#he had the best horrible histories songs

[secretagentsagainstwhatever]

i love when an actor just plays endless great characters

aka

✨ Matthew Baynton ✨

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - part 1

Summary: “Harry is a retired boxer who owns a gym and teaches self-defense classes. He considers himself a strong man, but when a gorgeous innocent woman attends a try-out class, she manages to leave him weak in the knees…”

Wc: 4.3k

Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: mentions of violence and SA

A/N: hello everyone! This is my new series NFWMB, named after one of Hozier’s most horny songs😄. I am so incredibly excited for this series omg it’s gonna be so good!!! If you don’t believe me, go listen to NFWMB and you’ll get a vague idea of what’s coming ;)

P.S. header = pov change

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Harry Styles was not one for regrets.

His life may not have turned the way he expected it to, but he was still proud of where he had come.

Being a professional boxer was a risky job, and Harry had known that when he had decided that it was going to be his career. But there was no other logical option. Harry was an exceptional boxer who was able to go pro at age 18, where he defeated a lot of men who were older and bigger than him.

It was his passion, it always had been. Which was something that was quite remarkable, especially to his closer family members, because Harry was anything but a violent person in his day to day life. He was quite reserved, and managed his temper very well. The years in the boxing ring did harden him quite a bit, his reserved nature developing into something more akin to stoicism.

Nevertheless, Harry loved boxing. It wasn't so much a fight to him, but more of a puzzle. Each opponent had its own made up riddle, and it was up to Harry to solve it as quick as possible. Much like a dance you learn the steps to along the way. A perfect combination of intuitive technique.

He hadn't planned on having to retire at the age of 27 already. It was supposed to be his peak; it had been for almost all boxers in history, and he was looking forward to how far he would be able to push his body during his prime.

He never got the opportunity to get an answer to those questions. A car accident got in the way.

He wouldn't have been able to stop it, he knew that, and he had forbidden himself from thinking about what could've happened had he not taken that specific road back home that horrible night. There was nothing he could do about it now, so there was no point in dwelling on it.

After a year of recovery, he was slowly able to get back into the rhythm of his old life again. Well, except for the boxing part. Knowing that his career in that field was over, he began thinking about some other options of his, and decided on fulfilling another dream of his: opening a gym.

He had always wanted to do it, but he always imagined to be retired by the time he would start on that.

Now, two years later, his gym was already in multiple locations, but Harry was still working at the first one he opened. He would visit the other ones every once in a while to see how everything was going, but he was mainly at the one nearest to his house. It was special to him, the place where it all started.

Despite running the place, and therefore not needing to be on location all the time, Harry was at the gym 24/7. He wasn't a personal trainer—wasn't really his style—but he would help people and teach self defense classes to women.

Every Thursday between 6 and 9, he would teach groups of ten women everything they needed to know on defending themselves from whatever threat they may run into. It was one of the things he was proudest of; the turn out at those classes. That these women put their trust in him, and let him help them become even tougher than they already were.

Tonight, after teaching the last group, Harry had gone to the bar with some of his friends. One of them was Sophie, a woman he had become friends with since she'd joined his self defense class. She was a great person with an impeccable sense of humor, and Harry was glad he had introduced her to Greg, his best friend. They were basically made for each other.

Harry had to admit that he envied his friend for the relationship he had. He was happy for them, but sometimes couldn't help but think that his lack of a partner was this one puzzle piece that would make his life even better. All in good time, he reminded himself.

"Hey," Sophie caught Harry's attention when she waved her hand in front of his face. His gaze shot to hers, eyebrows raised. "So, I was talking about your self defense class today at work. You know, promoting your business and all."

Harry chuckled at the cocky tone in which Sophie told her story, chin up high. He mumble a soft 'thanks', to which she grinned.

"You're welcome. Anyways, I have this new colleague and she seemed so intrigued by it, but she was too insecure about joining. I mean— she didn't outright say that, but I could just tell." She huffed, Greg rubbing her back. Sophie was a very happy person in general and wanted the best for everyone, this new colleague of hers included. Harry had the same habit, it's why he immediately suggested:

"Why don't you invite her along next week? A free try-out."

"But your try-out classes aren't for another two weeks." Sophie noted.

It was true. The self defense classes had become very popular, and since Harry taught them himself, he had scheduled one night of try-out classes a month. He was only able to take on so many people, but he didn't mind making this exception.

"She can join your regular class." Harry shrugged, and Sophie's eyes beamed with excitement.

"Thank you Harry!" She squealed happily, giving Greg a hug to channel her enthusiasm. "Oh, I hope she'll come along!"

"I'm sure she will." Harry assured her with a smile, and took another sip from his beer.

Y/N had never been one for risks.

She had never been the type of person to take the leap of faith, relying more on familiar feeling of security. Why risk hurting yourself when you could be safe and content?

It was the logic she had always operated with, the logic she had been taught from a very young age. Y/N had had a sheltered upbringing. Her parents wanted her and her little brother to be as safe as possible, and that was just fine to Y/N.

Her little brother was the more feisty one of the two, and his childhood consisted of a lot of fighting. It hurt Y/N to see the people she loved so much be so angry all the time, and it only motivated her to be as good as possible. She never drank, smoked, or went to parties. She turned in her homework early and got an A on almost every test. It did put a strain on her relationship with her brother, especially since Y/N's behavior would be used as ammunition towards him.

They still didn't talk all too much, but Y/N hoped that one day, she could repair that relationship again.

Moving a few towns away was a big deal for her parents, but the wonderful job she had gotten as a secretary at quite a prestigious law firm had made it all worth it. They helped her with moving into her apartment, but Y/N would regularly visit them on both weekdays and on the weekends. All in all, she'd had a safe, comfortable, content life.

Until a few months ago.

It was a Friday night, and Y/N had agreed to a date. One of the lawyers at the firm, Oscar, had been flirting with her ever since she started working there. Not wanting to be impolite, Y/N never outright rejected him, and so the flirting continued. She was a bit uncomfortable about it — especially since he was nearing his forties and she was only 23 — but figured the banter was part of the job. She was so shocked when he did ask her to go on a date, she said yes.

It wouldn't be too bad, she figured. She would just go on the date and tell him she wasn't interested afterwards. It could be casual, and no one would be too hurt. The date was definitely out of her carefully moderated comfort zone, but she would step out of it for one night.

The date was fine. Like she had expected, she wasn't interested in Oscar in a romantic way. Still, she listened to his stories, laughed right on cue at all his jokes, and told some of her own anecdotes as well. The dinner was great, and he even offered to walk her home.

They were nearing Y/N's apartment when Oscar had suddenly slowed down his walking pace. She only noticed when she was a few feet away from him, and walked back to where Oscar was standing.

"Are you okay? We're almost there, I promise." Y/N smiled politely, much like she did in the office. Oscar didn't say anything in response, only the corners of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly.

"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" He  complimented her, and Y/N looked at her feet, not quite knowing how to handle the flattery.

"Thank you." She said softly, and froze when Oscar's fingers tilted her chin upwards. Her eyes widened when he suddenly leaned in and put his mouth on hers. After the first few seconds of pure shock slowly passed, Y/N pulled her head back.

Not getting the hint, Oscar grinned and leaned in again, this time with both his hands on her face. Y/N let out a yelp, stumbling backwards. Her body's alarm bells were ringing so loudly, but Oscar must've been deaf to her body language because he backed her up against the wall and kept kissing her.

Y/N cried out as she tried to push Oscar off with her hands, but he only grabbed them and pinned them above her head. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she lifted her knee and kicked him right in the crotch. Oscar shot backwards, groaning loudly as his grip finally loosened on her. He looked incredibly angry.

"What the fuck?!" He bellowed, standing up straight again. Y/N's lip quivered, tears running down her face.

"You wouldn't stop." She said softly, almost in a whisper. Her entire body was shaking from the adrenaline. Oscar's mouth opened to say something, but the conversation got interrupted.

"Oscar!" A woman's voice shouted from down the street. He turned his head, and his face morphed from sheer rage into a lovely smile, the same one he always put up for Y/N back in the office.

"Sophie!" He said, but the mention of her name sounded strained. Sophie... Y/N recognized her name, but she hadn't ever met the woman. She was one of the three female lawyers at the firm. Had been working there for only five years, but her reputation was so badass, everyone knew who she was.

"What are you doing out tonight?" Sophie asked as she gave Oscar a hug, and turned to Y/N. "Who's this?"

"This is Y/N." Oscar replied. "She's a secretary at the firm."

"Nice to meet you." Y/N extended her hand, and Sophie shook it.

"Nice to meet you too! How come I've never seen you around?" She tilted her head.

"I— I work on a different floor."

"Well, I'm glad I met you, Y/N!" She said, the kindness in her tone being a real comfort after that scary moment she just had to live through. Somewhere in the way she said it, and in the way her eyes softened slightly, it almost felt like Sophie knew.

"I— I should go. It's getting pretty late." Y/N decided that this could be her sweet escape.

"Right, I'm gonna bring Y/N home." Oscar said, and your eyes shot to him. Anxiety filled your lungs until all you could breathe was fear. You didn't want to be alone with him. You had no idea what he would be able to do to you. What were you going to do about it? You weren't even half as strong as he was.

"Oh, which way is it?" Sophie asked, turning to Y/N, who was about to open her mouth but got interrupted by Oscar.

"That way." He pointed toward the direction of Y/N's house. Sophie side eyed her colleague, then nodded.

"Exactly the way I was going! Let's go." She hooked her arm into Y/N's, and began walking, ranting about how it was unacceptable that they didn't work on the same floor.

Y/N wordlessly nodded along, filled with gratefulness to Sophie or the universe—or both—for not leaving her alone with Oscar again.

She got home safely about five minutes later, not daring to look Oscar in the eyes as she hugged him and said goodbye, and she only allowed her tears to fall down her cheek when she closed her front door.

Y/N spent the rest of the weekend in bed, not in the mood to do anything. By Monday, she felt both better and worse. She had had some time to come down from the shock of what happened, but the terror that filled her at the realization that she was to see Oscar again, had her stomach turn. On Monday morning, she even got into work late as a result of a wave of nausea that hit her once she'd grabbed her keys, spending the time she used to drive to work to puke her guts out instead.

Later, she'd found out that Oscar had called in sick that day. It gave her some time and space to breathe. Sophie visited her the same day, and she hadn't stopped visiting since.

Oscar did eventually return to work, but they never talked anymore. Y/N didn't dare to look him in the eye, and she avoided him at all costs. One day, about two weeks after everything happened, she did see him waiting by her cubicle, but she hid in the toilet for half an hour and by the time she returned he was gone.

It had been two months since that horrible event, and Y/N had entirely isolated herself. Back to the normal routine, back to what was familiar. It gave her a sense of control. She was fragile, and sensitive. She had just pressed down her sadness and anxiety that lingered as a result from the date, and instead focused entirely on what she could control.

She figured it would be easier. Well, except for the mental breakdowns she'd get when something small didn't go right. The dishes not being cleaned, her vacuum not taking up every speck of dust; it just set her off. It wasn't healthy, but she had no idea how else to deal with these things.

When Sophie mentioned she was following self-defense classes a couple weeks ago, Y/N's ears had perked up. She tried to be subtle about it; asking questions to pry some information about the classes from her. But, being the amazing lawyer she was, it didn't go over Sophie's head, and before she knew it she had an invite to a class.

"See you next week!" Harry exclaimed as the last of the women from the 7pm class left the room. He was still busy putting everything back into place before the next class which would commence in about five minutes.

He was just about done with everything when Sophie walked in, another girl walking in close behind her. Harry couldn't really make up her face, as she stayed closely behind Sophie, even upon nearing him.

Sophie looked proud, probably feeling very accomplished about the fact that she had been able to convince this colleague of hers to take her up on her offer.

"Hey!" She greeted Harry cheerfully, giving him a quick hug. He was still smiling when he turned to the woman standing next to Sophie. His mouth went a bit dry when he took in her face.

"Harry, this is Y/N."

For starters, she was a bit shorter than Sophie, and quite frail too. Her hair was up in a ponytail, leaving her features to be admired out in the open. Her eyes were soft—radiating mostly insecurity at the moment—and wide. Those Bambi eyes and plump, rosy lips...

She looked so... innocent?

He wasn't sure if it was the right word, but he was sure that he had to say something before the silence became too long.

"Hi Y/N." He repeated her name, seeing the slightest flicker of surprise run through the eyes of the woman in front of him. But the slight relaxation of her body told him that his usual trick was working. It was a typical 'strategy' that he would often use with people who were a bit unsure about him. His voice would soften, he would always wear a hint of a smile on his face, and he'd repeat people's names to create a bit more of a familiar environment. It always worked, and he was glad it did. He never wanted anyone, especially a woman, to feel uncomfortable around him.

"Hi." The corners of her mouth tugged up.

Angel.

That's all he could think of as he looked at her. Jesus Christ, she was beautiful.

"Thank you for joining the class. You don't have to join in on everything if you don't feel comfortable. Just observe and see if this is something you would like to practice more often, okay?"

The girl in front of him nodded intently the second he had finished talking. Her eyes widened ever so slightly before she peeped out an, "okay."

Harry grinned, his gaze shooting to Sophie—who was looking at him with this suspicious look on her face that she only got once in a while—before calling everyone in a circle and commencing the class.

This girl, Y/N, turned out to be a real distraction for him. He was so focused on trying to read how she was feeling that he trailed off during explanations a couple times. It was embarrassing, really. He was a grown man for God's sake, why couldn't he just concentrate?

Y/N only joined in for a couple of the basic movements, but she stayed back for most of the class. Her big eyes observed every movement Harry and the others made, impressed with how developed everyone seemed to be in their techniques. He noted that it only seemed to make her more timid, though.

His eyebrows kept knitting every time he looked at her, getting lost in his thoughts on how he could help her become more comfortable in his class. She'd caught his stare about halfway through the class, and at the way her eyes shot to the floor he realized that his gaze was actually doing the completed opposite of what he wanted to do, which was help her.

When the class ended, Harry gave his usual speech about how good everyone had done their job, and that he would see them all next week. Afterwards there would always be a couple of women hanging around to ask questions, and he would stop a few on their way out to compliment their improvements. When the rest of the women had left, Sophie walked up to Harry, Y/N following closely behind.

"Great class, Styles. Thanks for teaching me some ass kicking again." She teased, smiling at him before she took a sip from her water bottle.  Harry chuckled, shaking his head faintly.

"Glad you liked it." He turned to Y/N. "What about you?"

Her cheeks started heating up, mouth falling open ever so slightly. "M— me? Oh, uhm, yeah, pretty good."

"I'm going to use the bathroom really quick, I'll be right back." Sophie chimed in, and began walking towards the door. "Keep her company for me, will ya Styles?"

Harry almost laughed at how Y/N's eyes nearly popped out of her sockets at Sophie's announcement. She was nervous around him, and it was quite endearing, but she didn't need to be. Although it was very cute, Harry wanted her to be comfortable around her.

"You hated it, didn't you?" He said as soon as Sophie was out of sight. Harry was amused, watching Y/N scramble for words when she realized what he had said.

"What? No, no of course not! You're great! Teacher— you're a great teacher, I mean." She stumbled over every last one of her words, making it sound even less convincing than it already was, even though she did really mean it.

Harry solely raised his eyebrow, indicating that he did not buy any of that, and it was all it took for her shoulders to slump and a little sigh to leave those pretty lips of hers.

"It's really not you, I promise. I just get... a bit nervous in group settings, especially when it comes to sports. I don't even go to the gym." She confessed, and Harry nodded. That certainly made more sense. His heart warmed a bit at the fact that she reassured him that he wasn't the reason she wasn't liking the class all too much.

"Why don't you go to the gym?" Harry asked further, his tone soft. He didn't want to press too much, but he did want to know more about her.

"It's... embarrassing." She shrugged. Harry chuckled.

"I go to the gym all the time. I mean, I own this one. I can only imagine how embarrassing I must be."  He joked. He had to say he thought it was pretty funny, the way she blushed as he teased her.

"No, I didn't mean it like that! You're not embarrassing at all— I mean, you’re like the opposite. You're lean, and strong. You have like— big arms and you know what you're doing." She ranted, and had no idea how much Harry's ego was fueled by the compliments she was unknowingly throwing at him. "Whereas I— I have no idea what to do at a gym. I hate the idea of people being able to watch me and judge me if they want. Not that I think everyone's focusing on me all the time! I— I don't think that..."

Y/N's heart was racing as she finally got herself to stop talking. It was a nervous habit she had always possessed. As soon as something got awkward, her mouth would open and it would just never shut again. All communication skills flew out the window as soon as something — or in this case someone — made her nervous. She couldn't even remember half the words she just said.

"I can teach you, if you want."

The offer was as unexpected to Y/N as it was to Harry. He hadn't quite anticipated the words rolling off his tongue, but he didn't regret them either.

"It'll be a private class, and it can be in a closed room, like this one, or after closing time. Whatever suits you." Harry tried his hardest to sound casual, and not like what he was offering was something he literally never did. He had to hire a cleaner at home because he was too busy to get around to cleaning the house, that's how much he had to do. But the prospect of losing even more free time did not seem to bother him at all. In fact, he hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer as he scanned her face and waited for her to say something.

"No, I wouldn't want to ask that of you. I'm sure you're busy with a lot of other things." She declined politely, but he didn't miss the glimmer of hope in her eyes. Those private classes had sounded intriguing to her, he just knew it. So instead of accepting her rejection, he shrugged.

"How about this. I'm always in till late on Tuesday's. If you're sure you don't want private lessons, that's fine. But if it does sound like something you want to do, just be there at 9. I'll be there either way." Harry suggested. He didn't wait for a response — hearing Sophie's footsteps nearing — and instead said,

"Just think about it, alright?"

Y/N merely nodded, not even able to croak out a 'yes' before Sophie walked back into the room.

"Okay, I'm ready to go. Y/N?" Sophie asked, watching as her friend agreed and grabbed her things before walking towards the door where Sophie stood.

"Thanks for the class." Y/N turned around and smiled at Harry, throwing him a small wave as she started following Sophie out the door.

"Anytime." He winked at her.

"Bye Styles!" Sophie shouted, her keys clinking as she waved at Harry, behind her.

"Bye Soph." Harry called out, his eyes still transfixed on the girl behind his friend.

He didn't take her eyes off her as they walked towards the exit, taking in every detail of her delicate body as she moved further and further away from him. She was painstakingly beautiful. How had she just walked in? As soon as the girls disappeared behind the door, Harry let out a big sigh.

"Fuck." He murmured under his breath.

He really hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer. Harry had very quickly and very suddenly developed this intense need to help the girl, and that couldn't mean anything good.

Maybe he'd never see her again. She did sound very unsure. Besides, who said that she even wanted to go to this class? For all Harry knew, Sophie could've just used her manipulative convincing tricks, and Y/N, the polite angel she was, would've felt too bad to decline. Maybe, she thought he was an ass and didn't want anything to do with him.

In spite of the countless theories flying through his head, he knew that she wanted it. He had seen it in her eyes. She did really want to join the class, she was simply too nervous. But whether she would take him up on the offer, that was the question. He'd have to wait until the following week.

Strangely enough, he couldn't wait until it was Tuesday. He couldn't wait to find out…

[mickyschumacher]

hi! I love the way you write and I’d love to see some Daniel Ricciardo or Oscar Piastri content!! Older brother’s best friend and something including model!reader or figureskater!reader. I also cannot begin to describe how much I love your Taylor song based fics. I was hooked on Style and Dress, thank you, have a wonderful day :)

𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you don't have much in common with oscar piastri other than three things: you're both rare talents, you know each other through your older brother, and that, unknowingly, you both really like each other.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: older brother's best friend trope! (although not heavily enforced), suggestive but nothing crude, poor ice skating knowledge, mentions of the spa track, crashing and DNFing, reader likes to blame things on alcohol, lily (oscar's current gf) is his ex (oops), slight diss of tsitp, jealousy!!!, scene of harassment and a creepy man, a physical altercation in which oscar gets physically hurt, attending the wounded scene! (sobbing rn), a cute and horribly cheesy, fluffy ending!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oscar piastri x figureskater!fem!reader, arthur leclerc x reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5k+ (um srry hehe)

𝐀/𝐍: i wanted to this was oscar but since he's kinda young, i did a one year age gap bc the territory of 'the older brother's best friend' for piastri is alarming to say the least. i also assumed it was a female reader due to my other works, hope that and this whole piece is okay!!

