#i just think its a gorgeous and moving piece of music | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crguang · 4 months

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lost virgins with broken wings that will regrow

You’re an ordinary person with a void in your chest. Black Swan means to fill it.

smut, afab!reader, virgin!reader, sorta stalker!black swan (im just going with canon here…) so mention of voyeurism, oral sex on both parts, fingering, overstimulation, switch!r and swan, 9.3k words and 6k of it is just smut……………

A/N: um…… i just think she’s neat.

black swan: they are such a loser, weirdo, freak, social outcast i have GOT to fuck them

It’s under low, pulsing lights and seated between intoxicated bodies, sensual music in your ears and a half-empty drink in hand, that you feel the most alone. The irony burns your throat not unlike the alcohol you’re sluggishly sipping every five minutes as you take in the sea of strangers on the dance floor of the club rhythmically moving with the beat on the speakers.

Beside you at the bar, a couple converses lowly to themselves, staring into each other’s eyes and laughing quietly like there doesn’t exist a world beyond their intimacy. To your right, friends argue over who will be the designated driver tonight and draw from actual straws provided by one of the bartenders. The unlucky one pouts and the rest cheer before enthusiastically ordering colorful cocktails from a pink haired bartender. The bass reverberates through you, inciting you to join the sweaty bodies losing themselves in the music, but the throb of your head is louder. You feel fatigue at the corner of your eyes while you swirl the clear liquid in your glass and watch its hypnotizing movement, briefly lost in it. You tune out the drunk laughter and shameless flirting happening around you and feel the familiar sensation of your heart constricting in your chest. No one is interested in your sulking, people come and go in the seats beside you, oblivious to your inner struggle. When the feeling spreads to your lungs, forcing you to breathe in the smell of alcohol and sweat, you turn on the stool to search for your friend in the crowd. You catch a glimpse of her red hair as she sways against a tall woman with dark coily hair; she seems to be having fun, occasionally giggling when the woman bends to whisper in her ear, so you sigh and rest an arm on the bar. It was an unspoken rule that if you went clubbing together, you would either leave together or make sure the other would be sober enough to walk out the door with a stranger. You’ll give her another half hour, maybe, before ruining her night by telling her you want to go home.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself,” a smooth, sultry voice sounds near you.

You smell her before you see her; strong traces of resins and dried fruit, like incense sticks burning through the air, easily overwhelm the different odors assaulting your nose from the variety of people around. The pleasant fragrance makes you pivot in your seat. A woman sits on the stool to your left and drums her gloved fingers on the counter thoughtfully, keen gaze already on you and a small, easy smile on her lips. They look bare in the low lighting, though you can discern a soft sheen on them that suggests she must have applied lipgloss not too long ago. Her thick, pale hair frames her cheeks and disappears down her back in two wavy parts that would undoubtedly reach the back of her thighs were she to stand upright. The purple veil over her head matches the color of her dress— you think it’s a dress, maybe a tight strapless top?— and the sort of stained glass accessory between her collarbones that connects her top to the lacy piece around her neck. Your first thought is that she looks out of place amongst the flimsy, provocative clothing everyone is flaunting. Your second is that she’s gorgeous, the kind you can’t help but stare at like a fool. Which you are currently doing. Her head tilts in question and you blink, remembering the words she’s spoken to you a moment earlier.

You suddenly feel shy under her gaze as you try to come up with a reply.

“I’m not,” you say, mentally cringing at your lack of tact. Your honesty seems to amuse her though, sunset eyes glimmering with mirth.

“Not your kind of scene, I presume?” She has to lean closer for you to hear each other over the music and you meet her halfway.

You shrug dismissively, not wanting to admit that being surrounded by people only made you feel terribly lonely. It would ruin the conversation, you’re not that socially inept for you to know that. “Not really, no. The drinks are nice, though.”

You can barely hear her hum as she replies, “And yet, here you are. What makes you suffer through such an unpleasant experience?”

You find her way of speaking a little odd. Evidently, she’s not from around here. You turn around to face the dance floor and her eyes follow the direction you point your chin towards.

“I’m here with her,” you gesture to the redhead cheekily grinding against the same woman from before. The sight is a little funny, despite your mood you’re glad that she’s enjoying herself.

“I see. A friend of yours?”

You nod and steal a glance at the woman beside you. Her posture is impeccably straight, chin resting in the palm of her hand while she leans an elbow on the counter, and she looks at you with a sense of familiarity that you can’t reciprocate. You’ve never met her before, you would have remembered. You’re not the type to be embarrassed by every little thing but her attentive stare makes you feel exposed, as if you’re standing in front of her with your flesh turned inside out and she could see the gross parts of you usually hidden from sight. You want to evade her gaze, if only to compose yourself, but you can’t bring yourself to. She pulls you in effortlessly with only a look and you lean towards her when she speaks up again.

“I realize I haven’t asked for your name.”

You tell her your name, having to speak a little louder to be heard over the music. She repeats it, trying the feel of it on her tongue, then her eyelids lower in appreciation, a knowing smile on her face.

You ask for hers in return and she offers a gentle hand after answering you. “I am Black Swan.”

Black Swan. An odd name, like her odd behavior and turns of phrases. She stands out like a sore thumb and doesn’t seem to care enough to try to blend in. Her politeness is endearing, so you grasp her hand to shake it half-jokingly. Her fingertips linger on your skin when you slowly pull away.

“What about you? Are you here alone?” You don’t see anyone else acknowledging her presence around you. Black Swan confirms your suspicions with a nod. “Ah. A party girl, then.”

Her quiet laugh is beautiful, low and velvety. It makes you suppress a smile. The music blasting through the speakers is now much more energetic and worsens your headache.

“What makes you say that?”

You shrug. “You don’t seem from here but you also look totally at ease. I thought maybe you were either the sort to adapt quickly or to love this kind of scene.”

Black Swan hums, a forefinger tracing shapes on the surface of the bar. “I suppose that assumption is not entirely incorrect. I am not a local, no.”

“Where are you from?”

“That is… a complicated question to answer.”

You raise a curious eyebrow and she pushes some hair out of her face with a hand before leaning into you, closer to your ear. You pause as her soothing scent fills your nose and you feel her breath on your cheek, words meant only for you.

“Let’s talk somewhere quieter, if you wish. We can continue our conversation without having to yell to be heard.”

You consider her offer, hesitant. Your stomach tightens at her proximity and you would be lying if you said you didn’t want to keep talking to her. Her subtle charms lure you in and lower your defenses, and that is both refreshing and concerning. Black Swan feels like the kind of person you only meet once, you want to make the most of it. Not to mention that it would be stupid to deny how attractive she is. You look back at your friend in the middle of the dance floor, suddenly envious of how easy it is for her to be comfortable among the crowd. She hasn’t spared you a glance since she was approached by her dancing partner and while that doesn’t really bother you, part of you wants to prove that you’re also able to make immediate connections with strangers, that you’re not an antisocial freak who only keeps to themself.

“Okay,” you accept and look away at the pleased glint that shines in Black Swan’s eyes. “I have to warn my friend, it’ll take a second.”

You stand from the bar stool and clumsily make your way to the middle of the room, narrowly avoiding sweating limbs and their intoxicated owners. You hate the way anxiety buzzes uncomfortably in your guts as you’re closely surrounded by so many people. You make it to where your friend is, breathing heavier from the stress, and tap her shoulder to get her attention. She wears a grin as she sees you and jumps a couple times in excitement, grabbing your shoulders.

“You wanna dance?!”

“I’m leaving with someone,” you say loudly, pointing to the bar. Her eyes squint, looking in the same direction. She stands on her tiptoes to see over the heads of some clubgoers but doesn’t seem to find who you’re referring to. “Are you gonna be okay?”

She looks back at you and smiles with a quick nod. You don’t think she’s drunk, maybe just a little tipsy, because her eyes are clear and she hasn’t pulled you into an intricate dance only she knows the steps to yet.

“Have fun! Don’t worry about me! Go get laid!”

You make a face, embarrassed by the idea. She only laughs loudly and turns back to the woman she’s been with all night. You make your way back to the bar as fast as you can, eager to be away from the crowd and deafening music. Black Swan waits for you near the end of the counter and gently takes your hand in hers when you get close enough. Her gloved fingers delicately curl around your hand, an unexpectedly comforting sensation. She expertly navigates through the sea of bodies, tugging you along with a firm hand until you’re both out of the club and standing under the moonlight.

From outside, the music has dulled to a faint pulsing and you feel like you can finally breathe properly. You briefly close your eyes to take in a slow breath, inhaling the crisp summer breeze and exhaling softly through your nose. Black Swan is still holding your hand as you do, she turns to face you and observes the way your shoulders relax a little more with each calming breath. Your eyes blink open. You feel a bit sheepish under her stare but her small smile assures you that she doesn’t think any ill of you. Your hand slips from her gasp so you can wring them together.

“Do you want to walk as we talk? My place isn’t too far from here,” you realize how that sounds and falter, glancing away. “Not that we have to go.”

“I would enjoy that. Lead the way.”

You scratch your temple awkwardly. There’s a silent pause as you start to walk through the empty streets and closed businesses, almost close enough that your fingers brush with every step. You take your time, your pace measured to bask in the night air and the way the light winds blow Black Swan’s perfume towards your face. The quiet is a reprieve for your throbbing skull, you feel your headache shift to a dull pulse with every passing minute. You look up at the round moon in the sky, then remember your question from earlier, the one she had trouble answering. You start to cross a wooden bridge over a wide canal and clear your throat.

“You didn’t tell me where you were from, earlier,” you say, slowing down slightly to look at the moonlight reflecting off the still water.

“Ah, that’s right.” Black Swan trails her fingers over the railing before coming to a halt. She follows your gaze on the water and leans her forearms on the railing, seemingly lost in thought. You turn the other way, your back against the wooden bars, waiting for her to sift through her thoughts. Finally, her head turns to look at you and she asks, “Are you familiar with Memokeepers?”

You take a second to remember where you’ve heard that word before. “Memokeepers… from the Garden of Recollection, right? Beings who preserve humanity’s memories for the Remembrance.”

“Yes.” She doesn’t add anything else, only rests her cheek in the palm of her hand and gazes at you like she’s able to see past all your barriers and it only fuels her interest in you.

“…Are you saying you’re…?

“I am.”

“Oh,” you ponder the admission for a short moment. That explains why she stands out from the crowd. You think you remember that Memokeepers choose who to be seen by; you must have looked like a crazy person if no one else could see her at the bar. “I don’t think I have any memories worth preserving to attract the attention of a Memokeeper.”

“Mmm… We seek to protect humanity against the irreversibility of time. I, for one, believe there is nothing more human than loneliness, wouldn’t you agree?”

The smile that stretches her lips is a soft one, far gentler than you think you deserve. You look away from her to observe the discoloration of the wood beneath your feet. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised she knows about that considering what she is, but you feel slightly irked at the idea of somebody intruding on your mind without your knowledge or consent. Your thoughts and experiences are yours to keep, no matter what any Aeon may believe.

“I don’t appreciate you looking inside my head.”

Black Swan shakes her head. “I haven’t. I can see it in your eyes.”

“You’re just that astute, huh?”

“Or you don’t hide it as well as you think you do.”

You hum. You can feel the warmth of her stare against your face and when you meet her eyes, you feel small. It’s hard to imagine all the things she has witnessed and lived through, you are nothing compared to her time among mortals. You don’t understand why she’s here with you, who is painfully ordinary and inexperienced in most matters of life.

“I still don’t think I have anything unique to offer to the Remembrance. You’re wasting your time.”

“Collecting every aspect of life includes the mundane, not every memory worth preserving is extraordinary. Besides, I don’t believe you to be ordinary.”

“That’s a bold, but misguided, assumption.”

Black Swan chuckles lowly, straightening up to face you better. She stands slightly shorter than you, even with her heeled boots. A step brings her closer to your body, a hand loosely holding onto the railing.

“I have plenty of those,” she drawls, a little quieter, “and I don’t need to look into your memories to know that they are true.”

“You got all of this from one conversation? I doubt it.”

“Then let me presume something else.”

Your breath hitches as her fingers delicately cup your jaw like it could break under her touch. You’re unable to tear your gaze from hers and you want to shrink faced with the bright sunset colors of her eyes, there’s a knowing sheen in their depths that makes you feel vulnerable in a way you refuse to be with anyone. Her thumb moves across your skin, the gesture almost tender.

“There is an ache in you,” she says, eyelids lowering to watch the movement of her thumb near the corner of your mouth, “a profound desire that creates an immeasurable crater inside of you. You feel that this void makes you fundamentally different from your peers, so you hide behind tall walls and attempt to ignore the cries of your heart.”

Your lips part but the words get stuck in your throat. Black Swan’s smile is without malice and you feel emotion swirl in your gut, tightening the muscles and quickening your breath. A chill passes through you, raising the hair on your arms, and you don’t know if it’s from the temperature or her hold on your jaw. The smooth fabric of her glove rubs against your skin in soothing motions, the smell of incense fills your nose from her proximity, you feel bare in front of her, exposed to her judgment— it’s all too much. You take several steps back to catch your breath and she lets you go somewhat reluctantly, observing your struggle as another breath of wind makes you shiver. The temperature has dropped since you left the nightclub; though you know nights can get chilly, you thought you would be going home in your friend’s car, the same way you got there, and wouldn’t need to bring a jacket.

You rub your arms, hesitantly glancing at Black Swan. “What do you want from me?”

“Let’s get you home, shall we?” She kindly replies instead, extending a hand. “You’re freezing.”

You look at her outstretched palm with slight suspicion. She hasn’t done anything to make you believe that she’s ill-intentioned, quite the opposite, but you’re used to being careful around others. Still, she isn’t wrong. There is a gaping hole in the middle of you and it makes you incapable of letting anyone past the walls you’ve built for yourself, afraid that it would consume whoever ventured too close. You long for something you can’t bear to think about anymore, but Black Swan is… different. Somehow, she sees you for everything you are, and while that thought is uncomfortable at first, it soon develops into something deeper, desperate. You don’t know how it feels to be known. Black Swan materializes behind your defenses and gazes at you with genuine interest. Against your own practiced sense of self-preservation, you let her.

Her hand is warm as you lead the rest of the way to your apartment. A shiver runs through you occasionally and her free hand trails up your arm after each one to warm you. You try to ignore the pulsing of your heartbeat in your ears and the yearning in your gut growing with every casual touch on your skin. You don’t speak much while you walk. It doesn’t take too long to reach your apartment, maybe around twenty minutes or so. You fiddle with the keys when you stand on the doorstep of the building. The door opens with a soft click and you keep it ajar with one hand, turning to face Black Swan.

“Do you want to…”

“Yes.”

She enters the building after you, following you up the stairs to the first floor where you live. Her presence makes you a little anxious since not many people have been inside your living space and you thank the Aeons that you’re a fairly clean person before opening the door and stepping inside. There’s a gust of wind as you walk in and you realize you must have left a window open because the place is colder than usual. You discard your shoes near the entrance to slip into indoor slides, toss your keys into the bowl on the small table and scratch your temple, wondering what you’re meant to do next. You don’t play host often, so for a moment you simply stand in your living room as Black Swan looks around, trailing her fingers on framed pictures and leather chairs. You suddenly feel self-conscious about your taste in interior design but she only looks at you with a smile once she’s seen everything she needs to see.

“Uh, do you want something to drink?” You ask awkwardly, gesturing towards the kitchen. “I have wine.”

Black Swan shakes her head. “I don’t feel thirst— not that kind anyway. You’re sweet to offer.”

You don’t ask her what she means by that, thinking it might be Memokeeper related.

“You should change into something more comfortable,” she adds. “I can see you shuddering.”

It’s not a bad idea. You nod, adjusting the room’s thermostat to a higher temperature and feeling her eyes on you all the while before disappearing into a hallway. Your bedroom is warmer than the rest of the apartment. You let out a breath as you rummage through your drawers for casual clothes, hesitating between sweat shorts and sweatpants. You’re already warming up a little, so you pick the former. You change into a t-shirt and step in front of the mirror to check that you don’t look as tired as you feel. You rub the fatigue out of your eyes then pinch your skin to make you seem more awake. You fiddle with your hair a little until it looks good enough. Thinking of Black Swan in your living room causes your stomach to flutter uncharacteristically. It’s a different kind of nervousness from the one you’re familiar with, anticipation lingers in your belly and you don’t even know what it’s for.

There’s a soft knock at your door that has you pivoting towards the sound in surprise.

“Come in.”

The hinges creak as it opens and Black Swan slips her head through the opening, eyes briefly running down your figure.

“Is everything alright?” You ask.

“Of course. I wanted to check in on you.”

“Oh.”

Her attention catches you off guard still. She walks further into the room, taking note of the various tapestries and images on your bedroom walls, and you sit on the bed as you watch her. Her hands trail on the desk of your vanity, on your low dresser’s wooden surface, around the bottles of perfume you keep on it. She seems entirely at ease in your room like it was her own, her composure not faltering for a moment. Her eyes stop on a polaroid of you and the same redhead you went out with tonight that is stuck to the full length mirror on the door of your closet. She observes it for a while, a finger tracing the picture’s edges.

“When was this?” She addresses you without turning around, immersed in the sight of you doubled over with laughter while your friend stands to the side with icing all over her face, a pout on her lips. A fingertip touches your frozen form. You think maybe she can sense the emotions through the captured memory.

“About two years ago, when we were still rooming together. We used to prank each other when the other least expected it.”

“You seem… lighter, less burdened than you are now.”

She’s right, once again. It feels as though there’s nothing you can keep hidden from her, like she’s already learned you from the inside. She said she hasn’t been inside your mind but you’re not sure if you’re inclined to believe her words. How else can she accurately perceive who you are? Something takes over the uneasiness you would normally feel at being so acutely exposed to another’s gaze, something you recognize and have desperately been trying to ignore for years. The profound yearning for closeness; for fingertips in your hair, for low confessions into the night, for a synergy that can only exist between two beings completely attuned to each other— it swallows you whole and leaves you writhing in its belly. Your fingers sink into the sheets as they curl to grab a fistful of them. You look away from Black Swan to stare at a point on the other side of the room, willing your treacherous heart to be steady.

You don’t notice Black Swan watching you until she steps into your peripheral vision. She walks around your bed, heels muted on the carpet, and takes a seat beside you. Her fingertips brush your fist as her head tilts, sunset eyes dimmed. You just now realize that she doesn’t have any pupils.

“Poor thing,” her voice lowers to a sultry tone, a hand tenderly resting on your cheek, “you’re scared, aren’t you? These emotions inside of you, itching to leave the confines of your heart…” She watches your lips part when you exhale softly through your mouth. Her fingertips trace your jawline before tilting your chin up. “I can sate this hunger, if you wish.”

You swallow, staring into her appreciative gaze. “Why?”

