#i go back and forth on which version of everyone's name i use

[pigeonclaw]

I'm starting to think SkyClan getting their home destroyed before anyone else was just karma at this point. Skystar did nothing with his life (lives?) but cause problems and issues huh.

[taintandviolent]

Taco Tuesday ; Gambit x reader!

summary: You live across the hall from Wade Wilson, and one Tuesday, he invites you over for tacos. 🌮 And that’s where you meet him. The Gambit. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine. [PART TWO HERE]

word count & w a r n i n g s: 5.4K | smut with very little plot, alcohol mention, slightly drunk (but very consenting) reader, French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (cher, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), dirty talk (cos he is a dirty talker, don't argue with me on this), fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, no use of y/n.

a/n: this is based 100% on Deadpool and Wolverine Gambit / Channing's version of Gambit!! sorry for the lack of plot here, he deserves better than this filth, but I am down ASTRONOMICALLY and I needed to get it out. I spent so much time trying to get his accent right, I hope it comes off the way I wanted it to... anyway! i'm not certain if anyone will read this, but if you do - thank you a million times over! as always, requests are open! - banner by @/strangergraphics, and Remy gif by @scintie!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

He’s handsome. Like really handsome. 

Your stomach does a flip as he smiles at you, reaching for the bottle of Jack between your legs — wait. Pause. Rewind. How’d we get here?

Living in the same apartment complex as Wade Wilson was a trip. Even more of a trip was living across the hall from him. The things you heard coming from that apartment... nobody would believe you. So, you never told anyone. 

He’s kind. Albeit, zany but kind. Your interactions have been cordial and nauseatingly neighbourly. But on one regular ol' Tuesday afternoon, Wade invited you inside. He said something about having a party later that night, making tacos and being neighborly. He assured you that it wasn't a sex party... which to be honest, you weren't worried about until he'd mentioned it. Against your better judgement though, you'd agreed, and said you'd bring some liquor.

So, that evening, you opened your door, one bottle of Jack tucked under your arm, and another in your left hand. You shut the door to your apartment and walked straight across to your neighbour’s door. Your fist had rapped against the wood only twice before the door swung open, revealing Wade, and a very… strange and very bald looking dog in his arms. 

"Oh, what the fuck?" You asked, looking down at the creature. "I didn't know you had a dog…?"

Wade’s voice rose an octave or two, in a cutesy tone. "She's a new addition, yes she is!" 

"I brought... well, this. Sorry, it was all I had in my cabinets and to be perfectly honest, I wasn't about to go out and spend money on this. I like… barely know you."

"HA! Brutal honesty. We love to hear it." 

Wade took hold of your shoulder and yanked you inside, harsh enough that you made a small sound as he did. He shut the door with his foot, and towed you towards the table, where everyone was gathered. And that was when you first saw him. He wore all black, save for a tan trench coat with a high collar. He lounged casually on one of the dining chairs, playing with a deck of cards. They fluttered from hand to hand effortlessly, and for a moment, you were stuck, mesmerized by the dexterous way he handled them. You weren't sure what was pulling you towards him harder, your heart or your cunt, but you felt an undeniable draw to the man.

Wade's arm wound itself around your shoulders, guiding you around the room to meet each of his friends. At that point, living next to him, mutants were a forced transition. You were used to the concept of them, so meeting a giant silver man, for example, wasn't unexpected. Vanessa was the most normal - you were pretty sure she was human.

Finally, he got to the one you really wanted to meet. The one that your eyes had been darting back and forth to the entire time, the one that when he briefly met your gaze, your heart thudded in your chest. 

"And this... handsome slice of man, is the Gambit. Good luck understanding him, he's a real mouthful."

I’ll bet he is, you thought. 

He pocketed the cards in a quick motion and stood up from his chair. With a syrup-smooth chuckle, the man laughed and said: "You can call me Remy." He did in fact have a thick Cajun accent and spoke quickly – almost too quickly. You blinked once, focusing hard on his words.

"Remy," you repeated finally, before saying your own name and extending your hand. He took it gently and as he shook it, your palm tingled with what felt like electricity.

"Enchanté." (Enchanted)

Your cheeks burned, and you knew they were flushing. You couldn’t control it. "De même..." (Likewise.)

His brows lifted, surprised. "You speak French, mon ami?" (my friend) 

"Heh, uhh... comme un enfant." (Like a child) You chuckled low, averting your eyes for a millisecond. "I took a few years of it in high school and again in college. I’m by no means an expert."

Wade's eyes were wide, flicking back and forth between the two of you. There was obvious chemistry there, and a knowing smirk drew itself across his lips. Abruptly, he yanked one of the bottles of Jack Daniels from beneath your arm, before leaning against the nearby wall.

"Oh, fuck me. You understand Gumbo here? That’s cute. No idea what either of you are saying though, someone forgot to turn the subtitles on. I'll leave you two to get acquainted." Whatever that meant. You scoffed, but turned your attention back to Gambit, looking at him.

“Sit a while, cher.” 

You happily took the chair that he pulled out, not caring that it was facing away from the others, and plopped down onto it, situating the other bottle of Jack between your legs. You gripped the neck of the bottle tightly, and looked at him with a timid, but a come hither sort of smile. After a moment, you twisted the cap off, and flicked it off somewhere to your right. Wade would find it later, or he wouldn’t. You didn’t really care. 

You two talked for hours, most of which consisted of him telling you about the Void, and how hard it had been, while you pretended to comprehend it. Between words, you passed the bottle back and forth, taking mouthfuls, and inadvertently swapping spit as you did. The thought occurred to you about halfway through the conversation, and your stomach tightened. You shook your head lightly and clenched your thighs together, trying to stave off the arousal that was bubbling in your core. 

There we go. That’s better.

He’s handsome. Like really handsome. 

Your stomach does a flip as he smiles at you, reaching for the bottle, which was still situated between your legs. His fingertips just graze the side of your thigh and his eyes flit to yours. He holds his smile, waiting for you to either protest or move the moment forward, and all you can do is gawk, because your cunt starts throbbing. 

As the evening wears on, though cautious, it’s obvious that Remy feels the same pull that you do. He remains cool on the outside, but internally, he was battling the magnetic tugging he felt from you. He couldn't shake it. He’d compliment you, you’d compliment him. At one point, in between sips, you casually drop that you think his accent is hot and he whispers something underneath his breath, something you don’t understand. Before either of you realized it, you had started to lean closer to each other, your faces inches apart, and you felt the warm rush of his breath over your cheeks.

It was as if you both realized it simultaneously. You rear back, an embarrassed expression plastered on your face. Remy clears his throat. His attraction to you was stifling; something that he rarely felt. He was powerless in his want for you, the draw you had was irresistible.

"Maybe we should... uh..." You murmur, looking deep into his eyes. In a room full of people that were starting to fade away the closer you two got to each other, you were thankful you were still sober enough to suggest a different setting. Any longer and you surely would’ve just straddled him and gone to town. 

Remy moves first. 

"We gon' take a walk." He announces to the others, getting to his feet. 

The conversation stops abruptly, silence hanging heavy. You straighten up, trying your best to avert your gaze, but you still see everyone’s reaction. Someone clears their throat and your heart sinks, feeling like you might die on the spot. The one that had been introduced as Logan, gruff looking dude, raises a single brow at you. In true Wade-character, he ugly cackles, shattering the moment. Your shoulders sink, embarrassed, as you head towards the door, doing the proverbial walk of shame. 

Remy meets you at the door and pulls it open, holding it for you. You duck underneath his arm, looking sheepish and as you exit into the hallway, you think you heard Wade mutter something about a fanfiction but Remy yanks the door shut before you can react. 

“You want to… get some air? Or um… I have… well, no I had liquor, but I brought it to Wade’s.” 

He smiles, and looks down at the floor, before lifting his eyes back to you. “We can do whatever you want, chère. You ain’t gon’ catch me complainin’ eitha’ way.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, considering the options. Your heart was hammering in your chest at the prospect of just being near him without the others around. You two had been close to kissing in Wade’s living room, and now, you had the opportunity to continue that… or take a walk. The latter seemed less appealing. 

“Y’know what, why don’t we… just…” You take a few steps backwards, jerking your head towards your front door. Concerningly, you had forgotten to lock your door. However, it allows you to open it quickly, and walk backwards into the apartment. Gambit follows you in, his attention never leaving you. 

"You sure 'bout dis, mon ami? I can walk away righ' now." His words land heavy, a promise behind them. He was a gentleman at heart, you could tell. Fortunately for him, you were very sure, and wanted every inch of him.

Mon ami - something that in the few hours you'd spent with him, he'd called you often. Among other things. Mon ami meant my friend, but you knew you two weren't just friends. You saw how he acted with others, and the comments he made. Sure, he had a quick wit and a mouth on him, but the flirting... god, the flirting.

He stands in the doorway, his shoulders filling the frame. Silently, you nod and take another step back, giving him some room to enter. He takes one wide step towards you, leaving the door open behind him. He reaches for your hip, and you immediately take to playing with his large hands. Delicately, you pay attention to each long digit, trailing your middle finger along the knuckles, and up and down the length of them. You dip into the spaces between, your fingers barely ghosting over the webbing. 

Was that a shiver? Your eyes flit to his, searching them for a hint.

"You sure do know how to make a man feel good." 

Your heart flutters at his words. With his accent, even the simplest of things sounded charming. At least to you. You felt that he could ask if you wanted coffee or how the weather was and you'd be twirling your hair around your finger like a desperate schoolgirl. Embarrassing. 

You’re about to respond and defend yourself by saying that all you had done was play with his hands, which was hardly considered foreplay, but his fingers come up underneath your chin, gently closing your mouth with a dull click of your teeth. He tilts it upwards to an angle where he could easily kiss you. And kiss you, he does. 

It was the kind of kiss that makes your knees buckle, sends a violent shudder from the nape of your neck down to the base of your spine. It’s the kind of kiss that needs to come with a warning; Danger: Will Result In Sex. As his lips move against yours, you feel the urgency of his need, of his want, and hum into his lips. Remy takes that as a green light and deepens the kiss, moving his body so that it’s pressing flush against yours. The action leaves you immediately breathless and in response, you break the kiss, tucking your chin to your chest. Your hand finds his torso, pressing hard against the muscles underneath the shirt.  

"Ah, don't you be actin' shy now. You been teasin' me for hours."

“I have not!”

“You think I didn’t notice all ‘dem touches an’ looks you were givin’ me? I may ‘ave been born at night, but I wasn’t born last night.” 

He had you there. You couldn’t deny that, at all. Even if you’d wanted to. Which, part of you did. Part of you was very nervous, standing before this very handsome man, with the taste of his mouth still lingering on your lips but another part of you, the louder one, was delighted that he’d noticed. Furthermore, that he’d enjoyed them enough to come to your room.

You lift your hand behind him, pushing the door shut with a harsh shove. With a twist of your fingers, you activate the locking mechanism, sliding the deadbolt into place. Gambit chuckles, grinning down at you. Your heart leaps into your throat, but you press on bravely, lacing your arms around his neck. They trail down the front of his body, feeling the muscles as they twitch with each ragged breath. 

He quirks a brow as if to ask, 'Oh, really?' You simply smirk back at him. The contact is electric, and you find yourself resisting the urge to grind against him immediately. Instead, you focus on his hands again, bringing one of them up to your lips. You press a delicate kiss on the pads, before slipping one into your mouth and sucking gently. Remy makes a deep, husky sound in his throat, and brings his other hand to your hip, where he pulls you roughly against him.

For a man that uses his hands often, the sensations are high. The way your mouth envelops his finger, your tongue writhing around the digit had his jaw clenching, muscles fluttering on the side of his face. When you draw his finger into the confines of your throat, deep-throating it, his eyes roll back in pleasure. He pulls his hand back, shaking it off as if the inside of your mouth was hot to the touch.

"Woo, you nasty, huh? Nevah’ woulda' guessed... you been actin' like a good little girl 'uhround me." 

After that, it all happened very quickly. Gambit takes a step and connects his lips with yours again, pushing them into you in an act of desperation. Without breaking the kiss, he shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby surface. You push against him until his back hits the door with a heavy thud, definitely loud enough for any innocent bystanders to hear. Your fingers undo the button of your jeans, breaking the kiss for only a second to slide them down your legs. 

Once you return to his waiting mouth, the kiss deepens and the coil in your stomach winds tighter, claiming your body in a deep, fiery arousal. His big arms wrap around you, enveloping you in a heated embrace. Just for a moment, it’s tender — but shortly after, his hands drop to your ass, fingers slipping underneath the band of fabric to take greedy fistfuls of each cheek. 

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the roundness of them to use as leverage. Letting out a little hum, you sweep your hips across his groin, pressing tightly against him. His eyes drift shut, head bumping against the door as he leaned it back, a low growl coming from his throat. Keeping at it, you grind your hips against him, feeling the outline of his length as it hardens.

“You be drivin’ Remy crazy, grindin’ on me like ‘dat.”

“That’s the intention���.” You stand on your tiptoes to pepper kisses on his lips, your warm breath fanning over his face, smelling faintly of Jack Daniels. Remy trails his hand carefully up your rib cage until he gets to the side of your breast, where he quickly slips around to the front, his large hand cupping the fullness of it outside of your shirt. Your reaction is visceral; your breath hisses through your teeth at the sensitivity. 

Remy laughs again and with his free hand, pulls your hips back to his. Swiftly, he spins you around, pinning you between his body and the hard surface of the door. He presses himself tightly against you, shifting slightly so that his thigh was between your legs. The sensation of something that close to your core is dangerous and brings a weak, mewling whimper from your mouth.

“We gon’ have ourselves some fun.” His voice is low, tinged with a new sort of lustful tone that you hadn't heard before. Your mind is spinning, growing dizzy with lust. The alcohol had certainly helped your nerves, you were never usually this brazen. Your core burns with desire at his words, silently begging for everything he was about to give you. His lips hover just over yours; you can feel his breath on your skin and the heat that radiates off his body as it presses into yours.

"Oh my god," you whisper into his mouth. "Fuck..."

His teeth nip at your bottom lip before he captures your mouth in a heated, passionate kiss again. His tongue explores the inside, swirling along your own wet muscle. With every passing second, your heart beats faster and his hands grip your hips tighter, thumbs massaging the flesh above your jeans.

“Wrap ‘dem legs around me, mon coeur.” (My heart) Remy’s voice is husky with want; amongst his playful, lilted tone, a possessiveness lingered, and the thought sends a chill down your spine. He nods once, encouraging you into his waiting arms. You jump up, and he catches you effortlessly, gripping your thighs tight and hoisting you up into his grasp. Feeling secure, you wrap both legs around his waist and encircle his neck with your arms. Your gaze meets his and you can see the wanton need mirrored in his own eyes, darkened with desire.

Remy's smirk is dripping with confidence. Your body's response to him was causing his ego to swell within his chest, and his cock to swell within his pants. He leans in close, his lips against your ear, nipping at the lobe softly before pulling back slightly. In one fluid movement, his hips buck up against your center, teasing you over the layers of clothing. You let out a moan, throwing your head back against the door.

He thrusts up into you again, chuckling low against your ear. The hard line of his cock grinds against you, making you stutter out expletives as it presses against you with a needy demand. 

"You like 'dat, cher? Talk t' me..."

You nod, swallowing and wetting your throat. "Y-yeah, fuck... I do... need you – it – so bad."

“Whaddya’ need?”

“N-need you… so bad.” 

“You can do betta’. Tell Remy what you need...” 

He presses you harder against the door, your back sliding against the wood as he kisses a trail down from your mouth to your shoulder, sucking and biting with all the right intensities. As his hips grind against yours, you feel the damp fabric slide across your cunt, alerting you to just how wet he’d made you. Fuck. 

“Need… need you to fuck me. Hard. Need to feel you everywhere.”  

A few hours ago, you’d agreed to Taco Tuesday at Wade’s. Now, you were getting dry humped by a really hot Cajun guy and moaning into the curve between his neck and his shoulder. You were positive that if someone opened their door, they’d hear you. Somewhere in your brain, the thought should have been moderately embarrassing, but you were far too invested in Remy to care. 

Without warning, Gambit lifts you away from the door and carries you to the nearby couch. He never breaks the kiss, still feverishly claiming your mouth as he moves. Your back hits the cushions and before you can process it, his body weight is on top of you. He slots himself in between your legs, and his hard-on bumps into your stomach as his hips rut against you, finding some relief in the friction. But not enough. 

Remy’s hand finds the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to allow his fingers underneath the fabric. You bite down on the pillow of your bottom lip and push your hips up into his. Thick, strong digits sweep across your skin, leaving a burning trail of fire in their wake. Every touch brings your temperature up, and it isn’t long before your entire body is consumed in flames. You sigh contentedly, arching up into his touch. 

Abruptly, Remy straightens up, crosses his arms over his torso and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his tan skin and bulky muscles. His stocky stature makes your tummy clench with anticipation. He was fit, as you assumed, but that didn’t stop your jaw from falling open at the sight. 

“Wow,” you finally choke.

Remy grins. “You like what you see?” 

You nod furiously, hands snapping to his toned abdomen. He’s warm and his skin is soft, begging to be touched. The muscles flex underneath your fingers as you trace a long stripe from his belly button to his collarbone. Your hands claw at his shoulder, attempting to pull him back down on you, but he resists. 