𝐏.𝐒: if you couldn't tell, it's loosely based off of taylor swift's 'i can see you' bc i ended up losing track lmao. sorry for taking FOREVER but coming back from holiday, going straight back into uni, and having writer's block is the worst combo 🤧 as usual, poorly proof read!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

In a world of billions, quite strangely yet only logically, there were many talented people across the globe. But very few were be a World Champion let alone the opportunity. You were part of this few. The Youngest World Champion in figure skating in history, a two-time World Champion and the 2022 Olympic winner.

You were a living legacy in your town.

Of course, you couldn't do it without the support of the people you loved. Your parents attended all your competitions. In fact, your father was the one who had brought you to the ice when you were three. And your brother, no matter how much of a menace he was, he was your number one fan. Despite all the things he had to do, he was always there for you.

Your brother was one of those Australian boys who had turned their passion for dirt biking into a career for motorcross racing.

Naturally, he had found a friend who was also very interested in racing. However, instead he loved driving a open wheel single-seater formula racing car at crazy speeds. That friend was Oscar Piastri. A childhood best friend of your brother's and a sort of acquaintance slash family friend of yours.

It worried you two see some of the most important people in your lives risk death almost every day but you enjoyed watching them do something they loved.

You could see it in their eyes when they raced. It was the same passion you had for the ice. The slivers of ice that occasionally touched your skin thrilled you was the same excitement that coursed through the two Aussies when they felt their engines rev.

It was odd. You could've sworn a few days ago, you were all kids playing in the backyard of your house; your brother riding his toy bike while Oscar raced him on foot and you commentated in Oscar's favour to piss your brother off. And now all three of you were leading your careers: you were a competitive figure skater, your brother was slamming the MXGP and Oscar was one of the best rookies introduced to F1 in a while.

Where time had gone... you could not even begin to wonder. Heck, once upon a time you were staring down Oscar in the school hallways because for some reason you could only talk to him outside of school. And now... well, it was complicated to say the least.

You had always liked Oscar. It was difficult not to. He was always around you. The boyish charm, the small smiles, the puppy brown eyes, his offers to help you with your homework, you visiting him when he raced... everything had built up inside you. It was festering.

But that's how you liked it. You didn't want to cross any lines. As heart-racing and flustering as your crush on him was, you could not bear the idea of telling someone who was brotherly to you that you liked him.

It was repulsing.

And as far as his dating history could went, Oscar didn't like you. Oscar wasn't a player but he definitely didn't like being single from what you could tell.

To be honest, considering you didn't see him that much due both of your schedules, nothing between the both of you would've ever happened if you're annual family holiday hadn't happened.

Your family and the Piastri's took time out at least once a year to relax together. And this year, your brother and Oscar's breaks overlapped, and you had persuaded your coach for two weeks off. That was all the both of your parents needed before booking a trip to Greece. Everyone wanted to go when they were younger and now they could finally go.

Two weeks... not much could happen. At least so you thought.

The moment you saw Oscar in Greece, your heart thumped against your chest like it had never before and you knew you were screwed. It was ridiculous. How after all the time did you still like this stupid driver? He was the root cause of your lonely love life. Which for most figure skaters was not a big deal... you had prospect lovers falling left and right. Especially the guys in pair skating. But no... you were head over heels for Oscar out of all people.

With the firm boundaries you had made, you ventured to not make a big deal about what you were feeling and pushed it to the side. But the thing about pushing things away, they have a funny way of coming back up.

━━━━━━━━━━━

On the first night of your much needed vacation, you had found one of the most popular restaurants in Santorini while endlessly browsing through social media and decided to get everyone out of the lovely AirBnB you had rented. Upon arriving, your parents and Oscar's were cooped up on one side of the dining table, leaving the 'kids', as your mother calls you three, on the other.

You released a sigh of content, feeling the crisp breeze dance past your skin in the warm summer evening air while your sip of assyrtiko (Greek white wine) slipped past your throat far too easily. Thank God you had chosen an outdoor restaurant tonight. Every time you were on holiday, you couldn't be more grateful to get away from all the stress. If you could live like this every day, with the warm breezy evenings and the amazing architecture, you would.

"So," your mother started, her voice hitting your direction. You flickered your gaze over to her, raising a brow. "How are my kids' love lives? Are you getting down?" She waggled her eyebrows behind her glasses.

A wave of heat pricked your skin at your mother's words. "Mom!" You hissed out in disbelief while your father and Oscar's parents chuckled.

"What? You guys never tell me anything anymore! I used to be the holder of all your secrets and now... now I am an old woman!" Your mother cried, wiping an invisible tear off of her cheek.

You and your brother blankly looked at her and then towards each other. To say your mother was a character was an understatement. She enjoyed her theatrics far too much for anyone's liking, more specifically you're liking.

Oscar grinned, reaching out his hand to hover over hers. "You could never be an old woman. Always young in my heart."

Your brother snorted at Oscar's cheesiness. After you and your brother, Oscar was your mother's son and Oscar was a suck-up. He liked being in the good books, especially that of your mother's.

"Of course," Your mother chuckled softly, patting Oscar's hand gently. She sucked in a sharp breath. "What happen to you and Lily? I heard you two broke up? I thought you liked her a lot?"

You could see Oscar tense at the mention of his ex, your own body rigid. It wasn't a surprise to you but you actually hated hearing about Oscar's love life. Unrequited feelings were already a bitch and you didn't need to make it any worse.

Oscar cleared his throat, a small smiling tugging at his lips. "I thought I did too..." He trailed off, falling into his own trance momentarily. Suddenly his eyes flickered around his surroundings before they landed on you. "I guess I just saw something I else I liked a lot more."

A slight shiver crept down your spine and your heart travelled towards your ears. You pressed your lips tightly together, furrowing your brows.

What the fuck?

You snapped your eyes away, firmly placing them on your empty plate that suddenly held your entire world. Oscar had never ever looked at you like that. Any time you looked into those puppy browns, they were usually some mix between happy, anger, annoyance, sadness, humour, and the God forbidden 'I-see-you-as-my-sister' type love.

But this... this was something else entirely. The softness of his gaze, his words, the timing of it all; a perfect execution of sorts... it was a first.

Maybe you had taken one too many sips of the wine. It was the only reasonable explanation behind your obvious hallucination.

Sooner or later, the sun would set, a main reason behind your picking of the restaurant. The parents and your brother were at the front of the house, arguing about who paid for tonight's dinner. You were more than happy to wait it out on the balcony and revel in the last few rays of light, eyes closed and the breeze dancing across your skin.

"Well don't you look happy," Oscar voice stated, nearing you.

You opened your eyes, slightly turning your head to the side only to look back a few second later. Oscar and sunsets... you enjoyed that combo far too much for your liking.

"That's because I am. Sometimes being off the ice is refreshing," You told him, taking in a breath of the fresh evening air.

Out of your peripheral vision you could see Oscar tilt his head, eyes raking over you with a small grin tugging at his lips. You ignored the pace of your heart as he nodded at your remark, settling in next you with his hands on the balcony bar, a mere inch away from your own.

"I hear that," Oscar sighed, looking out at the horizon.

You forced yourself to look over at him, trying to read his mind after hearing the burdened sigh he released. "Oscar... I hope you know you're doing well in F1 right now. You're doing pretty good compared to Lando's rookie year."

Oscar smiled gently. You knew him far too well. "I know. I just... I feel like everyone's expecting so much more of me. Podiums... race wins... like everything else I've done. And then Spa came along."

You winced at the mention of the track. Oscar had collided with Carlos on the very first lap. Carlos said Oscar was too optimistic about making that turn and Oscar said that he didn't even know what Carlos doing; that the Spaniard turned as if he wasn't even on the track. Nevertheless, the collision resulted in both of them DNFing.

You snorted. "Spa is a shit track," You dismissed Oscar's current pessimism with a wave of your hand.

Oscar chuckled at your crudeness. He couldn't disagree with you. Spa was one of those tracks which felt auspicious to any driver. The one where you hoped you at least passed the finishing line. It didn't matter what your position was... as long as you passed it, you were okay.

"Guys come on! We've finished paying," Your brother called out.

The both of you turned around. Oscar pushed himself off of the bar, heading towards your brother. "Who won this one?" He asked in amusement, hands gliding past his waist. Ever so gently, in his walk, he teetered towards you, letting his hand brush past your own, sending a tingle down both of you.

You gulped at the racing feeling, immediately pulling your hand closer to yourself. This hairs of your body stood straight and your fingers felt numb. Heck, you felt numb.

Damn, you thought, this is some crazy good wine.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The thing about your inclination to blame everything on the alcohol you consumed was that it only actually worked if you consumed alcohol. You were lucky if you could extend to the remaining bits by a day with the claims of a hangover.

But right now, you were sober as hell.

An unfortunate event, to say the least.

"Y/N, wake up," Oscar's voice pounded against your blanketed, muffled ears.

"Ugh, no" You groaned, cocooning yourself into your blanket and pressing your head further into your pillow, savouring the warmth.

You always had such early mornings when you trained, waking up at ungodly hours only to workout before heading to the rink. Being on the ice was the only thing you loved. Your fans were sweet but everything else after that, the press, the workouts, the food, sucked. So you cherished the late summer morning in Santorini. And no person, let alone a boy who announced his F1 team to you by saying "I'm driving for a papaya", was going to ruin this for you.

Oscar put his hands on his hips, eyeing you with a twitch in his eye. "But breakfast is ready. I cooked!"

You laughed into your sheets lightly. "Oh boy, that's even worse!"

Oscar looked at your peeking head and humoured eyes blankly. "That," he started to say as he began to literally pull you out of your bed by your arms, "is very very rude thing to say to the chef."

"Oscar, no! Let go!" You begged, hands flailing to attach themselves to anything. Falling on the hard cold floor was not the ideal morning for you.

At least not alone.

You jutted out your leg, nudging Oscar's to the side, making him stumble over his steps. As he quickly realised he was losing balance, he threw his body under yours, creating a soft landing for you as you both fell to the floor.

You were laughing too hard to realise Oscar's one hand had even moved to your waist and the other to your head, as if it was to protect you from getting hurt.

"Oh my God! You should've seen your face! It was like–" You turned to mimic his expression but you couldn't find the words. All the air around you had been seized, your throat was dry and you were breathless.

When had Oscar's face become so close to yours?

You couldn't remember the last time you were this close to him. Probably as a child. He was cute back then as well. But growing up changed the both of you. The most apparent reminder of how old you were was the tiny short hairs from his chin that he always tried to shave off. His eyes were still as brown as ever, less big because he grew into his face. And his lips... they were kissable.

His face was also littered with freckles here and there. You didn't even realise your finger had shot out to play connect the dots with them until you could feel his faint warm breath from how close you were.

Your eyes trailed up his face to find his gaze firmly planted on yours. Suddenly you could feel where his hands were and your skin burned at his touch. The current heatwave in Europe had left you in some thin pyjamas. You didn't regret it last night but you definitely regretted wearing them right now.

Hypnotised, you found yourself leaning in naturally. Oscar's head also nudged forward. Your lips were barely a centimetre away from each other. You could hear your name slip out of Oscar's lips as the faintest whisper. Like it was a struggle to say your name because he couldn't think.

His woody and amber scent engulfed you and for a second, you couldn't think.

Not until you could hear your brother scream both of your names from the kitchen, demanding you to come to breakfast.

You blinked, falling out of your trance as quickly as you fell in.

Oscar felt you jerk in his arms suddenly, pushing yourself out of his hold and attempting to stand up. "Y/N, I–"

No. God, no.

You weren't ruining a friendship over this.

You could pretend. Yes. Pretend. You can't see him.

"We're coming!" You yelled back, feeling your cheeks redden with embarrassment and annoyance; both vexing feeling for yourself.

God, what a day to be sober.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Honestly how this holiday had gone from zero to a hundred was beyond you.

Pretending like nothing had happened in your room was harder than you thought. Not when Oscar looked at you with these burdened eyes and like he had something to say to you, right on the tip of his tongue.

You considered avoiding him. But doing so on a family trip was easier said than done. Besides, it would've been pretty obvious to everyone else and knowing your family, they would've made a big deal out of nothing. Because that's what it was: nothing.

But alas, you have a brother. And normally, he's stupid and self-obsessed to the point it bordered on unhealthy. But as your brother, it seemed he had some sort of sixth sense for these sorts of things. Something about the older sibling being superior or whatever lies he convinced himself with.

"Why are you being weird with Oscar? Your brother asked you while you ate some ice cream and caught up with the new season of 'The Summer I Turned Pretty'. At first, you couldn't fathom watching a character called 'Belly' out of all things but somehow you got hooked.

You paused the scoop of ice cream you put in your mouth, letting it slowly melt away as you stared hard at your nuisance of a brother. "I have literally no idea what you're talking about."

"Ha, nice try. You're supposed to use 'literally' when you deny it the second time," Your brother smiled at you smugly.

You pressed your lips together, feeling your teeth slightly grind against your spoon. You couldn't decide whether you wanted to smack the shit of your brother with a spoon or bury him in a six-foot deep hole.

"Come on, lil sis, you can talk to me. Everyone's out of the house right now," He partially jested while being entirely serious.

Burying him in a hole it was.

"I have nothing to say to you," You stated, eyes reverting back to your show.

Your brother narrowed his eyes, grabbing the remote to pause the episode. Ignoring your exclaim of annoyance, he sat down next to you and took your ice cream and spoon away from you to dig into the pint for himself.

You shuddered in disgust. You were not having that flavour for a while.

He pointed your spoon at you. "I know you think I'm stupid, which I may be, but I'm not entirely an idiot. What happened with you and Oscar? You were all happy buddies a few days ago. Now he looks like a lost puppy and you look like you saw Pennywise in the hallway."

You bit down on your lip to prevent yourself from laughing. You couldn't actually let him know he was funny.

"Did he do something to you? Y/N, if he did something wrong to you I swear to God... just tell me and I will end him."

Your eyes widened at the sudden change of the conversation. Sitting up, you waved your hands in urgent dismissal. "No! Oh my God, nothing like that! Holy shit."

Your brother let a relieved exhale fall from his mouth before furrowing his brows. "Then what happened? Is it your stupid crush on him?"

"I–what?" You asked dumbfounded, looking at your brother incredulously.

"Your crush? Like the one you've had since you first laid eyes on him. You know everyone knows right? It's kinda obvious. Well, everyone but Oscar," your brother said nonchalantly.

You blinked blankly at him. "Before I throw myself off of a cliff, I can give you the generous choice of how you die? Personally I'm thinking asphyxiation, arson, or murder."

Your brother gulped, slowly putting away the ice cream. "Okay, first off stop watching Criminal Minds so much. Second of all, you don't need to feel embarrassed. All of us have been secretly rooting for you. Especially mom and Oscar's mom. You should've seen how happy they got when I told them Oscar and Lily broke up. It was seriously creepy."

You sighed, falling onto the couch. "It doesn't matter how creepy it was. We almost kissed! And then you called for us. Any later, I would've ruined our friendship. What's the point anyways? He doesn't like me. I'm gonna die in the friendzone," You dramatically sobbed out.

"Well you can start by not turning the other direction when you see him. Poor guy looks like you killed his dog. Do you think a guy who's dog was killed has any guts to speak to their murderer? And that's beside the fact that he may like his murderer."

Where was that shovel again?

"You know what you need to do? Do something that makes him talk to you. I got it! I could set you up with Arthur! He's in Santorini too! Oscar would hate it."

"Oh my God... do you want me to die?" You asked, slightly horrified at the look of pure joy on your brother's face .

Your brother grinned. "Of course, I do. Would I be your brother if I didn't?"

━━━━━━━━━━━

For as long as he could remember, Oscar was a peaceful guy. He didn't really get angry quickly. He was usually calm and usually could think before he acted.

But all those characteristics were thrown out the window, well into the air of the music festival everyone decided to attend, when he saw you walk into the event with Arthur Leclerc. His former teammate out of all people.

"Is that Arthur? Why is he here?" Oscar asked your brother.

"Hmm?" Your brother turned around, pretending to squint at the two of you briefly before catching your piercing gaze. "Oh yeah... that is him. He told me he was in Greece. Guess he found Y/N first. Makes sense I guess."

Oscar looked at your brother dubiously. "I... what does that even mean?"

"I don't know why but I always got the feeling he liked Y/N," your brother shrugged.

Oscar blinked. "You're taking the fucking piss..." He huffed in disbelief.

"What? Oh? Here they come."

Truth be told, Arthur was more than happy to oblige with your brother's game. He hadn't seen Oscar in a while because they were in different championships now. Getting the opportunity to play with him a bit was a hard offer to turn down.

"Ozzie!" Arthur cheered, bringing him into a hug.

Oscar raised a brow at you. That pet name originated from you when the three of you decided to become superheroes for a day and you decided to name eight-year-old Oscar, 'Ozzie the Mozzie' after he got bitten by one. No one else on Earth called him that but you.

"I was telling Arty here about that mozzie that bit you and he really liked Ozzie the Mozzie," You chuckled softly.

Arty...

God give him strength because Oscar wasn't sure how much longer he could bear this.

To be honest, you weren't much of a music festival type of person. It was always crowded, hot, and filled with some sort of drugs even if you couldn't see it.

But aside from that, you enjoyed the serenity it could bring; the indie music that was well on it's way to becoming pop; the calming breeze; the warming sun.

Well you would enjoy it more if a certain Aussie wasn't staring daggers to the side of your head–Arthur's head.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and you turned around to see a stranger. A somewhat attractively creepy stranger but a stranger nonetheless. You raised your brows and gave a small smile. "Yes?"

"I know you don't know me but I just saw you from over there and I wanted to say you're really pretty!"

You blinked, feeling the three boys around you stiffen at the compliment. You nodded slowly, putting on a grateful smile. "Oh, thank you so much," You responded, laughing awkwardly.

A moment of awkward silence settled in the air as the guy still remained in front of you.

"So... I was wondering if I get could get your number?" The guy asked with an odd glint in his eyes.

The alarms were ringing in your head and an uncomfortable shiver went down your spine. "Uh, I'm sorry. I... I don't really want to. But thanks for your offer," You politely declined.

"Oh come on. I called you pretty... that's gotta be worth your number. Come on."

Oh.

Honestly, you were speechless. Your number which for him was the leeway into your intimate life was worth a compliment.

"Yeah, I don't think so," You quipped sharply, gritting your teeth.

"Come on, baby girl. Let me show you a fun time." The guy stepped forward, his hand reaching towards your body.

You froze at his words. You wanted to move but you couldn't.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Oscar, Arthur, and your brother step in front of you.

"Mate, fuck off. She doesn't want you," Oscar pushed the guy away from you.

Your brother snorted. "I don't think anyone wants him."

The guy sneered, making you wince. He raised his hands in a feigned defence, beginning to turn away from you. Thank God. "Fine. I didn't want a girl like you anyways. All these guys around you... a whore."

Arthur and you, as the pacifists you were, watched in silent horror as your brother poked his tongue in his cheek and Oscar's head quickly whipped towards the guy.

"Oscar..." You warned meekly as Arthur tried to get your brother's attention.

The last thing any of you needed was famed athletes on the front page of ESPN, cited as the cause of a brawl.

"What did you say?" Oscar raised a brow, ignoring your pleas and walking towards the guy. His tone was dark and the total opposite of what he normally sounded like. He was raged.

"The truth," The guy chuckled. "I said she's a whore. Why? What are you gonna do about it, little boy?"

Yeah see, the guy most definitely had a couple of inches on Oscar and you brother. You weren't really keen on seeing them get pummelled to the ground.

Oscar said nothing in response but raised his fist, slamming it into the side of the guy's jaw.

Oh for fuck's sake.

As if the guy had lightening reflexes, the guy quickly pulled his head back up and got a hold of Oscar, getting into a cycle of punches.