“Why?” She repeats almost to herself. Her thumb slides up your chin to your bottom lip and follows its curve. “I’m afraid that eludes me. There is something unattainable about you, a part of you that is locked away, perhaps. I feel… inexplicably drawn to it.”

Black Swan slowly leans closer as if gaging your reaction and giving you time to react should you want to push her away. You can almost feel her breath on your lips, then she pauses to look up into your eyes, searching for an answer to an unspoken question. She seems to find what she’s looking for and when you think she’s going to kiss you, a persistent fluttering in your lower belly, her head dips to the side and her lips press against the skin of your neck. You tense as her fingers brush your curled ones on the bed, moving over your knuckles to your wrist, then up your forearm in a deliberately gentle touch. You feel her open mouth trail down your neck. Her hand leaves your face to settle on your bare knee. You let out a shuddering breath, frozen in place.

“Your pulse is racing,” she murmurs into your skin, pressing a firm kiss to your pulse point, “I can feel it.”

“What… are you doing?”

“Enjoying you.”

The hand on your knee slides higher, fingertips brushing the fabric of your shorts on your thigh. The other coaxes your muscles to relax with soft touches up and down your arm. You feel overwhelmed by her closeness and you’re unable to do anything but breathe out at the sensation of her slow kisses up your neck and to your jaw. A shiver runs down your spine and she hums in delight. The tip of her tongue tentatively darts out to lick a stripe up your jawline to your ear, causing you to inhale sharply through your mouth and drawing an amused chuckle out of her.

Black Swan pulls away slightly to take in your facial features as her hands sneak under your shirt to hold onto your waist, squeezing once. Your lashes flutter with every blink, the rise and fall of your chest quickening under her seductive touch.

“How adorable,” she mutters with a lustful sunrise in her eyes. Her hands travel over the expanse of your stomach, one of them separating from the other to trail up your back. She rubs the skin over your ribs. “I’ve barely touched you and here you are… so breathless for me.”

A meek sound escapes you at her forwardness and an appreciative gleam brightens her gaze. With her insisting hands on you and her scent all around, you feel entirely at her mercy. When she leans closer for her teeth to graze your neck, your head tilts to allow her better access. Her thumbs rub circles on your waist, enjoying its pliable curves. Your hand sinks into her long hair, messily tangling around the soft locks, and you bite your bottom lip at the low hum that follows. Black Swan finds a sensitive spot on your neck, sucks on the tender skin and your fingers grip her hair tighter at the pleasant sensation of her mouth on you. You relax against her like butter left in the sun. You can’t help the sharp exhales that leave you and with each one, her fingers dig into your sides almost possessively.

Her tongue swipes over the bruising spot at the base of your neck, soothing the dull pain caused by her teeth and earning a quiet, breathy noise from you. Black Swan smiles into your skin.

“So responsive, aren’t you?” Her voice is a sultry purr. Her touches grow bolder, lifting your shirt to pull it above your head in one smooth motion. She discards it somewhere on the bed and leans to gently bite down on your shoulder.

“Oh!”

Her palms roam over your torso, nails brushing the band of your bra. You fleetingly wish she would take off her long gloves so that you could feel her without any barriers and she seems to be thinking the same; a moment later she takes her hands from you to pull the garment off her forearms. You don’t see where they end up, nor do you care, because the feeling of her soft, unscarred palms sliding over the plane of your stomach steals your breath away. They reach your chest, squeezing your breasts over your bra as her wet kisses travel to your collarbones. Her fingertips slip under your bra, grazing your hardening nipples, and something resembling a quiet whimper escapes you.

“I wonder… How long has it been since you’ve been touched like this, mm?”

“I’ve never…”

Her lips pause near your throat. You feel her breath on your skin with every exhale.

“Is that right?”

You nod hesitantly, apprehending her response.

Black Swan pulls her mouth away from you, fingers expertly unclasping your bra to get it out of the way, and firmly pushes you further into the bed. Her gaze is hungry as she straddles your thighs and looms over you, a palm over your breast.

“No one has ever held you so close… had their hands on you like this?…”

“No.”

A possessive glint flashes in her eyes. She squeezes the flesh of your breast, the friction of your nipple brushing deliciously against her palm has you gasping out at the same time Black Swan eagerly claims your mouth. Her tongue pushes past your lips to swirl around yours and she readily swallows the soft moan you let out. You hold onto her hips while she presses breathy kiss after breathy kiss on your lips. You feel a mix of her saliva and yours at the corner of your mouth and her tongue licks it off before meeting your own once more, leaving you breathless. Two fingers pinch your erect nipple, coaxing more needy sounds from you and a low, appreciative moan on her part.

Her thumbs roll your nipples in tight circles, occasionally twisting this way and that to draw a whimper out of you, and she reluctantly separates from your lips to allow you to catch your breath. Her own chest heaves as she looks down at you, at your bruised lips and hard nipples under the pads of her fingers, arousal pooling in her belly. She is the only one privy to the sharp gasps you make, to your soft moans and quiet whimpers. Black Swan fills the void inside of you with her lustful and unrelenting touches, claiming you with her hot mouth and nimble hands. She leaves an imprint on your body with every kiss to your skin, every graze of her teeth or nails across your chest. You feel your arousal ruin your underwear, clit aching to be touched. You bring Black Swan’s mouth to yours with a hand around her neck, lips locking in desperate, messy kisses. Her hums of pleasure only turn you on more and you have to squeeze your thighs together to try and relieve the pressure between your legs.

A thin string of saliva connects your lips as she pulls away to press the flat of her tongue over your nipple. The tip teases your sensitive bud before she takes it into her mouth and sucks, hard and fast. She fondles the other breast, twisting your nipple between two warm fingers, and you can’t help a choked moan at the feeling. Pleasure courses through you in short, intense jolts down your spine, and your cunt throbs in your panties, begging for her attention.

“B-Black Swan,” you breathe out, biting your lip when she hums in satisfaction around your nipple. Her teeth graze the bud teasingly but she doesn’t bite, instead she opts for long suckles and the occasional flicks of her tongue. “Please…”

Her mouth leaves your chest and stretches into a smug smile, desire apparent in the way she gazes at the faint marks she’s left on your skin.

“What are you pleading for, darling?”

You forego timidity to focus on the burning need in your belly. Your fingers curl around her wrist and guide her hand down your stomach, over the band of your shorts. Her eyes narrow though the smile doesn’t leave her face as she lets you slip her fingers into your shorts. Her middle finger sinks between your outer lips over your panties and feels your slick through the thin fabric. You hold onto her wrist to keep her hand over your covered sex, sighing in relief.

“How rude of me,” she says lightly, finger running up and down your slit, “to neglect you like this. I was caught up in my own desire, it seems.”

Black Swan settles between your thighs. Her lips leisurely trail wet kisses down the curve of your stomach and her pussy flutters in response to the whimper that comes out of your mouth. She’s so wet already and all she’s done is kiss you. Her gaze is intense as she looks up at your brows furrowed in anticipation of her tongue on your cunt. How stunningly helpless you look under her ministrations. So sensitive, so responsive… she wants to ruin you, devour you until your thighs tremble pressed to her ears and your throat is sore from crying out her name. It sounds beautiful in your voice, even more so with unashamed desire lacing your words.

Black Swan discards your shorts without ceremony, tossing them on the floor next to the bed. Her tongue swipes over her lips at the sight of your wet panties. Her fingertips trace the edge of the material, hooking under it to watch the sticky string that connects it to your cunt as she pulls it away from you. Part of her wants to take her time ravishing you, she’s waiting this long, after all, but she also desperately wants to indulge her desires. How can she resist when you’re panting under her this way, a hand around your own breast and gazing down at her figure between your thighs?

Her hands fondle the flesh of your inner thighs, lost in the sight of your glistening cunt. Arousal slides down your pussy in slow drops, the tip of your pretty, aching clit poking out from between your lips. She almost wants to curse.

“You have no idea how long I’ve craved to have you bare before me like this,” she purrs, two fingers spreading your lips to fully appreciate your cunt, “how much I’ve wanted you.”

You exhale shakily, brows twisting for a second. “We just met…”

“Officially, perhaps.” Black Swan presses a kiss on your wet folds, tongue licking a stripe up your slit and collecting your slick. You moan, eyes squeezing shut. The taste of you makes her greedy and she has to contain herself not to lick you silly. “I’ve had my eye on you for quite a while…”

Your brain barely registers the words. Your thighs threaten to close in around her head with every flick of her tongue against your needy cunt. You pinch a nipple between your fingers as Black Swan places wet, open-mouthed kisses on your pussy and you almost forget to reply to her statement.

“What— What do you mean?” You ask breathily, hips jerking forward further into her mouth.

She laughs softly at your confused tone. Her fingers keep your lips spread wide to allow the flat of her tongue to collect more of your arousal. She feels your thighs on her ears and makes no move to stop you from squeezing them together.

“What do you think? Memokeepers are rarely eager to show themselves, and this pull I feel towards you… I had to understand it.”

You don’t know what to say. She’s admitting to stalking you while in between your thighs, tongue greedily swirling around your slick folds. She feels so good that you can’t focus on anything but the way she spreads her saliva on your pussy and swallows your arousal. You vaguely recall that this is the thirst she meant earlier, this bottomless need for more of your taste coating her lips and chin as the tip of her nose bumps against your throbbing clit.

You have trouble forming full sentences in your mind when she sucks your folds into her mouth and you don’t even care about the invasion of your privacy.

“You…” A finger teases your entrance and you whine, momentarily forgetting what you meant to say. “You’ve been following me.”

“Mmm…” Black Swan tentatively pushes the tip of her index finger into your cunt and swallows a moan as it effortlessly sinks inside you. “I needed to know who you were, what makes you tick, your unspoken desires. And after observing you for so long, committing your every heavy sigh to my memory, I could not resist meeting you myself— to touch you with my own hands and hear my name fall from your lips the way curses escape you on the brink of pleasure.”

You bring a hand to your mouth to muffle a moan, the tip of her finger brushing against a sensitive spot inside you. Her pace is steady, careful not to overwhelm you too fast or too soon, and it takes you two full minutes to understand what she’s implying. She takes your clit between her lips and sucks, long and hard.

“F-Fuck,” you whine, hips jerking forward in need. You feel your orgasm build in your lower belly and grip a fistful of the sheets under you, grinding your pussy against Black Swan’s experienced tongue. “You’ve— You’ve watched me… watched me touch myself?”

A throaty chuckle leaves her like she’s amused by how hard you’re trying to follow her sentences. She pulls away from your puffy clit for only a moment, looking up at you with unbridled desire. She drinks in the quiver of your bottom lip and the creases around your eyes, your parted lips and your hand palming the flesh of your breast. You are as beautiful under her as she imagined you to be when she would take a look around your empty bedroom, piecing together the puzzle of you with the help of your possessions.

Black Swan quickens the thrusts inside you, feeling her own cunt clench inside her shorts at the sensation of your warm walls around her digit. “How could I not? The way you fall apart under your own hands… your quiet moans as you play with yourself, oh…”

She moans into your cunt and you feel yourself gush into her mouth at the thought of her gaze on you all this time, watching you pleasure yourself and having to restrain herself from touching you, quietly suffering while she ruins her underwear. You wish you could have seen her and you wonder if she squeezed her thighs together as you played with your clit or sucked in a breath as you thumbed your nipple. She’s usually so composed, to think that your bare body can bring her to the edge of her self-control makes you so wet you’re sure you’re ruining your sheets.

“I can be a very patient person. I’ve had to restrain myself all this time, to be content simply watching you.” Black Swan circles your clit with her thumb, applying pressure on the tip as her slender finger drills into you the same way you do it when you touch yourself. The pleasure is too much and has you moaning into your forearm, uselessly trying to contain the noise due to living in an apartment building. “And… I think I deserve a reward for my patience, don’t you agree, darling?”

There’s a tightness in your stomach begging to snap; the pad of her thumb presses against your clit and the jolts of pleasure that course from your cunt to the rest of your body is heavenly, you’ve never felt more desired than with Black Swan’s uneven breaths fanning over your pussy, tongue darting out to taste you in soft, sweet kitten licks. You can’t control the tremble in your thighs and the stutter of your chest, or the hand that tangles into her pale hair to pull her closer to where you ache for her. Broken, high moans fill the room along with the wet sounds of her digit inside of you and her lips around your clit. You can’t think of anything but the pleasure that suddenly crashes over you and makes you shiver. You come hard around her finger and on her tongue, thighs squeezing against her ears and fingers tightly gripping her hair, and Black Swan laps up your cum with a rumbling hum of satisfaction. She helps you ride your orgasm by slowly massaging your walls, but her mouth doesn’t leave your cunt even as your high subsides. She licks long stripes up your slit, teases the base of your sensitive clit, then attaches her lips to your gushing entrance.

“S-Swan…” you manage to utter, back arching.

Black Swan inhales sharply at the soft sigh of her name. Her hands fondle the flesh of your inner thighs and spread them wide, keeping them pinned to the mattress. Her colorful eyes have dulled, the shine of your cum on her lips alike the lipgloss she’d applied earlier tonight. Her gaze is hungry and smug at having you shake for her, at being the first to make you come, to hear the mewls spilling from your open mouth. The thin layer of sweat on your skin gives it an intoxicating glow and she can’t resist dragging two fingers between your folds to watch your slick envelop her digits.

“You are a vision,” she drawls, unhurriedly rubbing your sensitive cunt. “Beautiful and so, so responsive to my touch…”

The pad of her thumb presses against your twitching clit and your hips jerk as you whimper, helpless under her. Black Swan hums appreciatively and gives you some reprieve, hovering over you to plant a tender kiss to your jaw. Your fingers grip the back of her neck to pull her body closer and the friction of your hard nipples on the fabric of her clothes makes you exhale audibly. She uses sticky fingers to tilt your chin upwards. Your lips part almost instantly to welcome her hot, wet mouth. It’s a softer kiss than the urgent ones from before, her lips slowly slide against yours and you feel her breath in your mouth, her firm tongue swiping over your bottom lip. Your arm sneaks around her waist, pulling her body flush on yours, earning another long hum from her. Her weight on you is a delight as she leads the pace of your mouths and your heart constricts as if squeezed between loving fingers. This is intimacy, you realize; Black Swan’s thigh between your legs and her wet digits under your chin, her tongue past your lips and the warmth of her skin on yours. You feel breathless in an entirely new way.

The ache of your pussy dulls to a soft pulse, your hands run down her sides to squeeze her waist and you’re suddenly hungry for everything she has to offer. You rub circles into her pliable flesh, your touch growing insistent as you keep her pressed against you. Black Swan moans low into your mouth when your palms slide down her body to grasp her ass. Her breathing is a touch heavier against your lips and you prop up the thigh between her legs, drawing an exquisite gasp from her.

“Need you…” you mumble, fingers slipping under top to pull at the mesh of her bodysuit over her back. It slaps her skin when you let go and the needy sound that leaves her almost makes you moan. “Off.”

“Demanding…” Black Swan sits up, lavender hair cascading down her back, and grips the material of her purple top from the bottom to pull it over her head in one smooth movement.

Your pupils dilate considerably at the sight of the intricate lace of her bra. She leans forward to capture your mouth in an eager kiss. You run your hands up her stomach and fondle her heavy breasts between your palms, enjoying their plushness. Your fingers tug on the cup of her bra to free one of them and you whine in the middle of the kiss at the feel of her hard nipple under your thumb. Black Swan leans into your touch with a quiet sigh. You harshly twist her nipple for the surprised moan that escapes her. Pulling her tight bodysuit down her waist only takes a few seconds and your hands greedily take fistfuls of her breasts and squeeze once, then twice, as your mouth chases hers, her tongue wetting your lips in a sloppy, hurried kiss.

Black Swan helps you pull her clothes past her hips and takes the rest off herself, revealing the creamy skin of her plump thighs and the dark lace of her underwear. Slick clings to the fabric in a thick, sticky string when she slides it off her legs to discard it on the floor. Two of your fingers run down her cunt, grazing her engorged clit, and she lets out a breathy moan, resting her forearms on each side of your head to support her body. She’s incredibly wet, so ready for your touch between her folds. Her entrance gushes with another wave of arousal, breath heavy, as the tip of your index teases her hole. Her forehead rests on yours, the tip of your noses brushing. You nuzzle into her at the same moment you push a finger inside her throbbing pussy, tentatively thrusting into her to feel the warmth of her walls before slipping a second digit into her.

Black Swan squeezes her eyes shut with a needy moan against your lips and her cunt clenches tight around your fingers. The slight stretch of her pussy brings her considerable relief; it’s not long before her hips follow the pace of your thrusts inside her. Her breasts move with the rest of her body, baby pink nipples grazing your chest with every roll of her hips. Her breath is hot on your face and she stutters out soft gasps as you quicken your pace, drunk on the feeling of her cunt sucking in your fingers like she never wants to let you go.

“Yes—” she gasps against your mouth, “You feel so good…”

You plunge into her up to the knuckles, determined to have her gush over your hand. Your name is a half moan past her lips and her brows twist in pleasure, the filthy, wet sound of your digits drilling into her fluttering pussy filling your bedroom in an intoxicating melody. A quiver goes through her thighs. Black Swan lifts one hand from the bed to bring it between her legs and swipe her aching clit in tight circles, low oh’s and ah’s spilling from her mouth. Together, you bring her closer to the edge. You masturbate her the way you know how, the way she’s watched you do to yourself so many times, fingers curling inside her and making her see explosions of colors behind her eyelids. She’s tempted to curse, her who never does, and she feels the coil in her belly snap as white hot pleasure washes over her. Her hand stutters on her clit and she comes around your fingers with a sharp moan, squeezing them tight and forcing you to slow down your pace, her limbs trembling over you. Her orgasm is intense, she shivers from head to toe and struggles to keep herself above you, chest leaning into yours.

Black Swan barely has a moment to catch her breath as you slip out of her and rub comforting shapes into her love handles with one hand while bringing her wrist up to your face. You take her fingers into your mouth and her eyes blink open at the sensation of your tongue swirling around her digits, sucking her clean. She gazes down at you, lips parted.

“Swan…” you breathe out around her fingers, the hint of a whimper in your words. “Want you on my face.”

Black Swan applies pressure on your tongue, making you moan. “Is that right?” Her voice is low and throaty, each word carefully enunciated despite her heavy breathing.

You nod eagerly, squeezing the dip of her hip. The thought of her plush thighs around your head, trapping you between their soft flesh as she grinds her cunt on your tongue makes your head spin. You want to bury your nose in her slick folds and have her come in your mouth until she’s too sensitive to handle your ministrations. Black Swan hums, a fondness in her lidded eyes as she takes her fingers out of your mouth. They leave a wet trail on your skin when they cup your cheek.

“So eager to please,” she says softly to herself, thumb tracing the curve of your top lip. “Alright.”

Like she was ever going to say no to the needy look in your gaze; you look up at her with twinkling admiration and she feels herself pulled to you once more.

