against the wall, “Fucking finally.”

Geralt made a confused grunt, not entirely too concerned with the conversation as he worked on untucking Jaskier’s shirt, clumsily and forcefully yanking it over his head.

“You thick sack of potatoes, I’ve been flirting with you for years. Fucking claim me already,” Jaskier gasped, gripping Geralt’s hair and pulling him back to him in a punishing kiss.

If there’s one thing Geralt was good at, it was following orders. And he followed this particular order with hitherto unmatched enthusiasm, in Jaskier’s words, “going above and beyond the call of duty.”

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Needles & Ink, Pt 2 (NSFW)

Lena slips in the back door of the InkSpot. She pauses just inside, absorbing the utter silence that fills the place. Gone is the thumping music, and buzzing of machines. Gone is the bustle of clients coming and going. It's completely and utterly still.

At nearly 4am, it's well past normal operating hours, even for the night crowd. Lena knows she herself ought to be in bed, catching as many winks as she could before her next morning meeting, but-- even after a day of committees and endless reports, Lena is absolutely wired. She'd known tugging on James' door would be a long shot, but when it opened she'd hoped her fellow night owl might be down for a late tattoo session. 

Looking out across the darkened shop, though, it seems more likely that James has simply forgotten to lock the back door. She pulls out her phone, intent on teasing James into oblivion, but freezes when an odd sound drifts out of James' office.

It sounds almost like a moan, but when it's followed by another, longer moan of a different pitch, Lena realizes someone is humming. Someone in the office is humming a Bonnie Tyler song.

Total Eclipse of the Heart, to be exact. 

Lena saunters silently to the office door and leans against it, taking a moment to observe Kara Danvers humming along to the music playing in her ears. She's bent over paperwork, and despite the hour and the solitude a soft smile graces her lips, pulling one to Lena's own face at the sight of it.

"You look good," she says in a low voice.

Kara jumps violently in her seat, jolting the entire desk with the force of her gasp.

"Oh my sweet baby Jesus!!" she exclaims, pressing a hand to her chest. When she looks up, Kara sags at the sight of Lena. "You scared me!"

Lena watches Kara remove her earbuds, and folds her arms over her chest, still leaning against the door frame. "Sorry," she purrs unapologetically. She smiles. "How are you? It's been a while."

"Good, good. I mean, I'm-- I'm in Metropolis! Wait-- you're in Metropolis! What are you doing here??"

Lena gives a tilt of her head. "Business. I may have moved my company to National City, but it still feels as though I do more business here than there these days."

"Right, um..." Kara suddenly looks nervous, casting a worried look past Lena into the hallway. "Sorry, but um.... we're kind of closed? Actually-- how did you get in here?"

Lena huffs a faint laugh. "Back door. James lets me slip in now and then. I was hoping he would have time for a quick session."

"Oh, um... I'm the only one here. Sorry."

"Don't be," Lena smiles. "It's good to see you. Is James treating you well? I don't need to yell at him, do I?"

"Oh, no! No, no, he's been great-- everyone has been really amazing, truly. I couldn't have asked for better hosts. I've been loving it here."

Lena nods, glad to hear it. Pushing off the door jamb, she lets her arms fall, clasping her hands in front of her. "Well, I won't keep you. It was good to see you--"

"W-wait!" Kara jerks to her feet, slamming into the desk yet again in her haste to keep Lena from leaving. Lena pauses, biting back a smile at her clumsiness. "James isn't here, but I am. Why don't we do some more work on your crane?"

"Oh, it's late--"

"No, I-- I mean, I'll text James to make sure it's okay, but... I'm down if you are."

Lena regards her for a long moment. 

"Okay."

--- 

There’s something ethereal in the moments that follow. James gives his blessing, which Kara barely notices past the distraction that is Lena Luthor unbuttoning her blouse. Backlit by a halo of neon light, she looks like a hazy dream, long and beautiful and full of mystery even as she lays herself bare. 

In deference to the late hour, Kara keeps the overheads off, and simply turns on her worklight. The spill of light pulls Lena’s attention to her, catching her watching. In the shadows, Lena smiles coyly. 

“Like what you see?” Lena asks, casting her shirt aside. She takes a wide stance, presenting herself to Kara’s gaze in all her tattooed glory. Maybe it’s the late hour, but Kara allows her gaze to linger, charting a path from the stylized storm brewing at Lena’s collarbones, to the dragon that disappears down one hip. 

“Always,” she murmurs.

