#for those curious products used are:

[missbaphomet]

Did my makeup. First time ever using liquid eyeliner and I think I did pretty fucking good.

[synthetic-sonata]

i just split like 3 tadc alters at once oh my god its joever.

[longagoitwastuesday]

I was watching the Podalydès version of Cyrano de Bergerac this time from start to finish and... I'm so stupid xD

[sunderwight]

Cumplane where Airplane, in a fit of either bravery or insanity or positive or negative self-esteem (he's not totally sure) decides to cosplay as Luo Binghe and post the pictures online.

Of course, he doesn't do it as "Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky", he knows he has some questionable fans and doesn't really want to hand them a picture of his face. So he posts the images under one of the pseudonyms he uses for lurking around the comment section and social media tags. It's just a handful of images of him looking like the protagonist in his head, attempting to strike cool poses in a wig and some period clothes (he rented both).

The reception is... mixed. Airplane does not have abs, after all, nor a flawless complexion or much skill with makeup. He is fat, freckled, and awkward. The PIDW readership is not known for being particularly supportive either. In fact they're mostly a crab bucket of negativity and masculine posturing, so he gets a lot of mean-spirited commentary.

It's fine. Nothing he hadn't expected. Really solidifies for him that posting was a fit of madness, actually! What did he even expect? He's bracing himself for the worst when he sees that Peerless Cucumber, notorious hate-reader and defender of Luo Binghe's honor, has commented. Ah, shit. He's probably going to rip into Airplane for daring to sully his precious Binghe's reputation by dressing up like that, isn't he?

The comment is long, too. Fuck. Airplane's not sure if his self-esteem can take a comprehensive beating from the champion hater himself, but he's too curious not to look.

Shen Yuan, in the meanwhile, is just pleased that there has FINALLY been a Luo Binghe cosplayer who looks the part. Of course Luo Binghe wouldn't have exaggerated muscles, those are just a product of dehydration. Binghe spent most of his disciple years running around chopping wood and hauling laundry, and then later doing whatever he could to pack on the calories in order to make it through the Abyss. A hefty workman's build would only make sense for him, anything else would be nonsense. Airplane also described Luo Binghe as having a beautiful face, which Shen Yuan won't blame most cosplayers for not being able to just make happen, but a beautiful face doesn't mean "covered in so much makeup it looks like an anime character"! When would Luo Binghe have the time or inclination to put on makeup? A natural beauty with some inevitable blemishes would make more sense and be much more appealing, and this "Airplane Crashing to the Ground" (funny play on the author's name, Shen Yuan approves) has very pretty features! Everyone hating on this cosplay is just an idiot, the only actual problem is that his wig is poorly fitted.

So in true Peerless Cucumber fashion, he lays this all out.

This gets him embroiled in arguments with several other fans, who even accuse him of actually being the guy in the photos, claiming that there's no other reason why he would defend them. Shen Yuan doesn't care if people think that's him, because that's still the best Luo Binghe cosplay he's ever seen, but he doesn't want them doubting the sincerity of his arguments. So, he decides that the only reasonable thing to do is dress himself up in cosplay as well and then post the actual photos of himself.

While he'd like to dress up as one of Luo Binghe's allies like Mobei Jun, or maybe someone cool like Yue Qingyuan, he is too pedantic to think he could pull that off. Those guys are all strong warrior types, and Shen Yuan is a scrawny pale rich kid who looks like he'd probably lose a fight with a wet paper towel. The only characters he could plausibly pull off would be some of the more consumptive members of Binghe's harem and maybe, maybe, one of the weaker villains like Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Yuan is NOT posting pictures of himself crossplaying to the central nexus of toxic masculinity itself, so... Shen Qingqiu it is!

Poor Airplane has to go sit and stare at a while for a while. Peerless Cucumber likes his cosplay. Peerless Cucumber, ardent defender of Shang Qinghua's sellout crappy main character mary-sue, thinks Airplane is good-looking enough to cosplay as him. And said so. Repeatedly. And then posted borderline thirst-trap villain cosplay of himself, inadvertently revealing in the process that he is hot.

What the. What. What?!

Anyway, Shen Yuan suggests that they attend the next convention both cosplaying together because Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky is supposed to be doing a meet & greet at that one, and wouldn't it be fun to go as a pair? And Airplane agrees before his brain catches up and he realizes that might present a problem.

[ghcstao3]

AU where ghost is a relatively famous voice actor—by name, anyway. he’s never shown his face in those ‘behind-the-scenes’ videos, doesn’t do red carpets for the bigger productions, always leaves the press junkets to his colleagues. he loves his job, don’t get him wrong, it’s fun and creative and he’s met some really great people, he just… has never wanted to be in the limelight. that’s not for him.

and it’s easy to get away with, because all of the voices he uses are not really his. there’s elements of him, sure, but nothing someone in person could necessarily place, unless they really listened close and were some kind of super fan. in real life, ghost is soft spoken, and maybe his voice is a little rough from the years before he learned how to properly take care of his vocal cords, but it’s still completely separate from all his characters. that was a rule he stuck with throughout his career—no using his real voice.

soap likes to consider himself a fan of simon riley.

(of his work, obviously. just his work. he definitely isn’t intrigued or anything by the mystery that is the voice actor. nuh uh. not at all.)

he’s seen just about every film and show that features one of the actor’s many voices, knows what little trivia is known of him, and, ultimately, he really respects the guy. his younger sister had finally landed herself a sizeable role in voice acting pretty recently after years of odds and ends, and soap knows how difficult it is to make it in the industry. so what if he may also have a little bit of a crush on the unknown man’s talent?

and so what if that little crush has presently brought him to a bookstore, because soap had heard simon would be voicing a character in some adaptation and soap wanted to get himself caught up? it’s fine. it’s normal. totally normal.

it’s in search of the book when soap accidentally stumbles into an absolute brick-wall of a man as he rounds the corner. soap mutters out apologies, goes to move past him, but then looks up and melts, just a little. because it’s then that soap discovers the prettiest set of brown eyes he thinks he’s ever seen. and when his gaze briefly flicks down—he sees that the man is holding the book he’d been looking for.

soap grins, does his best to look charming in spite of the fact that he’d just run into this poor, beautiful bastard. “was lookin’ for that one, too.”

the man’s brow furrows in confusion before he realizes what soap had been referring to. his eyes fall almost self-consciously to the book.

“oh, yeah. it’s a good book. gave my nephew my other copy, so i’m just…” the man lifts the book in some helpless gesture.

“hm.” soap nods. he can’t help but notice how soothing the man’s voice is, low and rough around the edges, but completely soft in the middle. “y’hear they’re making a movie?”

the man perks up, and for a moment soap wonders if that’s panic he sees flash in his eyes. he clears his throat. “yes, that’s actually why i’m, well. i owned it before, but because i’m doing the—because of the movie, i had to…” the man sighs, shoulders slumping. it’s endearing, the way he’s gotten so easily flustered, like he isn’t used to small talk. “never mind. i’ll let you… i hope you enjoy it. the book. and movie too, i guess.”

soap laughs, not unkindly. “the book, we’ll see. favourite actor’s in the movie, so i’ll probably like it either way.”

“yeah?” the man cocks his head, curious. “who’s that?”

unashamedly, soap replies, “simon riley.”

it’s not unnoticeable, the way the man’s face blossoms a faint pink before he coughs and ducks his head. “he’s, uh. heard he’s good,” he says. “so others say.”

for a moment, it looks like the man is preparing to bolt, so soap sticks out his hand as a last-minute resort to keep him around just a little longer. “i’m john. friends call me soap. long story, but if you maybe let me take you out for some coffee, i could tell you?”

apprehension lines the man’s posture, but he eventually tucks the book under one arm and shakes soap’s hand. “friends call me ghost. and i’d like that.”

ghost’s hand is warm, his grip firm. soap tries not to let himself linger in the touch.

“sounds like a date.” soap smiles up at ghost. “did you want to do that today, or…?”

ghost shakes his head. “can’t today. but i can give you my number?”

soap agrees, but as he reaches for his phone he’s met with an empty pocket and the realization that he’d left it on the counter at home. he sighs, feeling disheartened, readying an excuse when he gets an idea. “d’you have a pen?”

ghost does, in fact, have a pen, though soap supposes he could’ve just gone and bought one from the bookstore just as well. soap tells him to stay put a minute, goes to retrieve his own copy of the book, and comes back with it opened to the first page.

“i’m buying it, anyway,” soap says. and it’s commemorative, he doesn’t add, of the day and reason we met. because he’s hopeful this may actually go somewhere.

ghost writes his phone number inside, deliberately hands the book back to soap with the cover pressed closed by his thumb, and they head to the register together.

it’s only when soap gets home and finally goes to type ghost’s number into his phone that he sees, above the digits, a small simon :) inscribed on the paper.

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Showering with Sunghoon;

Pairing; fem!reader and boyfriend!Park Sunghoon Synopsis; You love showering with Sunghoon. He is the best boyfriend, takes care of you even in the shower, not letting you lift a finger. Not even to wash yourself ;) Genre; Fluff (a bit suggestive) Warning; None (?) Sunghoon is a true GENTLEMAN!! Kinda horny!Sunghoon because you are just too hot (?) My Masterlist;

A/N: This is the Sunghoon version of the, 'Bathing with Ni-ki' scenario. When i was writing the Ni-ki one, i already had the idea for this one heheheheh. I can't tell each one of them is my favourite, but... a man like Sunghoon (at least the one in this story) is my dream!!! I hope you guys enjoy it, likes and reblogs are always welcome, thank you so much <3

Also, happy Christmas eve, my loves ♡♡

If there was one thing you loved doing with Sunghoon, it was showering together. Everyone knew he was a gentleman—always opening doors for you, making sure you weren’t cold when you went out, and keeping his eyes on you to ensure you were safe and comfortable. And when you shower together, nothing changes.

Sunghoon knew you better than anyone else. He understood how you always put others before yourself (blame it on being the older sister). So, whenever he could, he took it upon himself to care for you. When you showered together, he refused to let you lift a finger—washing your hair, using all your scalp products, and gently cleaning your skin for you.

So, when he got a text from you saying you’d be taking a quick shower, he rushed home. Stepping into the foggy bathroom, he heard soft music playing—Cigarettes After Sex, as usual. Sunghoon quickly discarded his clothes and approached the shower. Before stepping inside, he paused to admire you.

Your sweet voice carried softly with the music, your head tilted back under the hot water, the droplets cascading down your body like a sculpture brought to life. To him, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he couldn’t be more grateful to have you.

When your back was turned to the door, he finally stepped in. His tall frame came up behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. You jumped slightly in surprise but quickly giggled. You loved it when Sunghoon was clingy.

“You should’ve waited for me…” he murmured into your ear, resting his face on your shoulder as the hot water poured over both of you.

Turning your head slightly, you pecked his cheek. “We have to be quick, baby. I promised your mom I’d meet her at the mall by 3 p.m. We’re picking out new things for her kitchen,” you explained to your handsome boyfriend. Then, you turned around fully to face him.

The water had completely soaked his hair, and he ran a hand through it, pushing it back. You gazed into his eyes, captivated by the view in front of you. His pale skin was drenched and shining before your curious eyes.

“Why didn’t she call me?” he whined, wrapping his arms around you again, as though he wished he could be under your skin, just to be closer to you.

“I’m the one with the interior design degree…” you joke, resting your head against his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin against yours and the hot water cascading over both of you.

Sunghoon doesn’t respond; he simply kisses your hair and holds you close for a few minutes. The bathroom grows even steamier, the air heavy with humidity. You look up at him, captivated by his handsome features— his big nose, juicy red lips, adorable moles, and the depth of his brown eyes, completely drunk on love.

He gazes back at you with equal intensity, his mischievous fingers trailing along your side, sending goosebumps across your skin. The way you look at him—those beautiful, pleading puppy eyes—are enough to drive him crazy. Slowly, Sunghoon leans in and captures your lips in a slow, loving kiss, his soft lips molding perfectly with yours.

Your arms wrap around his neck as your fingers weave through his black hair, gently pulling. His tongue teases its way into your mouth, and the kiss quickly deepens, turning hungry. The sensation of your wet, nude body pressing against his is intoxicating. You finally pull away for air, your foreheads resting against each other as you both catch your breath.

“Turn around so I can wash your hair,” Sunghoon says in a breathy voice, regaining his composure and focusing on taking care of you. His hands remain firmly on your hips as you turn, your back facing him—a sight that makes him momentarily wish his mom would forget about your plans so he could have more time with you.

Noticing he hasn’t moved, you glance back over your shoulder, only to catch him staring at your body with a sly grin, his hands gripping your waist a little tighter making your skin turn white.

“Hoonie…” you call, snapping him out of his trance. A soft blush spreads across his face as he realizes he’s been caught.

“Sorry, princess, I got distracted,” he mutters in a low voice, quickly reaching for your favorite shampoo to get started.

You turn your head forward, giving him better access to your scalp. When his skilled fingers begin massaging your hair, it feels heavenly. He always has a way of being so gentle yet confident, and it makes your knees weak every time.

Sunghoon has a habit of massaging your neck while washing your hair—one hand steadying your head while the other works on your tired neck muscles. You gulp and bite your bottom lip. Today, for some reason, his touch feels even better than usual, making you momentarily regret agreeing to plans with his mom.

“All done. Let’s rinse you off,” Sunghoon says softly, holding your hand as you turn to let the water rinse your hair. As the warm stream flows over you, Sunghoon notices your quickened breaths.

“You okay there, princess?” he asks with a knowing smirk, fully aware of the effect he has on you.

You don’t answer, just nod, your eyes still closed. After rinsing your hair, he applies a bit of conditioner to your ends, gently scrunching them to enhance your waves. While the conditioner sets, he grabs your loofah, squeezing out some of your body wash before carefully lathering it.

You let him take over completely, utterly under his spell. His hands move with precision and tenderness, washing every inch of you—from your neck and arms to your chest and belly. He even kneels to wash your legs and feet with the same care. You watch him with hearts in your eyes, completely smitten by his loving attention.

When he stands again, you turn around, brushing your hair to one side to expose your back. He resumes his task, one hand holding your waist affectionately while the other traces gentle circles over your skin as he cleans you.

Sunghoon smiles when he’s finished, admiring the way your skin glistens, still covered in bubbles. He leans in to press a quick peck on your lips before turning the water back on to rinse you off. Stepping back, he leans against the cold tiled shower wall, his mischievous eyes tracing the path of the drops as they slide down your body.

Noticing his gaze, you smile and gently take his hand, pulling him under the warm stream. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you rest your head against his chest, craving the comforting sensation of his skin against yours. The two of you stay like this for a while, soaking in the moment, until your hair and body are completely rinsed clean.

“Do you want me to wash your hair too?” you ask, looking up at your handsome boyfriend. He returns your gaze with a soft smile.

“No, princess. You can go see my mom. I’ll finish faster if I do it myself,” he says, his thumb caressing your cheek affectionately. You laugh, knowing he’s right. If you stayed, things would likely go far beyond just washing his hair.

“I love you,” you confess shyly, placing a lingering kiss on his perfect lips before stepping out of the shower.

“I love you more,” Sunghoon replies sweetly, his heart swelling at the sight of your radiant smile. “I’ll be waiting for you…” he adds with a playful wink as you close the door, your laugh echoing softly in the steamy bathroom.

Taglist: @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever @mrsjjongstby @laurradoesloveu @babyboomysweetiedarling @mintchocos-things @reikaxslvr If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist just comment below!

[ Check out my MASTERLIST; ]

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Any advice for figuring out how to work on writing characters arguing?