He spoke with a playfulness, almost a sort of pleading. His thumbs flicks at the hem of your shirt. “Ah, c’mon, ‘dat ain’t fair. Enlève-tout toi, huh?” (Take it all off.)

You thought you understood, but if you didn’t, it didn’t matter. Remy was quick to translate his words, busy undressing you, pulling your worn t-shirt over your head, and reaching around your back to unclasp your bra. Most men would’ve fumbled with the clasp, but not him. His adept fingers make quick work of it, allowing your breasts to fall free. He throws your bra somewhere behind him. 

“Hooo, cher…!” His eyes light up at the visual and you feel heat blooming on your cheeks again, half expecting him to make a lewd comment. Instead, his hands cup your tits, kneading the soft plumpness like dough, thumbs grazing the nipples. He exhales through his mouth, jerking his head to the side. 

Finally, he kisses you again. It’s wet and sloppy and his mouth is consuming you, tasting you hungrily. His hips are still moving, sweeping into yours with a calculated precision. You try to spread your legs but the back of the couch thwarts your attempt. He notices this, watching as you struggle with the space. 

“You got a bed?” He asked in between smearing kisses along your neck and collarbone. 

“Yeah-yeah…. Down the hall.” 

“Remy be needin’ more room for what he wanna’ do t’you.”

His weight is suddenly gone from you, an unwelcome sensation, even though you know he’s about to carry you wedding-style down the hallway. He bends down, one arm sliding underneath your neck, the other in the crook behind your knees. For the second time that night, he lifts you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his warm pectoral muscle, rocking back and forth, as he walks you both down the dark hallway. The only light in the room comes from the window, the city outside alive and humming. Carefully, Remy sets you down on the bed, unmade from this morning, your dark gray sheets cool to the touch. 

In nothing but your underwear, which at this point, are damp to the touch, you’re left feeling very exposed. But you can’t muster up any shame, not when he’s looking at you with such hunger, such want. Your tummy feels tight, and the feeling gets worse when Remy’s hands drop to his waist, unzipping and unbuttoning his pants. They fall loose at the waist, and he shucks them down the rest of the way, leaving him in nothing but a pair of deep purple boxers. Your eyes swing heavy to the outline that’s now presented to you. 

Oh my god. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise; Remy was a big guy, and that proved true downstairs, too. You can barely pull your eyes away from it, but you begrudgingly rip them away, to look up into his gaze. 

“Please,” you beg. “You’re too far away…” Your cunt is aching and nothing but him, his hands, his dick, will sate her. 

He leans forward, flattening both hands on the mattress and walks them back until his face is in front of yours. He sweeps you into another kiss and your heart races. His hands are perfectly positioned on either side of your hips, you feel them graze the flesh. His finger hooks around the elastic of your panties, twisting it around his pointer finger and gradually, he tugs them down over the curve of your hip.

You nod lazily against his mouth, as you feel the warmth of his hand near your core. Your legs drop apart, knees touching the mattress as you allow him access. One hand sweeps across your inner thighs, stroking them, while the other palms your soft mound. His other hand comes to pause at your knee, and pushes his weight into it softly, forcing you to stay spread-eagle for him. No way you could’ve done this on the sofa. 

There’s no hesitation in the way he fingers you; sweeping up through your slick folds, smearing your arousal around until she’s coated in it, splaying your pretty, wet cunt apart with his fingers, looking upon it hungrily. He knows what he’s doing, and how to do it right. You briefly wonder if that’s another mutant power he has… though being an expert at fingering someone seems outlandish. But he’s just so good at it. His middle finger barely touches you, circling the bundle of nerves delicately. Your back arches up towards him, a desperate groan vibrating your vocal chords. Delighted by your reaction, his finger flicks upwards at your swollen, sensitive clit, making your body literally quiver. 

“Uhugh – god…. Shit, oh my god.” 

He continues like this for several minutes, until your cunt is blazing hot and clenching with every moan you give. 

By the time he presses one finger inside, you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and your voice fills the room with needy, desperate sounds. You let out a shrill whine, and he slips in another finger, feeling the stretch of muscle as he does. His heart is pounding in his chest, overcome with lust. The way you sound, the way your body is moving and writhing on the bed, he can’t wait to sink himself into you. 

Amidst a laugh, he says: “People gon’ think we up in here watchin’ porn.”

Did he just insinuate that you sounded like a pornstar? You lifted your head, wearily, to look at him. Your chest heaves with each breath as you try to formulate a snarky remark to no avail. He looked so good – well, always – but he looked particularly good on top of you, his bright eyes lust blown and hungry. 

“We’re… we’re… porn… it’s…  oh god.” 

He shushes you. “You just lay back and keep moanin’.” 

Defeated, you huff and your head hits the sheets again, but not before you catch a glimpse of the way the muscles in his forearm ripple as it pumps back and forth into your cunt. You can’t help but moan at the sight, feeling a shockwave rupture your core. Your hips meet his fingers, rutting and writhing against the mattress in a needy rhythm.

Your first orgasm claims your body before you can stop it. You’re clenching around his fingers as they move, crooking upwards into your sensitive spots. Your slick coats his fingers and when Gambit pulls his hand back, thick, clear strands string from between them. He smiles down at you. 

Remy raises himself to his knees. “Turn ‘round…” 

You flip over and back yourself towards him, thinking that he’s going to go at it doggy-style, but to your surprise, he pulls you upright, pressing your back against his chest. His dick is hot between your legs, and when he reaches down to line it up, you let your head loll back against his shoulder. Gambit’s mouth finds the side of your neck, streaking it with wet, suckling kisses. He was taking his time with you, savouring you and you hum happily through closed lips, reaching behind you to thread your fingers through his hair.

“Fuck, you feel so good…” Instinctively, your hips undulate and his cock slips between your folds. Remy’s hips buck once, letting out a groan that comes from somewhere deep. 

“You ready, cher?” He asks, sweeping your hair away from your neck. You nod furiously. You’ve been ready – you were ready the moment you laid eyes on him.

Remy reaches down to sweep his fingers along your entrance briefly, before gripping himself and guiding the head of his cock into the slit. You keen at the feeling of his velvet-soft head pressing into your entrance, warm pre-cum leaking from the slit. He murmurs words of encouragement into your ear as you feel his hips press against your ass, urging his thick, veiny shaft inside your cunt. He does it gently, allowing you time to adjust to the girth, but the sting still makes you cry out. “Fffuck!”

He begins to thrust his hips shallowly, your cunt stretching around his cock. The feeling is all-consuming, and your body feels heavy in his grasp. One hand is gripping your waist tightly, the other, fingers splayed out on your stomach just above your cunt. There’s a pressure building in your cunt, and each thrust magnifies it. The sting of his cock fades to an ache, then to a dull throbbing that makes you want more and you lean forward slightly and press your ass into the curves of his hips, meeting his thrusts. 

“Mm, ‘dat’s it, cher…” His voice is hot on your skin. 

His thrusts get deeper, but there’s a lingering tension in his body that makes you feel like he’s not getting what he wants. You’re right; all at once, Remy pulls his cock from you and switches positions. 

You’re suddenly on your back, looking up at him as he looms over you, all muscle. His cockhead nudges your entrance again, but doesn’t penetrate. 

“Say my name, cher… I needa’ hear it leave ‘dat pretty mouth.” 

“Which one? Gambit? Or Remy?” You ask, breathlessly.

The way his eyes rolled back at the second option told you everything you needed to know. A smirk twisted your lips cruelly and you lifted your body slightly, just enough for your mouth to reach his ear. You moan his name over and over again, knowing full well the effect it’s having on the mutant man.

“Remy, Remy, Remy….” Your tone is high-pitched and whiny, but he seems to enjoy the lewdness of it all. He bucks his hips hard into you, and the fullness reaches an all-time high as he bottoms out, his pelvis hitting yours with a slap.

“Huhhh—!” You gasp, breathing ragged. “Fuck!”

“Gonna’ make you cum so hard you ain’t gon’ walk right for days.” His voice is low and filthy and leaves a stain on your mind. Your cunt clenches around him possessively, pulling him somehow deeper inside of you. 

As your head bangs into your headboard, the tip of his cock bumps your cervix over and over again, and your jaw goes slack, literally fucked silent. Remy hears the thudding of your skull and puts a hand between it and the wood, but he doesn’t stop his relentless, deep thrusting. 

The pleasure reaches a peak and your nails dig into his back, leaving crescent moon shaped indentations on his golden skin. Remy’s groaning loud into your ear as he cums, muttering in an almost incoherent melange of French and English. His accent is somehow heavier, and you can barely make out the words as he’s saying them into your skin. It doesn’t matter though, because you feel how full you are, and Remy’s hot, white completion is leaking out the sides and staining your sheets. 

He stays like that for a moment, hovering on top of you. His cock softens inside, completely spent and eventually, he slips it out, rolling over onto your bed.

“Ah, joi de vivre, huh.” (the joy of life), he says drowsily.

You laugh, and nestle underneath his arm, in the space he’s left for you. 

If you had your way, you’d do it all over again. 

Though he doesn’t say it, so would he. 

[solecize]

  𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (4)

ten years of being one and the same with jungkook as the country's it couple is the perfect disguise for the reality of a tumultuous relationship hidden behind the scenes.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: a party at the notorious hotel azure, the hot-spot for the top names of south korea's entertainment industry, goes awry. in front of everyone, your relationship reaches it's breaking point - except, it doesn't. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: idol!jungkook/female idol!reader and fictional versions of various idols 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. idol au, on-and-off relationship, angst, i swear there's fluff, fake dating, and themes of first love, growing up, struggles with fame, and marriage (ish) 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. portrayal of a toxic couple (implications of emotional abuse and control), both main characters are very flawed, violence, infidelity, foul language, substance use (illegal drugs) 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. based off of "you're losing me" by taylor swift. this is a fictional portrayal of real-life people that implement some aspects of real-life events. extra warning for heavy substance abuse in this chapter - the usage of this is not meant to be glamourized in any way. i don't want anyone to get the wrong idea, so please note the underlying commentary on idol life and substance use. as someone who has been diagnosed with substance use disorder, i encourage learning about its complexities and ending stigma around it. there is also a quick note at the end of the chapter regarding its ending. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤjoin the taglist here! ㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤm.list | previous | next

you might just have dealt the final blow stop, you’re losin’ me

TOP HEADLINE TODAY: big hit entertainment releases a trailer on official youtube channel, announcing bts’ upcoming world tourㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤapril 2018

  two years made a night and day difference in your relationship. after the highs and lows that brought several short-term breakups, 2018 was supposed to be your and jungkook’s year. it was a fresh start and the turn of your early twenties was the world at your fingertips. young, beautiful and wealthy - it was a dream for any idol in south korea. 

  a fresh start wasn’t always easy when skeletons lurked in your closet, though. watching your boyfriend pace back and forth in his kitchen, a glass of whiskey on the rocks at hand, jungkook looked completely different. you weren’t sure if you’d finally snapped out of the daze that framed him as a teenager, bursting with energy, but things hadn’t been the same in a long time.

  “yeah, y/n is coming with me,” you heard him say, your ears perking up at the sound of your name. it was hard to read his tone, but something told you that the person on the other end was surprised at his statement.

  he finally noticed that you walked into the room, having finished slipping on your coat. jungkook sighed, tilting back the last of his drink and telling the person on the phone that he had to go. his furrowed eyebrows were telling enough that he was annoyed with you.

  “what? i only took an hour,” you said, walking over from the doorway of his bathroom.

  jungkook rolled his eyes. “an hour after the party started. let’s get going, the boys said they’re waiting for us,” he complained. “you’re the one who insisted on coming with me, anyway.”

  at that, you didn’t say anything because you knew it would only escalate into an argument. jungkook had been recently accusing you of being overly controlling when it came to hanging out with his friends, which led to an invite to tonight’s party to be extended to you, as well. 

  however, parties at places like hotel azure were now a routine for you and jungkook, which was one of the only things that was constant against change in the past two years. with fame came notoriety and after clawing your way up the social ladder amongst the country’s musical elite, invitations to galas and lounges and the vip section of the club came left and right. everyone now knew you as one of the idol power couples behind the curtain and your respective presences were expected at events. 

  a molasses-like tension sat in the air when it came to this. although you and jungkook were known as one, it wasn’t easy to ignore jungkook’s individual stardom that garnered mass attention. his biggest supporter, you loved this for him - until you didn’t. he would jet off to tokyo and shanghai to party with a-listers and meet new people everywhere he went. he was rising before your very eyes and you couldn’t help but feel left behind.

  “did you not tell them we got back together?” you suddenly asked, trailing out the front door with an impatient jungkook.

  he only shrugged. it was hard to keep up when you and jungkook had taken several sporadic “breaks” over the last year. as a couple, you showed your best and smiled in front of everyone. however, your friends were the ones who would witness arguments in the corner of the room or furious frenzies of text arguments whilst working. 

  it was hard to manage a relationship that was akin to a fire - passionate, but ready to set ablaze at all times. 

  you weren’t sure how you and jungkook got to this point. you were no longer kids who only had each other. it could’ve been so many things - age, fame, money. there were other underlying issues that came with all these things. after all, by the time you were sat in the car, the first flask was already finished between you and him.

  the drive to hotel azure was a blur and before you knew it, you were taking shots with kim yoojung and suzy in the penthouse suite. jungkook had walked away with his friends upon entering the party and it was already a lost idea to find him. you exchanged few words on the way to the venue, as he seemed to still be frustrated with you for a variety of reasons.

  besides, it was a jackson wang party. the suite was filled to the brim with the who’s who of the entertainment industry, all mingling and dancing in an exalted existence that only celebrities enjoyed. others were outside at the rooftop pool, basking in the first of the year’s warm air. there were too many things going on at once.

  the only warmth you were concerned with was the hot sensation spreading throughout your body from hennessy. “how’s the filming of your new show?” you asked suzy, who was now flushed from the round of drinks.

  “exhausting. how’s the recording of your new album?” she sighed.

  “exhausting.”

  a murmur of agreement ensued. that was why everyone was gathering - an escape from the fastlane of their lives. the industry was draining and every forced smile for the cameras only weighed heavier on someone.

  “that nct member your boyfriend is friends with was passing out xans,” warned yoojung, poking your side.

  a year ago, you would have made a scene. now jaded and long given up on trying to knock some sense into him, you peeked over yoojung’s shoulder to check out the hallway ahead. turning back to the other two women, you already made up your mind.

  “the bathroom over there is free,” was all you had to say and with you swiping your clutch off the counter, they knew what you were thinking. they knew what was in its contents.

  you had to - it was a jackson wang party. ironically, you were never able to recall actually seeing jackson at his parties. really, you weren’t able to recall much in general the day after for certain reasons and tomorrow was looking no different when you busted out of the bathroom minutes later, giggling and brushing off your clothes. at the very least, you knew that you weren’t looking out of place, especially if what yoojung said was true. everyone in the room could afford the best to use, so why wouldn’t they?

  “we should go to the pool!” 

  it didn’t take much convincing for you to be dragged outside, as the high was settling in and you suddenly became a social butterfly. the three of you arrived poolside, where you were greeted by more of your peers. you wouldn’t call them your friends. 

  the exception was jimin, who you were surprised to see. he was very amicable and well-liked amongst social circles, but wild parties were never quite his scene. some of jungkook’s group mates had an affinity for nights out, but you and jungkook attended a specific genre of parties that the others didn’t vibe with on the regular.

  you smiled a little too wide. “jimin!”

  the group you approached sat poolside on a couch, as jimin scooted over to make room for. you barely fit, but he made sure to make it work for one of his best friends’ girlfriend. stumbling a bit when you squeezed past others’ knees, he offered his arm to help steady you.

  “hey, y/n. jungkook went somewhere else?” he asked slowly, examining your face. 

  jimin had a beer in his hand and appeared significantly more sober than the other partygoers, who were now immersed back into their previous conversation after your arrival. suzy and yoojung were laughing with the others, probably now too high and drunk to even remember that they walked over with you. meanwhile, jimin had his jacket on, as if he was right about to leave until you came outside. his mind was changed when he saw how wasted you were.

  you looked around, hoping the fresh air would help you focus. “mmm, yeah. think he’s with jaehyun.”

  it didn’t. it also felt like hours since you last spotted your boyfriend, but you were having fun. however, that wasn’t what jimin was concerned about.

  “you’re doing okay?” jimin questioned, a frown tugging at his lips. 

  if it wasn’t someone like jimin who knew you well, it wouldn’t be so obvious that you were now quite inebriated. your giggles were a little too loud and you would never stumble in high heels sober. 

  when you didn’t answer, jimin finished the last of his drink and set it on the table in front of you before standing up. there was a glint of worry in his eyes. 

  he said, “stay right there. i’m going to get you some water and find jungkook.”

  truthfully, you didn’t want him to locate your boyfriend, but jimin was already off. you huffed some hair out of your face. you didn’t think you were in that bad of a shape. 

  now that there was room on the couch, you were able to move over. when jimin left, you noticed that the girl next to you was watching the interaction the entire time. she was young and the doe-like expression on her face read that this was her first time at hotel azure. she was dressed to the nines and carried herself with energy.