Lena looks aside for a moment-- when she looks back, it’s with a heat that sends a bolt of desire straight to Kara’s core. She takes a breath that quakes in her lungs, and then suddenly Lena is there, tucking a wisp of hair behind Kara’s ear.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since our first session,” Lena murmurs. 

A flush heats Kara’s neck and face. “Me either,” she confesses. “I mean. You too--”

Her blunder is swallowed by a kiss. Lena’s lips press against Kara’s, warm and soft and absolutely intoxicating. Kara lifts her hands, framing Lena’s face and pulling her closer to deepen the kiss. She’s rewarded with a muted moan, and Lena’s hands on her hips, thumbs brushing beneath the hem of Kara’s tank top.

“You are so beautiful,” Kara breathes when they part, panting for air. There’s an insistent throbbing between her legs, aching for more. Lena’s hand cups her gently, making her whimper. 

“May I?” Lena whispers against her ear. Biting her lip, Kara nods. Only then does Lena unbutton Kara’s jeans with her long fingers, peeling the denim away to reveal her panties. Kara’s completely forgotten hat she’s wearing until Lena laughs, low and throaty in Kara’s ear.

The pizza panties. Goddammit. 

“I love them,” Lena murmurs, reassuring her. “But I’d love them even better on my bedroom floor.”

Oh god. Kara envisions a clean penthouse apartment, spotless save for the mess of their discarded clothes. But here in the shop? Gross.

“Guess I’ll just have to make do,” Lena says, hitching up the legs of her trousers to kneel between Kara’s legs. In moments, Kara’s pants and panties are both below her hips and a warm tongue sweeps through her folds, collecting the moisture of her arousal in a single taste. Lena hums with pleasure before her thumb gets to work against Kara’s bare clit. 

Kara quivers, nearly staggering as her body reacts. Lena’s hands brace her hips, steadying her. 

“All right there?” she asks, playfully teasing. Kara whimpers with a nod. To her surprise, Lena guides Kara’s leg to rest over her shoulder, until Kara’s stretched and gaping at her very core. “Press against me if you need to.”

Kara nods again. She doesn’t last long. In mere moments she’s moaning and writhing against Lena’s mouth, shuddering as waves of ecstasy roll through her. Lena’s tongue continues to guide her through her orgasm, pressing firmly to calm her through the aftershocks. When she finally pulls away, Kara can’t bend down fast enough to kiss her own taste away from Lena’s lips.

“On the table,” Kara urges, pulling Lena from her knees. She hastily pulls her pants up, but leaves them unfastened as she quickly devotes her attention to the curves of Lena’s body. Lena doesn’t quite make it on top of the table. She settles for leaning against its edge as she kisses Kara soundly, her hands buried in Kara’s hair. 

Kara kisses her messily, wet and sloppy, but Lena can’t seem to get enough. She only pulls her hands away to fumble at the back zipper of her dress pants, until Kara nudges her. “Turn around,” she murmurs.

Lena turns, and Kara carefully unzips her trousers. They fall to her ankles, exposing the rest of Lena’s tattoos. Kara takes a moment to admire them, kneeling to run her hands from Lena’s hip to her ankle, tracing the shape of the tiger clawing up one leg and the dragon coiling down the other. Even in the low light Kara can see the artistry, the mastery of the craft that has been inked into Lena’s skin. And there, curving around Lena’s ribs, a crane peeks out-- Kara’s own offering to the altar that is Lena’s body.

Unlike Kara’s pizza panties, Lena is resplendent in black lace. The fabric hugs Lena’s hips and ass in a tantalizing display. Kara can barely breathe as she stands and runs her fingers across the floral threadwork. Her whimper is eclipsed by a wonton moan from Lena’s throat, her hips pressing out and back against Kara’s hands.

“Kara…”

Lena’s voice is heady, even breathless. It sends a shudder of delirium down Kara’s spine. How is this her life. But Lena’s need is real and evident in the heady utterance, prompting Kara to hook her fingers under the panties and delicately sliding them down Lena’s hips. Every inch of Lena’s inked buttocks steals Kara’s breath, leaving her gasping by the time Lena shifts plaintively in her heels. Finally, Kara cups Lena from behind, and when Kara finds arousal nearly dripping from Lena’s core, she swallows thickly.

“Relax for me, baby girl.”

Lena shudders, sending a gush of fresh warmth into Kara’s palm. Leaning forward, Kara slides one hand down to Lena’s wrist, pressing it against the table as she slips two fingers into Lena’s folds. Gently, she begins to thrust.

