#YOURE WORLD FAMOUS AND ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS SELL YOUR SOUL TO THE DEVIL

[13uswntimagines]

Safe Harbor (Alessia X Singer!R)

Summary: R is a very famous singer at the end of a very long, very crazy tour. Alessia is there to take care of her.

Warmings: Established D/s dynamics. The use of Daddy, and Collars. No smut.

You knew that you were living a dream.

You knew that millions of people would trade everything to be in the position you were in. 

They would do anything to have stadiums scream their name and for their songs to play on the radio for the world to hear. 

You had been plucked out of obscurity after you unsuspectingly played a bar in Leeds in front of Ed Sheeran when you were 16. A year and a half later you had taken Billboard's Hot 100 by storm, broken the record for most weeks at number one by a new artist… twice, and you were opening for Taylor Swift’s 1989 tour.

That had just been the beginning. 

Now you were on your 3rd world tour, selling out stadiums for yourself, with one of the best-selling albums of all time. 

It was… crazy that a kid from Maidstone who barely had enough to eat growing up had thousands of people screaming your name every night, singing your lyrics back to you like they were anthems. 

Your music was raw, personal. Painfully autobiographical. 

Your fans picked apart every lyric, dissecting your words with obsessive precision. The heartbreak, the loss, the fear woven into every track—they clung to it like it was their story, too. Before You Go, Say Something, Thinking Out Loud—each song became a window into your soul. And they were desperate to see more.

It was why your first album had gone platinum overnight, and every album after it had debuted at number 1. 

They resonated with your honesty, and that’s what made people fall in love with it.

You had expected that part. 

What you hadn’t expected was that they hadn’t just fallen in love with the music—they had fallen in love with you.

The girl with the sunny personality, and the commanding stage presence. The girl who smiled brightly at every meet-and-greet, made them laugh at every interview, and always took time to meet fans, even after long days in the studio or on music video sets. They built you up as their idol, their friend, their fantasy. They flirted with you in meet-and-greets before you were 18 and treated you like you belonged to them. Like they were entitled to every part of you.

At some point, you became an enigma—Y/N Y/L/N, the nine-time Grammy winner. The infallible pop star. The face that was painted on the side of billboards, and smiling in Colgate commercials. 

At some point, just Y/n failed to exist to them, and you liked it that way. 

You did well to dodge their invasive questions, running interviewers around in circles, and answering fans with witty remarks to avoid answering. And over the years (and through 4 albums), you only got better at preventing the fans from learning anything of substance about your private life. The only glimpses they got were through your music, and you liked to keep it that way. 

You did your best to keep it that way.

The only time you let them get close, let the world peek behind the curtain, was during the piano set of your concerts. 

It was dubbed the surprise song set by the fans even though 2 of 3 songs never changed. It was where you sang your most emotional songs, and where you let yourself be vulnerable. Open. Real. 

Tonight was no different. Or at least, you were trying to convince yourself of that.

You sucked in a long breath, your fingers tracing the black and white keys as the final chords of Bruises echoed through the stadium, curling off the walls and over the crowd. Their energy buzzed around you, rolling like an ocean wave.

You could feel it crashing against your chest, adding to the adrenaline bubbling through your veins. 

You took another deep breath, the air catching in your throat as you tried to control your breathing enough so you could talk. So you could give your signature speech before revealing the night's surprise song. 

Maybe tonight was different. 

You felt more… exposed.

More… vulnerable. 

This year was nothing short of a whirlwind. Eighty sold-out shows across the U.S. in the summer, followed by another thirty in Europe and the UK. Three back-to-back number-one singles—no small feat—only knocked from the top spot after 18 weeks by Taylor Swift herself.

It was amazing and incredible and exhausting all rolled together. 

You dearly loved your fans, their passion, and their devotion, but you were drained. 

Your eyes slid closed, allowing the bone-deep weariness to cut through the buzz from the crowd for just a second as you pulled your fingers from the keys, briefly rubbing the leather braided bracelet around your wrist as you reset for the next song.

It was the closest thing you’d had to your girlfriend's touch in nearly 2 months, and it wasn’t nearly enough. One soft touch from her would make it all melt away. 

One touch and she would take away the burden of control that had plagued you since you started the tour. 

You would finally be able to let go and just be.  

There were only 6 songs left and then you would be with her, your lighthouse on rocky seas. Your anchor on stormy nights. 

You took another deep breath. 

It was the last show of an incredible year, and you had something very very special planned.

Something no one would see coming. 

Your eyes blinked open as the crowd noise dipped, and you painted your signature smirk on your face as you leaned back toward the mic. 

“So Wembley, how are we feeling?” You asked into the microphone, smiling widely at the roar from the audience that met you. “Fantastic,”

You brought your fingers to the piano, letting them dance delicately across the keys. They had no particular rhythm, though they were in the key that your surprise song would be in. 

You wanted to avoid giving the surprise away yet. 

“So you know, I was thinking about what song I was going to play tonight, trying to figure out which one would be the perfect end to such an amazing tour,” You couldn’t help the little laugh that left you as the audience got impossibly louder, cheering out an indistinguishable mix of song titles that you had yet to play on this tour. You paused for a long second, feeling their cheers only grow, popping your in-ear monitor out for effect. 

It was endearing really, how into it they got (especially when you found out that they had created an entire fantasy league about what version of your outfits you would wear and what songs you would sing). They made it easy to pretend like you were having the time of your life instead of fantasizing about what you would be doing in 40 minutes. 

You shook your head, popping the monitor back into your ear and your fingers returning to the keys, letting their chants fill you up, and drive you forward. 

“And I was talking to one of my favorite people,” You continued, starting to pick out a tune that was a bit closer to the song you were going to play. “Now you all know I don’t normally take requests, but this being the final night of the Eclipse World Tour, and with such special guests in the audience I couldn’t quite say no,” 

Your eyes instinctually found Alessia as you hit the opening chord, and though you could see her expression you could feel her gaze burning into you. 

Seeing through you. 

Even surrounded by people, her attention was the only one you craved. 

“It’s a song I haven’t played for a long time, so I’m going to need your help.” You continued, Never breaking eye contact with her. “Will you help me tonight Wembley?”

The crowd roared in approval, and goosebumps erupted on your skin at the sheer energy they projected at you. It filled your chest and fueled your fingers as you finally hit the signature piano riff that opened the song.

You flashed the crowd your signature smirk, all essence of yourself slipping beneath your on-stage persona. 

And when you opened your mouth to sing the first line; it felt easy. It felt right.

Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands 

Closed your eyes and trusted

Just trusted 

*****

Watching you perform was magic. 

It had always been magic. 

Whether it was a show in Wembley in front of 100,000 people, or one when you were small with a guitar the same size as you, Alessia had always been mesmerized by you. Even before the two of you were old enough to put names to what you were feeling. 

It didn’t matter that she had seen you play thousands (hundreds of thousands) of times, nor that this was not her first time attending one of the shows on this tour. 

She leaned forward on the barricade separating the VIP tent from the Floor sections as you began to play the piano break. 

“She’s incredible,” Leah said, leaning closer to Alessia to be heard above the crowd. “They’re eating out of the palm of her hand,”

Alessia hummed. “She is,”

The audience was glued to every move, every breath you took on stage. She was too, and so were all of her teammates. 

What made it even better was that you were hers, and she got to enjoy you from her favorite seat in the house. 

They hadn’t originally been slated to be in the VIP tent.

Viv had organized the tickets, picking an area on the 2nd balcony because they were the only ones left. Alessia had gone along with it, only mentioning to you that 800$ was crazy for a 2nd tier balcony ticket in passing.

You had sleepily agreed, cursing Ticketmaster and reminding Alessia of the 10-hour meetings you had endured when your fans crashed the site during pre-sale. You hadn’t said anything about it since, so she assumed you had forgotten. 

You did not forget. 

There had been a team waiting to escort them when they arrived, and you had made sure the tent was loaded with all of their favorites. You had also refunded the tickets, and given them away to 23 fans outside of the stadium. 

You liked to do things for her. It was a way for you to serve her even from a distance, and she enjoyed telling you how good you were afterward. 

She definitely had plans to do that tonight. 

She leaned forward on the barrier as you got to the final chorus. 

There was a reason this spot was always her favorite to watch the show from, and why she had been hesitant when they escorted her and her friends to the tent. 

They were close to the stage. Close enough that Alessia could see the cracks in your carefully crafted facade. 

She could see the dark circles under your eyes, and how your smile never met your eyes. She could see the slight curl of your shoulders, and how you kept twisting your bracelet tightly around your wrist. 

She could see the command you had of the crowd wearing on you, and just how in your head you were. 

All of her instincts told her to protect you. To wrap you up, and take the reigns so you could just exist without thinking. So you could submit and know that she would take care of you. 

And sure, her teammates had caught glimpses of the dynamic between the two of you, but you both liked to keep the heavier aspects to yourselves.

It was harder for her to do that when she had watched the toll this tour had taken on you, and knew just how close you were to being able to let go. 

“Is it just me or does she look shattered,” Katie asked as the song came to an end, the final note ringing around the stadium as your eyes once again closed and you sucked in air through your nose. 

Alessia didn’t take her eyes away from you. “Not just you,”

She followed the rapid rise and fall of your chest, and how your fingers silently fluttered over the keys before you began to play again. 

“She’s barely slept at all this week because of end-of-tour meetings,” Alessia continued as you began picking out a new tune. “And she’s been co-producing an album that comes out next month, so she’s barely had time to think, much less do anything else.” 

Leah hummed from her other side. “I’m just surprised you haven’t stepped in yet.” 

Alessia made a low sound in the back of her throat. 

It was… complicated. 

While Alessia had rules that you followed (even while you were on tour) to help protect both your physical and mental health, you both had boundaries when it came to your careers. 

She understood that you had responsibilities and that sometimes you had to prioritize work to make everything run smoothly. (She also secretly relished watching you in boss mode, knowing that you would be kneeling at her feet later.)

The agreement you had was that she would only interfere under 2 conditions. First, if you crossed the Limits the two of you had agreed upon years ago without communicating with Alessia first. Second, if you asked.

“Tonight I will,” Alessia said as your eyes opened and you leaned back towards the microphone, your fingers dancing along the keys.

“Since we have the incredible women of Arsenal in the audience tonight, I think there’s one more song we have to do before continuing the show,” 

The audience roared in response. 

Your smile was charming, even as your eyes danced vacantly across the screaming fans in the pit next to the small stage that held your piano. 

Alessia could imagine the edits that would be online later, the people swearing that your expression was solely meant for them. They would think the way you twisted your bracelet was to show them how much you liked the copies they wore. 

She shook her head. 

The chords under your fingers changed, shifting into another familiar tune. 

North London Forever 

Whatever the Weather

You pulled back from the microphone, tilting your head to the sky as the fans picked up the song all around you. 

The stage lights swelled around you, illuminating the crowd as they sang for you. Your fingers deftly played the background music for the song. 

She could understand why it was a tradition for you. Why you always added North London Forever to the last show of your tours, especially when you ended in London. 

And my heart will leave you never 

My blood will forever

Goosebumps erupted on her skin as the crowd of 100,000 sang the rest of the chorus, and pride swelled in her chest, replacing her worry for just a moment. 

You wouldn’t have done a sing along if you were too far gone. 

Your relationship was built on trust, and Alessia trusted that you were ok for now. She would step in when the show was over, and you were ready. 

****

“Thank you London,”

The final notes of Shut Up and Dance pounded through the stadium. 

You held your arms out wide, as if to physically soak in their cheers as the stage lights dimmed, leaving only one shining against your back, silhouetting you for the audience In a perfect replica of your album cover. Then everything went dark, and the platform you had been standing on lowered so you were under the stage. 

“Great show Y/n,” Your tour manager, Aubrey, said as you stepped off the lift, the crowd noise barely fading.

You nodded in response, your tongue suddenly feeling too heavy in your mouth to form words. it felt like you were trying to think through an old television with terrible reception, the images staticy and broken. Fatigue settled into your bones, heavy and cold. 

A soft robe was draped over your shoulders by one of the production crew, and you twisted the bracelet around your wrist until the edges cut into your skin.

You focused on the pain, letting it ground you as you put one foot in front of the other and allowed your team to guide you from beneath the stage. 

your security team flanked you the second you were out from under the stage, acting like a protective wall. 

“You need to rehydrate.” Steve, your head of security said, pressing a blue Gatorade into your fingers.

They instinctively closed around the bottle, and Steve nudged you again to get you to bring it to your lips. 

“Small sips kid,” Clint added from your other side, as the third member of your security team, Natasha, made eye contact with Steve

You tried to follow their directions, but your hands were shaking so badly you almost dropped the drink. 

You felt Powerful. 

You felt… floaty.

It was so… weird. It usually took you hours to come down from the high of a show, and devolve into… whatever this was. 

To finally give in and call your girlfriend for help. 

You had been… reluctant to bother her in the last few weeks. 

She had been busy with international friendlies, and you didn’t exactly like exploring your dynamic while you were separated. 

Dropping into sub space was hard for you on a good day, guided by Alessia‘s firm but comforting presence. Doing it while the two of you were doing long distance was a painful impossibility. 

The few times it had actually worked were misery for you. Like your brain was made of broken glass and no one was there to help you knit the fractured shards back together. 

Even with her voice on the other end of a video call, it had been brutal. 

You had put it off, and put it off, and now it seemed that your body wasn’t going to give you a choice. 

“I’ll be back.” Natasha said, turning on her heel as Steve shifted to shield you from the people buzzing around backstage. 

You didn’t even acknowledge her, blinking slowly as cling helped you bring the bottle of Gatorade to your lips. 

“Take deep breaths.” Clint said gently. “We have to get to the tunnel.”

You tried, but it was like you were under water, or sucking air through a straw. 

You were crashing, and you still had to face the public one last time before you could let go. 

You swallowed hard, forcing the fog in your brain away and your signature smirk on your face. 

It would satisfy the people waiting for you to make your way out from behind the stage and into the safety of the stadium halls, away from prying eyes.

“Let’s go.” You muttered, pushing the Gatorade back towards Steve. 

It took all of your strength just to utter the word, and you knew it would take every bit of mental fortitude you had to wave at the fans as you passed. 

But it was required.

It was the least you could do for the people who bought obstructed view seats. A thing you had done for every one of your other shows. A thing fans would absolutely notice if you didn’t do it. 

It didn’t matter how much you didn’t want to. 

“Let’s do it.” Clint agreed, positioning his hand on the small of your back, while Steve did the same on your other side. 

You straightened and squared your shoulders. 

You could do this one last act for your fans. Then you could let go. 

*******

“That show is incredible,” Beth said, leaning against the VIP barricade. “I don’t know how she runs around like that for 3 and a half hours,”

“A lot of cardio,” Leah shrugged. “She released a whole behind the scenes video of how she trained for the tour.”

“That video felt staged though.” Viv said. “She was very different then she usually is with us, or you Less,”

The English striker hummed. “She likes to keep separation between her professional life and her private life.” 

“Makes sense.” Katie agreed. “Did you see how many people had braided bracelets in all different colors?”

“I did.” Alessia nodded, her eyes trailing across the area near the stage, looking for your personal assistant. “But they have no clue what hers actually means. You all know her, but the fans just know the idea of her. It’s easier to keep it all separated.” 

It was strange that she hadn’t seen your assistant yet. That she hadn’t come to retrieve her and the team. 

Chloe was usually waiting at the VIP tent to take her backstage before the last fireworks of the show had even finished. 

It had alarm bells swirling in her brain. 

“It’s kind of amazing how confident she is on stage.” Beth agreed. “It’s like she’s 2 different people.” 

“Sometimes she is.” Alessia trailed off spotting a different redhead coming around the stage. Your security instead of your assistant. 

It was hard to wrap her head around the dichotomy between your loud, confident persona on stage and the quiet girl she knew you were, and as your career grew, that difference had only gotten larger. 

Her eyebrows furrowed as Natasha approached them, nodding towards her friends before meeting her eyes. “I need to borrow you, please,”

Katie whistled. “Get it Lessie,” 

“Gotta get that post concert energy out,” Kyra snickered, and the tear erupted into laughter behind her. 

She shot a glare towards her cackling team. “Of course,”

Natasha was a part of your personal security. She didn’t need words to convey that you needed Alessia, and you needed her now. 

“Alone please,” Natasha said, her eyes flickering towards the girls who tried to exit the tent with Alessia. 

The laughter stopped around them, and Alessia nodded once, turning back towards the team. 

“We’ll catch up with you lot tomorrow?” Alessia said, authority that the team rarely heard leaking into her tone. “We can do lunch, or maybe Dinner.” 