I’m just curious and also I mistakenly derailed part of my writing over struggling to write a scene of characters starting an argument that was meant to escalate.

Writing Notes: Arguments

Arguing is full of tension.

Even benign conversations between friends so often belies subtextual personal agendas that are antagonistic or covertly full of anger or upset.

Honesty itself sometimes is the product of extreme tension and upset.

One’s resistance to telling the truth to another or admitting to oneself a truth can be excruciatingly tense and stressful, even between lovers.

SIDESTEPPING

You instantly create conflict in dialogue when you avoid “on the nose” responses.

On the nose means a direct response, sometimes even echoing the previous line.

You can avoid direct response:

With a statement that is unrelated to the prompting dialogue

By answering a question with a question

With a line of dialogue that is going to need some explanation

Also consider using silence:

“Are you ready to go, dear?” Bob asked. Sylvia said nothing.

Or use an action response:

“Are you ready to go, dear?” Bob asked. Sylvia picked up the mirror.

OPPOSING AGENDAS

Always know what each character wants in a given scene.

If a character in a scene is just taking up space, give him an agenda or get him out of there. Or cut the scene entirely.

Scenes require conflict or tension, even if it’s subtle.

Before you write the scene, note what each character wants.

Then spend a few moments playing with those motivations.

List 3 other possible motives for each of the characters, then mix and match to decide which ones will make for the best conflict.

It is also important to create tension among allies.

One of the danger points in fiction is when two friends, or people who are at least on the same side, have a talk about what’s going on. The trouble is there might not be any trouble between them. So much of the dialogue becomes a friendly chat.

This will violate Alfred Hitchcock’s axiom (Hitchcock once said that a good story is “life, with the dull parts taken out.”).

The fastest way to handle it is to make sure there is tension manifested from the start.

Create tension in at least one of the characters, preferably the viewpoint character.

Example: When you have Allison meeting Melissa, her college friend, for coffee, don’t have them sit down and start talking as if nothing’s wrong in the world. Put the trouble of the story into Allison’s mind and nervous system and make it an impediment to her conversation with Melissa. In Melissa, place something that might be in opposition to Allison’s needs. Allison needs to ask Melissa’s advice about a crumbling marriage. Maybe Melissa is full of news about her sister’s impending wedding to a wonderful man and gushes about the prospects.

Spend some time brainstorming about the ways two friends or allies can be at odds. Then weave those things into the dialogue.

DIALOGUE AS WEAPON

Look for places where you can use dialogue as a weapon, a means for your characters to charge ahead in order to get what they want.

Keep in mind that dialogue is action.

It’s a physical act used by characters to help them get what they want. If they don’t want anything in a scene, they shouldn’t be there.

Note that not all weapons are explosive. They can be small and sharp, too.

PARENT-ADULT-CHILD

A great tool for creating instant conflict in dialogue is the Parent-Adult-Child model, popularized in the book Games People Play by Eric Berne (1964). This school of psychology is called Transactional Analysis.

The theory holds that we tend to occupy roles in life and relationships.

The 3 primary roles are Parent, Adult, and Child (PAC):

The Parent - the seat of authority, the one who can “lay down the law.” S/he has the raw strength, from position or otherwise, to rule and then enforce his/her rulings.

The Adult - the objective one, the one who sees things rationally and is therefore the best one to analyze a situation. “Let’s be adult about this,” one might say in the midst of an argument.

The Child - not rational, and not with any real power. So what does s/he do? Reacts emotionally. Throws tantrums to try to get his/her way. Even an adult can do this. We’ve all seen clandestine videos that prove this point.

So it is a helpful thing to consider what role each character is assuming in a scene.

How do they see themselves? What is their actual role? (It may indeed be different than what they perceive it to be.)

Most important, how will they act in order to accomplish their goal in the scene?

Answering these questions can give you a way to shape your dialogue so there is constant tension and conflict throughout.

Also consider that the characters might change their roles (try something new) in order to get their way. Thus, this is a never-ending source of conflict possibilities and only takes a few moments to set up.

TIP ON DIALOGUE

Look at all of your dialogue exchanges, especially ones that run for a page or more.

Analyze what roles the characters think they’re inhabiting.

Rework the dialogue by getting each character to be more assertive in their claimed role. (Also note that a character can change roles as a matter of strategy. For example, if the Parent isn’t working, a character might switch to pouting like a Child in order to get his way.)

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

Hope this helps with your writing!

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Overly Cautious

Prompt: Katakuri comes back from a mission to learn you're pregnant despite never wanting to be a father.

Requested by anonymous

Katakuri X Fem Reader

Katakuri had been sent on a mission to retrieve something, leaving you alone, having you stand in as the Minister of Flour while he was away. Everything was going well; you had done this plenty of times in the past. But some of the workers had noticed you not eating as much, you’d wave them off without a concern. The concern really came when a cake was being made and just the smell of it made you want to vomit.

         You couldn’t hide it from anyone, you were in the middle of a meeting about the upcoming tea party and what pastries would be served. Everyone forced you to see a doctor, no one wanting to deal with the wrath of your husband if he got back to find you sick.

         And that’s how you ended up in the ward, a doctor running tests and looking you over. Much to your dismay numerous curious eyes also making sure you wouldn’t leave this forced appointment. “And when was the last time you were sexually active?” The question threw you off guard, nearly spitting out the tea that you had been allowed to drink.

You’re face burning red as you whip your head around to look at those who had forced you here. None of them dared to make eye-contact with you, some whistling while looking off in a random direction. They tried to protest when you kicked them out, but you refused to discuss such things in front of so many people. Once the door was finally closed the doctor, who was not too amused asked the question again. “It’s been a little a while, 7 or 8 weeks I think,” Thinking back to the last intimate night you had with Katakuri, he’d been so busy lately that it’d had been longer than normal.

The doctor wrote some notes down and continued with other questions before doing some blood tests. You sat back, expecting this to be a simple flu. That would give you a headache, you’d be forced to bedrest as to not spread it and not slow down progress. The doctor padded his way back into the room, flipping through the papers reading the results of everything he had tested for. “Well, it seems as though you’re pregnant.”

         You took the rest of the day off to think about things. Katakuri had adamantly told you he didn’t want children. He didn’t want to pass down his genes in fear of what could happen, you understood his concerns and agreed to not try. And while you were sexually active, contraceptions were used at every avenue, Birth Control, Condoms, Spermicide, even a Plan B if there was a thought of something going wrong.

         Katakuri would be getting back from his mission in a couple days, so it’s best to just wait until then. Can’t be announcing things like this. As much as you’d prefer to sweep this under the rug, Big Mom was someone who didn’t partake in abortions, wanting a large family and everything, it’d be counter-productive in her mind. So as much as you wanted too, you’d have to go to a different island, and that included having Katakuri with you to avoid Big Mom’s gaze.

         But your plans changed quickly, despite clearly telling the Doctor to keep the news secret, the next day you arrived to the office with banners and some tastefully small cakes. Cards going around with small gifts as though it was common place to celebrate so early on. You tried to get them to calm down, but everyone was overjoyed that their leader finally had an heir on the way.

~~~

         Katakuri stared off into the distance, leaning against the wall as the ship got closer to their homeland. It had been a pointless mission, delivering a letter to a foreign country, demanding there be talks of a marriage. He hated being away from Komugi island for too long, from his normal job as the Minister of Flour. There he’d at least be able to relax a little bit more than normal, and when he was with you, he could let his guard down completely. Trusting you to cover for him or tell him if someone was coming. Being on a ship where he refused to lay down in fear of prying eyes had taken a toll on him, no matter how short the trip was.

         As the ship docked some of his administrators found him, happy as ever with large smiles. He wasn’t listening too much to their words of congratulations, assuming it was just words on finishing the mission, he just wanted to make it home so he could finally sleep on his back.

         As he was bidding farewell to those around him, one of them said something rather confusing, “Ah, tell Y/N that the mid-wife will be around to talk to her next week. I forgot to let her know earlier.” A mid-wife? For his Wife? Katakuri swallowed the lump in his throat, reasoning that it had to have been due to some unforeseen baby boom in the town.

         But as he passed through the halls of his home, he noticed servants scurrying about more than normal. All with excited faces, some with parcels in their hands. It wasn’t until he got to your room pushing the door open to see you sitting at your tea table, a hand rubbing your forehead, “If it’s another gift then send it back. How many times do I need to tell you all to keep this quiet.” Your tired voice brushing past him while you waved your hand, not even looking in the direction of the door.

         You heard the door close and let out a heavy sigh, looking to the already inconvenient pile of baby toys, clothes, and furniture that people of the island had pushed onto you. Nobody in this god forsaken town could keep quiet, which would make things so much harder, if Big Mom got word of this, you were more than certain you wouldn’t be able to pass off a random miscarriage without her knowing the truth.

         “What is all this?” You jumped a bit, hearing your husbands voice. You never even got word of his arrival to the island, much less that he had already come home.

         “We need to talk.” You voice was serious as you looked over at him, he was staring down at you unmoving. “Why not sit down?” He stayed still, crossing his arms for an explanation and you sighed again, this wasn’t normal for him, but you were already too tired to deal with it.

         Your sigh caused Katakuri to take another step further, “I get that you must be doing some fundraiser or gala. But you shouldn’t have these donations in here.” You spit out your drink, looking up at you’re normally smart husband.

         “Excuse me?” The silence as he stares at you hit you hard, “You think I’m doing a fundraiser? And you think all these stupid things are donations? Is that really what you think?!” Your annoyance peeking through clearly. First the news got, then the storm of gifts, and now even your husband seems to be getting on your nerves. “Katakuri I’m pregnant.” You shake your head, stating it out right was best in these types of situations, “So, might I suggest you sit down so we can talk abou-“

         “Your idea of a joke is awful Y/N,” He walks over to the neat stacks of gifts, all of which you were sending back when you got the chance, “I mean really? You think staging some baby items is enough to convince me? This prank is in bad taste.” His regal voice showed no sign of joking and it made you more frustrated than you already were.

         “This isn’t a joke,” You were getting another headache but the subtle glare he shot you made it clear he wasn’t going to listen, “You know what? You just got home, why don’t you rest? I’ll send these gifts back in the meantime.”

~~~

         The next day Katakuri came to his office looking a little more refreshed and prepared for the day. He sits down in the confines of the space and starts looking through the reports, “It seems you fell a little behind while I was away. Why?” His smooth tone showing you he was ignoring everything you said the day prior.

         You had expected something like this to happen so you put the paper with the test result in front of him. “You’re lovely administers made me go to the doctors after some sickness.” His eyes scanned the paper, reading every detail until you could tell he landed on the prognosis. “I’m about 2 months along.”

         Katakuri sucks in his breath, you can tell by the twist of his eyebrow that this isn’t going to be fun, deciding to sit on the couch while you wait for his response.

Honestly, you barely had time to process this all yourself, being pushed and pulled everywhere by workers. The only time you had time to think for yourself was late at night when people thought you’d be sleeping. The first night you had spent just staring into the darkness that was the room trying to figure out the situation. Truly, you could relate to what Katakuri was probably going through.

         You two never planned on being parents. You vehemently discussed avoiding parenthood the natural way, maybe adopting if you’re mother-in-law became pushy. The thing you wanted most right now was a glass of whiskey, but for clear reasons you couldn’t get one. Your body felt so tense since finding out, your muscles aching from the lack of relaxing.

You were hoping that your husband would be the one to make sense of it for you, but seeing how he’s reacted so far, he was in the same boat as you. It stung, your heart dropping slightly as you put on this front of neutrality. But it was the best you could do, if you didn’t maintain this semblance of control over yourself, you felt like you’d break down.

Finally, your husband spoke, although his words didn’t make you feel any better. If anything, it caused you to go further into the downward spiral that was your mind, “Well then whose is it?” His voice was dipped in venom but maintained a single tone, “If you wanted a kid so bad, we could have adopted.”

You bit your tongue, staring at the floor in front of you. He waited a couple second for a response but you couldn’t bring any words to come out before he continued, “You didn’t have to go behind my back like this.” His even tone made every muscle in your body tense more than they already were.

A knock at the door caught both of your attentions, yet your body was still tightly wound as you got up, opening the door to let whoever it was in. Someone with a bunch of papers and a wide smile looked back at you and you ushered them in while brushing your way out of the suffocating room.

Offering small smiles to those you passed as you hurried away from the situation. It was only after you had gotten to a small reading room and locked the door behind you that you slid down onto the floor. Your room was too far away and this was unused enough that no one would come looking here. A hand pressed against your stomach while the other tangled itself in your hair, gripping tightly to feel anything other than the heavy emotions that have flowed through you for days now.

You haven’t let anyone know of your own feelings on this matter, other than wanting to keep it on the down low, everyone assuming it was so you could Katakuri yourself, and yet somehow that one single voiced wish hadn’t come true. The entire island singing praise and you were the center of their attention.