  “hi, you’re nova!” it was more of an exclaimation than a question, when she smiled at you.

  your mood dampened at this. you did not have time to be entertaining whatever lucky rookie idol she was, probably scoring a luky invite. you also despised being called your stage name when you weren’t in front of a camera or fans. however, you put on your best plastered on smile.

  “hi. you are?” you asked, wanting to try to be polite.

  she ignored it. “wow, so it’s true then?” she asked. “you’re dating jungkook! and you were just talking to jimin, you must be so close with all of bts!”

  it was like an immediate headache onset, as you tried not to wince at her nearly screaming into your ear. the music was loud, but not that loud. at least she acknowledged you first, some people often went all in by just talking about jungkook. you would have engaged in actual conversation with her if she didn’t ignore your first attempt.

  “y/n, try this!”

  a red solo cup was pushed in front of your face and you didn’t think twice about taking a sip. anything to not hear the girl drone on about your boyfriend. it was sour and medicinal at the same time, causing you to make a face. the actor who passed it to you chuckled, as you gave it back.

  you coughed. “that was disgusting.”

  for some reason, the smell of the drink alone made your head hurt. you mumbled an ‘excuse me’ at the young idol, who was still talking about bts the entire time that interaction with the drink happened, and got up. your legs were weak. 

  for a while, you were walking around with no purpose, observing those around you blankly. when the drinks and the drugs and the desire to fit in faded away, it was boring. 

  you wondered if you actually liked being at these parties or if you were there just because. the “just because” could have been anything - just because it was expected by your circle, just because it was the only way to let out steam from the demands of your job. maybe even. . .just because of jungkook.

  “looking for your boyfriend?”

  at some point, you wandered over to the shadowy corner of the rooftop, where someone was smoking a joint. you tried your best to recall his name, as you’d just been on a variety show with him, but the best you could do was remember that he was a member of winner. you winced at yet another mention of jungkook, but ignored it again.

  he held the joint out as an offer and you accepted without hesitation, letting the smoke fill your insides. it was easy to ignore the burn in your throat when you’d already been putting random substances into your body since the night began.

  “not really,” you admitted, though you did scan the crowd when you did.

  he cocked an eyebrow. “oh? aren’t you two always hand in hand at these things?” he made a gesture, referring to the party as a whole.

  a year or two ago, you would have spent the entire party on jungkook’s lap and exclusively mingled and drank from that same spot. as time went on and jungkook began attending parties and clubs without you, it was a growing occurrence that you began doing your own thing when you appeared with him.

  “dunno,” was all you could say, not wanting to talk more about it.

  it appeared that he got the hint, dropping the subject of jungkook. instead, he failed to hide the once over he made of your appearance and you fought a shiver. you felt like you were naked under his stare, as your skin-tight maxi dress didn’t leave much to the imagination. you never felt unsafe to wear what you wanted on a night out - albeit, your boyfriend was usually with you.

  “you cold? want my jacket, sweetie?” he asked, sugar lacing every one of his words.

  that’s when you became alert, despite your body’s lack of sobriety working against you. he had taken a half-step towards you and you instantly stepped backwards. you’d never been so uncomfortable, but it was a struggle to steady yourself.

  you mustered up some solidity in your voice. “no. you can back up now,” you said, handing the joint back to him. “thanks.”

  he didn’t get the hint. “then, do you wanna go inside with me? where’s it’s warmer?”

  the smirk on his face sent off alarms in your head, as you continued to walk away, he still remained close to you when you did. 

  “i said i’m good. you’re getting weird, so back up,” you repeated, eyes darting around to see if anyone would step in.

  instead, everyone was still lost in their own worlds. some people were laughing away, trashing the bar on the other end of the rooftop. the people you were with on the couch were taking shots. nobody was noticing the interaction between you and this man.

  when he took a firm grip on your arm, you thought you were about to throw up. you noticed that you hadn’t even been walking straight and when you blinked, he was already in front of you. your words couldn’t find themselves when you saw double everywhere you turned. you were fucked and you couldn’t even defend yourself.

  then, it happened.

  when you jumped at the sound of a sudden impact, you thought that you were the one who fell down. but, there was no pain. there was a round of gasps. there was yelling. there was a body on the ground and it was the man’s.

  “are you fucking crazy?! don’t you put your dirty ass hands on her ever again or i’ll kill you with my bare hands, asshole!”

  the voice belonged to jungkook. it was the first time you’d seen him all night. he was standing over the man’s body, yelling further profanities at him. you saw red - both on his knuckles and in his bloodshot eyes. 

  you let out a scream when the man suddenly got to his feet, lunging at jungkook. this was when others ran in, straining to peel their two bodies away from each other. 

  people stopped to watch, but it was almost dystopian to see that some didn’t even care. they continued taking shots and smoking their joints. it was a daze of glimmer and drugs that only existed in the penthouse suite of hotel azure - where the rich and famous didn’t have time for scuffles. 

  “jungkook, stop!” you screeched, your voice cracking and tears welling up in your eyes.

  it took three people to pull jungkook alone, as others also came to the rescue of the other man. jaehyun and yugyeom each clutched onto one of jungkook’s arms, while bambam stood between the two. it looked like they had all chased jungkook from inside the penthouse, who had slammed the sliding door open.

  when jungkook picked up a glass beer bottle in his rage, you almost ran in yourself. he’d swatted jaehyun and yugyeom’s grips away to do so. thankfully, it was jimin who dashed in to swipe the object away from jungkook’s grasp, before the situation escalated to disastrous.

  if jimin didn’t wrestle the weapon out of jungkook’s hands, it would have been detrimental beyond saving. 

  “you piece of shit!” snarled the man, who spat in jungkook’s direction. “your little girlfriend should know how much of a piece of shit you are, too!”

  at that, you froze. jungkook only narrowed his eyes at him, as if daring him to continue. the next few moments didn’t seem real. his friends took the opportunity to take hold of him again, now with bambam joining in and trying to talk some sense into him.

  “kook, calm down. seriously, you need to just - “

  jungkook shot back, ignoring bambam. “you better shut your fucking mouth.” through gritted teeth, he kept urging for jaehyun and yugyeom to let go of him, which they thankfully didn’t.

  he only chuckled and your heart dropped when he turned to you. “nah, you must already know he’s a piece of shit. you must be cool with that and with the fact that he’s fucking his backup dancer.”

  what he said was loud and clear, but you didn’t even register it. you thought you were dreaming. you didn’t know what to do.

betrayal had a funny effect on people and on you, it was seething fury.

  if you were sober, it would have been your turn to lunge at someone. you considered it and decided that it wasn’t a bad idea. taking off your heels and making strides towards the man, nobody expected you to clock the man right in the jaw. he yelped, stumbling backwards from the impact. in your state, you only just realized that you’d actually hit him with one of your shoes.

  “that was for me, you creep,” you hissed, as he cussed loudly at his now bloody nose. 

  you even pondered pushing him into the pool, but decided it wasn’t worth it. the adrenaline in your veins - and whatever other substances were in there - wasn’t enough to distract you from the pit in your stomach from what the man said. something in you didn’t even consider the possibility of it being untrue - your gut told you otherwise. 

  you stared at jungkook, searching for any rebuttal. however, you knew the look on his face. it was the truth. not once did jungkook even try to dispute the accusation. your anger died down now and you were left feeling like you were floating. this couldn’t be real.

  it was now jungkook’s turn to stand frozen. you didn’t have time for this or for him. even his friends were frozen and you didn’t know what emotions were on their faces. shocked, but at what? that he was cheating on you or that he just got exposed? reality was beginning to sink in and the only thing you knew was that you needed to get out of there. you thought you looked like the biggest joke in the world, whether his friends knew about it or not.

  “what do you think you’re doing? go after her!” 

  that was jimin’s voice, horrified that his friend was just passively watching you run out of there. jungkook finally made a sprint for it. you’d pushed past several people and jungkook didn’t catch up to you until you reached the elevator.

  your vision was waning and the source could have been either the situation or your body finally giving up on you from what you had consumed all night. you needed to sit down. hurriedly, you jammed the button to close the elevator door, but a hand stuck out to force it open.

  jungkook was pleading. “y/n, just one second - “

  “no, get away from me.”

  “look, let’s talk! please!” he cried, trying to enter the elevator with you.

  at this point, you were shoving him away. you didn’t care, you needed him out of your face before you began crying. he wasn’t fighting back at all, letting you continuously push him, but didn’t move an inch. 

  “you’re scum to me,” you growled, eventually giving up and tripped backwards from your own force.

  the elevator closed and for thirteen long floors, it was just you and him in that one space.

  “please, let’s communicate - isn’t that what you always wanted for us?” jungkook said and did his best to get you to meet his eyes. “bug, come o -”

  the fire in your eyes was nothing like he’d ever seen before from you. “don’t you dare call me that ever again!” 

  bug was his special name for you, short for lovebug. you used to get upset when he would call you your full name over bug. in that moment, it sickened you to hear it.

  everything began clicking in your head. the way he rarely called you when he was on tour. the slow buildup of disinterest in your wellbeing. going to places that he always went to without you. being secretive of what he was doing on his phone. this behaviour multiplied recently and with another world tour for bts lined up, you now knew why.

  jungkook was living an entirely different life away from you. you just thought he would never have it in him. not the kind and sweet jungkook you met all those years ago.

  you ripped off the tennis bracelet from your wrist, which jungkook had given you for your eighteenth birthday. a look of defeat rested on his face when you hurled it at him, which he didn’t even bother to dodge. he knew he deserved it. 

  the elevator dinged and you made a beeline for the first door you saw. you weren’t even running, but jungkook dashed to meet you there. you let out a cry of frustration when he stood right in front of you, blocking the entrance. 

  “move or you’ll regret it.”

  he ignored you and you instead side-stepped away, using all your energy to exit through the next door before jungkook could realize. he tried blocking you again, but only caught a bit of your force because you were too fast.

  the entire time this was happening, you’d been trying to dial someone, anyone. none of your group mates were answering. you didn’t have any friends that weren’t at the party upstairs. the last resort was your manager, who you were about to call, when jungkook stood in front of you again.

  “y/n, please. i’ll get on my knees if i have to,” jungkook begged and you could see that he was fighting tears. “please, i just want to talk.”

  however, you could also see that jungkook was far from sober. he was in a worse state than you were. a bruise was to soon form on his jaw and his hair was disheveled. it was the lowest you’d ever seen him.

  for a split second, you tried. you wanted to try and see the boy you fell in love with all those years ago. you searched and searched. 

  “what? i’ve asked you for years to communicate in this relationship and it only becomes important after you cheat on me?” 

  jungkook knew he was defeated, but he still looked at you with those same pleading eyes. “i know i don’t deserve you - “

  “i don’t even recognize you!” you interrupted. “i don’t even know who you are!”

  both of you knew that you were right. something went wrong along the way. you were barefoot and exhausted, no longer with light in your eyes. jungkook was pitiful and lost - lost in his fame, in the parties, and from you. 

  that night at hotel azure should have been the end. the storybook fairytale should have been over. in that moment, you would have even moved as far as you could and ran away from the dread of the life you were living. you gave up that night.

  unfortunately, in the craze of the night’s events and the substances swimming in your bodies, both you and jungkook forgot who and where you were.

  TOP HEADLINE TODAY: breaking news! dispatch releases exclusive photos of bts’ jungkook and s.iren’s nova, reveals that they are dating

  you’d been in the big hit company building countless of times over the years, but would have never imagined yourself sitting in their board room with their most senior executives. to make matters worse, several high-ranking representatives from your company sat in the same room, including your ceo and your own manager. at the head of the table were you and jungkook, both stone-faced and unable to look at each other. 

  entering the room, you considered yourself all alone. your manager was pissed off at you. your group mates hadn’t spoken to you since the news broke, except for sooah. she only warned you to make sure that nobody knew you were high when it happened. the last thing the group needed was an additional scandal where their main vocalist gets sentenced to prison for possession. and, of course, you now had no boyfriend. there was nobody there for you.

  “they’ve been building evidence for a long time now, clearly.”

  to make matters more humiliating, the company executives were broadcasting the dispatch article on the big screen in front of everyone. the head of public relations, mr. lee, swiped through each photo released like a slideshow.

  the first picture was you and jungkook outside of your building complex. another was a sneaky shot that barely captured you and jungkook in the same taxi. it went on and on, until the last photo that depicted you and jungkook standing in front of hotel azure, which was less than twenty-four hours ago at this point. 

  after escaping the party and jungkook, you spent the rest of your night crying and throwing up at home. it was late when you left and you knew you couldn’t sleep a wink after what transpired. you tried your very best and it was seven in the morning when you thought your eyes were finally closing, until your phone began blowing up. 

  at first, it was just your manager and you didn’t want to hear about how she found out that you were partying late again. then, not even an hour after, your social media began blowing up with notifications. 

  i was trying to warn you, the last text from your manager read. you realized what she was talking about, as dispatch probably gave the “courtesy” to inform the company before the article went out. 

  you thought about your group members, feeling nothing but guilt. you saw what happened to other female idols, whose dating scandals tarnished their “sisterhood” with their members forever. you were terrified of that happening to you.

  now, you sat in this suffocating board room, still hungover, and your entire future at stake. the only thing you felt regretful about was not just the impact of your choices on both your group members, but the rest of jungkook’s. they were one of the, if not the, most popular groups in the country.

  while the room went over the pictures that were released, you were silent. you long understood the consequences of the relationship and accepted the risk. when the scandal actually broke, though, the fear you felt was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. on the other hand, jungkook was only apologizing profusely and was in tears. you didn’t realize it until then, but there were also streams of tears running down your face. 

  you weren’t sure what the main reason for your tears were. something told you that you’d yet to process the grief of jungkook’s betrayal because sitting next to him felt numb. last night, only anger settled underneath your skin. now, being inches away from the man you called your best friend and partner for years, you felt nothing. it was almost an out-of-body experience. 

  the only way to not replay every single moment he was with her and not you, was to repress the grief. you pretended like it was invisible and out of reach. with that, you figured the tears were for the innocent third parties that were going to be dragged down by the scandal - the executives in the room, jungkook’s group, your group, all of them.

  “quit crying! we have no choice, there’s too much evidence - we must publicly confirm the relationship.”

  you took a deep breath. right now, you had yet to actually tell anyone that you and jungkook were no longer together. a part of you was too embarrassed to admit that you were cheated on. you also figured that word from the scene at the rooftop party likely already spread throughout social circles. you decided to swallow it down and finally say it aloud.

  this was the first time that you spoke up. “but,” you started, “jungkook and i. . .we broke up last night.”

  the last thing you expected was a round of laughter. you thought you were imagining it, but when you looked up, the board members were indeed doing so. you were suffering enough, but now you were getting laughed at. your fists were balled up underneath the table.

  “are you kidding me?” mr. lee said. “i don’t care. years ago, you and jungkook agreed that, should your relationship be exposed, you would face the repercussions of its reception.”

  “mr. lee - “ jungkook started, but was hushed by his company executives.

  when mr. lee tapped on his laptop again and cut to the comments section of the article, you thought you would see hate comments. death threats, even. but, you were stunned to face waves of positivity. 

  the tone he used, though, was devoid of any. “oh, i love this couple so much,” mr. lee began reading the comments in a monotone voice that only made the situation feel even more of a joke. “wah. they. are. such. a. beautiful. couple. i’m not even mad.”

  you swore your eyes were deceiving you. stealing your first glance at jungkook since walking into the room, he, too, was shocked and his jaw hung low. 

  “talk about a power couple, congratulations! here, someone said: hope this is true, nova is luckiest girl in the world - love this. then, a bunch of good luck’s, and blah, blah, blah.”

  there was a wave of anger when most of the comments called you the lucky one and not once the other way around.

  regardless, the reception of international fans was generally uplifting, which was no surprise to you. what really got to you was that it didn’t stop there - the screen scrolled past dozens and dozens of korean comments that exemplified full support towards the relationship. this was a true mark of positive reception, as they were the fans you feared the most.

  as the years went on and jungkook rose in popularity, you became increasingly nervous about your relationship. you watched so many of your peers receive horrible backlash from fans after being exposed for dating, especially the women. being a female in the industry was hard enough and you weren’t sure if you were going to be one of the strong ones in this situation. 

  “so that your fans don’t feel ‘betrayed’, we are going to let the media know that you have been dating for a few months - don’t even think about telling people that you’ve been together since 2013,” mr. lee announced, which snapped you back to the conversation.

  you dared to speak again. “mr. lee, jungkook and i have broken up,” you reiterated, wondering if nobody heard you the first time.

  he rolled his eyes. “i understand. do you also understand that this reaction is basically unheard of? have you noticed that you’ve gained almost a million followers on instagram?”

  this time, it was the public relations representative from big hit that cleared her throat and stood up. she joined mr. lee in front of the board members, who began murmuring in approval amongst themselves.

  “jungkook. y/n. as you know, the love yourself world tour was just announced. s.irens is also preparing for a major comeback and potential tour. this relationship,” she said, “will be used to accelerate the successes of both of your groups.”

  a chart appeared on the screen. it showed data from the last twenty-four hours, including both group’s increase in social media numbers, streams, and search engine hits. 