Your heart dropped at the sight. Your brother, thank God, and Arthur quickly realised that Oscar wasn't winning anything here, stepping in to push the two men apart. A small crowd began to gather, some thankfully aiding in trying to stop whatever was going on.

Arthur pulled Oscar away and towards you. You held Oscar against you, clutching him tightly as your heart raced in your ears. Somewhere in the muffled sounds you could hear your brother.

"We're going home. Now."

━━━━━━━━━━━

Your brother and Arthur had decided to go explain the situation the both of your parents who were out having lunch because you couldn't blame all those bruises and dry blood on Oscar's face by saying he fell. This left you to clean up Oscar to reduce the risk of your parents having a heart attack.

You clenched your jaw, holding the first aid kid and a wet cloth to your side as you walked towards the seated racing driver who had found a lot of interest in the floor all of a sudden while icing his face.

"I can't believe you," You mumbled in annoyance, taking a seat next to him. You gently grabbed his chin, putting side the ice bag, trying to decide on where to start cleaning but you could only wince at his face. His bottom lip and his brow was slightly torn, the side of his jaw and the top of his cheek had started to bruise, and his nose was a blood fest.

All the pain Oscar felt began to disappear as he felt your hands gently graze past his skin, scouting all the damage that had occurred. He looked at your pained eyes and internally sighed. He hated seeing you in pain. "He was disrespecting you. I wasn't going to just let it go."

You rolled your eyes, slowly wiping away the dry blood. "He was like six foot two, Oscar. You're like five foot. He could've ki... he could've really hurt you," You jested before your voice fell into a bare whisper.

Oscar's heart clenched as you went back on your words, watching you grab some antiseptic with shaky hands. He grabbed your hands, holding them with his own and softly looked into your eyes. "But he didn't. I'm fine. See?" He smiled widely before wincing at the pain shooting through his face.

You snorted. "As if."

"Hey, you're talking to a guy who crashes at most craziest speeds. Bet that guy can't do that," Oscar shrugged nonchalantly.

You narrowed your eyes. "If you weren't already hurt, I would've smacked the shit out of you right now. Just so you know."

Oscar grinned at you. "Ah, there's the ever kind Y/N I love."

You rolled your eyes before processing what he had just said. As friends. Friendly love. Right. You shook your head out of your trance, removing your hands from his and returning back to the stupid first aid kit next to you.

Oscar mended his brows together. "Hey," he tapped your thigh, "you heard what I said right?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah," You said idly, opening the tube of antiseptic cream.

"What? I..." Oscar sighed, taking the cream out of your hands before pulling you closer to him. His hands held your face, looking you dead in the eye. "I said I love you, Y/N. You know... the type where you look at someone and all you know is that you can't breathe without them? The one in your books?"

Your mouth felt dry. You blinked blankly. Your hands felt clammy. You chuckled nervously. "Pfft, what? You don't love me. You mean as a friend, right? I think you need some medicine. Maybe there's some in this kit." Your eyes darted down, frantically looking around the box as your heart thudded against your chest.

"Hey, hey," Oscar called, using his hand to turn your chin towards him. "I don't. I mean, I do love you as a friend, but no. I love love you."

"Well... what about about Lily?"

"As I said... I realised I loved someone else more," Oscar told you, letting his confession sink into your mind. "You know... if your idiot brother didn't call us that day, I definitely would've kissed you."

Oh.

Well.

That was something.

This was real. You weren't dreaming. You hadn't died. Oscar, your childhood best friend and your brother's best friend, was confessing to you.

"Huh... well, if it's any consolation, I probably would've kissed you too," You retorted, trying to keep your quirking lips at bay before you began smiling for too much for anyone's liking.

"Probably? That kinda sucks. Are you sure you wouldn't have definitely kissed me?" Oscar grinned, grabbing your waist and seating you down on his lap.

"Hmm... I mean maybe. This current environment is nowhere near as enticing as my bedroom. I mean what is sexier than me waking up, am I right?" You joked, trying to cover up the fact that you were dying at the proximity between you two.

Oscar pushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek, holding your jaw while his thumb grazed your lips. "Well, I can think of a few other things."

You silently watched as Oscar leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. His lips were softer than you could ever imagine.

You blinked, taking a mere second to register what was going on. Oscar Piastri was kissing you. Holy shit, Oscar Piastri was kissing you!

You kissed him back, feeling his hand wrap around the back of your neck and the other holding you steady against him. Your skin burned at his touch, feeling his fingers snake past the hem of your shirt and rest on your hot skin.

Oddly enough, despite your heat, goosebumps sprawled across every inch of your skin as his tongue darted out, exploring your own, giving you access to his mouth.

You could've sworn you were walking on fire. One more step and you could've combusted. Your thighs clenched at the moan that slipped from Oscar's mouth as your teeth tugged on his bottom lip, your hands roaming around his chest and his arms.

Oscar's hand wrapped around your hair, enjoying the softness he had wanted touch ever since he realised he had feelings for you. His pants felt tight as he felt your hand brush against his bare torso. Fuck. You were going to do him in. He fell back further into the couch, holding you tighter against him.

The desire you had was blinding you. Your other hand fell to his cheek, forgetting about his injuries till Oscar murmured an "ouch".

You retracted your hands, pulling back from his lips, a move Oscar clearly didn't enjoy as his eyes followed your lips. "Shit!" You exclaimed, "the antiseptic! Sorry!"

Oscar paused in his trance, realising what you were talking about. He smiled softly, lips widening even further when he saw your swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

You carefully applied the cream to his brow before moving to his lips. "The diagnosis for you Mr Piastri is no more kissing for you," You grinned.

Oscar looked at you dumbfounded. "I–what? For how long?"

"Mmm... a week?"

"A week?" Oscar repeated in exasperation. "There is no way I can last that long. Not after this. Besides I'm pretty sure kissing actually helps you heal faster."

Your skin warmed further at his confession. You cleared your throat and held his hands. "I am confident that is not scientifically true."

Oscar narrowed his eyes, lips quirking in amusement. "You need to read better medical journals, doc."

You tilted your head to the side, leaning in further. "I think I have an alternative."

"Yeah?" Oscar's eyes danced across your face, smiling softly. "What is it?"

"It's less practical, more theoretical. Confessional, if you will," You shrugged, letting your forehead rest against his.

Oscar shut his eyes, enjoying the warmth of you. "Oh really? Don't let me stop you."

"I love you, Oscar. I've loved you since we were little heroes running around in the backyard."

Oscar opened his eyes, hands wrapping around your waist. He smiled widely at you. "Are you sure you said a week?"

You rolled your eyes, hitting his chest playfully. "I'm sure."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[jokeroutsubs]

Joker Out Masterpost for new fans

New fan of Joker Out? Say no more! 

Getting to know a new artist you’ve found can be intimidating if it’s all in another language, so we’ve compiled some of our favourite interviews, articles and lore here! You’ve arrived in a wonderful fanbase, welcome from all of us here at JokerOutSubs! 

If you’d just like a short overview of the band and their history, you can watch this excellent Finnish summary of them that we’ve translated (14m 53s).

But if you want to dive into the details, then check out our timeline, full of videos and articles translated by JokerOutSubs! 

Timeline graphic:

Timeline in details below the cut 👇

Timeline in details: 

How did the band form? 

Joker Out was formed from two bands, Apokalipsa and Buržuazija. 

Apokalipsa included Bojan Cvjetićanin (vocals), Martin Jurkovič (bass) and Matic Kovačič (drums) 

They gained some traction with young people around Slovenia, particularly with their song 'Mogoče' ('Maybe'), which you can watch on YouTube here.

They came to the attention of Kris Guštin, who was inspired to start learning guitar! He discusses the details in this video (at 9:40). 

Kris then met Jan Peteh, another student of his guitar teacher, and at their teachers advice, they formed the band Buržuazija. 

Bojan attended their second ever gig in 2016, and decided these two excellent guitarists were exactly what had been missing from Apokalipsa, as he wasn’t happy with their current guitarists. He asked them to join, and they accepted

The new lineup (Bojan, Jan, Kris, Martin and Matic) decided to rename themselves Joker Out. The name means nothing, but they thought it sounded good and was the ‘least horrible’ of all the ideas they could think of. 

So, in 2016, Joker Out was officially formed! 

November 2016, Kot srce ki kri poganja: 

Joker Out’s first music video was for their song ‘Kot srce ki kri poganja’ ('Like a heart that pumps blood'), filmed in Jan’s hometown of Vrhnika! We eventually got this song on Spotify on their 2023 album Live from Arena Stožice!

Music video: Kot srce ki kri poganja

English Interview (from 3:37 to 6:05): Joker Out discusses filming the music video

June 2017, Špil Liga:

One of the earliest performances for Joker Out was at Špil Liga, a competition for young bands in Slovenia. They won, and recorded their winning song, Omamljeno telo (intoxicated body) in November as part of the prize. 

Live (33m): Joker Out at Špil liga

Interview (5m): Reflections on Špil Liga in 2023 

c.2017/18, Bojan’s attempt at going solo:

The band took a hiatus c.2017/18, and Bojan considered going solo at that time, even working with a few producers. He eventually realised that he belonged with the band! Hear him tell the story:

Reel (1m 23s): A1 Vajb - Bojan’s fail

2019, A change up for the band:

The band began working with their current producer, Žare Pak, and their videographer Mark Pirc, in 2019 - both of whom have been referred to as the sixth member of the band. This led to a change in their sound and production quality, which culminated in ‘Gola’ ('Naked'), the first of their songs to be a big hit!

Music video: Gola

Zlata piščal ('Golden Flute') - Best New Artist 2019:

Joker Out won their first Zlata piščal award in 2019, for best new artist (one of many they’d go on to win!) This is a kind of Slovenian Grammy! Covid interrupted the proceedings, but you can see their interview for it here (3m 59s)- 

Interview: Joker Out wins a Zlata piščal ('Golden Flute') for Best New Artist 2019

Umazane misli, and a new member: 

During the Covid times, the band began recording their first studio album, 'Umazane misli' ('Dirty thoughts'), which was originally going to be released in March 2020 but was repeatedly delayed until October 2021. The first half was recorded with drummer Matic Kovačič, but the band felt they needed something extra and brought in Jure Maček to help write the arrangements. They loved him so much, he never left! 

Interview (from 10:40 to 11:36): Bojan talks briefly about Jure joining the band

COVID times, and Cvetličarna: 

The band had arranged to do two concerts at Cvetličarna, a very important venue in Slovenia and a big break for them. This was delayed several times due to Covid, but eventually managed to go ahead in October 2021 for the release of their first album. 

Video (1m 14s): Cvetličarna promotional video

Live (1h 28m): Joker Out at Cvetličarna

Interview (34m 55s): Bojan discusses Cvetličarna, its importance, and Covid

Umazane misli album launch: 

'Umazane misli' was extremely well received! The band would go on to win two more Zlata piščal awards, Newcomers of the Year in 2020 and Artist of the Year in 2021.

Interview (37m 08s): Umazane misli album presentation

An acting career for Bojan? 

Around the same time as 'Umazane misli' was released, Bojan began considering an acting career. He acted in two episodes of the series ‘Gospod Professor’ and in another series, which was eventually reworked as a film called ‘Kaj pa Ester’ and released in December 2023. He decided music was his passion though, and he wanted to fully focus on that. 

Interview (from 10:04 to 11:30): Bojan discusses his acting career

Interview (2m 11s): Kaj pa Ester interview

Interview (2m 30s): Kaj pa Ester première

Article: Bojan on Kaj pa Ester

September 2022, Križanke:

The band got straight to work writing their second album, 'Demoni' ('Demons'), and decided to present it in September 2022 at Križanke, another hugely important venue in Slovenia. This whole concert wasn’t recorded, but we have an interesting advertisement they did for it, an interview and a clip of one song live from Križanke! 

Video (5m 4s): Full Joker Out Hotline trailers

Interview (2m 16s): Joker Out with parachutes to Križanke?

Live (4m 7s): 'Novi val' ('New wave') live at Križanke

Interview (44m 35s): Demoni album presentation

Another new member! 

After Križanke at the end of 2022, Martin Jurkovič, one of the founding members of the band, made the decision to leave to focus on his studies.

Video (2m 20s): Martin's departure

Thankfully, he was replaced by the wonderful Nace Jordan, who remains the bassist in the current lineup.

Article: Nace Jordan discusses joining the band

2023, Eurovision:

Joker Out were then internally selected to go to Eurovision 2023, and began recording their Eurovision song, 'Carpe Diem', in Hamburg in December 2022. To learn more, you can watch the Carpe Diem series, a documentary series which followed their entire journey. 

The first episode, recording Carpe Diem, can be found with subtitles in multiple languages by JokerOutSubs!

Video (16m 41s): Carpe Diem Ep. 1 - Hamburg

The band performed their song for the first time live on Misija Liverpool, a televised debut, on the 4th February 2023.

Video (27m): Joker Out performing at Misija Liverpool

There are quite literally hundreds of interviews with Joker Out during the Eurovision era. Here's one from just before the final, that we have translated.

Interview: Joker Out before the final on the 13th May

And a few English interviews that became famous in the fanbase! 

Interview (24m 29s): Eurovanja

Interview (8m 10s): Seize the Day situations

Interview (17m 18s): Tiktok Live

Interview (6m 30s): ‘Never have I ever’

Interview (14m 12s): Madrid Eurovision

Result

Joker Out came 21st at Eurovision, which they were satisfied with.

Interview (1m 36s): Bojan talks about their results

European tour and Sunny Side of London (22nd September)

Luckily, the best was still to come for Joker Out! The rest of 2023 was spent on an extremely successful European tour, and they also released their first English single, 'Sunny Side of London', in September. 

We at JokerOutSubs were also thrilled to interview the band twice on their tour!

Original Interview (15m 25s): JokerOutSubs interview in Tampere

Original Interview (14m 37s): JokerOutSubs interview in Poznań

6th of October 2023, Stožice:

All of this, however, was building up to Stožice. This is the biggest closed venue in Slovenia and Joker Out managed to sell out their October show there - an extremely important milestone for Slovenian artists. 

Interview (15m 4s): Stožice and their whirlwind post Eurovision career

Live: Full concert live-streamed part 1 and part 2

A lovely moment at Stožice was when former members Martin Jurkovič and Matic Kovačič joined the band onstage to perform 'Kot srce ki kri poganja'!

Interview (2m 4s): Martin and Matic discuss the experience

Interview (5m 9s): Joker Out post Stožice impressions

London era and Everybody’s Waiting: 

Joker Out spent the beginning of 2024 in London, where they wrote new music, did live cooking shows on Instagram and met the incredibly talented photographer, Damon Baker, who did a beautiful series of photoshoots with them. They also released their next English single, 'Everybody’s Waiting', in February. 

They sat down with us at JokerOutSubs to discuss all this on the 20th February!

Original Interview (59m 13s): JokerOutSubs interview in London

March and April 2024, ‘See you soon’ tour:

The boys then embarked on the ‘See you Soon’ tour, another very successful European tour. They played three new songs live during the tour, two of which we translated from the concert videos of our members!

Live:  First performance of 'Bluza' ('Blouse')

Live: First performance of the hugely popular 'Šta bih ja' ('What would I')

We at JokerOutSubs also interviewed the band a fourth time in Padova!

Original Interview (22m 7s): JokerOutSubs interview in Padova

Now you know a little bit about Joker Out’s history, let’s look a little bit at the members of the band as individuals! 

Who are the members?

Bojan Cvjetićanin - singer

Charming, charismatic and an all round green flag, deep down we’re all Bojan girlies! See him here on Cosmopolitan's Blind date, Portrait with Coffee and a lovely interview he did for Delo! 

Interview (8m 49s): Cosmopolitan's Blind date

Interview (18m 3s): Portrait with Coffee

Article: “If we believed that we were “kings”, that wouldn’t be us”

Jan Peteh - guitarist

The mysterious mathematician of the band, Jan and his cat Igor have stolen the hearts of the fanbase. Here he is on Undercover Mathematician and on Metropolitan podcast with ex bassist Martin! 

Interview (3m 26s): Undercover mathematician

Interview (43m 57s): Jan and Martin on Metropolitan podcast

Kris Guštin - guitarist

Known for his organisational expertise, 'slay pose' and 'cake baking skills,' Kris stays fabulous on and off stage!

Video (1m 5s): NGVOT backstory (Kris’ breakup) at Cvetličarna

Article: Interview with the entire Guštin family

Jure Maček - drummer

Described consistently by his band mates as ‘čaga’ (party), Jure brings a chaotic energy to Joker Out that we love to see!

Video (41s): Jure’s cheating (in school!) story

Interview (18m 3s): Sunday Chat on Radio 94

Nace Jordan - bassist

The oldest member of Joker Out, Nace is a genuine sweetheart who fit like a glove into Joker Out despite joining much later! 

Article: "Enriched by a special [Eurovision] experience"

Interview (18m 24s): Interview with JokerOutSubs in Umag

Get to know the whole band! 

They mostly do interviews together, so here are some of our favourites!

Interview (16m 52s): Vičstock Unplugged

Video (7m 3s): Joker Out pre-Križanke Instagram Q&A compilation

Interview (54m 42s): Multisciplinary panel at Bežigrad High School

Article: Joker Out for DELO

Article: Joker Out for Mladina magazine

Interview (6m 42s): Joker Out for RTV SLO

Interview (1h 1m): Joker Out for N1 podkast

We hope you’ve enjoyed learning a bit more about our favourite band! 

If you’d like even MORE translated interviews, articles and Instagram stories, you can find us on Tumblr, X, Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, YouTube and Spotify under the name JokerOutSubs!

P.S: If you wish to share this post with new fans, we also provided QR codes!

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 13

Ah it’s “coordinate with the carpet” day.

John could probably say “2+2=3” and Paul would be like “Oh you're sooo right, John.”

Literally the ADHD antics (jumping over a chair because it’s there and you can and it would be funner than going around) are so relatable.

Ringo putting Zac’s picture up? I don’t know much about him as a dad. Does anyone know? I mean I know part of the reason he and Mo left india was because they missed their kids, and in late 66 when John was making HIWTW and Paul was working on TFW and George was off learning filthy eastern ways, Ringo stayed home and ‘enjoyed the baby’. Was he a really good dad?

John: I really liked how that lead singer was singing so soft and nice. Paul: like this, John? Like this? John? John, look at me, do you like this?

Literally why are you even there, Yoko. Like, genuinely, not for the bands sake or anything, but for your own sake, go find somewhere else to be! Something, something, one of the few ways to find success as a woman was to attach yourself to a man and she was hustling with the best feminist tools available okay, okay. Ugh, I just don't know if I could stomach it.

I heard John say “Rickie and the Red Streaks” and I was like, ummm, did you mean “Suzie and the Red Stripes”? But apparently it’s a real band. They were in the same Cavern show as the Beatles when they came back from Hamburg but never made it big. And Paul was purposely referencing them with Linda's pretend band because, as he said, he would have been happy to just have been them instead of the Beatles. 

“John, can you take a little bit of bass off your guitar?” The faces. Paul told him to take some bass off a minute ago, didn't he? Or he just knows how much John hates to be told that. Anyway it's the silent communication for me.

Paul: *stops his little wordless moan-singing for two seconds*. John: Everybody had a wet drea–SING, Paul! Paul: Ooohh yeah! He’s sooo happy I’m melting. Paul McCartney wants one thing in this life, and it’s for John Lennon to tell him to sing.

“He would’ve been president, you know.” John, bless your naive, lovely heart. 

Paul: shrieking. John: moves the microphone the way a mom takes the sharpie out of her toddler’s hand. 

“If you can get ‘em off Mimi’s wall.” I have a hard time with Mimi. Sometimes she’s adorable. Sometimes she’s horrible. I really can’t get a read. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe John couldn’t either. 

This moment. My little ND baby. Someone just hit your g spot, didn’t they? But to be fair, it is incredibly impressive. Billy has never heard the song before, and he just jumps in with the perfect fill? I love Billy. So talented, such a cutie, so cool, so kind. And look at him. Having such a good time.