You began panting, your throat swelling up making it hard to grasp at air, feeling your body start to shake. Even Katakuri wasn’t willing to listen. This has to be a lot for him, but I thought he loved me. Your body curling in on itself, the hand in your hair running down to grip at the back of your neck while your nails dug into your stomach. He even suggested I had cheated on him, found another man. The thought itself made you sick to your stomach, your heart beat drowning out any noise around you, and eyes squeezing shut as the world got darker around you. Am I just an object to everyone? You tried, and failed at opening your mouth, attempting to get any air to fill your compressed lungs. The beating of your heart the only reminder of that you were in fact alive.

~~~        

         Katakuri was walking down the hallways. Every time he passed someone who worked with you, he’d ask the same questions. All of them similar stories that made his heart twist with worry, and yet when he went looking for you, you were nowhere to be found. It had been hours since you disappeared from his office without a second glance, the thought of how you left was now hurting him, now that he’s had time to calm down and truly think about everything.

         Since no one could find you, he was the person that people were bringing presents too, all of which he ushered to be sent wherever you had put them, some people asking if he had seen you so they could ask more questions. He hadn’t even been back a full day and yet he was overwhelmed with so much. Stalking back to your bedroom, assuming that could be his one quiet place, maybe even find you again to try and have a conversation about everything.

         His heart jumped into his throat thinking about it, you had been trying to talk to him this entire time and each attempt was met with malice. You were so patient, letting him voice his hate and distrust. Watching you sit on the couch silently, neither confirming nor denying allegations said to you, though your knuckles turned white in your lap. But what else could he think? With every safeguard the two of you had put into place, how else could you had ended up with a child growing inside of you? Walking into your shared room he looked around, the pile of gifts in the corner seemingly doubled in size from previously in the day.         

Yet still, there wasn’t a sign of you anywhere. Katakuri paced a bit, looking for any sign that you had been here after leaving him earlier. But there wasn’t a single thing out of place or used compared to this morning. The realization that no one has seen you for most of the day hitting him with a cold sweat as he calls for security

[etheries1015]

after learning Silver uses a BAR OF SOAP to wash his hair...AND wanting to wish him a happy birthday, I decided he must be pampered with a...little spa day, and something a little special near the end <3 Happy birthday, Silver!!

General warnings: gender neutral reader

Upon visiting Silver in his dorm for a small birthday celebration and finding out the unfortunate truth behind his hair-washing habits, you were quick to insist you take him out shopping or teach him the ways of proper hair care.

"I had no clue it wasn't normal to just use a bar of soap," Silver shrugged, "As long as it makes me clean, right?"

"Just hearing you say that hurts," you joked exasperatedly, "I feel it's my duty now to train you in the ways of making your hair clean and feel like you're touching a cloud."

"Well," Silver pondered, "I guess it wont hurt to learn."

"Perfect!" You jumped up from your seat, the Diasomnia lounge, "you guys are done here, right?" Lilia looked as startled as Silver at your sudden outburst, before taking a glance at the already eaten birthday cake and open presents that lay out on the table.

"I suppose it is time to retire, I have a gaming session happening soon anyways," Lilia pointed out, before a sly smile crawled upon his lips and looking at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, "Feel free to take him!"

"Take me?" Silver perked up, sitting up straight. Giving an...unsettling cackle and grabbing Silvers hands, you began to pull him up and urge him to follow you.

"Perfect. Yes, i'm kidnapping you. Remember, I told you that I left my present for you at Ramshackle anyways. AND this is a perfect opportunity for me to initiate my next mission..."

"Mission...?" you heard Lilia sing his goodbyes and waved a quick farewell to the other members of Diasomnia, before dragging Silver out the door and towards the direction of the hall of mirrors.

"Operation: spoil the birthday boy with a spa day!"

Wearing the world's softest robe you had let him use, Silver dosed off a few times after being completely pampered like a princess, and not as a result of his typical condition. You messaging his scalp was probably the most heavenly thing he had felt in a long time, the way your fingers worked on his head left his eyes fluttering shut. He was honestly sad when he realized he had fallen asleep and missed half of the process, but he could still feel your touch linger on his head and immensely enjoy the newfound softness of his silver locks.

You woke him up when you had placed a cool face mask on him, and fell asleep once more when you had started to massage his tense shoulders and cut his nails... He felt like floating on clouds, and those clouds also smelled like you.

"It's nice..." Silver hummed, eyes fluttering open watching you finish filing one of his nails, "You have a very nice scent. I would like to know where you get your hair products," He smiled at you.

"We can find you a scent that suites you more," you offered, "every person has their own unique scent! I'm sure with some time, we can find the perfect one for you." However, Silver shook his head in earnest. It was much more romantic than he probably intended, yet he leaned forward and took a light smell of your also freshly washed hair.

"I like your scent," he smiled, "besides, it would be nice to share something similar, right? So when we aren't together, there's always a piece of you there. You also convinced me that hair care is more important than I gave it credit for..."

Your face took a rosy hue, you groaned in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands.

"You're so...cheesy! You don't need my shampoo and conditioner to be reminded of me, I actually...got you...something. For your birthday." Silver raised a curious eyebrow and tilted his head with widened eyes.

"I thought you spoiling me with a little 'spa' was my birthday gift? you've already spoiled me plenty, I don't need-"

"Of course that's not all I have planned!" You exasperated, pushing Silver down onto the couch in Ramshackle lounge, "Wait here." Sprinting away, you were back almost as fast as you had left, in your hands you held a small box obviously held for some type of accessory. Taking it gracefully, Silver opened the box to reveal a silver bracelet adorned with...

"Acorns?" Silver asked startled, holding up the bracelet and examining it with curious and starry eyes.

"I saw the one you made for Lilia," You pointed out shyly, "Out of real acorns. I thought of making one myself for you, too...but, I wanted something a little more durable, something you can wear more often. If...you don't mind accessories." You hid your hands behind your back fidgeting with your fingers nervously, before a smile spread ear to ear and cheeks rose with a blush from the male. He gripped the bracelet with eagerness, and you swore the bright look on his face would surely give the sun some competition.

"I love it," Silver replied with a voice dripping in enthusiasm, "I won't be able to wear it while I'm training, but I'll be sure to have it on at all times. I'll take great care of it, thank you." You were visibly relieved, chuckling and bringing your hands to your front as you revealed an exact match of the same bracelet you had just given him.

"i'm glad, otherwise it would have been pretty embarrassing to wear a matching bracelet with nobody actually matching with me..." Silver stared with wide auroral orbs, mouth ajar upon seeing it. "So...we have something to share! Just like you were talking about before, right?"

Engulfing you in a hug after putting on the accessory in one fell swoop, Silver couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of affection for the prefect of ramshackle dorm. He squeezed you tightly, yet not enough to harm you. You smiled and returned the hug in full, chuckling at his sudden display of fondness.

"This has been a wonderful birthday," Silver said, "Thank you, truly. I will remember this day for a very, very long time." leaning into his touch, you pushed aside the urge to tell him he was overreacting, and took the honest boys words at face value.

"Of course...Happy birthday, Silver!"

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Older!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Bartender!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A military lieutenant closing in on retirement, a younger, beautiful bartender, when you and Lt. Riley meet there is an instant chemistry, though it doesn't really go anywhere as he thinks himself a little too mature for you... until one night he stays at the bar later than he ever has and gets caught in a storm. What will happen after closing time?

Word Count: 9.4 k

Warnings:

The night that Lt. Simon Riley walked into the local bar for the first time started off as any ordinary night would. A man of quiet and solitude, spending nights alone in his room were more of his style, but the older that the introverted military officer got the more a stiff drink at the end of a long week seemed to hit better and since there was usually no liquor to be found on base, the next best thing was the bar not a ten minute drive away…well, seven if he took his motorcycle. 

Accompanied by a few of his long time colleagues he stepped into the establishment with nothing else on his mind other than wanting a bit of liquor to ease the ache in his sore limbs and to take the stress of daily life off his mind. The place was small, the locals that seemed to fill the space were nothing noteworthy, but as soon as he settled in at the table the group had chosen and he caught sight of the beauty behind the counter pouring the drinks with a gentle smile on her lips his mind went blank as his heart leapt in his chest.

The lieutenant had done much in his long career and he found it odd how he couldn’t get himself to even walk up to the bar to order from you as a cold sweat broke out across his body. Was he really going soft the older he got? It took him several minutes of self coaxing to get him to actually get out of his seat. Thank fuck for his customary mask otherwise the product of his racing heart would be plastered all over his face for everyone to see. 

As he stepped up to order and your attention landed on him, all the military training in the world didn’t prepare him for how to keep himself composed in that moment. Even that first conversation you had that night left him reeling. You asked about his mask in the most casual way and something inside him decided to play things up. He told you how he needed it to fend off stares whenever he was in public. 

Trying not to chuckle at that curious furrow in your brow as if skeptical about how a 6’4” man wearing a painted balaclava wouldn’t draw attention, he continued by saying how he was just too good looking to go out without it. The laugh that followed, that genuine wide smiled laugh that you desperately needed after the awful night you had had was already working its magic on him.

He was addicted to your company from that moment on. A strange occurrence for someone who had previously been completely to spend time with no one but himself.

Seeing soldiers around wasn’t strange being near a military installation, you’d gotten used to it rather quickly, but the lieutenant was no ordinary serviceman. Skull masked and huge he was hard to miss, yet what surprised you more than any of that was how his personality was much more gentle than what his appearance would lead you to believe. He was a man of few words, but the ones he gave you were always kind and even sometimes funny and in time you have come to enjoy him being around.

Time has passed, but not much about that has changed. It is always a toss up whether you’ll see him that week or if his presence won’t be around for some time, but you swear that whenever he reappears with his war buddies in tow and those dark eyes find you standing in your customary place behind the bar, the tension in his shoulders eases and the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly through the visible gap in his mask as if his mouth has suddenly upturned. You convince yourself that it’s just for the commodities you supply…and yet… that doesn’t stop the way your heart thumps a little harder every time you see him.

It’s dumb, a stupid crush that won’t lead to anything anyway. He’s older, more mature and a bit intimidating, what would he want with someone like you? A man who’s seen the world would surely find a local bartender boring. Still, you can’t help the excitement that fills you up when he returns and immediately seeks out your company for a bit of chitchat and jokes. 

You try to hide away your infatuation as best as you can and soon you feel comfortable enough to call him an acquaintance, maybe even a friend. Just a friend, right? Just a friend.

Don’t mind the fact that you can’t stop yourself from sneaking glances over at him whenever he lifts the lip of that black mask up off the lower half of his face to take a drink. It doesn’t distract you, you haven’t accidentally spilled liquor all over the bar because of it. It’s the only part of him you have ever seen besides his eyes, the only part of him that you truly know, and yet it is more than enough to fuel a certain overwhelming yearning for him.  

Wishful thinking, you constantly remind yourself because nothing is ever going to come of it.

You almost trick yourself into believing that’s true until you notice that the usual routine begins to change. The last couple of weeks he’s been sitting solely at your bar rather than with his friends, lingering until the last minute where they have to shout his name before he decides to leave. It causes your mind to swirl with the possibilities of what this might mean.

Especially tonight.

There is something about tonight that seems different. It’s a fleeting tension in the air, a feeling that permeates the atmosphere inside the bar until you can’t seem to shake it from your mind no matter how you try to distract yourself from it. Is it exhaustion? You try to convince yourself that you’ve just worked a long, busy shift without a break and that’s what got you feeling off, but still something about it won’t quit playing through your thoughts.  

Last call, last rounds, and the bar is slowly emptied out of its patrons one by one until only a few straggling regulars remain inside while they finish up their drinks along with their conversations. Your eyes flit down to the end of the bar and notice that he’s still there. At the counter perched on a barstool, a nearly empty tumbler of whiskey still resting in his large hand, sits the masked military official. 

As you wipe down the glasses you’ve just washed and put them up, you can’t help the quickening in your chest as you keep stealing sneaky glances down towards him. He’s never stuck around this long; you watched as his crew left him behind and yet he doesn’t look too concerned or eager to follow them. Not that you’re complaining, far from it, but you can’t help being curious about how long he’s going to stick around. Could he still be here when the rest leave?  

…please…

You need a plan, something you can put together quickly to make him stay. Every second that passes that he doesn’t move gives you more time to think, even with your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Deep rumbles off in the distance can be heard over the music idly playing through the speakers, the first signs of an early storm about to roll in at any moment and that sparks an idea. If he can just stay past closing time, you know how to tempt him into sticking around. You just hope the weather will cooperate with what you need it to do.

From within the shadow around his eyes created by his mask, that autumn-colored gaze follows you carefully as you move about tidying the bar while he pretends to nurse his drink that he hasn’t taken a real sip from in almost half an hour. An empty glass won’t give him an excuse to stay; he just has to wait a little longer and he’ll be the only one left. 

Then what? The lieutenant hasn’t thought that far ahead. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to leave.

He brings the cup up to his mouth and holds it there, watching discreetly over the rim as you finish up the tasks you can while patrons still inhabit the space. Setting the glass back down as if he’s taking a sip, Lt. Riley pulls out his phone and the screen blooms alive. The light illuminates his eyes as he immediately draws them to the clock at the top left hand corner. It’s less than ten minutes till close and then it’ll just be you and him.

He continues to follow you with his eyes as you leave your spot to persuade the few drunkards still dawdling about the place to head on home to sleep off their hangovers before they get caught in the rain, but you never once make the same request of him even as you pass him to lead the stragglers out into the night. Just as the last patron leaves out the door you are holding open the tinkling sound of rain hits his ears, followed by the distinct click of the door’s lock engaging, and he takes the last swig of brown, biting liquid to finish off the glass before setting it back down on the counter just as you reappear at his side. 

Coffee eyes dart up to yours only to get locked in their gaze as he carefully lowers his mask back over that chiseled, stubble-covered chin and a subtle change in your expression catches his attention. It is fleeting, but for a second the way you look at him with those wide, doe eyes he swears there is a hint of worry in their depths. 

Is he planning on leaving now? No, you need to put your half-baked plan into action fast or you might lose the moment and you don’t know if you will get an opportunity like this again. The rain outside is picking up heavier now, which gives you courage to follow through with this. 

There is a noticeable flush in your cheeks now and he likes the color it adds to your face. He wonders what’s got you all worked up and secretly hopes that it is in fact him, even if he quickly dismisses the idea before it can take hold of him.

“Guess you’ll be wantin’ me gone so ya can finish up,” he says from behind the fabric, though he makes no attempts to stand.

“Who said anything about leaving?” you reply with a smile as you step up to the counter beside him and reach over the cool, sealed wooden surface of the bar to grab you a fresh glass and the bottle of bourbon he’s been drinking that you’ve purposely kept close by. 

Your items procured, you move to the seat next to him and sit down. “Join me for a drink while we wait out the storm. I know you drove your bike here, you don’t want to go out in this. Unless you have somewhere to be, that is.”

He doesn’t say a word, just stares at you as you tip the lip of the bottle into your glass before reaching for his, pulling it to you, and doing the same. He watches the amber liquid pour and swirl into the bottom of his cup and still makes no attempts to exit his seat. You take it as a good sign. “On the house,” you nod towards the vessel of liquid as you hand it back.

Well, no sense in wasting good bourbon; he might as well stay for a bit. Only for the bourbon, he tells himself, only for the bourbon and to wait out the rain and nothing else. 

The sound system continues to cycle slowly through random songs as you raise your glass to him before downing the first swig with gusto, only a slight wince on your face as the alcohol burns its way down your throat. The lieutenant re-situates his mask above his lips and follows your lead. The moment the glass is back on the bar you quickly take it from him and set up another round between your cups before he can object.