“Harder,” Lena gasps almost immediately. She shifts her stance until Kara’s fingers hit a new spot. Kara nods, catching Lena’s gaze when she turns her head to look over one bare shoulder. She increases her speed, adds just a touch more pressure, and is rewarded with a hitch in Lena’s breath. Soon Lena is moaning with every breath, her back glistening with building sweat as her body temperature rises. 

Suddenly, Lena’s body shudders with a piercing moan, her walls clenching tight around Kara’s fingers. Just as she begins to come down, Kara releases Lena’s wrist to slip between her hips and the table to press her thumb against Lena’s clit, rubbing swift, furious circles until Lena crests again with a sharp gasp.

When she recovers, Lena turns against the table to loop her arms around Kara’s neck. Kara wraps herself around Lena’s bare skin, nuzzling against her neck, nibbling at her pulse point. 

“You’re incredible,” Lena murmurs. 

Kara hums against Lena’s neck. 

“I’m not finished yet.”

---

Kara draws back to wipe her hair from her eyes. Lena lays before her on a freshly sterilized table in nothing but her bra and panties, looking sleepy and relaxed despite the blood stippling to the surface of her skin.

“You know,” Kara observes, “not everyone would follow sex with a tattoo chaser.”

Lena smiles. “Their loss,” she murmurs. “I highly recommend it.”

Forgoing the use of a stencil, Kara had freehanded the plumage of the crane directly onto Lena’s skin, and already she could see the bird coming to life.

Kara smirks. “Not everyone is a masochist.”

“Imagine tattooing while having sex,” Lena drawls. “Now that would be kinky.”

A laugh bursts out of Kara, earning a deep grin from Lena. With her hair loose and sweaty, Lena is a veritable dream-- to have her skin under Kara’s needle is an honor on a bed of honors. The atmosphere is slow and silky around them, like the world outside has slowed to a standstill without them. Kara savors every moment, lest it all slip away. 

“So how has Metropolis treated you so far?” Lena asks, watching Kara dip her needle in fresh ink. She relaxes back when Kara approaches, allowing her easy access to the tattoo site. She doesn’t flinch when Kara resumes. “Still taking walk-ins? Besides me, of course.”

Kara grins, even as she focuses on what she’s doing. “You’re the first one I’ve taken in weeks, actually. Most people are looking for big, personal pieces, so the walk ins don’t really happen you know?” She pauses. “I’ve already started booking back at Argo, since my time here is already booked up.”

“Really? Congratulations!”

“Thanks.” Kara can’t help but blush. “But you know… something tells me I probably have you to thank for all this.”

Lena regards her. “Oh? How so?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure you’re the only canvas I’ve worked on that James Olsen would have seen.”

Lena’s lips part in a silent ah. She regards Kara for a long moment, before reaching out a hand to halt Kara’s ministrations. With a single touch, she pulls Kara’s entire attention to her. 

“I didn’t suggest anything, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

Kara doesn’t respond, and thereby tips her hand: it’s exactly what she’s afraid of. That a top-paying client threatened to withdraw their business unless James agreed to take on an unknown artist from a strip mall in National City.

Lena cups her cheek gently.

“All I did was show James the work you’d done-- as I would for any piece I was proud of.” She holds Kara’s gaze, allowing her to see the truth in Lena’s eyes. “Anything he did after that is entirely on you and your body of work. Do you hear me?”

Kara releases a shaky breath, laughing slightly. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “I hear you.” She wipes her eyes with the back of her arm. “Now lay back so I can finish.”

Lena does so, but her eyes don’t leave Kara. Kara can feel her gaze linger, until she’s too immersed in her art to be aware of anything else. 

---

“This,” Lena says hours later, pressing cash into Kara’s hand, “is for the tattoo. Just to be clear.”

Without even looking at it, Kara tucks it away. “Good to know.”

“Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea,” Lena winks, earning a chuckle in return.

“Right. Absolutely. But you know…”

“Hmmm?”

Kara tugs Lena closer by the hips, bringing their fronts flush together. Taing advantage of their proximity, Kara kisses her deeply. “You’re going to need some touch ups.”

Lena smiles against her, then kisses her again. 

“Well, then…. I guess I’ll just have to see you again.”

“You will.” Kara creeps her hands playfully up Lena’s shirt, only for Lena to pull away with a good natured laugh.

“I have to go, but, ah… I’ll see you later?”

Kara watches Lena back away towards the rear entrance, a smile ever present on her lips.

“Yeah. You will.”

It’s not until long after Lena leaves that Kara realizes. 

She didn’t get Lena’s phone number.