The silent communication again here. “Are you hearing this?” “Yeah, baby, I’m hearing this.” Then, John vocalizes the decision. How many Beatles decisions were made like this? Thinking specifically of Brian's account of their decision for him to manage, but probably this happened constantly. 

Yoko reading “The Beatles Complete History”. I love that she’s like, “Everything John tells me is ‘Paul this, Paul that, wah, wah, wah’. I need to get some cold hard facts.” 

Billy’s piano actually is insanely sexy though.

John: *complains about his rock and roll finger* Paul, turning up the scouse: Come on, son, now try your hardest. John continues, soft, needy' Lookie, look at him. *holding up his finger* Paul, genuine: Ah, I know. I just love the different ways they take care of each other. 

Poor George, dissociating himself into another dimension as John’s crooning about Paul’s eating habits. Look. At. How. He’s. Looking. At. Him. You’d think Paul was in that moment creating the heavens and the earth. Nope. Just rocking back and forth like a catatonic, probably getting crumbs all in his greasy beard.

But seriously HOW is everyone in this room watching these two men, taking in to account all of their behaviors, scream "All I want is you!" at each other and not forcing them immediately into either fucking or therapy or both?!

Ringo’s holey pocket, my beloved. 

The guy with the RP accent and the suit coming up to John like the bad guy in every American children’s movie. “I’ve spoken to Mr. Klein.” Dun, dun, dun.

[808len808]

Crack Baby

!Leon S. Kennedy x Gender Neutral Reader!

Summery: After coming home from your mission, Leon notices something different in you.

Authers note: Thank you for all the likes and reposts on "Noted"! This story isn't really based on the song Crack Baby from Mitski, but it does describe the feeling that the "reader" has. Plus I absolutely love the song.

!Warnings!: self-harm, eating disorders, depression, trauma.

(Words: 4,210)

You had just gotten back from a mission, the most horrible mission you have ever had the misfortune of being on. You witnessed your whole squat being executed in front of you while you were powerless, you couldn’t save them and you blamed yourself immensely for it. Your agents, your friends…

The door to your apartment opened slowly you fumbled around with the key before taking it out of your front door and putting it back in your pocket while stepping inside the apartment you shared with your boyfriend Leon. You and he worked together at the D.S.O as a federal agent. You met him there with him accompanying you on many missions. You two were amazing together in battle and got along very well. So well that he asked you out to dinner after your second mission together. There was an instant click between the two of you and you became close friends slowly growing on each other till the point where he came over every day even when you already worked together even sleeping over sometimes. You knew everything about him even his past just like he knew you better than you knew yourself at times. The friendship bloomed slowly into something much more. Ending up with you asking him out since he wouldn’t pick up on your signals, even after you had kissed him. He had moved in with you mere weeks after dating since your apartment had an extra room that you didn’t use.

Fast forward to 6 months, now. 

You had been nothing but happy for the last six months he was the best partner you could’ve hoped for, he was sweet, caring, funny, and could cook a really nice dinner. He was perfect. You’d sometimes think that you didn’t deserve him and he would help you overcome it together with the rest of your insecurities. He was super understanding even when you told him about your history of mental illness and your scars from the past. Of course, he had his flaws too, a full hand of trauma and other family issues. Leaving him with panic attacks and a lot of PTSD. You were always there to comfort him always. 

Leon heard the door of the apartment open he immediately sprung up from the couch a big smile was painted on his face when he saw you.

“You’re back” his voice was high-pitched.

You had been gone for a bit more than a week and he was getting worried. He had texted and called you over a million times but you seemed radio-silent the whole time. His heart raced when he saw you, his eyes lit up as if he had just come to life by seeing you. There was a huge wave of relief through his body he couldn’t even begin to describe the ecstasy he felt when seeing you, even when you looked like shit. He almost ran over to you a happy hop in his feet as he wrapped his arms around your tired body.  He snuggled his face in your neck and closed his eyes in the warm embrace. But to Leon’s dismay, he felt you flinch beneath him but he didn’t want to let go of you just yet.

“I was so worried” his voice cracked when he spoke into the crook of your soft neck. “I’ve called you, but you didn’t respond, and I thought-“ 

He stopped himself before he continued because he didn’t feel your arms around him. Your arms had just stayed by your side not moving as if you were frozen, like a statue glued to the wooden floor of your apartment. A frown caught his brows and he removed his arms from you leaving the one-sided hug. It’s now that he got a good look at you, your eyes seemed dead as if your soul was a second away from disappearing your face pale with dark half moons under your eyes, you looked like shit. He noticed a new scar on the side of your right eyebrow a dark red stitched wound against the cold skin on the eyebrow. 

“Are you okay?” his tone sounded even more worried than before a concerned frown on his face as he examined yours.

“Yea just tired”, you managed to squeeze out before walking away. 

“Wait” he grabbed your wrist before you could walk any further the grip was gentle but at the same time had some firmness to it. 

“You’ve been gone for like a week can we at least-, talk?” You turned your face around. But all Leon could see was the way your whole body was shaking under his touch it was an upsetting view, the way your hand trembled while he held your wrist. His brows knitted together a hopeless look on his face. 

“I- I’m just really tired. I want to take a shower and so to sleep.” You explained but he could even hear the shaking in your voice. You were staring at the ground he desperately tried to get a chance to look into your eyes, but you seemed to be avoiding his gaze, you seemed to be avoiding him.

“Okay, we’ll talk in the morning yeah?” The gentleness of his voice made you nod. And so he let go of your wrist even when he didn’t want to. Even when the only thing he wanted to do was hold you in his arms the way you had held him every time he came back from another traumatizing mission. You and Leon were different in that way, Leon was always looking for physical touch, he lived for it, the only thing he wanted to do all day was hug you cuddle you or you cuddle him he loved either. He loved your soft touch the way your body fit so perfectly in his warm embrace the way he could bury his face in your neck. 

But you were the opposite Leon had noticed that each time you had come back from a mission you just seemed to want to distance yourself from him. He learned that sometimes physical touch was too much for you, That you couldn’t handle being touched while you were overwhelmed sometimes. He didn’t really understand it he couldn’t really grasp it but still, he took note of it and didn’t attempt to touch you when you told him that it was too much. Eventually, he could pick up on the signs. He could tell when you wanted to be touched and in which way you wanted to be touched if it would result into cuddles or something more intimate. He could also pick up on when it was too much for you, your body language he knew it all. And right now it was definitely too much so he left you to yourself which he knows now was a bad idea.

Leon still had to go to work that day but you got the week off due to the mission. Leon still didn’t know what had happened on that mission since you still hadn’t talked to him. You were supposed to talk in the morning but when he came to your room last night to lay with you, you shook him off and told him that you wanted to be left alone even when you were asleep. 

So that was the first night in 5 months that Leon had slept in his own room. You couldn’t really call it sleeping more like staring at the ceiling the whole night while he thought of you. He was worried sick and just wanted to comfort you so that it would calm his nerves but at last, he was sent away. He didn’t close one eye that night so he was desperately waiting for it to become morning so that he could talk to you. And so morning came. He was up early mostly because he couldn’t sleep but also because he wanted to make your favorite breakfast since he knew you were going through something that he had yet to understand. 

He cooked up your favorite food for breakfast he was really proud of how it turned out actually even when he had already made it many times, still he felt good knowing it meant so much to you. He had to leave for work at 9 am so when the clock hit 8 and a half he had already expected you up since you had gone to bed so early the day before but he still hadn’t heard a sound come out of your room and the food was getting cold. 

He sneaked to your room and saw you sound asleep under the many blankets you had on your bed. Even in summer, you insisted on having them but now it was fall and it was getting colder. Even under those blankets you wore a hoodie. Normally you wore a shirt in bed because Leon was basically a walking heater. But now that you had slept alone it was cold for more than one reason, just like how you wore the hoody for more than one reason too.

Leon’s eyes softened when he saw you peacefully resting. soft breaths came out of you as he admired you from the door frame. You looked so relaxed almost happy. He snapped out of his staring and walked over to the bed gently shaking you awake. 

“Babe?” He saw your eyes veagely open a soft grumble escaped your lips.

“Five more minutes” 

“I have to leave for work in five more minutes” Leon softly said with a chuckle escaping his lips.

“Hmm,” You turned your back to Leon and pulled the blanket over your head as if to say let me sleep. Leon got the hint and left you be even when he really wanted to talk.

“All right, we’ll talk at dinner tonight, you just catch some sleep yeah? I have to go.”

“hm”

“There’s breakfast on the table.” No response. He sighed before leaving your room and closing the door behind him. He wasn’t sure how he’d be able to work with him being so concerned but he didn’t really have a choice anyway, besides maybe he could get some answers at HQ about what happened on your mission since you didn’t want to talk. 

And so he left for work. At headquarters, he was met with the receptionist who seemed worried when he saw Leon walk in. The D.S.O. had known about the relationship between you and Leon and that you lived together.

He walked up to the desk to register himself but was met with a concerning conversation. 

“How are they holding up?” The receptionist spoke while looking up at Leon before even beginning to register him. 

He shrugged his shoulders because he had no idea how to respond the the receptionist. He didn’t even know what happened he knew something was wrong, but he had no idea what.

“I don’t know, we haven’t really had a chance to talk.”

The receptionist frowned at his answer. 

“Do you know what happened on that mission Leon?” she consciously asked and spoke as if she was scared of someone hearing them.

“No” he responded a guilty tone underlying his voice. 

“The mission failed, and they witnessed-… they witnessed it all go down before they were rescued by the BSAA.” her voice went quieter 

Leon felt his heart sink to his stomach “The BSAA? Why didn’t we rescue them?” Leon bluntly responded almost sounding mad.

“We thought they were dead. They had been radio silent for so long and- The D.S.O.  just didn’t want to waste time.”

Leon felt a wave of rage hit him when the innocent receptionist spoke “Waist time?!” 

The receptionist stayed quiet like she didn’t know how to respond. 

Leon’s blood was boiling the D.S.O. didn’t even bother to look for you?! to try and save you or contact you?! He was fuming.

After possibly the longest feeling day at work and a very angry conversation that he had with the people that navigated your mission he stepped into his car still fuming. He had to get a hold of his emotions if he wanted to talk to you. He wasn’t mad at you no you didn’t do anything wrong it was just the assholes that he and you worked for that he wanted to punch to pulp the fact that he could’ve lost you because the D.S.O because they didn’t want to “waist time” was making his stomach turn. He was worried sick about you literally. 

He hurriedly opened the front door just wanting to see you to comfort you maybe hold you if you let him. He just wanted to be with you again to never let you leave his sight. He was so scared of losing you and the fact that it almost happened was tearing him apart.

The first thing he saw was the food he made for breakfast it was in the same spot that he had left them seemingly untouched still on the table. His brows knitted together in the same upset look that he had worn for the past few days. He knew something was off immediately. He didn’t see you, he assumed you were in the living room playing games or watching something or reading but he found the room to be empty which worried him even more. Had you even been out of your room? It was already 6 pm. You must be hungry seeing you left your breakfast untouched.

Leon made his way over to your room and saw you lying in your bed your eyes fixated on your phone. You didn’t even look up when Leon entered your room. 

“Hey sweetheart, how are you holding up?” his voice was sweet and he saw your eyes glance over at him just for a second before going back to your phone. 

“Fine” Your voice was hoarse and you looked even more tired than before even after you had slept. He sat down at the side of your bed as you spoke ignoring the way you didn’t even bother to look at him. He had to ask it or else he wouldn’t be able to calm his mind down, he gulped before opening his mouth again.

“Have you- ehm… eaten anything today?” Your eyes darted at him before nervously looking beneath you at your bed and then back to your phone

“Yeah… yeah of course” Liar, the worst thing was Leon knew that you were lying. And the fact that you were made it even worse for him. How could he even respond to that? What was he supposed to say?

“Okay… Well, what would you like for dinner tonight?” Your anxiousness gave off as you bit the inside of your mouth making it even more apparent to Leon that you were lying. 

“I’m not hungry” Your eyes went back to Leon’s and you saw the way he wasn’t buying it. 

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not-“

But he already stood up not wanting to hear any more of your excuses.

 “I’m making spaghetti,” he responded, leaving your room. 

He should have seen this coming, he knew about your past and that you could sometimes struggle with eating. So when he forced you to come out of your room and sat you down at the table he didn’t expect you to dig in.

You looked down at the plate of spaghetti beneath you while you could feel Leon’s eyes piercing through yours. Your pulse was pumping an anxious look on your face, you had nowhere to go now. 

“So how was your day?” Leon broke the silence.

“Oh, you know…” you responded trailing off as you looked back down at the favorite food that your boyfriend had made. 

It fell silent again.

“Sweetheart, I heard what happened, I’m so sorry you had to go through tha-“

“I don’t want to talk about it” You interrupted looking sharply into Leon’s soft eyes while yours only hardened.

You could feel nervousness spread over your face and you knew Leon could see it too. You tried and tried to not think about it, you wanted to forget, to forget everything, and to just not think or feel anything, your chest hurt and it became harder to breathe.

You avoided Leon’s gaze as if it were the plague, you couldn’t bear to see him worried because it only made you more guilty. You didn’t want him to worry about you, you didn’t want anyone to worry about you, it was your problem and you should work your feelings out yourself. 

Leon looked pleading, big eyes trying to catch yours “Please eat something” Your lips pursed into a thin line as you felt your brain mingle with the cloudiness of overwhelming stress. You needed to get out of this situation as fast as possible, you needed to find some sort of escape or excuse. “I told you I’m not hungry.” 

“I don’t believe that” Leon sternly responded. You looked down at your full plate and felt your stomach turn, you felt empty yet so full of everything like it would just flow over at any moment. You hadn’t even lifted up your cutlery or even your arm for that matter, you didn’t feel safe somehow even when you knew you were there was this feeling lingering that just made you want to run away. “Can we please not talk about this right now?” your voice was barely louder than a whisper as you stared down at your hands on your lap, nervously fiddling with the fabric of your pajama pants. 

Leon leaned in closer, he didn’t want to stress you out. He’s trying his best not to be nosy, or to get you mad. But this answer only confirmed his suspicions were right. “Tell me what’s going on,” Leon said completely ignoring your protests. 

You took a deep breath in yet it didn’t fill your lungs. “I’m tired” you croaked out your throat suddenly dry and weak. You stood up your chair sounding too loud as it scraped against the wooden floor. 

The atmosphere was cold, and you actually were tired, exhausted even, but that was no excuse. You turned around your eyes strictly glued to the ground. 

The hairs on your arm stook up as you felt a hand on your shoulder, your whole body tingled and tensed, Leon had stood up and was right behind you. “You’re not leaving until you tell me what’s going on” Leon’s voice sounded hurt but it was still gentle, somehow it made you snap, you had made it really clear you didn’t want to talk and Leon was pushing the wrong buttons now.

“Leave me alone,” you gritted through your teeth, turning back to face Leon’s shocked expression. but the hand on your shoulder didn’t move. “Look-“ Leon sighed as he lowered his hand on your shoulder, he tried to be as calm and gentle as possible. He thought for a moment, picking his words very carefully. “This” Leon stopped again looking at you with concern. “This is not okay.”

You took a deep breath in, as hurt and tired as you were, you didn’t want this to turn into an argument. “I know this isn’t okay, but just-“You took a look back into Leon’s eyes but immediately regretted it and looked back to your side.

Your hands kept busy picking at the hem of your hoody and making small dreads come out of the fabric. “I’m fine, we don’t need to talk about it” you mumbled.

Leon shook his head, as much as you can hide it, it doesn’t make it go away. You felt your heart beating on your eardrums, your socks were put on wrong and your hands were sticky with sweat and your hoody rubbed against your wrist too hard and- 

“You are not fine,” Leon said his tone more firm, he wasn’t budging.

It was all too much. “Fuck! Just leave me alone!” You snapped in Leon’s face, your skin felt like it was burning. Leon’s eyes widened and there was and you could just see the slight shock on his face before quickly turning away to finally go back to your room.

Leon’s expression hardened. You needed to talk, he needed to understand and he wasn’t giving up on that so easily, he was your boyfriend for fuck’s sake. Leon swiftly grabbed your wrist in a fit of instinct mixed with hurt, you were still in the midst of walking away as he grabbed you by the wrist making your sleeve roll up a bit on its own as you tried to wiggle out of his grip it made it worse, and before you knew it you were facing Leon again.

You looked him in the eyes but to your dismay, Leon’s eyes were pointed down, you followed his gaze only to find him staring at the bit of exposed wrist, the wrist you had cut today.

The scar was barely healed and gave off a strong red color as if it wanted to stand out, you felt the breath get knocked out of your throat and you quickly looked up to Leon who was now looking at you with wide eyes and mouth agape as if he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing, you felt your face burn up as more panic hit you like a hurricane, leaving you feeling almost dizzy. 

You were speechless and so was Leon, you both stood like statues with Leon staring at you as your eyes averted back to the ground. “Leon I-“ you tried but he just stayed still before his expression turned stern almost like he was angry. 

You didn’t dare move scared of what Leon would think or feel if you did you looked so distressed it was almost unhealthy. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole and hide there for the rest of your life, covered in darkness so that nobody could ever see you again, so you could never see Leon’s face like this, so you wouldn’t exist.

The next few things that happened turned into a blur, Leon almost dragged you outside and into his car, not caring that your wrist was still exposed and not caring that there were now tears rolling down your face, you were sat in his car, and he drove off with you without saying a word, he looked pained and he kept biting his lip.

He wasn’t looking at you, the car ride felt dreamingly long the car filled with the sound of your held-back sobs as you stared out the window.

To your surprise he brought you to the building where you had therapy, you hadn’t had a session in ages, the building made you gulp, Leon opened the door for you and you walked quietly beside him, sniffing back your tears as you walked the halls that the receptionist had told you to go. 

With every step and every door you passed, you got more anxious, getting warmer and warmer to your destination was getting your pulse more heightened. 

The building smelled stuffy like an old hospital or elderly home, suffocating you with dust. 

The door was opened the familiar face of your therapist standing in the door. She welcomed you in with a warm smile and left Leon outside, You could faintly hear her tell Leon to wait in the waiting room. 

Leon was a nervous wreck at this point his lip bleeding from how much he had been tormenting it with his teeth, he waiting room was empty with a few comfy chairs with an ugly yellow color on the wall, there were magazines placed by the coffee table but Leon couldn’t even think about reading right now. His leg bounced uncontrollably his eyes darting around the room his brain going too fast for his own body to keep up. 

“Mister Kennedy?”

Leon looked up and was met with the pleasant face of a woman. “Yeah?” Leon asked hoping his voice didn’t give away how nervous he was. “I want to talk to you about Y/N’s situation”, she spoke keeping her eyes on Leons. He felt his pulse increase as he nodded. “Okay,” he breathed standing up and following the older woman. 

She led him to a cozy room decorated with all sorts of plants and paintings. She asked him many questions, and so did Leon asks her. After talking and giving advice to Leon about what to do she led him out. Leon opened the door but just as he was about to leave he turned around and asked one last question. “Are they going to be okay?” his voice showed his hesitance. The therapist smiled, “They’ll be just fine Mister Kennedy”. Leon gave her a small nod and sighed as he closed the door behind him.

Walking back to the waiting room he came across you. His face immediately softened as he saw you. “Hey,” he said dryly immediately regretting how formal it sounded. 

“Hey” you replied back with a sad smile, your voice still stuffed from crying. “Wanna go home?” You looked around and took Leon’s hand in yours. “Yeah”. 

[g0dwat3rwritings]

i rewrote this ask like three times already trying to word it perfectly lmao. fem!yuu x octavinelle (separately). the pair attends NRC’s annual winter ball together as friends, though they’re both unaware of their mutual crushes on each other. at the end of the ball azul/floyd/jade confess their feelings!! also if possible could yuu’s dress be based on either ariel’s pink one or cinderellas original one (the silvery one) if any part of this was unclear pls feel free to message me and i’ll clear it up! my brains literally melting rn bc i just finished this horrible essay for history and tbh atp im just word vomiting everything out 😭😭

This is my second time writing this, I lost all of my progress the first time 😭

I had so much fun with the second version of Jade's part 💀

@nisobird 🚨🚨azul🚨🚨

Warnings ;; none

Relationship ;; Platonic, turned Romantic

Type ;; Short Story/One-Shot

OCTAVINELLE

Azul Ashengrotto ;; Octavinelle Housewarden ;; Second Year

You were late, and Azul was panicking. Why were you late? Did you just not want to see him? Were you just blowing him off? Azul as terrified of you not coming, not wanting to see him.