“Like a woman who can hold her liquor,” he chuckles quietly and you match his energy with a giggle. 

“Then you’d really like me cause I can handle a lot more than that,” you pick as you place his glass back in front of him. Your heart pounds hard against your ribs as you surprise yourself at how easily the words flew from your lips.

He brings the glass up and keeps it pressed to his mouth for a moment without taking a sip so that he won’t choke from the unexpected innuendo he thinks he’s detected in your comment. Won’t do to look the fool if it actually isn’t there and he’s reading too much into things. 

Heavier still the rain pounds on the roof as it pours down outside, making the small space feel entirely secluded from the outside world. Here within the walls of the bar it’s like you two are the only people left in the world as everything else is cut off by a blanket of precipitation. You turn your attention to the doors to watch the droplets hit against the glass as you breathe deeply through your nose in a vain attempt to slow the racing in your chest.  

“It’s really takin’ a poundin’ out there,” the lieutenant comments as he follows your gaze and you have to clamp your mouth shut as the way he says the sentence has you dangerously close to accidentally admitting that the weather doesn’t have to be the only thing that could be taking a pounding right now.

You swallow hard as you turn back to him and again grab the bottle of liquor. “Guess we’ll be here a while,” you nervously chuckle, waiting for him to finish his second round so you can set up another before tending to your own glass.  

“Ya keep pourin’ free drinks and tha time’ll pass just fine,” he returns as he reaches for the drink and the back of his fingers accidentally brush over the skin of your knuckles before you can pull your hand fully away from the glass.

That stoic military man plays it off as if the minimal contact doesn’t feel like the magnitude from the collision of two universes and it hasn’t just made his heart forcefully restart. You notice his subtle readjustment in his seat and you pretend you aren’t struggling to even pick up your own glass as your limbs turn to jelly and your breath catches in your throat. An uncommon silence falls over the two of you as you both sit facing forward, staring at your drinks and yet you are sure that Lt. Riley is somehow closer to you than he had just been moments ago.

Three shots in and the alcohol is starting to play its deadly tricks. You really shouldn’t be doing this on an empty stomach, but you don’t want him to leave, not yet. The quiet tension that fills the short space between your bodies is thick enough to cut with a knife and the impulsive thoughts that are starting to swirl around in your head are becoming harder and harder to tune out.

Just watch what you say and don’t let the liquor get to your head, you coax yourself internally. If you can just hold it all in, you won’t risk making a fool of yourself. You need to say something, strike up some nonchalant conversation like you usually do; that should help with that ache starting to form inside. 

But as you turn to face him, your eyes get caught in following the line of his strong jaw up to the curvature of his mouth. You begin committing all the subtle details of the lower half of his face to memory now that you are at his side and can notice the beautiful imperfections of those visible features without the distraction of customers to take your attention away: the hints of gray peeking through the hair in his stubble, the mature lines around his mouth, the scars that are aged and faded. He raises his glass to his mouth and you watch the plump flesh of his full lips wrap around the rim in such a sensuous way that your mind instantaneously is overwhelmed with the need to become an inanimate object. 

Squeezing your thighs together a little tighter, you scramble to find an ounce of sanity to cling to while you fight off the desperate thoughts at the back of your mind as Lt. Riley sets his glass back down on the bar top. He feels your gaze boring into him and something about that tonight is sending him into a tailspin that causes him to take a moment to steady his voice from being influenced by the quickening in his pulse before he can ask what it is that’s causing you to stare.  

“Ya alright there?” he poses the question as he turns to face you and he can’t help but get caught up in the look in your eyes, curious about that shine in your dilated pupils as they focus on the bottom of his face.

That’s when it happens; a momentary lapse of judgment, that’s all it takes, one split second where you let your resolve slip and suddenly it isn’t just your eyes that are on his lips anymore. Leaning up into him, you meet his warm mouth in a hazy, quick embrace that makes your mind swim in ecstasy until you aren’t sure how much time has passed. Then all at once you are jolted back into reality as the heat from his breath makes the skin on your lips tingle and the horrid realization of what it is you’ve done slams into your chest with the force of a freight train.

In a flash you break away with an awkward chuckle at the ready to disguise your true feelings by being humorous. “Shit,” you say through your laugh as you place a hand to your temple, “looks like I’m a bit more tired than I thought. Liquor has gone straight to my head.”

Your mind is frantic to come up with something to get you away until you can calm down, but the lingering feeling of the friction of his lips against yours still permeates your every thought. Still it seems your feet know what to do without even thinking as you are now standing. “Let me go clean myself up while you finish your drink, yeah?” you suggest as the man beside you sits silent. “Like I said, it’s on the house, so feel free to leave even if I’m not back once you’re done.”

Those full lips you had just been pressed against stay closed and you don’t give him any chance to respond as you immediately turn tail to head straight for the restrooms at the other side of the bar without a single look back, that euphoric feeling slipping away as anxiety settles itself in your heart. It is probably just a bit of paranoia, but you swear you can feel his eyes staring holes into your back as you finally reach the door and quickly pop inside.  

The hinges on the bathroom door screech through the rust that covers them as you rush to step inside and head straight for the solitary sink near the back wall of the tiny, confined space. “What the fuck was that?” you question yourself as if you have any idea of why you would do such a thing. 

You turn on the taps and cup your hands under the cool water to gather enough in your palms to splash into your face. Fuck, you need to calm down and get a hold of yourself. Blindly reaching for the paper towel dispenser to your right, you grab a fistfull of those coarse bits of paper and pat the liquid off your cheeks before your eyes clock your reflection in the mirror in front of you. Those glistening irises stare back at you as your hands grip onto the sink as if it will help you in taking deep breaths. The blush in your cheeks has blossomed quite bright, bright enough that there is no hiding it even after the few minutes you’ve stood there just inhaling and exhaling. 

Great, you’ve probably run off the one person you actually enjoyed seeing around this shithole by losing yourself in the moment. Is it going to be worth it when he decides to avoid you from now on? That’s the only logical response you can imagine from the events that just took place. Closing your eyes tight, you hang your head with an exasperated sigh as you let the negative self-talk run its course, hoping that at least by the time you finish he will be gone and you can let yourself wallow in shame alone. 

Back outside the bathroom, the lieutenant’s silent gaze follows you all the way until you disappear behind the barrier clearly marked for the toilets. He grips back on and holds tight to the nearly empty glass as he finally turns his attention back around to the rest of the room before him and licks the length of his bottom lip heavily with the end of his tongue to catch the fleeting taste of your kiss as he sits in stunned silence, scrambling to take in all that has just transpired. 

With a few deep breaths inhaled, he throws back the rest of his drink and sets the glass down on the bar with a muted clink for a final time and turning his head back towards the restroom, he pulls his mask down over his face and gets to his feet to slowly head for the door.

It isn’t clear how much time passes before your ears pick up a sound that you do not expect.

Out of your thoughts you hear the familiar squeak of the door hinges and your eyes shoot open to instantly drift towards the source as that can only mean one thing now that the bar is shut down. There, standing noiselessly on the inside of the closed door and taking up most of the frame, is the imposing figure of the one and only Lt. Riley. 

The faint bit of sultry music filtering into the bathroom from the speakers outside the door fills the otherwise quiet of the space as you and that hulking military man simply stare at one another waiting to see who will be the first one to speak. After a few seconds though, the lieutenant makes the first move and slowly crosses the short length of the room with a calm and calculated precision. 

He comes to stop within a few feet of you and finally you find your voice. Those striking eyes never leave yours as he looks down at you through the space in his concealing balaclava and try as you might you can’t read what’s being expressed in his gaze. Is it anger, is it disgust, is it…something else? You don’t know, but you expect the worst and God do you hope you can fix this. 

“Listen, I am so sorry about what I did back there. I’m sure you’re uncomfortable,” you instantly stammer out another apology, only this time with more sincerity. “I genuinely don’t know what came over me to do that to you; we’ve only ever been friendly and I know I’ve overstepped. I won’t make excuses for my behavior, but I promise it won’t happen again. I would just hate to know that I made you feel too awkward to come back.”

There is a pause as his sight stays locked onto your face for what feels like an eternity as he silently tries to discern something within your eyes, a spark that he saw back at the bar, until he finally speaks for the first time since the incident. 

“Did ya not wanna do it?” he asks in a murmur, almost as if he is uneasy to learn the answer. 

The question catches you off-guard, being the only thing that your mind had not anxiously thought could be asked. What are you supposed to say? Under his tender stare you scramble mentally for a believable fib that you can pull off in your distracted state, but the only thing you have is the truth. Goddammit…why can’t you lie to him?

“I- I did, I do, but…” you say in an attempt to explain yourself, but his action causes the words to get lost on your tongue. 

This is not something that Lt. Riley is used to doing, he feels a bit too old and out of place for this sort of thing, but if there is one lesson that the seasoned military man in him always remembers, it’s that when you see an opportunity, you take it and so he moves in until his boots are nearly touching the tip of your shoes. Raising his hand to your head, he brushes his rough fingers through a few loose strands of hair hanging down around your face to tuck them delicately back behind your ear. More of your warm cheek is revealed to his touch and he wastes no time in placing his coarse hand to rest up against it. 

The sound of his voice hits your ears, but your mind is too numb to make out the words as you continue to stare up into his face while his thumb risks a few gentle strokes along the contour along your jaw. You desperately try to speak up, wanting to ask what he said, but your breath gets caught somewhere in your throat as that tender bit of intimacy disrupts all the involuntary processes that normally conduct themselves to keep you functional. 

Being here with him in the soft flickering fluorescent lighting of the bathroom, crammed into this tight space between him and the wall as the natural heat of his body makes the subtle scent of his spicy cologne bloom on his skin, it fills your head with disastrous thoughts that leave you in a haze of intoxication. You swallow hard to gain control. 

“W-what?” you ask.   

Lt. Riley’s strong jaw shifts beneath his mask, preparing himself to restart an admission that could be disastrous, but you’ve already played your hand and now he feels like he should too. “I said I’m done keepin’ this all in,” he reiterates as the softness of your skin under his rugged hand makes his fingertips ache to feel more, “sittin’ in here countless nights pretendin’ like it’s all fine, tryin’ to keep certain thoughts from gettin’ out. Told myself over and over I was too old for ya, that ya’d never go for a bloke like me, and it worked for a time. Then ya kiss me and suddenly I don’t fuckin’ care anymore. Ya say we’re friends, but, ya see, I’ve got enough mates, sweet’art.”

Drifting his thumb over from your cheek to the corner of your mouth he begins to slowly pull the pad of it across the silky skin of your bottom lip. Your mouth parts open with a faint inaudible gasp as he runs the length of all that tender, yearning flesh that is driving him to the brink of insanity. One kiss, that is all it took and now he is sure that there is nothing else that will satisfy him except for you. 

“I wanna be so much more,” he says without breaking eye contact.   

The fingers of his opposite hand find themselves at your side and glide eagerly around the band of your jeans they rest right against your hip. As his exploring touch makes contact with the balmy flesh of your pelvis up under your shirt, sparks of electricity feel like they web out over your skin and your breathing quickens with the increasing beat of your aching heart. 

“Been thinkin’ a lot ‘bout what I’d do if I ever got a chance wit ya like this.” His voice is heavily accented and husky with the magnitude of his need. “Thinkin’ ‘bout all the fuckin’ desperate things I wanna do to ya, but I never thought I’d get an opportunity like this. And now that we’re both ‘ere, I can’t stop the way I’m thinkin’ ‘bout those things again.”

As Lt. Riley traces burning lines over your skin, goosebumps forming wherever he goes, it’s hard to think of anything outside of how he’s never felt more alive than he does right now against you. His experienced fingers flit across your heated flesh the higher they go up your hip and your body trembles under the contact. Is this wrong? Is this right? He isn’t sure of the answer; shit, he’s getting closer and closer to retirement every goddamn day, but all he knows is that he needs you now more than he has ever needed another being before. 

And you need him just as badly.

His inhale is what brings you out of your thoughts and back into the moment. It’s a sharp intake of air and as you focus your sight back onto his eyes, he pauses the movement of his hand before it can get any further up the side of your torso. He’s getting ahead of himself and he needs to hear you to confirm that you need this too. 

“So, that’s why I gotta ask again,” he breathes the words into your face. “Did ya wanna fuckin’ kiss me? Or was it really a mistake?”

You can’t help letting out a wavering breath. Had you been holding it in this entire time? “I did want to do it,” you confirm quietly, struggling to get the words out through the dryness in your mouth. 

In your thoughts you silently beg the universe to not let this be some alcohol induced dream, even though you can feel his hand playing along your skin, sense the proximity of your bodies and the heat that flows off him to let you know that he is real, still you worry. What if this is all wishful thinking? The product of desperation in wanting something you don’t think you deserve to have? You stare back at him with bright eyes, begging for him to prove to you that this is so much more than delusion.

“I swear from the moment I first saw ya behind the bar, every fuckin’ time ya look at me with those pretty eyes ya nearly make me lose myself,” he says, his body so close that you are being physically swallowed up in his massive presence. “I need ya so fuckin’ bad.”

You look into the covered silhouette of his face and up into those dark eyes, the eyes you have adored from afar for so long, and fuck is it intoxicating to finally be the sole object of their unwavering admiration. It is impossible to not feel the want in his gaze, that same want that is overwhelming you too. And suddenly you realize that neither of you is leaving this bathroom…at least not for a while.  

“Y-you don't have to run from it anymore,” you say back softly, “Cause fuck, do I need you just as bad.” 

The desperate way you say it makes his whole body shudder and he struggles to control the ache flooding his limbs as the sound conjures to mind images of him pinning you to the wall and taking you with everything he has, capturing your lips himself this time in an embrace that will leave you faint as that insatiable hunger overtakes him.

Fuck, if he gets any harder he is gonna rip through the zipper of his jeans.

Your gaze pleads with him before it shifts down to the area of his face with the one thing you crave in that moment: his lips, his kiss. You need to have those full bits of flesh against your own again, it’s the only thing you can comprehend the feeling of in the haze that the overwhelming nature of his presence is currently producing to cloud your mind. You have to test that what you felt back at the bar wasn’t just the result of exhaustion and liquor, but that all that chemistry you felt in that moment was real.

And as if in answer to the question you haven’t asked, Lt. Riley slips his fingers into the neckline of his black t-shirt to find the hem of his mask and deliberately he pulls the fabric up to reveal his mouth and stubble-covered jaw to you once again, letting the excess cloth rest across the bridge of his prominent nose in the way he usually does it.

He parts his lips open somewhat to let in a little more oxygen as the space inside the bathroom suddenly feels far too small and the air much too stifling as he succumbs to the anticipation of meeting your lips with his again. This time it is deliberate; what if it doesn’t feel like that first time? It would kill him to know that after all the pining and aching for your touch that he has done that the spark he had just felt was all a farce caused by the liquor and unexpected timing. 

Yet without even thinking suddenly the lieutenant realizes that his hand is cupping the back of your head, his long fingers tangling into the strands of your hair to hold your head in place and you inhale sharply at the rougher contact. A smile forms on his mouth at your reaction, followed by a low groan that emanates out from deep within his chest. 

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, ya know that? Pretty girl.”

Those full lips of his ghost themselves over your own until the proximity makes you tremble from their seduction and your eyes flutter shut a moment as you let yourself succumb to the anticipation of when exactly he will break the distance. He waits on baited breath until your eyes slowly flit back open and your gaze meets his before he finishes his thought. “I wanna make ya mine so fuckin’ bad, luv.”

A smile crosses over your mouth as you hold his longing stare. You know he’s giving you an out, a way to step away if this isn’t really what you want, but from the moment your lips met back at the bar, there was no turning from this. “Then what are you waiting for?” you ask in the softest whisper as you can almost taste his breath from the proximity of his mouth. “Kiss me. Make me yours.”