  “consider it an exchange for breaching your no-dating clause five years ago. until further notice, this relationship, at least in the eyes of the public, will remain.”

  this had to be a joke. however, you remembered what you and jungkook were. you were idols. you were puppets of the machine that was the korean entertainment industry. chess pieces. no matter how rich or famous either of you got, it all boiled down to this. 

  the fame game was one that was never won.

  jungkook said, slowly, “you’re asking us to date. . .as a publicity stunt?”

  at this, you had no choice. a few individuals in the room, including jungkook, jumped when you shot up from your seat. you rose in order to bow at a ninety degree angle in front of all the senior executives, ignoring how sick you were to your stomach.

  “please,” you began, eyes squeezed shut. “i want nothing to do with jeon jungkook.”

  of course, the decision was already made and your pleas were dismissed. however, you didn’t see the way jungkook watched you beg your company to not force you in a relationship with a man you no longer loved. his mouth went dry and there’d never been such a moment in his life where he hated himself more. he did this. he pushed you to this point and he betrayed you.

  from that moment on, jungkook saw this as an opportunity. he destroyed everything that you and he had ever built. now, the only thing he ever sought from this point on, was redemption.

  even though your companies informed you two that you could publicly “breakup” following a year post-dispatch release, jeon jungkook never lost sight of the redemption he sought. they wanted you to be the so-called it couple of the industry and he decided he would do them one better and make it real. for the next year, jungkook would do everything in his power to win you back.

  LATEST NEWS: bts’ jungkook and s.irens’ nova confirms their relationship! read more about big hit’s response: “they met as friends and the connection blossomed from there”

  𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. for clarity purposes (because i feel like the non-chronological format may get confusing), y/n and jungkook get back together during this publicity stunt and are 100% for real dating in chapter 1. the publicity stunt arc is covered in chapters 6-8, as the next chapter focuses on why/how their relationship began breaking down before the hotel azure incident.

[ribread03]

Are We Still Friends? C.S.

AN: "took" [asked to use] this request from @6ix9inewiturmom but turned into a Chris fic because I feel like I have no Chris stuff so yeah. I tagged her version at the end so go read it after you do this one! Also this took me like months to write bc I had no motivation so yeah.

Content: use of y/n, smut, fluff, sub chris [kinda], unprotected [don't be silly wrap your willy], pet names, riding

Getting ready for bed in Chris's room because you decided that you wanted to spend the night with the triplets and Chris asked you to stay the night with him, which you had no problem with since you've had a crush on Chris for a little while now.

The TV is playing some cartoon in the background as you step of the bathroom in you sleep clothes. Plopping down on the bed next to Chris. He doesn't look up from his phone which is odd. You nudge Chris on the shoulder and he just groans. "Chris what's wrong with you tonight, I feel like we haven't talked at all." You've felt like this the whole day, he's been acting all shy and not talking which is not normal for him.

"Nothing y/n" He mumbles out. Not bothering to look up from his phone to answer you. You just roll your eyes and decide to just go on your phone.

About 20 minutes into your scrolling on tiktok you feel eyes on the back of your head. Sitting up from how you were laying on your side. Looking at Chris you meet his eyes, his face instantly turning a deep shade of pink.

"Chris?" You question. Sitting up more you turn to face him. Slightly giggling at the fact Chris was staring at you.

"y/n?" He questions back in the same tone as if he wasn't just staring right at you.

"I felt you looking at me Chris..." You say a slight blush coming over your face now. "Do you just really like the back of my head or.."

"I was just..." He trails off as he thinks. "I was just zoned out for a sec that's all, Sorry." He says softly. You know Chris is lying, he's a very bad lair and always plays with his hair more when he does.

"mhm, okay Chris." You tell him and scoot closer to him. "Your a bad lair you know." You whisper into his ear. You then go to roll back over when Chris speaks up again.

"Okay fine, I was staring at you..." Chris whispered.

You heard him but wanted to tease him a bit. Sitting up some more and turning to him. "What was that?"

"I was staring at you, okay?" He finally admits. Clearly flustered

Trying to hide your blush-your crush was looking at you because he wanted to- it wasn't working well. "That's what I thought" You spoke seductively and moving closer to him.

"I-" Chris starts but you cut him off before he can even start.

You place you hand on his arm, "its okay Chris I don't mind." You say with a slight giggle. "I stare at the back of your head sometimes to." You shamelessly admit to him.

"Really?" He ask, surprised that you stare at him to.

'Mhm' You hum back, now moving your hand up and down his arm.

"Oh" Hes still flushed from you catching him and is at a lost for words. "Well I guess I should tell you something then." He starts but trails off.

"Go on." You edge him on wanting to know what he wants to tell you.

"Well, what I want to tell you is that I've had a massive crush on you for a few years now..." He says avoiding eye contact with you, looking everywhere but you honstly.

"Oh" you hiccup out. "I should tell you that I like you to then." You say with a shrug of your shoulders acting as if its something everyone already knew.

"Huh?" Chris lets out a quiet squeak at the end of his word.

"Yup" You say with a straight face, turning a slight shade of pink now.

"I don't get it... You, y/n, like me?" He says pointing back and forth between you and him.

Shaking you head you lean in and kiss Chris. He's shocked at first but kisses you back as soon as he realizes what is happening. You pull back slightly "That help any?" You ask cheekily, a smirk painting you face.

"Yea" He whispers against your lips, going back in for another kiss. Chris' lips are soft on yours. His hands going to your waist pulling you onto his lap, never breaking the kiss. Your hands trail to the nape of his neck, lightly playing with the hair there.

"Chris?" You mumble into his lips.

Chis humming in response pulling away from you lips, now leaving sloppy wet kisses along your neck.

"I need you chris" You whisper tilting your head back so more of your neck is exposed.

"I need you to y/n" Chris pulls back from your neck and looks you in the eyes. "Are you sure you want this? like for real sure, once we do this there's no going back to before." Him asking if you are really sure turns you on even more.

"Yes Chris, I don't want things to go back." You say now kissing down his neck making sure to leave love bites. You slowly start to grind down on Chris, soft whimpers leaving his lips.

"Ke-keep doing that" Chris moans out.

"What do I get if I keep going?" You ask him, not wanting anything in return-your happy to be doing this- you still ask him just to tease a little. Chris answers with little whimpers and moans, you stop when words dont come out of his mouth. "I asked you a question pretty boy." You say bringing your hand up to his face, rubbing your thumb across his cheek.

"I- please y/n" Chris pleads griping your hips moving them himself, you grab his hands and take them off of your hips so he cant move them. "Anything, anything you want y/n" With his word you continue your movements, pressing down a little harder.

"Fuck" You moan out in-between kissing his neck. Your hands toy with the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up over his head. Your taking off your shirt almost immediately after his. You feel Chris' eyes on your exposed tits. "Like what you see?" You ask.

Chris shakes his head yes. You grab his hands you bring them up to your nipples, letting your head fall back when he plays with one. Your hands fall down to the waist band of his pants. "Can I?" Chris hums a response nodding his head slightly leaving wet kisses all over your chest.

Pulling his pants and boxers off his erection springs free. You let yourself stare for a minute. "Like what you see mama?" Chris uses your words against you. 'mhm' you hum back, letting your hands travel down to play with his tip.

Chris is now a whimpering mess under you, bucking his hips up when you start to move your hand up and down his shaft. Sliding your shorts and panties down you go back up to his face to kiss his lips, resting your burning heat right above where you both need it the most.

"I don't have a condom" Chris tells you in-between kisses.

"Its okay" You tell him. Aligning his tip with your entrance you slowly lower yourself onto him. Wincing at the stretch, biting your lip to detract yourself. Once you bottom out on him you sit there getting used to his size. Once your ready you start to move up and down on him.

"S-shit, so t-tight" Chris keeps praising you, as you bring both of you to your climaxes.

“Fuck- I’m close” you moan out as you continue to bounce up and down on him. His hands continue to play with your nipples, only making you move faster on him.

“Me to mama, please let me cum.” He’s begging you, his words push you right over the edge making you cum on his cock.

“Inside me” You pant out, still bouncing on him riding out your own high. Soon after Chris reaches his orgasm.

“Fuck” He breathes out, overwhelmed with the feelings going on in his head right now.

You slowly slide off of him, whimpering at the empty feeling. “That. Was. Amazing” Your still catching your breath as you complement Chris, falling to his side.

“You’re amazing” Chis shoots back at you, making you blush. “Blushing now are we” He lets out a slight chuckle.

“Are we still friends?” You asking this question throws Chris off guard, causing him so sit up on his elbows.

“I don’t think we can go back to just being friends after that” He says patting your hair down, laying a soft kiss on it.

“I don’t want to” You whisper softly, sitting up to face him. His hand finds its way to your cheek, his thumb rubbing your face.

“Good because me neither” He pulls you into a kiss, soft and slow, showing you that he means what he just said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: hey guys, I wrote the end of this like 3 months after I started it so if it kinda changes styles that’s probably why, but I’m going to link the Matt version right here! So go read Gabs, she did so good with it! OKAY BYE LOVE YOU!!

[knight-a3]

Heavenbound AU Masterpost

Alastor Redesign

I've spent an absurd amount of time researching deer, microphones, and 1920s-30s fashion for this. I'm by no means an expert of any of it, but I'm decently confident enough for some fictional depictions.

I'll include some notes under the cut, which does get a little long. I doubt other characters will get this detailed, but Alastor has a lot of design themes and motifs that were a bit too ingrained to remove. Everyone else is either simple in comparison, or much easier to simplify.

Alastor also just catches my interest in ways the others don't.

Design notes (I'll add edits notes as they come, should it be necessary)

My goal was to design him in a way that still felt like the same character, just altering the aspects I thought could be better. So a radical change wasn't what I was going for. That said, I had a logical reason for most of the changes I made.

--Deer-- Quickly, there's some regional terminology to clear up. In Europe, elk often refers to what North Americans call moose. And the NA Elk is sometimes called by an alternate name, "wapiti". I had never heard the term wapiti before researching this. And since I live where NA Elk are native (Rocky Mountain region), I think my terminology takes priority. Alastor would call them elk too. Before anyone says Elk aren't deer; yes they are. The word 'elk' basically means "big deer." They look similar to the Red Deer (Similar looking antlers, but elk are bigger, second only to moose, which are also a species of deer). It used to be believed that elk was a subspecies of Red Deer, but that's apparently been proven false. In NA, there are five main species in the deer/cervid family(listed from smallest to largest): Whitetail, mule deer, caribou/reindeer, elk, and moose.

Deer Sounds If you haven't heard deer sounds, I promise they aren't what you'd expect. Fanfics authors like to describe him making deer noises, but I'm not sure they realize what the sounds are actually like. I'll describe some noises, but search for them on Youtube, for both males and females separately. Using these terms will help you find specific examples. I listened to so many just trying to figure out how to describe them. Snort-They make a huffy blowing sound when alerted or alarmed. Often sounds like a bark. It's basically sounding the alarm. Does often make it when they're being harassed by bucks. Grunts- sounds like a croaky or clicky groan. Sorta like a frog or a pig. Sometimes sounds like cattle's moo. There are casual grunts, curious grunts, frustrated grunts, submissive grunts, low-drawn-out dominance grunts. Bleat- sounds more whiny, sheep-like, and higher pitched than a grunt. But it doesn't sound like a goat or sheep. It's used more by does and fawns. The younger it is, the higher the pitch. Really young fawns will sound like a little meep or maa. Snort Wheeze- sounds like a sniffy huff, followed by extended "F" sound. "sniff sniff Fffffff" There's a lot of air to it. It's basically an insult or challenge. Elk Bugle- much higher pitched than you'd expect from such a large animal. More so than a deer. It's an eerie, high pitched screech. They're basically broadcasting their location, looking for cows. Bulls will bugle back and forth, competing for attention. Elk chuckles and grunts- shorter versions of the bugle. Sounds kinda like monkey hoots. Elk Bark- alarmed or irritated. Sounds like a small dog's bark. Elk Chirps and mews- It reminds me of the curious sounds the dilophosaurus from Jurassic Park made. Or seagulls. They're just chatting.

What deer is he? Based on what I've observed, I don't think he was designed with any specific species in mind. I've seen others say his antler growth is most like elk, but I've found it inconsistent at best. Elk noises are used in the show, but that's because they make a distinct and eerie sound. More impressive than a deer's grunt or snort and wheeze. Personally, I think whitetail makes the most sense for him, since that's the species that would be most prevalent in Louisiana. While I'm basing him primarily off whitetail deer, he is a fictional deer-looking demon man, and doesn't have to perfectly resemble any single species of deer. His bright red color is clearly not realistic, for example. So I will incorporate some aspects of whitetail, mule deer, and elk, since those are the prevalent species in North America. I've given him a whitetail deer tail, but with the white swapped to black. That doesn't make him a blacktail deer, because that is supposedly a subspecies of Mule deer, and the tail does not look like what I am going for. Mule deer have proportionately large ears, and so does Alastor. Fans like to think they're soft and fluffy, but they aren't. I have felt deer hide, and it is NOT soft. I doubt it would be significantly different on live deer. Especially if it's anything like goats or cows(not even sheep are as soft as you'd expect). Deer ears are not positioned as low on the head as domestic livestock, but they aren't directly on top either. I wanted to maintain the upright position, because he didn't quite look right otherwise. I think I managed to get a decent balance. When he's particularly relaxed, his ears aren't as upright, but he rarely lets himself put his guard down like that. So it's basically just when he sleeps that they relax. His antler growth will vary based on a few different factors. When he is feeling confident and composed, the growth will be more typical to either of the three species. Whitetail or mule deer antlers will be more elegant, while elk antlers will be more intimidating due to the sheer size. But the more emotionally/mentally unhinged he gets(anger, fear, desperation, etc), the more nontypical his antlers will become. Which means there will be extra points in abnormal patterns. It's basically an indicator that he's not quite in control. He hates how it basically announces that, but very few people know that detail.

Anyway, here are a few references

--Life and Death-- For simplicity and easy math, I'm putting his birthday around 1900, give or take a year. He died 1933, which means he was around 32-34. Not very old, but not super young either. Lots of fans headcanon that he's biracial. Usually with a black Creole mom and white dad. His dad is often portrayed as abusive. Alastor is often thought to be fluent in French(Creole French). I want to propose an alternative. His mom is half-black half-white, his dad is white, and Alastor is consequently a quarter black. He is distinctly white-passing. He knows some Creole French, but is not fluent. I just think this could make for some interesting dynamics. Just to shake things up, his parents cared about each other and his dad wasn't abusive. But his father died in WW1, when Alastor was a teen. Instead, his uncle(father's brother) was racist and abusive towards them. Without his dad around to fend off the abuse, Alastor ended up killing his uncle in self defense and dumped the body in the woods/swamp/bayou. He had no remorse, and was rather enamored by the experience. Alastor always struggled with empathy. He was the type of kid to kill animals out of curiosity, and was fascinated by it. He felt more alive when watching the life fade from their eyes. His dad taught him to hunt, and he enjoyed the thrill of catching prey. A big part of hunting is understanding the prey's behavior and manipulating them. His parents taught him not to hurt other people, but after killing his uncle that went out the window. He justified it by "hunting" people he decided deserved it, in some twisted sense of vigilante justice. Really, he was just looking for an excuse. He primarily used guns(rifles for a clean kill, shotgun for efficiency, pistols "just in case" an unexpected opportunity presents itself) and knives for a real hands on experience. But in the end, if it got the job done, it could be used. He dabbled in magic and demonic deals while he was alive. He has a pop-culture-voodoo aesthetic, such as dolls that are connected to people and such. But I won't refer to it as voodoo, because I don't want to misrepresent actual voodoo. I will just call it shadow magic and be making up my own rules. More on it later. Radio was a comparatively mundane part of his life. It was his more relaxing pastime. He'd broadcast anything he liked. News, gossip, music, jokes, whatever. He could talk for hours, and his charisma was captivating to listeners. He did live shows too. An open mic was free game. While not aiming to be a musician, he was a decent pianist. He liked saxophone too. He preferred to dance though, and not many could keep up with him, even after some whiskey or rye. He died after being attacked by a rabid dog. He survived the attack, but contracted rabies, which there is no cure for. It attacks the central nervous system and fries the brain. Once symptoms appear, it's a death sentence. He went mad, and a fellow hunter put him out of his misery by shooting him in the head. He thinks it's an embarrassing way to die, so he's told a few alternate stories, sometimes with a grain of truth. He's amused by the gossip and speculation. Nobody knows the true story. These stories include the usual headcanons floating around. Let me explain why I don't like the usual death headcanons Mauled by hunting dogs- Hunting dogs are not supposed to kill the prey, just help the hunter find and catch them. A hunting dog that bites the prey might spoil the meat. To have a whole pack do that means those are horribly trained dogs. I don't buy it. Mistaken for a deer and shot by a hunter- Hunters should not shoot anything if they aren't certain of what it is. Otherwise they risk shooting something they don't have a permit for. At minimum, they should be checking to be sure they are aiming at a buck or a doe. To mistakenly kill a person is absurd. Also, to hit perfectly in the center of the forehead?? That had to have been intentional.