Black Swan positions herself over your face, thick thighs on each side of your head, and your arms wrap around them to pull her closer. Her pussy glistens, puffy and pink, as she gently tangles her hand in your hair and the sight is breathtaking. The short hairs on her cunt are only slightly darker than the ones on her head, they shine with her slick and entice you further into her folds. Your tongue darts out to lick a stripe up her slit, delighting in the soft hum that follows the gesture. You’ve never done this before, but you try your best to apply theory to practice, rubbing the flat of your tongue on her cunt and collecting her tangy cum. The grip on your hair pushes you closer to her wet pussy, but she’s careful not to be too harsh.

“Just like that,” her quiet, breathy moans encourage you as you suck her pulsing clit. The drawl of her words sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your pussy. “You’re a quick learner, aren’t you?”

The taste of her fills your mouth, the smell of her arousal takes over your nose as it coats the tip of it, you can feel her all around and it makes you moan into her throbbing cunt. The vibrations reverberate through her pussy, pulling another long moan of your name out of her lips. She’s sensitive from her previous orgasm, already twitching against your tongue, yet her hips rolls into your mouth to chase release a second time. You stare up at her head thrown backwards in blind pleasure, at the sheen of her lips and the movement of her breasts, nipples like pretty pebbles on her chest. Sweat clings to her brows and dampens the bangs framing her cheeks. She’s a painting above you, one that you can’t tear your eyes from.

“You’re so pretty, Swan…” you mutter into her pussy, flicking your tongue on her clit, and she almost melts at the compliment.

Her hips grind into your face as she feels herself getting closer to release, gripping your hair a bit tighter to keep your mouth on her cunt.

“Oh…” Black Swan moans, two fingers closing around her nipple to pinch it softly. Her cum drips down your chin and her eyes shut in bliss.

Her orgasm comes embarrassingly fast— after having to rely for so long solely on the thoughts of you as she touched herself, hearing your muffled sounds into her pussy is enough to bring her to the brink. You’re enthusiastic, licking up her slit and between her folds, sucking her clit hard and fast, and she can’t resist bucking into your mouth as she comes on your tongue. Her body trembles and you welcome the gush of her cum in your mouth with a pleased moan, eagerly lapping up her release. Your hands tighten their hold on her thighs, keeping her flush against you while she rides her high, slightly leaning forward. Her clit twitches, her cunt throbs and she can’t believe how wet she is, cum staining her thighs and the bottom of your face.

You don’t let her pull away, gripping her tighter when her hips jerk away from your mouth, and she gasps out, the feel of your tongue pushing into her entrance quickly overwhelming her.

“Aeons—“ A moan breaks her sentence and the words get stuck in her throat as you wriggle your tongue inside her to swallow more of her cum.

Her thighs shake around your head and her eyes almost roll back into her skull at your desperate need to draw more of her needy sighs and throaty moans. Your open mouth won’t leave her pussy, sucking her lips, nose grazing her sensitive clit. Black Swan makes a pretty mess on your face and her hips greedily grind into you despite the overwhelming sensations, clutching the headboard in a tight grip.

She breathes out your name, eyes shut and brows twisting in pleasure, “Ah… Mmh—!”

You wrap your lips around her clit and suck, making her choke out a strangled moan as the hand in your hair attempts to pull you from her pussy.

“T-Too sensitive…”

Black Swan sees stars behind her eyelids, a broken whine in her throat when you relent slightly and opt to tease the base of her aching clit instead. Her stomach is so tight, orgasm rapidly approaching, and she can’t do anything but rub her cunt desperately onto the flat of your tongue. She needs to come so badly she forgets to take into account the fact that you’re having difficulty breathing with your nose in her pussy and her thighs around your head. There’s a throbbing in your skull not unlike a coming migraine, but you focus on making her feel so good her teeth sink into her bottom lip to muffle a needy cry.

With the tip of your tongue teasing her entrance, Black Swan comes hard and shakes above you as a drawn out moan of your name rips from her throat. You can’t breathe with how much she’s squeezing your head, you have to tap her thigh a couple times to get her attention and she finds the strength to pull herself from you, a tremble in her legs. You’re both panting heavily when she collapses on the bed beside you, catching your breath as the throb of your skull slowly subsides. Black Swan has the back of a hand on her eyes and you can see the quiver that runs through her with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

You bury your face in her chest and she sighs in satisfaction, absentmindedly stroking your hair as you press soft kisses to her breast.

“Was that okay?” You murmur into her skin, rubbing her waist.

Black Swan laughs, disbelief sending ripples through her abdomen. She tilts your head to face her and gazes down at you with a mix of endearment and amusement.

“It was more than okay, trust me.”

Her hand pulls you to gently kiss your lips, tasting herself on your mouth. You’re putty against her and she has no difficulty flipping you over so that your head rests on your pillows. A thumb swipes over your jawline when she separates her lips from yours. You watch the sun rise in her eyes.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, mmh?”

#honkai star rail #hsr black swan #black swan x reader #hsr x reader #hsr smut #black swan x you #hsr x you #black swan smut #hsr fanfic #sub!hsr #dom!hsr #hsr #hsr black swan x reader

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thenamesblurrito · 6 days

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so. Transformers ONE was a good movie

i HIGHLY recommend going in blind, i do think it's incredibly effective with as few spoilers as possible beforehand! seeing it on the big screen is really really nice too, i encourage you to watch it in theaters without reading up on it first if you can!

long full-spoiler review and dissection of elements below (i reached the text block limit a couple times oops):

general stuff:

gorgeous. just genuinely visually gorgeous. so many details, colors, textures, everything was so beautiful. the stylization itself may not be my favorite but it was executed so well that i ended up loving it. their optics! their colors! their movement! the way the visuals serve the lore and the story is extremely well done too, i felt like everything i was seeing was deliberate, relevant, and a treat for the audience instead of just "ooo visual noise look at how powerful our cgi rendering is" (which is how i felt about the "live action" Lion King prequel(????) ad they showed before). all the little cameos and repaints and everything in the background? mwah. GORGEOUS MUSIC TOO AAAA THE WAY THAT TFP'S MOTIF IS IN THERE AAAA

the visual effects and action, the way they USED their roboticness/transformation sequences/vehicle modes in fighting and moving and emoting, it was VERY GOOD. Orion grabs a Death Tracker and RIPS THEM INTO PIECES BY TRANSFORMING AROUND THEM AND FORCING THEIR FRAME TO SHATTER. insanity

this is ABSOLUTELY the origin story movie the fandom has wanted. even if it wasn't your preferred origin story, this movie SHONE with love and respect for the franchise and drew on so many influences to craft a powerful version of the beginning we all wanted to see

in some ways i wish we had more, i think it would've been extremely effective to see things expanded upon, especially D-16's emotional descent and maybe some more Quints. actually looking at the content and pacing of the movie though, and the audience it's aimed at, i don't think there's anything they should've cut in favor of other stuff. i understand why it wasn't dwelt on more, but hooooo i would've liked to see Dee breaking apart a little more thru the middle of the film. apparently the novelization has more scenes of this and i would love to read it

i had so much fun watching this movie. it was a rollercoaster. it was a TREAT. i was sitting there enjoying every second both times i saw it because it was a good film that rewarded me greatly for being a Transformers fan, giving me so many easter eggs and injokes, while also being perfectly understandable and fun for a complete newbie. excellently balanced appeal to old and new fans alike

there was no wink to the audience about how stupid and childish a movie about robots is, there was no lampshading of how silly sci fi is, there was no betrayal of the emotional tone of the film. so many stories now kneecap themselves by mocking their very concept, and the audience watching them, in a very cinema sins-style irony poisoned way. this movie never does that. its humor is fitting, its drama is real, its emotion is all SINCERE and i love how i was never mocked by any part of the movie for engaging with it sincerely

this movie loved being a Transformers movie

anyways. specific stuff:

love how Wheeljack managed to explode everything despite not even being a scientist. he's just THAT good

THE INJOKES AND REFERENCES. "you don't have the touch OR the power." calling them Gobots. the corny More Than Meets The Eye bits. "don't be a glitch" is a headcanon swear i've been using for years now and they canonized it!! "High Guard, eject". "paging doctor Ratchet." the new take on "all are one". the really interesting way that the term Transformers is an actual significant in-universe name, and how Orion and Dee ARE NOT Transformers at first!

the sheer number of cameos is ASTOUNDING. what an excellent mix of masc/fem designs too, they really made it normal on this Cybertron which i appreciate! apparently Blurr exists here, his name was on the leaderboard!!!!!! good job Chromia i am so proud of you for winning. and the shots of the bots getting cogs at the end was aaAAA!!! <<33 my HEART! Jazz's little smile looking at his new doorwings!!

I GOT ALL MY SILLY OLD DEMIGOD FAVES I GOT THE THIRTEEN EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM AAAAAA ALPHA TRION MY GRANDPA god i'm so sorry you're dead but i can't believe you showed up on the big screen <<333 you and your rockin rhino unicorn lion alt mode. and your superpowers. god you're so cool. "old timer" NUH UH HE'S STILL BETTER THAN YOU!!!!! using Zeta for the thirteenth was an interesting choice! i did think he was Overlord for a hot second. it's the lips. Solus wasn't fridged by virtue of everyone else died too yippee!! ALSO MEGATRONUS THE COOLEST ONE WOOOO HES NOT JUST A FIERY EVIL GUY!!!!

the way Dee himself was, in a way, the Fallen of this continuity.... 😭

the way Sentinel was handcrafting his downfall with each touch of the blowtorch. carving the sigil of the Decepticons into the one who will kill him. dooming Cybertron in a moment of petty mockery. AND HE DOESN'T EVEN DRAW IT WELL IT'S LIKE A MESSY CRAYON DRAWING CMON

planetformer Primus in a blockbuster movie? CANONICAL EXPLICITLY STATED PLANETARY ROBO MPREG BIRTH IN THE FIRST FIVE MINUTES???? THEY USE THE WORD BIRTH. BORN. we are never escaping the reproductive insanity in this franchise

Shockwave you whiny tantrum throwing wuss. let Elita beat him up more. it's good for him. also love how that could be construed as a ref to her G1 resistance force

CASUAL MIND READER SOUNDWAVE???????

Elita was perfect, no notes. i would not like her if i met her but i respect her so much. she really is better in every way and down to business. Best First indeed

so much cool implications and fascinating timeline confusion. 50 cycles since the Primes were slaughtered? the way Sentinel leveraged their reputation to make himself beloved, casting himself as their peer? the way he didn't choose to villainize them, the way he apparently openly admitted to the loss of the Matrix and how it impacted the planet? when did cog theft start, and how old is Orion since in the novelization it states his entire generation is cogless? who remembers the og Primes? who is in the know about it all?? hoooghhghhh fascinating.

the implication that the High Guard worked with the og Primes?? the possibility STARSCREAM was a loyal guard for Cybertron's DEMIGODS????

okay i was not expecting a backstory for STARSCREAM'S VOICE in this movie but holy. god. the shippers will be going insane over this one. hoogh holy fit. what is wrong with you. the utter contradiction of being both an instigator and a coward when he gets in over his head and immediately backpedals

also obviously this is the I Love Divorce movie and megop shippers will be having a field day but i DEEPLY appreciate just how solid a friendship Dee and Orion have and how badly they fall apart, even thru a strictly platonic lens. i also appreciate how there was no forced comphet attraction/romance!! i was dreading the possibility of it, i mean Oplita was RIGHT THERE but they didn't force it at all thank youuuuuu. i would rather have this dynamic with its zero intended romance than awkward, OOC attraction shoehorned in to detract from the plot

Bee was actually good! like yeah he's def the kid appeal character and i prefer it when he's in a younger gen and not OP's peer, but he was wayyyyy less annoying than i was expecting! i think he fit the movie and did his job in it well, and i absolutely laughed at him multiple times. "i get to work for the GOVERNMENT! :DDDD" bee. please. the fact that he's been going insane and desperate after isolation for so long really helps make his character work instead of being just irritating

Airachnid you are so cool. you are TOO COOL. PLEASE TONE DOWN YOUR COOLNESS. i adore how she is not good at facial expressions thank you evil autism moments. love how her signature move is stabbystabbystabbystabbystabbystabby

Sentinel. god. Sentinel. SENTINEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i need to draw him getting ripped in half. it's like they distilled the worst parts of every single iteration and combined them into a SuperBad version. horrifically realistic kind of guy. i love to hate him. real Metro Man from Megamind energy. and megachurch pastor energy. the IRONY that Orion and Dee were probably actually helping him, that he was probably being genuine in the medbay when he said he loved what they did by racing, that he may have been honest when he said he was gonna have them fixed up in his own facilities and had them tour the mines! because them racing increased energon production by 150% and Sentinel needed that!!! he needed that for the Quintessons!!! i think he was being genuine when he first met Dee and Orion and then Darkwing ruined everything!!!

Darkwing is the curly straw of this continuity

the Quintessons were hoooooooooooooooo. whoooooooooogh. hoohhhhhhhhhhhh. the biomechanical. the shapes. the textures. eugh. icky. creepy. excellent. the way their ships looked like the Nemesis. the way they're STILL a looming threat. i wanted to see more of them but i get why the movie wasn't about them. i hope we see more in the future

the way Orion is the kind of guy who, in an attempt to be selfless, keeps making selfish or thoughtless decisions was SO INTERESTING. it set up the dynamic of his and Dee's friendship very well, with Orion always wanting the best for his buddy but ultimately overwriting or ignoring what Dee says!! the way Dee clings to the social contract of protocol for safety because that's all he knows and his ANGER when it's broken, even when it's Orion breaking it, because that's not SAFE it's an UNKNOWN it has CONSEQUENCES WHEN YOU DEVIATE. and then it's revealed that the social norms have been a lie the whole time and Sentinel has "broken protocol" more than ever and Dee has no safety left because it was always broken. Orion wanted to be more, he could feel there was more. Dee just wanted security

Dee spent so much of the movie complaining and arguing and it was very funny and good characterization but it was also a hint at how much bitterness was under there the whole time. so much of his complaints were threats of violence. he always had Orion's back and then when he learns the truth he abruptly. stops. do you notice he doesn't really have Orion's back after this? he's no longer by his side? he's there, but he's not... there. he was the first to shoot an enemy and took joy in it. all of his emotions were so justified and then what he does with them is what makes it a tragedy. he didn't have to do this. augh

i really, really like the fact that they managed to pull off the ending without it fully turning into a "boohoo if we do anything violent we're as bad as the bad guys waaaa". the specific phrasing of "rebuilding cannot start with an execution" went HARD. and it's demonstrated in their actions too like, Dee was out for REVENGE and it was PERSONAL, Orion was fighting for JUSTICE and it was UNIVERSAL. Sentinel was beaten, everyone knew the truth. it was over. but Dee in his (very justified!) anger and broken trust was too overcome to back down. they were given the power to change their worlds, but Dee was thinking only of his world. Orion was thinking of everyone

ironic that as soon as Orion starts thinking of other people and considering what they need instead of forging ahead, Dee decides to center his own feelings and actions to the point of murder. even after Sentinel was dead, he just kept shooting, he did NOT AT ALL care that some of those shots were clearly hurting innocent civilians/going wide and shooting out into the city/damaging actual important infrastructure and not just Sentinel statues. i believe it's Bee who said "he's gonna kill everyone" and he proves it by attacking Elita and saying "I won't stop until every last one of his followers is dead". THE FACT THAT HE FELL SO FAR AS TO SEE ELITA, HIS PEER AND FELLOW FREEDOM FIGHTER WHO WAS THERE WORKING AGAINST SENTINEL WITH HIM FROM THE START OF THIS QUEST, AS ONE OF SENTINEL'S FOLLOWERS.... by the end of it, Dee really was nothing but blind anger

and the way kneeling was a common thread!!!!! aaaaaaa. Sentinel betrayed the world by kneeling to the enemy. Dee won respect by refusing to kneel. Orion gained followers by willingly kneeling to his peers. hooghh

Orion jumping and stumbling and falling this whole movie because he just THROWS himself into things because he BELIEVES in things, he's the one to take leaps of faith, to take that step out into the unknown! and Dee refusing to save him as one final nail in the coffin, so clearly feeling like Orion jumping in front of the blast was yet ANOTHER way Orion is forcing his hand, corralling him into doing something he thinks is best but did not consult him on, finally FINALLY saying NO and leaning in to the tragedy!! and in the exact same way Sentinel handcrafted his enemy in Dee, Dee has now handcrafted his enemy in Orion!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA and now that Orion took that last leap of faith and fell, now is when he RISES. ONE SHALL FALL AND ONE SHALL RISE. god. it reminds me of Spiderverse, the way they use falling and rising

the way the tragedy is worse for how well everyone was working together.... for one shining moment, the miners and the High Guard, the rescue mission, it was going so well. they were doing it. they were winning. it didn't have to turn to slaughter. if there was to be an execution it should've been by trial, by the voice of the people, not Dee deciding for Cybertron as Sentinel decided what truth was. augh.

in an abruptly different note, the way they have characters move and fly is so cool. i love the jetpacks. i love how flight is not "flyer" exclusive. it's fascinating and i think really fitting for the general city of Iacon itself. all those towers going up and down

THE TRAINS!! THE MOVING ROADS!! HOW COOL IS THAT!! LOOK AT THAT WORLDBUILDING IM OBSESSED WITH THIS CYBERTRON HOOGH. this movie was VERY good at building a rich, functional world of detail and making it very alien in a way i want to chew on forever. the moving mountains and greebled energon mines. the living planet. the deer!!! ooghghh. PRIMUS LOOKS LIKE A STAR

i do like this Primus actually, yeah it was a deus ex machina but that's the POINT. Optimus himself is an act of god and his presence heralds miracles. Dee couldn't bring justice to Cybertron because justice is restoration. justice is healing what was hurt and doing right by the wronged. yes that often means consequences upon the perpetrator but that's NOT what Dee was doing, he wasn't even THINKING of anyone else!! would killing Sentinel get ppl out of the mines? would it restore their cogs? would it bring equality to a clearly oppressive society? like he LIVED this (cogless bots with limited options, the talk of tiers as if they are social castes you can be demoted from, lower city levels where ppl can be banished, etc) but it was Orion who ultimately addressed this. i'm sorry if it feels like insult to injury to rub his Primacy in your face, Megatron, but stealing a cog just like Sentinel and declaring the age of Primes over, when it was the age of Primes ending that made you cogless and oppressed in the first place, is only an extension of your trauma, anger, and violence, and is not solving the problem!