Leah stepped forward and nodded, knowing this was not the time to argue with her. “Tell y/n thank you for the tickets and that we send our love,”

“Go take care of your superstar,” Beth nodded towards Natasha.

“I will,” Alessia nodded, stepping out of the tent. 

She meant it. 

You had taken care of yourself for most of the tour. It was her turn now. 

******

You didn’t remember how you got to your dressing room. You didn’t remember waving to the fans, smiling widely and sending them hand hearts. 

one second you were backstage, and then you blinked and Steve was gently closing the dressing room door behind you. 

You paced the room, pushing the dark robe off of your shoulders. You didn't know what to do with yourself. 

It was too warm and too cold. The dress shirt you wore on stage was too soft and too scratchy. Your mind was racing too fast and moving too slow all at once. 

your breathing hitched, and you brought your trembling fingers of one and to your lips to prevent the sobs threatening to bubble out. The other tugged useless at your collar, trying to get air. This was not normal. It was rare you dropped, let alone this hard or this deep. 

It was like quicksand, sucking you into the chaotic spiral deeper, faster, with more force the more you tried to fight it. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, and your brain was going to rip itself apart trying to untangle them. 

You were in free fall, plummeting faster than you ever had before with no net to catch you. You had put it off for too long, and now you had no choice.

You knew you needed to do something, but making the decision of what you should do felt impossible. 

You were done making decisions for the foreseeable future. 

The sound of the door clicking open and shut again was nearly drowned out by the buzzing in your ears, but you Instinctively turned towards the presence that entered. 

The air shifted around her as she stood in front of you like a mirage, immediately capturing all of your attention. For just a split second, your racing thoughts went quiet, and you were wholly consumed by her presence. It crackled like a warm fire on a cold day, or like a lightning storm over the sea. You couldn't decide. 

You didn’t want to decide. 

And you knew you didn’t need to. 

Alessia- No, your Daddy was here and she would take care of everything. 

Her gaze swept over you, taking in every twitch of your fingers against the buttons of your shirt, and the tremble that snaked its way across your shoulders and down your spine. You felt naked, despite the clothing scratching at your skin. 

She crossed the room in 3 long strides, her hands catching your wrist before you even registered that she had moved. 

”That’s enough, little one.” She said, keeping her voice gentle despite the command clear in it. “You’ve done so well, and I’m so proud of you, but I’m here now.”

She carefully unwound your fingers from here they were tearing at your shirt, placing them on her hips before deftly undoing the buttons. “I’ve got you. Just take deep breaths for me, love,” 

You tried, but it felt like it was stuck in your throat, trapped by the inhuman sound now bubbling past your lips. 

She carefully slid the thin material of your shirt from your shoulders, and you met her eyes. 

The sob you’d been holding in finally broke free, your knees weakening as the weight of it all hit you. But before you could completely crumble, Alessia’s arms were around you, pulling you into her chest. Her scent, her warmth, everything about her surrounded you like a safety net.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, and she rested her cheek on the top of your head. “You’ve done so well, you can relax now. I’m here with you and I’m not going anywhere,” 

Her other hand ran soothing circles on your back, easing the prickles on your skin like the world's best Aloe. “Just breathe, love.”

Her comforting touch seeped past your skin, settling deep into your bones. It eased the knotted panic in your chest, and dulled the sharp, frantic edges of anxiety that raced through you. 

“That’s it little one,” She cooed, her grip on your firm and unyielding. It was tether to reality. An anchor in the crashing storm that was your mind. A lifeline when you were being pulled beneath the tide.

“You’re safe. You’re here with me, and I will always keep you safe. Just relax,”

Her voice was as steady as her grip on you. Commanding in a way that couldn’t be ignored, but soft enough that it didn’t bristle your sensitive instincts. It was a mixture that only Alessia seemed to be able to achieve. A tone she could modulate to perfectly match the situation. 

You melted into her chest, nodding weakly as your tears slowed. Your entire body shuttered with each inhale, and hitched with each breath you blew out. 

You were moving past the uncomfortable phase of the drop where your brain felt like a shattered glass mirror, fractured and sharp, and into the lapping warmth that only Alessia seemed to be able to bring you. 

Alessia’s hands continued their slow, comforting path up and down your back, her breath even and calm, giving you a rhythm to sync your own to. 

“That’s it, little one,” she hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re such a good girl for me. You’ve done so well. Just let it all go.”

You whimpered. 

It felt too raw, too exposed. But Alessia knew—she always knew.

Her fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze. Her eyes were soft, but her tone left no room for argument.

“Look at me.” She said, using a finger to gently tilt your chin up. “You’ve done so well being in charge. You’ve run this entire tour, and made so many people happy. I’m so proud of you, but you can let go now. Let me be in charge for a little while,” She capped the statement with a gentle peck to your lips. 

You tried to lean in to continue the kiss, but she pulled away. 

“Later,” She promised, and you nodded once, sinking back into her chest. 

You understood that she didn’t like to start anything while you were like this unless it was well discussed beforehand. While there was any chance that you couldn’t consent, or feel like you could remove consent. 

You weren’t sure how long she stood there and held you, rocking gently from side to side and scratching your scalp. Long enough for the storm in your chest to mellow and for your brain to slowly begin knitting itself back together, grounded in the gentle pressure of your girlfriend. Your daddy.

“Let’s get cleaned up and then we can go home,” She said, when you pulled back enough to look at her. “Do you want your collar?” 

you nodded against her chest, kissing gently under her chin. 

“I need a verbal response, little one,” She said, dominance leaking into her tone to help you wade through the thick fog coating the crevices of your brain. 

It took you a long second to think of the words, and another to push the fog in your mind back enough to actually verbalize them. 

“Yes Daddy,” You said, frowning at how horse and garbled your voice was. 

she hummed, carefully maneuvering you back towards the door. One hand stayed securely wrapped around you as the other reached into the bag you hadn’t seen her enter with and pulled out your soft, brown leather collar. 

You hadn’t seen it since you left for tour, and just the sight was almost enough to send you back into a drop. 

“Easy,” Alessia murmured, guiding you towards the couch that existed in all of your dressing rooms. She sat you on the edge, and kneeled in front of you so she was slightly shorter than you. 

She trailed her hand down your arm to the bracelet around your wrist, carefully unclasping it and tucking it into her pocket. She then brought the soft leather of your regular collar to your neck, gently buckling it closed, making sure it wasn’t too tight. 

Your shoulders immediately relaxed, the full weight of her claim settling on you. 

“Let’s get cleaned up,” She said, catching your hand and standing you up. You went with her easily, leaning your weight on her as she led you to the bathroom. 

The way she undressed you both and got you settled into the warm water of the shower was familiar, routine even. 

You could feel yourself settling as she washed your hair, and cleaned your body of the sweat from the show. 

She touched you like you were delicate, but not like you were fragile, and it was everything you needed to wade back to reality. 

By the time she was using a towel to dry you off, and slipping one of her old UNC sweatshirts over your head you felt almost like yourself again. Your thoughts didn’t hurt anymore, and you were more grounded then you had been. 

“Kneel for me,” She said softly, settling herself on the couch, and placing a pillow at her feet. 

You hummed, and did as she asked, letting her guide you to lean back on her legs. 

You sunk into the warmth of her sweatshirt, surrounded by the scent of her perfume as she toweled off your hair and braided It for you. 

The rhythmic movement of her fingers through your hair and the feeling of safety and Alessia that encompassed you were enough to have your eyelids drooping. 

You blinked heavily at the knock that sounded on the door, and the blonde head of your head of security poking his head in. 

Steve didn’t look at you, steadfastly keeping his eyes on Alessia. “Miss Russo, we have the car ready whenever you are ready to leave.” 

“Thank you, Steven,” She said softly, authority still dripping from her tone. “We’ll be out in a few minutes,”

He nodded and closed the door quietly as he exited. 

“You’re all done, little one,” Alessia said, rubbing gentle circles in your shoulders, as you leaned further into her, your eyes sliding closed without your permission. 

They only opened when she shifted behind you, and you turned to look at her sleepily. 

She smiled gently at you, unable to stop herself from leaning in and pressing a quick peck to your lips. 

This was her favorite version of you, soft and sleepy, unguarded and completely trusting. It was the version that only she got to see, and she was honored that you had chosen her to be your safe place. 

”Alright little one,” She said, her finger hooked into the O-ring at the front of your collar, tugging lightly as she stood. “Let’s go home,”

[valeisaslut]

hi this might be super specific but something about rockstar!ellie and supermodel!r would be so cool!! kinda like bella hadid and the weeknd dinamic 😋😋

omg no nonnie that’s not too specific at all — i totally get the bella x abel vibe, like model x musician is such an elite combo, the energy is absolutely there.

but i gotta say… popstar reader is sooo much cooler to me. there’s just something about them both being in music — same industry, different corners of it — that makes everything feel richer. like the collab song. the grammy’s tension. the songs written about each other. the duets. the jealousy. the rumors. the twitter drama. it’s such a fun dynamic and i love music too much to not have them both in that world yk.

but okay wait… i can write something

ellie did kind of have a thing with a model once. it wasn’t public or anything, just one of those undefined situationships that lasted a couple months too long. the girl was famous famous — vogue covers, ysl campaigns, met gala type of thing. they met at a party LA, and ellie thought she was hot, mysterious, the kind of girl who’d always have a lighter and never text back.

they’d hook up when they were in the same city, do the whole hotel room cigarettes and expensive wine thing. ellie would strum some unreleased songs on her guitar just to make her feel a little bit more special and she would say stuff like “you should take your shirt off more, your abs would sell albums.”

it got old fast.

deep down, ellie always knew she was shallow. hot, yeah, and fun to fuck, but there was no depth there. no soul. no real curiosity about her music, or her mind, or who she was outside the stage.

so she got bored, emotionally checked out, and just… ghosted. one day she stopped replying and never explained. the model posted some vague insta story like “hate being replaced by a song�� and then unfollowed her everywhere.

jesse still jokes about it and ellie’s like “bro that wasn’t real. that was just something that happened.”

but it was different with you. always had been. she never let the model stay the night — made up excuses, early rehearsals, claimed she “slept bad next to people,” or sometimes just straight up said “nah, i need my space tonight.” cold as hell.

but you? you stayed the whole night. she even cuddled you. the FIRST time you hooked up. you got her t-shirt and jeans thrown at your face the next morning. you walked out of that hotel room wearing her clothes. on purpose.

she watched you go with that look in her eyes like she’d just seen god.

and thats when the story started.

so yeah. popstar reader FOREVER. soulmates. collaborators. chart rivals. lovers. unmatched.

[queenshelby]

Neighbour (P.1)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Virgin!Reader

Warning: Corruption, DDLG, Teaching, Smut

Living next door to a famous actor had always been interesting for you and, even though he was married to a woman named Danielle, you couldn't help but wonder what it might be like to be a part of his world.

Unlike your very religious parents, he was rather open-minded and you often spent time with his eldest daughter when she visited him, enjoying her free-spirited company.

Occasionally, you would be talking to Cillian too and it was recently that he found out about you having taken a liking in a local boy named Ethan. Ethan was a young man from church. At 20 years old, he was only one year older than you and was incredibly popular among the girls in your church group and in school.

You had first met him when you were out at the local farmer's market helping your mother sell her home-made baked goods. He was a student at your school and was helping his mother out as well. You had nursed a crush on Ethan for more than five years, but never said a word about it to anyone before that day, because you were shy, innocent and naive about the ways of the world. You had always been too nervous to talk to him.

In addition to that, you had no idea about what to do with boys as you were brought up strictly.  You had a very basic understanding of intimacy and that was based on the knowledge from your religious school and the books that the library stocked that your mother allowed you to read. But that knowledge was far from complete and your understanding was far from comprehensive.

After having finally watched some of Cillian's work, however, you became more curious and it was  only the other day that you had decided to take matters into your own hands and had finally come up with the courage to confide in Cillian, your neighbor, about your crush and your lack of knowledge about intimacy.

You felt a little bit uncomfortable talking to Cillian about it but you trusted him. He had always been welcoming and friendly and open, ever since your family moved next door to him a year ago.

He would often speak to you in a way only an experienced man his age could or tease you lightly to make you laugh, and you felt comfortable opening up to him.

You sat in your garden, the late afternoon sun warming the nape of your neck. The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming roses filled the air. You fidgeted with the hem of your sundress, nervously testing the ground. "I think I want to date Ethan," you blurted out, avoiding eye contact. "But I want to learn about things first," you explained as Cillian, leaning against the fence separating the yards, gave you a soft smile and a reassuring nod.

His piercing blue eyes, full of intensity, were a stark contrast to your timid ones. "I mean, I don’t know what to do," you admitted shyly. "I don't know how to kiss him, or how to touch him, or what he'll want to do." Your cheeks flushed pink, and you looked down at your hands, twisting nervously in your lap.

Cillian's smile widened as he saw this and you felt even more confident that he would help you out. "Well, Y/N, that's something I can help with if you want.  I know all about these things," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "I think I can teach you, but it'll take some time to get you ready."

You hesitated, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Teach me how?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as your heart was beating out of your chest.

Cillian's eyes were like a shot of whiskey, strong and intoxicating, burning a hole into your soul. You could feel your body responding to his seductive gaze.

"Well, I could show you how to make a man feel good if you like," he said, his voice husky, his tone turning confident and suggestive. "I'll warn you now, though, it's not going to be like the books you read. It would be more physical, so maybe you should think about this before you agree to anything," he offered as he noticed the blush creeping up your cheeks and the way that your eyes were glued to his lips. He was obviously enjoying making you feel this way.

"Okay, I think I would like that," you agreed, your voice barely audible as you struggled to find your voice.

Cillian's eyebrows raised as he glanced over at your front door and then back at you again. "Alright then, let me give you a quick taste of what we could do. Is your mother at work?" he asked and you nodded.

"She'll be back in a few hours," you replied.

Cillian's eyes widened as he smiled and nodded, "Well, that's enough time, so follow me," he offered as he moved forward, and you dutifully followed him inside.

After having offered you a glass of water, he took a deep breath and looked at you in awe.

"Come on, let's go upstairs to my bedroom," Cillian said, his voice warm and smooth like honey dripping off a spoon as he reached for a clean towel from the washing basket by the stairs and you wondered what this was for. 

"Uhm, okay," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You followed him up the creaky wooden staircase, the dim lights casting long shadows that danced on the walls. 

When you reached his bedroom, he smiled and you gave a little smile and shuffled your feet, - trying to keep your nervousness at bay.

It was a large space, with a king-sized bed in the centre, a large window that let in the soft glow of the night sky, and a bookshelf filled with books in one corner. You had never been in his room before and you were captivated by the scent of his cologne that lingered in the air. You could also sense a mild scent of sweat mixing with the pine fresh air that his cologne did not quite over power.

Cillian sat on the bed, his movements casual and unhurried as he placed the towel next to him. You stood by the door, your hands clasped together in front of you, and you gave a little smile and shuffled your feet, - trying to keep your nervousness at bay.

He patted the bed beside him, a small smile playing on his lips. "Don't be so nervous, sweetheart. Tonight, I'm just going to show you how to touch a man, alright?" he said as his eyes twinkled with a roughness that made you giggle. “Nothing more,” he reassured you and you were not quite sure what he meant by that.

“Do you mean, down there?” you asked, gesturing vaguely towards his lap, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink.

“Yes, down there," he chuckled, his voice gentle yet firm. "Do you know what that is called, down there?"  Cillian asked with a half-smile on his face as he gestured with his head towards his crotch.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Uhm, I think so," you murmured, your voice barely audible. You had read about it in books, heard whispers from your friend and seen things on the internet, but you had never been in this position before. 

"Can you say it?"  Cillian pressed, his eyes never leaving yours.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. You were not used to these kinds of conversations, and it made you want to hide under the covers.

"P-penis," you finally whispered, your voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

Cillian smiled, a hint of satisfaction in his expression. "Good girl," he said, his voice encouraging. "Although I prefer the word cock," he said with a cheeky grin on his face. "But we'll start with whatever you are comfortable with."

You stared at him, wide-eyed, your blush deepening. You had heard the word before, but never from someone in the flesh.

Cillian reached out and gently took your hand in his, his thumb gently caressing the inside of your wrist.

"Come and sit with me," Cillian said, his voice a soft murmur. He patted the bed beside him again, and you hesitantly took a step forward, then another, until you were close enough for him to gently tug you down next to him. The bed dipped slightly under your weight, and you sat stiffly, your hands folded neatly in your lap.