He started killing overlords partly because he could, and partly because they meet his criteria for "deserving it". He remained anonymous about it at first for a few reasons: 1. it was how he worked as a serial killer in life. 2. He enjoyed the thrill of the hunt and getting away without getting caught. 3. Watching everyone panic about the mysterious overlord killer while totally unaware it was him(seemingly unassuming) was amusing. Eventually, the novelty of anonymity wore off(partly because there weren't many consequences to getting caught like there would be in life) and he revealed himself as the mystery killer. Then he enjoyed the reputation and Overlord status. Eventually, being feared bored him too. So now he has to find some new games to play, which is where the Hazbin Hotel comes in.

--Fashion:1920s-30s-- Clothes: Men's outfits typically consisted of a shirt, waistcoat/vest, jacket, trousers with belt or suspenders, and potentially an overcoat if weather permits. If it was cold, I think he'd wear a black overcoat, to reference his earlier designs. I had to shorten the jacket a smidge, because they usually wouldn't be as long as in canon. Unless that's supposed to be his overcoat(in which case it shouldn't be so form fitting) The jacket lapels would generally be pretty wide. The pant legs would also be wide. Some of the pant styles could get rather absurd by todays standards. The basic idea was loose and boxy. The jacket, vest, and pants would be the same color if it could be afforded. But for the sake of visual interest, I've decided to ignore that. Neckties were more common than bowties. But that's more just an excuse for me to reduce the ridiculous number of bowties the show has. Belts were starting to become prevalent, especially in America. Since my research indicated that hunting clothes would use belts, never suspenders, I figured Alastor would favor belts. While hunting, he'd were a buffalo plaid shirt, a hunting cap, and some silly looking pants that were wide at the thighs, reinforcement around the seat and knees, and tight from the knee down, with either boots, gaiters(a shoe/calf cover to help keep clothes clean, similar to spats), or puttees(leg wraps that do the same thing, as well as provide support).

Monocles were used as a portable option for reading glasses, and not worn constantly. They were used to correct farsightedness, not nearsightedness. But they were fading in popularity, in part due to the association with prominent German leaders during WW1. Basically, I don't think the monocle suited Alastor.

Hair: I headcanon that his hair is actually fur. And as I said earlier, deer fur is not soft. It's pretty coarse and wiry. He probably sheds a lot too. His canon haircut is atrocious, so I had to fix it. The look of the time was short sides, long top, and slicked with styling wax. I've styled his hair in what I think would be the closest approximation to 1920s-30s fashion he could manage. Since it's fur, I don't think the wax would do a whole lot for him. He makes do with an approximation of a tousle top, which is basically minimal wax and slightly disheveled. Facial hair was not really in style in the 20s, partly due to the availability of razors. Cleanshaven was the ideal, especially in America. If a man did sport a mustache, it would be something neatly trimmed, like a pencil mustache.

(Dec 18, 2024- updated human design) He has moderately curly hair, more of a wave, really. Left is his typical outfit, Right is his hunting clothes.

--Microphones-- I think Alastor would actually stay pretty up to date with a lot of things. But most people don't really realize it because he commits to his aesthetic. In regards to technology, if it has improved functionality, and fits his vintage style, he'll go for it. For microphones, he can summon whatever kind he wants. There are a variety of styles and types to choose from. I don't have any practical experience, but I did try to figure it out to a degree. There are three basic types he'd use, and they can look vintage just fine. Dynamic/moving coil: these are durable and less sensitive to background noise. It's the only one you can trust to survive a mic drop. Good for stage. Probably what he'd take out and about, because of the durability. Condenser: sensitive to sounds and capturing detail. Good for recording. Requires some extra equipment to prevent self-noise. Ribbon: Produces natural, smooth, warm sounds. Common in vintage mics. Probably Alastor's favorite, but they're fragile. Pop filters and wind guards help protect it from pressure changes.

--Color-- I tweaked the colors so he wasn't so overwhelmingly bright red. Overall just darkened his palette. His hair is a warmer shade of red than his suit. I also didn't think the green magic suited him. So his magic is more in the red to yellow range, because it matches his eyes and teeth(which glow, btw). Green will be an indication of either something "poisoning" his magic, or it's a borrowed power. I haven't fully committed to just one, and it might depend on what direction canon takes with his soul owner.

--Magic-- His stitching is an indicator that he's not really as composed as he seems. He's always a few threads away from tearing apart, but when he does he can always pull himself together again. He's in constant pain, but has also become so accustomed to it that he hardly notices anymore. I think he stitched his smile on himself. He wants to be smiling, and sewing it in place is how he can assure it never slips. It's part of his pseudo-voodoo aesthetic. Alastor was known to make overlords disappear, which shouldn't be possible without angelic weapons. But few people knew about angelic weapons before the show(himself included, I'm pretty sure). So I was left to ponder what he could have done to make victims disappear. I'm thinking the little shadow puppet gremlin creatures are the tattered remains of souls he's torn apart. I don't want to refer to them as voodoo dolls, so they will either be called variations of shadow puppets or gremlins. He usually offers fair deals, with or without a soul contract. Souls he owns--like Husk and Niffty--are added to his collection of minions, each minion has a gremlin that represents their contracts with him. But there are some that Alastor feels don't deserve fair treatment, so he tears those souls apart to broadcast their screams of eternal torment, then claims the remains of the tattered souls(whether he had a contract with them or not) and stitches them up into the shadow puppets. That way, they don't regenerate. Husk was lucky Alastor liked him, and offered a deal instead of just tearing him apart. Again, I don't want to misrepresent actual voodoo. So at most, it would be a corrupt version mixed with various pagan witchcrafts. It will just be referred to as either generic magic or shadow magic. If I need spooky symbols, I'll just make up my own. It will probably involve X shapes, to match his death mark. He became a powerful demon so quickly because he's clever, ruthless, and dabbled in magic in life, and was making demonic deals in life. Already having deals and practicing shadow magic gave him a significant boost once he died.

Some examples of his shadow puppet gremlins, plus his personal shadow buddy, which may or may not be the gremlin that represents himself:

--Wendigo-- No, I don't think he's a wendigo. I personally don't think he was a cannibal while he was alive. He was a hunter who enjoyed the thrill of the hunt and liked venison(deer meat). The people he killed would be those he found disgusting, so I doubt he would have wanted to eat them even if he was so inclined. After death, he became venison himself, which can be perceived as cannibalism, I guess. He was cursed with insatiable hunger, which prompted him to branch out to more cannibalism from desperation. He still favors venison, which gets the closest to satisfying his hunger. Being dead has made him less concerned about cleanliness and hygiene, except when it affects the image he wants to portray. Then he became acquainted with Rosie, who was a cannibal in life. None of this makes him a wendigo. The concept of a man-eating monster or cannibalism isn't exactly unique, and I don't see a reason to apply that specific term to him. The original mythology of the wendigo does not include an antlered creature. I'm pretty sure that was more of a pop-culture addition during the 1900s. They're also more common further north where there are colder winters. Most descriptions say they are essentially ashen-skinned, emaciated-looking people(look at the game Until Dawn for a good example of that). Coincidentally more similar to the people of Cannibal Town. I doubt that was intentional, but the resemblance is still there. If any character was a wendigo, it would be Rosie. But I don't intend to explicitly make her one either.

(Dec 18, 2024- Updated human design, typo corrections)

[donnerpartyofone]

What was the process like for writing the novelization for Splice? Would you consider writing a novelization of an existing work again?

Eek I'm being interviewed! I'M SO FAMOUS. There are a lot of parts to this answer. The shortest answer is that I really just watched SPLICE in tiny sections every single day for a very, very long time. I had a certain version of the script to work from, but it wouldn't contain the exact things that were said and done in front of the camera (no script would), so I just studied the movie. I scanned the sets for objects I could not identify, of which there are a LOT -- things I've never seen before, and things I've seen but couldn't name -- and searched online until I learned to describe things like hay trolleys and circulating baths. To me, the point of a novelization is that it produces an interior and sensorial experience not offered by a screen, so I tried very hard to expand on the material qualities suggested by the movie.

It never once occurred to me to change anything. Apparently this is an expectation of novelizations. I had a writeup in Fangoria that was very kind about my ability to make psychological sense out of the things people do in SPLICE, but that expressed disappointment that I hadn't added scenes or anything. I'm such an inveterate, pathetic sort of rule-follower, I didn't even ask myself about this. I did change one exact thing, regarding the kind of candy that Elsa eats, because it was meaningful and amusing to me to do so, but I don't think anybody will ever get it. I also included just a little bit of material from the script that didn't make it into the movie, because it was completely in line with my psychological interpretation, which was what I was most concerned with.

I never thought of SPLICE as a perfect film, but I had a lot of thoughts about it, and I think my main contribution was to explain what these characters are thinking and feeling as they wade into this life-changing and profoundly icky experience together. That became very personal very quickly and I was a little bit afraid that maybe this would be how everyone would find out how totally insane I actually am, but I'm told that that part worked out pretty good -- by Vincenzo Natali, among other people, who is SO NICE AND SMART AND SUPPORTIVE. Best guy! When I turned in my draft to the publisher I thought there might be a little back and forth, I did not expect them to send the raw document directly to Vincenzo and I was very alarmed when I heard from him before anybody else, but I really had nothing to fear. He's one of my favorite people now.

I would definitely do another novelization. Actually I think I'm uniquely suited to this because I have a good dose of aphantasia. I didn't even know until recently that it's statistically weird to think mostly or exclusively in words and to have a very hard time visualizing, like, almost anything. When I started telling people this about myself I was asked, among other things, "How do you do anything if you can't picture what you're going to do?" And I was like, uh...I don't know. Maybe this is connected to my extreme executive problems and my problems with goal formation and followthrough. I mean I think this is true, now. And I developed this sort of half-joking self-mythology that I have to be watching movies every second of the day because I suffer from an image deficit and I need external infusions. Like even when I used to draw (trauma took that away, long story, but I drew all the time for like half my life), almost everything I ever made was swipes -- and I think they're pretty good, like it's worthy as art. But I guess for me, art has to be made out of something external that I manipulate. All the art I've ever made without a reference point has been maybe technically OK but really lifeless, you can tell something is missing. So I think the novelization process was a lot like how I used to draw, where I had a completely concrete external referent and I would just sort of tour it very extensively until I had created a twin of it out of my interpretations. And the twin is like, the same but different, it's a clone made out of feelings and reactions. I think that's a worthy sort of art object to make.

There's a thing I'm working on now that I'm sure I won't be able to talk about for a long while, but it involves writing things from preexisting sketches and prompts, and that's a little bit the same. I don't have as much to go on, but I can tell what the shape of it could be, I just turn it over like, what if it's like this, what if it's like this, what if it's like this. And I know that what I'm turning out is really made out of tropes and archetypes, it's kind of a collage, but if the collaging is really earnest and you're feeling your way along with reasonable naturalness, it can turn into something. It's not that different from describing experiences you've had, if you really think about it. The following comment is NOT MEANT TO COMPARE MYSELF TO A GENIUS but I had this nice moment of synergy recently when I rewatched Kiyoshi Kurosawa's CURE, which to me seems so forcefully unique, but in interviews he says things like, "Well I just really wanted to make an American horror movie," and talks about how his starting point was not personal at all, he just wanted to play with the established tools and ingredients people use to build a certain kind of product. And I thought, I guess that's what I do -- not as intelligently or deliberately, but I get how you can work in a way that sounds so formal and empty, and have it produce something distinctly personal.

Thanks for your fun question!

*Virginia Madsen voice* Oh yes. I forgot to tell you. BUY MY BOOK!

EDIT: Oh I kind of lied, I changed *just some of* the music that Clive listens to, to something that would be easier to communicate to a reader. Like I wouldn't use the exact band on the soundtrack because it was too obscure and specific, but I would talk instead about his genre choices because they went with what I was trying to say about him as a person. I think all of it was still pretty in line with the sounds, and the Clive, that appear in the film.

[littlesparklight]

The year Hektor, as well as Paris, got married.

(I, too, wanted to do a lineup of the main Trojan royal family/the children of Priam and Hecuba. So, here it is! Nineteen sons as the Iliad decreed, plus a handful of daughters. Everyone's loosely grouped (or not) according to in which set of multiples they were born. Lore and secrets under the cut.)

I've tried to only use names that either explicitly are called offspring of Priam and Hecuba, or implicitly so by the Iliad saying they're legitimate. The only exception being Chromios and Echemmon, of whom the Iliad doesn't say either way and who in later sources are named as sons of some mother(s) not Hecuba. I've ignored this, prioritising the Iliad's non-specificity. Partly because I'd long since decided they were sons of Priam and Hecuba when I realized that other sources made them not so. Of course, the Iliad doesn't name enough sons, so the rest come (mostly, exception Idaios) from Hyginus' list via cross-referencing with the Bibliotheke, to assure I picked names from the former the latter didn't say were illegitimate.

Everybody's ages and the timeline used does rely on ~5 extra years between Paris coming back with Helen and the Achaeans landing at Troy.

Ilione and Laodike are both already married by this point. I don't think we actually know how Bronze Age proto-Thracians were dressed, so I just tried to deck her out in something a little different from the rest.

Paris gets a white leopard pelt to make it a little more ~extra. The half-wrap sort of thing he's wearing about the hips technically come from a few hundred years later, I think (if I remember correctly), from the neo-Hittite era, but shh.

Eurydike is Aeneas' wife in the Kypria (so, she's equivalent to Kreusa), and though we don't know whether this Eurydike was a daughter of Priam and Hecuba, but I'm going with that she was (as Creusa was made so as well).

I've gone back and forth on how old Polyxena is supposed to be, and initially she has been a twin with Polydoros (mostly because I liked the matching names), but for my latest iteration I went with making her part of another mortal-demigod twin pair with Troilos as often happens, because of how her story intersects with both Troilos and Achilles. You can really see who Troilos' father is. :)

The number of daughters in addition to the Iliad-given nineteen sons have been decided by going by who has been given as Priam and Hecuba's daughter in some source, and then adding on Eurydike to that list.

I do have an alternate arrangement for ages/births (basically to be used in versions of fics that use the funeral games as background for how Paris gets reunified with the rest (when he's 16 instead), which is one where Kassandra would be old enough to have been cursed by Apollo right before Paris comes back, though this one gives the ages for the last year of the war: Hektor, 40 Ilione, Laodike, Antiphos, 38 Helenos and Kassandra, 36.5 Paris, 35 Deiphobos [Kreusa/Eurydike, Pammon and Polites], 34.5 This would also work out to have Deiphobos younger than Helenos, as some versions note as he is a strike against him in his fight over Helen with Helenos, who is said to be older.

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Male-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Misery Loves Company

A/N – Okay, so for anyone who loves Stand-up comedy as much as I do, I highly recommend you watch Daniel Sloss’ tour, Dark. That’s his first tour, and it was where he coined the term Wanker-Anchor, which is used in this story.

Warnings – None.

Rating – M

TAG-LIST: @lxkeee @moonieper @sle3pyh3ad2 @gomib0 @mixplara @ica1 @loser-monologue @blackbeautyiloveyouso @equkki @literalzxmbie

FEMALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

“Whoa,” Charlie said upon seeing you.

She had seen your Demonic form before, but it was a rarity and it usually meant that you weren’t doing well mentally.

“Are you okay?” She asked, sucking in air through her teeth, her voice pitching high, indicating that she already knew the answer but didn’t want to point out the obvious in case it upset you further.

“I’m fine,” You answered shortly.

“Really? Because you uh, well,” Charlie twisted her hands back and forth, “You uh, you look a little- I mean, hey, I think you’re beautiful inside and out but when you’re like this it usually means- It’s normally-”

“You’re fucked up,” Vaggie finished for her, getting straight to the point.

“I’m fine,” You insisted, using the words everyone used when they were decidedly not fine. “Where’s Angel Dust?”

“In his room,” Vaggie explained.

“What happened? He was doing so well.”

Charlie’s eyes welled up with tears and she threw her arms around you, sobbing out an explanation, “It was my fault. I asked him about his contract, and he told me not to worry, but I did worry, and then I wanted to make sure he’d be okay when me and Vaggie go to visit Heaven, but he said he didn’t need a babysitter, and then I got Husk involved and Husk told me not to fuck with things I don’t understand, and then Valentino came-”

“Wait, Valentino came here?!” You pulled Charlie off you so you could look her in the eyes.

“Well, not exactly, but he sent his crew here and told Angel they had to film and I said no, and-”

You left Charlie and ran to Angel’s room. Both Charlie and Vaggie followed you as you pelted through the corridors. No wonder Angel had relapsed. That piece of shit Valentino had used Angel’s contract against him. As part of the deal they had made, Angel had to do any work Valentino demanded of him, and that fucking scumbag had dared to invade the one place where Angel felt safe.

Knowing Charlie, she would have pointed out that Valentino couldn’t use her property and would have to wait for Angel at the studio, but that wouldn’t matter. Valentino would play by the rules; it wasn’t really about filming at the Hotel, it was all a matter of proving that Angel belonged to him and that there was no safe place he could hide away.

Besides, even if Valentino hadn’t gotten his way at the Hotel, he would take it out on Angel the next time he was in the studio. It was a lose-lose situation, something that Hell was always too eager to provide.

When you got to Angel’s room, you paused to compose yourself. It wouldn’t help if you sounded too desperate or concerned; Angel didn’t respond well to that. It would make him blame himself for making you worry, and then he would spiral further.