a cog stolen from him at birth! and then he steals it from Sentinel in symbolic revenge, stolen again, but even that wasn't Sentinel's, it was stolen too! the way he discards the cog from Onyx, willingly gifted to him, to continue the trend of desecrating the dead! man. MAN. the name he took, the cog he took, the symbol he took, all from his hero, the one he looked up to, the coolest Prime, and THEN DECLARED THE AGE OF PRIMES OVER

the gilded pompous showmanship of it all was so gross, the way Sentinel's face was everywhere, the way he had instant access to everyone in Iacon via announcements that took over the media. but this was clearly derived from the previous Primes!! we see their statues, we see their stately tower, and unless Sentinel had all that built in "mourning" (which is totally plausible imho) he was really just setting himself up as an inheritor of that hyperwealthy standard! we don't know anything about the rule of the og Primes beyond that they're favorably remembered and loved (possibly because of propaganda but i think it was also genuine) and that they may have been losing the Quint war (considering that info was from jerkwad supreme i find it suspect) but just by comparison to Sentinel i think they HAD to be better rulers. there weren't cogless bots forced to mine for 20 shifts in a row back then!!! Sentinel is stealing their aesthetic as if that gets him the same power and acclaim. he's trying to steal their legitimacy. he paints himself across the face of Iacon to hide the fact the planet itself went into a coma because of him. he has ALWAYS been rejected. i call him a megachurch pastor but really symbolically i could say he's a fallen angel, and his visual design really fits too

i'm coming back to the deus ex machina thing bc i know it may be considered weak in a plot construction sense but i want to engage with it as literal. like, there is a literal in-universe god in the machine. they know it. they worship it, at least a little bit. i would consider this story to be analogous to Prince of Egypt, in that the deific is a real and tangible character with impact on the plot, and not a meta excuse to save the day. Orion made his choice, and as a result Primus made HIS choice. it's not necessarily a happy ending but if even Megatron acknowledges that GOD mandated this guy to be a Prime and the planet itself responds by COMING BACK TO LIFE.... i keep thinking of it like a cityspeaker, how they're the ones who commune with Titans to know their needs and tell them what needs to be done. is a Prime just the cityspeaker of Cybertron, able to help it remain healthy and functional?

the divine right to rule is REAL on Cybertron. you can like it or not but you have to contend with that when discussing fair leadership, political accountability, and representation of the masses re: Cybertronian government and Primacy

god i'm still so obsessed with the Thirteen i need to see them better i need to look at them. i love them. insane. i really need to invest in a chewtoy

also i know it may be a throwaway line but i'm very curious why Primus had to transform and sacrifice himself to save the universe. Unicron, maybe???

also how did Alpha Trion narrate the archival stuff telling the fake story of how the Primes died and the Matrix was lost. did Sentinel get a deepfake of his voice?? is that part of how he made the transition to power?? AUGH THE DISRESPECT KEEPS COMPOUNDING

Alpha Trion. my blorbo. my old man. holding you so tight. like an ancient rescue dog. im gonna groom you and give you treats and buy the biggest plushest dog bed from costco for you

anyways

good movie, guys

#transformers #tf one #tf one spoilers #macaddam #i loved it. mwah. yeehaw yippee excellent wooooo #ew canon

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brian-in-finance · 19 days

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•••••

WHAT THE STARS ARE SAYING

Check out why so many famed actors use Backstage

Trusted since 1960

Founded in 1960, Backstage has a storied history of serving the entertainment industry. For over 60 years Backstage has served as a casting resource and news source for actors, performers, directors, producers, agents, and casting directors.

Over that time, Backstage Magazine has also appeared on numerous TV shows, such as “Mad Men,” “Entourage,” “Glee,” “Oprah,” NBC's “Today” show, Comedy Central's “@Midnight”, NY1's “On Stage,” and “Saturday Night Live,” as well as multiple mentions on shows like “Inside the Actor’s Studio,” “Girls,” and appearances in films such as “13 Going on 30,” the Farrelly brothers' “Stuck on You” and Spike Lee's “Girl 6,” and even a mention in Woody Allen's short-story collection “Mere Anarchy” and Augusten Burroughs' novel “Sellevision” – and Backstage has received accolades from multiple Academy Award-, Emmy-, and Tony-winning actors and directors. (Plus, the hit musical “The Last Five Years” even includes Backstage in its lyrics: “Here's a headshot guy and a new Backstage / Where you're right for something on every page.”)

CAITRÍONA BALFE

ACTRESS

"I still get Backstage emails 'cause I still subscribe to Backstage. [Backstage is) kind of the Bible in the beginning, which is amazing. Samuel French and Backstage go hand in hand, you know? You go there for your plays when you're in classes, and then you get your Backstage."

Backstage 1

•••••

Brian’s Note: The following story originally appeared in April 2015. Most recent update is December 2020.

The Gorgeous Determination of Caitríona Balfe

Caitríona Balfe is on the move. That's been true most of her adult life— especially the 10 years she was modeling for Victoria's Secret, Dolce & Gabbana, and others—but as she sits on the rooftop patio of a West Hollywood hotel in mid-March, she mentions that she's pulling up stakes from Los Angeles.

"It just feels silly to have an empty place for 10 months until I figure out what I'm doing with my life," the Irish-born actor says. "I've rented the same place for the last four years and now I have to give it up." Her apartment is being razed to put in condos, but her departure from L.A. is extra poignant considering this is the city where Balfe journeyed when she decided to put aside that successful modeling career and focus on the vocation she'd always wanted: acting.

Photo: Luc-Richard Elie

"I've moved so much since I was 18," she says. "I mean, l've lived so many places. New York, I lived in for almost eight years [while modeling], and that's been the longest of anywhere since I left Ireland. But L.A. is where I came and said, 'OK, this is what I wanna do with my life.' "

She refuses to think of her move as a permanent one, though. "I'll be back," she declares, "but it feels really sad. My little apartment, it's got so many memories."

Balfe's sadness is no doubt mitigated by the fact that part of her need to move is due to the precipitous rise in her fortunes. She'll soon be flying to Scotland to shoot the second season of "Outlander," which returns to Starz April 4 to conclude Season 1.

When last we saw Balfe's Claire, the resourceful British nurse who comes home after World War |I only to be inexplicably teleported into the 18th-century Highlands, she was half-naked with a knife to her breast. Don't worry: Claire will get out of that scrape, but more perils await-to say nothing of the emerging multi-era romantic triangle developing between her, the Scottish warrior Jamie Fraser (Sam Heughan), and her 20th-century husband, Frank Randall (Tobias Menzies), who wonders where she's gone.

Based on the much-beloved Diana Gabaldon novels and developed for television by "Battlestar Galactica" rebooter Ronald D. Moore, "Outlander" is an ostensibly lush period-piece-within-a-period-piece drama that's consistently richer and thornier than its romance-novel trappings suggest. And much of the credit goes to Balfe, who had managed small parts in films such as “Super 8” and “Now You See Me” before landing the central role in this adaptation.

In person, Balfe is far less imposing than the steely Claire, who has to weather the dangers of being a woman in sexist, violent Scotland in the 1740s. Cast late in the preproduction of “Outlander”—Moore has mentioned in interviews how hard it was to find the right Claire—she didn’t have time to consider what the role would do to her life. “I’m so bad on social media," she confesses on this warm afternoon, nestled underneath a cabana. "I had set up an account on Twitter maybe a year or so before I got this job and had, I thought, a lot of followers — 250 or something, and most of them are my friends. Within about a month or two, it was thousands of people — and my phone, I didn't know how to turn off the alerts, so it was just going all the time. That was the beginning of the awareness."

Growing up in the small Irish community of Monaghan, Balfe had considered acting from an early age. ("I was devastated that I wasn't a child actor," she says, smiling. But after traveling to Dublin to study theater, she changed course once she received an offer to model. It wasn't a secret passion of hers, but who turns down a trip to Paris? "My parents felt that I should finish college," Balfe recalls, "but l'm slightly headstrong, so l took their advice and I completely ignored it."

Over the next decade, she lived in France, Italy, Germany, and Japan, her modeling inexperience hardly a detriment. "You'd be amazed how little information or training goes into it," she says. "When I first arrived in Paris, I was told to take a bus to the office. I left my suitcase — I barely spoke any French — and someone took me across the street, helped me buy a Carte Orange. They printed out five addresses that I had to go to that day, and then they sent me off." She still remembers at 18 riding the subway alongside 16-year-old aspiring Russian models, who knew no French or English, homesick and sobbing their eyes out. "That was just the way it was," says Balfe. "You become pretty tough. When I went to Japan, it was similar: They would drive you to their castings, but the minute you got a job, it would be like, 'Here's an address, here's a map. Good luck.' They don't have signposts in English in Japan, so the map and the address are not always very helpful."

Hear Balfe recount her early misadventures in modeling and you can't help but think of Claire, who's equally thrown to the wolves once she arrives in the 18th century amid people wary of the English in general and assertive women in particular. "Honestly, l've been in so many situations in my life where you just are completely displaced," Balfe says. “You have to adapt very quickly and figure it out. I definitely think that informs Claire a lot. It helped me understand her."

Did moving to Paris at such a young age teach Balfe that she can cope in any circumstance? "I think I didn't really realize that until many years later," she replies. "I have a great knack of not thinking about things and just going for it. You learn the hard way sometimes that you're able to get through, but sometimes it's quite tough when you're in a situation where you don't know anyone and you're trying to find your way around cities. But if an opportunity presents itself and it seems like a good idea, l'm just like, 'OK, let's do it, then I'll figure it out.'”

The decision to reconnect with her acting ambitions was conducted just as boldly. Ready to quit modeling, she moved to Los Angeles because a writer she was dating lived there. He was the only person she knew, but she had read a Vanity Fair interview with Amy Adams in which she said she trained with Warner Loughlin. "I could walk to that place from my ex-boyfriend's house," she says, "so l was like, 'Well, I'm gonna go there because I can't really drive. I started from scratch. I didn't have any managers, I didn't know any agents, I hadn't acted in almost a decade." But she just kept taking classes, moving from Loughlin to the studios of Sanford Meisner and Judith Weston. "I think when I first got here, I had a nice little air of delusion: 'It's gonna work out,'" she says with a laugh. “You just don't know how."

And then came "Outlander." By email, Moore admits that he didn't know Balfe's work until her audition tape came unsolicited to his office from her agent. Once she was chosen for Claire, he made it clear how demanding the job would be. “I told her in our first meeting that this was going to be an even bigger responsibility and workload than the normal TV lead," he writes. "Because the story was being told from Claire's point of view, Cait was going to be in every scene, every day for months, which is an extraordinary amount of work, far beyond what most actors are ever asked to do."

Moore's warning didn't faze Balfe. Writes Moore, "After she met with the president of Starz... and it was clear that she was going to land the role, I walked her to the elevator and just before the doors closed on her, I said 'Your life is about to change forever,' and she gave me a grin that was both thrilled and slightly nervous. I never saw her hesitate after that."

She's never hesitated before. As Balfe prepares to say goodbye to L.A. (for now, she thinks back to her early days in the city, trying to convince casting directors that she was more than just a model. "I went on many, many, many, many auditions that were Hot Girl No. 2 — you wanna shoot yourself," she says, laughing. "But, you know, I'm very lucky that l was even getting those auditions in the beginning. And it toughens you up. At least for me, to have that fuel to prove people wrong—it definitely spurs me on and makes me wanna work harder." Then she smiles conspiratorially. "And shove it to them."

Backstage 2

Remember… I told her in our first meeting that this was going to be an even bigger responsibility and workload than the normal TV lead. — Ronald D Moore

#Tait rhymes with hat #Good times #National Actors Day #8 September 2024 #Backstage #April 2015 #Story last updated December 2020 #Instagram

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ellitx · 9 months

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teachers day anon (that's my name now ig) : prof. venti cockwarming listener while he tutors her for her upcoming exam? this has been lingering in my mind nonstop and i just had to share this ehehe

masterlist

warnings: nsfw, teacher-student relationship, fem!reader

Venti guided your hips, lifting your skirt to reveal your lacy panties for his hungry eyes. Settling you to sit between his legs, his hard cock poked through your clothed entrance.

You sat snugly on his lap, drawing out a pleased moan as you leaned on your professor’s shoulder and delighted his ears with your sinful music. His fingers, underneath your skirt, slid your panties aside, pushing his cock inside your clenching warm wet walls.

"S-sir..." You moaned before playing the next piece of music on the piano, moving your body into his lap to rub your soaked pussy against him.

His fingers danced against your hips as he whispered, "Are you sure you'll be able to focus for your rehearsal with my cock inside you?" His calloused fingers circled to your neck and kissed you passionately. His cock filled you up, stroking it slowly as your pelvis moved up and down on his lap.

“Ah, ah, ah. I won’t let you move until you finish the piece without errors.”

It wasn’t long before his index finger snuck its way beneath your bra to find your nipples, tweaking your perked buds, pinching and twisting them that had your tummy tightening. The feeling was heavenly, especially when his hands were cupping your breasts and massaging them gently. Most likely his way to relax you (and him) after a tiring day.

“Th-that’s unfair,” you whined, letting your fingers press against the keys. The music echoed within the big empty room and you heard Venti hum approvingly from behind, carefully observing your fingers roam across from one key to another.

You were close to concluding the piece, but an ear-deafening chord ruined your music. The chair screeched and you leaned forward, your head hanging as you panted heavily.

He just did not thrust against you. You clenched your fingers so tightly restraining the urge to bounce on your professor’s dick and fuck him senseless.

It’s unfair! Why does he get away with this when his dick is practically hard as fuck, his tip pushing deeper in your womb while you’re not allowed to move?!

Venti was pinching your buds again to tease you, making you buck harder on his lap.

“What’s wrong? You have to start from the top again, [Name]. We don’t want to hear any wrong notes during your performance.”

Your pussy felt too good on his cock, how the heck is he not fazed by this? You closed your eyes tightly, your ears trying to block out the sounds distracting you.

Just finish this piece and then Venti will reward you. That’s it. That’s your main priority and you won’t let him off this time! Your pussy can take a break once the test has been finished.

Wiggling your fingers, focusing on your professor’s soothing voice guiding you toward the last note, you bit your lower lip and started over from the beginning.

Pushing your sex to go harder, hoping the tempo will make you climax soon. It didn’t help that every nerve in your body screamed at you to get off your sexy teacher. How do you think the other girls in school will react if they knew their gorgeous teacher fucked one of his students’ brains out?

With a sigh of relief, your song ended on a soft C chord and Venti removed his hands from your breasts, which ached and yearned for more attention from him.

“Can I ride you now?” You asked, your whole face covered in deep pink as you fiddled with your skirt. Venti smirked, his teal eyes glinting.

“Who am I to say no to my favorite student?”

#teachers day anon #anon ask #ellianswers #venti x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact venti #venti brainrot #genshin impact venti x reader

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ladyelissarose · 1 year

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‘Slow Ride’

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x female civilian reader - Y/n is used.

The story is all in Jake’s POV.

Summary; Jake is looking for someone new, trying to find the one he wants forever. But he comes across obstacle after obstacle while trying, thinking he’ll still lose in the end. But what if he’s proven wrong?

Warnings: mentions of one slightly suggestive thought, Jake being a really shy guy behind his facade of being a cocky pilot, overall it’s Fluffy and sfw

“Hangman!! You’re unfortunately the only one with great taste in music!! So fix that damn jukebox to something that awakens this place!!”

And that was Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado howling across the Hard Deck to the one and only me, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. Now, the only reason why the music was so dead today, was because my frienemy Bradley ‘Pussy- ehem… ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw just got his hand slammed on his dumb (a very nice truck) Bronco’s car door. So yeah, that hand of his was so swollen I thought it was his foot for a second. But no, it was still his hand, but just swollen. So I, with the pride of being known for having a great taste in music, I confidently walked towards the jukebox. Honestly, I didn’t even spare any woman that gawked at me a second of my attention, cause I was about to fuck the damn jukebox into oblivion with my greatest hits. I knew I was good looking, my eyes were brightly jaded, my skin was so well tanned after playing dog-fight football with my Dagger Squad. (My team won by the way) and my hair, can’t go wrong with that. I even beat the girls in all kinds of fashion competitions, they don’t stand a chance against me. Oh and my white t-shirt fit on me so nicely, all my workouts at 5am were showing off, and my Wranglers… yeah, about those. (I overheard Rooster tell my girl frienemy Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace that my ass looked good in these.) So yeah, I looked great and had the will power to give or deny attention to anyone. I’d get what I wanted in the end, with whoever was lucky enough to have me. Even though for the passed few months, I haven’t gone home with anyone… I grew out of one-night stands, only because I didn’t feel the same hype anymore. Before I was alright with waking up from a great night with no one next to me to prove it, but now… I craved and desired to have a beauty to wake up to and have forever. But anyways, I was now at the jukebox winking at Rooster who was having his hand nursed by Penny Benjamin, the owner of Hard Deck and the girlfriend of my boss, Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. My full attention then went on this gorgeous piece of machinery, I caressed it’s side as I spoke to it, (yes, I was in desperate need of attention)

“Helloooo gorgeous.. so what are we playing today? Huh girl? Do we stick to 86? Slow Ride? Yup, I thought so too baby girl.”

I let my finger fall on the numbers ‘8’ then ‘6’. Soon I was waiting to hear the boring music change into the sound of Heaven’s choir in Rock. My chest puffed up and my face warmed at the first beat I heard,

‘Damnnn I could fuck this song..’

Diiiing!!!

I heard the door open, and my eyes followed it to see who had arrived, but… that’s when my heart dropped, in… adoration? The beat of the song continued to flow, as my green eyes found home on the most, mother natured, beautiful woman. God, I felt like I was going through palpitations as I watched her move in sync to the music, as if it was her own theme song. My knees were so ready to bend and hit the floor at her command, that’s just how powerful and strong her presence felt. Her skin was so unrealistically glowy, like if it was covered in the right amount of glitter. Oh! And her hair, shining in the light in its authentic shade of color made me want to run my fingers through it and feel it softness. Her bright smile was so real and graciously given to everyone, lighting up the room with every step she took. Everything on her adorning face was so perfect, I’d be damned if I put a name to it to compare it to anyone, because she was so unique and incomparable. My breath left my lungs at the sight of her goddess-sculpted body, the sundress she wore situated on her sweet curves so nicely, oh how I wished my hands could find a place on them, just to have the true word to say I was worthy to hold someone of pure ecstasy. I watched her every move, from the minute she walked in and took a deep breath at the entrance. I saw how she took each step so confidently yet slowly. How as she arrived to the bar, she helped the older man pick up his cap from the floor and return it. How she greeted Penny with utter happiness and a tight hug over the counter. Her fingers twisted her hair playfully as she went on to giggle about something Penny said, damn… if I could only hear how heavenly it most likely sounded, oh I’d want to hear it on repeat until I lost my hearing.

‘…. what a slow… gorgeous ride.. who the hell is she-‘

“Jake you’re such a freakin’ creep-“

“-SHIT!”

I jumped at the sudden voice and turned around to see the only and only Bradshaw break my moment of adoration, he was wearing a smolder but with a smirk, his brow raised high as he popped his hip at me. I clapped my sides to show my frustration,

“What the fuck Bradley-“

“What the fuck you Jake? Phoenix told me that you’ve had your damn eyes on her best friend sense she arrived.”

‘Oh shit..’