Upon seeing the doors open, revealing you, in a dress similar to that of the Sea Princesses, Azul's jaw dropped. He straightened his back upon seeing you come his way.

He gave a small laugh, "well.. you look.. wonderful." You couldn't help the small laugh that came from you, "Thank you. You can blame Vil, he wouldn't let me come in a normal outfit." You laughed.

Azul gave a laugh in return, holding his hand out toward you upon hearing a slow song start overhead. "May I.. have this dance?" He asked, obviously nervous for your response.

You gave a smile and took his hand, "You may." Azul smiled and led you to the dance floor, one hand gliding toward your hip, and the other taking your own hand.

As you danced, he cleared his throat. "If I may, I have something to tell you." You nodded, motioning for him to continue. He gave a small, nervous chuckle. "I think I... No, I know that I love you." He said quickly, before giving a sigh. "That.. wasn't as bad as I'd suspected." He said with a nervous laugh, awaiting your response.

With a small laugh and shake of your head, you responded. "I love you too, Azul."

Jade Leech ;; Octavinelle Vice-Housewarden ;; Second Year

You hung out with the tweel, not exactly fond of the dance floor, especially while wearing heels and a puffy, long dress. "Hey, Jade. Are you good at dancing?"

Jade gave a chuckle, "Why, I'd say I'm all right, but I wouldn't say I'm the best." He admitted, "Although, Floyd is a much better dancer than myself." Jade gave one of his normal, light chuckles.

"Despite how good my other half is at dancing, he finds it.. boring and uninteresting." Jade hummed, taking a sip from the punch he held in his hand.

You gave a laugh, "yeah, that sounds like Floyd." Jade simply nodded in response. "Say, may I talk to you after the ball is through? I have something to tell you." He told you, finishing off his punch.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you nodded nonetheless. After some more conversation with the eel, the ball was over and Jade guided you outside to somewhere quiet and concluded.

Jade turned to you, "I must admit to you that you are quite entertaining. Assuming you know my brother and I as well as you do, you know that we are very fond of those who are entertaining."

You listened, giving a nod toward the end. "Which is where I'd like to tell you that I-" A shout was heard from a tree, looking over, a fallen Floyd laid on his back at the bottom of the tree. "Oh, just tell 'em, stupid."

Jade and yourself couldn't help but laugh, "tell me what?" You asked. "I love you." He said simply, kissing your forehead lightly.

Floyd Leech ;; Octavinelle ;; Second Year

Floyd had even shocked himself upon asking you to this ball, he had no intent on even coming in the first place. But the idea of seeing you in a dress, all completely dressed up, had him in a chokehold.

"Woah. You look nice." Floyd blinked, and you laughed in response. "Thank you, Floyd." He nodded and held a cup of punch toward you, and you took it. You thanked him once more before taking a sip on it.

"Hey, Shrimpy." Floyd said, getting your attention. "Yeah? What's up?" You asked. "What do you say we get out of here?" You blinked, "Floyd, we both just got here." You said with a laugh. "I know, but if we stay any longer then Crabby or Little Mackerel will come up and steal you. So." He said, making a popping sound with his lips as he waited for your response.

You shook your head with a laugh and nodded, "alright, but where do you want to go?" Floyd shrugged, "I don't care." You laughed, before taking his hand and simply taking him back to Ramshackle.

His eyes were glued to his hand even after you'd gotten to Ramshackle. You snorted, "Floyd." You said, waving a hand in front of his face. "Huh?"

"what's up with you?" You laughed, and Floyd shrugged in response, simply resting his chin on your head. He spoke up after minutes of standing like that. "Hey, Shrimpy?" He said, "yeah?"

"Love you." He said simply, kissing the top of your head before reverting back to resting his chin on top of your head.

[diyakkul]

✩°｡⋆THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU HEADCANONS⸜🎥✮

bc I'm bored and I miss them ♡ (diyakkul on AO3) warning for spoilers ahead??

First thing first: Neteyam and Lo'ak are half latinos!! And they perfectly speak Spanish (Lo'ak has a bit of an accent and Neytiri blames Jake's horrible/broken Spanish he had to learn to speak with Mo'at);

Neytiri never wanted Neteyam and Lo'ak to become actors because she didn't want the media to target them as 'nepo babies' due to her past fame;

Neytiri's choice to stop her actress career was solely hers after marrying Jake— he wanted her to continue;

Neteyam's first acting role was playing a tree in an elementary school musical recital;

Lo'ak was the first one to sign himself as an extra to start his acting career and dragged Neteyam with him;

Jake and Neytiri found out their sons were acting as extras while watching a movie on Netflix:

"Hey, doesn't that guy look like Neteyam?" Asked Jake as they were cuddling on the couch. "That guy is Neteyam!" Neytiri shouted after pausing the movie and studying the guy up close.

Their theatre club teacher was the first person they called when James Cameron sent them the script for Pandora;

Neteyam and Lo'ak bought their 'villa' together;

For Lo'ak was love at first sight when he saw Tsireya sitting in the script reading room;

Tsireya used to be a child model and did a few commercials when she was younger;

Tsireya and Ao'nung grew up together since Tonowari and Ronal are best friends;

Rotxo was already their friend since they attended the same high school for 'rich kids';

Ao'nung is the nepo kid par excellence, his first acting role was in one of Tonowari's movies as his own son, and doesn't care about being called a nepo baby;

Tonowari = Dwayne Johnson/The Rock btw;

Ao'nung *stared* at Neteyam throughout the first reading meeting but was so shy and overawed by his beauty that he forgot to say 'hi' back (the rest is history);

Neteyam was glad he had to switch roles with Lo'ak until he realized his character (Rai'uk) had too many scenes with Ao'nung's (Sahné);

After the switch roles news, Tsireya had to listen to Ao'nung's two-hour-long cheer in their usual nightly FaceTime call (Rotxo pretended to be sleeping);

Lo'ak and Spider used to challenge themselves in 'illegal golf cart racing' between a studio and another until James Cameron caught them;

Rotxo and Kiri had their very first kiss in his dressing room in the middle of the first season recording and had been dating ever since secretly;

Rotxo and Kiri used to share secret notes between one take and another;

Neteyam has never accepted roles in musical movies because he thinks he isn't good enough but he occasionally shares song covers on Instagram;

Among the cast, Tsireya is the one who shares the most moments/photo dumps;

Ao'nung had a secret account just to follow Neteyam before opening his own Instagram account;

Neteyam and Rotxo always read fans' tweets together;

Spider's podcast had to be a joke but too many people started following him, so he went with it;

Kiri will more likely end her acting career after the last season of Pandora because she wants to travel the world and do environmental volunteering work with Grace;

Neteyam sometimes thinks about accepting modeling offers;

Ao'nung's Instagram explore page: South Pacific landscapes, RPG games, Neteyam, surfing stuff;

Ao'nung's house is so big that Neteyam didn't meet his boyfriend's parents until two months after they went back together (Tonowari once opened the door for him and Neteyam couldn't stop praising him for his movies, Ao'nung had to drag him away + he met Ao'nung's mother in the middle of the night while he and Ao'nung were making a late night snack in the kitchen);

Neteyam and Ao'nung's housekeeper are partners in crime;

Neteyam and Ao'nung moved close to Lo'ak and Neteyam's old villa since Tsireya moved in with Lo'ak to be neighborhoods;

Ao'nung felt so betrayed by Rotxo after learning he had actually been dating Kiri for all those years he didn't speak to him for two weeks straight (Neteyam had to intervene);

Neteyam and Ao'nung sometimes like to share cute videos about their daily life or do Instagram lives together;

TMI (+18): Rai'uk and Sahné were switch;

Every time rumors about Lo'ak and Tsireya breaking up spread around the internet, they post a story thumbing their noses;

ENDING HEADCANONS! ♡⋆｡˚

Neteyam will become a director;

Ao'nung will join the cast of a highly successful action movie after a long hiatus after Pandora's fourth season: it will become a franchise, and Ao'nung'll live off that success.

Lo'ak will still do back-and-forth between horror and action movies;

Tsireya will slowly retire from Hollywood's spotlight after founding a cosmetic and haircare brand that will be a worldwide success (girl boss, she actually will make more money than Lo'ak);

Rotxo will eventually join Kiri in her environmental volunteering work around the world, and they will found two sea animal rescue centers: the first in Awa'atlu and the second in California;

Lo'ak and Tsireya are going to have two twins: Raul, a boy, and Lani, a girl;

Neteyam and Ao'nung will be more than happy to just be the funny gay uncles and will adopt two dogs, a French bulldog named Rainé (after Rai'uk and Sahné's ship name, Ao'nung's choice) and a beagle named Coco (Neteyam wanted to call him Cacao but 'caca' is still the only thing Ao'nung knows in Spanish and laughed too much);

Kiri and Rotxo were fine being the rich uncle&aunt couple until Kiri found out she was pregnant in one of their trips to Awa'atlu, they'll end up having a girl named Raina.

[yourwitchybrother]

Apollo, My Beloved

Perhaps I couldn't wait any longer before I finally addressed my beloved patron and godspouse. Both of which are terms I will define in this post. Apollo has been part of my life, well... since birth! Being my Patron, he has been around for all of it. He's seen me at my best and at my worst, he's seen me through my relationships and my hardships. He saw me through my hardest moments, through the easier times, and through the trauma I've faced.

So yeah. He and I are pretty close. Let's get into it, this is going to be a long one.

Who is Apollo? ☀

I have heard Apollo referred to as the God of many things, and this description of him is not incorrect as much as it is a gross minimization of the things he takes Godly precedence over. He is the god of:

The Sun; Light; Poetry; Music and the Arts; Healing / Medicine; Plagues; Knowledge; Order; Prophecy; Truth; A God of Beauty; Agriculture; and Archery.

Some of these things are not as well known as others, and there are absolutely some things missing from that list. Again. He rules over a lot of things.

Apollo, in my life, has been more present as the God of music and the arts, and prophecy. A major part of my practice is the art of prophecy and divination, the concept of time and the future. Of course, I do not have as much time as I would like to delve fully into the concept of time as much as I'd like, but I still like to dip my toes into the concept of prophecy. It took me a while to accept the fact that prophecies do, in fact, exist, and they are things that can be accessed by someone who is not the Oracle at Delphi.

Apollo is also known for having many lovers and, more nuanced, has been claimed as a patron God of Queer individuals. He has had his fair share of gay lovers himself, and in fact, is quite known for having a series of lovers who have then turned into plants. For example:

Hyacinthus, who was turned into a Hyacinth. Daphne, who was turned into a Laurel tree. Cyparissus, who was (unwillingly) turned into a Cyprus Tree.

At a certain point, it is almost comical.

Apollo, as a Worshipper and Devotee.

Of course, everyone starts somewhere. And for a good portion of my practice, I started as a worshipper and devotee of Apollo. This meant that I was dedicating certain acts to him and gifting him little trinkets and leaving him offerings. My favorite instance was when I left him a pack of cookies for about a month. After a month, I went to eat them as to not waste them. The cookies gave me static and shocked me. Apollo and I had a conversation about boundaries following this.

I have been devoted to Apollo my whole life, I like to say. Ever since I could improperly hold utensils within my digits, I drew on things. When I first learned how to make illegible sounds, I sang. When I learned how to create poorly worded poetry, I crafted it. By no means am I a lyrical genius or a poet laureate. In fact, I'm horrible at writing song lyrics and I have only ever written one catchy verse, and in all my years of playing Ukulele, I have never been able to play and sing until November of last year.

However, in my early childhood, leading up to college, I was nearly prodigal when it came to musical instruments. I graduated high school knowing how to play clarinet, bass clarinet, saxophone, flute, xylophone, euphonium (my favorite), bass guitar, acoustic guitar, ukulele, trumpet, trombone, and kalimba. I'm sure there are people out there who know more instruments, but all things considered, this is a damn collection of instruments that I'm pretty okay at. In 8th grade I was the back-up singer in my military schools rock band, I was the acoustic guitarist.

I've also been acting for about 9 years (I'm about to be 20), which is a good portion of my sentient and cognisant life. I've done work both on stage and off, but yet still have not managed to be in a musical. They scare me.

Not to mention my history with other forms of art. In fifth grade, I painted a still life that was elected and ended up in a local art gallery. In the first week of May, one of my photos from study abroad was selected as being the best in its category and I won a prize. My history teacher hung a drawing I did of her daughter in the classroom because she adored it so much. However, that may have just been because it was a picture of her daughter.

This laundry list of artistic endeavors is not meant to be a flex or a brag. It's meant to showcase my extensive history in the arts and my devotion to Apollo. He has been an important part of my life. Before every performance, I pray to him. Before every concert, I'd ask him to send me humility and patience. Before every drawing, I ask Apollo for inspiration and a dash of creative whimsy. I also say hi to the sun every morning, wishing him a good morning while I drink my morning coffee.

Apollo, as my Patron.

As my patron, Apollo is my biggest mentor. He is there for me through thick and thin. When the going gets tough. I know I can lean on and rely on him.

My mother calls me Sunshine (my hair sticks up and gets all frizzy, and so she calls me Sunshine because she considers my hair to be rays), she always has. This is reflective of Apollo's presence in my life, in my opinion. A little ray of the sunshine that he emits.

But back to the mentor thing. Apollo has always been someone I can look to whenever I need guidance. Whether that means consulting the cards and asking him for some guidance, or using a pendulum and having an asinine round of "is that a yes or a no" with him, or him sending me a sign.

Very recently, I asked him for a sign that he's still there. That he hasn't gone anywhere or left me. I asked him to send me something bright orange, out of the ordinary, that I wouldn't expect to see. About two days later, at the beach, one of the friends we had been waiting on shows up wearing a bright orange dress. And I mean neon. And she never wears bright colors like that.

But, enough hyperspecific personal anecdotes. If I keep going, this post would be an autobiography.

Apollo, as a patron, is a very hyper and mischievous guide and mentor. He will say things that don't make sense in the moment, but will eventually make sense. He likes his riddles. He likes his complex-meaning messages. That is why it's important to write things down, of course.

Apollo, as a Godspouse.

So, let me start with the definition of a Godspouse. A godspousal to a God, Goddess, or any divine being with the intention to devote yourself to them wholly and fully for the rest of your life. This can look like a lot of things. It can be entirely platonic, it can be romantic, it can be a continuous boss-employee work style relationship, pretty much anything. The only difference between this and a normal worship or working relationship is that it is sort of binding. It is not a light decision to make, and it should be a decision you make after years of already devoting yourself to the divine being.

I am of the unpopular belief that you can start deity work at any time during your practice, not just later on. Apollo started my practice with me, and I am of the firm belief that I only understood parts of my practice and have made so much progress with his assistance. It obviously depends on the deity you work with, which deities you accept help from, and who you let into your life. But this is an entirely separate post for another time. Apollo and I have developed a strong, firm bond over the past 10 years. And in the grand scheme of my practice, we've been godspoused for only a short while.

Our relationship is more of a romantic kind, in the sense that we have our affectionate nicknames for one another (he calls me his songbird and sunbeam, and I call him Sunspot / my sunlight). We flirt back and forth and send one another gifts (I, in the form of offerings, and he, in the form of signs and literal gifts through people in my life). It's a sweet little give-and-take we have. My end goal, though, is to become a sort of oracle for Apollo. Again, this loops back to my obsession with time and prophecy.

The End (Finally)

If you read all of that, you rock! Apollo is important to me and he has left a major imprint in my life. He is a major source of light for me and to not ramble about him this much would be a cardinal sin of which I would have to repent for. Plus, he loves and adores attention. But I will stop running my mouth. As usual, if you have any questions or requests, feel free to comment them here or submit an ask via my tumblr. Blessed be, may the sun be your guide! A domani!

[killersfool]

You Might Get What You Want | ROBERT KEATING

PAIRING: robert keating x original f!character

GENRE: childhood frenemies to lovers

SUMMARY: lucia (luz), nieve ella’s keyboardist, has an estranged history with inhaler—especially with the band’s bassist, bobby. their fiery hatred for eachother rapidly blossoms into something sweet, especially when she learns that he wrote a song about her.

WORDS: 5.8k

WARNINGS: kissing, swearing, alcohol use, mild sexual content

Being Nieve Ella's keyboardist has completely altered the course of my life. Only eight months ago, I was doing my second year of uni, trying to get through a Music course and completely regretting all of my life choices. My favourite part of the day would be getting home and sitting at my piano, writing songs and posting them on Tiktok. Views racked up, followers kept coming in and I think I realised how well everything was going when Laufey commented on my cover of 'Like The Movies'. Then about two weeks later, an email shot through my phone—literally like a bullet to skin. I dropped the rectangular device to the ground mid-lecture, hand on my mouth, teeth in my lip. 

Nieve Ella had asked me to join her on tour. With Inhaler.

At first I was laughing, then I was bawling with endless tears of happiness and now I'm on my final show still feeling woozy and adrenaline is banging through my brain. The whole band have become my best friends. And, quite shockingly, me and Inhaler have a weird shared history. I've known them since I was really young. I used to watch their first gigs at tiny venues where they'd run around in the crowd and hardly anyone knew the lyrics. I went to the same school as Bobby, Eli and Ryan who were a bunch of madmen. They'd let me hang out with them backstage or at practice and jam before they finally found a 'proper' keyboardist (Louis). To be honest, I'd always been slightly salty that I never got into the band. But I guess we were never close enough and I could be quite horrible to Bobby — but honestly, he deserved it. He was a whiny, teenage nightmare. Still is. Except he's not a teenager anymore.

Thankfully, Nieve Ella and the band take a train separate to Inhaler. I don't have to hear Bobby's jests 24/7.  Today we're heading to Dublin. The final stop of the Cuts and Bruises tour. It's been a long ride but it's all been worth it. I've had the best time ever. I'm listening to the Strokes, a song Bobby recommended to me a few weeks ago. It's been on my mind ever since and I can't stop hearing the same chords and riffs over and over. Even when my headphones leave my ears. The song is 12:51 and funnily enough Bobby has a tattoo right on his bicep with those exact numbers. The lads gave us a rather enjoyable tattoo tour with reasons for each of their inked designs. 

I lay back my head against the cushioned seat.  I like this, I prefer it to what I was doing before. The constant stress, the exams,  the structure. I like the freedom of doing shows and seeing new people and travelling to new places. Never sure what you're in for. Crowd after crowd with all different energies and enthusiasm. The adrenaline rush is the best part of the day but when you wake up the following morning, it's like the life has been sucked out of you. You feel like nothing. Human. A person with legs and arms. Flailing around with no thoughts in your head. A billion times worse than a hangover. Post concert depression.  The lull after such a powerful high. It's nice to go through that hell with a group of friends who all feel the same way. Becomes a strange group therapy.

For the past hour, I've been begging Josh to tell me what is on the set list. I'm praying they'll add some different songs. Older ones. Seeing as it's the last show of the tour. Something to surprise the fans. Maybe 'Falling In' or 'There's No Other Place' or even my favourite 'You Might Get What You Want'. That was one that was written when Rob was the lead singer of the band. When I'd bang the keys in that garage. When we'd sing the lyrics together and sound like an awful church choir. I never got the chance to listen to it live, performed properly by the band. I'm still heartbroken they didn't leave it on the track list for the album. I have to resort to listening to illegal Spotify versions. 

I feel like crying everytime I remember this is the last show I might ever do with Inhaler. The last time I might see the lot of them. They'll surely disappear off into the shadows once tour is over, making their next album, cutting off all contact to focus solely on their music. After spending so much time with a group of people, then completely losing them from your life, you just feel so very empty. Like a swimming pool with no water. Or a mug of tea left hollow after spilling it all by accident. Last night — I would never dare to admit this to anyone — I cried for two hours straight into the pillow of my hotel room. Tour is a glorious thing. Fun, exciting, terrifying all at the same time. But the thought of finality is what split me into pieces, broke me up and squeezed tear after tear from my eyes.