You knocked on the door, “Hey Angel, it’s us. Can we come in please?”

“Go away,” Angel’s heavy accent came through the door, marking him more as Anthony than Angel Dust, though you didn’t say anything about that; there were very few people who knew his real name, and he didn’t like to be reminded of it.

For better or worse, he was Angel Dust; that was who he needed to be to survive.

You glanced at Charlie and Vaggie, then tilted your head, indicating that they should leave. Charlie hesitated until Vaggie placed a hand on her shoulder, then after an affirming nod from you, she let Vaggie lead her away.

“Come on Angel,” You said when they were gone. “It’s just me. Let me in.”

“Piss off.”

You sighed, then sat outside the door, and began talking. You didn’t have a grand speech planned, only what was on your mind, and if Angel wasn’t going to let you in, then it became a matter of letting him know that he wasn’t alone and that you wouldn’t abandon him, though you would respect his space.

“I get it. Valentino fucked with you. He love-bombed you, and that didn’t fucking work because you’re stronger than he is and you’re not going to fall for his shitty manipulation tactics. Now, he’s sending his goons here. It’s all just another one of his games, Angel. Don’t let him win.”

There was no response. You stayed quiet for a minute then were struck with a thought; misery loves company.

“Hey, I also kind of feel like shit today, you know? I kept thinking about Hell and… a lot of things. I told Charlie’s dad how I died. That was fucked up.”

Again, there was no response, but you thought you heard Angel shuffle closer to the door. Until that evening, nobody had heard anything about your mortal life, and now you were talking about it for the second time.

“I was murdered for a snuff film. I still have nightmares about it.”

There was a bluntness to your tone. Although it hurt to state the memory aloud again, albeit in less detail, you decided not to put too much thought into it. If your death could help someone, well, there had to be some good in bringing it up.

You stared at the peeling red wallpaper across from you, just so you had something to focus on. “I’m terrified that one day, I’m gonna walk down the street and see the guys that killed me. Like, what do you even do in that situation? Call them out? They’re in Hell, that’s punishment enough, right? Will they find it funny to see me again? Find new ways to hurt me?”

I honestly don’t know what I want in this scenario. I don’t want them to die, ‘cos then they’ll be here, but if they live, they’ll do this to other people. Kidnap them, sell them to the highest bidder, film it for the black market. I dunno… I’ve been here for a year, and I keep thinking about that.”

The door opened and you fell back, looking up at Angel’s concerned face.

“That’s the most fucked up shit I’ve ever heard.”

He lifted you up, setting you right with two arms, while the other two brushed you off.

“So… this is you?” He asked, taking in your rag-doll appearance.

You laughed and imitated his voice, your Demonic abilities kicking in to mimic him perfectly, “I can be anything you want, bay-by.”

“That’s the hottest you’ve ever sounded.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You waved him off blasély. “Just let me in, okay? I can help.”

“So, uh, with the voice, and the-” Angel gestured at your new look, moving his hands in a circular motion, “Can you uh- Be other people?”

“I don’t know,” You said slowly, looking at your hands, “Never tried.”

You concentrated for a moment, trying to transform back to your original self. Usually, it was effortless. Yet, as you stared at the stitches that bound you together, you found it difficult to do more than revert to your original skin colour. Seeing that beneath the stitches was somehow worse, so you stopped trying to change, accepting that for now, you were a ragdoll.

You shrugged your shoulders, “Fuck it. I am what I am, and that’s all that I am.”

You caught sight of Angel’s precious pet pig. Scooping him up into your arms and cuddling him, you cooed in a baby voice, “Besides, you still love me, don’t you Fat Nuggets, yeeeees, precious baby.”

Sitting down on Angel’s bed, you looked up at your friend, deciding that it was better not to let the difficult conversation wait and fester.

“Soooo…” You scratched Fat Nuggets behind the ear, “Charlie told me that you relapsed. Wanna talk about it?”

Angel sighed and flopped back onto the bed so he was lying next to you, his legs planted on the floor.

He dragged two hands over his face, the other two lay despondently over his stomach.

“I- It was just such a shitty day, and Val sent those pricks here, not that they could fill any holes. Wrong kind of pricks, you know?” He half laughed, but it died when he realised the joke wasn’t funny in such a shitty situation.

Still, you smiled at him. When Angel was sad, he didn’t always need someone to sympathise with him. He needed to see that you weren’t going to change and start treating him differently. Sometimes that meant just listening, but other times it meant making the meanest jokes you could think of and laughing at how horrible everything was.

You were his Wanker-anchor, chaining him to reality by being a dick; Husk was the best at it, but seeing as he was nowhere to be found, Angel had you instead.

“Here,” Angel held up a small sealed bag, with his stash in it. So, he hadn’t relapsed after all. He’d just come very close.

“No thanks,” You joked, “I’m full from all the crack I had at breakfast.”

Angel got up and punched your arm, “You’re such an asshole.”

“Takes one to know one,” You took his stash, tucking it away in your pocket, then you stood up, leaving Fat Nuggets on the bed, and you offered Angel your hand. “Come on.”

“What-”

“You need a distraction. So, I challenge you, Angel Dust, teach me how to dance.”

“You’re fucking kiddin’, right?”

You shook your head. “You can dance, I can’t and I’m bored. So, come on, give me some lessons. It’ll be good to get moving.”

“When you fail, can I call you a retard?”

“Fuck no. You can’t say retard anymore, what the fuck is wrong with you. You can insult the shit outta me, but keep your terms acceptable, okay?”

Honestly, Angel had thought he was up to date on what insults and trash talk were deemed acceptable, but evidently, he was wrong.

“Alright, I’ll teach you to dance, but you gotta keep me updated on all the latest slang, and what’s changed up there,” He glanced up as if he could see Earth.

“I’ve been dead a year, bud. A lot can change in that time,” You said, thinking about all the ways you were probably outdated.

Angel grabbed his phone and turned up the tunes, “Sounds like a coward’s excuse to get outta teaching.”

And so it was that you and Angel started to dance. It was nothing like his work, or when he was forced to pimp himself out in clubs as a form of ‘networking.’ Instead, it was stupid, fun, and uncoordinated with you as his partner. Christ, he had never danced with someone so terrible. You let him lead, and together, the two of you laughed at each other’s expense and forgot all about the shitty things that had happened that day.

Up in his Radio Station, Alastor grinned sinisterly. He had heard you quite clearly as he went about his business in the Hotel. You were murdered? How delightful. Victims were so easy to manipulate. Furthermore, you were a ragdoll. Oh, how wonderfully he could exploit that power.

All it would take was an invitation of friendship, a desperate situation, and an offer of assistance. When Alastor had sent Husk away on an errand earlier, he hadn’t imagined it would turn out so wonderfully.

Now, there was a new piece on the chessboard, and Alastor was determined to capture you as his pawn.

Your soul would be his.

[syndrossi]

resonant ch26 dvd commentary

That's right, it's a series now!

Favorite line:

“They will return soon enough,” he told the tiny dragons, feeling a kindred dismay that his sons had gone riding with someone other than him. “Until then, you must content yourselves with me.”

It's not my favorite chapter, and doesn't have any real bangers, but this was a fun little exchange. The mental image of Qelebrys and Shadow perched on Daemon's shoulders, all three of them wearing a glum/pouting expression, is very cute.

Favorite detail:

Carrying the theme that Daemon noticed when he took Rhaegar and Jon on Caraxes to and from the Giant's Toe, where Rhaegar is drawn to the beauty of the world when he's up high on a dragon, while Jon is looking at those ships below and pondering their significance. It's just as much reflective of their life experience as personality. Jon without the burdens he carries of having been a leader, responsible for administering multiple wars, might be able to afford to look upward or forward, rather than downward at the world encroaching in.

Favorite dynamic:

We had a few barbs traded with Cole, but it was fairly tame. Rhaenys and Daemon are my favorite dynamic again, in part because I enjoy writing people giving advice that makes sense to them but isn't necessarily the most healthy. No one character is an infinite font of wisdom, existing to dispense it to our heroes. Everyone has their own faults, flaws, self-interest, etc, and their advice is colored by it.

I'm talking, of course, about Rhaenys basically telling Daemon to suck it up, give up on having a good relationship with his brother founded on mutual understanding, and resign himself to the fact that his brother prefers a version of Daemon that isn't real, with all the edges filed off. Daemon does in fact know his brother better than Rhaenys, so it's actually not the best advice in this situation!

But it doesn't mean he didn't need to hear some version of "suck it up and figure out an approach," because he's been reactive/passive so far with Viserys. (Some of that is out of fear, to be fair.) But he can't afford to be afraid/not take risks, Rhaenys believes. Not with so much at stake.

(Rhaenys is not without her own self-interest, either.)

And Rhaenys has a better grasp on Otto than Daemon. She's not wrong about what he fears. So that was also good context for Daemon, if he pays it heed. But the conversation doesn't leave Daemon in a great place at the end, sadly.

"Quick" hitters:

I mentioned this before, but there were three separate scenes written for and removed from this chapter, including one that was up in the draft I saved on AO3 and then removed this morning before I posted it.

I think I figured out my real issue with this chapter, and it comes down to using the wrong lens during the Dragonpit parts. We're focused in tightly on Daemon and Rhaenys's conversation, which is fine/fair, but we pull back too much for the kids and hatchlings interactions. It would have been nice to perhaps get the actual introduction of the dragons as dialogue rather than exposition, and focus in a bit more on Jon during the final naming.

The chapter feels very self-indulgent and filler-y, which may be while I feel guilty about writing it. Not that you can't write those things, but I always feel like they fit better in side-stories.

Jon naming Shadow was added into this chapter after the fact. I'd decided on the name a while ago and kept trying to find the perfect moment for it, only for it to not really materialize. Jon making it a game the baby cousins could join in on ended up feeling right.

I kept going back and forth between the Valyrian and Common versions of "Shadow," but at the end of the day, Jon has a theme.

I really liked Harrenkos for a name ("suitably long" in Valyrian), given that Shadow is a longer boi than most.

With Laenor and Rhaenys about to be gone, and Rhaenyra in Dragonstone, the poor Velaryon boys are about to be on their own (with their nurses) for a while, poor lambs. We'll see if Daemon invites them over for supper a few times. That's a lot of kids to wrangle by himself!

I'd been holding onto this, but I don't think it's something I'll end up doing later on in the story, so I'll go ahead and share one of the deleted, incomplete scenes. Originally, there was going to be an attack on the carriage on the way back, but Daemon being up in the air on Caraxes made it a really poor choice on the part of their attackers (and the attack itself a little too obvious not to have the place swarmed with Goldcloaks), so I scrapped it.

Apologies to Rhaegar, who was going to get a hero moment and possibly his first kill (though I didn't get that far).

x~x~x

The hatchlings were exhausted after their exciting day, each settling on their laps to nap for the carriage ride back to the Red Keep. Jace soon followed their example, nodding off against Princess Rhaenys’s side twice before she rearranged him so that he could rest his head on her lap.

Jon had enjoyed their day out, but he did feel a sting of regret at not being able to accomplish either of the things he had wanted to today: gaining an audience with King Viserys, and speaking to their father about the candle. There was always tonight for the latter—or tomorrow. But he hated the thought of it continuing its efforts to torment Rhaegar, especially since they were now separated in the afternoon.

“Did you hear anything today?” he whispered to Rhaegar.

“Not in the yard,” his brother said, which was not a no.

The bumpiness of the ride down the sloped path leading from the Dragonpit gave way to the cobblestone of the Street of the Sisters. The sun had set, and the sky was halfway to twilight, leaving the interior of the carriage dark. Jon tuned his senses to hearing to distract from the unpleasant odor of Flea Bottom, which the street passed through briefly.

It was quieter than he remembered. Even the slums of King’s Landing had their equivalent of markets, and plenty of peddlers hawking their wares. He sat up straighter in his seat as the carriage slowed, and the strong scent of burning wood wafted through the window. He could hear the low murmur of their two Kingsguard ahead of the horses.

Jon glanced at Rhaegar, who met his gaze with a tense frown as their hatchlings stirred on their laps. Princess Rhaenys meanwhile was gently shaking Jace awake, turning to glance behind at the window. A glow was visible now, lighting up the area, and calls began to ring out from further away. Jon stood on his seat to get a better view; up ahead, he could see buildings aflame on either side of the street, and what looked to have once been a wagon burning in their path.

“Can we go around?” Jon heard Ser Erryk—or Arryk—say in a low tone to the carriage driver.

“Only if you fancy going deeper into Flea Bottom,” the man said.

“Turn back,” the Kingsguard ordered. “We will return to the Dragonpit.”

Smoke was beginning to drift through the window, stinging his eyes, and the shouts were growing louder. Jon reached carefully for his knife, which was strapped against his leg beneath his pants, though he did not yet slide it free. It was possible that whatever fire had broken out along their path was entirely accidental, but if so, it was extraordinarily convenient timing.

The clack of horseshoes on cobblestone was just audible over the din as one of the Kingsguard pulled alongside them. “My princess, remain within. We will turn and head back to the Dragonpit until the fires are put out.”

The tension in the knight’s voice told Jon that he too believed it to be no coincidence. The street was still narrow at this point, which meant two very long minutes of horse and carriage maneuvering to turn back north.

Too long.

The horrible scream of a wounded horse pierced through the din, and through the haze of the smoke still spilling in through the window, Jon could make out the shaft of an arrow embedded in its flank. Two clanking noises followed, the noise familiar to Jon—the clatter arrows deflected by a shield.

“Ser Erryk,” Princess Rhaenys called out tensely, holding Jace tightly to her side. Their young cousin was wide awake now, eyes large with fear.

There came another two loud thuds, this time above them, and Jon could see the point of an arrow splitting through the wood of the roof, and another a foot away from it.

“They are trying to set the carriage aflame, princess,” the knight said. By the sounds of it, he had drawn up along the side of the carriage opposite from where the first two arrows had come. “You and the children may need to leave it, if the fire catches.”

Jon could hear the agony of indecision in his voice. The carriage afforded protection from arrows, but the longer they remained within, the longer whoever was attacking it could get into position for—whatever it was they were after.

Us? Jon wondered. So far, none of the arrows had been aimed at the body of the carriage, but even so, he dragged Rhaegar several inches further from the wall. The other Cargyll brother joined his twin on the safe side of the carriage.

“There are at least four with bows,” he said. “They do not yet approach.”

The horse’s screams were quieting, which Jon knew meant another obstruction on the road. The smoke was growing thicker, enough to make Jace cough, and a glance upward revealed a darkening of the wood of the roof.

“Jon.” Rhaegar’s voice was low but urgent, his face set with tension. He extended a hand toward Jon. “Give me the knife.”

His first instinct was to deny the request, the notion of being unarmed in the chaos nearly unthinkable, but his arm was still injured. Rhaegar might lack Jon’s experience in a real melee, but he stood a better chance of defending them.

[end scene]

[princelylove]

The Father.

Synopsis: A character study on Bruno Bucciarati. 

Warning: pet names used in italian are masculine, general yandere behavior, nsfw implication at the end but no real nsfw, referenced violence

Bruno is not really naturally the fatherly type, but he chooses the responsibility anyway. He hides that he smokes, doesn’t eat until everyone else has, and very rarely slacks off. Although he’s serious about work and his family, he tends to be playful and lighthearted. It’s rare to see Bruno in a bad mood. He’s a family man. Loves the holidays, always hosts. Wants to be called papa or dad- Bruno’s secretly hoping that one day someone will slip and call him ‘Daddy,’ how delusional. He took the responsibility from his own father for his health and safety when he was little and didn’t really blink, but who takes care of Bruno? No one! Because providers don’t need to be babied, obviously, and that’s exactly what he is. The provider. The man of the house. 

His favorite albums from Miles Davis are Agharta and Bitches Brew, which are jazz-fusion, avant-garde jazz, funk rock, and jazz-rock. I tend to think of jazz as slow, easy listening, but it’s wild, it’s experimental, it’s everything Bruno doesn’t allow himself to be in favor of keeping his perfect family fantasy safe and sound.  The Bucciarati household is always loud- whether that be from Narancia and Pannacotta “playing,” in Bruno’s words, or from the little record player that lives in the living room. He offered to buy Pannacotta some vinyl records, but he never took him up on it. It’s a bit of a sore subject. The bookcase has a cardboard box in it filled to the brim with albums from Miles Davis, Sade, Frank Sinatra, Tupac, and his darling’s alleged music taste- he guessed based off of what was in your room. How did he get in your room? Don’t be silly, he never said he was in your room. 

Bruno takes up two personas in order to maintain his fantasies, his passione one and his fatherly one, and flips back and forth depending on what’s going to work best. It’s rare to see Bruno just… being himself. He’s obsessed with how things are supposed to be- he wants what he never had. A big, happy family. 

His passione one is where he gets his sadism out of his system, where he tells himself he’s just doing whatever it takes to keep his family safe and sound and not thoroughly enjoying beating the shit out of whoever Polpo tells him to. He grabs your wrists too tightly when moving you out of his way, gets a little too loud with you, sometimes. He doesn’t hit his darling normally- no, that’s not what a good husband would do- but sometimes you just make comments that burrow themselves under his skin, and he can’t help but react. 