You hear the deep breath he intakes before all at once he leans into you in a frenzy, not able to hold back that overwhelming tension for another second. The grip from his large hand palming through your hair is strong and keeps your head safe as he shoves you both into the wall, his firm torso pressing tightly into your curves as the brunt of his need and months of pent up longing is forced upon your lips with a feverish intensity that makes you instantly lose yourself as explosions like fireworks light up inside your mind.

Over and over he captures your mouth with hot aggression until your lips start to burn from the friction the harder he presses into them. You try to draw in air, but his heated advances on your mouth make it almost impossible to breathe; still, you won’t let him pull away even if he tries. The sparse dusting of stumble along his jaw pricks your cheeks and the skin around your mouth as the taste of the whiskey that he had just downed for courage floods the inside of your mouth from his breath and it hits your tongue with its sharp bite.

Your own hands decide they need to explore the man currently devouring your lips and you run up the back of his muscular neck to the bottom of his mask only for your fingertips to be met with cropped hair at the back of his head. The feeling of your fingers brushing over the short strands near the nape of his neck makes him shiver as the pleasure of the act snakes down his spine and you sigh into his mouth.

Lt. Riley is completely and utterly captivated by you…and he needs more.   

The hand he has wrapped around you he draws in towards himself so that you are pressed to him even tighter until your bodies are molded together as if you are one being, your curves meeting the firm muscles along his abdomen, and fuck if there isn’t something hard and throbbing piercing against your inner thigh that he starts to grind into you. 

“That’s it lieutenant,” you coax him as you match his movements in that desperate back and forth, scrambling to get as much friction as possible between your aching bodies. 

There is a deep grunt as he shakes his head. “Simon,” he growls into your open mouth as he readjusts his hips more squarely against you, “I need ya ta call me Simon. Say my name.”

Christ, his first name tastes like honey on your tongue and you feel feverishly excited to repeat it aloud now that you finally know it. His name. “Simon,” you groan through a break in his mouth’s connection. 

Those lips of his that dominate your own are frantic to embrace you until your mouth is on fire from the pressure. It’s like a spell the way you say it and suddenly there is nothing else he wants to hear more. “That’s it,” he breathes into you, “Say it again.”

“Simon.” 

He had always been lieutenant or Lt. Riley, but now he is Simon. Just Simon. And even though this has just started, it already feels like he is your Simon.

There is a heat in the middle of his chest, a burning, gnawing desire that has gripped his heart instantly in a desperate chokehold as his essence leaves your soft lips. “Fuck… again, sweet’art,” he begs; never has his name ever sounded so beautiful before and now that he has a taste of it off your tongue, he realizes just how starved he is for it.   

You say his name again, this time like a plea for more and it leaves him in a tailspin. His body cries out to feel you, all of you, without any barriers between your skin meeting his. He needs to experience every detail, explore every curve, relish every soft bit of flesh he can get his hands on; he’s waited long enough to have you. First he has to start with his mask. It’s in the way and he has no need to hide from you, not anymore, not ever again.

“Screw this damned thing,” Simon groans with agitation at the fabric still sticking to his heated features; he doesn’t want a single restriction between you both and with a quick pull starting from the back of his head, he rips the mask up and off his face, throwing it away without even caring where it lands. 

Cupping your face in between his large palms, he pauses only a moment to take you in as a new man, one entirely free of his anonymity, and allow you to truly see who it is that you crave. There is a vulnerability in his brown eyes that he cannot hold back as if he is waiting for you to change your mind now that you know the face beneath the disguise, but that could not be farther from what you are thinking. The desperate need he has for you shines in the depths of his gaze and it makes your already shallow breathing hitch in your chest. 

A gorgeous mess of dirty blonde hair is accentuated with silvery whisps at his temples, making him look distinguished and experienced. His eyes are even more intense now that they are not hidden in darkness and those solid, distinct features are highlighted with a little spackling of hair along his jaw. You can’t help but stare while you scramble to memorize every beautifully mature detail of the man you desire. He is everything and more than you could ever have imagined and all of it only for you. 

Reaching up, you trace the contours of his visage with the tips of your fingers as if sight isn’t enough and you can feel him tremble under your gentle touch. You outline old scars and just forming creases around his eyes as if they are precious and something about the tender way you take him in is enough to stop his heart.

The way your eyes linger on his face has his blood racing violently through his veins and in a haze of lust and euphoria he grabs you by the biceps to spin you round before he slides his hands up under your arms to pick you up, setting your ass on the edge of the small, one person sink. Expertly he slides himself between your open legs while pushing them open wider with his hands to accommodate his broad hips.  

“Fuck, I’ve wanted ta do this for so long now,” he says as his eyeline locks directly onto your full, juicy pout before he immediately has his hand catch the back of your head again to pull your face back to meet his. He connects your mouths back together with another moist, sticky embrace. 

Simon cannot get enough of you, not when it feels like you are meant to take every single ounce of his desire from the moment your lips met each other back at the bar. Unintentionally you roll your hips into him and fuck does it feel good for you to grind against that stiff peak strainging his jeans to capacity.  

He tilts your head back, his hands cradling your neck as his thumb brushes down the side of your throat closest to him. So soft, so silky, his lips ache to get a chance to caress such beauty. The longer he stares the more the idea blossoms in his mind that all that free space would look perfect with a little reminder of where he has been.

Never has he had something so gorgeous at his disposal. It’s enough to make a man lose himself.

“Ya know what I really been thinkin’ ‘bout? Wanna markup this pretty neck ‘a yours,” he groans the desperate request into the skin of your lips. “Leave my signature on what’s mine now.”

His. 

Fuck, why does that sound so good? Now you can’t think of anything else other than that one word being said in his voice: mine. Nothing has ever made you so instantly needy than the sentiment behind his statement. To be claimed by him is all you want.

“Please,” you beg enthusiastically, “I want you to mark me.” 

You’ve barely finished your sentence before your words are quickly followed by an open-mouthed moan as Simon doesn’t waste a single second in moving his lips straight to your throat, using the pad of his thick tongue to lick up to the spot he’s aiming for before latching onto that thunderously pounding vein right beneath your jaw. The sound of your moan pulls a tight knot deep in his belly so that his cock twitches at the tone.

“Gonna leave ya wit somethin’ beautiful,” he grunts the passionate words without lifting his lips off of you. He has to be sure that the pressure takes and leaves the area nice and visible with his signature. 

His mouth latches onto the side of your throat just below your ear before you feel the sharp sting as his teeth dig hard into the soft, supple flesh. The pressure is so intense from the suction of his lips you can almost feel the skin bubble up further into his mouth; there is no question that there will be a big, angry, purple blotch by tomorrow.

“Open. Your. Legs.” 

With shut eyes you hear his demand through the fullness in his mouth and widen the gap between your thighs just as a broad hand slithers its way inside the top of your jeans and into your panties right up until Simon cups it over your pussy. Your lips are already puffy and slick with your need, the heat filling his palm with your desperation for more as his thick fingers part them like a hot knife through butter.

Gently he uses the pad of his middle finger to circle around the tiny nub at the top of your pussy, that sweet little button full of nerve endings that immediately make you whimper as he plays around it, teasing the sensitive tissue with a light, steady touch without making any contact with it yet. He’s waiting to feel a tremble shake its way through you, your body’s way of begging for more stimulation, before he gives in to the gnawing ache he’s desperately trying to create in you.   

“Please,” the whispered plea falls from your raw lips as agony sets in, but he stays the course. 

You groan deeply, your body straining to hold on as your clit throbs, and just as your head falls back and your eyes close there is a quiver that ripples through your inner thighs. There is no way for you to know, but you swear that his lips upturn against your neck and suddenly he is stroking the tip of his finger over that pulsing node.

Raising your hands to his shoulders, you dig the tips of your fingers in hard to the muscles in shoulders through his t-shirt to hold on as your entire body is enchanted by his stimulation. The pressure from your touch causes him to grunt excitedly into your neck, aroused by the desperate roughness of the contact, and you can feel the vibration in the back of your throat. 

The fluorescent lights overhead flicker with a metallic click and his eyes flutter open just as a bead of sweat catches the light as it rolls down your chest and into the valley between your breasts. Simon watches its entire path as it descends into your cleavage before another grabs his attention. Before this one can get away he licks it up with the tip of his tongue, capturing your salt in his mouth. There is nothing on you that he wants to go to waste, not when he has waited this long to finally have a taste of you.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he moans deeply into your skin as if he is trying to fuse his words with the flesh so that you will carry them with you. “I’m one lucky bastard ta even get the chance ta touch ya.” 

“I’m the lucky one,” you breathe. “I’ve wanted you for so long Simon. Just didn’t want to risk looking the fool and driving you away if you didn’t feel the same. I couldn’t stand you not being around.”

Simon pulls from your throat and his face drifts back up to look into yours, his fingers still working their magic. You meet his gaze with an open mouth as the ecstasy builds, the eye contact intensifying the already intimate act. 

“I’m not fuckin’ goin’ anywhere,” he says with conviction that it turns your already desperate need for him completely feral. 

You tug at his belt, your fingers clumsily fidgeting with the buckle until it finally comes loose and falls away, hitting his hips with a jingle as metal clanks against metal. A swift nip at your bottom lip is his response to being undressed as you grab onto the pull of his zipper and rip it all the way down to reach the seam. His pants are barely hanging onto his body now, clinging ever so carelessly at his hip bones and ready to slip off them at any second with the slightest amount of movement. 

“I need you inside me,” you breathe into his mouth as your hands gripped onto his hips push the fabric down, making him lightheaded at your neediness. 

Of course you’re curious about the protuberance prodding into you and as the last of his clothing falls away, your eyes drift down. “Fuck…” you whimper in a whisper as you release his cock and it springs to life as it’s no longer confined. 

“It’s all yours, sweet’art,” he says as he runs the edge of his teeth across your lip while his hands paw at the waistband of your pants. “Been fuckin’ gnawin’ at the bit to bury it in ya. Goddammit, ya get me so fuckin’ hard I can barely handle myself sometimes. Have to rub one out the moment I get back to base.”

It’s your turn now and he helps to keep you steady while you raise your hips off the sink enough that he can pull down your pants and drag them off your legs, taking your skimpy panties with them so that there’s nothing left to remove. “Fuckin’ hell,” he says, his breathing shaky as he takes you all in. All that glorious, soft, supple skin could not be more beautiful.

You cup his cheek and he comes back into himself, back into the moment with you. “Simon, please.” 

That’s all he needs to hear before he moves to align himself at your pulsing and dripping core. “Need ya ta breathe for me,” he reassures, “just breathe.”

Your head is held upright as he peers deep into your eyes while you struggle to take him in, his girth stretching out your tight hole the deeper he goes until your body contours to his specific shape. He tries to speak, but only incoherent, slurred words trip off his tongue at the feeling of his cock being throttled with how tight and wet you are. How can a being so exquisite want someone like him?

“You’re perfect, luv,” he groans as he scrambles to settle himself so that this doesn’t end prematurely by digging his fingers into your hip. “Ya drive me insane, pretty girl.” 

God, his honeyed words act as an aphrodisiac and the pleasure is almost too much. “I’ve wanted you for so long Simon, thought I was gonna break everytime you came in for a drink. I need you to fuck me good. I’ve waited so long for this.”

He chuckles as he lifts your chin. “Baby, I only want to make you come,” he says while staring deep into your eyes, clenching so that his cock twitches within you to make you gasp with a surprised smile.

To be inside you is mind-numbing, but that doesn’t stop the need he has to thrust, to shove his cock further and further up into you. Even within the first few minutes he is already pussydrunk so that he is slamming into you with a feral roughness that leaves his rhythm scattered for a bit as his brain only has one objective and that is to make you both fall apart.

One hand, fingers spread wide, braces against the wall aside the mirror, the other rests around the back of your neck as his hips snap up into you with a consistent fluidity. The sink beneath you groans and squeaks in time with each of his thrusts, the unfamiliar strain putting pressure where it connects to the wall. 

Having him pounding inside you has you so wet that the sound of slapping skin against skin fills the bathroom and Simon pulls back just enough to watch himself pump in and out of that beautiful opening. A sight like this is deadly and he prays that it is burned into his mind cause he wants this on replay in his thoughts. Nothing could ever look better than this.

Taking two fingers he brings them straight in towards your clit, wasting no time in drawing circles over that overwhelmingly sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips buck hard against him at the extra stimulation until you are pushing down onto his hand, your eyes rolling back as the ecstasy flows through your veins and that recognizable warmth starts to gather in the pit of your stomach.

“Don’t stop,” you beg, each second bringing you ever closer to your release. “Gonna cum soon.”

Those three lethal words he has longed to hear for months and months now only fuel those strong thrusts and quick flicks of your clit. “That’s it, darlin’, fuckin’ come for me,” Simon growls so desperately it makes your head spin. “I need to feel ya.”

The pace never falters even though Simon is hanging on by a thread and his body is burning from the constant movement. He can’t be stopped, not with his goal so close. And all that hard work pays off as with a few more minutes your head finally flicks back and your thighs clamped down around his hips, a cry exploding out of you as you come violently that you nearly fall off the sink, but he isn’t going to let you go anywhere.

“Good girl,” he praises breathlessly. “Ride it out, all the way for me.”

Your core is fluttering around him, squeezing around his cock as he takes you all the way through your ecstasy until it’s too much to handle. His fingers scramble to rip up your shirt off your torso to secure it above your bra; he won’t be able to hold on much longer. A few heavy breaths get panted out in time with his thrusts and that is it, like flicking on a lightswitch he cannot hold off the pressure any longer as it reaches its peak. 

His raw mouth latches onto the crook of your neck just as he rips his cock out of you and into his hand to stroke out his orgasm and cover your stomach in his warm cum. Simon’s body shudders as he releases a loud groan with a bass that vibrates through your shoulder as he desperately tries to keep quiet as the intensity of his pleasure rips through him like a tidal wave with each stroke of his hand over his sensitive cock. 

“Christ,” he grunts into you as he milks the last bit of cum out and releases his grip on himself. 

Simon’s head hangs limp a moment as he breathes, exhaustion flooding his limbs so that they feel weighted, before he leans down and catches your mouth in a much more tender embrace than the ferocious ones he had been placing on it just moments ago. Your fingers run through his sideburns and he can’t help sighing contentedly with a smile meeting your lips.  

This has been more than worth the wait. “You’re amazin’ sweetheart,” he murmurs sweetly. “The best thing ta ever happen ta me.”

Simon keeps you in his arms even after he’s gotten you cleaned up and back onto your feet, holding you close to his body as he drags his rough, hardened fingers down over the palm of your hand with a light touch, bringing them down to the tips of your own until goosebumps begin to form along your forearm. 

“It’s late; you’ll probably want ta be headin’ home now,” he mutters quietly as his sizable fingers part through the spaces between your own until they latch your hands together. 

“You’re right,” you agree with a nod of your head, both of you still reeling in the ecstasy of your copulation as your eyes linger on the tender connection of your hands.

Simon looks up from your conjoined limbs to meet your bright eyes and the smile he greets with his sight leaves him desperate to feel it on his lips. You grip into his hand tighter as you move to step towards the door. “You coming with me? Gotta lock up before we can head to mine.” 

He smirks to himself with a shake of his head as he lets you lead him by the hand back out into the bar, ready to head to yours for the night to get lost in you all over again. Fate gave him this opportunity and he is going to take full advantage of enjoying the one thing he’s craved for too long now.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Private equity rips off its investors, too

I'm coming to DEFCON! TOMORROW (Aug 9), I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On SATURDAY (Aug 10), I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

It's amazing how many of the scams that have devastated our economy and everyday people owe their success to the fact that we assume that rich people know what they're doing, so if they're doing something, it must be real.

Think of how many people lost everything by gambling on junk bonds, exotic mortgage derivatives, cryptocurrency and web3, because they saw that the largest financial institutions in the world were going all-in on these weird, incomprehensible bets.

Then there are the people who are convinced that online advertising is built around a mind-control ray, because tech companies claim that's what they have ("I am an evil dopamine-loop-hacking wizard and I can sell anything to anyone!"), and because huge, sober blue-chip companies hand billions to these soi dissant svengalis. Sure, online ads are a swamp of clickfraud and garbage, but would these super smart captains of industry spend so much on online advertising if it didn't work super-well?