I took a swig of the beer I just stole from Bradley’s hand to drain out my thoughts as he went on to admit in a low tone,

“Listen, I know she’s hot and all-“

I choked on the beer as I corrected with a finger on his chest, poking lightly,

“No Bradshaw… she’s not hot.”

He stared at me with confusion as he whispered with a hand now on my shoulder,

“what?”

I leaned closer and confessed,

“That right there… is a goddess on this damned earth, Rooster. Hot is an understatement.”

I probably sounded like a mad man because Bradley was looking at me like I was, but then his face changed in seconds and now he was giggling like an idiot. I punched his arm lightly as I scowled at him,

“What!? Why are you giggling like a little girl Bradshaw-“

“I can’t believe the one and only Seresin has been whiplashed by that girl, of all people.”

‘Of all people? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What are you talking abo-“

“- first of all, she denies every guy, like EVERY guy. And plus, my girl Phoenix doesn’t let anyone around her… or at least anyone she thinks isn’t worthy enough for her friend. She’s a protective friend to her.”

I could feel my chest pinch a little with sadness and hopelessness, only because if Phoenix was this goddess’ protector, I wouldn’t be able to get to her. (Because I’m one of Phoenix’s greatest frienemies.)

Ughh!!! Damnit but I want her! I NEED her!! To hold her so close to me until she becomes one with me or- or like blends into me- I don’t know!!! Anything that keeps her in my reach and never let’s go. I’d kill to run up to her and kiss her blushed cheeks and intertwine my fingers with hers, get the smallest whiff of what heaven probably smells like. Man I’d make it my most important heartfelt mission, to give her complete and irrevocable happiness… she’d never have to pursue it, I’d just give it to her in any way I possibly could. If she wanted the stars or the moon, I’d find a way to hand it to her personally and wrapped up with a pretty bow. I don’t even know what her voice sounds like, ‘Slow Ride’ continues to play loudly over my head blocking it away from my desperate ears. But I’m more than 100% sure, that the minute I hear it, I won’t ever have enough of it for forever. Imagine waking up to that melody? Or being the cause of that melody? Damnnn… The things I would do to get those pretty sounds out of her… even if it was just for a moment- wait a FUCKING minute!! She’s drinks… oh my God she’s definitely a dream.

“The goddess drinks Old Fashion… man in all the years of my life I’ve never seen a woman drink an Old Fashion.. that makes her so so much more amazing-“

“HANGMAN!!”

Once again I was freaking snapped out of my trance, by the same old Rooster cock-o-doodling in my ear.

“Bro you’ve got to get a grip of yourself you drooled all over the floor-“

My instincts pulled my fingers to instantly check my lips and chin, but I found I wasn’t wet from drool, because I hadn’t drooled.

“Bradley I thought you had left-“

“-No, I hadn’t… I was trying to tell you that there will be a bonfire going on right outside of here in a few minutes… and she’s going to be there-“

My chest warmed up like it was set on fire as I gasped,

“REALLY?!”

I perked over Bradley’s broad shoulders to make sure she was still there, but he pushed me down and scolded lowly,

“Jacob. No one’s going to get her… I’ll make sure of it- I’m mean… you don’t even know if she’ll like you.. your heart will be broken.”

I pouted at Bradley’s words, he’s so fucking right.

‘I literally could be making an idiot of myself for her and she might not even see me.. well damn that sunk faster than the Titanic-‘

“Hey hey hey… don’t weary yet my pal.. there’s still a chance… you’re still in the ‘What If’ point.”

I could feel my shoulders sink a little as I looked at Bradley worriedly, man I was really taking his words personally and really needed more. So in the bliss moment of us being nice to each other (for once) I asked for more advice. (I mean he pulled off getting to date Phoenix and get her to fall head over heels for him. So he knows how to work in this kind of field of love)

“So.. what do I do then… I’ve never done this before.. you know my history with girls-“

“-Forget about them… that’s gone.”

He patted my chest lightly as he went on,

“… Just, be yourself and try not to change too much or over impress. You want someone to love or like you for who you really are. Kind of forget that they’re there, and just enjoy your night, and be that charming gentleman you are.. maybe you might pull it off.”

‘Man Rooster… you’re my platonic soulmate… we’re we married in another life? Ha! Perhaps. Hot bastard.’

I clapped Bradley’s cheek softly, showing my sincere appreciation. He winked at me and nodded before walking away. As soon as my eyes left him I was immediately looking for that goddess,

‘Come on where are you? I just need to make sure you’re still here-‘

“Hi handsome! You babyguarding the jukebox?”

Suddenly out of the blue this girl pops in front of me as she bounced on her heels, looking at me with huge blue eyes. I mean she was cute, but wait out of my league after I saw the goddess. Which her presence got me annoyed right away because she was taking time away from me as I was looking for my girl. I then realized I was blocking the jukebox and replied shortly but politely,

“Sorry, Go ahead ma’am.”

She then squeaked loudly and chuckled a little to hard as she said,

“Oh! Can’t wait to tell my friends you just called me ‘ma’am’!! Such a sweet man.”

She continued to bounce on her heels excitedly and giggle, I only smiled back as I was trying to be polite and make her not feel awful or weird about her over obnoxious behavior? I then was about to move over but her finger landed on my chest as she pushed on,

“Oh don’t move honey, you’re ok right there.”

She then began to lower her finger, and got me a little disgusted, cause I didn’t like how it felt.

‘Ok you’re pushing to far with your acrylics running down my nice white shirt.’

“Ok that’s enough there-“

“My friend said no buddy, now back off!”

‘Woah! Was that Phoenix’s voice? Where’s Bradley?’

I immediately forgot the girl was there clawing for my attention as I then averted my eyes and ears towards the door, where Bradley was trying to guide a couple of men outside, but Phoenix and the goddess were trying to get someone off of them too while sitting at the bar. He was a tall man, truck driver looking guy.

‘You better back off buddy- OH HELL NO!! Who in God’s name is that prick?! Why’s he getting close to her- OH HE WANTS TO TOUCH HER WAIST??- OH!! Oh shit… nice punch Phoenix- OH OH!! She can fight too.. she got him right in the nuts… that what he gets for trying to touch her.’

I seriously just witnessed these two women knock out this guy, he looked like those kind of men that don’t take ‘no’ for an answer and have disrespectful grabby hands. Those kind of men make me angry, I hate when they treat women like toys and hurt them, they don’t belong here in Hard Deck or anywhere.

‘I’m getting him out of here-‘

“Did you hear what I said? Or are you too busy think about me-“

I groaned lowly as I finally put out kinda straightforwardly, because this chick had not left my side yet!!

“No, I’m not. Now excuse me.”

I heard her whimper but I didn’t give a damn as I left the jukebox. And before I knew it, my hands had found this man’s collar, and I picked up his sagging body from the floor, he looked drunk and old.

‘What a pig.’

He didn’t even help himself stand up, so I began to drag him out while I sputtered out threats,

“You come in here again to hurt or bother anyone I will make sure it’s the last thing you do-“

Then this manpig tried to explain drunkenly,

“I was jus’ tryin’ ‘ave fun!!”

I glared at the guy being pulled by his collar by me,

“Yeah! Well I don’t like your version of fun!! So take it somewhere else and don’t ever come back!!”

I pushed him through the open doors and watched him fall on his face in the sand. I didn’t spare time to check if he was ok, screw him.

‘Asshole…’

“Jake! Thanks!!”

I whipped my head towards the familiar warm voice, of course, it was Penny. She was holding out a beer for me that made me head towards her. As I got closer she confessed,

“He’s been bothering us for a while now… but today he got worse-“

She lowered her voice while shaking her head disappointedly,

“Trying to touch my girls-“

Then Penny looked back at me and went on,

“But I hope your threat keeps him out. This is on the house.”

I smiled at Penny and took the cold beer,

“Thank you ma’am… if he’s ever back you let me know. I’ll deal with him first then I’ll call the cops. You have my word.”

“I do… Thanks for taking care of that as usual.”

“Of course.”

Then I noticed by the corner of my eye that a woman was right next to me, as she pushed her empty glass forwards towards Penny’s reach and kindly said,

“Thanks Penny, keep the change.”

I subtly watched the short interaction as Penny begged her to keep the $15 of change but she insisted it was a nice tip then. She turned to look at me while trying to slide off the tall stool, and nicely said,

“Excuse me.”

I quickly moved out of the way, but held my hand out without a second thought, she took it right away and helped herself off, and smiled while looking at the ground shyly,

“Thank you.”

I kept my eyes on my beer as I replied kindly,

“You’re welcome.”

She then turned around and walked off, now allowing me to see who it was, and I didn’t notice who it really was until she was already walking off,

‘NO FUCKING WAY!! Omg.. that was her… the goddess- I-I just talked- stupid how come you didn’t look at her. Spare her a glance!??-‘

“Are you going to stay for the bonfire? Mav is already setting it up, I’ll be out in 10 when we close. A few regular customers will be there alongside you pilots.”

I snapped out of my personal scolding as I looked through the window to see the sun setting and some familiar people outside with Maverick around a pile of wood. They all looked happy and relaxed… So I replied to Penny,

“Yes, I’ll be there. Do you need anything before I go?”

From under the counter she pulled out a large basket that held the contents to make s’mores, and a large box of caprisuns.

“Take these for you kids, and that should be it. You can go already, don’t worry about me-“

“-Are you sure?-“

“Jake, I’m positive… you already kicked out the guy and I’ll be fine. Rooster lent me his wooden bat from high school to protect myself. And Phoenix got me a pepper spray.”

I huffed a small laugh as she showed me her items, I felt a little more relieved.

“O-Ok… sounds great. I’ll see you in a minute.”

“You too son, go on.”

San Diego had the best weather for the evening, it wasn’t as hot anymore, and the breeze was warm like a cozy blanket. I walked down towards the bonfire that was already lit and growing little by little. There were sitting logs all around it, maybe two people fit on each, but it looked comfortable. So I made my presence known in my favorite line as I approached my buddy Javy, mostly called Coyote by me and everyone else,

“Evil be gone, Hangman’s coming!”

Coyote turned his head towards me and flashed me his biggest smile as he teased,

“More like Santa Claus, cause you brought us gifts!!”

I chuckled at his idiocy but immediately warned him as I saw his hands ready to snatch a pouch of caprisun,

“Hey! Get your damn hands out of here! Wait til we all sit down-“

Mickey aka Fanboy, one of the pilots I treated like a little brother came along at hearing my bantering and said,

“Sharing is caring Bagman! Didn’t know you packed snacks soccer mom!”

‘Ok now that’s not cool!’

I defended myself rightfully,

“Hey I got this basket from Penny, I was just helping her out-“

Of course Reuben aka Payback had to add to the tea,

“Awww he’s helping his mommy like a good ol’ boy!!”

I heard Phoenix laugh out loud as she too joined in,

“Such a golden boy Bagman- ooooo s’mores!! Hey Y/n!! They have s’mores! Your favorite!”

‘Y/n? Who’s Y/n- oh! OH! Y/n… such a beautiful name for a goddess… man she looks even better while close up- ok keep it together Bagman! Stay cool, stay you!’

My heart just about stopped beating when the presence of this goddess walked closer up to me and cheered happily like a little girl,

“Oooooo!! I haven’t had these for a minute!! Was it your idea to bring them along mister?”

I didn’t realize I was inthralled by her in silence until I felt a kick in my shin and Bradley scowling at me. I held in a groan of pain as I replied realizing she was talking to ME!

“I-I uh- no. Um Penny- it was her idea.. I just brought them o-out.”

Her eyes found mine as she smiled cutely and giggled, I guess at my mediocre response that was filled with stuttering.

“Oh ok! Well hey you’re a part of it if you brought them out right?”

I felt my cheeks grow so hot I had to look away and pretend that the package of Hershey chocolate bars was damn more interesting than her as I replied,

“Uh- Yeah! Yeah yeah.”

“Alright I’m here now!! I left a door open in case y’all needed the restroom or something.”

Rooster came close and whispered in my ear subtly,

“Yeah yeah? Seriously?”

I glared at him as everyone looked at Penny who had just arrived. I took that chance to glance at Y/n who was smiling at Penny, but kept looking back at the basket I was holding. She was eyeing the caprisuns. Instantly I grabbed the basket in a different way and used a free hand to pull one out and hand it to her,

“here-“

“Awww thanks!! I tell ya he’s such a sweet soul.”

That was the blue eyed girl who was annoyingly back, snatching away the drink I held out for Y/n. Y/n stepped back and shyly looked away, she looked sorry for even trying to reach out for the caprisun, which made me feel upset. I then saw a hand being shoved in my face as that voice squeaked,

“I’m Beverley! I’m a Baywatch girl here on this beach. I’ve seen you play with your friends before.”

‘You spy on me? Ew.’

I didn’t want to shake her hand, so I held it under the basket as if I needed to hold it with two hands as I calmly replied,

“That’s nice- Um Bradley! Want a drink?”

Bradley’s eyes found mine as he let go of Phoenix’s waist and quickly gave her a kiss on the cheek, as he saw me sending him puppy eyes of desperation, he was smart enough to know what was happening as this Beverley kept staring at me. He jogged towards me while saying,

“Sure Jake, thanks pal. Hey Beverley, uh I thought you had a party to go to, I remember you telling Nix about it-“

“Oh it’s ok!! I prefer being here with you guys!!!”

‘More like prefers to try and get the guys!!’

Phoenix then all of a sudden called her over for some reason, saying something about her having to grab some napkins at the bar, hence sending her away from me. I sighed in relief when she ran off to the Hard Deck. I knew Phoenix was a savior and had my back while she sent me a wink as she approached me whispering,

“She works for Penny, although she does a great job, she’s not a good girl. At least not for you ok?”

I nodded right away,

“Ok, thanks… for getting her off of me.”

“Anytime.”

She then went back into Bradley’s arms, leaving me alone for a minute, until I heard a soft voice ask,

“May I grab one?”

Of course it was Y/n, probably now worried to grab without asking, but I made sure she knew she could grab as much as she wanted as I smiled,

“Of course, don’t have to ask ok?”

She sent me a small smile while raising her hand to grab one, I instinctively lowered the basket so she could grab one easily.

Her doe eyes already glistened with the light of the fire hitting them, but I could swear they glowed brighter as she took it from the basket, her fingers brushing against it as she beamed,

“thank you!”

My mouth went dry for gods sake before I could respond, so I dumbly shook my head with the best smile my nervous self could offer. But she seemed to appreciate it, because she sent me a gorgeous toothy smile before working on opening her caprisun. Soon Penny walked up to me and cooed like a mother, not helping the fact that my wing buddies kept teasing me about being a ‘mommy’s boy’,

“Jake, son, you could’ve put the basket down. It’s a picnic basket so it can go on the sand. Let’s set it here in the middle so everyone can reach.”

I let out a simple ‘oh’ and listened attentively and followed her simple instructions. I then stood up to my full height and stretched a bit, while watching stupid Bradley come up to me while swaying his hips like a model and mimicking in a high pitched voice,

“Jakey, son, I want the basket here instead-“

“Bradley leave him alone or he’ll push you into the water like last time.”

‘Thanks Mavdad.’

It was nice that Maverick treated me nicely too, always being on my side when needed. He patted my shoulder before picking up a caprisun, and walking off so calmly after giving me a smile. I felt bigger than Rooster as I ‘threatened’,

“He’s right Bradshaw, so be nice to me.”

Phoenix smacked both our arms at once as she scolded,

“Hangster! Sereshaw! Whatever you two like to be called, don’t start or we’ll tie you up til midnight. Now sit down.”

Coyote put his hands on his hips as he mocked the both of us,

“Now sit down boys-“

“-Shut up Coyote. Nuh- uh, move over I’m sitting next to Bob, Rooster and Hangman can have each other tonight. I’ll take Bob.”

I watched Bob blush lightly as Phoenix ruffled his hair then bopped his nose as she situated herself next to him. He was usually very quiet (a stealth pilot in the flesh) but he was great company. A couple of times when I couldn’t sleep at night. I’d call him over to the near by cafe and we’ll literally just sit in silence and read each other’s newspapers until our coffee ran out. Or he’d do the same. Anyways. I sat down like Phoenix asked after I got my pouch. Without realizing who sat next to me, on my left, because Rooster sat on my right on a different log. I began to smell something sweet. Like cashmere woods? But with a hint of vanilla? Smelled like something you’d want to walk into after a long day, and just find comfiness in that aroma. That was until I heard the sweetest voice ask me,

“Is it ok if I sit here?”

‘Oh holy cow… there’s no way.’

“Uh..”

The words ‘Yes have a seat’ were hanging off my tongue but wouldn’t come out!! I was acting like an idiot, but before I could say anything, that DAMNED squeaky voice god forsakenly returned,

“I took this spot already sweetie! See my sweater there? You can sit next to me on the next log though?”

Y/n raised her bows slightly and sent her a small smile,

“oh, sorry. Sure.”

I frowned at seeing this chick’s sweater next to me, claiming the spot.

‘How did I not see the stupid sweater!??’

And I couldn’t move away, cause then I’d look like an ass for leaving her alone, because the rest of the spots were taken. So Beverley sat next to me, as I watched my girl walk slowly away after giving me an apologetic smile, she sat at the next log, but she was accompanied by Coyote, who made her feel welcome by patting her upper back with a small talk.

‘At least I know she’s safe with Javy… he’ll keep her safe and good company.’

I then felt vey uncomfortable, Beverley kept scooting closer to me, bumping into me quite on purposely. She giggle it off and squeak out ‘sorrys’. But I did my best to ignore her as Maverick began to tell his good old stories about his days with his pal Iceman. His best friend and Wingman. Those stories always made my heart sore with warmth, they were so real and very relatable sometimes. On the funny parts of the stories or when Penny and Mav would playfully argue back and forth about him exaggerating some parts I could hear the sweetest melody of laughter near by, and it was Y/n who would throw her head back and laugh so freely. I’d feel myself smile at such a lovely sight, she was so carefree and involved. Soon conversations were held between one another, as we enjoyed our s’mores that Penny made and passed out. (She really likes to treat everyone like her kids, and enjoys doing everything for us, like a mother would.) Y/n had gotten up with Phoenix to help her out, they were happy swaying with one another while toasting the marshmallows and listening to Bradley try to play the ukulele with a hurt hand.

‘Damn I wish I could take a picture of her and frame it above my bed-‘

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Gooooooood damnit… here we go. Be brave and short Jake.’

“No I don’t, but I’m happy without it for now. I like being alone.”

I made sure to be so damn clear. But I could see the gears turn in her head as she went on,

“Oh! That’s ok, I feel the way sometimes too, maybe we could practice dating if you like-“

“Noooo I’m fine.. haha.. yeah. Seriously.”

She sent me a small frown but then scoffed in a tone she thought sounded seductive,

“You’re just afraid of having a good girl like me around huh? Just admit it Jake.”

‘Yeahhhh no.’