[nambamjun]

Two Sides of the Same Medallion {KYC}

Pairing: Kang Yuchan x Reader (Female)

Genres: Greek and Roman Mythology, first meeting, strangers to friends, two witty and stubborn individuals arguing over a literal tree stump.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: This is for an ACEWRITERS event that I am absolutely thrilled to be a part of, Greco Roman Writes! Please feel free to visit the page if you have the time and check out all of the other lovely writers we have in the group along with their brilliant works! As always, comments are loved and welcomed, especially since I took one or two creative liberties with this one. I hope you enjoy ~<3

Nike is the Greek god(dess) of victory, and Victoria is the Roman goddess of the same calling. Of course they don't share the same universe... or do they? What if on a soft spring night the two would meet? Oh this is shaping up to be very interesting indeed...

There was really nothing to do. She had already run around the width of the largest island in Italy seven times. Every one of the laps felt the same, the proceeding taking just as much time as the one before it, and by the time she stopped she was only marginally out of breath, much to her great displeasure. The previous night she had counted once again how many times she could deadlift a six foot long tree trunk before growing bored (two hundred eighty three), as well as the number of pull ups she could perform from a sturdy branch before the same mental unrest met her (one hundred ninety seven). She really didn't feel like counting them again, even if it was to beat her own score.

So, no. There was, quite literally, nothing to do. This upset her very quickly. She hated having nothing to do. It got to the extent where she would almost rather there were fifteen tasks on her metaphorical plate than none, the overcrowding was almost easier to deal with than the silence. Sighing, she figured she would do what she almost always ended up doing - going to the wooded cliffs only a few miles away at the tip of Brindisi, sit against a tree, and look out over the Ionian Sea. The sun was set to rise in only few hours anyways and she never really did tire of the vibrant oranges, reds, and pinks dancing in the water's reflection.

She took her time getting there. She didn't exactly drag her feet but she didn't sprint as she normally would have. Might as well kill some time and take in the scenery. I haven't done that in a while. Ultimately she was glad she did. The spring's second bloom was in full swing and although the sun wasn't out to open up the flowering tree's petals their sweet fragrance still melded with the crisp night time air. Approaching the vista, she sensed that something was slightly off and her footsteps slowed to a halt next to a particularly large shrub. She peered around cautiously until her eyes landed on a form, seemingly human, leaning against the tree she has always claimed as her own resting place.

This alone made her eyes narrow, softly muttering, "that's my spot..."

Taking a deep breath she briskly walked on, making her way towards the offender and not even bothering to be subtle. They didn't look her way, not even when she stopped only a foot away from him. How rude. She could feel herself getting more and more petty by the second as she cocked her hip and let her arms cross loosely over her middle. She cleared her throat. No reaction. What the... oh come on... She lightly coughed. "Hello?"

The poor figure jumped and looked around frantically before meeting her eyes. "Oh my gods-" he gasped, exasperated, "-you scared me nearly half to death! You should know better than to sneak up on people like that!"

The prickle of annoyance lifted her shoulders. "Well excuse me for barging in on someone I've never met before who's sitting in my usual spot!"

"Hey this is my first time here! How was I supposed to know this is your spot?" He gestured dramatically to the ground around him.

"What should I put a sign there or something? Just nail one to the tree? Ah yes I can see it now, 'may no man, woman, or beast rest here; save for Victoria the great.' I could see that going over quite well," she huffed, the very essence of sarcasm dripping from her words as her eyes rolled once again. They settled on his face. He was actually quite attractive, now that she got a good look at him.

"So... your name is Victoria then...?" Just when I was about to let you off the hook, huh?

She sharply refocused her eyes onto his. "How do you know that?"

"You just said it...?"

"I most certainly did not!"

"Oh wow sure you caught me going off your nametag."

"Nametag??" She looked incredulously on her person for only a second before glaring at him. He didn't even have to open his mouth for her to know what he was thinking. His eyes lazily looked at her with a blank expression that said it all. Seriously? You fell for that? Sighing with a shake of her head she resigned herself to plopping down and leaning against a neighboring tree. Despite how much she wanted that spot it wasn't worth the effort, his wit was annoyingly just as sharp as hers. "Well, you know my name." He stared at her with... some other sort of expression, one she couldn't quite read. Curiosity? Recognition? It felt familiar somehow. Not just the look, something else that was so tiny she would barely even try to put her finger on it. "Yours is...?" She trailed off again.

He diverted his gaze for one or two seconds. "Yuchan."

"Yuchan?" He hummed in affirmation. She nodded her head, "good name, I like it. Took you a second to answer though, is that your birth name or one you go by?" His eyebrows rose highly.