Cillian leaned back against the pillow, his eyes never leaving your face. "You are so beautiful, you know that, right?" he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink as you nodded shyly while Cillian slowly unbuckled his belt. You watched, wide-eyed, as he undid the button on his jeans and then the zipper. 

"Now tell me, do you know what a man's cock is for?" Cillian asked, his voice gentle but firm. You nodded again, your eyes fixed on his face, afraid to look down.

"I-I think so," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. 

"Can you tell me?"  Cillian asked, his voice gentle yet insistent, his hand gently squeezing your wrist. You swallowed hard again, your mouth dry as cotton.

"Uhm, for, uhm...making babies," you finally managed to say, your voice barely audible. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to keep your eyes from darting to his crotch.

"Yes, well, that's one way to put it." Cillian's lips curved into a knowing half-smile. He shifted slightly, his movements deliberate and slow.

“But that's not all it is for,” Cillian said, his voice low andultry. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes never leaving yours. "Sometimes, it's just for fun," he added, his voice a low murmur that sent a different kind of shiver down your spine.

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say.

"What do you mean?" you finally managed to ask, your voice shaky.

Cillian chuckled, a soft, warm sound that seemed to wrap around you. "I mean, sometimes, it's just about the feelings, the physical connection, you know?" he said, his voice gentle yet firm. He moved his hand from your wrist, only to gently grasp your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"Now tell me Y/N... have you ever seen a man's cock before?" Cillian asked, his voice still gentle, but there was an underlying intensity that made your heart race.

You shook your head, your eyes still fixed on his face, your heart hammering in your chest. “No, I haven’t,” you admitted softly, your voice barely a whisper. You had seen body parts online but this was different, this was real.

Cillian smiled softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "That's alright sweetheart. Tonight, I'm going to show you what it looks and feels like," he said gently, causing you to nod. 

"You're a bit nervous aren't you?" he asked softly, his voice gentle. His thumb swiped across your knuckles, the movement slow to make sure that you could see it. 

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as you tried to steady yourself. "A little," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cillian leaned in closer, his voice a low murmur in your ear. "It's okay to be nervous but just know that I won't hurt you. I promise." His breath was warm against your skin, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

He reached over and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a moment before he pulled back slightly. He then stood up to push down his jeans and boxers and then he sat back down, leaving just enough room for you to see his manhood.

"Come on, come here, don't be nervous, sweetheart," Cillian said softly, his voice gentle and reassuring. He patted the bed next to him again, and you scooted closer, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, and you could smell his familiar scent, a mix of soap and something else that was uniquely him.

"It's okay, you can look at it," Cillian encouraged, his voice soft and patient. You took a deep breath and let your eyes drift downwards, taking in the sight of him.

He was hard and big, and you felt a pang of nervousness in your stomach. 

"Why is your cock hard?" you asked, your curiosity briefly overriding your nervousness. Cillian smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"It's called being aroused, sweetheart. It means I'm excited . It's a natural response to certain thoughts and feelings, and maybe to having you around, too." he replied, his voice gentle yet firm.

"Now give me your hand " he said and you hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. But you saw a different side to Cillian on him being so patient and gentle this made you want to trust him. You reached out your hand, your fingers trembling slightly as you placed it in his. He took your hand and gently moved it towards his manhood, his grip firm yet reassuring. 

"It's okay, sweetheart. Just relax," Cillian murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through your very bones. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and let your hand rest gently on him, feeling the smooth, velvety skin beneath your fingertips.

"Now, gently stroke it up and down, like this," he said, his voice soft and patient. He guided your hand in a slow, rhythmic motion, his eyes never leaving yours. His length heaved and his body tensed so slightly that it wasn't even noticeable to someone else. He continued to guide your strokes, showing you the pace and pressure.

This was so new and strange to you. But you felt safe under his guidance. The room was quiet save for the faint humming of the streetlights outside your window and the soft rasp of your breaths. You could sense Cillian's breath steadying to match your rhythm, his eyes never leaving yours, his smile more indulgent. You shivered at being looked at like that.

"This is nice isn't it?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble. You nodded wordlessly, your cheeks flushed a pretty rose color and you felt like your heart was going to race out of your chest.

"Keep going, like that," he said, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own pleasure.

You took that as a cue and continued your gentle strokes, your eyes fixed on his face, watching as his features tightened with pleasure. The room air was now thick, and so was the weight of the moment.

"I find it hard to tell you how good this feels," Cillian groaned. His voice was a low, husky whisper.

He reached out to brush a lock of hair from your forehead, tucking it gently behind your ear you didn't know what to say to that, so you kept moving.

"That's good, Y/N. It feels nice. You have really soft hands," Cillian said and you could feel his body tense beneath your touch, and you marveled at the sensation of power that surged through you.

"Almost there, sweetheart," Cillian murmured, his voice ragged with desire. He reached down, his hand covering yours, guiding your strokes with a firmer grip. "Just like that, baby. Keep your eyes on me. I want you to see what you do to me."

You met his gaze, your eyes wide with a mix of innocence and newfound confidence. You saw the raw desire in his eyes, and it made your heart race even faster. Your hand continued to move, guided by his.

"That's a good girl," Cillian breathed, his voice hoarse with pleasure. His eyes were locked onto yours, and you felt a strange mix of emotions—excitement, nervousness, and a sense of empowerment that you had never felt before. You marveled at the power you held over him in that moment, the way his body responded to your touch.

Cillian's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his breathing becoming more ragged. "Just like that, sweetheart. Don't stop," he murmured. His eyes were now closed, his lips slightly parted, and you felt a warmth spread through you at the sight of him losing control.

Some strange clear  liquid was already seeping from the tip of his cock, and you watched in fascination as it glistened in the soft light of the bedroom.

Cillian's grip on your hand tightened even more, his body tensing beneath your touch. "Y/N, I'm close," he warned, his voice a low growl as he opened his eyes, locking on to yours and you had no idea what he meant by that.

"That's it. Keep it going," Cillian’s voice a hoarse whisper as he closed his eyes once again, his grip on your hand tightening even more as you felt his shaft throb beneath your fingers.

You felt a strange mixture of excitement and nervousness. The room was quiet and you could hear the steady rhythm of his breaths and your own heartbeat. Cillian’s body tensed and you could see the strain of pleasure in his face. His eyes remained closed to savor the moment. "That feels so good," he groaned, his voice strained.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, his body trembling beneath your touch. "Don't stop, sweetheart.

We're almost there," Cillian panted, his voice laced with urgency and pleasure. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat. You bit your lip, your eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and nervousness, but you kept your hand moving, guided by his grip.

Cillian's breath hitched, and his body tensed even more. "That's it, Y/N. Just like that," he urged, his voice strained. You could see the muscles in his jaw clench, his lips parting slightly as he let out a low groan. You felt a sense of power and curiosity, wanting to see what would happen next.

However, what happened next surprised you as you felt a sudden warmth and wetness on your hand, and you gasped in shock, your eyes widening as you looked down at Cillian's body.

A thick, white fluid pulsed from him, coating your hand and his length, and you quickly pulled back, a mixture of surprise and curiosity washing over you. 

Your eyes darted to Cillian's face, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, and his eyes fluttering closed as if savoring the moment.

"You did good, sweetheart," Cillian murmured, his voice low and husky. You watched as he reached for the towel he had placed next to him earlier, using it to gently clean himself and your hand.

"What was that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes wide with curiosity.

"That, sweetheart, is what happens when you make a man feel really good ," Cillian said, his voice still a bit ragged from his exertion.

He sounded pleased, his eyes still closed, as if savoring the aftershocks of his pleasure.

"It's called cum and you made that happen," he added, a hint of pride in his voice.

Cillian’s eyes finally opened, and he looked at you with a soft, almost tender gaze. He reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment on your cheek.

"So I made you feel good?" you asked, your voice soft and curious. You were still processing everything that had just happened, your mind a whirlwind of new sensations and emotions. You had felt a sense of power, of control, but also a deep sense of vulnerability. You felt a burning heat on the inside of your cheeks and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. You had never felt so close to anyone, so intimately connected.

Cillian smiled, his eyes warm and gentle. "Yes, you did. It felt amazing and I think that, maybe next time, you could take my cock into your mouth," he said , his voice soft and gentle, like he was coaxing a wild animal. You flushed deeply, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension.

The thought of taking him into your mouth made you feel both curious and nervous. You had never done anything like that before, and the idea was both thrilling and terrifying.

Cillian must have seen the unsure look on your face as he quickly added, "But only if you want to. There's no rush, sweetheart. We'll take things at your pace, okay?"

His voice was reassuring, and you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. You nodded, feeling a sense of relief and trust in him.

Tags:

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[fallen6253]

About the soul-swap partners:

I love that neither of them decided to stick to their given roles.  In either universe, really.

You’ll get what I mean.

Cale, who was Kim Rok Soo, does not keep up the image of trash.  He calls himself trash, he is called trash.  He does not keep his reputation.  Not the alcoholism, and he doesn’t throw bottles at gangsters.  No, he takes care of the underworld and other nobles in his own way (ie, recruitment or utter destruction).  He does not have his old reputation in this world either.  He’s not known as this cold leader who doesn’t care when someone dies, he’s known as a brilliant young man who cares way too much.  He’s known as an idiot who would rather pass out from exhaustion a week later than leave things to fester for one minute.  

And then there’s Kim Rok Soo, who was Cale Henituse once upon an apocalypse.  (First the fuq of all, nobody knew jac squat about him in the first place, and being the son of his mother probably made him something of an automatic anomaly.  I assume just being a Thames makes you kinda weird.  But anyway!) He lived as trash, an alcoholic who threw too many bottles back and then at the wall.  Then he lived through 20 years of a losing war.  And he got tired.  Tired enough to listen to a voice in his head in his last moments, to switch worlds and bodies with some stranger.  And he chose the motto that reflects the sentiments of his soul swap partner to a T: let’s live peacefullly.

And he smiles now, as Kim Rok Soo.  He sits back in his office chair, with an easygoing attitude.  He’s not the trash that would only shout; he is sly, and he knows how to use his status to properly put punks in their place.  He’s the team leader who refuses to be mistreated by anyone.  He will not be used, he would rather do his work as he needs to.  He isn’t a lowlife with no responsibilities in the wake of a war he would be just about useless in; he has a niece he has to go home to.  He drinks casually, not too much.  And he smiles in a way that’s too bright for the cold Kim Rok Soo.  He’s too happy now to be called cold-blooded. It’s like there’s a fire in his eyes that had been lost ages ago. Something that was rekindled when he had someone to go home to.

Despite changing their own lives so much, they wound up being nearly the same as one another and that drives me a little insane.

And let's not forget the best part.  One famous line they have in common in every world:

“Should I flip everything over?”

Another thing: I think Cale's gonna start resembling Kim Rok Soo. As in, he'll start relaxing a bit as the work goes on, he'll learn to rest as he goes (as in actually rest) and delegate work properly. He won't brush past comments like he used to, he will look a person in the eye and go 'I can just leave this world and leave you to your fate' which I would love to see, honestly. I feel like their individual capacity to be petty increases with age, and that's probably one of my favorite things about these characters. So them finding new ways to piss off people who don't like them could just be made into its own series and I would sell my soul for it.

[some-small-mercy]

Shadows in the Cave – Notes on an Incursion – The Dream Eaters

Oneirophages are a form of hypergeometric parasite and predator of opportunity – though controversy remains as to whether they should instead be viewed as a potential Successor species. While not an initial part of Project Orpheus, they have proven to be a major obstacle to our progress. The Director has, on behalf of the Steering Committee, determined that they represent valuable objects of study in their own right. As such, the following report has been compiled for review by the team being spun off for this new project.

To attain the desired state of consciousness, Orpheus subjects underwent intensive experimental therapies involving pharmaceutical cocktails, induced insomnia, advanced meditation techniques and extreme sensory deprivation. Encountering the oneirophage was initially considered a sign of early success, and the second test group underwent the same procedure as the subjects who had made contact.

This proved to be a mistake. The eventual loss of all three of the first test groups – as well as significant numbers of research and support staff – combined with the cost of sanitizing the lab sites have set Orpheus back by at minimum several years. A slight silver lining is that oneirophages are now very probably the best-studied and most well-understood hypergeomtric species yet encountered.

The Orpheus team’s first error was their most fundamental, though this was impossible to know at the time; the sudden spike in brain waves and vital signs was not the result of a test subject encountering an oneirophage, but of them being devoured by one.

--------------------------

THREAT ARDENT HONEYBEE is an INTRUDER that PATRIOT agents have engaged and dispatched at least four different times across the latter twentieth century. It’s probably been hovering around Wall Street while at least a few different fortunes were minted, too. We suspect but cannot confirm that it’s the ultimate source of myths and folktales about selling your soul to the devil for worldly fortune. At minimum, K-CELL terminated at least one satanist cult centred around a summoning ritual to do exactly that in 20XX, and is as of writing still tracing it’s source (c.f. OPERATION MIRRORED CABARET).

ARDENT HONEYBEE isn’t really a hunter. You have to go looking to find it, and have to invite it in for it to sink its teeth into the world – and even then, the INTRUSION remains anchored to whatever cultist contacted it. There are a lot of cases where you end up having to deal with dumb assholes and tragically unlucky victims on your way to cleaning out an INTRUSION – sleep easy knowing that whatever you have to do to deal with an anchor at the heart of it, they deserve it a dozen times over.

If you believe you are dealing with ARDENT HONEYBEE, remember:

The anchor will be unnaturally healthy, fit, diligent and intelligent. Depending on the state of the INTRUSION, possibly past any sane human limits.

They will also be ambitious, driven, and probably well on their way to being famous. Be smart and be discrete – they’re not people who can just disappear without questions.

Everyone else around them will be lethargic, depressed idiots. The effect doesn’t discriminate between friends and enemies, just who falls asleep near the anchor.

ARDENT HONEYBEE doesn’t seem to mention this to its anchors.

There’s only one way to banish it.

Nothing here is bulletproof.

--------------------------

It is the vanity of our naive and sheltered species to believe our souls are bonfires in the gloom, beacons of spiritual power which higher and lower things might strive to claim by conquest, commerce or trickery. Vanity, and an often dangerous species of hubris at that; our souls are as flickering and failable as our flesh, and as of little interest to the true powers and potentates of the universe.

But just as we are not so far from the highest heavens that we cannot gaze up in awe, we may at least look down at the teaming earth beneath us. And just as much of the true danger to our flesh comes not from great beasts but mosquitoes and bacteria, so too does the threat of contact with higher frequencies of existence to our psyches come not from their masters but their pests.

I would personally chose to name it Duval Psychosis, after the first known sufferer. The materials you’ve so helpfully provided from your friends show what could be a number of historical cases of the same thing, but frankly you’ll have to hold me at gunpoint before I call something ‘The Curse of Unbounded Passions’ with a straight face. As a compromise, I might suggest Lodestar Syndrome. Whatever you might want to call it, the disease is best understood as a kind of rabies of the soul. An infection most dangerous to those who astrally project or attain certain advanced levels of psychic regression and pattern resonance, as they are the only individuals who might conceivably be exposed to the psychic vermin that transmit it.

The first symptoms are difficult to detect, not because they are subtle but because no one is going to consider them bad. Sudden increases in discipline, diligence, and overall productivity. The magical appearance of ambition and drive, and the impression of having sat down and considered what they wanted to achieve with their life. Even mysterious improvements in health, diet and physical activity. I don’t mind admitting that on the unfortunate occasions I’ve had to teach an undergraduate lecture, I’ve found myself wishing for a mass outbreak.

By the time the true consequences – the monomania, the psychopathic disregard for their relationships, the steadily degrading empathy for and patience with what they will inevitably consider ‘their lessers’ – they are already beyond helping.

--------------------------

Oneirophages are not, to put it lightly, a social species. Lacking self-awareness or motivations of their own, they latch onto the most prominent and legible drives possessed by their victim in the moment of consumption. They are, even under the most thorough examination and interrogation, convinced they are the host, and utterly dedicated to fulfilling what they consider ‘their’ life’s work.

Given the extreme circumstances necessary to attract an oneirophage, it seems unlikely that they evolved to cooperate once they have secured a host. In our unfortunate natural experiment, each quickly became convinced the others were enemies and rivals or, at best, dangerous tools to be manipulated and controlled. Their opinions of living humans were even more instrumental and contemptuous, though in fairness all the baselines within the immediate area were so thoroughly debilitated by long-term exposure that from an instrumental perspective there was little to use them for.