I laughed it off, still trying to be nice,

“I’m not afraid of anyone, I just don’t want someone right now-“

And that’s when my words pushed to her to make a move that had me standing up, she had placed her hand on my thigh, but WAYYY up my thigh and squeezed it,

“Ok! I-I-“

Everyone looked at me shocked at worriedly, like if I was the crazy one when I abruptly stood up. Silence filled the area for a few seconds which drove me nuts right away. I then collected my thoughts for a split second as I said,

“I’ll be right back.”

I then didn’t spare anyone a glance as I darted towards the restroom, hoping I wasn’t being followed by anyone.

I took a few minutes to wash my face with cold water, and cool down. I got a little upset at the whole situation, wishing that this girl Beverley hadn’t ruined it, I had my chance with Y/n, but she took it away. Maybe now Y/n thinks that I don’t want anyone in my life, because I had said that quite out loud, and then I was stuck next to Beverley who was all over me and talking so loud and so much, acting like if we were together and stuff. I now wanted to go home, but at the same time I didn’t... I wanted to see Y/n one more time.

‘Maybe I’ll say I had too many s’mores and say goodbye. That’ll give me a chance to see her one last time-‘

Knock knock knock!

I stiffened while leaning over the sink, if it had been one of the guys they would’ve just walked in, but this person knocked, meaning it was a girl.

‘Please don’t be Beverley! please don’t be Beverley!-‘

“Hi Jake, um… it’s me Y/n. Phoenix wanted me to check on you.. are you ok?”

‘Oh! Damn an angel has arrived.’

My feet took me to the door immediately and my hands opened it right away, my breath left my lungs once again as there she stood, with a concerned look on her face.

“I- uh. Yes, I’m ok… just needed a breather. Too much s’mores you know?”

She nodded with a small huff of laughter,

“Yeah… I had like 4 already… but uh, you sure you’re ok? Phoenix thought you were a little off, And I thought the same.”

‘So you were watching me? Did you see I was in desperate need of your attention? Of your hands on me, your eyes on me? How I crave YOU?’

By then we had walked toward the bar, away from the restroom as I answered,

“Yeah, I’m ok. Thanks for…”

And the words died on my lips, as I finally focused on her, beaming in the light of the moonlight shining through the windows. I couldn’t describe it, oh god I couldn’t. If I could wake up to this everyday, I’d be a happy man forever. Satisfied to the brim, never letting go. Her height reached up to my chest, which I thought was the most adorable thing, I could embrace her and cover her with my arms, keeping her completely safe. My heart beat wildly in my chest, and I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs, she definitely took my breath away. She hadn’t said a word either, she just looked up at me, with hope and what looked like love in her eyes. And that… was when my desperation to claim her caught on, I leaned forward quickly towards her and closed my eyes. Waiting to feel-

“Oh! Jake..”

She whispered my name as she stopped me by putting a hand on my chest, her eyes now wide. I immediately regretted it and felt stupid and wrong,

‘How could I be so stupid?!’

“I’m so sorry- that was so wrong-“

“Tell me the truth.”

‘What?’

I was confused as I asked,

“Wait what?”

She kept her hand on my chest as she repeated out of breath,

“Tell me the truth, if you really want this too I’m all in.”

‘Oh heaven..’

I sighed a relief, and raised my hands to grab her face, I smiled as I felt her fit perfectly into my hold. I leaned my forehead on hers as her other hand raised on my chest, resting them there.

“Jake? It’s ok-“

“I want you.. I need you. Please I know I’ve barely heard your voice and have seen you for the first time, but this feels so right- oomph!!”

And her lips caught me off guard as they locked onto mine. Her delicate arms wrapped around my neck and pulled me flush against her. I dipped my head to kiss her deeper as I lifted her off the ground and held her tightly. This was better than checking off anything on my bucket list, she completed me. Her soft lips touched mine so lovingly and softly, though I could feel the passion in it all. If I died like this… I’d die a winning man. A cute whimper fell from her lips as I pressed harder and squeezed her hips, not getting enough of feeling her on me. I had instantly grown addicted. We made out there at the bar, passionately and freely, feeling like we were the only ones on earth. She gently pulled my hair as her other hand held my cheek, I let out a low moan which gave her entrance to slip her tongue through my lips. Once she did that, it got a bit more intense and heated, but still very nice as we held one another. But soon nature called, asking us to split apart to take a good breather in. But we didn’t separate far, keeping our cheeks pressed on one another. I could feel her warm labored breaths hit my ear, and I heard her whisper,

“Phoenix never asked me to come… I just wanted to find you.”

I awed lowly at her confession, and only held her tighter as I admitted,

“I thought I lost you.”

She hummed and pecked my temple,

“You had me the minute you helped me off the stool. Literally.”

I moved my head to look back into her eyes shocked at that fact. She smiled and nodded, while I leaned closer once again as I said before I kissed her,

“So getting to you was a slow but blissful ride then.”

She laughed through the kiss, and feeling her smile through it too, only made me fall harder for her… damn having her now was a winner, but indeed a slow ride.

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman x reader #hangman x reader #hangman angst #hangman fluff #hangman #top gun #top gun hangman #hangman imagine

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ponyosmom35 · 9 months

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welcome home - Simon Ghost Riley x reader

pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability series chapter twenty four

Liability series:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

She was ecstatic to lead Simon inside, to show him around. Unsure where to begin. She turns to something out and notices him carrying the massive package into the house without the slightest hint of struggle. “Where do you want this love?”

“Oh my god just set it here, thank you” she points to the wall “you didn’t have to do that” she responds, rubbing her hands together nervously.

“No problem” he shrugs, “what have you got that’s so big?”

“Oh uh thats my bookshelf, I’m turning my office into a library” she smiles

“How were you planning on gettin that to the office?” he teases

“I hadn’t gotten that far”

“Noted” he smirks, placing a band on her lower back “I’d love a tour”

“Right!” she squeaks, her face blushing madly at the feeling of his hand.

She shows Simon the kitchen and all the organizing she’d done in her spare time. As she continues throughout the house explaining everything in what to most would be far too much detail, Simon’s heart swelled. He loved to listen to her talk, it was clear she put a lot of thought into making her space feel warm and welcome. Everything he saw, every decoration, wall print, even the paint color all made sense. It was so beautifully her. He’d never felt so instantly comfortable in an unfamiliar space before.

She shows him her office where the bookshelf would be and explains her vision, clearly unhappy with the current state of the room. She shows him her bedroom and he takes note of her shift in body language and red cheeks. It was reassuring to him that he had such an effect on her. She leads him down to the steps once more and brings him through downstairs and out to the backdoor. She opens it and they step out onto her deck.

“So this is the backyard, its a work in progress, my parents and I have been working on it. It looks weird now but trust me there’s a vision” she reassures

“This is beautiful” he notes

The thoughtful placement of the flowers and the nearly completed stone path leading to the gorgeous willow tree. He could see freshly dug holes where her flowers would bloom in the coming weeks.

“Thank you! I’m really happy with it, after the path my plan is to redo my entire deck, I want to have an area out here where I can sit out here and read” she says

“That sounds nice”

“I think so too” she nods before looking up at him “do you wanna go inside and sit, you must be exhausted”

“Sure” he smiles

“Can I get you anything? Water, tea, I don’t have beer but I can Instacart some”

“Water would be nice”

“Coming right up!” she grabs him a glass of water while he walks into the living room and sits on the couch, taking note of the TV, playing her music on shuffle. After a minute or so she returns with a bowl of oreos.

“My favorite, thank you love”

“I know” she muses as she sits on the other side of the couch, sitting with her legs crossed as she leans her head on her hands.

“How are you?” she asks

“I should be asking you that question”

“I’m doing good” she admits softly, rubbing her hands together.

“I’m glad to hear that” his eyes searched hers for any sign that she might not be telling the full truth.

“Yeah me too, it’s been hard. Nights are the worst but I’m okay, really” she breathes, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. He reaches over and grabs her hand, holding it gently in his own. She smiles softly and moves his hand to her cheek, leaning into his warm skin.

“I missed you” she murmurs

“You have no idea how hard it was to watch you leave, I wish I could’ve been here sooner” he says

“I don’t blame you”

“I should’ve been there, should’ve seen it comin’” he admits, referring to Las Almas.

“Don’t say that Simon, there’s absolutely no way you would’ve known Graves and Shepard were dirty”

“It’s my job to protect you, and I - I didn’t”

“But you did! You saved my life, as soon as I heard your voice a part of me knew I was gonna be okay, that you weren’t going to let anything happen. I was so fucking scared but I still knew that I was gonna be okay. Nobody in this world makes me feel the way that you do” she replies, her words holding so much more meaning than just that day. Recalling back to every moment she spent with him. “Even now, it’s like all of the nightmares and memories, they’re nothing. Sitting here with you makes me feel protected, I feel more secure than I have in months”

“I feel the same” he admits “This place feels familiar to me, like I’ve been here before”

“That’s because it’s been waiting for you” she nearly whispers, looking at him with all the love in the world “I’ve been waiting for you, for so long”

“I’m here now” he murmurs as he gently pulls her closer to him, moving the pillow that separated them to the ground. “Don’t plan on leaving anytime soon”

“Really?” she asks hopefully as he places a hand on her face, trialing his thumb from her lips to her jaw. “As long as you’ll have me” he responds

Simon closes the distance between their lips and kisses her gently. Her hands move to his chest as he pulls her closer. She swings a leg around him and moves to place herself in his lap, with her hands guiding her. As she settles he smirks at the little gasp she lets out at the feeling of him beneath her. His hands fall to her waist, groaning as she involuntarily rocks her body against him. He pulls back and looks at her, smiling softly.

“What?” she asks breathlessly

“Fucking gorgeous” he says kissing her once more. However this one was much shorter, as he didn’t want things to get too carried away. He pulls her into his chest and holds her there, wrapping his arms around her body as she curls into him.

“Welcome home Si” she whispers in his ear

Both understood that this was their home. The beginning of their new life together.

Tag list:@vivi123abc

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avenging-fandoms · 2 years

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IM HERE B.

can you imagine rafe's face when he finally gets the response from you caving into him?

he'd pick up his phone, seeing the text from you.

"your place or mine?" he'd smirk, thinking he's got you wrapped around his finger.

"how about mine? i'll pick you up so no one suspects anything?"

"fine, but don't make me wait too long"

"alright, on my way"

he'd be in his car INSTANTLY, since you sent him your address already.

you started to get ready since your house was only a short distance to his. you were contemplating whether or not to wear cute lingerie since its rafe fucking cameron. you tried to keep your cool but then you heard his car pull up, your memories of last friday are back in your mind and you're down the stairs and out the door. you told you mom you were going out to a party so she didn't suspect anything.

rafe was just sitting in his jeep, with the radio down low but you could still hear his music, he was looking down at his phone but when he saw you, he smiled instantly, which was odd, even for him.

"hi princess, miss me?" he'd look at you, still smiling at you.

"i could never miss you, rafe" you'd joke, placing your bag down at your feet.

he'd look at you, before reversing out of your driveway. the drive was silent, but not too long before you arrived at tannyhill.

"no one's home, so we can enjoy ourselves" rafe would break the silence, smirking at you, before turning off the ignition and hopping out of the car. you'd also hop out, staring at the gorgeous house in front of you.

"what have i gotten myself into?" you'd question yourself, already feeling flustered at the situation.

part one part two part three <- (you are here) part four

series playlist

"Why?! What the fuck are you doing?" You paced your room, phone in hands as you wished you could unsend a message.

Rafe: How about my place. So I don't park my very recognizable Jeep outside your house where people I know live in the neighborhood and risk getting caught.

Yn: fine. but if you make me wait more than an hour i'm blocking you.

Rafe: See you soon, princess.

You screamed into your pillow. You stood up and headed to your closet, pulling out a tennis skirt and a shirt that showed your boobs perfectly. Your eyes move to your drawer where your lingerie pieces sat. You opened the drawer and looked over the different materials and colors, quickly closing it with your hip.

Rafe had to earn those.

You decided on an outfit, sitting on your bed with your leg crossed over the other as you tried to calm your nerves, but all you thought about was his big hands all over your body. Your phone dung that he was here and you roll your eyes, exhaling quickly before heading out of your room.

"Where are you going all cute?" Your mom asks and you smile, adjusting your purse on your shoulder.

"A party with Ava, It's a tennis theme I guess? I don't know, you know the people she knows" Your mom laughs and tells you to be safe, and you close the door behind you.

There he was, Rafe Cameron, in your driveway. His elbow leaned on his window, his face illuminated by his phone. His music wasn't loud, but you could still faintly understand some words. You took a couple steps down and his head popped up, a smile on his face.

He didn't get out, just unlocked the door. "Princess.. how much did you miss me?" He locked his phone, looking at you quickly before shifting the gear to reverse, foot on the brake.

"Oh, more than anything in the world, Rafe Cameron" You reply sarcastically, Rafe looking you up and down as you bend over to put your bag in between your feet. He reverses out of your driveway, and you inhale sharply as you watch his hand as he turns the wheel, his palm flat on it with his veins popping and ring on full display.

The car ride was quiet. Not that uncomfortable silence that makes you want to tuck and roll on the freeway, but the comfortable silence where you're both in your own thoughts and you're comfortable with one another.

You were always in awe of Tannyhill. Rafe put the car in park, unbuckling his seatbelt. "No one's home, so we can enjoy the whole place to ourselves" Rafe lost the quiet game and you nod, grabbing your bag as he shuts off the ignition and you stand behind him. "Ready?"

He holds out his hand. High five? No, then he'd just get you an Uber. You grabbed his hand and he smiled, taking you into the mansion. Everywhere you looked, you saw a visual of you and Rafe on top of it.

"What have I gotten myself into?"

"Want anything to drink, princess?" Rafe asks and you shake your head, grabbing his shirt and bringing him down to kiss you. "Where?"

"Anywhere, Rafe, just fuck me"

He was wrapped around your finger already, and he was fucked.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #drew starkey #outer banks

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noturlondonboy · 4 months

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No More Excuses//Katelena

Chapter 9: When It Rears Its Ugly Head

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova

Chapter Summary: The girls go see a movie and then head to a bar to just relax and enjoy each other’s company, but trouble arises when a toxic face from Kate’s past shows up.

A/N: I hope you hate this man as much as I do.

Chapter Warnings: alcohol, men being assholes, harassment, PTSD, trauma

Kate lets Yelena pick the movie when they shuffle into the first theater they can find, which happens to be small and vintage and ultimately adorable. She goes over the options for a small moment before excitedly beckoning to the reruns of Howl's Moving Castle, and Kate lights up with a grin at her decision. They get ridiculously cheap candy from the snack counter and scurry down the hallway.

Apparently Howl's Moving Castle had been on a list of Yelena's of things to watch because of her intermittent internet browsing, and Kate made a mental note to properly introduce her to Studio Ghibli later on.

The movie is an instant hit with Yelena, of course, who is so enthralled with the gorgeous art style and music that she doesn't even remember to touch the Reese's Pieces Kate convinced her to try. Here and there she mutters her thoughts, commenting on how sad it was that Sophie thought so little of herself, how much she adored Calcipher, how she thought that the rings were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Kate probably didn't pay as much attention to the movie as she should have, but to be fair, she had seen it a million times and knew most of the lines anyway. She really only had eyes for Yelena; the way her nose scrunched when she smiled, the honey curls loose around her neck, the way the deep, sticky red of her lipstick moved with her mouth when she laughed and when she cried.

By the end of the movie, Yelena looks as if she's gone through the five stages of grief. Her cheeks are flushed and the tears, both genuine and from laughing, have smudged the corner of her eye makeup, which in Kate's opinion, only enhances it. The assassin is chatting Kate's ear off, who has to admit that her energy is the most addictive drug she's ever come in contact with.

"Kate Bishop!" Yelena yells for the millionth time as soon as they're outside the theater, hands grabbing her friend's arms and almost shaking her. "That was beautiful!" She bursts into a stream of excited rapid-fire Russian, her accent so thick that Kate thinks she could wrap herself in it and snuggle down for a night of listening to Yelena talk.

Yelena suddenly squeals and throws her arms around Kate's waist, lifting the archer off of her feet and spinning her around. "Kate Bishop, thank you thank you thank you!" She presses her lips to both of Kate's cheeks in swift kisses, her laughter and smile so contagious that Kate can't help but laugh along, even though her face is burning and her stomach is doing unsanctioned flips.

"Why are you thanking me?" Kate asks, her grin so wide her cheeks start to ache. She is still in Yelena's arms, the assassins grip strong and sure and oh-so warm. "You're the one who paid for the movie, Yelena."

"Yes, but I would not have ever gone to see it without you!" Yelena lets go of Kate to place her hands over her heart with a wistful sigh, her eyes closing. "Oh, Kate Bishop, I loved it so much."

Kate's heart is thudding against her chest, but she pushes it down and takes the blonde's hand. "I'm glad," she says softly.

Yelena's lips curl up at the corners, and the snow is still falling lightly out on the cold New York streets, a few flakes sticking to her dark lashes. "Me too."

There's another moment, then. Right there, just the two of them. Yelena knows, and is less afraid than she was even three hours ago, but it is heavy in her chest and she doesn't know if she can take the weight yet.

"Time for drinks, Kate Bishop?" she says coyly, raising an eyebrow. The air is crisp and wonderful in her lungs when she takes a deep breath, and it eases the squeeze on her heart.

Kate's grin is blinding, and she nods. "Absolutely."

--------

They end up walking until they find a cozy looking bar, and Kate holds the door open for Yelena before following in behind her. They are immediately enveloped in music that is somehow both quiet and loud but I still rather pleasant, the aroma of coffee and alcohol mixing together, and the glow from several assorted colors of fairy lights strung up in just about every inch of the place.

Kate whistles lowly, taking it in on a slow circle. "How have I never been to this place before now?" she mutters, finding herself falling in love with the establishment immediately. It's all one big, open space, with the bar against the back wall, each side wall full of different booths, tables, and variously decorated seating areas, and the rest of the floor appears to be where the dancing happens.

There seems to be only about two dozen people dancing, and only a couple of them are hammered enough to be throwing limbs around and grinding on each other. The rest are either slow dancing with their respective partner or friend, or letting themselves loosen up.

Yelena's grin is feral as she takes it all in, and when her eyes light upon Kate after a moment, the glow in them intensifies. The archer swallows, knowing her face is hot but not being able to do much about it.

"Hi there, ladies!" A deep voice calls out from somewhere to their right, and a tall, friendly looking man wearing entirely black with a safety vest appears from the crowd, walking towards them. "So sorry I didn't catch you at the door, but I'm the bouncer. Can I see some ID?"

Kate smiles apologetically and nods, digging through her wallet before handing her ID over. The guy looks it over for a moment and gives it back, then turns to Yelena. "And you, ma'am?"

Yelena doesn't move, and her voice is dry. "I called ahead. Fanny Longbottom."