He doesn’t shy away when he does it, either. He always doubles down, giving you that firm tone he gives Narancia when he slacks off on important jobs, or how he would talk to someone while working a typical repo job. It’s like you’re talking to someone else- he doesn’t even bother to fake his normal smile. 

“Watch how you talk to me before you lose the ability to speak at all.”

It’s short and sweet. Nothing more needs to be said. 

He holds his head in his hands, later, thinking about how badly he just set himself back. At least he has the courtesy to open a window to let the smoke pour out. 

He doesn’t like smelling like cigarettes.

He isn’t really meant to be a father. He doesn’t really know how, but he’s trying to. He’s not meant to be a husband, either, with the way he treats his spouse, lately. But he’ll smile, and take that gentle tone, because he must. The world may be cruel, but he must not be. He has to work to not have that type of reaction when you speak to him so harshly. Maybe if he were a better man.

His cheeks hurt from smiling too much. He’s trained himself so that his smile would always reach his eyes- he even trained his relaxed face to be a more palatable version of his actual relaxed face. You won’t open up to him if he scowls at you, or glares at you instead of looks. He wants everyone to think he’s gentle- he wants to be the father that everyone always comes back to visit once they’re all grown up. A better version of his father, who Bruno would argue was perfect, for what he had. 

His darling is meant to be his spouse- his other half. He longs for someone he can shower with pet names, someone who will melt into his hands, someone who appreciates just how much effort he puts into everything. It’s rare that Bruno can fully relax- there’s always something to be done, whether that be at home, or by Polpo’s order. 

But… He doesn’t truly trust his darling. He loves to micromanage, and it makes him anxious to think about you holding something sharp or standing on something unstable. Please just let him reach whatever it is you need for him- his stand can bring things down if it’s also out of his reach. 

Why do you want to drive? He knows how to drive. Why did you bring your wallet? Of course he’s going to pay for you- he asked you out, didn’t he? Oh, let's not cut up your own snack, you could hurt yourself… Bruno is begging to be needed. He finds his identity in being the man of the house- the provider, the father, the husband, but you just aren’t giving it to him, and it's driving him up the wall. 

It’s suffocating. It’s patronizing. You can shave by yourself, you’re not a child. You know how to take something out of the oven- you’re not going to use your bare hand to touch the metal that was just sitting at 177 degrees celsius.

A little note sits on your nightstand. It’s meant to be a bonding exercise, as he leaves a new one every morning, but you don’t speak italian. Bruno’s handwriting is neat and bubbly- why he put so much effort into making it legible but not in a language you understand is beyond you. 

‘Amore mio -

Sono innamorato di te. Non aprire la porta a nessuno.

Avete mangiato qualcosa? 

Tuo marito.’

You’re left to sit and stare at it, if you’d like, or get on with the chores you know you have to do before Bruno gets back.

It’s little moments of peace- of genuine privacy- like these that keep you going. You’ve been getting up earlier for this exact purpose. Bruno would really rather you sleep the entire morning away and wake up to him coming home in the afternoon, arms open and smiling, calling his name, maybe saying something like “Come back to bed, my love.” … but it’s healthier for you to be up during the day, getting some sun from the open windows, and engage your mind with some tasks that aren’t instant-pleasure based.

But sleeping in a little bit isn’t a crime. You’re welcome to sleep until Narancia gets up- he needs you to walk him through the steps of making breakfast, again. Don’t worry. You won’t be touching the stove, or using a knife. Just guide him through it verbally, and comfort him if it fails.

It eats Bruno alive when you don’t immediately greet him at the door.

He sighs a bit at the snack you brought him. The bowl makes a clack sound as you set it down on his desk. You took such care in peeling and slicing some apples for him, he should be grateful. 

“Bello. What’s this for? I’d rather you not use the peeler unsupervised.”

“Wasn’t. Narancia was watching.” 

Bruno bites his lip a bit, but is quick to fix his face. He smiles at you oh-so-lovingly. “I didn’t know he was warming up to you, amore. Did something happen?” His hand reaches for the bowl, his wrist sits on the old wood of his desk, and his fingers tap the brim ever so lightly. He’s debating eating it to ‘please’ you or not, debating if he can hide his distaste for the fruit from his almost-spouse. So close.

“No.” Your answer is simple. It’s behaving without submitting. He wants the full story. Wants to know why his son is hovering over his darling- if this wasn’t done by a peeler, and actually done by the small pocket knife he trusted his son to have around you- 

“Perhaps it’s the exposure to you, then.” He really does it. He pops one of the smaller slices into his mouth, and chews. His shoe makes a distinct tap as he bounces his knee under his desk. As much as he adores you, his fondness for apples is like his fondness for the boss.

You hum at his act of ‘love,’ and wait for him to finish chewing, and actually swallow. When he notices your stare, he opens his mouth to display that he actually did.

“See? There’s no need to fuss, I’m not having issues with eating. I eat very well, actually.”

Of course his mind jumps to you being concerned for him. When you don’t respond, he sighs a little bit, and stands.

“Amore, is there something you want to talk about? I’m open to your worries. That’s what I’m here for.”

The clack of his shoes don’t comfort you. 

His outstretched hand doesn’t ease your worries.

His voice doesn’t soothe you.

“I love you, tesoro mio.” His lips graze your cheek, “I wish you wouldn’t look at me like I’m going to eat you.”

His hand rests on your waist, pulling you in closer.

“Unless you’d like me to.”

[matthindavick]

Hey ghesties, uhhh I was nervous as fuck to post this because I haven’t had the energy to do much in the way of full drawings (all of it was funneled in a specific project I am seriously struggling on) so I only have picrew edits (which also limited my design ability in terms of silhouette) but I need to talk about my Little Guys (ghoul ocs)

-a note on my canon I set up for them, it’s generally a “no one dies” au, though occasionally I play with resurrection aus? Either way all the papas get to live and be a fucked up little family together. Also I know they "Didn't grow up together" in terms of Copia but instead yes they did.-

(Second note because I'm not sure how everyone else categorizes these, I use era to mean a different Papa as frontman (but mashing Copia's cardinal and Papa times together since he's still the same character)

First up: Cinder!

Made with this picrew, edits include burn and singe marks on their clothes: https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/251735

Fire ghoul, they/them, era 3/4 depending on au

Their basic premise is “give Terzomega a child through Hijinks” which currently includes a group of overenthusiastic Siblings attempting to help by summoning a ghoul. Luckily it doesn’t go dangerously wrong, but they do end up with a ghoul kit.

A kit they immediately lose, because Cinder bolted out of the area.

Cinder is notably shy and skittish for a fire ghoul (hence why I went with “cinder” as it’s a cooled fire related term, and “ash” is a bit too much just a human name for my preference?) And they get cold very easily, so once they got out of the commotion they found the nearest lit fireplace to hide in.

I've gone back and forth on who finds them, but tend to favor it being Omega or him and Terzo, because they would be scared by just a human and while it could be one of the other ghouls, I just don't really feel it? (And I am.. not great at characterizing uhh most of the ghouls. Including Omega tbh.)

They're dressed in a cute little frilly outfit because I think Terzo likes to dress them up like a little prince. It's very hard to get them to keep their clothes unburnt so there is a lot of effort taken to give them fire resistant clothes (they still manage to singe the edges)

Resurrection au is way harder on them, and includes them being summoned (and subsequently adopted) era 3, to get the full angst from Terzo's death.

No one dies version is them being summoned era 4, because I think Terzo (and to a degree Omega) would do much better with a child after retirement from touring.

Their favorite uncle is Copia, due in large part due to adoring his rats (cuddling many small warm cute babies? Sign them up!) But also because knowing that he's an anxious person makes them feel better about how big and scary the ministry is to them, no matter how long it's been.

Next: Ember!

Made with this picrew, edits include a change to the skin tone, lighter oranges and yellow in the eyes, and the embers: https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1564386

Fire ghoul, he/they/she/xe, era 4

Ember is in general, sweet. Gentle, helpful, and calm. Warm, emotionally and also physically, radiating heat like a smsll furnace. All perfect qualities for a ministry ghoul. But they are very clear about their limits, that their temper can flare high with the best of them.

He is happy to do plenty of jobs around the ministry, but his favorite tends to sound a little surprising: tending the grounds and gardens. The soft heat of the sun, the cool grass, and the ever changing shapes and colors of flowers, it's all peaceful to xem.

In resurrection aus, she finds the gardens not in disrepair per se, but definitely not like it has been given care. She has to be careful, lest her heat burn the more delicate plants, but he personally revives it to the best to his ability. It's quite the surprise to both of them when Primo returns, to a small fire ghoul neck deep in his garden as it stands around them, healthy, if not amateur. They get to bond over this =)

In no one dies au, there's a slower burn bond with Primo, with him teaching them about the plants, two calm exteriors with burning, molten cores finding companionship.

(...also if maybe I like to ship xem and Primo that's my business. I'm very scared of being called cringe, can you tell?)

Finally: Prism!

My poor baby with 4 variants on their design and less defined things.

Made with this picrew, edits include adding the glowy aether symbol, and adding iridescence/opalescence to the eyes: https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1493001

Quintessence/fire ghoul, she/they, probably era 4?? Who knows

Unfortunately, Prism is currently mostly vibes? I think she's probably a bit tricksy maybe? (Maybe a bit... scatterbrained? Like. Like refracting light. Because it's scattering light. Like a prism. Well more like the way the bevels in a cut diamond make it sparkle and refract light, which is actually how I imagine them but prism is more succinct for use as a name) So I'm going to talk about a couple design details. (I'm curious what design other people like best? I may do a poll about it if people are interested)

I realized this may just be a me thing, but I imagine the ones with the hair up as the hair spikes going up through the horns, so the horns curl around the hair, though the picrew doesn't actually depict that as much as I thought at first?

Also the black shirt + red cloak feels more like "on stage" type outfits, the way the ghouls wear darker colors, while the white and purple shirt is more casual with the light colors. (Interestingly, they each kinda emphasize each of her elements with red being fire and purple aether)

I got too many "looks like homestuck" comments from friends before I even made the wavy hair + red and black outfit and while I love that one I'm so scared it reads as "Aradia"

So I think that's generally my guys? Hope y'all like them?

[meadow-selfship]

We all got our price - first meeting: Joker x Hannah

Title: we all got our price (a first time for everything)

Summary: Joker and Hannah's first meeting. S/I intro for Hannah here. No warnings (yet)

Wordcount: 1433

A/N: 'My' version of Joker lies somewhere between Ledger's Joker and Arthur Fleck. I got the idea to do a retelling in this vein from one of the Joker comics that's just titled 'Joker', the one w the big grin on the cover, where it's Johnny Frost who gets him and becomes his right hand for a while. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The crime idiots were arguing again. I turned my back to them and popped a paracetamol out of the strip, quickly taking it with a good gulp of water. Fuck, I hated these quiet shifts at the bar - mostly when those idiots were around. I heard too much, and at night I couldn't get my head to quiet down. I cleaned the coffee machine as I listened to them talk.

To them I'm just some background extra, and reminding myself of that was oddly comforting. Sometimes I fantasised about selling information to the cops and getting them all in jail, but then who would be left to tip me well? Tomy landlord it doesn't matter that there's blood on the bills, so why should it matter to me?

"Well, someone's gonna have to get him."

"That doesn't mean it has to be me," said the other. 

"I've had too much to drink to drive," said the bald one, immediately met with scoffs.

"Oh, so now is the time you start caring about traffic safety - very convenient."

They went back and forth for a while. The big dude - wasn't his name Tony? - eventually interupted their bickering. "It's gonna have to be one of us, and it better be one he likes - he's bound to be pissed we didn't try to get him out sooner," he said, looking over his men, all four of them, with a hawk's eye. Behind the bar, I set the wiskeys on the tray and went over to them. Tony's eye fell to me. "You. Would you like to earn a couple extra hundreds tonight, girl?"

My heart skipped a beat as he adressed me, but I carefully set each of the glasses in front of the men, trying my best poker face. I blinked. "Doing what, exactly, sir?"

"Nothing illegal," his grin was like a shark's. "I just need you to get someone and bring him back here. Someone we do business with."

So; a criminal. I righted myself again and collected the empty glasses, ice tinkling as I picked each one up. "From where?"

"It's an easy job, really. He wouldn't hurt someone as... insignificant as you, and you'd make a quick buck," his hand slipped a hundred dollar bill inside the pocket of my apron. So, they're scared whoever they need to do business with will be pissed at them, and will kill them. But I'm not them, so I should be fine. It did sound like good money. Not like this'd be the first time I do something weird and half legal for these idiots.

Tony must've seen the change in my face as I decided, smiling lazily up at me. "Pick him up from Arkham Asylum. It's a bit away, but we can cover for you here - Marco, go man the bar," Tony barked, then continued: "and that note should be enough for gas money. The rest you'll get when you get back here."

I've done similar things before, one time I even had three guys in the back of my car, one handcuffed and with his head in a burlap sack. About that one I made a fuss too, demanding triple the pay for triple the guys. Apparently it's true that everyone has their price, huh. "Will he be waiting? I better be sure who I'm getting for you, or I'll bring the wrong guy over," I joked, which was met with chuckles across the table. Dropping the tray onto the table, I let Marco handle it.

Tony sucked on his teeth. "Oh, you'll know it when you see 'em. He just got out today, and he's aching to do business again. You be good now, sweetheart. I'm sure a gal like you can handle herself." He smacked my ass as I walked off.

My heart beat a mile a minute the whole drive there, so much so that I thought it'd take years off my life. It was late at night, and as anxious as I was, every other car still driving this late immediately seemed suspicious - but that was just projection. When I drove across the bridge to the asylum island, I knew there was no way back. A determination set in. When I stopped the car, there was a figure waiting for me by the asylum gate, one hand in his pocket, a cigarette in the other. The smallest light of the lit end of the cigarette provided enough light to see a glimse of his face. White greasepaint and a wide red lipstick smile. Joker. Fuck me. I got out, quickly checking if there was anyone else around, and went up to him.

"Joker?" I asked, voice surprisingly normal. "Tony sent me to come get you, for business."

He looked at me, taking another slow drag, lazy like a cat in the sun. "Aw, is he too scared to come get me himself?"

I shrugged and motioned to the car. He still made no move to follow me, so I just turned around and went ahead anyway. If he didn't wanna come, I won't make him. It'd be the safer option too - to have as little to do with him as possible. I opened the car door, got in, and as soon as I put the key in the ignition, the other door opened and Joker got in. Good. 

"What business does Tony want with me?" he asked, his tone changed to something lower, less playful.

"No idea, I'm not one of his guys, just the chauffeur," I turned the key and the car sputtered to life. "Don't smoke in the car, please."

Joker cackled, and looked me up and down. "No, you're not 'one of his guys' alright - I mean, look at you. What a sight for sore eyes. Tony sure knows how to butter me up."

I glanced at him and accelerated, eager to get back to the bar soon, passing cars here and there. "I take it you haven't seen many women during your time in Arkham."

He laughed again, the sound of it was infectious, and I smiled along with him. "Do I make you nervous, doll?" He leaned in, bridging the gap between our seats and leaned an arm around my shoulders.

"It's not every day I meet someone this famous," I said, words carefully chosen.

"Or one as dangerous," he purred by my ear. 

I chuckled. "That's debatable. Tony's one of Maroni's guys I think." I took a right, the sound of the turn signal grounding me in its familiarity. "I just work at the bar they frequent, I'm a nobody."

He clicked his tongue. "Aw, don't say that, doll. Of course you're somebody."

We're nearly halfway there. I controlled my breathing, ignoring the feeling of his hand petting at my hair in the back of my neck. Rather a sensitive spot, too. "Sure, I'm the chauffeur and the bartender."

"And does this chauffeur have a name?" he teased, tugging a little at the babyhairs, and I hoped he wouldn't notice how my eyes fluttered shut for the briefest second in from the sensation.

"Not one important enough for you to remember."

"Stop the car," he demanded, suddenly sitting up, at full alert. Alarmed at his change in tone, I did so immediately, stopping in the middle of the street. He pointed to the corner shop. "Lend me some money, will you?"

I leant back in the seat, staring him up and down, considering my options. The only cash I had on me was the hundred dollar bill Tony tucked in my apron earlier - good thing I didn't take that off. The silence was heavy between us as I considered him, his impatience growing by the second. Then I wordlessly plucked the money from my pocket. He snatched it from my hand, and with a "Wait here, doll," he shut the car door with a thump.

Within ten minutes, he returned, several bottled drinks under his arms, a sandwich and a croissant in a clear plastic bag dangling from his hand. He slammed the car door shut so harshly it made the car shake, but with the grin of a kid in a candy store.

"Here, I got you some," a packet of cookies landed in my lap. "Oh, and this," with his goods on the dashboard, he plucked a stack of cash from his inner coat pocket and tucked it in my apron.

"What? You robbed the store? What did you need to lend the money for, then?"

Joker cackled with laughter. "I suggest you drive before the police get here, doll."