She quickly realized the gravity of what she had asked. "Sorry if that-"

"It's just-"

They both looked at each other waiting to speak.

"You can-"

"You go-"

Small smiles crept over their faces and laughter threatened to take them both over. She reached her hand out towards him so as to say go ahead.

After a moment, "It's my own name, and it's okay that you asked."

A light and comfortable silence enveloped them. Names are a personal thing. She didn't want to outright ask but she did have a small twinge of curiosity that he picked up on by her contemplative expression. "Before I was born... people thought I was going to be a girl, so they named me Nike. It could probably have been seen as a guy's name, sure, but I never really liked it, so..." he turned his face forward to look out over the waters.

Curling her legs to her chest and loosely draping her arms around them, she slowly nodded her head again before resting her chin on her knees. "I respect that." Out of her peripherals she saw him slightly look over to her for only a second before refocusing on the view. She did the same.

Neither of them talked for quite a while. Crickets sung an aria that mixed with distantly faint rolling of water on rock, and every so often a rustle from the leaves of the trees around them dancing in the gentle breeze. It was so calm that for a few precious moments she forgot who she was, her responsibilities, and the challenges of being more than mortal. It was just her, the beautiful world, and her friend a few feet away. Friend... could she call him that? Might as well.

Unbeknownst to her, he was having almost the exact same thoughts. Or at least type of thoughts. He was glad he found this place, and even her, really. Home had been getting too much for him, his superiors only giving him more and more work to do, expecting him to be perfect all the time and be completely and unconditionally devoted to his work. There was only so much success he could give to others, though, before he would drain himself completely. That was something they didn't seem to understand. So, he stormed out, and somehow found his way to that spot. Wherever this spot even is, anyways.

This turned out to calm him down much more than he thought it would, and despite bolting from everything to be alone, the company was nice.

Meanwhile, the fact that her spot had been taken over for the night was completely out of the mind of the girl in question. She slowly allowed herself to be lulled into sleep, leaning more heavily against the tree and her fingers relaxing their grip on each other from around her legs. As unconsciousness settled around her like a heavy blanket he stole a quick glance at her relaxed figure. The corners of his lips turned upward and his eyes softened before looking back away. Exhaling softly, he knew he should get back, but he decided to stay for just a little longer. Just until the sun starts to peak over the horizon. Then I'll go.

But not yet, for now, he would stay there, in that spot, and with that girl.

A new friend.

----------

[[ Quick lil end note, no matter who you are, where you come from, or how you identify - you are valid, and you are loved. <3 ]]

[sanktaleksander]

I didn’t know you did Rick/Shane oh my god can I get an 18 please?

I am sorry this took fucking forever (gotta love when the mean ol’ mental illness factory in my head doesn’t want to do one thing correctly and help me get things done). But I adore you and I hope this isn’t too mushy or OOC for your taste😅 I have precisely one Sharick fic on ao3 and I haven’t written for TWD in quite a while but I sure as hell gave it my best shot. I really hope you like it❤️

Side note: if you see this and sent in a prompt that hasn’t been filled, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten you, I am going to do my best to get yours done❤️

Enjoy❤️

Rick/Shane + 18. Playing with hair

“You look like shit, cowboy.” 

The glare Shane got in return would have made most people shrink back but Shane Walsh was definitely not most people and Shane knew it was pretty half hearted. He also wasn’t one to mince words and Rick did in fact look like shit. Warmed over shit maybe, but still shit. It had been above ninety for at least the fourth day in a row and the King County sheriff’s office was not known for having the most top of the line cruisers. It may have been late but the heat and humidity in this part of the country did not abate all that much after the sun went down. Rick had also just pulled a twelve hour shift in exchange for a bit more vacation time, which they both were stockpiling for their honeymoon after they got married, so Shane supposed his fiance had a good excuse for looking like a husky that wasn’t adjusting well to life in rural Georgia. 

It was approximately midnight and Rick had been gone since noon twelve hours earlier and Shane knew he didn’t have to stay up to wait for Rick to return, they were both used to not always being able to see each other as much as they would have liked, but Shane didn’t mind the odd hours. He was pretty adept at catching cat naps when the need arose. 

He came up to offer Rick some iced tea, kept cold until Rick got home. Normally he would’ve gone out and gotten him some iced coffee but it was late and Shane knew the other man wouldn’t want to be hyped up from the caffeine and unable to get some decent sleep. Rick took off his hat and hung it up on the hook by the door, exhaling deeply as he took the glass from Shane and brought it to his lips, drinking a good bit before giving the glass back so he could get out of his boots and unbuckle his duty belt. He was already beginning to feel a bit better, the cool feeling of the air conditioned apartment and the iced tea settling in his belly helping to at least begin to cool off his tired body. Rick didn’t mind taking the longer shift but every time he did he came home reminded that he wasn’t the youngest anymore, though he didn’t exactly consider himself an old man either. But he had one failed marriage and two kids to his name, so he definitely had some milage behind him. 