http://pluralistic.net/HowToDestroySurveillanceCapitalism

From our worms'-eye-view here on the ground, it's easy to assume that rich people and the people who sell them stuff are all on the same side. "If you're not paying for the product, you're the product," right? If Facebook is tormenting you with surveillance advertising, it must be doing so on behalf of the surveillance advertisers, for whom Mark Zuckerberg has bottomless reservoirs of honest, forthright impulses.

The reality is simultaneously weirder, and obvious in hindsight. The reason Zuck is tormenting you is that he's a remorseless sociopath who doesn't care who he hurts. He rips off everyone he can rip off, and that includes advertisers, who have seen steady price-hikes and lower-fidelity targeting, even as ad-fraud has skyrocketed while Facebook draws down its anti-fraud spending:

https://www.404media.co/where-facebooks-ai-slop-comes-from/

This is not to say that Facebook advertisers have your best interests at heart, that they aren't engaged in active deception in order to better themselves at your expense. Rather, it's to say that there's no honor among thieves, and Zuck is an equal-opportunity predator. Moreover, both Zuck and his advertisers are credulous dolts, so the mere fact that they are pouring money into something (advertisers: FB ads; Zuck: metaverse) it doesn't follow that these are real or important or the coming thing.

For me, the Ur-example of "rich people are dumb, even when it comes to money" is the private equity sector. I've written a lot about PE, and how destructive it is to the real economy, from Toys R Us to pet grooming:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/05/rugged-individuals/#misleading-by-analogy

How they killed Red Lobster:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/23/spineless/#invertebrates

And how they actually created the death panels that Sarah Palin warned us about (it's OK, though: these death panels are run by the efficient private sector, not government bureaucrats):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/26/death-panels/#what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-CMS

The devastating effect of private equity on the real economy is increasingly well understood, and a curious side-effect of this is that people assume that if PE is destroying their lives, they must be doing so on behalf of their investors, who are making bank.

But – like Zuck – PE bosses are just as happy to steal from their investors as they are to to steal from the workers and customers of the businesses they acquire on those investors' behalf. They swaddle this theft in performative complexity and specialized jargon, but when you strip all that away, you find more fraud.

All the misery that PE inflicts on workers, communities and customers are just a convincer in a Big Store con, a bid to make the scam seem credible. For a certain kind of investor, any economic activity that destroys communities and workers' livelihoods must be a good bet. This is the dynamic at work in the pitch of AI image-generator companies, who spend tens of billions on technology that there is no substantial market for:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/25/accountability-sinks/#work-harder-not-smarter

AI image generators represent a high-profile, extremely visible example of "a job that AI can do." Nevermind that AI illustration went from a novelty to a tired cliche in less than a year. Even if you think that AI illustrations are a perfect substitute for commercial illustrations, that still won't come anywhere near making AI companies a profit. Add up the entire wage bill for every commercial illustrator in the world, hand it to Open AI, and you're not even gonna cover the kombucha budget for Open AI's staff kitchens.

Hell, all the wages of every commercial illustrator that ever lived won't pay back even a fraction of the money the AI companies spent on image generators. The pauperization of an entire class of creative workers is just a canned demo, a way to fool investors into thinking that there is a whole universe of similarly situated workers whose wages can be diverted to AI companies. This is the logic of small-time spammers, scaled up to the scale of the entire S&P 500. Smalltime spammers looked at AI and thought, "OK, I can generate as much botshit as I want on demand for free. Science fiction magazines pay $0.10/word. So if I generate a billion words, I'll get $100 million." But that's not how any of that works: sf magazines don't buy botshit, and even if they did, the entire market for short fiction adds up to what Sam Altman spends on a single designer t-shirt. The point of destroying these beloved, useful things isn't to make a lot of money by taking their markets – it's to convince dopey, panicked rich people to give you lots of money you can steal, because they think you can do this to every market and they don't want to miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

Take "divi recaps": after a private equity firm acquires a company (by borrowing money against its assets), it typically declares a "special dividend," emptying out the company's cash reserves and pocketing them. A "divi recap" is when PE then takes out another massive loan against the company's (remaining) assets and pockets that:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/17/divi-recaps/#graebers-ghost

All of this happens under an opaque cloud, thanks to the light-to-nonexistent disclosure rules for PE. A public company has to open its books for the SEC, its investors, and the world. PE is private – and so are its finances. It is absolutely routine for PE bosses to put their spouses, kids, and pals on the payroll and hand them millions for doing little to nothing, all at the expense of their investors:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2022/02/sec-set-to-lower-massive-boom-on-private-equity-industry.html

PE bosses charge huge fees to their investors – not merely the usual 2-and-20 (2% of the funds under management and 20% of any profits) – but also a wide variety of special one-off fees that pile to the sky. They also dip into their investors' funds to issue themselves massive loans that they use to make side-bets, without telling the investors about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/10/monopoly-begets-monopoly/#gary-gensler

PE investors are chickens ripe for the plucking: take "continuation funds," which allow PE bosses to soak the rich people and pension funds who supply them with billions:

https://news.bloomberglaw.com/mergers-and-acquisitions/matt-levines-money-stuff-buyout-funds-buy-from-themselves

Remember 2-and-20? 2% of all the money you manage, every year, and 20% of all the profits. You'd think that these would be somewhat zero sum, right? If you use some of your investors' cash to buy a company, and then sell off that company for a profit, you get the 20%, but now the pot of money you're managing has gone down by the amount you used to buy the company, and so your 2% carry goes down, too.

But what if you sell your portfolio companies to yourself, using your investors' own money? When you do that, you continue to hold the company on your PE firm's books, meaning you continue to get the 2% carry, and you can pocket 20% of the sale price as a "profit":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/20/continuation-fraud/#buyout-groups

This is straight-up fraud, wrapped up in so much jargon that it can successfully masquerade as "financial engineering" ("financial engineering" is really just a euphemism for "fraud"). PE bosses keep coming up with new, exotic ways to steal from their investors. The latest scam is "tax receivable agreements":

https://archive.ph/RczJ9

On its face, this is a tax scam. When a company goes public, early investors generally hold stock in the original partnership or LLC; this company ends up holding a ton of shares in the new, public company. When they sell those non-public shares in the LLC, this creates a (potentially gigantic) tax credit.

A TRA hustle involves tracking down these LLC shareholders and convincing them to sign off on dumping the LLC's shares, which generates a huge tax credit for the public company. The hustler offers to split these credits with the LLC holders.

All of this is especially attractive to PE bosses, who often take a company private, do a bunch of "financial engineering" and then take it public again, leaving the PE firm as the owner of those LLC shares that can be converted to a TRA and a huge windfall – which the PE bosses pocket, because they (not their investors) are holding those credits.

This scam is really doing big numbers. KKR – the monsters who killed Toys R Us – just diverted $650 million in TRA loot, prompting a lawsuit from Steamfitters union pension fund, which had handed these jerks millions of its members' money to gamble with:

https://archive.ph/kqQvI

This highlights another very weird aspect of the PE scam: they are absolutely dependent on pension funds. To add insult to injury, PE funds are notorious union-busters – they use union money to buy companies and destroy their unions:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/05/mr-gotcha/#no-ethical-consumption-under-capitalism

People who try to understand the PE business model often give up, because it seems to make no sense, leading many to assume that they're too unsophisticated to grasp the complex financials here. For example, PE is absolutely dependent on massive loans as a way of looting its businesses, but it also often defaults on those loans. Why do banks and investors keep making huge loans to PE deadbeats? Because – like the PE fund investors – they are credulous dolts.

The reason PE seems like a scam is that it is a scam. It is a fractal scam – every part of it is a scam. You might have heard about the "carried interest" tax loophole that allows PE bosses to avoid billions in taxes on the money they steal from their investors, creditors, workers and customers. Most people assume "carried interest" has something to do with "interest" on a loan. Nope: "carried interest" is a 16th century nautical tax rule designed for mercantalist sea-captains who had an "interest" in the cargo they "carried":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/29/writers-must-be-paid/#carried-interest

But rich people and other "sophisticated investors" (like pension fund investment managers) are no smarter than the rest of us. They are herd animals. When they see other rich people piling into some scheme or asset class, they rush to join them, which makes the asset price go up, which makes them think they're smart (until the inevitable rug-pull). When one plute jumps off the Empire State Building, the rest of them jump, too.

Which is why there's more money flooding into PE than at any time in history, $2.62T in "dry powder," handed over to greedy, thieving PE bosses in a poker game where everyone is the sucker at the table:

https://www.institutionalinvestor.com/article/2di1vzgjcmzovkcea8f0g/portfolio/private-equitys-dry-powder-mountain-reaches-record-height

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/08/sucker-at-the-table/#clucks-definance

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Dune: Prophecy episode 1 thoughts, tried to keep it vague to avoid major spoilers:

Wow there is a lot of exposition. Like a LOT of exposition, especially in the first 10-15 minutes when we're not invested in any of the characters yet. I hope this is a first episode problem.

Ah they went the coward's route and used "Great Machine War" instead of "Butlerian Jihad."

There's an interesting "history is written by the victors" thread there right from the beginning that I hope they pull on some more.

I love how they did the Voice, which appears early in the episode, because both the actor's performance and the sound design of it are slightly different from the films. It really feels/sounds like the character using it is straining to access a new and unfamiliar power, in contrast to the effortless, overwhelming assertion of control it comes across as in the films.

Salusa Secundus looks so green and lush in comparison to how it looks at the time of the films.

I realize this is probably an unfair complaint for something made on a TV budget (even an HBO TV budget), but imo the production design doesn't quite measure up to the films. I think the best work is on the props. The key to the genetic index room, the little slides that Valya and Tula are looking at with students' info on them, the Emperor's projection table--those all look great and have that feeling of "future filtered through the past" that I think is key to the Dune aesthetic. Many of the location exteriors are gorgeous, too. Some of the interior sets are quite striking and others are underwhelming. The costumes are...mid imo; there are some beautiful elements and others that look too identifiably modern. Including Princess Ynez's red gown unfortunately which looks like a department store prom dress. I realize it's a high bar--the films were really really good at making everything look both futuristic and ancient, layered and textured--but you do notice the difference.

So! Many! Women! Pretty racially diverse casting too. But also omg so many characters and I already forget half their names. I'm gonna need Dune: Facebook for the next episode.

Emily Watson and Olivia Williams are already very compelling, even if you don't quite know their characters' full agendas yet. Heckin ready for some Machiavellian women scheming.

Love some of the more fucked up shit that just slides by and the information it gives you about the world. Adult (? idk maybe she's supposed to be in her late teens) woman getting engaged to a 9-year-old. Practicing Truthsaying on prisoners, some of whom have fresh bruises on their faces.

Arrakis is...the same. This one is honestly fucking me up. I know time scales in Dune are absurd and really kind of incomprehensible in comparison to real Earth history but can you imagine your home being passed around various imperialist powers for resource extraction for ten thousand years?? FOUR HUNDRED GENERATIONS. 80 years of Harkonnen rule seems like nothing. We're talking about whole eras of colonial control and resistance here. Like damn. No wonder so many Fremen have come to believe that only a messiah can save them. Imagine being someone like Chani and feeling the legacy of not decades or even centuries but millennia of struggle on your shoulders. It is gonna take me a while to fully absorb this one. Holy fuck.

Travis Fimmel's character has an...ability that we haven't seen in the Dune universe before and I'm super curious to see where they're gonna go with that.

Overall it feels like this episode was mostly setup but there's a lot of potential? Like there are a lot of potential threads that could develop into something cool and twisty and interesting. I'm not sure where any of it is going yet but I'm ready to find out.

[simp-ly-writes]

When All That's Left is Love

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.9)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: After everything you both had been through; the pain, the torment, the utter longing, you and Jayce can only find your love leftover in the post-war rubble and go on to find various ways to show each other that your love is truly enough.

─ · · THE FOLLOWING CONTENT IS BETWEEN CONSENTING ADLUTS AND IS NOT MEANT FOR ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. skip the smut once seeing the star! ⭐️ tags under cut

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, protective! jealous! possessive(?)! Jayce, fluff, emotional angst (happy tears*), Evren (OC), kissing, teasing, swearing, brief descriptions of an anxiety attack, mentions of death and war, reader is mentioned to have hair and is shorter than Jayce, not beta read. smut: unprotected pinv sex (be safe please!), oral (fem receiving), dom!Jayce, almost caught, chocking, marking/biting, size kink?, hand kink?, dirty talk, aftercare.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 5,456 |

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: a gift from me to you~ (gosh i'm so in love 😫🫠)

─────── · ·

─ · · Evren had come by near the end of breakfast as he helped ensure there would be no leftovers. He offered a giddy smile before stuffing his face and licking the plate clean. You sighed, disappointed, I was really looking forward to those waffles later. You feel Jayce's stare on you, catching your sad look as you stare at Evren's plate longingly. "Want to get ready together?" You feel Jayce hot breath whisper into your ear, you turn your head over your shoulder and nod as Jayce pulls your chair out and you both head down the hall.

"Would you mind helping me to the market? I used up the last of the eggs," Ximena asked, grabbing Evren's arm. "Of course, gorgeous," is the last thing you hear Evren say to Xiema before the bathroom door closes.

"You really are okay with Evren flirting with your mom?" you question as Jayce shrugs his shoulders, "my mom has better taste than him." Your jaw drops, "Jayce!" you shout before cracking up and Jayce can't help but laugh as well.

─ · · You and Jayce proceeded to get ready in the bathroom... or well, at least you tried too, Jayce on the other hand seemingly couldn't allow you to focus on anything but keeping his touch on you; pulling your head in his direction for a kiss before wrapping his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder as he looked at you both through the mirror with a grin- kissing you on the cheek. "Jayce! I can't get ready if you're all over me like this."

Jayce sighs, peeling his head away yet his arms and chest still block you against the vanity. "Someone's desperate for attention," you mumble underneath your breath, bending down as Jayce groans, not knowing that you would pay for your words and actions later.

You look for your hair product in the cabinet but just as you feel his hips roll into your backside you stand up straight and continue your routine- refusing to even make eye contact with him in the mirror.

With a huff Jayce pulls off his shirt before walking over to the shower albeit it slowly- knowing that the moment you saw skin, your attention was drawn to his back muscles flexing as he reached over to adjust the temperature and the small chain that dangles around his neck, you raise your brow curious as to what it is.

Steam begins to fill the small space as he turns around, bare chest brushing up against your covered one to grab a towel. Your hand grasped his side, eyes connecting with your promise ring dangling from his neck- you blink away the memories of that moment before trailing your hand slowly around and down to his stomach as you bite your lip, looking up at him.

Jayce says nothing, simply unbuckling his belt but before you can remove your hand he grasps your wrist, pulling it back to rest on his abs in a silent demand before you hear the leather slipping through the belt loops and crashing against the floor. You feel a wave of emotions come over you as your cheeks warm, your eyes not knowing where to rest upon as Jayce stares down at you, his body taking up your frontal vision and your hand so close to his- you simply stare up at the ceiling trying to calm yourself with deep breaths, I have work I need to get done today, I have work to do, I have-

─────── · · ⭐️

You feel Jayce's lips against your exposed neck feeling as he smiles against your skin once hearing you moan, fuck, that you quickly try and cover with your other hand. "God you're so beautiful," Jayce murmurs- his hands reach up your shirt leaving you gasping as he gropes your chest and feels for a clasp. Your hand slips from your mouth, "Jayce" you whisper-shout his name slowly in warning your yet it comes out more like a plea.

"Mhmm?" He murmurs, lips finding your cheek trailing down to your chin and across to your lips. You feel his breath, hot and heavy as he speaks softly to you, "I know you worked so hard on your make-up and hair darling, I won't mess it up, promise." You feel as he pulls away, your eyes opening as he pats the counter, "sit."