Fran keeps looking at me with raised eyebrows like she's about to ask a question. She's scribbling on her set list, making sure she knows exactly what's happening and when. Her earrings twinkle as she tilts her head, her eyeliner sharp and perfect. Her mouth parts the slightest bit to reveal white teeth, a small smile. "You alright there, Luz?"

God, anytime someone asks me that, it makes me want to cry ten times more. I look down the train compartment, stare at the bathroom and decide whether to make my move. Do I run and hide in there for the duration of the trip, two hours of crying into mouldy train toilet paper? Or do I try to brave it and tell her how I feel? Or just lie through gritted teeth? She's good at reading me. She'll know that I'm not telling the truth.

"Don't tell Nieve this but I feel like absolute shite." There it is. I said it. Fire sinks into my skin, blood rushes up to my head. I squeeze my cheek to make sure I am actually sitting here and that I'm not hallucinating. Lack of sleep had made me seem some weird shit. I need caffeine. Quick.

"We all do." Fran puts her hand on top of mine. "Look, one more show, then we can sleep for as long as we want."

"That's the thing. I don't want this to end."

Fran gets up from her seat and swivels around the table. She sits down beside me, arms opening up and embraces me until I think I see stars. No one has ever hugged me so tightly. My bones seem to audibly shift. 

"Nieve's doing a few shows in February, remember? And I'm sure next time Inhaler tours, they'll be on their hands and knees begging for us to come back." She strokes my hair. "Although, Bobby might be telling us to bugger off instead. You two need to sort out this drama. It's driving us all mad."

"He started it." I sound like a three-year-old irritated at my brother. 

Fran laughs to herself. "Fucking hell. I bet he did." 

—

Arguing. It's happened again. Our last day together has gone to a great start.

First stop of the day—a random restaurant that Ryan dragged us to. Hugs were shared, kind words uttered, teeth glowing under dim lights. I sit down on a wooden chair, peel my jacket from my body and place it on the back. The cool wind is slamming against the windows. I'd forgotten how cold Dublin was. Especially in November. Some Christmas lights adorn the streets and pubs are lively with masses of people. We were stopped a only once on the way there by a group of fans—even our attempt at scuttling through empty alleyways didn't work when five friends with Inhaler-themed cowboy-hats impeded our trail. They were lovely. Photos taken and compliments exchanged. Sadly, Bobby was in a bad mood. When I say a bad mood, I mean a 'I want to kill everyone on this planet and throw myself on a train track' kind of bad mood. He hid away from the fans, behind me and Nieve. His height wasn't particularly helpful in that instant. The blonde, 'Amelie', had said in her thick French accent, "Is that Bobby? I was wondering where he was."

Caught. Found. He thought staying there for a while longer would make them think he wasn't there at all. Amelie was persistent, however, and said softly, "Please could I take a picture with you?" 

Her friends all started whispering. Eli was tapping his friend on the shoulder to get him to move. He was frozen. Eli frowned and shook his head. 

"Sorry but Rob's being a bit weird today," Josh explained. "I don't think he wants any photos."

Amelie nodded, but the sadness in her eyes was apparent. "That's okay."

I felt bad for the girl. I turned around, looked at Bobby. He was on his phone. Scrolling through Tiktok still crouched down. A quick look at his phone screen showed me that he was watching edits — edits of himself. I had to take a double take to actually believe what I'd just seen. He was staring at clips of himself, smiling, and wouldn't even stand for five seconds next to a girl who'd paid to see his band. He continued to swipe his thumb against the screen, blue eyes lit up by his bright phone.

Then his eyes caught mine and he closed the Tiktok tab. "You didn't see that, did you?" He worriedly spoke so unbelievably quickly, I had to scramble my brain to decipher the words. His smile flipped upside down. Shock written all over him. Blush rising right up to the tips of his ears. 

"The hell is wrong with you?" I muttered. Nieve heard. She stepped away. She did not want to be involved in whatever the two of us were plotting. 

"What's wrong with me?" He breathed. It's like he was asking himself the question but there was an unyielding harshness to his voice, raspy and agitated. I was sure that this argument was going to be just as bad as the Sid Vicious incident, or worse. Halloween Bobby was on a different wavelength — bordering on depravity.

"You're watching fucking Tiktok edits of yourself. Didn't think you could be that self-centered—"

"Can we not do this now? Please?" Bobby tried to get me to calm down. Amelie and her friends were still only metres away, asking Josh about the tour, about the next album. Fran was listening in. She was smiling to herself. Part of her definitely enjoyed the beef between us. 

"Show me your Tiktok."

"No."

"Now."

He sighed. I grabbed his phone, opened Tiktok straight away. His whole 'For You' page was edits of himself. The account he was on was a fake user account. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"What the hell..." Was all I could manage to say.

"I can explain."

"Can you? Go on then."

He didn't say anything. Took his phone back and kicked the brick wall beside him. He shook his phone around like he was going to throw it as well. That wouldn't change anything. I'd seen the worst of it — at least I hoped I'd seen the worst of it.

"Take that photo with those girls and I'll shut up about this." I gave him an option. A way to let him get out of the hole he'd dug for himself. 

He was so tall. Sometimes I forgot that. But there, back straight, no longer slouched and his neck craned to meet my eyes. I couldn't hold eye contact. His clenched jaw was making me nervous. 

"Fine." He finally concluded the argument with a single word. His index finger then pointed towards me, just beneath my neck. "But you don't tell anyone about this."

I grinned. "I promise." 

Stepping over towards Amelie, he smiled widely, put an arm over her shoulder and allowed Fran to take the picture of the group. Moments later he was complaining about his shoes. How they were too small. If Robert Keating had a chance to complain about anything, he'd take it and wouldn't shut up about it. I just knew at that point that we'd be hearing about his shoes for the rest of the day.  

Tension is thick in the restaurant. I can almost taste it in my mouth. Rob sits beside me. I don't want to look at him, don't want to hear him talk, don't want to have anything to do with him. He's only the only person I won't miss once this tour is over.

Before anyone can get a word out, Eli taps his fork against his glass. All eyes fall to him. Grace is next to him, she's appeared out of nowhere. 

"I just want to say thank you to Nieve, Fran, Lucia, Finn and Matt for being such great openers on our tour. We're so grateful for all of you. This wouldn't have been the same without you."

"Aw, Eli, I might cry a bit, please stop." Nieve shakes her head, holding her napkin to her eyes. "This has been such a dream. We should be thanking you for giving us this opportunity."

"We need to do this again sometime." Ryan pitches in. "Next time we tour, you're coming with us."

"Yeah. That would be grand," Josh exclaims, pulling up his pint of Guinness and crashing it against everyone else's.

Bobby, after all his hours of complaining, has gone back to silent, angry mode. Playing around with his fork, he stares blankly at the menu, fingers tracing the lettering. I watch him as the others melt into conversation. I just want to know what is going through his head. Why is he acting like this? Last week, he was fun to be around and we had a good time. Especially when he's drunk, he loosens up a bit and stops with the facade. He even kissed me once. As a joke. I think.

It was a mess of alcohol. A 'midnight tour bus party'. We were in London and instead of going to the hotel, we ended up spending the night in the lovely green tour bus. We all got so drunk we could hardly speak. I can't remember all that we got up to but when we were sobering up, Bobby dragged me outside of the bus. He gave me his jacket, placed it over my shoulders. We sat down on a random doorstep, hugging each other to keep warm. Two penguins. Two people who usually hated eachothers guts, finding comfort in the warmth that emanated from our bodies. I'd never thought his hair was nice until that moment. How it grazed over my neck. How the curls twisted perfectly and his overgrown mullet framed his face. Or how pretty his eyes were as they shone under streetlights. Dreamy, long eyelashes, sea-like waves. He'd kissed me. His long fingers over my cheeks. His pink lips slotting between mine. I pulled away, shocked. Electricity had sparked between us, my heart was pounding, my body was a torch. Then I ran away from him. I couldn't understand what If just felt. I had never seen him in that way. We never mentioned it again.

Maybe that's what has made him colder. I still haven't acknowledged what happened that night. I keep thinking that he was too drunk to even remember it, but maybe he does. I'm not going to bring it up. Especially now. Especially in this restaurant with everyone sat with us.

"I'm sorry, Lucia."

My heart drops. Bobby is looking at me. Downcast. Entire state is disjointed. His mouth just said that, his brain just formulated those words. 

"What?" I must've heard him wrong. Imagining it. This time I must be hallucinating.

"I'm sorry about that night."

Mindreader. He knew what I was thinking about. What my mind has been lingering on. The weather reminds me, his scent reminds me, his hands remind me, his jacket reminds me. That night. London. The night after Troxy. The wind — cut-throat, sharp, steely — the rain, and my tear-stained bedsheets. The taste of his mouth and the dejction locked into his eyes as I left him. Like I'd made a terrible mistake. Like running into my hotel room, alone, was the worst possible option I could've chosen. 

I'm wearing the same earrings as I did that night — these ribbon ones that a fan made for me. Bobby had pointed them out — which he shifted between his fingertips and said they suited me. He's eyeing them now, hands curving, resisting any urge to touch them again, to drag us back to that moment. 

The waiter takes my order. Bobby's words properly forage the depths of my mind, the veins and the arteries circling around my body, the aching crevices of my heart. I ask for the first thing I see on the menu and a Fanta. I want to stay sober. I want to savour all that will happen beyond this second. Bobby also doesn't get alcohol. Shockingly. The Bobby I know would never turn down a pint of Guinness. But he gets a 7up instead and takes a long, hard gulp of it when the waiter comes back. I'm counting the cracks on the table, how squeaky the chair is, the coffee stain on the ceiling — trying to guess how they managed to get up there. Musicians like to occupy their brains. They don't like to think too much - just do. 

"I'm sorry..." I whisper. Finally giving him a reponse after a long pause for thought. 

He had been waiting for an answer. He catches it. Twists uneasily in his seat. Wood creaks. Rain patters.

"...It was wrong of me to leave you." The image of his despair still rings through my bones. I swear when my cells divide they keep trying to recreate that look on his face.

"I shouldn't have..." his voice lowers, heat pf his mouth glides by my ear "...kissed you."

I'm trying to drink my Fanta with no reaction. Sugary greatness. Cold, slightly wet fingers. Orangey flavouring. But his voice is so low, trickling, burning, goosebump-inducing. I can't look at him. He's too close to me. It's too hot in the restaurant. Soundcheck is in 20 minutes. I want to run away again. I always want to run away. 

Down my Fanta, smooth my skirt, breathe in deeply. 

"I liked it." I similarly glide my lips over his ear when he's least expecting it, returning the favour.

He coughs. Chokes a bit on his drink. Then he eats his Pesto pasta with the pinkest neck I've ever seen on a person. Jacket off to reveal long, tattoo-covered arms, and the muscles that have progressively been getting bigger over the months. I join Ryan and Matt's drummer conversation to stop staring. It's weird. Being attracted to him feels wrong. Teenage Lucia would be ashamed. She’d slap some sense into me.

Dinner ends quickly. We're thrusted back into Dublin air before we can even adjust to the complete switch in environment. Running to the venue, through alleyways, shooting splashes of water all over the place, we realise how late we are. I feel better than I did in the morning. That dreaded train ride. Bobbys giving me the silent treatment again. I hate it. I hate it more than when he's being downright horrible to me. 

-

Our set was unbelievable. The best show I've ever done. The crowd was unreal, the size of the place was absurd. We had never sounded so great. Everything went according to plan. We're crying now that we're offstage. We need something to uplift us. Nieve's idea is to party in the back. Which is one of the best parts of the night.

We find a spot just before Inhaler goes on. Screams bleed through the room, adoration written in teenage faces, phones held up to capture the moment. The five lads on stage. One final time. I scream like I'm sixteen all over again, dancing as the first song 'These Are The Days' begins to play. Shouting along, throwing my hands in the air. I don't think I've ever been so happy and fulfilled before.

The setlist is the usual. I didn't expect them to change it. Eli gives a little 'thank you' speech, mentioning us at the end. Then suddenly encore starts and I'm met by a mildly unfamiliar song. The crowd seems just as confused as I am. Bobby is wearing that stupid black vest and I swear his bass has been lowered all the more. The next time they perform, it'll surely be grazing the floor. 

Bobby doesn't normally speak to the crowd at shows. It's always Eli. But as they play the intro, he begins to speak, "Hi everyone. Hope you're all having a good time." Commotion, screams, chanting 'Bobby' as if it's a cult gathering, not a concert. His eyes are searching through the crowd. The party in the back turned into moshpits and luckily I got pushed near to the front. His eyes land on mine. I can tell he's looking at when he plays with his earring — like it's a code between us. He keeps playing the same few notes on the bass lazily as he grabs the mic stand. Everyone is silent and listening as he says, "This is 'You Might Get What You Want'.

I recognise it now. I'm sent back to high school. 6 years ago. Practice room at school. Instrument cases strewn all over tha place, broken drumsticks leant against the wall. I'm sat at the piano as Bobby announces, "This is a new song I wrote." He passes me the chords starts singing. My thoughts are quiet. The external world is too loud for me to think. I'm lost in the music. The song is beautiful — lyrics, chords, arrangement, Bobby's voice. That was the day when I wanted to ask to join the band. Then Bobby was horrible to me so I changed my mind. I even asked him what the song was about. He looked at the Jim Morrison poster on the door, hand against his buzzed head as he thought up a response. "A girl," was his final conclusion. I thanked him for his specificity. He told me, quite frustratedly, it was 'none of my business'. Then he was riled up and told me to leave because I was 'playing it all wrong'. One of the last times I ever played with the band. So when I hear the song again — I'm back, sitting at the piano with my school uniform, waiting for cues to play the next chord.

The crowd goes wild at the fact that Bobby is singing alone. This is unusual. The majority of the crowd don't know the song. Reminds me of their first gigs in tiny venues. I sing along, staring at Bobby as he stares back. I wonder which girl the song was actually about. At seventeen, he hung out with every girl in sight - parties, random town meetups, gigs. The way he is looking at me is shattering me down to my core — eyes painted with affection and how he keeps moving his earring. For some reason, I wish the song is about me. Then he sings, 'You Might Get What You Want' whilst pointing right at me. Has anyone else noticed his staring? Nieve and Fran seem clueless. It could all be in my head. His face appears on the screen. I stare. Not ashamed. Appreciating his beauty for as long as we have left. Only tonight. Then nothing. Only the possibility of seeing eachother once again. It won't be set in stone.

I'm a sweaty mess by the end of the show. Last goodbyes, last waves, last shocked stares at the extent of the crowd. I always forget how boiling it gets in the standing area. I'm almost at the point of suffocating. We leave with the crowd, taking a few selfies with fans along the way. I stand in the merch queue. I need something to remember this. Something I can keep and wear and just be brought back to this venue, to this atmosphere. I buy a black tour shirt with the bubbly lettering, slipping it over my tank top. I just know the change in temperature will murder me. The more layers I have on, the better.

We slip through the crowd. Thankfully, it's quieter after my long time in the merch queue. I'd never seen such a long amalgamation of people. 

Back at the hotel, I crash straight down onto my bed. Don't even turn on the lights or take off my clothes. I just close my eyes and stretch out my body like a cat. It all happened too quickly. I left the band early to head back, although I heard the rest of them were going to the tour bus to get drunk. I've already had so much fun. I just need to relax. Alone time. Silence. Comfort.

A knock on the door.

I jump up. Still in my Inhaler shirt and lacy white skirt, I feel like taking a shower. But whoever just knocked has impeded any plans. I could just pretend I didn't hear them. I could fall asleep and they'll just walk away. 

Another knock. I jolt up this time. It's louder.

This time I reach the door. Sliding the keyhole open, I see him. Of course it's him. Of course. Of all the people that could be here right now. His hair is wet, mussed up. He's holding his jacket under his arm as it's completely drenched. Looking from side to side, he seems to contemplate giving up and leaving me solitary.

I open the door. Let my guard down. I want to talk. Rant. Let out all the garble mixing up and stuffing my skull. He'd listen to me. 

"What are you doing here?" I ask. I don't say it rudely. Make sure to keep my tone quiet and curious. The rise of his head to meet my eyes is almost film-like, tracing along my skin, photographic.

"I need to talk to you."

"Come in then." 

Close the door behind him. He drops his jacket onto the floor. Slides off those shoes with a groan. They really are too small on him. He can hardly untie the laces without sucking in a quick breath. He looks at himself in the dodgy mirror, trying to fix any flying pieces of hair. His beard is growing a little — little moustache fading in above his mouth.

He sits down on a chair by the table.  His lengthy legs reach up to the end of the bed where I'm sat. He picks up a tea bag, sniffs it then puts it back. I'm worried about what he's about to say. He looks like he's gone through hell and back to get here. I've never seen him so dishevelled. 

"You were amazing today." I hate the silence. I fill it up. "You all get better every time."

He's been so serious since he came in but the ghost of a smile haunts his lips. They twitch then fall. "So do you."

“Is this about your weird For You page because I’m pretty fucking worried.” I’m trying to forget I saw any of those edits. 

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head. He's hugging his chest, arms shivering. My eyes narrow. Each hair on his arm is stood to attention.

"Do you want a blanket?" I'm about to look for something to warm him up when his hand clasps around my wrist. He's stood up. I'm sat down, looking up at him. His thumb traces the inside of my wrist, over a bracelet I have. One that he gave me when I was sixteen. A friendship bracelet he'd brought to one of the rehearsal sessions. I wore it just to get a reaction out of him. This is the first time he’s noticed it. 

I want to ask him what he's doing. But then he's sat next to me with his arms around my body and I forget what I was going to say. 

"Robert..." I don't normally say his full name. It's the only word that's coming to mind. His wet hair is dripping all over my skirt, his head is against my chest, he won't look up at me.

When I pick up his face, stretch my hands over his cheeks, I find his crystal eyes glossed over. Tears. He's crying. I don't know how to react. He buries his head back into the crook of my neck like he's embarrassed. Then he's breathing heavily. Heaving. Sniffling.

"What is it?" I whisper. I stroke every inch of his hair, the nape of his neck, the thin material of his vest. I trace the tattoos on his arm. Finally landing on the music notation inked into his wrist.

"I don't want you to leave." He holds onto my waist, under my shirt, cold skin. "Stay here. With me. Please."

I wipe the tears from his face. I must look like a beetroot. I'm boiling. 

"Really?" I think I'm crying as well. I can't help it. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him so unguarded, so helpless.

"I only sang that song so you'd hear it." He looks up at the ceiling, cogs turning in his brain. "It's not just about a girl. It's about you."

"You're kidding." I have to laugh. 

"I'm not. I wrote it during the summer holidays before high school. I had some weird thought that you were going to call me and ask me out. I was always a prick to you so I don't know where that idea was coming from exactly. It's just when you want something so badly—I guess your brain manifests it into reality. Like every time I turned around a corner, I thought you'd magically appear. I thought you'd say that you liked me. But then you went off to Uni, the band got big. And now this. You're in fucking Nieve Ella's band. I thought I was going to throw up when I saw you get out of the train. Everything just came back. I didn't put the song on the album because every time I hear it, I just remember what an idiot I am for not treating you well and for not telling you how I feel. Singing it brought me back to the practice room, to that shitty piano with pedals falling off the hinges. How you made such a disgusting piano sound divine. I don't want to make the same mistake. If I let you go now, I'll be regretting it for the rest of my life."

"So you were looking at me? When you were singing?" I tilt my head, thumb below his eye. 

"I might have been." He's not crying anymore. His voice is less rough. He sounds like normal Bobby again.

"I'll stay with you. As long as you want."

"Forever?"

"Bit too long. I can only deal with you for about three hours at a time."

"Then we should make good use of the—" He looks down at his watch. "—Two hours and 43 minutes we have left."

"What do you have planned?" I'm getting closer to him. His nose bumps against mine.

"What do you want to do, Luz?" He's challenging me. Thumb swirling over my lips. 