Kate doesn't know how she keeps herself from choking on her own spit and laughing so hard she shits herself, but the bouncer looks over a list on his phone and confirms a few numbers with Yelena before letting them know they're good to go.

Yelena looks at Kate and notices the way she's barely holding herself together, and the assassin rolls her eyes. "Don't," she says in warning, her face grave but tone light. Kate wisely keeps her mouth shut.

They make their way to a booth where they have a clear view of the bar, dance floor, and both exits; Yelena tells Kate to sit while she grabs them drinks.

The archer settles into the booth and admires the leather upholstery, which is in much better shape than you would expect from a New York bar. The hanging light above the table is a warm orange, and Kate leans further into the cushion, looking forward to the rest of night.

That is, of course, until a figure appeared in front of the table, much too tall and masculine to be her Yelena.

"Hey there, Baby Girl."

Kate feels her stomach blanch, and she does her best to keep the anger from showing through her face as she slowly turns to face the man who spoke. He was tall and lean and had short cropped hair, and Kate could barely stop herself from kicking him between the legs.

"Connor." She grit her teeth tightly and sat up tall, not bothering to make her face look pleasant. "I hope you remember I still have a restraining order against you."

Connor laughs and dares to sit in the booth seat across from her, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. In hindsight, Connor looks completely harmless. He's wearing a simple blue henley shirt and converse, his hair is well kept, and his smile is dorky. But his eyes hold a gleam that Kate had managed to forget, and seeing it light upon her again has her blood boiling.

"I figured since your MILF of a mommy is in prison, I might try to say hi again." He leans forward, his elbows bracing on the table as he gives a wink. "Without any money to pay the police, how are you supposed to keep a restraining order in the first place?"

Her tone is cold and sharp, and she knows he can see the fire in her eyes. The jab at Eleanor simmers in the back of her mind, and Kate pictures getting to throw him into a wall. "I'm still rich as hell, Connor, and I have more money than you'll ever make in a lifetime. Leave before I call my security in and get you arrested." Kate didn't have official security, but she knew Yelena could chop this man into pieces without breaking a sweat.

For a moment, he looks enraged at the comment on his financial situation, but Connor only laughs, and his lips twist into a cruel smirk. "Girly, we both know you don't have security." He's staring into her, gaze challenging and rotted, like he's trying to tear down her defenses and scare her into submission.

"Leave," she hisses, body shaking with the anger she wants to hit him with. It had been so long since she felt this way. So upset that she could burn the world down with it. So afraid she might kill someone in her frenzy.

"No." His answer is simple, and Kate feels her heart fall with a thud. She recalls the feel of his hands on her wrists, his words mocking and laughing when she tries to get away. He was detained before he could seriously hurt her, but she remembers.

Yelena appears, a full shot glass in both hands, her face stone cold and murderous. "Who the fuck are you?"

Translations: none

Kate Bishop counter: 4

This chapter's meme:

Comments/reblogs/notes make my day :)

#katelena #bishova #kate bishop #yelena belova #sapphic #queer #wlw #gxg #no more excuses #marvel #Kate x Yelena #Yelena x Kate #mcu #lesbians #harassment #I love women

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prettyinpikk · 6 months

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Ain't nobody

♡This is a Chaka Khan inspired fem!black reader x Sevika ♡

Mind yall this my first time writing a fic so give grace to me but I hope you enjoy part 2 is going to come out when I think of something to write. 😭✊🏽

Silco closed the last drop to renovate it for a couple of months. The new edition to the bar was astonishing. There was a more open sitting area; he even added a second floor, but the main attraction was the added stage in the bar area. Then there's you, the main singer with a matching two-piece bell bottom pants set. It was red with rhinestones decorating each inch of it, and your hair rested in its big fro style.

As you sing and dance around the stage, Sevika walks in just coming from a mission Slico gave to her. Now this is her first time seeing you perform without having to rush off to do Gods know what, so she takes the time to sit at one of the corner booths and observe you carefully. She looks over your body first from head to toe, then she takes in the beautiful head of hair that frames your face so prettily, then finally your face that has turned many heads with those gorgeous brown eyes. One thing Sevika can say is that you are very much an eye candy with the way you move your body so effortlessly with the tone of the music and the prettiest smile on your face she might have thought she was in heaven for a second if it wasn't for Slico calling to her.

Later that night, the Last Drop was closing, and the only people in there were the Slico's employees and you. You were sitting at the bar top, relaxing your throat after a long night of performing. That's when you felt someone behind you. "Can I help you, honey?"

"Maybe it depends on if you want company."

Fully turning around to face the person behind you, you see Sevika standing there tall and confident with a cloak one over her left arm covering the bronze prosthetic recognizing her from around the Last Drop as one of Slicos goons.

"I don't mind, you seem like somebody interesting, Sevika right?"

She gives a stern nod to confirm as she sits down on the bar stool next to you.

"So you're the famous y/n l/n huh?"

"That is me, it seems we have some knowledge of each other, but I hardly see you around Slico must have you working a lot, I presume?”

Sighing, Sevika lights one of her pre rolled blunts. “Always work and no play most days. I guess the same for you?”

“Well I would like to say I'm luckier than you, but having a voice like mine people constantly want to hear it even on days off.”

“Well, we can't have a pretty lady like yourself over work now can we? How bout on your day off I'll help you relax.”

“Relax how?” Now looking at her as if she was about to suggest the most foul thing ever. “I hope you are not trying to work your way into my bedroom Ms.Sevika because I would hate to leave you disappointed.” You say in a stern voice.

Huffing out a small chuckle, Sevika removes her blunt out of her mouth shaking her head. “Nah pretty thing, not at least before taking you out on a date first. I meant more of this you know, just chatting is all nothing more and plus, if I wanted to be in your bedroom I would have already been there.” Sending you that charming ass smirk that always me people quake where they stand or make them beg for more.

“Well ain't you something.” Feeling a small tingle sensation in your stomach, you take a sip of the drink you had been nursing since you ordered it. “But sure, I'll like to get to know the scary lady herself.” Sending her a smirk back.

“Well I have to get back home to my little boy. He gets fussy when I'm not home.”

That stops Sevika in her tracks for a second. Did you just say you have a kid? She didn't take you as a mom type tho nothing is wrong with that it just caught her off guard.

“Huh?”

Laughing at the slightly shocked face she made you move to leave the bar. “Maybe I'll explain tomorrow if you're still interested but good night for now Sevika.” Walking out the door leaving a curious and confused Sevika.

“That woman.”

#arcane sevika #black reader #sevika fanfic

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symphonybracket · 1 year

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YouTube links: Shostakovich 7, Tchaikovsky 6

Comments:

Shostakovich 7

Wonderful story of hope and resistance.

Tchaikovsky 6

Everyone bangs on about the 4th movement but it's the 3rd movement that really hits

tchaik 6 is what i would listen to if i had an hour to live

the 5/4 movement of the tchaik lives rent free in my mind and i think about it every day

It’s beyond gorgeous. The melodies soar, the orchestra swells, and you just need to lie down for a while after listening to it. It’s Romanticism at its zenith. You want to weep and sigh, and it’s impossible to listen to it without literally feeling something.

Symphony No. 6, titled “Pathétique”, was Tchaikovsky’s final symphony. It is an intensely emotional piece, and to many scholars demonstrates the emotional turmoil that characterized much of Tchaikovsky’s life. He died about a week after its premiere, a fact which leads many scholars to debate about whether the content of the piece itself reflects the possibility that he may have committed suicide. The title itself is often translated to mean “impassioned suffering”, although this was most likely a later addition by Modest and not actually part of Tchaikovsky’s vision. Given these facts, many scholars interpret this piece to be about death and suffering. However, this piece can also be seen to represent life and all its contrasting moments. This interpretation is more holistic and inclusive of all of the moments captured in this piece, and also serves to break down the common narrative of Tchaikovsky as a tragic figure.

More comments about Tchaikovsky 6 below the cut (length warning):

Scholarship surrounding Tchaikovsky’s music tends to focus heavily on the ways his confliction over his homoerotic desires appears in his writing. However, his personal letters reveal a much more balanced understanding of himself that goes beyond the common narrative. In one letter written to Modest describing a new relationship with another man, he writes: “I awoke today with a feeling of unknown happiness and with a complete absence of that emotional sobriety that used to make me repent in the morning for having gone too far the day before.” Many of the letters he wrote regarding his relationships demonstrate no shame and no anguish beyond what can be expected of a man living in a homophobic society. It is important to take this information into account when listening to a piece such as this one that has been discussed so frequently, and to understand it beyond the turmoil and strife that it is seen to represent. Like many of Tchaikovsky’s works, this symphony displays a range of human emotions. It is not only representative of tragedy and “impassioned suffering”; it is a depiction of what it is like to live. It is also interesting to note that this piece is used as a signifier of queer desire in the novel "Maurice" by E.M. Forster, a novel also notable for its radical portrayal of a queer man who gets a happy ending. Much to think about there.

The first movement begins with a lone bassoon soloist playing a plaintive minor melody, which later comes back in the strings. As the movement progresses, it grows in intensity and texture. More instruments are added, and the music becomes more frantic, building and building towards the dramatic trumpet fanfare. Throughout this piece, Tchaikovsky continues to make significant use of contrasting dynamics and melodies, reflecting the emotions he hopes to convey through the music. Dramatic, tumultuous sections are interspersed with pastoral woodwind melodies, and the angry brass fanfares give way to a quiet ending.

The second movement is reminiscent of a waltz, and uses the strings and woodwinds more than the brass to achieve its floating melodies. The dynamics ebb and flow to build tension, but this movement never reaches the same levels of anguish that the previous movement does. Tchaikovsky makes use of pizzicato in the strings to convey a lighter, more cheerful mood, and features the upper woodwinds prominently. He also repeats themes frequently, giving the audience something familiar to listen out for as the movement progresses.

The third movement begins with frantic energy in the strings and woodwinds. As more instruments join the rush of music, the underlying eight note accompaniment does not let up, continuing the vivacious beginning through the whole movement. Instruments pass the melodies between each other and engage in conversations across the orchestra. Like the first movement, the brass play a prominent role in creating dramatic climaxes in the music, as well as supporting the march-like conclusion. Conductor Myung-Whun Chung describes the deceptively dramatic ending as, “one of the greatest, most thrilling, but most empty of victories in musical history,” observing that this movement has the energetic finality of a final movement. The reversal of having the true finale be a slower movement represents a shift away from the “Beethovian model of light over darkness” common in most other symphonies of this time period.

As mentioned before, ending on a movement with a slow tempo was a significant shift away from the standard of the time. This innovation inspired many other future composers to use the same technique, most notably Mahler in his Ninth Symphony. The quiet beginning builds up towards a chaotic rush of fast runs throughout the orchestra, only to stop abruptly and continue in halting, cautious bursts of melody. The movement continues with this cycle of rushing up to a climax and backing away as the movement progresses. Tchaikovsky highlights the horns in this movement, giving them both angry, blaring notes which cut through the string melodies and the flowing, lyrical lines that are passed throughout the orchestra. As the piece ends, the instruments fall away until all that is left are steady repeated notes in the basses, bringing this lament of a movement to an understated close.

#shostakovich #tchaikovsky #round 2 #Spotify

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plethora-of-imagines · 1 year

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Hello, I have a request idea for you. If you think it's silly or aren't comfortable then please feel free to ignore it. May I please request a dhawan!master x reader request. (Do you remember that scene in the movie labyrinth where the protagonist ate the enchanted fruit and went into that dream state and the song played and she danced with the villian but something caused them to wake and break the dream state?) May I please request the scenario where the reader is trapped on a planet after being thrown out of the TARDIS but the population is under the control of the master. The reader ends up meeting someone from the planet who offers to "help" the reader find the doctor and friends.

How ever the reader doesn't know that this being is actually communicating with the master with a plan to bring the reader to him. After the being has gained the reader's trust the master orders the being to give the reader a piece of food for the reader to eat. The being does this but feels guilt once the reader eats it, they feel odd and walk in a daze before going into the dream like state. Everything then happens like in the above scenario from Labyrinth and once the dreamstate is broken they wake up in a different location.

Sorry for being so detailed. Feel free to alter it if you want.

I hope you have a great week

Sorry just wanted to add to my Labyrinth inspired request, maybe the food item along with the dreamscape causes the reader to forget about the Doctor and their friends and just wanting to be there with the master but they hear/or see something that makes them remember and break the dreamscape. (I just remembered the song that plays in the dreamscape. It's As the World Falls Down by David Bowie)

Sorry for being so details and I hope I'm not coming across as bossy. Have a great week.

Everything shined and glittered in the crystal candlelight of the ballroom. Your feet ached in your silk shoes, but almost as if compelled- you couldn’t stop. Others spun around you in flowing gowns painted in watercolor and paper masks. The spinning colors made your head spin along with them.

Resting your head against the shoulder of your dance partner allowed for some minor relief.

“Tired already?” His soothing voice inquired.

“Mhmmm, I haven't been sleeping much recently. Have to keep moving, for some reason...”

Rude, you were being so rude to the host of this wonderful party! And you couldn't even remember why you were exhausted in this way. Flashes of needing to keep running towards something, not even stopping to eat flickered in your mind. Dismissing them from your head as soon as they formed. How silly. Why would you ever need to run when you were so safe and comfortable here in his arms?

The gentle swaying and soft music was lulling you closer to sleep. Not quite true dreams, but small daydreams of pomegranates drifting before your closed eyes.

Whispers floating into your ears.

“I’ll help you find the Doctor.”

Soft hands guided you from the dance floor. Eyes slightly opened, looking down at your feet to avoid tripping over your gown. It was breathtakingly gorgeous. You must have borrowed it as you didn’t remember owning a gown like this.

“You must be hungry. Eat, eat this, my dear.”

You found yourself sitting on a regal couch. Gilded in gold, plush pillows providing comfort. Head finding its way to his lap, cocooned in blankets by the other guests. A hand finding its way to your hair.

“Is there anything else your human will require, Lord Master,” a voice only slightly louder than a whisper broke through your haze.

“If it would not ruin everything I would get up and choke the life out of you for waking them up,” the now familiar voice of the Master growled. “That slightly drugged haze could have lasted another hour if you hadn’t mucked it up.”

Attempting to fight against the blankets holding you down was a failed task. As reluctant as you could be to leave the comfort and warmth of blankets on a normal morning, these were refusing to let you move. Squirming only made your predicament, your knowledge of how much of a hostage you were, grow.

“Shhhh, sh, sh, shhh. No need to fret dear, your Master has you all safe and comfy,” his voice teased.

“What have you done to me,” you growled.

His wicked smile only served to enrage you.

“You’re about as ferocious as a declawed kitten, pet. Now I suggest you stay nice and docile in my lap until the Doctor has been taken care of.”

(463 words)

#anon #dhawan!master x reader

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thedoover-if · 1 year

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THE EX ROUTE IS GOING TO KILL ME, WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO US😭😭

IM SORRY😭 to be fair id never forgive cheating but in games i usually always let it slide so i really wanted to have a ro where it feels very vulnerable to not only move on but also allow oneself to fall in love AGAIN... i think itll be a very interesting dynamic to explore (and i love drama LOL love when authors rip my heart to shreds and then stomp on the pieces too)

fyi youll be able to be hesitant, fearful or whatever OR you can cheat with them, not caring for their current partner and be like rory from gilmore girls where she's like "dean was mine first" (iykyk!!!!)

added a little snippet of a potential scene ive got planned with MC on 'the ex' ro route. call it a little taster LOL (under the cut)

(fyi its from the pov of an MC who still involuntarily feels something for the ex)

“don’t do that,” you spit, gaze slowly travelling down your ex-spouse’s frame. they’re seated on the opposite side of the living room, on the same exact sofa they used to occupy – be it during game nights, movie nights, or simply weekends spent quietly enjoying each other’s company. it felt like the perfect fit. they were the unique key to your lock. the gentle notes on your sometimes out of pitch days… until the music abruptly came to a halt, never to be played again. and ever since that day, three years ago, your life has been muted – dulled even. “do what?” they tilt their face up, and for a moment you’re transferred back in time. but you snap yourself out of it just as quickly; you refuse to go down that path again. although you’re stood a few metres away, you’re able to make out a shapely outline – it's you – on the otherwise empty page of the sketchbook propped on their lap. “you’re drawing me – I don’t want you to draw me.” “why can’t I? you look beautiful.” the stupidly crooked smile creeping upon their features is like a stab to the heart, and those last three words shove the knife straight through your body. just like that, your lungs implode – you’re in too deep. a tsunami of emotions rips open every old wound you nurtured close so carefully over the past months. the hours spent in therapy, flushed down the drain by a sweet compliment. soured by the wrong person. “because that’s what you did when you were with them. when I see you doing this, it makes me think about every night you lied.” your throat grows tight, your vision blurs, and yet you continue, “every night you spent with [redacted] while I was right here… waiting.” for seemingly the first time, you notice sun rays peeking through your beige curtains. it’s almost like the sun has sensed the devastation ongoing in the pit of your stomach, and so with each passing second of your skin soaking up the warm orange beams, the grey clouds inside your head clear more and more. it takes one large breath to relax the tightness of your vocal cords, before you’re able to force a sound out. “you really hurt me [redacted]…” as soon as a look of regret takes over [redacted]’s otherwise painfully gorgeous face, a small flame of hope lights up in your body – one you didn’t grant permission. it’s soothing… and familiar, yet you starve that spark and let it die. “you drawing me like that – it hurts because you know I’ll like it… and that’s not fair, [redacted]” you whisper, before standing tall, a surge of determination coursing through your veins, “I’m not going to let you do this to me again.”

#inbox <3 #ro: the ex spouse #snippet

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viatagrinner · 2 years

Text

Ikevil. Prologue. Part 1. (1-5)

These are more like notes... and a little translation of the prologue.

It's easy to be happy when life is a fairy tale.

The heroine, Kate, is a mailwoman.

Evening. There is one last address left. Suddenly a strong wind blows, ripping the envelope from the girl's hand.

Kate: If I lose sight of it, I'll be in trouble.

The letter flies to William.

We don't know their names yet.

Leaning over, he picked up the envelope and handed it to Kate.

???: Here you go, lady..

The girl noted to herself his non-human beauty and graceful movements.

Even for the world of this game, bright red eyes are unusual.

It looks like blood.

Suddenly the "red-eyed man" says there are more packages left and the girl needs to hurry before it gets dark.

Kate goes about her business.

William's waiting for Victor.

William: Thanks for waiting....

Victor: If it's you, I'll be happy no matter how long I wait. ...Ah, something good happened.

William: Ah. There was a lovely Robin there, with a lovely voice, almost singing.

Victor: I see... If you're interested in someone, I'm curious too.

Kate is walking around town after work.

A male mugger wants to beat a little girl with a poker.

The heroine yells at him, something like, "Put back what you stole and I'll listen to what you have to say."

The girl didn't wait, kicked the man and ran off with the necklace.