It certainly didn’t seem to bother Shane. His fiance had once just been his best friend, someone he’d known practically since they were born. When you grew up in a small town, you pretty much knew everyone around your age in one way or another, usually going to school with each other, but he’d actually spent most of his childhood and teenage years with Shane by his side. They were practically attached at the hip most of the time. If you found one of them, it was a pretty safe bet that you’d find the other sooner or later. It had been an odd sort of relationship honestly, since both of them differed in several ways. But it worked somehow and Rick trusted Shane more than he trusted a good portion of the people he knew.

But, as they got older and graduated high school, things started to change. Even as they both decided to enroll in the police academy, Rick found himself falling in love with a woman from a neighboring town and starting a family, whereas Shane never really got around to the whole family thing, instead choosing to bed whatever woman he chose, keeping them around for as long as he liked before he felt the need for someone new. 

Despite this, they remained close, working together and spending time off together when they could even though his wife had never really liked Shane or even approved of Rick being friends with him. That was the first in a long list of things that his now ex would come to dislike and disagree with. 

By the time he had two children and the nice house that he’d always dreamed of having, his relationship with his wife wasn’t something he could easily deal with anymore. He also could not simply act like there was nothing wrong between them, something he had tried to do in favor of starting some sort of disagreement that inevitably turned into an argument. It didn’t help that he was becoming increasingly aware of a part of himself he’d been denying since he was young, practically since he’d been old enough to understand what it meant to care for someone else beyond friendship. 

The night Lori left, taking both of the kids with her, Rick had felt like his world, which had already been hanging by a thread, had now well and truly fallen apart right before his eyes and no matter what he’d done to try and keep things together, it just hadn’t been enough. 

He couldn’t remember what exactly had brought Shane to his door, if he’d texted him or maybe called him and what he said if he did, but he could recall how Shane had dropped everything to come to his house that felt so empty without his family. 

Shane really didn’t have much experience with this type of heartbreak and he tended to not let feelings interfere with his relationships with the women he dated, but that didn’t stop him from trying to do everything he could for his best friend. He ordered them Rick’s favorite takeout and got them some beer, not the cheap shit they usually drank either, springing for a nicer brand. Rick hadn’t felt like drinking all that much and it was hard to enjoy the food, even though it was indeed his favorite, but he could see that Shane was trying. So he sat with him on the living room couch and did his best to at least take a few sips of beer and some bites of food. Shane did most of the talking, which wasn’t unusual in any circumstance, but it did help Rick focus on something else besides how terrible he felt as Shane told him whatever bullshit story he could think of. It was soon getting late, their food now cold. That was fine with Rick, he had lost what little appetite he had and he didn’t much want any more beer either, though he hadn’t really drunk much. As the tv played some movie he didn’t know, he couldn’t help noticing how close Shane was, the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his thigh where it was pressed against Rick’s own. He was surprised by how much these simple observations made him ache on the inside and not just because he was missing Lori even though he was sure she wasn’t missing him. 

He ignored it as best he could, just like he always did anytime he felt feelings like this rising up inside him. He said something to Shane about it being late, that he was grateful he had come over but he should head home and Rick would try to get some sleep, though he doubted he would do much but toss and turn. It had been quite a long time since he’d slept in a bed alone and he wasn’t looking forward to it. 

Recalling it afterward, Rick didn’t know if it had been the look on his face or if Shane had planned to say something before that moment. But suddenly there was a warm hand on his thigh and Rick found his heart had started to pound. The hand that was on his thigh moved to trail down the side of his neck before carefully getting him to turn his head so their eyes met. His skin was still tingling when Shane kissed him. 

Shane asked him over and over if he wanted to do this, if he was sure that he wanted it for the right reasons because he knew Rick would hate himself afterward for saying yes simply because he was lonely and hurting. But Rick knew it was more than that, that he had wanted this for so long, denying it over and over, even as it became clear that Shane was the one person in his life who had always been there, who never judged him or found things to dislike about him. Shane was his one constant through practically his entire life. He’d been more devoted to Rick than his own wife. He’d been right there the whole time, just like he’d always been, just like he was right then and it had taken Rick this long to finally allow himself to acknowledge what he’d wanted for years. 