"This." I kiss him. Lips to lips. Two notes in perfect harmony. Everything we've been through culminating into one simple kiss. It's a peck. A tease. I pull away as I feel him yank me closer. 

His hands find my ears and it's like that night again. His mouth tastes the same. Sweet. Lukewarm. He still grazes my bottom lip with his teeth when he feels me shift back. 

"You're an angel," he says.

At that, I'm kissing him again. This time with more passion. Exploding fireworks. Jumping into the ocean, water floating around you. The ringing in your eyes after an explosion. An earthquake. A tidal wave. So many feelings at once. He's trying to take my shirt off. I let him. Pulled it over my head so quickly I thought he might get my neck off as well. He throws it onto the nearby chair, looking at me, with those glimmering eyes and perfect eyebrows. Beauty spots and smooth skin. I attempt to take off his shirt too, although it's pretty much stuck to his chest. He helps me out, laughing at my stress. 

"It's not that hard." He smirks, tugging at the top as I manage to unstick the bottom. 

"Fuck off." I roll my eyes. 

He pushes me down onto the bedsheets, helping me up until my head is on the pillow. I look over his frame. Long torso, large biceps, chain around his neck. It's too much to deal with. Hooded eyes, smirk on his lips, happy trail leading down to his belt. He knows how he's making me dizzy. He leans down, curling over me, scent hanging, cool skin against mine. I throw my head back. I've never been touched like this. So precise. So gentle. Like I'm his favourite bass guitar. I'd never noticed how long his fingers were until they were splayed over my bra, until the other hand was sliding up my thigh.

He kisses my neck, my shoulders, my collarbones, the valley between my breasts, tongue flat, teeth sharp. I hold onto his hair, then onto his toned shoulders. This morning, I would never have expected that this would happen. That the boy I loathed was admiring me and tasting me with unrelenting adoration. Now, the thought of leaving him makes me sick to my stomach. I pull him a little closer, kiss him a little harder and remember just how red teenage Bobby's face was after he'd sang that song to me. How defensive he was when I asked him about it. Now it all makes sense.

I won't ever leave him again.

[jane-john-doe-tournament]

Jane Doe (Ride the Cyclone) Propaganda:

Great singing, also she’s literally wearing a doll‘s head bc she lost hers

do they have their soul or is it rotting somewhere with their head?

BALLAD OF JANE DOE IS SO SAD AND SHE IS GREAT AND I ONLY WATCH RTC ONCE BUT SHES NY FAVE OK

cool asf

She forgets her name after her death and has no story told in the production

She's so sweet and deserves the world. Her song (The Ballad of Jane Doe) is great.

the song goes so hard just listen to her song guys please

she literally died and her head was cut off so nobody could tell who she was PLEASE let her take one (1) W

BECAUSE SHE IS AMAZING. First she already won the tournament in the musical to regain life, as she won them over with her sad wet cat energy because she did not have a head and feared that she lost her soul. Second, she died on a roller coaster and lost her head, but stole her doll's head and thats very gender. Third, throughout the musical she is used as a vessel for religious allegory, she is an angel, she is jesus, she is a demon, she is forsaken but she is purity itself. Fourthly, she is is given the identity of Savannah with the greenest eyes after the other characters who died with her hold her a birthday party, and I think thats sweet because its probably some kind of meaning I cant see but auughfhfhh shes so cool

i mean her name isn't TECHNICALLY jane doe but we refer to her as such. she's so silly!! autism powers! i don't have a lot of propaganda tbh. i would've just been surprised had she NOT been submitted

She lost her head literally when the rollercoaster derailed. She wasn't able to be identified apart from the school uniform she was wearing.

Her name is forgotten, and so is everything about her. So she’s called Jane Doe. She’s very sweet and very creepy, but she doesn’t mean it

and im asking WHYYYYY LORRRRRDDD

I LOVE HER! she died in a roller coaster accident and was decapitated, her body not being found. in the show, her head is actually just her doll’s head. the coroners couldn’t identify her, so she was dubbed a jane doe. in the game to be alive again, she ends up being voted, her name being revealed to be penny lamb. anyways she’s a little creepy and also quite silly and she does her funny little waddle like a porcelain doll (or corpse).

She deserves it! She lost her head she shouldn't lose this too.

Not convinced you didn’t start this tournament just for her tbh

They have a great song and a true air of mystery to them. They also have arguably the best song in the musical, The Ballad of Jane Doe! I would definitely recommend listening to it >:)

—She LOST her HEAD and had it replaced with a PORCELAIN DOLL —In all seriousness her story is really poignant. No one could identify her body so she arrives in the afterlife not knowing her identity and she spends the show vacillating between depressed and angry at her situation, leading to… —“The Ballad of Jane Doe”, specifically Emily Rohm’s version, might be the most haunting solo in musical theatre history.

John Doe (Milgram) Propaganda:

well atp hes prolly not gonna be forgiven in the trials so hopefully he can at least get farther in this

in a supernatural prison full of sympathetic murderers, john just so happened to be the one corner case. neither a prisoner nor a warden, he's just kinda there! the one being officially (if not legally.) prosecuted for the crime is his alter, kayano mikoto, although it's unclear which one of them actually killed someone. after getting the verdict of "unforgiven" in the first trial of three for their crime, john is certainly being insistent on the fact that he's an entirely horrible person who killed without measure; all for the sake of becoming the scapegoat and diverting the negative attention from mikoto. he's just a little shit who would do anything for the person he cares about the most in the world and who hates himself so so bad. deep devotion? he has that. grey morals? absolutely. homoeroticism? you tell me. mainstream tumblr you would love him. also his name is like that because a fifteen-year-old amnesiac called es named him (while the events take place in japan) so do with that what you will

[strniohoeee]

Vain

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader *friendship*

Synopsis: Y/N is stuck in a toxic relationship, and when they break up. She runs to Chris for his advice🥹

Warnings⚠️: Talks of a toxic relationship, trauma, mentions of a hand being raised at readers face

Song for the imagine: Conceited- Lola Young (this song is fucking good literally LISTENNN)

Told me that you loved me, you're just talking to yourself

I don't wanna know, I don't wanna hear it

Let yourself out, you're so conceited

365 days….365 days trapped, hurt and angry. I was angry because I was trapped. Trapped in this god awful toxic relationship. With a “man” who did not care. He could care less if I lied there bleeding in front of his eyes. He’d probably laugh in my face and walk over me. This I knew, and I hated myself everyday for staying with him because I loved him.

How could I love someone as crazy and deranged as him? That I’m not sure of, but when you fall for someone you fall for it all. The imperfections and the beauties. But he…he had too many imperfections. Ones that would bleed into our relationship tainting it.

Him and I started off strong. He was amazing to me, he did it all. I truly felt like a princess when I was with him. He got along with my friends, my family, just everyone in my life. I thought I would eventually marry the guy. But here I am hurt and alone.

About 7 months into our relationship something in him flipped, and to this day I can not understand what happened to him. He wouldn’t talk to me, or explain anything it always ended up in him lashing out.

“Baby…I’m not sure what’s wrong, but I’m here for you” I would tell him

“I don’t need you here for me. Go away” he would tell me

“How can we be in a relationship when you won’t even communicate” I told him

“Shut your fucking mouth” he’d warn

“I don’t know why you resent me so much. If you’re not happy we can break up” I would say softly

“Break up? You’re nothing without me. You need me, you can not live without me.” He would say scoffing

That’s how most of our arguments went. He’d call me useless, pathetic, no good, he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I’d have no one on my side if I broke up with him, he’d turn everyone against me. Every horrible thing you can think of, he has said to me.

And like an idiot I stayed. I stayed because I was scared. Scared that he’d truly truly hurt me. Sometimes when we argued and he’d get close to me there would be this twinkle in his eye. A twinkle of malice like he’d actually put his hands on me. Fear controls every aspect of life, more than you’d think.

The only person I felt comfortable going to was Chris and his brothers for help. Often they’d tell me to just dump him and come stay with them, and that they’d keep me safe. However I could never bring myself to do it. I was scared.

Chris and I had grown really close a few months back. I would even consider him my best friend. I told him everything, and when things would get bad and I would have a panic attack it was Chris who was there to calm me down. At first * Y/N boyfriends name* didn’t really care that I was friends with Chris up until things started to get really really bad.

He’d check my phone whenever he wanted, read my messages, go through my DM’s, look at my call history. He’d watch my location constantly asking where I’m going. I was his prey. He wouldn’t leave me alone and he knew it scared me, but that was something he loved

When he would go to work I’d call Chris and catch him up on everything, and then had to beg him to not text or call me, or initiate any contact until I did.

For our one year anniversary last week we didn’t do a thing. He even acted like he forgot, and when I mentioned it he flipped out. Telling me that I’m a piece of shit, and that I didn’t deserve a single thing. But I never wanted anything, I just wanted my boyfriend back.

Today he was at work, and I wanted to be nice and make him some dinner, turn on some music, and just try and have a good night with him.

When he got home I could immediately tell he was not happy, and that this night would end in another fight

“The fuck you doing” he said walking into the kitchen

“Uhhh hi to you too, i was making you dinner” I said giving him a smile

“I’m not eating that shit” he said opening the pot and throwing the lid down on the stove, causing me to jump a little bit

I paused for a moment contemplating how I would go about my next comment

“What the fuck have I ever done to you?” I asked him finally looking at him

“You haven’t done shit for me. You’re nothing, you’re a nobody” he said

“What’s your problem with me? You used to be so sweet and loving, and now you’re just angry and mean” I said back

“You ain’t nothing to me” he spit like venom

“So then leave me” I told him getting angry

“Ha! Leave you. You couldn’t survive a single day without me. You need me. I’m all you have” he shot back

“Not true at all” I spat back

“Don’t fucking speak to me like that” he said walking a little closer

“Speak to you how? I’m talking to you like a normal adult. You’re acting like a child” I told him

“I should fucking spit on you” he said with a smug face

“You’re a fucking psycho. You’re crazy” I told him shaking my head

“Walk away then! Go LEAVE!” He yelled the last part

“Make up your mind! Want me to go or want me to stay” I said rolling my eyes at him

“I could give a shit what you do. I know you’ll be crawling back” he said crossing his arms

“You’re so full of yourself. I don’t need you” I spat back at him

“Yeah you fucking do” he said now standing infront of me

“NO I FUCKING DONT” I yelled at him

“DONT RAISE YOUR FUCKING VOICE LITTLE GIRL” he yelled back

“LITLE GIRL?” I questioned yelling back

“YEAH LITTLE FUCKING GIRL. GO BOOHOO CRY TO YOUR FRIENDS…..oh wait you don’t have any” he said laughing

“FUCK YOU” I screamed in his face, and immediately he raised his hand and I flinched and stepped back. Utter shock on my face

“Did you just try and hit me?” i asked started to walk away from him

I ran and grabbed my purse, phone and car keys. Walking to the front door

“You’re not going anywhere” he said following me

“I am! YOU DONT OWN ME! I'M LEAVING AND I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN. YOURE A FUCKING LUNATIC WE ARE DONE” I yelled at him, swinging the door open and running out and to my car

Once in my car. I started to drive to the triplets house. As he kept calling and texting non stop but I kept ignoring him.

I got to the triplets house, and once I rang the doorbell Chris came down and was shocked to see me

“Hey! What are you doing here?? Are you okay?” He asked reading my face in worry

“I broke up with him” I said as he let me into the house

“What happened??” Chris asked as we went down to his room

“He’s a fucking psycho” I said pacing his room back and forth

“Go on” Chris said

“I make dinner for him trying to be nice, and he comes home all nasty and rude and starts fighting with me calling me all types of names and that I’m nothing without him” I told Chris still pacing the room shaking with anxiety

“And then”…my voice “he fucking raised his hand like he was going to hit me” I said finally stopping

“Did he hit you?” Chris asked in disbelief

“No he didn’t. I walked out before he could do anything” I said

“Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry! You don’t deserve this, and he doesn’t deserve you” Chris said

“God! What the fuck is wrong with me. How could I stay with someone like this for so fucking long. A fucking maniac” I said finally breaking down and crying, and Chris comes running over to grab me and bring me back to his bed

“Hey! Don’t beat yourself up for someone like him. Kids got a lot of fucking problems, but this isn’t your fault” Chris said rubbing my back

“I fucking love him. I will always love that kid, and no matter how shittt he treats me. My chest hurts from how much I love him” I said sobbing

“You can love him, that's normal. But you can’t beat yourself up for how you feel!” Chris told me

“I know but I’m just so fucking stupid for staying with him. No matter how many time you told me to leave him, and so I just didn’t” I said still sobbing

“Listen he’s a horrible person, and yes you should’ve left him a long time ago, but it’s your life and you will do what’s best for you” he told me

“I don’t wanna feel this pain anymore. I don’t know who I am. He completely ruined me” I said to Chris

“It’s going to hurt. It’s going to fucking suck, but you need to hurt and cry and feel pain in order for you to heal. So allow yourself those emotions, and you will see with time it will get better. You don’t need him. You never did need him, you’re a strong independent woman, and never let anyone tell you otherwise. Got it?” Chris said

“Yes. Thank you Chris I love you so much. You have no idea how grateful I am to have someone like you in my life” I responded wiping my eyes

“Kid I love you so fucking much. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to see you hurting or crying, especially over some loser like him. You deserve better…way better” Chris said pulling me in for a hug

“Thank you Chris” I said hugging him back

“There’s plenty of other guys who will truly care for you, and treat you like the beautiful queen you are” he said kissing my head

“You’re right” I said pulling away from the hug to wipe my eyes one more time

“Who knows?? Maybe I’m that guy” Chris said wiggling his brows

I started to laugh “yeah maybe. Who knows” I said giving him a smile

“There’s that beautiful smile of yours” he said smiling back

“I love you Chris”

“I love you too Y/N”

The End

Hope yall like this one too. I’m like ehhh about this, but I liked the idea. I’ll be posting the Matt cabin in the woods, and poignant part 2 tonight, but for rn IMA TAKE A NAP CAUSE A BITCH IS TIREDDD

-J💅🏽

[captainsimagines]

pretty woman, this is me trying || one

Summary: Bucky Barnes does not like to be touched. He’s completely ready to live a distant life and give up when the time is right. Until Stark hires him his own personal pretty woman. Over time, Bucky Barnes begins to learn how to touch again. How to feel again. How to love himself again.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female SexWorker!Reader

Trope(s): Holiday Fanfic ; Slow-Burn ; Friends to Lovers

Based on the Song(s): sweet nothing by Taylor Swift and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

(1/14)

Mini-Series / AO3 Link

Warnings: PTSD themes; past sexual abuse (Hydra); strong language; panic attacks; nightmares

Word Count: 2,950+

Author’s Note: A holiday fanfic! You know I couldn’t leave you all hanging! I’m excited for this one. I know it deals with a lot more heavy situations, but I wanted to write something angsty/romantic. PLUS, I wrote this in 3 days so I’m sorry if it’s bad lol

I hope I do you justice. Love you all. xxMoni

~

     Bucky Barnes did not like to be touched.

He did not shake hands, he did not hug, he did not do well with even the slightest brush of someone’s body. The faintest of touches froze him. Paralyzed in the faint sensation. Memories of harsh hands and machines, demented laughter and sedated foreplay, echoed through his mind.

The only person he allowed to touch him when necessary was Steve, and even then Bucky had to remind himself that it was his best friend. The size of Steve’s body was not a danger. The command of his voice was for safety only, and not to order him to strip. The friendly claps on the back were meant to ease Bucky into the world, not to bend him over from behind.

Sometimes he believed he was getting better. Mornings were beautiful, food tasted great, and everyone greeted him with a smile. On those special days, Bucky's heart filled with hope. Hope he could sit in close proximity to someone else, hope he could travel outside the compound and not rely on his super soldier skills, hope he could get out of his head for one second.

But when someone entered a room too loudly, or when he was forced to physically fight an enemy—those special days crumbled to ash, now cruel illusions that sent Bucky on a downward spiral. A spiral Steve usually had to coax him out of with gentle words, words that scarily resembled begging.

So Bucky has given up on trying to fit in. On trying to find the light at the end of the tunnel. On trying to feel human again.

And fuck all that bullshit about being human was to feel pain.

Pain was not a good emotion, and it was mean to give it relevance to the human condition.

It wasn’t an emotion every human had to suffer in order to be considered living. It was an emotion that was cruel and unforgiving and completely, completely exhausting.

If Bucky Barnes had to live his life without touch again, then so be it. If he had to step out of a room to calm his nerves with the repetition of his tapping fingers, then so be it. He did not want to feel trapped, or abused, or ridiculed ever again. He did not believe in soft touches or love making anymore.

First, the war stole his boyhood.

Then the Swiss Alps stole his life.

And Hydra stole his dignity.

His time with Hydra had been documented to horrible extremes. Extremes Bucky was certain were going to be plastered on media outlets and history books. But he had discovered one night, while on a solo-mission to the compound’s lounge, that those theories were unlikely.

Because he had found Tony Stark and Natalia Romanov scouring every database and paper trail about his torture… and completely destroying it. With help from Jarvis, Bucky’s recorded nightmares were erased. Washed out. Encrypted, set on fire, and utterly gone.

Neither Tony or Natalia ever spoke to him of it. He assumed Stark was simply avoiding an awkward conversation, and that he didn’t exactly do good with such rough topics. Natalia did write down the number of her therapist for him.

He threw the piece of paper away.

And on nights like these, he really wished he hadn’t.

Bucky curled up in his thin bedsheets and clutched them close, willing his body to stop sweating. He tried to touch his knees to his chest but he was too large. If he could feel pressure there, then he could fall asleep. If there was added pressure to his back, then the sleep would be immaculate.

He turned and piled the pillows high, setting them behind his back. The coldness of the cotton seeped into his skin, instantly relaxing him. He clutched a throw pillow to his chest and pressed it down, counting by even numbers.

Pressure, a sequence, and breathing.

He could tell by the bright white light shining through his curtains that it was still night. No light that bright could be anything but the moon. That was a reassuring constant for him.

“Shall I ring for Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes?” Jarvis whispered over the speakers in Bucky’s room.

Jarvis’s random voice didn’t scare Bucky anymore. At first, it had caused Bucky to spring into a full blown panic attack. But as time went on and Jarvis continued to speak with him randomly, at odd times, Bucky’s body got used to it. Expected it.

“No, Jarvis. I’m good.”

Jarvis hummed, pausing a little before saying, “Let me know if you need anything.”

Bucky didn’t respond. He never took Jarvis up on that offer anyway.

He curled further into his mound of sheets and pillows and shut his eyes, forcing himself into a dreamless sleep.

He succeeded in sleeping, but relived memories twice over in the dark.

~

    “Twenty bucks says you don’t ask her,” Steve declared, pulling his wallet from his coat.

Wanda giggled from behind the kitchen counter, pouring coffee into her impossibly large mug. Pietro saddled up beside her, stealing the mug for himself.

Sam clicked his tongue. “Bet. I’ll do it today after dinner.”

Steve scoffs, “Fuck off. Another twenty says you won’t have the balls to ask until next week.”

Bucky snickered as he looked between his two friends. He sat with his left leg bent so he could rest his chin on his knee, comfortable enough to be casual this morning. He sipped at his hot chocolate, grateful Wanda gave him one of the festive mugs. It was December 1st, after all.

“After dinner,” Sam promised, slapping his own twenty onto the dining table.

Wanda leaned forward and snatched the money for herself. “I’ll keep this bet safe for the time being.”

“You think she’ll say yes?” Bucky asked, overly curious.

Sam asking Natasha to the annual Avengers Christmas ball? Yeah, right.

Sam puffed out his chest, his smile wide. “I’ll bet more money, Barnes. That’s how confident I am.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He finally picked up his fork and dug into his eggs. With his mouth full, he said, “If you think you know Romanoff, you don’t.”

It was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. “Like I said, Cap. I’m confident about this.”

“Well, I think that’s a good attitude to have,” Pietro commented, sitting down beside Steve with own full plate of eggs and bacon. “And when it all crashes and fails, we get to be the ones to tell you ‘I told you so!’”