You stare for a moment, thighs clenching together, you can feel your core start to throb in want as Jayce watches the gears turn in your head, "just want to make you feel good, sweetheart." You cover your face with your palms, shaking your head, trying to regain your rationale mind but all you can think about us how good his fingers would feel stretching you out, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing your clit, the feeling of his beard scratching the skin between your thighs- you groan before lifting yourself onto the counter, looking at Jayce with pleading eyes.

Jayce rubs his palms up and down your thighs, feeling as they tremor in wait, the material of your nightgown starts to bunch up at the top of your waist exposing your wet folds soaking through the fabric of your undergarments. You shiver feeling the ghost of his knuckle teasingly swipe up and down your folds, "this wet for me already?" you nod, staring down at his hands watching the veins that bulge across the back of them and how they run up his forearms, you bite your lip remembering all the nights you fantasized about those exact hands helping you to reach your release and how many times your own fingers failed to compare.

You wiggle against the countertop in need, ready to start begging and by the look in Jayce's darkening eyes, he expects you to beg for him. "please just touch me, please," you press yourself against his hand, rotating your hips as he pushes the heel of his palm against your clit, you groan once finally finding friction to soothe the ache within you.

Jayce pulls his hand as you hump air for a second ready to complain before feeling as Jayce pulls down your ruined panties, casting them aside with his belt. Two large fingers circle around your leaking hole, the first knuckles sneaking in to gather your wetness before carrying it up to clit- pinching it and getting you to whine. When Jayce beings to rub, your head soon feels too heavy for your body- your forehead falling against his shoulder, "feels so good, Jayce," you hum into his ear, he smiles at the praise, "missed my fingers-hm?"

"mhmm, so much, Jayce. Just didn't feel the same," Jayce's movements pause again and you are beyond frustrated, reaching down to move his hand but Jayce remains firm, looking at you in the eyes with a strong, no.

"Who touched you here? tell me," Jayce asks, taking his attention away from your clit and instead entering your hole, filling you slowly before stopping halfway seeing as you don't answer him, "who fucked this pussy?"

"Only you since then Jayce, promise, only you," you feel yourself drip down your thighs as you pray for another finger to further the already delicious stretch you feel. "So this is mine?" you nod your head frantically feeling that third finger prodding at your entrance, the stretch a pleasurable burn as you grip his forearm, "all yours" you moan out feeling as he fully pulls his fingers out before filling you quickly and roughly.

"Mine to finger?" he kisses you once, another thrust, "yes," you whisper against his lips.

"Mine to fuck?" his kiss lingers, teeth pulling at your lip, "yes," you moan out, feeling his other hand move to place pressure againat your clit in small circular motions. The steam of the room coats your mind in a foggy haze of pleasure.

"Mine to cum in?" you clench down on his fingers, hard. Jayce presses his head against your own, breaths ragged, you feel across his chest down to his abs as he continues to fuck you with his fingers feeling as his muscles tense with every breath he takes.

Sparks explode across your hot skin that quickly turn into flames as you wiggle your hips, chasing your impending release. "Did you dream of me, baby? Me filling you up? Stretching you out? Reaching parts inside of you that no one else could? Marking you with my-"

"Jayce!" you yell, his words inciting your orgasm to come crashing down as you moan and whine against him yet Jayce only quickens his pace, slamming his fingers in and out of your gushing hole, the entire scene obscene as you flush at the squelching sounds of your lingering orgasm.

Your thighs are shaking as the once pleasurable burn turns into painful sensitivity, you tap Jayce's back three times getting him to stop. You watch as he slowly pulls his fingers out of your dripping cunt and see the way that they gleam underneath the artificial lights.

"My messy girl," Jayce belittles you, licking your release off of his fingers slowly, enjoying the taste thoroughly before bending down and forcing your knees apart, "let me clean you up?" he asks, looking up at you with large and shining hazel eyes- pleading.

How could you refuse that look? Grabbing him by his curly brown locks you lead his face towards your sex, withering and learning back against the cool mirror once feeling his rough tongue take a long lick up your slick. "J-jayce~" you sob his name and feel his moan vibrate your clit, your ankles lock behind his back, pushing him further into you.

Jayces hands grip your thighs tightly, you know marks will appear later but how could you care when he was making you see literal stars as you blinked looking up into the light fixture, lost in pleasure. "I'm gonna cum... a-almost there," you look down meeting his eyes as his tongue enters your hole making sure to gather every last drop of your previous orgasm.

You open your mouth in a silent scream, gripping his hair as he groans, nose rocking against your clit as your muscles clench- your orgasm rocking through every vein in your body, tingling and coming to life as your breaths become short and staggered before hitching as Evren calls your name from the front door.

You freeze, trying to pull Jayce away yet he just shakes his head, continuing to lap up your cunt as you plead at him, "J-jayce I-ah," you whisper through moans trying to wiggle yourself away but only finding yourself sitting more on his face, his hands squeezing and gripping your ass in warning.

You breathe out a sigh in relief once feeling him pull away, not bothering to wipe his mouth as he pulls you in for a kiss- tasting your release on his lips. You push your hands at his chest, needing air as he kneads your muscles, "I have to go see him," you try and explain to Jayce, feeling as he rocks his covered bulge against your prepared entrance. "Yeah? you need to go see him?" Jayce counters while starting to pull your night gown and bra with it over your head.

"I-I thought you said you weren't going to mess up my look," you try and counter with pout and glare once seeing your reflection in his dark eyes. Jayce smiles softly, "you're glowing, my love." You shake your head with a sigh, "I just came twice Jayce, I'm covered in sweat-there's a difference," you try and explain yet Jayce only shakes his head, kissing you to effectively shut you up. You hear Evren yell your name again, the front door slamming closed as his footsteps continue inwards into the apartment.

"He'll leave soon," Jayce explains as you listen to him unzip his pants, feeling as he rubs his length across your slick before feeling the tip of his cock poke at your hole- threatening to enter. Jayce tilts your head to the side, brushing your hair away before kissing up your neck to behind your ear, biting down on your lobe and whispering inside, "say you don't want this and I'll stop so you can go say hi to your friend."

You sigh frustrated, Jayce knows what he's doing, knows that your need is speaking louder than your brain. Evren will leave... right? "I need you Jayce," you confirm feeling as your hole wraps around the head of his cock, sucking him in. Jayce curses underneath his breath, knuckles turning white as he grips the countertop. "You have to relax for me, sweetheart. A bit too tight," Jayce says, biting his lip listening to you whine and force yourself to relax.

Jayce sighs, pushing himself in inch by inch, the time apart and the prep from his fingers could only do so much to fit you around his girth as you hissed, nails clawing into his back as he rocked you both gently to start. A hairbrush of yours falls and clatters against the tiled floors. Jayce leans forwards- sinking deeper into you, pressing a kiss to your nose before leaning down and leaving wet hot kisses against your shoulder.

"Hows it feel? you doing okay?" a knuckle gently brushing up and down your spine as you shiver and wiggle your thighs around his waist, "feels... good, so good, Jayce. So deep- thank you, Jayce, thank you," you cry out in bliss feeling him rock into you again, your walls aching with need.

"Yeah? This what you needed-hm? Just cock in you to make you relax?" You lean forwards pressing a kiss to his arm- not trusting your words as only moans come out of your mouth in between gasps of air as he forces himself in you again and again... a knock at the bathroom door sounds. You freeze yet Jayce keeps fucking you, uncaring as he smirks and looks down at you, wondering when you'll tell him to stop.

You stare at him blankly, a harsh snap of his hips has you about to moan yet he places his lips quickly against your own to muffle the sound, "quiet" he hisses into your ear afterwards. You paw at his arms, mind half filled with desperation for him to fill you, the other side to wanting to pull away. You close your eyes, thankful for the shower still being on but praying for Evren to just walk away.

Jayce begins to rub at our clit, your hands fall off Jayce's arms as you arch your back, leaning against the counter. After hearing nothing for a little while you look up at Jayce, I'm close, you try and whisper to him before biting back another moan- feeling as your eyes well with tears.

Jayce removes his hand from your clit, grabbing your waist as he starts to fuck you harder, hips slamming into your own as Jayce chases his own release.

You can barley contain yourself as you cry out in pleasure, mind fully gone, only thoughts of your impending orgasm clouding over. Jayce watches as your eyes roll into the back of your head, the way your chest bounces with every thrust of his cock into your leaking core. You feel as his hand snakes its way up between your breasts before gently gripping the sides of your throat in warning.

Another knock sounds, this time louder, "Hey, you doing okay? I'm gonna head to the library, take it easy today alright?" Evren says, voice close to the door. Jayce pulls your neck towards him, your eyes looking into his own as he squeezes again in warning before slowly releasing his grip. You clear your throat yelling, "Okay Ev! I'll see you tomorrow!"

"See you then!" you hear him tap the door twice in goodbye before locking your front door again. You collapse against Jayce's chest, moaning loudly, "Did that turn you on, sweetheart? Having someone almost hear me fucking you... could have seen my fucking you? Making them know that I'm yours and you're only mine?"

"Fuck, Jayce! Yes," you wiggle your hips meeting his thrusts, "just want to be yours." Jayce kisses you harshly feeling your thighs lock around him as you near your peak. "Gonna let me cum inside you?"

"Yes, please Jayce," you cry out. "Want to feel me coating your insides? Making you mine?"

"Mhmm!" you shake in his arms that wrap around your back, holding you upright as you feel him twitch within you, you gasp feeling your own orgasm rake over your body as you shudder against his chest, tears dripping down your cheeks as you mumble incoherently once feeling him fill you up with jagged thrusts, "s-such a good girl, so perfect for me," he stutters into a growl feeling as you clench down harder at the sound, effectively milking him dry.

You both lean against one another's hot and sticky skin. Jayce presses a kiss to your forehead, brushing the hair away from your face as he checks you over quickly, your heart aches at how quickly he changes personalities before picking you up by the back of your thighs and carrying you into the shower, still connected. You hum once feeling the warm water coat your skin before feeling the cool tile against your back as Jayce steadies you, equally hissing while watching him pull out.

You feel your combined release drip from your hole and start to run down your thighs with the water. You gasp once feeling the rough pads of Jayce's fingers collect the mixture and stuff it back inside your sore opening as you grip his bicep and take deep breaths. "Can't waste it now," Jayce murmurs- you question if you can orgasm again from not being able to feel your legs... and then you suddenly remember all the papers you have to mark as post-orgasm clarity comes to the forefront of your thoughts. "May just need to fuck you again if you're still thinking about anything, relax, my love," Jayce, lovingly ridicules you, picking up your chin to press a gentle kiss to your puffy lips.

─────── · · ⭐️

You sigh- forcing your mind to numb as you watch Jayce lather and wash your skin before cleaning himself. You reach up and pull him forwards by his shoulders so that you can wash his hair, digging your nails into his scalp as he smiles contently, closing his eyes in pure bliss. You had never seen Jayce so utterly... relaxed. Your heart swells as you cares his jaw, running your thumb across his cheek, you didn't realize you said those words aloud before hearing Jayce's response, "only you could make me feel this and it is only you I would trust enough."

Your heart skips a beat, "I love you, Jayce."

"And I love you, Sweetheart, so incredibly much," you squeal once feeling his large hand hold the back of your head, pushing your lips together in a heated kiss. We're never getting out of here are we?

─────── · ·

─ · · Drying yourselves off you both helped each other to get dressed. Jayce's heart ached seeing that you had taken some of his clothes with you, "I found the smell comforting" you explain with a blush before throwing one of Jayce's shirts in his face. He quickly catches it before then and moves to press a kiss to the side of your head as you sort through what to wear for the day.

Sliding on your pants you fiddle around your drawers for a shirt, huffing frustratedly when you realize the shirt you wanted to wear was still drying. "How about that white one?" Jayce points while tucking in his shirt. You become distracted seeing his forearms on display as he reaches for his belt. Jayce tilts his head and looks at you, "You don't have to, sweetheart. Just thought it would go with your pants."

You grab the white shirt and blazer to go with it. Jayce places one of his cufflinks between his teeth, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he fiddles with the metal before moving to his other sleeve. He watches as you button up your shirt, confused as to why you still looked annoyed. "Can you turn around please?" you ask quietly, slipping your blazer on without even looking at him.

"Turn around? But we just... okay, are you doing alright, darling?" Jayce asks, you stare as he bends over and reaches for his own jacket on your bed watching all the material of his clothes perfectly contour his body. Jayce listens to you huff, "Stop it," you demand.

Jayce turns back around to find you choosing a pair of shoes before moving to sit in an armchair within the corner of your room, practically shaking. "Stop what?" he asks softly- not wanting to anger you further as he kneeling before you, placing your ankle on his knee before sliding your shoes onto your feet and lacing you in. He presses a kiss to your knee before picking up your other foot and doing the same.

You open and close your mouth annoyed by how good he looks while simply getting himself ready. The way he moves and flexes as if knowing you're watching. Jayce picks up your hands in between his own, rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs. "We can't get ready together again," you say before standing and picking up your jewellery from your nigh stand, hands shaking as you try and find the small clasp of your necklace behind your head before feeling Jayce's larger hands take the chain from your hands and clasp it together with ease before gently pulling your hair back into place.

"Why?" Jayce asks, hands rubbing up and down your sides as you both stand there silently and feel the suns warm kiss against your faces coming in between the blinds. "You're really distracting," you mumble underneath your breath before pulling away from his touch and heading outside the room. You listen as Jayce bursts out laughing- the sound of it echoing through the apartment before he takes a few large strides to meet back up with you at the front door.

─────── · ·

─ · · You take Jayce on a tour of the university campus, walking him around the greenhouse, pointing and explaining the various local fauna to him (yet also getting annoyed once noticing he was too busy staring at you instead of the flowers). "Jayce look! You can look at me whenever you want but not these," you try and explain. Jayce sighs looking at the flowers more closely, imagining how good they would look in your hair... fuck, I'm staring again, he thinks to himself.

You both are go un-noticing to the way a few of your students point and cover their mouths gasping and gossiping at the sight of your both together.

─ · · Next you take him into the library where you showed off your recently published studies with Evren. Jayce was so happy for you he nearly yelled while picking you up for a hug and giving you a little spin. His smile was intoxicating as he took the material off the shelf and started flipping through it.

You rested your head on his arm looking between his reaction and the pages as he pointed to the various diagrams you drew and the articles you collaborated on with utmost interest before gently placing it back on the shelf, squeezing your hand, "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart." You pulled him in for another hug, "thank you... it really means a lot."

"I'll say it a thousand more times since you deserve nothing but praise," you looked up, eyebrow raised as Jayce winked before pulling away, dragging your hand with him and back into the library's lobby where a small crowd had formed.

"Head Councillor! What brings you to the campus?" "Is it true that you slept with Councillor Medarda?" "When's the engagement?" "Can you let us know Piltovers plans for new trade?" "Do you still consider yourself, 'the man of progress'?" "Miss!" a hand reaches out to shake your own yet you quickly lace your fingers together and offer an anxious smile, taking a step slightly behind Jayce becoming worried as the crowd of journalists only seems to grow once discovering you.

Jayce looks down at you, trying to hold a smile while the lights flash in your face and various students begin yelling and complaining about the growing noise. Jayce shakes a few hands and waves away the questions with apparent ease yet you can see the way he grits his teeth, jaw tense as he constantly rings his fingers through his hair and grips your waist a bit too tightly, trying to lead you through the crowd and back to his hotel room so you both can get some work done today.

"Thank you all for your interest, but me and my partner here must get going-" Jayce begins to say, almost making it to the doors yet the question are a waterfall. "So you both are back together then?" "Why and when did the split happen?" "From partner to assistant, did you sleep your way to the top of society?" "Can we expect a wedding in the future?" "What about kids?" "Who is the heir to the House of Talis?" "Do you consider yourself distracted from your role?"

You start to feel sick, mind flashing back to all those sponsorship events you both used to attend. The seemingly never-ending curious eyes and hands- someone grabbed your elbow tugging you away from Jayce. You scream, threatening to fall back as a sea of reporters hold you upright... there are way to many hands touching me right now, your eyes go wide with panic as you begin to hyperventilate.

Fuck, where's Jayce? where is-, you blink through the masses trying to find Jayce, Evren, anyone you recognize before feeling your arm be tugged- firmly into a warm chest. Jayce shoves an on-coming reporter, taking deep breaths through his nose, eyes pointed and threatening as he opens the door for you and you both escape outside.