Sanitizing the site was made simpler by the majority of oneirophages having been terminated by their peers at the time the operation commenced. The survivors exhibited physical capabilities and tactical reflexes significantly beyond baseline human limits, but unlike certain other hypergeometric infections, did succumb to the tactical application of overwhelming firepower to create ‘no-win’ scenarios – no special tactics necessary.

--------------------------

ARDENT HONEYBEE is easy enough to detect, provided you’re looking out for it. Which we should be, but frankly negligence has led to more of the bastards getting a chance to run unchecked that it ever should have.

The deal is offers is nice and simple. You get the self-discipline, motivation, health and skill you need to achieve whatever dream was worth selling your soul for. In exchange, whenever anyone falls asleep near you, HONEYBEE starts helping itself to some of theirs instead.

The first warning we get of ARDENT HONEYBEE being active is sudden spikes in suicides and accidental deaths, confined to a specific apartment block or suburb. People drained until they’re barely living, either not able to motivate themselves to take any care or else not able to see the point in doing so. Every one of those deaths is one more payment the anchor makes in exchange for their worldly fortune and realized dreams.

--------------------------

As a disease of the more fundamental frequencies of reality, Lodestar Syndrome propagates through ties of sympathy and symbolic connection more than physical proximity or interaction. The true extent of a given sufferer’s damage to those around them can thus be hard to truly ascertain. It is also, despite what your friends might hope, quite universally net-negative in outcome. We are not a species of heroes, much as we might dream otherwise. Bleeding ones peers of spiritual potency to become one will only ever be a juvenile and quixotic prospect.

I write this all in retrospect, of course. It only took a few unfortunate mishaps before I determined how to fortify my patients against such infections as their regression therapy approaches the Sublime. Still, I can assure you that what enhanced awareness they had was directed entirely towards their preexisting mundane aims. None showed an iota of new interest in Higher Mysteries, and while they took evidence of the paranormal in stride, they thought of it only as a threat or tool to exploit. A short-cut to enlightenment this is not; what sublime powers sufferers of Lodestar might seem to possess (e.g., absurd and preternatural levels of good luck attending them in all their affairs) is simply the natural result of their overflowing with parasitized spiritual energy.

The potential practical applications are thus wholly mundane and, frankly, rather unseemly to even consider. I have a professional obligation to my patients; if the success rate is less than ideal, it is not for lack of trying. If your friends have any hypothetical ideas about hand-picked culture-shapers and sin-eaters managed from a careful distance, I would ask not to be included in the conversation, and that it stay well away from my students.

--------------------------

The only entirely reliable way to verify if someone is a oneirophage host (or victim) is through thorough MRI or surgical examination (most often carried out postmortem). The fungus growing in the brain stem, down the spinal cord and eventually throughout the nervous system is quite distinctive. In the most advanced cases, the oneirophage consumes it entirely and begins directly interfacing with the host’s muscles.

It’s still unclear quite how the organism reproduces – feeding victims bodies’ have specific feeding organs or roots growing through them, but it is only the original host whose parasite begins to flower. Given the lack of social activity or cooperation it seems likely that the species follows a heavily r-selected reproductive strategy, perhaps a mass budding or seed dispersal event if one is allowed to feed and grow intensely enough.

I fully support the new team in further study of this species, but it is my strong recommendation that no specimen be allowed to develop to that theorized level of maturity. While primary hosts do seem to authentically share human motivations, it seems unlikely that this will continue past the point of reproductive maturity – and in any event, with current estimates there will be few or any human hosts for the second generation to imprint on. I would urge the Director to reconsider them as a potential Successor species.

These are not heirs, they are cuckoos.

[thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed]

Soul Secrets

Word count: 2.9K

Summary: the not so typical soulmate mark AU. You own a bakery, and your mark goes famous without you having no idea why or even who has it.

Warnings: bad writing. That’s it.

Pairing: Jenna Ortega X Fem!Reader

Started writing this a month and a half ago and finished it now on my laptop, I think it came out good? Idk you guys let me know!

———

Having a bakery was by far one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do in your life. You had inherited this shop after your parents died in a tragic accident, and ever since you had been struggling quite a lot. Your shop was famous in Los Angeles, you had a lot of orders from celebrities and famous people, and you had enough money to pay the shop bills and pay for your nice dream house where you lived on your own. You also worked on your own, the shop had always been handled by the family, so you had to keep going on your own. It wasn’t a simple bakery where people come and go just to buy orders, you also offered bar services, where you wold sell donuts, cake pieces and whatever you could come up with.

Your parents always told you ‘when you find your soulmate, you’re gonna work here together and continue the family’s legacy’ and you were always up to that, if it wasn’t for the fact that you had one of the rarest soulmate marks in the whole world. A piece of braided hair on your right collarbone, just under your visible bone. Usually your soulmate mark represents a part of you, a part of your life… but you couldn’t find it a meaning, no matter how hard you tried. You never hid it, but you weren’t trying to show it either, and your friends… well, you didn’t have any. You dedicated yourself to your shop, it was the only thing you had left from your parents and you wanted to make it worth it, you wanted to keep the name high. So you never knew if there were other people around with your same soulmate mark.

On this particular day where the bakery has been less busy than usual, you were turned around listening to some music on the radio and singing along, when the door to the shop opened. “Hello and good afternoon! How can I help you today?” You said turning around and looking at who had just entered, it was a short brunette, shoulder-length hair and chocolate colored eyes, freckles all over her nose and cheeks… she was marvelous. You gulped as you met her eyes, silently gay panicking as you waited for her to speak. She smiled at you before speaking. “Hey there, I would like-“ she stopped when her eyes travelled from yours to your collarbone, where she saw your soulmate mark. Her shoulders slumped, and you gave her a confused look.

“You’re one of those people.” She sighed and looked away. “…what people?” You asked, “yeah I have a rare soulmate mark, is that weird?” You asked her again and she chuckled, was she mad? You didn’t know. She shook her head. “A lot of people had that soulmate mark tattooed because it is incredibly famous. Can’t believe there’s someone that would get to this point just for attentions” she seemed upset, but you weren’t gonna let a complete stranger talk to you like that. “Uhm excuse me? I have no Idea what you’re talking about. I was born with this mark, I’ve had it for as long as I can remember, hell I even have baby pictures of me with it! I don’t have social medias, I don’t go to the movies and I definitely don’t know why it even is famous. If you came here just to talk to me like that, then there’s the door, turn around and leave”

You pointed to the door, and the girl in front of you, who didn’t even introduce herself, looked at the door before moving to sit down at one of the tables, waiting for you to go get her order. You sighed and shook your head, you were about to close up actually because it was closing time, but something inside of you told you not to. Something inside of you told you to wait, get her order, her name and just get to know her. So you finished up what you were doing, and headed towards her, to take her order. “Sorry about… that. I just don’t like when people talk to me like they know me or they have an idea about me” you said and she nodded, seemingly understanding but she seemed distraught. However you didn’t know her, so you couldn’t interrogate her about that. “What can I get for you?” You asked, notepad and pen in hand as you flashed her a smile.

“What have you got? I’ve had a lot of coworkers tell me about this place and how good they eat whenever they come here” she said and that made you smile brightly. “That’s really good to know” you said “uhm, I don’t have anything fresh out of the oven, but if you wait a bit more I’m actually working on a new recipe fresh out of my mind” you said, “that is… if you’re not in a rush” you said and shrugged “isn’t it closing time?” You nodded “yes it is, I can still close and let you stay to try it?” You watched the girl think about it for a moment before she nodded, and you nearly jumped excitedly and went back to the kitchen. To the girl… this was actually really weird. You didn’t know who she was, you didn’t know that she was Jenna Ortega and that she was a famous actress and that she was your soulmate. You didn’t know that she had the same mark as you and that it was leaked in her new upcoming movie’s trailer.

She wanted to get to know you.

Soon enough you were back at her table, a piece of cake in a plate and the whole dish itself looked amazing. It was perfectly done, perfectly decorated… and she knew that it would taste just the same. Perfect.

And it did, it was perfect. You sat on the chair directly in front of her, watching for any sign of a reaction. The girl let out a grunt/moan of pleasure, and you couldn’t help the smile that forced its way on your mouth. “How is it?” No reply came out of her yet, but she took another bite. “God, this is amazing” she said and kept on eating it “what are the ingredients?” She asked and you smiled “it’s a vegan cake actually. I’ve had people ask me some but I’ve never tried anything, until now.” You said and watched as she went wide eyed “you’re telling me that this is not actually made out of milk and stuff?” She watched as you nodded “damn. You must be a really good chef” she said and smiled “thank you thank you. I uhm… I Don’t think I caught your name?” You said smiling.

“I’m Jenna” she said and held out her hand. “Well nice to meet you Jenna, I’m (Y/N)”

That, is how you met your mother- no wait. That is how you met your soulmate. Only… you didn’t know it was her. The more time passed, the more you two got to know each other and let me tell you, there was a connection that both of you felt immediately. You were just so at ease with each other, you made each other feel safe and happy and it was by far the best you’ve felt after your parents’s death. You had learned about her that she was an actress, that she had a new movie coming out soon and that she was now having a break, just being with her family and making time to relax, coming to your bakery especially at closing time and you let her. You knew how hard it must be being famous, if she ever came during the day she would be surrounded by fans so you let her come past closing time, you closed the shop and let her stay in so she could relax and try your new recipes.

It had now been a couple months and On this other day you had closed the shop, waiting for Jenna as you sat down at her usual table, managing the bills while a new recipe was cooking in the oven when you heard a knock on the door. You smiled brightly when you saw Jenna, unlocking the door to let her inside. She immediately smelled around before sitting down where you were just sitting. “Making me something new?” She asked and you smiled, nodding. “Yep! You seem like the cinnamon kind of girl so I’m making something cinnamon based” you said as you made your way to the kitchen, where a sweet cinnamon cake had just finished getting ready. “You know me well” she giggled and sat down, soon you brought her the sweet before sitting back down in front of her, eyes on the bills again.

“Managing bills?” She asked as she saw you nod and sigh, hands in your hair. “Yeah. I’m not really good at this stuff. It takes me hours and I’m glad I have company now” you said and tapped your pen on the table “don’t you have anyone to help you? Parents, friends, soulmate…” she said as she looked at you “well,” you sighed “parents are dead and I inherited this shop, friends I don’t really have any and soulmate… unknown” you shrugged “soulmate marks usually have a meaning in your life, but what does a piece of braided hair mean? I’ve never even braided my hair!” You chuckled at yourself before going back on your bills. “Random question uh, you remember that I told you I have a movie coming out?” You nodded at her. It was the movie where her mark was leaked, the same mark you had on your collarbone and that you didn’t know she had.

“Do you want to come with me to the premiere?”

———

Unlike your expectations you agreed. You were going to a Movie premiere, Jenna’s new movie. You didn’t usually get out of your eyes if not to go open your shop, you didn’t go to the movies as you had no one to go with but now you had her… and it wasn’t just a movie night… it was a freaking premiere. That day Jenna had her stylists and after you were given your dress for the night, make up artists started working on you, and you noticed that the first thing they did was use a really dense and strong foundation to cover your mark. “Why are you covering it?” You asked, looking at the woman holding the sponge. “Trust me, you don’t want anyone to see it” you didn’t know why that would be a problem, so you decided to stay quiet and not argue back. It took them A LOT both to cover the mark and actually apply normal make up, you had a very light skin color so it was hard finding a foundation color that even matched your skin.

When you were all ready and you got out of your apartment, you found a car that was already waiting for you, you were confused at first, but then you remembered Jenna telling you that she would come pick you up, so you quickly got in the car, where you saw her already smiling at you. Your Jaw nearly dropped seeing how pretty she looked, and you could see a small blush forming on her cheeks “you look… gorgeous” you said and took in her appearance and she giggled, gently punching your shoulder “shut up, have you seen yourself?” She said, making you blush “yeah I know I’m very pretty” you smiled and soon enough you had arrived at the premiere. You were about to get off the car when Jenna stopped you. “Wait, did the make up artists cover your mark?” She asked slightly moving your dress away from your shoulder so she could see if it was covered.

“Yeah yeah, they covered it, why is it so important?” Jenna wanted to reply, and you saw her hesitate, her mouth opening and closing continuously before she eventually sighed and shook her head. “Nothing, you’ll see later” you nodded in confusion and got off the car with her, flashes and cameras immediately pointed at the both of you as pictures were being taken. Surprisingly enough, you didn’t mind all this attention. You knew that this would be a great occasion to sponsor your bakery, even though it was already known pretty well. A few of the actors recognized you from your shop and form the TV spot and instagram posts about your bakery, you were more than happy to hear their opinion on your shop and you politely invited them to come over some times to try your specialties for a lower price. You were thriving anyway, so a lower price would mean nothing.

After Jenna was taken A LOT of pictures, it was finally time for you to get into the theatre and actually watch the movie. It started off amazing, Jenna’s acting was fantastic and you were stunned by both her beauty and how good she was at acting. She often turned around to see you with your jaw dropped open at her job, or maybe at how pretty she looked, or maybe both?

However, at one particular point of the movie, Jenna pur her hand on your arm, her eyes not trailing away from the screen. “Here it comes, look look” she said, it was the scene where her soulmate mark was getting revealed. A piece of braided hair on her right collarbone… same as you. As soon as it was revealed, she looked at you, only to see you… asleep. You had fallen asleep, and Jenna didn’t know how to react. You didn’t see her mark, you didn’t know she was your soulmate.

Jenna woke you up at the end of the movie, she didn’t speak a word to you if not just to tell you “we’re leaving” and “get in the car.” Admit it, you were kinda scared and felt like you were a kid who had just gotten in trouble and waiting for your mother to scold you. You didn’t know where you were going but you assumed you were going back to her apartment when she took out the keys to it from her purse. “Jenna, will you tell me what’s going on?” You asked her for the thousand time in 15 minutes. “Will you be quiet for just a minute?” Jenna asked, she was mad, but still being polite. “Are you seriously mad because I fell asleep? Jeez, I was exhausted! It’s not like I decided to fall asleep” you chuckled and didn’t even realize that you had gotten into her apartment.

You tried to complain yet once more after she didn’t give you a reply, but suddenly you were in her arms and you felt her lips on yours, it was all so sudden, so fast. You liked her that way, you really did but she never gave you any sign of liking you back… well, until now. “Jen-“ you said in between kisses, your hands on her waist and you didn’t know if you should bring her closer or push her away, ask her for some kind of explanation. You had questions, you really did and that’s why you pushed her away. “Jen, what’s the meaning of this?” You asked, you were still relatively close and the smell of her perfume was filling your nostrils, “(Y/N)… you’re my soulmate” she nearly whispered, and you looked at her in confusion. “What? But in the movie you had another mark-“ “the movie, (Y/N)” she interrupted you “there was a scene that you didn’t see, because you had fallen asleep, where my real mark was revealed”

You were even more confused now, your thoughts weren’t making any sense, and the only wan that had some was “show me” you said, in a few seconds Jenna took your hand and brought you to her bathroom, she took some lotion and wipes and cleaned the make up away from her collarbone, a piece of braided hair appearing as a soulmate mark. You were shocked, you were processing too many things at once and you were confused, considering that you had woken up not too long before.

“You’re my-“ you gulped. “I’m your…” Jenna giggled and you furrowed your brows. “Yes, we are soulmates” you took a few more seconds to process the new pieve of information, but when you did you walked closer to her, brought her close to you from her hips and pressed your lips against hers, and you felt a really satisfying cry come out from her. You were finally hers… she was finally yours. Nothing else mattered now, just the two of you.

You wished that the kiss could last forever, but eventually air was needed and you pulled away, being just a few inches away from each other you just smiled lovingly. “Why a piece of braided hair, tho?” You asked, your hand gently caressing her cheek. “I didn’t know until a few days before I met you… I got a new role, for a Netflix show” she whispered and looked at you. “And what is it?” You asked her.

“Wednesday Addams”

[slackville-records]

“They're selling postcards of the hanging

They're painting the passports brown

The beauty parlor is filled with sailors

The circus is in town

Here comes the blind commissioner

They've got him in a trance

One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker

The other is in his pants

And the riot squad they're restless

They need somewhere to go

As Lady and I look out tonight

From Desolation Row.

Cinderella, she seems so easy

‘It takes one to know one,’ she smiles

And puts her hands in her back pockets

Bette Davis style

And in comes Romeo, he's moaning,

‘You belong to me I believe.’

And someone says, ‘You're in the wrong place, my friend

You'd better leave.’

And the only sound that's left

After the ambulances go

Is Cinderella sweeping up

On Desolation Row.