It turned out she was the thief and the man the victim.

Now the man wants Kate to pay for the merchandise.

Victor was watching this. He calls the heroine "Pretty Miss Robin."

Kate believes that you can not blame the thief, because the east of London is full of poor people and who knows what need made the girl steal.

The heroine's hobby is going to the theater every few months.

Kate went back to work. There is a shortage of letter carriers. And our heroine doesn't have enough money for the theater. Kate decides to work part-time as a night courier.

Victor gathers all the boys together. In the background, a groovy jazz song plays.

I'm too lazy to translate the whole thing, especially when there's a better translation of this scene.

Kate delivers the mail. It's a safe neighborhood. There's one last letter left. It needs to be taken to the incredibly gorgeous mansion. But trouble... There's no mailbox.

The gate is open. It's sloppy. The heroine hopes to see one of the servants.

A piano is playing in the distance. This must be someone who lives here.

The cheerful music sounds strange in the quiet mansion.

Kate is scared. Moving forward, she can get the job done, but she also feels like she's making the biggest mistake of her life.

Kate: Sorry....

(.......What?)

A bright red fountain erupts in front of her.

A round object, all in red, rolls up to her. It's a head.

The corpse had a knife in its hand.

???: I didn't think there would be an audience here.

Looking around, Kate notices eight shadows that are darker than darkness.

One of the shadows slowly rises from behind the piano. It is William.

William: Who if it isn't Robin, whom I met this afternoon?

Liam: Do you know William? Do you know who we are?

William: We just talked a little bit on the street, Liam. She doesn't know about the Crown.

Liam looks at Kate with curiosity.

Harrison tries to say that the corpse is a set piece for the play.

Kate: ...Lies.

Harrison: ...You'd better pretend you believe me.

He asks William for advice.

He replies that he should take the heroine to the Grim Reaper of the Palace.

Jude grudgingly turns to Roger that he should have closed the door.

Roger: Ahaha, I didn't expect anyone to go so far as to trespass. Are you a very bad girl, miss?

Feet unruly with fear prevented the girl from escaping. All she could do was take a step back. But she was immediately captivated by Will's blood-red eyes.

William: Come, poor Robin.

The girl went to him against her will.

(Why? I can't stop.)

Kate: ....No, I don't like it!

She is beside him. He hugs her gently.

His scent tickles her nose.

Something fell on her. Probably blood. William wiped it off and introduced himself at the same time.

He invited Kate to dinner.

Before the heroine knew it, she was seated in a carriage.

The package was left at the mansion. But she wonders if she can get the money for the delivery. 🤣

But it's doubtful, since the girl doesn't know if she'll be able to get home.

Kate quickly guesses that the men belong to some kind of organization.

Alfons aka The Gentleman: Miss Kate.

[Although he actually called the heroine Miss Robin.]

He points to the palace, smiling. End Stop. Perhaps this is where Kate's doom awaits.

Kate: This is reality.

Alfons: Yes, unfortunately. It's not a dream or an illusion. This is a painful reality from which there is no escape.

Alphonse startled her. Her head was spinning. She bumped into Elbert.

Kate: I'm sorry.

Elbert: ....No problem...Are you okay?

The man looks like a porcelain doll.

Too beautiful, too creepy.

Oh... Looks like Elbert won't just let Kate go.

Liam slapped Elbert on the arm.

Liam: Kate, can you talk to me? I want to know more about you.

Now Kate is sandwiched between the two men.

Roger comes to her rescue.

The report to Victor comes first.

It is with Roger that the heroine feels most at ease.

But what will happen to her? According to the man, everything depends on her.

William appears. Kate calls him, I don't know, Lord Rex. He, on the other hand, laughing, asks, without formality, to call him William.

Kate: Okay..... Lord William.

Victor: Welcome back, my beloved damned people!

William introduced Kate.

Victor: Wow... What a fateful coincidence.

She realized she was facing the queen's aide. Her legs buckled and Vic picked her up at the last moment.

.... "Crown" is such a secret organization, whose employees immediately tell everything to a random girl.

But seriously... Liam explains that cursed people, born with a curse.

They are destined to commit a crime and face a tragic end.

For example, Liam himself will be killed by his own curiosity.

[I'm not sure of this piece] Liam's story of the first cursed. His loved ones tortured him, cut off his limbs and abandoned him, but he only laughed himself to tears... Eventually, in the end, he jumped into a tub of sulfuric acid, dying laughing loudly.

Roger: It has been said that various tales were born of this cursed man.

It's hard to believe, but cursed people have abilities that normal people don't.

The only one who remembers that they are members of a secret organization is Jude.

He says it's all a secret. 👏🏽

William's ability is a smug king. He's kind of like a hypnotist.

He seems to be the one who hypnotized the master into killing himself.

Great Britain is the only country that organizes and controls "damned men."

It's Ellis' turn to shine, too. 🤩

What to do about the girl?

Ellis thinks she doesn't look happy. If she needs to be killed, he'll do it.

Kate is trembling, the others are calm. To them, taking a life is the norm.

Somehow they have to be persuaded.

Kate says she won't tell anyone.

The mailmen are trained to keep confidentiality.

Victor & William: ......

Also, Victor can keep an eye on her until he trusts her.

Victor can easily be persuaded. She is now a member of the exclusive "Crown" programme.

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikemen villain #ikevil liam #ikevil william #ikevil roger #ikevil victor #ikevil harrison #ikevil ellis #ikevil jude #ikevil alfons #ikevil elbert

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commiegoth · 4 months

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Fun writeup on the goth subculture of the 1990s from FringeWare Review #6(66), published in 1995

Full text under cut

Subcultbabble 101: Magdalen on Things Gothic

So who ’zactly are these legendary Goth creatures? As with any subculture, it’s hard to pin ’em down. Let’s start with an image nearly all our dear readers will have seen at some point: kids with flowing black clothes, white faces, and lots of black eyeliner. You have perhaps wondered WTF is up with them, and with people who try to look like vampyres, and pouty twentysomethings in black T-shirts who seem too pointedly haughty to be generic Gen-Xers, and gorgeous fetish babes who sorta look like they’re dressed for the grave rather than for the dungeon.

Writers like yers truly just fuck it all up when they try to explicate subcultures, but somebody’s gotta do it. My own experiences have brought me in contact with the so-called goth scene intermittently over the last decade, though I should warn you that mine is a fundamentally West Coast point of view. YMMV. Like many others who end up returning to goth clubs and music every few years, I seem to have a fixation with Death which finds itself soothed and fulfilled by Things Gothic. Despite my propensity for slovenly attire and no-bullshit communication, I’m also addicted to the sense of ritual and aesthetic which differentiate the goths from most other American cultures.

I Wear Black On The Outside… ’cos black is how i feel on the inside

The two most prominent subcultures I’ve run into are punk and the hippie trip. In them, participants usually adhere to a loose cluster of aesthetic parameters, but everyone involved pretends that exteriors mean little to them. (Let’s bypass the hypocrisy involved, when they like the rest of society typically wear certain signifiers to identify themselves with the group.) Hardcore punks and hippies don’ t necessarily bathe very often, or wear makeup. Punk and its bastardized commercial offspring, the media-titled Grunge movement, aspire to externalize their rejection of conventional society by substituting fucked up, comfortable clothing for the clean, rigid, and perky duds yer stuck-in-the-fifties parents always wanted you to wear. The aesthetic relies upon potentially-violent sloppiness (or a carefully-reconstructed pretense thereof) and the attitude that you honestly don’t give a fuck what people think of you. Mortified though many latter-day punks might be to think of it, a similar motivation lay behind the original hippie anti-aesthetic, where organic materials and shapes sought to externalize the flowing qualities of nature where Cold War man had instituted three-piece suits and all they represented. Pardon the irony, but both mohawks and stringy long hair try to signify the rejection of a shallow society intent on keeping up with the Joneses and little else.

The goths fled in the opposite direction: past conventional fashion, whose crime isn’t its rigidity but its sheer dullness and tendency to follow embarrassing trends, and onward to a hyperstylised self-presentation reminiscent of the Courts of centuries past. Goths are renowned for their vanity and apparent shallowness; I believe the goth aesthetic is actually quite honest, embracing the notion that externalizations such as clothing and gesture form an intricate interpersonal art form, a dance of communication. It’s refreshing compared to the equally intricate games played by those who present a studiedly “casual” facade, hoping their Gap shirts will help them blend in with the wallpaper. Practitioners of theatre understand very well the subconscious semiotic games being played in the guise of supposedly “normal”, casual conversation: how the body moves, what it is draped in, the choice of words, tone of voice or the flick of an eyelash can determine the outcome. In the theatre, these external elements are mastered to create ritual and entertainment.

Walk into a goth club, and you see this same cunning, playful manipulation of details taken from the stage and thrown into what might be a costume ball. Black is everywhere: hair, clothing, eyes, lips. Perfectly blood-crimson lips and hair extensions materialize next, along with deep purple dresses and tresses. Proper white collared shirts glow in the dim light, while the occasional off-white Victorian wedding-gown or ivory ’30s dress will float by as well. The goths, who go out of their way to be a sensual set, get off on the tactile beauty of their gear as much as its visual effect: velvets, satins, leathers, brocades, sheers, laces (though lace has fallen by the wayside since the ’80s) — anything lush and sumptuous. For a group of people rumoured to be exceptionally dictatorial in their tastes, they can be most creative and eclectic. Cheesy classic deathrock bits like torn fishnet sleeves, and Robert Smith hairdos straight out of the early ’80s, nuzzle up against the hippest new fetish gear. Goths manage to dig up gorgeous period pieces, mostly evocative of the ’20s or of Victorian fashion, and many can even wear the things properly, playing the appropriate body language to the hilt.

You should be able to kick around a few Byron quotes here and there, and recount Shelley's death with heartfelt accuracy (didn't he like die on a boat or something?)

As you nervously approach the crowded bar for a dollar-drink special, you’ll notice some other things. Makeup ranging from pale to deathly white on many faces, both male and female, accompanied by exotically-applied eyeliner and severe lipstick. Lots of curious if pretentious objects: fluttering fans, scarves, silver cigarette cases, lunchbox handbags, crucifixes, hats, and miles of silver jewelry. A man bending at the waist to kiss a woman's hand. Angelic, dour boys in long skirts and pointy boots. Expansive, melodramatic dancers flailing and swirling, refusing to acknowledge each other even when they collide. Impeccably-dressed, attractive women sitting all alone yet not being harassed. Frankly, you may find them all ridiculously snotty poseurs, what with their wannabe-regal airs and seemingly unbreakable attitudes. Stay long enough, though, and the drugs and alcohol will kick in thoroughly, revealing kids with fake IDs and eyeliner drooling drunkenly down their cheeks, stoned speedfreaks giggling, drunk speedfreaks dancing and fighting, bedraggled gentlemen hiking up their skirts to take down the lights. Though it may appear otherwise, people have dressed up and come out to have a good time, and to do so in the most decadent of ways.

If you asked them, the majority of these people would not admit to being goths. Most of those who would are the sort of irritating obsessives you find in any cultural group, like the self-proclaimed hippie that buys every new Dead shirt as soon as it hits the market or the poet who wears a beret and turtleneck. These are the folks who desperately needed an identity to cling to, a pre-existing aesthetic to buy and adopt rather than create; they’re invariably the people who uphold and propagate the codes and cliches of a subculture. So what’s the stereotypical goth of this sort like? Where hippies have hyper-friendliness and Luv, these goths have a comical level of snobbery, cattiness, and a calculated air of impenetrable mystery. Where punks often pretend to be less cultured and articulate than they are, yer local cliche-goth will likely present hirself as well-read and emotionally intellectual, with a vocabulary of words and gestures gleaned from faerie tales, Victorian literature, and heroic ballads. The correct political stance is apolitical, and while the proper drags change over the years and according to geography, speed’s the classic drug of choice. The face will be pale and powdered, the eyebrows painted in black points which shadow the inner eyelids in an immaculate line; the clothing will most definitely come in black.

As The Millennium Turns: the emergence of a NeoGoth scene

What’s interesting about this culture isn’t the surprisingly small group of people who wear full costuming and whiteface 24/7, but the way that its recent resurrection integrate a variety of musical and aesthetic tastes. Odd as it may sound, my theory is that the increased popularity of Things Gothic owes much to the Rave trend at the turn of the decade. As, that pushed repetitive techno music into regular discos and radio formats, people started delving into darker technology-driven music such techno-industrialists Skinny Puppy. Much to chagrin of oldschool industrial types, a new “industrial” movement started gaining momentum, showcasing Ministry’s industrial deathmetal crossover and the Top 40 success of Nine Inch Nails. The explosion of general indie and "alternative" music as a popular phenomenon helped out, too: all these newly-mainstreamed bands had common influences from the days when frat boys would beat you up for having a leather jacket and funny hair, instead of jumpin' into the pit with ya at a Dickies show (Dude!).

People new to these genres of music and the subcultures they spawned started digging up those influences and giving 'em a spin, and pretty soon there was a fresh crop o' youngsters gazing at Blixa's made-up face on old Einsturzende Neubauten videotapes, discovering Bauhaus for the first time, finding Al Jourgenson's cheesy '80s dance tunes, and praying that the entire 4AD catalogue might be released domestically on compact disc. Some small group of goth types had endured through the '80s in most large cities and hipster towns, and found their ranks swelling as the population at large gained exposure to music and fashion previously confined to the underground and to independent music labels. For several years now, the goth capital cities (London, New York, San Francisco) have boomed with golf clubs, local bands, and 'zines. The resounding success of House of Usher, the East (SF) Bay club the proved you really could rejuvenate this tired old scene enough to make serious money off it, owed much to its owners' creation of two separate dancefloors in a single club: one industrial, one gothic.

But wait, there’s more! In addition to marrying the black-leather-wearing New Industrial scene to the extant retro-gothic scene, the neo-goth resurgence has cross-pollinated nicely with the fetish scene, the cyberpunks (yes, I hate that word as much as you do) the exponential growth of the Internet, the underground comic and ’zine network, and a rising interest in the arts of self-decoration (piercing, tattoos, etc.). As always, other marginal groups with proclivities for theatricality — SCA members, RPG fanatics, | drama geeks, Renaissance Faire guildmembers, wiccans, and the terminally suicidal — are still attracted to the goth set. It all makes for quite the tasty brew once it has fermented long enough.

Weeping, Wailing, and the Gnashing of Teeth

Music acts as the cornerstone of most popcults, and can’t possibly be treated thoroughly in this space. If you’re into the idea, get ahold of the fanzines listed under SOURCES. Suffice to say the music wafting out of gothish clubs ranges from historical deathrock (Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Joy Division) to second-wave gothic (Fields of the Nephilim, Christian Death, Sisters of Mercy) to new indie-goth hybrids. Some of the most distinctive music associated with Things Gothic can only be described as mood music, whether it’s ethereal, ominous, or sparse. Dead Can Dance and Cocteau Twins have popularized the ethereal sound, usually featuring lush arrangements, swooning female vocals, and often incorporating elements of Irish folk, medieval, classical, and middle eastern music. From the cruncher sounds of My Bloody Valentine and lovesliescrushing, and the symphonic chaos of Cranes or the recent Miranda Sex Garden releases, a whole new generation of post-ethereal bands continues to evolve.

Ominous mood music ranges from the Wagneresque horror of In Slaughter Natives to the soundscapes of Caul; again, subcultural crossbreeding has birthed a wide range of techno-industrial-cybergothic soundtracks. On the sparse end of the scale, the Death In June/Current 93/Sol Invictus formula combines morbid lyrics, hypnotic acoustic guitars, and experimental sounds: for a heightened experience, be sure to keep razorblades poised at your wrists while listening. And you’re bound to find old farts who still keep some guilty pleasures around — ’80s English popsters like early Cure, Smiths, and Tears for Fears, the deathpunk of 45 Grave and pre-glam TSOL, or the moody disco of New Order and Tones On Tail.

Face it, kids, you live in a society whose obsession with Death is matched only by its insistence that one continually maintain a mask of cheerfulness or neutrality. Colonial-style religion, which used to provide a ritual release for feelings of fear and deah has largely been exposed as a patriarchal scam. You will watch Cops, you will run to see Natural Born Killers, but you will still toddle into work and smile after your best friend commits suicide. The hippies tried to make you too uniformly joyful and mellow; your foray into punk let out some anger but did nothing for the lingering melancholia. The poets gave you deep verbiage but they didn’t know how to dress, and the sullen slackers sneered at anything remotely dramatic. And while the Protestant preacher gave you lots of Death, and Mass gave you ritual satisfaction to breathe in like incense, they expected you to believe in GM, fer Chrissakes!

I can’t stomach being around it too much, but sometimes it’s a relief to sip Chartreuse with an entire room full of people who’ve given up and welcomed death. A good goth club or party feels like a Christian funeral smashing into a raucous wake: some are there to mourn, others to celebrate the dead with wine, song, and incoherent rambling. No one is going to stare at the scars on your wrists in such an environment, nor try to stop you from driving 120mph on the bridge after you’ve snorted up a quarter and chased it with a litre of bad red wine. No one’s gonna care whether your sour, aching mood arises out of severe pain or out of the need to make an impression. Nor does it matter whether you've actually punctured human flesh with those ridiculous fangs you had custom-made.

The house, club, or cemetery you’re partying in is likely decked out in Things Gothic. Among all the dead flowers, skulls, and candles, who’s gonna look askance at the crucifix around your neck? The props of Death attract people for different reasons. Some have a heartfelt reaction to religious iconography, often rooted in childhood experiences with the church; others are attracted to the mystery of the post-corporeal life represented in objects which evoke thoughts of mortality. Some just want a solid talisman to grasp while they mourn life itself, while many are drawn to the classical aesthetic often employed in rendering icons. And there will always be those who don’t really care to think about art, Death, or afterlives, but who want to look cool. Regardless of the motive, people who want to play with the props of Death aren’t given much of an opportunity to do so in conventional society.

Except in religious subcultures, of course. Is the goth scene religious? While a fair percentage of its members are ex-Christians or current pagans, goth has nothing to do with religion. The closest thing to a Deity it offers would have to be Peter Murphy or Andrew Eldritch — mere mortals who happen to be the subject of much fawning, rather like Elvis. Laughing at the corniness of Deathprops and quasi-religious elements is probably more common than revering them. Goth appropriates from religion, using its imagery in decadent stylization. It has no interest in either approximating religion or fostering it.

Deadly, theatrical, and a bit over-the-top, Things Gothic definitely hold a selective appeal. I for one will be thoroughly amazed if the goth subculture ever gets adopted by the mainstream, but then again in 8th grade I wouldn't have imagined punk ever crossing over. Times change, and if folks stop dismissing the goths as absurdly pretentious we just may see Rozz on the cover of Rolling Stone in a couple of years. Stranger things have happened.

#fringeware review #tiffany lee brown #gothgoth #industrial goth #///#suicide mention #self harm mention

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