So much of that night, Rick would never forget, not as long as he lived. He’d never been with someone where every touch felt so good, so perfect and his lack of experience did not deter Shane in the least. If anything, the other man seemed to like it, got off on the fact that he was Rick’s first experience with another guy, that he was getting the opportunity to teach Rick some of his many tricks. 

Even years later, Rick could still hear Shane’s deep, rumbling voice in his ear, begging to be fucked, telling him he knew how badly Rick wanted this, could see it so clearly on his face. Rick hadn’t ever expected Shane to ask for that, to trust him enough to do that, but it ended up being better than anything he could’ve imagined. Seeing the look of utter bliss on Shane’s face when he came, hearing him moan like that and call Rick’s name was definitely something he thought about for weeks after and still did on occasion even now. 

When he woke up the next morning with his head tucked under Shane’s chin, the other man sleeping soundly, his arms wrapped almost protectively around Rick as they lay cocooned under the blankets, Rick knew that this was how things were supposed to be, how they should’ve been all along. He’d spent years with his wife and not once had he felt this good after they’d slept together, so relaxed and simply happy. And she had never looked so pleased to see him when she woke up, not the way Shane had. Those brown eyes lit up as soon as he’d woken enough to remember what they’d done and realize Rick was still in the same place he had been when they’d fallen asleep. They spent the morning sharing quiet kisses, though considering who he was in bed with, Rick wasn’t surprised when the kisses soon became a lot more. 

They’d spent a lot of mornings like that since then and a lot of nights like that too. Shane was definitely somebody who, no matter how old he got, was always interested in anything to do with sex. He also looked ten years younger than he actually was though, so Rick supposed it made some sort of sense. After they’d gotten together that first time, Rick had wondered on more than one occasion if Shane would get tired of him eventually, just like he had with basically every woman Rick had ever known him to be with. They would be around for so long and then Shane would grow bored and break up with her, ending up with another girl sooner or later. They were still here though and Shane hadn’t strayed, always coming home to Rick every day and more than happy about it. 

Rick hadn’t known that Shane often slept with guys back then, though he made sure each was more a one night stand sort of thing or sometimes friends with benefits. He’d never been able to allow himself to been seen in their small town with another man on his arm, no matter if he’d found a guy he actually was into for more than just sex. He’d also hoped Rick would want him one day, though it had seemed less and less likely. He’d felt like that night Lori left had been his last chance at showing Rick he wanted him, that he could be what the other man needed and he wasn’t about to throw that away. Maybe that was why Shane never got tired, why someone who had been known for his promiscuous ways for so long was genuinely happy about getting married. He got to have the man he’d always wanted every day and of course he wanted that for the rest of his life. Marrying Rick just made sense. 

Rick was pulled from his thoughts by Shane coming back up to him, slipping his strong arms around Rick’s waist and bringing him close, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Did you miss me, sweetheart? Or did you miss the air conditioning more?” He teased, a small smile playing on his lips. 

Rick chuckled softly, “I’m definitely happy to be home, but not just because of the A/C.” He relaxed just a bit more when Shane leaned to kiss him, allowing him to shed a bit more of the day’s troubles and just focus on the fact that he was home and Shane was home with him and he didn’t have to think too hard about much else for a while. 

“How about you go and take a shower? Maybe we can have a little midnight snack after, yeah?” The younger man asked when they parted, Shane’s hand combing up to smooth Rick’s curls back. 

“That sounds nice, but I think I’d be happier if you joined me.” Rick offered, pressing another kiss to Shane’s mouth. 

Shane openly grinned at that. “Yeah? Are we thinking about a little more than just getting clean, sheriff?” 

Rick chuckled, “Maybe. Why don’t we find out?”

Shane more than happily pulled Rick through the house and into the bathroom off their bedroom. They traded kisses as clothes came off and the water was turned on so it could heat up. Shane made sure it was warm but not too warm, knowing Rick was probably still a little overheated from his long shift. 

Rick exhaled deeply once they were finally under the warm spray, grateful when the water began to help loosen some of the knots and tension he was carrying in his tired muscles. He practically melted when Shane pressed up against his back, sliding his arms around his waist. The other man’s lips kissed over his shoulder and along his neck. Rick hummed softly when Shane nipped at his ear, “Does this mean you missed me too then, huh?” 

“I always miss you, sweetheart. There’s nothing better than getting to be around you, to feel your body against mine, to feel you inside me…” Shane chuckled, kissing the back of Rick’s neck. “And as much as you play the well mannered, straight laced southern boy around everyone else, you and I both know that you’re just as dirty as I am.” He was not subtle as he ground his hips into Rick’s ass, letting his partner know exactly what was on his mind if his words hadn’t been enough of an indication. 