Now the moon is almost hidden

The stars are beginning to hide

The fortune-telling lady

Has even taken all her things inside

All except for Cain and Abel

And the hunchback of Notre Dame

Everybody is making love

Or else expecting rain

And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing

He's getting ready for the show

He's going to the carnival tonight

On Desolation Row.

Ophelia, she's 'neath the window

For her I feel so afraid

On her twenty-second birthday

She already is an old maid

To her, death is quite romantic

She wears an iron vest

Her profession's her religion

Her sin is her lifelessness

And though her eyes are fixed upon

Noah's great rainbow

She spends her time peeking

Into Desolation Row.

Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood

With his memories in a trunk

Passed this way an hour ago

With his friend, a jealous monk

Now, he looked so immaculately frightful

As he bummed a cigarette

Then he went off sniffing drainpipes

And reciting the alphabet

You would not think to look at him

But he was famous long ago

For playing the electric violin

On Desolation Row.

Dr. Filth, he keeps his world

Inside of a leather cup

But all his sexless patients

They are trying to blow it up

Now his nurse, some local loser

She's in charge of the cyanide hole

And she also keeps the cards that read

‘Have Mercy on His Soul’

They all play on the penny whistle

You can hear them blow

If you lean your head out far enough

From Desolation Row.

Across the street they've nailed the curtains

They're getting ready for the feast

The Phantom of the Opera

In a perfect image of a priest

They are spoon-feeding Casanova

To get him to feel more assured

Then they'll kill him with self-confidence

After poisoning him with words

And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls

‘Get outta here if you don't know’

Casanova is just being punished for going

To Desolation Row.

At midnight all the agents

And the superhuman crew

Come out and round up everyone

That knows more than they do

Then they bring them to the factory

Where the heart-attack machine

Is strapped across their shoulders

And then the kerosene

Is brought down from the castles

By insurance men who go

Check to see that nobody is escaping

To Desolation Row.

Praise be to Nero's Neptune

The Titanic sails at dawn

Everybody's shouting

‘Which side are you on?’

And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot

Fighting in the captain's tower

While calypso singers laugh at them

And fishermen hold flowers

Between the windows of the sea

Where lovely mermaids flow

And nobody has to think too much

About Desolation Row.

Yes, I received your letter yesterday

About the time the door knob broke

When you asked me how I was doing

Was that some kind of joke?

All these people that you mention

Yes, I know them, they're all quite lame

I had to rearrange their faces

And give them all another name

Right now I can't read too good

Don't send me no more letters no

Not unless you mail them

From Desolation Row.”

Photo in Scotland, by Barry Feinstein (1966)

[aclowntiny]

hi!! I know you said soul exchanges weren't necessary for requests, but I'm more than willing to give mine up for this one because it's a universe I adore

superhero!ateez meeting reader. who or what the reader is? entirely up to you 👀👀👀 (the possibilities are endless omg)

((also plz I've been binging all of your writing because it's just so amazing. the cute stuff just gives me lil butterflies and the fuzzies))

yELLS you’re the sweetest actually 🫶🏻 trying to balance all of my stuff & writing, but hopefully what I have out isn’t the last of the butterflies 🦋 & fuzzies I’ll be giving you 🥰 also this is such a good AU idea??? OMG not me spending forever thinking about their powers 🫣 tried not to just drop them directly into famous heroes’ roles… but Yunho HAD to be spiderman & I will not apologize 😤😝 also, I’d be down to do a part 2 for sure hehe

Warnings: some gun/minor violence/death references, some blood, suggestive comment(s), some pain/peril for Reader, long post lol

Meeting Superhero!Ateez

Hongjoong

Magic was not something to be tarried with. It was not a substance one could bend to their will, it was an art and a fickle one at that.

No one understood that better than a person who wasn’t meant to have it in the first place. He hadn’t been tricked into selling his soul, lost himself in some foolish, evil deal, no. Oh, no.

He’d gone and died.

It had felt just like blacking out when he’d been hit, coming to like the collision was barely beyond a concussion. But the world wasn’t the world when Hongjoong awoke.

There was no sun, no plants, only twisted, dead roots, and the people passing by him little more than glowing wraiths, some looking more human than others. His first reaction was to hold his hands before his eyes, exhaling in relief at the sight of their flesh. Except it felt like his ribcage had shrunk; he was unable to get as much air in or out as usual, every fight for air shallowed.

“What’s happening? Where am I?”

“This is the Underworld,” a low voice replied from behind him, sending him shooting up to his feet and turning to face its owner.

A woman perhaps twice his age, one draped in loose black veils falling around the tight shadowy raiment she wore. Her hair like emerald flame wreathing an expression of dark curiosity, like Hongjoong were a bug she hadn’t decided if she was annoyed by.

He was confused, but not afraid. “Well, I want out. There was so much I was in the middle of out there. I can’t lose it all in some accident. I can barely breathe down here!”

The woman chuckled deeply. “Getting sent back is no simple task. We do not idly accept mistakes.”

“Isn’t there something I can do?” Hongjoong urged, stepping forward and gazing into the woman’s blazing green eyes.

“You will never be fully living again. To return is to become a conduit of the Underworld.”

“Will I be a ghost?”

“No, but your humanity will never fully be restored. Death’s connection is inescapable. A part of you will forever be tied to us. Is this what you wish?”

Hongjoong had a career up there. Friends who weren’t ghosts. A hard drive full of projects. A distinct lack of green flame littering the ground. Music. Fashion. Whatever life he could have. Breath in his lungs. The words escaped his shallow chest so quickly he barely realized he’d spoken them. “Yes, it is.”

The deal was sealed willingly and the Underworld faded away, the final sight in Hongjoong’s eyes those points of green burning into his soul.

~

Nothing seemed different when breath rushed fully back into his heaving lungs or when he crawled from the wreckage of his car. His feet still hit solid ground as he walked back to his apartment under the night sky.

And the next day when he was yanked into an alley by two dark figures, his heart sure beat. And when they, speaking of him being the one they were sent for, raised knives, surely it was a one-way ticket out of his second life. Maybe he’d be like a cat, get nine…

All of the stress, every endorphin pumped through Hongjoong’s newly-reanimated body, dropped from him like sweat and arced out as green flame.

The cloaked assailants recoiled at the flame, cursed as glowing forms rose from it. Two of them little more than skeletons, one of them much more humanoid. More like the wraiths Hongjoong saw. More like the Emerald Lady herself. He couldn't help recoiling himself, glancing down again at his hands in disbelief. That was of his making?

The duo of skeletons lashed out first, parrying dagger with sword. You sealed the deal, slamming the butt of your polearm down upon the concrete and sending cracks erupting across the charcoal grey. Beneath their staggered feet, a fissure opened up, sending the men plummeting to some unknown doom.

And with that, you turned to Hongjoong, head cocked with interest. "You're going to be hunted from now on."

He took a deep breath, balled his hands into fists. "What did she do to me?"

"Why do you think she let you go so easily? You're the next Crane."

Tempting was it to look away from the burning glow of your eyes, so similar to the ones who bore him half-escape. Hongjoong wasn't the sort to give in, though. "What does that mean?"

"You were never meant to come to the Underworld, even witness it. Whatever your memories tell you, that was no ordinary accident you were in."

Seonghwa

When you first saw him, sparks flew. Literally.

You’d been focused on the mission at hand, hovering above what you hoped was the main jet for infiltration when a burst of the most beautiful glittering energy sparked before you, wavering like the Aurora Borealis at the edges as it struck open the adjacent craft. It was enough to shake you from the crosshairs haze of disabling anything, stealing your gaze over to the sweeping flight of a black-haired man in a dashing caped suit of violet and silver.

Stories of such a man had reached your ears. “You’re the one they call Cosmos, aren’t you?” You called, mirroring the smile that rose to his lips.

He nodded. “And you must be Depth Charge.”

“I will have you know that that was not my first choice,” you replied as you sent a pulse echoing through the jet’s steel, “or my choice at all. It barely makes sense. I go up, not down.”

Cosmos chuckled at that. His eyes sparkled like the stars in his little energy burst trick, giving him an air of innocence despite his trim figure, the way he sailed through the sky in that l roguish suit. Maybe this was going to be a fun fight after all.

He swerved narrowly past a barrage of jet-fire. “Maybe we should talk when we’re not, you know, attempting to prevent the theft of confidential technology?”

"You're no fun," you mock-scoffed, smirking and boosting yourself to the next jet with a pulse of energy.

"And you're not the one getting shot at!" He fired back, blasting more crackling, star-studded energy at the next barrage before ducking below the shrapnel.

"Yeah, yeah, just come back me up, I see our guy," you urged him, crawling to the top of the jet and focusing the waves you felt into a bladelike space.

The hole had just been cut open when Cosmos swooped in next to you. He was somehow taller than you'd pictured once you saw him up close, serious expression completely changing his bearing. You studied his profile for a few seconds before sliding in through your entry hole legs first. Boots hitting hard floor with a wince-inducing jolt up your ankles, you readied another sonic blade and crept closer to the cockpit. Some shuffling at your back told you Cosmos followed close behind.

Two goons rose from their seats at the sight of you, landing a couple of punches to both of you and even managing to knock you over before you sent their inertia right back at them, slamming them against the wall as you held your surely-bruised jaw. For all his spark, Cosmos held his own in hand-to-hand combat. Well, relatively speaking. He ended up knocking his opponent out with a surprising roundhouse kick. You smiled again, giving a shake of your head.

"What?"

"Extra," you chuckled.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he replied, extending an arm to the cockpit door, "would you like to do the honors?"

"Thank you, my good man," you humored him, peeling open the door to meet with a faceful of gun barrels.

"I would stay back if I were you," the head thief remarked. Geez, was the guy reading an old movie script?

"I would stand down, actually, unless you'd like to sail through a hole torn in space," Cosmos told him, standing firm.

Your jaw dropped as you turned to face him. "You can do that?"

He gave you an urgent look.

"Sorry."

"You wouldn't risk letting this device go any more than I would," your enemy sneered, tugging his tie into place.

"I wouldn't have to. That's kind of the thing with being able to manipulate gravity. And yes, I can do that."

With that, he raised a hand and the jet flipped upside down. No, wait, you flipped upside down, drifting into the air against your own volition and flailing fecklessly for a few flaps before firing off a balancing pulse. The case drifted loosely in the air, into the hands of one of the gunners, and then right back out as Cosmos summoned it forth. The men opened fire instantly, bullets drifting slowly into air filling with faint whisps of smoke. Both of you banked hard left to dodge the fire, grunting as you hit the wall hard, but Cosmos stood firm again, offering you his hand. Taking it, you felt yourself hurtling through the air, a familiar sensation as speed returned, then the harsh blasts of wind upon leaving the hull.

"Sorry I stole your target," he told you as he drifted and you blasted away, gazes turning from the final jet's descent.

"Stole it?" You snorted, giving him a smile. "I believe that's called helping me. I'm not exactly in this for the brownie button."

"Oh, yeah, what was it again? For fun, right?"

"Something like that," you agreed.

"By the way, if we're going to be working together, we better know each other's names. Real names. My name is Seonghwa." And there were those stars again, lighting up his dark eyes in a manner far too on the nose for his hero name.

Heart fluttering, you gave him your name.

Yunho

Fortunate. That’s how many people described living in a city with a guardian. Hopeful, like if they were to get into trouble, that very man could, in the most literal sense, swoop in and rescue them. It was like magic how he appeared at the scene of wrongdoings- it only added to the feeling that he could see all that occurred through the hustle and bustle of the proverbial concrete jungle.

For Yunho, it was a lot of pressure. Phrases like the man, the myth, the legend hit a little too close to home. What if he were to let someone down? What if one day the mask got yanked off and all everyone saw was a fresh college graduate semi-desperately searching for a job to apply his major to? He didn’t always feel like a hero, just like a man doing his best to help out.

A man with wishes and dreams like any other. Oftentimes that wish was simply for life to be normal again. Like, he had been granted this amazing opportunity and yet it still fell like a burden across his heart sometimes. Especially when he looked at you.

You were his next door neighbor, the occupant of the apartment adjacent to his. Some days you both would be out on your balconies at the same time just staring out at city lights with your favorite drink in hand and you’d glance across the way and smile at each other. Start a little conversation. What do you think those people across the way are doing? Man, you wouldn’t believe this customer at work today. Whatcha got there, the usual?

It dawned on Yunho sometimes in some poetic delusion that you two took and occupied identical spaces, yet they would be wholly unknown to the other. Made reflections of someone still learned. It made him want to clean his apartment, frankly.

It put things into perspective about his powers, too. One time his spidey sense went off and he told you to step back, only for a bird poo to land exactly where your head would have been. As a jest you’d called him your hero, but the jolt that sent through his heart was anything but funny. Fuel, that’s what it was. Motivation to be the man, the myth, the legend, even in the smallest way.

~

The sense rang through his body, slid down his spine, mere seconds before the cry for help. Yunho would have recognized that voice anywhere.

As he launched a web out and swung closer to the sound, his heart pounded. It had never been anyone he knew before. It wasn’t supposed to be someone he knew. But it was you. Sailing between buildings, he stuck to the top of the nearest one, gazing down at the man before you and narrowing his eyes at his wild gestures. Without warning, though, he was grabbing you, pinning you to the wall and reaching a hand-

Thwip! A hand that was pinned to his side before it could even reach a weapon, touch you again. Swinging out from his viewpoint corner, Yunho slammed into the creep with his feet, kicking him off of you. In retaliation, he landed a punch with his good hand.

“What is this,” Yunho lowered his voice lest you recognize it as your neighbor’s, “‘I can take you with one hand tied behind my back’?”

Before the man could reply Yunho tied him down again, not wanting to stoop any closer to his level of brutality.

“I think I’ll have a word with the police on you. Heard they were investigating a bunch of abductions. It’s about time they got some practice in.”

Footsteps rang out as you ran to his side. “Spiderman! Thank you! I had no idea if anyone would hear me, but I should have known!”

“Hear you? I could feel you,” he replied, “well, er, that is, I… I have this, you know, danger sense and I-”

“Hey, it’s ok. I get it,” you said, wrapping your arms around him in a quick side hug, “I know you’re nothing like that guy. Your partner’s lucky to have a guy like you.”

“Well,” Yunho’s voice lowered even more as your eyes peered into his masked ones, as if you could see him, “I don’t actually have one. No one’s really into, uh, yeah.”

“Well, then, can I do this?” With two fingers, you motioned near the edge of his mask, sliding up its corner.

Yunho inhaled, eyes widening beneath their white affects. “Sure.”

Your fingers felt cool when they brushed the edges of his skin, staying true to their word as they peeled up the tiniest section of his mask. Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. It took everything in Yunho not to giggle then and there.

“Thank you again,” you breathed as you leaned back.

“No problem,” Yunho replied, “need a walk back home?”

You put a hand on your hip. “Since when does Spiderman walk?”

Chuckling, he shrugged. “Thought offering a swing might scare you.”

You smiled. “I’d be down.”

“Alright, then, hold on tight and name the address.”

Yeosang

It was just another day on the streets of Seoul. The day's bustle had taken its toll on the sidewalk, crowding the strip with bodies and voices. All Yeosang wanted was to get out of there. No sooner had that thought occurred, though, was he reflexively granted that wish: one of the multitudinous passersby careened sideways into him, and in his startlement he’d disappeared entirely.

Cursing internally, he searched for witnesses, sighing with relief at the simple alley he’d unthinkingly sent himself to. Premature relief, for as he turned to leave said alley, there you were standing as if frozen in a bend over a trash can, eyes wide as saucers. He felt his own eyes reflexively widen, resisting every impulse to disappear again and leave you just wondering if you’d gone crazy, never to see him again in a city that large.

A smile spread across your face. “That was awesome! Dude, you just teleported!”

“No, I didn’t,” he deadpanned, taking a few steps toward the alley opening.

“Ok, gaslighter.”

Yeosang stopped dead in his tracks, turned to fix an eye upon you again, sighed. “You understand what a big secret you just witnessed?”

Straightening, you shot him a finger gun. “So you did teleport?”

“Yes, I did. I know how this works,” Yeosang answered, “what will it take for you to keep quiet?”

“Are you a superhero?” You asked, skipping over a scattering of alley trash to move to his side.

“I-” Yeosang sighed. Most days he felt more cursed than heroic. Burdened with secrecy and threats to all who stood for differences, deviations of any kind. But a mutation like his? Inherently greater safety than most challengers to Seoul folk. Dodging the proverbial bullet. He’d managed to teleport a woman who jumped off a building and have a conversation with her. Weeks later. She saw him again, said she considered him her hero. Humbling to say the least. After the long pause, he swallowed. “I try.”