Sam flung a piece of bacon across the table, cursing Pietro’s name.

Bucky watched it all unfold, feeling both inside and outside the circle at once. He was a part of the conversation, but he still felt benched. His body would lurch forward on its own accord and try to join in—maybe to thump Pietro on the back of the head, slap Steve on the back, grab a mug of coffee from Wanda’s delicate hands.

It was funny, really. Being afraid of Wanda’s hands because of his own history and not because of the power she held within them.

He was both included, and not. There, and nowhere. Inside his head but forcing himself to step out of it. Dissociating for too long until the conversation was on another topic entirely.

Jarvis’s voice snapped them from their play fighting. “Sergeant Barnes, Sir has asked me to tell you that he would like your opinion on something.”

Bucky grumbled, drinking from his hot chocolate. “What does he want?”

“Oh, that’s the wonder of standing up and finding out for yourself, isn’t it, Sergeant Barnes?”

Sam howled, nearly choking on his last piece of bacon. “Jarvis really is Stark’s creation. Jesus fucking Christ.”

Bucky sighed, having been left with no choice. He placed his half-drunk mug in the sink and waved goodbye to everyone, trying hard not to stomp to Stark’s lab.

~

    Stark was under a massive machine with six arms and blue lasers when Bucky walked into the lab later that afternoon. He had ignored Jarvis’s constant badgering and decided to visit the lab after his morning run. Only after it Bucky was certain he wouldn’t physically fight Stark if what he had to say was idiotic.

“My one and only!”

Bucky rolled his eyes and sat at the farthest chair from the monster machine. “You called?”

“And you diddle-daddled.”

To this, Bucky actually laughs. Sometimes Stark got on his nerves, other times he was a breath of fresh, realist air.

Stark climbed out from underneath the metal monstrosity, wiping oil from his hands. Bucky waited patiently as Stark finally sat, cracking his neck three times before speaking.

“So… The Christmas Ball.”

“Uh huh.”

Stark adjusted his seating, slowly lowering himself in his rolly-chair. Bucky watched him become shorter, awkwardly staring at him and the walls simultaneously. Whatever Stark wanted to talk to him about, it was becoming less interesting to Bucky.

“Pepper has informed me that there is going to be an auction. A, donate thousands of dollars to take me out on a date, type thing.”

Bucky grimaced. “Isn’t that prostitution?”

“No, it’s escorting. Prostitution is the other honorable profession.”

Bucky hummed.

Stark wiped a stressed hand down his face, curling his lips as he continued speaking. “Pepper has also informed me that only Thor is being auctioned for real. Meaning, everyone else isn't actually on the roster. Their dates are going to be the highest bidder regardless of what anyone bids that night.”

Bucky frowned, stumped. “So, we’re denying money from actual bidders and rigging this thing?”

“No. Private donors have already given their fair share of money. We’ve flown past our goal for the evening.”

“Then why have the Ball in the first place?”

“Appearances, photo ops, meeting new people—You name it.”

So Steve and Sam were going to be “sold” to their highest bidder, who will also happen to be their dates for that evening. That nice coffee shop girl Steve has been dating for the past six months was already invited…

That meant she was bidding whatever amount she needed to, regardless of the price, for a date with Steve. Money that was already donated before the damn Ball even started.

Bucky looked to the white, marble floor for answers. But all he saw was his distorted reflection, staring back at him with creeping realization.

“What… What about me?”

Stark sighed, shrugging his shoulders empathetically. “I tried everything, Barnes. But the higher-ups forced us to include you, too.”

Bucky was going to throw up. That ball of nausea that often stuck to the back of his throat was crawling upward, scratching his tongue, begging to be let free. To spill all over this damned marble floor.

He whimpered silently, turning his face to his metal shoulder. His hair covered his anguished expression, but it was pointless to assume Stark hadn’t noticed. Bucky’s neck was already redder than the original color itself.

“Barnes, listen to me.” Bucky tried to follow the direction of Stark’s voice. When he blinked, his vision seemed to get blurrier. “Breathe. Tap those fingers. You remember you got fingers, right?”

Bucky counted to three, then began to tap his index and thumb together. He relished in the feel of his skin, in the lifted edges of his fingerprints, of his filed fingernails. Slowly, the world stopped spinning. The chair didn’t feel like it was caving in anymore. The walls stopped stretching and his ears stopped ringing.

The remnants of his panic attack settled in his chest, pulsing uncomfortably. But he could finally open his eyes long enough and not feel like passing out.

“Good, good. Now if you would just let me finish.”

Bucky huffed a quiet laugh, easily amused by Stark’s sarcasm. It was a surprise how quickly the two fell into step after Bucky moved into the compound, seeking each other out for random answers and opinions. Steve had questioned it, but accepted that if Bucky was alright with it, he wouldn’t budge.

“I spoke with Pepper. You have two options: Let me find you a date who I promise will not leak anything to the press, touch you without permission, or annoy you until you feel like swallowing a bullet.”

Bucky blinked at him, eyebrows scrunching. Stark getting him a date? Bucky didn’t want to date any of Stark’s past flings or strangers he might pull off the streets. The rational part of his brain understands that this person will be vetted and practically stalked, but it’s the irrational side that’s telling him this person might just hurt him. They could convince the world they’re the most innocent thing ever, but when he’s alone with them that mask could easily fall off and reveal eight tentacles and a flaming skull.

“Or,” Stark enunciates, standing from his incredibly low chair. He blew a fast raspberry before saying, “You and Sam attend together, or you and Natasha.”

Okay, that seemed like the better option. He trusts both Sam and Natalia, trusts them to keep their hands to themselves and protect him. Yeah, that was obviously the better choice—

But Sam wanted to ask Natalia. Sam has been wanting to ask her a million things before the Ball was ever a reality. His friend had all this insane amount of exhilarating excitement when he even thought about the red head.

Bucky couldn’t take that away from him. Even if his own comfort was the victim in this situation.

“This… person. Will they be an escort?”

Stark’s eyes widened momentarily before he steadied himself. “Yes, and maybe no. They’ll be the person I believe can be most trusted. Are you okay with the possibility of taking a hooker to the Ball?”

Bucky grunted, “Don’t use that word.”

“It’s the 21st century, Barnes. Hooker means prostitute, prostitute means sex worker, and sex worker has a positive connotation nowadays.”

“Just say escort.”

Stark grumbled beneath his breath, turning to a nearby computer and typing something into the search bar. “Jarvis, make sure this web search is wiped from the center of the earth after I’m done with it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Tony.” Stark knew that when Bucky used his first name, it was a call to turn around and look him in the eye. So that’s exactly what Stark did. “A sex worker expects sex, don’t they? I’m not giving them that, so how can you expect me to be fine with it?”

Stark tapped his fingers against random keys, deep in thought. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding offensive. Jarvis, help me out. How do I say, ‘You don’t have to fuck the person, you can just pay them,’ kindly?”

“We will be searching for people who have voluntarily enrolled in sex work, Sergeant Barnes. Any meeting you set up with them is consensual. And the beauty of consensual sex work is, without a doubt, the freedom of choice. So think about it like this, Sergeant Barnes: They will not touch you if you do not ask. You are investing time, and they will accept the money without a kiss exchanged if that is what you wanted.”

A companion?

Bucky had only ever had Steve and Sam after he returned to the compound. Only ever hung out with them outside in the real world, too. A random person entering the compound and pretending to be his date seemed a little extreme, no? Like he couldn’t make friends of his own.

But wasn’t that the real reason behind all this? Bucky didn’t have many contacts or love interests to take to this damn Christmas Ball so he was being punished for it. Forced to interact with a stranger and the stranger forced to interact with him.

“I can do a proper search of these websites with Jarvis’s and Hill’s help and get back to you in the morning, okay? Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“I only have to meet them tomorrow and that’s it?”

Stark wobbled a flat hand in the air. “Kind of. Spend one day with them and tell me if you think you can last a whole night with them as your date. I don’t want you to be paired with someone I thought was great but you find repulsive.”

Okay, that was somewhat considerate. But a whole day? At best, Bucky will last a few hours before wanting to run under a hill.

“Okay,” he surrendered.

Stark sighed, “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, Barnes. It’s just… Maybe it’s not the ideal way, but meeting new people isn’t always a bad thing, you know?”

“Oh?” Bucky replied sarcastically.

“Oh. You think I didn’t suffer the same thing? People I knew since birth betrayed me. I’ve got trust issues too, my man.”

“We’re not comparing sad little tales, Stark.”

“Find it in your ice cold heart to be compassionate, Barnes.”

Bucky chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “So, tomorrow then?”

Stark nodded. “I’ll do my best to find you a hot piece of ass.”

“Stark!”

“Sorry! I joke. I kid. I jest.”

Bucky watched Stark toy with his experiments for ten minutes more before bidding him a good rest of his day.

Maybe a companion wouldn’t be so bad. He’d have someone to talk to after all. Text, get coffee with, watch movies with. He could do all those things with Steve and Sam but they were busy. Busy with work, busy with life, busy with everything Bucky avoided for good reason.

And even though his body is physically repulsed by the idea of being in close proximity with an absolute stranger, perhaps someone who was forced to be nice to him wasn’t exactly a lousy idea.

Maybe it was necessary.

~

[carnivore-voyeur]

We aren't trying to "cancel" Per because he's awkward or because we don't approve of his girlfriend.

We don't like him because a fan asked him an inappropriate question and instead of being normal about it, he came up with "i have a Jewish/black friends" card.

Friends are not diversity cards. Using your ethnic friend's identity *is* in the best case ignorant, and in the worst case racist.

Having two proud zionists in his recent dating history (yes, ash), isn't helping his reputation either. But he said it himself, he doesn't care about politics, which is a privilege only people like him can benefit from, so of course he's ignorant and insensitive.

Per dates whoever he wants and says whatever he wants, but if the consequence of that is non-white fans not wanting to hear about him anymore, then that's only fair. This fanbase has an insane racist problem and we're tired of it.

You have no right to tell others what is offensive to them. If non-white fans see an issue with what he said, you have no right to tell them they're making a big deal out of nothing.

For the tweets about Chris, just know we're most likely joking. I'm sure people how a business works. Maybe work on your reading comprehension instead of criticizing ours next time?

I don't care about "canceling" as a concept one way or another. I believe everyone is allowed to like or dislike someone for whatever reason, and support or withhold support for whatever reason. I just don't think the majority of Ghost Twitter is acting in good faith based on multiple incidents where things Per has said were taken out of context or manipulated to say something else.

Per clarified that he doesn't support anything horrible in the world. Within the past month, people have accused Per of being a Nazi. They've accused him of not caring about genocide. All based on misinformation and manipulated clips.

Re: Per's comments in a recent live - Per was referring to the fact that people were calling him a NAZI specifically, which is something Ghost Twitter fans accused him of last month. They did this based on an old photo that they misinterpreted, which I've already discussed.

You're allowed to criticize him. You're allowed to be upset by things he's said or done, just as you would any person. However, this should be based in fact and not misquotes, misinterpretations, rumors, or straight up lies. Furthermore, it shouldn't involve saying horrible things about him.

He never said that he can't be racist because he has jewish and black friends which is what people are accusing him of saying. Do I think it's clumsy to bring up your friends to disprove that you're a bigot? Yes, but he was talking about being accused of being a NAZI. That's not something he should've had to defend himself against.

Even if he did say "I can't be racist because of x, y, and z", that's something we could have had an open conversation about. You could try to educate him on it, but that's not what you all do.

No.

(I'm going to use "You" here to refer to Ghost Twitter and anyone associating themselves with them.)

You constantly accuse him of things he didn't say nor do. You constantly misquote him. You constantly harass him. You constantly mock him - appearance, mannerisms, etc. He doesn't respond to any of you because no dialogue can be had with any of you.

That is not fair criticism. It is wrong.

You're also just repeating each other's talking points without doing any research and it shows.

Saying Per has dated "two proud Zionists" serves no other rhetorical purpose than to make people think Per purposely dates Zionists and empathizes with their views. This is absurd.

He "dated" Paris Dylan briefly and that was well over a year ago. Her political views don't represent him, and even so I haven't personally seen her proudly support Israel, though I don't follow her career. I haven't seen Ash do so either.

Ash performed a song with the singer of Disturbed who is a Zionist, which I've already discussed. I take issue with that as well, and we can discuss why that's an issue but that requires you all to confront the fact that a lot of your favorite artists in the industry still associate with Zionists - not just Ash. Disturbed is still ridiculously popular, and no one questions David Draiman's involvement in the scene.

I'm not telling you what is or isn't offensive. I'm telling you that a lot of the things Ghost Twitter has been posting about him are wrong and/or taken out of context. If you're upset because of something you misinterpreted or misunderstood, then it's not the fault of the accused. That's your own fault.

"Per dates whoever he wants and says whatever he wants" - correct, because he's an adult with free will. You don't get to decide who he dates. You don't have to like who he dates. You don't have to like what he says, but criticizing him for either should be based on facts and not assumptions.

Being "apolotical" is a privilege, I agree, but you can't force someone to adopt your political ideology through shame and guilt and insults. Criticism of someone doesn't necessitate mocking their appearance and mannerisms, but a multitude of fans on Twitter have done just that.

[rainbowsky]

GQ and XZ have bad history??? They boycotted him why??

Hi Anon,

This is a fandom - mostly 🍤 - conspiracy theory that doesn't hold a lot of weight. I'm not going to get into the weeds on it except to say that a lot of the claims are false or misrepresented, especially the ones about Rocco Liu.

The post that is said to have come from Rocco is one from 2019 where he allegedly says he's getting sick of seeing GG's face everywhere and basically rolls his eyes and says stars like that are here today, gone tomorrow. (However, the account/post no longer exists, so it's impossible to verify whether it was real, whether it was him or not, etc.)

And the post itself is pretty harmless. Yeah, it's speaking negatively about GG, but it's the sort of thing people say online about celebrities every single day.

There are 2 or 3 other posts that are claimed to be from Rocco, but which fans are actually mistaking. They appear to have come from the previous editor-in-chief, and mostly swirled around 2/27. And the whole 'boycott' claim is just totally unsubstantiated.

(Edit: More on this later in the post)

2/27 didn't bring out the best in a lot of people, and it was horrible for GG but I think it's best to look at it rationally and have a sense of perspective. Every day every one of us casually says terrible things about one celebrity or another. Especially when we are hearing horrible things about a person and their influence on culture.

For example, I absolutely can't stand Lady Gaga. While some of her songs are OK, I mostly find her fake and hugely overrated. Which as a gay man is practically a crime in most people's eyes. 😅

Sometimes we go on to revise our opinions and sometimes we don't. Sometimes we grow to respect a star more over time, other times we grow to gradually dislike them more.

What's at the forefront of our minds one week will be forgotten the next. Most of those who we've had a negative opinion of in the past we probably couldn't name even a few months later. This is just how culture works, especially in the age of the internet.

All of this is totally normal. One of the prices of fame is being under the scrutiny of millions of people. Some will love you, some will be indifferent, and some will hate you.

I doubt very much GG carries a grudge about a social media post from 4 years ago (an eternity in the entertainment business), whether it was from Rocco or not. DD certainly doesn't seem to. They've heard infinitely worse and moved on from it. Fans should too.

I think if we are going to have such ruthless purity tests about everyone who has ever said anything negative about GG and DD then we would have to also accept people holding every single thing GG and DD have said/done in the past against them, no matter how many years ago it happened.

As fans, I'm not sure that's a path we should want to go down. Both GG and DD have come under fire for things they said/did when they were younger, and antis love to dig through old posts and clips of them trying to find evidence they're horrible people.

Like I said before, this is mostly a solo theory that toxic solos like to obsess over. They make it their mission to viciously slander and attack anyone who they feel is a threat to GG, or so much as says anything less than totally fawning about him. They've actually gotten GG into hot water over that kind of behavior multiple times in the past, and I doubt they'll ever stop.

Keep in mind that it's in their interests to spin narratives of DD getting cozy with 'a sworn enemy' of GG. So these breathless tales of GQ and Rocco Liu being GG antis have an ulterior motive. They're a (very thinly) veiled attack on DD and on BXG.

EDIT: and I should add that this anti theory is also used by DD solos to attack GG, claiming that GQ hate GG because of all of the various shortcomings DD solos think GG has, and that the hatred is totally justified, etc. They use the fact that DD has had some high profile GQ moments as proof that DD is a bigger star, that he's more in demand, blah blah blah. It's same shit, different pile. Antis are antis, and will say anything to try to malign and destroy others, regardless of how false and horrible it is.

The best thing we can do is block and ignore (and report when appropriate). Swimming in toxic waste will mutate you into a toxic person over time. Save yourself, stay in your own lane and just enjoy GG and DD.

Edit: Because fans are continuing to push this conspiracy theory, I dug back into the topic and wrote about it more here.

[weirdestarrow]

So I thought about what we talked about in my post, and here are some things about the general fandom's interpretation of North Korea that I don't (personally) like... Some of them might fit with the general ~evil NK thing~ but yeah! :3

Sorry if it's a bit messy, its a little bit of word vomit haha.

- Nuke obsession? Just very strange considering that characters like Russia or the USA aren't portrayed as also nuke obsessed as well even though... You know, the number of them they have;

- Angry all the time. It's just strange. Not only that, but also some things that people make him get angry over seem kind of reasonable (hating the country who bombed his own nation to the ground and also strangely a big amount of him in fics and art getting manhandled?);

- Poorly written English to... Denote he is not Anglo. Which a lot of times just comes off as very racist;

- The classic brainwashed by government thing so many countries fall into lol. But knowing how people treat real life N. Koreans as just actors hired by the government to trick the foreihners, it just feels especially dehumanizing with him;

- And if its not that it's "oh I secretly hate my government but they will not let me be happy :'''(". Let countries align with political opinions out of their own free will!;

- "Hermit Kingdom" shit. Is the DPRK kind of isolated from the rest of the world? Yeah. Do you think they'd do that if they didn't have to? Why do we so quickly forget embargos and the whole "the US will topple your government if they can" thing?;

- NK is sometimes depicted as very naive about the outside world, but I personally don't enjoy that characterization much. They treat him like an injured deer who cannot navigate the world by himself, for a lack of better words;

- This is going to be more my own petty grievance but I'm not too big of a fan of "the ussr was the one who took NK's eye". I like the eyepatch thing but like... The USSR and NK had a good relationship it's so unnecessarily made to paint it in as much a horrible light as physically possible;

- In general, people don't really depict him outside of the military man thing or "woe is me stuck in a dictatorship ;(". It does seem as an extension of real world politics were people just don't believe that North Koreans are real breathing human beings with things going on besides their relationship with their country. I made it so that my version of NK really likes literature, even writes a little himself :D.

Honestly I think the way this could be remedied really is looking at sources outside of what the West says and like... Radio Free Asia lmao. You will have to look for the perspective of actual North Koreans. I understand the aversion to seeking their sources, but honestly if you can read a BBC or Washington Post article about NK, you can take a quick glance at like KCNA or Pyongyang Times and judge accordingly.

And, actually media from the DPRK is not that hard to find! There are movies available online, as well as songs and pictures. I do all three, and its very cool stuff :3. I'm very willing to share! ^_^ As always, learn more about the history and culture from a genuinely curious, non-judgemental manner and you will always be able to learn more.

As you can see from my endless yapping, I just really like North Korea and wish people would be less obviously biased when making him (or her or them, depending on the headcanon). Yeah, thank you for your time! :]

Yes this is very good.

My NK is a bit of an introvert. I think he’s interested in geology and volcanology because of Paektu Mountain and that’s something he really loves studying. He’s very gentle and soft spoken and wants to do his best for his people. He cares about them deeply and he would put their wants over his over and over again.

I think he often feels like he is seen as the “extra” Korea that no one likes, but he’s not eager to try and make friends with other countries. I think he also doesn’t like leaving his country cause he’s nervous about being in countries unfriendly to NK, afraid that someone might try and assassinate him to give SK more legitimate claims to his land.

He cares about SK in a weird way, but is also jealous because people like SK and SK got to meet their mother and he didn’t. I think he feels like he was abandoned almost.