As tired as Rick was, he was still very much interested in what Shane was offering. Just hearing the other man talk like that and feeling his growing erection grinding against his ass had Rick’s own body becoming excited. He may have had a long and rather exhausting day, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find the energy to take care of his fiance. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want to either, not when Shane was involved. He was always in the mood when it came to Shane. 

Rick quickly turned, catching Shane’s mouth with his own. He couldn’t help noting the pleased expression on Shane’s face when he was manhandled into place. The other man exhaled softly when Rick slipped his arms around him, soon followed by a deep moan as Rick pressed inside him. 

There was nothing better than hearing Shane like this, hearing how much he enjoyed every time they were together. He was definitely the more vocal of the two of them, not at all afraid of letting Rick know he was feeling good and that his lover knew how to turn him on and get him off. Not that Shane himself didn’t deserve some of the credit, he always knew how to get Rick in the mood and make sure they both enjoyed themselves. Soon Rick had switched their positions so he could kiss Shane properly while they fucked, holding him as close as possible as they rested against the wall, not wanting an inch of space between them. It wasn’t long before Shane fell apart, nails digging into Rick’s back as he begged his partner to cum inside him. Rick was more than happy to give Shane what he wanted, kissing him hard as he rode out his orgasm. 

Rick’s brain was pleasantly quiet and fuzzy afterward and he leaned into Shane as they cleaned up, letting his fingertips trace over the tattoo on the other man’s chest until they were running out of hot water and reasons to stay in the shower. Shane had been nice enough to pull out some clothes for the both of them to change into once they were out and dry. The softness of his favorite pair of sweats and one of Shane’s old shirts that still smelled like him made Rick feel cozy, especially when Shane tugged him into their bedroom and invited him onto the bed.

The lights were dimmed down to a soft glow and Rick soon found himself laid out against the pillows, Shane pressed to his side, the other man’s head resting on his chest. Rick reached up to let his fingers card through Shane’s hair. He’d let it grow out recently and it was beginning to curl. Rick let his eyes close, getting lost in the feeling of Shane’s curls slipping through his fingers and the comforting weight of the other man’s body resting against his own. He’d spent so much of his life trying his best to make everyone around him happy, trying to be what everyone else expected when this is all he really wanted, quiet moments like this with someone he knew really loved him. He still felt a little guilty that he hadn’t realized Shane’s feelings sooner, that he’d spent so much time denying himself when he could’ve been happy with the person he should’ve been with all along. But he was grateful for what he had now, that things were finally falling into place and he had found some modicum of peace within himself. 

Shane shifted, worming his way in closer, tucking his head under Rick’s chin. He hummed softly, tipping his head up to kiss Rick’s jaw. “You know I can’t wait to marry you, sweetheart? I can’t wait for you to make a proper woman outta me.” He chuckled, leaning into Rick’s touch. Before Rick, moments like this with the people he’d been with had never felt quite right, never made him truly happy. But this, something as simple as holding Rick close and enjoying the affection the other man gave him, this felt right in a way he couldn’t quite describe. It definitely felt like he was meant to be here, that this was where he’d always belonged. 

Rick let out a soft laugh and Shane noticed the warm smile on his tired features as he reached over the other man to turn out the lights. When Shane laid back down, Rick turned and kissed his head, fingers still playing with those soft curls. “Promise me you won’t kick me to the curb when I’m old and gray while you still look half your age?”

Shane couldn’t resist lifting his head to kiss Rick properly. “Never. You’re stuck with me for good, old man. I’ll still be bitching about those cowboy boots of yours when we’re both in the grave.” 

Rick returned the kiss, allowing it to linger. “As long as I’m with the love of my life for the rest of my life, I’ll be content.” 

It was Shane’s turn to smile. “You’re turning soft on me. That’s okay though, I love you, no matter how soft you are on the inside. My big tough sheriff husband with the heart of gold.”

Rick rolled his eyes a bit, as much as he could manage with sleep rapidly pulling him closer. He turned on his side, wiggling his way into Shane’s warm embrace. The other man was practically a space heater no matter the season. Combined with the feeling of the blankets Shane pulled over them contrasting with the cool air in the room around them thanks to the A/C, Rick couldn’t have felt more at ease.

“Goodnight, love.” Rick murmured, already drifting off. 

Shane hummed softly, slipping an arm to wrap around Rick’s waist to keep him close. “Sleep tight, cowboy.”