“That’s so cool! What you need is a sidekick.”

“I’m not exactly spiderman,” he replied sheepishly.

Your eyes darted briefly away, then back to his. “Home base?”

“I mean, I live somewhere already, but-”

“No, no,” you cut him off, waving a hand, “I mean like a secret hideout where you can conduct your operations and keep your research with your…administrative assistant.”

“Ok,” Yeosang chuckled, “that’s a pretty clever workaround for ‘sidekick’. But you have to realize people like me aren’t exactly caped crusaders. It’s not an organized thing, I don’t have a danger sense, I just…help where I can.”

At that, you nodded, eager expression finally sobering a bit. “I know. I had a friend whose family attacked him over his powers. He barely made it out of there. I don’t even know where he is now. I guess I just want a better face for you guys. Maybe I just want to make a hero.”

Oh. Yeosang was not expecting that. His eyes widened, softened, blinked. “It’s a nice thought, but maybe let’s start small.” A part of him couldn’t believe he was even implying an agreement, but he’d been alone for so long. Alone wanting to believe someday the world would change.

“Like some cameras? A red-string sort of situation on local crime? Bullet dodge training?”

“I, uh, I think I’ve got the last one covered,” Yeosang replied, putting his hands in his pockets and finally shuffling toward the alley horizon, squinting as he crossed the sun’s threshold.

“You’ve been in a shootout?” You gasped, following him with a hand out over your wide eyes.

“Shh,” he hushed you, glancing back and forth at the thankfully empty street, “I told you! I try to help where I can. Even if it means making myself a target. I’m much harder to hit than the usual robbery victim.”

“This is so cool. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Yeosang.”

You gave him your name, glanced back at him from the peripheries of his vision. “They ever give you a nickname?”

“They usually just say I’m like trying to hit a ghost.”

“Ghost,” you murmured, “that could work.”

“Maybe it could,” Yeosang murmured back, smiling faintly into your wide grin, “maybe.”

San

Most of the other workers thought you were too young. You looked more the age of the test subjects, they said, despite you denying any presence of the mutagens. All you wanted was to understand them, just like anybody else. After all, harnessing the genetic component that allowed adaptation that fast had both amazing and terrifying implications for humanity. Implications not lost on the subjects themselves. It was for that reason that you were assigned to the one dubbed safest for beginners.

He was a young man about your age, a man with well-sculpted features and a contagious smile-on the rare occasion you got to see it. It wasn’t a happy life, after all, in a laboratory quarters, even if they did “simulate comfort”. It was a lie and everyone knew it- those were no apartments. They were cells. It was no way to live, and there you were working there and contributing to it.

Well, sort of. “Ok, I know they say no pins in the walls, but I keep hearing how the guy who likes to give himself bear claws has practically scratched the entire things off his room, so seems a bit hypocritical. I got your old Day6 poster,” you told your subject, holding up a few pushpins in one hand and his poster in the other.

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble?” San asked, grin emphasizing his charming dimples.

“If they fire me, they lose the latest honors geneticist, so I don’t think they want to risk it over a poster.”

“Good point,” he conceded, accepting your gift and crossing the room to pin it on the wall nearest his bed one corner at a time.

His motions were careful, calculated- far less erratic than many of the other subjects’. Subjects. You kept using that word. Dehumanizing. Was that the end goal?

“Alright, what do you think?”

San’s voice cut through your thoughts, directing your attention to the band now displayed upon his wall. One small addition and the room had that much more personality. That much more San.

You smiled. “I like it.”

He nodded toward all the guys in the picture. “Who’s your favorite?”

“I dunno,” you mused, pointing, “that one’s pretty handsome.”

“Young K? Oh, everyone tells me I look like him,” San grins.

“No, they don’t!” You tease. “You would’ve just said that about anyone I called handsome!”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “gotta have some fun before my daily blood sample, huh?”

Smiling sadly, you just nodded, stepping back to take up your syringe tray from where you’d set it on his bookshelf.

~

Shrill warnings echoed throughout every corner of the alternately dimming and brightening laboratory, lights flashing their own alarm as your feet struck the smooth, institutional stained concrete. There’d been a containment breach, an immediate interruption to your protein synthesis as battle stations rang.

Restrain. That was the order. As if you could do anything against a guy with bear claws or venomous barbs or someone with the agility of a cheetah. That was why your company wanted the source so badly- super soldiers and all that. Always soldiers. Never curing wounds. Never jellyfish immortality. None of the subjects had thought of that one, either, as far as you knew, but then you’d yet to witness anyone using the mutagen’s power.

What could you do? There was a taser in your pocket, a small standard-issue you’d received in case of this very unlikely scenario. Restrain was about the only chance you had, but the thought of running into the breach barely crossed your mind amidst the chaos of scrambling compatriots and banging doors as the mass escape began.

All you could think of was reaching Quarters 314. San’s room. It was insane, it was stupid, it was the absolute irrevocable death of your career there- but then again, so would all the subjects escaping be.

If a bunch of the most powerful mutants you housed were escaping already, you wanted San to have freedom. Every cent you had, you’d bet that he could walk back out onto the streets and never hurt a single soul. That’s why they gave him to you in the first place- he was complacent. Kind.

304. The moment the door entered the haze of your vision, you slammed your key card on the lock sensor pad and tumbled in.

San was hunched near the doorway. “What’s going on, did someone get hurt?”

“They’re escaping. All the strongest ones,” pausing for a heartbeat, you reconsidered your words, thought about how every man and woman in the building had the same skills, “well, all the fighters. Come on.”

His eyes, shining as ever, widened. “Are we evacuating?”

“No,” you shook your head, grabbing his hand, “you’re leaving.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This might be your one chance to get back out there and live. I’ve been coming in here every day for weeks. You don’t deserve to live in a cell. As badly as I wanna know how you work, this isn’t a life for anyone. Do you want out?” You asked, tone firm despite your frantic heart, searching his eyes.

San nodded. “Ok. Thank you. I can get us out.”

You frowned. “Us?”

“If this is all on the cameras you stick everywhere, they won’t be your biggest fans anymore.”

“Good point. Are you going to…” You trailed off, unsure how to broach the subject.

He hummed in response, those soft eyes you’d seen every day hardening like never before and that sharp jaw setting. He squared…braced himself.

“You don’t like doing it, do you?” The question came out of your mouth before it had fully entered your brain, but to your relief he didn’t look annoyed.

“Depends on what it is. You haven’t seen it, have you?”

You shook your head.

“Well, sorry this is your first time,” San said, and with that, his shoulders squared again, his head falling as if struck down.

Subconsciously, you reached out hands at his pained expression, but what could you do? It was all inside him.

At least at first. Soon, the slick fabric of his moisture-wicking regulation top was splitting, bursts of blood spraying as new bone and tissue arose, tendrils that solidified into sharp flesh-toned blades before bursting into feathers. Tears fell from San’s eyes as he shakily rose back to his feet. He’d just grown wings.

And as if all that blood and tissue and the sheer amount of development occurring over mere seconds was little more than a strenuous workout, he wiped his brow with his left hand and extended his right.

“Alright, let’s get out of here.”

Mingi

Sometimes he wondered why he was chosen.

What it was about him that another race from a different planet would think he had what it took to bear and protect one of their greatest treasures? He’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe the right place. The demand had been simple- keep it safe until others arrive for it.

The crash had happened when he was home, a sound so deafening it was like the world was ending. Shaking as he was, Mingi had run outside into the rush of the night wind, out along the smoke trail in the woods to see if whatever catastrophe had had survivors, if victims. And survivors there were- ones a bit odd-looking. Almost human save for the violet hue of their skin, the pointed tips of their ears, the vertical slits of eyelids revealed when the woman’s visor fell from across her eyes. Their skin felt different, too, as Mingi pulled them from beneath crushed metal and fire, firm and with smoothness gently interrupted by texture he could only describe as like small scales.

They didn’t look happy with him, but still accepted his help stumbling between trees and back into his home. They understood bandages, accepted beds. Swore Mingi to secrecy even as they thanked him days later. Be it technology or some uncanny occasion, they could speak to him. They could understand.

The mission they’d set out on was one of guardianship; the relic, something of myth, needed new housing and a new bearer.

“The one worthy will be selected,” the man told him in his deep, faintly accented hiss of a voice.

It was an imposition, sure. But how often did aliens land near one’s property guarding a weapon of legend? Mingi’s whole week had felt like a dream, and until he woke up the least he could do was deepen its lucidity.

“Can I see it?” He asked, peering up earnestly into their snakelike eyes from above the intricately carven and paneled box of steel with the most incredible iridescent shine he’d ever seen. Its contents had to be even more beautiful, right?

They watched, glanced down at the way his hands hovered reverently, stared back into his eyes.

“You are not of deceitful mind,” the woman replied.

“It is not out of depth that he welcomed strangers into his home,” the man shot back.

“No, it was out of kindness,” the woman insisted, waving a hand over the box, “as a reward, you may look upon the Heart of Steel.”

Gingerly, she traced some of the lines that Mingi had barely noticed with the tips of her long fingers, reaching beneath the bottom and holding her hands there until the top of the box simply floated a foot or two above the remainder, held by some microcosm gravity that drew a breath of awe from Mingi. Reflexively his fingers stretched toward the contents of the box, a smooth metal teardrop shape crafted from that same resplendent material.

Heat radiated from its small surface the moment he moved closer, sending him drawing back, but like a magnet it shot after him and into his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said, glancing at both of the beings who still hadn’t offered him names, “I swear I’m not doing this!”

“No,” the woman shook her head, snake-eyes wide, “you are being chosen.”

~

“And you expect me to believe this why?” You asked him, brow arched.

“Because,” Mingi put up his hands in defense, eyes scanning your form, “I didn’t even want to touch it! Why would I steal this thing I know nothing about?”

“Delskvlln was right. Not a deep thinker,” you commented.

“See? I know him! They ended up telling me their names! His wife was…er…Syssmerlyss? I am so sorry if I’m not pronouncing it correctly.”

“Well, the accent needs work, but I suppose Syssmerlyss was right- you have a certain kindness about you.” You took two steps closer to him, half-tapping, half-pushing him on the shoulder twice in a gesture that probably didn’t fully translate. “Come on, then, we have training to do.”

“Well,” he scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly, “sometimes the suit doesn't cooperate, but I think I’m starting to get pretty good with the gravity swords.”

“It gave you the swords?”

“Heh, uh…yeah?”

Wooyoung

It was hard sometimes, using such abilities for good. Had he so chosen, Jung Wooyoung could have become a world leader, a dictator even. But that thought terrified him. The pressure sounded unbearable. No fun, either, not that former friends hadn’t tried to convince him countless times to use his gifts for that, too. He preferred the traditional methods of seduction, were he to desire employing any at all.

Accessing minds was Wooyoung’s least favorite skill, in fact. Seeing and hearing thoughts was crushing, uncomfortable, an unfair dominance. Bouncing twice as high as a person should be able to with a force field, though? Making things levitate out of people’s hands? Bee’s knees.

He'd been a rogue in the city, just a wanderer who did what he could to help others when he wasn’t working. Flinging the gun out of an armed robber’s hand, blocking bullets with force fields, even fighting back when he had to.

They just didn’t learn. He couldn’t help scoffing a bit and teasing them when they fired at him.

“Now, gentleman, isn’t this a bit insulting?” He’d ask, casually flipping a hand as the bullets ricocheted and buried themselves harmlessly into walls. “And besides, I don’t want to hurt you. I just think this doesn’t belong to you.”

Cue him summoning the stolen money or goods right from their indignant hands and, eventually, back to the rightful owner. After convincing them all to stand still with their hands in the air, of course.

There had just begun whispers of his presence, trepidation at the prospect of an illegal smuggle or a robbery for the first time, a name for him emerging when he faced the first true opposition.

“So, you’re the Vigilante everyone’s talking about, are you?”

“Is that what they call me?” Wooyoung shot back.

“Guess you aren’t in it for the fame,” you snickered, stepping further from the shadows of the doorway, a tube-shaped device Wooyoung didn’t recognize in your hand.

“What do you want with me?” He asked, glancing at it and crossing his arms.

“Ideally, you to get out of the way,” you replied, flicking something on the device and sending it unfolding with large cracks, climbing up your forearm like a mechanical caterpillar and glowing at the tip once your hand was completely enveloped.

“Out of the way of wh-” He didn’t have time to complete his sentence before a bolt of energy arced his way, his instincts barely kicking in in time for him to launch away from it.

Putting up a force field, he stood his ground, staring at you with new interest. “You’re part of the weapons racket, aren’t you?”

“A plus, genius,” you replied, smug satisfaction glinting in your eyes, “the city isn’t going to need you much longer.”

“You’re right,” he said, “because I’m about to kick your ass.”

Another bolt of purple energy came at him, shattering the faint glow of his field. Wooyoung’s jaw dropped, but he quickly righted it as he moved closer. It felt like his whole body clenched as his energy focused on peeling the device off. You winced in pain and jumped back as the gun fired an erratic shot that rained chunks of ceiling down behind Wooyoung’s back, sending a little lightning strike of guilt across his heart, but he kept at it, sending each piece yanked off to your side to fortify the restraints he was making. You struggled, panting and tugging as he worked, kicking aside his work and scrambling toward a panel on the wall. With each button you pressed, Wooyoung slid your feet out from under you, but in the end he heard the dreaded activation beep. The look you turned and shot him was a mix of defiance and resignation that shook him to his core and froze him to the spot. He didn’t even stop you as you ran away, just slid the nearest couple pieces of your contraption towards himself, grabbed them, and made his own flight out before the place blew.

Shielding himself from the heat and sound, he knelt and examined the scraps. Luck was on his side, it seemed; he’d gotten the chunk bearing manufacturer and serial number info. For the first time in his life, Wooyoung wasn’t going to just deflect and run- he was going to chase you down.

Jongho

It was cloudy. It was almost always cloudy. Not exactly ideal conditions for your lot, but what were you going to do? Couldn't exactly bottle sunshine, as they said.

Not that they weren't probably trying. Scientists had gone positively psycho in your city, the hottest trend being harnessing the elements. Success rate? You, at least. It wasn't supposed to be you. Maybe not anyone, for that matter, but the spores ended up in your body regardless. You'd heard that they were supposed to be used or they'd take over, but the call to do so was strong regardless.

Trees planted on the sidewalk suddenly bloomed and flourished. Green sprouted in odd hosts within the concrete jungle. Flowers out of sidewalks and the like. Anything to combat what the rest of humanity was doing, right?

That was all it had been until someone saw you. An older man, betrayingly grandfatherly, began a mild conversation that quickly deepened, progressed to him requesting your help in an investigation on the very place that exposed you to their research.

"Why me? I barely spent any time there. I wasn't the test subject, it was an accident!" Never had you realized you were afraid to return until it was asked of you. The infection was hell until it stuck, pain all over your body like you'd never known, violent reactions as your body writhed and tried again and again to reject the foreign invasion.

Then poof, there you were as the city's chlorophyll ninja.

"Because you have been inside. You've visited once, why not again? They'll never suspect a thing, and if they do, you're armed with something much greater than what I got."

"Oh," you raised a brow, "so this is personal?"

"It's beyond that," the main replied quickly, gaze darting from yours, "but yes. I'm getting older. This sort of mission is getting more difficult. But more than anything they would recognize me in a heartbeat, and I didn't exactly quit on good terms."

"I'm not in this fight. I didn't ask for any of this," you repeated, "and now you want me to go in there blind and alone? Maybe I don't want to be your recon pawn."

The old man waved a hand, the one that wasn't gloved. "You wouldn't be alone, poor dear. You think you're the only escaped lab rat? I used to think I was." Grabbing the hem of his pant leg, he pulled it up to reveal a very elaborate cybernetic prosthesis. "Both are different. But no, I've kept tabs on the place for a long time. Found another much like you."

With that, he motioned to the doorway with his free hand. Guess you could figure out why the other was covered. As your gaze traced the man's one organic limb, your eyes fell to the doorway, where a young man about your age stepped out.

His appearance was pretty innocuous. His hair was short and dark, his expression stony but his features kind. His broad shoulders were draped with a long coat that swayed near the base of his boots, and beneath that he wore a dark turtleneck and jeans.

"How do you do, Neo?" You quipped as your eyes scanned his form.

To your great surprise, that 'mission go' look on his face melted rapidly into a wide grin, a chuckle. Guy had a nice smile.

"It's Jongho. That was good, though." He nodded down toward you. "Was the green intentional?"