[i-rate-horse-games]

rating Star Stable Online

Star Stable Online is a MMORPG! its plot seems to get pretty wild!

upon discovering that Fish was an option in the drop down name creators, i cackled with joy. this is Rusty Fishfish and Futurefish

our goal in this world was to become Fish. one glorious leap into the ocean showed us that it would be harder than anticipated, due to having taken a ‘dangerous’ fall. luckily it doesn’t seem like horses can be injured, even though the screen flashes red if you trip while jumping. 

i joined right after the new character models became available. i think they’re pretty neat! some of the body types looked androgynous to me, but the game calls you a girl regardless. but you can still buy facial hair in the shop!

the world is a nice size! it’s scaled small enough that you feel like you’re going places even when your horse is physically moving a little slow, and the world is big enough that there’s plenty to explore while still being small enough that you see other players going about their lives pretty frequently. 

speaking of other players! shout out to @ro-sso for warning me to never open the global chat. i did! i asked how to get hay after very rapidly forgetting what i had just learned. three people told me it grew on a farm. i said Ok. when i did find the hay (in a shop) i told the chat i had been betrayed and bamboozled and they said “BAHAHAHAHAHA”. later i used the Say chat to ask for help finding a championship that was starting soon, and everyone nearby was very helpful. you win some you lose some

quests seem to be the biggest part of the game! they’re how you get player and horse exp and level up and get better stats for competing. a lot of the quests i did felt very tedious. lots of riding back and forth and delivering messages and so forth. the worst ones involved herding horses that kept splitting into smaller groups and running around a mall doing errands for a sketchy guy. my favorite quests were the ones where i got to open my backpack and drag a tool onto something, which felt like playing Nancy Drew. there was also one where we got to follow the visible smell of pumpkin pie on a trail to a little cottage, and it was nighttime so there were cricket sounds as well!

there’s so much love and soul packed into this world! there’s a pony who was elected mayor! there’s a pirate themed race that has music just similar enough to the Pirates of the Carribean music to remind you of it while also remaining distinct! there’s a riding club that “wears pink and not only on wednesdays.”! there’s a girl with a pet owl named Toby who says “Even though he blathers about it, Toby loves bugs.” there’s vague sounds of people talking in areas with lots of NPCs! there’s a kid with a hot air balloon who takes you up to the cloud kingdom! he has a pet frog who can ride on your head! there’s an emo electric violinist who was really funny! you can get a kitten for your saddlebag! the music is pretty decent!

the clothes very strongly remind me of being 12. something about the slightly awkward way the clothes fit is nostalgic. there were also lots of flower crowns for the summer solstice!

a huge point for this game is that it has its own pride festival!

there’s just something about going to a new place and seeing rainbow flags everywhere, especially after the horrors of horse isle 3. i hear this game also has canon lesbian characters! this does make it even funnier that all players are assigned Cowgirl at login

the one thing that really surprised me is that if you play without a membership, you are apparently trapped in a demo version, and the rest of the game is locked behind a paywall. this sprang up on me after i started running out of quests. the game told me to level up to unlock more main quests, but the only way to get player exp was to do quests, and i pretty much ran out. this concept is really foreign to me, since every game like this that i’ve played before, the membership made your life much easier and more posh, but free players could still get a lot out of the game. games like club penguin, pixie hollow, animal jam, etc. it’s only about $5 a month, though, with a permanent membership option for over 50 dollars. i have not purchased it, but if I ever do, i will update my rating. :)

while googling the above problem to figure out what was going on, i learned that there's no level cap and there's seasonal events that give EXP, so even if you've finished the whole game, there can still be players more powerful than you with better stats dominating the competition. that seems ! a little rough! they also said that after you beat the game, there's not much left to do. hopefully the fun part is the journey and not the destination!

all in all, though, we did it. we became Fish.

and that makes it all worth it.

i’m rating Star Stable Online 4.5 out of 5 stars!

★★★★✬

please feel free to submit horse games or ask me to reevaluate! next up is Alicia Online!

[uhcasual]

Here's a Changelog!

Made edits to the translations for chapters 1 and 2 of MDZS' manga. I originally wasn't going to make any further edits but felt bad that someone could come across my translation and miss some details or nuance because of it. I think this is a final version.

This is a lot of yap but here you go anyway

Chapter 1 link Chapter 2 link

Chapter 1 page 3 Missed 不夜天; original t/l only said "bloody night", but this is referring to the battle at the nightless city. (it was a bloody night tho lol) page 6 Skipped over 奪舎; original t/l ommitted the robbery of a body but it's explicitly stated. Added to include. page 8 t/l word order was confusing. Meant to say the mom was born of the servant, not Mo Xuanyu lol. Original said "Born from a servant, who my mother doesn't even acknowledge as a sister" which doesn't really make sense in English. page 9 Changed "family" to "clan" in second speech bubble. Really, either is fine but MDZS does use sect vs clan in general, rather than school vs family. This is also more consistent with the existing page 4 translation. 仙門 cultivation was used in both the 2nd speech bubble and the 6th. Added the word cultivation to the the 6th bubble as well. Thought about changing it to "distinguished cultivators will be our guests today" since that sounds more fluid in English but the distinguished is attached to guests rather than cultivators so left the rest. Otherwise it would be implied that the cultivators are distinguished (Jingyi's in that group that would be categorically false)(jk I love Jingyi) page 15 A-Tong, the Mo servant's name, is used in the first part of the first speech bubble, so added his name. It was already translated and added to page 16 but that one's tiny so this way it's more clear who he is lol. I don't remember if he's one of the people that needs to die for the ritual, but figured it would be better to be clear rather than not just in case his name is brought again in a later chapter. Probably everyone in the MDZS fandom knows this but in case this is your first exposure, 阿 "Ā" in Chinese is a flattering initial particle that can be added to a person's name or nickname. It's used to be cutesy, express affection, or indicate that you're close (depending on who's using it on whom). Added t/n to explain 阿 also. It's used in a few Chinese dialects, not just Mandarin. WWX also calls the distinguished guests cultivators in page 15 but figured it's clear who he's referring to so didn't think it's really necessary to add the word there. page 16 Rearranged the words of A-Tong's second speech bubble to include his little っわあ waah!!. Made the other small text on the page a little bigger, it was too small to read earlier.

Chapter 2 Page 1 I totally butchered this one. Honestly the whole chapter's translation was pretty bad, I was sleep deprived at this point. Original translation said "there are some young men in our family who have a talent in cultivation" because I didn't understand what she was saying. Fixed! Madam Mo is talking about connection to cultivators not like, connection with cultivation, equating to talent lol Page 2 Had the same issue as page 1 in the first speech bubble, fixed to refer to connections with cultivators rather than connection to cultivation. Also made Lan forehead ribbon text bigger to make it easier to read. Page 3 Changed text size a bit. Changed the back and forth between uhhh Lord Mo(? I forget his name and it's not in the manga yet) and WWX to actually reflect what they're saying. I didn't get what Lord Mo was saying initially, now it's true to the Japanese version. WWX's response is changed back to "wakatta!" (Got it!/I understand!) now that it makes sense lol. Page 4 The mangatemple font that I have doesn't have a ~tilde so it was hard to see in the Aah~!, so I changed the font. OG Japanese has tilde. Changed the 2nd part of the 7th speech bubble to make more sense in English within the context of the first panels of this page. Page 6 Removed "words" from "Don't take my words seriously!?" in the third panel because it sounded stilted in English. Page 9 Missed Wei Wuxian's tiny little "fu~tsu" sound effect on page 7 when I was doing SFX lol. Added translation. Page 10 Added extra to Sizhui's first full line to make it more obvious in English that Sizhui's saying it's not a big deal. There's probably a better way to word this but whateva Changed the to the original unit of measurement of Li/Ri. Li (the Chinese,Japanese,Korean traditional unit of measurement, originated in China) is used in the OG text so figured it should stay in English too. Ri 里 is also a traditional Japanese unit of measurement but figured might as well keep the Chinese version in since there will be other Chinese words used in the manga (like the A- prefix, clan names, locations, etc) that don't really have an equivalent. This way using incense sticks to measure time blends in better I think too. If I translate future chapters I'm going to keep the convention of maintaining original Chinese terms for similar culture-specific words. Also t/n Jingyi doesn't actually say "Listen to me!" in the 2nd bubble but Wei Wuxian's response of "No way! Taking it!" (more literal translation) makes sense in Japanese but doesn't really make sense as a response to "Don't touch!" in English I think, hence the added line for Jingyi. Missed WWX's tiny hehe sfx so added that Page 12 This one was also butchered. Missed 役所 so that messed up the grunts' 2nd and 3rd speech bubbles. Now it's correct!

Plus small font/font size/centering changes.

I don't like how many errors there were so if I do future chapters I'm gonna take more time with it. I learned a lot this time! The SFX didn't take very long to add once I did them (only maybe like 3 hours) so I'll prob just include the translations for them with the first version next time.

[senditcolton]

So Tragic and Rare

September (pt. 4)

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KEELY HALLORAN LATE NIGHT WITH SETH MEYERS (FULL TRANSCRIPT)

Seth Meyers: My first guest tonight has recently stepped back into the spotlight after a five-month absence. Whether you know her from her first three albums, or tabloid magazines, or have just heard her sing with Post Malone on his song “Die For Me,” please extend a warm welcome to Keely Halloran.

[cheers and applause]

Meyers: It’s good to see you again, Keely. Keely Halloran: It’s good to be back, Seth. For some reason I missed you. (jokingly) Meyers: You’ve been making headlines since your appearance at the VMAs – Halloran: (grimacing) I was making headlines long before that. Meyers: Yes, you have. Do you want to talk about it? Halloran: All I’ll say if that I really needed the time away. I found out a lot about myself and who I wanted to be. Now that I’m back, I’m no longer going to change myself in order to fit with the version of me that others have created. Meyers: I like it. It’s like your clapback to the haters. Halloran: Please never say that again. (laughing) But I guess, in a way, you’re right. I mean, I hope that I can get people to accept me and see me for who I really am but I’m no longer interested in making myself palatable. I’m messy, fierce, complicated, vengeful, maybe a little self-destructive, but I’m authentically and unapologetically myself. Meyers: It takes a lot of bravery to own every version of yourself so I applaud you for that. [cheers and applause] Halloran: Thank you. Meyers: I suppose that is a good of a segue as any to talk about your comeback song “Die For Me.” Fans thought that something was going on between you and Post Malone since the VMAs but I don’t know how many were expected a collab. Halloran: I honestly didn’t expect it. Along with some self-discovery, I made a lot of business changes so I didn’t think I’d come out with new music so soon. But Austin – Post – reached out through my direct messages and said that he loved “Without Me” and told me he had a song that he’d love for me to work on with him. Meyers: So, he slid into your DM’s? [laughter] Halloran: In a strictly business capacity. (laughing) So, I managed to fly to his studio in Dallas and that’s where everything happened. Meyers: How much of this song did you have a hand in? Halloran: Post had the music and some of the lyrics written already. I wrote my verse – which required a lot of cutting down, I might add. Future couldn’t make it down to Dallas so I have yet to meet him in person. There was a lot of emailing back and forth between us and him and when it was all planned out, he sent his vocals over and then everything just fit together from there. I think the three of us did a really good job making this a song that has all of our fingerprints on it. Meyers: Sounds like an awesome experience. Halloran: I had a lot of fun working on this, especially with Post. There is a very clear reason why he is everyone’s favorite artist to collab with. He’s so talented and yet so down to earth. And that was amazing. Making this song was really therapeutic for the both of us. Sometimes, it didn’t feel like I was working with another artist. Instead, it felt like I was talking to a best friend. [audience coos. applause] Meyers: So, we got an amazing song and you made a good friend. Halloran: I did. Meyers: Will we be able to hear and new Keely Halloran songs soon? Halloran: You know the answer to that, Seth. Meyers: I do. [audience clamors] Meyers: Should we tell them? Halloran: Let’s build the suspense a bit more. [audience clamors again before quieting] Meyers: So, you got a new look and released a new song. Is there anything else new in your life? Halloran: I got a new dog. Meyers: You did? Halloran: Yes. Her name is Gigi. Meyers: You were kind enough to make this collage for us so we can all gush over how cute she is. [audience coos] Talk us through these pics.

Halloran: Well, this was her first bath. This was the time she couldn’t decide what toy she wanted to play with so she just took all of them out of her toy basket. This is her giving her best impression of me on Mondays. And this is her just being the sweetest bean in the world. Meyers: What kind of dog is she? Halloran: She’s a cavapoo, so a mix of a poodle and a Cavalier King Charles spaniel. Meyers: Well, she is precious. And it seems like you love her a lot. Halloran: I absolutely do. She was a lifeline these past few months. Meyers: When do I get to meet her? Halloran: Well, I’ll have to talk to Gigi about that. She’s very private. Meyers: But I get along with everyone! Halloran: Maybe sometime soon. You and I have bigger things to do. Meyers: That’s right. We do. [turns to address the audience] Ladies and gentleman, tonight, Keely Halloran will step onto the stage for the first time in almost a year to give a special performance of her hit song “Without Me” as well as a brand-new track. Stick around because you don’t want to miss this. [cheers and applause] [commercial break]

a/n: and early drop today because you all will be getting a 'part 2' to this moment a little bit later!! so, truly, stick around to "see" those performances.

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Tic-Tac_Toe (Part 1)

Throughout the website, we have found instances of Tic-Tac-Toe games, so I decided to write about it, to see if I couldn’t find some reasoning for the inclusion of this, beyond Julie’s love of games. 

(I have separated this into 4 posts because I write very long things that are bad for morale.)

Rules of Tic-Tac-Toe

It seems like this is something that everyone knows (though sometimes under a different name, like noughts and crosses or x's and o's).  We will look, though, in case it gives any clues.

Of course there is a wikihow.  Draw the board (9 spaces).  First player goes and can choose to be x’s or o’s (but it do believe there is a rule that x goes first).  The first recommended move is to take the center, as it gives more options in getting three in a row or diagonal (winning).  Second player goes. They go back and forth until someone wins or the board is full, which is a tie. 

Ancient Origins of Tic-Tac-Toe

Huh, the game dates back to Ancient Egypt, called “Three Men’s Morris” and consisting of each player having three pieces and trying to put them all on one line.  The board looks like this:

The Roman version was also played with three pebbles.  (Roman version is called “Three Pebbles at a Time”?).  https://www.coolmathgames.com/blog/tic-tac-toe-history-three-in-a-row-thru-the-ages  It is also found in Middle Eastern and American Indian culture.  From what I can tell, this version in ancient Rome was circular, with an unknown name, but we call it “Rota” the Latin world for “wheel.”  These gameboards can be found in the streets of Roman cities.  https://mythologycrafts.com/rota-a-game-of-roman-tic-tac-toe/

“Rota is a very fast and simple game and you can play it almost anywhere. Each player moved three pieces around on a circular board until they got three in a row. The reason that Rota is called Roman Tic-Tac-Toe is that it is played on a board that has nine spaces and the main objective is to get three pieces in a row. However,  these two games are different because Rota takes longer,  you can move the pieces from their original positions, and unlike Tic-Tac-Toe it cannot end in a tie."

According to the coolmathgames.com website, the most comparable thing about these games is a 3 x 3 board.

The American Indian version (Zuni or Pueblo) looks like this:

Other versions:

Tant Fant:  India

Nine holes:  England

Achi:  Ghana

Shisima:  Kenya

Dara/dili/doki/derrah:  West Africa

Wali:  Africa

Dama Tuareg:  North Africa

Tria/Tris/Grisia:  Italy

Each version in the top half is pretty recognizable as tic tac toe, but the second half are further away.

Just a note to include that humans attach a lot of importance to the numbers 3 and 9, but especially 3.  Humans can process around three things in our short term, it has become a waypoint in writing or speaking (example:  x, 1,2,3 essays), and in symbols.  Symbols relying on the rule of three:  heaven, earth, hell; the father, the son, the holy spirit; birth, life, death; youth, middle age, old age; mind, body, soul.  Because of this human tendency, lots of things have been categorized by threes, but importantly, it has achieve a mystical significance in magic and luck.  In the European tradition, three is used in casting spells (bubble, bubble, toil, and trouble).  Also, how many times have we seen three witches as a storytelling device or focus?  In numerology, 3 has an association with Jupiter.

The History of Tic-Tac-Toe after 1884

The first instance of the name “noughts and crosses” is from 1858, “tic tac toe” is seen in 1884.  Tic Tac Toe is a game used to test artificial intelligence.  From Wikipedia “Arcade games with tic-tac-toe playing chickens were popular in the mid-1970’s. Apparently this comes from an appeal for a mentally ill murderer in which they introduced chickens playing tic-tac-toe as evidence that it doesn’t prove someone is mentally sound." From r/todayilearned, “TIL that in the 1960s there were coin operated machines with live chickens that would play piano, ring a bell or play you in tic tac toe when you dropped in a dime.“

This would have been during the time of the show, but what it could mean is curious (I wonder if Mama Beagle plays tic-tac-toe.)  I thought they meant a graphic of a chicken playing this game, but they really mean live chicken:

There were several game shows that used the game as their format, notably “Hollywood Squares,” “Tic-Tac-Dough,” Secret X from “The Price is Right,” and “Minute to Win It.”

There is a connection between Muppets and Hollywood Squares.  It seems that Kermit, Big Bird, Elmo, Piggy, and Zoe have all been on Hollywood Squares.  Also, Bear from Bear in the Big Blue House.  I love Bear. 

There is a cipher related to Tic-Tac-Toe.  There is a letter associated with the placement of the symbols.  They use the grid to denote the position of the letter.