─ · · "Are you alright?" Jayce asks once you both are a distance away, "I'm sorry that happened. I had not considered that was the first time we had been publicly seen together since..." Jayce's voice trails off, his hand cupping the back of your head- eyes wide and glistening as he studies every micro-expression that crosses your features.

"I'm okay... just a bit... shaken-up after it all is all," you try and explain, reaching out to hold Jayce's hand hearing as he lets out a sigh of relief. "When you come back to Piltover, I'll make sure this doesn't happen."

"When I come to Piltover?" You raise a brow while holding a frown doing your best to hide the playful tease behind your eyes to appear pissed. Jayce opens and closes his mouth, removing the hand from your head to instead scratch at his neck, "I-uh, well, I was assuming, ass move of mine that-ah, you were coming back with me?"

You stare at him, tapping your foot with your arms crossed watching as he sweats, eyes frantic in panic before walking past him and in the direction of the hotel without another word with a smile. "Sweetheart(name)- please, I-I can stay here or visit, whatever works for you-" Jayce runs after you, hands extending yet pulling away quickly as he goes to touch you- unsure of how to not set you off further.

─────── · ·

─ · · When you get to the hotel doors, a staff member quickly ushers you both inside as you stand in the elevator, "what floor?" you ask in a cold tone as Jayce reaches over and hits number ten. You wait until the doors close before pulling Jayce by the lapels of his jacket and pressing a kiss close to his mouth before dropping your hold quickly and facing forwards.

Jayce stands there still leaning, shocked etched into every muscle as he blinks twice. "Where did that come from?" he whispers before standing up straight once hearing the doors chime open. You smile up at him innocently, adjusting the bag on your shoulder with nonchalance- waiting for him to unlock the door.

You watch as he fumbles for the key in his suit jacket before extending his arm through the doorway, allowing you to enter first before closing the door behind you both and taking your jacket to hang up in the entry way. You look around his organized room, picking up the random papers on his desk before falling onto his made bed and spreading out your arms with a sigh.

Jayce stands at the foot of the bed looking down at you in concern, "Jayce my love," you call out to him while observing his hopeful eyes. "Of course I'm coming back with you... I'd follow after you endlessly," you admit before feeling a dip in the bed as Jayce burrows his face into your stomach, you feel as he shakes his head, "can't believe you, toying with my poor heart," you hear him murmur.

"Would it also count as toying if I said I wanted my ring back?" you feel Jayce frees before pushing himself up and hovering above you. "Really?" he whispers, you can hear a younger Jayce in those words, see it in his bright eyes, feel it in the duvet as he rushes to unbutton his shirt and fish the chain out and over his head.

You sit up in the bed, leaning against the head board and presenting your hand not being able to contain the smile that spreads across your cheeks mirroring Jayce's grin as he slowly slides the band across your finger before leaning down to press a kiss against it.

You squeeze your hands together, closing your eyes to enjoy the moment as you hear laugh to himself in disbelief before hearing him choke into a sniffle. Your eyes flash open looking to see whats wrong watching as Jayce silently cries with a smile, gently shaking his head while staring at you with large hazel eyes that seemingly appear to be made out of gold from the sunlight flooding into the room. "Jayce," you softly call him name, feeling as your own eyes start to burn.

Jayce's eyes closes his eyes once hearing you say his name so sweetly, so full of love that his heart has his head falling to the bed as he grips your knees- posing as if to worship you. "Jayce?" you call out again, combing your fingers through his hair as he continues to quietly cry, "thank you," he says before picking up his head and trying to blink through the tears. You wipe your own away, reaching up to help him wipe them away as he does the same with choked chuckle.

"For what, darling?" you pose back.

"For loving me," Jayce moves his head to kiss your palm, taking a deep breath before continuing, "For allowing me back into your arms, for dealing with every ribbon and string that comes attached with me. For accepting me as enough even when I couldn't see it- can't see it-" You leap forwards and into Jayce's arms, sobbing into his shoulder and pressing a light kiss to his neck.

"Forever and always, Jayce. Until the end and whatever comes after that for us," you promise with a squeeze of your arms and another press of your lips to his skin feeling as Jayce nods, not being able to find the right words for the first time in his life in order to convey the utter relief he feels in this moment, feeling you in his arms, hearing your love in his ears, knowing that you both had finally gotten over the mountain and through every valley to come to this.

You both find yourself crying harder once feeling a cool breeze enter the room- bursting from a loose window and caressing your skin in a gentle embrace. Hello Viktor, you think to yourself, opening up your hand from Jayce's back, Thank you for returning him to me, you feel the cool air seep between your fingers before leaving like it never came.

"What do you think Viktor would think?" Jayce mumbles, playing with the seams on your shirt, you hum, starting at yourself through the mirror above the hotel desk. "I think he'd be happy for us," you respond, placing your hand back on Jayce's back, rubbing large circles with your palm feeling as he lets out a long breath, Thank you, Viktor, for allow me to see this, Jayce thinks to himself, Thank you.

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: right in the feels am I right? AHHH 😭😭😭

─ · · JAYCE TALIS TAGLIST: @sseleniaa @sunshiines-stuff @kiromiix @todorokishoe24 @w2momo @m-arj-1 @reid490 @kaminocasey @chickenlvr123 @peachhiz

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

[vrystalius]

Yo! Hello its me again! Could i please request like a reverse isekai where the kny characters end up in reader's house? And maybe she is like Mad rich but like.. Not a spoiled brat she likes to do charity and make money for herself and maybe she is living with her cousins, she is smark but can be stupid (if you know what i mean) i don't know, you can do whatever you want, (there is not enough reverse isekai fanfictions😭), anyhow, hope you have a good day and you didn't get sick of my (a lot) requests😁🫶🏻👋🏻

Hashira getting reverse isekai’d

Your favourite hashira suddenly appeared inside your home! How will they react to your home and the modern world?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Giyu x gn!reader

Sanemi Shinazugawa

He will not adjust to this change quietly— he is ready to destroy and slice every single piece of tech that decides to randomly beep or talk to him. You once found Sanemi trying to get his katana out of your ceiling after throwing it with full force against your smoke detector, after it beeped to remind you to change battery. It scared the shit out of him, so he put an end to that thing. Often times when using your phone, Sanemi accidentally activates Siri. He first thought that a demon was speaking through the phone with some kind of blood demon art, then, after explaining to him what exactly Siri is and what she does, he just begins cursing her and cussing her out every time she activates on him. You once had to remind him not to grip it so tightly, or else your screen might crack.

A thing he really, really likes about your modern home though is your bathroom. The shower, the large mirror, sink, toilet… just everything about it. The first time he stepped into your shower and closed the glass door behind himself, Sanemi was first confused about the shower settings. He turned every knob that is able to be turned, both cooking himself alive and dodging the water in fear of freezing, achieving both of these things in one shower. Once he finally found the perfect temperature, it was time to test all of the products you have, and not sparingly. Shampoo, conditioner, hair masks, shower gel, body scrub and whatever else he could get his fingers on— once he got out of the shower and returned to you, his smell was almost overwhelming, but at least you know now that his har is somehow able to look even better than before.

After a long adjustment period, you sometimes catch Sanemi watching the TV. He made himself comfortable in a corner of your couch, cuddled up in heated blankets (he learned how to use the settings all by himself!) and watching one movie after another. He’s quite the binge-watcher apparently, watching one action movie after another for hours on end. At the end of such day, he’ll complain about his eyes burning up without having any idea how that happened.

“Hey, wanna join me? Blanket s’ warm and I found a movie about some weird metal things moving really, really fast and guys kicking each other’s asses— Huh? Cars? Are those these fast carriages sliding around on there?”

Kyojuro Rengoku

He is incredibly curious about every single thing and would try to understand how everything works. Kyojuro would inspect your microwave and press every button their is, watching the pizza pocket he threw into there react to the different settings and then grieving about how the once weird snacks he wanted to try turned into a piece of burnt remains. Despite being the most comfortable with the traditional meals he used to eat, Kyojuro would love to try any dish you even mentioned by name once! Since you can get your food delivered to your front door, Kyojuro can try as many different cultural dishes as he can get his hands on! Or as many as you can get delivered to tour home. Ordering food is something he always gets very excited about, like what do you mean you can order all kinds of cultural food in a matter of minutes? How do the restaurants have all the ingredients available and are always ready to serve customers? And why do you refuse to order a so-called Happy Meal for him? Isn’t it supposed to make one happy?

Another thing Kyojuro is very excited about is the gym. He accidentally stumbled upon a fitness center after returning from buying groceries, staring at the people training inside with those weird machines. The hashira spotted a couple of people build broader and stronger than him, making him realise that this may be some kind of modern training ground. He begged on his hands and knees for a membership so he can explore all these new machines and weight excursuses. Once Kyojuro got inside, he was like a child in a candyshop. He spend the whole day testing out every machine, noting his own limits and setting goals on how to get even stronger. Despite no demons terrorising your world, he still wants to keep his muscles and gain strength to offer nice pillows you can lay your head on and also have the ability to open sealed jars for you without struggling.

“Can we order sweet potato tonight? I miss eating it, and it’s my comfort dish…. Also, I believe I may have started to develop homesickness. I miss my brother the most, though… Not that I don’t like it here, I love it! I just miss my father and brother, that’s all.”

Giyu Tomioka

Staying true to his nature, Giyu would be silent and awkward in this new space. He’s scared of offending you in any way but simply taking his haori off or sitting down onto your couch since he has no idea about the manners and behaviours expected from him in this world, but at the same time doesn’t bother to ask you in order to not burden you in any way. So, he quietly followed you around the house in and inspect your furniture and decorations, sometimes curiously picking something up and inspecting its function. His favourite object so far is a rubix cube he found on your desk. You caught him turn the sides, trying to understand what the point of this thing is. Does it have something on the inside? Why are the colours all scrambled up? While watching his irritation grow because of not being able to sort the colours, you suggested that Giyu can keep it and try to solve it after giving him a small briefing on what the point of the cube is. Thanking you, he kept the rubix cube on his body to play around with it whenever he has time. He is seriously invested in it and really wants to solve it in order to prove to himself that he can solve a complex puzzle and to maybe even impress you a little.

Also, you discovered that Giyu likes noise-canceling headphones, music and e-books. You often find him cuddled up together on your sofa, his face illuminated by your Ipad in his hands. You could hear the faint sounds of soft and slow music from the headphones he was wearing. He looks incredibly invested in whatever he is reading, so you snuck up on him and glanced over his shoulder, reading a couple of lines. It wasn’t a fantasy story or a random novel like you thought, but Giyu was actually reading an article about the behaviour of cats. Adorable, you thought, so you left him be and went on with your day. The water hashira eyed your form as you left, sneakily switching tabs and returning to what he was actually reading: a fluffy romance novel. He looks over his shoulder twice, thrice, checking if you are still near before feeling comfortable enough to continue his reading in peace.

“Can I borrow your.. headphones? They’re called headphones, right? Yes, I’d like to borrow them again. I want to use them to have more silence, you are being very loud and I wanted to read something.”

💠

You never bother me with your requests! They are always so fun to write for!! Also, I hope it’s okay I kind of “simplified” your request— I hope you enjoyed this anyway. Also, I didn’t include Gyomei because I was unsure of what exactly to write for him, but I may update this tomorrow and a small scenario for him <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

[kamehamehamlet]

The Tumblr reblog sensation is returning. But like the Sayians or Shakespeare’s folios, it has the potential to develop in many forms.

Visit kamehamehamlet.com to be notified when we have more details.

Follow this blog for a peak behind the curtain.

And read on to learn more about the show, how we got here, and where we’re going.

Thank you for waiting just a little bit longer.

Revival Project FAQ

Who are you?

Hi! I’m Daniel Cole Mauleón (@writepictures), the writer of Kamehamehamlet. In 2015 I co-founded the theatre company Play-Dot Productions with KHH’s director Shalee Mae Cole Mauleón.

What is Kamehamehamlet?

Kamehamehamlet: Good Night Saiyan Prince, was an hour-long one act play, performed during the 2015 Minnesota Fringe Festival. It’s a staged retelling of Vegeta and Freeza’s battle on the planet Namek. Marketed as a Dragon Ball Z and Hamlet mash-up, the parody quickly shuffled off its weighted gi, revealing it was actually a Waiting for Godot spoof. After five performances, Vegeta hung up his helmet of spiky hair. Seven years later, K (@amokslime) wrote this incredibly gracious post on Tumblr, which inspired two people to reach out to me via Reddit to ask if I had a script or a recording of the performance.

I want to pause the semi-marketing voice and say a heartfelt thanks to K. Kamehamehamlet was brought to life by an incredible team of artists during a summer I’ll never forget. We got laughs at jokes, gasps at fight choreography, and we broke even on the budget (a Fringe miracle TBH). K’s post gave me the chance to revisit that show through someone else’s eyes. The mix of pride and humility it stirs up is truly indescribable.

If there is art which has changed you, and especially if the artist is still alive I encourage you to non-intrusively share that with the artist.

Is there a copy of the script?

Yes, I’ll speak more about that at below.

Is there a recording of the performance?

There was, but I genuinely lost the files. And that’s for the best, honestly. It was a last-second attempt, filmed from two cheap cameras (with different qualities and resolutions!), both at bad angles and with truly awful audio. Trust me. It’s better this way.

That said, I do have other archival footage from rehearsal's, tech, etc. that I look forward to sharing for those curious.

What’s next?

This is the question I’ve been asking myself over the past year and the reason it took so long to post anything. Especially since one thing I want to do differently this time is make sure that any artists involved are meaningfully compensated for their time and skill. However, I can’t plan without a better estimate of what kind of support we would have, and I didn’t want to share our intentions without concrete details. Right now, the best way you can support this project is by signing up for the announcement on kamehamehamlet.com and following us on Tumblr and YouTube!

The second best thing you can do is to share with others about this project, if I’ve learned anything reading through the comments on K’s post, it is that there’s a much bigger audience for KHH than I could have ever imagined, and you likely know at least one more person who would be interested.

And while I don’t want to promise anything I can’t deliver on, I will share that I’m planning on making the script available this year and I’ll be writing a separate post about that in near future.

Update 5/21/24: We've announced a staged reading for later this year! (Click to learn more) Update 6/11/24: We're going live on YouTube every Saturday through June to rally fans and talk about the project. This link will always take you to the upcoming stream. And this link will take you past recordings.

If you’ve read this far thank you so much.

Photography by Ann B. Erickson. Vegeta is played by McKenzie Shappell. Freeza is played by Cayla Marie Wolpers. Costumes by Sarah Noel Simon.

[nicollekidman]

Why do you think ts became so self mythologizing when other artists like mitski, Phoebe etc have resisted it? I'm just curious, if you don't feel comfortable answering that's okay! I like your music criticism and have followed you since your og swiftie days <3

this feels like apples and oranges, mitski is an indie artist and has no aspirations to stardom, her music is extremely personal and grounded in her own lived experience, every album release is in direct tension with the fact that she knows people will listen and it's Difficult... phoebe is too internal and self-focused to position herself at the distance it requires to self mythologize (ironically)...

but really it's fame. there's no other artist alive, arguably, who has taylor's level of fame and amount of public scrutiny, and her own cultivation of those machines to cement herself financially and artistically within pop culture has been the driving force of the last several years. and like the thing about taylor's music is that you cannot actually be vulnerable and sincere artistically when you are a billionaire with a cultural monopoly, and you can't both write about the vultures and creeps being weird about you and then also turn around and write songs that basically give geotags and timestamps meant to align with twitter threads about your relationships. she's caught in what i imagine is incredibly painful tension between Real Person and Product, but i'm losing sympathy for her because at every step she makes it worse and encourages these readings.

so now we're left with a songwriter who cannot remember what it felt like when she was Real but who has built an entire worldwide tour and recording project dedicated to casting herself in amber so she can never die, eulogizing herself before she's dead because this way she has control over each piece of herself while ensuring her fans are whipped up in a frenzy to defend her from imagined attacks that have already been stamped out.... and once you've intellectualized and monetized what used to be the raw beating heart of yourself.... literally what else is left but an unmoving projection of what you think other people love about you. it's so bleak.