You yourself glanced down at your outfit, and you'd be darned. You were wearing green. Apparently this Jongho fellow knew more about you than you did of him. You were surprised he didn't comment on the potted plant necklace you'd gotten from Etsy- the one you'd nicknamed 'ammo'.

"No, but I guess fate has a sense of humor. Do you have beef with FTR Labs too?"

Jongho nodded. "They have my brother."

At that, your heart dropped. Just by the man's tone of voice you could tell he was trying to be brave, but he didn't want to go back to FTR any more than you did. Want, no. Need? Yes. Maybe the old man was right- maybe they were taking their experiments too far. You hadn't even seen what they'd done to Jongho yet. If it had been a fight for his body, too, let alone his brother's.

"Alright," you nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets, "I'll go with you. Do you have a plan?"

"Of course. My main goal is to disrupt their comms first."

"Classic. How do you propose we do that?"

"I figured a little lightning would do the trick."

"Excuse me?"

Wordlessly, Jongho stared at you, his eyes almost glazing over as gusts of wind rolled through the room and clouds drifted over his head, spattering his black-clad shoulders with tiny droplets of rain. Electricity arced between two of the clouds, light flashing like tiny, branched white roots as it traveled down his cheek, through his arm and into his hand as if illuminating his very veins. Harnessing the elements.

Nothing could have stopped your jaw from dropping, but as you righted yourself, you couldn't help smiling with a strange rush of anticipation. "Hey, if you're the one that's been keeping it so cloudy these days, can you at least rain a little on my friends?" And with that, you let ammo grow out, engulfing your upper body with the comforting hug of leafy vines.

"Kids," the old man shook his head, "always showing off."

[akookminsupporter]

The attacks against Jungkook as an artist and as a person by Solos have gone too far.

What is currently happening in the fandom is what I feared would happen once jungkook officially debuted as a solo artist, I thought I was overreacting but I realised I was underreacting. It scares me to think what will happen when he finally releases his album.

I understand many people's annoyance with how the agency and the company have handled the members' solo debut. I understand the frustration and anger, but what I will never understand is the hatred they are throwing at the members directly. In this case Jungkook.

I have received Asks for a few days now accusing Jungkook of selling his soul, of using payola to be number one everywhere. I have received Asks accusing him of being selfish, envious, a nepo baby. Ignorance will always be bold, right? But if it's the artist's fault, then Jimin is to blame for everything he was accused of during his album promotions and how he got X benefits and Hobi didn't, for example? So RM is to blame for having so much hype and content for his album? So Hobi is to blame that his debut was at a major festival and everyone else's wasn't? So Yoongi is to blame that Jimin's album promotions only lasted for 1 month? If we're going to apportion blame then let's be fair, shall we? Or they don't like it that way. The problem is Jungkook.

The problem has always been Jungkook, let's not lie to ourselves. He has always been accused of being the favourite, the one with the most lines in the songs, the one who always takes the lead in everything, thus demonstrating their ignorance or lack of understanding of how the group dynamics work and what position everyone plays within the group. Ignoring all these complaints what the members themselves have said about Jungkook's role within the group. But it is also true that these people don't care what their supposed favourites say, they obviously know more than they do and, moreover, they know that they say these things because the agency forces them to and they don't care that about these they are reducing their favourites to mere puppets who don't know how to defend themselves and who don't know what they want, let alone what they deserve. For all this, is why I blame the Solos, in case it is not clear.

Back to the present time. Jungkook's song is being pushed on the radio, he hasn't had much trouble with playlisting or even YouTube views so it obviously means they are paying for all that to happen and therefore it's all his fault. Jungkook does have control of absolutely everything that happens in his project, but the other members had no control over things that other fans claimed their favourites didn't have. Double standards will always reign in this fandom.

The problem is also Scooter. I think we all hate Scooter, on that one we can all agree, but because scooter is actively involved in Jungkook's debut it means there has been fraud. It means that Jungkook from bts, one of the most famous idols in the world, the one who generates the most views on his Wlives, the one who makes almost everything he wears immediately sell out agreed to pendejo Scooter using payola to push his song because Jungkook was afraid he wouldn't do so well. The dozens of records he breaks and sets every time he releases something were not enough to assure him that he would do well with just the support of his fans. He needed help. That sounds about right, doesn't it? That makes total sense.

Common Sense is not a strong suit of Solos as far as I can see.

You can be upset that your favourite artist didn't get X benefits or help from the agency, and you can be upset that X member obviously suffered sabotage that his agency didn't seem to do anything about. You can get upset because for months you have been asking for X thing for your artist and nothing happens, but learn who you have to direct that annoyance to, it's not the artist, it's the agency. I don't doubt for a moment that the members are involved in many or almost all things concerning their debuts, Yoongi confirmed if I remember correctly but things about promotions of what is or isn't sent to radio, how playlists are handled on Spotify etc., I don't think they have any involvement in that. That's their agency's job, their company's job ergo they are the ones to blame, not the artist.

The sad part of all this is the insinuation that one of the members actively wanted to harm another. That there is envy or competition between them. I firmly believe that there is room for everyone in the industry because as solo artists their artistry is different.

I can be open to having these kinds of discussions on my blog as long as they are respectful, as long as your anger, your annoyance is directed at the right people. I will never allow insults towards one of the members, let alone Jungkook and Jimin. My blog is about the two of them so it is extremely presumptuous of you to think that I would allow my blog to be used to insult one of them. Any of the members really. Know your line and respect mine.

[aquamarine-v]

Hollywood Reporter - Sugizo interview (July 2023)

"Before the structures of civilization and society as we know them, from the so-called tribal or village stage, music was like a ritual to connect with gods and nature."

"I’m particularly drawn to esoteric Buddhism, which was influenced by Indian Hinduism. Sutras, the Quran, and mantras come from different religions, but they're similar in that they help people step into the truth through words and sounds. I am influenced by the aesthetic sense in religion and the sounds or words that emanate from the existence of the Divine."

"The structure we’re dealing with was created by capitalist society, which turned finance into its religion. It’s been over 300 years already, and I think this capitalist society has reached its limit. However, the older generations have grown complacent with this system and cannot change the world."

"THE INTERVIEW"—A Deep Dive into the Most Captivating Artists, Led by The Hollywood Reporter Japan's Editor-in-Chief

For the 1st edition of The Interview, a series that explores the most noteworthy artists in depth, SUGIZO takes the spotlight. Known not only for his music but also for his influence in fashion, social activism, and more, SUGIZO is an artist who conveys his message through various mediums. Editor-in-Chief Yamamoto delves into the core of his multifaceted expression, exploring the philosophy that shapes his life and creative pursuits.

In the second part, the focus shifts to his inner world—what SUGIZO aims to communicate through his music and the message he is willing to dedicate his life to delivering.

Yamamoto: I watched SUGIZO Quarter Century Festival 25th Anniversary Gig last year and felt the diversity in your live performances. It wasn’t just about the sound but about conveying what’s in your heart, and it felt like you were embodying true diversity. Even though there were various forms of expression like rock, jazz, and techno, I noticed a consistent message throughout. What is it that Sugizo wants to convey?

Sugizo: What I want to convey now is completely different from when I debuted. Honestly, you could say I was a different person back then. At the time, I was all about myself—completely consumed by my own ego and driven solely by the desire to climb higher. For better or worse, I was extremely hungry. By my mid-20s, I had achieved a certain level of results with things like stardom, chart success, and large audiences. But in the end, none of it left anything meaningful. Even after performing at Tokyo Dome or selling a million records, I didn’t feel the satisfaction I expected. To be honest, there was no sense of happiness at all. Gradually, I began to realize, “This isn’t what I truly want to do.”

My approach to expression began to change in the late 1990s. I started to feel a transformation—a desire to use my expression and awareness to reach people: my peers, my family, and even those in distant countries. Over the past 20 years, music has become a tool for me to express my belief that it resonates with the true nature of humanity, life, and the universe.

Yamamoto: I can feel the cry of your soul from your guitar. During your 25th-anniversary live, I felt like I was being sent into space, unable to tell which was up or down. There were also clear messages about war and the environment. Could you elaborate on this?

Sugizo: We can create the future with each of our consciousness and actions. I believe very few people, whether in Japan or globally, think that the world as it is now is in an ideal state. But it’s something we can change through our actions and consciousness. Unfortunately, the reality is that many people live in circumstances that are far from comfortable or satisfying—It can hardly be said that they are particularly happy or wealthy. And yet, it seems to me that many people don’t think, “Let’s change things for the better through our consciousness and actions.”

It doesn't matter whether you are famous or not, your occupation, or of course your race or ethnicity. With this consciousness, all divisions are meaningless. It is an action that anyone in the world can take, and it is something that everyone in the world wants.

No matter how unknown you are, no matter how powerless you think you are, there is a partner, family, parents, and children who love you. Every single person is born with inherent value. Conversely, everyone has the right to commit to the world and to influence it. I live every day with the belief that this is our purpose. I just happen to be a musician and an artist, but I think if I were in a completely different profession, I would still take the same actions and live by the same principles.

Yamamoto: What are the things you’re particularly committed to in your music production?

Sugizo: A technique I often use because I love it is field recording. I record the sounds of nature and blend them into my music. Even the meticulously crafted sounds of guitars or synthesizers created in the studio can be overpowered by the sound of water trickling in Yakushima. The energy of the sounds in nature is really strong, that sound alone can sometimes help your body feel at ease. It's like the sound is trying to return your body to a normal state. It's sound healing, isn't it? That's exactly what the album 『愛と調和』 (Love and Harmony) released at the end of 2020 was about, I wanted to blend the power of sound that affects the bodies of living things into my music. Ideally, I’d prefer to record not in urban areas like Tokyo but in the midst of untamed nature. Eventually, I plan to change my environment to make that happen.

Yamamoto: So, you’re saying that sound doesn’t just move the heart, but also directly affects living organisms?

Sugizo: Truly high-vibration sounds—sounds as pleasant as those of nature—can physically affect the human body. There are many perspectives on this, so I won’t claim I’m 100% theoretically correct, but there’s this concept that “water crystals are influenced by sound.” Water that is continuously exposed to high-energy sounds, gentle sounds, sounds filled with love, or loving words will form beautiful crystals when it crystallizes. Conversely, water that is continuously exposed to music or words filled with hatred and negative energy will form dirty, murky crystals.

Since humans are made up of 70% water, if we continue to listen to kind words and pleasant sounds, the water crystals inside our bodies should become beautiful. I believe that sound must have a positive physical effect. If someone hears words like “I love you” or “You’re amazing” continuously versus someone hearing words like “I hate you” or “I want to kill you,” it’s obvious whose mood and health would be better.

That said, my music doesn’t only express love and light. It also emits energy of madness and agonized cries. Both aspects are always present. Even if I cannot express my feelings through singing or lyrics, I believe that my sounds, compositions, and melodies carry energy beyond that, and I dedicate myself to music with that in mind.

Yamamoto: Your music often feels as if it’s painting visuals for the listener.

Sugizo: Sound influences the five senses. When you’re at a live performance, rave, or party, the excitement of moving your body and dancing can bring incredible relief. It shakes both your heart and body, scattering all the negative energy within you. It’s like purification. Even intense dancing or heavy, aggressive sounds aren’t inherently negative.

Of course, within the story of my music, there are anguished cries and anti-messages, but ultimately, I want you to be purified and enveloped in positive light. After releasing negativity through powerful sounds, I like to finish with melodies that feel like they’re descending from the heavens. That way, the sound permeates both the body and the heart. For me, it’s essential to perform sounds of stillness and silence at the end of an intense live performance.

Yamamoto: Thinking about it that way, it feels like a kind of ritual.

Sugizo: Music originally was that, wasn’t it? Before the structures of civilization and society as we know them, from the so-called tribal or village stage, music was like a ritual to connect with gods and nature. That may have been the primary reason it existed 3,000 or even 5,000 years ago. I play music with the belief that this is its most fundamental and essential purpose.

Yamamoto: I see. Music and religion seem to have a deeply interconnected relationship.

Sugizo: I’m particularly drawn to esoteric Buddhism, which was influenced by Indian Hinduism. Sutras, the Quran, and mantras come from different religions, but they're similar in that they help people step into the truth through words and sounds, I am influenced by the aesthetic sense in religion and the sounds or words that emanate from the existence of the Divine. Personally, I’m especially fond of *Kūkai. Love and Harmony was influenced by him as well.

*Kūkai, posthumously called Kōbō Daishi (弘法大師, "The Grand Master who Propagated the Dharma") Japanese Buddhist monk, calligrapher, and poet who founded Shingon, the Japanese branch of Vajrayana Buddhism.

Yamamoto: Finally, could you share what kind of "light" you see in the future?

Sugizo: In recent years, I’ve felt a deeper connection with children all around the world. Refugee children from the Middle East, and since last year, teenage refugees from Ukraine. Here in Japan, I often meet children from foster homes. I’ve also been connecting with high school students in Miyazaki through annual talks I give. They are more important to me than adults, because they are the key people who will create the next era.

Especially with LUNA SEA, there are many families who come to our concerts, and I see kids enjoying themselves with such radiant, shining faces. When I perform my music in front of high school or middle school students, they’re completely immersed, watching with incredible focus and trying to absorb everything. The idea that they might think, “We can build this world; we can change it”—that’s the greatest light to me. Whether it happens within my lifetime or not, I don’t know. Maybe the world will change for the better in an instant, or it may take 100 years.

Wars are still ongoing. People directly involved in conflicts like Ukraine and Russia are steeped in hatred and fear, but it’s impossible to believe they don’t all wish for peace. We need to shift away from these negative, militarized methods and focus on how we can change the world for the better as soon as possible. But honestly, adults aren’t going to change. Because war is the largest source of profit. It’s clear where the money flows, who benefits, and who suffers.

Yamamoto: What can be done to break that cycle?

Sugizo: The structure we’re dealing with was created by capitalist society, which turned finance into its religion. It’s been over 300 years already, and I think this capitalist society has reached its limit. However, the older generations have grown complacent with this system and cannot change the world. For children who question it, I hope they don’t just blindly follow the old methods without thinking. Instead, I want them to discern the true essence and truth of things, realize it, and take action.

I see the light in the current Gen Z and the even younger Alpha generation. As for people like me or the older generations who are nearing the end of their lives, we’ve had our time (laughs). I want to pass the baton to them as soon as possible. If I can become a cog in that process, it would be my honor.

[lovejustforaday]

2024 Year End List - #11

Samurai - Lupe Fiasco

Main Genres: Jazz Rap, Boom Bap

A decent sampling of: Lo-Fi Hip Hop, Abstract Rap, Conscious Rap

Lupe Fiasco is one of those artists that's been around forever ,that I always knew I would probably like, but had yet to check out any full-length projects from. That was, until this dropped and I saw that cover art and was like "fuck it, you got me".

But really, can we just appreciate that sick fucking cover art for a minute? Man's got serious taste.

Lupe was kind of an anomaly in the hip hop world when he made it on to the scene. Here's this nerdy, offbeat conscious male rapper from Chicago, with bars about respecting women, the kinda rapper who would've very rarely reached anything approaching his level of commercial success. But in the late 2000s, he proved that hip hop was already beginning to diversify its perspectives on what a successful rapper could look like. Like Ye (before he went all batshit anti-semite, anyway), Lupe paved the way for other colourful rappers who didn't fit into a very particular archetype of mythologized machismo.

But like I said, I'm not too familiar with the dude's actual back catalogue. To me, he's always just sorta been that relatively mainstream 2000s rapper that was a respectable cool guy. But now I'm kicking myself for it, cause the dude's got some mad bars to match his genuine nice guy persona.

Though it might sound odd given the warlike name and confrontational cover art, I'd honestly describe Samurai as a very comfy listen. It has that in-your-element, geeking out alone in your bedroom kind of vibe. The really breezy, downright sexy jazz rap beats go well with some very unabashedly verbose lyrics. Like a comic book come to life, this record is full of drama, bravado, and just some really cool shit.

I get from this record that Lupe Fiasco is a true logophile, and the man puts his heart and soul into his bars. It's a real pleasure to look up some of these lyrics and just read along, as you can palpably feel the man's passion for the pen oozing out of these songs.

Samurai is also a concept album. Lupe is apparently a long time fan of the late great soul singer Amy Winehouse, and a little known fact about the legend herself was that she originally wanted to be a famous rapper. The story of Samurai chronicles an alternative reality where Amy became a formidable battle rapper, and throughout the narrative he weaves, Lupe draws parallels with aspects of his own career as a rapper.

I'm tempted to say that, in the hands of a lesser artist, this could've been in poor taste, or even exploitative in some way. But Lupe makes it abundantly clear through his wordsmith on the record and in interviews just how much respect he has for Amy, and the project ends up being this really genuine and imaginative tribute that's honestly quite touching. If you're gonna do hero worship, then the one true right way to do it is to keep it classy AF like this project.

The eponymous opener "Samurai" is the album's biggest selling point. This track is a huge blast from the past, while simultaneously feeling so fresh and cutting edge. This is how you begin a story. I get hyped just thinking about that little saxophone riff that heralds the arrival of a truly seasoned master. The chorus was ripped directly from a voicemail left by a young Winehouse when she actually was a battle rapper. The song is such a genuine celebration of the artistry of rap to the point it almost brings a tear to my eye.

"Cake" is an infectiously rhythmic and braggadocious track about Amy's first battle rap victory. The hook on this one has gotten stuck in my head at least a dozen times in the last month.

"Palaces" is pure rainy evening jazz piano class. The lyrics are pensive, reflective, and bittersweet, pondering on legacy and the perpetual vulnerability of fame, with Fiasco pleading not to fall to its many trappings, which feels particularly grim in the context of the record's concept revolving around Winehouse, an individual who was very much hurt by the double-edged knife of success.

The record closes with "Til Eternity", where Lupe posits that art, or rather the process and the effort of making art, could immortalize us as human beings. The song has a splendid and humble kind of sound, as if taking in the simple beauty of life.

Apparently, a few tracks were cut from the record for the sake of making it more concise, and it definitely feels that way at just eight minutes and thirty tracks.I'm conflicted because I love what's here, and it does feel like the narrative comes to a satisfying end. But it also feels like Lupe really only scratched the surface of the concept and the themes he was trying to convey here. What we get is amazing, but it feels like its over all too soon.

Nevertheless, I'm still impressed with what we got. Moreover, Samurai's conception comes off so clean and effortless, despite the obvious blood and sweat that was put into these lyrics. The record tells a short story about two legends and does a fine job at it. This is a very easy listen that I'd gladly recommend as a gateway for anyone looking to get into more lyrically heavy, concept-driven hip hop records.

8/10

Highlights: "Samurai", "Palaces", "Cake", "Til Eternity"

FOR FANS OF: Be by Common Enter the Wu-Tang by Wu-Tang Clan

[flying-jukebox-01]

Bob Dylan - Desolation Row👍🎶

They're selling postcards of the hanging, they're painting the passports brown The beauty parlor is filled with sailors, the circus is in town Here comes the blind commissioner, they've got him in a trance One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker, the other is in his pants And the riot squad they're restless, they need somewhere to go As Lady and I look out tonight, from Desolation Row

Cinderella, she seems so easy, "It takes one to know one, " she smiles And puts her hands in her back pockets Bette Davis style And in comes Romeo, he's moaning. "You Belong to Me I Believe" And someone says, "You're in the wrong place, my friend, you'd better leave" And the only sound that's left after the ambulances go Is Cinderella sweeping up on Desolation Row

Now the moon is almost hidden, the stars are beginning to hide The fortune telling lady has even taken all her things inside All except for Cain and Abel and the hunchback of Notre Dame

Everybody is making love or else expecting rain And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing, he's getting ready for the show He's going to the carnival tonight on Desolation Row

Ophelia, she's 'neath the window for her I feel so afraid On her twenty-second birthday she already is an old maid To her, death is quite romantic she wears an iron vest Her profession's her religion, her sin is her lifelessness And though her eyes are fixed upon Noah's great rainbow She spends her time peeking into Desolation Row

Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood with his memories in a trunk Passed this way an hour ago with his friend, a jealous monk Now he looked so immaculately frightful as he bummed a cigarette And he when off sniffing drainpipes and reciting the alphabet You would not think to look at him, but he was famous long ago For playing the electric violin on Desolation Row

Dr. Filth, he keeps his world inside of a leather cup But all his sexless patients, they're trying to blow it up Now his nurse, some local loser, she's in charge of the cyanide hole And she also keeps the cards that read, "Have Mercy on His Soul" They all play on the penny whistles, you can hear them blow If you lean your head out far enough from Desolation Row

Across the street they've nailed the curtains, they're getting ready for the feast The Phantom of the Opera in a perfect image of a priest They are spoon feeding Casanova to get him to feel more assured Then they'll kill him with self-confidence after poisoning him with words And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls, "Get outta here if you don't know" Casanova is just being punished for going to Desolation Row"

At midnight all the agents and the superhuman crew Come out and round up everyone that knows more than they do Then they bring them to the factory where the heart-attack machine Is strapped across their shoulders and then the kerosene Is brought down from the castles by insurance men who go Check to see that nobody is escaping to Desolation Row

Praise be to Nero's Neptune, the Titanic sails at dawn Everybody's shouting, "Which side are you on?!" And Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot fighting in the captain's tower While calypso singers laugh at them and fishermen hold flowers Between the windows of the sea where lovely mermaids flow And nobody has to think too much about Desolation Row

Yes, I received your letter yesterday, about the time the doorknob broke When you asked me how I was doing, was that some kind of joke All these people that you mention, yes, I know them, they're quite lame I had to rearrange their faces and give them all another name Right now, I can't read too good, don't send me no more letters, no Not unless you mail them from Desolation Row

[thehumanpuffball]

Myth is Man (1)

Throughout history, humans have always loved stories. They, in some cases, form intrinsic parts of how we teach about our norms and values. A rather famous example would be the moral tale of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf,” a very apt name in my opinion. Anyone who went to a British primary school most likely knows this one off by heart, but I do not know about other countries so here is a shortened version of it:

A shepherd boy tends to the flocks of sheep on the side of the hill at night. He works when all of the shepherds have gone to bed and his job is to protect the flock from the wolves that would otherwise eat the sheep. If he sees a wolf coming to eat the sheep, he must cry out at the top of his lungs “WOLF!” and the townspeople would come running up the hill to scare it away. One night, the boy gets bored, and he thinks that it would be a good idea to shout to the town that there is a wolf. Of course, all those who could, come running up the hill to protect the sheep which will feed them in the winter, but alas, the wolf is not there. Another night comes and the boy does the same, the wolf is still not there, and the townspeople all get angry as they have been called out of bed repeatedly in order to scare away a wolf which doesn’t exist. On the third night, there is a wolf, and the boy cries out to tell them, in hopes that they will run up the hill to save the flock. Nobody comes. He tries again but it is all in vain. Nobody is coming.

The next morning, the shepherd comes back to the hillside, and he says to the boy “Where are the sheep?”, for they had all been taken by the foxes. The boy replies with “I called for the townspeople, but nobody came.

This story is told often to primary school children because it highlights the importance of not lying as when the boy in the tale lies people stop believing him and when he needs help, he does not receive it.

There are so many of these stories and they are told in assemblies everywhere. They are such an important part of our lives growing up as the characters going through these very obvious and tangible events can be used in order to teach children about morals and about right and wrong more effectively than a list of rules can. Writing and storytelling is one of the oldest human artforms, our brains love a good story, once they kept us together around campfires, and now they keep us together in book clubs and at Halloween when we tell ghost stories with our friends in the dark. Fandom is also a form of this, a group of people brought together by the pure joy of loving a piece of media and wanting to talk about it.

Furthermore, it is crucial that we celebrate all writers, because not only can we find joy, peace, and delight in fiction, but we can also understand some of the more awful things in the world a little better using fiction. I know that my perception of religion and where I stand on it was somewhat guided by my reading of the His Dark Materials trilogy which has some beautiful messages about the dangers of control of only one religion, but the wonder that can be created when different people with different life experiences and beliefs all put their ideas together, and the importance of discussion and open mindedness. This part goes for writers too, it is so crucial that people keep writing the stories that they want to write, not what will sell, because every book has a soul. A writer behind those pages who put so much emotion into these characters, crafted people from the electrical and chemical signals in their mind.

Storytelling is a major part of being human, it always has been and (hopefully) always will be. Whether you are a bestselling author, or you like to make up little scary stories to tell your friends at sleepovers, your story is part of a long, long tradition, and is valuable, and beautiful.

[brainsforbabyjesus]

I'm on a Marco kick now. Here's the start of my Marco Animorphs playlist I'm now apparently putting together (songs are grouped together thematically). 90s only for that extra animorphs vibe.

General Marco Vibes

Never gonna say I'm sorry (by Ace of Base) - "I'm never gonna say I'm sorry for the essence of my soul."

Ironic (by Alanis Morissette) - "And life has a funny way of helping you out when you think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up in your face."

Flexy Boy (by Merrill Nisker (Peaches before she was Peaches)) - "Flexy boy! Flexiable! Changes shape!"

Burning Rubber (by Mr. Mirainga) - "When I'm drivin' my speed demon machine, flyin', three digits, man. Nothin' you've ever seen. Cam and crankshaft turning. Smell the engine burnin'."

Girls and Boys (by Blur) - "Girls who are boys who like boys to be girls who do boys like they're girls, who do girls like they're boys."

Clever (by Jill Sobule) - "I can be clever, I can be clever. I can charm your pants off, I can be clever. I can be funny, I can make you laugh."

I'm gonna be rich and famous

Supermodel (by Jill Sobule) - "And my hair will shine like the sea. And every one will wanna look just like me 'cause I'm young and I'm hip, so beautiful."

Perfect World (by Liz Phair) - "I wanna be cool, tall, vulnerable, and luscious. I would have it all if I'd only had this much."

Throw My Name (by Merrill Nisker (Peaches before she was Peaches)) - "I want to walk into a room and not have to explain who I am or what I do because people will know my name."

I'm not always easy to be around

Have You Ever (by The Offspring) - "Have you ever buried your face in your hands 'Cause no one around you understands Or has the slightest idea what it is that makes you be?"

Basket Case (by Green Day) - "Neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it. Sometimes I give myself the creeps. Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me. It all keeps adding up. I think I'm cracking up. Am I just paranoid?"

Answers (by Goldfinger) - "That's when I realize, that I see what I'm really selling. You tell me where your skeleton's hiding. Tell me all and I'll tell you. You think you have a real good fucking answer, a fucking answer I'll give you."

If I had a nickel for every time I tried to kill my mom, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice

Walking On Broken Glass (by Annie Lennox) - "Since you abandoned me, my whole life has crashed. Won't you pick the pieces up, 'cause it feels just like I'm walking on broken glass."

Disarm (by Smashing Pumpkins) - "I used to be a little boy, so old in my shoes. And what I choose is my choice. What's a boy supposed to do? The killer in me is the killer in you."

The Climb (by No Doubt) - "Although many failed I must now prevail with no questions. Have no time to stop, onward to the top of the mountain. I can't turn back now."

Wish (by Nine Inch Nails) - "Climbed up real high, now fall down real far. No need for me to stay. The last thing left, I just threw it away. I put my faith in God and my trust in you. Now there's nothing more fucked up I could do. [...] I'm the one without a soul, I'm the one with this big fucking hole."

It's Not That Serious (by Jennifer Lopez) - "It should concern you, that I'm always one step ahead of you. So that should let you know that what you do I have done before, it's nothing new. So run those games on someone who can be fooled."

Come Home (by Placebo) - "Come home, come home, come home, come home, come home, come home, come home, come home."

[naughtygirl286]

Well yes this past Tuesday we went to see the return of the "The Ghost with the Most" Beetlejuice. I of course grew up with Beetlejuice I seen the movie when I was a kid and I watched the cartoon on Saturday morning as well. I didn't have any of the toys tho (yes there was plenty of Beetlejuice toys at one point) but being I like the original movie and Beetlejuice in general I wanted to see this to see how it was. I didn't watch alot of trailers or anything I didn't want to know too much but one thing is clear sadly Beetlejuice doesn't go Hawaiian.

Also I was told that there might be some collectables for this too but when we went down there was nothing. unless they sold everything opening weekend but I don't know there wasn't even any advertising for stuff up to show that they had anything but oh well I guess lol

Now I was interested in this long awaited sequel I was very interested in who it was going to turn out. Now I don't want to give away too much because this is a movie you have to see for yourself! but everyone was returning the most of the original cast and Tim Burton as director and I had a feeling it was going to be good story wise as well being it was written by Alfred Gough and Miles Millar the masterminds behind Smallville,Wednesday among other things.

Your basic story is it takes place in real time like what 30 years after the first? and Lydia Deetz (Winona Ryder) and is this famous ghost hunter with her own TV show and has a daughter of her own now who she is estranged from named Astrid (Jenna Ortega) and believes her mom is full of shit in regards to ghosts. Now after Lydia's father dies in a rather comical way her,Astrid and Lydia's step mother Delia Deetz (played by Catherine O'Hara) have to return to the small town from the first movie and the house for the funeral. While getting the house ready to sell Astrid runs into some supernatural trouble and Lydia reluctantly has to get help from the one person she has tried to forget Beetlejuice. Her agrees to help her if she helps him with a ghost from his past.

As for the movie itself it was wild, weird, crazy and of course funny! you are introduced to plenty of new characters and they do spend alot of time in "the afterlife" so you get to see and experience more of that then you did in the original movie.

They also answer plenty of questions one I was interested in was why wasn't Alec Baldwin Geena Davis's Adam and Barbara M are in the movie and they explain that. Also you get a funny flashback and see Beetlejuice as a living and learn how he died. its all kinds of interesting like world building type of things.

but of course like I said its wild and weird with the big dance number at the end of the movie and stuff like "baby Beetlejuice" and all the weird characters you meet in the "afterlife" especially the shrunken head characters like Bob. there is one in the original movie and now there is a whole team of them working for Beetlejuice. while watching this the shrunken head characters reminded me so much of the Goombas from the live action Super Mario movie.

The visual's were amazing! both CG and practical the soul sucking effect was really cool and I wondering how they came up with that and did it also I think this should get nominations for Production design and Make-up when it comes close to Oscar time.

but in the end The movie lived up to the original and I think it was the perfect sequel for this and it was worth the wait. So I would totally recommend this being if you loved the first one you should love this one.

[girlactionfigure]

Prisoner of Zion: Rabbi Yosef Mendelevitch

Returned to his roots

Rabbi Yosef Mendelevitch was a Jew in Soviet Russia who accomplished the seemingly impossible: he practiced his religion despite intense persecution, and inspired those around him – even in prison – with Jewish teachings and practice.

Born in Riga in 1947, Yosef was raised with only scraps of knowledge about the Jewish tradition because the Soviets destroyed all organized religion, holy books, and ritual objects. His family had a Passover seder, but didn’t have Haggadahs, so his father told the story from memory. The harsh conditions and persecution of Jews led Yosef to apply for an exit visa to go to Israel. He didn’t know much about Judaism or Israel. He later said, “I was not being honest with myself. I thought, ‘Yosef, you are struggling to go to Israel, but for what reason? You claim that you would like to go back to your roots, to Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, but they were religious. If you know that is the truth, why aren’t you keeping mitzvot (Jewish law)?”

Yosef started becoming religious, and he joined the Jewish underground movement in the 1960’s. He was able to get some prayer books and a Chumash (Five Books of Moses) in a Russian translation. He started a Bible study group and became editor of an underground newsletter on Jewish issues. For his religious activities, Yosef was sent to prison for eleven years. He was brutally beaten for refusing to remove his kippa (yarmulke). Yosef served with famous Jewish dissident Natan Sharansky. The men were kept in solitary confinement and communicated through toilet bowls and radiators.

Separated from his family, Yosef created familial relationships with his fellow prisoners. He became the unofficial rabbi of the group. Every week, he would save bread for Friday night, when he would lay out a white tablecloth to celebrate Shabbat, and share words of Torah. Yosef was punished by receiving less food rations. He later said, “I wouldn’t let it bother me; I wouldn’t let them limit my free will. When they gave me my allotted portion, I would deliberately leave some over – making it my decision how much to eat, not theirs.”

As Yosef languished in a Siberian prison, he became a cause celebre for Jews around the world who were passionately advocating for “refuseniks”. These activist Jews held protests and raised money to smuggle Jewish books into the Soviet Union. Yosef was known as the “Prisoner of Zion.” Finally, in 1981, Yosef was allowed to immigrate to Israel. He became a rabbi and popular public speaker, and wrote a best-selling memoir called Unbroken Spirit. He said, “I wrote my book to show how, with the help of Hashem (God), it is possible for even an assimilated Jewish boy living in Soviet Russia to find his Jewish neshamah (soul). It is my hope that the next generation of Jews will read the book and think, ‘If a simple Jew like Yosef Mendelevitch could do it, I can too.'”

For maintaining his faith in God despite religious persecution, and for inspiring Jews around the world, we honor Rabbi Yosef Mendelevitch as this week’s Thursday Hero.